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onlyvrse · 2 years

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the real thing

“figured i'd do some charity work, you know, let you fuck the real thing before training ends?”

pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x female!pilot reader

summary: rooster can’t help himself in the shower rooms.

genre: smut, fluff if you squint

warnings: masturbation, unprotected sex, fingering, oral m!receiving, dirty talk, praise, semi public sex, idk jackshit abt the navy so if anything’s inaccurate sorry!

a/n: the rooster smut saga continues.. c/s = callsign. both reader n rooster are pervy lmao, very lightly proof read.

word count: 4.1k

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rooster knew he had it bad for you. really fucking bad. but somehow it just keeps getting worse every little flirty interaction the two of you have, every time you'd call him by his name instead of his callsign- or any time you called him “roos” instead of rooster. the subtle lingering touches on his shoulder, when you’d bump into him on the way to the bathroom at night, smiling sleepily with tired doe eyes. any time you’d teasingly joke about how you were able to fly better than he could, everytime you called him lieutenant. every little interaction he had would get his mind racing, so confused whether you reciprocated his feelings or he was just in his own head, most instances however, end with him fucking his fist in the showers after training to the thought of you. he had it real bad.

it had only been around a month since the two of you rekindled your questionable fling. both of you graduated in the same top gun class a few years back, and you were being called back for an undisclosed mission. he had feelings for you back then, but seeing you almost three years later, you’d grown more into your frame and your facial features were more defined, the resurfacing emotions hit him like a fucking truck. every time you were called to attention, you’d somehow end up next to him, wavering his focus and making him laugh- but quickly change his expression to stoic when he felt the admiral’s eyes on the two of you. so when training started and your mannerisms continued just the same as years ago, it just got worse and worse for him. and to his never ending misfortune, fanboy and payback decided 200 push ups would be the punishment for getting shot down first by maverick. so there he was, in the scorching sun with hondo yelling out consecutive numbers everytime he pushed himself back up. “aw roos,” you coo, fixing your hair after having taken your helmet off. you crouch down next to him, hearing his heavy breathes as he continues to push himself through the exercise. you put a finger under his chin, and he swears he almost chokes at your touch, you force him to look up at you and you smile when you make eye contact, “doesn’t this prove that i’m better in the sky than you, lieutenant? got shot down by mav, poor baby.” he scoffs, flipping you off while you giggle and walk away. unbeknownst to the both of you, the entire squadron was watching from the window, placing bets on when you two were finally just going to admit your feelings for one another.

hangman is the first to speak, “what’s the bet they’ve fucked already?” he smirks, and phoenix shuts him down, “oh come on, c/s and rooster? you’d have to push the two of them in a bedroom before anything even happened.” bob laughs behind them before joining in, “even so, they still wouldn’t do anything.” “hey what’s the bet i can get’er before bradshaw does?” hangman speaks out and the entire room just glared at him. no one even needs to say ‘really?’ their eyes say it all. the group quietens down when you enter, quipping an eyebrow as they all meet your gaze. “what?” you ask, completely oblivious. “don’t you worry about it, gorgeous.” hangman chirps up and you roll your eyes at the cocky blonde aviator before taking a seat. rooster joins the rest of the squad shortly after, sweat still dripping from the tip of his nose. you give him a sympathetic smile when a voice cuts through the air. “training’s over for today, rest up for tomorrow. oh, and don’t forget to shower too. you guys stink.” you hear chuckles arise throughout the room, you make eye contact with phoenix, who sends you a wink and you look back in confusion, blinking profusely as if that would fix anything. what the fuck’s going on? people start filtering out of the room to their respective dorms and you take the opportunity to slip into your room and gather your things to shower.

you’d always waited a good half an hour for everyone to shower, or literally when everyone was going to bed. communal bathrooms were never your thing. you’d rather not have to see all of your colleagues half naked if you didn’t have to, saves from overhearing the boy’s locker room talk as well. you gather up your toiletries and walk towards the your locker, grabbing a fresh towel before beginning to strip.

today was no different for rooster, relieving himself in the showers after training. especially after the stunt you pulled today, it was so so subtle, but it set him ablaze. “got shot down by mav, poor baby.” your devious grin, with a finger under his chin forcing him to look at you. what he’d do for you to call him that unironically. god he had it bad.

you hear faint groaning as you’re untying your hair, completely stopping your movements out of curiosity of the noises. you hear a faint curse and your entire body heats up when you recognise the voice. rooster. you innocently assume he’s stubbed his toe or some dumb shit like that, so you dismiss it, wrapping a towel around your bare body as you make your way closer to the showers. “shit,” you stop in your tracks hearing the soft moan, selfishly biting your lip and walking towards the only occupied stall, a damp shower curtain between you and the man you’d been pining over for as long as you’d set your eyes on him. except this time, he’s bare- wet, and fucking himself. you wonder if it’s just a random jerk-off or if he’s got someone in particular in mind, so your curiosity gets the best of you and you lean back against the cold tiled wall, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for any sort of noise to come from the pilot.

he pumps his hands up and down his length, at an agonising pace. too caught up in his own head to even hear your faint footsteps walking around right outside. his bottom lip is between his teeth, his arm leaning against the shower wall, head resting against said arm while the warm water runs down his skin. he teases the head of his cock with his thumb, muttering out an expletive at the sensation.

your answer comes shortly after your half-joking thought. “god, y/n.” you freeze. hold the fuck up. huh? sorry? your eyes widen hearing your name, not even realising how tight your grip was on the hem of your towel. bradshaw, was jacking off, to the thought of you? no, that couldn’t be right. but there it was again, a faint grunt of your name. what the fuck is happening right now? you feel yourself growing wetter as you continue to listen in, albeit feeling slightly pervy about the entire confusing fucking situation but the arousal that was bubbling up inside of you put you past the point of caring. and so, for a reason you can’t really put an excuse to just yet, you push the curtain to the side, your eyes meeting his bare back. “whoops, wrong shower.” you quip, and his head snaps in your direction, wide eyed and startled like a deer caught in head lights. “y/n? what the fuck are you doing?” he squeaks out, desperately clutching for anything to cover himself. “what you think i didn't hear you? oh, fuck y/n, just like that-” his hand covers your mouth abruptly and you giggle against his skin, which sets his ablaze. “is this to torment me? are you going to blackmail me so i never live this down?” he rambles, eyes on the floor. “figured i'd do some charity work, you know, let you fuck the real thing before training ends?” you glance down at the hand covering his crotch. “y’know, instead of your right hand.” he hangs his head in embarrassment, “i'm kidding, dumbass. you’re not the only one having those thoughts.” “what?” “holy shit, you’re clueless. i like you, bradshaw. wasn’t it obvious?” you breathe out before closing the shower curtain and draping your towel over the shower wall and standing under the water next to him, completely bare. he cocks his head to the side, visibly and oh-so utterly fucking confused. “huh- what? what the fuck are you doing?” he says, completely exasperated and no clue where to leave his gaze. he curses himself as he feels his dick getting painfully erect again with the sight of you naked in front of him, water dripping down your skin. “what’s it look like i’m doing, rooster?” you quip, placing a hand on his chest, the other skimming over his bare shoulder. “what the fuck is happening?” rooster mumbles out quietly and you giggle, looking up at him. “y’gonna kiss me or what, bradshaw?” you didn’t have to ask him twice.

he crashes his lips onto yours, pushing you against the wall- you moan into his mouth and he swears it sounds like heaven. both of his hands are cradling your face, gentle, contrasting to what was happening with his lips. he bites your bottom lip and you gasp, slightly digging your nails into his shoulder. “y’dunno how long i’ve waited for this.” he mumbles against you, you smile before pressing a quick peck against his lips, “i’ve got somewhat of an idea.” you kiss him again, hungrily, and you whine when you feel one of his hands kneading the flesh of your ass, the other hand braces up against the shower wall. you both pull away, breathless, and you take a second to admire how pretty he looks like this. lips slightly reddened, face flushed, water dripping from his soft curls, the way his muscles ripple with every little move he makes. “hey, pretty girl, y’done staring?” he smiles at your eyes flickering all over his body, placing his pointer finger under your chin to make you look at him, the same thing you did to him earlier. you hum in response, grabbing his face to bring him in to kiss him again, you slide your tongue into his mouth and and arm snakes around your waist in response to this. you moan when you feel his dick brush by your lower stomach, deciding to lazily slide your hand up and down his length as he kisses you.

he groans into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of your hands on him, and you take the opportunity to situate yourself on your knees in front of him, staring up at him with doe eyes as he caresses the side of your face with his thumb. you teasingly lick at the slit of his dick and his hips thrust forward, looking up at him, when your gaze meets his fucked out state, smirking when he rests his hand on the side of your cheek, mumbling a ‘please’, and, fuck. who are you to deny such a polite request? “easy lieutenant.” you drawl out, before circling your tongue around the tip of his dick, a low moan coming from above you and you swear you get wetter just hearing him come undone. and so, because you can never say no to bradshaw, you take his length into your mouth fully, using your tongue to trace the pronounced veins as you bob your head, maintaining a rhythm as a choked moan leaves bradley. you use your hand to work at what you cant fit, although removing it when you attempt to deepthroat him, you did it occasionally, just to marvel in the sounds he makes. you take a breath, your lips leaving his cock with a lewd pop as you stare up at him, smiling, lips reddened and puffy. he cocks his head to the side, quipping an eyebrow as he smirks. “c’mere.” he whispers, his finger under your chin again, beckoning you to stand.

it’s not long before his lips are on yours again, but this time, you feel a finger running up and down your slick folds, causing you to let out a strangled moan at the sudden sensation, maybe a bit too loud of a moan now that you can hear it reverberating around the tiled walls. a hand wraps around your throat, his other hand still toying with your heat as he looks you in the eye, “as much as i wanna hear those pretty noises, not too loud, doll, okay? don’t want anyone knowing what we’re doing in here, hm?” you nod, shyly, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as he toys with your bundle of nerves, causing you to flinch when he pinches at your clit, you yelp and smack him- he chuckles, asshole. “sorry, s’too tempting,” you look up at him, trying to glare but smiling when you meet his gaze. at least he’s a cute asshole. he starts drawing delicate patterns against your clit and you moan into another kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth as you tilt your head, feeling the familiar white hot pleasure building into a coil in your stomach. you throw your head back against the wall when you feel a finger enter you, surprised by the sudden intrusion. his lips latch onto your neck, surely leaving bruises in its wake. you just hope your flight suit covers them. “feel good, princess?” he drawls and you nod eagerly, gasping out when you feel another digit inside of you, pumping in and out of your core selfishly, his thumb still lazily working at your clit. he quickens his pace, your senseless babbling noises of pleasure filling his ears like his favourite songs. your thighs are tensing already, god it's embarrassing how long it’s been since you’ve gotten any. he notices this, and of course switches his position to be kneeling in front of you, placing one of your legs over his shoulder as he begins to lap at your cunt- your hand flies to grab a fistful of his hair, a choked moan leaving your lips. he groans into your heat at the tug, sending vibrations throughout your core which only causes you to let out a string of curses. you cry out when you feel his fingers enter you again, thrusting at a relentless pace as he continues to flick his tongue against your clit.

he looks up at you and holy fuck, did he look good.

you could get used to this.

so, so used to this.

“holy fuck, shit-” you moan out, so lost in your own pleasure you don’t even feel the pain when you accidentally throw your head back too hard against the tiled wall. his stupidly gorgeous pornstache is adding a whole new sensation to this that you’ve never felt, and you grind against his mouth selfishly, the knot in your stomach tightening, “mm-fuck roos- gonna,” you cant even finish your sentence, a moan leaving you again when he sucks harshly at your clit and it’s all you need to topple over the edge. your entire body spasms, pleasure running all throughout your body as he never ceases his movements, his free hand is on your waist, drawing soft circles with his thumb as a way to signify he’s got you, helping you ride out your orgasm with his head between your thighs. but now he’s almost eye level with you, quick to stand up after finishing you off. and of course, him being quite a few inches taller causes you to tilt your head up to look at him, but you grab his face and kiss him hungrily, tasting yourself on his lips.

“what were you thinking of before i interrupted you, roos?”

he breaks away, forehead resting against yours, his hand tracing delicate circles along the small of your back. “what’dya mean?” he mumbles out, “when you were fucking yourself, what were you thinking of?” you drawl out, confused at where the sudden brashness came from but oh well, no take backs. “y’wanna know?” he questions and you nod slowly, biting your lip in anticipation.

his hands are on your hips, backing up so his back hits the wall instead before he spins you around, a hand guiding your back to bend over. you brace your hands against the wall instinctively and gasp when you feel his cock hit your ass. “sure you want it, princess?” he asks, and you’re too desperate to make a sarcastic remark. “just fuck me bradshaw, please.” you don’t have to turn around to know he’s grinning, “yes ma’am.” he lines himself up, teasingly running his length up and down- brushing against your already sensitive clit, which causes you to shiver. “bite your hand.” he says, and you look back, confused. “what? why the fuck would i-” he rolls his eyes before covering your mouth with his hand, before bottoming out inside you completely. there’s a muffled scream of “oh, fuck” that can still be heard despite his last-minute countermeasures, he’s just happy he dampened it, even if it was only a little bit.

“that’s why, darlin’.”

he says, giving you a second to breathe and adjust. you felt and saw it before, but having it inside you was a completely different experience, he was practically stuffing you full. and you didn’t mind one bit. you look back at him, and he winks at you. you can’t help but scoff that he’s so goofy even in moments like this. “permission to go?” you squint your eyes at him. “really?” he nods, amused grin on his face. now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “permission granted.” you barely have a second to process before his hips snap back against your ass, your mouth ajar as he ruts into you at a relentless pace. you could tell by the way he was just thrusting into you, this’d been building up over so many years. all the times you’ve unknowingly gotten him hard by addressing him by his last name with a desiring lilt in your voice, all the lingering touches after training. “y’dunno how long i’ve waited for this.” well. you could definitely feel it. your hands are flush against the wall, but your legs feel like jelly- your brain is so overwhelmed by the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “so pretty like this, c/s.” you hear him mutter, a hand placed on the small of your back while the other holds a steady grasp on your hip. he notices your absence of a response, constant moans leaving your lips every time he hits the spongey spot inside of you. “too cockdrunk to speak? who knew you’d be so needy for me?” you whine out again at the accurate accusation. “just for you,” you manage to get out, despite him never ceasing his movements. “you’re all snarky and sarcastic out there but you’re making all this noise just for me? if i’d known this’d shut you up i’d have done it ages ago, princess.” you’re about to let yourself be a little louder in response to this, but his hips come to a disappointing halt.

you look back at him and he places a finger over his mouth to signify you to be quiet. once he’s certain he’s heard footsteps he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up against the wall, you look down amazed how he’s holding you with one arm. he notices this, and smirks. “rooster? that you?” he makes eye contact with you when hearing the familiar voice of payback, slightly grinning. “yeah s’me, what’s up?” he responds, the sound echoing slightly. your eyes are wide when he lines himself up and starts thrusting into you again, a slow pace but he goes hard. this causes you to bite down on his shoulder to stop yourself from making any noise, making him wince a little as he continues his agonising teasing. “yeah once you’re done jacking off we’re going to the hard deck.” “yeah, yeah, i'll be there, piss off- wait why’re you in here anyway man?” rooster inquires, hips somewhat speeding up, your nails digging into his back, so sure to leave crescent moon marks the next day. “left my keys, i’ll see you there man.” he mutters a curt reply before facing your direction again, smirking when your head is still buried in the crook of his neck, arms draped around his neck lazily. he waits a few seconds, going at an antagonising pace to assure the unexpected visitor has left the showers before holding your legs up and rutting into you at the same relentless pace as before.

you cry out into his shoulder, tears prickling at your eyes. “you’re doing so well baby, taking me so well.” he comments, marvelling at the way your cunt sucks his length in everytime. you let your head rest against the wall, grabbing his face for him to look at you. he smiles softly at your fucked out expression, kissing at the tear that’d made its way down your cheek. “you’re so pretty, doll. you okay?” he asks, watching as you nod, your eyes dazed and glossy. “i’can take it.” you mumble out and he smiles softly. how is this man rearranging your guts and being so sweet at the same time? while you’re having these thoughts, he’s amused at the duality of you. how snarky and witty you are during training and in the sky, and the whimpering mess that was coming undone infront of him now. how cute. you both thought.

a hand attaches to your clit again and you bury your face further into his skin to muffle the choked moan, sensitive and eagerly awaiting your release. his hips still pumping into you relentlessly. you cry out in pleasure, feeling the knot in your stomach about to release after the constant abuse to the spongey spot inside of you. “roos, g’nna- fuck-” you babble out into his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “i got you princess.” you cum, hard, accompanied by a string of curses that leave your kiss-bruised lips. you’re practically limp against him now, relishing in the feeling of him filling you to the brim- his hips faltering slightly, signalling he’s not far off himself. “fuck, can i finish in you?” he grunts out, a loose strand of hair hangs in front of his eye. you nod taking your lip between your teeth again, “give me all of it, roos. please.” he moans lowly hearing you say that, throwing his head back as he lets himself go inside of you, an almost-forgotten warmth settling at your centre. “holy shit,” he whispers out, his forehead settling against yours. you kiss him tenderly.

“we should do that again some time.”

“really? you think so?” you giggle back, toying with the short strands of hair by the back of his neck. “please don’t tell me that's a one time thing- cause i actually really like you, i have since we first met and it’d suck balls if-” you cut him off with a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

“you’re an idiot, bradshaw. did you not remember me saying i was into you before you fucked me in a shower stall?”

he cocks his head to the side, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“definitely,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck. “yeah, no i totally remember that.” you both laugh as he sets your feet back onto the ground, an arm wrapping around your waist when your legs almost give out on you. “don't let that get to your ego, bradshaw.” he wipes his mouth with his hand to cover his smile, nodding his head in amusement. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

he’s gentle with you, lathering soap over your body and showering you with praise as he also washes your hair for you. you melt into his touch, the water changing into a less than comfortable temperature. “roos,” you mumble out, he looks at you with a questioning look. “water’s gone cold.” he runs his hand under it, confirming your statement before wrapping you in your long forgotten towel that was draped over the tiled wall. he places a kiss on your temple as he places his own discarded towel around his waist.

“I felt like a perv doing that.” “you felt like a perv? I was outside listening for like a solid minute.” he grins, “you were?” you regret your confession immediately. “oh, no wait fuck off i wasn’t, i wasn't! i take it back.” he bellows out in laughter before placing a hand on the small of your back. “you can’t take that back after my dick was in you, c/s.” you smack his chest, hard.

“shut up you fuck! what if someone heard that?”

“you’re worried about someone hearing that bit? of all things? really?”

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i’m so sorry this took so long to get out ;-;

likes, reblogs and comments appreciated! tag anyone who you’d think would enjoy this :)

tag list: @mandoowhorian @luckyladycreator2

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun maverick #rooster smut #rooster #top gun 2022 #bradley topgun smut #rooster topgun smut #smut

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rebelliousstories · 19 days

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A Book A Day…

Relationship: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,302

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: Running into colleagues at an unusual function, with an unusual title; just another day in the life of the BAU.

Reading is essential for those who seek to rise above the ordinary. - Jim Robin

“All I am saying is that Allyl Amethysts Cornflower’s sequel was just as good as the first one. I mean, come on. You can’t sit there and tell me that Feather Dust was not as amazing like Star Dust.” Penelope Garcia gushed, standing next to her friends in a line for a book signing.

“I’m hearing you mama, but we can’t forget about A Fallen Angel which was turned into a modern day classic.” Derek countered, waiting with one hand in his jacket pocket, and the other holding Penelope’s book.

“Okay but Song of the Nightingale? That was a classic of her work, and not just cause of how she played off the leading relationship being between two women.” Emily piped in, holding her own annotated copy of said book.

“Personally, I find her entire Thorns of a Rose saga the best. It super compelling and the characters just come off the page.” Spencer added, also holding a stack of books.

“How much longer is it until she’s about to come out here? My shoes are killing me.” Garcia complained, shifting from foot to foot and leaning up on Morgan while fiddling with her shoes. Spencer checked his watch before speaking up once more.

“We still have about ten minutes before she’s suppose to be here. You know, I’m amazed that you haven’t found out her real name yet, with your proclivity to snoop.” Reid added once more. However, the bubbly blonde looked accosted at the young doctor’s words.

“I will have you know that I respect that woman’s privacy. And I have wanted to snoop, but I have never. If she chooses to share that information with the world, she will.” She replied looking dignified. The other people in the line started to gasp and clap. Looking towards the table, the group was excited as they could finally see the author sitting down in her designated spot.

It took a while, but with every step forward, they got more and more excited. Garcia chattered more, and Morgan amused her little ramblings. Prentiss listened as Reid spouted on about the statistics around books and their releases every year. They made their way closer and spoke eagerly about their favorite moments from each book they had read or even seen on the silver screen. Pretty soon, it was their turn.

“Oh my gosh. You are so pretty. I mean, even more gorgeous than the pictures on your website and online. I’m sorry that was weird. I’m making things awkward.” Penelope could not hold back her excited ramble, to which the author just chuckled at. The bubbly woman frantically searched for her friend who held her book and nearly dropped it trying to pass it to the author.

“It’s totally okay. Are you all together?” She asked politely, pointing to the three others who lingered close by.

“Yes,” Garcia perked back up, “yes. We are all in the same group. I’m Penelope Garcia, this is the illustrious Derek Morgan. This beauty in a turtleneck is Emily Prentiss, and the tall dapper one in a suit on his day off is Dr. Spencer Reid.” Allyl took her time to shake each one of their hands, and held a genuine smile on her face.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all. Thank you so much for coming out to this.” She sat back down and took the blonde’s book first.

