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smilingformoney · 18 days

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The Eternal Summer

V. Welcome to the World

Summary: The world ends, but time keeps moving forward.

AN: This was only supposed to be a smutty fic. Then again, I said the same thing about Sins of the Flesh. I hope you enjoyed the ride, everybody! If you're wondering what becomes of your family, here is your family tree (I have given reader characters names because it's easier for me) - you might recognise some of the modern-day descendants!

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It was the longest night of your life. You sat by the window for a while, looking out across the station. Elliott was sat on his porch, revolver in hand, waiting patiently for Quigley to make his move. He glanced back at you on occasion and his frown would soften, the grip on his gun would loosen slightly, and your heart would ache when you locked eyes with one another.

William, meanwhile, was trying to keep himself awake, reading one of Elliott’s books and occasionally standing up to stretch his legs. He was using a cane to balance himself thanks to the wound in his leg, but he refused to listen when you insisted he should stay seated.

By midnight, you were struggling to stay awake.

“Go to bed, [Y/n],” William said when he saw you trying to keep your eyes open. “You don’t need to stand vigil.”

You couldn’t care less about Quigley, but what you did care about was Elliott, who was letting his anger and his pride get the best of him.

But you were tired, and despite what Elliott said, you suspected Quigley was telling the truth about waiting until dawn, so you supposed a little sleep would do you no harm.

With Elliott waiting for Quigley and William guarding you, you had no warm body to hold as you drifted off, but you were so sleepy that you were able to make do with holding the pillow which now smelt of both Elliott and William.

You woke at dawn to the sound of gunshots.

You’d been so tired when you went to bed that you’d forgotten to change into your nightgown, and so it was in a rumpled dress that you came into the lounge to find William peering through the curtains to see outside.

“What’s going on?” you asked blearily.

“A man’s been shot. Stay away from the windows, [Y/n].”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t bloody know. Don’t worry, your boyfriend’s fine. What on earth is he doing?” William questioned as you both heard the sound of horses galloping out of the station. “He’s throwing his men at him like lemmings. Didn’t I just tell you to stay away from the windows?”

You were by his side now, looking through the other curtain to see what was going on. Elliott was crouched below a wagon, gun in hand, as three of his men rode out across the plains.

“He’s not here, he must be in the cutting,” you replied.

“If he shot that man from afar, he can shoot you too.”

You shook your head, your eyes still on Elliott.

“He won’t.”

William scoffed. “Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?”

“He said he wouldn’t.”

“You can’t trust everything men say, [Y/n].”

“Not even you?”

You surprised yourself at your own audacity, but William surprised you more when he didn’t react with anger. Instead, he chuckled and stroked your cheek.

“That’s different, darling. I’m your husband who loves you. Matthew Quigley is an evil man, a murderer - is he sending more men out?” William interrupted himself as he spotted another few men riding out on horses. “Has Elliott completely lost his mind? At this rate, he and I will be the only men left before Quigley even gets here.”

“Maybe… maybe I should go and talk to him. He always seems to calm down when I’m around. Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

William frowned, but he shrugged. “Maybe you can suck his cock or something, that’ll calm him down.”

You blushed and ducked your head, and William just snorted.

“Don’t act coy, darling, I know you’ve been sucking his cock. Go on, go and see if you can talk some sense into that thick skull of his.”

You made your way out onto the porch, where Elliott was stood leaning against a pillar, staring into the distance with a frown so severe he might have been hoping to kill Quigley just by looking at him. He jumped slightly when you put your hand on his shoulder, but just as you’d predicted, the tension in his shoulders eased when he saw you standing there.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You felt your own tension lifting too, as if all either of you needed to calm down was one another’s presence.

“We’ve been watching from inside. Are you planning on throwing men at him until you run out?”

Elliott chuckled, then kissed the top of your head affectionately. “If that’s what it takes. I’d rather expend ten men and kill him before he gets here than let him come and risk him getting to you.”

“Don’t sacrifice your men for me!” you insisted, fear rising in your heart as you thought of all the lives Elliott was willing to sacrifice for you.

“I can always hire more men, [Y/n]. There’s only one of you.”

You frowned. “There’s nothing special about me, El —”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Elliott hissed, interrupting you. “There is no one in this world like you, you understand me? Any man I hire can shovel cow shit or plough a field. No one else can do what you do for me.”

“There are whores in Melbourne…”

Elliott frowned at you, looking almost disappointed.

“Do you really think I’m talking about sex? Have you forgotten everything I told you at the graveyard yesterday?”

Elliott scoffed and shook his head.

“You really don’t know the effect you have on the people around you, do you? You don’t know what William and I were duelling for.”

“Then what?”

Elliott sighed and held you closer, looking out across the horizon as if the words to describe you were somewhere out there with Quigley and the dingos. And maybe they were, because he seemed to find them, and he looked down at you and smiled.

“You don’t know how bright you shine.”

You stared at him, stunned. You might have kissed him, but you knew your husband was watching through the window, and besides, your attention was drawn away when you heard the sound of a galloping horse coming closer, and you both looked to see Elliott’s two remaining men riding back into the station, dragging something along the ground behind them.

Elliott released his hold on you and met his men in the middle of the station. You watched from the porch as he bent over and you realised he was talking to not something, but someone that had been dragged across the dirt.

As Elliott taunted Quigley, you heard the thump of William’s cane as he came up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder.

“You should go back inside, [Y/n],” he said softly.

You shook your head, your eyes still firmly set on Elliott.

William’s grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Do as I say, [Y/n],” he said, more curtly.

You looked up at him then.

And somehow, in that moment, you knew.

Maybe you’d known all along.

