#eternal love pillow book fic
Note
I absolutely loved the stuff you wrote for eternal love of dream. I’ve read all of them so many times. You have a ways with word❤️ I keep checking back in here to see if you have written anything new, but I guess I might be busy or lost interest for ELOD? if it possible for you to write few more stuff for eternal love of dream. I would really appreciate it.
Currently, I am watching Who Rules The World. As such, my imagination is on that series, not ELOD. Still, maybe I can think of a Mooncake prompt. After all, I am pretty sure DJ wants FJ to bake him a mooncake. this story was written on the spot.
Mooncake Mystery
Feng Jiu pulls out a tray of 4 steaming mooncakes.
Dong Hua and Gun Gun are standing close by, inhaling the fragrance, their mouths watering.
Feng Jiu happily packs the mooncakes to deliver to her family and friends, ignoring how Dong Hua’s fingers twitch jealousy.
Now it is time for the family to share a mooncake.
Feng Jiu cuts the cake into 4 quarters. She immediately takes 2.
Dong Hua allows this and Gun Gun is resigned to this unfair distribution, both clutching their small quarter.
At night, as Dong Hua and Feng Jiu kiss, Feng Jiu is surprised that Dong Hua’s mouth tastes like mooncakes. “Did we receive mooncakes from anyone today?”
Dong Hua: no, but your mooncake has a really strong taste to linger so.
Feng Jiu was shocked, and somewhat proud.
Meanwhile, at Bai Qian’s palace, Bai Qian and Ali were holding an inquiry to see who stole their mooncakes.
Elsewhere in the heavenly sky, Cheng Yu was accusing Lian Song for stealing her mooncake just so he can offer his.
At Qingqiu, the Bai family was wondering what was taking Feng Jiu so long to send her mooncakes.
At the peach orchard, Zhe Yan sighed when he beheld the empty box. “Such a jealous and greedy son-in-law Qingqiu has.”
#eternal love of dream fic#eternal love of dream fanfic#eternal love of dream fanfiction#eternal love pillow book#三生三世枕上书
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I love your shapeshifter fic so much, especially the part about living along with one hell of an abomination (affectionately). I wanna ask has the shapeshifter ever slipped up in front of reader? Accidentally does something that a dog wouldn't be capable of ? or is he dedicated to his role and makes sure to only drop the act around guests?
Tw: mentions of dead bodies
That’s a very good question and I’m asking myself the same thing currently, as I’m planning to sit down and work on part 2 today. 😭Do I prepare a grand reveal, or just continue with this ridiculous back and forth?
I feel like there’s a certain comedic charm to the whole cluelessness of it. There might’ve been plenty of slip ups, Reader is just oblivious to everything.
“Someone’s been digging in the yard!” They’ll scold playfully, waving their index at the dog-like abomination.
Unbeknownst to Reader, there are several cadavers clumsily scattered mere inches below the soil: the one-night stands who never stayed the morning after. The creature wags its tail without a care.
“Wow, you sure are popular with birds. I guess it’s all that time spent in the forest”, Reader will remark thoughtfully, gazing at the committee of vultures circling them each time they go out.
The creature responds with an eerie sound, tongue rolled out in enthusiasm.
“For a second, I thought you said, ‘It’s the stench of death and eternal torment’, hehe. I should take a break from my horror podcasts.”
Or Reader entering the living room with a confused frown, holding a crumpled book in their hand.
"Did you find this outside?", they ask, glancing again at the title: The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. "Someone scribbled 'one must imagine humans happy' on almost every page. How did you even manage to stuff it under my pillow?"
The creature tilts its head and stares in silence.
"You're a silly one", Reader exclaims in amusement.
#yandere#yandere shapeshifter#yandere monster#monster boyfriend#yandere x reader#monster x reader#monster x human
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The Eternal Summer
V. Welcome to the World
Summary: The world ends, but time keeps moving forward.
AN: This was only supposed to be a smutty fic. Then again, I said the same thing about Sins of the Flesh. I hope you enjoyed the ride, everybody! If you're wondering what becomes of your family, here is your family tree (I have given reader characters names because it's easier for me) - you might recognise some of the modern-day descendants!
Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:
It was the longest night of your life. You sat by the window for a while, looking out across the station. Elliott was sat on his porch, revolver in hand, waiting patiently for Quigley to make his move. He glanced back at you on occasion and his frown would soften, the grip on his gun would loosen slightly, and your heart would ache when you locked eyes with one another.
William, meanwhile, was trying to keep himself awake, reading one of Elliott’s books and occasionally standing up to stretch his legs. He was using a cane to balance himself thanks to the wound in his leg, but he refused to listen when you insisted he should stay seated.
By midnight, you were struggling to stay awake.
“Go to bed, [Y/n],” William said when he saw you trying to keep your eyes open. “You don’t need to stand vigil.”
You couldn’t care less about Quigley, but what you did care about was Elliott, who was letting his anger and his pride get the best of him.
But you were tired, and despite what Elliott said, you suspected Quigley was telling the truth about waiting until dawn, so you supposed a little sleep would do you no harm.
With Elliott waiting for Quigley and William guarding you, you had no warm body to hold as you drifted off, but you were so sleepy that you were able to make do with holding the pillow which now smelt of both Elliott and William.
You woke at dawn to the sound of gunshots.
You’d been so tired when you went to bed that you’d forgotten to change into your nightgown, and so it was in a rumpled dress that you came into the lounge to find William peering through the curtains to see outside.
“What’s going on?” you asked blearily.
“A man’s been shot. Stay away from the windows, [Y/n].”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t bloody know. Don’t worry, your boyfriend’s fine. What on earth is he doing?” William questioned as you both heard the sound of horses galloping out of the station. “He’s throwing his men at him like lemmings. Didn’t I just tell you to stay away from the windows?”
You were by his side now, looking through the other curtain to see what was going on. Elliott was crouched below a wagon, gun in hand, as three of his men rode out across the plains.
“He’s not here, he must be in the cutting,” you replied.
“If he shot that man from afar, he can shoot you too.”
You shook your head, your eyes still on Elliott.
“He won’t.”
William scoffed. “Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?”
“He said he wouldn’t.”
“You can’t trust everything men say, [Y/n].”
“Not even you?”
You surprised yourself at your own audacity, but William surprised you more when he didn’t react with anger. Instead, he chuckled and stroked your cheek.
“That’s different, darling. I’m your husband who loves you. Matthew Quigley is an evil man, a murderer - is he sending more men out?” William interrupted himself as he spotted another few men riding out on horses. “Has Elliott completely lost his mind? At this rate, he and I will be the only men left before Quigley even gets here.”
“Maybe… maybe I should go and talk to him. He always seems to calm down when I’m around. Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”
William frowned, but he shrugged. “Maybe you can suck his cock or something, that’ll calm him down.”
You blushed and ducked your head, and William just snorted.
“Don’t act coy, darling, I know you’ve been sucking his cock. Go on, go and see if you can talk some sense into that thick skull of his.”
You made your way out onto the porch, where Elliott was stood leaning against a pillar, staring into the distance with a frown so severe he might have been hoping to kill Quigley just by looking at him. He jumped slightly when you put your hand on his shoulder, but just as you’d predicted, the tension in his shoulders eased when he saw you standing there.
“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?”
He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You felt your own tension lifting too, as if all either of you needed to calm down was one another’s presence.
“We’ve been watching from inside. Are you planning on throwing men at him until you run out?”
Elliott chuckled, then kissed the top of your head affectionately. “If that’s what it takes. I’d rather expend ten men and kill him before he gets here than let him come and risk him getting to you.”
“Don’t sacrifice your men for me!” you insisted, fear rising in your heart as you thought of all the lives Elliott was willing to sacrifice for you.
“I can always hire more men, [Y/n]. There’s only one of you.”
You frowned. “There’s nothing special about me, El —”
“Don’t you dare say that!” Elliott hissed, interrupting you. “There is no one in this world like you, you understand me? Any man I hire can shovel cow shit or plough a field. No one else can do what you do for me.”
“There are whores in Melbourne…”
Elliott frowned at you, looking almost disappointed.
“Do you really think I’m talking about sex? Have you forgotten everything I told you at the graveyard yesterday?”
Elliott scoffed and shook his head.
“You really don’t know the effect you have on the people around you, do you? You don’t know what William and I were duelling for.”
“Then what?”
Elliott sighed and held you closer, looking out across the horizon as if the words to describe you were somewhere out there with Quigley and the dingos. And maybe they were, because he seemed to find them, and he looked down at you and smiled.
“You don’t know how bright you shine.”
You stared at him, stunned. You might have kissed him, but you knew your husband was watching through the window, and besides, your attention was drawn away when you heard the sound of a galloping horse coming closer, and you both looked to see Elliott’s two remaining men riding back into the station, dragging something along the ground behind them.
Elliott released his hold on you and met his men in the middle of the station. You watched from the porch as he bent over and you realised he was talking to not something, but someone that had been dragged across the dirt.
As Elliott taunted Quigley, you heard the thump of William’s cane as he came up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder.
“You should go back inside, [Y/n],” he said softly.
You shook your head, your eyes still firmly set on Elliott.
William’s grip on your shoulder tightened.
“Do as I say, [Y/n],” he said, more curtly.
You looked up at him then.
And somehow, in that moment, you knew.
Maybe you’d known all along.
“No.”
Before William had a chance to respond, you were dashing across the dirt to Elliott’s side. He was standing in a familiar position opposite Quigley, flagged either side by O’Flynn and Dobkin. Just last night you’d seen him standing in the exact same spot across from William, but this time his opponent was a lot more well-versed in duelling.
“Elliott, please don’t do this,” you begged, skidding to a halt at his side, grabbing his hands desperately. “Just let him go, nobody has to die —”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Elliot said smugly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll make it quick for him.”
“I don’t care about him, Elliott, I…” You felt a tear running down your cheek. You ignored it.
“Just survive this, okay? Survive this… and I’ll marry you.”
A grin broke out across Elliott’s face and he kissed you passionately, not caring that O’Flynn and Dobkin were nearby, that Quigley was standing opposite, or that your husband was watching from the porch. All he had to do was kill Quigley, and you’d be his.
“That’s the best good-luck token a man could ask for,” Elliott murmured when your lips parted. “Get yourself a safe distance away, sweetheart. I won’t have a stray bullet coming near you.”
“You’re an idiot,” you sighed.
Elliott grinned and winked at you.
You retreated back to the front porch, where William and Tommy were waiting for you. Your husband said nothing about the scene that had just transpired.
There was a long, tense moment as Elliott and Quigley stared one another down. It may have only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours to you as you stood, waiting…
And four shots rang out in quick succession.
It happened so quick, it took you a moment to register what had happened. Quigley was still standing - O’Flynn and Dobkin were on the ground - and Elliott was on his knees.
He fell back almost in slow motion, and you screamed.
You dodged the hands of both William and Tommy as they tried to hold you back, and the dust on the ground bloomed into clouds as you ran to Elliott.
One look at him was enough to know there was nothing you could do. His white shirt was stained red, blood pouring out from his torso.
One hand was still on the handle of his gun, which dropped to the ground when you lifted Elliott’s head from the ground to cradle him in your lap.
“Elliott… Elliott, please, look at me…”
The light was quickly fading from his eyes, but still he smiled when he looked up at you.
“[Y/n]…”
“Elliott, please - please, don’t die - please, I need you!”
You couldn’t see the way the morning sun reflected off your hair, shining as bright as you always shone to Elliott, and he wondered if dying gave him a glimpse into divinity, because surely you were an angel come to save his soul in the weeks before he died.
He could only hope he’d done enough for you. Loved you enough, taught you enough, shown you that you were worth so much more than you knew.
“Elliott, please, you’ve got to live, please,” you sobbed. “We’re gonna get married, remember?”
Elliott wheezed, attempting to laugh as blood filled his lungs.
“A mortal man can’t marry an angel,” he croaked.
You shook your head. He must have been delirious.
“I’m no angel, Elliott. I’m just a girl. And I… I love you.”
You sobbed harder, knowing it wasn’t enough. Your love would never be enough.
Elliott smiled, his head lolling towards your chest as his eyes fluttered closed.
“My angel…”
You screamed so loud, the birds in the trees were startled away.
This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t possible for a single human being to feel this much pain and survive. How could you survive, when your heart had been torn from your chest? Why would you want to, when the only good thing you’d ever known was an empty husk beneath you?
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. You had nothing your whole life, you were nothing, and you’d accepted that until Elliott came along and made you feel like you were worth something, worth love and affection - and he’d been torn away from you.
Torn away by an evil man for no reason at all - a man who, you remembered suddenly, was still standing. Still living. How many men had he killed? How many other women would grieve their lost loves now because of Matthew Quigley and his stupid fucking rifle?
You raised your head and, through your tears, saw Quigley standing with his back to you. He didn’t even care about the crying woman behind him. He was just watching as the last of the servants left, returning to their native land now Elliott was gone.
They could go. You didn’t care about them.
But there was no way Quigley was leaving this place.
You didn’t even hesitate. You grabbed the gun Elliott had dropped.
“Needle,” you mumbled.
You checked the barrel. Full but for one empty slot.
“Thread.”
You pointed the gun at Quigley’s back.
“Hole.”
You pulled the trigger three times for good measure, each bullet landing in his back, each hitting some organ or other and throwing Quigley to the ground before he even knew what was happening.
You tossed the gun aside. You didn’t care to check Quigley was dead. You only cared about Elliott, motionless in your arms, and even knowing he was gone, you pushed his hair out of his face to look at him.
It was the most horrendous sight. The eyes that usually blazed so fiercely, whether it be with love or lust or anger, were extinguished. You could barely even register that it was Elliott in your arms, he looked so unlike himself. You recognised the eyes, the nose, the cheekbones and the lips, but… the man you loved was gone.
You couldn’t tell how long you sat there, sobbing, clinging onto Elliott’s lifeless body as if as long as you held him, there was a chance he’d wake up again.
But he wouldn’t wake up, because he wasn’t asleep. You’d watched him sleep. Even asleep, he was alive. He breathed, fidgeted, responded to your touch. Now… nothing. Not a breath, not a twitch, not a sound.
He was gone, and he’d taken a piece of you with him.
You were only snapped back to reality when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You let out a yelp of surprise and held Elliott tighter, as if the hand belonged to someone who’d take him away from you.
“[Y/n]?”
The voice was so small, so tentative. You almost didn’t recognise your baby brother’s voice.
You looked up at him. He wouldn’t take Elliott away from you, would he?
You knew you should say something reassuring, but you had nothing. How could you reassure him when the world had already ended?
He was saying something, but you couldn’t even hear. It was like the world was on mute. All you could hear was your own breathing, your own sobs, and you couldn’t tell which had come last when you passed out.
---
Time passed in a haze. You slept, you woke, you cried until you slept again.
Sometimes you’d wake and see Tommy sitting on a chair nearby. Other times, you’d find William sleeping next to you. Once or twice, you woke and saw a man you didn’t know, a stranger in an army uniform. Food and water would appear on your bedside table, and you’d get as much down as you could before you began to feel sick.
Tommy would try and engage you in conversation, but you didn’t have the energy to talk. The soldier, whoever he was, didn’t talk to you.
William was usually asleep, though once you did wake to see him placing a bowl of soup on your bedside table.
Maybe none of them knew what to do with you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.
After some days - you couldn’t say how many - you were awoken by someone shaking your shoulder, and your eyes fluttered open to see Tommy by your bedside.
“We’re going to the church in town soon, to - to bury Mr Marston with his wife. Will you come?”
You nodded groggily, and when you finally emerged from the lodge in a black dress Tommy had brought you from your luggage, you winced against the bright sunlight, having seen nothing but the muted light through the curtains for several days.
The station looked strange so empty. For so long there’d been the hustle and bustle of men at work, but now it was like a ghost town. At the gate, William was waiting for you with two horses, and somewhere beneath the numbness of your grief you thought he looked handsome in his black suit.
Tommy had his own horse and you sat behind William on another as you rode into town. You wrapped your arms around William’s waist and rested your head on his back from your side-saddle position. You closed your eyes, hoping that to look away from the landscape would ease the soreness you felt looking at the land Elliott had worked so hard for.
Later, you’d barely remember the funeral service. It was small; a lot of people didn’t like Elliott very much, and those that had had died at Quigley’s hands. The burial itself was even smaller; only you, William and Tommy. And fortunately so, because you might have embarrassed yourself with the way you broke down crying when you saw the tombstone. Only days earlier, you had stood on this very spot with Elliott, he promising a life of freedom for you and Tommy if only you’d marry him.
He had sworn never to come back here; now here he was forever.
Here lies
Victoria Marston
1826 - 1860
and
Elliott Marston
1820 - 1865
You calmed yourself eventually, but when the coffin was brought to be lowered into the grave, you broke down again, seeking comfort in William’s arms.
And he held you. Your husband was never one for public affection, but he held you.
“Would anyone like to say a few words?” the reverend asked when he’d finished his prayers.
You shook your head. You had no words to say. There wasn’t any combination of words in any language that could encapsulate the grief you felt, the love you had for him, the future you had lost.
William kept an arm around you the entire time. He sat you in front of him on the ride back to the station, guiding the horse with one hand while the other held you.
He told you to pack to return to Melbourne that night, so you braved crossing the threshold of Elliott’s house.
You gasped, but held yourself together when you saw that his lounge had been stripped almost bare.
In the bedroom, your breath caught in your chest to see the bed you’d spent so much time in with Elliott, but still your tears appeared to have run dry.