“Can I just say that the plot twist in Feather Dust… I mean, how do you even come up with that? With her brother and her mother, that was just- such a roller coaster.” Barely able to contain her excitement, Garcia continued to speak as she watched the author sign the inside cover of her copy.

“Honestly, that came from my boyfriend. He works in law enforcement and helped me with that twist.” Cornflowers admitted, as she moved on to the next book she was handed.

“I loved your sapphic take on this. It definitely helped get me through some tough times.” Prentiss confessed as she handed over her copy of Song of the Nightingale.

“Thanks! It was super important that I didn’t fall into any heavy tropes for Nightingale. Again, I consulted with two of my friends who are a couple to get a better grasp on the feelings for the tale.” Once again, she signed the book swiftly, and handed it back to the dark-haired woman. Next, Spencer brought his stack of books to the table.

“I couldn’t pick so I brought them all and hoped I would be able to decide my favorite in the line up. But I still haven’t made a choice. Which one is your favorite? You can just sign that one.” Like Garcia, Reid nervously rambled as he tried to remain coordinated. But, the woman behind the table simply chuckled.

“No, it’s okay, um… this would definitely be the one I love out of the line up most.” From the saga Reid has presented her with, she pulled Petals of Peonies from the stack.

“My boyfriend collaborated with me on this one for the law enforcement aspect. He works for the FBI so when I needed help making the bureaucracy real, he was there to help.” This caught their attention.

“Who is your boyfriend? Cause we also work for the FBI.” Garcia spoke up, looking like she was about to take impeccable notes in order to find this man.

“His name is Aaron. But he doesn’t like to talk about his job around me. He’s one of those that wants to keep home and work separate.” Finishing her signature on the book, Allyl sent it back to the doctor.

“Well, it has been great meeting you. Thank you so much.” Emily cut off the blonde before she could respond. They all shook hands with the woman behind the table and left to the adjoining cafe. Allyl went back to the book signing while the team of profilers ordered themselves a few cups of coffee.

“Is Hotch dating anyone? Do we know?” Prentiss whispered quite loudly. The rest of the team shook their heads as they looked between each other.

“He hasn’t appeared to be dating anyone. No spending extra time on his phone, no earlier nights from the office. There hasn’t been any indication that he’s seeing someone.” Garcia’s hands flailed as she spoke.

“Well, maybe he’s not dating anyone. How many Aaron’s are there that work in the bureau? She could be talking about anyone. Or her boyfriend is just feeding her garbage about being in the FBI. He could not work there at all.” The analysis from Morgan divided the table. Their guts told them to investigate, but they knew it would be in vain.

“What was that pact we all took about inter-team profiling, guys? We’re not supposed to do it.” Reid complained, taking a sip of his sugary coffee to mask his intrigue.

“How about we wait till she’s done with her signing? If she can stick around, maybe we can get more information.” Ever the sneak attack extraordinaire, Prentiss offered a solution to ease everyone’s curiosity.

So they sat. And waited. Watching not so subtly as the line continued to go down, down, down. Until there were only two people left in line. They had seen people have seemingly meaningful discussions with the author, others too overwhelmed with emotions to hold down a conversation. It was such a wide range of people that came to that table, but they had never seen anyone who looked like a significant other the entire time they had been watching.

The longer they watched from afar, the more the entire group felt like they would never be able to find out who the mystery man was. A final signature, and Allyl left swiftly afterwards. It did not appear that she was going to be sticking around. Deflating, they realized their window to find out about the author was gone. She had left the building, presumably. So the team of profilers turned back to their discussion on which of Cornflowers’ books needed to be made into a film next. That is, of course, until they heard two vaguely familiar voices approaching the cafe line.

“I think that went well, but I am dying for some food and coffee. Wanna get some lunch after we get something to hold us over here?” A feminine voice begged; a voice they knew to belong to the author they had just met earlier that day.

“Of course we can. I think we can both stomach a little lunch. Now, which cookie would you like?” With eyes the size of saucers, all the profilers turned towards the people who were at the counter ordering. That was Aaron Hotchner, their unit chief, with Allyl Amethyst Cornflowers, the author they were there to see. Mouths gaped open as Hotch held his son, Jack, up so he could see the cookies that were displayed, ready to entice.

“I want that one daddy!” Jack pointed excitedly to the sugar cookie with frosting and sprinkles. The woman beside him laughed, and ordered more for the group. But the profilers at the table were dumbfounded. Hotch called the author by another name, that sounded like a name but was not used in her pseudonym, and gave her a card before taking Jack over to watch the drinks being made.

“What the- wha? Huh?” Garcia floundered, which drew the attention of the author at the counter to the group at the table.

“Oh, hi. Is something wrong?” She asked, concerned she had done something.

“You’re, is Hotch your-” Penelope never got to finish her sentence as the man and his son made their way over.

“Hey. What are you guys doing here?” Aaron called, setting his down on his own two feet instead of holding him.

“What’re you doing here?” Derek threw back at the man. But the older agent just smiled, and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend’s waist while holding onto his son.

“She had a book signing so we’re here for that. But Jack got to explore the book section and get some new ones for his collection.” He answered, tugging the author closer.

“Wait, ‘Allyl Amethyst Cornflowers’. That’s an anagram for Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, isn’t it?” Reid suddenly said, startling the rest of his friends at the table as he had an epiphany.

“Yeah, it is,” the author confirmed, “she’s the one that got me into reading as a child. Well, my mother read me her stories until I could read them. But she’s always been my biggest inspiration.” Her tone was now more shy as she explained, retreating into the comforts of her boyfriend’s arms. It was not too much longer that her name was called once again, this time by a barista who held three drinks, and three treats ready for pick up. Untangling herself, she moved away to collect what they had ordered, while Aaron faced the third degree.

“Why did we not know you were dating?”

“How did you manage that?”

“How did you guys even meet?”

“She seems nice.” All the questions kept coming at him, and made the older agent smile at his coworkers.

“Alright, alright. First, we keep it private for obvious reasons. Second, I don’t even know myself. Third, we met at another book signing some time ago. Lastly, yes. She is very nice.” He tried to get through every question before she returned, but he was not so fortunate.

“Just nice? Oh we are going to have some words, Mr. Hotchner.” She teased, handing him his coffee and biscuit. Before she could continue, she was cut off by the sound of five hones going off at the same time. Her lips pursed as she finished her sip of coffee, and gently guided Jack into her arms so Aaron could check his phone. With a reluctant sigh, the agents at the table stood up, and Hotch turned to his girlfriend and son.

“I’m so sorry.” He tried to apologize, but she waved him off.

“It’s fine. You gotta go be a superhero. Jack Jack and I will go get some lunch. I’ve got that other book signing across town anyways.” Rubbing her hand across his back, it made letting her go that much harder for Aaron. He pressed a kiss to his son’s head and gave him a big ole hug, before turning back to his girlfriend. Hotch rested a quick kiss to her lips, and hugged her close as she said something the team could not hear.

“Go be Mr. Big Bad FBI Agent now.” She let go of him, and tugged Jack near the doors where they had parked to finish out their day as a duo, rather than a trio.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” Morgan clapped his boss on the back.

“Yeah, ‘Mr. Big Bad FBI Agent’.” Prentiss teased, walking past the stunned man.

“Do you think she’s be willing to sit down and discuss the fragile hierarchy that she constructs through her books? I’ve always found that fascinating.” Reid piped up, moving towards the door.

“Come on, oh captain, my captain.” Garcia gently guided him out the door where the three agents had gone. Two of them were snickering to themselves, and the other one was Reid. As they piled into the car, everyone stopped for a moment, and turned to Hotch with grins on their faces.

“Not a word to Rossi.” He conceded, and they took off for the office.

Perhaps we did not read so many books, or learn languages so quickly, as those who are disciplined according to the ordinary methods; but what we learned was impressed the more deeply on our memories. - Mary Wollstocecraft Shelley

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia

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doumadono · 5 months

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hii it’s the twice & dabi anon again.

i’m sorry to ask for another emergency request but i’ve been having so much difficulty with my mom over the past year and a half, maybe two. it’s only been getting worse and now she doesn’t even talk to me. i only get updates from my little sisters and— oh my god it’s just horrible. i feel so bad that i had to leave them. but, i just couldn’t stay, you know?

could you maybe write something about twice & dabi comforting their partner/gf about the situation??

you don’t have to write for both!! either or is perfect!!

i just love the comfort you’re willing and able to provide. (even though you don’t have to. it’s truly heartwarming seeing you do this all. i really appreciate what you do.)

i really hope you’re doing well and taking good care of yourself. please be sure to eat properly and drink water!!

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear that you're going through such a difficult time. It's important to prioritize your well-being, and I hope things get better for you soon. Also, thank you so much for your kind words! Your appreciation means a lot. Even though I'm not doing well lately, I'll make sure to take care of myself. Wishing you all the best too! 🌟

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Twice

Amid the chaos that permeated your mind, Jin Bubaigawara appeared with a boisterous greeting that momentarily broke the heavy silence that surrounded you. "Hey, babe! Twice is here to lift your spirits!" he declared with his characteristic energy, though his eyes held a genuine concern as he noticed the weight on your shoulders.

As you poured out the complexities of your strained relationship with your mom, Twice listened attentively, his empathy shining through. "Dang, that sounds tough. But you know what? You're strong for facing it head-on, I admire that," he remarked, his voice carrying a mix of reassurance and admiration.

He enveloped you in a tight hug, and his voice softened, "You did what you had to do for your own well-being. Don't beat yourself up about it." He pulled back, looking into your eyes. "You're not alone, okay? The League's got your back, and so do I."

Twice pondered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you'd like to engage in something? Not sure what exactly. Toga mentioned once that staying busy is beneficial - it keeps your mind from wandering into overthinking territory. And hey, if you ever need a clone to handle some mom-related drama, I got you covered. Double the trouble, double the fun!"

Dabi

The faint glow of Dabi's cigarette illuminated his face as he leaned against the wall, his stoic demeanor unwavering. "Come here, doll," he said, gesturing to the spot next to him.

As you recounted the painful saga of your relationship with your mom, Dabi listened in silence. When you finished, he took a slow drag of his cigarette before speaking. "Family can be a real mess, I know that. Sometimes, you gotta step back to save yourself."

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Leaving doesn't make you weak, ya know? It takes strength to break away from toxicity, in fact." His voice was low, carrying a raw honesty that resonated with your own emotions.

His long fingers traced soothing patterns on your back as he continued, "You're not alone in this. The past doesn't define you, and you're building a future for yourself, not for them, yeah?"

Dabi's lips curled into a smirk. "We're both well aware of the hell it is to deal with toxic nonsense within our own families. Parents messing up their own kids? That's a special kind of mess."

He lightly tapped your nose. "Take it easy, and find ways to keep that beautiful head of yours focused on other things. Overthinking is just a slow way to kill your own self. Don't let it consume you."

He extinguished the cigarette and looked directly into your eyes. "Just so ya know, if you ever need someone to lean on, I'm here. We're in this together."

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eiilese · 9 months

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Love the designs and descriptions you did for the straw hats!! I do want to ask, since they all have different roles and skills do they meet the crew at different points in the story? Like, since Robin is the shipwright would she have met the crew at Water 7 or would it still be Alabasta but under different circumstances? Since she’s not an archeologist she wouldn’t have been raised on O’Hara, right?

Just curious to see what your thoughts are😊 - thanks.

thank you so much for the ask!! sorry this took so long to answer it took awhile to gather my ideas. i’m so happy with how well this au thing was received ;u; TY to people who left tags and replies!! i read everything 🫶

here is the original post for role swap! this post has explanations for backstories! i really did try to have drawings to go with everything but i burned out as this month went on so not every character has doodles :(

—

i kept everything mostly the same in terms of when the strawhats meet each person. i didn’t want to change too much to avoid changing important character moments that happen in canon

this isn’t a super heavy rewrite, there’s a lot of backstory to juggle and i’m not equipped to write such an in-depth au rn 😭 but i might make separate posts for arcs like water 7 or wci!! though i kept a lot of backstory the same theres a lot of rewrite potential for those sagas

i hope these are fun to read about nonetheless ^_^ i included some stuff from @flute-of-pan pan and @onethousandsunnies because they left tags on the original post that were cool ideas

nami, vice capt.

not much changes!! instead of forcing her to chart maps, arlong might just have her around as a servant girl. regardless, the deal to buy back cocoyashi village still stands and nami works hard for it

generally i think her selflessness and loyalty to her village makes her fit to be a vice captain. she looks out for people at her own detriment and was willing to take the fall for such much ahhh

in my opinion she’s good vice captain material!! perhaps a cowardly one but still reliable. also a good treasurer for the crew as always

zoro, cook

zoro grew up training to be a swordsman and competes against kuina, but he also has a knack for cooking as a hobby. he’s mostly the same but sanji’s “stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean with zeff” happens to him instead (flute-of-pan suggested the cook always suffers the fate of starvation)

kuina decides to run away and zoro is roped into her plans. it goes wrong and they get stranded on a rock, eventually arguing and ending up on opposite sides of the rock with the little food they brought

zoro finds out kuina gave him everything they had soon after she stops replying to him. he’s rescued thanks to kuina’s dad, who tracked them down with vivre cards. kuina’s had long since burned up

similar to canon, zoro continues striving to become the world’s strongest after her death. i think this backstory coupled with him eating those stomped riceballs at the very beginning of the story is so….(GESTURE) it’s very reminiscent of sanji’s no-waste-policy which he would absolutely also have

sanji, sniper

germa 66 has a mafia aesthetic now 👍i only have the willpower to draw reiju here she ended up kind of cluttered but i like my vision

sanji’s backstory is mostly the same: he and his siblings are genetically modified to be the perfect soldiers, but he had a kind nature that made him the target of abuse. after reiju helps him escape, he ends up with zeff and worked as a janitor. zeff loses his leg while trying to save sanji in a maritime accident; though they don’t get stranded anywhere, sanji has to be indebted to him somehow

when the baratie is opened, he works as a busser/guard against unruly guests. flute-of-pan mentioned that he could fire the canons of the ship

when the strawhats meet him on the baratie, sanji still gives don krieg’s crew food. i don’t think his kindness around that would disappear just bc he doesn’t have a whole starving incident

usopp, navigator

on top of bluffing about being the leader of a huge pirate army, he would create fake maps and brag to everyone in syrup village (especially kaya) about these places he so evidently visited. kaya loved his drawings even if the places weren’t real

his dream is to create a Real map of the whole world, not a fake map that he makes up out of stories. drafting the real world makes him a brave explorer of the seas, which he also wants to become :)

when the strawhats meet him, they were basically relying on nami’s limited sailing skills to get around. not only do they get the going merry but they have a real, reliable navigator now! AND he’s multitalented B)

chopper, helmsman

from a young age he set his sights on sailing the seas to escape from the isolation he faced on drum island. he would routinely make little boats for himself to escape the island on, failing each time, and hiriluk would always nurse him back to health

instead of studying to be a doctor, chopper has a general desire to be helpful and acted as an assistant to hiriluk’s medical endeavors

both flute-of-pan and onethousandsunnies pitched that chopper studied stuff like ocean currents!! overall he studied the ocean real hard but would never leave the island without hiriluk

hiriluk’s death would glue him to doctor kureha’s side and it isn’t until the strawhats come that he has the courage to embark on a new journey

franky, muscian

bro grew up running around water 7 trying to get people to join his band. tom and iceberg are still his family. his shipbuilding skills don’t go past an amateur level in this au. he would develop a line of dinky guitars (or instruments in general) that also had lasers/canons/confetti in them. his dream is A FRANKY WORLD TOUR 🤞FREE ADMISSION

many of his weaponized instruments littered the shipyard, spandam uses them in his attack

after the whole tom/spandam situation unfolds, iceberg is the one to find and reconstruct franky into a cyborg after getting run over by the sea train. but he won’t implement piano key abs no matter how much franky asks 🙄

the newly formed franky family protect the city and throw unsolicited concerts in the middle of the street B)

robin, shipwright

though she’s not an archeologist, she still grew up on ohara! instead of archeology, she’s a gifted engineer. her devil fruit made her an outcast and her strange, misunderstood inventions did not help her case

when jaguar d saul gets stranded on ohara, robin constructs the raft for him :) the buster call unfolds the same as canon except this time, everyone’s actually not lying when they say robin can’t read poneglyphs! she never learned!! again flute-of-pan had the cool idea that she is wrongly accused. still, she’s pursued and branded as a devil child

she ends up with crocodile, who believes she can read poneglyphs. she takes advantage of this and earns his protection from the government but her ruse is uncovered when she lies to croc about what alabasta’s poneglyph says (girl cannot read that!)

robin dreams of creating a ship that can carry her and the friends she wishes to have. after meeting robin in alabasta she joins the strawhats!!

brook, doctor

he was the doctor of the rumbar pirates. an injured laboon came to like brook after he nursed him back to health!! when yorki became sick from disease brook tried his hardest to cure him, but failed :(

he was doomed to watch his crewmates die to poison that he cannot hope to cure because he himself was also dying. when he came back thru his fruit it was already too late :( the rumbar pirates Do record a song for laboon though this event cannot be edited 🤞

met in thriller bark; ik that’s a long ass time to go without a real doctor on board

by the time they meet brook everyone’s already so battered that he has to go to town on them with gauze and stitches. the company delights him ^_^

jinbei, archeologist

i mentioned this in the first post abt this au but his interest in history sparked thanks to the history of joyboy and fishman island being so intertwined. at some point in his youth, jinbei frequently visited ohara (prior to the buster call) and grew a strong relationship with the scholars there (i’m just assuming they wouldn’t be racists 🤪) he runs into robin a handful of times

he secretly learns how to read poneglyphs here leading up to the buster call. he wasn’t on the island when it happened so he managed to avoid robin’s fate

his story proceeds the same from there with the neptune army, joining fisher tiger, meeting koala, etc…

i enjoy the idea of getting invited to be a warlord by the government while simultaneously being one of the most wanted people in the world for knowing poneglyph secrets

—

also i’m sorry if there are things i forgot about or details that don’t make sense >—>o

the anime’s pacing has ruined my enthusiasm for awhile lol and i’ve consumed a lot of media since catching up!! everyone’s backstories/canon events aren’t too fresh in my memory but i did some researching to remedy it 🫡

#one piece #art #ei98 art #one piece usopp #nico robin #one piece fanart #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #nami #franky one piece #one piece brook #one piece jinbe #tony tony chopper #one piece sanji #vinsmoke reiju #role swap au

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jimblejamblewritings · 3 months

Text

Our Violent Delights Will Not Have Violent Ends: The Twilight Saga Rewrite (Book 1, Twilight) | Part 2.

Summary: Y/N Swan is just like every other girl and she likes it that way. Normal is fantastic. Normal creates a functioning member of society. Normal is the reason she moved to a small town to live with her police officer father... only to find out that she gets the farthest thing from what she wanted. This is a re-write of Twilight.

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Warnings for the Chapter: none

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

The entirety of the lunch period, you couldn’t find the stomach to eat much. Your bowl of tomato soup only had a few spoonfuls taken out of it. But all the saltine crackers were gone. You had gone over and over in your head what you would say to Edward. Now that he was here, you couldn’t remember anything. You had never been in a real confrontation anymore. You took a glance at his table again.

He looked different than before. Not terribly different, but enough that you noticed. His skin looked less pale and less stretched over his skeleton. The dark circles underneath his eyes aren’t there anymore either. Now, you could see why people said he looked perfect.

The bell rang and you silently cursed. You couldn’t have been given more time? Reluctantly, you went with Eric and Mike to your biology class. Eric and you looked over when Mike started frantically digging in his backpack.

“Ah, shit. Hey, tell Mr. Donoghue that I left my textbook in my car and I’m going to get it.”

“Okay.”

Mike ran as fast as possible while the two of you continued going to class. Eric sighed before turning to face you as you stood right in front of the doorway to bio class.

“Hey, so, about prom, I’m the one in charge of communicating with the dj. I’ve lived my whole life here so I know my music choice sucks so I’m gonna need your playlist.”

“Okay, when?” you asked as you pulled out yout phone to jot down that note.

“As long as it’s before the month ends, that’s cool. And then dates… I was wondering do you think Ang—”

“How you liking the rain, Arizona?” Mike shook out his baseball cap that got soaked in the rain from the run to his car.

“Guys! Class is about to start. Please take your seats,” Mr. Donoghue cut off whatever Eric was trying to say. If it was important, he’d get back to you later.

Unfortunately, his lab partner and your lab partner were back so you had to sit with Edward Cullen. There was a slight smile on his face as you walked towards your lab bench. Before you got a chance to say the prepared speech, he spoke.

“Hello. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the other day. I’m Edward Cullen.” His voice was smooth like coffee and somewhat low in its sound. “You’re Y/F/N Swan, right?”

“Y/N.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, turning your head to listen to Mr. Donoghue’s lesson. He must have been in cahoots with the universe because his assignment was partner work. The prize? A golden onion that has no value until he comes up with what it stands for. At least only one person could look through the microscope at a time. Edward pushed the device towards you.

“Ladies, first.”

“Why were you gone?” You looked in the microscope. “And it better be a good answer too… It’s prophase.”

“Mind if I check?...Yeah, I was out of town for a couple days. It’s prophase.”

“Like I said and the empty chair next to me told me that much.”

“Personal reasons.”

“Do personal reasons involve rude interactions?”

“Uh, no. I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t the best day for me before you showed up to class.”

“Apology accepted, I guess.”

“So are you enjoying the rain?... What?”

You tried to stop laughing. “You’re asking me about the weather?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well, no, not really. I’m not really a fan of any cold or wet place.”

Edward chuckled as he checked another slide.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s anaphase.”

“Mind if I check… Anaphase.”

