#i trust the writers but i don't trust the writers ya know?

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi Lovely, just dropping by to say that you can totally decline weigh ins if not extremely necessary. You're a fantastic writer, you've got excellent music taste and clearly are funny at hell. Plus you can probably lift every twat nurse who tuts and scoffs at you, they shouldn't every judge you.

If you're up for it, I'd die for some NikPrice in a proper sex shop (Not a gag/gimmick one) or maybe a lil NikPrice who want to bring in a certain delightfully sassy sergeant to their dynamic.

Head up, we are all here to support you!

😊

Thank you for this, Selkie. It was a massive boost going in. So, Nikprice in a sex shop, eh? Well, obviously I had to visit Prowler to, uh, check it still looks the same as the last time I visited. Here we go...

Nik and John visit ProwlerRED in Soho as Nik helps John take those first tentative steps in exploring his sexuality.

cw: fetishwear, inexperienced and nervous sub, teasing Nikolai.

Price stood opposite the shop and stared at the giant white paw on the black banner between the ground and first floor, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his beanie pulled low around his ears to disguise the hot flush colouring them a deep red.

They stood at the crossroads. Passersby dipped into the gutter to get around them on their way down Old Compton Street and Price stepped back a little further as a cyclist hopped the pavement, swerving a stationary taxi that was blocked from turning into Dean Street. Price's eyes would make it to the window eventually, but first he needed to get over the road.

"We should go in," Nik said, exhaling the last breath of cigarette smoke as he ground it out under his boot. This had been his idea. He had spotted Price eyeing up some of the leathermen at the bar the previous evening, and teased his interest out of him under the duvet of their exorbitantly expensive hotel bed. It was hard to keep secrets from Nik when his hands and mouth were on ya... Some kinda witchcraft.

Price knew what leathermen were. It was impossible not to when your old man had been both a sergeant in the armed forces and a keen biker. It was a joining of the two things together; the latent homoeroticism of a career and a hobby that had been, at the time, completely male dominated. His old man had been predictably foul in his judgements of his fellow soldiers, but Price had been fascinated. He'd avoided looking too deeply at why he found them so--

Price was... he was interested, alright? Something about the way that the leather looked on a man's body; the harnesses, the jackets, the jock straps. He didn't much care for the caps or the police shirts. If he wanted to wear a cap, he'd give in to Mac's relentless naggin' and get promoted, you know, wear a cap that came with a bloody salary increase, and Peelers weren't exactly high in his esteem.

It was the smell and the texture of the leather against sweat, the slide of it across hard and soft curves as leashes and harnesses shifted, the sound of belts snapping together, watching the dominant partner haul their willing subordinate around and the responding trust. The relief and pleasure on faces that weren't covered by masks, moans muffled by gags. That looked good. Real good.

Imagining Nik's hand wound through a--

Price swallowed.

"John?"

"Hold up, I'm gettin' there. Don't rush me." Price bristled, shoulders rising up around his ears. He didn't even need to look at Nik to know what his face was doin'; Price could feel his grin like atmospheric pressure and it rankled him. "This ain't funny, Nik."

"It is funny," Nik said, arms folded across his big chest, open palm tapping his own elbow. "This is not live fire fight or hostage situation. You need to relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," Price said, immediately dropping his shoulders and sniffing when Nik raised his eyebrow. He bounced on his toes and coughed, aiming for nonchalant, but knew his eyes were wider than a rabbit's gazing into oncoming headlights. "See, fine."

"It is just a shop."

"I can see that."

"The owner is half your size."

"Oh yeah? You well acquainted?"

"Fairly."

"Course y'are." Price's cheeks reddened and he scrubbed a hand through his beard. "Alright. Ground rules. Nothin' that's sharp or... Let's just stick to the harness."

Nik hummed and started crossing the road. Price tried to grab his arm to get at least some verbal agreement, but Nik had already skipped up the opposite curb and was looking through the window. Price waited for a black cab to pass and then jogged over to stand at his side. He could see himself in the reflection of the window, hunkered low. "Is that a leather pig mask?"

"Da," Nik said, examining a full body harness with a metal cock ring at the groin. Price hazarded a glance at what had Nik so interested and his heart skipped a beat, his fingers curling into fists inside his pockets . Nik tapped his elbow. "Come." Price let Nik take his elbow and drag him through the door on the corner of the building, his breath held for... fuck knows what reason.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The same smell as the bar the evening before, except without the added layer of sweat that had made his mouth water. It was sharp, clean. Behind the mannequins in the window were two railings of leather harnesses, and along the walls were racks of leather shirts and trousers. Fairly... innocuous, really. It could have been a biker's shop if it had helmets instead of masks, and less lube on the shelves.

"Hey," called a faintly accented voice from behind the counter, Price would guess Polish but Nik would get a better read. "Let me know if you need anything." She had enough metal in her mouth that kissing her would risk a stab wound, and Price found himself counting the studs when Nik cleared his throat.

"Da, thank you, we may need help with sizing."

She shrugged. "The best thing to do is try 'em on. There's a changing room round the corner," she jutted her thumb over her shoulder, "and two downstairs with the toys and bondage. Just no underwear, yeah?" With that, she turned back to untangling the pile of leather paraphernalia and hangers on the counter.

Nik seemed distracted by something on the far wall, so Price took the opportunity to examine the shelves behind the shop assistant. Aromas. A fair number of them, in fact. Price had seen a few of the lads holding them at the bar, but googling "aroma" and "disk cleaner" had yielded completely innocuous Amazon searches.

"You will not need those, solnyshko," Nik called, so Price continued to tentatively explore, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

His gaze wandered to a pile of flyers at the edge of the counter. "Boot blacking," Price murmured. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Da," Nik said softly, appearing at his shoulder with two harnesses in his hand. "It is a kink, but also good for repairing tired equipment."

"Fuckin 'ell, gettin' the troopers to buff their boots proper is like pullin' teeth, and these lot do it for jollies? Is he... Is he lickin' it?"

Nik chuckled and took the flyer out of Price's hand, stroking a finger over the bristles on Price's chin before twining their fingers together. "Perhaps if you put on a jock strap and licked their boots they might be more, hmm, proactive, no?"

"I'll run it by brass," Price said with a wry smirk, letting Nik pull him down the narrow staircase to the basement level.

His eyes blew wide once they'd adjusted to the dim lighting. Now that was what he had actually expected when Nik had said "fetish shop". The walls were crammed with an assortment of delightful looking torture devices from whips to gags to masks that covered everything but the mouth. There was a rack of staggeringly big silicone cocks, and Price felt the heat creeping back up his neck again at how bloody real some of them looked. And big. So fuckin' big.

He was so out of his bloody depth here.

The display case to the right of the stairs as they reached the bottom was filled with the weirdest collection of dildos he had ever seen in his life. He stooped down, hands on his knees, and peered inside. "Fuck me, that one's thicker than my thigh. Nik, there's no... Nik, come here. There's no way that fits. What the fuck is that meant to be?" He pressed his fingertip to the glass at what looked like a tentacle with little nodules all over it.

"John, here." Nik beckoned him over and Price sidled over to stand at his side, casting one final alarmed look into the display case. On the wall, there was an array of cuffs and collars, all with slightly different fastenings, studs and coloured linings. Nik took one of Price's hands and placed it on the nearest pair of cuffs, pressing against Price's back, his chin on his shoulder, palm on his belly to keep him close. "Choose."

"I thought we said just the harness..." Price murmured, but he could barely hear the words leave his own mouth, too fixated on the feel and smell of expensive leather. His toes curled in his boots as he pressed his fingers inside the circle of a cuff, slipping out the other side to nudge one of the metal links and stroke around the smooth edge of the buckle.

These weren't the laughably flimsy handcuffs Price had used previously in his, admittedly, limited sex life. The kind where the plastic broke through the cheap fur and cut your skin if you pulled too hard. Tokenisitic in their restraint. These were sturdy, unyielding; they would be completely unbreakable, even by a body like his. The thought of Nik securing Price's wrists to the headboard, working his hands down his body, made Price's damn prick twitch.

Nik nuzzled the side of his neck, bringing him back to the present, and he picked up a solid black pair like the ones he had seen on a man last night. They had a single silver loop each and a thick buckle. The leather was stiff, clean and unblemished, and Price flexed them a little in his palms. "Uh, these." His reward was a soft kiss just beneath his ear, and Nik reached a little higher to pluck the matching collar from the top row of hooks.

"Try them on, with your shirt off," Nik said. "I will wait here. Take your time." He placed the harness in Price's hands and nudged him towards the narrow changing cubicle. Price hesitated, glancing back up at the stairs and then into the shop proper. Nik placed a palm at the small of his back and pressed his nose to the side of Price's face. "It is fine. I will not allow anyone to see."

"Right, yeah..." Price ducked beneath a silk sash hanging from the railing as Nik nudged him forward. He figured if people were down here looking for a birch to take stripes out of them, seeing some battered old soldier in a leather harness wouldn't faze them too much. And that's what he told himself as he yanked the curtain across and shucked his shirt over his head.

The harness seemed to have more buckles than entirely necessary at first inspection, and he turned it over and over in his hands, checking the model on the label to work out how it should sit. It was sturdy, with silver studs and thick metal, and he felt that same throb of arousal as he handled it.

"John, is ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, jus'... workin' it out."

In the end, Price pulled open one of the side buckles and ducked into it. The leather was chill on his skin and his nipples pulled tight as he sat the straps just above them. Once he'd fastened the buckle back in place, he glanced into the mirror through his eyebrows, hesitant.

The yellowing bruise on his ribs from the last op was beginning to fade, the scrapes all but healed into thin pink lines, and he had the usual litany of scars he was used to seeing by now.

He looked... good.

It sat well around his shoulders, framing the furred curves of his chest by sitting just above the line of his nipples, the silver d-ring between his tits. The straps beneath his arms sat just above his obliques, following the line of muscle comfortably.

Fuck, it made him look... made him look broad, strong, with his jeans belted at his narrow hips, his operation-ready athletic physique well-complemented, and he stood up a little straighter, jutting his chin. He'd expected to feel like a dog, maybe a bit demeaned, but when he flexed into the leather, heard the stiff straps creak a bit, he felt fuckin' powerful.

Next were the cuffs. He wrapped them around each wrist, turning them around until the silver rings sat on the top and the buckles beneath. The lining was slightly padded, lending to a snug fit.

"How does it feel?" Nik asked, close to the curtain.

"Yeah, s'nice. Like, uh, it fits well."

Price grabbed the collar and then pushed the curtain aside a bit, his eyes fixed on the floor as he felt the heat creeping up his neck again. He heard Nik's breath catch and then a soft curse whispered in awestruck Russian.

"Not bad, right?" Price asked, trying for cocksure but coming out shy.

Nik said nothing. He took the collar from Price's hand and wrapped it carefully around his neck, using his forefinger to stop the leather biting as he threaded the strap through. The moment it pulled tight enough for Price to feel it, he let out a soft gasp, his hands lifting to latch onto Nik's wrist, a sudden panic beating a little harder in his chest.

"Easy, solnyshko," Nik said gently, leaning in to kiss him. Price's grip relaxed, and he drew in a shaky breath. Nik took his hands. "Here, let me show you how it would feel with your wrists secure. If you feel unsafe, you must tell me, da?"

"Is... Is anyone down here?"

"Nyet. We are alone."

"Ye-yeah, right... Yeah." Price swallowed as Nik moved his arms behind his back, lifting each wrist until he could attach the cuffs to the d-ring at the back of the harness. When Nik was done, he stepped back, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the shop as he appraised the man before him.

"Krasivyy..." Nik said, reaching to lift Price's chin from where it was tilted down. John kept his head up as Nik's hands roamed his body, following the line of the leather straps over his clavicles to his upper chest, leaving goosebumps of pleasure in his wake.

Price watched Nik's eyes darken with desire and felt like the hottest piece of arse this side of the Thames; he flexed cheekily into the straps and Nik's lips twitched. The control in this wasn't so clear cut, was it? Price had assumed he'd be the one under the boot, but watching Nik's reaction made it clear he had more power than he'd assumed. Nik was enraptured, his arousal clear in the heated caress of his palms and fingers.

Price wanted to lean into his hands, arch like a damn cat. His stomach pulled tight as Nik stroked just above his nipples, following the line of the harness beneath his arms and making him flex and shiver. It was too much, too sensitive, and he let out a soft, strangled noise, squirming as heat gathered in his hips. He couldn't stop Nik from touching him, couldn't push his hands away, and that made his blood run south, hot and urgent. "Mm, Nik... Please... I..."

"You are... breath taking like this," Nik said, lifting a hand to hook the collar and draw Price to him. The experience of being drawn to Nik's chest like that, having to trust those strong arms would catch him, made Price groan softly. He buried his face into Nik's neck, arching only when Nik's hands swept down his back, gently stroking the burn scars at the base before dropping lower to squeeze his arse. "If I could, I would have you here."

"Fuck," Price breathed, grinding forward to feel the hard line of Nik's cock. "Guess we're buyin' this then..."

"Da, and one or two other things."

"Nik."

"Nothing sharp. Nothing to hurt you, John. I promise."

"You could never hurt me." Price had never been so certain of anything in his life.

Nik took the back of the harness and pulled Price away from him, lifting his chin so their eyes met. "This is important. So listen," Nik said. "Sometimes hurt is not physical pain in this. It can be feeling unsafe, it can be feeling too overwhelmed. I may push too far, and you must be honest with me."

Nik looked so serious and Price could only nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. Fuck, Nik cared about him so fuckin' much and it made Price's heart feel all kinds of warm. "So, what... We, uh, we need safe words and the like?" He flashed a lopsided grin and Nik kissed him on the forehead with a low chuckle.

"Da. We will discuss. Now, get dressed. I wish to get you back to the hotel."

"Yes, sir."

"John..."

"Sorry, couldn't help it."

"If you wish to call me sir in our bedroom, then I would not be opposed."

"Bet you fuckin' wouldn't..."

"I see you are going to be, what to say... a brat." Nik swatted Price's arse before he undid the cuffs from the back of the harness and drew the curtain across.

Price almost felt sad about taking the harness off, savouring the phantom sensation of it on his skin even when he pulled his t-shirt and coat back on. He lingered in the cubicle, squeezing his prick through his jeans with a grimace, and only re-emerged once it had calmed enough to be bloody discreet.

Nik was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding a coil of rope, a leash and what looked to be an anal toy of some kind. "It is remote control," Nik said with a roguish little smirk when he saw Price looking, before jogging up the stairs.

"Bloody 'ell," Price breathed, following behind him.

Nik flashed the plastic and purchased the lot, despite Price fumbling through his coat for his wallet. "This is treat for me," Nik said when Price glared at him, plucking the opaque black bags from the counter.

"'M worried what I've unleashed here," Price replied once Nik had thanked the assistant and they were heading for the door.

"Ah, I believe it is I that have leashed you, no?"

"Ha-fucking-ha, corny bastard."

Nik grabbed John's hand and looked far too proud of himself, his smile so bright and handsome that Price's heart felt light. He didn't let go of Price's hand as they strolled back towards the station, and Price felt his heart swell as he glanced down at their intertwined fingers, his lower lip between his teeth.

Today was a day of firsts: his first visit to a bloody sex shop, and the first time in his life he had ever held a lover's hand, head up, chest out, as he walked down the street. When in London, eh?

[dracolilhoe]

Secret Keepers (Severus Snape x Y/n)

Pt.2 -> Secret Keepers

Severus Snape x fem!pregnant!wife!professor

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings - Female reader, use of Y/n, mild swearing, Professor reader, mentions of mensurating

Words: +1.5k

Summary: Severus & Y/n have been secretly married for the last few years. Y/n has a hunch that something big is happening, but isn't sure if she should trust her instincts.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

Just breathe, Y/n. Everything is perfectly fine. I say to myself as I pace around my classroom. You're freaking out over nothing. It's normal for everyone to miss their period sometimes, but two weeks? Maybe I should see Poppy just to be sure. I let out a shaky breath and made my way to the hospital wing, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridors.

"Poppy?" I call as I walk into the Hospital wing. "Hello? Oh! Y/n dear lovely to see you! Is something the matter? You seem distressed." Merlin, this is going to be awkward. "Um… I was wondering if you happened to have a pregnancy test?" Her eyebrows shoot up slightly as she stares at me. "Yes. Yes, I do. Do you need one?" "Yes. That would be great." "Alright, give me a moment." She walks over to her office to fetch the test as I rock back and forth nervously.

The clicking of the heels can be heard a few moments later as she comes back with the test in hand. "The bathroom is just over there," She points over to a door on the far end of the wing. "take all the time you need." She gives me a comforting pat on the back and a soft push forward.

After I do my business I place the test on the bathroom counter face down and wash my hands. I lean against the wall of the bathroom as I gaze at the test. I sigh heavily and rub my eyes. "It's now or never…" I mutter picking up the small stick. I look down and stare at the single pink word.

Positive

"Holy shit. Holy shit," I whisper as the test falls to the floor and my hands fly to my tear-filled eyes. "I'm gonna be a mom… I'm gonna be a mom!" A soft knocking can be heard as a soft voice calls, "Y/n… is everything alright?" I open the door and stare at the older woman in front of me. She glances at my tear-stained cheeks and the test now on the floor. She bends down, picks up the test, and her eyes widen as her mouth falls open. "Dear Merlin," she whispers, "you're pregnant!" I nod as she pulls me into a tight hug. "Congratulations!" She says excitedly as we pull away and she rubs my shoulders softly. "Thank you."

"If you don't mind me asking… who's the father?" I sigh. "Promise me you'll keep it a secret. We'd like to keep our marriage private." "Marriage!?" "Poppy! Promise me!" "Okay, okay I promise." "It's Severus." "What!?" "Keep your voice down will ya! Someone could be walking by." Poppy sighs, "Damnit, I owe Minerva and Pomona 10 galleons." "Excuse me? What do you mean you owe them galleons!?" "Um… well me, Albus, Minnie, Fillius, Hagrid, and Pomona bet on whether you and Severus would end up together. Minnie and Pomona said you would and the rest of us said you wouldn't. We were clearly wrong."

"Poppy!" A voice calls from the entrance to the hospital wing. Poppy turns around to find Minerva with a puzzled expression on her face. Minerva glances at my tear-stained face and then the test in Poppy's hand. "Y/n, are you alright?" "Never better, Minnie." Minerva walks over and takes the test from Poppy's hand. "Y/n, you're pregnant?! Who's the father? When did this happen?" "Minnie!" "What! I'm just curious!" "Okay, first off the father is Sev," she gasps and I roll my eyes, "Second, I know you guys bet on us." She laughs nervously. "No hard feelings, right?" I sigh and shake my head. "No hard feelings," she lets out a breath and laughs nervously, "But I want 20%."

"Y/nnn," she whines "Pleaseee don't do this" "Hand it over girl." I giggle as she pouts her lip but hands me some money from her pocket. "Thank you." I place the money in my back pocket as well as the test Minerva handed back to me. "When are you going to tell Severus?" Poppy asks as the three of us walk toward the entrance to the wing. My face falls slightly as I fidget with my fingers. "Probably after dinner," I whisper nervously. "Don't be nervous! Everything will be fine!" Minerva says as she pulls me into a motherly embrace. I sigh and hug her back. "Thank you, Minnie." "I should probably get going. My next class starts soon," I glance down at my watch. "I'll see you two at dinner." "Good luck, Y/n!" They say as I make my way back to my classroom.

**Dinner**

I head to the Great Hall and enter through the large doors. Walking up to the broad table at the far end of the hall taking a seat next to Severus. "Hello, love," I whisper. A smile appears on his face as he gives me a quick glance. I hear giggling and glance to my left to see Minerva and Poppy smirking at me. I roll my eyes as I place some food on my plate. "So, how was your day, Severus?" Severus gives me a confused look as he side-eyes the girls. "The usual. Gave Potter a detention this evening" I nod not really paying attention to what he is saying, "Severus, I was wondering if I could speak to you after dinner. It's urgent." His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he nods.

Once dinner is finished Severus stands up and heads towards his office. I watch him as he goes and feel my body heat up from the nerves. "So, have you told him yet?" A voice asks from behind me. I jump and let out a small squeal. "Minnie! What the bloody hell!" "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I was just curious." "No. I haven't told him yet. I'm going to go tell him right now." "Okay! Good luck, Y/n!" I nod as I stand up and begin walking to his office. "You better name it after me!" She calls. I laugh and answer back, "You wish!" A few students and staff members who are still present in the hall exchange glances with each other as they stare at me and Minerva.