That was, until you opened the wardrobe, and you were hit by Elliott’s musky smell wafting from his clothes, still hanging in the wardrobe, waiting to be worn.
You fell to your knees and sobbed then, burying your head in his shirts, trying to cement the memory of his smell in your mind.
It wasn’t until William came to find out what was taking you so long that you were able to pull away. Even then, William had to lift you up and pull you away, ignoring your screams of protest as he parted you from your lost lover’s scent.
He guided you outside, told Tommy to keep an eye on you, and went back inside.
By the time the sun was beginning to set, William had packed your belongings and loaded up the wagon.
The journey back to Melbourne was torture. None of you well-adjusted to the Australian weather, you travelled by night, sleeping in the day, the men taking turns to stand guard against wild dingos.
Not that it mattered to you when you travelled; you just slept as much as you could, willing away the travel time until you arrived in Melbourne.
The house William had found for you both was not dissimilar to your home in London. William told you to get some rest while he unpacked, and when he deemed the job done, he found you sitting out on the balcony that led from your bedroom, looking out across the streets of Melbourne.
“[Y/n], I know you’re in shock,” William said, surprisingly soft for him, and you almost didn’t recognise his voice. “But we must talk about what happens next.”
You nodded. You still hadn’t said a word since Elliott’s death.
“After you fainted last week, the army arrived. Tommy took the blame for Quigley’s death. Two soldiers stayed behind after their platoon left, to help me with moving the station’s contents and… the bodies.”
William paused. You nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“I’ll sell the land tomorrow. Tommy tells me his former employer may be interested in it. We have until October before we return to London, and then we can put this whole mess behind us.”
You spoke for the first time. Your voice was hoarse and hardly more than a whisper, but William heard you.
“Tommy?”
“His employment reverts to me. I’ll keep him in my employ as a messenger boy for now, but he cannot return to London with us. He’s your brother, I know, and a hard worker, but his sentence is his sentence. I cannot be seen to revoke that for sentimental reasons. You understand that, yes?”
You nodded. You hadn’t expected anything more. In fact, you’d expected less. You were glad to know Tommy would be around at least until you left.
“Good girl, [Y/n].”
William placed a hand over yours. Your fingers twitched in a vague response, but otherwise you remained unmoved.
“I know you grieve for him — I do too. But we have work to do. I am still a judge of her Majesty’s court, and I have responsibilities; just as you do as my wife. I’ve given you time to recover from the shock, but tonight I expect you to resume your normal duties and serve your husband. Understood?”
You nodded again.
He left you alone.
---
Judge Turpin was starting to get irritated now.
It was four months since his cousin had died. Four months since he’d reunited with his wife. What he’d expected to be a joyous affair had been marred by the undoubtedly shocking end of Matthew Quigley’s rampage, and he’d been generous enough to grant you a week to process the difficult event. And just as he’d demanded on your return to Melbourne, you took his seed thrice daily in the hope of your belly quickening.
But still, you remained consumed by your grief. If this was how you reacted to the death of a man you hardly knew, he could hardly imagine how you’d react to his own death.
You hardly spoke. You never smiled, not really; not in a way that reached your eyes. Turpin would often come home from a day at court to find you’d not moved from the same spot all day.
And when he made love to you, there was no engagement, no thrill - you just opened your legs obediently and let him use you for his own pleasure.
It was getting boring and it was getting frustrating. So Turpin went to a doctor, who prescribed electrotherapy, but all that did was make you scream and cry, and that was worse than seeing you feel nothing, so he quickly put a stop to the therapy.
He was in the middle of giving a judgment in court when Tommy ran up to his bench and placed a note in front of him.
He paused, hoping Tommy had good reason for interrupting a judgment.
On reading the note, he quickly adjourned the hearing, leaving very stunned counsel in his wake as he dashed out of the courtroom.
He had shed his wig as he stood, but he was still clad in his judge’s robes when he entered the hospital and demanded to know where you were.
A nurse led him to your room, explaining the circumstances in which Tommy had found you unconscious in bed, a half-drunk bottle of arsenic in your hand. If it hadn’t been for Tommy’s quick thinking in inducing vomiting, you may have died. Instead, you were alive, but unconscious.
Turpin angrily sent the nurse away when he entered the room, demanding no one to disturb him. The door closed, he rushed to your side, and his heart broke to see you laying in the hospital bed, looking peaceful and serene as you slept, as if you had no idea the fear you’d struck into his heart.
“You stupid girl,” Turpin sighed. He sat perched on the edge of the bed and took your hand in his. Your fingers didn’t even twitch.
“Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeated. “Don’t you dare frighten your husband so. What on earth convinced you this was a good idea?”
Of course you didn’t respond.
Turpin stayed by your side for several days. Tommy brought him food, drink and fresh clothes. A clerk from the court came to take his instructions that he wouldn’t be hearing any matters until his wife woke up.
He read to you from the books the nurses had lying around. They mostly had silly romantic books, but by the end of Pride & Prejudice, Turpin found himself surprisingly invested in the story and glad that the two lovers had married.
When he wasn’t reading to you, Turpin spent a lot of time talking to you, or thinking to himself.
He knew why you were grieving so deeply.
He had loved his first wife, Charlotte, and yet she had fallen for a sailor boy. Lucy had loved Barker; Johanna had run away with Anthony.
And now you had fallen in love with Elliott.
Was he doomed to only love women who loved another?
He had punished Charlotte, yet she had run away anyway. So when he fell for Lucy, he sent Barker away, but still she rejected him. When Johanna believed she loved a boy she had only seen and not spoken to, this time he tried locking her away; but she only escaped.
Turpin didn’t want to do any of those things to you. Was he going soft in his old age? All he wanted to do was to bring you back from the deathlike trance you were in, to make you happy again. He hadn’t realised how much joy you brought into his life until it was extinguished, but extinguished it was and he wanted it back. He wanted his wife back.
“I don’t know what Elliott had that you don’t see in me,” Turpin whispered to you on the fourth day. “But I swear to you, [Y/n], if you tell me, I shall match it. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. I just… I need your light, [Y/n]. I need you to remind me of the goodness in the world. Can you do that? Can you stay good, stay pure, stay exactly as you’ve always been? Or must you change? Must your light be snuffed out by the evils of the world?”
You still didn’t respond.
Turpin bowed his head and sighed.
He hadn’t sung since that day in Todd’s parlour. He’d never been one to sing really, but he’d been lulled into a false sense of security that day. And today, he wondered if it might help him understand his own thoughts. So, with no one around but you, Turpin sung softly.
“I sit here, a man infatuate with love
Your ardent and eager slave
Please wake up, don’t leave me all alone
Your love is all I now need to know
Please tell me, my love, how I can show
I’ll love you until my grave
You set my heart and soul afire
One might think I’d be vexed
'Tis true, dear, love can still inspire
The blood to pound, the heart leap higher
What more can one require than love, dear?
More than love, dear…
Kindness?
Maybe kindness…
Care and kindness.”
He stopped suddenly, his attention caught by a strange movement: from beneath your hospital gown, something appeared to be moving around your abdomen.
Turpin gently lifted the gown to reveal your belly. It was protruding a little, perhaps from the poor diet you’d been eating since returning to Melbourne.
It moved again. An unmistakable wave of movement across your belly, as if…
As if there were something inside.
Hardly daring to get his hopes up, Turpin put his hand over your belly.
And then he felt it.
A kick. Definitely a kick.
Something - no, some one was moving inside you. A baby!
Finally, after so long trying, your womb had quickened!
Turpin dashed out of the room and flagged down a passing nurse.
“Nurse! Come quickly!”
“Is everything alright, Lord Turpin?” the nurse asked, slightly alarmed at the usually stoic man’s sudden sense of urgency. “Has Lady Turpin woken?”
“No, but I’m certain I just felt her womb quickening. Do you have a method of discerning if she’s pregnant?”
“Goodness! Yes, although I’ll have to fetch Dr Stephens, he’s the expert on maternity.”
“Then fetch him immediately!”
“Yes, sir.”
The nurse rushed off, and Turpin returned to your side. He beamed at you and took your hand in his, for once not caring to maintain any sort of stoic facade.
“I hope you can hear me, darling,” he said softly. “You’re pregnant. Do you hear me? Do you know? Can you feel him? Our child, growing inside you, an heir for our legacy…”
“Care and kindness, that’s what it takes
To make our love stronger
Care and kindness, what a wonder
Care and kindness…
Now we’ll have our child, the answer to my prayer
I feel a change in the air
Care and kindness that we’ll show him
And I’ll show you also
Stay forever, if you’ll have me
Care and kindness
Care and kindness
I know that you will love and
Raise my son and heir
Even when I leave
I’ll still be there
He’s there
Care and kindness that you give me
And I’ll give you, and we’ll give him, and he’ll give us
How it makes a man sing
Proof of heaven, as you're living
Care and kindness, love
Care and kindness, dear
Care and kindness, oh, care and kindness…”
You were confused when you woke up.
You weren’t supposed to wake up.
Wasn’t that what the apothecarist had said? One drink from the bottle and you’d sleep forever.
So why were you awake?
You opened your eyes and panic rose in your chest when you didn’t recognise the room you were in.
Someone was holding your hand. You turned your head to see William, sitting by your bedside, your hand in his and his head bowed as if in prayer.
Your finger twitched slightly, and his head shot up to look at you, wide-eyed.
”[Y/n]!” William exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. He grinned and held your hand to his lips. “You’re awake! My prayers have been answered.”
“Where am I?” you mumbled, your voice dry and hoarse.
“The Royal Melbourne, darling. You caused us all quite a fright. How are you feeling?”
“Um… okay, I think.”
You went to sit up, and William adjusted your pillows behind you to support you. He took your head in his hands, examining you as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.
“You’re sure? Are you hungry, thirsty? I’ve done my best to feed you while you’ve been asleep.”
“Yes, I’m fine - maybe a bit thirsty.”
“Of course. There’s water here.”
William poured a glass of water from the jug by the bed, and you glanced around the room.
It was mostly empty, and a bit miserable-looking. A stack of books lay nearby. You were dressed in nothing but a hospital gown, which had been pushed around your waist, and you tugged it down to cover your privacy.
“How long was I sleeping?”
“Four days. Here - drink.”
You must have really worried him, because you’d not seen William so eager to look after you before. He was like an entirely different person, his usual restraint gone, and you noticed when returning your empty glass to him that he was wearing only a shirt and trousers, nothing of his usual formal attire, and there was stubble on his cheek.
“Darling, I have to tell you something,” William said with a sense of urgency, taking both hands in yours. “And I must tell you now, so you’re not to interrupt me.”
You nodded.
“I know you fell in love with Elliott.”
Your heart dropped. This was it, he knew, he was going to divorce you for adultery —
“And yet, I know you didn’t try to leave me for him, much as he tried to convince you to. You showed me unwavering loyalty, even in spite of what your heart yearned for, and for that I thank you. I know I’m not the kindest husband, and though I provide for you, I can do better. I must do better. I swear to you now, [Y/n], with the Lord as my witness, I will do everything in my power to be the best husband I can for you, to honour Elliott’s memory, and… to be the best father I can for our child.”
He placed his hand tenderly over your stomach and smiled.
“I felt it, darling. The quickening. I saw him move and felt his kicks, only minutes before you woke. At last we’ll have the child we’ve yearned for.”
You felt paralysed with shock.
You were pregnant. You had a child inside you, a life, entirely dependent on you.
If you’d succeeded in what you’d tried to do, the child would have died too. You were so consumed in grief, you’d almost snuffed out the last trace of Elliott in the world.
The thought came to you so naturally, it was as if you just knew.
Maybe you did. Maybe a mother always knows.
Elliott was gone, but he was still with you. He’d left you with child.
Did William know? Did he want to know? Did the suspicion even cross his mind?
He looked so happy. Here he was, promising to be the best father he could be. If he even suspected the child wasn’t his, he would never react like this. He would probably force you to abort it to make room for his own child.
He couldn’t know. He could never know. The child would be Turpin, and he would never know who his real father was. It was a secret you had to carry to your grave, for all your sakes.
You looked up at your husband. He looked at you searchingly, waiting for you to respond to the news of your pregnancy.
“Can we call him Elliott?”
---
Thanks to some herbs from an apothecarist in Melbourne - not the same one who’d given you the useless bottle of arsenic, as grateful as you were for their negligence - you managed to make the two month journey back to London without regurgitating your meals any more than an expectant mother would normally do.
Your belly grew substantially over the journey, and though you’d managed to carry your own bags onto the boat in Melbourne, there was simply no way William was allowing you to attempt to carry them off again in London. You counted yourself fortunate that he didn’t insist on carrying you off the boat himself.
You’d said a tearful goodbye to Tommy in Melbourne, but you left knowing you’d see him sooner than expected; although he claimed there were no personal reasons for it, William had drawn up a law before you left that a convict who spends his sentence in the employ of the British army would receive a day off his sentence for each day served. It just so happened that shortly after enacting the law, he had Tommy enlist in the army, and therefore so long as he stayed safe and served the army well, he could return to London in as little as seven years.
You arrived in London just a few days before Christmas, and you were greeted with warm welcomes and congratulations by other churchgoers on Christmas Day, many of them pleasantly surprised to see Lord and Lady Turpin had safely returned from Australia and that you were heavy with child.
William forwent his usual New Year’s celebrations in favour of looking after you, since you were now so pregnant you could hardly get out of bed.
The New Year had hardly begun when you went into labour, and if you weren’t so distressed with your pain, you might have been amused at seeing the usually stoic Lord Turpin fretting with worry over you, refusing the doctors’ advice to leave the room. Instead, he insisted on staying with you, and made no complaints no matter how hard you gripped his hand in the throes of pain.
You were just about ready to pass out when finally you were free of the weight of the child, and William had to keep you awake as the nurse washed the baby, wrapped him up and handed him to you to nurse.
“Is he alright? Is he healthy?” William asked urgently, addressing the nurse but his eyes fixed firmly on the sight of you, sweaty and exhausted and utterly beautiful, holding your son to your breast.
“Yes and yes. And he is indeed a boy, congratulations!”
William beamed at you. “I never doubted it for a moment.”
Although he’d never say it to you, he had had doubts of the child’s paternity for months. And yet, looking down at him now, he realised he didn’t care if the child was half him or half Elliott. He was half you, and that was all that mattered.
William leant down and kissed the boy’s head tenderly.
“Welcome to the world, Elliott Turpin.”
Twenty Years Later
Being the eldest child was difficult sometimes. As the heir to the Turpin estate, Elliott had all the responsibilities, while his three youngest siblings were free to leave after marrying and start families elsewhere.
Elliott, though, stayed in the family home with his wife and young son. His wife, bless her, never complained - she liked having his mother around, she said. It was nice to have another lady around, especially when Elliott’s youngest sister, Eleanor, married and moved out almost as soon as she turned eighteen.
What he hadn’t expected was to lose his mother so soon after Eleanor left.
He had been the one to find her motionless in her bed.
And fortunately he had, because while in one hand she held an empty bottle of arsenic, in the other she held a letter addressed to him, and when he read the contents, he knew nobody could ever know the truth contained within, not even his wife.
Elliott —
I know I’m leaving early, but since my darling William left us ten years ago, I’ve been aching to follow him. In truth, I stayed only because my duty on this earth was not done. But now Eleanor is married, all four of you have families, and I’m needed here no more.
I must tell you a truth, Elliott, a truth I kept only to myself since before you were born.
You know you were named for William’s cousin, who we briefly stayed with in Australia in 1865, who was murdered before our very eyes.
But there’s more to your namesake than that.
For some time, William worked in Melbourne, while I stayed with Elliott at his station.
I fell in love with him.
If it weren’t for his death, I might have left William for him. But events transpired as they did, and I lost the love of my life. All I had left of him was the gift he’d given me: you.
The very moment I discovered I was pregnant with you, I knew he was your father. I wonder sometimes if a part of William knew too.
You knew William as a supportive if stern father, who laughed but reluctantly, and who adored me and all of you.
He wasn’t always like that.
The early years of our relationship were fraught with darkness, but that tale is done. That version of William died long ago.
He worked hard to become the man you knew. And he did it because of Elliott. He did it because he saw the love Elliott and I had, and although at first he was jealous, he took it as a lesson to become a better man.
I have loved every version of my husband. I loved Elliott too. Both these things can be true.
And of course I have loved you. I can never prove that Elliott is your father, but I have always known it.
You remind me of him sometimes. Your laugh is the same. He fancied himself an American cowboy, so you can imagine how it brought me both joy and sorrow to see you play Cowboys and Indians with William Jr, always insisting on being the cowboy.
But the resemblance I see most is in your family, the way you love them, care for them, protect them no matter what. If your father was anything, he was a protector.
He taught me to speak for myself. He showed me that I can make choices for myself. And it’s because of him that you exist, and that will always be the greatest gift of my life.
I love you, Elliott. Be the good man I know you are.
All my love,
Your mother, [Y/n] Turpin
#alan rickman#elliott marston#judge turpin#elliott marston x reader#judge turpin x reader#quigley down under#sweeney todd#the eternal summer
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I’d love a story with sick Angie (it doesn’t matter what it is) with the emphasis on Jonah as her caretaker. And I’d love it if you could write about what Jon said in that vertigo fic, were Luke was the only caretaker, about feeling like he doesn’t know Angie.
Hi there! I had a lot of fun typing this up, it's a bit more tender than my usual stuff, since Jonah's is slightly off his element!
