#howling gab

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine learning the Red Hair pirates are superstitious

Shanks: *Grasps your shoulders and leans down to make eye contact* We'll be back in a few days to check out the ruins, to see if it's safe. If it isn't, once it's cleared out, and we've set up camp we'll come back for you. In the meantime, you and the rest of the crew will prepare to restock the ship's stores.

You: *the only civilian member of the crew* Okay, safe journey *gives him a kiss on his forehead*

Shanks: (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) !

Benn: oi oi, what's going on here? How come he gets smooches?

Shanks: don't harass the poor thing, you aren't entitled to their kisses.

You: *chuckles* Do you want a peck on the forehead too Benn?

Benn: Yes please7

Yassop: *raises his hand* I would also like one please.

You: alright, if you would like a kiss goodbye line up and make sure your forehead doesn't taste like sweat.

The entire landing party of thirty dudes: *lines up and patiently waits for their turn*

Benn: hey hey! Shanks, get out of line, you already got one!

Shanks: Yeah, but two kisses would be even better!

Benn: *Once he gets his kiss he drags Shanks off the ship*

Two day later in the camp they've set up

You: *carrying a jug of fresh water into camp*

Lime Juice: There you are, been looking everywhere for you. We're going mushroom hunting.

You: okay

Lime Juice: *stares expectantly at you*

You: uh... happy hunting?

Lime Juice: *takes off his hat, presents his forehead to you and points at it*

Howling Gab: Oh I want one too! *Gets in line*

Lime Juice: It'll probably be the best part of my afternoon, because this trip is gonna blow.

You: *rolls your eyes and gives each of them a kiss goodbye*

Yassop: What are you talking about we're gonna have a great time.

Lime juice: and how's that?

Yassop: Because I'm a fungi!

Howling Gab: You have a fuck load of those loaded and waiting, don't you?

Yassop: *playful teasing* you'll just have to wait and see. Now that ya wimps done getting a kiss goodbye from yer mommy, are you ready to get a move on?

Howling Gab: Says the man that went to them about a nightmare not even two nights back.

Yassop: * hiss through his teeth* You said you wouldn't say anything!

Howling Gab: *shakes his head* you asked me not to say anything to the boys, you didn't specify our friend here. Do you really not want a kiss goodbye? You're gonna regret it.

Yassop: Fuck no, they snog the boss all the time, and who knows where his mouth has been.

You: I did watch him eat a bug earlier on a dare.

Lime Juice: *gags at the thought* alright that's enough of that, let's go, I need a distraction to forget I ever heard that. *Pushes them towards the treeline*

You: * yells after them* Hey wait, before you go have you seen the boss?

Yassop: He went to hunt for big game with Benn and Bonk Punch.

That evening

Howling Gab, Lime Juice, and Yassop: *return to camp with some time later*

Yassop: *being carried because he injured his leg*

You: *smack Hongou who is reading a book next to you and points*

Hongo: What happened!

You: I'll go get the medical bag.

Howling Gab: dumbass got too close to the edge of a sinkhole and fell in.

Monster: *runs over to Hongo crying in panic, and trying to pull him towards the treeline*

Hongo: Sorry bud I can't, I'm busy.

Bonk Punch: *limps out of the forest carrying the bloodied unconscious bodies of Shanks and Benn*

Hongo: Put them over here!

Bonk Punch: These two go lured off a cliff by a kitsune, and I barely got away when it attacked me.

Hongo: un-fucking-believeable.

Lime Juice: Look out! We got company! *Points his weapon at the tree line.*

Kitsune: *bursts through the undergrowth and snarls at all of you*

You: I got the bag!... what the fuck is that thing?

Kitsune: *starting to realize it fucked up*

Howling Gab: Begone thot! *Throws a coconut from a basket and whips it at the canine's head*

Lime Juice: *roars and chases it away and swinging his sword*

Yassop: how the hell did you three lose to that thing?

Bonk Punch: it got the jump on us, what happened to you?

Yassop: fell into a sinkhole, I'll be fine once (y/n) kisses it better.

Hongo: well there'll be no kissing for you, (y/n) is busy helping me stitch these two up.... And we were doing so good, since we laid anchor not a single one of you has been hurt. I was so proud of us because that was something we've never done before.

Yassop: ...you're right, one of us always gets hurt.... And the only people who left camp today that didn't get hurt were Lime and Howl....

Howling Gab: I told you would regret not getting a kiss from em before we left, but no you didn't listen.

You: it's okay, I have time for two kisses *gives a forehead kiss to both Bonk Punch and Yassop before running off to go help Hongo*

Bonk Punch and Yassop: *no longer in pain, and are officially freaked out*

Yassop: The fuck sort of magic is this? *Walks around testing his leg for pain*

The crew: *connect the dots to what's happening and to you *

You: Can all of you stop staring? They both probably got muscle cramps from dehydration that went away because they drank something and got to sit down for a while.

The Crew: *not going to risk it*

Coming Soon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #benn beckman #yassop #hongo #hongou one piece #lime juice one piece #howling gab #bonk punch #monster #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/24/23 #no beta we die like men

[dilf-pirates-ask]

What are each of your guys hobbies that don't involve parties? Also has monster every got a hold of alcohol and went a bit crazy?

#dilf pirates ask #one piece ask blog #one piece #red hair pirates #one piece ask #benn beckman #chaser yasopp #yasopp #red hair shanks #limejuice #lucky roux #lucky roo #op monster #bonk punch #building snake #howling gab #op banchina #op rockstar #op hongo #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks

[mikisspeak]

Would they fuck?

Red haired pirates ver.

Shanks: Definitely. Most of ‘em are one night stand because the emperor of the seas would probably don’t have time for a formal relationship, but believe me that whoever who has fucked with him doesn’t regrets it at all.

Benn Beckman: By the information i got about him, yeah. He fucks each time they dock on an island. Also, he has almost 50yo, he has the experience of gods. Same as Shanks, you would’ve no regrets in fucking with him.

Yasopp: I have two possibilities since i don’t really know if Yassop knows his wife is up there. So: If he knows he would rarely fuck, i feel this man hasn’t gotten over Banchina’s death if he knows so it’s a so-so. Doesn’t has the gods experience like the latter two old men but he has quite the abilities.

If he doesn’t knows then the answer is obvious. No. He might be an idiot, a bad father, a coward and probably a liar just as Usopp, but he’s loyal.

Lucky Roux: Canonically he doesn’t gets bitches. For real, HE’S AN ADORABLE FAT MAN. Half One Piece women gotta be blind not to like him. But no, he doesn’t fucks 😔

Hongo: He’s afraid of dirt and probably has several OCD, he ain’t fucking neither touching you.

LimeJuice: He seems to barely like others presence. Try something with him and you’ll probably end up in the deepest of the ocean either you have a devil fruit or not. In resume: No, he wouldn’t and will not.

Howling Gab: He’s insecure 😞 I don’t think he would fuck mainly for the fact he’s scared to hurt the other person. HE’S A SWEET YOU CAN’T BE LIKE THAT.

Building Snake: He seems like a calm granny who just likes weather and cartography. No, he would not.

Rockstar: No bitches for him and i don’t blame them.

#one piece #op #op x reader #shanks #red hair pirates #lucky roux #yasopp #lime juice #hongo #building snake #rockstar #benn beckman #howling gab

[allbluedepths]

Okay, hopefully this posts correctly this time! Headcanons about the Red Hair Pirates’ crew roles and duties below because I think about these guys way too much. (+ would love to hear anyone else’s headcanons for this!)

Shanks: captain; canon. Can't add much more here!

Benn: first mate; canon. Handles oversight with just about everything on board, from making sure things run smoothly day to day, managing their funds and budget, and information oversight from their associated crews and islands once they gain them. If it isn't specifically assigned to someone else (and possibly, even if it is), it falls under this position.

Yasopp: sniper; canon. In charge of all watch duties both at sea and on land. Responsible for crew members focused on long-range combat and training crew members in those skills. Assists Gab with overseeing long-range artillery.

Lucky: cook; canon. In charge of all meals, galley staff, and keeping track of food stores. Also assists with keeping track of alcohol stores.

Hongo: doctor; canon. In charge of all medical necessities aboard, both emergency and nonemergency. Responsible for medicine stocks and any compounding as necessary. Assists with sail repairs when needed and available (suturing skills come in handy).

