#oc Annabell

[1000-niche-interests]

Raindrops on Roses

And now that we have that oc post here is a story because? I can. There are no roses in this story, but I had of “Favorite Things” from sound of music stuck in my head while I was writing it.

Annabell stood in the corner of the dimly lit chamber, watching from the shadows as the healer checked Sara’s breathing and pulse again, indifferent to how this mousy, red-haired woman looked back at Annabell every now and again, as if to check that the vampire wasn’t about to pounce. She much preferred the older man who had been in here earlier; he hadn’t been quite so jumpy. 

Not that it mattered. Anna had been here long enough to be used to wary stares of others, especially the ones not familiar with the Queen’s court. Not familiar with the fact that, while Annabell was not human, while she possessed magic enough to kill everyone in the kingdom and then some… she wouldn’t. Because there was only one person on this earth she cared enough about to kill for, and that person was currently laid up in bed with fever. Besides, Annabell was no human, but she was not a monster, either. (Despite what some of the nobles whispered behind her back.)

“Um,” The red head muttered into the quiet room, and Annabell’s head snapped up at once. The medic took a step back from Sara’s bedside in a respectful bow. “Her fever is down from what Healer Rodney said it was earlier, so I believe it should break tonight. That’s good.” The girl did not make eye contact with Annabell as she spoke, and the vampire did not expect it. She simply nodded, brisk, and waited for the girl to continue her report or to leave, as she clearly wished to.

“Apologies, sorceress.” The young woman bowed, again, this time more of a curtsy. “For my… hesitation.” 

It took Annabell a moment to figure out what she meant, until she realized the healer was referring to how she so clearly stammered over her words in fear, and some such. But Annabell only felt one thing right now, and that was concern for Sara, so she didn’t dismiss or accept the girl’s apology, merely sat down in the chair she’d pulled up to her queen’s bedside, and cupped her cheek to check her fever herself with a cold, pale hand. Though Annabell emitted no body heat, she could feel heat perfectly well, and agreed with the healer’s analysis. When she looked up again, the red haired woman was gone, as she’d expected. Fine.

Now that they were truly alone, Annabell focused on the bond between herself and Sara, crimson eyes glowing bright red as she placed her hand on Sara’s chest, just above her heart. She could hear her lover’s heartbeat, even and steady, but that was not her focus. She concentrated on the sound of rushing blood until it filled her ears, until it was all she could hear. Blood, like waves on the ocean. Plasma of life, heartbeats entwined together for eternity. A blood pact like theirs wasn’t common-- actually it was unheard of, between human and vampire-- but it allowed Annabell much.

As her hearing returned, her thoughts felt slow and sluggish, a chill having swept through her body like an icy gale. They were not her feelings, but Sara’s-- Annabell added another blanket to the two quilts already present, and tucked Sara in more until the feeling abated in her own body, replaced by a pleasant feeling of warmth. Annabell shook her head to clear it, then poured a glass of water from the pitcher in the corner. Sara would need that too, when she woke, likely dehydrated alongside exhausted. As the feeling of Sara’s ills cleared, Annabell took her seat again. They felt much of the other’s feelings through the pact; though by virtue of her magic, Annabell could sense more than Sara. It was useful, Annabell felt, to know what Sara needed even when she was asleep. When Annabell would otherwise be helpless to assist her. She saw her dreams, too, when she fell asleep, as Sara did her’s, though the queen reported it as never anything she could make out. Perhaps that was a lie, but Annabell could never tell. She, on the other hand, got dreams of family gatherings and sword training. And the moment of Sara’s father’s assassination, over and over again. Replayed. Annabell had never told her that, though.

She wondered what Sara was dreaming about now. She could probe, find out if she was in distress, but she tried not to invade the other woman’s privacy when she could help it. Besides, her expression was peaceful, even with her fever. Annabell suspected her sleep was peaceful, which lightened her worries a little.