“No.”

Before William had a chance to respond, you were dashing across the dirt to Elliott’s side. He was standing in a familiar position opposite Quigley, flagged either side by O’Flynn and Dobkin. Just last night you’d seen him standing in the exact same spot across from William, but this time his opponent was a lot more well-versed in duelling.

“Elliott, please don’t do this,” you begged, skidding to a halt at his side, grabbing his hands desperately. “Just let him go, nobody has to die —”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Elliot said smugly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll make it quick for him.”

“I don’t care about him, Elliott, I…” You felt a tear running down your cheek. You ignored it.

“Just survive this, okay? Survive this… and I’ll marry you.”

A grin broke out across Elliott’s face and he kissed you passionately, not caring that O’Flynn and Dobkin were nearby, that Quigley was standing opposite, or that your husband was watching from the porch. All he had to do was kill Quigley, and you’d be his.

“That’s the best good-luck token a man could ask for,” Elliott murmured when your lips parted. “Get yourself a safe distance away, sweetheart. I won’t have a stray bullet coming near you.”

“You’re an idiot,” you sighed.

Elliott grinned and winked at you.

You retreated back to the front porch, where William and Tommy were waiting for you. Your husband said nothing about the scene that had just transpired.

There was a long, tense moment as Elliott and Quigley stared one another down. It may have only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours to you as you stood, waiting…

And four shots rang out in quick succession.

It happened so quick, it took you a moment to register what had happened. Quigley was still standing - O’Flynn and Dobkin were on the ground - and Elliott was on his knees.

He fell back almost in slow motion, and you screamed.

You dodged the hands of both William and Tommy as they tried to hold you back, and the dust on the ground bloomed into clouds as you ran to Elliott.

One look at him was enough to know there was nothing you could do. His white shirt was stained red, blood pouring out from his torso.

One hand was still on the handle of his gun, which dropped to the ground when you lifted Elliott’s head from the ground to cradle him in your lap.

“Elliott… Elliott, please, look at me…”

The light was quickly fading from his eyes, but still he smiled when he looked up at you.

“[Y/n]…”

“Elliott, please - please, don’t die - please, I need you!”

You couldn’t see the way the morning sun reflected off your hair, shining as bright as you always shone to Elliott, and he wondered if dying gave him a glimpse into divinity, because surely you were an angel come to save his soul in the weeks before he died.

He could only hope he’d done enough for you. Loved you enough, taught you enough, shown you that you were worth so much more than you knew.

“Elliott, please, you’ve got to live, please,” you sobbed. “We’re gonna get married, remember?”

Elliott wheezed, attempting to laugh as blood filled his lungs.

“A mortal man can’t marry an angel,” he croaked.

You shook your head. He must have been delirious.

“I’m no angel, Elliott. I’m just a girl. And I… I love you.”

You sobbed harder, knowing it wasn’t enough. Your love would never be enough.

Elliott smiled, his head lolling towards your chest as his eyes fluttered closed.

“My angel…”

You screamed so loud, the birds in the trees were startled away.

This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t possible for a single human being to feel this much pain and survive. How could you survive, when your heart had been torn from your chest? Why would you want to, when the only good thing you’d ever known was an empty husk beneath you?

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. You had nothing your whole life, you were nothing, and you’d accepted that until Elliott came along and made you feel like you were worth something, worth love and affection - and he’d been torn away from you.

Torn away by an evil man for no reason at all - a man who, you remembered suddenly, was still standing. Still living. How many men had he killed? How many other women would grieve their lost loves now because of Matthew Quigley and his stupid fucking rifle?

You raised your head and, through your tears, saw Quigley standing with his back to you. He didn’t even care about the crying woman behind him. He was just watching as the last of the servants left, returning to their native land now Elliott was gone.

They could go. You didn’t care about them.

But there was no way Quigley was leaving this place.

You didn’t even hesitate. You grabbed the gun Elliott had dropped.

“Needle,” you mumbled.

You checked the barrel. Full but for one empty slot.

“Thread.”

You pointed the gun at Quigley’s back.

“Hole.”

You pulled the trigger three times for good measure, each bullet landing in his back, each hitting some organ or other and throwing Quigley to the ground before he even knew what was happening.

You tossed the gun aside. You didn’t care to check Quigley was dead. You only cared about Elliott, motionless in your arms, and even knowing he was gone, you pushed his hair out of his face to look at him.

It was the most horrendous sight. The eyes that usually blazed so fiercely, whether it be with love or lust or anger, were extinguished. You could barely even register that it was Elliott in your arms, he looked so unlike himself. You recognised the eyes, the nose, the cheekbones and the lips, but… the man you loved was gone.

You couldn’t tell how long you sat there, sobbing, clinging onto Elliott’s lifeless body as if as long as you held him, there was a chance he’d wake up again.

But he wouldn’t wake up, because he wasn’t asleep. You’d watched him sleep. Even asleep, he was alive. He breathed, fidgeted, responded to your touch. Now… nothing. Not a breath, not a twitch, not a sound.

He was gone, and he’d taken a piece of you with him.

You were only snapped back to reality when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You let out a yelp of surprise and held Elliott tighter, as if the hand belonged to someone who’d take him away from you.

“[Y/n]?”

The voice was so small, so tentative. You almost didn’t recognise your baby brother’s voice.

You looked up at him. He wouldn’t take Elliott away from you, would he?

You knew you should say something reassuring, but you had nothing. How could you reassure him when the world had already ended?

He was saying something, but you couldn’t even hear. It was like the world was on mute. All you could hear was your own breathing, your own sobs, and you couldn’t tell which had come last when you passed out.