I begin heading down the stairs toward the dungeons. The cold atmosphere making me shiver. I reach the door to Sev's office and softly tap my knuckles against the dark wood. "Severus?" "Enter." Says the cold monotone voice of my dear husband. I open the door leaving it slightly ajar and am met with the familiar smell of parchment and books. I glance up to see my husband sitting at his desk with a quill in hand and papers scattered on his desk. His cold eyes meet mine but soften instantly. "Hey, love. You wanted to talk about something?" I nod. He pushes his chair back and pats his lap. "Come."

I walk over and straddle him my hands moving to play with his hair. (Something he will never admit to liking out loud.) He moves his hands to draw small circles on my thighs. "Speak." "Well, I went to see Poppy this morning and-" "What? Why? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He asks as he caresses my cheek. "Sev! Let me finish," He sighs, "Go on." "To answer your question I'm perfectly fine. I just haven't um… well… I haven't gotten my period for almost three weeks. I just got worried so I went to Poppy," He raises his eyebrows slightly but doesn't interrupt. "I asked her for a test and she gave me one," I reach into my back pocket and pull out the test handing it to him.

He takes the test from my hands and turns it around to stare at the pink word against the small screen. "You're… You're pregnant?" He whispers as he looks up at me. I nod as tears fill my eyes. He pulls me into a tight hug as he kisses my head. "I can't believe it… we're gonna have a baby." I look up at his shocked face and giggle as we pull apart. "Is that why Minerva and Poppy were acting weird?" I lay my head on his shoulder. "Yeah. They both found out about us this morning. Did you know they placed a bet on us?" "They did, did they," he says as he kisses my forehead and begins running his fingers through my hair. "As much as I would love to hold you for the rest of the evening… Mr. Potter has a detention… and should be arriving soon." I sigh and get off his lap as he stands up and pulls me into his chest. "I love you, darling, I'll come see you tonight." He leans down for a loving kiss. I smile and walk over to the door as he sits back down at his desk. "Love you!" I say as I begin to make my way back to my chambers.

Unbeknownst to both of us Harry had been listening through the crack in the door and knew everything. He wouldn't tell anyone, right?

It's the bloody dungeon bat for crying out loud!

Of course, he would!

Breakfast should be interesting tomorrow…

Pt.2 -> Secret Keepers

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[babeyun]

what’s the 411? ✩ masterlist

as the queen of hip-hop soul, mary j. blige, once said...what makes you different from the next guy? seen ya last week and you couldn't even speak, you try to play like mister all-of-that, but now you want to come to me with some chit chat?

...in other words, welcome to a mashup of romance: untold by enhypen and some of my favorite mary j. blige songs. random combination, i know...but just trust the process.

✩ general warnings: fluff, angst, possible suggestive themes/smut for hyung line (and if so, it will be tagged individually.) potentially darker themes? warnings for individual fics vary, please read them accordingly before proceeding.

✩ series playlist: what's the 411? ✩ enhypen [spotify]

✩ join the taglist: requirements | taglist

✩ posting period: teasers at any point, full fics tba!

✩ without my baby - yang jungwon ✩

now playing: be without you by mary j. blige | hundred broken hearts by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: he's always kept an extra pair of your socks and shoes in his work bag, just in case it rains before he gets to you - and you've never felt so cold walking home in the rain.

✩ pairing: convenience store worker!yjw x waitress!reader

✩ genre: exes to lovers | second chance love

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ bring me paradise- lee heeseung ✩

now playing: everything by mary j. blige | moonstruck by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: the tumultuous ups and downs of your relationship were what made it worth it to heeseung. seeing the aftermath of a fight, the solutions you two would come up with - it meant the world to him. so why are you giving it up?

✩ pairing: bakery owner!lhs x restaurant owner!reader

✩ genre: strained lovers au | forged by fire

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ bring the fire- park jongseong ✩

now playing: my loving by mary j. blige | paranormal by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: you cater to the people despite not being too fond of the whole wedding thing...and your best customer just so happens to plan the whole wedding thing.

✩ pairing: wedding planner!pjs x florist!reader

✩ genre: opposites attract | friends to lovers au

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ if i could live - sim jaeyun ✩

now playing: you bring me joy by mary j. blige | royalty by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: he has written thousands of words just on the smell of your perfume, just like you have written dozens of stanzas just about the way he looks at you.

✩ pairing: writer!sjy x poet!reader

✩ genre: 'you're my muse' au | secret admirers

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ diamonds, furs & you - park sunghoon ✩

now playing: deep inside by mary j. blige | your eyes only by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: nepotism has played a huge role in your life. from birth, you'd had it all handed to you - so you don't understand why he's any exception.

✩ pairing: model!psh x fashion designer!reader

✩ genre: enemies to lovers au | personal growth

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ same old metaphors - kim sunoo ✩

now playing: no one will do by mary j. blige | highway 1009 by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: everything with sunoo has always been easy - from sharing meals to sharing secrets, you had no inhibitions. everything with sunoo was easy - including ovesharing.

✩ pairing: film student!ksn x theater student!reader

✩ genre: best friends to lovers au | forced proximity

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ as you are - riki nishimura ✩

now playing: take me as i am by mary j. blige | brought the heat back by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: your cheeks always hurt from smiling, but you never cease to flash one at him after a game. after graduation, you find yourself holding onto a sliver of what could have been.

✩ pairing: cheerleader!riki x cheerleader!reader

✩ genre: high school sweethearts au | first love

✩ teaser! | read here!

babeyun © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[nyarumie]

hey axia ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

enjoy the start of your semester, before uni gets crazy!! I loved your previous works, so I'll just slip into your inbox while the requests are open:3

What do you think would make Hoshina blush, or like, properly flustered?!

(be it headcanon, scenario, or whatever else you feel like, if anything:))

have a great day 🔆

Heart in Your Hands

hoshina soshiro x reader — fluff, comfort, they're both deeply in love, (god me when), short and sweet, established relationship

Author's Reply: Hi, thank you anon! I hope this work caters well to your request; finally got the time to work on something (which hopefully helps with my writer's block)

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Please view my pinned and masterlist too (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Trying to get Soshiro to blush is definitely rarer than a blue moon. Trust me, even his own platoon of talented rookies tried catching him off-guard — it's just near impossible!

Keyword: Near impossible. That's where you enter the picture.

As a Platoon Leader, you do your best to be a figure of inspiration to your officers, thus keeping up your facade of a strict mentor; but honestly—you’re not fooling anyone, you're totally a softie! Despite your personal ‘no-distractions-during-work’ policy, obvious signs of your feelings for the Vice Captain naturally slip out occasionally. Still, you refuse to get your relationship in the way of your work.

Behind closed doors lie the reserved intimacy and affection you held for him. He won't ever admit it, but he sometimes pushes himself too hard, hard enough to have scars and calluses all over his hands from his intense training, and you can only imagine how tight and desperate his grip is on his personalized close combat weapon.

He’s always desperate to prove his worth, desperate to keep the only thing that gives meaning to his existence, and you know that your words are not enough to quell the distress behind each swing and slash of his blades.

That's why you do what you know will calm him best—love him just as fierce as he swings those blades of his.

You caught him training again one night, exhaustion evident on his form. The adrenaline coursing through his body has yet to be quenched, and you know you have to do your magic to get him to rest.

“Soshiro. You're here again. One more night of this and you’ll really strain your body.” you softly said, concern evident in your voice.

He stopped midway his slash, breath heaving as he turned to face you. “Can't rest easy when the rookie officers are a whole ‘nother level, dear. If I don't do this, I doubt I’ll be able to get even the slightest hit on No. 9.”

Sighing, you made your way to him. “Put your weapon down for a while, please? Let me at least do something for you.”

Doing as you asked, he kept them somewhere safe and curiously stood in front of you again. He gave you an inquisitive look, patiently waiting for what you're planning to do.

You took his hands and caressed them, slowly feeling the roughness and evidence of all the nights he's spent bruising himself up just to get even stronger. You move his hands so that his palms are facing you, his eyes widening at your next move.

He felt a soft, careful kiss touch each of his palms, followed by a kiss to each of his fingertips.

He thinks his ears are on fire with how hot it's burning.

“W-what are ya doing, dear? I haven't cleaned my hands up!”

You entwined your hands with his before he could even pull them away, thinking that he didn't like what you just did. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomf— Oh.”

Oh, indeed. The sight that greeted you when you turned your face up to see him is… remarkable. You can't believe the Third Division’s Vice Captain would be blushing over his significant other tenderly kissing his rough, tired hands.

“Ya didn't have to do that… I know you love me plenty! And please stop gripping on my hands harder, ya aren't letting me turn away!”

You snort. “Of course I won't let you. This is a rare sight. Still, I didn't know something like that could get you severely flustered.” you said, a hint of pride in your tone.

“Told ya I haven't cleaned ‘em up. I was holdin’ those nasty blades moments ago.”

“Ah, excuses. Just say you liked the kisses more than you expected. I’ll let you off this one time and say it's just out of exhaustion.” you giggled.

Your expression turned soft and serious again, now hugging him. His arms wrapped around you, a tired sigh coming from him. “You do so much for me, ya know that? I thought I was gonna explode earlier. Don't know what I did to deserve ya.”

“Mhm, ‘Shiro. You have no idea how at a loss I am sometimes to do something for you. I want to shoulder at least a piece of your burden, want you to share your pain with me without worrying about whether I can take it. Because I will, just for you. I’ll hold your hand whatever happens and stand side by side with you. All I ask is that you take care of yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh of relief. “I should be sayin’ these things to you. I hope ya know how amazing you are to me.”

You both pulled away from the hug, him taking a hand of yours in his. “Let's get some rest. Don't wanna worry my princess over here.”

Smiling in content, you nod your head at him. “Thank you, Soshiro.”

[martuzzio]

HERMITCRAFT CATCHPHRASES

Hi, here's a (hopefully comprehensive) reference list of hermit catchphrases! The main goal here is to help writers and artists who (like me) might struggle with getting the characterization of some hermits right. Check out more info at the end of the post!

Note: this list updates a lot whenever I get new suggestions, which means reblogs aren't always fully accurate. I've linked this post to the top of my blog so it's easy to access the most recent version :)

Bdubs Shreep / uh-oh, gotta shreep! Crastle I love ya to death It’s gorgee Beyootiful Uh oh! Hell’s blazes! Hawsies YOU'LL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO! Shuddup! Judas priest! Bdubs' PERFECT REDSTONE!! What in the world! Holy cow! Nuh-uh! Hoimycraaaaaf Whimsy Trying my heart out

Beef EEskall That was my nickname in college! Nailed it! Dangit! Beefy Tunes Smelly Etho Opulent Etho? Oh, yeah, I own him Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Beef taught Etho about redstone Oh my goodness! Oh boy! What the heck Oh, baby! Quote unquote A ton of __

Cleo Class dismissed! I don’t need your stinky torches I will break your legs Trash is fish The answer to everything is leather pants Not because it’s the sand castle you deserve, but it’s the sand castle I need! What did you do, Joe…. It's FINE, everything's FINE Lovely Silly I mean... Not gonna lie... To be fair...

Cub DA CREAMADA CROP Alright guys Nice, nice Ladies and gentlemen / ladies and gentlemen, we got ‘em Eeeeasy money Beautiful, absolutely beautiful Mmmmmhmmmmmm Holy smokes Let's goooo! Sweet Oh, baby! Man, oh man Without further ado Peace out Cheers / cheers, man There's some heat coming off that thing

Doc Are you kidding me now? Alright guys Can’t touch this The G.O.A.T. Etho, get to the damn land man! It all started when Grian touched my redstone… Epic

Etho Uh-huh Like-a so Oh snap Get your snacks! Holy smokes! Take care, have a good day, bye bye Aww snappers! Aww yeah Von Sway I barely know ‘er! Speaking of llamas Bright blue bamboo E. to the T. to the your mum Beefaroni / Beefers Speaking of llamas… That’s what she said! Free glass Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Suckerrrr! Check it out

False Blimey Awh dude Frick False Supremacy Oh my goodness I don't know about you guys, but... Props to __ I'm not gonna lie...

Gem Gem is great Her [name] is [adjective]! Gem will __ ("Gem will watch Impulse") Perfect! Epic It's true, I swear! Not gonna lie... Oh gosh! Trust the process Nailed it!

Grian Hello! My name is Grian Good… byeeeee! Pesky bird My heart! My little heart! Mumbo Mumbo you are AFK Can we just agree that Mumbo loses? What in Queen Elizabeth’s shiny crown was that? It wasn't me, it was the man in the chicken costume! SaAaaaAaAnd Chobblesome SCAR NO— / NO SCAR— In theory… Electric boogalooo What does this button do? What on earth? This is in shambles Get outta here! Hear me out... We don't have __. What we DO have is __ Just straight up Without further ado Crack on Bingo bango Yes. 100%

Hypno Right, right Mmhmm You guys Dang guy

Impulse What’s goin on everyone? Shovel Shuffle BEHIND YOU GEM! Peeps Geez Let's goooo! Are you kidding me? Oh, man Now we're talkin'! Holy smokes Oh my gosh How cool is that? Jeez! Dang it! Buddy Presi (for present) You bet!

Iskall Hallo -skall ("richskall") That’s mega / that’s looking absolutely mega Omega “Excuse me? Sir?” __ of doom Okay, lol And I will see you dudes in the next episode I’ve had a realization Oh for goodness sake! It’s not fat, it’s big-boned Not gonna lie SaAaaaAaAnd Very fine Great success! Bird poop Bumbo Cactoni Do you even bust? / Do you even bust bro E Pag

Jevin Hypno smells! Oh my god Sucker What the heck Dude Man I swear

Joe Howdy y’all! That’s the Joe Hills difference! I will now say a poem of my own devising Core concept Keep adventurin’! Time skip! Who’s the guy who conquers death? That’s Joe Hills No not rage quitting I have to pick up my daughter from school or my wife will rage quit me! Grow Hills / Expand Joe Joepacity / Jhost

Keralis Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes Wanna buy a book? Spank you very much Just sit back, relax, and enjoy Like this, like that I can see my house from here! Bubbles, Shashwammy, Sweetface, Princess Lookie lookie at my cookie / lookie lookie at my cookie… no, please don’t Like-a so I love your face I’m a real boy! I don’t k-nove (know) Not like this! Booshes Clever girl But first… lemme take a selfie I’m sinking… mayday mayday we’re sinking! Hallo yes dis is de German coast guard what are you sinking about? Scary harry larry I’m alayve! Breathtaking — no you’re breathtaking Mm-kay Oh behave I’m a simple man MeOOOow Welcome to my humble abod-ee Not too shabby My face! My palms are sweaty, mom’s spaghetti Tag 2 Booga Booga Stiffy nipples Batman! First I was afraid, I was petrified...

Mumbo I worry about myself sometimes I'm not really quite sure if I like that or not Yeah… yeah that's looking good… I guess… Dude! Chuffed to bits It’s a bit pants I’m such a spoon Oh my word It’s quite simple, really / it’s actually quite simple Bonkers I’ll catch you in the next one. See ya Off you pop Oh goodness me! Hermit challenges — initiation! All done and dusted To be frankly honest Seriously seriously cool Absolutely nuts I don’t even know what to say Iskall I feel sick Peace, love, and plants Moon’s big Mumbo for Mayor Quite simple

Pearl Lovely Bonkers At this point... Cheeky / you cheeky What's this? Mate

Ren Now we’re cooking with gas / we be cooking with gas today Ladies, get in line! / ladies, gentlemen, everybody get in line! You picking up what I’m putting down My dudes Y’know what I’m sayin’ Coming atcha frommmmmm Dude Coming from left, right, and center Greetings cyberdogs and citizens of the Interwebs, this is Ren-diggity-dog comin at ya in another episode from the Hermitcraft server (ey!) Automagically Jazztastic Janktastic Oh baby Like nobody’s business Looking absolutely magnificent Anyhoozle Twaddle Renstone The Octagon is a well-oiled machine! [word]-age [word]-ation [word]-i (to make things plural You love / hate to see it I'm just sayin' / if you know what I'm sayin' Professional __ Jazz Anyhoozle Exqueeze me? Freakin' Some serious __ What's happenin', baby? Chesticles

Scar Scarred for life Woah, what in the world! It’s gonna be am-ay-zing LOOK at the siiiiize of that Well, hello there my fellow miners and crafters, GoodTimesWithScar here. Welcome back to the wonderful world of Hermits and crafting Don’t forget to subscribe or you might just become scarrrred for life! Looking super fancy Let’s hit super fast build mode! Look at the size of that Appreciate ya Hotguy! Operation: Aquathunder! That’s what she said! Rapscallion You silly goose Oh, sweet baby Jellie! Bayum! / Bam! The bee's knees Easy peasy, orangey squeezy

Stress Are you havin’ a giggle? / are you takin the mic? Mate Oh my god / oh my gosh / oh my good gordons Gorgeous Plonker Geezer Ohhhhh nooooo! Yeeeesshhh I legged it Such a pro / I'm such a pro Proper __ Cheeky Bloke Thingamajig Ain't [word]-age [word]-ies

Tango Happy fun sauce -ificator, -inator, -ness, -tastic Skadoodle Fearsome bunny slippers Noob juice So here’s the deal Holding shift Shwoop Flim flam Poop came out Extra dumb with dumb sauce / __ of extra dumb Flee with extra flee! / fleeing with terror! Boom booms Gah! The dungeon is ready for its next victim Behold! Results may vary! I think my math is correct, but it’s been known to be wrong This is the worst timeline. I hate everything Big no! You— you freak of nature! Jerkface Jerkbutt Excellent How embarassing This is true Zombert Bits This I gotta see! Right in the face! [word] is happening Yeah baby! Stupid jerks Boop This is the best / worst thing ever! Niner niner niner [general unintelligible noises]

TFC What in tarnation! Crap-tacular Humongous Butt-ugly Ugly as sin Oh, goody Ender-twits Bugger Oh, fart For crying out loud

Wels Words are hard If you will Super __

xB Aww yeah Mmkay Son of a biscuit Pretty frickin' __ Man Get frickin' wrecked! Chestacle Dang it Staaph it Oy vey Crap on a cracker Dang it, Bobby! Dang guy

Xisuma Oh goodness me Oh dangit Geez Peeps I’m such a derp Oh my days Chooturial Issooma Allo Woa’ah Brought (instead of bought) My dude Achacha

Zed Hello hello hello A-good a-bye Muckin' about I lied TaaaAAnnGoOOooooOOOo Hu-jah! Pretty darn __ Certainly Rubbish I'm [word]-ing [word] me [word]-iness What happens is... Get kersplatted! Epic Oh my goodness!

More Info

So I'm currently writing a HC fic and realized how little I know about some of the hermits (I unfortunately don't have time to watch all of them), which made it really difficult to depict them properly in my writing. I'm assuming at least some of you might also struggle with this, so, here we are!

If you know of a catchphrase from any hermit from any season, comment, reblog, send me a an ask or dm, dm me on discord, whatever works the best :D

Note: when I say "catchphrase," I mean anything a hermit repeats over an extended period of time. It can be something said during a single season (like "You'll speak when spoken to!" or "Hermit Challenges!"), or something that spans their entire careers (like "Aww snappers!" or "Plonker"). I'm not looking for one-off quotes that are never bought up again — there's some great sources (like @hermitcraft-correct-quotes) for that already :)

Sources (which will hopefully expand with time): This reddit post from four years ago This other reddit post also from four years ago Reddit from three years ago This cute diagram A more up to date source Another Xisuma's dictionary on his website HC character tv tropes page This incredible google doc

[twincovesgame]

Romance in Twin Coves

Something I've been thinking about while working on the script for Twin Coves is how the romance works. I think I've talked before about how the romance in the game isn't just about flirting with the ROs enough. It's about who the MC is as a person, and thus not all ROs are going to fall for every MC. (You will know about halfway though the game if your MC has caught your desired RO's eye.)

I read an article awhile ago about treating romance in games like kindness coins vs a house of cards. (The article was here, but it now directs to a 404 page sadly.) With kindness coins... you just say the "right" thing the correct amount of times and voila romance unlocked. And that's a fine way to do romance. Certainly makes it easier on the writer. But that's not really how romance... works.

Saying the "right" thing to someone 15 times in real life doesn't equal romance. What about who you are as a person? What about who they are? Do you have things in common? How do you treat other people? Just complimenting someone, saying flirty things, and giving them a gift isn't how real love works.