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There were things Jonah knew how to do: read Leo like a book, feel Wendy’s annoyance from across a room, suture a wound with an eye closed. And then there were things that he didn’t…
Currently the issue was understanding what was going through his little sister’s mind.
It hurt to say out loud, but Angie was half family, half stranger. She had been only ten when Jonah left for college, however during five of those ten years they supposedly shared, he had been away in boarding school, coming home only three times a year. In sum, he had truly known Angie only for five of her seventeen years.
It had been a pleasant surprise to learn she didn’t think of him as some stranger, but as her brother, and that she wanted them to be close. Or, as Leo had put, “Jon, she worships you.”
Since Christmas last year, they had been chatting much more frequently and she had come over to Welton at the end of January, staying over at Jonah and Leo’s place for three days.
This time around she was supposed to stay all week, which Jon was equally nervous and excited about.
“I’m the one who should be nervous,” Leo had joked as they drove to pick Angie up at the airport, “not you.”
However Jonah was nervous, because despite never wanting to say this out loud — and not needing to, Leo knew it already — he was terribly invested into making this new relationship work out.
Normally Angelina was a bubbly, chatty teenager, never quite managing to contain her excitement. During her last visit, she had pestered JD so much that the cat had all but vanished during her last day over, hiding in Leo’s side of the closet.
Tonight she was sullen and Jonah was nearly crawling up the wall trying to figure out what had changed.
After picking her up at the airport, they had opted for having dinner in Portland instead of doing the full one hour and a half drive back to Welton without eating. Dinner had gone smoothly, Angie was a little quieter than usual, but Jonah had jolted this as her giving Leo time to gush about the proposal, something she seemed very interested in. Her whole face had lit up as she saw the engagement ring and she had pushed her chair closer in order to inspect it, pulling Leo into a hug that had the blonde’s face turning beet red, much to Jon’s amusement.
The drive back had been even more quiet.
“Why don’t you connect your phone with the radio, Angie?” Leo asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He was mortified of getting carsick in front of his future sister-in-law, so he had insisted on driving both ways, “pick some music for the ride.”
“No, it’s fine…” Angelina answered, curling up on the backseat, “I think I’m just gonna nap, if you don’t mind…”
“No, that’s alright,” Jonah turned on the passenger seat, “there must be a neck pillow stuffed behind my seat, is it there?”
“Yeah,” she retrieved it and kicked off her sneakers, spreading out in the back, “thanks, Jon.”
He turned back to face the road. Something was off and he wasn’t sure what.
“Relax,” Leo poked his side, a couple minutes later, whispering, “chill.”
“I am chill,” Jonah lied, not putting any effort behind it and once again looking over his shoulder, to where his sister had curled up in the backseat.
They got home without a hitch, Leo had put on one of his ultra romantic songs and was drumming along with Michael Bolton’s Missing You Now, much to Jonah’s eternal amusement. His fiance couldn’t keep up with the beat if they paid him.
“Baby I just can't wait! Till I see your face,” Leo leaned in to sing to him, as they parked, a cheeky smile on his face, “chase awaaay this loneliness insideee!”
Jonah snorted, shutting him up with a kiss, “oh God, shut up, Leo,” his cheeks heated up as the song ended and the initial lyrics of the When A Man Loves a Woman started playing, Leo getting ready to serenade him, pointing at Jon’s chest as he said, “When a man loves a woman. Can't keep his mind on nothin'else-”
“Leeeeo,” Jonah groaned, pushing his door open, but not getting out. Instead he turned on his seat to shake Angelina awake. He half expected her to be awake and giggling at the whisper concert Leo was making, but no, she was still sleeping soundly, “Angie. Angie, we’re here.”
It took him shaking her once more, before she woke up, looking completely lost for a minute.
“Where-”
“Let’s go inside so you can sleep in a proper bed,” Jonah circled the car, helping her out and raised his eyebrows, letting out a surprised noise when Angie collapsed against him and made no movement to pull away. He hesitantly lowered his arms around her in a makeshift hug, unsure of what to do.
Leo grinned at him, getting out of the car as well and going to retrieve Angie’s bags.
She barely let go of him, putting only enough distance that they were able to walk to the elevator, but snuggled back once they were inside. Jonah felt like his face was tingling and he couldn’t bring himself to meet Leo’s eyes, extremely embarrassed.
This time around, Angelina paid no mind to JD. The cat came running to greet them at the door, only to stop once she saw the girl and sniffling her suspiciously, serpentining between Angie’s legs and settling for meowing at Leo’s feet as if asking who this was.
Jonah fully expected his sister to grab JD like she had done last time, but instead she only yawned and waited patiently as he guided her to the guest room.
“You know where’s everything, right?” Jonah hung awkwardly at the door, once Leo put the bag inside and Angie sat down on the bed. She yawned again, nodding.
“Yeah…”
“There’s extra towels in the bathroom if you feel like taking a shower,” Jonah grimaced at his inability to sound as warm as he was supposed to, “and you don’t have to ask to go through the fridge…”
“I’m fine, Jon, thank you,” Angelina dismissed him easily, “I think I’m just gonna sleep, though.”
“Okay…” he glanced at the television, “there’s Netflix and Prime and Max-”
“Jon,” Leo grabbed his elbow, chuckling, “let the girl sleep. Goodnight Ange.”
“Goodnight,” Angie smiled at them, clearly agreeing with Leo and Jonah sighed, relenting and allowing the blonde to pull him out of the guest bedroom.
“It’s only nine o’clock,” Jonah complained as they entered their own bedroom, Leo already ahead of him in the bathroom, stripping for a shower. They were both still in work clothes, “what type of teenager falls asleep at nine?”
“Your sister’s type,” Leo shrugged, getting under the shower stream, “relax Jon, she’s probably just tired after the flight.”
Jonah didn’t quite believe that.
They ended up going to bed around eleven, so Jon was surprised when he woke up at only 6 AM, an hour before his alarm. He wasn’t sure why he was up. It was a Thursday, which meant Leo had court and would start working later, but would also be held up until whatever hour. The blonde was passed out next to him, head buried in the pillow.
Jon’s shift only started at 9…
He yawned, rubbing a hand over his face and getting up to pee. He was getting back in bed, when a noise down the hall caught his attention. Something falling?
It wasn’t JD, because the cat was happily asleep on Leo’s side.
Jonah got out of the bed to investigate and wasn’t surprised when he found the guest bedroom door open, or the guest bathroom door closed. He knocked on it softly, “Angie, you alright? I heard something falling…”
“Urgh…” was the pitiful answer he got, “Jon…”
Well, shit.
“Can I come in?” he asked nervously, biting the skin of his thumb, “Angie?”
“Hmmm…yeah…”
Jonah didn’t wait for an answer and pushed the door open.
Angelina was really skinny with long limbs, like a model, and currently she was folded like an origami project in front of the toilet. Her rich, dark skin looked damn near ashen, and she had a trembling hand on the porcelain, the other pressing to her lips.
“Don’t… I don’t feel good…”
“Oh darling,” Jonah sighed, feeling a selfish wave of relief wash over him at finally being able to pinpoint what was wrong and that it wasn’t him. He crouched down, “have you been sick yet?”
Angie shook her head, gulping down, “soon…” she leaned in, squeezing her eyes shut, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- To-” she got interrupted by a hiccup and Jonah scoffed, scooting closer so he could rub her back.
“Don’t apologize, it’s all right,” he cringed as he realized her really long, curly hair was getting near her mouth. They didn’t have a single scrunchie in their place.
At Bella’s advice, or rather, order, they had stocked the guest bathroom with pads, just in case — that had been an interesting little grocery trip, given neither of them had any idea of what they were doing and Leo looked positively mortified —, but the ginger hadn’t said anything about hair ties.
“Jon-” Angie whined, oblivious to his thoughts and leaning further over the toilet. Another sick hiccup shook her entire frame, this one turning into a gag at the end and Jonah cringed as he saw clear saliva hit the water.
“You’re okay,” he carefully pulled his sister’s hair back with one hand, the other staying firmly on her back, “just get it up, don’t fight it-”
She retched once more, before getting up to her knees, and burying her head in the bowl as vomit gushed out. The movement was so sudden that Jonah had to move as well, so he wouldn’t pull on her hair.
He gagged as he heard the horrible noise of his sister bringing up last night’s dinner, his stomach souring considerably as she pulled back, clumsily trying to flush, with vomit clinging to her bottom lip still.
“God-” Jonah pulled back the hand that was on her back, slapping it over his lips and biting down a retch of his own. Angelina let out a little hurt noise, much like JD did when they accidentally tripped on her.
“I’m sorry-” his voice came out husky, “shit, Angie, I’m sorry-”
“You’re sick too?” she managed to flush and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, causing Jonah to gag once more. He shook his head, gulping convulsively to keep his stomach in check.
He was so used to Leo, that someone else puking around him was news to his body. The routine was different, the noises too. Worse.
“No, I just-” Jonah cleared his throat, “I get sympathy sick.”
“Oh,” Angie’s big chocolate eyes were dazed and he suspected she was burning up a fever, “I’m sor-”
“Are you done?”
“I dunno,” she rubbed her stomach, uneasily, “don’t wanna risk going to bed and- And getting sick…”
“We can sit on the couch and watch TV,” Jonah offered, getting up to grab her a glass of water and Angie took it with her hands shaking. Jon took advantage of the fact her hands were busy, in order to feel his sister’s forehead.
Surprisingly, she didn’t flinch or pull back at the sudden touch, leaning completely on it. She was really warm.
“Not a high fever, but a fever,” he pulled back after a second, as Angie gulped down the water and hung over the toilet once more, letting out a sickly burp, “you’ll be okay on your own for a second?”
“Uh-hu,” she nodded, gagging but not bringing up anything. Jonah rushed out before his stomach decided to join the party as well.
He put together a little nest in the living room, grabbing her a set of blankets and a pillow, a bowl, meds, water and thermometer. After a couple minutes he heard the bathroom flush and the tap running, Angelina brushing her teeth, then she stumbled in the living room.
“Come lie down,” he pulled her to the couch, unsure of what she liked when sick. To be left alone or dotted on? So far the dotting was proving successful, but Jon was scared at any minute she’d snap at him. Or worse, cry.
Instead of doing either, Angelina curled up on the little nest he had created for her, tugging on his arm so he’d sit alongside her and then scooting up, resting her pillow half on his leg, “I feel horrible, Jon…”
“I’m sorry, darling,” the nickname slipped out, as he stroked her hair back and Jonah froze for a second, but Angie didn’t seem bothered in the least. In fact, she cuddled up even more, turning on her side and shivering, “I need to take your temperature,” he said, leaning to grab the thermometer and passing it to her.
He was genuinely surprised by how easy of a patient Angie was, after dealing with Leo and their friends for years now. They were a crew of stubborn people, while his baby sister seemed to be the most docile person ever.
She took the thermometer without complaining and didn’t whine when he fed her medicine, barely paid any attention to the television, seeming content just cuddling and shivering like hell, no matter how many blankets she had.
“Jon,” Leo woke him up, pressing a kiss to his temple, and Jonah realized he had drifted back to sleep with Angie’s head resting on his lap. It was hard not to feel sleepy when she was a little furnace, “you okay?”
“Uhm?” he rubbed his eyes and frowned. Leo was almost finished dressing for the day, which meant it was nearly 9 already. His tie wasn’t done and Leo was holding a coffee mug.
“What happened…?” Leo gestured to their current situation and Jonah darted out a hand, so his fiance could help him slip from under Angie without waking her up. The young girl only stirred, grimacing and curling up even more.
“Woke up with her throwing up at 6 AM,” Jonah whispered, following Leo to the kitchen and sitting by the counter, while the blonde got the coffee maker working, “I’m gonna have to call in sick at work.”
He wasn’t happy about that, Jon was on a quest to not miss any more work days, since he’d take the month off for honeymoon, probably at the end of the year or as soon as they stopped to settle on a bloody date.
“I’ll do it for you,” Leo planted a mug of coffee in front of him, squeezing Jonah’s shoulder, “should I worry?”
“No,” Jonah yawned, leaning to rest his head on Leo’s shoulder, “she’s alright, it’s just a 24 hour bug.”
“I don’t like this,” Leo sighed, “I’m going to be offline all day, I have no way of knowing-”
“I’m the doctor,” Jonah said smugly, grabbing the blonde’s chin, “I can handle one sick teenager. Relax.”
“Look who’s talking,” Leo smiled at him, rolling his eyes, “text me updates anyway, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” Jon’s tone was sassy, but he meant it. He yawned in his fist, pulling Leo closer by his tie and starting to do the knot for him, “you’re gonna be back for dinner?”
“I’ll try to,” Leo wrinkled his nose, “but I doubt. You think she’d like balloons? Popsicles?”
“She’s seventeen, not five,” Jonah snorted, lifting himself up on his seat enough to kiss him, “bring us something yummy for dessert.”
Once Leo had left, promising he’d not forget to call the hospital to let them know of Jonah's absence, Jon had nothing but time to dedicate to his sister. It was so weird.
He took a shower to get ready for the day and fixed her up with some soup — well, ordered some soup —, then crouched down in front of the couch, pushing a curl away from her forehead, “Angie. Ange,” he shook her gently, “Angelina.”
“Uhhm?” She still had a fever, he could tell. The previous round of meds had lowered it, but not eradicated it, “what time is it?”
“Almost eleven,” he helped her sit up, “how’s your tum- stomach?” he was going to kill Leo.
Angie frowned, yawning, “sore. Kinda queasy,” she blushed, “did you say tummy?”
“No,” Jonah scoffed, sitting on the foot of the couch, “I got you some soup, think you can handle it?”
She hesitated, before nodding. Jonah eagerly shot up, he hadn’t been expecting a positive answer, and put everything on a tray, the soup, bread, some water and juice because he didn’t know what she preferred…
“I’m sorry, I don’t know your favorite flavor, so I just ordered mine,” Jon grimaced, settling the tray down on Angie’s lap.
She squinted at it, “is it pumpkin?”
“Yeah, and some chia seeds,” Jonah looked away, “Leo hates it, so we have plain tomato soup if you do too-”
“No,” Angelina shook her head, “I like it. My favorite is onion cream, just so you know,” she curled up her feet, in an invitation for him to sit closer and stirred the warm meal, “but I don’t think I could handle it right now.”
“I don’t think so either,” Jonah mentally stashed the information in his growing file of facts about his sister. So far he knew she really loved anything artsy, that she was attracted to Wendy’s colorful clothes and style like a butterfly to a flower, that she adored cats and that she got quiet and withdrawn when sick, “uh- Do you like popsicles…?”
Angie giggled, rolling her eyes, “doesn’t everyone?”
Well shit, he’d have to apologize to Leo.
“I don’t,” Jon shrugged and she frowned, starting to eat very slowly.
“Are you a robot?” Angelina inspected him up and down, “no type of popsicles?”
“I’m partial to gelato,” Jon shrugged, “or frozen yogurt.”
She shook her head in a tired manner, reaching for the juice instead of the water, “you’re so very weird, Jon…” then she frowned, blinking slowly as if trying to process some information, “don’t you have work today?”
Originally, Angie had planned to visit the museums and the university, that was the guise behind her visit. At least to Jonah it was, he was pretty sure she had openly told Leo she just wanted to visit them.
“I called in sick,” Jon pointed at her bowl, “staying down?”
“Yeah,” she yawned, “but it’s a lot.”
“You don’t have to eat all of it. Get as much as you want, then we can watch something or you can go back to sleep-”
“Can we go out to the park? With JD?”
He paused, “aren’t you sick?”
“I’m not dying,” Angie pouted, “and I already won’t be able to do everything I had planned so…”
“Yeah, uh- Sure. I don’t know where Leo keeps her leash, he’s the one who walks her, I just- I have to look…” He felt so incredibly out of place, “yeah, lemme go look-”
JD let out an indignant meow at being trapped in her leash and swatted at his hand with all little kitty force, trying to draw blood. Jonah sighed, scratching the kitten behind her ears, “I’m sorry, but you’re gonna take one for the team and be a good kitty.”
The cat didn't feel like being nice and once they got outside, walking to one of the benches since Angie got breathless not even five minutes after they left, JD simply crawled up Jon’s lap and tried to hide in his coat.
“She’s not outdoorsy at all, is she?” Angie grinned, leaning on his shoulder and trying to pet the animal, JD pointedly ignoring her. Jonah shrugged, leaning back and enjoying the fresh air.
“She’s a bit of a prick just like me,” he answered truthfully, hissing as he felt JD’s claws sink through his sweater, “she’ll get used to you.”
“I hope so,” Angie sighed, leaning against his side and resting her face on his shoulder, uninvited. She was so… Tactile. Clingy, even. Jonah pressed his cheek to the top of her head, “I hope she’ll grow to love having me around.”
He had the distinct feeling she was no longer talking about the cat. Jonah rolled his eyes, kissing the top of Angie’s head, “I’m certain she will, darling.”
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Why Marry
Pairing: Elvis Presley x black!reader
Word Count: 13.3K (I got carried away again, I’m not sorry)
Summary: Elvis and Y/N are childhood sweethearts in Tupelo, Mississippi. The love that they have for one another even blossoming when he moves off to Memphis. While he is away in Germany, Y/N marries another man. As time goes on, the two sweethearts grow distant, but can distance cause the heart to grow fonder?
