#the hard part now is seeing so many people who went through it married with kids

[fangirlinginleatherboots]

Just had a very sad memory that... idk I didn't realize how sad it was until now. In my senior year of high school, I made a paperchain. It was a count down for when the school abuse would end. I'd cut off one link after school each night. I forgot that I had a teacher who knew about the chain. I think I saved the last link of the chain for her to cut. I don't remember which teacher it was.... i can't even remember. I should probably let her know I'm okay but I don't know who it was now. It's all foggy.

I'm over a decade out. I have to repeat that to myself a lot. It's been over for years. They haven't tried to get me back in years. They stopped pushing when I fled the state and bad mouthed them publicly.

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: The boys as parents

Warning: Long post ahead! 3.7K words in total! reader is MC! f!reader, AFAB!reader, implied abortion

Author's note: I went a little too overboard and specific with this one... IDK if you guys will like it. Might make a part 2/Individual fics it this post does well!

Zayne as a father:

He became a parent to 2 kids, both adopted. The eldest is a boy, and the youngest is a girl.

After a life-threatening complication when you were pregnant (it involved the problem in your heart, you and your husband decided to adopt instead. The first was a 4-year-old boy and, later on, a 2-year-old girl from an island near Linkon City.

Zayne works hard as a chief surgeon; even then, the pay at AKSO Hospital is no joke. Despite preparing more than enough money to live comfortably with a child, something within him fueled his desire to do better: before you got married, he worked hard to become a part of the Hospital's board of directors. This allowed him to control his time more and spend fewer hours working.

When you and Zayne adopted your first boy, a 4-year-old named Elias, you met him as a quiet little boy which you found working hard to try and read an outdated newspaper on the island. A few months later, you discovered your now-son's interests in academics and learning. Zayne was pleasantly surprised to see his little boy eager to learn about things outside of the island, so much so that the chief surgeon almost immediately registered him to enter formal schooling.

Most people would assume that, like himself, he expected his son to achieve great things in school, but on some school nights, before bedtime, Zayne would talk to your son. "You're doing well in school, Elias. But don't forget to have fun." You thought Zayne would never really have time to visit your son's plays and school activities. Still, much to your surprise, he was there for most of it, especially in events where your son is involved. It was such a comedic sight watching your husband hold a noncellular camera.

Being a part of the hospital board of directors meant long and lengthy meetings, so there were times when he still had to work late and leave beyond working hours. Sometimes, you let your son stay up and accompany you to pick up your husband. Of course, that's also to buy a hotpot for a midnight snack on the way. There were also times when you and your son would fall asleep on the couch waiting for him. He quickly picks you up and places you on his bed, tucking you and himself five minutes later. The next thing you know, it's morning, and the smell of waffles is wafting in the air.

He wasn't outwardly affectionate, but it's more than evident that he loves his son. He praises him to his colleagues (unknowingly), and he gives him gifts, and the cost doesn't matter. But sometimes, he shows love to his child through words, Complimenting his son's actions and skills.

He rarely scolds his son as he's the less strict parent. Your dynamic is the type where if you don't allow your son to go do something, he'll call his dad for backup. You almost always give in. Zayne never really puts his hand on his son. Instead, he opts for a more, face-the-consequence-of-your-actions type of dad. He lets his son be and ensures Elias learns that there are things he can't and shouldn't do. On more bad days, when your son is extremely hard-headed, Zayne will tell him what to do.

A few years later, despite many ups and downs, both of you decided to adopt from the same island again. It was a year-old infant named Penelope who was handed to the orphanage due to the death of her mother.

Between the two of you, Zayne was the one who fell in love first. He never expected to be a girl dad, and he didn't think too much of it until he saw her in your arms. The first thing she did was grab his finger and giggle, looking so beautiful against the island's sunset.

When she grew a bit older, Zayne became fond of how she began to resemble you in terms of actions and personality. She was undoubtedly the type of kid to make a fuss about the little things and act cunningly to get her way and, at the same time, not cry over the things that made her sad or hurt her.

She was often seen with you and clinging to you if not Elias. With her, things were an unspoken competition between Elias and Zayne. He was her first in many things: first dance, first time riding a bike, and first parent to be called by her, except for the first kiss. Her first kiss was given to his older brother, and it was on the forehead. Zayne sulked for the rest of the day while your son held that against him, stating that his little sister loves him more than his dad.

Despite this, Zayne and Elias developed another thing, an unspoken urge to protect the little girl. It may not seem like it, but Elias always focuses on Penelope, ensuring she's doing alright in school and having fun. Zayne sometimes sneaks into the daycare to peek at her daughter's condition. On Zayne's day off, Elias would tell stories about what Penelope does on a day-to-day basis. Thanks to his son, he was well-versed in her daughter's life events despite working a lot in the Hospital.

Xavier as a father:

Xavier is a father to one male child.

It was an unplanned pregnancy, which you only realized when you had your Quarterly checkup at headquarters. The doctor ruled you unfit to work on the field because you were carrying a month-old baby. You gagged at the news, and on the same day, you told Xavier. He just stared at you and turned red.

Xavier was…enthusiastic(?) with your pregnancy. Despite being the type not to really change when you were pregnant, he was always on guard and on your beck and call, buying out whatever cravings you had, even at midnight or on a rainy day (He was the one having cravings; You settled with whatever food you had in the house.)

While you were at home resting with him, you observed his behavior change. He was more silent than usual, looking out of the window; when you asked, he told you that his having a child felt like a fever dream. Xavier was unprepared to be a father but willing to learn. His trove of light novels and comic books slowly began to be invaded by parent magazines and guidebooks on caring for an infant. If he has some day off, he will be by your side to help you do stuff around the house or attend parenting classes behind your back.

When you gave birth, even through the amniotic fluid and white stuff covering the child, you could easily see that he was a pure carbon copy of Xavier. There was no part of the little baby that resembled you at all. Both in physical appearance and in attitude. Xavier cried tears of joy upon seeing your child born, albeit he never showed anyone his crying face. You know he did because his eyes and nose were puffier than usual.

The baby was quiet; it coos, plays with its saliva, and asks for a lot of milk, but I rarely cry. The only time it cries is if a loud sound is disturbing it from sleeping. And even when he cries, gently tapping and lulling him within five minutes will stop the little guy from crying.

The baby was attached to him. The baby would unknowingly leer towards him whenever he was around, asking to be picked up, to which Xavier would happily do so. He was a sleepy child and liked to nap even in broad daylight. He was easily fed and didn't put up much of a fight, even in his older years.

At the age of three, it was the beginning period where his little meek personality began to change. The kid was adventurous and the curious type. He was often found in his own world observing the little things in life, like a trail of ants or a kitten atop a tree branch, yet it seemed like he was curious to learn more things. He liked to observe from up close, which is why he was often seen on tiptoes trying to look over a lot of stuff or squatting down to observe the smaller insects on the ground.

To help him foster his talents and strengths, Xavier brings him to the headquarters once a week to let him run around and train. You were against it initially, but seeing your little boy imitate his father with clumsy focus made your heart swoon. A few years later. The kid was in school; Xavier was the one who attended the boy's school activities as you had to work most of the time, leading a team of your own.

He was doing well compared to the average students in school. Still, the teacher complained that the little boy kept sleeping in class, often getting him scolded and demerit. Xavier scratched his head and apologized, saying the little boy must've been exhausted after midnight play-dates with him.

Xavier keeps physical albums in his home, one for the family, one for you and him, and one dedicated to your child's life. Much to your surprise, he was more hands-on with his child than you might expect. Xavier never lets you carry your son for too long; he's afraid that you would collapse from exhaustion. He'd also be the one to put him to sleep, almost always falling asleep with his own son.

He's not the type to gift his child physical things (he still does occasionally). He would prefer to take you guys out to different locations, like a new arcade, a new park, or a place where your son could explore freely and safely. Xavier adores his child and keeps a photo of him on his lock screen. On his desk is a family picture of you and him that you take every year.

Xavier was the favorite parent when the little boy grew up because he was calmer, more collected, and the cooler one between you two. It's not that you weren't, but you know how boys are. Xavier tells his son many stories that he passes off as "fairytales" when, in reality, it was actually his real adventures in the decades he has lived and worked. But his favorite ones were when he and you fought against the wanderers side to side.

Needless to say, Xavier was a role model and a doting father. Because his appearance never really changed, at some point in the far future, he would be mistaken as the little boy's twin brother instead. It became a running joke in your family, so much so that out of pity, your son decided to dye his hair a different color to make him distinguishable.

Xavier and your son continued to have a boss and subordinate relationship in the hunter's association, which a lot of people really admired. On the other hand, you ran the bigger team and were on the field most of the time. Memories of regular days are filled with seeing each other in the medical Bay, on the field, or in a restaurant after a long fight on the field.

Rafayel as a father:

Father to two girls.

Rafayel's baby was not planned. In fact, he never believed you were pregnant until he saw signs of your body changing, especially the morning sickness and cravings. It's not that he didn't want to be a father, but it was simply too sudden for him, and he couldn't absorb it well.