Something I'm trying (emphasis on trying) to do in Twin Coves is have the romances be based on more then just saying a nice thing to get a point towards winning over the RO of your choice. The choices the MC makes throughout the game outside of the romance also effect the romance. Even little things like the song they pick in the car.

Of course, some ROs are easier to woo than others. That's true to life as well. Some ROs already have feelings for the MC, so there is probably very little the MC could do to ruin that. Some ROs are quite determined to keep their feelings out of it, and will take more effort. Not just flirting, but getting to know them and them getting to know the main character back. Building up a sense of trust. There is one RO who is very difficult to romance. I think it may even make some players mad as there is a very strict requirement for entering into a romance with him I don't think some players will want to make. (Actually, there's probably a couple that fit this description.) However, that's also true to life. Some things are deal breakers, for either the MC or the RO. Good news: there's eight other routes to pick from!

And, in a similar vein, not every route is going to appeal to everyone. You may have thought Eli was hot, for example, only to realize he's not for you once you get to know him. Or maybe a route you thought you'd hate will surprise you. That's definitely happened to me a few times. I put off a route thinking I wouldn't like the RO... only for that route to become my favorite.

This is also why there are no flirt indicators in the game. Because there are no kindness coins. I don't want players to think about choices as right or wrong - only as what's true to their MC. You may be surprised as to who you attract. Also, any option that is romantic is going to be pretty obvious. I also don’t want players to feel they have to make a certain romantic choice to win their RO over. Whether you go in for a kiss or feel it’s more true to the MC to wait… the RO isn’t going to be secretly keeping score on you.

(I am keeping score though. Just don’t look too far behind the curtain. Point systems are the only way I know how to program. I just don’t want it to feel like a point system, ya know?)

And for those who just wanna kiss everyone, goddamnit!! There is always the walkthrough 💙

[scekrex]

YOU ASKED FOR MORE ADAM REQUESTS SO UH HERE I AM

so yk how adam knew angel dust was a pornstar when charlie mentioned his name. uh i have not been able to get that out of my head because he knew him by NAME it wasnt just like he passed by an angel dust billboard cause those are probably fucking everywhere and was like “cool” NO bro looked at it closely enough to know his name by memory— anywaysss what about adam x male reader whos a pornstar cause thats cool dhdkd maybe he sees an ad with the reader on it or something and gets intrigued 😋 anyways have a super silly day

I fucking adore you for that prompt bc the fact that Adam knew Angel by name was/is stuck in my brain too and I've been meaning to write pornstar!male!reader for a while, you simply gave me an actual reason to do so. Also the warmest, cuddliest hugs to @ultimateissuessimp who not only helped me to come up w a plot but also fixed my writers block xoxo to you bro.

Any way you want me, baby, that's the way you got me

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, smut, sex without consent (it's not Adam guys, chill), mention of sexual abuse, choking (with and without consent), unprotected sex, major character death (temporarily)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Your pimp massaged his temples and sighed, “Stop acting like a fucking picky whore, if you want your fucking money you'll do the job.” You crossed your arms over your chest, you were having none of it.

It had been a couple of years since you started doing what you did, it had been a couple of years since you had dedicated yourself to that fucking asshole who was trying to force you into something that was way outside your comfort zone. So you have learned to stand up for yourself, to say no. And usually that was fine because usually your clients weren't some snobby bitches with an ass full of money. This time your client was exactly that though, and that asshole of boss - at this point you were sure you could call him that - saw the money and nothing but the money. So a ‘no’ wasn't on the table for you this time as it seemed.

“Fuck you, I'm telling ya, I'm not doing that bullshit,” you told the man in front of you. He however simply grabbed your wrist and pulled you in, “You’re gonna drop that fucking attitude of yours right fucking now because you're gonna do it, if you want or not is irrelevant.” You huffed and ripped your arm from his grip, “Fucking fine, but if that whore breaks me it's on you.” At that your boss chuckled deeply as he gave your cheek a light pat, “Good boy.”

So there you were huh? In a room with some asshole you didn't trust the slightest bit.

It didn't take long for the man to not only undress himself but also to basically tear the fabric off your body - quite literally because your shirt was being ripped open and he yanked your pants down hard enough for the stitches to give out on it.

Your mind went blank after that, everything was just a hazy blur as you tried to get it over with. There were cold hands on your body, then you fell, the landing was surprisingly soft.

A scream filled with pain ripped from your throat as the man thrusted in, in, in until he was fully inside of you, no lube, no preparation. A hand was firmly pressed against your mouth and while probably not intended, he also covered your nose leaving you no way to breathe but you took it, what were you supposed to do? Say no? With that hand on your lips? Yeah, pretty impossible. You also doubted that the asshole would care about your wants. It all went down when his other hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed, he didn't even try to ask for consent, he just took what he wanted, maybe needed.

Your hands were on his wrists in an instant, your nails dug into his skin in order to try and push his hands off of you but to no result, he was stronger. And then the hazy blur faded to black.

-

When Adam read the news about his favorite porn actor being killed he was quite furious.

The news articles all stated the same, that some rich bitch had paid for a session with you - an recorded one on top of it - and had choked you to death. And on top of that the manager of you had published the video, hell Adam was even able to see you die at his hands.

The news articles also blamed you for not giving him any signals to stop, Adam thought that was bullshit. He had followed your porn career for a while now, he had seen interviews too, if only two - it wasn't like many people wanted to interview pornstars on a daily base - he knew you had this little rule about consent and therefore he knew you had given the man signals he just tended to ignore them.

“Can you fucking believe it, Lute?” he asked angrily as he held his phone in front of her face, on the tiny screen there was a news article about your death, a picture of your corpse covered by a white sheet was also featured. Lute looked at it briefly, then shrugged, “Who cares? Just another whore that'll end up in hell.” Adam put down his phone and grabbed Lute by her shirt, “Watch your fucking mouth, he wasn't like the rest of those disgusting sluts.” Lute just shot him a weird look and mumbled a quiet, “Whatever, Sir,” as Adam let go of her clothes.

-

When the world around you got bright you were confused, what had happened?

You found yourself in someone's office, the walls were painted white and there were golden accents to make the room seem less stirile. “Where the fuck am I?” you asked, visibly confused as three pairs of eyes stared at you, one of them was a small girl, she looked delighted to see you. Then there was a woman, you figured it must have been her mother or something like that, she offered you a small smile. The last one was the face of a man who seemed to be equally confused as you were at first, but soon his expression softened a little.

“Well look who we have here,” the man spoke and got out of his seat to walk over to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he shot you a sharp grin.

“Welcome to heaven, Y/N.”

-

It took a good while for you to get used to the afterlife you were expecting, it looked like your beliefs had been with you and that God had decided to put you out of your misery and send you to heaven a little sooner than you had thought. Not that you complained though, the company was better than the people that had surrounded you on earth.

Adam and you had grown to be close friends in no time and soon after your bond had increased so much you had asked the first man out. He had agreed and so the two of you started dating.

He was surprisingly soft with you - was it really surprising though, given that he knew how you had died? No, not really. But it was nice that he accepted your ‘no’ without further questions - sometimes, when he was really into something you said no to, he sat down with you and talked it out, gave you all the options to stop whenever it got too much or you simply didn't like it. Consensual sex without fighting for what you wanted and didn't want was new to you, it wasn't something your former boss or former clients had ever given you.

But that all shattered when Adam requested something that really didn't sit right with you.

“Fuck no,” you exclaimed, and got up from the bed, “No choking, not after-” you cut yourself off, you weren't able to say it out loud, not yet at least, “No.” Adam sighed, he wasn't annoyed or frustrated, he was actually able to understand the situation you were in quite well. “Babes, I’m not gonna hurt you like that bastard did,” he explained himself while also giving you the space you needed, otherwise you'd feel cornered and that was the least thing he wanted you to feel in that moment.

You knew that, in the name of God, you fucking knew Adam wouldn't choke you unconscious and he most importantly wouldn't kill you again by doing so but it felt wrong to let anyone grab you by the throat with the slightest bit of force. “Adam,” you pleaded, your eyes begging him to drop the topic. Adam's body language softened and he patted on the bed, a nonverbal request for you to sit down again. You hesitated for a moment, then you sat down again.

His wing wrapped around you immediately and his arms pulled you to sit on his lap. His chin was resting on your shoulder as he softly spoke, “I’m not asking you to live through a full fucking session, I'm asking you to try it, to let me show you how it's properly done. You can always tell me to stop and I'll be off of you in an instant. I won't ask you to ever try it again if you don't like it.” The brunette's hands rested on your chest, one of them slowly moved upwards to caress your neck and acting out of instincts you leaned into the soft and warm touch of his.

You thought about it. You thought about it for a while and you came to the conclusion that Adam was right. Trying was okay, trying meant you were allowed to hate it. So you hummed in agreement adding a quiet, “Okay.”

-

Soft lips were kissing your throat and you tilted your head upwards to offer Adam more excess. The first man gladly took it as an invitation to leave hickeys on the soft skin of yours which earned him a throaty moan. “Someone’s fucking horny,” Adam grinned and pressed his palm against the slowly growing bulge in your pants. You immediately lifted your hips to chase the friction that was given to you, a deep groan was ringing through Adam's ears, fuck he could listen to the sounds you were making all day. “You’re one to talk,” you breathlessly countered and lifted your knee against Adam's crotch. The taller man's hips stuttered and his wings flapped in excitement at the newfound and unexpected friction. “Oh fuck,” he mumbled against your throat as his fingers clawed at your shoulders and his nails dug into your skin, the pain it caused was different than the pain men had brought you back on earth, the pain Adam was giving to you always felt so deliciously holy and you could drown in it.

You have had sex before with all kinds of men, rude and harsh ones, shy and soft ones, ones that took what they wanted and then left without the slightest thought of satisfying you. But with Adam it was different, Adam always made sure you were feeling as much pleasure as he was experiencing and if he were to get too caught up to jerk you off, he'd blow you afterwards.

Your fingers itched towards the hem of Adam's robe and pulled the soft fabric up until his lower half was exposed. “Get that stupid shit off, it's cockblocking us,” you growled with lust audible in your voice. That was something Adam was quick to do, he was always so eager to get undressed for you, no matter what, no matter when.

Once Adam's robe had hit the floor, your clothes were joining it in no time. Your naked bodies were pressed together, his lips never left your skin long enough for you to actually miss them, they were on you constantly. “Gonna fuck that brain out of your pretty head babes, it'll be all you will be able to think about for the entire week,” the first man whispered in a deep, aroused voice that gave you the most pleasant kind of goosebumps you've ever had and your body shuddered against his lips. “You gotta try real hard for that, you sure you can fuck me that well?” you teased, very much aware that, yes, he was able to do as he had just said, he had proven it before and he'd prove it again. “Watch it, whore,” he grinned up at you and then your nipple disappeared between his lips and another moan tore from your throat to let the first man know what an incredible job he was doing.

Back on earth you had disliked, maybe even hated the term. It was always used as an insult that was supposed to play down what you were doing but when Adam said it, it sounded like the most beautiful thing to achieve, to be called whore by Adam was something you took with pride, something that made your body heat rush to all the right areas.

“Nah,” you replied and even though it was more of a whine than an actual statement, you confidently continued, “You like it when I use my mouth and we both fucking know it.” Adam's wings twitched at the thought of you sucking him off and his eyes revealed that he liked the idea - not for now though, now you two had other plans. “Sure do, babes, sure do,” the brunette agreed as he reached for the bottle of lube that he had placed on the bedside table earlier.

That was also another thing you appreciated about the sex with Adam, while he made sure you were feeling that holy version of pain earth could never compare to, he was also gentle, well as gentle as someone like Adam could be. But he prepared you, always did, and he was the type of guy who'd rather use too much lube than not enough.

At first it had been weird for you that Adam knew about your carrier, in the name of Lord above that motherfucker had seen you die because of that stupid porno. But it turned out to be quite useful for him to have all that knowledge about your past, that way he knew how far he was allowed to go without constantly having to ask you. He did check on your well-being during sex though, a thing you appreciated very much. He also knew about the things you were into, figuring his kinks out was as easy as breathing, the first man did nothing to hide the things that turned him on.

Adam covered his fingers in lube, waited a moment for the liquid to warm up and then slowly started to push his index finger inside of you. Your back arched and your hips rocked down on his finger, taking it like it was a daily thing - maybe because it was. “Gimme the second one,” you breathed out and watched as Adam moved his hand a little, his index finger almost slipped out and you were about to complain but before you had the chance to, two fingers were thrusted inside of you and you groaned, “That’s what I'm talking ‘bout, pretty boy.”

“Just look at the filthy little slut you are,” his hand moved up and down your side before it stilled on your hip bone, “So fucking eager to take the first dick ever made.” You nodded, “And so fucking ready too, so what ya waiting for, big guy?” Your lips had curled up into a shit eating grin as you challenged him, “Scared you'll hurt me?” Oh and that made something inside of Adam snap.

He quickly withdrew his fingers, causing you to complain about the emptiness you were left with. “Adam,” you whined and wiggled your ass closer to his hips, “I can take both, your fingers and your dick.” That earned you a light slap on your hips, “Don’t be so fucking impatient, you'll get what is needed to shut your mouth.” “I think it'll make me open up instead, moaning yo-” you cut yourself off with a loud moan because the brunette had just bottomed out inside of you without any kind of warning. And the burn that came with it from how wide his dick stretched you was beautiful through and through.

“Don’t just fucking talk about moaning my name, do it,” he demanded and gripped your hips firmly to keep you from squirming, he didn't move however, gave you the time you needed to get used to the feeling. Oh the self control this man had was driving you insane. “Goddamn it, fuck me already, what use is it to have the first dick inside of me when it doesn't fucking do shit,” you whined as you threw your head back into the pillows.

Adam didn't move his hips, however he leaned over you and wrapped his left hand around your throat, there was no pressure at all, just the feeling of his hand. For a moment panic flooded your brain and your body screamed at you to make him stop, to tell him not to fucking touch you like that, but then he spoke up and his voice was so soft, sounded so worried, “You decide when it is too much, if this is too much you simply say so and I won't touch you like that again unless you ask for it like a good fucking boy you can be.”

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed, his hand was still on your throat but you relaxed. “No, it's okay,” you whispered without looking at him, then added, “Now get to the fucking point and fuck my brains out like you promised.” And then there was pressure on your throat but at the same time the brunette started to move his hips, the pace at which his hips slammed in and out was bruising but it was exactly what you needed. You bared your throat as much as you could, showing him that it was okay, showing him that you trusted him with this, “Fuck, Adam.”

The sound of Adam's balls slapping against your ass filled the room and while one hand was firmly yet not painfully wrapped around your throat, the other slowly slid up your torso until it reached your nipple, the skilful fingers of your lover twisted it in such delicious ways that moan after moan spilled from your lips and Adam admired it, admired you. He was purely enchanted whenever you got vocal during sex - which was quite often.

“Fucking right, whore, moan for me ‘n’ my dick,” he hissed before he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, your back arched off the mattress even more, your hips tried to chase his whenever he pulled out only to slam himself back in again a second later. A whine fell from your lips and seeped into the kiss, your wings closed around his back, trapping the both of you behind feathers but neither of you minded, you were both too caught up in pleasure to care about such things. “Adam, please,” you moaned as your hips helplessly moved in sync with his own, “Fucking touch me.”

Normally Adam would make you beg for it, deny you your orgasm for as long as he could, but not that day. You had been doing so well for him, had tried something that neither of you were sure you would like. You had given him your trust by allowing you to touch in ways no one ever touched you with consent and he wanted to reward you for it, wanted to give you what you so desperately graved. As he attempted to let go of your throat you stopped him. Your hand tightly gripped his wrist in order to keep his hand where it was and you looked him in the eyes as you said, “I fucking dare you to stop choking me, use your other hand to jerk me off.”

He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled through his body but he did as he was told and once his hand had started to stroke your dick, it only took you a few moments to reach your climax. The white wetness covered your stomach, a few drops even reached Adam's chest but you were too fucked out to pay any mind to it, all that you were able to focus on was Adam, Adam, Adam. Adam, who was fucking you through your orgasm to chase his own, Adam who didn't take much longer to reach his peak, Adam who filled you up with his cum until it started to leak.

The first man breathed heavily on top of you as he pulled out, a weak snap of his fingers cleaned both of your bodies before he fell into the sheets beside you. Well to be fair he had landed on your wing instead of the mattress but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You turned around to face him and curled up against his chest, Adam wrapped his entire body around you in order to keep you warm and protected.

“Thank you, Adam.”

He kissed your head softly.

“Anything for you, babes.”

[helsensm]

Sorry to bug ya again but my brainstorm is actin up again! Could be writing this on paper, but writers block. Got inspiration thanks to the Kung Lao dies art (all of them are amazing!), but thinking of the events before it happens. Once again on my Liu Kang mess because he's becoming the tragic god figure now. I'm imagining Liu Kang starts getting a pseudo MK9 mess going on. Not that he receives a message from his future self, but a serious case of "wait, this happened before! AND ITS GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN!?!?!". Liu Kang starts seeing the signs of Kung Lao potentially dying again in his new timeline. Cue Liu Kang struggling with showing restraint by not interfering with matters, hoping that he's just getting paranoid and seeing things that are not there, and Liu trying to prevent Kung Laos death. He doesn't want to loose his friend again, even though they're not as close as they used to be. Bonus drama if Liu Kang becomes a bit too protective of Kung Lao and Lao starts thinking that Liu Kang does trust him anymore (thinking on the Arcade ending for Kung Lao where his pride nearly cost him his student) and starts getting frustrated. So when the inevitable starts to encroach, Kung Lao ends up getting himself killed as he tries to show that he can be trusted by Raiden and Liu Kang again. I'm sorry if this sounds incoherent and silly, I just got a lot of emotions for Fire God Liu Kang the the potential angst he carries

yes, good, very good, thank you for your food, friend 👁👁

I want to believe that after the Shujinko accident Kung Lao will start to realize, that he don't need to do everything all by himself and always perfect to prove his worth, and it's okay to ask for help, and believe in your friends, and listen to their advices, and- sorry, kinship by the inferiority complex got me. But as far as we know, no one except Cassy goes to therapy in the mk world, so that won't be enough for my man to start his character improvement journey. So yes, Liu Kang's protectiveness will def trigger his "must prove myself, must get approval" response.

The question is - how much Liu Kang will blame himself, when he realizes?.. 🤔 Poor man lost his timeline and just wanted to create one where everyone is happier. but here we are, creating drama and problems for him in our little gay app ggjhhh

<<< prev | next >>>

[angelflms]

Okay, so I have been thinking so much about this (I have been talking aloud to myself for like ten minutes bc I've invested myself wayyy too deep into this), but I think I know why Miguel bothers me so much despite being my favorite character.

The writers suck.

Now, I know I don't have screenwriting credibility and I'm merely just a girl and I know that perhaps they can't cram all of this shit into the show and make room for literally everyone else, BUT I think the reason why so many people don't like Miguel as a character is because he doesn't have much of a character to work with. So whenever he does something that shows character (the Mexico storyline, the Stanford storyline), no one feels bad for him. I think that maybe if he had definitive arcs for each season, while weaving it better into Robby's arcs (since they're foils and tethered to each other), he would actually be likeable. So I wanted to show you what I feel like I would do to write Miguel's post school fight arc. Feel free to tell me your opinions. (buckle up, this is a long one)

S3a

similar to what we see

but we actually get to be more into Miguel's mental response to the aftermath

I dont' think they went enough into his feelings with everything and that everything went a bit too fast (for Miguel) during the season.

perhaps they could've gone deeper into his PTSD, similar to what they did with Sam.

but instead it preventing him from going to school, it prevented him from doing karate all together.

it was clear early on that karate and Johnny slowly became all that Miguel cared about.

Johnny was sending mixed signals and Kresse's entry into CK was conflicting as their ideals were different.

Johnny made it clear that CK's mottos are a way of life, so Miguel was moving the exact way one would in karate irl.

Karate was his life. And it nearly ended it as well.

I don't believe Miguel would immediately still want to be so gung-ho about joining karate again after nearly dying from it.

Johnny would lose Miguel's trust and would fight for it back. He already lost Robby. He can't lose Miggy too.

Miguel doesn't want to be around him for now, despite feeling bad for pushing him away

S3b

When finding out he was paralyzed, it hurt to find out, but at the same time, with his conflicited feelings about karate, he would feel a bit relieved.

I like to think that when the surgery worked, everyone was happy but Miguel because now people are going to expect him to want to go back to doing karate.