With Sara comfortable for the moment, Annabell turned her senses to the room around her, the hallway, and the outside world, keeping alert. She knew there were guards all around in the castle, of course, but Sara’s safety was of the utmost importance here, as usual. The hallway sounded normal, and raindrops from the storm outside splattered against the windowpane like blind birds, heavy and thick. In the quiet abyss of the room, Sara’s breathing the only noticeable sound, Annabell sighed. The storm had been raging for days, and in fact getting caught out in it had been the reason Sara had fallen ill. Well-- the stress of running a kingdom also contributed, but it was the rain that had made the queen so violently cough and shiver, unable to find warmth no matter how Annabell bundled her up in blankets. Not even Annabell could offer help, emanating no heat to warm her. That always made her feel a tinge of sadness-- even though no heat could have warmed Sara after the storm anyway, Annabell knew well that touching her was like touching the shade itself. Cold, and never comforting. 

Ah, but now was not the time for her thoughts to take over. The wet cloth on Sara’s forehead had begun to dry, so Annabell wrung it out, wet in the basin, wrung it again, and returned it to its place with the efficiency of a surgeon. Annabell hoped Sara’s fever would break tonight, as the healer hypothesized… Sara had already been ill too long for the vampire’s comfort.

A groan-- no, barely even that, a murmur, really-- broke Annabell away from her worrying, and for a moment Annabell held her breath, a reflexive action she’d picked up and yet, never intended to actually do. She concentrated on the sounds, the symphony of Sara’s body, her heart and her brain, and she read the signs correctly; a moment later, Sara Penderghast’s eyes fluttered open, revealing glassy, tired blue eyes, nonetheless trained immediately on her.

“Anna,” Sara muttered, a smile at the edge of her lips. “Good… evening? Is it evening?”

“Just about.” Annabell replied, with a smile of her own, fangs momentarily flashing in her relief. Not that that mattered, in front of Sara. “How are you feeling?” She asked a moment later, having handed Sara the glass of water, from which she sipped, the flush in her face seeming to decrease somewhat.

“Tired. But… warm. Not too warm, just… good-warm.” Annabell smiled again. Her normally eloquent queen, reduced to a few broken sentences in her exhaustion. Well, as long as she was comfortable. 

“I made sure you had enough blankets,” Annabell replied, and Sara nodded against her pillows. “Thank you… but I’m sure it was awful to feel what I felt, sick like this. I’m sorry.” Ah, leave it up to her queen to apologize for what she couldn’t control.

“Darling, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.” The vampire assured her, and Sara nodded again, eyes closing after a moment. 

“Mm… the last time I was awake was morning and I know you didn’t sleep last night,” Sara said, voice slightly slurring now but still regal. “Lay with me. You should rest.” 

For a moment, Annabell considered reminding her that as a vampire, she didn’t need nearly as much rest as humans did and she could still remain awake for several days if necessary… but didn’t. Sara was giving her an option, and Annabell truly did desire to lay beside her, cool her fever, if she could. Still, she hesitated.

“You won’t be cold?”

At that, Sara gave a little laugh, one that sounded like music even when her voice was so raspy. 

“Oh, Anna, there’s more than enough blankets. I promise.” 

“Alright, you win.”

“I usually do.” Sara huffed in an appropriately queenly manner as Annabell slipped under the covers, and Sara nestled in close to her. The oppressive heat of the fever soaked deep into the vampire’s bones but didn’t bother her. 

Nothing mattered, as long as she could hold Sara here, warm and safe, for as long as her queen needed.

[revnah1406]

Customised Oc Patches!

Well these are really old drawings but I wanted to share with you guys, something that I've been working with my friends and mutuals.

We all know that our Call of duty OCs have to wear patches on their uniform if they belong to a certain military job or team. But what if they had personalised patches? A symbol that represents them?

Well SAY NO MORE! Here you have a few examples of customised patches for some Ocs that are in the Call of duty fandom!