---

Time passed in a haze. You slept, you woke, you cried until you slept again.

Sometimes you’d wake and see Tommy sitting on a chair nearby. Other times, you’d find William sleeping next to you. Once or twice, you woke and saw a man you didn’t know, a stranger in an army uniform. Food and water would appear on your bedside table, and you’d get as much down as you could before you began to feel sick.

Tommy would try and engage you in conversation, but you didn’t have the energy to talk. The soldier, whoever he was, didn’t talk to you.

William was usually asleep, though once you did wake to see him placing a bowl of soup on your bedside table.

Maybe none of them knew what to do with you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

After some days - you couldn’t say how many - you were awoken by someone shaking your shoulder, and your eyes fluttered open to see Tommy by your bedside.

“We’re going to the church in town soon, to - to bury Mr Marston with his wife. Will you come?”

You nodded groggily, and when you finally emerged from the lodge in a black dress Tommy had brought you from your luggage, you winced against the bright sunlight, having seen nothing but the muted light through the curtains for several days.

The station looked strange so empty. For so long there’d been the hustle and bustle of men at work, but now it was like a ghost town. At the gate, William was waiting for you with two horses, and somewhere beneath the numbness of your grief you thought he looked handsome in his black suit.

Tommy had his own horse and you sat behind William on another as you rode into town. You wrapped your arms around William’s waist and rested your head on his back from your side-saddle position. You closed your eyes, hoping that to look away from the landscape would ease the soreness you felt looking at the land Elliott had worked so hard for.

Later, you’d barely remember the funeral service. It was small; a lot of people didn’t like Elliott very much, and those that had had died at Quigley’s hands. The burial itself was even smaller; only you, William and Tommy. And fortunately so, because you might have embarrassed yourself with the way you broke down crying when you saw the tombstone. Only days earlier, you had stood on this very spot with Elliott, he promising a life of freedom for you and Tommy if only you’d marry him.

He had sworn never to come back here; now here he was forever.

Here lies Victoria Marston 1826 - 1860 and Elliott Marston 1820 - 1865

You calmed yourself eventually, but when the coffin was brought to be lowered into the grave, you broke down again, seeking comfort in William’s arms.

And he held you. Your husband was never one for public affection, but he held you.

“Would anyone like to say a few words?” the reverend asked when he’d finished his prayers.

You shook your head. You had no words to say. There wasn’t any combination of words in any language that could encapsulate the grief you felt, the love you had for him, the future you had lost.

William kept an arm around you the entire time. He sat you in front of him on the ride back to the station, guiding the horse with one hand while the other held you.

He told you to pack to return to Melbourne that night, so you braved crossing the threshold of Elliott’s house.

You gasped, but held yourself together when you saw that his lounge had been stripped almost bare.

In the bedroom, your breath caught in your chest to see the bed you’d spent so much time in with Elliott, but still your tears appeared to have run dry.

That was, until you opened the wardrobe, and you were hit by Elliott’s musky smell wafting from his clothes, still hanging in the wardrobe, waiting to be worn.

You fell to your knees and sobbed then, burying your head in his shirts, trying to cement the memory of his smell in your mind.

It wasn’t until William came to find out what was taking you so long that you were able to pull away. Even then, William had to lift you up and pull you away, ignoring your screams of protest as he parted you from your lost lover’s scent.

He guided you outside, told Tommy to keep an eye on you, and went back inside.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, William had packed your belongings and loaded up the wagon.

The journey back to Melbourne was torture. None of you well-adjusted to the Australian weather, you travelled by night, sleeping in the day, the men taking turns to stand guard against wild dingos.

Not that it mattered to you when you travelled; you just slept as much as you could, willing away the travel time until you arrived in Melbourne.

The house William had found for you both was not dissimilar to your home in London. William told you to get some rest while he unpacked, and when he deemed the job done, he found you sitting out on the balcony that led from your bedroom, looking out across the streets of Melbourne.

“[Y/n], I know you’re in shock,” William said, surprisingly soft for him, and you almost didn’t recognise his voice. “But we must talk about what happens next.”

You nodded. You still hadn’t said a word since Elliott’s death.

“After you fainted last week, the army arrived. Tommy took the blame for Quigley’s death. Two soldiers stayed behind after their platoon left, to help me with moving the station’s contents and… the bodies.”

William paused. You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ll sell the land tomorrow. Tommy tells me his former employer may be interested in it. We have until October before we return to London, and then we can put this whole mess behind us.”

You spoke for the first time. Your voice was hoarse and hardly more than a whisper, but William heard you.

“Tommy?”

“His employment reverts to me. I’ll keep him in my employ as a messenger boy for now, but he cannot return to London with us. He’s your brother, I know, and a hard worker, but his sentence is his sentence. I cannot be seen to revoke that for sentimental reasons. You understand that, yes?”

You nodded. You hadn’t expected anything more. In fact, you’d expected less. You were glad to know Tommy would be around at least until you left.

“Good girl, [Y/n].”

William placed a hand over yours. Your fingers twitched in a vague response, but otherwise you remained unmoved.

“I know you grieve for him — I do too. But we have work to do. I am still a judge of her Majesty’s court, and I have responsibilities; just as you do as my wife. I’ve given you time to recover from the shock, but tonight I expect you to resume your normal duties and serve your husband. Understood?”

You nodded again.

He left you alone.

---

Judge Turpin was starting to get irritated now.

It was four months since his cousin had died. Four months since he’d reunited with his wife. What he’d expected to be a joyous affair had been marred by the undoubtedly shocking end of Matthew Quigley’s rampage, and he’d been generous enough to grant you a week to process the difficult event. And just as he’d demanded on your return to Melbourne, you took his seed thrice daily in the hope of your belly quickening.