Limejuice: helmsman; non-canon. Steers ship and works in conjunction with Building Snake to traverse plotted courses. Considered adjacent to Yasopp and his watch duty by nature of always having an eye out anyways while steering.

Bonk Punch: musician; canon. Keeps morale up with his music alongside Monster. Main instrument is a fiddle (non-canon), though is skilled with string instruments of all sizes (cellos sadly aren't easily maneuverable aboard). Jack of all trades assisting other senior officers as necessary.

Monster: musician; canon. See above for musician's duties; main instrument is a concertina (similar to a small accordion; non-canon). Also assists around the ship.

Building Snake: navigator; canon. Plans all navigation routes requested by the captain and first mate, advises against any known nautical hazards, and works with Limejuice to properly maneuver the ship.

Gab: Shipwright/carpenter; non-canon. Responsible for overall ship maintenance and repairs; is heavily involved in choosing any new ship for the crew. For combat, handles all non-gun, long-range artillery, including maintenance, firing crews for combat, and artillery stock; done in conjunction with Yasopp.

#one piece #red hair pirates #red haired pirates #red haired shanks #benn beckman #yasopp #lucky roux #hongo #building snake #howling gab #limejuice #wings of the emperor au #akagami no shanks

[r0ttkins]

I already got tagged in the game but thank you sm for tagging me again 🥺 I love your blog sm ❤️

I was wondering what the 'yes daddy' one was about? Thanks in advance ☺️

oh I posted it already in other answer! but I've had this on one of the layers as well

#one piece #one piece meme #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #benn beckman #lucky roux #lucky roo #yasopp #chaser yasopp #op limejuice #op hongo #bonk punch #howling gab #building snake #op rockstar #op monster #red hair pirates #one piece film red

[miraiimoon]

Bar “Red Force”

Shanks (владелец бара)

Любит выпить и скинуть все обязанности на Бена. Бар ― это его второй дом. Неудивительно, что практически живёт здесь. В прямом смысле слова, в его кабинете есть дверь, за которой находится спальня, а в спальне есть дверь за которой находится ванная комната. Чем не жизнь?

Benn Beckman (заместитель владельца)

Скорее всего самый трезвый из этой пьяной тусовки «офицеров» Рэд Форса. Часто в работе и всё благодаря его «любимому» другу Шанксу, который предпочитает пить, а не выполнять свои обязанности. Не удивлюсь, если у него есть дневник ненависти Шанкса.

Yasopp (отвечает за развлечения в баре)

Либо пьёт, а потом танцует, либо танцует, а потом пьёт. После получает «по шапке» от Бена и идёт с грустным лицом выполнять свои обязанности. Хотя поиски артистов для выступлений в баре, работа куда интереснее, чем бумажная волокита зама.

Lucky Roo (Roux) (шеф)

Занимается изменениями меню бара, ведь в Рэд Форс подают не только алкоголь (Шанкс любит поесть после удачной вечеринки). Каждое новшество сначала дегустирует команда, а уже потом принимают совместное решение. Скажем так, в основном это делает Бенн. Шанкс ест всё.

Hongo (местный доктор)

По мнению владельца бара, доктор обязательно должен быть. Ведь приходят всякие конкуренты-хейтеры и устраивают порчу нервов, здоровья и имущества. А потом их надо лечить, чтобы не отошли. Вот наш врач этим и занимается.

Limejuice (никто не знает, что он делает. Одна из тайн бара Рэд Форс)

А это у нас местная фотомодель. Кажется, что женщины приходят в бар ради того, чтобы поглазеть на Лаймджуса. И позавидовать его шикарным волосам. Что он с ними делает, это тайна даже для остальных (речь о волосах).

Building Snake (отвечает за сохранность здания)

С нервным тиком (напару с Беном) считает убытки, которые принесли конкуренты-хейтеры во время драк. А потом уходит напиваться. В чём Шанкс, естественно, не бросает его одного.

Bonk Punch (следит за порядком/безопасностью)

Один из тех, кто останавливает драки в баре и следит за подозрительными личностями (не без помощи Монстра, конечно). Пятьдесят процентов вины за поломанное имущество, его.

“Howling” Gab (следит за порядком/безопасностью)

Второй следящий за безопасностью и порядком. Старается улаживать конфликты максимально спокойно, насколько это возможно. Но в итоге это становится невозможно. Вторые пятьдесят процентов вины за поломки. Ненавидит вечеринки в честь Хэллоуина.

#one piece #one piece shanks #red hair pirates #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #yasopp #lucky roux #lucky roo #hongo #lime juice #building snake #bonk punch #howling gab #headcanon #one piece x you

[reddilfs]

Feeling fickle. Send me some RPH. I’ll see what I can do

#red haired pirates #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #lucky roux #yasopp #one piece hongo #one piece limejuice #building snake #bonk punch #howling gab #one piece #delete later #you can send monster and rockstar or even those no name characters if you feel like it #just send rhp

[saiyef]

Shanks and the Red Hair Pirates in One Piece Chapter 1054

#one piece #shanks #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #monkey d. luffy #red hair pirates #benn beckman #lucky roux #yasopp #limejuice #bonk punch #hongo #howling gab #mangacap #mangacaps #manga #op 1054 #one piece 1054 #one piece chapter 1054 #op chapter 1054

[yamat0]

Another deadbeat dad?

#one piece #posts #howling gab #red hair pirates

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine the red hair pirates reminiscing about your childhoods

You: Wait so if your family lived in a one-room house

Howling Gab: Calling it a house is generous, but yes

You: And you have two younger siblings who are 10 and 14 years younger than you, the that means....

Benn: That means you've seen your parents doing the deed.

Shanks: Making the beast with two backs

Yassop: Boinking

Lucky Roux: Doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch

You: Putting the bun in the oven

Hongou: Literally present for the conception of your siblings

Howling Gab: *rolls his eyes* Yes, I saw my parents fucking, and no it's not weird. What's weird is you haven't seen your parents fucking.

Shanks: *slaps his knee and laughs* Maybe so, but I'm all the happier for it.

You: Yeah, I'm glad I can't say I know what my dad's balls look like.

Benn: I wish I could.

The crew: *concerned silence*

Benn: *reads the room* OH! No, no, no, not like that. It wasn't anything bad.

You: Then what was it?

Lime Juice: Do ya wanna talk about it, buddy?

Benn: I told you it wasn't like that! I wasn't diddled as a child... He was taking us swimming, and I was clinging to his leg because I thought it'd make him hurry. When I made the mistake of looking up while he was wearing swim trunks. And BOOM, I got a front row seat looking directly at his taint and ball sack.

You: *covers your mouth to contain your laughter* oh gods.

Benn: they were pale and veiny. And they hung so low *shudders* I don't wanna even think about it.

Hongo: You are all so dramatic, like your balls aren't as perky as they were twenty years ago.

Benn: They've definitely migrated a ways south. And my dick kind of just always leaking.

Shanks: Yeah what's up with that? Nobody told me about this, and the fake I'd piss myself so much. That's something I miss about my childhood, my undies were always dry.

You: I miss that my back didn't hurt

Yassop: or my fucking knees, the damn things click so often you could mistake me for a reindeer. (their tendons click)

Lucky Roux: Yes! It's the fucking worst.

Author's note: the swimming pool incident is based on a true story. And unfortunately it's a memory that won't fade no matter how much I wish it would.🙃

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #shanks #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #red hair pirates #yassop #lime juice #lucky roux #hongo #Howling Gab #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #10/11/23 #no beta we die like men

[dilf-pirates-ask]

How many barrels of beer and money will it take me to convince Shanks to change the name of the crew for like 3 weeks or a month to "The deadbeat dad pirates" ?

Also,love how you draw all of them especially Lucky roo. He is my favorite,give the man a hug! ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)✨

Huggin the best cook on earth!