141 Custmised patches:

OCS:

Hannah "Sparrow" Clayton - @revnah1406

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez - @alypink

Charlotte "Jade" le Jardin - @sleepyconfusedpotato

Annabelle "Gremlin" Pham - @applbottmjeens

Damien Whitlock - @kaitaiga

Samantha "Scarlet" wright @welldonekhushi

Anyway! I'm feeling like bringing this again and making more patches for my mutuals and friends OCs. So stay tuned because maybe some new and flashy patches appear again!

Also thinking of open commission for this personalised patches once I have more free time. Idk, let me know!

That's all!

Love Ya! 🧡🧡✨

[spaceykaciii]

new additions to the nevermore corner,,,,,, the normalcy continues!!

[vasira96]

lil OC update! you may know her by another name but please allow me to re-introduce you to my daughter, Isabelle

[moonfang182-magic]

Gregtober Day 29: Anime

@gregaverse "Next time on Magical Universe: Heroes of Light!-"

"Magical Universe: Heroes of Light" AU - Star

(I don't have all their magical girl forms ready yet but I can show off Gregory's design hehe)

[applbottmjeens]

"It's not an act of love if you make her."

-Labor, Paris Paloma

The Queen of Hearts was born out of Phillip Graves' urge to squeeze out the potential out of what he saw as his prized possession. Holding the very wellbeing and safety of her son over her head, he'd coerce her back onto the field, back to being his soldier. Once untameable, now on a chain, the wildchild she was has been broken down to a piece on the chessboard that's as hard to control as it is powerful.

Regina Cordibus.

When you live for anyone but yourself, how much of you is left?

And how do you break free?

-

BIG BIG UPS TO @sleepyconfusedpotato OH MY GOD OH MY DAYS BEHOLD HER WORK IN ALL ITS GLORY.

[tomfoolerytommytom]

I decided to draw Theo one more time just for those who found my account through the fandom and for the friends I made. I hope the rest of y’all stay safe and have a good one 🖤 To those who are still here for my original art or the fanart I’ve made for other fandoms, I’ve attached some more below :)))

Here’s the other stuff I promised, idk if I posted some of these already I have terrible memory😇

[masculinemiracles]

The children yearn for the swamps

[brie-draws]

Valentines day gift for my darling, @chaicolaotte !!!! Our OCs, Bow and Annabelle!!!

[shrimpbat]

well these guys are new

[gzeidraws]

Commission for wyndhym featuring their OC Alia and Zyrithithrall's OC Annabelle 💪

[1000-niche-interests]

oops new ocs

Okay well they aren’t actually “new”, I’ve had these two kicking around in my brain for a couple years now but I felt that since there is now one (1) observer to this blog who’s interested, I might as well post about them! This serves as a more longform introductory oc post to these two lovely ladies, though I’ll also put the brief information on my regular OC post too. Anyway! Vampire and Warrior Queen OC Ladies beneath the cut:

Sara Penderghast, Warrior Queen of Kalin: (Yeah I bet you’ve never heard that very predictable cool surname before! It’s not creative but it is what stuck). 

Born to Marcus and Gertrude Penderghast (nee: Harte) Sara inherited the kingdom of Kalin at twelve years old, after her mother died in childbirth and her father was assassinated (something she witnessed, and it still haunts her). Being their only child, Sara had been taught, pretty much from the time she could walk, to rule the kingdom. She was polite, prim, proper, and refused to be manipulated by her advisors... especially her court mage (he’d been her parent’s court mage, and it was decided he shouldn’t be replaced because Sara was so young). Sara grew up ruling a kingdom that was torn; some loved her, the girl queen, some thought she needed to die as she refused to let anyone else take the reins behind the scenes. So it was no surprise that, when Sara was sixteen, there was an assassination attempt. Yet it was here that Sara, in a last ditch attempt to protect herself, emitted a blast of True Power. Magic, and unlike anything anyone had ever seen. She survived only with the intervention of her court mage, who cut off the surge of power before it consumed her entire life force. This was when Sara discovered she was a Living Rune-- a person naturally imbued with magic, who could direct magic both in and out of their body through special techniques, and surges of power like what she’d experienced.