Warnings: ANGST, reader marries another man, mentions of the colonel, a few time skips, talks about Elvis at Sun Records, eventual smut, FLUFF, happy ending for the two
A/N: This is the third installment of my Sweet Inspirations inspired saga. This one a bit sadder than the rest, but I hope that it doesn’t deter you from reading. The fic is based off of The Sweet Inspiration’s ‘Why Marry’. If you would be so kind, check the song out! It’s really good! Like truly! I’m not really good at writing angst, but I think I did a pretty good job at writing this one. It made me cry. As always, I hope you guys enjoy :)
There are two types of childhood sweethearts: the seasonal sweethearts and the lifelong sweethearts. You would like to think that as long as you knew Elvis, he would be your lifelong sweetheart. You and Elvis were always together, ever since you were kids. There was never a place you or he would go without one another. You were born and raised in Tupelo, living at the Shake Rag because your father left your mother when she was pregnant with you. She was forced to penny pinch and work multiple jobs even after you were born. Your grandmother would watch you, catching on early that you were ever the social butterfly. There was never a stranger that you knew, always wanting to help out even if you didn’t have the financial means to do so.
Elvis and his mother, Gladys, arrived at Shake Rag when he was a child as his father was carted away to jail for financial troubles. Your mother and grandmother welcomed her and her son with open arms, sometimes inviting them over for dinner when things were a little too rough for them. They even admired little Elvis because he took on the responsibilities of being the man of the house, working alongside his mother so that she wouldn’t have to suffer and struggle alone. At first, he was shy. He wouldn’t speak a word when you would try to share your toys or when you would invite him out to play with you and the other kids.
As time went on, you didn’t even remember that he was once the shy kid who spent his time reading his Captain Marvel Jr comic books. The only thing that you did remember was he was your best friend and you were his. The Presley family and your family would continue the ritual of having dinners during the weekends, even welcoming Vernon when he returned to his family after his stint in jail. Vernon was a man of only a few words, but he welcomed you into his family as if you were his own. However, outside of Shake Rag, you couldn’t be seen with them due to your color. Times were hard; sometimes, you would cry because you wanted to attend school with Elvis, having to attend a different school because schools were segregated. “Mama, I don’t understand why I can’t go to school with Elvis. He’s still my best friend.” You would cry into your pillow as your mama tried to console you. “Darling, nothing will change between you and Elvis, but you know how outside people will view your relationship. He’s white and you’re black, baby. That’s the way God created you.”
You would try to not let the situation deter you, waiting for Elvis to return home every afternoon from school. Both of your mothers would let you sit on their porch alternatively, where you would do your homework together. He would even read his comic books to you, telling you his dreams of wanting to fly to the rock of eternity just like his favorite comic book hero. You grew to admire his aspirations, thinking about your hopes and dreams and how Elvis would fit. You could only hope that the world was ready to embrace you and Elvis together.
Your relationship with Elvis would change drastically as he grew into a teenager, puberty nearly catching you by surprise at how handsome he had become. He was finally changing from the shy kid who never went far without his mama to having full confidence due to his looks. You also couldn’t miss how girls would follow him wherever he would go, causing you to experience your first taste of jealousy because you were afraid that you would lose your best friend. However, Elvis would always remind you that you were his bestest girl; that nothing and nobody would ever change that.
You would hold on to his words, noticing how he would linger his gaze on you as puberty finally caught up with you. His eyes would move along your curves, commenting on how the only girl that lived in Shake Rag projects was turning into a woman. You didn’t miss how his hands would linger at the swell of your hips as he would hug you, his touch sending shivers through your body. Times were changing and you weren’t getting any younger. You didn’t know what to do with the feelings that you felt whenever you were around Elvis and you could tell that his feelings were changing from platonic to much more.
One night, Elvis was sitting outside of his house, strumming his guitar that his daddy had bought him from the general store in town. You had finished helping your mother with chores, deciding that you needed some air. You also wanted to catch a glance of the boy who was starting to become the center of your world. He was singing a song that you had heard him sing before; Woody Herman’s ‘Let Me Love You Tonight’ but it was something about the way he crooned that sent your heart reeling.
Let me love you tonight
Let me tell you how much I adore all of your charms
Though you leave me tomorrow, for this night we’ll borrow a love song
Let me love you tonight
Let me thrill to the touch of your sheltering arms
Til the scent of the roses caresses and closes your eyes
You sat down beside him, his eyes staring into yours as he continued to play his guitar. You hummed along with him, closing your eyes as you listened to his crooning and only in that moment, it was the two of you. He finished the song, placing the guitar down beside the rocking chair that he was sitting in. You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a smile, but he didn’t return it. “What’s the matter, honey? You look like you’ve been told some bad news.” He sighed, standing up from the chair before walking towards the side of his porch; his eyes looking towards the night sky. “We are leaving Tupelo.” You stood up in a hurry, walking over to where he was standing; your body facing him as you made sure that you heard him correctly. “Leaving? Where are you going?” You asked, feeling your heart tearing apart at the seams. He turned to face you, his eyes shining with tears as he couldn’t meet your eyes as he started to explain the shift happening in his life.
“We are moving to Memphis. At the end of the week. Daddy got a better job out there, so we are packing up and going with him.” His voice shook as he tried to hold himself together, the pain of having to part from you seemingly turned his world upside down. “Did you just find this out? Why are you only telling me now?” Your eyes filled with tears, unable to hold them back as they freely flowed from your eyes. Elvis took you by the hands, holding them tightly in his as he looked at you. He had never seen you cry like this; sure, he had seen you cry when you were kids when the neighborhood kids would tease you about having cooties, but he had never seen you cry like this. It broke his heart into many pieces, but there was nothing he could do about the situation. “I found out last night, Satnin. I just couldn’t find the words to tell ya. Don’t be mad at me, please? Not when we only have a few days to spend together.” You sniffled at his explanation, looking away from him to look up at the night sky; the stars seemingly not as bright as other nights.
“Satnin, I think before I leave, I have to get some things off of my chest or it’ll kill me.” You looked back at Elvis, pulling your hands away to wipe the tears that were drying on your skin. You nodded your head, crossing your arms to hold yourself as you waited for him to speak. “Y/N, I don’t wanna leave Tupelo without tellin’ ya how I feel about ya. You know you’re my bestest girl and that’ll never change. But, I don’t wanna be friends anymore.” He put his hand up to stop you from responding, taking a deep breath before he stepped forward towards you.
“I don’t want to only be your friend. I don’t wanna be the older brother to ya, I don’t wanna be the boy that you run to when you’re havin’ boy troubles either. I wanna be more than that, lil’.” You shook your head, not comprehending what he was saying, but you kept your mouth shut in hopes that he would connect the missing piece. “What I’m sayin’ is, I’m not good at this confessing type of stuff. I wanna be your boyfriend, honey. I wanna be the one you can run to when you’re having troubles, the one you call when you have exciting things to say. Ya get what I’m saying to ya?”
Elvis looked into your eyes as you stared back at him, unable to fully grasp what he was saying to you. “M-my boyfriend? Well, yeah. I want you to be my boyfriend, Elvis. I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine. I just don’t want you to leave.” You whispered to him, sniffling once again as the tears threatened to flow once again. Elvis wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, pulling you into his arms as his mood shifted from what was somber only a few moments ago. “I’m sure glad to hear that you agree. Mama told me that I should make a move before it was too late, but I’m so glad that you agreed.” At that moment, he pressed his soft lips upon yours, taking you by surprise as he pulled you closer into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him back softly before he pulled away; his eyes moving back up to the night sky that shined brightly as the only peace that was present was having you in his arms.
The week flew by, the pain and heartbreak that you felt grew as you knew that Elvis and his family were leaving. The day that they were due to leave, your family waited in front of their house, helping them pack everything into their family truck. You were clinging on to Elvis, sobbing with grief as he repeated over and over that he would call you every day. As they got everything settled, you were forced to let him go so that he could climb in the truck after his mama. You and your family watched as they pulled away from Shake Rag, Elvis’ eyes never leaving yours until their truck was no longer in sight.
Elvis stayed true to his word, calling you every day and sending letters about his new life in Memphis. He would tell you how much he missed you, how much he wanted you there with him. He had started school shortly after, telling you about how the boys would pick on him because he would walk around the school grounds, strumming his guitar and singing. He would also tell you about how the girls would follow him around, wanting to hear more from the new kid with the southern croon.
School was uneventful for you as you would only go to school and then rush home because you didn’t want to miss a phone call from him. You would beg and plead with your mama to pack up and leave Tupelo behind, wanting to move to Memphis to be closer to Elvis and his family. Gladys would stay in touch with your mother, telling her about the opportunities that Memphis held. It didn’t take much convincing for your mother to agree, so at the end of the following year, your family packed up and moved away from Tupelo, finding a new life in Memphis. Your mother managed to find a cheap home, taking a job as a seamstress in town as you would continue with school. You would eventually pick up a job as well at the local diner downtown in your spare time, but you would also spend as much time as possible with Elvis and his family.
Memphis was much different than the life that you had in Tupelo. You were in another world compared to Shake Rag, so it took some time getting used to. There were places where you couldn’t go, only imagining how life would be if segregation wasn’t a thing. Elvis was about to graduate high school and so were you, so there was no doubt that things were going to change and hopefully for the better. Elvis didn’t have any plans about what he wanted to do after high school, but one thing he knew that he wanted to do was marry you. You were over the moon at the thought of becoming Mrs. Presley, talking to your friends about how you wanted to be by his side every step of the way.
Your mother thought you were crazy, in fact, she made it known that she didn’t think it was a good idea, considering how the world was. “Baby girl, you and Elvis are no longer at Shake Rag. Do you know what people would say if they saw Elvis walking around town with a black girl on his arm? You and him could be in for a world of trouble.” You didn’t care though, dismissing her words as her just being worried. “Mama, I know where you are coming from. Believe me, I’ve seen the hateful looks that I get when I’m walking to work. Elvis ain’t that way and neither is his family. As long as they’ll accept me, nothing else matters.” Your mother would sigh, rubbing your back as she shook her head. “You’ll see, baby. You’ll see.”
You would tell Elvis about the conversations that you and your mother would have, him sighing over the phone as he couldn’t seem to understand how people could have a problem with him wanting to marry the woman that he loved. “Honey, you’re my bestest girl. You know that, right?” You would always tell him that you knew that, but the truth always nagged in the back of your mind that maybe your mother was right. Soon enough, Elvis graduated from Humes and you were on your way to graduating a few days after. During the summer, Elvis would spend time with you at his house where his family would have barbecues and family gatherings. He would always carry his guitar, stating that he never knew when an opportunity would present itself.
At night, he would sit on his porch beside you, singing ballads about love. You knew that he loved you and you loved him just the same. By the time August rolled around, he still had no plans for the future; taking odd jobs to help his family when Vernon couldn’t pay the bills. Although this plan wasn’t getting off the ground, you still supported him in everything that he did. One morning, he called you excited. “What’s going on, Elvis?” You could feel his enthusiasm through the phone, smiling widely as you listened to him speak. “I finally have the chance to go down to Sun Records to record a song! I want ya there with me, baby. Can you come, please?” His boyish whine flipped your heart in your chest, remembering the charm that he had all those years ago in Tupelo.
“Of course, Elvis! I wouldn’t miss anything like this for the world. Are we going today?” Elvis hummed, the tone in his voice made you feel exhilarated. “Yes, I’m gonna come pick ya up shortly! I want ya to dress in your best, this is gonna be the beginning of our lives, Satnin. I’m finally gonna be able to do something other than work on iceboxes.” You hung up with him shortly after, running past your mother as she looked confused at your sudden excitement. “Elvis is going down to Sun Records to perform a record! He wants me to come with him!” She laughed, shaking her head as she told you to be careful and to make sure to be home for dinner. Elvis made it to your house shortly after, honking the horn to get your attention. “Mama, Elvis is here! I’ll be home for dinner, I love you.” You kissed her cheek before running out of the door. Elvis kissed your forehead as you entered his truck, speeding away from your house. On the ride there, Elvis would practice the lines for the songs that he was going to record, you listening with a smile on your face.
You were anxious and rightfully so. You knew that this was a brand new journey for the boy that you loved and yet, you were frightened that he would be let down. You didn’t want to tell him your thoughts, so you kept them at the back of your mind as you neared the recording studio. Elvis didn’t let the car completely shut off before he jumped out of the driver’s side, running around to help you out of the cab of the truck. “Come on, Satnin. I don’t wanna be late.” He grabbed you by the hand, leading you inside. The recording studio was small on the inside, but you were astonished at the sight of guitars and pictures that adorned the walls. “I’m here for the noon recording. I’m Elvis Presley.” The woman looked at him with a smile on her face, handing him the clipboard for him to sign in. “Pleased to meet ya, Elvis. I’m Marion Keisker. If you enter that room right over there, we will get you set up for your session.” Marion looked over at you, a smile on her face as she moved from around the desk.
“Are you here for a session, miss?” You shook your head vigorously, pointing towards the room that Elvis had now disappeared to. “Oh no, ma’am, I’m here with him.” You were waiting for her to look at you in disgust, fearing that she would throw you out of the studio for even thinking about being in the same room as Elvis. Instead, her smile widened as her eyes never left yours. “You’re more than welcome to join him, it looks like he’s gonna need your good luck charms.” She led you into the room, your face in awe at the equipment that looked like it cost more than you made in a week. “Satnin, this is great! Look! They got a picture of B.B. King!” Elvis was like a kid in a candy store, awestruck that he would be recording in the same building as the musicians that he grew up listening to. Marion and a man who was holding the clipboard that she was once holding before, entered shortly after. “Alright, Elvis. I’m Sam Phillips, the owner of Sun Records. Let’s see what songs you got for us.”
Marion stopped Sam before he could leave to go into the booth, turning to Elvis before crossing her arms. “What kind of singer are you, Mister Presley?” Elvis turned around from where he was standing, gripping his guitar as his smile crossed his lips. “I sing all kinds, ma’am. I can sing whatever ya want me to sing.” She smiled, pressing the matter further. “Who do you think you sound like?” Elvis shrugged, his cerulean eyes glittering under the studio lights. He was in his element, you knew it from the time that he walked inside. This was his moment and you were going to be there every step of the way. “Well ma’am, I–I don’t sound like nobody.” Sam nudged Marion, tilting his head toward the booth. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Sam and Marion disappeared in the booth, leaving you with Elvis. “You sound like Elvis Presley, honey. That’s good enough for me and it’ll be good enough for everyone else.” Elvis smiled at that, leaning in to kiss your cheek before he moved towards the microphone.
“Alright Elvis, what is the first song that ya wanna record?” Elvis thought for a second before leaning into the microphone. “That’s where your heartaches begin.” You smiled, knowing that was one of the songs that his mother adored. Her birthday was coming soon, so you knew that he wanted one of these songs to be a gift for her. “That’s where your heartaches begin, take one.” Sam spoke, pointing toward Elvis to begin. You sat in a nearby chair, watching as Elvis crooned into the microphone, his fingers strumming on the guitar strings. He sounded beautiful, making you swoon with each word. Elvis may have been playing around when he would sing on some occasions, but you could tell that he was singing from his heart. You looked over at the booth where Marion and Sam were, noticing that Marion looked amazed at how he sounded. You couldn’t help but to smile, knowing that he was sure to be discovered if he kept this up.
Once the recording of the song was finished, Elvis looked over at you with a hopeful smile. You could tell that he was a bit relaxed now, but he was still trembling with nerves as if he was performing before a huge crowd. “You can do this, honey. I believe in you.” The next song was My Happiness, a song that you heard him sing on multiple occasions when it was only you and him. You were sure that this would be your wedding song with him, picturing yourself dancing the night away in his arms after he made you his wife. He winked at you, making your face heat up with ease as he always had done. Sam pointed towards him again, giving him the cue to begin. Elvis took a deep breath, playing on his guitar once again as he began to sing.
Evening shadows make me blue
When each weary day is through
How I long to be with you
My happiness
Every day I reminisce
Dreaming of your tender kiss
Always thinking how I miss
My happiness
You could do nothing at that moment, the feeling of love pouring out of his soul as you witnessed Elvis doing the thing that he loved. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Elvis continued crooning into the microphone. He was truly out of this world; you knew that this was his time to shine and that he was sharing that light with anyone who would listen. He finished the song as Marion and Sam walked into the room. Marion still had a smile on her face, while Sam clapped his hands in astonishment at the boy who stood before him. “Thank you sir, I really appreciate ya lettin’ me record these songs for my mama.”
Sam patted him on the shoulder, not really saying much words before Elvis took you by the hand, leading you out of the studio. “Do ya think mama would like these records? I feel like Sam didn’t really like it.” Elvis told you as he drove you back to your house. “Are you hearing yourself, Elvis? Your mama will love it! You’re her world. I’m sure they liked the songs too. You are extremely talented, honey. Don’t ever doubt yourself.” Elvis didn’t say anything at that moment, the silence was still nice as the drive continued.
As time went on, Elvis didn’t hear anything from Sam or Marion, so he figured that they didn’t care for the songs. His mother adored them, playing the records until it drove the entire house crazy. You didn’t mind it, supporting Elvis was always something that you loved. As the new year rolled around, Elvis would return to Sun Records to record more songs and you would be there every step of the way. It wasn’t until the following summer that his luck would finally turn around when he had the opportunity to record more songs.
Elvis had met new people around that time: Scotty Moore and Bill Black and they had formed their little group “The Blue Moon Boys”. Scotty and Bill had become brothers to you, always happy to see you when Elvis would come around. The summer was grueling and unforgiving in Memphis, but you never swayed in your support of Elvis. You were sitting in the studio again until the night, fanning yourself with one of the lyric papers that Elvis had.