He went a little overboard in preparation, hoarding many little clothes that your child would definitely outgrow. He brags about your pregnancy to many people, saying he's excited to be a father and always wanted a family of his own. People congratulate you a lot, even if you don't know who they are. On random days, you keep getting mail for some reason, and it's oversized packages: bassinets, branded feeding bottles, bottle steamers, and a box full of infant diapers. Safe to say, you really didn't need to buy a lot of things for your little passenger.

Unlike you, who was pretty lenient in designing the bedroom for your daughter, he was nit-picky as hell. The interior designer and suppliers had a hard time dealing with your husband, and you could only apologize secretly on his behalf. Nonetheless, the room turned out to be more beautiful than you expected.

When the baby arrived, he was crying, but he denied it. Yet everyone in the room could see him cry like a diva. Everyone wanted to see the baby, and so did your friends. Still, to your surprise, Rafayel refrained from letting anyone visit you for fear of the infant contracting any diseases from the visitors.

You decided to name her Anastasia. He was undeniably meant to be a girl dad. There was no day in the week when the little baby was dressed poorly. She would always wear on-brand clothes; even simple pajamas cost more than they should. He bought her dolls, stuffed toys, and those big dollhouses collectors buy.

When the little baby girl grew up and began to attend school, Rafayel would always ask for a kiss on the cheek, which your daughter would happily give.

Rafayel likes to gossip with you and your daughter, and he is a good source of news because he always knows the juicier side of stories. With your daughter, he knows the reputation of each and every parent. Sometimes, they go too far and pick on your daughter's classmates, e.g., telling them that their clothes are old-fashioned or that one kid looks like a mean bully. The bad thing is, your daughter thinks so as well. You and Rafayel once went to her sports day competition and saw her play a three-legged race partnered with a boy. You could see the smoke coming out of Rafayel's head, and you had to cover his mouth because he was uttering profanities. Something like: "Get your hands off my daughter, you little…"

Raf likes to give gifts as a sign of affection, and your daughter is thankful, but on special days, she doesn't request anything. Instead, she insists on having a dad-daughter date instead. Thanks to those moments, Raf began to lean more towards spending time together rather than showering her with gifts.

She grew up replicating Rafayel's diva-ness as her form of humor, and she usually tries to get away with stuff using that method. But she was family-oriented, being the type to show affection outwardly. She most definitely became a daddy's girl and would always go to him for help.

Later on, when your first child reached her teen years, you decided to have another child, and this time, it was a girl whom you named Charlotte. Rafayel was more tamed with the room decoration this time, but not with the gifts and outfits. He didn't allow any secondhand items from Anastasia to be given to the younger one.

Rafayel, despite already being a seasoned dad, was more overprotective with his second daughter, hiring a nanny for her. He would be restless if he didn't manage to see her for two days, so he refrained from going out of town unless necessary. If he did, however, he would always call you and ask how Charlotte was doing. You would turn the phone to your daughter, but she wouldn't pay him any mind and continue coloring in her little notebook.

Unlike Anastasia, Charlotte preferred to be with you. She was the more reserved of the two siblings, but she was mature for her age. She knew what she wanted and would outwardly deny if whatever she was doing or receiving was not to her liking. She wasn't that dramatic and would just stare at her sister or father whenever they exaggerated their emotions in front of her.

Sometimes, you and Charlotte just like to watch your other daughter and your husband act all dramatic. Then you just brush them off and spend your day drinking tea and eating cupcakes.

Sylus as a father

Sylus is the father of twins. One boy, one girl.

You weren't married when you found out you were pregnant; you were his lover by then, but you were severely unprepared to have children, considering the environment you guys were in. You got married in secret, and he made a promise to protect you and your children despite living in the N109 zone.

Upon the birth of your children, he was mainly on edge. He got you the best doctors and midwives. Although your birth was surprisingly smooth sailing, you heard some stories from the nurses nearby about how Sylus was threatening a doctor if you ended up with complications. Thankfully, the twins were delivered safely.

Between the twins, the eldest is a girl you named Mauve, and the boy, Claude. Mauve had your eyes, but his hair color was daunting, and he had a more pale skin tone, while Claude resembled you more than Sylus, except for his eyes.

Sylus didn't care much for the children; he made that apparent by focusing more on you and his work and leaving the kids to the nanny. That quickly changed after six months. On a random day, he saw you tending to your children, both sleeping soundly in your arms. You seemed at peace inside the bedroom, looking out into the distance. Something switched inside of Sylus, which neither of you can point out, but there was one thing for sure: You guys were now a family.

The mindset change perplexed you the most because, beginning that day, Sylus made a quiet effort to learn how to take care of the twins. He was often seen with the nanny, asking for specific methods of washing the feeding bottles or bathing the twins. And in no less than a month, he was practically the one taking care of your children whenever he was at home.

Sylus doesn't spoil his children more than necessary. Sure, they had rooms of their own and a decent amount of toys, branded items, and clothes, but he only gave them a little more than necessary. He firmly believes that children should learn to work hard at an early age to not get disappointed in the future; you scolded him for that, though, after all, they were just children.

Sylus always plays with his children whenever he can. He doesn't like it when family time is interrupted by business, so he ensures no one disturbs the residence until you and the children have had enough fun. His play methods are surprisingly tame and even comedic; after all, the sight of Sylus dawning twin-tails and stickers on his face doesn't come by that often. On days when he's out of town, Luke and Kieran are the ones who play with the children, and not even they can withstand the dress-up and role-play.

Whenever things get complicated in the organization, or even a hint of danger lurks around the family, Sylus sends you and the children away to a residence under a different name. It was located on a more private island, which only his private jet could access. Then, he deals with the problem as swiftly as possible.

A few more years later, Sylus changed. His principle of hard work equals good rewards shifted, and he slowly began to spoil the twins. They were spoiled, but it was surprising that they were obedient. That is until you spied around them when you were supposed to be at work. It was thanks to this that you realized another thing: Sylus is the type of father who says, "I can't do anything, your mother said no. Sorry, kids." when you're around and "C'mon kids, who will scold you? Your mom is at work, and I'm the parent in charge!" when you're not.

Thanks to this, you also discovered the real nature of your children behind the nice, good children facade.

They were naughty: They liked to play pranks on your husband, but Sylus always outsmarts them. You constantly wondered where they were picking up these silly pranks until you saw them huddled together with Luke and Kieran in a random corner of the house.

The twins were cunning: They greeted guests with a smile and treated maids with care, but they sneaked around the staff room and reported to Sylus what they heard. Once, they broke a vase and convinced you that Mephisto did it.

They were eccentric: The smiles on their faces were business smiles whenever other people were around. Note they were smiling ear to ear, but their smile was unsettling once you realized that you had entered the house of Onichynus' leader. It was almost threatening even.

Sylus, despite not looking like it, valued education as he believed it could give his children an advantage. Still, he'd let his children be street-smart rather than book-smart. Because of this belief, he would bring his children around for business meetings and less dangerous missions. You once argued with him over the twins' safety. Still, they reassured you that they're more than capable of protecting themselves.

A few years later, into adulthood, Claude was quietly regarded as a lethal weapon due to his proficiency in engineering (nuclear & Chemical) and in statistics; His background and frightening loyalty to his father and Onychinus amplified the organization's fearsome reputation.

On the other hand, Mauve was the front of Onychinus, often leaving the country to make business deals on behalf of his father, who was busy working at home. The woman was responsible. She was undoubtedly a gambler who believed high stakes = high rewards, yet she had never once lost that gamble.

But when you and your family get together for dinner every week, it's like they're the most mundane family ever, talking about what they hear out on the street and what the new neighbors are up to or what new places to visit in Linkon City. You just…came to accept it.

Author's footnotes: Alright this post is too long for my own liking but it would be longer if I go in depth about your family details. and at this point, this is like an AU... Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

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[nebbyy]

Can I request king Baldwin being jealous I just would want to see how it everything would go down 🤔🤔

King Baldwin x reader - Jealousy

A/N: uuuuh I like this concept!! I can't lie it was pretty hard imagining him being jealous, especially since I myself wouldn't even look in other men's direction have I had Baldwin next to me😩😩.

Anyway, hope you like my interpretation of your prompt :))

Painting is "A Midsummer Night's Dream - Hermian and Lysander" by John Simmons by the way :))

Warning: angst, jealousy and talks of insecurity. Reader is specifically described as being female!