Sara was determined to harness this power, use it as a strength rather than a weakness, and so at eighteen she commissioned the elven mage Articia to forge a glaive that would allow her to use her power in short burst; power could surge from her hands to the blade of the glaive. At around the same time, a war broke out between Kalin and a dangerous warlord. This is when the legend of the warrior queen was born, as Sara fought beside her soldiers against the invader. When the sadistic conqueror was defeated, the rules of warfare also meant they gained his prize…. A captive vampire, tortured, beaten, kept in silver chains and a silver cage, starved of blood.

Naturally, Sara’s advisors and generals were wary of such a creature, but Sara ordered the vampire taken back to the capital (in the cage, for safety) and then released. However, Sara’s court mage had other plans, and wanted to experiment on this vampire to learn what made them tick, since the species was so little known of them. When Sara refused to let him do that, the mage planned to assassinate Sara (because of course.)

The vampire learned of this (court mage loved to evil monologue, I suppose) and used quite a bit of strength to escape her cage, her chains; and arrive just in time to stop the assassination by running the court mage through with her claws…. and then sucking all his blood.

This vampire had no reason to care about humans, but she cared about Sara. Sara had tried to have her released from her prison; Sara treated her as something other than a monster. This vampire saved Sara, and, still in her debt, requested a Blood Pact with her-- a ritual that would bind the two of them with a simple drop of blood into a magic circle. Sara, to just about everyone’s surprise, was honored to do this. Yet a Blood Pact is more than just a ritual. It’s a form of intimacy unlike anything most humans will ever feel; it links the emotions, feelings, thoughts and minds. 

That was about the time the two started to fall in love. Was it because of the pact? Who can say. All that matters if that their love is real, and true... It was also at this point that the vampire, who had long forgotten her original name, was christened Annabell, and pledged to protect Sara and all of her line with her life by becoming her court sorceress, thanks to her magical ability. And while many are afraid Annabell for what she is, Sara just loves her. She always will. 

---

Annabell, Vampire: Annabell comes from the race of vampires, which once held a thriving civilization before humans came along. Now, thanks to the curse which makes them immortal and hunger for blood, vampires are seen as monsters. Annabell, to that end, may have skin as cold and as pale as death, she may have red eyes, sharp teeth, claws and immense strength, regenerative ability... but she is no monster. She feels just as humans do, feels pain and sadness and anger. And love. 

(The only difference between her and a human is, she can regrow a hand in five minutes and she feels like she’s burning alive in the sunlight. And she drinks blood. Not such a difference, no? Ha.)

The truth is that Annabell doesn’t remember much about her life, or unlife, before Sara freed her from her cage. Perhaps her memories are repressed, perhaps she has simply truly lost them. What she does know is that she would trade every memory in the world for another moment with Sara.  Sara gave her purpose, and she cares deeply about for her warrior queen and will protect her by any means she can, always caring for and about her, even to the detriment of herself. To Annabell, nothing matters but Sara. After all, she is immortal, and she has all the time in the world. Sara... isn’t, and doesn’t, but like all humans she tries her best to make her mark on the world anyway, and that’s what Anna loves about her... one of the many things.

(lol I promise Anna has a past I just don’t have it all detailed yet.... maybe someday I’ll get there)

Anyway.... those are my two ABSOLUTE favorite generic/original fantasy ocs. The art/meiker is done by aukanemin on meiker.io, check them out if you like meikers because I sure do. https://meiker.io/user/aukanemin/63436

[dailynoodlezz24]

Quick Nevermore dump

Some ol wolf in sheeps clothing, Lenore style ykyk

Randoms dump:

Idek if I've posted some of these already, I havent been here for a while

[spaceykaciii]

in case it’s not obvious, i’m sooooo normal about nevermore (i also have another print on another wall and the print on top was a commission of my nevermore oc and lenore done by a friend of mine)

[sissylittlefeather]

A House That Has Everything: Chapter 4

A/N: This one came to me when I saw these amazing AI photos on Instagram made by @blackvelvetep and @_chiara975ep. (Be sure to check out their pages on Instagram!) My fic brain went crazy and this storyline was born.