Elvis was growing impatient with the entire thing, hinting on one or more occasions that it was time to lay down the guitar and continue working at the electric company. You were a little worn out at the late nights, but you knew that if he continued on, he would eventually strike gold. Elvis decided that he would be his normal joking self, playing tunes on his guitar as he danced around. He decided to sing Arthur Crudup’s That’s All Right, jumping around and making jokes. Bill and Scotty decided to join in on his shenanigans, thinking that it was only something to lighten the mood. Sam peeked his head out from the booth, listening for a while before he asked them what they were doing. “We don’t know.” Scotty responded, beginning to put down his guitar. “Do it again.” Sam said as he went back into the booth, pointing to Elvis to start again. You were enthralled, watching the boys dance around as Elvis sang into the microphone, not sure what would come out of it.
However, he would soon know what did come out of that night session as three days later, Elvis called you on the phone, telling you to turn on the radio. “They are playing my song, Satnin! Turn on the radio.” You hurriedly ran into the living room, turning on the radio where you heard Elvis’ voice singing through the speakers. You thought that you were dreaming, yelling out for your mother to join you. “Mama! Elvis is on the radio!” Your mother walked into the living room, a smile on her face and you thought you saw a stray tear fall down her cheek as she pulled you into a hug. “I knew Elvis could do it, honey. I’m gonna call Gladys later to congratulate them on raising a superstar.” You were so proud of him, wanting to scream at the top of your lungs that your sweetheart was on every radio station. However, you decided to keep yourself together so that he would thoroughly enjoy this moment.
His stardom didn’t stop on that fateful July afternoon. In fact, he was beginning to perform every chance that he could. You couldn’t go to these performances as much as you wanted to, your mother would remind you repeatedly how dangerous it could be to publicly show your support and love for Elvis. You felt defeated; the thoughts that crossed your mind was nothing short of doubt that your relationship with him would withstand his newfound fame. You could see how the girls liked him, screaming like canaries whenever he was in the room. While he was gone, you wouldn’t hear from him days at a time, but you knew that in your heart that you were his only girl. When Elvis returned from his performances, he had a new person in his circle. He told you that this man was his new manager, someone who could help him with making it mainstream. Colonel Tom Parker was a strange man, in fact, he didn’t look like any colonel that you’ve seen.
Elvis didn’t notice the things that you did, excited at the idea that he would soon star in his first film, ‘Love Me Tender’. The film was a success, shooting Elvis further in the limelight. With Elvis enjoying the attention that he was enjoying, you were suddenly no longer enjoying being left in the dark like a secret. This would start unwarranted arguments between the two of you, leaving cracks that were beginning to show in your relationship. You had never fought with Elvis, even as kids. You could tell that Elvis was blind to the fact that your feelings were beginning to be hurt, not wanting to stand in the way of his success but you also didn’t want to be ignored.
Through all of this, Elvis would constantly remind you that you were his bestest girl and when the time was right, you would be married. This time around, you weren’t so sure if you believed him. He was so far away from you, even if he was in the same room as you. You could only continue supporting him from afar and as much as your mother would tell you that this was the only choice that you had, you were beginning to see that maybe it was the right one.
You would continue working at the diner, taking as many shifts as you could so that you wouldn’t think about losing Elvis. One day, you were working when a man walked into the diner, a smile across his face as you welcomed him. He was handsome; tall but slim, and his brown eyes shined under the light. “Welcome to Maggie’s, I’m Y/N. What can I get for you?” The man smiled at you, reading off his order to you as you jotted it down before turning around to leave. “Wait, ma’am. Would you like to join me?” You were flabbergasted that this man was subtly flirting with you, a pang of guilt hitting your gut as you shook your head. “I can’t do that, sir. I’ll be right back with your meal.” You walked away from him, reading off his order to the cook. You begged your friend, Yvette to take over for you; not wanting to show your face to the man again, in hopes that he wouldn’t speak another word to you.
After much pleading, Yvette agreed. She returned moments later with a sheet of paper, wiggling her brow at you as she smirked. “His name is Charlie.” She walked away from you, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen with a sheet of paper with his number scribbled on it. Charlie would become a regular and at first, you would try to avoid him at all costs. However as time went on, he became a dear friend to you. You would speak on the phone with him sometimes, learning that he was a businessman.
You would lean on Charlie whenever Elvis was away, listening to stories about his life and how he moved to Memphis from Chicago. “Chicago? What made you wanna move all the way down here to Memphis?” Charlie would chuckle over the phone, humming under his breath before responding to you. “I used to think the same thing, but now, I have a good reason why I moved down here. I didn’t think I would meet such a beautiful lady as yourself.” You would remind him that you had a boyfriend, but he would tell you that if your boyfriend had any sense, he wouldn’t leave you alone.
Elvis was busy all of the time, traveling back and forth from Memphis to California as his movie career was taking off. You didn’t miss how Elvis would call you sometimes at night, hearing women in the background. He would dismiss your claims of him cheating on you, telling you that he didn’t want to be with anyone other than you. You were growing tired of being away from him, fed up at the fact that you knew that he was lying to you but you couldn’t do anything about it. Then, Elvis returned home for the holidays.
It was 1957, the year had flown by with Elvis being gone and you working as much as you could at the diner. Elvis invited you and your mother to his home for Christmas, telling you that he wanted to celebrate like you had always done. You begrudgingly agreed, but at the back of your mind, it didn’t feel the same. You and your mother arrived at his new home, taking in the atmosphere of being around him and his family. Gladys welcomed you with open arms, hugging you tightly. “We haven’t seen you in a while, sweetheart. How has life been treatin’ you?”
You smiled at her, your heart breaking as you could tell that something was bothering her. “The same old, the shifts at the diner are starting to wear on my body. I think it’s about time that I do something else.” She could only nod, hugging you once again as Elvis entered the room. He wore a frown on his face, his eyes glistening over with tears as he pulled you into his arms. His scent as always sent your heart soaring, wanting to be near him every chance that you could. “What’s the matter, Elvis? You look as if someone died.” You chuckled, but he didn’t return your smile. “I’m being drafted, Satnin. They are sending me away to Germany for two years. Will ya wait for me? I know I’ve had you waiting for me for three years, but all I’m asking is for a little more time. When I come home, we can get married and you’ll never have to be away from me again.” You were beside yourself at that moment, tears pricking at your eyes as you glared up at him.
“I’ve been waiting for the moment when I could marry you and now you’re just leaving? Like that?” Your mother looked at you with a look of grief, knowing that your heart was breaking at the words that were passing his lips. “I don’t have a choice, baby. You know if I dodge the draft, I could be arrested. I don’t wanna ruin everything that I’ve ever worked for.” You pulled away from him, taking in the looks from everyone who was witnessing the news. Gladys was crying in her hands, while Vernon was holding her in his arms. Your mother couldn’t say a word, only patting the tears in her eyes at the sight of her daughter’s outburst. “Baby, calm down. Elvis has to go, but he will be back. Don’t worry yourself sick.” You shook your head as you ran out of the house, ignoring the calls from Elvis and your mother. You had to get out of there, not wanting to break down in front of your mother and his family.
This is it. You’re losing him forever. Elvis is no longer the man that will be your husband, the father of your children, your best friend. He was going to Germany and you don’t even know if he would come home. Your brain screamed at you, causing more tears to flow as you were forced to accept that the cracks that were forming in your relationship with him were now ripping it down the middle. Your mother returned home later that evening, knocking on your bedroom door.
She peeked her head in, her heart breaking as she saw you staring at the picture that you had of you and Elvis as kids. You were happier then, the fame and the women didn’t exist. He only had you and you had him, but things were different now. “He’s leaving after the new year, baby. He told me to tell you that he loved you and that he hopes you’ll be waiting for him when he returns.” You turned your head, eyes glazed over with tears as you shakingly sobbed. “I don’t think he will want me when he comes back, mama. I think we are over.”
She sighed as she entered your room, sitting next to you on your bed before pulling you into her arms. “If it is meant to be, baby. If it’s meant to be, he will come back to you. You know that.” You shook your head as you sobbed in her arms. She didn’t say anything else, only holding you until you fell asleep in her arms. She was your comfort and she had always been, even when Elvis was around. As time ticked closer to Elvis’ departure, you would avoid him. You wouldn’t return his calls; you were in so much pain that you couldn’t bear to hear his voice. You would even turn the radio when you heard his songs playing. It was as if you were completely shutting him off from you, distancing yourself from him as much as you could.
It was finally time for Elvis to ship out to Germany. Your mother was on the phone with Gladys as she cried over the fact that her son was leaving. You would listen behind the door, sobbing quietly as you knew that it was the beginning of the end. The love of your life was leaving and you were so out of it that you didn’t spend as much time as you wanted with him. Your mother called for you, opening the door to the kitchen before handing you the phone. “Elvis wants to talk to you.” You shook your head, pushing the handle of the phone away from you.
“Baby, please. Talk to him. He has something he wants to say.” You sighed, taking the phone from her hands as you put it up your ear. “Elvis?” Your voice shook with so much emotion that nothing else could pass your lips but his name. “Satnin, I know you’ve been avoiding me. I know why, but I want ya to know that I really meant what I said. I’m gonna marry ya when I come home, so please…wait for me.” You could hear his sniffles, your heart breaking all over again as you nodded your head. “I’ll wait for you Elvis. I’ll try to wait for you.” Elvis told you that he loved you for one last time before the phone hung up.
You placed the phone back on the hook, sobbing in your hands as he was gone. He was gone and he would be gone for a while, but you were still consumed with the pain that it would be all over. You could only deal with the pain as you always had, taking shifts at the diner, where you would run into Charlie. As time went on, you would lean on Charlie to take the pain of Elvis’ absence away, eventually going on a few dates with him.
You thought nothing would come out of it, only taking him up on his offer because you were lonely. A year into Elvis’ deployment, you were suddenly engaged to be married. Charlie had become a favorite of your mother, always bringing flowers to the house when he would pick you up for your dates. You thought that your mother would be ashamed that you were cheating on Elvis, but she would tell you that maybe this was for the best. After all, Elvis was across the world and he was even far away even when he was in Memphis.
Your mother approved of Charlie, noticing how he treated you wonderfully. The wedding planning was done by your mother; she would ensure that her little girl had the most memorable day of her life. You wish you could say that it would be memorable, but you were guilty that the man that you were marrying wasn’t Elvis. Your mother would still keep in contact with Gladys, gushing about the upcoming nuptials between you and Charlie.
You knew that Gladys would tell Elvis, but you knew that he would be powerless to stop it. Besides, you heard from Gladys that Elvis had met a girl in Germany and that he was spending all of his time with her. Gladys sounded regretful over the phone, apologizing profusely that she hoped that it didn’t ruin your big day. You knew that Gladys wasn’t telling you the news because she didn’t care about you. It was quite the opposite, she wanted you to know that you weren’t in the wrong for finding your own happiness.
However, happiness didn’t exist in your world without Elvis in it. The wedding day went by in a blur; you couldn’t even remember your wedding dress, the champagne, or the wedding cake. Charlie was a wonderful man, but he would be gone for weeks on end due to his business. It was as if you were destined to be alone; your husband flying to different states for conferences and meetings and your childhood sweetheart was stationed on the other side of the world with another woman who easily took your place. You were alone, being the dutiful housewife that you could only imagine being while married to Elvis. You would cook for your husband whenever he was home, making sure that the house remained tidy and clean. But no matter how much you played into the role of being someone else’s wife, your mind would always linger to Elvis.
It wasn’t easy for you to continue on with the marriage, but you forced yourself to do so. Time would continue to go by; the days growing closer to when Elvis would return back from Germany. You didn’t know how you could face him, knowing that he would be betrayed that the woman that claimed to love him was now married to someone else. Elvis would finally return home from the Army, glowing with excitement as he was welcomed warmly. You watched on your television on the day of his arrival, fans beaming with happiness and crying that their beloved idol was finally back safely. You wish you were there, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, kissing him again. He had returned more handsome than ever, his jawline being more prevalent than the way you remembered.
As you watched his press conference, you sobbed at his cheekiness, knowing that he used to act the same way with you. You were still in love with him, not wanting to accept the cruel reality of it all. You figured that if you would revolve your world around your marriage to Charlie, you could forget how much you did love him. Charlie could sense that you weren’t the same, often forgoing sleeping in the same room as you because he didn’t like how you kept him awake at night as you sobbed in your pillow, hoping that he didn’t hear. The marriage didn’t last long, you couldn’t bear continuing to lie that you loved Charlie. “I can’t continue lying to you, Charlie. I want a divorce.” Charlie wasn’t shocked, shaking his head as he forced a smile on his face.
“It’s Elvis, isn’t it? Your mother told me all about your story with him. I can’t say I’m not surprised, but I also can’t say that I’m not disappointed that I can’t even keep my wife away from him.” You knew he was right, every woman in the world wanted him. You were no exception. The only difference between you and those women was that you had history with Elvis, the kind of history that these women could only dream about. The divorce was grueling but oddly smooth. Charlie didn’t want anything from you and neither did you with him. Charlie would tell you that you could still be friends, packing up his things as he decided that he would move back to Chicago with his family.
Your mother moved in with you shortly after the divorce was finalized, helping keep a roof over your head as the divorce was a burden on your finances. Here you were again, alone and on the verge of losing everything that you have but you couldn’t lie to yourself that the only thing that got you through was Elvis. Your mother would tell you that you should forget about him, the only thing that your relationship with him gave you was heartbreak. “Mama, I can’t forget about him. I love him and I know he still loves me too. We literally have so many memories together, you can’t forget about decades of loving each other.” You decided that you would face him again, after all, he was your best friend before anything else. Your mother, a little weary about the whole situation, ultimately agreed as she phoned Vernon to see if Elvis was settled in. Gladys, Elvis’ beloved mother had passed away almost two years ago, which had broken your heart completely.
She was like another mother to you, someone you would talk to when missing Elvis had become too much to ignore. You knew that Elvis knew that you were still in contact with his family, but he never reached out to you. How could he? You had sworn that you would wait for him, yet, you married Charlie and ultimately became the girl who had broken his heart. People knew that there was a girl who had gotten away while he was away, but he played it off to the media as if there were no such thing. The least you could have done was apologize to him, even beg him to believe that you still loved him. Vernon told your mother that Elvis was home, resting for a couple of weeks before he picked up where he had left off. You didn’t waste any time, the following day, you made the frightening journey to Graceland. Graceland hadn’t changed since the last time you were there, in fact, it was still as beautiful as it was when you had left.
His Uncle Vestor was surprised to see you, pulling you into a hug as he held a look of relief that you weren’t one of those fans who would try to push by him for a look at their idol. “Y/N, my word. You haven’t aged a day, you still look just as beautiful as you always have.” Your face heated up at the compliment, eyes traveling past him to look at the mansion that sat beautifully behind the gates. “I’m here to see Elvis, Uncle Vestor. Can you let me in?” He nodded happily, pressing the button which allowed the gates to open. Your heart flipped in your chest, knowing that the time was finally here. You were going in with no perception about how your reunion with Elvis would go, but you wanted him to at least hear you out first. As your car pulled up the long road, your heartbeat was the only thing that you could hear. You know there’s a chance that Elvis wouldn’t want to see you again, so why are you here? Your thoughts questioned your decision as you exited the car, seeing Vernon standing at the door with a small smile on his face.
“Little dancer, how are ya?” Vernon pulled you into a hug, a knowing look across his face as he knew that you would be coming. “I’m doing alright, my mother sends her love. Does he know that I’m here?” Vernon stopped in his tracks, staring into your brown eyes before shaking his head. “I haven’t told him, he hasn’t done anything but linger around the house and play around with his friends. He hasn’t left his room yet today.” You sighed, dread settling in the pit of your stomach as Vernon led you inside of the house. He pointed up the stairs before leaving you standing alone in the foyer. Maybe you should leave. You’re nothing to him now but a stranger, let’s leave it the way that it is. You ignored your thoughts, slowly making your way up the stairs, playing multiple scenarios in your head as you followed where you knew he would be. You stood in front of his door, your heart racing at this point.
Part of you wanted to turn around and run out of the house, knowing that what you did was unforgivable. However, the other part of you deserved to explain to him that you had never intended to hurt him. You were living with so much guilt that your marriage didn’t last, so you could say that karma had paid you a visit. You knocked on the door, hearing shuffling from behind it before the man that you thought about night and day stood before you. The pictures in the newspaper and the conference on the television did no justice; he was still as handsome as ever. His eyes widened with surprise as he pulled you into his arms, not sure if he was dreaming that you were standing in front of him. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back as you heard little sniffles passing his beautiful lips.
“Satnin. You–What are you doin’ here?” You looked up at him, tears glistening in your eyes as you studied his features. You were memorizing every part of him, not wanting to forget how he made you feel. “I wanted to come see how you were doing. I’m sorry for not coming earlier, it was a lot happening all at once.” Charlie didn’t mind that you had a relationship with his family, even being supportive when you decided to go to Gladys’ funeral with your mother. You didn’t stay long, being in the same room as Elvis was too much for you to handle.
“I saw you at mama’s funeral, but you were gone before I could collect myself and talk to ya.” Elvis’ eyes shifted with the pain that you saw two years ago, but he masked it with a smile. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood, it wasn’t my intention to leave you alone. I only felt like you needed to be surrounded by the people who you loved.” Elvis’ face turned into a look of disbelief, taken back by your words. “You could never ruin the mood, Satnin. Don’t ya know that you’re the only person that I needed? I had already lost ya to Charlie, but you weren’t thinkin’ about me, were ya?” You knew that this was coming, the conversation switch to your marriage to Charlie was something that you always knew you had to have with him. “I was thinkin’ about not causing a scene at your mother’s funeral, Elvis. There is a place and a time to talk about us and it was not the place nor the time to talk about it while you were mourning the loss of Gladys.”
