#yandere greek mythos

[anxiousnerdwritings]

AYE I'm gonna ask for that yandere rom Zues falling for Nyx pla obsession

🌩Yandere Zeus w/ Platonic!Yandere!Nyx’s!Darling!Reader🌩

It would have to be by pure dumb luck that Zeus was ever able to come across you given how well protected Nyx keeps her precious darling. It may have even been due to someone else’s negligence in speaking of you in passing when Zeus was around that had his ears perked. Either way he’s intrigued.

Whether he actually knows of his darling’s ties to Nyx or not it wouldn’t stop him from pursuing them. After all, nothing has stopped him before, right? If anything his obsession would only worsen. Knowing that he wouldn’t possibly ever be able to have his darling with Nyx involved would only make him want them all the more. He’s not stupid by any means, he knows he’ll have to play smarter to get what he wants. He knows he’ll have to be patient and he’s willing to, only because he knows the prize will be much sweeter if he is. But that doesn’t mean his patience will last long.

Until Zeus can come up with a plan to interact with his darling without Nyx finding out about it he would enlist someone to watch them for him and he would want to know everything. Especially if they’re mortal. There wouldn’t be a single piece of information he wouldn’t eagerly take in. If his darling was another deity then he would go as far as to interrogate whoever was close to them for information, particularly other gods.

If the darling is mortal then there’s more of a chance of Zeus swooping in sooner rather than later. Given the freedom Nyx allows her darling and how physically hands off she is in her obsession for the most part it wouldn’t be too much of a task for Zeus to get close to them. If he’s aware of all the watchful eyes Nyx has watching over her darling for her then Zeus wouldn’t have a problem turning himself into an animal to interact with his darling. Particularly an animal they’re fond of or something of the sort.

If his darling was another deity I think Zeus would feel like he had a little more control in the situation, more so over the darling than Nyx. He’s the King of the Gods after all, why shouldn’t you trust him? Gives him a good enough reason to interact with you too.

Now Zeus isn’t the only one who isn’t stupid, Nyx would be well aware of the sudden interest Zeus is taking in her darling. She would be very gentle in how she approached handling the situation, more so in regards towards her darling than Zeus. Nyx would prioritize protecting her darling over anything else, not just from Zeus but any other unwanted onlookers. She would be quite interested in how Zeus came to know of her darling so she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Whether that be due to how she went about protecting them or those she trusted with knowledge of her darling to begin with.

It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch for Zeus to try and turn his darling against Nyx, mortal or not. It certainly isn’t the smartest thing to do, especially given who he’s messing with but Zeus is willing to give it a try. He’d even go as far as to make his darling paranoid of everyone and everything around them, especially a mortal darling who has no idea about Nyx’s attachment. Sure he’s not lying about you being watched 24/7 but did he maybe exaggerate a bit? Maybe. Did he possibly have a few other gods enact in his plan to further your paranoia and his claims? Possibly. Did he just start a war a with Nyx? Yes.

Now let’s not forget about Hera cause of course she’s still around. If Zeus were to somehow get his clutches on his darling he would have to keep them somewhere neither Nyx nor Hera could get to them. And that’s easier said then done, especially given how many other gods Nyx would have looking for her darling. But Zeus isn’t just going to give up. No, he’s waited long enough to have his darling he’s not just going to let them be taken away from him. He’s already come this far, why not go a little further.

Nyx may not be as physically involved as some other gods in their obsessions but she certainly isn’t letting anyone take her darling from her. The only reason she would allow for Zeus to continue testing the waters regarding her darling was to see just how much of a threat he would truly be for her. Maybe she had thought that her name alone would keep him away from you but obviously she had underestimated just how captivated he would become with you, or rather the idea of you. And that was her mistake but she wouldn’t let it go on any longer.

If you were to somehow be swindled away from her, Nyx would scour every nook and cranny looking for you. Nothing could get in her way of having you with her once again. Zeus would certainly not be safe from her wrath. No one would be.

#yandere zeus #yandere zeus imagine #yandere nyx #yandere nyx imagine #yandere greek mythology #yandere greek mythos #yandere #yandere writings #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere female x reader #yandere zeus x reader #yandere nyx x reader #yandere greek mythos x reader #yandere greek mythology x reader #greek mythology x reader #zeus x reader #platonic!Nyx x reader #platonic yandere x reader #imagines #headcanons #yandere headcanons #greek mythology imagine #greek mythos imagine #greek gods imagine

[mouisorange]

Okay but imagine reader did escape Hera “for good”, but they ended up in a village where they’re mistreated, which includes the “boy next door” using them at a bar to show how strong they are.

Reader gets out of the bar to take a breather, but when they come back, they see him on the ground, youth writhering away from him, and Hera standing in front of the corpse.

“See? These mortals know nothing about you. Now come along.”

Before you can answer, she picks you up and walks out of the bar. Could be the Stock Holme syndrome kicking in, but you fully embrace Hera’s “kindness”

The constant supervision would be too much for anyone. Even sending her birds to watch over you and having crows, peacocks even, trying to perch themselves on your shoulders gets to be irritating enough for you to drag your feet back to Hera most times. Even after you run away, birds seem to be after your shoulders and head any time you leave your “house” (if you can even call it that). Hell, a few of them are stubborn enough to try and dig their beaks under any crack or tear in the shelter.  It’s irritating. So much so, that you thought you’d sneer at the pests when the idiot village children, too spoiled by their parents, would take turns terrorizing the poor things. Rather, you found yourself chasing the brats back into the village, and with crows trying to grab at you. 

By the time Lady Hera finds you again, you’re so ready to go back to get away from these damned birds, only for Hera herself to be putting her favorites on you when she leaves you alone next. How are you supposed to do anything with a couple pounds of bird on you??

#yandere Hera #yandere greek mythos #I have no excuse for how long it took me to come back <3 #Also I'm having to learn how to use clip studio since my BELOVED autodesk sketchbook has decided it's dying on me. #Very sad #I'm hoping I can post more #especially since it's getting warmer and therefore. clearly. my brain is like omggg *twirls hair* you're now allowed to write again <333 #Anon ily please come back I can change I swear #it won't take so long next time pinky promise

[darkestspring]

Will you please do a part 2 of jace kidnapping reader and making her his wife!

Love your writing! 💕

PART I || PART II (you are here!)

Jace was fully aware that was he was doing would start a war, that it was wrong, to anyone who had a single braincell but he didn't care. He didn't care about the arguments his mother made, about the arguments his grandmother made, both in Princess [NAME]'s behalf. He had been in love with her since he could remember.

"Why should I restrain myself? He argued in return. "I have adored her since I was a child. She is the only one I want to marry and yet, I have been denied of what I wished the most? Targaryen's take what they want, so I did just that."

Daemon hid his smile behind his hand as he soothed his wife. "The boy is right, Targaryen's take what they want."

Rhaenyra was at a loss of words for what to say to both her son and her husband and she dismissed Jace as she felt her own headache coming on. She needed to settle this situation as soon as possible with Alicent.

When Jace entered the chambers that his beloved princess was temporarily staying in, she didn't turn to even look at him, her gaze firmly on the castle she had always been in that stood in the distance.

Her mind was still struggling to grasp the situation at hand.

'Not a prisoner.' Jace's voice in her mind contained so much adoration that it made her sick. 'My wife.'

That was worse. If she was a prisoner it would have been better but his wife? The wife of the boy who had followed her around incessantly and bullied her beloved brother? she would rather cut out her own heart.

"my love." Jace breathed out, walking closer to her only to stop when she turned to glare at him.

"You may hold me hostage, you may forcefully believe me your wife, but do not call em your love, you know nothing of love." She hissed, raising from her place.

"I do, you have always awoken such feelings in me."

she wanted to laugh until she cried and she felt nothing but numbness as she let him hold her hands, letting his thumb run over her knuckles with such tenderness.

"You- You cannot keep me here. My brothers won't stand for this. Nor will my mother, the queen!" She ripped her hands out of his. She desperately wanted to understand what he was thinking. Why would he do this? Why now? Why....?

No matter how much she thought about it, she still couldn't understand him.

"I know, but none of that will matter anymore when we get married. We will be bound by fate, as we have been since we first met." His voice was so soft, so fond.

"It's not fate, it's your own doing." her voice was weakened, like she was fighting off his words to reassure herself.

"Whether it was fate or my own doing matters not, sweet girl." His thumb ran across her cheek. "I will be your husband and there's nothing your brothers or your mother can do about it. Targaryen's take what they want, regardless of the costs, and I will."

Her fate had been sealed on that sunny day when they had first met and nothing could undo it, after all there's nothing more dangerous than a Targaryen in love.

#jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #yandere jacaerys velaryon x reader #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere hotd x reader #yandere hotd #sorry if its short but here you go sweet nonny!!! #my greek mythos series is still my absolute favorite

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Hi I'm back. How are you?

How about... A yandere that has had a bunch of lovers and either killed them because he got bored or broke their heart beyond repair? But them he meets the reader and something changes?

Idk it seems like a fun dea.

Yandere! Male! Player x gn! Barista! Reader

Uh ohz, here is the player 🙄 there's a little twist to the request, meowing! I hope you don't mind. (Another Greek mythos twist. Not as blatant as Hades though. Only a bit of the Greek mythos is grabbed, not all.)

I'll see to it how can we break this little man

ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

AND, I AM GOING TO STOP TAKING NEW YANDERE REQUESTS! But, I am going to take asks about the existing yanderes now!

Yandere! Player name: Amor

A resounding slap echoed throughout the bustling cafe, silencing the people talking to each other. The woman, tear stricken and angry, looked at the man in front of her.

"We're over!" She yelled before stomping away from the cafe, leaving the man behind.

The people started to gossip amongst each other, but one particular action by the man stunned them.

He just sat down, took out his phone, and called somebody.

"Hey, fancy meeting tonight? I just know of this nice cafe. Date, my treat."

Shameless, the people thought as he chuckled and ended the call with a lazy smirk, stirring his coffee and sipping it.

Amor. Extremely handsome man. Charming, always knew how to get the ladies.

That's what made him full of shit since being handsome is his only redeeming quality.

He's arrogant, a bastard, selfish, has a pride taller than the Eiffel tower, and a total player.

He juggles women left and right, flavor of the day, who's gonna be my girl for the morning, afternoon, and night?

Why do people flock to this man again?

Ah, because the Gods favor this bitch.

What did he do in his past life that women love this man?

Well, in his past life, he's a boring nerd.

His family loved him dearly, and wanted him to succeed in life.

So, attending academic camps, prestigious schools, goddamn Kumon? He got it all.

Awards, upon awards. He collects them like pokemon.

Did it make him interesting?

No. All he knew is academics, and no outside skill.

He's book smart, not street smart.

Poor guy wasn't even attractive. So, when he finished University in an Ivy League Uni, he's lost. He doesn't have charisma to charm employers, he doesn't have the confidence to do public work...

Well, that, and NASA already hired him.

What? He is not street smart and has a hard time finding a job himself, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have connections.

In short, he's a Nepo baby.

At least he's a genius so NASA made sure to use him thoroughly.

But, he felt... Bored.

He wanted more from this life of his.

He wanted a girlfriend for fuck's sake!

So, by some stupid and desperation he himself never thought of doing, he turned to the old gods.

The old Gods, surprised by a sudden influx of eager and desperation of faith from only one man, decided to entertain them.

"PLEASE! WHEN I DIE, MAKE ME EXTREMELY HANDSOME AND HAVE WOMEN LEFT AND RIGHT!"

Oh... That's not...

He's really superficial....

Did the Gods care though? Nah. He's really entertaining. Awakening old Gods just for... Women?

So they granted his wish.

When he died of old age (unfortunately for him.), He woke up to another wealthy and loving family. But this time, he's the son of a world renowned Kpop idol, and a Miss Universe.

"This is overkill." Amor thought to himself as his mother cradled her. "But damn, ain't I happy!"

Growing up, even as a kid, girls liked him. He felt like on the top of the world. He retained his memory, so he's practically a gifted child. No, perfect child even!

Except that he's actually a foul kid.

He became arrogant, a snob. Someone who viewed himself too highly for people.

But do his parents care?

Eh...

They spoil the kid a lot. And turn a blind eye to his lack in manners.

Again, went to prestigious Universities, to Kumon, academic camps.

Everything was a breeze for him now.

He got a job as a model immediately. He decided to not go down the academic path, but use his parents' connections once more to climb up the showbiz ladder!

He's still a Nepo baby in this life.

Well, again, his handsomeness is almost too good to be true (work of the goddess of beauty), so his model career is skyrocketing in success.

And women.

Countless of them.

He cycles through them like toilet paper. Throwing them away once he's got his fill.

Yet, people don't care.

He somehow built a reputation off of being a player. When people say that "he broke somebody's heart again!"

"Eh, what did you expect from being in a relationship with Amor?" They would say with a shake of their head and a smile.

That's how much the Gods intervened with his life.

Once he sets his eyes on someone, he 100% would get them.

Unless....

"Tsk. Where can I go now..."

Amor paced around the street, turning heads left and right as this man sculpted by the gods had a worried look on his face.

The cafe he frequents closed down, now he needs a new place to take his women to dates to.

He's about to get his phone when a flyer hit him directly on his face. With an irritated glower, he grabbed the flyer.

"ow! What the f... Oh?"

He stopped, seeing the content.

"new cafe open?"

It looks like a generic cafe. But what was interesting was that the cafe is located in an indoor garden. Like a greenhouse.

"This is interesting. Women love flowers, don't they? And a garden of all places!" He laughs, making the gods stir from the sudden new cafe they got.

They all fuzzed, saying that this would be a good place. But, the goddess of Beauty stirred. Saying she got a bad feeling about this.

"relax, nothing will happen."

And when he got inside the cafe, he immediately got shocked by the barista, you.

Has there ever been an ethereal beauty like you? Someone... Someone who rivals even the goddess of beauty herself?!

The goddess stirred again, shackles raised. She never made you, so why are you this attractive?

Then, the goddess whispered on his ear.

It's to make you fall in love with a monster. Someone ugly, a beast... Anything to get your status down! Nobody can be as beautiful as her!

Envy filled the goddess as she gave Amor arrows to hit you with.

Now, assigned with the task of making you fall in love with what the goddess call a 'monster', he sets off to your house in the middle of the night. With the help of the other Gods, he became invisible and flew on to your balcony.

With a creak, your balcony doors opened. Making him shimmy inside through the small crack.

Yet, fate tempted him as the moonlight hit your form. In a vulnerable state, your androgynous beauty is amplified. Your long eyelashes, your skin... Your figure...

Truly, your beauty rivaled the goddess. No, you were more beautiful than her.

His throat dried, eyes glazed over.

Gods, are they tempting him?

It would be a waste for you to fall in love with an ugly guy.

His fingers twitched, trying to grab the arrow.

"OW!"

He seethed, doubling over as he clutched his finger. It got pricked by the arrow.

He somehow forgot a crucial information.

'whoever the first person the pricked sees if the arrows only pricked one, they will fall in love with the first person they sees.'

And, as his eyes irritably looked at you, overwhelming love filled inside him as he gasped in the sudden influx of emotions.

He kneeled down, eyes wide.

He's rigid. All he could see is your form. Lovely and so bright.

And hid eyes softened. A dull light in it as his lips twitched into a lovesick smile.

He was already attracted to you before, and now, pricked by the arrows, he's utterly obsessed with you.

With a twitch of his hand once more, he grabbed the arrow and stabbed himself fully to the thigh.

"GAGH!"

He doubled over, gasping, twitching for air as his heart pulsed through his ears. His eyes frantically finding your sleeping form before letting out a shaky moan from the satisfaction.

It was like a drug. Everytime he sees you, he gets overwhelmed with feelings of affection.

Is this what love is about?

And before he knows it, the arrows are all used up.

It was morbid, seeing this man stabbed with so many arrows.

But his face says otherwise. Like a drugged up man, overdosed on ecstacy, he was in a drooling trance from the addictive feeling of love for you.

The arrow is effective enough by one arrow, and now this?

Well, let's just say...

"I count, right?" He shakily asked the gods. "I'm a monster, somebody who breaks women's heart left and right."

He trembled, standing up.

He walked over to you, legs unsteady as he dropped to his knees once more and planted his lips on your own.

It tasted, you tasted so sweet, divine upon his lips.

He wants more, but he can't risk waking you up.

"Goodbye, my love. See you tomorrow." Amor whispered, grabbing your hand and dragging his nose on your skin and inhaling your scent. Exhaling shakily, he stood up and flew away.

Let's say, the goddess of Beauty was really angry at him.

But her condition, a 'monster', fits him. So, what can she do?

She gritted her teeth and looked at him with hatred, yet complacency.

You're so pretty, it hurts.

"Welcome to the Psyche cafe! How may I help you-- oh hello, sir Amor! The usual?"

Amor slowly nodded, clearing his throat.

"yes. The usual."

It's been weeks since then. And he made sure to make himself a regular in the cafe. He stopped going on dates, and pulled a lot of strings to somehow burry the player accusations. He knows he can't really burry it all.

So he made (threatened) the women he dated to be positive about him.

He wants to fly on your radar, spot on the middle, so bad.

So, with the invisibility power he got from the Gods, he always followed you. Even up to your home.

At first, his heart pounded like crazy. What if he suddenly appeared? Will you be freaked out? Surprised? Will you run away--

No, you can't run away.

Like you can, anyways.

He knew of your favorite food, fashion sense, hell, your taste in men...

He slowly changed himself into the man of your dreams.

Like a persona he integrated into himself, this sudden change shocked the people. But, they welcomed this change.

"Is he in love, that's why he's changing?"

More than that.

He's making himself into the perfect boyfriend for you.

Now, all he needs is you!

"Here's your coffee, sir!" You greeted with a sweet smile that he swore he had to grab his soul from leaving his body. "Enjoy!"

He gently grabbed the coffee and as usual, gave you 200$.

"sir..." You grimaced.

"Please, just accept it." He smiles. "You've always been a pleasant person to talk to, y/n. So, just see it as a generous tip. That I frequently give."

You looked down at the bill and smiled. Warmness spreads through your chest.

"thank you s--"

You looked up, and froze from the look he's giving you.

Deep, crazed...

Obsessed.

You shivered in fear.

Sensing your eyes on him, he coughed loudly, averting his eyes before returning to the man you knew.

Or did you actually know him?

You don't even know anymore.

But hey, he gives huge tips.

"Thanks again for the coffee." Amor smiles, trying to sweep what happened under the rug as he waved at you.

He went to his usual table. Somewhere secluded, yet has a clear view of you surrounded by flowers.

He observes you. Plans on what to do next.

He knew he can't just waltz in and whisk you away. That's barbaric.

But he's not opposed to the idea though...

He smirks.

He can probably pull tons of strings for you to end up in his arms.

He loves you, don't mistake that.

But, a little bit of... Force would be good.

He's an impatient man.

Also, did he mention that he's a selfish asshole?

How about, making your life so miserable. Getting you kicked out of this cafe, your family suddenly getting a huge debt...

Something he knows you can't pay immediately.

And his family would coincidentally sponsor you by giving you a condition of marrying him!

Anything to be with you, really.

Or, just steal another arrow and hit it with you. That's also plausible.

But, the goddess is pissed with him. So that's the last resort.

He sips his coffee and crosses his long legs.

He's favored by the Gods anyways.

His eyes narrowed slightly as you interacted too amicably with your coworker. An obvious blush on the coworker's face as he got too touchy with you.

No, everyone in the cafe is enamoured with you. Your beauty too good for this world.

He gripped the handle of his cup.

But first, let's get rid of potential rivals, yes?

You are only his.