Summary: Set in Regency England, Mr. Presley is the gentleman who owns and resides in Graceland Manor. Annabelle Martin is his newest maid after her parents have died and left her an orphan. Can he resist his affection for her, despite the difference in their social class?

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut and angst, p in v sex, unprotected sex, sexy thoughts, and some kissing

Word count: ~2.5k

“Bella…”

But it isn't enough.

******

In order to take his mind off of Bella, Elvis leaves for a week in London to settle some estate business and spend time with his friends. When he sets out, all of the staff gather to see him off. Annabelle stands with her hands folded and her eyes on the ground. She's afraid if she looks at him, she'll blush or maybe even pass out cold. He slows down as he passes her, trying to catch her eye, even though he has no idea what he would do if he did. And then, just like that, he's gone.

In the carriage, his mind is consumed with thoughts of Bella refusing to look him in the eye. It's probably good that he'll have some time away. He can't handle another temptation and giving in would ruin them both.

******

In London, Elvis behaves as he usually does, gambling and drinking and generally acting completely unbefitting of his station, but the club he frequents is private and used to this kind of thing from gentlemen from the country.

After a bare-chested boxing match with his best friend Jasper, he finds himself in a perfumed bed in the arms of one of the women who works in the club. She provides a certain service to men who married for expectation rather than romance. Elvis has been with this kind of woman before on his trips to London, but this time he finds himself with a unique problem. The woman, called Bridget, runs her hand over his chest and sighs.

“Is there something on your mind, love?” She coos, her hand drifting down even further. Elvis stops her without thinking and purses his lips. The answer is yes, his mind is filled with Bella and he almost feels like he's being unfaithful here in this bed, but he knows that is absurd. He shakes his head, insisting that he's fine, even though his soft cock gives him away. “You've already paid, love. So why don't you relax and let me help you?”

She leans in and presses her lips to his softly. He closes his eyes and tries to sink into the kiss, but an image of Bella floats up behind his eyelids and he pulls back, almost gagging.

“I can't. I'm sorry.” He lays flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling and Bridget sighs again.

“Who is it that you're in love with?” Her voice has changed from her seductive whisper to one of matter-of-fact conversation.

“I'm not… what? No, that's not…”

“Are you afraid I'll tell your secret? You know what I am.” He turns and looks at her. She's right. No one would listen even if she did try to tell anyone.

“My maid.” He looks back up at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. “She is the most exquisite creature and I haven't been able to rid my mind of her.”

“Does she feel the same?”

“I don’t know. We haven't… there is only longing. I think she may, but I only know my own heart.” Bridget clicks her tongue and runs her fingers through his hair almost out of habit.

“You poor miserable thing. With only your money to comfort you.” There's an edge of bitterness to her voice.

“I'd give it all up to have her.” He whispers. She softens and turns his chin to look at her.

“Then you have to tell her.”

“I cannot.”

“Then you don't deserve her.” He sits up almost angrily.

“You don't understand. You are free to love whomever you choose. I am bound by obligation to marry someone of my own class.” His eyes are burning and his nostrils flare.

“I couldn't love you.” She says it flatly and understanding settles on him. “But if I did, I would tell you. Love has no thought for the boundaries of society. It gives and takes as it sees fit.”

“Then what do I do about it? Wait for it to pass?” His pain is so genuine that she has a hard time dismissing it.

“Will it?” She cocks her head to the side a little.

“I don't know. I thought it would but here I am in this conversation with you.” He closes his eyes and she puts her hand on his cheek.

“Elvis, will you tell anyone that you were here with me?” He opens his eyes and looks at her, not sure where she's going with this question.

“No.”

“Then why couldn't she be your secret instead of me?” Something akin to hope flickers in his chest. She's right again. Why couldn't Bella be the secret he keeps from the world?