“Like I said,” he joked. “If you don’t like the rain then why did you move to the wettest place in the continental United States?”

“Baseball.”

“Baseball? It’s also anaphase. Do you want to check it?”

“No, I believe you.”

Edward listened intently as you retold your story to yet another person about why you were in Forks, asking questions when necessary. You guys continued to do your work and talk. He carried the golden onion prize as he escorted you to your locker.

“Why didn’t you move with your mother and Phil?”

“Moving once means moving again. Phil could get a second contract next year and we’d be in California or Maine or some stupid place like Delaware.”

“But now you’re unhappy staying here?”

“It’s complicated.”

Edward paused. “I’m sorry, I’m asking too much. I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re very difficult for me to read.”

“Well, asking questions like a normal human bei— hey, did you get contacts?”

“No.”

“I swear your eyes were black last time I saw you, now it’s like a golden brown color.”

“Uh, no. It’s the fluorescents.”

He walked away before you could say anything else. You didn’t see Edward until school ended and you went to your truck. He and his siblings seemed to be looking directly at you but you thought you were just being paranoid. You turned back around to dig through your bag for your keys. The screeching of tires caught your attention but it was too late. Tyler’s van was barrelling towards you and your feet couldn’t seem to move.

Now was not the time to find out that your flight or fight response was the dreaded third option of freeze. You could see Edward, four cars away, staring at you in horror. His mouth dropped open. The same as all the other faces that were about to witness your death. Almost everything moved in slow motion.

The hunk of blue metal slid towards you, you felt something grab your waist, you were pulled down to the ground, and a pale hand was on the van that wasn’t hitting you. You stared at the dent in the metal caused by the hand before turning your head to make eye contact with Edward.

He stared at you for a moment before letting go of you and running away. You were suddenly surrounded by people asking if you were alright. None of them seemed to have noticed Edward wasn’t there. The next thing you knew, you blacked out.

The lights of the hospital were blinding when you finally came to your senses. The door opened with a vengeance and in strolled your very anxious father. He wouldn’t calm down no matter how much you tried to speak with him, threatening Tyler’s license and everything. It’s not like it was his fault his tires skidded on ice. You mouthed an apology before shutting the small curtain that divided the two hospital beds.

“Dad, Dad I’m fine. Okay? I was lucky that Edward was there, no injuries.”

“Edward?” Charlie turns to Dr. Cullen. “Your boy?”

You cut in before the doctor could even get the chance to say anything. It seemed like he was going to lie.

“Yeah, he got to me so quickly.”

Dr. Cullen gave you a tight smile. “It sounds like you were very lucky. You just need to sign some paperwork, Charlie, and then you are good to go.”

After Charlie signed the paperwork, he went to warm up the car before we had to drive to the school to get my car and then drive home. You turned the corner to one of the vending machines when you stopped after seeing Carlisle, Edward, and Rosalie talking with each other. It didn’t seem like a friendly conversation either. They were definitely arguing. As if they could hear you just breather, the three of them turned towards you.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” you asked.

Edward looked reluctantly as he made his way towards you. “What?”

“How did you get over to me so quickly?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about? I was standing right next to you.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t try to lie through this either. You were across the parking lot. I know what I saw.”

“And what was that?”

“You stopped the van with your hand.”

Edward’s somewhat amused face turned cold. “Well no one is going to believe you anyway. Can’t you just thank me and we just drop it?”

“Thank you.”

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“Not at all,” I tell him, determined.

“Well, I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

You went home that night with more questions than answers and the oddly sneaking suspicion that someone was watching you. You went to the bathroom and took your shower while thinking about how Edward stopped the van. So far, you had no concrete answers. You went to bed without any answers as well. Although you did wake up in the middle of night after having a strange dream about Edward.

You tried to not think about that as you went to school the next day. The buses were already up front when you parked, ready for the field trip that you were positive wasn’t going to be very fun. Edward and his siblings, Alice and Jasper, walked past you. Mike popped up in front of you.

“Hey, you’re alive, Arizona!”

“You need more than a van to take me down.”

The two of you laugh as you hi-fived.

“So I was wondering, are you going to prom?”

“Um, I don’t know yet. Charlie said I get two free no questions asked days if I go but me and dancing… it’s not pretty.”

“Well, do you know if Jess is going?”

“Mike!” you gasped. “Are you trying to ask Jessica out?”

“Lower your voice, please. Okay, I may have had a small crush on her since we were seven and I am choosing to ask out my very good friend to prom.”

“She’s going. I’m going dress shopping with her and Ang next weekend.”

“Okay. Okay, cool.” Mike walked off before coming right back. “Do you think she likes me?”

“Most definitely.”

“Sweet. Thanks, Y/N/N. You’re the best.”

He got on one of the buses while you got on the other. Tyler sat next to you, plugging your headphones into the jack on his phone. You nodded along to Blue October’s “Hate Me” as it played. The two of you didn’t talk at all but stared out the window like you were in a music video and listened to music until you reached your destination.

The greenhouse was… interesting. That was the nicest way you could put it. Maybe it would have been nicer if you all weren’t cramped in the small walkway between the plants. Mr. Molina and Mr. Donoghue were trying their hardest to get people to water the plants or give them soil.

“Now, I’m gonna make a steaming cup of compost tea.”

He handed it to Eric. You laughed as you heard a very panicked yell.

“No! Don’t drink it! It’s for the plants.”

“What’s a no questions asked day?” a deep voice behind you asked.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Turning around, you saw the classic peacoat and never out of place hair of Edward Cullen. When had he even come up behind you?

“You know you’re not helping your case. How’d you even hear that?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Dude, you never answer any of mine. You don’t even say hi.”

“Hi.”

“Please try to act less like a human. Are you gonna tell me anything? Preferably about the other day.”

“Yeah. I had an adrenaline rush,” he said clinically. “It’s very common. You can Google it.”

You paused and looked at him. “You’re a terrible liar. And a no question day is when I tell Charlie I need to do something or go somewhere and he asks no questions. It’s a mutual trust betwe—”

You tripped but felt air and two cold hands grab you instead of feeling your face kiss pavement.

“Careful,” Edward said as he set you upright again.

“Thanks. So are you going to answer any of my other questions?”

“Um. Ma—”

“Y/N/N!” Jess stepped in between you two. “Guess who just asked me to prom?”

Edward took the opportunity to slip away.

“Who?” you feigned ignorance.

“Mike! I’ve been hoping since forever but like he actually asked me.”

You and Jess talked the entire way out of the greenhouse and onto the buses, forgetting about Edward and wanting to ask him more questions until it was too late. You weren’t going to think about him for the rest of the day. You had a father-daughter/mother-son date with Charlie, Jacob’s mom, and Jacob. Which meant going to a restaurant because both Charlie and Sarah worked long hours and weren’t going to cook. And Billy was doing his physical therapy for walking so there was no way anyone would force him to cook.

You went to pick up Jacob at his school while his mom picked up Charlie from the station. He was still inside when you reached the school. It felt stupid signing the visitors clipboard when the school day was already over but you did it anyway just in case. When you made it to a hangout area for students you spotted Jake with his friends.

You’d like to say they were your friends too but you never got very close with them over the summer. Embry usually went somewhere with his mom, Quil’s grandfather kept inside most of the time, and Seth had sports.

And their acquaintances you knew even less. Paul and Jared were always one grade level above you all and hung out with themselves. Sam didn’t seem to like any of you despite being only a couple years older than you and having even a smaller age gap with Paul. And Leah didn’t come around because either her loser younger brother was there or Sam was there which sucked because you wanted another girl around.

“Hey, Y/N,” Embry said as you turned the corner.

“Hi, guys. Jake, you ready?”

“Yeah. See you guys later.”

He nodded at his friends before getting up to stand next to you. Your fingers twitched as he intertwined them with his own. He rolled his eyes at the wolf whistles from his friends, laughing when you threw up a middle finger while the two of you walked away.

“So where are we going?” you asked.

“Who picked last summer?”

“Charlie.”

“Oh, nice, so it’s my turn.” Jacob looked something up on his phone. “Smuggler’s Bar and Grill, sound good? It’s in Port Angeles though.”

You shrugged. “Eh, I’ve already finished all my homework and Charlie doesn’t go back to work until the graveyard shift. Go ahead and text them our choice.”

Your truck pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards the highway. Jacob fiddled with the radio for at least one decent station while you drove the hour it took just to get to Port Angeles. Honestly, you didn’t mind the time. The drive, surrounded by trees, was comforting. Especially with your best friend.

If you and Jake weren’t singing to songs, you were gossiping about school. There was no need to catch up on anything else. Jake was one of the few people you texted nearly everyday despite being so far away most of the year — including the fact that he had a secret girlfriend for three years. Whenever he wanted to get her a present, he would text you what it was and would pretend he was sending it to you so Billy and Sarah wouldn’t get suspicious. It worked. They didn’t find out even after the two broke up.

You guys pulled into the restaurant and waited for your parents to show up. Like you predicted, Sarah already analyzed the entire menu and knew what she wanted to order. Jake held up his phone.

“They said they’re twenty minutes away and the food takes that long to prepare so order for them.”

“I’m surprised she got Charlie to pick something ahead of time.”

The two of you went in and got a table like they said. The host smiled a bit too sweetly as they called over a waiter. You and Jacob looked at each other and came to the same conclusion at the same time, silently gagging. There was no way they thought that you guys were on a date. Absolutely not. Was it because you were holding hands? The two of you pulled apart but the damage was already done.

The waiter sat you down at what you could tell was the restaurant’s nicest booth by the best window that would let you look out onto the water. He handed you the menus and left to give you alone time to think.

“Just gross, no offense,” you said.

Jacob shrugged. “None taken. I would never date you, you’re, like, my friend.”

“Same. Too weird… Do you think they’ll give us free dessert if we are though?”

“Do you want to play it up?”

“Absolutely.”

Jacob gave you a smile you had never seen before but assumed he must have given to his girlfriend. He laid his hand across the table for you to grab. You took it with no problem — Jake’s hands were always warm and still a bit soft since he wore gloves when he worked on cars and bikes. His thumb stroked the back of your hand and he set the menu down to look at you. Almost like magic, or like they’ve been secretly watching, the wait staff came over.

“Are you two ready to order?” he asked as he set down two glasses of water.

“Ladies first,” Jake let go of your hand, ready to scoop up your menu when you finished speaking.

“Um, does the shrimp scampi have a smell?” you asked in fake concern, hoping the waiter would catch on to teen angst of potential bad breath before a first kiss.

“Oh, no, I got you, honey.” He had a noticeable southern accent. “What do you want to drink?”

“Iced Tea, please. Oh, and a Caesar salad with ranch dressing.”

“Got it. And for the young sir?”

“I’ll take the Not Your Mother’s Mac and Cheese along with a lemonade. Oh, and our parents are chaperoning but they’re a little late. Can we get them one clam chowder and one Hawaiian chicken sandwich both with Ruby tonics? What is a ruby tonic?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you kids are too young to know what it is. Your food will be ready in a minute.”

He took the menus and walked away. You could hear him gossip to the rest of the staff about chaperones. Jacob grabbed your hand again, giving it a peck.

“You know he’s totally gonna bring you breath mints. Did you really ask if the shrimp would smell?”

“Hey, I had to sell it. What brand do you think it’ll be?”

Jake kissed your hand again. “Lifesavers. They scream not obvious for teenagers asking.”

“You say this from experience?”

“Ehh with Elle a couple of times.”

“Really? I can’t believe you had your first kiss and girlfriend and I couldn’t even get a date for homecoming. You’re still a virgin right?”

“Yes. I am still a loser virgin.”

“Hey, I’m a virgin.”

“Well then in that case virginity rocks.”

You and Jacob cheered and clinked glasses before laughing when you were unable to hold it anymore. He moved over to your side since the two of you would have to be sitting together anyway once Charlie and Sarah showed up. He took the opportunity to sling his arm around you while you snuggled up to him. The two of you could clearly hear awes.

“If we actually get free dessert,” Jacob whispered. “We need to do this more often.”

Your parents came in exactly when the food came out. They looked at the two of you weirdly as you awkwardly broke apart. You shook your head before Charlie could say anything. They went with it like you had asked. Your parents could do absolutely nothing but shake their heads and smile as the waiter brought out free cinnamon rolls in to-go boxes for not just you and Jacob but for the “chaperones” as well.

You guys left a generous tip, cleaned up the table, and left the restaurant. You and Jacob clinked the to-go boxes together.

“Here’s to fake boyfriends.”

“Here’s to fake girlfriends.”

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@smileykiddie08

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999

#twilight fic #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x black!reader #twilight #jacob black x reader

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baxndaid · 1 year

Text

1999/lmk sun wukong x reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! tbh this can be read as both 1999 or lmk OR literally anything else since this is taking place during the jttw !! SORRY FOR LONG ABSENCE </3

- you were a witch that was ordered to aid the pilgrim named Tripitaka on his quest to find the ancient scriptures

- you didn’t really know he’d have company though, even with your powers you could’ve never predicted that he’d be travelling with a monkey, a pig, and a sea wizard (not to mention their dragon horse)

- at first it was pretty rocky considering that when you revealed yourself to the group, the monkey (who was conveniently named monkey) attacked you with no hesitation

- in battle, you tried to show him the letter you received from the goddess Guan Yin, but it fell on deaf ears and he continued his attacks while calling you a liar

- he stopped as soon as the monk ordered for him to halt, with a bit of encouragement from the headband of course 😋

- you both floated down to your master

- you bowed and introduced yourself as y/n, and the group introduced themselves to you too

- pigsy took a liking to you (obviously)

- monkey did not

- sandy was neutral

- tripitaka was just glad he had another semi-sane individual in his group

- and so, you and your new companions continued with your journey to the west

- ANYWAY that brings you to where you are now 🗣️🗣️

the journey

♡ wukong didnt trust you much, even after a few months of traveling together

♡ he would allow you to do the same things he and his fellow companions did of course, but he would never let you stay and watch his master alone

♡ you did notice, but you didnt care, babysitting the monk wasnt exactly something you were dying to do as much as you respected him

♡ he did appreciate you for your skills, though

♡ Tripitaka managed to get kidnapped 4 times a week instead of 9 with you around 🥳

♡ for that, he warmed up to you

♡ just a smidge tho💔💔

♡ during the whole white bone demon/crimson witch saga; you defended monkey from the accusations of him killing a not so innocent young women

♡ you didnt feel as if he had a reason to lie, and even if you definitely werent his favourite person of the group, you still didnt want him to get punished for something that he did to protect his friends

♡ didnt work tho LMFAOO 😩

♡ he was soon banished from the group and went back to his home in flower fruit mountain in a sour mood

♡ you kinda felt bad but you kinda liked it like lmfaoo deserved 💔💔

♡ after the young monk got in trouble again, it was up to you to find monkey and get him to help you again

♡ you still don’t know why the hell pigsy made you do it, you just assumed he was being lazy and just wanted you to do all the heavy lifting

♡ you’d bully him later for compensation

♡ but for now your goal was to find monkey which was surprisingly easy considering his island was supposed to be incredibly difficult to find

♡ your task was easy, go to the island, get wukong, and come back

♡ it wasn’t easy 💯

♡ you ended up getting ambushed by a bunch of monkeys which you couldn’t take seriously since they were just so cute!

♡ they beat your ass

♡ they brought you to a stone throne with your ex-companion sitting on top of it, a dismissive look on his face and his head leaning on his hand

♡ they pushed you on your knees as the monkey king began to speak

♡ “state your name and your business here”

♡ “oh be quiet, unless you hit your head i expect you to remember me, it’s been like 2 days you dramatic ape”

♡ immediately you regret insulting him as his subjects hold you tighter and audibly chitter and gasp at your words

♡ you grunt “fine, i’m here to take you back to Tripitaka, he’s… in a tight spot” you look up at him to see his expression

♡ “why should i help him? he threw me away without a second thought!”

♡ you groaned, he had the right to be angry but you just wanted to get this over with, so you negotiated with him for a while

♡ a very long while

♡ he sighed, “fine” he got up from his throne “monkey subjects! your king is going on an important mission, you’ll have to do without me for a while” he said dramatically

♡ you playfully rolled his eyes as you watched him comfort the female monkeys, them clearly not wanting him to leave so soon

♡ after like 20 minutes you got bored, you took his hand and led him to your master, you were surprised he let you hold him for so long, he normally shoves pigsy off whenever he flings his arms around him after battle

♡ the rest of your friends rejoiced when they saw a certain monkey flying behind you, hand in hand

♡ pigsy had questions about why the two of you came back with hands intertwined and his mind immediately went straight into the gutter, and naturally, he got jealous

♡ he refused to talk to monkey for a week because of his assumption 😞

lego monkie kid masterlist

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 9 months

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you'd write a Marilyn x bad girl student reader? Bad girl like motorcycle riding, ripped jeans, don't adhere to the dress code or turn in assignments on time, most of the other students scared of her, all around bad ass reader. When Marilyn finds out reader is in her class she dreads it because reader has always made it hard on the other teachers but she's pleasantly surprised when reader does well and never disrupts class. In fact reader has helped her out from time to time, just quietly moving heavy stuff for Marilyn and picking up things Marilyn dropped for her. The only time reader causes a disruption is when another student harasses Marilyn for being a normi and reader punches his lights out. They get into a relationship where Marilyn is all mommy dom with spanking and choking tied up reader smut. Not sure how to end this request lol

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))))))

A very, very bad girl

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Smut, strap on, bad girl reader, fluff?, spanking, kinks, dom! marilyn

Word count: 5,715

Summary: You were a very bad girl at Nevermore, but when you met her, you changed a bit… just for her…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Ms. (Y/N), for the last time, please take your feet off the table,” your math teacher said. You smiled and shook your head.

“I don't feel like it,” you said, looking at your nails with indifference.

You were that way, you had no remedy. When your parents sent you to Nevermore, they thought you would finally become a good girl. They were wrong. That school had too many rules and these were your worst enemies. You had no intention of obeying, of dressing in that hideous uniform and of stopping terrorizing others with your haughty and almost violent attitude.

“Don't make me have to repeat it to you…” Your teacher said, tired of you.

“Does anyone mind if I put my feet on the table?” You asked the rest of your classmates out loud. Logically they all shook their heads. “You see it? You can continue.”

“I’m sick of you, (Y/N)…” The old woman hissed, crossing her arms.

You laughed out loud and held a defiant look.

“Please, shut up, I’m sick of your annoying voice,” you said whispering. Obviously the teacher heard you and banged her fist on the table.

“It's over, (Y/N), to the director's office, now.”

You raised your eyebrows, lowering your feet and dragging the chair so that it made an excruciating creak.

You were used to visits to Weems's office. You could almost say you lived there.

“Principal Weems…” You crooned as you knocked on the door. Immediately Larissa opened it and peeked in, puffing at the sight of you.

“You again? What have you done this time?” She asked listlessly. You shrugged.

“Nothing, it seems that Mrs. Redfield doesn't want my back to stop hurting,” you said going into the office.

“What am I going to do with you…”Weems sighed. “Sit down.”

You slumped back in the chair while Larissa searched for what looked like a file bigger than the entire Harry Potter books saga.

“Let's see... Misconduct, swearing in class, flagrant violation of the Nevermore’s dress code...” She said that last sentence looking you up and down. There was no sign of the regulation uniform. Just a black top and a too-ripped jeans. “Fights with classmates, reckless driving on the grounds, destruction of gardens and school property... My God, (Y/N), I assure you that I have never seen someone with a file like yours.”

“What prize will I get?” You asked amused. Weems rolled her eyes and sighed in despair.

“You're playing with fire, (Y/N), if your parents weren't my friends you were out of Nevermore a long time ago.”

“Oh, I love privileges,” you said laughing, with a cocky and defiant posture.

“I'm glad to hear it, because as a privileged girl that you are, you're going to serve a privileged punishment…” Larissa told you, smiling with satisfaction, looking for a stack of papers. “I've seen your handwriting and it's pretty decent. You are going to transcribe all these documents to make them readable.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“But I have to clean the bike and…” You said, starting to regret it.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, (Y/N),” Larissa said wryly, putting all that stack of papers in front of you.

Naturally you already had in mind to duck, but when you raised a hand she grabbed your wrist.

“Do you think I'm dumb enough to let you go? You underestimate me, (Y/N). This time you are going to fulfill your punishment here, with me,” she told you with a gentle smile. You pursed your lips and grunted, carrying the stack of papers to the table the principal pointed out to you.

“Shit…” You whispered, sitting down at the small desk.

“What have you said? I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly...” Larissa said, blinking rapidly.

“Nothing…” You said, picking up a pen, ready to carry out your punishment.

The seconds seemed like minutes, and the minutes seemed like hours. You've never had the opportunity to fully serve a punishment. Of course, you would make the time unbearable for the principal too.

“I'm boooooored,” you crooned.

“Poor thing,” Larissa said without looking at you, while she leafed through some papers.

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting the tedious punishment.

“Can I come in?” A voice you didn't know said.

“Oh, Marilyn, of course, come in, please,” Larissa said, smiling and getting up.

An unknown woman entered the office. The first impression for you was very important, and that red-haired woman impressed you. She seemed shy, putting on her glasses in an amusing move. You followed her with your eyes, without saying a word. Curiosity invaded you.

“I'm glad you've arrived, let me be the first to welcome you to Nevermore,” Weems said, shaking her hand.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Larissa. I know it must have been difficult to be admitted,” the woman said, sitting in front of the director, who made a gesture to play it down.

“Oh, it's nothing. You have the honor of being the first normi to teach at Nevermore, and I sincerely want you not to be the last one.”

The redhead nodded and looked at you curiously.