What is there to fear? He has the resources in his hands to make you his.

You didn't know yet, but your fate is already sealed, tied, and shackled to him.

You don't really have a choice.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

[2smolbeans]

I am OBSESSED with your Obey Me writings. Would it be possible to something where one of the brothers (or others) disguises themselves as someone else in order to sleep with their darling? Imagine if you tried to run away and they're still trying to make you love them so they know they can't just force themself onto you, but at the same time they NEED your body. Maybe it's even a continuous thing, imagine the horror if every new lover you take on turns out to be them. Over and over again you try to run away but end up running right back into their arms. The gaslighting potential is perfect for a yandere who wants the more subtle approach.

ANONN THISSS 💖💖 Also sorry this took so long to finish 😭

A Demon Inside The Church

Yandere Satan x Antro/mythologist reader

Tags: Religious themes, gaslighting, manipulation, minor nsfw depictions, stalking, impersonation, minor character death, deception, body marking, paranoia, attempts at escaping, Mc has a crush on someone, branding pact mark, possessive behavior, isolation.

*This is unedited and long

___________________________

You weren't always a superstitious person. In fact, you were a person of science, an atheist. However, you were always fascinated with what stories life had to offer, its history, and, as of recently, its beliefs. Mythos, urban legends, and religions- it had caught your eye when your philosophy professor had mentioned them in his typical lesson. A one-off mention, but you decided to look more into it. For some reason, it had unlocked a childhood memory of when you used to read Greek mythology back in middle school.

As of late, you started going to the church near your university campus. You weren't Christian, and by no means did you believe in an afterlife. But you were curious about Christianity and its beliefs. In the beginning, you weren't fascinated with the repetitive worship music that sounded the same. If anything, you had a hard time staying awake as the singers kept repeating the same words and phrases over and over.

But it was worth staying as the sermons would begin after. Each sermon teaches a new belief, a new lesson, a new verse. You were in awe with how the pastor would passionately preach his words, the things you'd learn about the people in the church.

It made you curious about what it would be like to study and record the cultures, religions, and traditions of people around the world. After all, if just learning and investigating your typical local church from an academic point of view was enjoyable, imagine the possibilities of branching out! Maybe perhaps becoming an anthropologist wouldn't be so bad.

You balanced it out, your school, and then your church. For once, everything felt like it was in place, you had reconnected with your old passion, recognizing faces, making acquaintances. You were truly happy.

Funny enough, you even met this guy who happened to be around the same age as you.

Brown eyes, brown hair. He was an average looking guy, nothing made him stand out. You didn't know his name, or if he went to the same university. But every Monday at exactly 3am, he'd show up and read at the library. It was interesting- he was interesting.

Like the bored nerd you were, you started speculating in your head. Why did he always appear at 3am? Was he perhaps a ghost that would only appear in the witching hours? A vampire that walked amongst the earth when it was dark? A low ranking angel who liked to relax in the church?

Of course these were all just make believe scenarios. You had a tendency to make up backstories or scenarios about recurring people. You weren't much of a talker or socializer, you didn't have a lot of close friends, but for some reason you had a bit of courage to go up to the man and talk to him. Though funny enough, the moment you approached him, he was already smiling at you, patting a chair next to him.

Awkwardly shifting your way towards the brown haired male, not expecting him to even acknowledge you. You sat down, trying to muster up any words. But soon enough, you calmed down as he spoke, his warm eyes comforting you as he let out a chuckle.

"Hey, no need to be nervous! I'm just chilling here"

He pulled out the chair for you, his chin resting on the palm of his head as he had a small grin on his face.

"Nono- uh, I'm not nervous..Just uhhh- sorry I don't know..”

You trailed off, unsure of what to do in the small talk.

"It's fine, no sweat! Anyways It's kinda nice talking to you for once"

"Sorry? Wait, do I know you?"

You let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heat up from the embarrassment that began to creep up.

"Well, I mean I dunno? I mean if you're wondering how I know you, I just see you around class here and there"

You perked up, accidentally raising your voice from your excitement, immediately covering your mouth with your hands as you apologized.

"WAIT SO YOU- Oh shit sorry..Wait so you also go to Morninghaven?!"

"Always have~"

The two of you talked for hours. By the time you both parted ways, it was already six in the morning. Little by little the two of you got closer, eventually getting each other's numbers and sitting together during each lecture. Apparently, he just liked going to the library at 3am because of how empty it was.

It was funny how the both of you had so much in common.

Damien was his name. That brown haired geek, Damien. It had been at least 5 months since you've known him, and you hated to admit it, but he was the first close friend you've ever made in a while. He indulged in your hyperfixations, listening to your rambles while he also returned the favor. He was talkative, always sure to give a long answer to something so small. Even if you were to ask him about his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation about the meaning and ‘biology’ about colors.

“Why do you do that?”

You suddenly asked him, sipping at your drink as he sat across from you.

“Do what?”

You swayed your legs back and forth, the height of the bar stool keeping your feet from touching the ground. Listening to the jumbled up conversations that warmed the cafe, you stared at Damien. Smiling while feeling flustered, eyebrows perked up, your voice perked up - you let your mind speak as you put your drink down.

“We always talk about something small, and somehow it devolves into a whole essay of a conversation about big things!”

You exclaimed, gesturing your hands, hoping that it would help aid your poor choice of words that you thought you made.

“Oh sorry..My bad…”

“Nono! It’s not bad! I’m just wondering why? I thought it would just bore you..Or that I was boring to talk to..”

You deflated, sinking down to your seat as you sipped your drink. Damien leaned forward out, ready to retaliate.

“What?! What are you saying?”

“..Do you just ramble because I don’t bring much to the conversation..?”

The both of you stayed in silence. You were trying to hold back a laugh as you purse your lips, while Damien had a deadpan smile.

“....Stay still. I’m gonna slap you”

Immediately, Damien began to reach for you from across the bar table, nearly knowing it down as you slapped away at his hands from touching your face. You were laughing hysterically while Damien muttered to you to “stay still damn it!” and “This is what you get for being such a dumb dumb!” while he continued his efforts.

“What! Gahh! Stop!!”

“Fine, fine! But y’know, have you ever thought that maybe I like rambling to you because I want to talk more with you?”

…Being around him was one of your favorite things throughout the day. He was just so warm..So comfortable to be around. He made you feel wanted, something that you haven't felt until you met him.

"Are you an angel?"

His voice pitched from the other side of the call.

"Pfft what?! That's so random! What is this all about?"

You playfully rolled your stomach onto the bed, your feet up in the air while your legs kicked up and down slowly.

"I'm serious. Are you?"

Rolling his eyes, Damien let out a smug smirk.

"I dunno, depends on you"

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't have some sort of attraction towards Damien. Sure, it was a small crush, but you were happy with the friendship you had with him. You didn’t care if he had gotten another partner or if he didn’t share the same feelings. You were just happy being with Damien who liked talking to you.

Though, you were wrong about that. Ironically, after a week of not seeing Damien. He had actually opened up to you about his feelings towards you. Telling you how he needed a break from spending time together, how he had realized he was slowly falling for you - how he didn't want to ruin the friendship between the two of you. He was scared to see you once he realized how strong his feelings were towards you. After that, the two of you started dating. The relationship felt strange at first, but you weren't complaining. Whatever you needed, Damien was there. When you were sad- Damien was there to comfort you. Whenever you walked to class, he was always right by your side.

It's always been like that, even when the two of you were just friends. But didn’t Damien also have friends to hangout with as well? He'd always go out with them every now and then, and you'd be left on your own whims.

But now?

There wasn't a time where Damien wasn't by your side.

Another thing you've noticed about Damien was that his temper sometimes got the best of him. When it came to the smallest of things- an ant crawling on one of his books, when you would hold your bible close to your chest, how you sometimes looked at other people for ‘too long’. He would either scoff or nearly pop a vein on his head.

How possessive he was towards you, always kissing you and holding you close. Sweetly convincing you to come back to bed, to always look at him, that he adores you too much for you to leave so soon. Bad mouthing the acquaintances that would take up your time from him. Jokingly wishing that they would drop dead or fall ill so that you could focus on him more.

The way he was prideful and rough he was whenever the two of you would be alone and intimate. His hands all over you, his teeth nipping at every inch of your skin. Almost as if he was in a hurry to get those marks all over your body. How he’d mutter those words into your ear, repeating it like a prayer while he shoved your face to whatever surface there was. How beautiful you looked to be ‘finally his’. How sharper his nails would feel whenever he grabbed your hips. The way he would rhythmically pump into you repeatedly, always in a trance with the purpose of cumming inside you. Always lovingly belittling you whenever you cried from the overstimulation, out matching your stamina in an inhuman amount.

It was weird how he never let you look at him whenever the two of you were doing those sorts of things..Was he trying to hide something?

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"How come you never let me see you whenever we do it?"

"...I don't want you seeing something you might not like.."

"Aww.. You know I love every part of you.. "

He hugged you, resting his head against the crook of your neck.

"If only.."

He was controlive over the little things you did.

“Why don’t you wear this? I don’t want people staring at you..”

“You have some time, right? So why don’t you just come with me instead of them?”

“Are you asking me to lock you up in this room? No? Then why are you making it so hard to just listen to me?”

He was always demanding to know where you were and what your plan for the day was. Making sure he had tabs on your daily activities.

Now that you noticed it, Damien was more..Dry. Sophisticated. Calculative. Sure, he would be somewhat expressive, smiling, and softly speaking. But, back then, he was more loud, more..Different. You felt so alienated from him at times. What happened? You couldn’t put your finger on it.

Was Damien always like this?

Damien even stopped going to the church. You found it weird since Damien loved going to church with you. It was the place you first met each other. He loved how you would study the pastor's words, making serious notes about the lessons. Sitting right next to you as he also made notes regarding the philosophy of Christianity. You were a church duo, even though the both of you weren’t religious.

But now..Damien hated it. Often complaining how annoying the pastor was with his scriptures. The thing he onced loved became the thing he despised the most. He was once friendly with the pastor. Now, you only find him staring eye to eye with the pastor, stoic towards his words.

"Be weary of the sweet temptations of the world. For Satan is cunning, speaking with honeyed words, luring you into damnation."

"But folks, we have to remember this. There is no need to fear him! He is dethroned, casted away by god. We must always declare his defeat. That is how we remove the authority of the enemy.”

You swore from the corner of your eye, and you saw Damien grin from that statement - as if it was personal to him. The next day, the pastor fell severely ill, according to his wife. You were worried, of course. You talked with the pastor here and there, and you wanted to at least send some medicine or soup for the poor man. Damien, however, just laughed at your attempts, hugging you as he pushed his face against your chest. Calling you adorable for ‘wanting to bother the old nut’.

You had a dream a few days later. You were in the church library, alone. Everything was distorted, books meshed together like liquid, people’s faces blurred out. But, Damien was there, waiting for you. The sweet angelic Damien you knew from the past, smiling and patting a chair that was next to him.

“I missed you”

Before you could say anything, you woke up. You couldn’t place on why you were feeling the way you were feeling, but you were incapable of holding back the tears from flowing. It was like you were grieving over a dead person. But, really- you were sad over nothing.

You were slowly getting paranoid over the small things that were starting to recur. Whenever you walked outside, there was always an owl there- it’s neck following your movements. The small whispers that you swore you could’ve heard calling out to you. The hands that would wrap around your waist whenever your back was turned. Your bible and church notes trashed or missing. The bite marks that would appear out of nowhere when you would wake up. Your mind pulled into a trance whenever you would stare too long into Damien’s eyes. The dreams..How your memories were vaugely replaced little by little with someone else you’ve never encountered.

The worst part was, your mind accepted it as normal - your body seemed to relax at the thought of it. But it wasn’t normal, you knew that.

You had a slight theory in your head, a terrifying thought that brought you shaking whenever you questioned its validity. Was this even Damien? He was acting so fucking weird ever since he disappeared for that week. Everything was just so odd. Like you were cursed by an unknown force. What if this wasn’t Damien? What if Damien was missing and you were dating some skin walker? When you knew Damien, he felt so warm and comfortable to be around. Now, if anything- it often felt too possessive, lustful- intense when you were with him.

It didn’t help when you found that mark behind your back.

____________

“Hey..Babe, what is this?”

"Oh that? Yeah, you're weird. I told you going to that party was a bad idea, but you didn't listen. You should've seen my face when you showed me it! Why did you think getting that tattoo was a good idea?"

But it wasn't a tattoo. The more you looked into the strange mark on your back, the more concerned you got. It was green, almost glowing. A demon marking.. A ritualistic mark that bonds you to the demon who claimed you as their own. You've read about this. The mark was equivalent to a proposal, promising an afterlife full of happiness in hell. What party did you even go to?

When did you get this?

"I don't know hun..You just showed up with it"

How the fuck do you get rid of it? Fuck, did you have to get laser surgery?

"Honey, calm down. It's not that bad. It's just a tattoo. Plus, I think it looks wonderful on you"

Nonono, you don't want this. Why was there some fucking satanic pact mark on your body?

"Maybe you should stop reading those books..Or maybe just take a break from the whole demons and angels church thing."

Why was this on your body?

"Honey, you know there’s no harm in it right? I think those books are starting to get into your head.."

Maybe...But still it was fucking creepy! But nonetheless, the constant studying and fixation of demons and hell were starting to tire you out. Maybe, you should focus on your assignments more..

___________

Time passed and it had been at least a year since you and Damien were dating. You were in your final year until graduation, and surprisingly- things were going smoothly. Though your paranoia worsened. You had tried to remove the mark behind your back, even paid for laser surgery to remove it. Explaining to the dermatologist that it was an accident tattoo. Though when the mark was removed, it appeared the next day- as if it completely healed over the treatment.

The relationship hadn’t changed..Damien was still possessive and greedy for your affection. However, Damien was somewhat back to his old self…Somewhat.

Thinking about the past, the stalking, the mark behind your back- it had brought an old familiar feeling back. The church, you wanted to go back and attend it. To at least say hi, for old times sake. To get some answers- some comfort about your fears. You contemplated on bringing Damien, but ultimately heavily decided against it. So you went at night, opening the doors to be greeted with the warmth you were once familiar with.

You smiled as you saw the pastor on the stage, cleaning up and checking up on the instruments for the worship band.

“Sir! How are you? It’s been so long”

The pastor walked towards you, extending his arms out to you as he smiled.

“It’s been so long! What happened? I thought you moved!”

You chuckled, hugging him close as you embraced him, enjoying how cozy he felt.

“Nono! Of course not! Things just got in the way. But I’m glad you’re still here”

The pastor stepped away, eying you up and down, wanting to say something before holding back as he motioned you to follow him. Walking behind him, you both ended up in the office that was located in the basement of the church.

“Sit, I want to talk to you about something”

He sat down behind the table, rummaging through the wooden desk, looking for something as you sat across him.

“I’m a bit worried for you. You disappeared for a while..Something seems off about you..Is anything bothering you?”

You sat quiet for a bit. Should you mention the mark? You wanted to, but you were scared with the answer that would come out. So you didn’t mention it, but you mentioned the other instances you felt when something was wrong.

“Well..I felt paranoid. Whenever I’m not looking it felt like someone was there, touching and whispering in my ear..There’s always there..Like-”

“An unease? That the room feels a lot heavier?”

“Yeah..Exactly like that..But it’s no longer like that! Sure it’s here and there, but it’s really nothing”

The pastor just stared at you. Biting his lip before handing you two things. Anointing oil, and a bottle of holy water..

"I think you should take these. The anointing oil will help protect whatever room, person, or thing of yours"

You took it, examining the items as he continued speaking to you.

"With the oil, you just take a bit of it on your finger and draw a cross on it. It's best that you say a prayer before it"

You nodded your head, smiling as he continued.

“I plead the blood of Jesus Christ over this room. I pray and demand that any spirits in this room be gone in the name of the lord. That this oil that is anointed with the holy spirit will shield and protect me from Satan.”

"Like that?"

Smiling, he gestured his hands, telling you to hold the items close to you.

"Of course! And with the holy water..Well I'm assuming you've watched a bunch of horror movies haha!"

Thanking the pastor, you eventually made your way back home. Promising that you would keep in touch with him as he ushered you outside the doors. When you finally arrived at your dormitory, you let out a scream as Damien stood in front of you.

“Jesus! Damien! Don’t just stand there!”

“Where were you?”

Oh right, you didn’t tell him..

“I was just out running some errands, walking around, sorry I forgot to tell you..”

You felt more worried about him finding out about going back to the church rather than his concern for you.

“Are you lying?”

You exclaimed as you dropped your bag, patting his shoulder as your lips stretched out to a thin line.

“Damien..I would never lie to you..”

You almost felt guilty for deceiving him, but you didn’t want him to know.

“..Well, let’s go back to bed okay? The bed felt cold without you..So please?”

He pleaded with you, turning off the lights, guiding you to the bed short after as his hands grabbed onto yours.

“Haha, of course.”

“I love you so much..”

______________

You’ve been thinking about it, using the oil and holy water. When Damien was gone for an hour to do an exam, he needed to pass. You, who were free from all of your work, decided to open the anointing oil. Putting a few drops of the oil on the tip of your finger, you anointed the room. Drawing a cross, as you said a small prayer.

Maybe one or two more would be best? You thought of nothing of it. It was just a gift, something that you wanted to try. Something that would perhaps ease your fear. Nothing would come out of it.

But something did.

Damien had a severe headache and reaction the moment he stepped in your room. Groaning in pain as he nearly fell to the floor. Clutching his head in pain as the ungodly sounds of wheezing came out of his throat. You were terrified as you saw Damien try to get ahold of himself. Whispering to himself while you stood there, frozen.

Adrenaline rushed through your body as a million thoughts went through your head. He was just stressed, right? He just came back from an exam, maybe he's tired. You tried to rationalize your extreme theories to calm yourself down. But even then, a few words had slipped out of your mouth - unconsciously wanting to test out your theory.

"Get behind me Satan."

He knelt as he stared at you in disbelief.

".......What?"

Your voice shook in fear, your eyes furrowing as you stared at your boyfriend.

“You heard me. Who are you?”

Fixing his composure, Damien looked at you concerned. Cautiously approaching you while also keeping a safe distance.

“Honey, what are you talking about? Calm down okay? Take a deep breath, I was just a bit stressed from staying up all night”

You sneered as you were quick to grab the holy water from your cabinet, loosening the cap as you raised your voice.

“Cut the shit. G-God..What did you do to Damien?!”

Tearing up, you shouted as you splashed the holy water at him. Making sure to throw a large amount towards his face.

“Honey what are you talkin- FUCK!”

He sneered in pain, cowering down as he tried to cover himself. Now you were panicking as your theory was confirmed. You had almost felt bad, stupid, delusional even. But now? Your fight or flight senses were triggered.

“W-Why did that hurt you?! HUH?! T-TELL ME!”

You waved the bottle frantically. Your eyes widening as you saw his skin burning in agitation from the water that hit his skin. He tried to excuse himself, to save whatever grace he had. But you weren’t having it. Screaming out scriptures, dousing him in holy water- you had eventually revealed him for what he truly was.

Blonde hair, curled horns protruding out of his head, the sharp tail that moved side to side swiftly. He wasn't human. This wasn't Damien.

“This hurts you! You’re..A demon..In the name of the holy-"

But before you could finish your sentence, your prayer, your last ditch effort to handle the situation, he interrupted you. Rushing towards you he pinned you against the cabinet that you were standing behind. His hands gripping onto the edges of the wood, your body sandwiched in between the hard surface and his chest. With nowhere to escape, you tried screaming- but he was quick to wrap a hand around your throat, threatening to squeeze deathly tight, warning you to keep quiet.