I think it's common knowledge at this point that Baldwin is a man of many virtues, who likes to act guided by reason, not by the heart

The only exception to this ironclad rule is, well, you. You're his beloved wife, the only woman who had ever walked this earth able to make him swoon and lose his collected reasoning, in the name of his love for you

In his eyes, you were the most beautiful creature God has created, and your virtues to him had to be honored and made an example to the rest of the world

He knew you really had not much choice in marrying him: after all, it was a political marriage. But the moment he saw your cheeks get warmer, your eyes avert his own and your breath hitching as he got closer to you

He couldn't fathom how he got so lucky to be worthy of even the slightest of your attention, let alone your love. It was something that he cherished like the holiest of relics, and he made sure to show it by showering you in gifts, spending every breathing moment he had as close to you as possible, learning your passions and hobbies and introducing you to his own

But as much as he loved to shower you in the affection you so much deserved, he remained a man whose mind reigned over every other part of him, and that meant that he knew that he wasn't easy to love, mainly because of his appearance

He wasn't unaware of the fact that his decayed face, his bandaged limbs, his sometimes showing wounds,.. they made people feel a sense of uneasiness, it even repulsed some at the mere sight of it

He knew that a pair of soft, full lips would be preferred by any reasonable woman over his own scarred and partly destroyed ones

He knew that a vigorous man, strong enough to fight and ride on his own, to carry you and protect you would be much preferred to his weakened, often bedridden, mangled body

And he also knew that it was the norm that in most forced weddings, infidelity was so normal that it was even romanticized by singers and poets

So as time went on and his condition worsened by the day, the dooming feeling in his mind that warned him about you possibly growing a liking to someone else started to become more and more present in his mind

Especially one time, when a dashingly handsome prince has just arrived to Jerusalem's court, and he seems that you have piqued his interest, for he seems to make it his personal mission to be as close to you as he possibly can

It's almost as if he's forgotten that you’re married to the king of the realm that is hosting him!

Baldwin first noticed a rather unusual demeanor from the prince on the first night that he's been there, when he started to make a never ending string of jokes, all in order to get a melodic laugh out of you

Then came the walk through the garden, where you usually went with your husband to unwind from your royal duties. And now there he was, this bumptious young prince that acted like he could win you over your own husband

It was right then and there that his own self deprecating tendencies left him to be replaced by a burning flame inside of him, the desire to publicly show your belonging to him and him alone

And so he took it upon himself to muster up all his strength in the following hours, before making his appearance in the main hall. Of course he knew he'd found you there, along with your suitor

Oh how his heart swelled when he saw your eyes, firstly semi-closed from the boredom the prince was causing you, light up at the sight of your husband entering the room

He confidently walked through the room until he was right in front of you, gently taking your hand in his and bringing it to his veiled mouth and holding it there for just a little longer than usual, while his celestial eyes never leaving your own

The simple action left you breathless, mostly because you'd never seen that fire within his stare before, yet in that moment he seemed to you as if he had been possessed by some sort of force that granted him such confidence

Breathing in the sight of you for just a little longer, he then turned his gaze to the prince, talking in a satisfied tone

"What a sight for sore eyes is my wife, am I right? I feel sorry for you that you can enjoy of her company for so little, but I'm afraid that she's needed somewhere else."

If you didn't know him any better, you wouldn't be able to comprehend that there's nowhere where you're needed at the moment other than your husband's arms, and you're glad to fill in the empty spot without hesitation

Because, let's be honest, you took this suitor's attentions as a tool to spur your husband, to test his devotion to you and his desire to have you all to himself. You wanted him to see you as not something gave for granted, no, he had to fight for you like the knights fighting in the name of the women they love in the jousts

And that he did, and you could swear that you have never in your short life have felt so loved and wanted as he picked you up midway through the hallway, smiling playfully at you as you lowered the veil off his face

"You're gonna make me have a run for your attentions, my dear. But I must inform you I'm not prone to sharing when it comes to my beloved wife"

You wouldn't want it to be any other way, as he gently laid you on your shared bed before joining you. And there you spend the rest of the day, after he'd called off both of your daily duties just so that he could have that time dedicated to just the two of you, to make a point of the tie between you two, that no man, much less prince, could ever break

So yes, at times Baldwin can become jealous because of his insecurities and your undeniable beauty, but his combative nature gives him the right spur to make him act on it, never letting anything get in his way

[takerfoxx]

I'm so fucking confused what did the Rock do

It's a very long and complicated tale, but the short version, the Rock recently joined the board of directors for TKO (WWE's parent company) and SEEMINGLY (as we don't know the full behind the scenes story just yet) used his clout to push himself into the Wrestlemania main event, challenging his sort of cousin Roman Reigns for the WWE Universal Championship and pushing aside Cody Rhodes, the guy that was supposed to be Roman's challenger, and thereby sabotaging a two-year story that everyone was invested in right when it was about to see it's conclusion. And people are pissed about it.

That's the short version. Here is the loooooonnnnnggggg version.

WWE has been plagued by a number of issues over the years (not the least being that it's been run by an actual rapist for the last four decades), but the two relevant issues is a tendency to rely on past their prime stars of yesterday at the expense of building new stars for today, and when they do want to build a new star, they have a bad habit of shoving their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat to everyone else's detriment in a nakedly inauthentic manner until the fans get sick of them (see: Ultimate Warrior, John Cena, and, most recently, Roman Reigns, who will become important later). Needless to say, they've had a lot of trouble getting the crowd behind what is known as the White Meat Babyface, or primary good guy.

The Rock started off as the latter, being introduced as Rocky Maivia, who was a wholesome good boy who was just so happy to be here. People saw through it and booed the fuck out of him. In rare case of the WWE actually listening and responding, they turned Rocky heel and let him vent his frustrations at the fans, which let everyone know that, holy shit, this guy is actually insanely charismatic and probably the best trash talker in the business! Thus, the Rock was born.

However, while he certainly earned his accolades during his heyday, his returns since haven't been so universally admired (see previous note about the WWE pushing the stars of yesterday). One instance about ten years ago involves him main eventing Wrestlemania against John Cena over CM Punk, who was the reigning WWE Champion at the time, and was quite annoyed. Okay, the Rock vs. John Cena could be excused on account of being that much of a dream match, but then they had CM Punk end his year long title run to the Rock so he and Cena could main event again, this time with the title on the line. This was one of the many issues that reportedly led to CM Punk walking out a few months later.

Now, let's move away from the Rock for a bit and talk about Roman Reigns, who was another example of the WWE ramming their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat. Like the Rock, he is part of the venerated Anoa'i Family, who are practically wrestling royalty with how many superstars they've produced (though they're not actually related by blood, but that doesn't matter, as those who marry or are adopted in are still considered full members of the clan).

Roman began as part of the massively popular trio known as the Shield, alongside Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose. And during their two year run, the Shield were kind of incredibly awesome. Three badasses closer than brothers just wrecking a path of destruction against all those who stood in their way, a perfect combination of violence and genuine comradery...right until Seth Rollins betrayed the group and they all became single stars.

Now, despite the WWE having high hopes for all three, Roman was clearly the anointed heir, despite being the least experienced of the three. Unfortunately, they went about this by making him essentially a John Cena clone. Smelling another corporate babyface about to be shoved down their throats, the fans turned on him and turned on him HARD, making him the most loathed face in wrestling for years despite always being treated by the company as a beloved hero. Finally, the decision was made to turn Roman Reigns heel, unleashing his dark side and turning him into the Tribal Chief, a sadistic and manipulative monster who's held an iron grip on the title for literally years. Needless to say, it has been a massive improvement, and he is now quite awesome (though people are sick of how long he's been champion, but that's neither here nor there).

Anyway, heel Roman has been champion for basically forever at this point, and it's been a question of who will eventually be the one to dethrone him, because whoever it is automatically becomes the biggest star in the business. And given what an accomplishment that is, there really can be no place it can happen other than the main event of Wrestlemania.

Enter Cody Rhodes.

Like Roman and the Rock, Cody also comes from a prestigious wrestling family. Cody is the son of the late, great Dusty Rhodes, the American Dream. And this pedigree has weighed heavily on him, both in and out of storyline.

Now, unlike his plain-looking and tubby father, Cody looks like he was grown in a lab to become the perfect WWE wrestler. Movie star looks, an absolutely ripped body, and physical charisma for days. Despite this, his first WWE run didn't go how he wanted. While he saw a fair amount of success, he never seemed to break out of the midcard and was eventually saddled with the loathed Stardust gimmick, which he absolutely hated, and after realizing that things weren't going to change, he decided to bet on himself and leave the WWE to prove everyone wrong.

This ended up working beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

To say that Cody was successful post WWE would be a gross understatement. Rebranding himself as the American Nightmare, Cody became the opposite of everything his father was, dressing in snappy suits and carrying himself in an arrogant, sadistic manner. He worked for a number of places, from TNA to Ring of Honor to New Japan, and saw massive success, winning multiple titles across multiple promotions and building himself as a force to be reckoned with. He was also the impetus for the historically significant All In event, in which a number of wrestlers from a number of different promotions banded together to put on the first non-WWE show to have over ten thousand people in attendance in over twenty years, which eventually led to the creation of AEW, which Cody was an intrinsic part of as well. Needless to say, Cody was cooking.

Unfortunately, his own way of doing things didn't mesh well with the AEW audience, and they turned on him pretty hard after a year or two. Eventually he left to return to the WWE, and a lot of people questioned if he was making a mistake, given how he was treated the last time.

However, his gamble had paid off. His worth had been proved, and now WWE was all in (pun intended) on Cody Rhodes. In contrast to the volatile AEW crowd, the WWE fans welcomed the prodigal son back with open arms. And surprising all cynics (including myself), this love continued strong even after the novelty of Cody Rhodes back wore off, probably bolstered by how carefully his storylines were plotted, some truly killer performances in the ring, and the respect garner by him being an absolutely fucking champ and wrestling Seth Rollins in a Hell in a Cell match despite having a horribly torn pec.