Elvis removed his hands from your waist, raising them above his head as the disbelief turned into borderline anger. “And what if you never came back? Would we have talked then?!” You stepped back slightly as your eyes turned to the ground. You knew he was right, he knew that you were avoiding him, but it still didn’t make it right that you left him alone when he needed you the most. “Did ya know how much I needed ya?! I needed ya and you could only think about yourself! I’m not surprised, you were always this way! You married another man while I was away in Germany because that’s what ya do! To hell with all the others. To hell with me, right?!”
Elvis turned away from you, stalking away into his room. You followed him, grabbing him by the arm before turning him to face you. “I didn’t know that you felt that way, Elvis! You never communicate with me about how you are feeling! I know that I was wrong for marrying Charlie, I know I promised you that I would wait. But when your mama told me that you were seeing another woman, I could only think about how you were forgetting about me! Forgetting about what we had! Yes, I married Charlie because I was hurt beyond belief. I was hurt and I made an irrational decision that caused me to lose you forever but I’m sorry for not waiting for you.”
Elvis didn’t want to hear your excuses, snatching his hand out from your grasp. “You’re sorry? Sorry?! I LOVED YOU, Y/N! I have always loved you and yet you make everything about yourself. Did you ever stop and think how losing you made me feel?!” You were beginning to get angry at this point, but you knew that once Elvis’ temper started, there was no stopping him. “Elvis! I’m not making anything about myself, it has always been about you! I’ve always made decisions in my life surrounding you! This was the first time in my life that I have ever made a decision about me! How could you even think for one second that I haven’t thought about losing you?”
Elvis placed his hands on his hips as he leaned in to you, sizing you up under his cerulean hues. “You know that’s a damn lie, Satnin. You made this decision because you didn’t wanna wait. You heard that I was seeing another girl so you wanted to hurt me. Come to think about it, you used to want to be married to me! You always wanted to be married and so to get what you wanted, you picked some random joe from the street so you didn’t have to wait.” Your heart was slowly ripping apart at his words, your thoughts that you pushed in the back of your mind returning to the surface.
He’s right, you didn’t wanna wait on him. You married Charlie because you couldn’t wait for two measly years to marry him.
“That’s not true. It’s true that I married Charlie because you were with someone else. But that was it, I swear to you, Elvis. I thought that our relationship was over. Mama and Gladys knew that I would sit here and wait on you while you were off across the world doing everything that you wanted! I left you before you could leave me!” You screamed, tears streaming down your face. “But I still loved you! I still love you! I have always loved you and I don’t think I could ever stop loving you. It killed me to look at you, to hear your voice because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I would cry at night so much that Charlie couldn’t even bear sleeping next to me at night. We divorced because of how much I love you! So, how could you even say that?!” Elvis chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? You divorced your husband and now you think that we can just pick up where we left off?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” Elvis put his hand up, stopping you from speaking before he took a breath. “I’m gonna stop ya right there, baby. There is no picking up where we left off, there is no us anymore.” Your heart broke immediately after hearing his words, not sure why you were surprised because you knew there was no longer you and him. “I’m getting married. So, I don’t know why you’re explaining yourself to me. I don’t even know why you’re here, you could have continued on with your life as if we had never met.”
“Elvis, I-.” Your voice quivered with sadness, reaching out to take his hand before he stepped away from you. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never existed in your life. It was nice to see ya again, Y/N. I hope to never see ya again.” He took you by the hand, jerking you towards his bedroom door before pushing you across the threshold. He gave you one more look of condensation before slamming the door in your face. You pounded on the door, tearfully screaming out his name but you were unheard.
You found out that he was marrying the woman that he had met in Germany. His engagement traveled fast around the world as you and the fans alike were heartbroken. You didn’t know why you were heartbroken, it was your fault. You had hurt him, you knew that. You just couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Elvis didn’t want to see you again. He was your best friend, the only one who understood you. For months, you would hole up in your room. The only thing that you could do was cry, the look in his eyes tormenting you for days on end. Your mother would try to get you to leave your room, but you could never bring yourself to look at her because you didn’t want her to see you crumble into despair at the sight of Elvis parading his fiance around for you to see. “Baby, you did all that you could. Maybe, it wasn’t meant to be with Elvis.” She would tell you, but you didn’t want to think such things could turn out as bad as it has.
Elvis would marry his fiance the following Spring, the thought of seeing him happily with her tore your heart over and over again. As the new year came around, you decided that you would wish him well. You sat at your kitchen table, deciding to write him a letter instead of showing your face to him again. You couldn’t bear the thought of him turning his back on you as he did months ago, not wanting to experience that type of pain again. Once the letter was finished, you placed it in your mailbox, sending your heart right along with it, hoping that he would at least hear you out one last time before he was no longer yours. Yours? How hysterical. As the time neared for his wedding, you didn’t hear anything from him. You weren’t shocked that he didn’t write back, after all, he was still mad at you for leaving him. You decided to find a new job as the hours at the diner weren’t doing much for you. The new job at the boutique paid well and you still had time to be at home with your family.
You didn’t date, not quite ready to love someone else. You were happy with how things were in your life, even though you weren’t quite happy with the things that were happening in your personal life. You could at least be happy that Elvis was happy with his life. He made a couple movies and put out a couple of songs. You supported him from afar as you always had, knowing this was all that you could do. Now that spring time had finally arrived and his wedding was happening in the next couple of days, you were thoroughly anxious about it as if it was your wedding.
The invitation to his wedding sat on your bed, mocking you that it wasn’t you that he wasn’t getting married to. You would think about how you wished that when you opened it, it stated your name instead of hers. You had given up on the thought long ago that you would ever marry him, but it would return as the days ticked by. “Are you going to the wedding, mama?” You asked your mother, placing the invitation in her hands as she looked over it. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. But, I think you should at least go to wish him happiness. You were friends once, Y/N. This childish game that you’re playing with him needs to end.”
You hated to say that she was right. You were thinking of yourself, something that Elvis had said when you two had that argument a year ago. Elvis was right, you didn’t think about how he felt when you married Charlie. You didn’t think about him when you had shown up on his doorstep expecting him to take you back and you weren’t thinking about him now when you thought about not making an appearance at his wedding. “You’re right, mama. I should go to wish him happiness. After all, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, to be happy.”
The memories of following him to the studio appeared in your mind, seeing his happy face as he sang his heart out was the answer that you needed to attend. The day finally arrived, you and your mother pulled into the parking lot of the church where the wedding was being held. You could see Vernon standing at the door, a tux adorning his body as he spoke with the priest who stood beside him. Your mother pulled you to the side before you could walk inside, noticing that something was off.
“It looks like Vernon is upset about something. Why don’t you go see what it is about? I’m gonna go talk with Minnie Mae.” You nodded your head as you parted ways with your mother, walking over to where Vernon was. “Hey Vernon, is everything alright?” Vernon turned his face away from the priest, smiling at you nervously before shaking his head. “Elvis is talking about calling off the wedding. I haven’t been able to get in contact with him all morning, I was gonna ask ya if you had seen him.” Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you didn’t know where he was.
The priest would leave you alone with Vernon as your mind ran with thoughts about where he could be. “I haven’t talked to him since that day at the house, are you sure he said he wanted to call off the wedding?” Vernon nodded, the look of sadness covering his features as he opened his mouth to speak. “He’s been havin’ cold feet all week. He left last night after going on and on about how he didn’t want to marry Maryanne, that it didn’t feel right. I thought maybe he was speakin’ out of his ass, but he sounded real serious about calling the wedding off.”
You covered your mouth, worried that something had happened to him. “We should go find him, lord knows where he is!” You handed the keys to your car to him. Vernon nodded his head as he followed behind you, you looked over at your mother who was watching you with a smile on her face. “Mama! We’re going to go find Elvis! Stay here with Grandma Dodger!” She waved you off, taking Minnie Mae by the hand. “We’ll be alright, sugar! Go find our boy.” Dodger replied, whispering to your mother as they walked inside of the church. Since there wouldn’t be a wedding, they might as well wait around for Elvis to come back to tell everyone. Vernon peeled out of the parking lot, you looking out of the window as you searched for anyone who looked similar to Elvis.
He wasn’t at any of the places that you thought he would be, seemingly becoming defeated at the thought that he would show his face. “Do you think he’s at Gladys’ grave, Vernon?” Vernon looked over with you with a look of realization that the cemetery where she was buried would be the last place he could be. Vernon didn’t say a word, driving towards the cemetery, your heart beating loud against your ears as you played with your hands. Hold on, Elvis. I’m coming. Vernon pulled your car into the cemetery, immediately seeing Elvis sitting in front of Gladys’ grave. “He’s here, Y/N. This damn boy.” You didn’t wait for Vernon to put the car in park, immediately getting out of the car as you raced between graves to get to him.
Elvis looked up at you, tears streaming down his face as he stood up from where he sat. “Elvis! Where have you been? Your family has been worried sick, you’re talking about canceling the wedding and you didn’t show up. Are you-?” Elvis didn’t give you the chance to finish, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him. He was full on crying at this point, holding on to your body as if you would go away. “I couldn’t marry her. I can’t marry her, Satnin. I don’t love her.” He sobbed in your neck, the words almost blending together as he spoke. “Elvis, you can’t just leave everyone wondering where you are either. If you can’t marry her, that’s fine. You just can’t worry everyone to death either.”
He pulled his head out from your neck, looking down at you as he shook his head. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Satnin. I-I just can’t marry her. I don’t love her, I can’t marry someone that I don’t love.” You placed your hands on his cheeks, wiping the tears from his eyes with your thumbs. “Baby, that’s okay. But, you have to tell her. You have to tell her why you can’t commit to her, I’m sure she will understand.” He looked like the boy that you fell for all those years ago, his boyish eyes looking over you as he told you on the porch of his house that he wanted to be with you. “I told her that I couldn’t marry her because it wouldn’t be right. That I would be making a huge mistake by not marrying the woman that I love. I love you, Y/N. I ain’t ever stopped lovin’ ya and I don’t think I could go through being married to another woman when I love ya so damn much.” At that moment, he pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss.
Your eyes glassed over with tears as you returned his embrace, holding him tightly against your body as your lips moved with his. Your heart jumped in your chest, the butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach as you realized that he still loved you. Elvis Presley still loved you and you still loved him. You weren’t going to lose him to another woman and you were happy about it. He pulled away from you, his eyes searching yours as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Satnin, I’ve put this on hold long enough. I can’t imagine being with nobody else but you. I’m sorry for everything that I said, I-I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it, baby. After you left, I haven’t been the same. I’m crazy about ya, Y/N. I love ya, more than I’ve ever loved anybody in my life. Will–Will ya marry me, baby?” He pulled out a black box, opening it to reveal a diamond ring. “I know I’m askin’ ya too late, I should have asked ya to marry me before I left for Germany but I couldn’t get in touch with ya.” You placed your finger on his lip as your tears flowed down your cheeks. “That’s okay, Elvis. I’m sorry too, I should have waited for you. It wasn’t fair to you that I went and married someone else, not when I still loved you for so long.”
Elvis placed his hand on your wrist, pulling your hand down to rest into his. “I’m not blaming ya for marrying Charlie. I should have made you my wife before he did though.” You giggled, squeezing his hand before you looked into his eyes. “Yes, Elvis. I’ll marry you.” His eyes lit up with happiness as he slid the ring on your finger. It fit as if it was meant to, glistening under the Memphis sun. “I’ve had this ring stashed away for the perfect time, but time went by so fast that I didn’t realize that it was always supposed to be you that I marry.” He wrapped his arms around you once more, hugging you tightly against his body before he kissed your cheek happily.
Vernon stood by the car, a huge smile on his face as he watched you with Elvis. “Alright, you two! We’ve gotta get back to the church to let everyone know that there won’t be a wedding today!” Elvis looked at Vernon, a mischievous smile crossing his face as he shook his head. “Who said?” Your eyes widened as you looked at Elvis. “We can’t get married today, I don’t have anything planned. I have no dress, we haven’t told everyone.”
Elvis only smiled down at you, taking you by the hand as he led you over to your car. “We don’t need any of that baby, if you need a dress, we can stop and get you one. I’m marrying you today. I can’t wait any longer.” You groaned inwardly, knowing that you couldn’t deter Elvis from getting what he wanted. However, you were overjoyed that you would be the one that he was marrying today.
He stayed true to his word, stopping at a dress boutique, letting you pick the wedding dress that you wanted before he whisked you away to the church where his family and your mother waited. Your mother walked over to you, pulling you into her arms. “You look beautiful, baby.” You pulled away from her, knowing that she knew all along that Elvis had this planned. “How long did you know?” She laughed softly, taking you by the hand as she squeezed it. “Your whole life, honey. Elvis called me one day when you were at work, apologizing like a fool. He told me that he couldn’t marry that girl, not when he loved you as much as he does.”
You looked over at Elvis with adoration in your eyes as he stared at you, his tux sitting nicely on his body. Although this was supposed to be a wedding for him and another woman, you could only think about how lucky you were that the feelings were still there for you and for him. “Go on baby, go and marry the man that you love.” Elvis walked inside of the church, his family looking on in confusion because he was late and seemed to be a bit anxious. “I’m sorry everyone for the tardiness, I had to think about some things. There won’t be a wedding today between me and Maryanne. I couldn’t go through with it, knowing that I would be breaking the heart of the woman that I truly love.” There were murmurs throughout the church, his family looking around to see if Maryanne would show her face.
“You all know about Y/N. She’s been my best friend since I was a child, we promised each other that we would marry each other. Of course, things happened. But, I decided that I couldn’t go on without her. I’m marrying her today, so I wanted to give my apologies for keeping ya waiting.” His family clapped their hands, glad that there was going to be a wedding and that he was marrying you. “About time you made a wife out of her, son.” Uncle Vestor spoke over the cheers, getting a laugh from everyone around him. He walked up to the altar, beside the priest as he waited for you. Your mother stood at the door of the church, holding you by the hand as you walked inside. You knew that there was no planning on your end, but you didn’t care because you were finally marrying Elvis.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as your eyes watched Elvis, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched you walk down the aisle towards him. His family stood in awe, smiles gracing their faces as they nodded their approval of how beautiful you looked. Minnie Mae leaned into your direction, pressing a kiss to your cheek as she smiled with tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, baby girl. You make my boy happy, I’m so glad that you’re gonna be his wife.” You sniffled, wrapping your arms around her as you hugged her tightly. “Gladys would be thrilled to see that her son is marrying the woman that she chose for him.” You thought about how much Gladys would want to be there, beaming happily as you continued walking towards Elvis.
“Alright then, there is a wedding! Who gives this woman to be lawfully wedded to this man?” You looked over at your mother, who looked at the priest before looking back at you. She was holding her handkerchief in her hand, sobbing into the material before shakingly speaking. “I am, thank the lord. I am.” The church roared with laughter as she placed your hand into Elvis’. “Take care of my baby, Elvis. She’s been waiting and praying to be your wife since she was a child. You two belong together.” Elvis nodded his head at your mother, wrapping an arm around her as he kissed the top of her head. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of her as long as I live.” You sniffled at the interaction between him and your mother, looking up at him as he stared down at you with love in his eyes.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the beautiful union of Y/N L/N and Elvis Aron Presley.” The priest would begin his speech, but all you could focus on was the man in front of you. He was finally yours, nothing stood in between you as your union was finally becoming one. The vows were beautiful, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room as you went through your own words of how much you loved Elvis, how much you waited and prayed that he would make an honest woman out of you. “Before God and everyone who has attended, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, son.” The priest said, stepping back as Elvis leaned down, pressing his lips on yours. Your new family clapped happily, cheering at the sight of Elvis finally marrying the woman that he loved.
The gathering after the wedding was simply beautiful; the mixture of your mother and your new family was as you always imagined. This time, you took the time to reflect on the wedding dress, the champagne, and even the elegant wedding cake. Just as promised, your first dance was to My Happiness, bringing memories to the surface of him recording the tune at Sun Records. Everything was different than the first time, but you felt as if you were married for the first time. That night, you had returned to Graceland; your new home. Returning there was so poignant, not forgetting that you rushed out those doors heartbroken that your now husband turned you away. However, Elvis welcomed you with such warm arms as he carried you over the threshold of the same room that he once pulled you away from. He took you in his arms as he danced with you as he sang into your ear.
Gently, your eyes met mine
Tender, trusting, and true
Gently, your hand took mine
Thrilled me through and through
Gently, oh so gently
Gentle as the dawn
Gently, oh so gently
Our true love was born
You were truly blown away that your dream of becoming Mrs. Presley had come true. It was all that you wanted, and now it was on this day, that you were reunited with Elvis and that your long-lived love had blossomed like a beautiful tulip on a spring day. His cerulean hues looked deeply into your brown eyes with nothing but love as he placed you, his bride on your marital bed. You caressed his cheeks with your hands as his soft lips pressed against yours gently. As your wedding dress was shed from your body, tears lingering on your face, you were reminded that he had always loved you. The anger that once brewing in his eyes had also had the hint of love, you wish that you could have seen it clearly. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to take ya like this, Satnin.” You whimpered with so much emotion as you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. Elvis kissed all over your body, leaving no part of it untouched. You hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off of his torso as you took in his body.