But still, you remained consumed by your grief. If this was how you reacted to the death of a man you hardly knew, he could hardly imagine how you’d react to his own death.

You hardly spoke. You never smiled, not really; not in a way that reached your eyes. Turpin would often come home from a day at court to find you’d not moved from the same spot all day.

And when he made love to you, there was no engagement, no thrill - you just opened your legs obediently and let him use you for his own pleasure.

It was getting boring and it was getting frustrating. So Turpin went to a doctor, who prescribed electrotherapy, but all that did was make you scream and cry, and that was worse than seeing you feel nothing, so he quickly put a stop to the therapy.

He was in the middle of giving a judgment in court when Tommy ran up to his bench and placed a note in front of him.

He paused, hoping Tommy had good reason for interrupting a judgment.

On reading the note, he quickly adjourned the hearing, leaving very stunned counsel in his wake as he dashed out of the courtroom.

He had shed his wig as he stood, but he was still clad in his judge’s robes when he entered the hospital and demanded to know where you were.

A nurse led him to your room, explaining the circumstances in which Tommy had found you unconscious in bed, a half-drunk bottle of arsenic in your hand. If it hadn’t been for Tommy’s quick thinking in inducing vomiting, you may have died. Instead, you were alive, but unconscious.

Turpin angrily sent the nurse away when he entered the room, demanding no one to disturb him. The door closed, he rushed to your side, and his heart broke to see you laying in the hospital bed, looking peaceful and serene as you slept, as if you had no idea the fear you’d struck into his heart.

“You stupid girl,” Turpin sighed. He sat perched on the edge of the bed and took your hand in his. Your fingers didn’t even twitch.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeated. “Don’t you dare frighten your husband so. What on earth convinced you this was a good idea?”

Of course you didn’t respond.

Turpin stayed by your side for several days. Tommy brought him food, drink and fresh clothes. A clerk from the court came to take his instructions that he wouldn’t be hearing any matters until his wife woke up.

He read to you from the books the nurses had lying around. They mostly had silly romantic books, but by the end of Pride & Prejudice, Turpin found himself surprisingly invested in the story and glad that the two lovers had married.

When he wasn’t reading to you, Turpin spent a lot of time talking to you, or thinking to himself.

He knew why you were grieving so deeply.

He had loved his first wife, Charlotte, and yet she had fallen for a sailor boy. Lucy had loved Barker; Johanna had run away with Anthony.

And now you had fallen in love with Elliott.

Was he doomed to only love women who loved another?

He had punished Charlotte, yet she had run away anyway. So when he fell for Lucy, he sent Barker away, but still she rejected him. When Johanna believed she loved a boy she had only seen and not spoken to, this time he tried locking her away; but she only escaped.

Turpin didn’t want to do any of those things to you. Was he going soft in his old age? All he wanted to do was to bring you back from the deathlike trance you were in, to make you happy again. He hadn’t realised how much joy you brought into his life until it was extinguished, but extinguished it was and he wanted it back. He wanted his wife back.

“I don’t know what Elliott had that you don’t see in me,” Turpin whispered to you on the fourth day. “But I swear to you, [Y/n], if you tell me, I shall match it. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. I just… I need your light, [Y/n]. I need you to remind me of the goodness in the world. Can you do that? Can you stay good, stay pure, stay exactly as you’ve always been? Or must you change? Must your light be snuffed out by the evils of the world?”

You still didn’t respond.

Turpin bowed his head and sighed.

He hadn’t sung since that day in Todd’s parlour. He’d never been one to sing really, but he’d been lulled into a false sense of security that day. And today, he wondered if it might help him understand his own thoughts. So, with no one around but you, Turpin sung softly.

“I sit here, a man infatuate with love Your ardent and eager slave Please wake up, don’t leave me all alone Your love is all I now need to know Please tell me, my love, how I can show I’ll love you until my grave

You set my heart and soul afire One might think I’d be vexed 'Tis true, dear, love can still inspire The blood to pound, the heart leap higher What more can one require than love, dear? More than love, dear…

Kindness? Maybe kindness… Care and kindness.”

He stopped suddenly, his attention caught by a strange movement: from beneath your hospital gown, something appeared to be moving around your abdomen.

Turpin gently lifted the gown to reveal your belly. It was protruding a little, perhaps from the poor diet you’d been eating since returning to Melbourne.

It moved again. An unmistakable wave of movement across your belly, as if…

As if there were something inside.

Hardly daring to get his hopes up, Turpin put his hand over your belly.

And then he felt it.

A kick. Definitely a kick.

Something - no, some one was moving inside you. A baby!

Finally, after so long trying, your womb had quickened!

Turpin dashed out of the room and flagged down a passing nurse.

“Nurse! Come quickly!”

“Is everything alright, Lord Turpin?” the nurse asked, slightly alarmed at the usually stoic man’s sudden sense of urgency. “Has Lady Turpin woken?”

“No, but I’m certain I just felt her womb quickening. Do you have a method of discerning if she’s pregnant?”

“Goodness! Yes, although I’ll have to fetch Dr Stephens, he’s the expert on maternity.”

“Then fetch him immediately!”

“Yes, sir.”

The nurse rushed off, and Turpin returned to your side. He beamed at you and took your hand in his, for once not caring to maintain any sort of stoic facade.