Finally, the WWE had a White Meat babyface that the fans universally accepted and wanted to see more of, and they were going to capitalize. He won the Royal Rumble to rapturous applause and entered in a program with Roman Reigns to challenge him for his title at Wrestlemania. And unlike other challengers, he actually seemed like a credible threat. Much was made about how his father had also challenged for the same title but could never capture it, so he wanted to do what his father couldn't and finish the story. People were behind Cody all the way, and the time seemed right for Roman to finally fall and a new top star to be crowned.

And then Cody lost. Roman cheated, and Cody lost.

Needless to say, people were pissed. However, others said that maybe this was leading to a rematch at the following year's Wrestlemania, making his eventual victory all the sweeter. Certainly, WWE still seemed behind Cody, as he spent the next year in several high profile feuds that kept him looking strong, including going over Brock Lesnar of all people. And again, the fans remained behind him, when in past cases they would have turned on the guy by now. Believe me, this hadn't happened in a very long time.

But not all was well. There were rumbles that the Rock might be queuing up for a return one of these days, possibly to finally face Roman Reigns in another dream match to settle who the true Tribal Chief of the Anoa's family. People had been wanting that match for years, but for it to happen now, upsetting Cody's chance to finally finish his story? Well, that was the worst possible time. However, these rumors seemed to be nothing more than that. Just rumors.

And then CM Punk came back.

Now, Punk is a whole can of worms all in himself, and could easily fill a full post of his own. But the important thing is that he and Cody are very much dark reflections of each other, especially in how both were screwed over by WWE during their first runs, left under dark circumstances, and returned to the fans' adoration. And they both coveted that Wrestlemania main event.

In fact, during an awesome promo battle between the two, Punk specifically pointed out that he intended to do to Cody what the Rock had done to him ten years ago: be that bigger star who came back after not being around for a long time and take that Wrestlemania main event away. And sure enough, during the Royal Rumble, the final two in the ring were CM Punk and Cody Rhodes.

And Cody won. The first man in years to win back to back Rumbles. He singled out Roman Reigns as his target, cementing their Wrestlemania rematch. As for Punk, he had a main event of his own, as he was apparently scheduled to face Seth Rollins for the World Heavyweight Title at night 1 of Wrestlemania. It seemed that both of the prodigal sons were getting their wish!

And then CM Punk got hurt really bad and had to pull out of Wrestlemania.

Well, that sucks, but it shouldn't upset plans too badly. Seth could just wrestle someone else, and Cody's two year story could proceed like everyone wanted.

Well, we all know what happened next.

Yup. It happened. The Rock, likely with the backing of his new position on the TKO's board, had pushed himself into Cody's spot, while Cody (as it appears) will be replacing Punk to take on Seth Rollins instead. A two year story, flushed down the drain. Punk's words had turned out to be prophetic.

And while the fans were cheering in that video, once the buzz had worn off and people realized what had happened, that's when things got nasty. Over the last few days, people have turned on the Rock and turned on him HARD. Rocky sucks chants fill WWE events, #wewantcody trends for days, videos of the Rock get booed, and (unfortunately) even members of his family have gotten caught in the crossfire. People are NOT happy about this direction. Cody is their guy, and right when his story was going to be completed, right when Roman was going to be dethroned by the guy that everyone wanted to see beat him, this happens.

Plus, since then reports have been swirling that this decision was made by the TKO board, not WWE, with the Rock specifically pushing for it to "Save Wrestlemania." Which hasn't exactly warmed people to the idea.

Which is really funny, because the last time Roman Reigns and the Rock shared a ring together, it was in the middle of Roman's disastrous babyface run where the fans hated him, especially in Philadelphia, a city noted for its rebellious fans, and the WWE sent the Rock out to help Roman in hopes of changing their minds.

It didn't work.

And where is Wrestlemania this year? Oh right, Philadelphia.

This is going to be...interesting, to say the least.

[marvelmymarvel]

Heir

Silva x Reader

Synopsis: His wife was crazy, hell, you'd be crazy too if you knew your husband was sleeping around... But it wasn't your fault he loved you and not her.

Her shrill cry hit your ears, making you wince from your spot next to Silva. He currently had you wrapped up under his arm, hand absentmindedly caressing the bare skin of your arm. "Kikyo" he warned, eyes darkening a bit as she continue to wail about how evil he was for having a mistress.

This wasn't new knowledge, she had known about it for some time now. This was just her weekly temper tantrum. "I just don't understand how you could do this to me. The woman who gave you your CHILDREN"

Silva's lip curled into a snarl, there was that jab again... The classic 'mother of your children' saying was always the stab she took in the hopes that it would wake him up, but it only ever angered him. Your eyebrows crinkled in distress as you felt the bloodlust oozing from the man who was now gripping you tightly against him. You couldn't run and hide from his anger if you tried. You were just thankful it wasn't directed at you.

"Kikyo."

The woman stopped wailing as the venomous tone and bloodlust hit her finally. You could see her hands shaking, and you felt bad. Not bad enough to stop the relationship you had with the head of the Zoldyck family, but enough to put your hand on his thigh, hoping it would calm him even a little.

And it seemed to work.

He let out a deep exhale, free hand coming up to rub at his eyes. If he could leave her he would, he would much rather be married to you than to her, but he hadn't met you when he needed to settle down some 26 years ago. "I've been nothing but loving towards you, what does she have that I don't?"

You lightly gasped at the question, eyes flicking from Kikyo to Silva in shock. He sat there in silence, staring into her soul as if trying to banish her from the earth altogether. "She was the one who gave me Killua" your eyes widened at his statement. Many things were well-known and talked about, but this was not one of them.

You cringed as Kikyo's sniffles hit your ears. Having Killua with Silva was not something you were proud of, the guilt ate you up to the point where you gave him up to Kikyo, allowing her to care for him as if she carried and birthed him herself. It seemed to have appeased her, and she went on to have two more children with Silva after. But you knew the reason for that was just her trying to prove that she too could give Silva what you did.

An heir.

It was a low blow though, and it made all of the guilt rush through you like a violent hurricane. "Silva..." you whispered out, tone teetering on guilt and warning. He paid no mind to you though. Standing from his spot, he walked towards a sobbing Kikyo. His hands rose to cup her cheeks and while you'd normally feel jealous, all you felt was shame.

You should have never slept with him 12 years ago. Should have never given in to his blue eyes and blonde hair, but you did and now you were here. Stuck in the middle of the family drama that you yourself caused.

He leaned down to be eye level with her, a passerby would have found it sweet, but you knew better. "You mean nothing to me. The children you've given mean nothing to me. I don't know what else I need to do to get you to see that"

That was a lie, the children part at least was. He cared deeply for all of his children, Killua was just special to him. You knew that the hurtful words were only spewed to bite back at her stab but you wished he would have let it go. "Silva" you called out as you shakily stood from the pillow.

Kikyo was now sobbing so hard that she was choking, the sound didn't do anything to Silva, but it was breaking your heart. "Silva leave her alone..." you whispered out as your fingers ghosted his arm before gripping the flesh to pull him away from her. He let you move him away from her, something Kikyo has never been able to do.

The sight only made her sob harder. How could you, of all people, make the man she loved do anything you asked of him? She gave him everything and loved him through everything. But you? You did nothing and yet can control everything about him. Before he goes on jobs, he asks you about your opinion on the danger of the task at hand. When he leaves the house, he asks you if you'd like to join him. When it's time for bed, he'll wait for you because he can't seem to sleep without you.

Her eyes snapped to yours as you looked back at her over your shoulder. "Can you please go get Gotoh" you called out to the butler by the door. The butler left without another word, rushing down the hall to get the head butler who helped Kikyo remain calm. Silva sat back down with a huff, legs crossing as he leaned back in annoyance. You turned back fully to Kikyo, sadness and regret written all over your face.

"I'm sorry Kikyo" you stated firmly, but anyone who knew you could hear the nervous waver in your voice. Despite being annoying, Kikyo was far from weak. She could kill you in two seconds if she really wanted to.

And she really wanted to right now.

But you didn't care anymore. Walking towards her slowly, you waited for her to break down again. But she was silent. You stopped just feet from her, lips pursing as you took in just how tense the air was. Silva called your name out in warning as if he knew deep down that she would attack you while he wasn't by your side.

But maybe you deserved it.

"I'm sorry for everything" your words caused her to inhale sharply, hands forming into fists as she shook in her place. You had no right to apologize. The only way to make this right was for you to leave. But Silva would never let you leave. So there was only one other way to make this right.

You had to die.

Silva felt the shift in the air quicker than you did. Kikyo's hand shot towards your chest, fingers shaped into a sharp form. Your breath hitched but you knew there was no escaping it. You should have been faster...

But Silva was fast enough.

His hand stopped hers right as the fingernails pierced the skin of your chest. She could feel the way your heart was beating frantically under her fingertips. Oh, how she wanted to feel it pound in her hand as she watched the life drain from your eyes. But, with the way Silva was gripping her did she realize she had made a grave mistake.