“Are you finished? I could kill you right now and take you with me for all eternity. But I would rather take my time and not hurt you... So just be good for me, okay?”

You nodded your head frantically, trying to speak as your words were whispered. He eyed you, loosening his grip around your neck.

“Why? Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

In awe, his lips softly kissed your cheek, trying to comfort you as you teared up from fear.

“Aww..Love..Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? Satan, that’s who I am. I know this is a lot for you but, I want you to know that I love you. Okay?”

Satan.

Satan?

The demon that replaced Damien, the one who made you breakfast everyday. The one who was jealous whenever you dared speak to anyone. The one you gave your virginity to..?

Satan himself was in love with you? Satan, the prince of darkness, one of the rulers of hell- was here professing his love to you. How long has he been using Damien’s face for? Where was Damien if he was taking his place?

“Where’s Damien then? What did you do to him?”

You asked, your lips shuddering as you thought about him. If he had disappeared, then..

“Don’t worry about him, he's fine. Better than how he was wasting his life away before”

A surge of panic coursed through your body, your hands instinctively shoved Satan away with all of your strength.

“YOU KILLED HIM?!”

Unfazed, he sighed as if you were overreacting. His palms reached out towards you, telling you to calm down from your outburst.

“Now, he wasn’t in any pain. He didn’t even see it coming, so don’t worry about him. Afterall, he became the sweet angel you always thought of him as. So either way, everyone benefits in this situation”

Your jaw clenched as your eyes wavered at the demon who stood in front of you.

“I’m not going to hurt you...I’m not doing this for the sake of destroying your life. In fact- I’m doing it for the sake of making it better! I love you, you don’t understand - I need you. You fascinate me - you're the only human on this earth I deem tolerable!"

"I had to do it, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Damien was just a nobody in your life. There are lots of people like him out there in the world. So please, just think for a moment."

You recoiled as you felt his sharp nails softly outline the curves of your face. Cringing as you stood there fear, hearing his insane ramblings.

“You’ve read about me. Studied me. Talked about me. You were just as interested in me as I was for you. Don’t you think that's special?”

Bitterly, you spat at his face.

"I want you gone. Out of my life. I will never love you- you'll never have me. Get out."

He looked at you, almost remorseful as you glared at him- only to then smirk and roll his eyes..And with that, he disappeared in a blink of an eye. For a good year, even until graduation- you never saw him again. It was almost as if he never existed.

All the messages, the call histories, everything- they were gone.

____________________

It had been a few years ever since he stopped approaching you, only deciding to watch you from a distance. Hiding in the shadows, lurking in the small corners of your home, he admired you.

It drove him mad when observed your cute little attempts at avoiding him. Always wearing that small cross around your neck, never interacting with anyone outside of the church. Praying everyday on the edge of your bed before you go to sleep, hoping to ward him off forever.

You were such an adorable little sheep. So desperate to keep him away, not knowing it only made him want you more. Every night he watched you, hungrily devouring your body with his eyes, enjoying how meek you've become. He wanted to take you right then and there, surprising you with his presence when he would emerge from the shadows. How would your face look in fear? Would you scream at him? Attempt to perform an exorcism?

Would it be enjoyable watching you break down from the spot? Hearing you whimper when he would corner you. Watching you plead for him to leave you alone. The slow burn of you fearing him, only to reach out to him out of desperation when he's hovering over you.

You're starved aren't you? Lonely, and starved for an ounce of emotional attention. You haven't been talking to a lot of people lately, even when you're in the illusion of safety when you're in the church. He felt so bad for you, yet so eager for you. All vulnerable and alone..You're still sad about that human boy weren't you?

That's okay.

There was nothing a new face couldn't fix.

Sooner or later, he'll have you forget about him. He'll have you wrapped up around his finger. You'll live your perfect minuscule human life with him until death do you part- temporarily. After all, heaven wouldn't allow an angel with the mark of the beast into their pearly gates, would they?

A new face, a new name. He would meet you again at the church. Charming you with his words, coaxing you with his sweet voice that was hard to resist. Making you smile again, hearing that angelic laugh of yours, feeling your warmth when you cuddled underneath him.

He missed how good it felt to be with you. He loved every bit of it. How it gave him an excuse to act out on his pent up urges towards you. To have your legs so nicely wrapped around his torso, drowning in pure lust from those sweet sounds you'd make. To finally have your body all to himself.

It wouldn't last for long though.. You were smart- too smart. You always somehow found out a way to identify him through the smallest of ways. Through the subtle gestures he'd make, the appearance he decided to appear as, or even from saying an old ancient spell against him just to see his reaction. You even went as far as spraying him with holy water like some sort of cat at one point.

How intentive!

That's why he loved you. You were so intelligent, brighter than most. That's why he didn't mind doing it over and over again. Like a game of cat and mouse. You'd gain a sense of security, feeling confident that the man right next to you wasn't him- only for it to break again when you came to terms with the truth.

He didn't mind. It was exciting watching you ponder about him. It was special what the both of you had together. Seeing your face contort in pure anguish and rage when you realized that the person you had slept with, the one you had trusted your whole heart with, was only him the entire time. How you would beg, even try to bribe him with intimacy and sex- just for him to leave you alone. Pleading him to stop impersonating people and potential partners.

"But this is fun darling. Watching you break down every time~"

"I can't just give it all up for something I can do whenever we're together"

"There's really no issue here, you're the only one who's making it a problem"

"Running away, panicking for no reason…You already know I won't hurt you. I just want to love you."

"So really, when will you stop?"

No matter how much you run, he'll always have you in his arms. Even in death, you won't ever be able to escape him.

How long will it take for you to crumble and accept him? When will you stop running away from him? Time and time again, you would run away- only to come crawling back to him.

So why don't you just accept the inevitable?

.

.

.

_____________________________

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompt #obey me #yandere obey me #obeyme satan #yandere satan #yandere demon #mc x satan #yandere obey me x reader #obey me mc #yandere headcanons #yandere #obey me yandere #This took FOREVER TO FINISHHHHHH #I'm ngl I don't think I wrote this one well lolol #hdjajsdjen I hate editing sjjsjsjswndjf #I give up on editing #my boy Damien got murked #Satan pulls a mandela catalog

[crash-and-cure]

Wait for Me (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Tupelo’s favorite son is on his way home to all the expected pomp and circumstance befitting a returning King.

A/N: This is very much inspired by Hadestown and I may or may not blend all the character together so that both Elvis and reader have aspects from all of them. Technically I’m cheating I will admit by combining these two (-, -) requests into one story but I thought it would work well. Not me trying to Posit how WW2 affected the floriculture industry all for a fanfic. But this is apparently how I marry my two hyperfixations of 2022: Hadestown and Elvis. A+ to anyone that can find all the references to both Hadestown and the greek mythos in the story. 

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping. Kinda of a stochholme syndrome going on through the later half. Blood and a bit of child abuse depicted (arguably this child deserved it). Emotional Manipulation throughout. Isolation. Touch-starved reader. Innocent reader. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f. and m. recieving), vaginal fingering and handjobs. Outsider POV for the first bit.  Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Honeybee” and “Rosebud” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 21k (seriously somebody stop me)

My Masterlist

Dreams are sweet, Until they’re not

Men are kind, Until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, Until they rot, And fall apart

                 Flowers, Hadestown

Demi has never feared a single man in her life. 

Men have done her wrong. Men have humiliated her. Men have even hurt her. But she does not fear them. 

That’s how she lived for years, drifting from place to place, belonging to no one as no one belonged to her, unattached and untethered as the wind. Working odd jobs to get by until the next town, but there was a perpetual emptiness in this existence of hers that left her feeling hollow. 

And then her sweet little daughter was born and she found something that bound her to this world fully. She knew who the father was, but none of that mattered to her, because her daughter was no man’s, she was hers. He wasn’t good for much, but getting roughly ten acres of land in exchange for never having to deal with either him or his wife again was one of the sweetest deals she had ever heard. 

Living on a farm was never where she pictured herself ending up, let alone working and later inheriting a farm that only grew flowers, but Gail, the old caretaker of the land, was a literal godsend in those early days. Gail had that same look in her eyes as someone else who had been wronged by a man, and this kindred spirit would end up more or less adopting Demi as her own.

Her daughter is by far the most beautiful thing to have ever existed, born the first day of spring all balled up fists and shrill cries complete with a scrunched up face.

She was perfect.

Demi made a promise to that tiny creature that night, to never know hunger, to be surrounded by only the most beautiful things the world has to offer, to never be unloved for as long as she should live, and most importantly to never let the world hurt her the same way she was hurt. All of these rather lofty promises to make, but she was determined to keep them.

Those early days were painfully idyllic, caring for flowers, selling the cuttings, all the while her daughter was strapped to her chest. It admittedly did a number on her back, but it was all worth it to remind her what she works for. She doesn’t think there will ever be a day in which she forgets the first time her daughter's tiny hands reached out for a white rose, and just the utter serenity that overcame her in that moment. There is no doubt in her mind that this is where the both of them were meant to be.

As the years passed their little family grew as Demi collected other wayward women, some came and went, others stuck around so long her daughter started calling them her Aunties. Even a war happened a world away, and the farm had to shift focus to making food rather than beauty, but now three years later everything is close to being just as perfect as it was before. 

But if there is one saying she wholeheartedly believes, it is that woman plans and man laughs. 

Her daughter had been so upset that day and had ended up exhausting herself in Demi’s bed and she thanked whatever force up above for that when she woke in the middle of the night to the sound of rustling in her daughters room. Making sure that her daughter was still asleep she crept silently down the hall, baseball bat in hand, prepared to defend her family from whoever the hell was in her home. 

Evidently nothing could have prepared her for what she would find in there, as she walked into her daughter's room and was met with the cornflower blue gaze of a familiar waifish thirteen year old boy. 

When he had first started coming around, he was more like a stray cat whom her daughter fed once; annoyingly underfoot but manageable enough with a hose. But the more time he spent the more worried she became. 

All of which the day before when she had idly asked her daughter what she did with the boy that day only for her sweet little daughter to innocently respond, “he told me not to tell you.”

Her friends tried to tell her it was puppy love and that it would eventually pass, and just to give it some time to fade. How intervening may just make it worse. But something in her gut told her that there was something about the way he looked at her daughter, the way he spoke to and about her, the way he acted, and that something was that it was all very wrong. If she had to liken it to anything, she imagines that this is the same way a hunter looks upon his mark.

It was beyond anything she’s ever seen in a grown man's eyes, so she never thought she could see something like that in a child's eyes. 

Her daughter remained innocent to it, and slowly but surely Demi was trying to edge that boy out of their lives. Sent him home earlier and earlier, kept her from the shop and in the fields, even began to go out of her way to pick up her daughter rather than chance it with walking home by herself. 

But now looking at the boy as he eagerly ransacked her daughter's dresser, did she realize she should have better listened to her instinct. 

‘Oh hi Miss Demi,” he would say, as though he just wasn’t caught rifling through her daughters drawers. He was clutching tightly to a truly pathetic and haphazardly put together bouquet of flowers, that seemed to be dripping something from the stems. “Do you know where Y/N is? I just wanted to give these to her.” 

It was only as she turned on the lights did she see the true horror to be had. Candy apple red, as though it could ever be that innocent, blood was dripping between his fingers and onto the wooden floors below, his face giving no indication that he even noticed, his eyes continually darting behind her as though waiting for someone from behind. The flowers in the chaotic bouquet tell a story of all kinds of love, but the one errant, still-thorned rose tells the story not of love, but of something else… something dark and unspeakable. 

Demi acts immediately, grabbing him by the wrist and by the ear and getting him the hell out of her house. For all his protests and attempts to escape her grip, he was no match for the fury of a mother, and with the ruckus the boy is stirring up she silently thanks god that her daughter is such a deep sleeper. 

It hurts her having to leave her daughter home alone, but she knows that her daughter's biggest threat is in her grasp.

She’s had to drop the boy off enough times to remember where he lived and she knows his mother well enough to instinctively know she is no doubt up worrying over him. She was proven right seeing the light bleeding through the front windows of the small home. 

He is out of the truck before Demi can even fully park it, and he bolts to the door, probably hoping that she will then be forced to leave without talking to his mother about this whole thing. But he is stopped as said woman flies out of the house and catches him in a massive bear hug on the small porch. 

He has parents who care for him so much, yet he still acts like this? She wonders to herself. She sees the woman giving her son once over before coming across his wounded hand that had by now begun to congeal and stop bleeding. 

“If you know what’s good for him, you’ll make sure he stays the hell away from my property and I best never see you sniffin’ around my child again, boy,” Demi would say, voice ice cold interrupting this warm reunion, pointing a single finger in this boy's face. 

“Demi, what’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” his mother would ask, already putting him behind her back, willing to defend him with her life apparently. 

Wouldn’t you do the same, a small part of her says. 

“Y’know I expected more from you,” Demi said to her fellow mother. “I never would’ve expected you to be the type to raise a boy that would break into a little girls room and go through her drawers. The hell were you even tryin’ to find in there?”

He wouldn’t answer her, but he would look her dead in the eye, with a look that told her he was unrepentant about his actions. Though that mask would crack the slightest bit as his mother took his face in her hands. 

“Bewbie… is this true?” the woman would ask her son slowly, unwilling to believe. But his downturned eyes do all the necessary talking. 

“Mama she’s crazy,” that little shit would say, trying to deflect, and cowering behind his mothers skirts. “We can’t leave Honeybee with her.”

“I oughta knock all your fuckin’ teeth out for whatchu did. See how good a singer you are then,” she threatens, though that hardly helps her case. But she was willing to do a lot worse if it meant keeping her daughter safe.

“Don’tcha see Mama?” he says, gesturing a hand her way. “She ain’t safe with Miss Demi, and we gotta take her with us.” It’s not so much his words that are disturbing, but the complete and utter conviction that he speaks nothing but the truth that has the hair on the back of Demi’s neck stand up.

That boy’s lucky that his father decided to make his way out there and prevent Demi from making good on her threat. 

“Buntyn, go inside,” she would firmly say to her son. He looks as though he were about to protest, until she shoots a look and he backs down, and walks back into his home. His mother takes a moment to process her words, though nothing she says has a chance in hell of quelling the fury in Demi’s heart. “I-I think he’s just actin’ out because we’re gonna to be movin’ soon,” she tries to weakly justify. 

“I don’t fuckin’ care what his excuses are, Gladys. Keep a leash on that boy o’ yours if you gotta,” Demi seethes, catching said boy looking out at them from the window. She makes eye contact with him, fully knowing he would hear this next part, “Because I ain’t goin’ to be so nice next time.”

Demi turned around with that threat still hanging in the air and hoped to never see any of them again. It’s a long quiet drive from there, and her fury reaches a near boiling point finding that damned bouquet on the floor, forgotten in all the ruckus, to which she quickly chucks them into the furnace. It feels wrong to burn her own livelihood, but these flowers were now in her eyes tainted and unfit to ever be seen again. 

The fury doesn’t fully melt away until she sees the love of her life sitting up from her bed.

“Mama where’d ya go?” you would ask, your tiny fists rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you let out an almost angelic yawn. You are and always will be her baby, and nothing will ever take you away from her. 

“Just a stray dog sniffin’ round the house, Rosebud,” Demi would say, lightly scratching her nails down your back, the same way she’s done since you were a newborn. “But don’tchu worry baby, your mama scared it off. Go back to sleep.”

Demi sleeps well that night if only due to the fact that she was able to convince herself (albeit temporarily) that that had all been a bad dream. But once she saw the trail of crimson starting from your bedroom window, there is no denying what had happened the night before. She didn’t get this far by trusting other people's words, so for the next few days the two of you slept in a different room each night. Demi calls it camping and you, her sweet little girl, are all too willing to believe her. She sleeps with one eye open those nights, all too afraid that even dropping her watch for half a second will lead to disaster. 

She would find no peace until she heard around town that they had moved somewhere up north. To where? She didn't care so long as he was as far away from her precious Rosebud as could be. Still she is always worried as to the day he may come back, so she can only pray that he’s moved on to another poor girl and leaves you the hell alone.

Part of her wonders if she should warn you in case he ever returns, but this question answers itself when you come home from school wanting to show her how many ladybugs you caught in the schoolyard today. She didn’t want to burden you with this awful knowledge, wanting to keep you innocent from your mothers woes.

Demi wanted to shield you from the world, and hoped that one day, you would also get to live without fearing men. It would take her nine years to realize, by then far too late, that you only lacked fear because you didn’t know what men were capable of. 

Demi fears no man.

But she does fear Elvis Presley.

—------------------------------------

Flowers have always been the family business. Fields upon fields of every color in the rainbow going on for acres. Truly even having lived here for years and knowing little to nothing else but this, it still never fails to take your breath away. 

To say your family knows flowers, is an understatement. You had spent your days running around the property asking your aunties about the flowers they tended to, and what each of them meant. 

You learned from an early age that flowers were always meant to invoke good feelings in people, and it makes you proud that you’re a part of it. So you’re excited to say the least when your Mama surprises you with your very own gardening kit for Christmas.

It’s a rite of passage for those in your family to successfully grow and maintain their own plot of flowers for the first time. You had been given the choice of any flower you wanted to take on, most of them pointing to some of these easiest ones for your first time, the ones that you need only plant and water regularly to eventually bloom. You on the other hand wanted to do something harder. So you chose roses due to both the challenge it takes into growing and maintaining them but also the fact that your farm had them in abundance, so it wouldn’t hit the business too hard if you failed. 

But moreover, Mama had always called you her little Rosebud, so it only felt fitting to have these be the first flowers you grow all on your own. These blooms were rather picky about conditions, but you had been watching the women in your family grow them since before you could walk, and so you felt you were up to the task. You were only nine but you wanted to show the rest of them how good you could do on your own. 

So you watched the seeds germinate, watched them grow into tiny sprouts in their small pots, planted them neatly apart, gave them plenty of sun, and never forgot to water them. Mama even caught you once or twice hovering over those little pots not wanting to miss a single moment of their growth.

She warned you to temper your expectations, how sometimes you can do everything right, and they still may not grow. But you were full of hope and wanted this more than you have ever wanted anything in your few years of life. 

You had taken this seriously, hanging on to every tip you got from your Aunties, being sure to tend to them at the correct times, giving the correct amount of water and watching like a hawk for any unwanted pests. Each day you got the pleasure of watching them grow into buds and you figured they were close to blooming any day.

And that’s why you took great offense when you found a gangly tow-headed boy picking at the red roses you had worked so hard to grow. 

He looked to be older than you by a few years, stood a foot taller than you, but you knew boys like him, the type that would stomp out dandelions to make you cry and you weren’t about to let him ruin your hard work with your first batch of rose bushes. You may be 9 but you’re scrappy as all get out, which you prove when you drop your basket of fresh cuttings of the day and all but tackle the larger boy into the dirt.

He gives an undignified shriek as he hits the ground, having been caught off guard, but he does attempt to shove you off until he goes a bit limp upon getting a good look at you. The brief scuffle ends with you straddling him and your little palms pinning his arms down as best as you could as owlish, cornflower blue eyes stared up at you in equal amounts of awe and fear. 

“What’re you doin’ here?” you say your little voice indignant at what you thought were his attempts to sabotage your efforts. “Why were tryin’ to kill those roses?”

“I-I-I wa-wasn’t,” he insists, his cheeks burning from the shame of being caught doing whatever he was doing and his hands shaking something fierce as he limply tries to hide his face from you as you clench a tiny fist above you. You see that the briars got him good and little droplets of blood were beading up on some fine scratches on his hands. 