“I hope you can hear me, darling,” he said softly. “You’re pregnant. Do you hear me? Do you know? Can you feel him? Our child, growing inside you, an heir for our legacy…”

“Care and kindness, that’s what it takes To make our love stronger Care and kindness, what a wonder Care and kindness…

Now we’ll have our child, the answer to my prayer I feel a change in the air Care and kindness that we’ll show him And I’ll show you also Stay forever, if you’ll have me Care and kindness Care and kindness

I know that you will love and Raise my son and heir Even when I leave I’ll still be there He’s there Care and kindness that you give me And I’ll give you, and we’ll give him, and he’ll give us How it makes a man sing Proof of heaven, as you're living Care and kindness, love Care and kindness, dear Care and kindness, oh, care and kindness…”

You were confused when you woke up.

You weren’t supposed to wake up.

Wasn’t that what the apothecarist had said? One drink from the bottle and you’d sleep forever.

So why were you awake?

You opened your eyes and panic rose in your chest when you didn’t recognise the room you were in.

Someone was holding your hand. You turned your head to see William, sitting by your bedside, your hand in his and his head bowed as if in prayer.

Your finger twitched slightly, and his head shot up to look at you, wide-eyed.

”[Y/n]!” William exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. He grinned and held your hand to his lips. “You’re awake! My prayers have been answered.”

“Where am I?” you mumbled, your voice dry and hoarse.

“The Royal Melbourne, darling. You caused us all quite a fright. How are you feeling?”

“Um… okay, I think.”

You went to sit up, and William adjusted your pillows behind you to support you. He took your head in his hands, examining you as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“You’re sure? Are you hungry, thirsty? I’ve done my best to feed you while you’ve been asleep.”

“Yes, I’m fine - maybe a bit thirsty.”

“Of course. There’s water here.”

William poured a glass of water from the jug by the bed, and you glanced around the room.

It was mostly empty, and a bit miserable-looking. A stack of books lay nearby. You were dressed in nothing but a hospital gown, which had been pushed around your waist, and you tugged it down to cover your privacy.

“How long was I sleeping?”

“Four days. Here - drink.”

You must have really worried him, because you’d not seen William so eager to look after you before. He was like an entirely different person, his usual restraint gone, and you noticed when returning your empty glass to him that he was wearing only a shirt and trousers, nothing of his usual formal attire, and there was stubble on his cheek.

“Darling, I have to tell you something,” William said with a sense of urgency, taking both hands in yours. “And I must tell you now, so you’re not to interrupt me.”

You nodded.

“I know you fell in love with Elliott.”

Your heart dropped. This was it, he knew, he was going to divorce you for adultery —

“And yet, I know you didn’t try to leave me for him, much as he tried to convince you to. You showed me unwavering loyalty, even in spite of what your heart yearned for, and for that I thank you. I know I’m not the kindest husband, and though I provide for you, I can do better. I must do better. I swear to you now, [Y/n], with the Lord as my witness, I will do everything in my power to be the best husband I can for you, to honour Elliott’s memory, and… to be the best father I can for our child.”

He placed his hand tenderly over your stomach and smiled.

“I felt it, darling. The quickening. I saw him move and felt his kicks, only minutes before you woke. At last we’ll have the child we’ve yearned for.”

You felt paralysed with shock.

You were pregnant. You had a child inside you, a life, entirely dependent on you.

If you’d succeeded in what you’d tried to do, the child would have died too. You were so consumed in grief, you’d almost snuffed out the last trace of Elliott in the world.

The thought came to you so naturally, it was as if you just knew.

Maybe you did. Maybe a mother always knows.

Elliott was gone, but he was still with you. He’d left you with child.

Did William know? Did he want to know? Did the suspicion even cross his mind?

He looked so happy. Here he was, promising to be the best father he could be. If he even suspected the child wasn’t his, he would never react like this. He would probably force you to abort it to make room for his own child.

He couldn’t know. He could never know. The child would be Turpin, and he would never know who his real father was. It was a secret you had to carry to your grave, for all your sakes.

You looked up at your husband. He looked at you searchingly, waiting for you to respond to the news of your pregnancy.

“Can we call him Elliott?”

---

Thanks to some herbs from an apothecarist in Melbourne - not the same one who’d given you the useless bottle of arsenic, as grateful as you were for their negligence - you managed to make the two month journey back to London without regurgitating your meals any more than an expectant mother would normally do.

Your belly grew substantially over the journey, and though you’d managed to carry your own bags onto the boat in Melbourne, there was simply no way William was allowing you to attempt to carry them off again in London. You counted yourself fortunate that he didn’t insist on carrying you off the boat himself.

You’d said a tearful goodbye to Tommy in Melbourne, but you left knowing you’d see him sooner than expected; although he claimed there were no personal reasons for it, William had drawn up a law before you left that a convict who spends his sentence in the employ of the British army would receive a day off his sentence for each day served. It just so happened that shortly after enacting the law, he had Tommy enlist in the army, and therefore so long as he stayed safe and served the army well, he could return to London in as little as seven years.

You arrived in London just a few days before Christmas, and you were greeted with warm welcomes and congratulations by other churchgoers on Christmas Day, many of them pleasantly surprised to see Lord and Lady Turpin had safely returned from Australia and that you were heavy with child.

William forwent his usual New Year’s celebrations in favour of looking after you, since you were now so pregnant you could hardly get out of bed.

The New Year had hardly begun when you went into labour, and if you weren’t so distressed with your pain, you might have been amused at seeing the usually stoic Lord Turpin fretting with worry over you, refusing the doctors’ advice to leave the room. Instead, he insisted on staying with you, and made no complaints no matter how hard you gripped his hand in the throes of pain.

You were just about ready to pass out when finally you were free of the weight of the child, and William had to keep you awake as the nurse washed the baby, wrapped him up and handed him to you to nurse.