“Who is she?” She asked. You remained silent, noticing how your cheeks blushed. You were unable to utter a word, to make a joke. That woman had caught your eye and no matter how hard you tried to give an explanation to that reaction, you couldn't.

“Oh, she's (Y/N), she has the great achievement of being the most troublemaker student in Nevermore,” Larissa said, getting up and walking towards you. “Be careful with her, she's a time bomb, but they forgot to put a timer on her,” she said amused, placing a hand on your shoulder, which you pulled away with a grunt.

“Eh, I can introduce by myself,” you said, looking at the redhead, who kept looking at you curiously. “I am (Y/N), the most beautiful, nicest and coolest student of Nevermore, and you? Who are you?” You said, extending a hand towards the woman.

She laughed softly, shaking your hand.

“I'm Marilyn Thornhill, the new botany teacher,” she told you. You nodded amused.

“Plants, how funny,” you said sarcastically. She kept smiling, apparently she had not understood the meaning of your words.

“Be very careful with her, Marilyn, she is the terror of the teachers. And you, (Y/N), could you do me a big favor and be nice to Marilyn?”

You ignored the director's comment and looked back at Marilyn, winking at her.

“If you behave well, I'll be good…” You said with a suggestive voice. She laughed, as if she didn't get the point of everything you were saying. She seemed very innocent, and you liked that, you liked her a lot.

Larissa's hand went directly to the back of your neck, giving you a soft smack. Surely she had understood what you meant.

“Keep writing, (Y/N)…”

Two days later, your first botany class finally arrived. You were expecting to see that woman in action. She naturally attracted you, she was the type of woman you liked. She's innocent, without malice, the kind of woman your brusque and rebellious personality could corrupt.

You sat at your desk and to your own surprise, you didn't put your feet up on the table, you sat down right. You took out what little was left of your books and put them on the table, under the strange look of your classmate.

“What are you looking at?” You asked rudely. The boy shook his head and looked away.

“Good morning guys, my name is Marilyn Thornhill, and I'm your new botany teacher,” the redhead said enthusiastically. You could see how her eyes were looking sideways at you. Surely Larissa had filled her in on all your antics.

“They say that she is normi, that she has no ability,” the girl next to you whispered. You looked at her, annoyed at listening to her more than to Marilyn.

“Oh, really? Weems must have gone crazy,” another girl answered.

In a few seconds the murmur became more present. You couldn't hear the class, you were surrounded by sarcastic comments and various gossip from your classmates.

“I would appreciate a bit of silence, please,” the teacher said, sighing.

You glared around you. It was her first class and your classmates did nothing but annoy you. Unlike you, who was silent, behaving like an exemplary student.

“Please…” Marilyn insisted, starting to get desperate.

“Shut up, damm it!” You yelled, getting up from your chair. They all looked at you stunned. “Shut up or I'll shut up you.”

Silence fell. The redhead looked at you with wide eyes. She wouldn't expect the Nevermore trouble factory to have silenced her classmates.

“Please, continue,” you said with a wide smile, while all your classmates lowered their heads.

Marilyn shook her head and pretended nothing had happened, giving you a strange look.

When the class ended and all your classmates left the conservatory, you smugly approached the redhead, who seemed to be organizing some boxes.

“Aren't you going to thank me?” You asked, tapping her shoulder. Marilyn jumped and smiled at you nervously.

“Oh, (Y / N), I… Well, thanks I guess,” she said shyly, as she placed a box on her desk and emptied its contents.

“I guess? Come on, redhead, I've done you a favor,” you said, pretending to be offended. She glanced at you briefly, but then she turned away. It was obvious that your presence made her nervous. You began to wonder what Larissa had told her about you. “Are you afraid of me?” You asked mockingly.

“Well, I…” Marilyn said, looking for a way to dodge your question. “Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. Larissa has told me a lot of disturbing things about you.”

“Yeah, Larissa, of course,” you said, leaning against her desk and picking up a very small pot and looking at it curiously. “What is this?”

“Be careful with that, please, it's a rare specimen of a miniature carnivorous plant,” Marilyn told you with fear in her eyes.

You smiled and began to play with the pot, carelessly passing it from one hand to the other.

“How funny,” you said, seeing the horrified expression of the redhead. “Surely now you expect me to set it on fire, or break it, that's what Larissa told you, right?”

“Please, (Y/N), give it back to me, it's a very delicate plant,” she told you nervously, reaching out her arm to take the pot. You stepped away and took advantage of the fact that you were taller than her, raising your arm as high as you could.

“No way. First I want you to thank me for having shut those pesky ones’ mouth,” you said amused, seeing how the redhead tried to reach the small plant, without success.

Marilyn snorted and shook her head, crossing her arms.

“Okay, (Y/N), I appreciate you letting me teach the class in peace, are you happy?”

You smiled widely and returned the plant, which the redhead quickly took, looking at you over her glasses.

“Have you ever been told that you shouldn't judge someone before you meet them?” You said ironically. She closed her eyes and nodded.

“You're right, (Y/N), I'm sorry. Larissa warned me that I should be careful with you. I'm having a bit of a hard time getting used to this place and I wouldn't want you to give me trouble.”

You laughed out loud.

“Calm down, Marilyn, I don't give trouble to attractive women like you…” You whispered in her ear. She looked at you surprised, but she didn't say anything, she just continued with her boxes, glancing at you from time to time.

“Don't you have class right now?” She asked, obviously uncomfortable with your presence.

“I'm not going. I hate maths,” you said indifferently, while you watched how the redhead seemed to suffer when picking up a box that seemed heavy. “Hey, don't try too hard, redhead,” you said, helping her to catch it.

“Don't call me redhead, (Y/N), I'm your teacher. I'm assuming you're not going to call me Miss Thornhill, but I'd appreciate it if you would at least call me Marilyn.”

You rolled your eyes, placing that box where she indicated.

“Fine, Marilyn…” You sighed.

The teacher's attitude towards you was abrupt, fearful, nervous. Larissa should have told her you were little short of the devil. You didn't want to have that fame, at least with her.

The days passed like this. You were the terror of the teachers, but not of all. With Marilyn you were an angel. Even your fights and punishments had lessened. Your attraction to the redhead increased so much that it was impossible for you not to say suggestive phrases about her while you helped her after class. She was skilled at dodging hints. It was already impossible for her to be as innocent as you thought. Her smile and the slight blush on her cheeks told you that she perfectly understood what you wanted to say.

Little by little, that absurd fear that she had of you disappeared and her attitude towards you was much calmer. You weren't sure, but somehow you sensed that she had some interest in the naughty bad girl you were. For some strange reason, she was always there when you got into trouble.

One afternoon, you were going for a motorcycle ride to loosen up a bit. You had class works to do, but you didn't care, you never did.

“Hello, precious,” you said tenderly to your motorcycle, which you loved above all things.

You were going to start the engine, when you heard some desperate screams.

“Start damn it!”

It was Marilyn, who seemed to be having trouble starting the little beetle. You were going to ignore it, but the situation seemed too funny to you. You got off the motorcycle and approached the car, leaning mockingly out the window.

“Any problem?” You asked with a wide smile. Marilyn looked at you and, resigned she nodded.

“Well, yes, many problems, (Y/N). The car won't start and I have to go to Jericho to look for the seeds I need for... Well, for my classes...” She told you, turning the key over and over again.

“Well, well, let me take a look,” you said with the same mocking tone. “Open the engine, redhead.”

“Marilyn!” The redhead yelled, opening the engine door.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say…” You whispered, taking a look. “Oh oh…”

“What's happening?”

“I'm afraid someone has had a little fun,” you said, reaching into the engine and pulling out what looked like a broken belt. “This should be there, see?”

Marilyn got out of the car and was horrified to see that you were right.

“It is difficult for the car to start without this. I'm afraid you'll have to call the tow truck, redhead,” you said with a pitying face, handing her the broken leash.

“Oh, shit…” Marilyn sighed. “I'll ask Larissa to take me to the town and…”

It was the best opportunity of your life. You weren't going to waste it.

“No way, redhead... Marilyn. I'll take you,” you said, pointing to the motorcycle.

Marilyn looked over your shoulder with raised eyebrows.

“Are you going to take me... In that thing?” She asked you. “No way, there's no way I'm going to get on that thing with you.”

You shrugged and walked away.

“As you wish, but I think Larissa is not here…” You crooned. “Surely those seeds can wait until tomorrow…” You looked at her, smiling, while you got on the motorcycle. She rolled her eyes and cautiously approached.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “But be careful, please. I never liked these things,” she said with a voice of having given up.

“Calm down…” You said, taking another helmet out of the small compartment and tossing it to her.

“Oh, God…” She sighed as she got on the bike with you.

“Hold on, redhead,” you said, tying her arms around your waist.

“Please, (Y/N), I only ask you not to ruuuuuun,” she said, too late. You had already started, and you used to go fast. “Please, (Y/N), stop!”

You laughed while she, scared, clung to you with all her strength.

It seemed unlikely, but from that day on, the strange relationship you had got closer and closer.

Little by little, the redhead responded to your advances. Never in the way you expected, but it seemed to amuse her that you flirted with her in such a shameless way. Sometimes you got the impression that Marilyn dropped things on the floor for you to pick up, you'd soon find out why.

You were there as always, helping Marilyn with her plants. Not that you were a good girl now, quite the opposite. But with her you were, you were the kindest girl, but also the cheekiest girl of Nevermore. As you put down a large pot in the ground, you looked at Marilyn. You didn't believe what she was seeing. She was looking at you, but not at you, she was looking at your butt. You were wearing a very short skirt, and surely it wasn't exactly your skirt that she was looking at.

“What? Do you like what you see?” You asked, getting up. She looked away quickly.

“I don't know what you mean…” She said, pretending to take care of one of the plants. You bit your lip and ran to get behind her and lean into her ear.

“Yes, you know, redhead, you were looking at my panties…” You said humming, brushing the hair away from her ear. She jerked around, pushing you back a bit.

“Don't talk nonsense, (Y/N). If you have already finished with the pots you can leave,” she said, pretending, very badly, by the way.

“Okay,” she said, making an unexpected move. You grabbed Marilyn by the head and pulled her up, planting a kiss on her lips. She didn't resist, but she did stay wide-eyed. It was your first time taking that step and to your delight, she didn't seem to mind at all. “See you tomorrow,” you crooned, walking out of the conservatory and leaving Marilyn gaping.

After stealing that kiss from the redhead, you got used to doing it all the time. She never complained, but she never kissed you back either. It was weird, she seemed blocked whenever you zoomed in. It was as if he really liked you, as if the little suspicion you had ceased to be, to become evidence. Soon the occasion would come that would make everything clear.

“And for this reason, these little wonders can survive weeks without a drop of water…” Marilyn explained, under your watchful eye. You heard murmurs next to you. As much as you ordered them to shut up, your classmates ignored it.

“Look at her, she tries to be cool but she can't, deep down I feel sorry for her,” a boy behind you said. You concentrated to listen better.

“It's pathetic. I can't wait for her to get out of Nevermore. The normies have no right to be here,” his classmate said.

You had a serious face, you stopped listening to Marilyn a long time ago.

“Just wait and see, I have prepared a little surprise.”

“What have you done this time?”

“Watch and learn. This is how normies are treated in Nevermore,” one of the boys said, moving his hand towards the redhead's desk.

From the wall, what looked like a tarp was unfurled, with some horrible words written on it. Marilyn froze as she read the message.

The best normi is the dead normi

The entire class erupted in laughter, as Marilyn struggled to maintain her composure. You had heard the conversation, you knew who was to blame.

“Damned bastard!” You said, getting up from the table and turning around. “Hey, it was him!” You said, grabbing the collar of her shirt. Marilyn didn't say anything, she just stared at you.

“Let me go, I'm just saying what we all think,” The boy told you. Your blood boiled

“Apologize right now, Fred…” You hissed, grabbing his shirt tightly.

“I'm not even going to do it, that damn normi has to get out of Nevermore…” He said you in a mocking tone.

That was too much for you. With all your might, you pushed the boy, making him fall to the ground, knocking over several chairs and tables along the way.

“Stupid!” He yelled. No one seemed to care that you were in class.

“You're the stupid one, you're going to find out!” You yelled, throwing yourself on top of him and starting a fight in the middle of the conservatory.

“Stop it!” Marilyn yelled, approaching you with fear. You looked at her, causing your partner to punch you several times.

“Damn imbecile,” you said, putting your hand on your nose, which soon began to bleed. “I'm going to destroy you!” You said hitting her with all your might.

“For God's sake, (Y/N), stop it, stop it!” The redhead said, trying to separate you from him, who already had his hands in a surrender position. You kicked, but you let yourself be dragged by Marilyn.

“Everyone out, class's over!” She yelled, checking that, despite the beating, the boy could get up. You stayed there, held by Marilyn on the ground.

“You'll see when I catch you,” you said, passing a hand across your nose, pointing threateningly at your partner.

“Why did you do it, (Y/N)?” Marilyn asked you, while she healed your wounds. “If I tell Weems what happened, she won't hesitate to expel you.”

“What did you want me to do? You don't deserve that,” you said, hissing when the cotton touched one of your wounds.

“I don't need you to defend me, (Y/N). I just overlook that kind of things, I'm used to it,” she told you, caressing your cheek. You smiled mischievously.

“Did you like to see me give that idiot the beating of his life? Confess it, redhead...” You sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked like she was going to deny it, but quite the opposite. She came up to you and kissed you on the lips. A slow, tender kiss, that had nothing to do with the ones you stole from her.

It might seem like a simple gesture, but it was something else, it was the beginning of a real relationship, one in which words were not needed.

“You're a bad girl, (Y/N),” she whispered after kissing you. You widened your eyes and bit your lip. “I like bad girls...”

“I won't be so bad when I've defended you,” you murmured, grabbing her waist. She laughed, putting both hands on your chest.

“We all have defects…”

You were kissing the redhead with passion, with desire, as you entered her room. It had been a while now, and it seemed like the right time to turn up the heat a bit.

“You should be in class, (Y/N)…” Marilyn gasped, between kisses. You laughed, attacking her neck unceremoniously.

“I don't care about classes…” You said. Unexpectedly, she grabbed your hair.

“No, no, no (Y/N), I can't allow you to continue being a bad girl…” She whispered in your ear. “If you don't go to class, I'll have to punish you...”

You opened your eyes. Of all the people you knew, she was the least likely to behave that way. You didn't like to feel dominated, but you already made several exceptions with her, it was okay to make another one.

“Are you going to punish me?” You asked pouting. “Look how I’m shaking.”

The moment you said those words, you received a slap on the cheek. It was not a soft one, it stung.

“Shut up, bitch…” The redhead said, grabbing her hair. “Don't try to be cool with me, I think you don't know me well...”

You shook your head and bit your lip. You wanted to keep teasing her, you wanted to see what she was capable of.

“I do what I want, redhead…” You said, earning another slap. Marilyn sighed and shook her head, shoving you roughly onto the bed.

“You have to learn manners, (Y/N). Maybe I have to teach you a lesson…” She said, sitting next to you. “Come here,” she told you, patting her lap.

You looked at her with a frown.

“Have I not spoken clearly enough, (Y/N)? I told you to get on my lap. Mommy is going to teach you to be a good girl...”

You backed away smiling, surprised by your lover's domineering attitude. Seeing that her gaze became more and more dangerous, you decided to obey, lying on her lap.

“That's how I like it, an obedient girl…” Marilyn said mockingly. “Now mommy is going to teach you to treat her with respect… To behave properly.”

“You like that I’m a bad girl. You can't help it, "mommy,"” you said joking. Her hand fell on your buttocks with a painfully pleasurable force.

“Mmm…” She murmured. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. “I like to teach good manners to bad girls like you, (Y/N). Stupid girls who think they are the coolest in school for wearing ripped pants, riding motorbikes and talking back to the teachers...”

Saying those words with a lusty hiss, she pulled down your pants and underwear, exposing your butt.

“You have a beautiful ass, (Y/N), it's a shame that I have to punish it…” She told you between laughs. You just nodded. You couldn't see what was happening, but her touch was tense, you knew what was coming, and it turned you on. “Come on honey, be a good girl... Count with me...”

“One!” You yelled as you received the first spank. It itched, it stung, but you had to fight back a moan. “Fuck…Two!”

“That's it... What a good girl...” The redhead whispered, relieving your injured area a little. “Come on, come on, we're not done yet. You have to be punished for everything you've done. I'm sure the rest of your teachers would really like to see you like that... So submissive, so... obedient.”

“I thought you were a sweet and innocent spinster and it turns out that you're vicious woman... I like it,” you said, earning another strong spanking.

“Shut up!” She yelled at you, grabbing your hair and pulling it hard. “Haven't they taught you not to judge people without knowing them?” She repeated mockingly, just like you did in her first class. “I just want you to open your dirty mouth to count…”

You nodded and closed your eyes. The heat that was building between your legs was already almost unbearable, and it hadn't even started.

“Five! Six!” You counted, following the frantic rhythm of her whipping. Your butt hurt, surely it was completely red. She laughed with every hit, she surely was enjoying on almost as many levels as you.

“Twenty!” You counted. Marilyn chuckled.

“Okay, (Y/N), we're done with this. Now I want you to undress and lie down on the bed,” she said, moving away from her lap. You looked at her with a smile camouflaged in a grimace of pain.

“Why don't you undress yourself?” You asked, grabbing her blouse and undoing its buttons. She looked at you, blinking repeatedly, before giving you another slap.

“You may be the queen at school, (Y/N), but in my bed I'm in charge, and you're going to do what I tell you…” She told you with a natural smile.

“Very, very good,” you said, getting rid of your already half-down pants. She looked at you with desire, while she searched for something in her drawer. It looked like a rope.

“Lie down,” she told you, once you were naked. “Mommy hasn't finished with you yet...”

You nodded, obeying.

Marilyn got up and undressed little by little. You tried to touch her body several times, but you always received a slap.

“You are so desperate, (Y/N), so anxious for mommy to fuck you…” She said to you, climbing on top of you and grabbing your wrists.

“What are you doing?” You asked when the rope was tied to your hands and the redhead took them to the headboard. “Hey, untie me.”

“No, my love... I'm not going to untie you...” She told you, giving you a tender kiss on your lips. “You're not so brave anymore, are you? Now you are at my mercy, (Y/N)… But don't worry, mommy will be good to you, as long as you obey.”

“I think I can get used to being tied up…” You whispered, fixing your gaze on her breasts, salivating from having them in your mouth.

“I'm glad you think so…” She said, caressing your cheek. “Look at you, you're so wet,” she said while with her other hand, she caressed your between the legs, slipping between your folds.

“Yes…” You said, gasping at her touch. “Please, mommy… I liked that spanking a lot, I want, I want you to fuck me.”

She laughed outrageously, as two of her fingers played at your entrance.

“My bad girl… Look what you've ended up with. In a silly girl, begging me to fuck her... How cute... It's a shame...”

“A shame?” You asked, panting and shifting, struggling against your restraints.

“Honey, you don't want to get away with it, do you?” She asked, removing her hand. You protested.

“What? Oh, come on…” You said, moving your hips, fighting for the contact you had before.

“Shhh, shhh,” the redhead whispered, moving a little above you. “Use your mouth for something else than to complain, (Y/N)… Now you have to please mommy… Then we'll talk…”

You nodded unable to speak, because she sat on top of you. You couldn't breathe, you didn't feel the air entering your lungs, you could only feel her.

Your arms moved as she moaned and rubbed against your mouth.

“Can't you breathe, my love? Oh, poor thing,” Marilyn said petulantly, letting you catch some air. “That's enough, (Y/N), stick out your tongue and make mommy happy…”

You obeyed, taking in all the air you could. You ran your tongue up and down, when and licking everything you found in your path. You were short of breath, but you were full of passion, of involuntary movements of your hips.

“My bad girl... I hope, ahh, I hope that's how you learn to... Oh... To behave well...” Marilyn moaned, moving faster against your face.

You moaned too. You were desperate, unable to move your arms, barely breathing, but the heat you felt between your legs managed to hide those inconveniences. Little by little, the redhead's movements intensified, becoming abrupt and disorderly, until finally, with a heartbreaking and very indiscreet moan, her entire body tensed, and you could feel how her humidity began to run your face.

“That was good, honey… Your filthy mouth is so good with mommy…”

You caught your breath.

“Yeah, I've done it, mommy... Now, please, I need you,” you said shaking your body. That didn't seem to matter to her, as she got up from the bed, reaching for something in a drawer of her dresser.

“Oh, fuck,” you said as you watched her putting a rather sizable strap on to her waist. Spreading a slippery liquid on her dildo, she approached you, with a tender smile, but also disturbing. “Hey, hey, that's really, really big, isn't it?”

She shook her head, saying nothing as she climbed back onto the bed. Your eyes lit up when her hands went to your restraints. When you felt released from the headboard, you sighed and smiled.

“Why are you smiling, bad girl?” She asked you, pouting.

“Because you've come to your senses, and you're going to untie me…” You said. Her face told you that this was not her intention at all.

“You're so sweet… Of course not, honey. You have to be tied down like the bad girl you are. I just want you to suffer your punishment from behind... Until you're a good girl I won't give you the pleasure of watching me fucking you.”

Saying that, she grabbed your waist roughly, turning you on the bed and tying you back to the headboard despite your resistance.

“Shhh…. Don't worry… Mommy will take care of you, honey,” she told you, lifting your abdomen, exposing you completely. “Mmm, how I like your body… I would be looking at you all day… So exposed, so defenseless.”

“Oh, fuck, Marilyn, do it once and for all,” you said, when you felt the tip of that huge object against your slippery folds.

“Careful what you wish for, honey…” She said, thrusting herself inside of you. You opened your eyes, noticing how your walls narrowed with difficulty, accommodating to size.