“I hadn't thought of that.” Bridget smiles and runs her hand down his stomach.

“Most of you never do.” She wraps her hand around his flaccid member and then whispers. “Tell me about her.”

Elvis's mind races as he thinks of Bella: her beautiful hands and the cupids bow in her lips that he wants to taste so badly. As more images of her appear in his mind, he hardens and Bridget begins to pump him.

“She's the loveliest woman I've ever seen, dainty and feminine but with a fire and strength I've only ever read about. Her hair is raven-dark and her eyes are deep blue.” He moans softly.

“Good. Close your eyes and keep going.” She strokes him with a little more pressure as his eyes flutter shut.

“She has the sweetest voice and her body…” He whimpers when he thinks of her perfectly round breasts and the curve of her hips under her skirt.

“I'm her. How do you want me?” All of a sudden, it's no longer Bridget's hand on his cock, it's Bella's, and he gasps a little.

“Fully and completely.” Bridget moves herself over his hips, rubbing the tip of him through her folds as he whimpers. “Oh, my Bella.”

He groans as she sinks down onto him and then starts to move. With his eyes closed, he sees Bella, her beautiful body naked, her face rapt with pleasure. Bridget sighs as she fucks him to completion and he moans and whispers Bella’s name with his eyes tightly shut.

When he finishes, he opens them and wants to cry. She's not Bella. Not even close. Bridget sees his expression and kisses his forehead.

“Tell her, Elvis.” He nods silently and pulls away from her, standing to dress himself.

Back in his own bed at the inn, he lays on his side and ignores the tears that slide down his nose. The sick feeling in his stomach makes it impossible to sleep, but he closes his eyes anyway.

******

Annabelle walks through to the kitchen and finds Mrs. Hall in a tizzy.

“What is it?” She asks curiously.

“Mr. Presley will be home this evening. We've just received word that he's on his way.” Annabelle's heart skips.

“He wasn't due home for another three days!” The thought of having him back in the house makes her weak in the knees.

“I know, but he apparently finished his business in London more quickly than he expected. Chop these carrots for me, love.” Mrs. Hall gestures to a pile of carrots on the cutting board and Annabelle goes to work silently. After a few minutes, Mrs. Hall notices her wordlessness. “You seem distraught that he'll be back.”

“Oh, no, I just… am surprised.” She stumbles over the words, embarrassed at being caught.

“Mmm. I was right, wasn't I?” Annabelle pauses her chopping and looks at Mrs. Hall. “There is something between you two.”

“No. There cannot be.”

“Ah, but you'd like there to be.” The older woman smiles knowingly and Annabelle sighs.

“There cannot be.” She repeats it to herself as much as to the cook.

“Love does not care where it cannot be. Now, give me those before you lose a finger.” Mrs. Hall takes the knife and goes to work chopping the carrots herself, dismissing Annabelle to get lost in her thoughts on her own. When she disappears through the door, Mrs. Hall smiles and begins to hum. It'll be good to see her boy happy again.

******

Despite his early return, Annabelle doesn't see Elvis for another couple of days. She goes about her work nervously, secretly praying to see him and afraid to see him all at once. One day Mrs. Davenport notices that she's finishing her work quickly and adds another task. She's to dust several of the rooms in the house every afternoon. Annabelle thinks nothing of this as she begins to work, moving from room to room, but as she approaches the drawing room, she stops dead in her tracks.

Someone is playing the pianoforte. And not just playing it, but playing it beautifully. Curiosity overwhelms her and she pushes the door open carefully. It's him. He's bent over the keys and as she watches, he begins to sing while he plays. His voice is the smoothest baritone she's ever encountered and it makes her heart leap in ways she didn't think possible. She also feels that familiar warmth between her legs and tries to close the door slowly, but it's a heavy door and it closes with a loud thunk. The music stops and she turns to make her way down the hallway quickly but he pulls it open before she gets too far.