If he was trying to wreck the bushes you doubt he would try to do so in such a stupid way, but that didn’t mean you trusted him quite yet. However you weren’t about to let him continue being hurt in your presence, so you stood up and grabbed the band-aids that were in your little kit, and helped clean him up.

“I-It-ts m-my mama’s birthday to-tomorrow, an-and I wanted to get her so-somethin’ nice this year,” he said after a while, solemnly looking at his bandaged hand. 

You softened at his words, not having expected his answer, but you can hardly fault him for his reasoning. Afterall you don’t know where you or your mama would be if there weren’t thoughtful people that gave flowers to those they loved. 

But you do know how much work it takes to grow them, and maintaining your irritation at his mucking about, you indignantly say “You coulda went to our shop and bought them.”

He goes an even deeper shade of red with your statement, “I-I know it’s wrong to steal, an-and I never woulda done this i-if I had the money to buy ‘em.” 

It feels like all of the animosity you have towards him leaves your body at that moment. You and Mama have had your hard times before, and you are very much aware that each flower in your family’s field is worth something. It’s what keeps everyone fed, what keeps the lights on, and puts the clothes on your backs, but even knowing that you have one simple belief; everyone deserves nice flowers.

“Well,” you say to him as you stand up. “You picked the wrong color. You ain’t supposed to give red roses to your mama.” 

“Really?”

“If you know anything about the language of flowers, you’d know that you’re only supposed to give ‘em to your wife or girlfriend.”

“...Flowers talk to each other?” 

“No, they…” you pause trying to figure out a way to best explain yourself. “Their colors and the types are supposed to tell people how you feel about ‘em.” He draws his brows together, thoroughly confused as to what you’re saying, though that ain’t surprising. Mama often complained that when Men buy flowers, they never think too much beyond price, and boys rarely if ever appreciate them. 

You decide that it may do him better, to see it rather than trying to explain it fully. So you take his bandaged hand and you walk him through some of the crops. From the outside, the fields look to be a chaotic mess of colors, when in reality there is a lot more thought put into it as your mother organizes by type rather than color. You are able to give him a run down as to rose color meanings, until you finally arrive at your intended destination.

He goes a little wide-eyed once you take out your gardening shears, but quickly relaxes once you go behind him to the bushel of pink roses. You’ve been cutting and dethorning roses for about a year or two now, so it takes not even a minute to find one in good condition, grab it, cut it, proceed to have it stripped of all its thorns, and casually present it to the blonde boy before you. 

You thought he was red before, but as you presented him that rose, he turned redder than the rose he had attempted to pluck. His bandaged hand shakily takes the flower out of your hand, and with a reverence you’ve never seen from a boy when it comes to flowers, he holds it gently with both. 

“Pink means gratitude and admiration.”

“What?” his lip still quivering slightly and eyes glassy.

“When you give someone a pink rose,” you explain to him, with a smile. “You’re letting them know that you’re grateful for all they’ve done for you and that you admire them very much for it. It’s the perfect flower to give to your Mama,” you say, giving him a small smile, the look he’s giving you making you feel warm inside.

“Rosebud?” you hear from behind you, and all the warm feelings seem to die in that instant.

“H-hi mama,” you say nervously, whipping around, standing on your toes, as though you’ll somehow be able to hide this trespasser's taller frame behind you. Though you realize how stupid that idea is and quickly take her hand, “Mama come look at my roses, I think they’re gonna bloom today,” you say, trying desperately to turn her around as though she’ll forget she ever saw that boy. 

“In a minute Rosebud,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet, that you know by now means she’s mad. “But first, why don’tcha introduce me to your little friend here.”

“...yes Mama, this is… my friend…,” you go wide-eyed realizing you don’t even know this boy's name. 

Luckily he picks up on your pause, “Hello, ma-ma’am, my name is uuhh… Elvis… Presley.” 

Your mama slowly leans forward until she’s eye level with him, “Well, Elvis Presley,” she drawls slowly, her words friendly, yet the way they’re delivered tells you her feelings for this boy are anything but. “You mind tellin’ me why the hell you’re on my property, botherin’ my daughter, and plucking out my livelihood?”

Elvis looks down realizing that he was still holding the pink rose for all to see, and makes a futile attempt to hide it, only for his skinny wrist to be caught in your mothers iron like grip. 

Mama had that way about her, her smile could be warm but her words icy. You’ve seen her like this with the few men that had come through here. Some trying to buy the land, some trying to find one of your Aunties, all of them leaving empty-handed because of her.

But you don’t believe that the boy before you, the one that wanted to get his mama something nice for her birthday, could ever be like those bad men. So you decided to do what needs to be done, “I invited him over Mama,” you say looking down at your muddy boots.

“Rosebud you ain’t gotta lie for him,” she admonishes, though she does seem to loosen her grip on him.  

“Bu-but it’s the truth Mama. He’s been sayin’ how he needs a gift for his mama’s birthday, so I said he could come over here to get her a flower,” you mumble, knowing that this is something she always told you never to do. 

She takes a long hard sigh before she fully releases Elvis, “You best get yourself home before it gets dark.” she says, her warning punctuated with a very cold breeze, despite it being well into April. He swallows nervously as he makes his way to the road, giving one last sorrowful glance your way before leaving. 

“Rosebud,” your mama sighs, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Sometimes you’re too sweet for your own good, and I don’t ever want to see someone take advantage of that.” 

“Ok Mama.”

When he left that day you fully expected to never see him again, until he showed up the very next day wanting to show you his guitar. 

After that, Elvis becomes a near constant presence at your farm. Your aunties thought he was nice enough, pinching his cheeks and plying him with snacks in exchange for having him sing for them. You don’t mind too much, as you don’t really have too many friends, and next to none that want to spend their evenings on your farm. You kind of enjoyed having him around, he would sometimes bring a guitar and sing to you, or read his comics to you. Other times he would follow you around as you did your chores and ask about the flowers.

You got used to him being around and even grew to enjoy it. One special day you even decided to share your most valued treasure with him: your favorite fruit in the whole world. One so good yet so expensive and rare in these parts that it’s limited to a once a year treat for you. 

“An onion?” he asks skeptically.

“No,” you insist, slightly huffy that he’s not appreciating your most prized possession. “It’s called a Pomegranate,” you tell him, taking it out of his hands so that you could cut into it the way your Mama showed you. “I know when you first look at it, it doesn't look like much,” you say, as you cut at the crown. “But when you really look at it, you’ll find something truly amazing,” you conclude, and with a twist of your wrist you take the top off to reveal an abundance of the small jewel looking seeds, where you see him looking at it in nothing less than utter amazement. 

That look in his eyes only grows when he actually tastes the little kernels for the first time, and he ravenously devours his half of the fruit, some of the juices overflowing out the corners of his mouth, and down his face.

You on the other hand savor each and every bite of it. You truly believe if perfection can be found, it would be in that late summer afternoon. The soft sunbeams creeping through from the shade and the perfume of the freshly cut flowers in your basket. The soft breeze that runs through your hair and causes the flowers in the fields to sway slightly as though they were dancing to the music flowing from your friends' beaten up guitar. 

“What’d ya’ dream about doin’?” he would ask as he gazed up at the clouds overhead, idly strumming his guitar, his lips and fingertips stained red. 

“What do you mean Elvis?” You would ask as you pick at the very last seeds on your rind. 

“I-I mean wh-what’d ya wanna do when you grow up, Honeybee?,” he asks nervously, eyes firmly on the fields as though he were afraid of your answer. You roll your eyes slightly at his nickname for you, stemming from the time a bee landed on your hand and rather than swatting it away, you gently blew on it to get it to fly away. But you do decide to humor him anyway.

“Oh…This.” 

“Really?” he asks, truly baffled at your answer. “You really don’t wanna go nowhere or-or do somethin’ else?”

“Why would I wanna do anything else?,” you ask in turn, confused at his confusion. “It’s like magic when really think ‘bout it,” you insist, showing him the last few kernels of the pomegranate you have in your hand. “Something so small can turn into something so beautiful.”  

“You could plant ‘em anywhere, couldn’t you?” he insists.

You shrug your shoulders at that. “I guess.”

“But what if you couldn’t stay here,” he asks, his tone mournful, but you didn’t pick up on it at the time. “Wha-what if you had to go far away and y-you couldn’t come back?”

“Then I would make a new home,” you dismiss, offering him the last six seeds of your Pomegranate. He looks so surprised by the offer, his eyes a bit glassy before he furiously rubs them with the back of his hand and accepts your offer. 

“Honeybee… co-could you meet me b-by your roses tomorrow,” he stutters. “I-i got something’ important to give ya’.”

“Ok.”

“Bu-but don’t tell your mama,” he says to you.

That may be a tall order, you thought at the time. Your mama on the other hand remains coolly indifferent to him, but you always got the sense that she didn’t like him for whatever reason. Nonetheless a promise is a promise.

Mama was probably at her happiest when he stopped coming around. When you learned he moved away, you were sad that your friend would leave without saying a proper goodbye, and you believed you would never see that dreamer boy again. 

So imagine your surprise when a few years later an electric, new singer starts making waves across the south. He tried to steal flowers from your farm and now he steals hearts across the country.

Just about every girl in town, if given the chance, will brag how they had known him way back when, some of the more daring ones even claiming to have been his first kiss. As far as what you have heard Elvis may be the only man alive to have had 25 first kisses. The boys were no better, all claiming to have been his closest buddy growing up, and promising any girl that they could definitely meet back up with him if they chose. 

Everyone is in an absolute tizzy for his return to Tupelo, you are simply trying to help your family through the rush of orders that has come in with the upcoming fair. Mostly it had been a headache because the new Miss Tupelo had demanded that her float be decorated with only white roses, as she didn’t think the standard red was flattering for her. 

Which is fine until your shop is presented with a very special order from the mayor himself for an order of three dozen of your finest roses to be given to Tupelo’s favorite returning son for his homecoming concert. 

Mama had initially treated it like any other order, until she saw who it was from.

“Absolutely not,” she said in her sternest voice, you hear from around the corner. 

“Demi,” your Auntie Kate would admonish her. “Don’t be stupid ‘bout this. It’s been years and he was just a dumb kid back then.” 

You don’t know what the mayor did to your Mama, but it had to have been bad, if he got her this worked up. Of course you’re not about to ask, as they had both pointedly left the room to discuss the matter while you were supposed to be minding the store. Instead you were very intently listening in to whether or not your mother was about to refuse an order for seemingly the first time in years.

“Kate, I ain’t takin’ any chances with this,” Mama declares. “You weren’t there, but if you’re ever gonna trust me on anything, let it be this.”

“Look Demi,” Kate sighs. “He’s willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money for them, and we need to offload some of the roses and it ain’t like he’s gonna-”

She’s interrupted by the bell signaling a customer having entered the shop. By the time you finish with him though, Mama has agreed, albeit reluctantly, to accept the order, under the condition the Kate be responsible for it in its totality 

You don’t know what Kate had said to her but you’re glad nonetheless as she would claim once your mama was out of earshot that she was too busy to do this order so she asked if you would please be so kind as to take care of it for her. 

Those weeks leading up to the fair, someone had asked Elvis if he was looking forward to reconnecting with anyone special back in Tupelo. As the reporter described it, the young star would look down bashfully at his feet, one side of his mouth curving upwards with only the slightest hint of red on his ears as he proclaimed yes to this humble reporter. “My sweetheart from way back in the day. I lost touch with her when I moved up to Memphis and I am praying every night that I find her this time around.”

If him simply coming back for a day to perform sent girls into a frenzy, the prospect of him coming back to find his supposed childhood love, just about turned everybody hysterical. Reporters from all over had flooded the town and had been skulking around trying to find this mysterious girl that had a hold on one of the biggest rising stars. Even once or twice coming into the shop and asking if you’ve received any calls from Memphis asking to send flowers to a specific girl in town. 

Many girls were claiming to be the one Elvis is in fact looking for, recounting their memories of a sweet boy who only had eyes for them. They all followed the same general beats of being in the same class, he was embarrassingly smitten with them, and they rejected him. You had been in different grades and didn’t really know him outside of when he would visit your farm seemingly everyday, so you could hardly attest as to whether or not any of this was true. You do however remember him cryptically referring to one specific girl that had his heart, though in not so many words.

In the days leading up to the last time you would see him, he became very interested in the flowers for romance. He didn’t say that he was planning to do so, but you could tell he was gearing up to declare his love for that girl he never named. Your first suggestion is, of course, whatever her favorite flower is. 

He would blanche a bit at that, “She-she loves em all,” he would mumble looking away bashfully and facing the vibrantly colored fields. According to your mama this is man's speak for “I don’t know.” With few exceptions, nobody is without a favorite, and you sigh slightly disappointed in him that he’s apparently ready to declare undying affection for a girl and he didn’t even know that basic but important information about the girl. But you did promise him your help so you gave him some suggestions: Lilacs for new love, Gardenias for secret love, Carnations for deep love, Tulips for perfect love, Forget-Me-Nots for true love, and of course Red Roses for passionate love. 

On that day you would find him nervously pacing in front of your first batch of roses. They were now in full bloom and you sadly recognized that you’re going to have to cut them soon. You know that’s the beast of this business, that in order to bring new life in, the old must make way, but it’s only a cold comfort and you hope that whoever they end up with will appreciate their beauty.

He practically stared you down as you walked down the row between rose bushes, but he seems to be shaking as though his knees were liable to give out at any moment, and the closer you got to him, you saw that his chest was practically heaving. You can see as he holds something behind his back and you blatantly try to look to see what it is, only to be stopped as he places one hand on your shoulder.

“What’d you wanna talk about Elvis?” you ask him, slightly worried he may be having a heat stroke. 

He swallows thickly before he finally answers you, “M-my folks and I are gonna be goin’ up North,” his eyes downcast as though he were ashamed to admit this, one hand still hidden behind his back. 

“Oh, when are you coming back?” you say oblivious to his grief. 

He’s taken by surprise at your question, but he does answer with a simple “I don’t know.” But with that he squares his shoulders and through trembling lips he stutters, “Honeybee… I-I-I want ya’ to c-come wi-with us.” 

“Ok.” you say, completely ignorant as to the true meaning of his words. 

“Really?” his face breaking into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Yeah,” you say simply. You remember vividly that you were going to say something to the effect of needing to be back home before dinner because Auntie Erin was gonna be making her famous Golden Apple Pie, when you all of a sudden felt your lips being occupied.

You laugh at your reaction to a simple kiss on the lips now, but at the time, it had felt like the end of the world to you. After all, you were so sure that this was how babies were made. 

When you had asked where babies came from, Mama nervously answered you with this story: Your Daddy kissed your mama out in front of the red roses, and their love would cause a new bud to bloom where they would find you sleeping in a rosebud. 

Back then you didn’t know any better, all you did know was that you didn’t want to take care of a baby right now. You wanted to grow Azaleas next, and Mama warned you that that would be a big commitment to make. And Elvis was going to be moving away, so who was going to take care of the baby? 

You were confused and frustrated beyond anything you’ve experienced up to that point, and you did what any overwhelmed 9 year old would do. 

You started bawling your eyes out, pushed him down, and ran back home. 

Mama would later comfort you and reassure you no baby was on it’s way. She corrected her story and told you that in fact, the couple must be married in order for a baby to be made. (She never did go into further detail as to the process, so you assumed that was the only necessary detail)

The next day, you had felt bad and wanted to apologize to Elvis for the confusion and for pushing him down yet again. You even had a sprig of Lily of the Valley ready as a peace offering and everything, but you wouldn’t see him the next day. Nor the day after that. 

You wouldn’t hear about him until about a couple months back when you had been dethorning the roses while listening to the radio. You vividly remember the surprise that came over you the moment the DJ announced the artist behind the song. How could you not? Afterall it marks the first time in years that a rose had been able to draw blood from you, because in your surprise, hearing the name of a ghost from your past, your ungloved fingers met with a thorn perfectly. 

There was no doubt in your mind that it was him not just for the very distinct name, but for that song specifically. You remember him singing it while you were in the fields, saying he had heard it from Big Boy Crudup himself. 

For maybe half a second you entertain the thought that you may be the mystery sweetheart of his, but just as quickly you dismiss it as the way he describes it as being a long lost love tragically torn apart by fate. You on the other hand pushed him down and cried your eyes out when he kissed you once before never seeing him again, hardly the type of romance worth reading about.

And like a blink of an eye the fair day arrived. 

You had been expressly forbidden from going to the fair, your mother giving no real reason beyond “because I said so.” This in turn makes you feel less guilty about your little scheme, as she did not forbid you from choosing that day to be the day you work in the shop. 

Men are funny creatures, you realize as you work on the order the morning of. Whoever put in the order made sure to specify that the roses must be fresh yet somehow neglected to mention the preferred color. 

You opted for red ones in the end as you have those in abundance and you figure they probably wouldn’t look too closely into the meaning beyond it being the classic rose color. But you do slip in a pink rose in the mix, remembering the first flower you had ever given him. 

It’s a big order to fill, which you only realize once you're carrying a comically large bouquet into the backstage area of the fairgrounds. It was a bit of a hassle making it there in the first place as evidently you’re not the first young woman insisting you’re allowed to be backstage. Though none of them had the mayor himself vouching for the order and letting you in. 

He was already walking up on to the stage by the time you get there, and all you really see of him is the back of his head. Without knowing what you did, you would be hard-pressed to find any similarities between the man on stage and the boy who had to sing facing away from you lest he get too anxious. 

But when he was presented with the key to the city, did you finally see hints of that boy from your memories. The way he kept shifting nervously from foot to foot, how he kept stuffing his hands in his pockets only to take them out, his eyes flickering back and forth between the crowd and the mayor. All of it reminding you of the endearing, stuttering boy who nervously asked you what each flower in your field meant. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move like that before, so jerky and sudden, but also so very fluid when he wanted to be. Oddly enough you’re reminded of snake charming, with that vicarious thrill of watching something that looks so dangerous, but you also can’t look away from. But that begs the question: is he the snake or is he the charmer?

It’s hard to say, especially when he shifted gears to slower, less rowdy songs.

And then one day

I had my love as perfect as could be

She lived, she loved, she laughed, she cried

And it was all for me

There was a bit of a tremble in his voice as he crooned those words out to the crowd, as though he were close to tears himself. It’s here you think you truly find that boy that used to bug you when you were out in the fields. 

It felt like all too soon the concert was over and he was stepping behind the stage. What feels like half a million eyes are focused on him as he steps off the stage to where he was met with just as many cameras and questions thrown his way. You almost feel bad for him, that he wasn’t even given a chance to breathe between one stage to another. 

His eyes scanned the crowd that gathered around him, but eventually his eyes would settle on the ridiculously large bouquet right next to you.  It’s hard to miss, you think, looking at it, but when you look back at him you find that his eyes are firmly set on you and you feel your heart skip a beat. 

He’s probably trying to figure out where he knows you from, you figure. It’s been years, you yourself had long ago forgotten about him, but hearing his name on the radio for the first time dredged up all of those memories.

You can hardly blame him though the both of you have changed a lot in the almost ten years since you’d last seen each other and he doesn’t have the benefit of a famous name or your face on TV to jog his memory.

Even still some part of yourself wishes he does remember and you walk towards him with more a skip in your step than ever. But you find your path thwarted by an unwelcome familiar face.

Mindy, whom you’ve known since grade school, when her and her Mama lived on the farm with you until her mama married a new man. You used to be the best of friends but when she moved out she seemed to want to distance herself from you and did so by criticizing everything you did. 