Eventually he and Johnny have a heart to heart and make up, though he's still a little bit hesitant on trusting him

he does reluctantly join Eagle Fang and he tries to make an effort to train again and get past his fear

Though things still feel like what it was like at CK, which isn't something Miguel is enjoying

Plus him being the only shot they have for the All Valley is putting presure on him, mainly due to Johnny

The scene where he tries to kick but fails happens

He falls and flashbacks of the school fight happen

He gives up and says he isn't doing karate anymore

That is until the finale fight when CK comes in and fights the EF/MD kids and Kyler beats him up

he remembers why he started karate in the first place and starts fighting again

He chooses to do karate again

S4

Again similar to what we see (Johnny and Carmen, the intro to Kenny, etc)

I think he still feels weird about being back in the world of karate and latches onto Daniel more as a sensei now with the conjoint dojos situation (he's a lot softer on him knowing his situation)

Which pisses Johnny off and makes him jealous (he just misses his kid ya know?)

He tries to make an effort with Miguel but he grows more distant after hearing Daniel's side of the events during TKK

This season could heavily parallel s2 with Kiaz as they're on the opposite sides of the coin now with Robby being with CK and Miguel learning more Miyagi-Do techniques

This could also bring more tension with Lawrusso because of how they're both treating and training him and how Johnny thinks Daniel is taking Miguel away from him

(maybe a fight scene about this idk)

Perhaps Miguel starts feeling bad about pushing Johnny away as he very much still cares about him and sees him trying

Daniel does talk to Miguel about how Johnny does care about him and how he's beaten up about everything and how he wishes he could change everything

This will make the whole "I love you" "I love you, too Robby" scene a lot worse

Miguel feels lost again

The sprain he gets during the All Valley was the final straw for him as he has a panic attack and in a heap of emotions, he leaves for Mexico, not just to find his dad, but to genuinely run away from everything

Also throughout this season, I really wanted to see more of Robby being guilty for what he did during the fight but pushing it away until he sees what Kenny does to Anthony and realizing that history is already about to repeat itself

Also also we do see Miguel talk about collage but brings up that he wants to become a PT (did I take this from someone who reblogged my other rant, yes) and probably want to go Boston University (they have a PT degree program)

S5

Same as we see for the most part

I was hoping Miguel would bring up the whole "I love you" situation but he never did and I wonder why

I wish we saw bits of the car ride home from Mexico and the awkwardness between the boys (there's a good ao3 fic that does this pretty decently)

Perhaps Robby can tell that something is off with Miguel though and tries to spark conversation but the latter refuses to talk to the former because of the school fight

I think the break up should still happen

Both because with everything going on with him, the breakup would just be another stab in the chest, but also because that fucking scene was so good!! Like idk if Mary and Xolo get their flowers for that scene but I'ma need them to get their flowers for that scene

Now he's just this ball of emotions

Johnny still wants to push for the boys to be close since he's caring for both of them now (and ofc the baby) so like in the actual s5, he still tries to get them to talk

Now I would've preferred a heart to heart reconciliation (similar to samtory s6) but since the dudebros would think that's too soft and this is a fighting show, the balcony scene would be fine

Though I do think in a later scene, Kiaz should have a more emotional talk with each other

Miguel just talks about how hard it has been since the school fight and how everything keeps on changing and everything gets a lot for him

Robby tells him that he gets it and confesses how guilty he feels for being the one to put him in the hospital

And then I feel like the rest of s5 can go the way it did

i don't know. maybe this is too convoluted but I do think that the lack of characterization and constant mischaracterization of miguel diaz is due how poorly the writers went about him post s3a imo. i think they could've done something great with him in a way people felt for robby you know? they always randomly bring things up as a way to say "hey he has trauma too" but it's always at the most inopportune times and it always comes off half-assed instead. i love miguel so much because of his happy-go-lucky energy but he has so much wasted potential which is wild to say when he's the main character.

[incarnadin3]

𝖀𝖕 𝕴𝖓 𝕱𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 ~ 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛

A/N: Hi guys! First of all, tysm for 60 followers! I never thought I'd get this far, but you guys make me so happy. I haven't posted in a while because I'm facing writer's block, but I wanted to post a teaser to show you guys what the story will be about. If you guys have requests, feel free to send them in! Also, the new exchange student's name will be hidden for now hehehe. Enjoy~

Pairings: Obey Me! Brothers x fem!MC

Summary: When did it all change? When MC showed up in Devildom, it took her 5 months to fully gain the trust of all the brothers. So naturally, when the year was over and Diavolo said the exchange program had been a success, and you could still stay if wanted, you obviously agreed. To continue the program, Diavolo decided to have another human come. The brothers were wary, but you were ecstatic! Another human! One that wasn't a shady sorcerer like Solomon! You had hoped to help the brothers warm up to them, but didn't expect them to leave you for the other human. When did it all go up in flames? You just wanted them to remember you again. You just didn't expect the other human to tell you the only way you'd be remembered was through a dusty picture on the wall after your death, in the basement, hidden away for the rest of the coming centuries. And now, the only thing that stood between you and death was the flames. Flames of the Seven Deadly Sins. And all you could remember was, When did it all go Up In Flames?

2 years ago

"My name is Lucifer. Welcome to Devildom, MC."

8 months ago

"Thank you for the pacts, you guys."

"No problem, MC. We all would happily lay our lives down for you. We love and trust you a lot, MC."

3 months ago

"What?! Whaddya mean another human?! We don't want another one!"

2 months ago

"My name is Lucifer. Welcome to Devildom."

"Hey cutie! I'm [REDACTED], but you can call me [REDACTED] for short!"

1 month and 3 weeks ago

"I-I don't know MC...I just don't like that girl! She gives me creepy vibes! Can ya believe it?! Me, The Great Mammon, gettin creepy vibes from her!"

"Mammon, she's Lilith's descendant too! You'll warm up to her soon, trust me. Just like you and your brothers did with me. After 5 months...but still...You'll be ok! You're still my first demon and I'm still your human. She won't come in between any of us, trust me."

Are you sure about that, MC?

1 month ago

"Mammon, I'm ready, where are you?!" - Oh, I went gambling with [REDACTED] already, she has better luck than ya!

"Levi! You still down to go to that new pop-up store?" - I-I'm going with [REDACTED], she knows a lot more than you.

"Satan! Can I borrow a book and read with you later?" - Sorry MC, but I don't want you to ruin my books. [REDACTED] takes much better care of my books anyways. And I like reading with her more, sorry!

"Beel? Wanna try some of my cooking?" - No thanks MC, I'm quite full. [REDACTED] made me really delicious food, much better than yours! Maybe another time?

"Asmoooo!! Wanna have another spa da-" - MC, sorry, but can you be quiet? Me and [REDACTED] are having a spa day and you're interrupting us!

"Hey Belphie can I sleep with yo-...Is that my pillow...with her?!" - Go away MC, you're so annoying! [REDACTED] is so much comfier...now please leave. NOW.

3 weeks ago

"Lucifer? I don't like [REDACTED]. Ever since everybody found out she's Lilith's descendant too, everyone has been ignoring me! - MC. stop being insecure and be quiet. [REDACTED] isn't annoying like you, at least.

1 day ago

"[REDACTED]. What the hell are you doing to the brothers?! I swear to god if you-"

"Oh you poor poor MC...you think they care about you? No. They only liked you because they knew you were related to Lilith. But they love me because I am Lilith."

"What?"

"Oh honey, the only way they'll ever remember you is in an old photo hidden in the basement, collecting dust."

"I-...if you hurt them..."

"Oh, who said I'm hurting them?"

"..."

"Speak of this to anyone, and I will kill them. One. By. One."

2 hours ago

"Hello, MC. Us and [REDACTED] are heading to a party at Lord Diavolo's. You're staying behind. You're grades have been horrible recently, and I'd rather you not embarrass us at his castle."

"But-"

"No buts. Goodbye."

1 hour ago

*sniffs* "What's that smell? Smells like something's burning."

"OH MY GOD!"

"Come on Lucifer! Pick u- Hello?! The house is on fi- [REDACTED]? HELLO?! GIVE THE PHONE TO LUCI- HELLO?!"

5 minutes ago

*at Lord Diavolo's castle*

"[REDACTED]? Is everything ok? You had needed my phone?"

"Everything's fine Luci! MC just fucked something up back home. Don't worry, I took care of it."

"Ah, thank you so much. MC is quite a problem these days. I appre-"

"LUCIFER! LUCIFER!"

"L-Lord Diavolo?! Is everything alright?!"

"The hou...HoL is on fire! MC's inside! Everything is up in flames!"

"WHAT?!"

Now

*at the hospital*

"Lucifer...will MC be alright?"

"I...don't know, Mammon, I don't know..."

"Guys chill out it's just a bu-"

"SHUT UP YOU WITCH!"

"Belphegor! Calm down!"

"NO LUCIFER! SHE'S A WITCH! I just found out her real identity in MC's diary!"

"Show me."

"..."

"Guess the secret's out now."

"You're...."

A/N: Who is she???? Stay tuned to find out!

[therealslimshakespeare]

Let’s Fall Out of Love

Divorce Part 1

Fully co-authored with @elvisabutler 💋

Thanks: are due to so many friends on here who helped craft this timeline and concept and helped me hone the motivations into something I trust our readers will find evocative and sympathetic. Y’all know who you are, thanks for being my buddies

Warnings: 18+ for thematic and sexual material. Strong language and bitter accusations between spouses, mentions of drugs, divorce proceedings, lying to spouses (for their eventual good???) mentions of past infidelity, Colonel Parker being the worst, poor Elvis being in a bad place with his health and mentally -and dub con smut. It is in no way non con but the context, the lack of voiced or implied consent and the aggression make it dubious. It is fairly clear both parties are engaging in hysterical bonding, still the scene is dubious as is the language used by the man regarding a wife having no say in it. So please heed that.

Note: it was the attempt of the writers to craft a rather cinematic experience with this fic, one aim was to skip times and have plenty of fade to black moments. Please note the time stamps above each scene to keep track of progression. Anything that is not clarified in this chapter will either be clarified in the next part or else in others. You’re of course welcome to ask questions.

|| 10th, APRIL 1977 ||

Divorce. Lil Tink is divorcin' him. Lil Laney is gonna be his ex-wife.

The thought rattles around in his aching brain as he chases her up Graceland’s stairway, past the portraits of their children and the plaques celebrating their successes and haunting likenesses of younger selves. Both of them home for a brief stint after Vegas Showrooms and California Courtrooms.

Home -it won’t be his home much longer, she’s gonna see to that.

Divorce.

It had taken up half his year already but he was so sure, so damn sure all she needed was to make a fuss and threaten like she does and then it would cool down, smooth over. He was ready to humor all sorts of shit and then she went and pushed for more. More money, more assets, took out a damn lien. His Tink who happily chucked half of custody at him without a fight has now drug this little show on for months, all for a couple more bucks.

She’s takin' everythin' he's worked so hard for, takin’ it all, going back for more even, just to make sure she can still be taken care of in the conditions and standards he had raised her to.

Spoiled lil middle class girl grown into a spoiled, hardened rich woman.

“Till death do you part”, he hurled the promises at her over the phone, as soon as that court order had landed in his hands -but if ya ask Elaine, he's been dead more times than she can count. Maybe he's dead to her in everythin' but body. Ain't that the other joke, he feels half dead even in body.

"Elaine Presley! Turn 'round when I'm talkin' t'ya! Ya know I hate it when people do that” As if she’s required to listen to him or required to pay attention after two decades of focusing so much of her attention and time and energy on a man who has forgotten all of that. On a man who’s forgotten that he’s married to her. That’s forgotten he has children with her, a life he promised her, and not to his manager who's twisted so much of what was between them into this. Whatever this is.

"Why?" She spits still climbing stairs she's climbed a thousand times before. Faintly she hears Marie playing in her room and a surprising amount of silence from Jack's and her heart twists. They don't need to hear this. None of her children do but her youngest- oh her youngest deserve to think their father is still something resembling a good man.

"Why?" As if Elvis is some sort of parrot, he repeats the question back at her. His confusion colors his face, warring for control with his anger and frustration as he follows her through the padded master doors. "Why? The hell kinda question is that?”

“I told you come by and grab those things you said you needed so badly.” she hauls open one of his drawers and the thing squeals on its track from her violent tug. “So do that. If you wanted to chat then we coulda chatted somewhere else. Or, you know -a year ago? Ten?”

“I’m just askin’ why.“ He embraces her own wording and tries to get nearer her, hem her in against the dresser like he’s done countless times before in this very room with dazzling success.

Elaine slips away between them like water and he’s left bracing himself on the smooth wooden top.

“I’m not actively trying to be a shrew.” she murmurs as she turns away and goes to the other side of the room, opening the wardrobe, “No matter what you believe. I told you that you’ll be welcome in this house no matter what, so that’s why.’I’m not allowing you to come around -you just can, it’s your mama’s house still, for all I’m concerned.”

“No, no I mean- why’re you throwin’ this away?” He emphasizes it with his hands, a pleading gesture that sweeps the whole room and its host of sacred memories. He’s used this before but that was back when he figured it was all one big tantrum. Signing custody papers has rather shaken that hope, delusion, comfort.

Tink purses her lips and he notices her face has gone so white this summer, rarely in the sun and addicted to wearing black like some melodramatic Prima Donna. She does look stunning in the papers all decked out in veils and heels, he’ll give her that. He doesn’t know when she turned from being the heart of the operation to the glamor of it all -and he the opposite.

“What’s my favorite color these days?” she asks him instead.

He stares at the sable color he’s seen her wearing for months now and sighs in exasperation, “Shit I dunno -black?” he swings, knowing it’s a miss the second he says it.

“I can’t do this anymore.” she informs him, like color has broken up a twenty year long marriage and he grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he cracks a filling. The pain adds to his headache that matches the pounding in his chest and the roaring in his ears builds to such a degree he’s honestly terrified for them both.

“Stop this.” he warns her, quite sure she knows the red hot fit she’s stoking with her callousness and hurt that she won’t help him out of it like she used to, that she’ll let him go into a blind rage and then blame him for it, no doubt. “I know when you’re lyin’, woman, and I ain’t ever seen a more lilly livered liar than you right now.” he snarls and tries a last appeal that comes out as a barb anyways, “You wouldn’t be goin’ on so rash if your daddy were still alive,” he jabs a finger at her, “guess I can be grateful he ain’t, so he’s not breakin’ down my door for explanations ‘bout a offense you won’t admit to me!“

Elaine absorbs this blow with a wavering face before the nonchalance cloaks her features once more and Elvis would resort to smacking it off her if he were a different sorta man. “Black is practical, that’s why I wear it. It’s not my favorite though.” she simpers, clutching at the shoe she’s picked up from the floor, something for her hands to worry, to hide her own anguish at having to keep him in the dark. To lie repeatedly to him as he breaks apart, she didn’t know it would cut him up so much.

It’s a mess, this web of connections that used to prop them up, used to be a community. Now it’s a den of tattle tales and if one of them suspects she’s anything but angry at Elvis, that this this divorce and seizing of assets isn’t a scorned wife gone nuts, but rather a calculated endeavor to get at his manager once and for all -well Charlie will spill to Vernon and Vernon will spill to Elvis and Elvis will have all the fuel he needs to plead her right back into complacent heartbreak in his arms -before he goes on tour again and murders himself from the workload.

“I’m on orange kick, actually.” her voice is hoarse.

“Then I’ll buy ya some fuckin’ orange curtains and you’ll stop divorcin’ me.” he jabs a tinged finger at her and he looks like he might fall over, his face is so flushed and sweaty, from pills and passion. Elaine readies to catch him, break his fall if he tips. At least here there’s carpet, unlike the hotel hallway that busted his head last year.

“I’m rather in the mood to buy my own from now on.” she lies and sweeps past him to get to the closet.

She never gets past him. His hand darts out and engulfs her dainty wrist, tugging her back and in a spin like he practiced in his movies so many times, a romantic, gallant, possessive gesture that lands her smack against his broad chest, locked in with an arm around her shoulders.

"Buy your own, hm? Gonna sell my mama's house to do that? Gonna sell ya children's home to do that?"

“Elvis, you get your damn hands off me.” she bites back, throwing her weight on his forearm that might as well be made of steel, so little room does she gain from her effort.

"Never minded my hands on ya before. Even 'fore I married ya, it was fine for me to touch ya. To inspect that lil house of yours to make sure it could have all those lil babies ya wanted. Gave 'em to ya didn't I? Gave ya every last one and two've ‘em are even still with ya till they leave." Never mind that Jack's been bouncing between here and California in an effort to do what he's wanted to do since Elvis would play sharks in the bed with him. "But now you're wantin' my hands off. Goin' on 'bout gettin' new curtains yourself."

His words are punctuated with spit and a hissing anger Elvis doesn't normally indulge in. The bitter anger she used on the road with champagne making her head float in a sea of lies and wants and needs and a twisted sort of love till she had to call it. She can feel her jaw tensing up at his calloused fingers finding their way under her chin, tapping at first to try and have her look up at him before clenching around it and tilting it upward instead.

"Who is it, Laney? Who's the person who's gonna take care of ya? Gonna help ya buy those curtains? Get Marie those cameras? Help Jack and Rosie pay for those commie schools of theirs?" With each passing word Elvis’s voice drops lower and lower in octave until he's reaching levels Elaine's never heard. Against her will, her body shivers in his arms. A sneer crosses his lips- a twisted version of his raised lip that everyone knows and loves. That raised lip she's kissed before with laughter and jokes on how "if you keep doing that your face'll stay that way, Naughty." It shouldn't be there like this and yet it is. "That why ya dragged me to our lil Ella Bella's weddin'? Figured the Martins could spoil our daughter rotten away from you and your new caretaker? Your new piggybank? Don't get shy on me now, Laney! Who's the lucky sonuvabitch who gets to have my wife?"

Elaine's learned how to be composed in every situation with Elvis. She'll shoot at the Colonel over love handles and movies that killed her Elvis's spirit. She'll titter at army wives mocking her house and implying she couldn't keep up with being Mrs. Presley and growing a second set of twins in two years. She'll handle losing little Joesphine with a body that betrayed them all and with a smile on her face because Mrs Kennedy had just lost hers and then John died and the US can't handle their Irish Catholic and their Southern Baptist Camelots falling to pieces all at once. But this, this is too much. This is her soon to be ex husband mocking her. Like she'd have had time to find someone else who would take care of her, like taking care of Elvis and their children allowed her to seek any other comfort than in the aging movie star her husband sought to emulate once upon a time before realizing he's just a man too. The aging movie star she considers one of her nearest and dearest friends and who'd- who would be her caretaker if she let him.

Knowing her luck it'd end up worse than this.

No, this is Elvis throwing out an insult to her character, the one he'd have defended till his dying breath except for when she turns on him like Red and Sonny did. Their book's gonna be coming out sooner rather than later and- she's made it obvious he can't trust a soul any more.

It won't do either one of them any good to react. It's not going to help her escape from his grip that's a vice around her. It won't help him see what she's doing and how she’s doing it for him. But she is only human just as he's only human and her lipstick covered mouth opens in defense of her own honor.

"What makes you think you deserve to know?" He can't see through everything to see why shes doing this, so why should he get an answer. "You won't have to worry, we'll all be taken care of. And you can be rebranded! A seasoned entertainer who's free as a bird to do whoever and whatever he wants. Or oooh -maybe the colonel will pick you out a new wife. Pretty little fool to take my place, without trappings like children -or brains."

“I chose my wife.” it sounds like a beg, anger and hurt battling for the upper hand in Elvis’ heart, his hand squeezes her chin stronger, watching her lips pucker just that little bit. Such a soft mouth has no right being so stern and derisive as it’s been these past months, once upon a time he knew how to make it gasp and smile with a word, a kiss, a mere glance. “I chose you, and you promised. It ain’t me breakin’ that promise, ain’t me sayin’ I can’t do this no more -I-I-I’ve spent my goddamn career givin’ you all this, I gave up w-women for you, I gave up movies for you, when you come to me with what’s wrong I do my damndest to fix it. Now you won’t tell me nothin’ but orange curtains, and if I thought those’d fix us I’d be out the damn door right now, headed to find you the best in the country. I would, Laney, you know I would. I’ve given-“ he stops to gasp in a ragged breath, unsure of what part of himself he hasn’t poured into his Tink, entrusted to her once caring little hands, vulnerability poured like so much oil into her heart for safe keeping, his flaws and secrets tucked safely in the little nooks and crannies of her generous mind. “I’ve given-“

-So Damn Much.