“Bella! Wait!” He calls out to her as she slips into the library. When he enters, she's furiously dusting everything she can see, trying to ignore the growing blush on her cheeks and the way her center moistens under her clothes. “Are you hiding from me?”

She stops and takes a deep breath, turning to face him. Somehow, he's even more beautiful than before and it takes everything inside her not to go to him and pull him in close to her.

“No, of course not.”

“You ran away from me.” Elvis is a little hurt that he hasn't seen her. He came home specifically to talk to her and his resolve has melted more and more each day. Still, his encounter with Bridget is heavy in his mind and some determination lingers.

“I'm working.” At that moment, she bumps a porcelain knick-knack and it hits the floor, breaking into several large pieces. “Oh, I'm so sorry, sir.”

He sighs and then walks over, bending down to help her collect the pieces.

“Bella, I thought I asked you not to call me ‘sir’.”

“I'm sorry… Elvis.” He smiles and takes the broken pieces from her hands.

“That's better.” They both stand up and he sets the broken object on the end table. For a second they just stare at each other again. All of a sudden, his nerve is lost and he has no idea what to say. She's just about to turn away when he blurts out. “Do you like to read?”

“I do. More than anything.” She answers him quietly.

“Novels?”

“Some. Mostly poetry.” He can't help but smile widely as he walks to a shelf and pulls down a book.

“Have you read this?” She walks closer and looks at the volume he's holding.

“Wordsworth? I love Wordsworth.” His face is one of complete adoration and he tries desperately not to sweep her into his arms.

“And then my heart with pleasure fills–”

“-And dances with the daffodils.” She finishes the line he started and he nods. They continue this exercise through three more books before he pulls a tiny book of poems from his breast pocket.

“What about this one?” He hands it to her and she holds it, noticing all the dog-eared pages and notes in the margin.

“No, not this one.”

“It's yours, then. My favorite is on page 42.” His heart is racing when he thinks of what he's scribbled there, but in this moment he's so full of love for her that he doesn't even care if she sees it. He wants her to see it, needs her to see it.

She looks at him with her heart beating loudly in her chest. It's a book of love poems. Her hands tremble slightly as she turns to page 42. There, at the top, in his handwriting: For my Bella.

He steps closer to her as she reads, the blood thick in his veins, rushing everywhere but his brain.

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?

She looks up at him as she reads the last line and he's so close she can feel him breathing. Her chest rises and falls quickly and his eyes flit down to her lips. She's afraid she might faint as he reaches out carefully and takes her cheek in his hand.

“What is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?” He whispers the last line. Her eyes flick between his and then down to his mouth as he moves toward her painfully slowly. She should stop him, but she's frozen on the spot.

Finally, his lips graze hers so softly that it's barely a kiss. But he doesn't stop there. He kisses her again, with a little more pressure, his lips parted with his tongue cautiously moving ever-so-slightly, but he doesn't taste her yet. Not until the third kiss, when she drops the book of poetry and throws her arms around his neck. He wraps himself around her waist and dives in fully into a kiss so deep and so intense that they both get lost below the waves of it. Their bodies are pressed together and their tongues move in a symphonic dance and they both forget to breathe. After what feels like an eternity, but isn't nearly long enough, they pull apart breathlessly. He tries to press his forehead to hers, but she backs away.

“Elvis, I can't.”

“Bella, please–”

“No. I'm sorry!” Her voice is heavy with tears as she turns and runs from the room.

“Bella!” He yells after her, but she's gone. He bends down and picks up the book of poems and then turns and throws it at the wall. Sinking into a chair, he runs his hands in his hair and tries to hold back the tears. He looks up at the ceiling as they start to fall and whispers. “Bella, please.”

She stands on the other side of the door, her body wracked with sobs as she weeps uncontrollably. When she hears him whisper her name again, she drops to her knees.

“Oh, Elvis.” She whispers it like a prayer, her hand on her heart as she rocks back and forth in agony.

******

What will happen next?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ahundredlifetime @claire-elvisgirl @ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[akidachi]

i have been rotating them around in my head for months