Silva pushed you behind him as he ripped Kikyo up to him angrily "Lay a hand on her again and I will feed you to the dogs" the words hit your ears, and you would have scolded him for uttering them, but you couldn't think straight - not with all the adrenaline in your veins and the tension in the air.

Kikyo sputtered out apologies but it only angered the silver haired man more.

It all went silent though when the door opened. "Madame. I was called to retrieve you" Gotohs voice broke the tension and you sighed in relief. Silva let her go, allowing her to run to Gotoh in fear. Gotoh didn't say anything, only grabbed her by the shoulder and moved her out of the room.

The sound of the door closing echoed in the room and mixed with your heavy breathing. Silva was in front of you before you could blink, hand reaching for your shirt where blood was pooling. "I'll be okay" you croaked out but he ripped the shirt open regardless, eyes narrowing at the cuts Kikyo marred you with.

"She will be dealt with accordingly" he whispered as he applied pressure to one of the heavier bleeding wounds. You didn't say anything, knowing that not even you could stop what would happen to her. He loved you a lot, maybe even too much. But you couldn't deny that you loved him as well. You reached up to pull his hand away, smiling softly at the confused look on his face.

Dropping his hand, you stepped forward before wrapping your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his chest as you gave into the part of you that needed him close. You didn't care if you were hurt. You didn't care that Kikyo would try to kill you every chance she got. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was him. And as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head -

You knew he felt the same.

[mrsparrasblog]

i don't wanna rush you or anything cuz u should take ur time. Just wanted to let you know that we NEED more Rudy and Alejandro content😭. Rudy is criminally underrated 🥲 like an obsessed Rudy crushing on mc? My heart-

Hey sorry that it took a bit to answer.💓 I love Rudy with all my heart💓 He is so underrated 💓and have many drafts of him, but I never had something where he was like obsessed , but I tried my best if you don't like it Im sorry :(, you didn't say if you wanted smut so I just wrote it without smut. I was half asleep writing this ngl😭

Anyways here 💓☀️🦋

Sweet as Cinnamon

Rodolfo was never one to fall for just a pretty face; he wasn’t shallow; he needed more. He always had that picture of the future Mrs. Parra in his mind. She needed to be soft, cute, romantic, and tolerant of everything. She needed to be a safe space from all the demons in Las Almas which haunted him.

When he turned 35, he almost gave up on his dream, too many failed attempts at dating. There were the ones who dated him to get closer to Alejandro, the ones who couldn’t handle him being a Sergeant Major, and then the ones who were too much involved with the cartel business.

And then one day he met you. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but it was almost as close. The way you carried yourself, your charisma, the way you laughed, and the way your eyes sparkled, you were perfect for him.

He didn’t want to do anything more than approach you and ask you out on a cute date, but this time he couldn’t fail, not with his lifelong dream. So he made the only rational choice and became your shadow, trying to find out everything about you while constantly nagging Alejandro about how perfect you were.

"You know you could always talk to her," Alejandro suggested, not seeing the bigger picture Rodolfo saw. It needed to be perfect; you needed to want him before he made attempts; it should be natural. So he found out everything about you: the way you liked your coffee, your favorite book (which he bought and read to have something to talk to you about), your favorite film, favorite food, and even your workplace. It wasn’t a surprise for him that a sweet thing like you owned a bakery; everything was freshly baked by you, and it tasted like absolute heaven to him.

When he watched you through the window, he imagined you staying in your kitchen, him wrapping his arms around you while you baked for him and your kids - it would be perfect. And you would never even come across the cartel; you were a delicate flower that needed to be protected and cherished, and who would do the job better than him?

The hard part was getting the men away from you who also wanted you. Of course, he knew you were a sight that would make every man weak in his knees, but you were already his, and the other men needed to understand that.

Some people underestimated him, thinking he was too short and not as muscular as Alejandro, but when the Sergeant Major stood at the poor men's door with a sinister grin and a firearm, telling them to never speak to his wife again, they listened. It made your love life absolutely miserable, but he was a good man; he only did this for you, and you would appreciate it at the end of the day when you finally could sleep in his arms, protected from the whole world.

After a year of preparation, he finally did it. He walked inside your bakery himself; the faint smell of cinnamon and fresh strawberries lingered everywhere; it was perfect. Of course, he knew your baked goods tasted good; Alejandro always brought him some, but he never went in himself. And the perfect girl you were, you were immune to Alejandro's flirting, one problem less.

"Hello, sir, how can I help you today?" you smiled at him, and his world stopped. You were even prettier from this perspective, flour on your face and that sweet little red apron. He wanted to marry you instantly, just carry you away and tie the knot, but he was a patient man, and right now, this was what he needed to be.

"Just some cinnamon rolls," and so it went on for weeks. Rudy became fast your favorite customer; he was always nice to you, funny, and left a good tip, like an extremely generous tip for just some cinnamon rolls. And if you were true to yourself, he was incredibly handsome, making you always blush like a girl with her first crush. Unfortunately, you thought he wasn’t interested in you. You always tried to flirt, but he never flirted back, or maybe he was just too obvious to realize it.

On Valentine's Day, you stayed the whole night away, baking red velvet heart cinnamon rolls just for him, a new creation, plus he would get a little heart on his cappuccino, which you tried to master for weeks.

He couldn’t contain himself when he saw this; he knew you were smitten, how you blushed and interacted around him. God, you were as obsessed as he was, but he needed to wait; he had his perfect plan.

He gave you his number just in case; Las Almas was never safe, and just so he could sleep calmly, knowing you’re safe, he said.

And surprisingly, a few weeks later, after you closed your little bakery, a man followed you on the way home. At first, you thought it was just imagination, but when you walked five times around the block and he was still there, you knew. So you did the only thing your mind comprehended: you called Rudy.

"Rudy, I'm being followed," you sobbed into the speaker while your feet practically ran.

Luckily, Rodolfo was there, shoving the guy away. If only you had known how he thanked his friend Fernando for scaring you a bit - he didn’t like this, but it was necessary. He wasn’t a bad guy; he saw himself as a determined man who would do anything for his future love.

If it were possible, your eyes would have turned into big cartoon hearts; god, he was perfect. Maybe you should try the first step, even if it's embarrassing, maybe he doesn’t like you.

"Thank you, Rudy."

"Don’t mention it, mi corazon." You blushed at this pet name, looking at him with your big doe eyes.

"Rudy, do you maybe want to stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back?" And how could he say no to this opportunity? Well, he had your words already planned, but it still made something with him.

"Of course."

"Rudy?"

"Mhm?"

"You know, I thought about maybe we could-“ You stopped, feeling incredibly stupid. Rudy was perfect; how could he want someone like you, a normal person? But for him, you were everything but normal; you were perfect the way you were, the missing piece to his life.

"What can we do?"

"You know, get to know each other better," you mumbled beneath your breath, looking at the ground.

His calloused fingers pulled your chin up, forcing you to look into his beautiful eyes as his lips softly fell on yours. It felt like fireworks; if you thought you were kissed before - you weren’t, this was new, exciting, and perfect like in a Disney movie. "Like this, mi corazon?"

"Mhm, I like this way to get to know you."

"You don’t know how long I waited for this," he admitted, looking into your eyes as if you were the only thing keeping him alive; you were everything.

"I waited longer," you admitted, and he thought, if only you had known, how long he wanted you and chased after you, the things he did for you. And the only thing on your mind was if he only would have known how long you looked at him when he was still watching you from outside the bakery.

[popcornforone]

Handy

A Dave York Fic

Day 17 of Pedrotober (Arm Sling Prompt)

Masterlist

You wait half of Pedrotober for a Dave Fic & you get 2 in 4 days. Thank you all for the love of the first one by the way. Every time I’ve picked up my phone it’s said someone has liked & reblogged it. It really means the world. Also Dave the only one other than Ezra who we might find in an arm sling.

Synopsis:- Daves most recent injury from a mission isn’t one you can resolve, without going to hospital.

Word count:- 1250

Warnings over & above:- oral sex (female receiving) fingering, rule breaking, injury detail, meds, swearing & as always DAVE YORK COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING! Cos he’s a menace & controlling

Thanks as always for the read peoples. Hope you are loving this & thats @norththelemon & @alyssamariag for the prompts.

You’re sat in the emergency room waiting for ages. He hates it when you force him to do this. He’s usually certain you can resolve any medical issue he has. But when his shoulder wouldn’t pop back into its socket at all, you had to get some trained medical help for him. It was easy to explain that he “fell through the fence”, it would match the scars on that side of the fence that you’d badly sorted out as he sat there groaning about his shoulder. Looked like you’d done your wife duty for your husband patching him up. But the shoulder wouldn’t go. So now Dave is getting the best care available. At least it’s not a bullet that you have to explain. No longer are you squeamish, blood & stiches are now at least a monthly occurrence.

Out he step 5 hours later, your bad stitching redone, his arm in a dark blue sling. A few more bruises have come through but other than that, he’s still your menacingly handsome Dave York.