#dilf pirates ask #one piece ask blog #one piece #red hair pirates #one piece ask #benn beckman #chaser yasopp #yasopp #red hair shanks #limejuice #op hongo #op limejuice #red haired shanks #howling gab #building snake #bonk punch #op monster #op rockstar #lucky roo #lucky roux

[altschmerzes]

I've had aro Howl on my mind all day now, what an amazing concept. The more I think about it the more sense it makes

MY ACTIVATION SWITCH.

okay. i'm so sorry for this anon you didn't ask for this but here's some Thoughts on the matter that i can't escape no matter what, i think about it every time i watch the film which is a lot (pls don't come for me about not having read the book yet, it is on my list, i understand people have some Extremely Intense Feelings on the subject but that's my frame of ref and i like the movie quite a lot)

anyways i think about this literally every time i watch the movie. they've got the classic ghibli like, 'this relationship could be anything' going on, except i guess for the kiss at the end credits, but for the most part it's very yknow, up for interpretation, could be anything, etc kind of thing. which is always a vibe. and howl's relationships that we see him with, he does HAVE them! he's got people in his life who have a good opinion of him, or at least don't seem to like....... resent him. like. i don't know how to put this but he's Good with them, good To them.

and the way they all talk about howl before we meet him - he steals girls' hearts, he Eats girls hearts, the witch of the waste is obsessed with him because he didn't return her feelings. it is SO similar to how arophobia can manifest. the way everyone talks about him being Dangerous or Evil or Whatever is all just based around........ relationships. and not approaching them the way people think he ought to.

and then there's the heartless thing. literally the man does not Have A Heart. there's so much there in the way aros have been demonized and called heartless so often and i think there's so much rich and thrilling potential in an aro reading of howl's moving castle and howl in particular because of that. like. the thought that he doesn't really....... change. so to speak. after his heart is returned. it unbinds the curse and brings howl back after all his transformations and the war brought him to the brink of death but like. the heartlessness doesn't seem to have impacted his behaviour and his relationships. and i'm like. obsessed with that. the whole thing obsesses me.

so you've got this character who's known as a Dangerous Wizard because he...... steals and 'eats' hearts. who's being chased and cursed by someone whose feelings he didn't return. who literally. literally does not have a heart. the ambiguity of his relationship with sophie (ghibli classic). the other relationships in his life being sort of off the beaten path but ones he's never the less obviously dedicated to. i could legitimately do a deep dive essay on this one.

#gav gab #aro blogging #howl's moving castle

[chrollohearttags]

now why can I not stop thinking about erwin being a masseuse or just giving his lady a nice back rub with baby oil, candles..the works right? (😫 nsfw under the cut)

and we all know this man has the gift of gab so he’s constantly praising/worshipping your body, telling you how gorgeous you look slicked down in that oil. Spending a bit more time than he would like to admit covering those thick thighs and ass. He’s taking his time, gently kneading his fingers into your flesh and nibbling on your ear with kitten licks as he tells you all the things you need to hear. “My love..you feel so soft.” “Relax for me, sweetheart. I’ll take all of that tension right out of your body.” Which he does so by finger fucking you slowly once he reaches your bottom half. Frame laid out on display for his viewing..and touching pleasure. Delectable brown skin glazed in that silky liquid, legs slightly parted and bent at the knee and those dark hued nipples standing erect. As you whimper and moan, attempting to muffle those high pitched sounds, he’d merely chuckle and encourage you to release them. Knowing that his knuckles were crammed inside of that tight cunt; pumping and pressing on your rather sensitive bundle of nerves.. Erwin was a pro. Skilled at all he set forth to do but tonight, he was extra attentive. Placing extra care to ensure that this was an experience his beloved would never forget. Soon, you’d find yourself clawing vigorously at his forearm as he worked to bring you to an abrupt orgasm. Profusely chewing your lip to remain quiet but he assured you they were nothing more than motivation. “Ahh yes, my love. Tell me how good that feels for you. I love when you make those sounds for me.” That pretty pussy squelching and clasping all over his digits. Slathering them in your sheath of cream when they disappeared to the hilt; using both to bring your climax nearer and only intensifying it by giving your swollen clit a massage of its own as well. He can hear you sucking your teeth, whimpering and even shaking as he holds your body in place. He can feel how close you are..hell, it was quite possible he knew your body better than his own sometimes but he could easily feel all of your pressure points; what made you crack and what would inevitably make you come.

when you yelled out his name one last time; practically howling to the ceiling..Erwin made rapid pumps, working and coaxing out as much as he muster and when you couldn’t hold back much longer, he’d merely place a gentle peck to your temple and utter the words: “..come. Let it got for me.” And suddenly, you cave. Fold even for this man who had never disappointed you in any aspect, especially in the bedroom. It’s only when you drench his nearly dry towel that was set aside to wipe away any excess..but mopping up your sweet mess would do just fine! “You were wonderful. I hope you enjoyed yourself, my dear.” Knowing you’ll doing this over again, las long as he were the one taking care of you.

#cherry’s fics 🍒 #cherry chats 🍒 #aot x black reader #erwin x black reader #erwin smith x black reader #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith #erwin smut #n/sfw text #n/s/f/w #implied n/sfw #snk erwin #shingeki no kyoujin erwin #commander erwin #aot erwin #attack on titan erwin #I’m so down bad for this man right now #black fem reader #black reader #black reader smut #erwin smith aot #aot modern au #pleasure dom #he would be so—hnghh!! I need him bad! #black fanfiction #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #I’m like half asleep writing this so ignore any mistakes! #x black reader #black reader insert

[she-is-juniper]

Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader slow burn series (chapter three)

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x f!Reader Type: series (chapter 3 / ?) ~ chapter one ~ chapter two ~ Warnings: so much fluff, a considerable amount of angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn, implied childhood/family trauma (vague), some cursing Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work…and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are? Word Count (by chapter): 7K Rating (by chapter): M (mature) A/N: This chapter was so special for me to write. It's fluffy and angsty but I hope it makes you feel nostalgic and hopeful the way it felt for me when I wrote it. There are some brief allusions to implied childhood/family trauma, but I left it vague. Also, before y’all chew me out for writing this as a reader insert and not as an OC… I know, I know!! But I made the details ambiguous enough that most readers could suspend their imaginations enough to fill in the blanks for your own preferences. So I suppose you could read this as an OC or as a reader insert—either way, I sincerely hope you enjoy it!! I don’t claim that this is historically accurate or factual but simply inspired by the historical context! The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956. Please note that I do not claim that this is historically accurate or factual but simply inspired by the historical context. Please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance! ♡, Juni

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

The first thing I had done after I had gotten home from Beale Street was cry over Elvis Presley.

I went to my bedroom, closed the door, threw my bag and clothes on the floor, curled up in a ball on my bed, and cried. Maybe I was just being too sensitive. Or maybe it was the early morning hour that sparked my sudden despair. But I cried until my eyes ran dry of tears and I was simply too exhausted to keep them open any longer.

That night, in my dreams, I was a child again.

I was climbing a tree, the rickety oak tree in the small backyard of my childhood home. As I climbed, the sky above me became dark and angry. It began to rain, and the wind began to howl, and I knew I needed to climb down to return inside. But as I looked down from my perch on the tree, I realized I had climbed much further than I thought, and there was no way back down.

Someone was calling my name. It was Elvis’s voice. He was inside my parents’ house, peering out the window, shouting my name over and over again…

“Y/N…Y/N!”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Y/N! Wake up!”

Reality crashed back as I stirred from my slumber. My roommate, Margaret, was standing over me and tapping my shoulder.

“Someone’s on the line for you,” she was saying.

“Huh?”

“Phone call, for you. She’s already rung three times.”

I heaved myself upright and gripped my throbbing temple. “Who?”

“Someone from your restaurant, I think?” Margaret was already dressed for work herself, in her starched white nurse’s dress. “Were you supposed to go in for work this morning?”

“No, my shift starts at twelve.” Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand; it was only 10:45.

“Well, whoever it is, she’s gabbing so much I can scarcely understand her. She's still on the line, I left the phone off the hook for you.” Margaret gathered herself and headed out the door, but not before glancing at the pile of last night’s clothes I’d thrown on the floor. “...Ginny and I were wondering where you went last night?”

I searched for an oversized sweater in my dresser and threw it over my torso. “Beale Street,” I mumbled.

Margaret feigned a look of disapproval, but I could see the glint of intrigue in her eyes. “Were you being safe?”

“I was there with someone, don’t worry.”

"Someone?" She led the way into the living room, grabbing her purse and nurse’s cap. “A man?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

I waved goodbye to Margaret as she departed the apartment for work, and I went to pick up the telephone handset she’d left off the hook on the counter. “Hello, this is Y/N—”

“Y/N! Oh my god, you finally picked up.” It was Lila Mae, undoubtedly, my coworker at the diner. And sure enough, she was talking a mile a minute. “I’ve been callin’ you all morning! Have you heard? Do you know what’s happenin’ here right now? You gotta get to the diner right now! I can’t believe—”

“Slow down, Lila Mae— slow down. What’s going on?” I interrupted her.