“Ah, damn, don't be so abrupt… It's… It's big… It hurts me…” You said hissing. Deep down, that little pain you felt only made you more aroused.

“What’s wrong, dear? Can't your little pussy handle mommy's dick? Oh what a lying girl... You're very brave on the outside, (Y/N), but you can't even stand me...”

“Shut up, I'm not used to something so... So...” You said, running out of voice when the pleasure began to run through your body. “Okay, okay, don't stop, keep going…”

She laughed, picking up her pace, gripping your hair tight as she moved with ease. The moans became more and more frequent.

You were completely at her mercy. Marilyn enjoyed, moving her hips gracefully against yours, guiding your body with her hands, digging her nails into your thighs.

You couldn't take it anymore. After a few thrusts and a few reminders about who you belonged to, you snapped, twitching and eyes squeezed shut.

“Damn… Marilyn, you're incredible,” you said, while the redhead untied you. She leaned over you and kissed you tenderly. Her expression was no longer that of the crazy domineering woman who took you mercilessly, it was the one she always had, the one you fell in love with.

“You know, (Y/N)? I don't want you to ever change…”She told you, bringing your head closer to her chest, letting you rest on it.

“Change what?”

“The way you are... I don't care how rebellious you are, I only care that you have a good heart... And I know you have it...”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #smut

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sneakyblinders · 1 year

Text

the greatest honor

A/N: the third installment of the "grace saga"! follows directly behind chocolate cake & drunk lunch. warnings: language, sexual themes, alluding to smut but no smut, (lots of foreplay lol) not canon, fluff, pregnancy. 8.4k words. i take no credit for the gif!

It had been about a month from your drunken encounter with Grace, and you hadn’t built up enough trust again to want to see her. She’d tried calling, tried seeing you at the betting shop, but you told Lizzie, who had taken a job as the receptionist, that you weren’t in. Lizzie, thankfully, had corroborated your story and hadn’t let Grace back to see you.

Tommy had been busy with business, busier than normal. He’d had an idea, one that he was hesitant to share with you. But you beat him to it with some other, more pressing news.

You’d been sick to your stomach in the mornings, coming to the betting shop closer to lunchtime. He’d asked if you were alright the first few times, but after that, he figured you’d just grown fond of the shorter days working. He reasoned with himself, you didn’t have to work anyway. You wanted to work, wanted to make yourself feel useful, feel a part of the business.

So one afternoon on a Sunday when Tommy had come home early, you decided it was time to tell him of your speculations.

You were in your bedroom, Tommy changing into more comfortable clothes, preparing to lay down with you for a little while. You sat on the end of the bed, nervously fiddling with your hands. “Thomas?” you said, heart rate fluttering.

“Yes, love?” he said, eyeing you in the mirror as he untied his tie.

“My–my blood is late.” you say, hoping, praying, he will understand your meaning.

He makes a funny face, eyebrows scrunching for a second before relaxing, lips in a slight pout. “Do you want me to phone Doctor Hopkins?” he asked. “Maybe your iron is low.”

You let out a breath of air, hand shaking now. “Thomas,” you say quietly, standing up and walking over to him. He turns around to face you, his hands on your hips.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern flooding his face.

“Thomas,” you say again, hoping his name would bring some comfort, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“My love,” he says softly, thumbs brushing tears away from your cheeks. “What is wrong? Are you sick?”

You look up at him, and through clouded eyes, you say, “I think there’s a baby, Thomas.”

A million emotions cross his eyes in a manner of seconds. Your husband sinks to his knees in front of you, pressing his cheek to your belly. “A baby?” he breathes.

Your fingers card through his hair. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, more tears falling down your face.

He quickly stands up, hands cupping your face, eyes blazing with intensity. “Sorry for what?” he asks, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“I–I didn’t think you’d want a child right now,” you stammer, every fear surfacing.

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, speaking softly to you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Darling, no, don’t think that,” he closes his eyes for a moment, before speaking again. “I played just as much a part in bringing that life into being as you did, my Darling. It will be the second greatest honor of my life to be your children’s father.” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Second greatest?” you ask, smiling softly up at him.

“The greatest honor is being your husband.” he presses a kiss to your lips, wrapping you fully in his arms.

When he finally pulls away from you, you look up at him, a dreamy expression on your face. “A baby, Thomas.”

He smiles down at you. “I hope the baby looks like you, my love.”

“Oh stop,” you tell him, swatting at his chest. “Any child would be lucky to look like you.”

“Why’s that?” he asked as you pulled free from his grasp, resuming your spot on the end of the bed. He continued in removing his dress shirt under your hungry gaze.

“You are the most handsome man in Birmingham, Mr. Shelby,” you tell him, a cheeky smile on your face.

“How fitting,” he said, removing his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as he climbed on top of you on the bed. “That I am married to the most beautiful woman in all of England then,” he kisses you again. And again. And again.

The next morning you wake up slowly, stretching your limbs in bed, rays of light scattering through your room. Tommy is miraculously still in bed next to you, the morning's paper in his hands, leafing through it.

“Morning, Darling,” he rasps, cigarette dangling between his lips. You grumble a response, belly already rumbling, threatening to have you running to the bathroom. He sets his paper down on his nightstand and rubs your back soothingly as you curl into his side. “Not feeling well, eh?”

“No,” you whine. “I’m tired of feeling this way.”

He continues rubbing circles into your back. “I know, my love. I know,” you roll onto your back and look up at him. “I’m going to go eat something, come down when you’re ready and we can go to the betting shop together today?” he suggests. You nod and he presses a quick kiss to your forehead, getting out of bed and padding over to his closet where he grabs a robe before heading down the hallway and stairs to find Frances.

A few hours later you came down to his office, dressed and ready. His heart sped up in anticipation of the conversation he knew he was going to have with you today. He knew how you’d react, but your news the night before solidified his need for this plan.

He smiled softly at you, admiring your new, light blue dress that complemented your skin beautifully. “You look beautiful,” he said, rising from behind his desk and coming up to pull you against him for a kiss. “Mother of my child,” he whispered in your ear, planting an open mouthed kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet, pushing away the fabric of your dress to give him more access.

“Thomas,” you whine. “Not now, I’ve only just stopped retching.”

“Darling,” he says apprehensively. “There’s something I need to speak with you about,” you eye him and he leads you to a chair, motioning for you to sit down. “There are some very important things that need to be done in the coming weeks. And, upon reflection of your current state, I think it’s necessary to do some things differently.” he clears his throat. “I need to go to the Cheltenham Races,” your eyes light up. “To meet with Billy Kimber,” your eyes darken. “And my dear, it’s far too dangerous for you to go with me.” Your face falls. “And,” he continues, taking a deep breath. “I am going to ask Grace if she will go with me.”

A fire lights in your eyes. You rise from your chair so quickly it makes your head spin, but the anger coursing through your veins is strong. “What?” you ask him, eyes narrowed.

“I am going to ask Grace to go with me to the races.” he repeats himself and you nearly come across the desk at him.

“Thomas Shelby!” you roar. “Why in bloody fucking hell would you do that?”

“There will be a lot of important people at the races, my love, and if I can figure out if she is different around any of them, I can figure out what her motives are,” he said calmly, both palms planted firmly on his desk, arms spread wide, chest flared. “That is all.”

“Is it?” you nearly scream, turning your back to him. “Thomas, is it, really? When I came down the stairs a few weeks ago, you were standing awfully close to her.” you told him.

“Darling, how many fucking times do we have to go over this?” he said exasperated. “I am in love with you. You have every piece to my heart–hold them in your pretty hands. I cannot fathom loving anyone else!”

“I never said anything about love, Thomas.” Your arms were crossed in front of you, turning towards the door, not wanting to look at him.

He lets out an angry sigh. “So you think I have the energy to fuck someone else?” he says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, turning back around to face him.

“It means,” he says, tone dark and dangerous. “That you think I have the energy to run a company, be the patriarch of my family, come home to you, keep up with your voracious appetite for sex and fuck another woman? Is that what you think?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked at his cruel words. You remember to shut your mouth before snapping back, “Don’t forget you’re going to be a father soon. One more fucking thing to add to your list!”

You storm out of the office and walk to the library, your place of solace, and slam the door. You could hear glass rattle as Tommy slammed his hands down on his desk, shouting a “Fuck!”

You spent the rest of the afternoon in the library, alternating between being so angry with your husband and crying and reading and sleeping. You were exhausted by the end of the day.

You knew of Tommy’s reputation before the two of you were together. His brothers oftentimes teased him about it when you were first courting, before you began sleeping with one another. You’d met a few of them, actually. May Carlton, being one. Lizzie Stark, for another. They’d both been beautiful women in their own right who’d come calling after him, curious as to where he’d dropped off to. When he turned them down, proudly declaring he’d taken a woman, the look on their faces was enough to break your own heart as well as theirs. You knew what kind of a man Thomas Shelby was, because you fell in love with him. His strength, his intelligence, his unencumbered cockiness and arrogance was more than attractive. It was downright intoxicating. You, and these other women knew what he was capable of–in violence and in kindness. And to have that attention targeted specifically at you, all of the time… well, it gave you a sense of power.

And the thought of it all being taken away by one blond barmaid… it made you sick all over again.

After Tommy realized you weren’t coming out of the library any time soon, and he drained the last of his favorite bottle of whiskey, he decided to go get some more.

“Mr. Shelby,” he heard Frances call out after him. “Would you like for me to prepare supper?” she asked kindly, offering him a warm smile.

He put his coat and hat on, turning to tell her, “Just for Mrs. Shelby, please. Please make sure she eats. No matter how angry she is with me.” he tells her.

She nods. “Yes, Mr. Shelby.” She had heard the fight. Frances, truth be told, overheard more than her fair share of things she would’ve rather not heard. Whether it be fights or their loud lovemaking, or conversations Tommy has on the phone with his business associates… she’s heard far more than she wanted. But her heart grew with love for this couple more every day. In a way, she saw them as an extension of her own family, many of them scattered across the globe now, thanks to the war. When he had hired her, Tommy had promised to protect her as if she were one of his family, and so far he had fulfilled that promise.

“I’ll be back later, Frances. Don’t wait up for me.” he tells her.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.” she says as he closes the door behind him.

He drives into Birmingham, rain beating against the car, wind howling. What a night for a fight, he thinks to himself. He was sick to his stomach with the venom he had spewed at you that afternoon. He rarely got into those fits with you, but sometimes you were so unreasonable. So unwilling to listen to his plan, to his logic. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and tell you that you were too fucking important to risk someone, anyone seeing you–thinking that they could get to him through you. One simple observatory look would be all it would take to see that Tommy adored you. Worshiped the ground you walked on. It was his life's greatest fear: that one day, someone would get to him by hurting you, and his world would come to a screeching halt. No. No, it was too much. He simply couldn’t–wouldn’t–risk anything happening to you.

His head was swimming by the time he reached the Garrison, which was eerily quiet. He was soaked, the deluge continuing even into Birmingham.

Grace’s eyes brightened as she heard the door creak open, eager for a patron. Her head felt light for a moment when she spotted Tommy walking through the door. He looked so dejected, worn down.

“Mr. Shelby,” she said, turning towards him. “Are you alright?”

“I just need a drink,” he says, removing his hat and stalking towards the bar.

“Should I leave you alone?” she asks.

He hesitates, warring within himself. “I came here for company,” he says, instantly feeling a bitter pang in his stomach. “Where’s Harry?” he asks.

“He took the night off.” Grace tells him. She hands him a glass of whiskey, and he swallows it down in one gulp. “How’s your beautiful wife?” Grace asks.

He slams the glass down on the table and sighs, leaning back in his chair. “She’s mad as hell,” he tells her, eyes not leaving her face.

“About what?” she asks, walking back towards the bar.

“You know–” he avoids her question. “In France, I never imagined I’d have a wife,” he chuckles to himself. “Never thought I’d have a wife like mine. No. I never did,” he paused, pouring himself another drink.

“But you have her,” she says softly, eyeing him from her position behind the bar.

He closed his eyes momentarily, reliving the moment of intense rage his wife had unleashed towards him that afternoon, and his cruel words that followed. “For now,” he whispers. “Until she realizes her world would be better without me.” he says to himself.

Grace worries her bottom lip between her teeth. A moment of vulnerability. “Could I sing to you?”

“Only if you get up in a chair and act like you’re performing,” he says, only half joking. But she does. She comes back around the bar and climbs up in a chair, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Happy or sad?” she asks.

He thinks for a moment. “Sad.” he replies.

“Alright, but I will warn you,” she says, a small smile on her face. “It’ll break your heart.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t,” she cocks her head to the side slightly. “My wife holds my heart in her hands—for safekeeping.”

The small smile on her lips falls. “Sad it is then,” she says, before beginning her song.

Tommy couldn’t focus on the song. Couldn’t focus on thinking of anything but returning home to you, telling you he was sorry. So sorry. She finished her song and he said, “I need you to dig out a dress, Grace.”

“A dress?” she asks.

“I’d like to take you to the Cheltenham Races.”

And for a brief moment, Grace thought she had won.

You had sat in the library until you heard the front door slam, and a few minutes later, you heard Frances come down the hall. “Mrs. Shelby,” she said softly, opening the door cautiously. “Mrs. Shelby, I’m making supper, please eat, love.” she said.

You hadn’t the heart to tell her no. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, Frances.” you told her.

And you were. You and Frances ate dinner together in a comfortable, familiar silence. “Go on to bed after the dishes are done, please, Frances.” you tell her after thanking her for dinner.

You draw a bath upstairs, soaking until your skin prunes. Tommy still wasn’t home when the grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven, or midnight.

By one, he was practically crawling up the steps, soaked from the rain. He was missing you, craving your touch. Wanting nothing more than to tell you how sorry he was. He stripped out of his clothes, letting them fall in a pile on the bathroom floor with a wet smack before coming to your shared bedroom in hopes you wouldn’t wake up and shove him out of the warmth of the bed.

You felt him get into bed, his side dipping down under his weight. You could smell the alcohol and the rain on him. You wondered if he had gone to her. Instead of facing him, you pretended to be asleep. He cautiously spread an arm towards you, his thumb gently stroking your arm.

“Light of my life,” he whispered. “Everything that is good to me,” you could hear him sniffle. “I wish I could be a better man for you.”

Your heart broke, hearing your husband's broken heart through his voice.

The next morning, Tommy woke up before you did, as usual, but got out of bed as soon as he woke up, not yet ready to face your hurt and devastation. He was off to the betting shop office before the sun rose. Polly was stunned to see him there so early.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing, Pol.” he said, avoiding his aunt's questions.

“Tommy,” she said harshly. “What happened?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m going to lose her, Pol.” he said.

Her face fell. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“She doesn’t deserve me,” he said, shaking his head. “She deserves better than me, than this life. This piss-poor excuse for a life I’m giving her.”

Polly shook her head. “No, no, Tommy, it’s not true. She loves you.”

“She shouldn’t!” he yelled. His mind wandered to the baby and tears flooded his eyes, which he quickly brushed away.

“Well, she does. You’re both fools in love with one another, I’ve never seen such. Now whatever it was, go home, kiss her, and make up. You cannot be sulking around here all day. You’re unbearable.”

She left his office, leaving him to think.

You were in the living room, in front of the fire, just beginning a new knitting project for the baby, you’d decided, when Tommy burst through the door, chest heaving. “Thomas?” you ask.

“Angel,” he breathes, walking over to your seat on the sofa, sinking to his knees and burying his face in your lap. He stays there for a moment, inhaling you, taking in how you feel in his hands. “You’re still here,” he says to himself, almost as a reassurance.

“I’m here,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair.

He lifts his head up to look at you, eyes red. “I’m sorry,” he says, breathing still erratic. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. You guide him up to sitting next to you on the sofa and he buries his head in your chest.

“Thomas,” you say gently. “Thomas, it’s alright, we’re going to fight.”

“I should’ve never said those things to you, I’m sorry.” he says again, as you lay back against the couch. He lays against you, head on your chest, a hand gently on your belly.

“I’m sorry, too, my love.” you tell him, carding your fingers through his hair again. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your cleavage.

He took a deep breath, before adding, “But I am still not going to take you to the races.”

Your face fell, jaw locking, anger flaring. “But why her? Why can’t you take Polly or Ada?” you ask.

“Trust me?” he said, eyes pleading with you. “Trust me, Darling.”

Grace readied herself for the races, ensuring every detail of her appearance was perfect. If she wanted to make any progress with Tommy, she knew she would have to wear at his senses. And if by looking at his wife was any indication, it was easiest to wear at his senses first through his eyes.

She had selected a red dress and ensured her hair was just right, powdering her face. She met him at the betting shop, where she saw him kissing his wife through the front window. They were pulled flush against each other, his hands on her hips, smiling into the kiss, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Grace had never known romantic love of that intensity. Had never truly known that it had existed. But after seeing the Shelby’s–she knew it was real. Grace thought Thomas’ love for his wife was partly the reason she was unfortunately attracted to him. Not all of her undercover work was truly an act, much to Inspector Campbell’s dismay. She found how a hardened gangster, a decorated veteran of the Crown could be so harsh with everyone else, but turn to complete mush in his wifes pretty hands in a matter of seconds was rather—romantic.

She was, in short, jealous of Mrs. Shelby. She had this great love, this earth-shattering connection with a man who was equally as besotted with her as she was with him. She was from a good, normal family, she had researched, although her great grandmother, who had only recently passed away, was a dowager viscountess in the English countryside, who had allowed her son, Mrs. Shelby’s grandfather, to forfeit his title and estate for love. She was remarkably beautiful and devastatingly intelligent–a match for Tommy in all ways. She was gentle and kind to balance his roughness and brutishness.

Her weakness existed in her kindness, and as Grace had discovered, in her loneliness. She had uprooted her life in London to move into the country with Tommy, sacrificing many friends and the opportunity to be close to her family. Her family was reluctant to accept Tommy, even almost a year into the marriage. Mrs. Shelby’s sister, Emile, was the most reluctant as of late, she had confessed to Grace during their lunch.

She continued to watch them through the window. He said something in her ear which caused her to swat at his chest, both of them laughing, his hand on her belly. Grace’s mind turned as he walked out of the betting shop, placing his hat on his head.

“Morning, Miss Burgess,” he said, walking past her, leading her to the car.

“Mr. Shelby,” she said shortly. They rode in silence for a while before she decided to speak. “So why didn’t you ask your wife to join you?”

Tommy took a deep breath in, searching for a cigarette in his pocket. “My wife is far too precious to me, Miss Burgess,” he lit the cigarette, throwing the match out the window. “There are dangerous men who will be at these races, and I cannot risk any of them setting his sights on her.”

“So, why me?” she asked.

He exhaled smoke. “If they want something to bargain with, Grace,” he paused. “You’re my bargaining chip.”

Her eyes widened, clutching her purse. “What do you mean?” she asked.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I need what I need, Grace, and I cannot use my wife as a bargaining piece. You understand what I mean, yeah?”

Her brow furrowed, offended. “What does that make me?”

He shrugged again. “A barmaid who works for me. A bargaining chip.”

“And your wife was okay with this plan?” she asked.

“Oh, not in the slightest.” He scoffed.

“Because we’re friends?” Grace offered.

“Because she doesn’t trust you.” he said, jaw clenched.

Grace stammered, heart fluttering in her chest. “Why? What have I done to violate her trust?”

“Well, Grace, you take her to lunch and get her drunk, ask far too many questions and then you show up at our home unannounced, touch her husband and leave with little to no explanation about where you found out where we lived?”

She looked at her hands in her lap. How could she have been so careless? “People in Birmingham know where you live, it’s not a secret.” she said quietly.

“Hm,” Tommy said absentmindedly, throwing the butt of his cigarette out the window.

That day, Tommy had asked you to go to the Garrison and look over the figures. Grace had started helping Arthur with some of the figures over the last month, and he wanted you to ensure she wasn’t fudging any numbers.

You walked in the bar and walked straight up to Tommy’s office, exhaling a sigh of relief when you were able to reach your destination with no interference. You sat down at his desk and unlocked the right drawers, pulling ledgers and ink pens from the drawers.

You sat and worked through the ledgers and logs, invoices and receipts for a few hours. You hadn’t realized how late it was until you heard the bustle of the crowd beneath you, and a gentle knock on the door.

“Mrs. Shelby?” you recognized the voice as Caleb’s voice–the young man who thought he was in love with you. You opened the door. “Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” he said, giving you a boyish grin, holding his hat in his hands. “You look beautiful,” he added.

“Thank you, Caleb,” you smiled softly at him. “Is everything okay?” you asked as he stood in the doorway, gawking.

“Well, I had noticed something and I wanted to tell you, in case it was important.” he said, face turning anxious.

“Oh, absolutely, Caleb, come in.” you tell him, ushering him in the office and offering him a seat.

He looked around at the wooden and gilded office in awe before sitting down in the soft leather seat across from you. “This is Mr. Shelby’s office?” he asked.

“Yes,” you say, a sweet smile on your face.

“He’s a lucky man,” he breathes, eyeing a picture of you on your wedding day sitting on the desk. His puppy love for you was endearing. Tommy had no doubt that if he keeled over the next day, Caleb would propose as soon as the funeral was over, and he had given you his permission, in jest, to accept the proposal. You’d elbowed him in the ribs, telling him to give him a break, he was a good young man from a good family, and only sixteen.

“You said you had something to tell me, Caleb?” you lead, trying to get the young man to focus.

“Oh, yes,” he said, sitting up straight. “I hope you don’t see this as interfering where it’s not my business, but I wouldn’t want to not tell you and something happen to your or Mr. Shelby,” he said sweetly. “The new barmaid–she’s odd.” he said simply.

“How so, Caleb?” you ask, leaning in towards him.