Most people would be hard-pressed to name anything she does like, but ask her about the things she hates and she can go on for hours. And of all the things she hates, you think you rank somewhere near the top, given how much she used to talk about you to anyone who would listen. Everything about you was apparently a personal offense to her, with her latest insult being that you apparently had a bunch of cats on your farm, hence your latest and most confusing nickname of “the Cathouse girl.” Though by far her most egregious thing she's ever said was that one day you were going to suffocate from your Mama’s apron strings, and it felt all the worse that you couldn’t even go to her about it lest you prove her point.

She now proudly wears her Miss Tupelo sash over seafoam green dress as she attempts to lift the bouquet out of your hands with a cloyingly sweet, “I’ll take that off your hands hon.” 

You move to protest this, but apparently your day has just gone from bad to worse, as you feel a familiar iron-like grip on your arm. “Rosebud, it’s time for us to leave.” You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“But Mama-”

“Yeah Y/N, thought all you did was listen to your Mama,” Mindy interrupts you as she finally wrenches the bouquet out of your hands. 

“It’s time to go home, Y/N,” your mother says severely, her grip on your elbow unyielding. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, having never felt so small under your mothers gaze, but you don’t argue with her and allow yourself to be pulled away, lest a bigger scene be caused.

Mindy, idly pops her spearmint gum with the most triumphant of smiles, sparing you a simple dismissive twiddle of her fingers before spinning around to present your hard work to your old friend. If there’s one thing you can be glad about in that moment, is that exactly zero other eyes were on you as you conceded to your mother like a scolded child and let her lead you out of the fairgrounds.

Little did you realize at the time, someone was watching.

You get into the truck and sit your fists clenching in anger on your knees, ashamed at what transpired just now. 

“Rosebud…” she starts, and you petulantly turn your entire body to face the window with your back to her. “Honey I know you think I go overboard with these things, but you gotta trust your mama here when I say that it’s all for your own good.”

Your nails dig into the meat of your palms, so hard you worry it may draw blood, but a part of you welcomes that. Maybe then she will understand how upset you are with her.  She still treats you like a child after all these years, protecting you from some nebulous threat that is both ever present yet somehow not important enough to give a name. 

You feel suffocated, unable to defend yourself from insults that you aren’t allowed to fully understand.

These feelings would only double when you would see the next day's newspaper, where an enlarged picture of Elvis and Mindy on the ferris wheel would take up most of the front page. Well there’s your answer as to who this mystery girl is, you think bitterly. 

Sweethearts reunited at last, the headline reads.

Though all your anger and fury would end up manifesting into nothing when the real world decided to remind you what was important in life. About a week after the fair, your home would receive a late night visit from the sheriff informing you of tragedy.

It didn’t feel real seeing what was once a colorful store teeming with life and love to now be reduced to a smoldering, skeletal pile of ash. You had been there not even a day ago and now it was gone. The police don’t suspect foul play but they weren’t ruling it out, and as you would learn, the little insurance mama did have on the shop didn’t cover fires unless it could be proven beyond a doubt that it was accidental. So suffice it to say, your family is on its own in terms of getting the store back up and running. 

Typically late fall is for drying out maybe a quarter of the left over supply of flowers, storing the rest into the cold storage below the shop, winterizing the bushels for the next season, and shifting focus to seeding and growing the more popular flowers in the greenhouses, but the fire had thrown the ultimate wrench into the plans. A good chunk of the cut flowers had been kept on display at the front of the shop or beneath it in cold storage, and so with them went much of the value in the business.

Your mama is stressed beyond anything you’ve ever seen, but what makes it worse is that she refuses to burden you with the knowledge of your financial situation. Which in turn stresses you out even more about the financial situation she didn’t want you to know about.

About a month after the fire Mama had gone to the bank in an effort to get a business loan so that she could rent a new place, while the others were in town trying to strike up partnerships with other stores on the same street and convince them to buy and sell your flowers. It wasn’t the greatest of plans but it was the only one you were left with so that you may hobble through this year into the next.

They could sell the flowers off to shops in nearby towns, but even selling the rest of the supply wholesale will hardly breakeven for this year leaving you with nothing saved come next season. And even then that’s only if everybody refuses payment for the work they did, which they did offer, but your Mama was having none of it.

Even setting up a stand on your property and selling from there wasn’t an option, as you’re located way too far out from town too hope for those driving by to stop and buy flowers off of you. 

You find yourself on one of the rare days in which you’re home alone, as you sit on the porch gazing out at the fields nearly devoid of all flora now. If your mother can’t convince the bank for a loan then all that your family has ever grown will rot, the land sold, and the strange tribe of women that had been collected under this roof would be left adrift. Beauty will give way over to necessity, as these bankers are under the false assumption that people don’t need flowers.

But how can you begrudge the necessity of food at a time like this when your kitchen is looking pathetically sparse these days. You wouldn’t mind too much if you didn’t know that it was a prelude to no food at all. 

It didn’t feel right that this would be the end of the farm, your Nana Gail took the dusty lands her deadbeat of a husband left her with and turned it into something beautiful. She passed it on to your Mama, a relative stranger she took in the both of you when your daddy was sent away to die an ocean away. 

The farm had survived two world wars and yet it would be a fire that would cause all that the women of your family had built to crumble. 

You shake your head furiously at the thought. Don’t let these bad thoughts get to you, you think to yourself. You're truly afraid of where these thoughts may lead you if you let them fester so instead you decide that the kitchen would benefit from some cheery flowers to brighten up the place. 

The house is in desperate need of that these days. 

But as you were in the dirt to pick Daffodils, you realize you weren’t as alone as you thought, as in the distance you see some dust being kicked up. Your heart jumps for joy thinking that it was your mother, bearing good news, until you get to the dirt road and the unfamiliar black car drives past you.

Making your way home you can see a tall figure step out of the shiny car, dressed all in black. As they turn to look at the house, they strike an unsettlingly familiar silhouette but it still takes you a second to recognize him, even if it was not even a month ago when you saw him last. 

Maybe it’s because, in your head, he’s still that gangly tow-headed boy, not this tall dark man in black that stands before you. 

“Elvis?”

A devastating grin spreads across his face as he spreads his arms out in a clear invitation for a hug. “Been a long time, Honeybee.”

You don’t know the etiquette as to how to greet someone you haven’t talked to in years, but also whom you’ve seen in passing a few days ago. But you graciously accept the hug and kiss on the cheek he gives you, so you in turn invite him into your home, unsure what else to do in the face of his casual familiarity. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says, grabbing a basket from the back seat. “But I brought you a lil’ gift.” Your eyes widen and your mouth instantly starts to water at the plentiful bounty within, as no less than a dozen Pomegranates filled that ornate basket. The fact that he brought such a thing, seemingly on a whim, spoke volumes as to how well the music business was treating him more than any sparkling jewel or shiny car could. 

“Can I offer you some water or…” you trail off as you put the daffodils in a vase, hoping he accepts, and you won’t have to suffer the embarrassment of having so little to offer such a man.

“If you could be a doll actually,” he says, plucking one of the sweet fruits. “Why don’tcha pop one a these open for old times sake.” You’re silently grateful he asked as you doubt it would have been too long before your empty stomach was demanding for one. “I still remember when you gave me one for the first time.” he idly remarks as you start to cut into it.  

You smile at that shared memory between the two of you, though a sorrowful ache settles in your stomach as those days seem so far away now. You gather a few errant seeds from the cutting board and you can’t help the small moan that comes from you, as you had resigned yourself to the fact that you wouldn’t be having any this year.

With the plate in hand you turn around to find your guest frozen in his sweet, before quickly gathering himself as you approach. 

“So what brings you back to these ol’ parts,” you ask, placing the plate between you two.

He pops a few seeds off of the ridge, and into his mouth, “Well I came back here because a certain someone left my show before I could even say hello to her.” 

You look down slightly embarrassed but a little ecstatic that he realized your absence, “Sorry ‘bout that, we get super busy around this time and couldn’t stick around too long.”

“I get it,” he answers amiably. “It looked like you and your mama had somewhere to be.”

You cringe and look down humiliated that, of all the things he could’ve seen that day, he saw perhaps the most embarrassing moment of your life. You look back and see an expression you can’t quite read on his face as you quickly recover and ask him how the star's life is treating him.

He regales you with all that he’s done the past few years since the music thing took off, and how he’s looking forward to the movies he’s gonna make. He even tells you how he’s just about to finish filming his first one pretty soon, and head back to Hollywood in a week.

The irony that you sit across from him, his dreams once so lofty and out of reach now coming true whereas your simple one seems to slip through your fingers is not lost on you. You have to actively force yourself to be happy for him at this moment, as he’s hardly to blame for your recent misfortunes. 

“How are you and Mindy doing?” you ask, after a while.

“Who?”

That really shouldn’t make you as happy as it did. 

“You know your old Sweetheart and all that,” you tease lightly.

“Oh… her…” he says, unable to hide the bit of a grimace on his face. “She was… nice?”

“You don’t gotta lie,” you say, laughing a bit at the thought

“She was nice to me,” he elaborates, shrugging his shoulders a bit, before giving a pointed look at you. “She had a lot to say ‘boutchu though.”

“I can imagine.” you say, plucking a few seeds. “Guess childhood sweethearts ain’t all they cracked up to be.”

“Wouldn’t know,” he says. “But enough a all that, how ‘boutchu, Honeybee? Whatcha been up to all these years?” 

“Oh you know, ain’t nothin’ ever changes down in Tupelo,” you dismiss, hoping to dodge his question. “Still growing flowers, still selling them,” you say, willing your smile to be more cheerful than strictly necessary. 

“Y’know,” he broaches lightly, his fingers awkwardly rapping against the grainy wood of the table. “I actually did stop by the shop before I got here…” he trails off, a solemn air falling over the both of you. 

“Oh.”

“Listen, darlin’,” he says, taking his hand in yours. “If you need anythin’ tell me how I can help,” he pleads softly.

“Yo-you don’t gotta be worried ‘bout us, we-we’re gonna be fine,” you stutter, attempting to parrot your Mama’s own words back to him, hoping you’re at least somewhat convincing. He takes your hand in his and soothingly rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. 

“Sweetheart if you folks need some money to tide y‘all over for a bit, I’d be happy t-”

“No,” you cut him off. “I can’t accept your money for nothing,” you declare. 

“I understand Honeybee,” he says, looking out the window. “But I just moved to a new place up in Memphis. It’s nice but kinda… bare on the outside, and I’ve been in the market for someone to fix that.” he says his steely blue gaze fixed on you. “And then I thought who better than the girl who could grow anythin’?” 

You’re genuinely flattered at the compliment, but you can’t help but feel this is simply more of his pity and you let him know as much. 

“Sweetheart, I was gonna offer you the job even before I saw your shop,” he says genuinely. “It don’t gotta be forever, just work a couple months up in Graceland, makin’ sure everything set up come spring, then you’ll be home.”

“Graceland?”

“It’s what the old owners called it anyway,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a house right now, but it ain’t no home.” he looks solemn in his words until his eyes trail to you and you can see in real time as his whole demeanor brightens. “I think you could help fix that darlin’,” he states, his smile making it hard to focus on much else.

There is a bit of a pause, and you stupidly realize he’s waiting for an answer from you. But from the almost imperceptible drop in his grin at your hesitation, you doubt it’s the one he’s looking for. “I-I’m flattered but… I-I can’t just leave right now.” you stutter, feeling guilty that he’s now upset with you, and you feel the need to further justify your stance. “My family needs me right now.”

“And this is how you can help ‘em right now,” he argues, reaching into his back pocket. “I can even pay ya’ half upfront now.”

“Elvis, I don’t think that’ll be eno–” you’re cut off by him suddenly slapping what looks to be six hundred dollars on the table before casually going back to picking off the ruby colored seeds. He smiles a bit at the gobsmacked expression on your face, but how could you not be?

Renting out a new space downtown for a few months wouldn’t even cost a quarter of this with the rest being able to go toward everything else. It’s almost funny that previously you never even thought about money, but now it feels like that’s all you think about these days. 

“This-this is just for six months of work?” 

“Three actually,” he corrects. “The rest you’ll get paid in the Spring.” 

You feel your heart thunder within your chest with his words. This would be more than enough money to get your family through the year. But you don’t know if you could do it. Not the gardening part obviously more the being so far away from your family part. 

“Can I have some time to think about it?” you question, hoping that maybe the rest will be able to better convince you to go for it or someone else could take the offer.

“Sweetheart I gotta get back to Memphis real soon,” he warns, a lot cooler than before. “So I’m gonna need an answer right now.” You swallow nervously at the intensity of his gaze on you, feeling an uncomfortable feeling settling in your belly, the prospect of leaving home, making you queasy.

“Elvis I-I-I don’t know,” you stutter, your palms clammy as you hold the hem of your skirt with shaky hands, feeling as though the world is somehow closing in on you. 

“Well I guess that’s that then,” he says with an air of finality, that only further turns your stomach.

This man is offering a solution to all your current woes and yet you hesitate? You balk at the idea of a couple months of doing the same work you would’ve been doing here? And for what exactly? 

You know you should discuss this with your Mama, but you already know what her answer is going to be. It’s the same one she has been giving these last few weeks when you had asked about getting a job to better support the house.

Your daddy never came back from the war so she promised to love you twice as fiercely, for the both of them. She had always done her best to feed you, clothe you, protect you. It’s no secret that everything this farm started from you when she had to support the both of you on her own. And you know for a fact if it was her being offered the job she wouldn’t have even blinked to take it. But you’re about to let that all slip through your fingers because you’re too much of a coward to do what needs to be done. 

But even with all that in mind, it’s not your mind that ultimately makes the decision so much as your stomach, as it rumbles yet again as you look upon the basket he left behind overflowing with one of the most expensive fruits you know, a mere taste as to what he can so casually provide you.

You catch him just as he’s about to step out the door, but before you can officially say yes you have one question left for him. “Can you promise me I’ll be home come Spring?”

“Darlin’ I can promise you right now, come Spring we’ll both have exactly what we want.” which is a big promise for anyone to make, but you are looking at the boy who had gone from being only able to sing in front of a single person in an empty field to someone who is now selling out shows to hundreds. There is an odd sense that if anybody can manifest the near impossible it would be him. 

It takes you only an hour to pack what you think you’ll need for these coming months, as well as write a barebones note explaining to your Mama that no you’re not being kidnapped and that you’ll be gone to raise money to save the farm. You don’t say where you’ll be but you do promise that you will write as often as you can and that you’ll be home come springtime. You quickly stuff the note and the money into the envelope, and leave it right on top of the basket. 

But before you can make it out the front door, you're presented with a bright cheerful looking daffodil, plucked straight from the vase you had put it in. “For new beginnings,” he says with a soft smile. 

“How’d you know that?” you asked surprised that he remembered after all this time, but taking a hold of it anyway.

“Hell, all the time I spent down here,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Somethin’ was bound to stick.”

And just like that you’re off. 

You refuse to look forlornly out at the fields you’re leaving behind, trying to remind yourself that it’s not as though you’ll be gone forever. You’ll be back before you know it, you think, trying to convince yourself, and it’s Elvis’ hand in yours that gives you some small comfort in this incredibly trying time, even as his eyes are firmly set forward.

Though it’s as you get to the state border do you realize that this will mark the first time you’ve been so far from home ever, and you let Elvis know as much. 

“There’s gonna be a lotta firsts when you stick with me darlin’,” he says, giving a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

Graceland on the outside is beautiful but… sterile, if you had to take a guess. There were trees with leaves starting to brown for the autumn, the shrubbery was perfectly manicured, and the grass was well maintained but it was utterly devoid of color save for the cars in the driveway. 

But then again this is what you’re here to rectify, so you try to be an optimist about it, and try to view it as a blank canvas so to speak. What the property lacked in the moment was warmth and you suppose now it’s your job to bring it.

That first month was all devoted to building the greenhouse necessary to start the entire process. You prefer to start with the seeds rather than skipping straight to the bulbs, so a place where you can better help them grow is ideal. Elvis is all too willing to indulge this and he puts in the order for one but all too soon he has to leave to go and finish his movie. 

As much as you knew Elvis, it felt odd being in a house with the owner gone. And while Graceland was far from empty, there is still that unsettling sensation of being there that you can’t quite shake. 

Of course not used to being so idle even during the winter, you start to take on other duties around the household. You quickly endear yourself to Miss Gladys with your willingness to take on the chores of the house and she goes out of her way to make you feel welcome. 

You like her, she’s the only one who feels as uncomfortable at the opulence as you did. In a lot of ways she reminds you of your own mother with the way she frets over her absent son. This strikes a particularly guilty chord within you, because unlike your Mama, Gladys has the benefit of knowing where her child was at the moment. 

“Where ya from sweetheart?” she asks you idly one day as you’re helping her make breakfast early one morning. 

“Tupelo,” you say while you beat the eggs.

“Oh do I know your Mama?”

“Probably,” you answer. “She ran the flower shop back there.”

Gladys pauses at that. You can’t see her face but you do hear the hesitation in her voice as she whispers “... Demi?”

“Yeah that’s my mama… you know her?” you ask a little confused at this point, and you wonder if there is some history there. 

There is an uncomfortably long pause before she says a simple, “Yeah I think I remember her…” The rest of the morning is filled with an awkward silence as you try to figure out what could have possibly happened there. 

That night, before you enter the room to talk to Elvis over the phone, you overhear the tail end of the conversation between him and his Mama. You hear her whisper in a low tone, “I hope you know what you’re doin’ Bewbie.” 

Whatever awkwardness that had arisen because of her question disappears soon after that. Gladys happily takes you under her wing once more, bringing you further into the fold of the Presleys and all the dynamics that come with it. She has even begun to refer to you as the daughter she never had which, while you understand is meant to make you feel welcome here, it in fact eats at you considering the state of the relationship between you and your real Mama. 

It’s times like these that you truly hate that your family doesn’t have a telephone. You want more than anything to hear her voice, but you know yourself well enough to know that if you were to even visit now you wouldn’t want to ever leave again.

You write to her pretty much every day. Like clockwork for the first month you write to her telling her about your day the same way you usually would, asking her for advice on some flowers, anything really that comes to mind. You had a lot of time that first month while you were helping with planning and building the greenhouse, so everyday you would sift through the hoard of mail to find one bearing your home address.

But it never comes. 

That doesn’t stop you from continuing to write to her everyday, handing off the letter to Jerry, and eagerly awaiting her reply. 

Elvis is very understanding over the fact that it’s a marathon and not a sprint to make the garden he wanted  and every time he’s back home he’s just as eager to see your progress with the seeds as you are to show him. Once you even tried to apologize to him feeling guilty that it’s taking so long to perfect that image of Graceland he had.

“Sweetheart you bein’ there, takin’ care a everythin’ makes it feel all the more like a proper home,” he insists over the phone. “And I can’t wait to get back and see it all.” 

This guilt eases once the greenhouse is finished and you can finally get to work with the flowers you’ve planned. Elvis quote “trusted your vision” and wanted you to choose whatever you thought worked best, but he did specify which flowers he absolutely wanted on the property: Lilacs, Gardenias, Carnations, Tulips, Forget-Me-Nots, and Roses. 

“I’m a bit of a romantic, I guess,” he said shyly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t mind too much, as him knowing what he wants by far makes him the easiest man you’ve ever worked with. 

Elvis had left you with the understanding that the boys he left behind would be at your beck and call and that should you need anything, not to be afraid to send them to get it. Pots and other such tools were easy enough to send for, but when it came down to other fine details such as soil and seeds, you trusted no one but yourself to find what you need, and so you instead ask if one of them could take you into town to find what you need. 

“I cAN-” Jerry, one of the younger ones offered, blushing furiously at his overeagerness that caused his voice to crack slightly. “I mean I can take you,” he says, far more composed this time around. The other men protest, saying he’s too young and that he only just got his license, and ‘don’tchu want a real man drivin’ around sweetheart?’