“Is he alright? Is he healthy?” William asked urgently, addressing the nurse but his eyes fixed firmly on the sight of you, sweaty and exhausted and utterly beautiful, holding your son to your breast.

“Yes and yes. And he is indeed a boy, congratulations!”

William beamed at you. “I never doubted it for a moment.”

Although he’d never say it to you, he had had doubts of the child’s paternity for months. And yet, looking down at him now, he realised he didn’t care if the child was half him or half Elliott. He was half you, and that was all that mattered.

William leant down and kissed the boy’s head tenderly.

“Welcome to the world, Elliott Turpin.”

Twenty Years Later

Being the eldest child was difficult sometimes. As the heir to the Turpin estate, Elliott had all the responsibilities, while his three youngest siblings were free to leave after marrying and start families elsewhere.

Elliott, though, stayed in the family home with his wife and young son. His wife, bless her, never complained - she liked having his mother around, she said. It was nice to have another lady around, especially when Elliott’s youngest sister, Eleanor, married and moved out almost as soon as she turned eighteen.

What he hadn’t expected was to lose his mother so soon after Eleanor left.

He had been the one to find her motionless in her bed.

And fortunately he had, because while in one hand she held an empty bottle of arsenic, in the other she held a letter addressed to him, and when he read the contents, he knew nobody could ever know the truth contained within, not even his wife.

Elliott —

I know I’m leaving early, but since my darling William left us ten years ago, I’ve been aching to follow him. In truth, I stayed only because my duty on this earth was not done. But now Eleanor is married, all four of you have families, and I’m needed here no more.

I must tell you a truth, Elliott, a truth I kept only to myself since before you were born.

You know you were named for William’s cousin, who we briefly stayed with in Australia in 1865, who was murdered before our very eyes.

But there’s more to your namesake than that.

For some time, William worked in Melbourne, while I stayed with Elliott at his station.

I fell in love with him.

If it weren’t for his death, I might have left William for him. But events transpired as they did, and I lost the love of my life. All I had left of him was the gift he’d given me: you.

The very moment I discovered I was pregnant with you, I knew he was your father. I wonder sometimes if a part of William knew too.

You knew William as a supportive if stern father, who laughed but reluctantly, and who adored me and all of you.

He wasn’t always like that.

The early years of our relationship were fraught with darkness, but that tale is done. That version of William died long ago.

He worked hard to become the man you knew. And he did it because of Elliott. He did it because he saw the love Elliott and I had, and although at first he was jealous, he took it as a lesson to become a better man.

I have loved every version of my husband. I loved Elliott too. Both these things can be true.

And of course I have loved you. I can never prove that Elliott is your father, but I have always known it.

You remind me of him sometimes. Your laugh is the same. He fancied himself an American cowboy, so you can imagine how it brought me both joy and sorrow to see you play Cowboys and Indians with William Jr, always insisting on being the cowboy.

But the resemblance I see most is in your family, the way you love them, care for them, protect them no matter what. If your father was anything, he was a protector.

He taught me to speak for myself. He showed me that I can make choices for myself. And it’s because of him that you exist, and that will always be the greatest gift of my life.

I love you, Elliott. Be the good man I know you are.

All my love,

Your mother, [Y/n] Turpin

#alan rickman #elliott marston #judge turpin #elliott marston x reader #judge turpin x reader #quigley down under #sweeney todd #the eternal summer

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drawingdroid · 6 months

Text

The Unknown Regions III

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances. Your abilities will lead to you crossing the galaxy together in search of his green son.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin need a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 2,777

A/N: Forget reader for not knowing anything about Mandalorians, let's just pretend she was just so focused studying the planets! In my head she's an Inner Rim girlie too, so not much info about Mandos reaching her planet there, I hope you enjoy going inside Din`s mind for a while! I hope it doesn't feels too off since going inside the tin can brain is a lot of guess work hehe. Anyways, I love you so much for reading this and value a LOT your comments, it's very difficult for me to respond to them but I do my best to overcome the anxiety.

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

“We need to stop.”

The sound of your voice over the speeder’s motor startled Din. He had just achieved not being aware of every part of his body touching yours when you spoke in your beautiful tone. You both had been traveling across the desert for a while now, in that time not a soul crossed your path. The truth was that you were a good driver, and Din could have even relaxed if he wasn’t so preoccupied with Grogu´s whereabouts. He was confident about the little boy`s abilities and also sure that Karga was moving Heaven and Earth to find his child. But he wouldn´t rest until his thumb was again between his claws.

Din had another pressing problem too. And it was you. He had been actively trying to fight his arousal during your ride. Dank Farrik, it was taking all of his discipline to stop his hips from moving as close to yours as he desired. But you were a sweet, good-hearted woman who was helping him selflessly and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by any means. He would have to restrain himself just a little more.

“What?” He managed to ask after a moment. You turned a bit in your seat, confident that any obstacle was in sight, and he could admire your profile against Tatooine’s sunset.

“Your bandages, it’s been a while, we have to change them.” Din swallowed thinking about what he remembered as a fever dream: last night, your soft hands over his naked torso trying desperately to keep him alive. He shivered at the only thought of being touched with such delicacy again. He didn´t want to stop nevertheless, he wanted to be as soon as possible inside the Crest, ready to fly wherever Grogu was.

“It’s getting cold, too,” You said, thinking that his shiver was related to the temperature. “If we are fast, I think we’ll arrive by nightfall.” A silence went by while he weighed his options, but then remembered what you said about not being useful to his son if the was septic. He sighed heavily.

“Okay.”