“Tadah” He states & try’s to stretch but winces, clearly still in some pain. “Good as new”

“Well next time baby if you pop your shoulder out we’re coming straight here.” He raises an eyebrow at you & you quickly cover your tracks. “He plays lots of sports, is very active, usually we can pop dislocations back in.” Dave rolls his eyes, clearly you’ve said too much & a doctor tells you both how many meds he should take for the pain & signs him off work for a week. You can see from the look in Daves eyes that he has no intention in taking them & that he will be back in the office tomorrow, maybe not on a mission but planning the next one. You both know you have stronger medication at home, not that Dave will even take that.

As you unlock the front door about an hour later, Dave pushes you inside quickly & shuts the door behind the two of you, pinning you against the wall. Even with his arm in a sling he’s still so powerful. You’ve never complained about being man handled by him, you like the rough.

“I’m a sports guy huh?” He says with a grin. “I play hard… & rough… I’m active?” You gulp, you know the mood he’s in. Your eyes dilated.

“Yes sir” you whimper, your thighs part slightly. “I only pick the best boys on the team to be mine.”

“Thought you wanted a man?” He kicks your legs apart. “A man who still has needs”

“Well good luck with that, doctor said no physical excursion for 10 days minimum” you chuckle & boop his nose, he knows you are right but he still has wickedness in his eyes.

“There are other ways I can get my desire” he said. His crazy possessive eyes never leaving yours, he takes a deep breath & then his lips meet yours. The tongue went in on the first date & sex happened date three. You were married in a year & cutting out his 5th bullet in 18 months. The man’s always been crazy about you, not one to be held back & the way his tongue takes in every cavity as you panties dampening. You’ve always been crazy about Dave too.

“Fuck Dave” you moan as you catch your breath as he starts leaving little love bits on your neck. You spend more time doing make up on your neck that your face, he just loves that little crook to much. He grabs your arm & pulls you into the lounge with the hand that works. He then sighs as he pushes you away before he drops to his knees.

“I need a reward”

“For being brave”

“No for going to hospital” he growls tugging at your jeans. For a man with only one hand he’s still very good at using just that.

“Doctor said no over doing it Dave…”

“Sit on my face!” It’s a firm command as your jeans reach your ankles. He kisses up both of your legs. Your thighs always tremble. He then shuffles back the perches up in the sofa behind him. “That’s not a request sweetheart” he snarls licking his lips. “I want you to walk towards me in just your panties & then stand on the sofa & let me do my magic” you look excitedly back at Dave. It’s rare he lets you receive oral first. You tug on your red panties as he gets comfortable.

“Yes sir, anything for my big brave broad husband”. You do as he requested naked except for the panties. He rubs his thighs as you walk towards him, seeing his erection get ever bigger. You stand on the sofa & he whimpers.

“I can smell how ready you are, for me baby” he says eyes dilated he’s trying not to droll. “Lower baby” you do as he asks & he slips your red panties to the side. His large nose already nuzzling against your clit. You grip the top of the sofa. “Gonna need your body to do some work baby” he says. You know exactly how you want this to feel so you start to rub your clit against his nose & you moan as your entrance feels every couple of moves his flat tongue against him.

“Fuck Dave”

“Yea baby like that, enjoying it” you moan & gasp. “Take that as a yes.” He’s freed his hand from his sling & you go to protest but as he grabs both your thighs & brings you fully down on his face your whine.

“Oooh fuckerty fuck”

“Yea baby” in his tongue slips. It’s not as far as his cock or even his fingers, but you’re fluttering & tense in all of those sensitive places. You love it when he eats you out.

“Dave oh god Dave yes yes yes more” you then wince. Two fingers slip it side you & his tongue is now souly attending your clit. Your hips rocking, the grip on the back of the sofa turning your knuckles white. The rhythm increasing, your moans getting louder. It’s a good thing you dropped the kids off at your parents before taking Dave to hospital.

“Dave im close fuck I’m gonna cum, oh god oh god yes yes yesss fuckkkkk” you can’t hold on when he adds a final finger. Sloppy noises from his thrusting fill the air & you become a quivering wreck as you cum. Dave sighs. He withdraws his sodden fingers & returns his mouth to your sex. His bad arms your carefully take as that had been the one pleasuring you & you suck his fingers cleans. You know that always makes him happy when you clean up the mess.

“Fuck baby” he says as you slowly lower yourself off him & readjust your underwear & sit on the sofa next to him. “Why do you always taste of heaven down there”

“Cos you are the devil & need a taste of sweetness” you cackle before kissing him.

“Who says we are done tonight?” He replies. “Maybe this Angel needs a taste of hell”

“Well let me at least get you into bed first, then I will suck your cock til you can’t cum anymore”

“Is that a challenge?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well let’s see if your up for it Dave”

[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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[waterloggedsoliloquy]

protag johnny truant talks a lot abt his sex life and the girls he fucks, seemingly without a direct relation to what he footnotes. but theres always this weird dissociative vibe to it and a lot of ppl think he's lying to sound better than he is (smth he admits to having done, telling insane stories abt how he got his disfigurements is part of his (often unsuccesful) pickup routine), but i ask what does he have to lie about in footnotes no one is ever going to see? my theory is that they are things he thinks happened, or things he is afraid of happening, and writing them out is his way of assuaging the anxiety brought on by delusion or ocd

notably these alleged fantasies are not particularly flattering or satisfying. they are under bizarre or unideal circumstances, involve him feeling deeply ambivalent and lonely, and explicitly mentions not finishing. a woman he doesnt remember becoming friends with uses him as revenge sex on her fiancé. so i find it hard to believe hes doing it to bolster an image or even an ego. if they do happen, even in part, these are not healthy or even necessarily coping mechanisms that make him feel better. often they make him feel worse, lost, alone.

I won't deny that Johnny's parts can be hard to get through. He can be crass, misogynistic, uncomfortable, unhygenic, dissociative, painful, ugly, and sometimes there's just plain bad sex. But I think it's unfair to discount these sections as entirely discrete from and unrelated to Zampano's paper on The Navidson Record. Johnny's story is included in House of Leaves for a reason. It's a part of the whole. There's a lot to be said about Johnny, whose life has never had any security to begin with, whose life is a series of winding pathways that leave him substance reliant and unsure of his place in anything-- in space in time in other people's lives-- reading a book about a movie where this upper middle class nuclear family moves into a new house and immediately have their own sense of domestic safety completely and totally shattered.

Here he is, speaking about his disfigurements (the things he has to tell ludicrous, pulpy stories about in order for people to not recoil away from him):

"All of it true too, though of course scars are much harder to read. Their complex inflections do not resemble the reductive ease of any tattoo, no matter how extensive, colorful or elaborate the design. Scars are the paler pain of survival, received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury."

Here's him talking about that lady who has him as revenge sex:

"Before I left she told me our story: where we'd met-Texas- kissed, but never made love and this had confused her and haunted her and she had needed to do it before she got married which was in four months to a man she loved who made a living manufacturing TNT exclusively for a highway construction firm up in Colorado where he frequently went on business trips and where one night, drunk, angry and disappointed he had invited a hooker back to his motel room and so on and who cared and what was I doing there anyway? I left, considered jerking off, finally got around to it back at my place though in order to pop I had to think of Thumper. It didn't help. I was still hurting, abandoned, drank three glasses of bourbon and fumed on some weed, then came here, thinking of voices, real and imagined, of ghosts, my ghost, of her, at long last, in this idiotic footnote, when she gently pushed me out her door and I said quietly "Ashley" causing her to stop pushing me and ask "yes?" her eyes bright with something she saw that I could never see though what she saw was me, and me not caring though now at least knowing the truth and telling her the truth: "I've never been to Texas.""

I don't know. I just have a profound compassion for this guy. Maybe it's my own history with abuse and neglect and dissociation and unreality but it kind of shocks me to see how many people respond to this guy who desperately needs help and isn't going to get it, who is deeply terrified of other people and wanting them and hurting them or himself... as an imposition and annoying. It's such a fundamentally different read, one I hadn't even considered.

[thetimetel]

I see a lot of people hating so hard on Calypso for forcing Odysseus to stay on the island against his will - and seeing him as her new lover. And believe me, I get it. Those are horrible things no sane person would do.

But I keep being brought back to this line in her song with him. The part where she specifically says 'under my spell we're stuck in paradise. No one can come or go, my island stays unknown'.

She can't leave either. And that paints a whole new light on the situation.

How long has she been stuck there, all by herself? Years? Decades? She says in her last song that it's been a hundred years. Long enough that she has stopped calling it a prison and now calls it a paradise. How long has it been that she has done the same thing every day, pining for any other contact at all?

Then one day, something changes. A man washes up on the shoreline. She immediately takes him to her bed so he can rest and recover. She can already see the new life that they're going to have together, thanking the gods for finally answering her prayers to no longer be alone. She is immortal after all, and eternity is so much more bearable when you have someone else to spend it with.

But something's wrong. He's sleeping for so long, not waking up. And the panic starts to set in. Is he dead? Have the gods played some horrible trick on her, sending a dead man to the island? It's been so long since she has seen a mortal that she doesn't know how to check for signs of death. Is she really so desperate that she brought a CORPSE to bed and thinks it's going to wake up??