“Elvis Presley is what’s going on! Why for the love of all that is holy did you never tell me that you knew him?! Oh my god. Oh my lord. I feel faint—”

“What do you mean?” Elvis…Is he…?

“He’s here! Outside the diner! He’s been waitin’ for you here all morning!”

“Elvis is at the diner again?”

Lila Mae gasped. “'Again'? You mean to tell me he’s been here before? Why didn’t I know?! Oh my god. Elvis Presley’s here—”

“Lila Mae— Lila Mae. What do you mean, he’s been waiting for me?”

“He came in ‘round 10 o’clock. I just about fainted at the sight, he’s such a dreamboat—he’s even more dreamy in person. And he was describin’ you, askin’ when you’d be here. I didn’t know what to do, it’s like my tongue stopped workin’, it was real humiliating. But I finally told him you was comin’ in for your shift ‘round noon, and I offered him a table to sit at, but he just said thank you and went back outside to his car. And he’s been there ever since. I reckon he’s waitin’ for you to show up! Did ya know he drives a yellow Cadillac convertible, with red upholstery? He—”

“Okay— okay— I’m on my way,” I said before hanging up. I was still worn slap out from my restless night, and I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I mentally cursed Elvis for showing up to my place of employment—again. Why couldn’t he just spare me the misery, go on with his life, and let me go on with mine? It was clear that I didn’t belong in his life anymore, and he didn’t belong in mine—regardless of our past.

I quickly got dressed in a pair of trousers, a casual summer blouse, and a chiffon scarf I tied around my neck, and I grabbed my wrinkled waitressing uniform too, since I was due to work at noon. I usually took a bus to work, and today, of all days, it was running late. By the time I arrived at the diner, it was nearly 11:30.

There was a commotion of cars and people by the entrance. A haphazard crowd was formed around the same shiny Cadillac I’d seen park along Beale Street last night—Elvis’s car. As I approached, I saw girls and boys alike clutching albums and other merchandise, eagerly waiting their turn.

And there he was, sitting in the driver’s seat of his convertible surrounded by the crowd of fans. He looked impeccable and unmistakable, wearing a white button-down with the sleeves carefully cuffed, his hair meticulously slicked back as usual. He was smiling graciously to a doting fan, who was all but tossing her skirts onto him.

No—actually tossing her skirts into his car.

“You want me to sign your...petticoat?” he was asking.

“Yes, please, Mr. Presley,” the girl gushed, shoving a pen at him. He chuckled and took off the cap.

“Well, as long as they don’t get angry at you none for havin’ me ruin your pretty skirt,” he said, signing the fabric.

“Elvis,” I called out to him over the small crowd as I approached.

He glanced up. And he smiled like he was a kid and I was his Christmas morning present. Pure unbridled joy. It was ten times more intense than the way he'd looked at me last night when he saw me on Beale Street.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up,” he called back. 

I held my hand up to block the sun as I frowned at him. Seeing him again after last night's escapade brought a rush of feelings, a strange mixture of thrill and anxiety.  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Well, I came to find you,” he said simply, and then he addressed his flock of fans. “Excuse me, will y’all let the pretty lady through?”

The crowd eyed me as they parted to let me through to his vehicle. I didn’t move, though, just stared at him from across the parking lot.

“Hop on in,” he invited me, patting his passenger seat.

“...Why?”

“Figured we’d go for a ride, y’know, talk.”

I glanced furtively at the whispering crowd, feeling warm at the cheeks. But I crossed through them to stand beside his car and spoke lowly. “Elvis, you shouldn’t have come here.”

“Well, I had to,” he replied, matching my lowered speaking volume, and the corner of his lips turned up. “You didn’t leave me with no name, no phone number, no address. But I remembered you worked here, so… I came to see you.”

Something about his casual tone of voice was…off. It was strange. Like he was putting on a guise of some sort. But I couldn’t pinpoint it.

“You shouldn’t have,” I said curtly. “You should go home.”

He leaned over to pop the passenger door open, indicating for me to sit. “Not until we talk,” he said.

“I have to go to work,” I retorted.

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can skip just for today, can't you?”

I glared. “This is my job. I can’t just play hooky like some schoolgirl. I have to pay rent.” Not all of us are blessed with heaps of money.

“I’m sure your friend in there wouldn’t mind covering for you for the day,” he mused. “Why don’t you go and ask her? Tell her I’ll sign any merchandise she wants when we get back.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of my racing thoughts. He smiled at me.

“Please,” he added, and his smile faltered just a bit, revealing the earnestness in his blue eyes. He dropped his voice even lower, ensuring that none of the onlookers would be able to hear. “After how we left things last night…I’d just really, really love to talk, is all.” He eyed his slew of fans. “Alone, ideally.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Could I really blame him for wanting to talk after what happened last night? I had left so abruptly from the club with seemingly no explanation. I could only imagine what he was feeling.

Growing up, Elvis was always inquisitive, sensitive, considerate. He’d always hated conflict, always wanted to make sure he listened to and understood others, always quick to apologize. So after yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he had done something awfully wrong to offend me. Which, even though he didn’t recognize me, his childhood best friend, despite everything… He really hadn’t done anything wrong last night. 

I owed him the opportunity to get closure.

“Let me go talk to Lila Mae,” I said.

He smiled in relief.

Inside the diner, Lila Mae was a hurricane of excitement. “Y/N,” she gasped as she saw me. She ran up to me with huge eyes and gripped my arms. “Spill everything, now. How do you know Elvis Presley? Did he ask for your number? What's he doing here?”

“He—he wants to take me on a drive,” I said.

“When?!”

“Uh…Today. Right now.”

She digs her fingernails into my arms even harder. “Oh my god. You don’t know how lucky you are. What’s he smell like?”

“Lila Mae—will you cover my shift for me today?” I pleaded. “He said he’ll sign any of your merch. And I’ll owe you the next time you want off.”

She nodded so quickly I thought her head might fall off her neck. “Go on your date, girl!! And then I wanna know everything, you hear me?”

I thanked her profusely and ran back outside to hop in Elvis’s passenger seat. He grinned and waved goodbye to the fans before he backed his Cadillac out of the parking spot. He braced his hand on the back of my seat to look behind him, and his close proximity to my skin was intoxicating. 

We didn’t say anything at first as he drove. The warm July air washed over my skin and through my hair. I untied the chiffon scarf around my neck and wrapped it over my hair to protect it from the wind as he drove. I noticed him glancing over at me, but every time I glanced back, he was conveniently looking straight ahead at the road. The way he looked, with his right hand gripping the top of the steering wheel and his left resting casually against the car window frame, brought an ache to my chest.

When he got on the 51, though, and started driving south, I finally spoke up. “So where is it you taking me, exactly?”

His white teeth glimmered with sunshine. “I’m gonna show you a place.”

“ ‘A place?’ ”

“You’ll see.” 

We were quiet again, but it was a comfortable silence. Although…he was humming something, I realized. I could just barely hear it over the sound of the wind and the road. The tune, from what I could make out of it, was somewhat familiar. I wanted to ask him what. But I didn’t say anything. 

The sprawl of urban infrastructure became more and more sparse, gradually becoming replaced with pastoral fields and forests. Finally, he turned off the highway into a narrow road, driving all the way up a circular driveway that surrounded a knoll of grass and trees. 

I gaped up at the building we’d stopped next to. It was a massive mansion, and it was absolutely gorgeous. A series of white, southern colonial-style pillars towered at its front like sentinels, beckoning the eye up the stairs and to the grand front door. Two stories tall and with more shuttered windows than I could immediately count, the mansion was a formidably elegant sight.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“Ain’t it?” Elvis affirmed. “It’s called Graceland.” He looked back and forth between me and the mansion, grinning. “I’m gonna purchase it one day.”

“The mansion?” I gaped.

“The whole estate. I came across it a few months ago on the way to a show in Jackson. It’s not up for sale yet or nothin’. But the minute it is…I’m gonna buy it, for my mama and daddy.” 

He put his convertible in park, then, and opened the door to step out. I gawked as he stepped up the steps leading up to the front door as if he already owned the place. “Elvis, what are you doing? Isn’t this private property—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, laughing. “It’s vacant.”

I noticed, then, the lack of vehicles or other evidence of inhabitants surrounding the building, and decided to join him. The massive front door was bookended by two tall windows decorated with wrought iron. He put his hands up to the glass to peer through one of them, and I peered in next to him. There was a beautiful staircase right by the front foyer, and two beautiful archways leading to rooms to the left and right. It was empty, devoid of furniture, but full of potential.