The spot where you decided to stop was a bit more hidden than the open dunes. Din didn’t want to have any surprises while he was vulnerable, even though he would remain vigilant all the time. He’d do the treatment himself if the nasty burn wasn’t in the most awkward place across his side. It looked like he’d need to rely on you once more. And wasn´t he enjoying that secretly?

“I’m sorry for burning you.” You were on your knees while he rested against a rock, medical supplies on display across your lap. He observed your guilty expression, beautiful brows curving downwards in a cute frown.

“You saved my life.” He offered, stopping for a second the process of removing his armor. It was a moment of silence where you two just stared at each other until he resumed working on his padded vest.

When he was bare (his undershirt had ended useless after having to cut through it), you couldn’t hold a heavy sigh that Din noticed. He caught your gaze on him and felt exposed, not used to being seen even without his cuirass. It looked like you felt his uneasiness because your hands started to work fast in the bandages. He tried to look away while your fingers grazed here and there his raw skin, tender and welcoming.

“It seems like everything is healing well.” He could hear the smile on your voice, and without looking he knew your full cheeks were looking round and beautiful. “I smuggled some bacta patches from work that would do even a better job.” He just nodded, grateful and wanting this to be finished as soon as possible. Every muscle in him was tense while he was actively trying not to dwell on how delicious you smelled.

“I’m going to clean the wound first.” You informed him since he was looking away. The gentle touches provoked his chest to tighten and goosebumps started to form on Din’s skin. “Does it hurt?” Your voice carried a lot of worry and he felt bad.

“Sweet girl, if you only knew.” He thought, biting his lip under the helmet.

“Just hurry up please.” His voice came hoarser than he intended and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Tell me about your job.” He said in a softer tone, intending to distract himself from the fire of your touch. He finally surrendered to turn his helmet to you again, and maker, what a sight. You were so, so close to him and your cheeks were rosy because of the sun. But the better part was seeing your eyes, lighted up like stars because of Din´s question.

“I’m an astrophysicist. Currently, I’m studying The Unknown Regions at the observatory. Trying to map them and gathering information about their systems.” It was clear you loved your job since your voice became so joyful and full of wonder in a moment. So you were a smart girl. Din knew how difficult calculations were even inside the mapped space. He saw you under another light now, but his interest didn’t show because he just nodded and remained silent as always, thinking about what to say next. Small talk wasn’t his forte. But looking at how your smile started to fade made him panic as he didn’t want you to feel bad. So he tried again.

“For us Mandalorians, knowing our way around the galaxy is essential. Space navigation and calculating hyperspace jumps are as important as blaster training.” You were the one that remained silent this time, gaze fixated on his wounds while applying the bacta patches carefully. It was probably the longest sentence he had spoken since you had met and he was suddenly self-aware of how he sounded. He started getting nervous when you didn´t answer. Prejudice against Mandalorians was usual among the galaxy, and it wouldn´t surprise Din that you’d been fed the same stories about them.

“So that’s who you are? A Mandalorian?” You asked curiously when you were finished with the patches. Oh, you weren’t mad, just concentrated. Din sighed in relief, feeling instantly ashamed of his concern. “You can dress now, I brought some ration packs if you’re hungry before leaving.”Din started working in his armor once again, fast and efficient, but trying to avoid the tender spots you had just dressed.

“So Mando is short for Mandalorian.” You realized munching a ration bar, speaking more to yourself than anything. When he was finished, you offered another one for him and also the water flask and a thermos with warm broth. When Din refused, your elegant brows joined in a cute annoyed face. “You have to eat something or you’ll faint before finding your son, Mando.”

Your threat worked so he grabbed the food you were offering, but just stood awkwardly there. You tilted your head in a silent question. Din realized then you didn’t know anything about Mandalorian culture.

“I…I can’t show my helmet…face…so…” Din blamed the blood loss for his lack of eloquence, but it looked like you caught the concept. Your smile was so kind when you looked at him understanding.

“Sure! Then if you excuse me, I’ll go use the bathroom to give you some privacy.” You said standing up nervously and shaking all the sand from your clothes. You avoided his gaze al looked embarrassed, probably thinking she had offended him.

“Be careful.” Din said when you started walking towards a nearby rock formation. Turning to him, your expression was amused when you spoke.

“Afraid some of some lizard biting my ass, Mando?” You giggled and disappeared behind the improvised restroom.

“There are far worse things than lizards in this land!” He responded, but the harm was already done: now he would be thinking about your ass again after fighting the thought for hours during your ride. It looked so plush, so rounded, and Din found him conjuring the image of how his hand would feel grabbing a handful of it and…

“Are you done?” You asked, cutting his daydreaming short. Dank Farrik, he was worse than a teenager. He then practically absorbed the food before giving you the green light, and shortly after you were both on your way to Mos Eisley again.

As you had calculated, the twin suns had just set when you made it through the city’s door. With Din’s indications, it wasn’t long until you arrived to Hangar 3-5. Due to the time, Peli had already finished her work day, so the first ones to say hi were a trembling R5 and the mechanic droids Mando despised.

“Tell Peli I’m here” You both didn’t wait long for the curly haired woman, who was chewing a plate of suspiciously-looking meat.

“I’m charging you extra for arriving after opening hours! I just roasted the biggest womp rat ever and it’s going to get cold!” She then eyed the woman piloting the speeder and smirked. But when she and Din got out of the vehicle she noticed the lack of a certain gremlin.

“Where’s the little one, Mando?” Her grumpy façade broke when she didn’t even see the hover pram around. Din felt like he was being gutted. He looked at his feet ashamed and defeated.