It was those last comments that really solidified your decision to have it be him, as there was something about Jerry, (16, Lanky, and with a voice still cracking from puberty) that put your mind at ease over all these other grown men, in a way you can’t exactly place.

You stopped going to school when you were around 15 and outside of brief exchanges with the men that used to come into your shop, you haven’t really had much interaction with menfolk in the past 3 years. So that’s where you believe your unease stems from, having been surrounded by mostly women your entire life, being around so many men now is a bit of a shock to your system. 

He leads you to his shiny new car, a gift from Elvis for some unspecified favor he did for him, and just like that you’re off. The drive into town is mostly quiet save for Jerry nervously pointing out to you his favorite places in Memphis. You're happy to get out of Graceland, even for a little bit, as you rarely if ever got to explore Tupelo, so being somewhere entirely new was exciting, but at the end of the day there is really only one place you wished to be, the local nursery.

You quickly locate the specific tools you’re going to need and find the best soil for the flowers, and you’re finally able to do what you most wanted. You’re almost like a kid in a candy store as you eagerly look through the varieties of seeds available within the store. As much as you want to take them all you have to be realistic as to not only what would look good, but as to what could be grown on the property to have it looking good year round.

“So err…uhhh… Wh-what’s your favorite flower?” he asks shyly, as you're perusing the various seed packets to be had. 

“All of them,” you say without hesitation, not even looking up from the task.

“Really all of ‘em?” 

“I’m serious, asking me what my favorite flower is, it’s like asking a mother who her favorite child is,” you say fondly, rubbing your thumb lightly on the little packets that will eventually become the flowers you so love.  

He laughs at that, “Why do ya’ love ‘em so much?”

“Well when you grow up on a flower farm, you ain’t got much of a choice,” you quip. 

“A flower farm?” 

“Yeah,” you clarify. “My Mama and I grew and sold flowers in our shop back in Tupelo.” 

“...Yo-you had a flower shop back in Tupelo?” he stutters. 

“Yeah,” you say solemnly, this conversation dredging up some very bittersweet memories. “Why dontcha go ring up everything while I finish up over here,” you say.

It's October already, you think to yourself, they probably started cutting down the sunflowers by now. You know that you’re doing more for them here making money and sending it back to them than you would have being an extra set of idle hands back home, still that does little to quell that uneasy feeling being so far from home now. 

You’d kept up the writing and have recently let her know how lonely you’ve been feeling here, part venting, part as a means of getting her to write to you back for the first time.

It didn’t work and that sours your mood for the rest of the outing.

The ride back to Graceland is far quieter this time around, and Henry seems to avoid you after that, but you hardly notice as now that you have everything you need, you can really focus all your energy in doing what you came here to do. This is what you’re undoubtedly good at and now that you’re back at it, you don’t want anything to distract you from doing your job and getting back home as soon as possible.

A few days later, as you were finishing up in the greenhouse you would find Jerry sitting next to someone, back ramrod straight as a familiar figure had an arm casually slung over his shoulder. Jerry leaves before you can figure out what that’s all about, so you instead greet the not-so-stranger before you.

“You’re early,” you casually remark to him. 

“I missed ya’,” he drawls, a light smirk on his lips that causes a pleasant warmth to radiate from your chest. But his face takes on a more sobering look as he looks at you, purses his lips, and pats the no occupied seat, which you worriedly take. “Actually, I was just ‘bouta go lookin’ for ya’,” he says, before letting out a pensive sigh. “Jerry actually needs a place to stay for a week or two, and I invited him here.”

“Oh that’s nice of you,” you say.

A small bashful smile cracks his somber expression, before the intensity returns and he informs you that yours was the room he offered him. 

 “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” you insist, scared that you may be about to be sent home without the rest of the money to show for it.

“Don’tchu worry ‘bout that,” he said, chucking your chin up to look at him. “I just figured that my bed should be big ‘nough for the both of us.” 

His words catch you off guard, and you feel your face burning unsure as to how to respond. He sees your hesitation and backs off slightly before continuing. “Course if you don’t feel too comfortable sharin’ with me I can always putcha up somewhere else,” he starts and you’re about to jump on that offer until he continues. “Though, we might need to take that outta your pay,” he says, and you shrink a bit at the reality of the situation. “Not to mention havin’ to getchu back and forth day in and out,” he continues, rambling on and on about the logistics of the prospect.

“No-no,” you cut in. “I-if you’re really okay with it… then I-I don’t mind.” you say slightly defeated though if he notices he doesn’t say anything about it.

A full grin cracks his face, “Perfect we’ll go move your things right now,” he says as he takes your hand in his leading you up to where your room was.

“...ok…” you said, accepting his offer in a small voice. Though it’s hardly an offer as that would imply you had a choice in the matter. 

The next week you want to kick yourself over being so nervous over nothing, as he proves himself to be nothing less than a gentleman all things considered. Yes he does get a bit clingy when he’s asleep and he all but refuses to let you out of the bed when you wake up before him. But in all honesty you welcome it very much. 

It helps ease that lonely feeling somewhat as being held by him takes away some of your worry about not belonging here. Everybody seems to give you a wide berth and it was a definite shock to your system considering where you come from, being essentially the baby on the farm you were freely plied with all forms of physical affection your whole life. But you do take comfort in him, even if it is only limited to the night time.

Though when that week is up you idly ask him when you can move your things back into your old room, to which he only responds by wrapping an arm over your shoulders and saying, “Now why would I want my Honeybee so far away from me.” 

You’re too shocked at the statement to even think of countering him at the moment, but even when the statement does truly settle for you, you aren’t entirely opposed to it. As it makes you feel far more secure here knowing that he wants you here so much. It’s odd how final it feels in spite of how small the moment was. You’re not just Honeybee anymore, you're His Honeybee, and that’s that.

That’s one of the first things you learned living in Graceland, is that whatever Elvis says, goes. Everybody seems to bend over backwards to his wishes here, and at first it was a little funny if a little perturbing, as you justified to yourself that you were his friend and therefore he wouldn’t put any crazy demands on you even if he was technically your boss. 

But it’s only in that moment that you truly realize that you were no exception to that rule. And why would you be? Considering he is the one that is the one supporting not only you but by extension your entire family back home, how can you do anything but agree to his demands?

But that may be being a bit too harsh, as being his girl is certainly not an unpleasant phenomena. He seemed to become bolder with your amiable acceptance to your new found title of becoming his. In short order all of the clothes you brought from home disappeared and were replaced with much finer ones, and he becomes the most frequent visitor in the greenhouse. 

Whenever he is around is almost constantly touching you and bringing you close to him at any given moment. And these weren’t exactly touches you were familiar with; Brushing his fingers along your neck to fix your necklace, hand on your lower back to steer you a certain way, rubbing your knee beneath the table (sometimes above your clothes, sometimes not) etc. All new and exciting, in their own ways.

Everytime you see him it feels akin to something blooming within your chest. You think this is why there were so many flowers meant to express love, because that feeling he gives you is hard to put into words. 

It was only inevitable that the kisses would come along eventually. First beginning as friendly ones on the cheek before bed, then graduating to something far more… carnal. Almost like he was trying to consume you, and these kisses always left you panting and in a state of shock from the ferocity he displayed only to end it with a very sweet kiss to your cheek and tucking the both of you into bed.

You’re not gonna lie and say you don’t enjoy the kissing but it does give you a good scare when he begins to touch you in other places that are not-so-innocent places as he kisses you: His hand on your bottom when wants to press your body closer to his, the continual rubbing between your inner thighs, his thumb circling the taut peak of your breast. 

Though admittedly his new touches were a bit on the scarier side for you, you don’t fight it, and in fact get bolder yourself by taking a page out of his book and giving as good as you got. He seems to relish the reaction he can pull from you, which is intimidating as much as it is titillating. 

But these feelings have also been manifesting in some strange ways physically, like you seem to breathe harder when he’s around, and seeing him bite his lip makes your mouth go dry. But this all pales in comparison to the sensation of him rubbing a hand on your inner thigh, and it feels like you go dry everywhere, save for one place. As exciting as it is, it’s confusing all the same, and you above all else wish you could confide in anyone with how you were feeling.

Typically you could freely talk about any lady troubles you may have with your Mama but her inability/unwillingness to talk to you now leaves you to navigate this maze alone. You consider asking Miss Gladys or even Dodger for their thoughts, but the fact that it’s Elvis that awakens these feelings within you, makes going to them seem inappropriate for some reason. But ultimately that only leaves you with one person to go to about your problem despite them also being the cause of it. 

Which is how you find yourself sitting on your knees in his bed with a shaky breath telling him how his touches are stirring something in you that you don’t understand. 

“Where?” he asks, seemingly innocent but the way he bites his cheek, tells you he’s trying to hold back a laugh at your discomfort. “Here” he says, placing a hand on your lower belly, and while it clenches from the sudden contact, you shake your head no. 

“Here?” He asks with a small smile, cupping one of your breasts, and though your breath hitches in your throat and you feel one of the buds harden at his thumbs' attention, that’s not where the worst of the feelings is coming from. 

“Elvis please,” you beg, squirming at his touch. 

“Oh I think I know Honeybee,” he says one hand now slowly dragging the hem of your nightgown up well past your hips, before he rubs his fingers along the seam of your panties.

In spite of the strangled feeling in your throat, you manage to squeak out a simple “yes,” as tears begin to well up in your eyes. 

“Don’tchu worry Baby. I know somethin’ that can help,” he says as he drags the delicate fabric of your white cotton panties down to your knees. On reflex your thighs clench shut immediately but, with a few languid kisses he’s able to distract you from your skittishness and you feel the first tentative brush of his fingers on that sensitive flesh. 

As much as you love your home you’ll admit that there was rarely if ever a moment for yourself there anymore. So him now brazenly touching the seldom explored area was mind-boggling for you, moreso when he begins to prod deeper, dipping between your folds and even one finger delving further than any other.

That gets a surprised gasp out of you before you bite down on your lip hard, embarrassed that you're feeling like this while he’s trying to help you. But while you’re able to hold back your noises, you can do nothing to help the way you’re breathing-well more panting- now or the way you’re shivering. You’ve never felt anything close to this in your life, but even this pales in comparison to when he adds a second finger, and you feel like you're about to burst. 

“Honeybee… what’d ya know ‘bout baby-makin’,” he asks, seemingly out of the blue.

Part of you wants to act coy and say something like “enough” to get him to continue, but it’s hard to concentrate on any of that as you feel his fingers deep within you. So instead you reply with, “that…that o-ooh-only a Husband and Wife can make oNE.” you yelp that last part as he curls his fingers ever so slightly. 

“And that’s it?” he asks with a bit of a skeptical look on his face, and you bury your face in his neck, a bit ashamed that that is the truth of the matter. “Oh Honeybee, you don’t gotta be that way,” he says, giving you a sweet kiss to your nose as he’s still three knuckles deep up your canal. “That’s the right of it, but I don’t think yer Mama ever mentioned that there ain’t no harm in practicin’ before the Weddin’ like this.”

“O-oh,” you say, part as an answer, part an involuntary noise to the way his thumb starts to circle around that pearl between your folds.

“You like that baby girl?” he purrs to you. Your eyes are shut tight and you’re trying to move your hips in tandem with his motions. 

“Y-yes,” you manage to whimper, so focused on chasing that feeling he’s causing that you don’t even notice when he drags the straps of your nightgown fully down your shoulders. And it’s as you suddenly feel him bite down hard on the soft skin of your breast do you finally peak with a harrowing sob. 

You cling on to him for dear life as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you all at once and you feel as though you’re going to float away any moment. But holding on to him, kissing him, and feeling his skin against your tethers you here, reassuring you that this isn't a dream. 

You feel his fingers leave you, and that paired with him pulling away from your lips causes a small whine to come from you. You’re quickly quieted from the shock of seeing him stick the same fingers in his mouth giving a contented groan, “Course my Honeybee’s got the sweetest nectar he whispers against your lips, before giving you a taste for yourself. 

You feel boneless and weightless yet your eyes feel so heavy from all that you just experienced, but for as tired as you are at that moment, you’re not ready to go back to dreaming yet. 

“Ca-can I try that on you?” you ask meekly still in a bit of a haze from that euphoric feeling.

A bite to his lip prevents it from being a full blown grin “You sure ‘bout that Baby? Mine’s a lil’ different… well not too lil’,” he says. Clearly amused by your request to make him feel just as good. 

“I wanna help,” you insist. He chuckles at how eager you were before he guides your hand down to a prominent bulge in his briefs. You’re not too sure what exactly you’re feeling through the rough cotton, just that it is either intensely painful or pleasurable to Elvis given how his breath hitches and his eyes slam shut. You try to remove your hand but his vice-like grip on your wrist prevents that and you can only further palm him.  

You apply a bit more pressure, you take the sigh of contentment as a good sign before you delve underneath the fabric of his shorts. 

You watch, a bit fascinated as you work to get the rough fabric down, and suddenly you’re face to face with something you’ve never seen before. A long thick column of flesh stands before you, bobbing slightly as he takes deep breath after breath. The skin feels soft but unyielding beneath your touch and you patiently await his instructions, but that deep groan that comes from him as you apply a bit of pressure makes you feel all sorts of powerful over this beautiful man. 

He has you gather the slick from between your legs and even spit in your own hand to make it easier for you to slide up and down the shaft. His eyes are screwed shut, his long lashes brushing his cheeks, and he’s mumbling his praises for you, which only further encourages you. 

He’s unraveling before your eyes, and you take great delight in being a witness to it. You’ve seen him dance before so it shouldn’t be surprising how well he’s able to move his hips, but it does add an entirely new context to it and you hope the next time you see him on stage you’ll be able to not think of him like this.

An idea pops into your head, and you decide to jump on it before you lose your nerve, and you give a soft kiss to the very tip of him. He freezes in place, his eyes wide and shocked at your teasing, his chest rising and falling and you feel heat flood your entire being.

“I-I’m so-sorry,” you breath out, embarrassed that you may have unintentionally done something you weren’t supposed to do. “I just th-thought you mi-” you cut off as he chuckles at your obvious distress before giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Just surprised me Honeybee, thas all,” he reassures you against your lips, before giving you a little nibble there. “Why don’tcha try that again?” he drawls, trying to not appear too eager, but it’s apparent even to you. 

You get right back to it, and you give even softer kisses along the shaft, each one being punctuated by a low moan from him, until you finally get to the very top of him, and you run your tongue along the small slit to be found there.    

His hips stutter at that and one second you’re wondering what’s happening to him, the next you’re a coughing mess as that salty stream hits the back of your throat. He’s now just as dazed as you feel his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, as you settle, and he takes charge in getting you both ready for bed.

As you lay side by side, he has nothing but praise for you whispering how good and perfect you were between hungry kisses until you drift off to sleep. 

The next day would mark the first time you didn’t write to your mother. Part because you have already accepted she wouldn’t reply, part wanting to also keep that as private as possible. It also marks the first time in your life you don’t share something that felt so important with her.

Your Mama never liked talking about your daddy beyond saying that they loved each other very much. She never went into detail beyond that believing you were too young to hear them, but she never gave you an idea when you would be grown enough to hear them. But now above all else you want to hear when she knew she was in love with him, because you think you’re falling in love with Elvis. 

Scratch that.

You know you are but you would give anything right now to be able to talk to somebody about it. And it’s upsetting that the person you usually talk your worries through is also one of your biggest ones at the moment. But even then you would have been willing to discuss it with her, if only she was willing to do so back.

It seems the more upset you become with her, the more comforting Elvis becomes to you. Even still you hesitate to share your fears with him until he is the one that broaches it. 

“What’s on your mind Honeybee?” he says as he draws circles along your hip. 

“Nothing much,” you dismiss. “Just trying to figure out when it's best to plant everything.”

His sardonic smile tells you he doesn’t believe you one bit, “C’mon darlin’ I know ya’ better than that.” Which is a bit of an understatement, as it feels like these days he’s able to read you better than you can yourself anymore. 

After letting out a long tired sigh, you tell him “I think she’s mad at me,” while you two were settling into bed. 

“Now who could ever be mad at my Honeybee?” he says, bringing you closer to him. 

“My mama,” you say solemnly, tears in your eyes. “She’s never replied to a single letter of mine, and I write to her everyday.”

“I’m sure she’s just busy,” he tries to comfort you. But they ring hollow knowing that she always used to say- something you even quoted her in your last letter- ‘I’m never too busy for you Rosebud.’ He pulls you close to his chest as he rubs his hand along your back, “Darlin’ your mama is a hard-headed woman- lord knows I got the scars to prove it- but I don’t think she could stay mad at you forever.”

“What?” you say, sitting up to face him fully.

“What?”

“What do you mean you have the scars to prove it?”

“O-oh…” he says with a slight grimace on his face, before giving a bit of an awkward chuckle. “We-well… ya’ remember before I left, I-I asked you to’ run away with us?” You nod your head slowly. “Well that night, when I went back to the farm to tell her… she… she had a bit of a fit.”

“That doesn’t answer my question E.”

His lips form a thin line, clearly reluctant to tell you more, but he does eventually cave with a long hard sigh. “She got so mad at the thought a you leavin’ she grabbed my hand somethin’ fierce, and… and… well…” he trails off as he presents you the palm of his left hand, where you can see some small jagged silvery lines along it. 

“She… she did this?” you whisper, lightly touching the scars, unbelieving that your Mama could do such a thing. She was the one who hardly ever raised her voice and didn’t even swat at Bees in front of you. How could she hurt him like this?

“I-I understand not wantin’ your kid to run away,” he says, “but I don’t think hurtin’ one like this was needed. But that wasn’t even the worst part of it.”

“What is it?”

“She… she banned me from ever comin’ back to the farm again. Couldn’t even say goodbye to ya properly,” he says somberly, his eyes sad as he tenderly cupped your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say, at a loss for what else you could say knowing what you do now.

“You don’t got nothin’ to apologize for baby,” he says softly, holding your hand in his scarred one. “And listen Honeybee, if she’s so mad that she don’t wantcha back, you’ll always have a home here,” he promises before he gives you a kiss to your temple and turns off the light.

You know the words were meant to be comforting, but they have the opposite effect and make your stomach drop at the prospect that she may be that mad. It has never occurred in your mind that she may be that cross with you for leaving 

But like a fowl little seed, those words are implanted in your mind and take root. You wish he had never said those words, but you can hardly fault him for his attempts to console you in your hurt. 

Would she ever be so mad at you? You wonder to yourself. You feel Elvis hands wrap around your waist and you remember the marks your Mama left on him in a rage. And that was simply from the idea that you would leave. What would she do now that you've actually left? 

Elvis has never had a bad word to say about anybody, but you realize even he was being far more generous than was needed for what she had done.  All that over a stupid kiddy idea of running away?

You lay there for hours with the only sounds being Elvis’ steady breathing. The longer you’re awake the more you think about it, which fuels the vicious cycle as those thoughts make it harder  to fall asleep. Doubt creeps into your very soul that the  home you are so desperate to return to will even be there come spring, and you silently weep. 

But not as silently as you thought, as Elvis is awake within seconds. He holds you so close and so tight that it truly feels like he’ll never let go. 

“No matter what,” he whispers in your ear. “Your home will always be here with me, Honeybee.”

You’re touched by his words and the way he holds you makes you feel so safe now and you kiss him fiercely, and want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible.

Up until this point you had been reluctant to go that final step with Elvis, pretty much doing everything but that last act. As greedy as he could be with your body (given how many hours he’s spent with his head between your legs), he had asserted you would be the one to decide when you would cross that final line with him. Though from the tone of his voice each time he said it, you figured he was gunning for it to be sooner rather than later.