“I’ve given you my life.” His Laney stares back at him entirely unmoved, her eyes hard and sharp with their ebony liner, the squish of her lips beneath his fingers barely dismantling her disdain for him, “And seven children from my body. I never said you weren’t a good man,Elvis, or that you're not generous, but we both know we don’t want to go toe to toe in measuring costs for twenty years in heaven. And I’m saying, -I can’t do it anymore.”

“Anymore?” it’s bothered him all these months, that word and he wonders what she thinks she’ll have after this, like they’re not so intertwined and connected that, like twins, they will forever feel what the other feels, want what the other wants, a string tied between them from countless, immeasurable amounts of time spent merged as one, “I ain’t ever not gonna be in you, woman, once mine -always mine. What’s there for ya after this, huh? Seven children -twenty years! -Goddamn I’m in you!” he shakes her at that and sees a spark of something he knows light up her eyes.

Elvis slides a hand from her shoulders, down over her sternum and feels her heaving intake of breath at the missed feeling of his hands on her, down past the tie at her waist, down to the planes of her firm belly, just a little swell and some soft skin that speaks of the souls they once made with their love. He presses his hand, large and warm and cupped to that precious sanctuary, kneading it, lifting it, weighing it just that little bit in his palm.

The little house is empty.

Elvis outright laughs at his mistake then, a booming, jarring laugh at having forgotten just who he’s got in his arms. He can feel Elaine’s violent shuddering along the entire length of him at the strange sound in their gloomy bedroom. Or maybe it’s from the dig of his fingertips at her womb, like he’ll claw inside it from the outside if he’s barred from plundering her the natural way.

Sweet Miss Phipps, Elvis thinks, with her hungry mind and starved body, so damn eager to be possessed, to be made good use of, to be pumped full and burdened with child again and again. He shoulda kept her swollen this past decade, prioritized her hunger over the tours and then, maybe then, she’d not have gotten notions like this.

“God gave me a remarkable woman.” he murmurs to himself in realization, his hands loosening their grip on her jaw to run the backs of his fingers against against the soft swells of her cheeks and Elaine’s heart speeds up in recognition of the shift in his demeanor, that thrumming resolution taking over his body behind her and helplessly her own responds to it.

As if she's another person, someone she would counsel to resist, to stay strong, Elaine feels her face turn towards the caress of his ringed fingers, towards the admiring touch that’s been her joy to wake to a million times, a touch that’s brought her purpose and comfort for twenty years. Her mouth falls open with a surrendering quiver and she makes no move to avert her mouth when his fingers sweep over her face and across her lips in a revenant mapping of his wife’s well known features. Her tongue darts out to taste even a sliver of his salt, she tastes metal instead as his ring glides by. It’s a heady feeling for anyone to realize Elvis Presley intends to fuck them, it’s entirely heightened by a familiar knowledge of his capabilities and a divinely witnessed right to his person.

It’s no villain staring down at Elaine, pressing himself to her -the distance has been necessary all these months to keep her anger and fear prominent, to remind her of the need for such dire action as divorce, the slightest, kindest of touches from him would dismantle that resolve, that garish image in her imagination. Now she’s close to the finish line, so close he’s fully panicking and she can feel the lightness of soon being free of her deceit. He’s no villain, he’s just a good man who has hurt her, who hurts himself more often and worse than how she’s hurting him. And soon they’ll be able to save each other. Just not today.

His hand slips to her throat and he kneads it, contemplating the give and delicacy of her pale flesh, and her responses, the languid subjugation of her body to his touches, just like he’d taught her in this very bed across from them.

She sees when his eyes flick up from her throat to their marriage bed and it’s like a million hummingbirds erupt in her belly in disbelief, in panic, in a frantic sort of hopeful missing.

“Elvis-“ she doesn’t know if she’s trying to warn him, trying to remind him of the wrongness of what he’s thinking, or if it’s a beg for him to ignore her sensibilities, to take her and make her that new little wifey with the carefree face and the mindless little head.

His face is dark and flushed like he gets when he’s aroused, his features seeming to get richer with the heightened intensity of his feelings and she can feel the sweat break out behind her through his silk shirt, slicking up her own back through the gauze of her dress. Elvis’ eyes drop back to her face, remaining there with a million intentions painted therein but not a single flicker of wavering shows.

Elaine had no reason to be as startled as she was when she felt his hands drop to her waist and spin her around, picking her up beneath the ribs with his astounding strength and tossing her like he would rag doll on his karate mats. She landed with a silly bounce amongst the bedding. It could have been romantic if he had any blue left to his irises as he looked down at her, sauntering to the foot of the bed himself and surveying her where she lay.

“Wife.” he greeted before taking hold of a footsie in each hand and spreading them apart for him to step between her legs.

"Elvis." A whisper as if saying his name any louder would unleash something they might both come to regret. As if it'd cause the dam she's locked her emotions in this entire ordeal will finally break. If she calls him husband it's over. He knows her inside and out, every crevice and dip in her body and soul has been mapped by him. The lie will come apart with a simple utterance of his title that he still has in this moment. The title he still has for three more weeks.

"Elaine." Her name comes out in a shaky breath that she can tell he's attempting to control, to rein in. Those blue eyes she's fallen in love with more and more as years had gone by are an inky void, pupils covering every inch they can and not just because of some pill he had to take or because she had watched him die right in front of her. Both their tongues dart out to wet lips and catch errant drops of sweat before she hears the *clink* of his belt.

That noise isn't new to her, the jangle and clanging of the metal a familiar sound. In the quiet of the room, in the quiet of the house? Of their home? It steals a breath from her lungs as sure as his body pressing down on her would have. The belt sounds like one of the heaviest ones he owns and a shiver unbidden rolls through her body as the cacophony of that gaudy belt gets louder and louder in her ears. Each breath takes effort, forcing air between the two of them that threatens to stifle any calming thought or action. A final puff of air- of his breath- warm and humid runs across her hair, forcing a loose strand of it to move.

Elaine doesn't. Elaine doesn't move an inch even as his belt finally comes off in a subdued flourish and a minor curse. Her eyes focus on the gaudy little harem lamp above them even as Elvis drops the belt ever so gently next to her body. It still clangs against the rings of his hand and its own golden links.

Sweaty and warm, his bejeweled hand moves to cup her cheek. "Mrs. Presley." he breathes her title into her lax mouth like it’s Holy Spirit anointed before slotting his mouth against hers with firm conviction in the rightness of his claim to her.

"Elvis."

It's not fair that all this force, all this passion, all this wanting that has -if she’s being honest- waned for her at times over the years is coming out of him only now, now when he thinks he’s lost her. Now that he’s more fool than he’s ever been. They’ve been alone too often in their marriage, if not separated by miles and oceans, separated by intent and interpretations of it.

“Still mine, for a few more months you’re still mine. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it. You jus’ take it, jus’ take me, Laney”

And if she weren’t blinded herself by a heartache the proportions of which were only matched by losing a child, she might think every grip and clash of their bodies tells her he wants her every bit as bad as she wants him.

Still.

Mindless and hazy she waits for him to notice how every give and shudder of her own frame declares her want for him. He thinks he’s forcing the matter -but all he’s doing is giving her some false hope to curl around and cry over when the fissure finally splits apart.

I wanted you. But I thought I was alone in it, she thinks she hears them both saying it with every lewd squelch and pant.

It’s cruel confirmation of how entwined they’ve become, how much knowledge of the other they’ve collected over the years that he can make her writhe even under these circumstances, have her shattering beneath him effortlessly like older, kinder, gentler times. It’s made worse when she can feel him slow, stopping partway in that familiar way when he’s edging himself, intending to make her go round the loop once more, the familiarity of it makes her want sob, not from any hurt of the present, but at the notion this may be the last time she feels it -they both want this to last. And that unity is a mocking thing, all context considered.

He’s sweaty and she’s trembling, there’s so much warmth coming off his angry frame that she feels like curling inside the furnace and letting him make her forget anything beyond this physical connection that was never in doubt, the sheets are cold and dry and foreign against her back by comparison and she thinks of sleeping alone amongst them for the rest of her life. Elvis seems to sense this weakness of hers, one he wished he supported sooner, taken advantage of back when she looked so indestructible but was privately fraying at the seams, trying to hold the whole fairytale together. He shoulda done this sooner.

Old dog, new tricks, maybe, but Elvis has always been clever, opportunistic even, and he keeps his thrusts shallow and tantalizing as his wife gasps back to life beneath him and he keeps her close, his hands wound into her hair, hairy forearms beneath her shoulders, her ankle caught somewhere near his ear and his sweaty nose dripping onto her cheek.

“C’mon now Tink, you’ve thrown your fit,” he reasons to her in a coo that is underscored by the cajoling gait of his hips rocking into her, it has her clenching around those first few inches of him again, “ya made your point. Don’t -don’t do this to us baby. You c’mon back now. Ain’t anythin’ out there that’d satisfy you like us. Ain’t nobody else needs ya more dan hims does, satnin, don’t leave hims, baby.”

A good fuck, that’s all she needed, he’s sure of it. Or a couple of ‘em. He shoulda started dishing them out in Palm Springs but he’d been so angry when she filed and she’d been so cold. A couple of good fucks, that’ll solve it.

And to be heard. Which -she’s gotten that, all of America’s been hearing how he can’t keep his own wife.

Whatever bit of sentimentality he’s feeling right now, the sort that makes him wanna spill over how pretty she looks, vanishes in the angry tumult of his recalled humiliation. It fires him up instead and he snorts in his breath above her like an angry bull, perfectly capable of making her pay, making her see some sense, too. The longer she doesn’t reply the more this feeling surmounts the gentler ones and if Elvis were being honest, he knows denial had given way to rage and now bargaining and he’s full on panicking, trying to keep a woman who he shouldn’t have to chase.

She’s his wife.

“Elaine?” even to his own ears he sounds frantic and rough.

She is crying beneath him now, he thinks, that’s not all sweat making her face shine and her lips are taut like when she’s trying to hold it in and he wonders why the hell she’s the one crying. He feels like crying, he’s being left without an explanation or a pot to piss in. And all that while he’s still perfectly capable of proving he’s the best she’ll ever get. It’s like she’s agreeing with him when her hips start to move on their own accord, disagreeing with his teasing thrusts and instead she impales herself up on him, rough and sloppy to the rhythm of her fits of crying.

“I loved you.” Elaine sobs into his neck and he could wring hers for the confusion of it, for the way he just doesn’t get her after a lifetime of trying and how only this, this communion, this passion, this fucking is the only thing they make great sense at. Back when it had a purpose, back when it was to bring joy, to make a baby or five, and even now -to tie her to him somehow.

He folds her body viciously and plants his foot on the bed, thrusting so hard into her with all that wild abandon he knows she’d been jealous of him expending on his audience and not his family. “You greedy lil bitch, you love me,” he growls, “-what a revelation.”

‘Just an ounce of all that passion would go a long way, Elvis’ -he can hear the echo of her stupid little voice even now.

Passion? You want passion, Tink? He doesn’t think he’s ever been so passionately furious when he’s climaxed before ever in his life. For once it’s quite obvious he’s not ‘made love’, war maybe, but not love -and ain’t that another joke, he’d meant to make her love him again.

Elaine tears at his back with her fingernails and hears him snarling at her that he won’t stop, can’t stop, why can’t she stop this nonsense? She grips him harder, she seizes herself as he starts to slow, claws at his back with each vicious pump -seems they’ll both be shifting in their seats next time in the courtroom.

“Elaine?” he sounds so broken, like he does those times when they bring him back from heaven’s gates, it’s mumbled into her neck again like always but this time there’s no drugs to blame, not directly, not if she’s honest. She’s the one killing him. This little plan of hers to save him, just might finish him.

She prays God will be kind, prays he’ll keep her man alive long enough for her to finish this ugly business and restore his freedom, prays that maybe the hot slosh of spend coating her womb won’t be a waste. That she’ll have something of him left, just once more, please just one more. Something left of the man she married. Something to remind her of why they married and of what it was like to be happily married. Maybe just once more she wants to carry his entire world inside her.

“No, Elvis. I-I’m sorry, no.”

When he pulls away, it's not just sweat coating his lashes and his face. This plan of hers might just finish them both.

_______________________________

Every day in that courtroom is another layer of pride and image stripped away from Elvis and her and their perfect Southern Camelot. Every day is another headline for the papers with pictures of Elvis making a fool of himself in a way that can’t be smoothed over by anyone. Every day has cameras being shoved in Elaine’s face as she leaves with another hickey on her neck, bruising and blossoming in a way that looks grotesque when she sees it on the news later that night. The black outfits don’t help the contrast.

Every other day is being thrust against a bathroom stall’s wall with heels digging into Elvis’s back.

“E-Elaine-" He’ll stutter out, the feel of her clenching around his cock making it hard to focus or maybe it was the bite of her nails through his dress shirt. "You stop this. Been grovelin' 'n I deserve to have my wife listen."

"Ex. Wife." Elaine will huff out, words slurring into a quiet mewl as his cock brushes that one spot.

"Wife." An argument and a fact that he'll hammer home until the very last second he can. She never corrects him after the first time, too worried the knowledge would crush him to the point of everything finally giving out.

Jesse has taken to looking askance at her, worried and haunted little looks with fluttery hands at shoulder level that remind her of Elvis before he married her. If she had Elvis’ grit she’d ask her son if he had something to say and tell him to say it.

As it is she just pats his elegant hands, a man’s hands, she realizes, and thanks him profusely for his support, for being there at court with her day after day, missing practice and missing dates, letting a youthful spring and summer slip on by. They’ve been at this for close to a year.

“It’s nothin mama.” Jesse insists, almost offended at the idea he’d be anywhere but by her side.

________________________________

|| 5th, JUNE 1977 ||

When Ann makes her call, Elaine’s heart fills with all the old butterflies and girlish excitement of a past decade. They’ve kept in touch, of course they have, but between the touring, the marriages, and the unspoken acknowledgment of life falling apart from one and coming together for another, there’s less common ground to chat about compared to the days when Elaine used to share her husband and two little vixens named Thumper and Tink got to pick him apart in gleeful adoration like girls with their crush.

“Can I come by?” Thumper asks her, soft and kind but without the playful undercurrent that precipitated all her other visits.

“Well of course you can, you know you can.“ Elaine puzzles, finger worrying the wire in a nervous tick that has nothing to do with anticipation, dread pools in her belly instead.

There’s no children to greet Ann when she comes to the door, Marie at school and Jack away at his apprenticeship in California, Jesse has taken to spending his days in the studio when he’s not needed elsewhere, Daisy on the road and Rosalee in College, Ella married and attempting to assimilate with her in-laws. It feels like a ghost house compared to what Ann recalls. Maybe it’s just the passage of time but something terribly wrong and lonely strikes her at the lifelessness of the grand house, like it’s become haunted without a single death.

Unless it’s the death of the Presley’s as a whole. That would do it.

Elaine stands at the top of the stairs like old times, but there’s no gambit of children to wait for and so she speeds down the stairs at a breezy gait, smiling soft and subdued even as she refuses to be coy with her hug. She wraps Thumper up in a deep embrace and Ann squeezes her back, saying a million things at once by their clutching hold, murmuring little half sentences of condolences and “missed you’s”.

“What’d you come for?” Elaine asks her at the dining table after having supplied ice water and coasters for her guest. Ann turned down the saltines Elaine devoured with peculiar relish.

Always a straight shooter, Elaine. It makes Ann sigh and smooth out her skirt, clearing her voice to repay her candor with like. “I came to see what on earth was going on. To see if you were ok. And, I guess I came to see if it’s really happening. Nobody really thinks it’s happening. Or -I don’t know.”

“It’s happening.” Elaine replies with grim resignation.

“I don’t understand because Elvis says you’re the one divorcing and I always thought if one-“ Ann stops herself to scoff, “-I actually never thought either of you would ever divorce. You’re sincere?”

“It’s happening.” Elaine repeats, shielding her saltine chewing with a manicured hand. The action also flashes her still worn wedding band.

“So it’s not a threat?” Ann marvels, “When Roger insisted it was true, I thought it must be some drastic measure, something to get Elvis’ attention. His cooperation, you know, something to just-“

“-I’ve tried many drastic measures to gain that.” Elaine responds, “ all of them failed. I’d never ‘threaten’ something as horrible as this.“

“But…you’d do something…this horrible.” Ann murmurs, scared to play devil's advocate but utterly confused.

“You don’t know what I’ve been dealing with and, what you saw in the early days of residency, even the stuff on the film sets, it’s like aspirins compared to what he’s on now.”

“So it’s the drugs?” she whispers, heartsick, “You can’t handle being…around them? Around him?” she asks, then adds after careful consideration, “I have noticed you seem, seem still very tactile with him. I see the-“ she waves her finger at Elaine’s collarbones, “-I see the marks. Are you scared of him?”

It is unthinkable of Elvis. It really is, and Ann knows her face must show disbelief even when presented with her friend's mottled skin, and she hates herself for doubting a woman’s account, but if Elaine were to say she’s scared, Ann isn’t sure she’d be able to buy that. Not of Elvis. Even under the influence.

“Gosh no.” Elaine scoffs, a beat too late. “I just can’t do it anymore. All of it. Just the typical little things that build up in a marriage, I suppose.”

She tries to grin and Thumper thinks it’s the weakest acting she’s ever seen. Elaine more convincingly played a virgin in their home movies when deepthroating cucumbers for Elvis’ enjoyment.

“How’s Roger? Elaine asks, through with defending herself and Ann feels lost, adrift and unable to get near like she once did.

“Roger is fine.” Ann replies, “He sends his best. How is Ella?”

“Tell him I’m sorry they brought your name up, last week.” Elaine sighs, no apology offered to Thumper. They both know she’d be offended at an apology for being associated with them. “Ella is decidedly pregnant, that’s what she is.”

“Is she?” Thumper coos, followed by an alarmed quavering of hope and concern on her face. “Elaine, that’s-“ it is wonderful despite the circumstances but Elaine’s brittle posture suggests a to-do about it might sink her. “Congratulations, Grandma Tink.” Thumper settles for, daring to reach across the table top, seizing Elaine’s hand and squeezing its saltine dusted elegance.

“Thank you.” she whispers hoarsely, “She calls me everyday. Reminds me of you and me back when … her man he -he sounds sweet. Of course he’ll be gone awhile and so I’m all she has got to talk to about throwing up each morning and watching things swell.” None of this is how they expected or intended, Elvis and Elaine should both be hovering about and annoying their first grandchild before they’re even out in the world. Instead Ella’s perched down in Texas, no doubt terribly homesick, and Elaine’s talking about grandbabies like it’s another addition to the carport. “Tell Roger we’re sorry they brought your name up. Please tell him.”

“We don’t care.” Thumper insists and Elaine hopes that’s an accurate representation of Roger’s feelings. “He only asked-“ Ann stares out the front windows and down the drive towards the gates, summer colors brilliantly lush outside the house, she’s seen this view so many times it hurts, “-he asked that I make sure that…any…videos, and such, were disposed of.” she winces as she gets it out, once her manager, always her manager that man. “I wasn’t sure which of you to ask about them.”

Elaine stares at her intensely as if trying to read her soul. “I’ve most of them upstairs. Ruined by pregame juice mainly but the labels are sentimental so I’ve kept them.” Ann wonders if they’re ruined at all, and if they are she wonders if it’s by orange juice or by something far more lewd. Elvis never had great aim, “I’m sure Elvis has the ones we sent him under lock and key. Either way, you know neither of us would endanger you. You know that, Thumper.”

“Yes, yes I do.” Ann breathes, resting her chin in her hand, mournful at having insinuated otherwise.

“So you can tell Roger they’re not a worry.” Elaine prods with the shadow of an old smirk, “And you never know, in future it might not be so hard to track Naughty and I down at once.”

“Oh?” Ann squints at her in confusion.

“Mhmm.” Elaine just hums and shrugs her shoulders, the purple little mark on her clavicle shadowing with the movement. “Are you saying the night, Thumper?”

Ann leaves that evening more bewildered than when she arrived. “You were right, Roger,” she tells her husband as she settles beside him late that night, “she didn’t tell me a thing. Not really.”

___________________________

|| 9th, JUNE 1977 ||

“They’re gonna stop pressin’ ‘bout Thumper,” the murmur of his voice registering before the hand on her arm does as they both find themselves heading to the bathroom. It’s a flimsy sort of an excuse and one she’s beginning to think the papers and the news cameras see through.