“Folks are starting to recognize me coming in and out of my parents’ house east of town,” he elaborated, “but I’m worried they’re all gonna start harassing the neighbors. I’m thinking we’re gonna need to move again soon. So I’m keeping my eye out for this place.”

I recalled the Presleys’ tiny shotgun house from the days of our youth. To think they’d one day be living in a grand estate such as this was surreal. But, then again, so was the notion that I would run into Elvis again after all these years, in the diner where I worked of all places

“I got a good feelin’ about it,” he went on. “It’s kinda silly, but…it calls to me, this place. It’s the name, I think. Graceland. Like you can feel the grace of God here, in the walls, in the fields around it.”

I hadn’t heard him say anything overtly spiritual before, but I was reminded of the way he’d tilted his head to the sky in prayer just before his performance at the benefit concert.

“It’s not silly at all,” I reassured him. I understood completely what he meant; there was a reverent sort of quality here, something that felt powerful and bigger than life. I touched the wooden window frame. "I feel it, too."

He held my gaze for a long while, and my heart fluttered so loudly I swore he’d be able to hear it over the rustle of the trees in the wind, like the whir of a hummingbird’s wings. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. I wondered if he felt the same about me.

“Elvis,” I said quietly.

His lips parted ever so slightly, but he said nothing. Just waited.

“I’m sorry I left so quickly last night,” I went on. “I know it wasn’t fair to you. But it’s nothing you did. It’s just—”

He grabbed my arm, effectively ending my apology mid-sentence. “You don’t have nothin’ to apologize for,” he said earnestly. “I understand completely why you left.”

You don’t, I thought. “Please, let me explain—”

 “No hard feelings. Besides, I’m the one who should apologize.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well… I could’ve done some things better.”

I frowned. But he didn’t elaborate. His hand, still on my arm, slid down to my hand, which he held lightly in his own. I felt corny for having the thought that his eyes were the same color as the sky today.

“How come you showed me here, Elvis?” I asked quietly.

He bit his bottom lip as if he were trying not to smile. “Just a pit stop along the way. We’re not quite at our final stop yet. We gotta keep driving a bit.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “We’re going somewhere else?”

“Trust me, darlin’.”

He squeezed my hand and led me back down the steps to his car. He came around to open my door for me before getting in the driver’s seat and departing from the mansion estate. And then it was quiet between us again on the road. 

I usually wouldn’t have minded the lack of conversation—or a good old-fashioned surprise—but my mind was spinning, and I needed answers. I wanted to know why he’d come back, what he’d been meaning to talk about, why he’d decided to come find me again. I wasn't in the mood for this sort of anticipation today.

“Elvis, I don’t understand why you’re taking me halfway to Mississippi just to talk.”

Just as I’d said it, we drove past a sign signaling that the Mississippi state border was a mile ahead. I made a strained noise and gestured to the sign to emphasize my point; he just chuckled, unbothered.

“You’ll see,” he said simply.

As curious as I was to see where we were going, my annoyance flared. “So, what, you couldn’t just spit it out back there at the mansion?"

He said nothing, just smiled to himself as he watched the road.

"Elvis," I prompted again. "We really have to drive out to the boonies to have a simple conversation?”

“Do ya want me to turn around, woman?” he asked, amusedly.

I huffed in irritation. “It depends on how much further we’re going.”

He didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s just a few more miles. I promise.” He saw the way I was glaring at him and added, “Do you need to get back to town for something?”

“No,” I griped.

“Then it sounds like you’re all mine today,” he said definitively.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. He snickered at me.

“Y’know, you’re real cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” I said.

“You are.”

I worked hard to force myself to ignore his attempt at flirting. “I just thought when you said you’d take me on a drive to talk, that we’d actually, y’know, talk.”

“We are talking,” he replied. 

“About last night,” I said petulantly. “About… us.”

“We will talk about that—in ‘bout seven miles or so,” he said.

Seven? “Why not right now?” I pushed. “Can’t you tell me why you came all the way back to the diner to see me?”

“I will,” he laughed. “Besides, ain’t it obvious why I came to see you?”

I gawked. “No! I thought you just wanted closure!” I exclaimed.

Elvis raised his dark brows. “Closure?”

“About why I left last night.”

“I told you, you don’t have to explain anything,” he said. “And I don’t need no closure with you.”

"We weren't meant to see each other again," I groaned.

"What? Why?"

"Because this isn't going to work," I said and gestured between us. "You should have just let me go."

"Well, that's not what you said when you left," Elvis replied calmly. "You just said you had to go." His smile grew. "Did you really never want to see me again?"

I bit back my initial response and considered. "No," I finally admitted.

"That's what I thought," he said smugly.

As we passed the state border into Mississippi, I simmered. Something just wasn’t adding up. Why was he being so easygoing, nonchalant about everything? Moreover, I was beginning to become very nervous about what was happening—and my nerves were further fodder for my irrational anger.

“Don’t you understand how unfair this is?” I snapped. “You come into my life out of the blue not twenty four hours ago, and you uproot me from my work, and now you’re expecting me to just let you take me into the middle of nowhere like some murderer?”

He somehow seemed even more amused. “You think I’m driving you out here to kill you, dear, is that what it is?”

“No,” I huffed.

“You really have such little trust in me?” he laughed.

“I barely know you,” I retorted. Which was, of course, half true. I knew who he used to be. But for all intents and purposes, we were virtually strangers.

He gave me a level look that was indecipherable. 

“I’ll turn around right now,” he offered.

I was silent.

“I mean it,” he said, braking the car ever so slightly. “You say the word, and I’ll take you back. No questions asked.”

My heart pounded. He kept braking, kept staring. Cars passed us in the left lane.

“What’ll it be?” he pressed.

I said nothing. He braked until we were at a snail's pace and he put his blinker on, preparing to make a U-turn and head back north.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered at last.

He smiled triumphantly and accelerated again.

Over time, my temper faded, leaving only a steady anticipatory anxiety. But I had to admit, the drive was beautiful. The summer sky was as endless as the the dense woods that bordered either side of the road. Despite the heat, the air that rushed over us in the convertible felt almost cool on my skin. I tried to focus on that sensation instead of the feeling of trepidation about where he might be taking me. 

A few moments later, though, Elvis seemed to decide he was through with the silent treatment. “Tell me ‘bout what you’re studying at the women’s college,” he said.

I told him. My response set him off with a dozen new questions about myself, my life in Memphis, my summer job, my roommates, my aspirations. I answered them honestly. It felt a bit bizarre to resort to small talk after our prior conversation, but I figured if he didn’t want to talk about the important stuff, then I’d humor him for the rest of the drive. Besides, it beat driving in silence—and it admittedly felt good knowing how much he cared to know about me. He was attentive and engaging, and perfectly polite. My heart began to soften from the intensity of my earlier emotions.

After he seemed satisfied at the answer to his question about my favorite film, I asked him a question of my own. “What happened after the concert last night?” 

Elvis tilted his head. “What d’ya mean?”

“I just meant, you seemed a bit...upset, about the performance when I saw you later at Club Handy. Did something go wrong?”

“Oh,” he frowned. “I…wasn’t supposed to, y'know, move around like that on stage again. Y’know, with the New Elvis and all. The Colonel just about flipped his lid when he saw me after.” 

“So you broke the rules?” I realized.

He nodded, unsmiling. 

“Well, so what?” I remarked. “You can’t make everyone happy. You gotta stay true to yourself, and all, right?”

“It ain’t that easy,” he sighed, tightening his grip on the wheel. “Colonel told me there’s gonna be consequences. Some people seemed real mad about the performance.”

“What about all the people who loved it?” I pointed out. “I saw your fans out there, Elvis. Those are the ones that matter the most, aren’t they?”

Elvis smiled just a bit. “You’re right,” he said, “as usual.” 

“As usual?”

“Well, sure,” he said. “Remember what you told me yesterday? About listenin’ to my heart?”

I recalled the moment, back at the diner when I’d first seen him again, and nodded.

“That whole day, I hadn’t been so sure what I was fixin' to do do at Russwood. I knew I didn’t want any trouble with the Colonel, or with any of the folks who were making a ruckus about the way I sing or move. But after that godforsaken performance on Steve Allen…” He sighed and gritted his teeth. “If I can’t move, I can’t sing.”

Then, he looked over at me. “And the next thing I knew, the prettiest waitress in the world was waltzin’ up to me,” he said with a wink, “and reminded me that I should listen to my heart. And so I did. So I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is…thank you.”