You don’t know what exactly it is about the idea that you may not have a home to return to that makes you want to attach yourself further to him. You want to forget about everything when you’re with him and he makes it easy to do so. Being with him makes you so happy in way you don’t ever think you’ve experienced on the farm, and you 

“Are ya sure sweetheart,” he groans, before his eyes snap shut as you rub your lower lips along his shaft, as you’ve done dozens of times before. 

“Yes,” you whine, wanting to feel him the way he was meant to be. 

When he finally slides into you, you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you, as he slides right into you. You’re on top and he lets you set the pace for yourself, which is good as even with all of your previous practice with him, you still need some time to adjust to the size of him up that secret channel of yours. 

You can see the sheer will power it’s taking for him to let you go your own speed, so once the pleasure overtakes the pain, without any more preamble, you begin to quicken your hips and ride him like your life depends on it. It may very well, considering the closer you get to you climax the more it feels like you may pass out before you get to that point.

“This right here,” he grons, rolling his hips up into you rubbing his thumb along that button of yours. “This is where home is.”

“Yes,” you sob, tears streaming down your face, “Home… you.” you cry, unable to finish as he hits just the right spot within and your vision is being blurred by stars.

You feel so whole as he spills within you, and with his now softened cock still snuggly within you, “I love you Elvis,” you sigh into his chest, content to fall asleep then and there, but you quickly realize your mistake as your words seem to reinvigorate him and he takes you a few more times until the crack of dawn. But between his filthy words and his declarations of love one thing he says sticks out to you the most. 

“Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna take you away now Honeybee,” he groans as you pick up the pace, his hand squeezing your bottom so tight, only further cementing how secure you are here. 

Slowly but surely you stop writing to your mother. What was something you previously did everyday, became every other week, to eventually once a week once February came. And even the ones you do send are limited to very basic and dry summaries of the week, as to what flowers you were focusing on and general questions as to how everybody else is doing back home. Gone are the days of you waxing poetically about your confusion over your feelings for Elvis and you plea for a single response from her. She’s shown her interest in your life, as well as shown how willing she is to be involved with it anymore so you decide to accept it, albeit with a heavy heart. 

The last time you expressed anything even remotely emotional with her was how you find it hard to think of the farm as being home anymore when she’s been so cold to you these last few months, and how you doubt you even want to go back. 

She doesn’t reply.

Elvis seems to take to his new role in your life surprisingly well. Always willing to help you through your emotional turmoil when he was home and shield you from the rest.

He seems to take great comfort in you as well, and the greenhouse has now even become a place away from all of it. When he’s home one of the first things he does is visit you there, and simply sit with you for a few hours. You think it’s mostly to serve as a breather between all the chaos that is his life outside of these glass walls, but you’re all too happy to help him in this way as he’s helped you. 

That feeling of perfection you got when you first shared that pomegranate with him, you feel it almost everyday in that greenhouse with him. The light shining through the panes of glass keeping the place warm, the fresh air coming from the sproutlings in their pots, his soft humming. All of it adding up to a dream you never want to wake up from.

The beginning of Spring came and went and neither of you brought up the fact that you were meant to be back at the farm. The most you do allude to it was you telling him to forward that final payment directly to your Mama, mostly as a last ditch effort to get her to finally respond to you for once. 

She doesn’t respond. 

You and Elvis decide then and there to wash your hands of her, though it was perhaps the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. But you can’t keep letting her silence break your heart so you focus all of your energy into two things: Elvis and making Graceland beautiful.

The first one is pretty easy to do considering when he is home, there is little to no distance between you two. He can hardly keep his hands off of you anymore when he’s here, with nights spent under the sheets, and days spent literally everywhere else on the property. He seems to be particularly fond of being in the Greenhouse, loving to see you so in your element in there only to bend you over your work table and take you hot and heavy from behind. 

These encounters only make you feel his absence even more, as while you’re not exactly alone in Graceland it does make the big property feel all the emptier. Which in turn makes your second focus all the harder.

You’ve by now planted any and all flowers you intended to and they are all well on their way to growing strong, and now knowing you’re going to be staying, you’re happy that you’ll be able to do so for years to come. Now that you’ve gotten past the most trying part, tending to them is going to be a cinch…

Or it would be if you weren’t so tired all the time.

Oftentimes you find yourself napping in the most inopportune places around the property. Sweet Pea has apparently appointed herself as your official protector while you rested outside and by extension roped Brutus and Snoopy into it as well. You can’t even begin to count the amount of times you would want to rest your eyes for a minute only to find hours had passed and three dogs at the ready to guard you from whatever may come. WHich considering how you’ve been feeling sicker and sicker lately what with the fever you’ve been feeling and the nausea you’ve been having some mornings. 

You don’t exactly understand why you’re far more sensitive to smell nowadays. You almost threw up the other morning from the smell of the eggs, which has Dodger and Miss Gladys looking very funny at you. You don’t pay it any mind though as you were just glad that you’re still able to appreciate the smell of flowers. 

You’re in a far better mood today, what with Elvis set to return later, you decided to leave a surprise in his office. The roses were in full bloom now, so you decided to pluck a few for old times sake and leave some for him. 

As you’re placing the vase down onto the desk, you watch as one of the blooms falls right off the stems and rolls to the other side of it. But when you go to pick it up, what you find is far stranger.

With the amount of fan mail he gets, you wouldn’t have paid the neat stack any mind if you hadn’t immediately recognized your own handwriting on the very top one. ANd you would have taken that as a very crazy coincidence if it weren’t for the fact that it also has your old address on the front. 

And it’s not just that one, you find a couple dozen envelopes with your handwriting and address on the front, and an unpleasant feeling fills your belly as you tentatively remove a page from the envelope. 

And it’s there that you read your own gut-wrenching words of your loneliness here and your wishes that your mother would write back to you. How you plead for her to reach out if only to reassure you that she’s alive and getting these letters. 

You had imagined that they had either been destroyed the moment your mother saw them or gathering dust somewhere in your old childhood home. But now you find them here, a place you know very few are even allowed to be. 

She didn’t get any of them you realize looking at the thick stack, an icky sense of violation creeping under your skin, seeing them worn and wrinkled in some places, but somebody definitely read these. 

You want to throw up, and not just because of your newfound sensitive stomach, but due to the revelation that if he didn’t send any of them, then that meant… he had seen you be upset to the point of crying over this, all the while blaming your Mama for it and letting you take comfort in him. 

Not only that, he read about your loneliness and actively decided to make you feel even more isolated by not letting you talk to your Mama. He held you as you cried over the fact she wasn’t talking to you and said nothing.

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you stagger back so far that you knock the vase full of roses right off the desk. You don’t pay it any mind and leave them and the letters where you find them. You have to get away, you have to go home. 

You don’t bother to grab anything (it’s all his anyway), you simply find Jerry and tell him that he has to take you back to Tupelo right now. He’s stuttering trying to make the usual excuses of why he couldn’t take you, but he’s weak to your tears, and he silently leads you to the car.

It’s a long silent trip save for your quiet sobs from the passenger side. You don’t know if he’s intentionally stalling or if the drive is truly this long, either way it feels like forever before you can finally breathe within the Lee County borders. 

You take comfort in the landmarks becoming more and more familiar until finally you see your home in the distance. You don’t take your eyes off of it for even a second, afraid it may disappear the moment you do so. You have a hard time believing it’s even real until you stand before the front door. 

You hold the doorknob hesitating to open it, fearful as to what you may find on the other side, but ultimately you know that there is no possible way it can be any worse than where you just came from.

It’s oddly shocking how nothing has really changed in the months you’ve been gone. It’s almost as though you just walked out minutes ago, but you yourself feel you’ve changed so much since you were last here. The furniture arrangement is the same, as are the books on the shelf, and even your Mama's house slippers are in their usual spot. 

You listen as someone is cooking in the kitchen, and you feel your heart warm knowing that at the very least you accomplished what you had set out to do and provide for your family, regardless of the sick feeling that work has left in your belly. 

“Kate that you?” you hear from the voice that has accompanied you your whole life. “I told all y’all to take the da-” she cuts herself off upon seeing you.

You almost don’t recognize her, the streaks of white in her hair, the fine lines in the corners and the heavy bags underneath her eyes, overall speak to the way your absence has affected her these last few months. You feel guilty for every unkind thought you’ve had of her all this time, as you can now see for yourself how much she missed you. She looks as though she’s aged ten years in the months you’ve been away, and you can only imagine how you’ve so drastically changed in her eyes.

But none of that matters in the moment, as she drops everything in her hands and proceeds to take you in her arms and sob uncontrollably. You meet her halfway weeping just as fiercly in her chest, you thought you had run out of tears during the drive, only to find a new spring, as she blubbers in your ear “my baby’s home.”

Even after some time had passed like that, you can’t even begin to form any semi-coherent sentence as you blubber over and over again your apologies for being gone for so long. She’s long since stopped her own tears in favor of comforting you which only makes you feel all the worse. 

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” she whispers, having long since stopped her own tears in favor of comforting you now. “You’re home now, Rosebud. Everything’s gonna be okay,” and guilt eats at you, that you could ever even entertain the thought that she wouldn’t want you back. 

You remain in that state for what feels like hours, with your head in her lap as she smooths down your hair and in spite of all the turmoil you’ve undoubtedly put her through, it’s clear your comfort is her priority. Eventually though she does gather up the courage to ask you where you’ve been this whole time. 

After all you’ve put her through you figure that she at least deserves the truth, so you sit up to face her. But before you can even open your mouth you hear the front door open. Any nominal contentment you’ve found being back home all slips away when you hear the familiar heavy footfalls of the man you’ve been dreading seeing all day.  

“There you are Honeybee,” Elvis says, leaning against the doorframe, the familiar rakish smile in place. Those words are so familiar yet now they feel foreign as you no longer recognize the man who utters them to you.  

It feels like in mere seconds your mama has brought you to your feet and now you stand behind her, and away from him. “What are you doin’ here!?” she shouts, her body tense and rigid, as though ready to defend you from a lion rather than a single man.

He hardly even glances her way, his eyes firmly set on you. “Here to take my Honeybee back home of course.” Your mama doesn’t even waste a second after hearing that, she only wordlessly approaches and takes a swing at him. But he was ready for that, as he easily catches her wrist, and brought her close to him “Ain’t so easy now I ain’t a runt no more?” he says, grinning ear to ear, a deadly look crossing his steely blue eyes.

This catches both of you off guard but your Mama is quick to recover and attempts to shove him right out the door with a mighty “Get outta my house!” 

“Not without her,” he says, unnervingly keeping his voice low and cool, as though he were still very much in control of the situation. 

He may still very well be, you think. 

Before you can even think to help your mama, he easily maneuvers around her only to walk straight towards your frozen figure and put an arm around your shoulder. 

“C’mon Honeybee,” he says, blatantly ignoring the tears streaming down your face. “Time to head home,” and you shiver when he runs his thumb along your cheek the way he’s done a million times before. You see your mama look wide-eyed at this familiar interaction, and to your horror so does Elvis. “That’s right you don’t know where she’s been,” he says, giving a faux innocent look while boldly admitting right in front of you he never sent any of those letters. “Why don’tcha tell her darlin’.” he declares, punctuating his familiarity with a kiss to your cheek. You don’t know what’s worse, the look of shock on your mama’s face as he does this, or the dissatisfied look he shoots you when you curl away from him.

Your mama doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out what he’s implying, as you watch her deflate as she looks at you and gives a very defeated “why?” 

“Mama,” you whimper, wanting nothing more than to go to her, but Elvis’ arms keeping you firmly in place. “We-we needed the money, after the fire and…” 

You stop yourself short as your Mama seems to contemplate your words, only to make some sort of realization of her own before, a look of horror slowly creeping onto her face. “It was you wasn’t it?” She seethes in a low voice. 

“What was?” he says, trying to seem innocent but unable to fully mask his amusement at her state.

“The fire…” she said in a small voice, not even daring to continue. 

No, you refuse to believe. Ain’t no way he would go that far, but then you remember Jerry’s skittishness when he learned you had a flower shop in Tupelo as well as his reluctance to deny you a single thing, that big favor he apparently did for Elvis to earn his shiny new Cadillac. All of it is making a lot of sense, but you’re still unwilling to go that far for a chance to be with you.

That is until he says, “Now that’s a mighty big accusation,” coolly, with a bit of a smirk as he looks down on her.  

You freeze in place at that line. That’s not a no, you think, somehow still wanting to lie to yourself. He steals a glance at you and his face softens as he holds your shoulders and looks earnestly into your eyes as he says, “Honeybee you don’t think I would ever do something’ like that, now would you?”

You have to think on that for a moment, and you’re quiet until his grip tightens ever so slightly and his face noticeably drops from earnest to frustrated. You swallow deeply as you give a very unconvincing “No, of co-”

“Get your hands off her,” your mama spits, ripping you away from him, but he’s persistent, callously shoving her to the ground and gripping your jaw in his ringed hand. 

“Because if it’s true,” he continues so softly even as the cold metal digs into your cheeks. “Then I wonder what else I’d be willin’ to do to keep ya,” he casually threatens a sadistic look in his eyes as a wide grin spreads across his face. 

You feel your throat close as he glances down at your Mama, who’s struggling to get off the floor. He lets you go and you’re able to bring her to a chair. You once thought she was invincible but now you see her trembling clearly shaken up by this whole thing. Whatever your mama had; money, influence, respect, Elvis had in spades. She’s effectively powerless against him, but she still finds the strength to angle herself in front of you to try to block him. 

She’s afraid of him no doubt about it, but she’s still willing to defend you with her life. 

Would he be willing to go that far? You think and you let out a sob knowing the answer already. 

“Choice is yours darlin’,” he whispers right next to your ear. “If you’re willin’ to choose.” and then he steps right out onto the porch. You hope in vain that somehow he’s decided to leave, but that quickly dies as you hear him strike a match and you smell the familiar miasma of his favorite cigars. 

He wouldn’t, you think, but you can no longer put anything past him. You don’t ever want to truly find out what he’d be willing to if it meant keeping you by him, especially not at your mama’s expense. But you know in your gut how you can protect her. 

If you have one thing to thank your earlier crying fits for, it’s that you’re tapped dry at this point, so as you say to her “Mama I gotta go now,” you can say it with a little bit of dignity. 

“No… no Rosebud,” she pleads with you holding both of your hands. “Please stay… we can figure this out,” she says, the tears welling up in her eyes, as she comes to the same realization as you do. 

“It’s gonna be okay Mama,” you vainly try to reassure her but mostly yourself. “But you gotta let me go,” you sob, wanting to do anything but. And you have to leave her crying in the home she made for you.

You find him leaning against the porch railing, eyes slowly opening as you move closer to him. “Yes Honeybee,” he says, cloyingly sweet, as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. 

“Elvis…please… just-just take me home,” you whisper, burying your face into his chest. 

“Course sweetheart, anythin’ for you,” he says, and you shudder knowing he means it. You walk away from the porch and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops the cigar into the dirt and stamps it out. “I really oughta quit anyway,” he says. “Heard it’s bad for the baby.” 

“What?” you say, your blood turning to ice hearing that. 

“Ain’t it like magic Honeybee?” he sighs as you both get in the backseat of Jerry’s car, the owner of which is pointedly not looking at either of you. Elvis pays no mind to it, instead absentmindedly rubbing your lower belly back and forth. “You plant somethin’ so small, and it’ll grow up to be somethin’ else,” he sighs in contentment, and you close your eyes to yet another revelation that is coming far too late.

“But… but… you said, that it only happens when you’re married,” you say, though your spirit has long since been defeated. 

“Don’tchu worry none ‘bout that sweetheart,” he dismisses. “We are gonna get married real soon, and ain’t no one gonna be the wiser.”

There’s something so final in that revelation that you are now forever tied to him not by your own choices, but by his. He chose you. 

He knew what he was doing and he knew you didn’t. 

Looking back you don’t think there was ever anything within your control. What’s worse is that a part of you wishes you had never gone into his office today and could have lived blissfully, unburdened with the knowledge of what he was willing to do to get you. 

You love him, which makes this betrayal feel all the worse. You glance to the side to see the fields of flowers you’re leaving behind, as he slowly slips a ring on your finger. Now he’s not even gonna pretend that you have a choice in the matter, you are going to marry him because he said so. 

With his hand in yours you feel as the car transitions from the dirt road to the paved one that will take you far away from your home. 

You close your eyes and you don’t look back.

Alternate Summary: In which Elvis sees himself as a triumphant Orpheus when he’s actually a victorious Hades.

Taglist

@venus-haze​ @djsjs13949​ @ilovehobi101​ @butlerslut​ @richardslady121​ @giabelia​ @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051​ @myradiaz​  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale​ @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis​ @dkayfixates​  @immi547 @thatbanditqueen​   @marriedtoeddie​ @cuteejeno​ @itlover8000​ @isthlsfate​ @mgparker​ @thatbanditqueen​ @softsatnin​ @literally-just-elvis-fics​​ 

#Elvis #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere #yandere elvis #yandere!elvis #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #yandere austin!elvis x reader #austin butler #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis fic #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #austin butler x reader #smh #it's not showing up in the tags yet again #hadestown inspired #hadestown #hades and persephone #hades #persephone #orpheus #eurydice #istg #I'm so done with you tumblr

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Okay here an idea

Leona first year sister

Who um is the power of fire because I love Greek god Hestia the goddess of home n stuff ( all mytho gods of homes and arts )

And what's more she's the ultimate short stack

A short stack princess who enjoys cooking knitting/embroidery and reading books, all while they do not need a man in her life

And she even cooks for big brother Leona dorn as cooking helps her destress

And bit of a cinnonon roll

Yandere Leona First year sister

It makes it so hard for those interested to get in your good graces

As Leona’s gullible little sister

Everything he says is practically law 

and your just so eager to stay in your brother’s favor 

You’ll listen to his words of advice

“Oi stay away from those herbivores. They’re only going to chew you up and spit you out.”

“Oh ok.”

For someone with such a powerful magic you can’t seem to leave your protective brother’s grasp

But every now and then someone slips in

A pipsqueak that he doesn’t expect will wiggle their way into your heart

And now he has to compete with whoever’s voice whispering in your ear

“Its…fine. It’s only a matter of time before she reveals the scum bag and then I’ll happily begin the hunt.”

#yandere leona #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona twisted wonder #yandere twisted wonderland

[circusmania]

ᓚᘏᗢ MASTERLIST

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ My yeses, maybes and nos: YES: - Platonic/Romantic - F/F & M/M - However, many of my fics will just be gender-neutral reader - Trans reader - Yandere - Angst - Fluff MAYBE: - Smut - Not that I'm uncomfortable with it, I just don't feel like I can write it well enough - F/M - Ehh... there are plenty of straight fanfics, and I'm better at writing F/M & M/M. However, it's not a complete no, so I will write it occasionally. - Sadist - I can write it, just not too intense… Like to the point it's r@p3. NO: - Child x Adult - R@p3 - SA - Weird kinks... (ex: piss kink, scat kink) - Abusive behaviour

FANDOMS I WILL WRITE ABOUT: SCP FOUNDATION: - Scp Foundation in general - Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting - Dr Wondertainment - Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. (MC&D) - Sarkic Cults - Church of the Broken God - The Serpent's Hand ANALOG HORROR: - Mandela Catalogue - Vita Carnis - The Tangi Virus - The SMILE tapes - GEMINI HOME AND ENTERTAINMENT - The Walten Files - Monument Mythos (S: 1, 2 & NIXONVERSE) SLASHERS: - Ghostface (Billy Loomis & Stu Macher) - Norman Bates - Michael Myers - Jason Voorhees - Pennywise (2017) - Billy Lenz - Brahms Heelshire GREEK MYTHOLOGY: - Percy Jackson Fandom - Or Greek Myths in general GENERAL SCENARIOS (Ex: Mafia x Reader or Android x Reader)

Looking forward to writing your requests ♡ !!!