You had only seen his torso a few times before, Elvis not wanting to make love to you then, only promising that he would do so when you were his wife. The time was finally here, you were excited and so was he. His fingers pulled your bra straps down off your shoulders, the heat of your skin causing goosebumps to arise as he tenderly rubbed your skin. Your bronze complexion was glowing even under the little light that was in the room. Once your bra was off of your body and thrown somewhere that you didn’t care to know, he moved his lips down your chest as his hands cradled your breasts.
You moaned out slightly, carding your fingers through his hair as your mind screamed for him to take you. His trousers and underwear were next, pooled on the floor with your dress. Suddenly, he was inside of you slowly but with such need. The moans that bounced off of the walls were like music to your ears, remembering all of those times that you would be in his room at nights when your mother and his parents were off in the other room. He would pet your body, whispering how much he couldn’t wait to make you his.
His thrusts were sending your soul out of your body, pants and moans passing his lips as he held on to your hands. “Elvis.” You moaned as he sped up his hips, grunting in your ear in the process. “I’m gonna show you how much I missed ya. That you had always deserved to be mine.” Your head was thrown back in ecstasy as you returned his gaze, nodding your head. Elvis placed your legs around his hips as his thrusts continued pounding into you, hitting spots that you never had touched. “The first thing I’m gonna do is give you a baby. Our baby is gonna look like me, but have your eyes.” He moaned into your ear, causing a sob to pass your lips. The coil in your stomach was pulling, heat pooling over your body as you cried out in pleasure. Elvis continued to grunt, pushing himself in and out of you with such love that your body melted into the sheets beneath you.
“I love you, Y/N Presley. Oh, God. I love you so much.” Elvis cried out as he fucked you into an orgasm. You cried out loudly, holding on to his hands tightly as your legs shook around his waist. He roared shortly after, spilling inside of you as his hips shook with pleasure and from adrenaline as he fucked himself through his orgasm. He let go of your hands only for a second as he laid beside you, pulling you into his arms. You looked up at your husband, smiling softly as he looked down at you with love in his eyes.
All of the waiting, crying, and pining led up to this moment finally being in his arms, never to leave again. He made true to his promise, you were pregnant soon after. Your daughter was born the following year, bringing you and him closer together. You would tell stories to your daughter about how you and your father’s love withstood him moving away from Shake Rag to Memphis, you marrying another man while he was away in Germany, and even him almost marrying Maryanne. Nothing could have been better when the following year, you were pregnant with his son.
Elvis was such a great father and husband, like you always knew he would be. He spoiled his wife and his children as years went on, his career skyrocketing with him performing at his comeback special in 1968. You and your children followed him everywhere, not wanting to be away from him at any moment. Your love was idolized by every fan, learning that you were indeed the girl that had once gotten away, but not for long. The life that you were promised when you held Elvis all those years ago back at Shake Rag was better than you could have imagined. You were happy; there were no more tears, no more pining, and no more waiting for you because you had your mother and you had Elvis. Who said that the love affair would end when you said I do?
Taglist: @lindszeppelin @loving-elvis @lovininapinkcadillac @steph-speaks @austinbutler-91 @flwrs4aust @cryingabtab @missmaywemeetagain @plasticfantasticl0ver @oh-my-front-door @oh-kurva @rainydayz101 @flowersofcement @wonka-gifs @star-shard @ep-supremacy @stitchattacks @infatuatedharleys @polksalademma @elvisabutler @samfangirls @literally-just-elvis-fics @dre6ming @troubleinapinksuit @rosaminny @thatbanditqueen @isthlsfate @rjmartin11 @arianatheangel-girl @austinsmutler @dkayfixates @venus-haze @foreverdolly @babylovepresley @ab4eva @presleysdarling @woundmetender @crash-and-cure @marriedtopresley @burninlovebutler
#elvis presley#elvis 2022#elvis presley x black!reader#elvis x black reader#black writers#black reader#daisy writes
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I walk beside you - Chapter 3
Summary: “I have not heard these words in ages,” a deep, male voice says, and before you can answer, you wake up.Your dreams start changing once you realize that you’re not alone as you think. Who is this man and why does he know you? How do you know him?
Pairing: Dream / Morpheus x reader
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 My other fics / prompts
AO3: May everyone who leaves a kudo (or even a comment) awake well-rested.
Chapter 3
You wish you could say that you were ready to fall asleep, but you weren’t. You arrived at your home, your head full of questions, with your heart demanding answers.
Morpheus. The name has rung a bell, and one quick research later has revealed that in Greek mythology, he’s the god of dreams. You sat in stupor for a while, blankly staring at the screen. You managed to meet the god of dreams, and somehow share a profound history with him. A history you want to unravel.
You let out a long sigh as you pace around in your bedroom. You’re not stupid. From what he has told you, you have concluded that he has met several versions of you, each one unique, each one meeting him without any past knowledge. Incarnations. If you’re not completely wrong, this means that you’re the most recent reincarnation. This sounds like something out a supernatural tv show or book, and for your state of mind, you try not to think too much about it.
You grab a pillow and throw it up like a ball, eager to occupy your hands. You still have so many questions, but there is one only you can answer.
Do you want to get involved with him? You’ve always liked fantasy and know many stories of mortals giving their hearts to immortals. It often ended in tragedy, for the mortal and the immortal. Does he miss and mourn each incarnation? Wouldn’t it be a kindness to spare him the pain of losing you? Then again, you feel as if he remembers your past incarnations fondly. He had been nothing but kind and understanding as he answered your questions, a soft look on his eternal face as he seems to sink into his memories.
He may be fond of them, but will he be fond of you? That is another question that plagues you. Then again, if you don’t try, you will never know.
You squeeze the pillow, your mind made up. You’ve accepted this challenge, and you will see it through. Maybe the next dream can be something like a first date? You smush your face in the pillow, your cheek already growing hot.
Lying down on your bed, pulling your soft blanket over you, you are ready.
The beach is still beautiful, but you couldn’t care less as your toes sink into the white sand. Twirling around, you race towards the forest. This is a dream, your dream. You assume that it is Morpheus who intervenes, conjuring up the storm, but how certain are you? Maybe it is a part of being an incarnation?
After running down the path, you take a deep breath. Part of you wonders what will happen if you continue without saying the phrase, but you have a hunch that it won’t work. Moreover, it would be boring and anti-climactic.
“The path before me doesn’t frighten me, I want to forever walk beside you.” You don’t wait for the storm to start, you just walk. You walk until every step feels like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs heaving for air as you walk inside the eye of a storm.
Enough of that. Time to take control and make some progress. Will it work? Hopefully. But right now, it’s your best shot.
You close your eyes, comfortable in the darkness that seems to drown out everything else. You picture a meadow, the grass soft and swaying in the faint breeze. Red, blue, white, yellow, purple, pink, every color you like fills your vision as flowers, from simple daisies to fancy orchids, bloom. You see it so vividly that you can almost smell the floral fragrance.
You open your eyes, and the storm is gone as you’re standing inside that meadow.
“Wohoo!” you cheer, savoring your victory. For a moment, you think that you hear a deep chuckle. The meadow really is lovely, and you’re almost tempted to stay for a while, but you have places to go. The palace and Morpheus are waiting.
To your surprise, you see one path leading you away from the meadow. You don’t know if you have been walking for a minute or for hours; time is weird anyhow in dreams. You walk through a desert, scrambling up and down the dunes. You walk over a snowy mountain, the snowflakes melting on your cheeks. You walk through a big city, feeling almost back in reality, if it weren’t for the fact that there is not a soul around you.
How big is the dream world? It feels endless, and you can’t even see the palace. But you know that if you stop, even just for a little break, that it will be hell to get back. So you suck it up and march on.
You arrive at a massive gate, stretching as far as you can see. Fantastic beings, animals, and figures are carved in awe-inspiring detail, gleaming like finest ivory. If this is another challenge, you’re going to force yourself to wake up and come back the next night, you decide as you carefully knock three times.
“You have made it. Impressive.” You hoped that he would appear, but seeing Morpheus appear at your side still startles you. You lean over, your hands resting on your knees as you take a deep breath. As you stand up straight, you see something almost like pride gleaming inside these fathomless eyes. He still looks like a dark vision, messy inky hair matching his black clothes. His face is hard to put into words, and you suddenly understand why ancient artists spend centuries trying to capture the splendor of the gods.
“I could have done it in my sleep,” you say with a nonchalant shrug. After that journey, you deserve to brag a little. You wonder how long the other incarnations have taken to reach the castle, before stopping that train of thought. You’re not comparing yourself.
“You did well.” It’s easy to miss, but there was a small smile on his lips, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
“Allow me to bring us into the palace,” Morpheus asks, extending his hand. You give him high credit for asking, for letting you choose. You figure that a god isn’t used to considering other people. You nod, laying your hand on his, feeling his long fingers hold onto you.
The next moment, you’re standing inside the palace, a long staircase winding upside to a platform where a dark throne stands. You’ve been in churches and cathedrals, but their windows can’t hold a candle to these three massive glass artworks. Each time you blink they seem to change: a sky of twinkling stars, a garden full of roses, the northern lights, your favorite picture of you and your best friend. It is almost fascinating enough to rip you away from the man next to you.
“This is a palace worthy of a god,” you whisper, before covering your hand with your mouth. You meant what you said, but you don’t know why you said it out loud. You don’t want to reduce Morpheus to his palace or his godhood.
“I am not a god,” Morpheus states, and yet you feel his power, the core of his limitless force vibrating in this place. You have no doubt that he’s the ruler of this palace, of this realm.
“Aren’t you Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams?” you ask, your curiosity boundless and you self-preservation non-existent. In this moment, you choose to ignore all the terrible fates you’ve read about mortals who offended or defied gods.
“No. I am older than your gods. Morpheus is only one of the many names humanity has given me: Kaikul, Oneiros, Tutu, to name a few. I am Dream of the Endless.”
You open your mouth, and close it again. He’s more than a god. What kind of being stands over gods? You swallow thickly, wishing for a moment that you had never brought up the subject. You like to believe that this is normal, that your mortal mind just needs time to come to terms with that. You think that you will stick to calling him Morpheus, since that name suits him.
He’s standing still, his arms crossed, seemingly waiting for you to react. How often did he have that conversation? Did the other incarnations react better or worse than you? Questions upon questions, and you want to scream into the abyss.
“Great boss, I think you broke her,” a voice snarks, and you latch onto that comment, eager for some diversion. A familiar raven soars above the throne before flying down and landing one the bottom stair.
“Birdie?” you ask, taking one step forward to give the raven an inquiring look. You’re no expert on ravens, but this one really looks like the one from the previous days.
“It’s Matthew, thank you very much. Oh, and thanks for the treat,” the raven answers. Even while dreaming, talking animals remain amazing, and you let out a stupefied laugh.
“Do we know each other?” you ask Matthew and Morpheus, only for both to shake their heads. You deflate a little; having somebody other than Morpheus to talk to would have been nice.
“Sorry, I am very new at the job, and this is just as exciting to me than it is to you. I didn’t know that the boss had…” His answer was cut short by a withering glare from Morpheus, and you grin. You need to have a solo conversation with Matthew.
“Matthew’s predecessor, Jessamy, used to know some of your incarnations. Most of them considered her a friend. I think she would have liked you,” Morpheus explains, his voice filled with sorrow, the grief almost palpable on his face. Matthew lets out a doleful caw.
“I am sorry,” you say, hesitantly reaching out to hold his hand. He lets you, and you circle your thumb over the smooth back of his hand. You hope that you didn’t overstep, but as you steal a glance at him, his expression a little less pained, you think that you didn’t.
“So am I.” He squeezes your hand before letting go. The moment has passed, but you know that there will be others.
“There is a place I would like you to see,” Morpheus says, and once again your reach for his extended hand.
This time, you find yourself in the center of a great library, bookshelves upon bookshelves stretching far and high, the scent of paper and leather filling your nose.
“Wow.”
#the sandman#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless#dream x reader#sandman x reader#mcrmarvelloki#buttersnitzle#my writing#my sandman fics
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I have fallen prey to the Aemond cheats trope
Would exist in the Someone will remember us fic. An au where instead Aemond takes Alys as his lover as he did in the book instead of what happened in the fic
Preview for : The Coward Kills with a Kiss
Title comes from an Oscar Wilde quote from teh Ballad of Reading Gaol:
"Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword."
The war wasn’t kind to anyone, least of all to her.
Her brother had been murdered by her husband when his resentment and anger led Vhagar to attack Luke, Aemma had learned that no matter how her visions plague her no one fucking listens and worst of all, that you cannot expect people to give you the loyalty you give them in return.
Aemond had promised eternal love to her, wed her despite his mother’s intent to drive them apart and she’d given him a son hoping that blood would be enough to stay the swords that came flying out after his father’s death.
Aemond who was made for her as she was made for him, who loved her since they were small children and wed her with fire and blood so that if they die in the war they reincarnate as lovers in their next lifetime.
But it was not enough.
She was not enough.
Harwin’s bastard sister, Alys, had become his paramour, impregnated her and worse still, he treated her as if he loved her.
That night Aemma wished he’d die in his duel with Daemon as she cried into her pillow.
But he did not die.
#aemma velaryon#aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc#someone will remember us fic#what souls are made of series
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I thought it would be fun to start doing a weekly VC fic rec thing, just to highlight some fics that I personally have really enjoyed in the hopes of boosting other creators and sharing what might be some 'new to you' reading material! 🖤🦇
today's #vcficfriday is a book-canon compliant Louis/Armand/Daniel:
[Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Characters: Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Daniel Molloy, Louis de Pointe du Lac
Additional Tags: Threesome - M/M/M, Blood Drinking, Blindfolds, Comfort Sex, Sensation Play, Tender Sex, Power Exchange
Summary:
"Armand sank into the pillow, gaze going blurry in the intensity of his focus. He never wanted to see anything else; he wanted this for all eternity. Two darkened shapes twisting on top of him, taking pleasure in each other as he stared at them, himself taking pleasure in the act of being present."]
One sentence, spoiler-free review: this one is so incredibly sensual and evocative in its descriptions, and I absolutely love how the dynamic between all of three of them is set up!
*as always: if I share something of yours and you'd like me to take it down, please don't hesitate to let me know! same goes if you're on tumblr and want to be tagged! <3
#the vampire chronicles#vc#vc fic#vcficfriday#if you can come up with a better name for this lmao please share <3#armand#daniel molloy#louis de pointe du lac#armand/daniel/louis#fic recs
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Love him forever
Izzy Hands x Male Reader (Established Friendship, Established Relationship, Both Aromantic Asexual)
Summary: All of the ways in which you promised to love Izzy Hands.
Word count: 390
Fic link:
When you first got together, you had promised Izzy Hands that you would love him forever. Forever in the sense of time immemorial, and forever in terms of the depths of your heart.
Izzy had been spurned by so many people in the past but he believed you implicitly. And from that day forward, you had more than kept your promise.
From buying him his favourite flowers because men deserved to be given them too, as often as he wanted, and they would always smell beautiful.
From voicing your concerns and worries early and not letting them fester so you could work through your problems and neither of you would ever go to bed angry.
From voicing your wish for marriage early on so you both knew where you stood, and Izzy was delighted that the one person in the world he could picture marrying did in fact want to marry him one day.
Remembering to spray Izzy's pillows with lavender spray every night to help him sleep, as well as applying his sleep balm to help keep away his aches and terrors.
You indulging Izzy in all of his interests, especially the ones you didn't share, listening with rapt attention and treating Izzy to books to help further his study.
Cooking his favourite meals on good days and bad days, ensuring the snack cupboard and fridge were always full of his safe foods.
Being a shoulder to cry on, always giving a willing ear to whatever Izzy needed to say, listening to Izzy when he needed comforting and using just the right words to soothe his aching heart.
All of that was amazing, but in your promise you also honoured Izzy’s inner child and inner teenager too.
You bought Lego sets for you and Izzy to complete on date nights, and you even learnt to play some of the songs that had got Izzy through his teenage years. You made little cupcakes for him with little icing birds on them, and you showed Izzy your childhood stuffed toy collection.
You accepted every facet of Izzy because you loved him. You helped him grow and to better himself because you loved him. You would stay by his side till the end because you loved him, forever and eternally.
There really wasn’t another love like yours. And that was truly amazing.
#izzy hands#izzy fucking hands#izzy hands era#izzy hands our flag means death#our flag means death#izzy hands x reader#izzy hands x male reader#aro ace izzy hands my beloved#erebus adjacent writes izzy hands
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Can. can you. can you.. seek x figure headcannons if you. if you may…..
Yes tumblr sexyman Seek helps me get those followers and also I have brain worms about this pair.
Seek x Figure Headcanons.
POWER 👏 COUPLE 👏
I have multiple backstories for em because there’s various flavors of seek and figure but they all love eachother so dearly.
Seek literally calls it “Dearest figure” “Figure beloved”
Figure calls Seek either “Goopy” or “squishy”
“Seeky..” ,,,
One of Figure’s favorite things about Seek is how quiet it’s body is. No screeching or yelling.. just dripping and oozing..
Sometimes it uses Seek as a pillow..allowing its head and ear-holes to sink in so it can deprive itself of all the sounds..
That and its voice,,,,,cascading and resonating like ripples on water in it’s head.
One of Seek’s favorite things about Fig is It’s heartbeat. Seek loves to crawl up its chest and listen to it. The welcoming warmth of it’s ribs..
Figure has long arms and yes they are used for holding Seek in them and IN TURN Seek will use all them hands to give Figure a thousand pets from all angles.
Seek can literally give Figure a thousand kisses. Figure’s livin the dream.