I felt warm to the cheeks, but I didn’t say anything in response. I was vaguely aware of a knot that had formed in my stomach, which was less in response to his blatant compliment and rather felt more like a warning signal that something was wrong.

Before I could pinpoint it, Elvis finally pulled off the highway and onto an intersecting road, where a small sign indicated it was a local park. A small clearing extended beyond the gravel road, beyond which I could barely see an old wooden bridge. 

It was a relatively unassuming park. Certainly not as grand or romantic as many of the local nature parks closer to Memphis. So why exactly Elvis had decided to drive half an hour and across the state border to this particular park, I had not a clue.

But that wasn’t the cause for the warning signals going off in my mind. The cause, I realized, was the realization that Elvis hadn’t once used the name Missy to refer to me today.

Before I could make sense of it, Elvis put the car in park and came around to the passenger side to open my door. He took my hand in his as I got out, saying, “Come with me, I’d like you to see this.” 

I followed his lead in a daze and untied the scarf from my head, tying it around my neck again to combat the sheen of sweat that had developed on my skin from the summer heat. We walked across the gravel road and over to the small trail that had been stamped out in the grassy clearing. Around us, cicadas whirred and the air smelled of pine and sunshine. The trail led us to the wooden bridge—which was battered and moss-covered, yet sturdy-looking. Still holding my hand, Elvis glanced down at me with a smile before he stepped onto the bridge.

We walked to the middle of it, where it was cool and shady under the huge oak trees. Frankly, the sight of the small creek below wasn’t particularly spectacular. Confused, I frowned up at Elvis and searched his eyes for answers. But they gave me none. He gazed down at me, a thousand unspoken words on his expression. And he guided my hand up to the bridge’s guardrail, pressing my fingers into the wood.

Beneath his hand, my fingertips brushed over a series of small ridges. Etchings in the wood.

I pulled my hand back to study it. Carved into the wood, clear as day, were two names, separated by a small symbol.

Elvis ♡ Y/N.

Time stopped.

The world around me blurred. No more trees around us, no more creek below us, no more bridge under our feet. Just the carving in the wood, there beside my hand, glowing up at me like a beacon. 

Elvis’s name. My name. The heart. The slight wear to the carving…as if it had been carved many years ago.

A voice, Elvis’s voice, came through to my consciousness. “Y/N,” he said.

My name. He spoke my name.

Slowly, my mouth agape in astonishment, I inched my gaze to Elvis. I watched as his lips parted again to speak my name. He spoke it like it the passcode into Heaven itself.

“Y/N.”

“Elvis,” I said back, my voice cracking.

I still didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why we were here, what the carving meant, what he’d wanted to say. But nothing else seemed to matter, except that he was saying my name, my real name.

“You recognize me,” I whispered as tears welled in my eyes.

Elvis just nodded. Something in his expression, the way his eyebrows pulled down like he was about to cry himself, it drew me in. I fell into his arms like I was a compass needle and he was my north.

“It’s okay, Y/N, honey,” he murmured into my hair as his arms wrapped around me. “I got you.”

And I started sobbing.

He held me like he would never leave again. 

“I don’t understand,” I choked out in between gasps for air. “When…?”

“This morning,” he revealed, his voice just a low rumble against the side of my head. “I came into your diner to try to find you, but I didn’t know your name, so I got to describing you. And your waitress friend said your name. And that’s when I realized. God, Y/N… I’m so goddamn stupid. I should have realized from the start who you were.”

“No shit,” I laughed a little, sniffling. “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize me right away.” I couldn’t hide the hurt from my voice, but it was mild—I was mostly just relieved.

Elvis pulled me away just enough so he could see my face. He studied it with a wistful smile and wiped my tears off my cheeks with his thumbs.

“Look at you, you’ve changed so much,” he remarked. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“I grew up,” I said. 

He nodded. “You’re a whole woman now.”

“Yeah, well, that happens to a lot of girls when we get to be thirteen or so,” I replied with a sniff. 

He laughed and then brushed his fingers across my cheek again. “But now that I know… I still see the same Y/N in those eyes.”

I gazed up at him until I remembered the wooden railing. “What is this?” I asked, touching the carving in the wood again. “When did you do this?”

“September ’48,” he replied. “The day we moved from Tupelo to Memphis. We stopped in this here park on the way to let Mama stretch her legs for a bit…and I wandered onto the bridge. I had a pocket knife, a gift from my Daddy, and I used that to carve it.” He stared down at the names in the wood with a slight pinkness to his cheeks. “I…couldn’t stop thinking about you that day, Y/N. Your face when I told you that you couldn’t come with us…I couldn’t get it outta my head. I felt terrible.”

I blinked up at him, speechless. The way he spoke of that year brought up memories I hadn’t thought of in a long time. Some good…some bad, really bad. I felt the familiar chill of anxiety settle at the pit of my stomach. 

This was the feeling I was trying to forget, the feeling I’d been running from for eight years. And as far as the last thing I had said to him in September ‘48–in which I had professed my love to him in a last ditch effort to have him take me with him—I regretted it deeply. Partially out of humiliation. Partially out of guilt for ever making him feel guilty about the circumstances, which had been completely out of his control. But it was more than just the humiliation and guilt. 

“It was a long time ago,” I said dismissively. I didn’t like to think about my thirteen-year-old self. 

“It was,” Elvis agreed. “But that don’t change the fact that I could’ve been nicer to you that day. It’s just…I was just a dumb kid, and we were moving, and I didn’t want to, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I wish things could’ve been different.”

“Don’t say that. If your parents had never moved to Memphis, you wouldn’t be who you are today.”

Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Someone whose life I didn’t belong in anymore. 

He gave a melancholy half-smile. “I know, I know… But I hated myself for breaking your heart.”

My stomach twisted. “I got over it,” I said. 

His expression was unreadable. “I thought about you all the time. And I wrote you letters, but they all—”

“You what??” I exclaimed. 

“I told you, darlin’, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he emphasized—and his eyes captured mine. “And about what you said to me before I left.”

I mentally cringed. 

“So I wrote you letters—probably a dozen. But they all returned to sender.”

“We moved across town a month after your family left,” I explained. 

He made a noise of understanding. “No wonder…” And then he smiled to himself. “I thought I’d never, ever be lucky enough to see you again. But here you are.”

He pulled me into him again, enveloping me with his arms, and my anxious thoughts became scattered into a thousand pieces once again. He stroked my head gently, and I clutched at his shirt.

“Y/N,” he murmured. I felt him kiss my head. “I missed you, so much. And I loved you, too. I…”

He trailed off. I knew what he was about to say, and my body stiffened, which must have indicated to him that I wasn’t ready to hear it. 

And I surely wasn’t. Frankly, I was trying not to collapse with how overwhelmed I was. 

“You don’t know me anymore, Elvis,” I whispered. “I’m not the same girl anymore. We’re both different. We don’t know each other anymore.” 

“I’d like to try and change that,” he said, rubbing my upper back as he continued to hold me close. 

My heart jolted. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

I thought about all the times I passed by the shops in Memphis and saw his face on the television screens. I thought about the way every girl had screamed and reached out for him on the stage last night. I thought about the months and months he must spend on the road, touring. I tried to imagine myself inserted into his life, and I couldn’t. 

“I just don’t belong in your life anymore,” I said. 

He didn’t say anything for a while. He just held me, and the leaves rustled and the cicadas hummed around us like a symphony. But when he finally pulled away, his frowning expression seemed…angry. 

Not angry. Determined. 

“No,” he said. “Now, excuse my language, darlin’, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

I sighed. “Have you not seen yourself? You’re Elvis Presley. ” 

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” he said. “Have you not seen yourself?”

His stubbornness fueled my frustration. “What?” I snapped. “A twenty-one year old unmarried girl who works at a diner and still barely scrapes by with enough for rent?”

He wasn’t phased. “You don’t see yourself very clearly,” he said definitively. “You’re more than that.”

“But you don’t know me at all,” I argued. 

He took my hands. “And I wanna try to change that. I wanna get to know you again.”

As his words sunk in, they left one very big question. “But aren’t you leaving for another tour again?” 

“I’m here in Memphis for a whole month, taking care of business, and my Mama and my old man.” He squeezed my hands in his. “I want the chance to get to know you again, Y/N,” he said again. 

And with eyes like those…how could I have possibly turned him down?