Then oh, it's good! He's talking in his sleep! Everything's good, everything is fine. Corpses don't talk. So she stays near him and listens as he whispers of Ithaca, of monsters and politics - wait, Polites, a few other names and then -

'Penelope'

And in that moment her entire vision for her new life comes crashing down. He said that name with such passion, such love, even in his sleep. No. It can't be. The gods aren't THAT cruel, that the first person they'd send to her is . . . no. She can't accept it, doesn't dare to think of the implications. Once he wakes up she'll ask him.

Then finally he does wake up. And it's like a dream. She's in the room, has clearly been taking care of him, and the very first thing he sees is her eyes. It's so romantic. She gets him up to speed, making a light joke about that 'thought you were dead' moment because it doesn't matter anymore. There's only one more thing to ask to ensure her vision of their future.

'did you know you talk in your sleep? Tell me though, who's Penelope?'

'She's my wife'

And in that instant all her fears are confirmed. Something in her head just snaps. How dare the gods do this to her? How DARE they send someone already married to her island, after so long?

She's not giving up that easily.

So she continues her plan like nothing had happened. Letting slip her intention to wed him and make this wonderful family, of which she has likely named their first ten children already. And this man snaps at her, threatens to kill her.

'Oh handsome, you may try. But last I checked, goddesses can't die!'

And just how many times has she checked, being trapped on an island that she can't escape all by herself?

But again she brushes it off as a joke. Because that's all behind her. There's something for her to live for again! And silly Odysseus tries to claim that this isn't how it's going to be. She totally gets it, she went through that the first few years herself. So she spells out that he's all hers now.

Now all she has to do, is wait. Wait for him to come to terms with their situation. Wait for him to realize he will never reach Penelope. It will be ugly of course, that moment he finally accepts this cruel fate. But once that has passed, he'll fall for Calypso. She knows this in her heart. And they can finally set out to truly make this hellhole a paradise.

So she waits.

One year passes.

She's still having the time of her life. In between his escape attempts she's getting him to open up to her. When she explained her past to him he even showed sympathy! After all, they both were constantly getting screwed over by the gods. It wouldn't take long.

Two years pass.

His constant escape attempts are just amusing. She's taken to telling him 'welcome back!' every time the raft turns around and brings him back to the island.

Three years pass.

He tries to kill her, under the thought that it was her that was keeping him on the island. But she just laughs as she shows it didn't do a damn thing. He'll run out of ideas soon. He'll accept that he's trapped here, just like her.

Four years pass.

She's lost count of the number of escape attempts. There's at least five a day. He's trying to find a loophole in the curse that keeps them there. She's trying to gently push him over that edge, to get him to accept the reality of the situation. Once he does, their new life together will start.

Five years pass.

Any day now, he'd give up. The escape attempts had stopped, but now he would just sob on the shoreline. At this point he was going to raise the tide with how many tears he had cried. She understood of course. Her breakdown hadn't been any prettier all those years ago.

Six years.

Why? Why wasn't he giving up? Why was he doing this to himself? The escape attempts had renewed. He'd searched the entire island, trying to find something tethering them to this accursed paradise. He'd tried everything to escape. She wasn't even sure where he'd gotten the 'wax wings' idea from, but it was just as pointless as the other attempts.

Seven years.

She finds him at the edge of a cliff. And for the first time she feels a deep, primal fear. He'd never accepted her gift of immortality. She desperately tries to talk him down. But every attempt seems to be making it worse. She doesn't know she's repeating the words he's heard before. Then he cries out for Athena, and when she doesn't answer he just collapses in tears.

It was scary. But this had to be his breaking point. He didn't resist when she brought him back to their home, though he stayed in bed for the rest of the day. She just had to give him some space - though she was going to make CERTAIN he stayed away from that cliff.

Then something happens. The last thing she expected.

A visit from Hermes. He tells that Zeus himself has decreed Odysseus be freed.

And yet again, her vision of the future is shattered.

She pleads. She begs. He's falling for her, she knows it. That new life is so close, she just needs a little more time! But her cries fall on deaf ears. And when she tries to refuse, a lightning bolt lands a little too close for comfort.

There's only one chance left.

And in her heart she knows how it will end. But she tries. She tries to convince Odysseus to stay, knowing that if she fails he will leave her all alone again. She doesn't want to be alone again. She pleads, she begs, she pours out her entire soul to him. All while knowing what his answer will be. It hadn't changed for seven years, why would it change now? Why would this fucking world EVER give her what she wanted!?

And it ends just like she expects it to. With her watching as he gets on that raft and sails off into the horizon. Except this time Hermes keeps the curse at bay, and stops the island from bringing him back.

And just like that, she's all alone again.

[slytherwrites]

Yandere House of Black Headcanons

Characters: Narcissa, Andromeda, Bellatrix, Cygnus, Druella, Walburga, Orion, Sirius, and Regulus

It was Narcissa who latched onto you first. A fellow first year Slytherin who was a pureblood, but not familiar to the British Wizarding World before this, for whatever reason.

As a Black, her word was law for any Slytherins her year of the years under. At the start of first year, that wasn't many people except for their peers. Though, that was enough power to be able to make everyone else avoid you, so you would be running to her for everything.

Narcissa hated sharing with others she deemed as unworthy. And even other Sacred 28 purebloods were not worth your attention like she was.

Her sisters however, they were fine. They were allowed to be in your presence. They were worthy.

And that's where her mistake was made. Because Andromeda and Bellatrix both became as attached as she was with you.

She only went to them because they had more status then she did. Andromeda was smart, beloved with professors and students alike. And Bellatrix was feared.

But she didn't think that they'd be attached like she is.

Andromeda thought you were so kind and out of your element, wanting to teach you the joys of power and the good parts of being here with them.

Bellatrix found you fascinating, wanting to put you through the ringer in order to help mold you into a strong member of the House of Black.

Because sweet you were going to be a member no matter what. No matter what deal with the devil (their parents) they had to make, they'd get you as a sibling.

They brought you home for winter holidays. Cygnus was interesting. Very rarely his three daughters ever asked for the same thing. Very rarely they all accepted one person to this degree. Druella was concerned, knowing how fixated they were. After all, they are their father's daughters.

But it didn't take long for them to get attached to you too.

Cygnus is the first to crack, seeing you like a daughter as well. Like you were the last piece of the puzzle. It didn't matter that he didn't have a male heir. You were who they needed to round out the family.

Druella's concern only grew, but the obsessive nature of the family quickly watched over her. You were now her favorite child. Even if she didn't birth you, you were hers. She knew it. Her children knew it. That's why they brought you to her.

The Annual Black Family Yule Celebration was coming soon and you were invited, treated like the royalty they saw you as. And that's when the other half of the family finally met you.

Druella and Cygnus introduced you to Walburga and Orion. The girls had obligations to mingle with their betrothed and their families. But you were mingling with Walburga and Orion. All four of the adults knew of the intent: getting you arranged to be married to Sirius.

Sirius, their heir, was the one way to get you into the family forever. Marriage would bind you to them eternally.

It doesn't matter that your parents aren't here. They never really cared did they? Not like Cygnus and Druella do? Not like Walburga and Orion will.

Orion finds you of interest first. He holds a conversation with you, silently judging you to see what you're worth. And you've been taught well. Moldable, but he'd love to mold you into the perfect pureblood. He doesn't see you like he sees the others. It's potential he's glad to exploit.

Walburga isn't as impressed, but she likes seeing you squirm. The way you try so hard, but shy away from compliments is delicious. You're just like the girls she would lead during her school days. Though, she doesn't want to break you completely. You're like a piece of clay, able to become a prized piece of art.

They lead you to Sirius and Regulus. Regulus isn't impressed at first, but he grows as you indulge his childish instincts. And Sirius becomes jealous of that. He holds no claim to you yet, but something snaps into place in his mind. The once in sync brothers become at odds, each wanting your attention.

By the end of the break, your life is being planned out. Married to Sirius, becoming a Black yourself. Holding no power except to indulge your in-laws with your time. After all, they're making you into the best you can be. After all, they'll be your family now. After all, they'll be all you have left, once they get rid of the family you belong to now.

[blingblong55]

The Great War - Simon Riley//Vladimir Makarov

Creds to: @shadow0-1 for that Ghost work

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: I forgot to add the angst....im so sorry pookies

Part 2

---- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal ----

It's been three months since Task Force 141 last saw you and how you betrayed them. Makarov and you have become the real-life Joker and Harley Quinn. In love with the other and maybe the love is toxic but the way he and you were so mental and in love made it all so good and bad. Everywhere you went, his hand held yours. It was romance for what poison could be. Deadly. One night, as Makarov and you celebrate your anniversary, he decides to spoil you. A private jet, a romantic location and a whole week in paradise. Well, that is the plan at least.

On the way there, the jet gets hit, Makarov rushes and puts a vest over you, his trusted gun and a kiss. "What are you doing?!" you frantically ask. "I'll meet you at our spot later my love," he lets go and then opens the door to the jet. The air tearing the door, he kisses you once more and as you look at him in fear and confusion, he gives you the illusion that he is right behind. Which he is not.