#horror #analogue #analogue horror #scp #x male reader #scp foundation #masterlist #x female reader #x transmasc reader #x transfem reader #greek mythology #digital circus #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #tadc caine #helluva boss #hazbin art #hazbin hotel #fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #slashers #scp foundation fictive #percy jackson #michael myers #jason voorhees #ghostface #brahms heelshire #horror fanfiction

[yandere-daydreams]

Can I have something involving apollo having a darling that wanted to be monogamous?

While I hesitate to involve myself in anything that involves monogamy, I do love watching our second favorite Sun God struggle to compromise. It’s fitting, for someone as… /generous/ as Apollo.

Title: Divided Attention.

TW: Implied Kidnapping and Emotional Manipulation.

~

You learned quickly that Apollo was a man of great extravagance.

You’d always known it, really. Even when you were simply a bystander to the antics of his cult, you didn’t have to travel far to find one of his gold-plated temples, his altars always decorated with the rarest of flowers and his sacrifices more akin to feasts than the sparse, sparable scraps other deities required. You had no great desire to participate in his theatrics, not beyond an annual festival or two tradition demanded you attend. It had been no surprise that, when you were whisked away to a palace closer to the sun than any other, there were dozens of guests who’d received their invitation long before Apollo had thought to send yours. Every room was full, every conversation shouted, and you didn’t care for it. You loathed it, some days.

Almost as much as you loathed the God who brought you here.

You were the newest toy in an overflowing collection. Countless eyes, all young and clouded, watched your every move, appraising your value as they parted to either side and made a path down the center of the massive, blinding throne room that occupied the majority of Apollo’s domain. You did your best not to be intimidated by it, keeping your eyes on the creature you were being directed towards, a man too tall and much too happy to see you. Promptly, you decided it actually was not a good idea to look at him, and instead directed your attention towards the velvet carpet guiding your advances.

Alas, avoidance wasn’t a sustainable method. As you came to a stop in front of him, you moved to kneel, but a strong arm was quick to correct your posture, taking you by the midriff and lifting you onto Apollo’s lap unceremoniously. He nodded towards the amassed crowd, and without further argument, they blended back into one lingering, unattentive group, conversations picking up where they’d been cut off and activities proceeding as if they’d never been interrupted. You watched, for a moment, but another intrusion was quick to steal you away. You didn’t try to decide which disturbance was more unwelcomed.

“You haven’t changed,” He began, his hand coming up to cup your jaw before trailing towards your neck, a long, painted nail tapping twice against your chest. You knew what he was referring to without further explanation - he’d made his hatred for your drab, grey frock more than clear. You were given clothes, a wardrobe in every color of the natural world, but every piece was just as lavish as your surroundings. You’d forgone it without much thought. “I was excited to see you in attire more fitting of your beauty, you know. Is there something wrong with what I’ve provided?”

You were in a strange place and you weren’t allowed to go home. You were surrounded by people with dead eyes and silver tongues and none of them had any interest in befriending someone as separate as yourself. Apollo had stolen you and he wouldn’t give you back, and you resented him for it and everything else and a million other reasons you couldn’t name in polite company. 

“They’re not my taste,” You answered, knowing better than to purposefully displease him. “I once heard Athena say a great mind needs no decoration.”

“And I once watched Athena start a dozen different wars over a single bronze breastplate she could never seem to get her hands on.” Despite the delight in his tone, he was quick to let out a long, labored sigh, pulling you closer to his chest as he went on. “This is your home now, my love, do you understand that? I want your comfort, and if there’s anything I could do to gain your trust, all you need to do is say the word.” Once again, his fingers ran through your hair, tilting your head back and allowing him to capture your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss, romantic by intention and onesided by execution.  You remained rigid, present only in a physical sense, but that was all Apollo required. He pulled away with a noise of contentment, if only to better stare you down with a gaze far too concentrated. Far too intense. “Your desires are my own.”

You could practically taste the opportunity. You didn’t allow yourself time to falter, you’d spent far too long waiting for an opening. “The only thing I desire is commitment, my lord.”

There was a pause. This time, Apollo couldn’t seem to summon an elegant rebuttal. “Commitment?”

“I do not wish to be a piece of a set.” It wasn’t a lie, just a truth out of context. You did not wish to be Apollo’s, alone or with company, and you knew he could never be satisfied with the lover he already had. It was an impossible bargain, and surely, it was a bargain he couldn’t risk accepting. “I am not a jewel to decorate your riches, and I refuse to be another facet of your ever-growing harem. Either send me away and be done with it, or prove that you’ll be loyal to me. I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t willing to make sacrifices in my name.”

There was silence. Rigid, frozen silence. You swallowed, and Apollo forgot to pretend he was human enough to blink.

Then, abruptly, he laughed.

“My stubborn disciple has no faith in me,” He chuckled, his voice completely and utterly rejuvenated. He held up an arm, beckoning his reluctant lovers forward and wordlessly calling them to gather, to be ready for his next demand. “You don’t think you’ll be cared for. You forget that everyone here shares in my love, and they’re just as prepared to distribute my affection as I am.” He paused, a hand coming to rest on your hip, squeezing playfully as he turned you on his knee, leaning forward just enough to let his grin press against your bare shoulder. “It’s my fault, really. I should’ve ensured that you received a proper welcome, but a delayed celebration will have to do. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my negligence, my love.”

You moved to contest, to argue and tell him exactly what he could do with his negligence, but before you could speak, a woman’s hand had latched onto your ankle, a man’s wrapping around your wrist. They pulled, and willingly, Apollo let you fall into the mass, each and every one of its many occupants dead-set on contributing to something terrible. There were cheers, sounds of celebration and a few rough jostles to your form, but there was no changing their aims, escaping the fate you’d talked their deity into carrying out. And, as someone grabbed at your back, clawing until they’d torn through thin fabric, it dawned on you just how vile your fate was going to be.

Apollo was a being of indulgence, after all.

You weren’t sure why you expected his lovers to be any different.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompt #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #yandere fantasy #yandere drabbles #yandere imgaines #yandere scenarios #yandere prompts #yandere greek gods #yandere mythos #yandere myth #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere boyfriend #yandere love letter #yandere god #yandere gods #yandere deity #yandere apollo #yandere fiction #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yandere core #yancore

[yanderefantasies]

Would you write for Disney Hades ? Like imagine or one shots ?

Yup! I would also write for Disney characters in general, I also write for the Hades game(y’know, the one with all the characters everyone’s simping over) as well as the characters from Twisted Wonderland. So basically anything Disney and Greek/Egyptian/Norse/etc. mythology, I’ll write it!

#Disney hades #hades #Greek mythos #Greek mythology #mythos #yandere gods #yandere dieties #yandere Disney #disney #yandere requests #yandere prompts #yandere blog

[anxiousnerdwritings]

It’s been awhile since we’ve talked about any mythology so if anyone has any yandere asks they want to send in for Greek, Norse, Egyptian, Japanese and or Chinese mythology that would be awesome! I’d love to talk about them all with you guys!☺️

I know there’s an ask I have (I just have to find it lol😅) that I really wanted to answer about Aphrodite being a yan!mom. That alone got me diving back into not only the Greek mythos but also the other ones too.

[mouisorange]

The Devil ,Strength , and The Fool for Hypnos and Vil for the Tarot Card Event?

Link to event & tarot prompts

The Devil - What taboo things would this yandere do to their darling? 

Vil is overbearing, at times. He’d never hit on his darling, at worse they’d have bruises from being restrained.  No no, Vil’s issue is his need for perfection. It’s not stalking, to look into any history of dating, or into the kinds of books you read, the things you watch, no: he’s just interested in his crushes’ interests! It’s not abnormal to alter outfits, his makeup, or else out of no-where - he’s just trying something new! It’s not like he almost seeks them out or anything - no of course not! Vil is a very busy man, he doesn’t have time to fawn over just anyone. But darling isn’t just anyone to him. Which is why he becomes so much. He wants to see his darling reach their full potential. Vil isn’t cruel, he doesn’t force it on them, it’s just little nudges in the right direction! He’s working so hard to be his perfect self, don’t you want to join him?  It doesn’t matter if darling tries to walk away from it, from him. Didn’t you see how far he went to be #1 in the VDC? Vil’s issue is that he won’t kidnap them, he does everything in his power to make things go smoothly as if he wasn’t completely obsessed, because a queen should woo his sweetheart properly - and honestly it might be worse this way.

The god of sleep is, not so surprisingly, lonely. Can you really blame him if he puts his love to sleep when they’re being so nasty to him? But honestly that’s even if he feels comfortable introducing himself or interacting with them while they’re conscious. Hypnos is more than happy to have a perfect dream manufactured for him and his sweetheart, and even force their sleep to last longer, and longer each night due to his selfish cowardness. A coma is easier to swallow than the terror of them rejecting him. He’s a chthonian deity, surely darling would not face him as they might any other god. Hypnos isn’t too scared of your death though, neither should they be! He loves them in all of their forms, and would happily fish them out of the meadows of Asphodel.  Jealousy? Let’s cuddle up and nap!  Anger? Sleep and hope he wakes you from whatever terror his child throws at you.  Otherwise? He’s not overly a ‘taboo’ kind of guy, unless you consider constant touch as taboo. 

Strength - How outwardly passionate is this yandere around their darling? 

Only as much as you and his persona allow. He’d love to hold hands, gently guide you by the small of your back, pepper kisses over your face before stepping outside - but not at the expense of your comfort. Of course not, how could he expect you to want anything from him when he isn’t perfect yet? No, no he has to wait until you clearly want him. Vil won’t give up easily and is scarily informed about romance - I mean, he is an actor and model. But in the beginning, he’ll focus on wooing his darling with acts of romance straight out of novels and lovey dovey movies, anything to keep their attention on him. 'Running’ into them in the library, accidentally brushing knuckles while reaching for the same book - catching you before you fall after tripping - somehow getting your notes for a class you missed (even though he isn’t in that class...? How did he even know Crowley made you skip...?) - nothing is out of reach for a Queen and his happily ever after.

Hypnos is shy until darling sends the okay! And by ‘okay’ I mean doesn’t treat him like dirt and doesn’t react harshly to him being nearby. Once he gets over his ‘oh what if I make them hate me?’, you’ll have made a monster out of this deity. He loves loves holding his sweetheart and generally refuses to not be touching them at all times. Hand in hand, hand on your arm, hand on your back, hand holding you against him - you’ll go from telling him ‘no I won’t be carried but I guess you can hold my hand..’ to being held and carried around by a happy god. He won’t be singing your praises to anyone who’ll listen (cause what if they snatch you up when they find out how amazing you are?) but be prepared for all the quiet ways he smothers you in affection. 

The Fool - How deluded is this yandere when it comes to their darling? Are they self aware on any level? 

Vil is self aware enough to know how to handle things in a way so that his darling doesn’t catch wind of his obsessive behavior. But he doesn’t fully grasp the wrongness of his obsession with them. He’s Vil Schoenheit, and he strives for perfection in everything he does - and we see that in chapter 5 he fully allows himself to become consumed by this need, his desire. It’s not too much of a leap for this determination to branch out to someone he’s interested in, in fact we get a taste of this with Epel in the canon story! (Although Epel’s situation is much different, but it still displays Vil’s unrelenting dedication to a goal or to another’s goal)  The Queen knows how to play chess, and perhaps is aware of the underhanded nature of how he plays, but that awareness does not effect him in the slightest - for he knows his efforts will result in victory. 

Hypnos knows he’s looked down on by other gods, even his fellow chthonian deities. Can you blame him for being a little bit ecstatic to find someone who doesn’t think he’s lazy or disappointing? Maybe they do, but they still interact with him with a smile on their face - they talk to him willingly and don’t look like they want to leave. He’s fully aware that his feelings are pathetic for a god, especially if they’re human, but he doesn’t care. Hypnos just wants to keep them for himself, to nurture their positive feelings towards him - to keep them away from anyone that might change that. As long as he can keep them to himself, keep their love to himself, he doesn’t care what he has to do.  Even if they begin to hate him, he knows they loved him once, so he knows he can make them love him again. His behavior rarely changes around them, putting them to sleep when he can’t handle their words or the look on their face. He knows better, but he pretends he doesn’t - and he isn’t above having his children fabricate a dream for his darling so he can subconsciously alter their ‘hate’.  

﹝☼﹞

#tarot event.oneyear #yandere greek mythology #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere greek #yandere twst #yandere hypnos #yandere vil #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere greek mythos

[sporadiclilbook]

Hey! Not sure if you’re doing Albedo or not rn but if you are- Could we have Yandere!Albedo + the Greek Mythology Bookmark, please?

I did get Albedo so yes I am doing him! The only characters I won't be doing is the ones that we hasn't seen so much of yet personality wise(Like Ayaka)

Greek Mythos AU with Albedo

Albedo, in my opinion, in a Greek Mythos setting would be a creation of Aphrodite. You know, the goddess of love.

Maybe Aphrodite heard your wishes of having a devoted lover or angered with you if you were someone that has rejected numerous love proposals. Because that's just how Aphrodite do.

So in return, she created Albedo. Someone to fit your taste. To give you all his love for. Unfortunately, well for you, he seems to be quite more loving than normal.

When you first met him, you were smitten. It's as if he was your perfect match. Your relationship with him was envied by others. And you had believed that he was your match.

Until.......

He started getting more......jealous? Begging you to stay by his side. Demanding, even. You brushed it off, saying that it was ridiculous. But he didn't understand. He does not understand other human feelings other than love.

So he asked Aphrodite for help. And Aphrodite, the ever so match-making chaotic god of love, taught him a few potion recipes that would make you love him and him only.

Thus, you were at his mercy. Even if you don't know it. Intoxicated by him. For him. Being a docile lover. And with a little help of Aphrodite, you would live alongside him forever.

#yandere albedo #yandere genshin impact #sporadicpage #MythosMark #GreekMythosMark #yandere x reader

[owo-shenanigans]

I realized i need to make a commission sheet specific for my fic blog, so here we go.

COMMISSION INFORMATION

OVERALL: Just message me and we can talk things over.

I WILL WRITE: x reader, x oc, x character, x crossover character, poly, platonic, familial, romantic, yandere. I'll write pretty much anything, just message me and we can talk things out.

The media I've consumed list is to let you know what I'll be able to write for (i am willing to write for media not on this list, but anything further than wiki diving will require extra payment). I'm putting everything I can remember consuming on here whether I think there's a fandom for it or not.

PRICING: Flexible. Base prices are 250wc - 3$, 500wc - 6$, 1000wc - 12$. All prices are in USD. If you want something above 1000 words, we’ll talk it out.

PRICE ADDITIONS: Things that are on my blacklist (other than characters) will raise the price. Specifics will be discussed.

MEDIA I HAVE CONSUMED:

ANIME / MANGA: Ace Attorney, Boku No Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Detective Conan / Case Closed, Ghost Stories (dub), Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun, Hetalia, Kill La Kill, Naruto, Pokemon, Saiki-K, Shugo Chara, Soul Eater, Tenkuu Shinpan, Uma Musume

BOOKS: 39 Clues, the Geronimo & Thea Stilton books, Harry Potter, Howl's Moving Castle, Rick Riordan’s general mythos (PJO, TKC, MG, etc), Dracula, Sherlock Holmes (original books), Jekyll & Hyde (original book). (I’m only listing the popular books I’ve read)

MOVIES: Disney Theatrical Animation, Pixar, I'll throw in Hallmark movies as a freebie, Harry Potter, Jumanji remakes, MCU, Star Wars (main 9 movies & Clone Wars), Studio Ghibli,

MISC: Creepypasta (I don't know everyone, but as long as their story isn't outright traumatizing I'll go for it), Greek Mythos (I had a major phase that never fully went away lol), and other ancient stories. I will gladly write OCs or general concepts as well.

T.V. SHOWS: Arcane (will only write characters as they appear in Show), Avatar the Last Airbender, the Dragon Prince, Doctor Who, Gravity Falls, Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss, Miraculous Ladybug, Scooby Doo (Mystery Inc), She-Ra PoP, Sherlock (BBC), the Owl House, Tangled the Series, Total Drama

VIDEOGAMES: Ace Attorney, Animal Crossing, Bendy & the Ink Machine, Cookie Run Kingdom, Crush Crush, Danganronpa, Fire Emblem (Awakening, Fates, Three Houses (ONLY pre-timeskip)), Genshin Impact, Harvest Moon, Hades, Hustlecat, Legend of Zelda, Love Nikki, Mario, Mystic Messenger, Monster Prom, Obey Me, Pokemon, Skyrim, Stardew Valley, Undertale, I play a LOT of dating sims so honestly just ask.

#commission #writing commissions

[yanderecandystore]

Imagine the collector trying to catch his eastern dragon s/o who is called "The beast that can never be caught and the beast that never loses a hunt." it like that mytho: Teumessian fox. // I imagine the dragon stealing shiny object from the Collector. (because I love shiny things)

From all the cool things about greek mythology, why wasn't I aware of this one?

I always love when someone sends an request which references something I never heard off, so I always learn something a little different everyday, is pretty cool. Thanks boo!

TW/Tags: too fast for your boi // yes boo! Go collect those shiny things! // This is going to be short because I'm in a silly mood again, oh my God, help- // this is surprisingly kinda fluffy and goofy?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Slippery thief [Yandere!Eldritch OC x Dragon!Reader - Headcanon]:

Look, for starters: my boy is already pretty slow, he doesn't like going too fast because he feels the need to look classy while walking, especially considering how his body is already kinda awkward.

But he can run if he needs to, but let me tell you, is not exactly a pretty sight. It's like an giant spider coming through, but the spider isn't as fuzzy or have like those cute eyes that jumping spiders have, no, it's an creature of demise coming through.

Be glad you're so sneaky and so hard to catch, because the more you take from him, the more you ran away with his diamonds the more pissed he gets.

You can hear someone yelling "get back here" from the other side of the globe.

Well, he at least appreciates the accuracy of your tittle. You really have earned the name of uncatchable beast.

Imagine a Looney Tunes type of chasing between an Eastern dragon and a eldritch horror boi, one who is really pissed but won't really hurt you.

Just… Trap you inside his dimension so you can stop taking his stuff away from him.

This is really curious to him. No dragon would be bold or naive enough to mess with him, knowing he isn't one to be trusted. Yet here you are, being a playful little pest, picking his stuff and taking it away.

Considering that he needs to physically pick you up and force you inside his portal, the task of catching you seems extremely impossible, and just the thought of all the trouble you would give him, make him want to personally tear his mask appart out of frustration.

But, well, he would be lying if he said he didn't like how you always came by to play this little chasing game with him.

Oh come on! He can't be the only one thinking this is endearing?? This can't be just an one sided thing, right?

Well, it's useless to try to catch you, so what if he promised you to not go after you if you spent some time with him? Just, ya know, drinking tea in a massive marble tea cup with golden ornaments and embedded jewels.

Surely you won't try to steal the heavy tea cup and give him an extremely convinent opportunity to trap you, right?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere oc headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere eldritch oc #yandere eldritch x dragon reader #yandere eldritch x reader #yandere eldritch #yandere headcanon #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

[yanderesmythos]

Your Greek mythology dating sim sounds so interesting!

Yes, I agree. Not to mention, it has alot of potential of becoming a dating sim. Or, even better yet a survival dating sim. If we incorporated, the tragedies of the mythos and the yandere aspects.

#disscussion