“That’s good.” Her voice is a little too airy but today’s been a back and forth of yelling and excuses and all Elaine’s thinking about is how one of Daisy’s bandmates called her up from a payphone telling her that they almost couldn’t wake her for the show. The show she shouldn’t be doing but the show that Elaine let her do because she’s been playing being an adult for so long that who was she to argue against it?

“Told her we’d make sure it was- nothing came out. Roger was worried about it. For her image and for his, maybe.”

After all, it’s one thing to just be married to Ann-Margret, another thing entirely to be married to Thumper who’d rolled in the hay literally and figuratively with the Presleys at their lowest point. He’s never minded her continued friendship with them but that was before whispers of infidelity turned into whispers of sexual romps that were taped and stored or pictures that were taken and used as masturbatory material. He's never minded until Joe E, bless his soul, implied he might've seen copper locks in a video from Circle K that Elvis had shown a few of the members of the Mafia. Not that the court or anyone could find such a video.

The lock to the bathroom clicks behind Elvis and he turns around, raising an eyebrow. “Now hold on a minute, she- Thumper thought we’d- I’d never-”

“She didn’t. Roger was concerned. She knows us well enough, Elvis.” Still reassuring him as if they’re not going through what is turning out to be the messiest divorce the world has ever seen and likely will ever see. “I told her as much and she felt bad about asking.”

About the tapes and the photos, not so much about their divorce, Elaine reasons. As much as she wants to fault one of her oldest friends -it’s understandable. That was the purpose of the divorce. To come out of left field and appear to all concerned as if the faithful wife has finally grown unable to force herself to put up with Elvis Presley any more. The Colonel wouldn’t question that and had wanted it for years, if anyone were to ask him. Ann- their lil Thumper wouldn’t have been able to keep her plan a secret, her loyalty to Elvis and Elaine would have put her in a spot that Elaine didn’t dare want to shove her into. No, it was better for her to question the same as everyone else. Maybe if this went well they could all have a laugh about it in Hawaii. Or at the very least, Ann could forgive her.

“Don’t know why she didn’t jus’ ask me, ‘m the one who-'' Elvis's voice trails off when it hits him. Why would she ask the person who likely doesn’t hold most of them. Who’s fixin’ to lose everything in a divorce he desperately doesn’t want. “Least she knows now."

Elaine should agree with him, she should agree with him that at least Ann knows now, but she only knows part of the story. She only knows that the man she fell in love with on a movie set and his wife she maybe sometimes loves as more than a friend won’t damage her the way they’re damaging each other. How even Elaine had to joke that maybe it would be easy to run into them together in the future. Even during these hellish days in court they can’t escape each other’s orbits.

Pretending to not love and care for Elvis is an impossible task when what she’s doing is because her love and her care for a man who is sometimes brutish and stupid and selfish is so overwhelming it threatens to choke her.

At her silence, Elvis allows himself to crowd into her space, hands grasping at her hips ever so gently. "How's Rosalee?"

They're both too tired to fight in this bathroom, their energy having been spent outside of it for everything else. Asking about his favorite daughter, the one who's lived and breathed for her daddy for years feels safe.

"Not- she's not very good, Elvis. It's been- she hasn't really been the same." Since what happened. If things were different maybe she'd be taking the time to relax at home and maybe Daisy wouldn't have run off from guilt and - no. Elaine can't dwell on that even as her eyes start to water.

"It's hard on them." His tone isn't accusing, instead managing to just state a fact. This whole divorce has been hard on all of them. Even if Elaine's the one instigating everything he sees how unhealthy she looks. Feels how her body seems to be breaking down in ways that aren't as flashy as his body but the signs are there.

God knows he's not always been the most pious of men in action, that somehow all his good intentions and gospel songs haven’t managed to pull him back as he skidded down the road to hell, yet he’s got such a hankering to hide in the cleft of the rock once again. Acknowledge he’s a man, a failing man, a wayward husband, a prodigal son.

He finds himself reaching for Laney’s hand, palm up in a way she recognizes without a word. She clasps it without hesitation, in a time worn manner they’ve used before marriages, births, trips, shows, bedsides of sick and dying friends and here in this tiled little haven of the courthouse where they’re allowed to be as vulnerable and broken as their Heavenly Father knows them to be.

They bow their heads and Elvis finds himself begging his Almighty not for a return of fortunes but merely a cessation of tragedies. Elvis’ hand twitches, a pinky disentangling from Tink’s clasp and tickling her belly, like a presentment, like a benediction of nothing more than a heartbroken hunch on his part.

_____________________________

|| 29th, JULY 1977 ||

Elvis regrets answering the door to his penthouse the moment it swings open to reveal Johnny Cash with that sort of frantic and half crazed look in his eyes that Elvis thought he'd given up at the beginning of the decade. Wasn't that a hoot, the two of them swore up and down they had gotten clean for their women, the loves of their lives- the ones that God blessed them with to live out their present and future everlasting lives with- only to fall back into those old habits. What a cosmic joke.

"You're a fool, Presley." Short and to the point in a way that only Johnny can manage. Elvis exhales, wondering what exactly he's done to God to earn one of his oldest friends calling him a goddamn fool at the closest thing he's got to a home nowadays. His lil Schnucki comes to visit him, and Jesse's called once or twice but ever since that- ever since he realized how serious his Laney was about leaving him- Graceland ain't his home anymore.

"Ain't gonna say anythin'? No fight left in you?" The door to the penthouse is kicked in and if Elvis was any other person, or Johnny was any other person Elvis might've jumped. As it is, all he manages is a shrug as he pinches his nose. His head's achin' and his eyes hurt and all he wants to do is sleep. Take something to make every whisper floating in his head die down. An older brother telling him how he's ruined his life isn't remotely something he's got the patience for. Not after today's courtroom.

"Whatcha want me to say, John? Ya know everythin', so whatcha want me t'say, hm? Laney's leavin' me, takin' what she wants and leavin' me poorer than I met her."

Not monetarily, no, Elvis figures he could handle that better than the reality of his Laney, his Tink, the bjggest part of his soul other than his mama leaving him. Elaine's leaving him a man with barely any soul left in him to fight and go on. And he swears- lord he swears he felt something different about her recently. Something swelling that shouldn't.

"What I want'ya to say is that I'm gonna go back to my hotel and me and June are gonna tell each'otha that this whole thing's jus' you all been stubborn as a pair o'mules. Cause if it ain't, I gotta be real concerned June's gonna up and do the same thing on me." Johnny's always been someone who doesn't let Elvis get away with half the things everyone else does. Maybe it's because of how they started things together or how Johnny knows that half the reason he's got June is because of Elvis. Or maybe it was some misplaced need to be a brother to Elvis- to fill in a spot he figures his twin would've.

"June ain't gonna-" Elvis starts before Johnny uses the two inches he's got on Elvis to his advantage, staring the other man down as he cuts him off.

"Lane wouldn't've. Shouldn't've. Yet she is. This ain't- this ain't 'bout whatever damn excuse she's got. Can't be. There's somethin' you ain't tellin' everyone."

More and more Elvis has to laugh at his life and how everyone seems to think he's got some power over his Laney. That this whole divorce and the way he's embarrassing the both of them day after day is just another show. A snow job as the colonel would put it. This would be so much easier if that was the case. It isn't the case though, it isn't the case and Elvis feels his laughter escape him like the boom of a cannon.

"If there's anythin'- The whole damn country thinks I'm an idiot who can't keep his wife and here- I don't need you to be thinkin' 'm an idiot who don't know some grand plan his wife's cooked up. Ain't no plan. Ain't nothin' I ain't already groveled about and cried about in those hallowed halls. Laney jus' don't want me any more."

A silence settles between the two men at that revelation with Elvis breathing sounding so labored that even through the haze of his own drugs Johnny levels a look at his friend. It’s only after he’s sure that the other man won’t pass out and die on him that he actually speaks.

"You- You ain't me. She ain't Vivian. She- Elvis there ain't no way she's- that ain't it. You're both- you two can't keep your hands off each other even divorcin'. She- she still wants ya.”

“She wants my cock, John. Wants my money. Wants my house. My mama’s house. Know I said it was hers the moment we got hitched but- it wasn’t ever supposed to be hers. It’s- It’s ours.” Elvis isn’t one to break down, not in front of certain people and Johnny might be one of his friends that are near and dear to him but he doesn’t want to lose it in front of him. Doesn’t want to cry and blubber like he has been in the courtroom, pleading and begging for Elaine to just see sense. “We don’t- She don’t love me any more. T-That’s all there is to it. No grand con-spear-ah-see. Jus’ my wife wantin’ to be my ex-wife. Don’t know if I blame her. I ain’t-”

“You been a better husband than I was. Better husband than a lotta men. If- if 'Lane wanted to leave ya? She'd have done it back in the 60s. When you were carryin' on wit' what's her name- Swedish girl- fire hair. But she went 'n made friends wit' her. That woman's supposed to be yours till Kingdom Come 'n beyond. This doesn't make a single lick of sense and ya know it!"

One would think that nothing could echo in this penthouse and yet somehow Johnny's booming yell, filled with bass that Elvis is sure have made men greater than him bend and cower, echoes and reverberates in his ears. A stark reminder that Elaine and him seem to affect everyone around them for better or worse. Elvis's heart pumps a little harder as he tries to wrap his aching head around everything for what feels like the millionth time.

"I-I know it don't. This- you know these things don't take this long, John. I've-I been draggin' this out. Stickin' my damn heels in the mud. Anythin' to get her to come back, to see what- anythin' to not lose her. And she's jus'- ain't none of it workin'. Daisy up'n'ran off, Rosalee jus' wants me to be near her mama or her mama near me. Jesse's lookin'-"

"That what it is? Her doing it for the kids?” Johnny’s question has him tilting his head, not entirely unlike the millions of dogs Elvis’s children have had over the years. He ought to be offended Johnny cut him off so easily and without a care in the world and yet Johnny’s one of the few people he’d let do that. “She’s doin’ this for your kids.”

For once, Elvis has to look at Johnny and guess at what he means whether it’s because the man is too stunned to put it into words or because he doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, Elvis doesn’t know. He can hear his heartbeat going a bit too and a bit too hard in his ears as he answers.

“Ya mean- have i been failin’ them too? Have a been as bad of a father to ‘em as ‘ve been a bad husband?” The laugh that leaves Elvis sounds more like a sob than anything else. Johnny purses his lips even as he listens. "Ya mean how I found out I'm havin' a grandbaby through Laney? Or how Daisy's worse than you’n’I together on whatever she's takin'? Or how my boys acted like superheroes for their sister? How my lil Schnucki had- how I had to find that out from the Harrisons and my boys? ‘N I wasn’t there to blow those fools’ heads clean off their necks?”

Johnny realizes right then he’s made a mistake coming here. Or maybe just made a mistake pressing this point like it’s honestly any of his damn business. “You haven’t-”

Elvis cuts him off with a wave of his hand as he steps away, trying to feel less like a caged animal. “That’s right, I haven’t. I haven’t, John. Haven’t been there, haven’t given ‘em what they need. I had one job. Take care of all of ‘em and love ‘em. Failed so- I don’t blame her, John. I- I love her. Ya know I do. You know this sorta love but I can’t, I can’t make her love me again. S-she ain’t gonna love me again. Not the way she has.” His breath comes in short pants as his hand shakes and his leg jitters like he’s a man twenty years and nearly ten children younger. “I tried fixin’ this. The kids- the kids tried fixin’ this. But they can’t- can’t get through to her, these days! They’re all beggin’ and cryin’ and torn up and the Tink I know wouldn’t’ve lasted a week after causin’ such hurt to our babies. Well this new edition of her’s done made it close to a year.”

Johnny opens his mouth to speak only for Elvis to hold up a finger and force himself to take a deep breath, like Laney told him to those times after she thumped his heart back to life for him. Laney’d get what she wants if he died but he’s got a grandbaby he’s gotta see. Wants to try and see. “A year. Been nearly a year and it ain’t workin’. Nothin’- been tryin’ to remind her’ve what we had. What I give t’her. It-” Elvis starts to trail off, the fight that Johnny had put inside him slowly deflating till all he’s left with is the shell of a man who’s bone tired. Bone tired and losing everything no matter what fight he puts up. His shoulders slump.

Watching someone who’s as larger than life as Elvis Presley seemingly fold in on himself feels wrong in Johnny’s mind, but it gives him the answer he needs. It gives him the answer he’s looking for when it comes to just what’s going on with this whole divorce and what’s going on with Elaine and Elvis. His legs cross over to where Elvis is in only a few steps and without missing a beat, his arm wraps around Elvis’s shoulder. Elvis might not be his brother in blood but they’ve gone through enough that- that he wouldn’t leave him out in the cold without a hint of comfort.

“You gotta make peace wit’ it, then. Gotta- The Lord ain’t gonna want to see the two of ya fightin’ till ya keel over and die. Gotta give- If what she wants is to not be your wife any more, ya gotta give it to her. Just to make peace.” His voice isn’t much louder than a low rumble and yet Elvis can hear him clear as day.

“She won’t be my Laney any more. Won’t be my Tink.” A response as if he's a child being denied his favorite toy. Johnny doesn't stop himself from huffing out a laugh.

"But she'll still be Elaine, your children's mama. It ain't like you won't ever see her, EP." But that’s not the problem, that’s never been the problem and from the way Johnny’s looking at him, he knows that. “But ya gotta- it’s not doin’ either of ya a bit o’good to be draggin’ it on and on. Not after everythin’. Been livin’ ‘part for so long-” Johnny trails off, hand moving to rub at his eyes as he shakes his head. “Nothin’ you’ve done’s fixed it. Might not be meant to be fixed in those ways.”

“I-I- I don’t have anythin’ to fall on, John. I leave her it’s jus’ me and-” The medicine I got coursin’ through me, is what he should say. “I don’t know how to not be her husband.”

A silence settles over the two of them, punctuated only by Elvis’s heavy breaths and Johnny’s sharp and quick ones until Johnny settles himself against the wall, crossing his arms and raising his leg to press against it.

“Never said ya had to stop actin’ like you were.”

__________________________________

|| 6th, AUGUST 1977 ||

It’s a supreme irony that after a year of wishing for a cessation of that old stubbornness, that bitter pride of his, when such submission comes in the form of a mute and sullen husband opposite in the courtroom, Elaine feels her heart hammer in her chest, bewildered and terrified as he concedes one settlement after another in quick session.

Jesse gasps beside her at the change, even looks ready to beg her to reconsider her greediness as 90% gets handed over without a hint of the raging qualms her opposition has been voicing for five months.

Only Colonel Parker appears scared as shit, angrily grabbing at Elvis’ limp arm and trying to interrupt his directions with the lawyers. Each new verdict gets waved through by a lazy flick of a bejeweled hand and Elaine thinks the repetition of the gavel granting her all she wants could make for a decent backbeat in the studio.

After an agreement to give up 90% of his catalog, Elaine and Jesse both share a look, heartbroken and relieved that he’s really, truly, finally given up.

It’s obvious to all that it’s a bodily wearing out, Elvis looks awful and no amount of jewelry or eyeliner or Snow Job paraphernalia can hide the fact Elaine’s husband is a sick man. Even the papers who’ve found him easy pickings for ridicule and blame suddenly find some heart for his obvious suffering, even if the compassion is wedged between headlines about his expanding waistline and her latest money grab.

“What’s with you?” she demands and this time it’s her hand around his wrist, the unsteady clop of his boots following her heels after the click of the bathroom latch. When she drops his wrist his gold studded hand lands heavily by his thigh, he makes no move to crowd her, to grip her hair and kiss her like old times. “What was all that about?” she finds herself angry instead of relieved, mimics his lazy hand waves and scoffs in his face. She knew and planned on this day coming, but it doesn’t make it less unsettling as she takes in the victory of her spirit over his. He’s her man after all, her daddy and her provider, tough and proud and one of a kind and she’s beat him at the game of wills. She can feel her eyes pooling and angrily runs a hand under her nose as he stares at her with a blank, droopy expression.

“M’tryin’ to make peace.” Elvis shrugs, it was Johnny’s advice. Whatever it took, even if it meant giving in, he’s the man of their house and he’s here to make peace. Maybe if they end on a kind note he’ll be thought of, invited into the inner circle even even, by the time Ella pops out their grandbaby. “Never cared about the fuckin’ catalogue Tink, was only ever about buyin’ time to convince you to stay.”

The colonel’s panic at this latest settlement, one that finished the final prying open of his carefully constructed facade, one that’s exposed him to years of investigations, jail time maybe -though few outside of Elaine, Mr. Corleone and the FBI know that yet- is like sipping a mojito after a long day baking in the sun for Elaine.

Two decades of her saying he wasn’t right and Vernon telling her to go mind the carpet bill, change a diaper, redo a curl.

It should be refreshing, it should be a tonic to the way she feels shaky most mornings and ravenous in the evenings. Instead she finds herself trembling and laying an icy hand to Elvis’ burning forehead, registering the unnatural heat even in this chilled bathroom. It’s not just the stupid velvet coat, one blue eye is far more dilated than the other now she’s pulled his glasses down. He flinches from it, whether from the brightness of the bare bulbs or her touch, she isn’t sure.

“What’ve they got you on?” she sounds like a frog, throat all constricted and voice thin. She cares, she still cares so much and it could’ve been just yesterday she folded her handsome young groom into that bathtub in Germany and held him through the shakes. She wishes she could ask him ‘why do you always waste my love?’ But somehow, even after all her cruelty, that feels a little mean. “Baby, talk to me, what’s -“

Elvis grabs her hand, gently this time and he folds it with her other in both of his, a tan, sparkly little cage, she wonders how long it’ll take him before he pulls his wedding band off. Will he discard it before they make it out of the courthouse today? “Don’t you fret yourself, lil mama, those days are over.” he rumbles as he squeezes her hands and she wonders if he means days of fretting or drugs, they coincide often enough, “You jus’ take care of y’self, ok?” he sucks in a trembling breath and his glasses pinch between her fingers in his squeeze, “Without me there to nag ya bout it I-I -you take care of y’self.”

“Oh Elvis-'' she whimpers, moving closer, wanting to beg for some forgiveness, all clever plans and well timed revelations beginning to fray as she watches him rally his old magnanimity despite his grief.

_____________________________

|| 28th, SEPTEMBER 1977 || >>

He’s not alone in this concern, Elaine doesn’t know if she has Jesse or Daisy to blame for the way Marlon shows up in Memphis like that Yankee son of a bitch belongs that land bound. There’s never been a reason to see Brando except on one coast or another and it’s jarring for Elaine, seeing him take up space that’s so uniquely Elvis’ property, even if it’s under her name.

To see him in her home. Her true home.

She’s no good at hiding her nerves or the exhausted paranoia of wondering how Elvis will react when he hears of this visit. Marlon reads her like a book and leans against her kitchen counter, acting like Mary isn’t throwing them a million side eyes over the biscuit batter, and asks after her well being.

“Pretty terrible, thanks. And you?” she shrugs, wringing out a dish towel over and over. She doesn’t know when she became so fidgety, nowadays it seems she’s always betraying her nerves with restless hands and she never had that trouble before. Always a baby to hold if she needed the excuse, she guesses.

Her last baby is nine years old. And so she wrings out her dish towels and stares back at an old lover with the weary openness of a woman who doesn’t really care anymore. Elvis has been her one goal, and saving him is killing her as effectively as it is him. Those last days she wasn’t sure he was going to keep making it into the courtroom, shifting in his chair not from her nails furrows but from the repeated shots in his rump. The ones that have killed him a few times over.

Jesse made a visit to him in Vegas. Elaine doesn’t know what he said but her boy has barely spoken since. She asked her son how his father was, quite aware she doesn’t know the particulars from his fevered attentions in the handicapped bathroom of the Santa Monica courthouse. Her man would crawl out of his grave for the chance to make love one last time, it’s not a good gauge. Jesse said he keeps the curtains closed constantly. That he’s not letting anyone up. Charlie barely let Jesse up. His eyes are bad, so bad the curtains stay closed, otherwise Jesse couldn’t tell, couldn’t get a good look at him. He didn’t stay for the concert. Cissy says his voice has held up this time, at least.

“Pretty terrible.” She tells Marlon, because he’s always been more friend than lover, and that’s why he’s in Memphis when it’s a fool's errand anyway.

For all Marlon will speak his mind about this that and the other on things he cares about- yet God does he *care* about Elaine and so he bites his tongue at the first thought that pops into his head. *You've been pretty terrible for years and now you decided to care and do something about it*.