“Elvis,” I said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Have you thought about why I didn’t tell you who I was when you came into the diner yesterday?”

He chewed his bottom lip. “I wondered.”

I sighed and faced away, leaning against the guardrail out toward the little creek and the emerald woods. “Before you left, eight years ago… when I told you that I loved you, it wasn’t just that.” I took a deep breath, readying myself for the familiar stinging behind my eyes, the ache in my throat. “I was just a kid, I didn’t even really know what love was. So I guess what I had meant by that—and why it was so hard for me when you left—was because you were one of the only good things in my life in Tupelo.

“You made me so happy, and you made me feel loved the way no one else ever had before,” I went on. “And so when you left…there was nothing left to mask the pain of everything else I was going through.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elvis murmured beside me. 

I sighed again and collected myself. “Like I said before, I got over it. And I moved out of Tupelo as fast as I could, and I eventually got to Memphis. But when I saw you in the diner yesterday after all those years…”

“It brought back the bad memories,” he guessed. 

I nodded. “And I figured…maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that you didn’t recognize me. Because I didn’t have to be that girl anymore.”

I didn’t have to be Y/N from Tupelo who grew up with no money and a bad home life. I could be Missy, the cool college girl living in the city. I could be someone better.

“I was able to get a fresh start with you,” I finished.

Elvis bit his lip again, deep in thought. Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bridge and gazed off into the woods. I joined him, and together our feet dangled over the blue creek. Around us, speckles of sunlight shone through the leaves of the trees above us and danced along the wooden slats of the bridge. A steady breeze brought goosebumps to my arms, and I shivered, despite the summer warmth.

Where would we go from here?

Elvis broke the silence after a long while. “What if we started with a...with a blank slate?” he mused. “Forget Tupelo, and the diner, and everything. Let’s just start over again.”

“It’s not that easy,” I mumbled. 

“Why not?” He grinned suddenly and bumped my shoulder with his. “I’m just a boy who likes a girl. Doesn’t seem all that complicated to me.”

His smile was, unfortunately, infectious. “Well…That part seems simple enough,” I agreed.

He brushed his finger against mine where they rested on the bridge behind us. "I like you, and I'm gonna take you out tonight," he murmured. "I'm gonna take you to dinner, and you're gonna get whatever you want to eat, and we're gonna split some fancy dessert, and I'm gonna give you the last bite, like always."

I laughed, remembering the days of our youth. We used to save up our spare change and run across town to the general store in Tupelo, and we'd have just enough to purchase one chocolate bar. We'd climb up to the top of a tree and sit side-by-side on one of the branches to split the bar. And Elvis would always save the last bite for me, every time, without fail.

"You remembered," I said.

"I always will," he replied.

The memory prompted me to think about my nightmare from last night, about the storm, and climbing the tree, and Elvis's voice sounding from the house. I was beginning to understand what the dream had meant.

"I'm gonna treat you right, Y/N," he continued. "I want to do everything I can to show you that you can trust me. I want to know who you are."

I flipped my hand around, and Elvis interlocked his fingers with mine. Holding hands was just something we’d always done, even before anything turned romantic between us. We used to hold hands everywhere as kids. Now, seeing his hand joined with mine, I felt that familiar burn of nostalgia, but it felt good. He felt good. He was the feeling of home.

But I was scared. So scared. More scared than I was ready to admit right then. And I could tell that he knew it.

“Let’s start over?” he said again, but this time it was a question.

I squeezed his hand and replied softly, “Okay.”

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed chapter 3 ♡ This story has become sort of like my own comfort fic except I'm the one writing it haha! I can only hope I emulated the same sense of comfort and nostalgia and warmth onto you, my readers. Thank you eternally for sticking with me through this slow burn!

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

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#elvis 2022 #Elvis movie #Austin butler!Elvis Presley #Austin butler!elvis #Elvis x reader #elvis presley #Elvis #elvis presley x reader #Austin Butler!elvis presley x reader #Elvis fanfiction #Elvis Presley fanfiction #austin butler #Austin butler x reader

[sardonic-the-writer]

━"Guest Appearance"

━Tw: None

━Notes: A very cute idea I had reminiscing about the time Unus Annus did a wax video with Sean

━Song: "Twin Sized Matress" By The Front Bottoms

Ethan and Mark were staring to regret their choice in friends.

Or at least the kind of ideas they came up for this goddamn channels videos.

It was fucking loud. I mean, honestly what did they expect when offering two of the goofiest people they knew to fly out for a video and shutting them in a room with a camera. There wasn’t going to be a bit of content without yelling after all. Especially when it came down to the four idiots playing around right now with how tightly knit they were.

Maybe it was the full on wax war that wasn’t predicted.

The rapidly cooling substance was flinging nearly everywhere, clinging to the surface of the walls like sticky soda and some even being propelled on the ceiling fan above (which in turn splattered it every which way like a modern age art project).

Paintbrushes with cream colored bristles—that had previously been used for spreading wax across bare skin—were now being dipped in the milky white substance. Before the wax could harden completely it was launched at a respective person, who got a face full of it to enjoy.

Honestly (Y/n) was having the time of their fucking life.

They didn’t give a shit whether or not the camera couldn’t even see them properly right now. All they were focused on was ducking up and down between the protection of a scrappy desk, trying their best not to get smacked in the mouth with the slimy wax as they fired their own ammo at Sean.

Ethan was on the other side of them, the team of two having mischievously grabbed half a bucket of hot wax halfway through the scheduled video and attacking the other people in the room.

The war had only been officially waged after Mark had grabbed a handful from his own bucket without a second thought, nailing Ethan directly in the scalp with it as a ‘thank you’ gift.

”Surrender losers!” A girlish squeal came from Ethan as he narrowly avoided another fire ball of wax, sticking his tongue out at Mark. His brown hair was plastered to the front of his forehead with a mix of sweat and wax, mimicking the look of everyone else. He had even almost knocked their cover over as he squatted down.

”Nhever!” Determination poked its head through Sean’s thick Irish accent. (Y/n) paused to clutch at their rib cage in a fit of laughter as they witnessed the man stand up and pose like a superhero, only to slip on a puddle of wax and land straight on his ass.

”Oh ye think tha’s funny (Y/n)?” He said quickly getting back up and making devilish eye contact. They let out a sudden yell as Sean grew closer and fully left the protection of his pathetic looking plastic table, formerly having hid behind it with Marks bulky figure.

They attempted to scramble up and out of the room, a complete disregard for the camera recording all of this as this point. All that they were worried about right now was escaping the ghoulish grin and bucket of wax coming their way.

”Wait no please!”

Their pleas were met with a tirade of evil laughter, managing to just barely close their eyes before warm wax slid down every available surface of their face.

Even Ethan and Mark had stopped in their ferocious battle to watch the buckets contents get emptied onto their head. Now instead of (Y/n) rolling on the ground belly laughing it was them, completely ignoring the mess sticking to their clothes like wallpaper in exchange for playfully howling at the fellow content creator.

”You guys fucking suck!” They spat, already feeling their face start to freeze up with the wax. While their words might be venomous their tone was not, breaking up with an amused wheeze halfway through.

“I’m telling Amy and Gab that you three were pushing me around!”

”Oooooh I’m so scared of Sean and Marks girlfriends!”

”Dont think I forgot about you either Mr. Crankgameplays. You act like I won’t go get your mother on the phone right this second.”

The other boys made oohing sounds at Ethan like a fifth grader who just watched their classmate get in trouble. He simply blew a raspberry at them in response.

It was only then that Sean backed up slightly, bumping into the forgotten camera and startling himself

(Y/n) laughed as much as they could with a temporarily paralyzed face, watching as the boys discussed jokingly in front of the camera if attacking each other with discolored crayon wax was enough content to satiate their gremlin viewers. Spoiler alert: They determined it was.

”Not exactly the normal content of Unus Annus. But then again we wouldn’t have invited you and Sean if we had wanted that. Congrats on being the first and last special guest to hijack our original plan for a video.” Mark grinned with teeth, now holding an arm out so (Y/n) could help themself up. They took it with as much of a smile they could manage, attempting to mumble a jovial ‘thank you dumbass’ back at him.

”Mark wipe their face off I can’t understand jack shit coming out of their mouth.”

”Awhh bu’ I was enjoyin ta silence.”

(Y/n) simply made a slitting gesture across their throat at Sean, cussing him out with their eyes. The motion just received more snickers.