Also Seek loves to coo over the bits of lichen that grows on Figure. Occasionally they grow small white flowers every once in awhile and it steals Seek’s heart away.
“Dearest, your blooming again.” “I am? :0”
Self care is figure sprinkling bits of bone dust on them so the flowers stay healthy.
OH BTW SEEK IS THE ONE WHO TAUGHT FIGURE HOW TO BREAK THE CHAINS FROM THE CRUCIFIX.
 Seek will act as Figure’s eyes sometimes. Especially when they hunt together. Gods forbid when they do because they are unstoppable side by side.
Seek is actually quite sensitive to touch, so no Figure does not chew/bite on Seek as a stim but rather it gives Figure a bone to chew while Seek talks about an interesting thing it found on an intruder.
Figure often takes advantage of the touch thing and occasionally trills into Seek to make nice vibrating little ripples that feel like a back rub.
Occasionally (Infact seek does this Y/N fics too..) parts of Seek will cling to figure’s arms and legs so it can be with it at all times.
Fun fact, Seek used to do the “climb into Figure’s mouth thing” until one day Fig’s gag reflex was triggered and it got vomited out.
…True love conquers all..?
Now Seek prefers to wrap itself around it’s arms, chest and torso/legs or cling itself between Fig’s ribs like cobweb.
Still, Figure enjoys Seek being on it’s body and Seek enjoys being with Fig. If they could they’d be sharing one body for eternity but unfortunately they need to go and e a t.
Figure loves to listen while Seek just chats about all sorts of things. Occasionally being infodumped on by Figure when it ends ups bringing up the exact thing Figure is currently hyperfixated on.
Seek loves to wear tuxedos/jackets. Make itself look fancy even though it’s partner can’t see. Figure still compliments it.
The two drink wine from the basement and read books together for dates or chill out in the courtyard.
I like to imagine that Figure occasionally “Sees” seek by touching its humanoid body an idea of what they are lookin at. Now imagine it touches its face one day and Seek puts a hand on figures hand or face it’s just-aaaa!
I like to think they have children!!! However Seek keeps them hidden in different closets/attics until they can hunt on their own.
Screech is their child and possibly snare + the new purpleish entity that El-goblino mentioned.
Screech got the C H O M P and those are just baby teeth, the real sharp teeth have yet to grow in. That or it just has flat teeth.
Snare had the sharp teeth at birth..it’s also got one of Seek’s eyes and Figure’s mossy bits. You don’t really see the eye that often..
The mystery entity got the pinkish parts from figure + The eyes from Seek.
Both of them adore the litter of trash rats they have created.
:) enjoy
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8 and 11 for the asks? ♡
tysm for the asks!
you hope more people will come to appreciate ___
my favorite C Drama, Eternal Love of Dream (it also goes by The Pillow Book). I've seen it three times but only one person I know has watched any of it!
if you’re a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?
Watching Stars (AOS Jim Kirk/Spock Prime, 6.2k)
--
{ love your fandom ask game }
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Possessive Aemond Targaryen x OC (Breakfast in Bed but NSFW)
Writer's Note: Hello! It seemed that everyone loved the sneak peek of the picture of the fic I was writing “Breakfast in Bed but NSFW”. Probably you're excited, but I obviously do not wnat to rush it, and the very first paragraphs introduce the premise and the possessiveness of Aemond, and OC Caraela's character. It's slow paced but I really tried to incorporate what I try to make Aemond of. So in this context, it becomes a series now? Because I will still have to other parts. I hope you are satisfied with this fic. It's not an excerpt anymore.
Warning: gore, violence, slow-paced, mentions of death, and being that this fic is a first draft.
Word count: 1.2 k
Be my wife---obey me, do as I say, love me, fear me, and I will be your slave. Words that first confounded her, contrary against each other, for how can he���ll be her slave when she is expected to be his traditional and conservative wife. Truthfully her husband ended his vow with those words after introducing to the families and friends how she has supported his every motive. That stoic, short-worded, kin-hater, who confessed his eternal love and possession for her, willing to be her slave. For whatever endeavor, whatever fate she wants to pursue, whatever bucket she wants to fill, and whatever else her heart desires; Aemond will and always be his heavily-favor matter, it’ll always outweigh everything else. Aemond has long-drawn pushed past boundaries. He almost had her for several encounters, but feisty as ever, slipping past lights, shadows, and places. Aemond had climbed the azotea that leads to her bedroom though Aemond only faced a stack of pillows resembling her silhouette under the sheets. He also had reached out to her through her friends but they render him unsuccessful clues that leads nowhere to his goal. However, after a long time of heavy pursuance to the lord of the cliff-region’s castle, for that sultry yet sweet, with hair resembling its soil, and fairest of all the maiden of that land. Caraela withhold all attention that Aemond desired, so he resisted what his heart wanted and raised rampage on a nearby land. Flames painted the villages red and orange, smoke replaced the air they breathe, and it all ended in one day with ash and smoke, and multiple casualties. All for the name of unrequited love. The worst fact about the rampage, it was Caraela's most-loved village, where her favorite scarves are sourced from, from which when there is a certain point of time in a day, the sun’s light the beautiful water falls creating its famous fire falls. They blamed Caraela for not giving in to the infamous one-eyed prince’s motives of affection and desire for the oak-brown eyed woman. Aemond’s brother, Aegon, had to sway him to otherworldly pleasures given by the wine and innuendo from distinct whore-houses. But this does not take the itch and desire Aemond has for Caraela, even though Aemond never really sought those pleasures with Aegon. Aemond can only find real pleasure from Caraela, the child swaddled by golden scarves, signature of her house.
Aemond rests in the Red Keep’s library, wasting away the hands of time gaining more than what he could bargain. Suddenly the door’s opening cracks and opens, Caraela finds herself a little lost from enjoying her another stay in King’s Landing. Now, she doesn’t know her way back to the main chambers, but maybe getting a little lost was good because she finds herself surrounded by thick books. Searching through the cabinets and shelves of interesting pages, she hears a loud flipping of a page nearby, she thinks that someone must be here but they must be at the farthest side of the library.
When Caraela becomes fond of a page, she hugs it close to her chest and searches for an empty spot in the vast library. Aemond, on the other hand, finds his senses being threatened when he feels there is someone behind him where be sits. He turns around to check and their eyes meet, filled with shock. Just as Caraela took a step back ever so carefully, Aemond stood. Caraela took two more steps back further and Aemond is reaching out. Thus, Caraela threw the heavy, black book towards him that caused to stumble backward, and gave her to escape his sight. Hence, that signaled a chase between Caraela and Aemond. Aemond almost has had her, and this time, he is not letting her slip past him. He is going to capture her for himself. She ran past corridors and hallways, missing the knights and maids. She almost trampled in the staircase when she met the queen and her sworn sword, Criston Cole. She must have wondered why she was running and almost trampled on the staircase. Nevertheless, she greeted the queen, “My queen,” she curtsies, “I must apologize but I am in a hurry to go do something. Again, my apologies and good day.” Caraela resumes her act, making sure she is near the handrails so she won’t fall. Alicent was struggling to know what has gone over their guest, but she remembers how she was the picture that stalked her son’s mind.
“Caraela!”
Caraela hides behind the Godswood tree, hoping to the gods that Aemond may not find her. Aemond used silence and carefulness for one prick of friction may…, a crying sound?
Aemond was sure he could hear a muffled crying sound, was she crying? He could make out that Caraela was hiding behind the weirwood tree.
It had been hours but she thought the gods may have taken pity over her and decided to not whisper to Aemond of her whereabouts, for she hasn’t been taken out if her hiding. She stood up and brushed the leaves that fell to her dress. When she walked away, a sight beheld her--- the ruthless and masterful swordsman, Aemond was sleeping so peacefully under the weirwood tree. He looked so calm, probably his calmest sleep. But he looked like he was dozing off an eternity. Out of curiosity, Caraela approaches the man whose hands over the other on his stomach, and his feet crossed. A loose strand of hair clings to his face. Out of genuine curiosity, she picks it up and moves it away from his face. She longed to know what was beneath the eyepatch, does it hold a jewel or poison. He had a reputation for taking claim on the queen of dragons, Vhagar. As she was about to lift the patch, Aemond opens his eye and surprised Caraela out of her spot. She screeched in front of him and she attempted to run away from him.
“Wait! Please! Wait!” Aemond called out, “Let’s us talk, stay on your side.”
Caraela curiously stopped. To her surprise, Aemond did not move from his spot and too was careful to not provoke her escape. They both did not budge from distanced-spots for seconds. Suddenly, Caraela does not want to move away, she began to feel curious about Aemond, even though he had shocked her before with his lunatic display of affection. Aemond stood on his feet, Caraela did not move. He brought out something from his pocket, a gold bracelet, that belonged to her. He accidentally have taken it when he was about to capture her.
“My lady,” Aemond politely greets, “I wish to return your bracelet…before we part ways. Returning this would mean as my apology of years over lusting and trying to capture you. But I come to realize that I cannot ask for hope when there is none. So I return this bracelet and shall we see each other in corridors, let us be at peace as I know now that I am not worthy of your love.”
Aemond moves to her and gives her bracelet back. “Goodbye, my lady,” Aemond is out of her sight. Just like that, after years of running away from him, the prince who was given a pig with wings for a dragon as a trick has decided that day that he will no longer want her.
#aemond targaryen#aemond the kinslayer#house of the dragon aemond#smut#house of the dragon#stressed damsel 07#aemond kinslayer#angst fic#cw: gore#violence
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Hj fic idea -7:00 am
(To preface this was written in complete delirium while I had a migraine (that lasted the whole 16 hours btw 😘❤️😍)and hadn't sleep in 16 hours 😍)
Friends/roommates to lovers
One bed troupe ish?
One bed troupe adjacent
Crush on ur long time best friend/roommate Hongjoong??? What! no way!...Right??!?
Then why stay up with him, from the comfort of ur own room ofc. No need to stress him out more with him worrying over ur lack of sleep! like he could talk.. anyways ur just being a good friend ofc! Hahahaha! Yes. this is coping for the crippling fondness u have found for your sleep deprived composer. But oh dear lack of sleep plus the extra exhaustion from ur long week has knocked you out cold. So what a surprise it is when said eternally sleepy roommate curls up next to you. In your bed. IN YOUR BED?? What the hell is he doing here??? It's not like he could have mistaken your rooms. COULD HE?? I mean yours is at the end of the hall. Significantly further than his or hell even the couch. So could you really pass it off as simply being to delirious to tell what comfy surface he chose to crash on?? If that didn't seal the deal than the way his arm comfortably found its way around ur waist surely made it clear. Or maybe the way he quietly mumbled for you to go back to sleep made it seem all the more like a conscious semiconscious decision. Either way he seemed peaceful so you might as well leave him be. He looks kinda cute like this anyways, hair strewn about and the way his cheek squishes against the pillow makes u want to pinch it. You cant remember the last time you got to see him so up close. You could count his lashes if you wanted to. And some part of you did. But you decided to continue to look at him. You felt like you were looking at him for the first time. Like suddenly you were 14 again. Back to when u were Fresh faced and ready to face the world. If you could go back in time, would u save urself from the one sided love you were about to crash into. Literally too. That's how you met. Crashed into him books and papers flying everywhere. Honestly it was like a scene straight out of movie. Quick sorrys and laughes were exchanged while you both scurried to pick up the scattered belongings. And somehow that turned into decade long friendship and currently a 3 year long (and standing) roomie agreement. And ofc ur current predicament. If it was even possible Hongjoong seemed to cuddle even closer to you. His face no longer in view but buried in the crook of ur neck. His legs caged you in so even if u tired, you really couldn't wiggle your way out. You let out small sigh of defeat and decided to try your best to fall asleep. Hopefully he'll wake up before you and slink away and not mention it in the morning. That is if you survived till morning. sleep seemed to become increasingly difficult with the way his breath tickled your neck. You tired ur best to shift away from him but he would simply hug you closer. Perhaps this was the tourture you deserved after years of pining after the man. You'd be lying if you said some part of you didn't enjoy this. It wouldn't even be a good lie. A stranger could tell you loved him from the way you called his name. So why doesn't he know? Maybe he does and he doesn't care? Or maybe he doesn't wanna ruin ur friendship make things awkward. Or maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he's totally oblivious. But that's unlikely. Right? You're not sure which you'd prefer. Two sides of the same sword one could say. Either way his proximity to you was making you think weird things and you'd really like to go to sleep. So you decide to bite the bullet and wake him up to make him sleep in his own bed. Or at the very least break away from his grasp. -------
I have to stop rn or I'll write the whole thing--- written in a sleep depreived migraine ridden state after reader one to many angst fics and I'm craving fluff and love but lol I did even write that part
I'm tired but also😭👎🤔👍🤷♀️
#fic ideas#ateez#kim hongjoong#sleepy hongjoong#one bed trope#drabble#unfinished#park seonghwa#yeosang#yunho#cute#ateez fic#hongjoong#san#wooyoung#my fic
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Pretend you dont see my sending stuff while on haitus 😀 But please answer these questions! The world and I would like the answers.
🎥- For the Love of Books of course!
🐸- For Snephy
🏡
🍎
fic writer ask game
🎥 Pick a fic and I'll tell you the song I imagine playing during its movie trailer.
This definitely depends on what genre the film would be, which would probably be a romcom! Talk About You by Mika is my top Betty/Sinclair song so probably that one!
Also I saw Mika live last week (as snow knows) and he did this song and I was like SOB SOB IT’S THE BETTS AND CLAIR SONG AND HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW
🐸 If you incorporated your OTP into a Disney movie plot, which would it be?
I can’t think of an answer for Snephy so instead I’m gonna say Freaky Friday but it’s Snape and Abbie swapping bodies
🏡What is your perfect writing envrionment?
Surrounded by pillows and blankets on all sides. I’m basically a giant marshmallow. My arms are free to type and put snacks in mouth. I never feel back pain, headaches or the urge to pee. All is right in the world.
🍎What's something you learned while researching for a fic?
I was researching Victorian marriage laws for Sins of the Flesh / The Eternal Summer and found out that women could only file for divorce on grounds of unreasonable cruelty, but men could file on all sorts of grounds. So women couldn’t divorce their cheating husbands unless they were also being abused 😐
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I did a thing. I’m nervous that I did the thing. Please don’t hate that I did the thing.
What is the thing? Patreon
Join, don’t join, support me, or support other amazing artists and writers. Or don’t. Go buy your favorite drink and pay that medical bill instead. Rest assured, I’m going to keep writing and drawing. And if you like it, favorite it or leave a comment or review. Feel free to hit up my ask box, too.
What’s going to be in my Patreon that won’t be on here?
Early access to chapters, more pet pictures, more insight into my creative process. Exclusive looks at rough drafts and sketches. Awesome titles including Faberry Fanatic, Serpent Supporter, and Acolyte of Athena. Opportunities to help me churn out extra chapters for your favorite fanfic. Fics of your choice are available ranging from 300 to 10k words. Drawings range from 30 minute sketches to full body art. Each tier comes with my eternal gratitude, but you already get that here. Also polls. Who doesn’t love polls?
Am I being greedy? I don’t think so. Why can’t I get a little help doing something I love? I mean, I’ve had my cheap chrome book for 5 years. It has stopped updating. It dies at random times. I’m on my third power cord. May God help us all when it dies and I have to henpeck on my tablet to write. Also, my assistant demands a small paycheck every month or else she’ll sneeze in my mouth, lick my pillow all night, and the bees in her chest will come alive.
Where else can you find me besides Patreon?
Here, of course, as well as ao3
And Fanfiction
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First sight
What if Dong Hua noticed Feng Jiu when she was a maid? Did I write this before? THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT!
Ok...to be fair, the dude has seen countless beauties, I doubt he would be impressed by Feng Jiu. So he wouldn’t be dazzled by her beauty.
Rather, he would be interested in her culinary skills.
Notice how he remembered her name when he asked for someone to feed his fox?
Anyway, before Dong Hua leaves to duel Xiao Yan, he decides to try out Feng Jiu’s cooking by ordering her to prepare lunch alone.
Like hell Zhihe won’t sabotage her. Good thing Chonglin shoos her away.
So Zhihe’s maid works magic trickery in her stead.
But this is the princess of Qingqiu. She can so use her own magic to undo the damages.
At the meal, Dong Hua is suitably impressed with Feng Jiu’s cooking and asks her to teach his chefs.
To be fair, Feng Jiu’s cooking really is a work of art to be able to outdo the royal chefs of an emperor.
Feng Jiu is busy in the kitchen so she doesn’t see Dong Hua going off to battle.
When he comes back, his cultivation half gone, Feng Jiu is understandably worried. But she is a servant and has to remember her place.
That doesn’t stop her from sneaking a jar of cotton rose ointment to Dong Hua under guise as floral sauce to accompany his lunch.
Dong Hua thankfully is smart enough to recognize it as medicine and not food.
Feng Jiu hopes to have more interaction with Dong Hua but she just cooks for him....
Then the wedding came and Feng Jiu was heartbroken. She chooses to resign.
When they meet again at Bai Qian’s wedding, Dong Hua vaguely recognizes her.
Story follows as canon, only when Lian Song tells Dong Hua about Qingti, Dong Hua doesn’t have a headache for neglecting a beloved pet in mortal danger.
#eternal love of dream#eternal love of dream fic#eternal love of dream fanfiction#eternal love of dream fanfic#eternal love pillow book fanfiction#eternal love pillow book fanfic#eternal love pillow book fic#eternal love pillow book#三生三世枕上书
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