“Well–a week or so ago, Mr. Shelby had a meeting in the snug with his family–I think you weren’t feeling well, so you weren’t there–” he added. “But she was standing very close to the windows of the snug, and at one point almost had her ear pressed against the glass, like she was listening in to what they were saying,” your heart rate began to speed up. “And then she has kept pestering Arthur to have a phone installed. Do you think she has a lover she wants to phone?” he asked, blushing. “I shouldn’t have said that, forgive me.”

You chuckle. “Don’t apologize, Caleb,” you tell him. “How do you know this?”

He pressed his lips together, not meeting your eyes before saying, “I listen to a lot of talk, Mrs. Shelby,” he paused, looking at you. “Not a lot of people here talk to me, on account of me being so young and all, so, I just listen to the conversation, and Arthur, well, he can be loud.”

You chuckle. “Yes, he can be.”

“I hope you don’t find me overstepping in any way.” he said, eager for your approval of his divulgence of the information.

“Not at all, Caleb. I would like for you to tell my husband what you’ve told me, though, please. We could arrange for the three of us to have dinner, maybe?” you offer.

His ears perk at the prospect. “Meet with Mr. Shelby?” he asks.

“Yes, if that would be alright.”

He blushes. “My mother may not approve of me dining with who she calls the devil, but I’d gladly accept, Mrs. Shelby,” his expression changes quickly. “But I don’t think he’s the devil. I don’t think a woman like you would’ve married the devil.”

“You’re sweet, Caleb.” you tell him, smiling at him.

He stands. “Well, thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I hope I’ve helped in some–odd way.” he said. “Have a good night, Mrs. Shelby,” he said.

“Have a good night, Caleb.” you tell him as he shows himself out of the office.

Tommy and Grace were back in the car, on the way back to Birmingham, the ride tense and quiet.

Tommy knew he had upset her, which wasn’t exactly his intention, but he had little regard for other people's feelings at the moment. He had accomplished exactly what he had set out to do at the Cheltenham races, and his mind was soaring.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, a silent tear rolling down her cheek.

Tommy sighed, not meeting her gaze. “I told you, you were to be a bargaining piece.”

“You never told me I’d have to be alone with a man like Billy Kimber!” she yelled.

“I told you, I couldn’t take my wife and use her as a bargaining piece for these exact reasons–”

“So you take me, and have me pose as your whore instead of your beloved wife?” she spat, angry.

“Yes,” he told her. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I’d rather have people think I keep whores than for men like Billy Kimber to think he can take advantage of my wife. That’s exactly it, Grace.” he said.

Grace’s mind whirred with jealousy, anger, hurt, confusion. While she had been able to convince Kimber to not take her, she’d still had to get on her knees in front of him while he spewed hateful, awful, degrading things to her. Tommy had interrupted, barging through the door and falsely accusing her of being a whore with the clap. At the very last second.

“It was what had to be done,” She chewed the inside of her lip. “I will see to it that Arthur adds another ten pounds to your pay this week.”

She scoffed. “You think money will make this all just go away?”

Tommy sighed again, fatigued by this interaction. “It’s all I have to give.”

“That’s not true,” she said quietly.

He chuckled to himself in disbelief. “What do I have that you could possibly want?” he asked.

“What is all of this for? That is what I want to know! What all of this humiliation that I have suffered at no expense to you is for!” she cried out, tears freely falling down her face.

“Family business,” he rasped.

And they left it at that.

When Tommy finally returned home that evening, you were waiting for him in the front room, bursting, waiting to tell him of what Caleb had told you. “My love,” he greeted you, shaking the rain off his hat, hanging it on the rack as you jaunted over to him to help him remove his coat from his shoulders.

“Hello!” you beamed, reaching up on tiptoes, your feet bare, to kiss him.

“You’re awfully chipper,” he smiled, hands on your hips.

“I have something to tell you,” you tell him, looking up at him through your thick, dark lashes. “Are you hungry?” you ask, face immediately turning to concern.

“A little, but it can wait.” he said, smiling softly at you, cupping your face in his hands, rubbing his thumb over your cheek in soft, gentle strokes.

“Tell me how the races went first,” you tell him.

You blush under his attention, turning to lead him to the front room, to the sofa. He wants to be close to you, wants to breathe you in. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing kisses to the side of your throat, hands gently holding you against him. “It can wait,” he tells you, teeth lightly skimming over the sensitive skin of your throat. What did you want to tell me, Darling?” he asks, eyes closed, lips pressed against your throat.

“Well,” a hand lifts to run through his hair. “I went to the Garrison to look over the books like you’d asked,” you begin to tell him. He gently nips at the skin of your neck and you giggle. “Thomas, this is serious!” you giggle again, his hands moving to your bum to knead your flesh.

“Mm,” he muses, lips pressing kisses farther down your neck. “So is this,” he smirks against your skin.

“Well,” you trudge on anyway, hoping what you have to say will pull him from his advances. “I was there for a few hours, and then Caleb knocked on the office door,” Tommy laid you down on the sofa.

“Go on,” he tells you, pulling the neckline of your dress down to press kisses to your cleavage.

“And–” he was making it hard for you to concentrate, hands winding behind your back to undo the snaps of your dress. “Thomas–” you whine as his fingers free the dress from your frame, allowing him to pull it down, bunching at your waist. He hungrily eyes your lace bra, the one he’d brought you back from London a few weeks back.

“You’re a sight,” he breathes, looking down at you, that pretty flush you get when he’s arousing you spreading all over your chest and face.

“Thomas–” you try to protest but before you can, he’s reaching behind your back again, unclasping your bra.

“Can’t I seduce my wife after a long, tortuous day, hm?”’ he asks, discarding your lace bra to the floor.

You smirk at him. “You may if you shut the doors so we don’t subject Frances to more than she ought to hear.” you tell him.

He smirks, jumping off you to close the French doors to the front room.

When Tommy was thoroughly satiated, and deemed you were as wrung out as you’d like to be, he pulled his pants on, smirking as you pulled his shirt on over your shoulders. Your hair was a mess, lipstick smudged and the flush hadn’t left your skin, but this was his favorite way to see you.

You wadded up the discarded clothes that were on the floor, tossing him his undershirt to pull over his shoulders. “Frances ought not to clean up after us this much,” you tell him, hugging the clothes to your chest in an attempt to hide your breasts from beneath Tommy’s shirt.

“You’re right, love,” he tells you, walking over to where he’d tossed a pillow onto the floor, setting it back on the couch. He stalks over to you, hungry look still in his eyes. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite, Mrs. Shelby,” he tells you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m going to go get some dinner, and I’ll join you in the bath after, eh?” he said, delivering a stinging swat to your backside.

You blink at the contact, desire stirring within you once more. “Yes, Sir,” you tease.

He bites his lip, groaning, dropping his head to your shoulder. “You awful woman,” he teases, groaning into your skin. “You know how wild that makes me,” he says, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

“Yes,” you smile. “That’s why I say it.”

He pulls away from you. “Go draw the bath, Darling, I’ll be up soon.”

Frances smiles knowingly at Tommy when he walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Shelby,” she greets.

“Frances,” he replies, feeling out of place with how he was dressed. His feet were bare, and suddenly he was all too aware of how cold he was, the cold tile on the floor of the kitchen making him shiver. Scout paced back and forth in front of the back door. He opened it, letting her out, a cold wind blowing in behind her.

“Chicken stew for dinner, Mr. Shelby,” she says, pulling a bowl out of the warm oven and adding a piece of bread onto a plate, setting it on the small table in the kitchen for him.

“Thank you, Frances.” he breathes, sitting down at the table, nearly inhaling every bite of food.

“Is Mrs. Shelby alright?” Frances asks, back turned to him, standing at the sink, washing the last few dishes. She watches as Scout patrols the back of the property, bounding after a rabbit.

“Yes, she is.” Tommy replied, taking a drink of his whiskey.

“She’s been sick in the mornings, no?” Frances asked.

Tommy sighed. “There’s a baby, Frances.”

A smile grew on her face. “That’s wonderful, Mr. Shelby!” she said.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he told her, pushing his bowl away from him, finished.

Frances walked over to the table, taking his empty bowl. She gave him a sympathetic look. “Mr. Shelby, if I may,” she paused, looking for a sign of approval from him. He nodded. “I believe you will be a wonderful father, if how you treat your wife is any indication,” he looked up at her with a puzzled expression. “I’ve worked for many families, Mr. Shelby, for nearly thirty years now,” she laid a hand on his shoulder. “And I’ve never been with a man and a wife with so much love between them. Most men treat their wives horribly, mistresses and alcohol and anger they never learned to control,” she says. “But you treat your wife like gold, and I know you will treat a baby no differently. You will be a good father.” she tells him.

He nods, drinking the rest of his whiskey down. “Thank you, Frances.”

Tommy came up to the bathroom and nearly fainted at the sight before him. You were in the bath, surrounded by bubbles, the scent of rose and jasmine in the air. You lifted a leg out of the bubbles, pointing your toes at him, a naughty smirk on your lips. He loved your legs.

“Mrs. Shelby,” he rasped, shutting the door behind himself. “I’m rather cold, would you care to warm me?” he asked, removing his undershirt and trousers, waiting at the edge of the bath for you to make up your mind.

His mouth was practically watering at the sight of you. “Come in,” you smile sweetly, moving forward in the tub so he could squeeze in behind you. You giggle as he sloshes water over the sides, settling in behind you, leaning you back against him, his arms wrapping around your body.

“What were you trying to tell me earlier, my love?” he asked.

“Oh before you seduced me?” you giggle, hands intertwining with his.

“Yes.” he says, a smirk on his lips.

“Caleb told me something very interesting, and I’d like for him to tell you himself, so I invited him for dinner. Would tomorrow evening be okay?” you ask.

He sighed. “You’re a cruel woman, you know?” he played with you.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Playing with the poor boy’s heart,” he says. “Of course, I don’t blame him for being infatuated with you, but inviting him to dinner, my dear,” he let out a disapproving ‘tsk’ sound. “You’re really just playing with his heartstrings.”

“Thomas,” you elbow him in the ribs, earning a chuckle from him. “He knows I am yours,”

“As does everyone in Birmingham,” he jested, toying with your diamond ring.

“I think he only wishes to try and protect us.” you tell him.

“You mean protect you,” he corrects gently. “He could care less if I was shot tomorrow. It’d give him an in to be with you.” he laughed and you elbowed him again.

“Thomas, I’m serious. I think he really does mean well.”

He sighed again. “I know, Darling, I’m only joking,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “He is rather loyal.” his wheels began to turn. “Like a–like a loyal dog.”

“Thomas!” you squeal, squeezing his thigh under the water. “Don’t be unkind, please!”

“Okay, alright, my dear, I’m sorry. I will refrain for making any more jokes about your loyal puppy.”

“Thomas!” you chide, turning around gently in the tub, back against the other end, facing him, your feet resting on his chest.

He takes one of your feet in his hands, thumbs moving in gentle circles. “If my punishment is getting a better look at your legs, I’m alright with it.” he smirks.

You shake your head, a look of disbelief on your face. “You’re ridiculous, Thomas,” you giggle as he switches to massaging your other foot. You bite the inside of your cheek, thoughts running rampant of how your husband's day went. “Did she try anything today? Try to get you to pull over and fuck her on the side of the road?”

Tommy’s thumbs dug deeper into the sole of your foot. “My love,” he pauses, his eyes shifting to a darker blue. “How many times do I have to tell you,” he pressed a kiss to your ankle. “That I am all yours?”

“But–she’s new and beautiful and interesting,” you counter.

He presses a kiss to your calf, eyes continuing to darken. “I think,” his hands slide up your leg to your thigh, hands kneading the soft flesh. “One of the most wonderful things about marriage is the idea of continually learning about one's spouse,” he continued, hands moving up your torso to cup your breasts. “I am still learning things about you, every day,” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Like how your hair lightens in the summer,” a kiss to your eyelid. “And how you detest when I sleep facing you because I am a mouth breather in my sleep,” you giggle. “And how good you are with plants,” he reminded you, bringing your thoughts to your flower garden you’d planted last spring. “And I think something I am most excited about, with being married to you, is the adventure of continually learning and knowing more about you as you change. As we both grow older and maybe wiser,” he chuckles and you roll your eyes. “I will never tire of you,” he brings your hands to his lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles. “You will always be beautiful and I would pick you every time, out of any crowd of women to be mine.”

Tears are in your eyes as he pulls you closer, more water spilling over the sides of the tub. “I love you, Thomas Shelby,” you tell him as he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you,” he whispers, “The only thing in this life that I am sure of. I love you.”

A round of gentle pleasure later, you and Tommy emerge from the now cold bathwater, both thoroughly pruney, but clean. He towels the both of you off before carrying you to bed. Frances had let Scout back in before she had gone to bed, and Scout followed Tommy down the hall to your bedroom, where she laid outside the door after he shut it behind the two of you.

He lays you in bed, settling you under the covers before walking over to the fire and adding another log to it. “I will ask Caleb to dinner tomorrow, my love. Please go over the menu with Frances in the morning.”

“Okay,” you sigh, curling into the covers.

Tommy slides in bed next to you and you subconsciously move closer to him, already drifting off.

The next morning, Tommy drove to town, wanting to pay Caleb a visit at the factory he worked in. He knew their first break would be around nine, and he made it just in time before he had to be at the betting shop.

“Caleb St. Clair!” he called out, the young man smoking a cigarette on the steps of the factory.

“Mr. Shelby,” Caleb said surprised, standing to his feet immediately. His heart raced in terror, fearful he had overstepped the night before.

“I hear you came to pay my wife a visit yesterday,” Tommy said, narrowing his eyes at the young man, lighting a cigarette.

“I only wished to help, Sir.” Caleb said.

Tommy nodded, tossing the match into a puddle near their feet. “I know, boy. My wife trusts you, and she’s asked that we invite you to dinner this evening at our home, so you can relay this very important information to me yourself.”

“I just–”

“Don’t want anything to happen to her?” Tommy finished, a blush spreading over Caleb's cheeks. “Me either. Which is why you’ll be at our home by seven this evening, Mr. St. Clair,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Try not to ogle at her too much, will you?” he says, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Shelby.” Caleb says, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Seven o’clock tonight!” Tommy said, walking away, back towards his car.

“I’ll be there!”

Seven o’clock sharp, there was a knock on the door. Tommy answered the door. “Come in,” he said, opening the door. Caleb stepped over the threshold and was in awe. He looked at the crystal chandelier hanging above them, the portraits of Thomas and Mrs. Shelby hung on the walls in gilded frames, photos of Tommy’s prizewinning horses scattered throughout the photos of the two of them. “Welcome to our home, Caleb.”

Caleb was pulled from his trance, the grandfather clock behind him striking seven. At that moment, you descended down the staircase, taking both of their breath away. You wore a beautiful light blue dress with a modest neckline that hugged your hips. You smiled at Tommy, who gave you the most tender look.

“Caleb,” you greeted him as Tommy took your hand as you came down the last two steps. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Caleb told you, holding his hat in his hands.

You led them to the dining room, where Frances had set a beautiful table. The food was spread out on the table, and no sign of Frances. You smiled as Tommy pulled out your chair for you, on his right. Tommy sat at the head of the table, with Caleb directly across from you.

“Now,” Tommy said after everyone had a hearty helping of roast, vegetables, bread and cheese on their plates. “Please repeat the story you told my wife, Caleb.” he said, setting his napkin in his lap. Caleb nervously followed suit, mouth watering at the spread on his plate.

Caleb repeated his story, word for word, just as he had told you, in between bites of the roast.

After Caleb’s story was finished, Tommy sat back and thought for a moment. He knew you’d be opposed to what he was going to ask next, but knew you wouldn’t challenge him in front of your guest. “Caleb,” Tommy said. The young man looked at him, eyes wide. “How would you like to work for me?”

You nearly dropped your fork, eyes wide. A surprised expression passed over Caleb’s features. “How would I work for you, Mr. Shelby?” he asked.

“I would ask that you keep an ear out for things like this, and report back to me, in an effort to keep my wife safe,” he started. “I’ll pay you well,” he says. “But we can discuss that as gentlemen,” he eyed you apprehensively. You were trying desperately to not let your mouth drop open.

“I would like to help, Mr. Shelby.” Caleb said.

“Good!” Tommy said. “Eat all you’d like, there’s plenty. Take some home to your mother and sisters if you’d like.” he said.

After everyone had finished eating, Tommy excused himself and Caleb to his office to discuss pay. You sat in the front room, fuming. Caleb was a sweet, innocent boy. He didn’t deserve to be dragged to this world.

Tommy and Caleb emerged from his office about fifteen minutes later, shaking hands. “Good man,” Tommy told him, leading him to the front door.

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Shelby,” Caleb said, eyeing you from the front door.

“You’re most welcome, Caleb.” you say, smiling at him.

He smiles that embarrassed smile of his, and turns for the door. “Simmons will take you home, it’s too long a walk for this late at night.” Tommy told Caleb, Simmons at the front of the house with the car. Before Caleb could protest, Tommy held up a hand. “It’s no trouble at all. Good night, Caleb.”

You scowled at your husband, disbelief and dread filling your body. “I cannot believe you, Thomas Shelby.” you tell him, standing up to move away from him when he got close to you.

“What do you mean?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“You cannot manipulate everyone, Thomas!” you yell.

“My love,” he says, the tone of his voice even. “He wants to help us, help you, and we need unsuspecting ears and eyes everywhere, especially with the baby,” he tries to reason with you.

“He’s a good boy, Thomas!” you scream. “His mothers only son, and you’re going to get him killed!”

Tommy sighed. “Dearest, it’s going to be alright. No one will suspect him.”

“And what if they do? What then, Thomas?” you ask.

“If something happens to him,” he says gently. “We will set up an account for his mother and sisters. They will be taken care of.”

Caleb admitted to Tommy that he had lost his father in the war. He was his family’s primary source of income. Tommy vowed to him that he would pay him well, and pay him weekly.

“Thomas,” you began to cry. “This is all too much,” you say.

He walks over to you, apprehensively, pulling you into his chest. “He agreed to it, my love. Everything will be alright. He won’t be in danger unless he puts himself in danger. He will be alright.”

“It won’t be fair to his mother.” you say, hands on Tommy’s chest.

“Then would you like for me to pay her, too?” he asks, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I’d rather you have just left them alone.” you sniffle.

He tightens his grip on you. “I know, my love, but sometimes we must do unpleasant things to protect what we hold most precious.”

Your heart sinks as you wonder, what the root of this was all really about.

#tommy shelby x reader #tom shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #sneakyblinders #my au <3 #peaky fookin blinders #peakywomen #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine

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rosewaterandivy · 10 months

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Something like that? PLS

Love you <3

Wow, thanks so much for the request! I tweaked it a bit to fill one of the prompts from here, hope that's okay. Love you 💜

83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

When you told him what you and Eddie would be up to Saturday night, Steve groaned so loud you could swear the couch vibrated.

You can’t be serious. And leaving me at the mercy of the gremlins?

“Yes,” you grin, “I’m sure the Harrington babysitting service can handle it.” And then you’re off to get ready for the party. “Knowing you, you’ll probably have some hot date booked for after you’ve dropped the gremlins off.”

It’s not that Steve worries, really he doesn’t, because you’ll be with Eddie and Robin will show up at some point, so at least you’ll be safe. But Saturdays were for movies with the party, taking full advantage of Steve and Robin’s (five-fingered) employee discount at Family Video and hanging out.

Recently, it’s been the only time when he can see you—busy with work and classes and helping Eddie with his GED. All your free time was accounted for, used up, leaving nothing left for him.

He tried (and failed) to be accommodating about it.

This resulted in frequent calls to your house, which your mother or father usually answered with thinly veiled annoyance (Sorry Steve, she just left. No, I don’t know when she’ll be back), interrupted study sessions at Forest Hills (Eddie’s exasperated, ‘Dude, what the fuck. You’re infringing on my right to an education here.’), and drop-ins while you were working at the diner.

In short, it was becoming a problem.

So when you mentioned, last minute mind you, that Eddie needed a hand dealing for a party this weekend and you’d agreed to help out, Steve took it about as well as could be expected.

Which is to say, not at all.

It’s bad enough that he’s making them watch Rocky IV, according to Dustin. But Steve pays him no mind and pops the tape into the VCR. The kids grumble and complain, but otherwise occupy themselves by half-watching the saga of Rocky and Drago.

His leg won’t stop bouncing as he reclines against the couch. It continues for the whole movie. When the film concludes with Apollo’s tragic demise, Max starts sorting through the rest of the tapes.

“What else is in here?” Throws out a few titles as she sees them, The Color Purple, 101 Dalmations, Out of Africa—

“Nope!”

Steve nearly hip checks Lucas in his haste to wrestle the tape from Max. They grapple for a bit, nearly coming to blows but Steve’s not about to hit a child and a girl at that. This sense of chivalry does not stop Max from smacking him upside the head, but he’s victorious in the end.

“And why can’t we watch that particular one?” Dustin ventures with a curious glance to Lucas before Steve settles back on the couch between them.

“I’ll, uh,” he stashes the tape behind the sofa, wedges its case against the wall. “Tell you when you’re older.”

Dustin and Lucas continue to eye each other warily.

Then El pipes up, “Friends don’t lie.” And before Steve can stop her from what will inevitably be an embarrassing calamity—

“It’s a … sad movie,” she continues, “The last time he watched it, he cried.”

Oh. Shit.

He wants nothing more than to bash his head against the wall, but can’t risk another concussion according to the doctors and literally everyone else. Maybe the earth could swallow him whole instead? Anything to end this humiliation.

“Didn’t you watch that with—” Mike begins, because he is an asshole.