Instead: "You look terrible."

Which is a gross oversimplification of his feelings, but Elaine doesn't watch as his eyes slide over her pale and wan cheeks that look thinner than he's ever seen them. She doesn't watch how his eyes drift downward to breasts that are pressing against the dress she's wearing.

They remind him of when she was pregnant with Marie. They remind him of her breasts when she cried out beneath him against her tiki bar. If he closes his eyes he can picture them bouncing in front of his face, begging for him to bury his face in them. The boy- her oldest boy was right. Marlon doesn't even need to look at her stomach and yet some sick twisted masochistic tendency compels him to as if that'll change things.

It's small. Smaller than he figures any of her bumps have been and yet it's there. Mocking and growing at its own pace.

Proof that Elaine Phipps wants to remain Elaine Presley till one of them dies and maybe even beyond. Marlon can't help the way he exhales through his nose, unable to look away even as Elaine talks,

"Marlon, are you even listening?"

No. But he needs to.

"Mind wandered off, you know how I get, Elaine." He straightens up and tries to stay alert, “So, all this really fixed things for ya, eh?” he quips sardonically and she smiles, rolls her eyes, fully aware he’s not mocking her, he’s mocking the hopelessness of it ever working.

“Yeah. It’s all coming up roses.” she snarks.

“I uh-“ he stipples his fingers on the counter and weighs his next move, “-I heard that Colonel Parker’s recently landed in some seriously hot water. Something about the audits during the divorce and how certain things don’t match up. Got it from the papers, you know how long they stretch a few vague facts. I had to read two whole pages to get ‘fraud’ and ‘debts’ out of them. Anyways, I thought you’d find that nice -hot water, all that.”

“So hot it’ll boil his coat of lies right off with any luck.” Elaine seethes and her sudden passion takes Marlon by surprise. Stirs an old appreciation for just how much verve is always bubbling beneath her doll-like exterior. His fingers itch to let out the excess in a gush around his fingers. “Illegal alien.” She expounds, warming to her argument in the way of someone long overdue a listen, “Would you believe it? All those endless homebound tours -runing Elvis into the ground on the same circuit simply because that greedy fool couldn’t tag along. Couldn’t step outside the country. Always wondered why he never crashed our time in Germany, knew he would if could. Fake, heartless, toad.”

“Fuck him.” Marlon agrees vehemently and Elaine looks up with the same appreciative eyes of a decade past when she got no arguments from him, unlike all the menfolk surrounding her most days. Marlon abides by a simple rule: if it pisses Elaine Presley off, he needs no further research to say it ain’t shit.

“Yes, well, I’ll leave that to the Justice Department, I’ve done my bit.” Elaine sighs, her little victory crow short lived and even with his bias for the unattached Miss Phipps, Marlon can see how hollow her achievements are without Elvis to pat her pretty head for them. “It’s been weeks and I- I’m afraid he’s angry Marlon.” they’re not talking of the Colonel now, Marlon can tell by her love-sick face, “I knew he would be, with the divorce and probably with framing Parker but -he was so kind that day. So kind I thought he might’ve forgiven or just, I don’t know but now, now he won’t even answer my calls. Marie hasn’t gotten through either and -it’s not like him, Marlon, it’s not.”

“You got something pressing to tell him?” Brando asks and doesn’t even bother to hide the way his eyes flick back over her ripening form, pondering if her boy hadn’t been silly after all, going on about her not noticing. If he were a woman, a pretty woman like Elaine still is, Marlon would be weighing those growing tits each day with pride and mesmerization -but then again, Elaine’s had more on her mind than appreciating her own assets like a horny old star who never learned to aim for his own league.

“No I only wanted to-” she bites her lip as if unsure or else what she wants is unspeakably optimistic for a woman who just threw it all away. “I missed his voice.”

_______________________________

<<< || 16th, AUGUST 1977 ||

The knock at the door startled them both. Elvis pulled his back from it and faced it like he was gonna defend his wife from the mob he suspected was outside. Old habits die hard.

“Y’all?” Jesse yelled through the thick wood, “There’s half the city crowdin’ outside, there’s not gonna be a path to squeeze through soon.”

“Yeah alright son, thank you.” Elvis cleared his throat as he dropped her hands, straightening his posture fully. “You ready?” he asked dully, eager to get the worst moment of his life over.

“I gue- I- yes.” she stumbled over her meaning and smoothed out her black jacket.

"Daddy?" Jesse's voice was heard over the wood once more and both Elaine and Elvis took matching deep breaths, sweat droplets falling on Elvis’s eyes with a wince.

It's not pity that had Elaine putting the glasses back on Elvis’s eyes, her fingertips brushing against his temples in a simple gesture she's done a million times before. No, it's her last hurrah as his wife, her last action as his wife. They may have signed the papers within the past hour and legally she may be Elaine Phipps once more but until they walk out of this bathroom and this courthouse she was Elaine Presley, wife of Elvis Presley. A low hum reverbated against her chest before she pulled away, a soft smile across her lips.

"There there, Mopey, all better," she whispered in the sort of tone she only uses for the children when bandaging a hurt. "Let's- let's go face the music."

“Got me more nervous than any curtain I’ve been behind,” he joked even as it falls flat and his breath comes quicker and quicker. This was the beginning of their new life as separate entities. As an ex-husband and an ex-wife.

The door wasn’t that heavy when he shut it earlier and yet it felt as if someone had remade it out of concrete as Elvis tried to push it open once the lock clicked open. He could already see the flashing bulbs from the cameras and the press of the mass of people outside waiting for them. They were no stranger to crowds but this one was one none of them wanted to face. A look was exchanged between the three of them as their shoes clicked against the floor of the courthouse, a silent acknowledgement to try and get to their waiting cars as soon as possible.

"Jess! Mama!" Elvis and Elaine looked up through the mob of people as they pushed and pulled at each other trying to catch a glimpse of the former couple with their oldest son. They found themselves half blinded by flashes of cameras and the sun's own light, trying to find the source of the bellowed words. "We're over heyer!"

Jack then. Jack who was growing more and more into Elvis’s twin if not in bulk but in charm and whose shout sounds something like Sargent Presley’s in the army. Elaine looked at Elvis, biting her lip as she did.

"Soundin’ more like me everyday." Elvis commented as if he was commenting on the weather. It had never been hard to talk to Elaine. Yet in this moment, Elvis found himself at a loss for words. And from the way Elaine was looking at him, the feeling was mutual. Matching pink tongues darted out to wet dry lips and Elvis opened his mouth, his arm outstretched as if he was going to grab at Elaine's only for his oldest son to pop up between them, taking Elaine's arm without a second thought.

"I've got you mama. I gotcha, let's go."

The look he leveled at Elvis made every single moment in this courtroom for the past five months seem like child's play. To have his oldest son look at him like he did with any suitor that tried to come Elaine’s way, hurt. But that was his life now wasn't it? That's Elvis Presley’s life without Elaine Phipps. That's Elaine Phipps's life without Elvis Presley, protected only by her sons and her daughters from a man she once called husband. The man she once loved with every fiber of her being or so Elvis thought. Make peace with it, Johnny said. Make peace with her, Johnny said. Elvis didn't think that it would feel like this.

“I know you do, Jesse. Let me say goodbye to your father.” Elaine said as softly as she could in order to avoid the prying ears of every journalist between here and her car. “Jack and your siblings aren’t going anywhere. Not in this crowd. Even if Jack’d run them over to protect me.”

A smile unbidden crossed Elvis’s lips at the joke between their eldest and Elaine. She wasn’t wrong, but that was his boys and their love for their mother in a nutshell, wasn’t it? Capable of murder to protect her the same as him. She- she would be alright even if- even if what he suspected to be true was.

“Jack drove us here, all of us.” She explained as her eyes flitted across his form one last time to check for imperfections and for signs he might be needing anything. “I’ll make sure Ella calls you about-”

“It’s fine, Elaine. Made my bed, gotta lie in it now.” His eyes scanned across the crowd, even as he winced from the light of the sun and the flashes even through his sunglasses, finally settling on his car with Colonel Parker in the passenger seat, waiting for Elvis with a look of pure displeasure and mild panic on his face. “Gotta get him and I outta here ‘fore I give him a heart attack.”

Elaine’s face hardened at the words, and Elvis, in a fit of nostalgic responsibility for her happiness, moved to place a soft kiss against her cheek, squeezing at her hands as he did.

“S’been the joy of my life knowin’ you, Miss Phipps.”

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[dracolilhoe]

Secret Keepers Pt. 2 (Severus Snape x Y/n)

Pt. 1 -> Secret Keepers

Severus Snape x fem!pregnant!wife!professor

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings - Female reader, use of Y/n, Professor reader

Words: +2.4k

Summary: Severus & Y/n have been secretly married for the last few years. Y/n has a hunch that something big is happening, but isn't sure if she should trust her instincts.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

*Harry POV*

That was what felt like the longest detention in the history of detentions. How could Snape even be married let alone have a baby? I walk into the somewhat crowded common room spotting Hermione and Ron sitting at a table arguing about who knows what.

Hermione looks up spotting me. "Harry! How did the detention with Professor Snape go? He didn't give you a hard time, did he?" I shake my head. "You won't believe what I heard," I mutter taking the seat across from the two.

"As I was walking toward his office I heard him talking with Profesor y/l/n. Apparently, she's pregnant!" Ron's jaw drops. "Nooo!" He whines earning an eye roll from Hermione. "Ronald you never had a chance! She's too old for you, and you're too young for her!" Rons sighs, "Whatever, but why would she tell Snape of all people. They aren't exactly friends. Are they?"

"That's the thing," I lower my voice to a whisper. "Snape's the father!" "What!?" Ron shrieks his face contorting into a look of utter shock earning a few confused looks from the fellow first-year Gryffindors. Hermione raises her eyebrows the realization finally hitting her. She gives Ron a smack to the head, "Lower your voice, Ronald! They obviously want it to stay a secret!"

Ron rubs the back of his head muttering about how she didn't have to hit him that hard. "It all makes sense now," Hermione continues. "I wondered why she always wore a ring but thought it was too rude to ask about it. I can't believe I missed it!"

"I can't believe it.." Ron groans laying his head down on the desk. "Ron, Hermione's right. It's obviously something they didn't want anyone else to know. And you never really did stand a chance with her."

"I just, I don't understand. How could Professor y/l/n possibly be interested in that old git?" Ron asks. Hermione sighs, "Ron, she is obviously happy with him. She's his wife. He's probably different around her than the rest of us."

Ron gets up sighing dramaticly, "I'm going to bed. Clearly, life has nothing left for me." "Ronald grow up!" Hermione shouts up to him from the bottom of the stairs.

"If anything I wonder what you see in him," I smirk. Hermione rolls her eyes before scooping up the rest of her books in her arms. "That makes two of us."

-

"Sleep well, Ron?" Ginny questions as we take a seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. He gives her a look as he grabs some sausages putting them on his plate.

Hermione furrows her eyebrows looking over at Ginny. "Since when did you care what happens with him?" "Since I found out about Professor y/l/n. Heard she's been up to somethin. Just wonderin' how he's taking it."

"Shut your trap, Ginny!" Ron grumbles tossing a piece of sausage at her.

"Wait, how do you know about that?" I ask. She shrugs, "It's the talk of the school! It's been spreading like wildfire. I heard from some first-years about it this morning."

The three of us share a look before turning our gaze to Ginny. "Does... does everybody know?" Hermione bites her lip nervously. "At this point, I would assume so."

"Nice talking to ya Ginny. Will see you later." I say as Hermione and I stand up. Ron looks up at us confused. "Where are you guys going?" "Ronald get up!" "But we just started breakfast!"

"You won't get to finish it if Snape finds out who started this in the first place!" I hiss. "But it was you! I don't have any part in this!" Hermione rolls her eyes and grabs Ron's arm pulling him up. "Oi!"

Ginny's eyes widen. "You started it?" "Look Ginny we would appreciate it if you kept this quiet," I mutter. She nods. "Good luck." "What about my food?" Hermione grabs a piece of toast shoving it into Ron's mouth. "Come on lets go!"

The three of us quickly run back up to the common room. "Harry! What the hell mate?" Ron's voice is muffled as he finishes the last of his toast.  

"Hermione and I didn't even know about anything until you said something." He protests. "Ronald hush. If you didn't shout last night then nobody would have been paying attention in the first place!!"

He pauses the realization hitting him. "Oh... yeah. Sorry." He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "If anything it's your fault." I sigh. "Hermione putting the blame onto anyone isn't going to help. The bottom line is it was all three of us. Let's hope they didn't find out yet."

*Y/n POV*

My eyes flutter open as I glance over at the clock on my bedside table. I begrudgingly sit up just to be pulled down by a strong arm wrapped around my waist. "Severus," I murmur trying to loosen his strong grip around me.

He groans burying his face into my neck leaving light kisses. "Sev, we need to get up." He sighs, "Must you be so dreary?" I scoff. "Me? Dreary?"

He lets out a huff reluctantly moving away from my neck to rest his head against his pillow.

"I'm only stating you are quite boring." He teases. "I'm not boring!" I protest. "As much as I would love to stay in bed with you and do nothing all day, we have classes to teach."

He wraps his arm around me again and pulls me toward him. Causing me to let out a soft gasp. He places a gentle kiss to my lips as his fingers rub small circles on my stomach.

I smile to myself as I turn to look at the loving look plastered across my husband's face. He isn't the type of man to share his emotions. But the look in his eyes says all it needs to.

-

"Severus, I told you I'm fine." I chuckle as I walk in between him and Minerva. "No, you are not 'fine'." He retorts. "You can not skip breakfast! We have discussed this multiple times, love." "And I have told you time and time again that I'm not hungry."

"Y/n, dear, he's right. It would be best if you ate something. If not for you then for the baby." Minnie places a comforting hand on my shoulder. I know they are right. Of course, they are right. "I know I should but I just haven't been that hungry lately."

Severus lets out an audible sigh sending me a stern glare. We continue our walk down the corridor a few students giving us odd looks as we pass. "Um, anyone know what that was about?" I question glancing between the two.

They shake their heads just as confused as I am. I'm used to seeing Sev get looks from the students but this was different. Instead of fear, it was more like... curiosity? And possibly bewilderment? And it was directed toward me which is odd.

"Something's not right," I mutter as Minerva nods in agreement. We make our way into the Great Hall taking our seats. Filius sits between Minerva and Severus, and I am on his other side. I feel Sevs hand reach under the table to rest on my upper thigh.

"Good Morning Severus!" Filius says taking the napkin from his lap and wiping his lips. He gives him a polite nod in return as he brings a cup of coffee to his lips. "Oh, and I just heard the good news. Congratulations on the baby!"

Severus nearly choked on the coffee he was drinking. "I beg your pardon?" He questions as a quiet mumble of a curse escapes his lips. I turn to look at the charms professor in bewilderment. How does he know?

I turn my gaze to Severus who already has his eyes on me. "Did you tell him?" I question. He shakes his head. "I thought it was you." He admits as he turns to look back at the charms professor.

"Filius, how exactly do you know that?" He turns to look at me confusion etched across his features. "I heard some students discussing it this morning. I didn't know the students were aware of your relationship."

"They shouldn't be." Severus mumbles clenching his jaw.

"Minnie you haven't told anyone right?" She gives me a sweet smile and shakes her head. "That is not my information to share." "Then... who could it have been?" I question as she shrugs. "I think I might have an idea." Severus gets up from his seat and quickly heads toward the corridors outside the Great Hall.

I sigh, "Minnie this might take a bit. I might not make it back in time for the first classes. Could you watch them for me?" "Of course dear. You should probably settle this. Who knows what rumors have started." I give her a smile as I exit the Great Hall after Severus.

"Severus!" I call out as I chase after my husband. He stops spinning around to face me. "Yes?" "How could you possibly know who did this?" I now stand before him looking up into his dark onyx eyes.

"It was Potter." I scoff at his words crossing my arms. "How could it possibly be Potter?" He grabs my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, dragging me to his classroom.  

Once we enter his classroom he locks the door. "It's best if we talk here. We don't need any unwanted attention." He walks over to sit at his desk. I follow sitting across from him. "Alright now how in fucks sake could it possibly be Potter?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Darling, you told me yesterday night. Potter was supposed to have a detention yesterday night. He must have been eavesdropping. It is the only possible explanation!"

"There are plenty of explanations as to why it isn't Potter!" He raises an eyebrow, "Well, go on." I pause mid-sentence. "Well, I-" He lets out a small hum of satisfaction. "Well, I didn't even see him when I was leaving!" I blurt out crossing my arms.

"He was most likely hiding." Shit. He has a point. "Okay fine! Maybe it was Potter! But that doesn't explain how the whole bloody school knows by now! I haven't even seen him at all this morning."

"Hmm, I wonder why." He mutters sarcastically. "Oh, hush! If it is Potter then Weasley and Granger probably have something to do with it too." He nods in agreement. "Seeing as we have no idea where they are we should probably ask Minnie what their schedules are."

"She's supposed to cover my first class for a bit. I can ask her then." I steal a quick glance at the clock. "Speaking of classes, they start soon." I stand up walking around his desk to give him a quick kiss. "I love you. I'll see you in a bit."

I start to turn away but he tugs me back. He pulls me down his lips returning to mine. "Love you more, darling." I smile against his lips. "Oh and what should we say if the students ask us anything?"

I pause in thought for a moment. "I don't see any point in hiding it anymore. They already know." His lip forms a line indicating his uncertainty. "Are you sure you want that? Your reputation could be ruined because of me and-"

I place my finger over his lips shutting him up. "I don't care what they think. If they don't like me much anymore that's okay. I have all I need right here." He smiles at my remarks kissing my forehead, "How did I get so lucky?" He mumbles. I sigh cheerfully. "I do really need to go now. I love you. I'll see you in a bit."

*Harry POV*

"Oh, we are so screwed." Ron groans. "Professor McGonagall just told us Snape wants to see us, Ron. Of course, we are screwed!!" I mutter as the three of us make our way down the stairs to the dungeons. "We are so lucky we didn't have potions today."

"No kidding." The three of us stop outside the door to his classroom. "How much trouble do you think we are in?" Hermiones whispers. "Well, it's also Professor Y/l/n. So hopefully not too much." Ron answers nervously. I hesitantly reach out my hand and knock.

*Y/n POV*

"Don't be too hard on them!" He scoffs rolling his eyes. "They exposed us. They are lucky I don't give them detention for the rest of the year." "First of all do not roll your eyes at me! I'm your wife. Not a student. Second, we don't know their side of the story. So yes Severus, do not be an arse."

He opens his mouth to retaliate but stops. "Sorry." He murmurs. I avoid his gaze, "I'm sorry too. You are not an arse." Our heads both turn to the door at the sound of a knock. "Come in"

The three of them walk in their eyes avoiding Snapes and focusing on me. "Can one of you explain why the whole school is aware of our relationship?" Snape questions glaring at the trio. The three of them look at me as if asking me to help them out.

"Well go on. He asked a question." Harry takes a breath before speaking. "I heard the two of you talking last night and I told Ron and Hermione." Snape sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't explain how the school knows."

"Well, a group of first years heard us talking out it last night, in the common room," Hermione looks over at me. "We weren't going to tell anyone. But they heard us. It was an accident we swear!"

"I don't think there is anything we can do about it at this point," I say trying toward my husband. "Weeks denention. For the three of you." Ron's mouth falls open a gasp of astonishment leaving his lips. "Make. That. Two." Snape growls. The two turn to give Ron a glare. "Now go before I change my mind." The three scramble out the door.

"They are something else." "Tell me about it." I turn to look at Severus. "You going to actually get some sleep tonight?" "I have paperwork to finish, dear." I smile kissing his forehead. "Just come to bed at a decent time. I love you."

"Goodnight, my love. I love you too."

Pt. 1 -> Secret Keepers

____________

OMG!! First off TY so much for my first request!! <3

Second, I'm sorry this took so long to complete I've been a bit busy!!

____________

REQUESTED BY: @thatlittlefangirl

____________

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I wasn't able to tag everyone that read Pt.1 there was 200+ ppl🥲🙏

[void-wolfie]

Look At The Stars. Look How They Shine For You.

summary: you surprise tara with a midnight date.

pairings: Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader

tw: none, just fluff

words: 1.05k

a/n: threw this together in the middle of the night, not the best writer either, don't judge me too hard

Tink. Tink. Tink.

You were about to throw another pebble when the window finally slid open revealing your girlfriend in her pajamas, clearly not expecting company.