“You know what? Sure. Let’s get Chica in here to wipe that wax off their face.” Mark rubbed his hand together in a comically evil motion. “Or should I say lick it off?”

Their eyes widened as they chased after the laughing boys, yelling from the back of their throat desperately with a smile.

Totally worth the trip.

#ethan x reader #ethan nestor x reader #ethan nestor #mark #markiplier x reader #mark x reader #mark fischback x reader #sean #sean mcloughlin x reader #sean mcloughlin #jack #jack x reader #jacksepticeye x reader #unus annus #unus annus x reader #youtubers #youtubers x reader #one shot #fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower 36

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm, manipulation, panic attack, dissociation, gaslighting.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: <3 Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all. And I didn’t expect this chapter to go this way or to be a bit longer than usual.

Thrud is glowing, her cheeks rosy, her eyes vibrant, her hair lustrous and full. You feel like a shadow next to her. In awe of her beauty as she takes a crystal glass and pours dark wine into its depths.

She fills a second and clunks down the bottle heavily on the round table at the centre of the room. A room surrounded by several others in a small villa outside the main house of the vineyard. She hands one to you and eagerly draws from the brim. You sip daintily, the taste acrid as it singes your tongue.

You swallow, nearly choking as she takes her phone and thumbs at it carelessly, tossing it back on the table as she sticks her tongue out, "boys."

"Uh, yeah," you laugh nervously and pick at your dry lip, stopping yourself as her eyes catch the movement. "Sorry."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to be sorry," she shrugs as she sits on cushioned divan, "why don't you chill out, girl?"

You tiptoe to her and sit carefully with your glass, hers sloshing obliviously as she angles it to her mouth again. She slurps with zeal and pops her lips as she pulls it away. You look around anxiously, uncertain. She's so nice. Well, so is Thor so you guess you shouldn't be surprised.

"You ever been to Spain before?"

You shake your head and make yourself drink the wine. It's sweeter the more you sip. You cradle the glass gently and look at her again. She's gorgeous. You wish you were like her.

"Oh, wonderful, I'll have to show you around. There's a pool... indoors. It's a bit too cold out to be that wild!" She giggles, "oh, and the cellar! You can have your choice of any bottle. I'm my uncle's favourite so you don't need to worry about that."

"That's nice," you look down into the dark wine, "I don't drink much, though."

"Quiet thing like you, of course not, but you've got a friend now. You don't have to be stingy for these old men."

"Um," you give a goofy smile, not sure how to reply.

"Relax, I mean it. You're much better company than my dumb brothers. They always end up breaking something. Oh! There's this club near here, I used to sneak away in high school, don't mention it to daddy, but it's so nice and the men. They'll buy you a drink just for a smile. They like foreigners."

"Men?" You utter and shake your head, "I don't..."

"I'll do the talking. Ah, oh," she covers her mouth, "I'm terrible for it. I gab away and no one gets a word in elsewise. Well, please, I want you to tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"About you!"

"Me? Well, I'm not interesting."

"You must be if you're here."

"I... I dunno, my mom... it was just me and her and then---"

You gasp as the glass slips from your hand. You squeak and stand as it spills across the wood and you touch your cheeks. You don't know what you were doing, not paying attention. God, if your mother was there she'd holler and howl until you cleaned it up. You stare down at the puddle and sway, searching for anything to wipe it up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sniffle, "I'll clean it up. I don't know how-- I didn't mean to," you babble, "please don't be mad."

"Relax," she rises breezily and puts her empty glass aside, sweeping across the room and through a doorway. She returns with a towel but ignores your reach. She squats to mop up the mess, "it's not very much."

She sops it up and even gets a few drops from your feet. You step back shyly and hug yourself, "I'm so clumsy--"

"Hey, the glass didn't even break," she says cheerily as she lifts it, "no harm, no foul. It's all good." She smiles and goes to the table, "just means we need to get you a nice clean glass."

"Maybe I've had enough," you suggest.

"Enough, you just need to loosen up," she trills and stops, "but if you really don't want anymore, you don't have to."

You look her in the face. She makes you feel easy, like the world might not be that scary. You don't even know her but she feels familiar.

"Thank you," you try to smile, "I'm sorry. I just... don't have any friends."

"You don't have any friends?" She says without a hint of sarcasm, "well, I'd love for you to be mine so... wine or water, hon?"

You chew your lip and real curve takes over your lips, "I'll try some more wine, if that's okay."

🌻

You feel fuzzy and bubbly. Like you could float or even fly. Music pulses in the air, beats you've never heard before, a melody that has you twirling around. Thrud dances around with you in the space of the villa, her laughter mingling with yours.

You've never felt like this, free. It's as if all your troubles are gone, as if you're not you, as if you were never sad or mad or anything else.

You stumble over your own feet and she catches your arm before you can tip over. You giggle again as both of you nearly collide with the table.

"You are wild," she growls at you, "who knew the little mouse had it in her?"

You roll your eyes at her, "I always wanted to be fun."

"You are!" She slurs, "trust me."

"No one lets me be fun!" You pout and turn away from her, reach for the bottle. It's empty as you tip it up. "God. Fuck!" You cover your mouth guiltily and let the bottle roll across the table, "oh my."

She laughs and you can't help but join in, ripping your hand away from your mouth, "fuck, shit!"

"Oh god, stop it," she clenches her sides.

"I never, I never swear," you whisper, "it's... so cool."

She laughs again and shakes her head, "I won't stop you. Jeez, sounds like you've been living in a convent."

"My mother," you hiccup, "she's an old nun. Never let me swear or... wear anything pretty... or-- or--" you feel it all brewing to a boil. You fall onto a chair and clutch your head, "she didn't love me. She doesn't love me."

It goes silent as you hunch over and hold your head. Thrud comes to you, her hand resting softly on your shoulder as she coos at you, "I'm sorry, hon, please don't think about it now. Not like this."

"I'm sorry," you sit up and swipe your fingers over your lashes, "I'm stupid."

"No, no," she gets to her knees beside you and rubs your arm, "you've been hurt. That's all, baby."

"I'm grown, I just needa suck it up."

She scoffs, "suck it up? I hope that's not what my uncle's been telling you."

"No, no, no, he's so nice. He... he listens to me," you wiggle your nose, fighting the tide of tears, "he's too nice to me. He's..." you smile a little, "he's a good doctor."

"Good," she says, "that's very good."

"It's Thor," you eke out and quickly swallow up your voice.

"Thor? Dad?" She wonders, "what do you mean?"

You blink, long and hard, then look at her. You want to say it all. He's scary, he's confusing, he's suffocating. But she's his daughter and she loves him. And he loves her. You can't say it because it might not even be true.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"He saved me," you shrug, "from mom."

"Oh," her hands brushes down your arm, "that's good."

A sudden pounding comes at the door and you feel it in your chest. You whimper and knot your fingers over your chest, letting out a high-pitched squeal. Thrud looks up, her eyes smoky as she stands and wobbles around the chair.

She crosses the villa and grabs the iron hand, pulling open the heavy wood door. Her father waits on the other side, as if summoned by your mention. You cower and refuse to look at him.

"You two, it's late--" he stops short, "Thrud, is she..."

"She's okay, daddy, we're just having fun."

"How much have you given her?"

"Daddy, get out, we're young, we're just--"

"Thrud, you don't understand, she can't drink that much on her meds."

"Oh, uh, I didn't know--"

"You didn't give me time to explain, did you?" He snaps.

"Alright, you don't have to be so rude," she whines drunkenly.

"I should take her to her villa, look at her--"

"She can stay here, I'll keep an eye on her--"

"You're drunk too."

"Daddy, I said get out," she stomps her foot and latches onto his arm as you finally glance over.

"You don't underst--"

"I understand, just fine. I can take care of my friend," she insists, "hon," she inserts herself between you and Thor, "do you wanna go or do you wanna stay?"

You look between them. Thrud sways slightly, cheeks flushed, and lashes drooping, but Thor stands with a dimple in his cheek and a tick in his jaw. That same anger that lingers just under the surface. You hang your head and sniff, "I wanna stay."

"See, daddy, now good night!" Thrud says, "ugh, you always spoil the fun."

"K--" Thor begins and stops himself, "alright, fine. Just... no more. And go to bed."

"Nightttttt," Thrud sings as she ushers him to the door, snapping it shut at his exit, "I hate when he does that."

#dark thor #dark!thor #thor #thor x reader #thrud #loki #au #silverfox #wallflower #mcu #marvel #avengers #series