“They’ve taken him.” It was painful to speak and he felt how his eyes became glazy. Din thanked the helmet in situations like this. He turned his head when he felt a warm, soft hand just where his pauldrons ended. It was you, trying to comfort him silently. Your expression was shy, but your grip was steady and it somewhat grounded him. Peli looked at you both, brows up in silent amusement and Din caught the expression, feeling like his face was on fire.

“I’ll have the Crest ready in a second.” Peli said, keeping to herself any snarky remark going through her brain. “You better find the little one.” He added with a menacing finger against his cuirass, and Din could only nod. The bounty hunter didn’t tell her he didn’t know where to start looking. If he had his helmet off, he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose, but for now he could just stand there awkwardly twitching his fingers. You had been silent all the time, and Din realized that the dreadful moment had arrived.

“Tell the droids to refuel your bike, it’s on me.” He offered, not knowing how to address the elephant in the room. Din hadn’t noticed when, but you had removed your helmet and now your hair was framing lovingly your pretty face. Tatooine’s three moons made your skin glow like beskar and… Dank Farrik was he an idiot. “Uh…it’s not safe to cross the desert now.” A bit of common sense returned to him when he realized he couldn´t just send you home. He looked to his ship, then to his hands, and then to your pretty face again. All options were worse than each other. Inviting you to his ship? The Crest was probably kriffing uncomfortable for someone as you, he had seen your house, you liked to be surrounded by beautiful things, soft fabrics, like the carpet he had ruined with his blood. It didn´t look appropriate either He got nervous just imagining it. The other alternative was a hotel, but any of them on this side of the city was as unsafe as riding the desert alone in the middle of the night. But finally, his lust-clouded brain came up with something.

“I can drop you by the compound if you put the bike inside the cargo bay.” Maker, why did he have to sound so unsure with you? He felt like an idiot. But it looked like you had been waiting patiently for him to figure things out and just smiled in agreement.

“That would be really thoughtful Mando.” Thoughtful? How dare you say that after driving a stranger across the desert because he had his butt beaten up and his son kidnapped? Okay, it made a good sob story, but nevertheless. Your heart was made of gold. Din then froze for a moment. In his line of work, when things looked too good to be true, he should always be suspicious. He looked at your kind eyes under the moon. Dank Farrik it was almost painful to mistrust you.

“Ship’s ready!” Peli announced cleaning her hands from grease with a rag, followed by her droids. She looked to you and then to Din, and you smiled amicably to her and then proceeded to secure the bike inside of the cargo bay, leaving him and Peli alone.

“She looks like a good one Mando.” Peli nudged his bruised side and smiled with her incomplete dentition. Din couldn’t hide a groan of pain.

“You haven’t even spoken to her.” He responded exasperated, while handing her the credits he owed.

“Call it women’s intuition.” She ended the conversation returning to her kitchen to that roasted womp rat, leaving Din confused as hell.

In the meantime, it looked like you were ready on the top of the ramp, and you were just looking around uncomfortably while trying not to be too nosy. Din had noticed that one of your many virtues was your politeness and how you didn't make him feel uncomfortable.

“She seems nice.” You commented when Din had climbed the ramp. He chuckled dryly for a moment, and with the modulator it could have been missed for a cough.

“She’s a menace.”

You both were sitting in silence inside of the cockpit while Din covered the distance between Mos Eisley and the Observatory’s compound. What it had looked like a long ride, passed in the blink of an eye, and you were amazed at how fast a ship could move in atmo too. It wasn’t long until the control tower asked about your credentials to land, and you provided the employee number given to you. The landing was gentle and before you could realize it, you were just sitting there staring awkwardly at Mando. You didn´t want to leave.

On the other hand, Mando looked as frozen as you. Neither of you had said absolutely anything since abandoning Peli’s Hangar as if the reality of his son’s kidnapping had finally hit him. You didn’t want what to say. A million things passed through your mind, but any of them seemed adequate. Finally, you gathered the courage to stand up and Mando just kept his visor on you. The silence was thick and uncomfortable.

“I’m… I’m gonna get the speeder.” You finally said, pointing vaguely downwards, but not making any move. He nodded and you felt disappointed. He had just lost his son. What were you thinking? Him asking you on a date? He didn’t look like he did the whole dating thing anyway.

But then that particular thought installed inside your brain, landed like a ship in your head before you could stop it. How dare you? How dare you think you had any opportunity with Mando? Someone like him couldn’t possibly be attracted to you. Warriors valued strong, fit bodies. And you were the opposite of that. Your mood soured and you were just prepared to exit the cockpit when the cabin’s commlink went to live.

“Mando!” The same grey-bearded man from before appeared as a holo, his hand on his hips in a serious demeanor. “I have good and bad news for you.” The bounty hunter turned his body to face Greef Karga, giving him his full attention. “We know who has the kid and where are they taking him.”

“How is that bad news?” You interrupted, without containing your joy at the information. You didn’t know anything about the child, but you were already so invested in his recovery.

“They are taking him to the Unknown Regions, sweetheart. Unmapped Wild Space.” Karga explained with a gloomy demeanor. “It will be almost impossible to find him there…” He looked as devastated as the boy’s dad had looked before. However, Mando was still in silence although now his back looked straighter and more posture more confident. Maker, he even looked wider than before. He slowly turned his visor to look at you.

Maybe you weren’t confident with your body sometimes. But the thing you were sure of was your wits. So when you spoke, without looking away from Mando’s visor, it sounded almost cocky how self-assured you were. Your smile, not the sweet welcoming one, but an intelligent, mischievous grin, adorned your face when you spoke.

“It’s a pity for the kidnapers that I’m precisely an expert on that.”

Next Chapter

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #droidwrites

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