“Oh yeah,” Dustin confirms, “They watched it like, a few weeks ago. I mean, her crying I get,” he turns to Steve, an incredulous look on his face, “But you—”

“Robert Redford is a good actor, okay?” He rushes to defend himself, “Very convincing.”

“Okaaayy,” Max drawls.

An uncomfortable silence ensues. The kids settle on watching Clue while Steve takes an opportunity to refill drinks and snacks. Tries to ignore the furtive whispers from the living room. Tries to focus on the popcorn in the microwave and not imagining what you may be up to at the house party with Eddie.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Will says when Steve returns from the kitchen.

The group falls silent, awaiting his response. Keep your cool, Harrington. He sets the bowl of popcorn on the table, doing his best to ignore Will’s probing question. Is almost successful until—

“Steve, you’re literally in love with her.”

He scoffs at Lucas’ blatant betrayal. Helped the kid practice everyday after school leading up to tryouts and this is how he’s repaid?

“No,” he says with a tone to convey the end of this conversation. “We’re friends, just friends and that’s it.”

A beat of silence as everyone pretends to watch as Tim Curry greets the six strangers upon their arrival to the mansion.

Dustin coughs. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at her, Steve.”

“Oh my god.” Max looks like she wants to brain herself on the edge of the coffee table at the stupidity of it all.

“Fuck off.” Steve huffs in annoyance, “Like I’m gonna take advice from a bunch of high schoolers.”

“Dude.”

“We’ve saved the world.”

“Like, multiple times.”

“And,” El annoyingly points out, “It’s good advice.”

Thankfully, Steve is saved by the bell. The phone trills its ring from somewhere beneath the couch cushions. Unable to find the cordless, he’s forced to answer it in the kitchen.

“Harrington residence.”

There’s music thumping and cross chatter down the line as he tries to make out who’s calling.

“Steve?”

“Rob, that you?”

A laugh, “Yeah, s’me. How you doin’ babe?”

Her voice has taken on that light, dreamy cadence it gets when she’s tipsy or high and, knowing her, it’s probably both.

“Uh, fine.” He turns to check on the kids in the living room, “Watching Clue. Did you need something?”

“Oh my god,” she rasps, “I love that movie!” A hiccup followed by a chuckle. “Nah, I’m good babe. I’m calling for someone else.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Rob, you know you called my house, right? The kids are here, if you wanna talk to them but—”

“Nonono Stevie,” she says in a rush, “M’callin’ about your girl.”

“My… girl.”

“Yep.”

The sounds of the phone being handed off to someone else. A few breaths and then, “Hi Steve.”

And oh.

Your voice is low and breathy through the phone, he can hear you giggling about something to Robin as you pull the speaker away from your mouth ‘I’m on the phone Buckley.’

He melts, just a bit. Because he knows that tone very well— when you fall asleep leaning against his shoulder during movie nights or take a brief nap sitting shotgun in his car, all raspy and sweet.

“Hey honey,” he coos, voice incredibly fond. Steve turns, closing himself off from the din in the living room. “Y’doin’ okay?”

“Mmhm, tired though.”

“Is that right?’

A yawn. “Yeah,” he can hear the pout in your voice, “Rob doesn’t wanna leave yet and Eddie went upstairs with someone like, forever ago.”

Steve’s already grabbing his keys from the counter. “Stay with Robin, okay? I’m coming get you.”

“Thanks Stevie,” you sigh prettily, “You’re the best.”

Dustin (unhelpfully) advised him to get flowers before he left, so Steve put Max in charge, out of spite. Which unfortunately broke the levy for a barrage of romantic advice from literal children: hold the door, make eye contact, give her your jacket and be on the left side of the sidewalk.

It’d be endearing if it wasn’t so tragic.

He rolls up to the house to find not only Robin, but Eddie too, at your side seated on the sidewalk. He crosses the hood of the car as you stand with a soft smile, “Sorry Steve,” you say, less sloshed since the phone call, but still tired. “Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“C’mon honey,” he scoffs, “There’s no way you could ruin my night.” He ushers you to the passenger seat, arm around your waist. He can smell the beer from the keg and stale cigarettes on you, laced with the comforting scent your perfume.

He shuts the door after reminding you to put on your seatbelt and turns back to Eddie and Robin. They look like they’re up to no good— Eddie’s smirking and got that glint in his eye that says he’ll be a problem, all the while Rob has a dopey grin on her face.

“She’s had water and we took the drinks from her a while ago,” Eddie says, waving back at you from the sidewalk. “Try to have her eat something.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Like he needs advice from a dungeon master on how to deal with a drunk.

Robin blinks owlishly, “Ooh, Hardee’s, get her that.”

Steve laughs as Eddie shepherds Robin away. Says something about not fucking it up and using protection. He can’t bring himself to care as he slides back into the car. The radio kicked on as he starts the car, David Byrne rhapsodizing about a girl as she was.

He watched as you bop to the song in your seat, bringing an affectionate smile to his face— eyes closed, hair whipping back in the cool night breeze as you sing along. The axels squeak when Steve pulls into the drive-thru lane.

Try as he might to keep his gaze on you, to watch you a little longer, the intercom sputters to life—a young boy’s voice greeting mechanically but trying nonetheless to adhere to Hardee’s hospitality best he can.

The burger you’d gotten—medium, double meat, bacon, all toppings between—has completely fallen apart in a splat back onto the wax paper in your lap.

“Here, honey.”

He fumbles for napkins. But you wave his worries away, licking your fingers before diving in to deconstruct your food.

“Sorry—I promise I have my shit together.” Another giggle, “Not doing well here. Makin’ a mess your car and everything.”

“I, uh, I think you’re doin’ great.”

The words slip out before he can catch them and around a mouthful of fries, you thank him, and then you take a breath, and he can literally see you winding up for another enormous bite.

“Sorry,” you pause sheepishly, “M’ starving—skipped lunch on accident.” You take the enormous bite he saw coming, and then, “Also doesn’t help—mm—nervous.”

Steve chews on a fry and slurps his soda, driving with ease. “Nervous ‘bout what?”

You swallow and steal his drink, “Weren’t you on a date?”

He blinks.

You blink.

He blinks again.

“No, I was watching movies with the kids.”

His face is so hot that he thinks someone must have thrown a fire into him. Should he have just gone along with it instead? It’s old news by now that King Steve had turned in his crown for a walkie-talkie and chauffeuring a bunch of teens around.

A beat passes and he tries again, now at the end of the meal and the stain on your shirt starting to sink in and spread, heavy enough to dip toward the skin beneath. “Do you want to take your shirt off?”

You choke on soda and add another splatter down your chest, “What?”

“You can wear my jacket,” he clarifies. “Give it back later. I mean, if you…” He frowns. “Uh. Um.”

The beemer comes to a stop in front of he Harrington house. Lights still on in the living room signalling that the party is still there.

You changed out of your shirt, ducking down in the front seat bashfully (“Look away, damn it.”), your old t-shirt in a crumple inside his pocket. His jacket hung a bit loose, but zipped up all the way and it was a good enough cover for a while.

There’s a smear of grease on your cheek from the burger and Steve knows it’s just a personality trait at this point. He laughs when you stick your tongue out, trying to find exactly where it is before giving up and asking him to wipe it off.

He shoves his hands in his pocket afterwards, thumb jammed inside his fist like a souvenir, keeping it there the rest of the walk up the drive, all the way up to the front door of his house before he wonders if he should have been trying to hold your hand.

Maybe not.

“I missed this,” he says, brushing his shoulder against yours.

You hum, knocking your hip against his. “Thanks for dinner,” you say, looking up at him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“And picking me up.” A beat passes. “And the jacket, too. It’s really nice… comfortable and, uh, smells… good. Like, cinnamon and… nice body wash and… trees.” You make a queasy face and close your eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose uncomfortably as Steve looks on.

Oh, he realizes. You must be woozy.

Oh, he realizes. You’re gonna hurl.

“Steve,” Your voice is small and tight, and you look like you’re struggling to take steadying breaths. “I gotta sit down.”

“Right,” he replies. You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before he turns and unlocks the door.

The kids are passed out on the sofa and reclining chairs in the living room. He locks the door and sneaks you upstairs, hands politely on your waist to steady you on your feet. Guides you to the left toward the guest bath and flips on the lights.

“You alright?”

The fluorescents cast you in a hazy yellow glow, squinting at the bright light. You paw at the countertop for something, water? You turn to open a drawer and find a spare toothbrush— the blue one, yours, a freebie from a check-up and gloop some toothpaste on the bristles. With a nod in response, you begin to brush your teeth, faucet running as you fill a cup of water.

Steve leaves you with a clean washcloth and towel, should you need them, and goes to check that his room isn’t a complete disaster. Bed sheets are clean-ish and he doesn’t have time to run them through the wash, though there’s always one of the guest rooms…

“Hey.”

He startles slightly, not hearing you walk in. You’ve toed off your shoes by the door and are looking sheepish, lip pulled between your teeth. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve pulls open some drawers, rifling through for something for you to sleep in. Throws your top into his hamper while he’s at it. He turns back to you with a ‘Hawkins Athletics’ shirt that’s seen better days and a pair of flannel pajamas. Shoves them toward you awkwardly and then promptly turns around to let you have some privacy while you change.

“Thanks.”

He makes a strangled noise of confirmation and clears his throat. “No problem.”

Hearing the rustling of sheets, he turns back around and catches sight of your bare leg as you hunker down in his bed. Heat rushes to his cheeks when he spies the pajama pants neatly folded and placed on his nightstand. You turn on your side, burrowing and fluffing the pillows to your liking.

Steve makes quick work of brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. Shoes by the door next to yours, jeans shucked into a pile by his desk, keeps his shirt on for the sake of decency, and slips in next to you.

“I appreciate you coming to get me, y’didn’t have to do that.”

His arm drapes against your shoulder while you snuggle into him, casual affection being the norm between you two. He swallows thickly, tries to regulate his breathing when your hand rests against his chest.

“What’re friends for?”

“Hmm,” you consider for a moment. “Friends may not be the most accurate term.”

Steve bristles at that.

“What do you mean?” He turns toward you, heart racing— did you not want to be friends anymore? Did he do something wrong?

Your face is impassive, blank. Steve couldn’t even begin to guess at what you’re thinking, is afraid to even try.

Then, you smile.

Fuck. That smile.

“S-so, not friends then?”

Steve is not a religious man, but he prays that your smile means what he thinks it does. Slowly reaching toward you, he brushes a lock of hair from your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

Mischievously, you lean in, touch him soft on the lips and every beat of his pulse seems to be seeking out the sweet plush of your mouth. “If we were just friends, I shouldn’t wanna kiss you so bad, but we both seem to be … not good… at following decorum, so…” Your eyes light up teasingly, “What d’ya say?”

Steve makes a noise like a whimper. Wow. Babysitter extraordinaire with a bat of nails under his bed and it’s your smile that does him in.

You kiss him again, longer than the last, giggling softly and tugging on his bottom lip like you could pull his entire body toward you with just that. “I’m sure we could find a few more rules to break.”

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #ways to say #steve harrington fluff

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barbwritesstuff · 8 days

Note

probably need to put a spoiler tag but I forgot how since I’m hardly on tumblr but I really need to get this out of my system before I go crazy!

Today I replayed Blood Moon cuz I missed Sergi so much and oh boy do I love the angst that comes with him. The fact that he still thinks we deserve better than what he has to offer is so bittersweet and when we choose to say ‘I’m sorry too’ when he indirectly rejected us and he didn’t fight it all is just adding into that sweetness, sick, addictive fire I crave. Like I always imagine even after we tryna pursue them and he said ‘we can’t’ my MC finally gave up, found a new mate, still couldn’t get over Sergi and tryna make him jealous by constantly being around other mating options. And has this little continuation, sorta-groveling second chance saga in my head where Sergi is the alpha without mate and the MC still (not so) secretly pining and making him jealous… barb!! What did you do to me! (Do you know how hard it is to roam around my kindle to find exactly just THAT, the alpha, the lonewolf, mutual pining during mating season, the push and pull… oh god, I think you kinda awoken sth in me other novelists barely manage to do by creating Sergi and his kind and cute and sorry ass Wolf. He’s perfect. And you’re right, he’s so fcking beautiful but obtuse in the worst (best and delicious) timing!!!

Thicker Than is amazing and I love Chris route so much (yea cuz, yknow? The angst of real second chance trope. You’ve done it again.) I also have another save in Minjo route just so we can catch a whisk of Sergi and my MC so I can imagine their pining gazes in my head. Right. Now that I let all of this out of my head. I will be roaming around my kindle for awhile cuz you left me so thirsty with all these ‘after’ potentials. I hate you sm barb (I love you sm keep doing what ur doing!!)

No words. I'm so thrilled you've enjoyed my silly, wee werewolves so much. I'm going to go have a happiness cry now. 💙

#spoilers #blood moon if

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powerofelvis · 1 year

Text

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?

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#elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x black!reader #elvis x black reader #black writers #black reader #daisy writes

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yourneighborhoodporg · 6 months

Text

The Guardian

Chapter 3: The Escape

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: fluff, BANTER, slight injuries, violence, sacrifice (if you squint), bad weather (if that's a warning?), Anakin is a menace, Obi-Wan and Reader get pretty close at some point 👀.

Summary: With your true identity revealed, it's determined that you must accompany Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka back to The Jedi Temple on Coruscant. However, a number of setbacks block your escape from Hoth— some atmospheric, a few mechanical, others tall and hairy.

Song Inspo: Independence Day — Neil Finn

Words: 6.2K

A/n: Thank you for the continued support!! Looking forward to hearing your opinions on this chapter. Remember to comment a request to be added to the taglist if you'd like to be on it :)

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Series Masterlist

‘Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey — Virgil

“Wow.”

Anakin leaned back in Obi-Wan’s former seat, supporting his head with hands nearly intertwined. You watched as the gears turned, his mouth loosely open and eyebrows tensed.

“And you’re…?”

“Yes.” You confirmed.

“And your master is…?”

“Yup.”

“And your eyes are…?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Because…?”

“Yes sir.”

He lifted a hand with a finger loosely pointing in the air, mouth agape before stopping himself. Confusion washed over his expression. You reveled in the brief peace as Anakin returned to his thoughts. But that gift did not last nearly long enough.

“And your…”

“Let’s just assume the answer is yes.” You interrupted while raising a hand to cut him off, closing your eyes in irritation.

You were reaching your wit's end.

“Obi-Wan took this much better.” You murmured, rubbing your temples.

Anakin grumbled, crossing his arms in defense. “Well, Obi-Wan isn’t The Chosen One.”

“Obi-Wan is standing right here.” He gibbed from his perch just beside Anakin’s seat, a hand resting on its ear with legs loosely crossed.

“Well I, for one, am glad we found you.” Ahsoka interrupted from her place crisscrossed on the floor. She locked her mischievous eyes with yours, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Someone needs to keep my Master in check.”

You beamed brightly, wordlessly thanking her for the support. Then, a sudden spark went off behind her eyes. Her head tilted quizzically at you.

“Wait, how did Qui-Gon find you? I mean, it sounds like The Order had no idea you existed, so it’s not like he could’ve found some record of you.”

You thought of her words carefully, looking up to the ceiling to delve into your memories. The other two Jedi turned toward you expectantly.

“I’m…actually not sure.”

You took a moment, trying to remember any information your Master dispensed about your beginnings.

“When I was very young.” You started. “I once asked Qui-Gon if he was my father. I was still trying to understand concepts like Master and family through my studies. And as the only human I’d known, his presence was very confusing.”

You smiled at the memory of your childlike imagination. “Obviously, he said no, explaining concepts like Master and Padawan and their disconnection from familial bonds. But in that conversation, he told me my parents had passed.”

Anakin nurtured a commiserate expression.

“I’m sorry.” He said in a soft voice.

It was then that you noticed how your story stirred The Chosen One— like dark storm clouds behind his eyes. A saga of sensitivities swirled behind his pupils.

You appreciated his empathy, and conveyed a grateful glance, watching as he nodded with postured stoicism while leaning back once more, arms crossed. Underneath all that brazenness, there seemed to be a very caring individual, you thought to yourself. And he didn’t hide it well.

Dragging yourself from the interaction, you once more delved into your past. You watched the three Jedi as the most likely theory formed.

“If he knew that…that my parents were dead, I assume he must of discovered me around then.” You shrugged at your pervasive cluelessness on the subject. “Or, maybe it was blind luck many years later, much like our first meeting. Who knows? My memories of that time are cloudy.”

“In my experience, there is no such thing as luck.” Obi-Wan expressed, smiling at you with a wise impression.

The corner of your eyes crinkled at his kismet reference as the four of you breathed into the weary silence. These hours of conversation had clearly drained the room of all its energy. It felt as if the previous night’s sleep had been stretched out of you by the very words unleashed into the air.

You were sure the revelation of your destiny and connection to Qui-Gon acted as a fountainhead to the mental fatigue that soaked through the shelter’s inhabitants. Your account was evidently transformative to these Jedi. It presumably forced them to question lifelong-held beliefs about your former Master and The Chosen One prophecy. Qui-Gon was always very clear with you about his efforts to keep you a secret from the Galaxy. You guessed that also meant from Anakin himself.

Maybe that’s why you felt incongruity bubble up within you. It was a strange experience, explaining your purpose in another being’s life without them having any previous knowledge of your existence. And despite the coherence of The Guardian’s destiny, you suddenly felt misplaced. Especially when you observed The Chosen One’s reactions.

Anakin’s furrowed eyebrows and slightly parted lips clarified his stupefaction. Yet just below the surface, you sensed the slightest sliver of tension escape his force. A sort of uncertainty that leaked from his figure.

His sudden arrival was unexpected, mostly because you thought the first contact would be more grand, precise, and deliberate. You believed all your life that one day Qui-Gon would arrive to tell you it was time, only to load you onto a starship with the Jedi Temple as its heading. There, a formal introduction would take place of great fanfare with all of the Jedi masters in attendance. A symbol of The Order’s strength of unity against the Sith in their centuries-long conflict.

But instead, here you were, by the Force’s will, sitting in front of The Chosen One who had just happened to crash land on the very planet you took refuge on. And while you were confident in each word that escaped your breath, your disorientation was still amplified by the shard of doubt that split from him. Qui-Gon wasn’t here to help you tell your story like you always dreamed he’d be. So it was up to you alone to advocate for your place in the Galaxy.

You knew Anakin’s hesitancy stemmed from the sudden discovery of your existence and, mostly, The Guardian’s unexpected tie to him. As you ruminated further, you noticed that it was much like your sudden imposter syndrome. Both of you clearly lacked the tools to approach a discussion of this magnitude.

And it was a strange comfort, knowing that you both felt equally disquiet about this meeting. Maybe the two of you were far more intertwined than you first truly realized.

To your side, Ahsoka’s bright smile was difficult to ignore from her place crossed on the floor. It emanated delight as her eyes ricocheted between you and Anakin, her tilted cheek resting on a fist. You found her to be the most accepting of your connection to Anakin’s path.

In conversation with the three of them, you discovered her to be Anakin’s new Padawan. It clicked that she likely saw you as some positive cosmic influence on the Master she held in high esteem. You were equally grateful for her connection to Anakin. Ahsoka herself seemed like a wonderful young Jedi. You admired her outspoken nature and youthful buoyancy, reminding you of yourself as a young trainee.

It was also reassuring to know that there was another person close to Anakin that you could learn from. After all, to best support and protect The Chosen One, you needed to know him well. Qui-Gon taught you that. And that meant understanding not only him, but his close associates as well.

That too included Obi-Wan, who seemed relaxed, almost grateful, since he fully accepted the truth. His shoulders were loose and eyes hopeful throughout the second rendition of your story. After giving up his seat, the older Jedi stood comfortably by Anakin, silently supporting him from behind. It made sense since you learned he was Anakin’s former Master.

Your inferences were based solely on his outward expressions, failing to register anything he released into the Force. Clearly, once the bearded Jedi recognized your force sensitivity, he found it best to firmly conceal his emotional connection to his signature, much like his other companions. If you had paid more attention to your first meeting with the Jedi, you may have realized his ability to manage this connection to the Force. His heightened control when in the presence of other Jedi would’ve dwarfed the loosened attentiveness he held around non-sensitive beings, as when he shared your company alone in the shelter.

You remember one of your first trainings with Qui-Gon was on this very topic. However, he did not only teach you how to protect your mind. Qui-Gon spent many sessions gifting you the longest and most in-depth lesson you experienced— Force Stealth.

He was always sure to remind you that for many years, it would be your most vital skill. Your former Master chided you on the need to be highly maneuverable in this field of force study to stay alive. Completely hiding your force signature was the only sure way to prevent your discovery by either side, especially the Sith. These Jedi only protected their thoughts, you mused inwardly. But once you realized this, Anakin’s readable distress became particularly perplexing.

Your mind was still saturated with anachronism to think too deeply about these matters.

Yet, you still lacked despondency, despite learning of your late Master’s passing. It had been nearly a decade since you last saw him. Maybe that’s why in the last few years, you occasionally surmised deep down at the base of your subconscious that he’d passed, leaving you stranded on Hoth alone.

But it still felt impossible to believe. Maybe that’s why you were holding it together. Or maybe some part of your heart had accepted Obi-Wan’s words, but it just hadn’t sunk in yet. Or maybe these swirling battles within you were too distracted by the initiation of your prophetic path to land that last punch of unavoidable, bitter truth.

“Well…” Anakin began.

You jolted from your thoughts.

As you registered his questioning intonation, you inwardly moaned, mentally preparing yourself for the next set of inquiries you thought ended a while ago.

He sighed. “There isn’t that much room, but I’m sure we can find space for a fourth in the shuttle’s cabin.” Anakin grinned.