"y/n, what the hell are you doing?" she was whisper-shouting, trying not to wake the whole neighborhood from your antics.

"Come on, there's something I wanna show ya." She didn't move, and you were starting to wonder if this was a good idea, "Please?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes, though you thought you could make out a small smile, "Give me five minutes,"

You silently cheered, going back to wait by your truck.

"Where we going, babe?" Tara asked sleepily from the seat next to you.

The minute she settled into the passenger seat she was already half asleep, but you didn't mind. It was the middle of the night after all. You threw on some quiet music and focused on the road.

"Do you trust me?"

A small, tired smile, "I trust you."

You intertwined your fingers with hers, bringing her hand up to your lips to kiss her knuckles, "Thank you,"

Trust doesn't come easy, you know that, especially for her. You were simply happy that out of all the people to let in, she chose you.

You slowed to a stop, putting the truck in park before turning it off. Looking over to your right you noticed Tara had dozed off, huddled against the car door fast asleep.

Part of you felt bad for dragging her out of bed in the middle of the night. But you were too excited to listen to that part of you.

You grabbed the blankets and pillows from the backseat, tossing them into the truck bed and laying them out on the blowup mattress nice and neat.

When you were finally satisfied you went to the passenger side of the car, gently opening the car door.

"Tara, love, we're here."

She groaned a bit, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "Where's here?"

It was all empty fields and grass as far as the eye could see, the faint outline of trees and forest just off in the distance.

"A bit of land my family owns, come on, I wanna show you something."

She turned to look at you with a sleepy smile, dazed and only half awake, "What could you possibly have to show me at 2:30 in the morning?"

"Can't ruin the surprise now, can I?"

She looked at you like she was contemplating it.

"It involves blankets and cuddles," you said, knowing she'd cave in an instant for that.

"Carry me?" She made those adorable little grabby hands at you, and you couldn't help but fold. She was too cute not to.

"Alright." She wrapped herself around you like a koala to a tree, her tiny frame hugging you like she never wanted to let go.

You dropped down the tailgate and set her on the edge. It was only a matter of seconds before she turned around and cocooned herself into the mass of blankets.

You kicked off your shoes before climbing in and joining her. She wrapped herself around you once again. You noticed she had stolen your hoodie, the one you keep in your truck just in case. You didn't mind, if anything, you loved how she looked in it.

"So, you kidnap me and take me out to the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, all cause you want to cuddle in the bed of your truck?"

"Kinda.” You were nervous, scared that maybe she’d think this was all stupid. But you shrugged those worries off, she wouldn’t be out here if she didn’t want to spend time with you, “You just can't see the stars this good in the city."

That caught her attention. She never thought to look up, too distracted by the sight of you and the idea of sleep.

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but you were right. You just don't see stars like this in the city. There was nothing quite like it. She could easily look at them for hours.

In the city, you're lucky to see a few stars in the sky, maybe a constellation if it's a good night and there's not much light around. But out here, you could see them all. Stars glittered across the night sky by the millions.

You looked at her to see her staring at the sky above. It made your heart melt a little.

"See those stars right there, the ones that look like an hourglass," you pointed out the constellation, getting a small nod in response, "That's Orion, the hunter. Greek mythology says that he died when he stepped on a scorpion, and the gods felt bad, so they put him in the stars with his two dogs."

"Those stars right there, the ones that kinda look like a stick figure dog, that's Canis Major, the big dog, he's one of Orion's hunting dogs."

"And that one there, the one that looks like a funky trapezoid and a backwards question mark, that's Leo, the lion. According to mythology, he was killed by Hercules in a series of tasks that the gods gave him."

She glanced over at you, watching you gaze at the stars. She found it...enchanting. You looked at the stars like they held the answers to the universe. The stars seemed to shine that much brighter reflecting off your hazel eyes.

"How do you know so much about the stars?"

"My mom taught me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok." You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her ever so slightly closer, "She would've loved that I brought you out here."

Your mom passed away when you were young. You didn't have many memories of her, the few you did you held onto for dear life. When you were little she'd bring you out here and teach you about the stars and constellations. Sometimes, she'd even bring that telescope hidden up in the attic and point out distant galaxies or even the occasional planet.

Those were some of your favorite memories.

"We don't have to stay out here if you don't want to." You murmured, not knowing if she was bored or not.

"It's ok. It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it."

[reineydraws]

Hey Reiney! i've been following your Renkaza comic for some time now and it's kind of gotten me into the ship. Would you happen to have any fic recs to get me started?

im so honoured my comic got u into the ship! (@sshcomic for those who don't know! 🫶) i love giving out fic recs omg thank u so much for asking!!!! i have 15 for ya haha.

i'll have specific recs under the cut, but first i wanna just say that anything by emilieee @e-milieeee ; dragonsandcryptids @lesbiansanemi ; and tippertupper are great places to start! they're amazing writers with a good body of work and i've definitely gone through a lot--if not all--of their renkaza stuff! please check them out!

word count is rounded to nearest thousand btw! :) smoke and mirrors + demon's choice are big inspirations for my comic, if ur coming from there!

i've also realized these can be pretty lengthy so if u want recs with shorter word counts just lmk and i'll comb through my bookmarks for <15k. but anyways!

Smoke and Mirrors by emilieee (272k)

canon happens in modern times au, where akaza ends up as kyo's apartment neighbour, tho kyo doesn't initially realize akaza's a demon. it's emotional! it's plotty! akaza mentions kokushibo made all the kizuki's fake id's and i still think that's hilarious! it's got one of my fave enemies to besties akaza & shinobu plots ever! please read this!!!

last sunrise by DragonsAndCryptids (182k)

akaza turns kyojuro by accident bc he bleeds too much into kyo's open wounds during the mugen train fight, and neither notice until it's too late. shinobu notices too and decides perhaps that this might be a prime research opportunity... uh-oh! the ethical quandries are good in this, and shinobu while flawed is very well-written. renkaza also end up with a soul bond. another emotional one but god is the journey amazing. tw for some torture scenes that could be graphic.

Small Fire of Winter Stars by phabulousphantom (66k)

modern au where akaza is a tattoo artist and kyo runs a teens program at the local community centre. it's one of my faves bc i just love stories about jaded people opening up and finding love and trust again, and this is exactly that. i also love the ensemble cast in it. the teenagers are adorable, especially inosuke who is a problem kid that finds something aspirational with akaza. thinking abt this fic is making me smile again!

Camp Kasugai by si1verbird77 (20k)

also modern au where renkaza are both counselors at a summer camp. kyo runs a percy jackson program, and he and akaza fall in love over the summer with the help of the deep trust that camp atmospheres usually end up fostering. kyo and sen, and akaza as well, also touch on the grief of losing parents, and the nature of camps as a place to grow into yourself and how time keeps moving. it's nice. i love this one a lot.

Inertia (series) by TipperTupper (23k)

akaza saves kyo from freezing to death, and kyo marvels at the compassion and humanity that akaza seems to hold in his muscle memory. ends up digging a little bit into akaza's trauma both as a human and as a demon controlled by muzan. sanemi gets a little mad about it in the third part and it's funny. overall vibe of the series is warm.

The Neverending Night by apodis (155k - incomplete)

when i say this fic rotates in my brain 24/7!!! akaza gets stuck in a time loop that resets every time kyo dies. it explores akaza's nature as someone who is willing to sacrifice everything for loved ones, and it's interesting bc at first kyo hates him, and then he starts to realize there's something wrong with akaza's memories bc of muzan, and he starts to really see how self-effacing akaza is. it's SO good, and the realizations both kyo and you as the reader have build and layer as the story progresses. akaza and kaname (kyo's crow) also build a friendship that is so important to me.

Demon's Choice by Celeste Gladnick (lairMorbidon) (69k - incomplete)

akaza defects early and joins tamayo, and so many more people are alive as a result. kyo in this one is interesting bc he's bigoted against demons thanks to his upbringing in a slayer family under abusive shinjuro, and refuses to see that akaza is anything other than dangerous, despite literally everyone else sticking up for him. extra fun bc he crushes on butterfly assistant hakuji without realizing that it's akaza in a human guise. akaza himself also has some deeply held trauma he doesnt quite realize he has.

what i wouldn't give by DragonsAndCryptids (59k)

senjuro becomes terminally ill and his end is fast-approaching. akaza, who's been bothering kyo on and off for two years since mugen train, hears about it and offers to help by turning sen into a demon. at first, kyo gives a hard no, but as his baby brother's illness progresses... well, anyone would get a little desperate, wouldn't they? love this bc one of my fave things abt renkaza is pushing kyo to his moral and ethical limit lol.

if you fly (say you won’t come back) by apodis (10k)

siren au! well, akaza's a siren, and kyo is the caretaker of a house that sees many different travelers. akaza's just the latest one. i love this one bc it's fantastical elements are wonderful, and it builds a very interesting world. as the reader, you have a lot of questions and it's an experience getting them answered. it's also prettily written. :)

Little Fighter Boy Comes Marching Home by VTheTrashKing (19k)

akaza gets de-aged by a demon's blood art, and kyo comes upon a little human boy with black hair and blue eyes, a chip on his shoulder and a very implicitly sad past, what with the criminal markings on his wrists and the way he insists he can take care of himself. another one of my fave renkaza things and kyo getting bowled over by hakuji's tragic story so i loved the way he puzzles it together in this one based on the little boy in front of him, and just finds one sad thing after another.

“Don’t die, Kyojuro” by Lenasaurous (24k)

akaza lets kyo live and often tells him not to die. kyo, who's life is often visited by death considering his occupation, begins to rely on akaza's immortality as a demon, and depend on his company as a constant--that is, until akaza passes out from not eating, and stays down for the count. uh-oh. (i also love this fic 'cuz there's this scene where akaza tries so hard to make kyo like him by giving him herbs and helpful plants, even tho kyo doesn't really want him around at that point, and it's so sweet and so sad. i wanna give him a hug!!!)

Memories behind broken glass by GammaRays (58k - incomplete)

this is the akaza whump fic of my dreams lol he gets captured and experimented on by shinobu (and it can be grisly so tw for that). kyo lured him into a trap to get him captured and ends up standing guard and starting to question his morals when it becomes clear that shinobu is being intentionally cruel. as the torture experiments go on, akaza also becomes so delirious that he begins to remember his human past. kyo loses it a little. it's good.

All the things a cup can hold by Liatheus (9k)

akaza takes shinjuro demon hunting lol. this is actually more of a shinjuro character study with side renkaza, but i love it specifically for a scene near the end where they all have tea, and ruka's empty place at the table feels obvious, and kyo and shinjuro are sort of crying about it. i also love that it explores the way shinjuro used to be a hashira, and how akaza investigates his strength in that sense. shinjuro's strength is an important aspect to kyojuro that doesn't often get delved into, and it makes sense to me that akaza sort of looks into it, as someone who loves kyo's strength.

Hello Again (the weight of memories welcome me home) by VTheTrashKing (15k)

this one's more artsy than anything but i love sci-fi as a genre so i'm reccing it lol i'm being self-indulgent. for whatever reason, throughout his life, akaza gets visited by various hashira. it's all very timey-wimey and the renkaza is more implied than anything, but there's this scene where akaza's being held trial at a hashira meeting, and then a future sanemi and future giyuu come out of nowhere to protect him and shock the living daylights out of their past selves, and it's so wild. i love it so much.

the milk incident by lattelesbean (4k)

this is just funny haha! short and fun read. modern soyama twins au where akaza's a café barista and accidentally puts his foot in his mouth in a very embarrassing way, bc he was too busy thirsting over kyo, his latest customer, to double-check what was about to come out of his mouth lol. i am still laughing.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Brotherly Love

Short story

Prompt: 8 "Sleep at my place tonight."

Warnings: Crowded room.

@mxtokko requested: "It could be a cute sibling moment between jason and y/n or with jon cuz i just think their interractions are cute ! Doesnt really matter to me wich one it is :D"

Series Masterlist

~☆~

*following the events of chapter eight.*

Damian.

Damian and you were on better terms. He had apologized. He was going to your brother again.

But, he would have to work his way back up to be where you and Jason were. Attached at the hip. Almost knowing exactly what the other is thinking. In tune with each other. Trusting of each other.

Damian and Jon were currently having an intense debate over the Star Wars movies. What specifically? You don't know.

However, you and Jason were just watching people waltz around the crowded room. You were tucked under his arm, hugging his waist. One of his hands was holding onto your shoulder, and the other was holding his drink.

"Boring, huh?" He spoke.

"Yes." You sighed, causing Jason to chuckle.

His teal eyes looked down at you. He sees so much of himself in you that it almost hurts.

He watched as you tried to cover up a large yawn. "Sleep at my place tonight." He told you. "It's closer."

"Are you sure?" You questioned, looking back up at him.

"I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't want you to." He smiled down at you, and you quickly mimicked the action. Jason silently looked back up in front of himself, continuing to gaze at the people around the room. You did the same.

"Do you wanna sleep over?" Jon's voice came from nowhere. You quickly looked at him then around the room, wondering where your Damian had gone.

"I'm staying with Jason...how did you not just hear that." You said, referring to his super-hearing.

"There's a lot of people in here." He whined.

"Don't you live a state over?" You asked.

"So?"

~☆~

I really hope you like this, babe.♡

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[uptondixon]

Daryl & Daugther!Reader - Quarry Era II

Had this in my drafts for ages. I started writing and never finished, but I decided to post anyway. Thank you for all the love on Part 1! I'm sorry I'm not much of a writer to keep this storyline going :( Words: 1591 Warnings: Nightmares Gif not mine Chapter song is Fix You by Coldplay

Part I

"And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace."

It's been a while since the three of them started the walk back to camp, which was proving to be especially hard for the girl. After the adrenaline went off, the pain on her feet and legs were becoming almost unbearable. With each step she got slower and felt weaker. A headache making its way over her head, probably a mix of pain, hunger and lack of sleep.

Before heading back to camp Daryl offered her water, which she accepted desperately. Even though she was happy the thirst was over, her growling stomach didn't let her forget the days without anything to eat. She didn't mention that, already thankful for the water. However, the girl's skinny body gave Daryl an idea of how hungry she must be.

Daryl and Merle didn't hunt anything, both too focused on the deer, so he made a mental note to feed her as soon as they got to camp. Daryl also tried to take a better look at her wounds, but she didn't let him. He didn't push and decided this was a job for Lori or Carol. They were the mothers of the group and the girl would feel safe with them, he thought.

"She's slowing us down man, if we don't speed up we're going to lose sunlight. This girl is like a damn walker bait. Hell, I can smell her blood from here." Merle complained again.

"I get it Merle! Stop whining alrigh?" Daryl said before approaching the kid. 

She had been trailing behind them the whole time, never sparing them a glance and looking almost ready to bolt in the opposite direction at any moment. All of a sudden, Daryl realized that they didn't know her name.

"What's yer name kid?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Y/n." She said, voice almost a whisper.

"Alrigh', Y/n. Look, someone has to check yer wounds and for that we need to get to the camp but ya can barely walk…" Y/n knew he was right. She was scared to let him do anything with her wounds, afraid it would make it hurt even more. But the girl knew that it would only get worse if they didn't get there faster.

"What if I carry ya?" Daryl proposed. "We'll get to the folks faster and everything's gonna be okay." Daryl looked at her expectantly, while Merle was still mumbling some nonsense he chose to again ignore.

Y/n pounded for a moment. She didn't know this guy, even though he seemed to be making an effort to at least make her feel less scared. The same couldn't be said about the other guy, his brother. Even with Daryl's effort, she wasn't sure if trusting him was the right decision. However, it's not like she had any other choice at the moment.

Y/n looked up at Daryl and nodded her head. He handed his crossbow to Merle and picked the girl up. She felt so light and Daryl couldn't help but wonder how long she was alone out there, without food and water.

Y/n wrapped one of her arms around Daryl's neck, looking for something to hold on to. It was weird, how she didn't even know this man but felt safe in his arms. After being alone for months, she really wanted to believe someone good was going to help her.

Daryl arranged the girl in his arms and resumed their walking, Merle leading the way with Daryl's crossbow, aware of any danger.

They arrived at the camp a couple hours later and Daryl came in calling for the first person he saw, which in that case was Lori. "Daryl, oh my god??? Who is that?"

Daryl immediately felt Y/n's arms wrap harder around him. "It's fine kid, don't worry."

"We found her in the woods, alone and hurt."

Minutes later, the whole camp was reunited outside the RV while Lori and Carol were inside with Y/n. The girl felt more at ease with them, like Daryl imagined. But she was still unsure about everything and everyone.

After they treated her wounds and helped her clean up, Daryl brought some of the squirrel from his last hunt along with more food from the camp. Being clean and fed, it was like Y/n could finally think straight again.

Yours later, everyone started to retreat to their tents for the night. Inside the RV, Y/n tried to stay awake, her brain still on alert for some reason. But after a while her body started to give up and she fell asleep to the sounds of the dying conversation outside.

“It will be okay my baby, just run and don’t look back, okay?”

“But mom, what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you, go!” The little girl ran, but she couldn't help looking back. However, when she did, it made sense why her mother told her not to.

Screams, that’s what Daryl woke up to. He jumped out of his tent and saw Shane, Glenn and Dale outside the RV. “What the hell happened?”

“It 's Y/n.” Shane said “Lori is-” As if on cue, Lori leaves the RV. And to everyone's surprise, she smiled at Daryl.

“She’s asking for you, Daryl.” Daryl looked at Lori as if she had grown another head but entered the RV anyway.

“Hey kid, what's up?” Y/n was sitting in bed, death grip on the blanket and scared look on her face.

“I miss my mom” Daryl didn't know what to say, he didn't understand why she would want him there of all people. “Could you stay here until I fall back asleep?”

To be honest, Y/n didn't want to sleep, not if that meant another nightmare, but her body didn't give her any choice. Daryl saved her, his presence made her feel safe, so maybe he could help the bad dreams go away. Daryl was still confused, but he simply sat down in the chair close to the door and nodded his head, watching as the girl laid down, closing her eyes and falling asleep once again.

The first week went by smoothly, Y/n couldn't think about anything other than sleep. Her body begging for rest in order to heal. She didn't talk much, still overwhelmed with the new environment and everything that happened, but slowly feeling more at ease with everyone. Amy was the one to bring her food the days she stayed in bed. Lori or Carol would brush her long hair after she washed up. Glenn and Dale would make her laugh with silly jokes. Andrea and Jacqui would help change her bandages. Daryl would always check on her at the end of the day. He didn't say much, only put his head inside the RV, saw her asleep and then went to his tent.

The second week was better, she was stronger and more active. However, the nightmares still hunted her at night. Since Y/n got in the camp, Carl and Sophia were anxious to talk with her. But she was weak and scared so the adults held them back. When she started feeling better, spending her days sitting in the staircase of the RV and watching the camp, Carl approached her. With everything that happened Y/n didn't really had the time to think about the other kids at camp. She knew Sophia was Carol's daugther and Carl was Lori's, but they never talked and she suddently felt nervous. It's been ages since she last talked with someone her age.

"Hi, I'm Carl. You're Y/n, right?"

"Yeah.." Y/n smiled awkwardly.

"Shane's going to teach me how to grab frogs, you wanna come too?"

Y/n apreciated the invitation but she couldn't help but ask "Why would you want to grab frogs?"

Carl seemed like he wasn't expecting the question but answered anyway "Well, it's just funny, they jump so high trying to run away" he said with a little laugh "But we release them right after, Shane says they probably taste really bad to eat."

Y/n was the one ot laugh this time, for sure she wouldn't want to eat a frog.

"Okay, it seems fun" Y/n said looking at the boy in front of her.

"Yes! It's going to be really fun, I'll tell Shane you're coming" Y/n laughed again seeing the boy excitement, she couldn't help but feel it too. After the last stressful weeks, it was good to have some distraction.

Y/n met Sophia a couple nights after her frong hunt with Carl and Shane. The camp was having dinner and since she started feeling better, she started to have dinner outside with the others. The first night she went straight to Daryl, he and Merle sitting around a fire further from the main camp. In the short time Y/n was there she could notice how they differed from the rest of the camp. Her, as well, felt unsure, not of Daryl but his brother. The first night she left the RV and went to Daryl, Merle looked at her they same way he looked at her back in the woods. Like she was an walker bait. Daryl didn't showed much affection towards her, at least not in clear eyes. But he silently made sure she was fed and safe every single day, most of the others from the camp would not notice most of the time, but he did and Y/n knew it.

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