A feeling of delight bubbled in your stomach. In all this time of discussion and deep contemplation, you hadn’t had the chance to really ponder the life-changing ramifications of this meeting. That included leaving Hoth, possibly forever, for the first time in a very long time. It meant meeting new people, a new planet, with a big new city that you’d only heard about through Qui-Gon’s tales. For someone who grew up in isolation for their entire existence, this revelation was overwhelmingly exciting, and somehow nerve-wracking.

“I sure hope so. Last time I checked, there were four seats installed, unless you destroyed one during your repairs.” Obi-Wan jested.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

If the four of you were to leave this planet soon, the state of those repairs would be a determining factor, you thought.

“So I take it the shuttle is fixed?” You inquired.

Anakin shrugged. “Eh, mostly.”

He seemed to notice the apprehension grow on your features as he quickly explained.

“I mean.” Anakin stuttered. “The engines are fixed and the shuttle can take off. But there are a few holes that lead to some important places. So they need to be plugged.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms, seemingly unimpressed with Anakin’s understatement. “I assume you’re referring to the holes in the main hull.”

Anakin sighed despondently. “Yeah.”

This complication certainly posed a roadblock to escape, but it only took a moment for you to realize that the solution was directly in front of you. Or more, all around you.

“Well.” You chewed over your thoughts as you phrased them. “If I won’t be here for much longer, I’m not gonna have much use for this shelter. Could we salvage its parts to seal any cavities?”

Anakin perked up at your suggestion, glancing around at the hull. “I…think that may work.”

“Great!” You clapped your hands, hope radiating throughout your body.

“Let’s get started.”

—

It only took about an hour to determine the shelter’s best specimens, extract them, and then prepare them for transport for the final phase of repairs. Anakin and Ahsoka were quick to load the materials into makeshift bindles constructed from your blanket collection.

You recall commenting on his pace: his evaluation of the manual, the previous restorations, the speed at which he tore out the necessary fragments from the shelter— it was all done in great haste. And his defense of this unwavering initiative was most amusing.

“I hate the snow. It’s like sand, but it gets you all wet.”

Fair enough, you thought.

That was many hours ago. Anakin and Ahsoka had long ago left for the shuttle to complete the repairs, and you and Obi-Wan were now just on the way to join them. You readjusted your grip on the lichen bag once again slung across a shoulder, this time filled with a few possessions rather than a slimy lunch.

As you moved through the new layer of snow that accumulated overnight, you thought back to how difficult it was to ignore the cold chills that scurried down your bare arms in the shelter when you were collecting your things. The exposed snow, apparent due to the missing paneling, destroyed the warming effect of the old ship’s hull.

You never referred to the old ship as your home, knowing that eventually, you would leave that place to start your journey. But that wasn’t your only reasoning. It wasn’t your home because it was a refuge, a place for asylum, for development, to prepare you for The Chosen One’s arrival, without risk of being destroyed by the Sith— at least not before you were ready to face them.

In all honesty, you were still unsure if your training would satisfy the needs of the path ahead. However, the Force seemed to believe you were prepared to begin this quest, so you had to trust in that.

You refocused your memories, thinking back to when you were collecting a few of your favorite holobooks discussing The Old Republic Jedi and the Jedi-Sith War, which you laid out on your desk as you packed. Qui-Gon’s first gift, a navy blue-based blanket with gold shimmers, was neatly folded beside them. As you clipped your lightsaber to your belt and shrugged on your warm Wampa cloak, you allowed your gaze to wander throughout the shelter until it was stopped by a glint from a thin slit in the curtain.

You stared carefully at the item that caught your eye. It hung from the back wall and clearly made its desire to accompany you well known. A breathy laugh escaped you as you shook your head. You ruminated while walking up to take the half-circle metal headpiece. How could you ever forget what you lovingly referred to as your Second Master.

“Is that The Muntuur?” You turned to the voice and were met with Obi-Wan’s expectant demeanor.

“Yes.” You strolled to your desk, Obi-Wan following close behind.

“If the Force believes that it’s prepared me enough to begin my voyage, then it shouldn’t hurt to bring it along. To keep me fresh.”

Picking up the lichen bag, you began to fill it with the laid-out belongings. It was hard to miss the intrigue dripping from the man behind you as you wrapped The Muntuur in the blue blanket. You placed it in the lichen bag, which you sealed shut with the drawstrings.

“Don’t worry.” You reassured. “Although there isn’t time to experiment if we have any hope of reaching the ship before sunset, I promise we’ll find time for the device once we arrive.”

Obi-Wan’s expression brightened at your offer. “I appreciate that.”

Then, a thought crossed your mind. “We are going to The Temple, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, straight to Coruscant.”

When you later left the shelter for the last time, you were faced with your most difficult goodbye.

Meetra was grooming her arm with wet laps when the two of you emerged from the hatch. As you let it fall closed with a thud behind you, the friendly Tauntaun raised her head in curiosity, sniffing the air for any aroma of danger.

You approached Meetra, placing each hand on her neck once more to feel her warm, thick fur.

“This is bye, for now, Meetra.” You cooed, moving your hands to pull her head down, placing a light kiss on her right tusk. “I’m gonna miss you more than you know.”

And with one last pat on her chest, you turned to make your way to the shuttle. Out of the corner of your vision, you noticed an indiscernible emotion resting on Obi-Wan’s face as his eyes peaked at you subtly.

You glanced at his following figure. He quickly acknowledged you with a copy of your bright expression. You observed his fine guise through a pregnant pause before swiveling back toward the path ahead, brushing off the interaction as the two of you continued the expedition.

Now, you both were hours into your trek, trudging through snow troughs and avoiding ice patches as the freezing wind whipped your hair, occasionally blocking your vision.

Obi-Wan seemed to be fairing just as well, a hand blocking his face so that he could see through the falling flakes. It sounded as if the Maker himself was trying to whistle for the first time from the skies.

“Why did you leave the Tauntaun behind?” Obi-Wan projected over the heavy gusts that began to pick up.

“She wouldn’t have found her way home without me.” You called out. “We‘ll be fine on our own.”

Another powerful blast of glacial wind threatened to knock you and Obi-Wan over. You both stood your ground before attempting to continue the trek during a rest in the gusts’ pull seconds later.

“We will see.” He wondered aloud.

Your gaze dropped as you tried to focus on one step at a time. While you’ve experienced the rough Hoth weather plenty of times in the past, you haven’t had to travel through it without Meetra’s help. You knew this planet well, and Obi-Wan was right. If the budding storm worsened, it could not only threaten any non-planetary beings on the surface, but also prevent the shuttle from taking off— at least not without the engine’s stalling.

Glancing up, you were now able to see the ship in the near distance, blurred by the thickening snowfall.

“Hey!” You called out, grabbing Obi-Wan’s attention with a wave. “Only a few more minutes.” You loudly assuaged, pointing at the now upright shuttle in front of you.

He nodded.

You had only taken a few more steps when a high-pitched mechanical squeal permeated the atmosphere. You contorted at the painful drone, covering your ears. Obi-Wan was similarly hunched over, trying to block out the sound. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the uncomfortable tone left.

You turned to Obi-Wan as you regained your posture. “What was that?!”

“I don’t know!” He stepped forward. “We need to get to the ship!”

You nodded as the two of you picked up the pace, much like the volume and intensity of the storm. As you neared the shuttle, Anakin and Ashoka’s figures became clearer in the growing whiteout engulfing the region. Anakin was loosely hanging from the side of the viewport by one hand, his feet swaying, as he finished sealing the hole in the transparent steel with one of your shelter’s panels and a lightsaber. Ahsoka was yelling something unintelligible from below before Anakin readjusted and jumped down to join her, continuing their conversation.

Soon, a kaleidoscope of warm tones caught the corner of your eye, turning your head toward the first sign of the coming dusk. This was beginning to be very bad, you thought to yourself. You started to forcefully jog through the trapping pressure of the snow, Obi-Wan matching your speed.

And in a few moments, their words became clearer.

“…need to get out of here!” You caught the last part of Ahsoka’s sentence as you and Obi-Wan caught up to them. The strong frigid gusts became sonorous, lasting for minutes at a time. Even with the aid of the Force, you were having difficulty keeping your feet planted.

Finally, you found your footing. “What on Hoth happened?!”

Anakin’s head spun toward you. “Who says that?!”

“They do!” Obi-Wan rebuffed. “Now what happened?!”

“I think I triggered some old security system while repairing the last hole in the viewport!” Anakin explained. “It doesn’t matter!”

Darkness started to creep across Hoth’s miles-long white blanket at an almost imperceptible rate, but fast enough to begin sinking this side of the planet’s temperature down to dangerously low levels.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the land nearby. You took a moment, closing your eyes and breathing deeply to reach out to the impression.

“We need to leave now!” Ahsoka yelled. “If the storm gets any worse we’ll be stuck!”

The energies were large. Towering but swift. A violent rage and cavernous hunger penetrated your senses.

“It may matter.” You whispered to yourself.

You opened your eyes, glancing at Obi-Wan who mirrored your actions.

“Do you sense it?” You asked lowly, but loud enough to be heard over the howling storm.

Obi-Wan faced forward, closing his eyes. It looked as if his nose was being pulled into the distance as he dug into the Force, brows creased and lips pursed.

His eyes shot open at the three of you. “We need to leave, now!” Obi-Wan started to jog toward the shuttle’s entrance on the opposite side, you, Anakin, and Ahsoka hard on his heels.

The dimming light began obscuring your vision.

“What is it?!” Ahsoka questioned.

“A pack of Wampas!” You answered from behind. “Obi-Wan, they won’t let the shuttle take off! We’ll need to deal with them if we have any hope of leaving this planet!”

“It’s too dangerous!” Obi-Wan argued as he lept at the shuttle’s entrance stationed about three feet off the ground.

Landing, he rested a hand on the handle before turning to face the three of you. “Fighting anything in this weather will get us killed. Let alone the number of beings I sense.”

“Doing nothing will get us killed!” You maintained. “In the time it takes for us to prepare for takeoff, they’ll rip the hull to shreds!”

You took a moment to briefly reconnect with the life forms around you, registering how dangerously close the Wampas now were. Suddenly, what sounded like a gurgled scream combined with a deep-bellied roar echoed from a hundred feet away.

Anakin spun in the direction of the cry, grabbing the hilt of his lightsaber.

“Snips, start the engines!” He stared into nothingness beyond the blinding storm, now plunged in darkness. “Yell when we can lift off!”

Igniting his saber, he took a few cautious steps forward, its blue glow reflecting off the snowflakes falling around. You copied his actions, activating your weapon, the gray of your saber blending more with the environment. You listened as Obi-Wan jumped down from the shuttle’s door, landing behind you and Anakin as Ahsoka leapt to the access point and let herself into the ship. The hiss of his saber sounded, it adding to the blue luminescence by casting a subtle shadow of part of your form.

The three of you stood wordlessly while the bellowing wind buffeted each of your cloaks and wheezed past your ears. It was impossible to hear distant footsteps beyond the unrelenting noise, so you focused on your senses and any images gleaned from the sabers’ radiance as the icy chills began to stiffen your muscles.

Out of the oblivion emerged a barely perceptible, large white mass running directly toward you at full speed. In a second, its right claw was poised for attack, a roar of a thousand voices emanating from the bloodthirsty Wampa.

You reacted quickly, vaulting over the beast and slicing off its attacking arm with the shadow of your saber, its wails echoing into the distance. You shifted into a flip mid-air, facing the creature’s wide back in time to lift your saber above your head and stab it, dragging the blade down as you descended. Once you landed comfortably on your feet, you watched the Wampa slump to its knees, letting out one last pathetic wail as its body collapsed into the snow, emptying the air of a little noise.

As if answering the cry, the sound of the shuttle coming online reverberated across the frosty plains.

Anakin relaxed his spine upwards from his attack stance. “That was easier than…”

A clamor of Wampan growls and wails erupted from behind as you whirled around to face them. The sheer number of sprinting giants made their footfalls thunderously loud above the tumultuous drones of the snowstorm. Anakin swiftly crouched back down into an offensive posture while you tightened your stance.

“You always have to speak too soon!” Obi-Wan commented boldly as you watched him raise his saber.

Before you knew it, seven Wampas emerged from the dark snowfall only feet away and headed straight for you.

“Uh, a little help!” You called out.

Anakin and Obi-Wan charged each flank of the pack, taking two each to distract while you dealt with three of the massive snow brutes. Their bodies built for blizzards moved agilely as you struggled against the heavy winds and trapping snow drifts. You were avoiding their blows by mere inches, making it impossible to launch an offensive.

“They seem to like you!” Obi-Wan quipped. He incapacitated one of his attackers with a blade through the side. Its dying cry only seemed to intensify the others’ aggression.

“I don’t think they’re happy that I skinned one of their brethren!” You retorted, referring to the Wampa cloak draped around your shoulders.

Finally, you found an opening to cut off the legs of the leftmost beast, causing it to crumple to an icy grave in a pained howl.

“I believe their anger is more related to a certain piercing alarm.” Obi-Wan sassed while dodging a particularly nasty attempt to bludgeon his head.

Anakin seemed to be faring equally well, having successfully cut off the head of one Wampa and aiming to finish off the other.

“I get it!” He yelled over the battle. “Blame The Chosen One!” You could hear the smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes, barely missing a swipe at your neck from the deed. You took the opportunity to lob off both of the attacker’s paws, paving the way to kick him with a grunt to the disturbed sleet beneath you.

“Are you sure he’s The Chosen One?!” You called out to Obi-Wan, a wicked glint in your eye. “I thought they’d be more humble!”

“Anakin and humility have never been well acquainted.” Obi-Wan jested. He slashed at his last Wampa’s chest, cutting it down.

Anakin eyed the two of you. “Because I don’t need it!”

He turned.

“Agh!”

And in the momentary distraction, the younger Jedi received a claw to the cheek.

“Obi-Wan!” You sang with a grin. “The Chosen One needs your assistance.”

“Already on it!” He acknowledged. The older Jedi jogged toward the grumbling Anakin behind you.

Finally, another window of attack opened, enabling you to separate the torso from the legs of the last beast standing before you with a quick swipe of your blade.

As you caught your breath, you turned in time to see Anakin and Obi-Wan cut down the final Wampa with two sabers through the stomach, its culminating bellow signaling the end of the battle. The two relaxed, shutting off their lightsabers and attaching them to each belt.

You ambled toward the duo after clipping your own now-deactivated saber. You tried to dust off the accumulating snow on your arms, but most of it had iced over in the dropping temperatures of a Hoth night.

Trying to ignore the numbness of your nerves from the subfreezing temperatures, you looked up, locking your gaze with them as a feeling of levity embraced you.

“I’m The Chosen One!” You mocked in a high-pitched voice, throwing your hands up and scrunching your cheeks. “I could’ve taken the whole pack with my eyes closed!”

“Yes, I believe that’s quite an accurate impression.” Obi-Wan teased with an eyebrow quirked, turning to his former Padawan with a hand gesturing to his point.

Anakin crossed his arms. “You know.” He began nonchalantly. “I could definitely take on a pack with my eyes closed.”

You rested each hand on your hips, leaning into one side with a significant lack of inspiration on your face. As the adrenaline wore off, an unpleasant ache began to pull at your sinuses.

“Let’s go!” The three of you turned your head to Ahsoka who stood in the shuttle doorway, waving you over. “This storm is seconds away from keeping us grounded!”

“About time.” Anakin huffed as he led the way back to the ship, you and Obi-Wan close behind.

You were not a mere two steps into your stride when a weakened growl vocalized behind you. You all turned as the Wampa you kicked rolled onto its knees and began to crawl upwards in all its armless glory.

“Get in!” You advised, grabbing and reactivating your saber. “I’ll take care of it!”

Anakin leapt up to the entrance, landing in the doorway gracefully before turning to you. “Come on!” He argued nonchalantly. “What’s it gonna do?!”

“An armless Wampa can still do a lot of damage!” You challenged. “Trust me, I’ve learned the hard way!”

Whirling around to begin your trot back to the stumbling blob of fur, you called out once more.

“You three focus on getting us out of here!”

You listened as Obi-Wan jumped up to join Anakin on the shuttle, followed by distant conversation. Your saber was readied mere feet away from the creature when the older Jedi called out to you.

“Anakin says we need to lift off now!”

You groaned. “Then take off!”

Swiftly, you plunged your fiery blade into the heart of the beast, killing him instantly.

As the adamant Wampa fell for the final time, you felt the snow pick up around you, a sonorous whirring rumbling from behind. You pivoted just in time to see the shuttle at least five meters above the ground and climbing fast. You charged toward the vessel, its entryway still open with Obi-Wan standing to the side as he peeked out at you, holding the frame for support.

Your feet grew heavier as the water that had leaked into your boots began to freeze. It felt as if the biting cold had calcified your limbs. You couldn’t tell if your vision was blurring due to the thickening blizzard, your persisting headache, or your dropping body temperature.

“Come on!” You looked up at Obi-Wan who had knelt by the door, the shuttle now 15 meters above you.

You continued your labored dash.

“You must jump.” He reached out a hand as you stopped some meters away from the liftoff point.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply as you concentrated on the Force, hoping to melt away the stiffness in your movements and bring back some feeling in your extremities. You had certainly jumped long distances before when training with Qui-Gon, but this would be pushing it.

After shaking out each limb, you glanced up to see that the shuttle had climbed another 5 meters.

Great.

“Jump!” Obi-Wan yelled, reaching his hand out further.

“I know!” You yelled, slightly annoyed.

“I’ll catch you!” He assured.

You huffed, centering yourself in a wide stance. Then, bending your knees and reaching out to the energy around you, you jumped.

Freezing wind blasted your face to the point of losing all feeling. The air pushed back on your body, especially weighing you down by your fur cloak.

Still, the Force kept your trajectory. Some snow flew in your face, but the real culprit was the wind whipping your hair directly into both eyes.

You may have connected to the Power of the Cosmos a little too deeply, because you overshot. Instead of neatly landing in the entryway like Anakin, you collided with Obi-Wan, straddling him on impact as he flew back. He took the brunt of the fall, cushioning your landing with his strong, shielding form. A loud thud echoed throughout the cabin you both met the shuttle floor.

You shook your head, reorienting jumbled senses as your eyes connected with his. Obi-Wan’s flooded with relief, sighing at your somewhat safe landing. It looked almost as if his furrowed brows were scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

You assume he did not find any concerning indications as his expression quickly morphed into a desperate attempt to manage the pain from that rough drop.

“I caught you.” Obi-Wan exhaled, his warm breath tickling your nose.

You couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped you, followed by a pained groan when you rolled off him and onto the cold, shaking, shuttle floor.

You kneaded the side of your ribs. It throbbed from a rough meeting with the hilt of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. The bearded Jedi emanated a similar vocalization as he sat up, massaging between his shoulder and neck where you’re pretty sure your leading hand slammed into him.

Ahsoka shot up, stumbling over to the ship’s door before pulling it closed and sealing it tightly with a twist of the handle.

She spun toward you. “Nice jump!”

“Not so nice for me,” Obi-Wan interjected.

You sent him a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

“Welcome aboard!” Anakin saluted from the pilot's seat.

You noticed the shallow cut on his cheek had frozen over while Ahsoka returned to her backseat.

“Now, get ready.” He directed. “This is gonna be fun.”

“If I wasn’t seeing stars.” Obi-Wan began. “I would have something to say to that.”

The two of you rose from the floor, having trouble keeping your stance as the shuttle continued to tremble. Obi-Wan stumbled to the co-pilot's seat while you joined Ahsoka, unceremoniously landing in the chair neighboring hers.

The hum of the draft against the hull intensified as you watched the storm worsen, with thicker snowfall and the inklings of hail bouncing off the viewport.

“Hold on!” Anakin exclaimed.

You found it wise to follow that advice.

He pulled down the throttle, pinning the four of you against your seats as the ship shot up. The shuttle creaked and groaned while the outside pressure appreciated. You grew dizzy from the intensifying quakes.

“How old is this ship, again?” You inquired.

“Don’t ask,” Anakin warned.

The vessel broke through a layer of clouds. You wouldn’t have realized had the other side not lightened the darkness you were previously doused in.

The engines began to whine, slowly modulating upwards. The beat of your heart intensified. It would be a miracle if this ship didn’t stall.

“Almost there…” Anakin gnashed.

“My brain‘s gonna turn into jelly,” Ahsoka commented with a woozy tone.

Your grip on the armrests tightened. “Tell me about it.”

You stared at the viewport, watching as the ship tumbled through flying snow and dangerous ice, surrounded by the blacks and grays of the sky. Then, in a mere second, you broke through some thin gloomy barrier, and were met with thousands of bright stars on an endless black canvas.

The shuttle instantly calmed, sailing smoothly and deeper into space. The four of you settled into an eery serenity as you stared out the viewport in awe, having long forgotten what space looked like from inside a starship.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You glanced at Obi-Wan who’d twisted in his seat to face you, an endearing smile gently resting on his countenance. He seemed to have noticed your child-like wonderment. But who could blame you? It was an extraordinary sight, and not something you’d seen very often.

The last time you left Hoth, you were bound for Ilum for The Gathering. But that was many years ago, and you hardly remember it being this bewitching.

Then again, there was a big difference between collecting your Kyber crystal and facing the destiny you’ve prepared your whole life for. That anticipatory element could’ve added to your excitement.

This time, you weren’t going on a short trip. You were leaving for a while. For forever. Disappearing without a trace. Being called by forces unknown who freed you to face a destiny set in stone from the beginning.

And maybe Qui-Gon was out there, somewhere. In the Galaxy or the Force, watching with a smile, as you received his message from a million miles away in the form of three lost Jedi.

Either way, your journey had just begun, and basking in the light of the galaxy felt like a good place to start.

“Yes.” You sighed contently. “It is.”

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