As you descend back to steady ground, the last person you ever thought wanted to see you, pulls a risky stunt. One he claims he has no idea he had the adrenaline for. Your body is so close to the ground as you watch your husband's jet explode. Ghost, holding you close as he deploys his parachute. "Vlad!" you call out with a tear-filled face. Ghost held you with all his mighty power until you two reached the grassy area. As he begins to unstrap, your hands hit his chest multiple times. Messy tears escape your face, "Why! why the hell did this happen?! What did you do!" Your hits became more defenceless as you cried and let out sobs of fear. Ghost wraps his arms around you.

In your memories, there he is, Vladimir and the children you were so set to want. Lazy Friday nights, the kids, Vladimir and you, a beautiful and complete family. It was like every puzzle was perfectly placed. Green lawn, sunny day, a puppy, giggles and small kisses. All gone in a matter of seconds.

"Shhh, shhh, I know, R/N, I know," his hand on your head, rubbing it as he kept you close to him. He was a trained soldier, after all, so he knew that occasionally he had to deal with people going through so many emotions. His gaze, why does it have to be this way? Why must he stare at you like this now?

No one knew Ghost had been on the lookout for you. That he went against every order given to him, that he broke an oath to hold you in arms this way as you cry. You pull away, your arms wrapping around your own body. Trying to find comfort in this moment. How did you lose him so easily? After so long of loving him in secret, he is gone this quickly. Like a cheap curse. But he was meant to be the lifelong curse. To ruin your very soul and taint you with his power of cruelness.

"God what were you even thinking?!" You push him., "You could've died, Simon. And then what?! huh!" You push him again and this time he grabs your arms. His stare lowered, eyes teared up as he confessed, "I did it for you," and now, he has become someone who he hates. Someone who betrayed the task force, someone who fucked it up and still it felt so right. Maybe you are a temptress, maybe you are the cruel one and not these men. Why must you make them love you so hard that they do this? What the hell do you even do now?

"I killed them all, please…please R/N, please listen to me." His voice more softer, gaze is so beautiful that it makes your heart flutter. "No, Simon-" "Listen to me this once. I know what I did is wrong but damn it, don't you feel it too? Don't you feel what I do? When I hear your voice, that sweet melody becomes my reason to wake up early, to smile, to even dare come back from operations. R/N, I know I'm not the best-looking guy in a crowd but…damn it, I would ruin everything for you."

His hand holds yours as he places it over his chest, "For years, so many years, this heart has belonged to just you." He whispers and holds you in for a kiss.

A gunshot.

One body to the floor and then darkness surrounded by crimson red.

No one ever said the joke or Harley Quinn had a good ending, guess it is the way this life goes.

[At the 141 base]

"Price, have yer seen Ghost?" Soap walks in after looking for his friend around the base for nearly an hour. "Should be in the shooting range," Price responds. "Think he mentioned something about going to the gym," Gaz mentions. "Not in any of those places." Soap says. The three men looked everywhere. Then, a soldier comes running in, "Someone stole the plans and mapping for the operation-" "and many of the files have been deleted, security footage is also gone." Another soldier comments. The three men have many possible answers and then two names come to mind. Makarov and yours.

"She fucking kidnapped him?!" Soap was furious and it was well known he hated you for what you did. Gaz, oh that man hated you for everything you were worth. In their books, you placed first place against Makarov and Graves. "That fucking bitch," Soap slams his fist on the table of Price's office.

As the men gather information and what else was taken, they realise a pattern here. After knowing who you were, your pattern who Vladimir is and his way of dealing with stuff, they understood the job was from someone on the inside and described you as someone who broke in. With contacts in many parts of the world, they looked for traces of him and traces of you.

You weren't even planning on this robbery to the base. Makarov wasn't either, so there is a third man. Alejandro and the rest of Los Vaqueros were told that they had someone else as a suspect. The devil herself, Valeria Garza. One look into her history and she was also not behind this mess. She was hunting down someone, yes but she didn't care for 141…yet.

After hours of exploring any enemy that would do this, it suddenly struck. And just as Gaz was about to give his shocking idea, Laswell walked in.

"Ghost wasn't kidnapped, the files were stolen but it was him…he is the man on the inside. This entire time, Ghost talked with Makarov, they weren't friends but allies. He is our next target," she slams his file on the table. "If we want Makarov, we take Ghost down first." "But how?" "We hurt the desire of his newfound criminal mind." "Which is?" "Grim. We know he was hurt when she revealed she was with Makarov, so it's time we take it old school and hurt her to get to him." Laswell looks over at Price, he nods and leans on over. "If we do this, I don't want casualties." "We got a deal?" "We do."

With that set, 141 found the targets of their next operation but this time, their calls had to be whispered. Two former members of their teams who knew them all too well, this has to be all a precise work of war. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, R/N 'Grim' Makarov, the new image of a ticking bomb. Their names are given to all the agents in the world. Hitmen, snipers and all countries, looking for two mad soldiers.

One was set to win. That win would set a new record for all criminals and good men. This is how modern warfare changes for the better and worse of us.

This is the great war.

A/N: i thought this was uploaded and it turns out it was in my drafts all along....i'm stupid

Tags: @actuallyhiswife @eicee @liyanahelena

[ofthemorningstars]

Things Unspoken (Part 1)

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut ~ Hurt/Comfort 2.4k words

Part 2 Ao3 Version Terzo is hiding something from Omega.

Omega was deep inside of Terzo when it started. Everything had been great up until that point. Terzo was lying with his face in the sheets, clutching at them for dear life. His back was in a deep arch, his ass in the air,  cock dripping onto the bed. Omega was thrusting with abandon. All was as it should have been. But when Omega had reached out to Terzo with his quintessence, when he had tried to connect their minds and souls, he was met with resistance for the very first time in two decades. Omega was dumbfounded at Terzo’s hesitation; on any other night, he would beg for this. Omega would never want to force anything on his mate, but he hadn’t anticipated the denial. For over twenty years, Omega had used his quintessence nearly every time they were together. It was almost routine. A part of their ritual. 

He slowed his thrusts. Terzo made a weak attempt to look up at Omega, not quite meeting his eyes. “N–Not tonight, amore,” was the only explanation Omega got. Omega tried not to let it get to him. He really did. He made sure they finished together as usual, and he didn’t bring it up again the rest of the night. It proved to be a great feat of self-control, not asking Terzo about what had happened. If something was wrong. They went about the rest of their nightly customs, but Omega’s mind raced as he held Terzo’s sleeping form in his arms. He had a hard time falling asleep that night. Omega found himself struggling to get through the next day. If he were being honest with himself, he felt a little stung. He prided himself on always keeping a level head, but there were only but so many reasons Terzo would reject him like this. What was he hiding from him? What didn’t he want Omega to see? After so many years, they knew everything about each other. At least, Omega had thought that they did. He heard a squeak and his head snapped up; he had been so lost in his brooding that he’d nearly walked directly into a sister carrying a towering stack of books as she rounded the corner. In her surprise, she’d lost her balance, and the tomes at the top had begun to fall. With lightning fast reflexes he caught them, returning them to the pile. “My apologies, suora, I wasn’t paying attention. Are you alright?” Omega put a hand on her shoulder unthinkingly.  

Clearly rattled, but obviously still believing herself too good to speak to a lowly ghoul, the sister turned up her nose, shook him off, and continued walking. 

Omega sighed. He was used to this. While it wasn’t expressly forbidden to interact with ghouls, many of the clergy had been conditioned to believe them to be lowly, vile creatures. Most of them wouldn't talk to ghouls outside of giving them orders. Terzo had been one of the first within the ministry walls to treat the ghouls like people. Like equals.

The elder ghouls had spoken very highly of Terzo that first night Omega had asked about him. Omega had needed to know who that strange human staring at him from across the room was. He needed to know why he felt so drawn to him.

Since Terzo was a small child, Omega was told, his birth mother had allowed him to spend much of his time in the ghoul wing, making friends with infernal beings from the pits of hell. She simply hadn’t wanted to look after him, and Terzo had been so fascinated by the ghouls… so she let him stay. Nihil had never cared enough to have an issue with it, and so it continued. Even now as Papa, Terzo made an effort to spend as much time in their wing as he could, much to the ire of the Imperator. Technically, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, other than making the ministry “look weak”. Admonishable, but not punishable. Omega often wondered how she would react if she were to find out that an Emeritus had married a ghoul. He shuddered and prayed that they would never have to find out. That night Omega returned to Terzo’s chambers after the halls were barren and quiet, like he always did. Another routine. Terzo greeted him with a smile, but there was a strange look behind his eyes. It almost seemed like… guilt. Guilt, and something else. Omega’s anxiety returned in full force. 

After closing the door behind himself, he took off his mask with a sigh of relief and pulled Terzo into a tight embrace, one which Terzo warmly returned. “Ciao amore mio. I have been waiting for you. Is everything alright?” Terzo asked, looking up from Omega’s chest to meet his gaze. Omega averted his eyes, fighting back a level of discomfort that was unprecedented in Terzo’s presence. 

“Everything's fine, tesoro.” Omega shuffled his feet; he supposed he was rather late tonight. He had been lost in thought in his own quarters. He felt bad for lying; he didn't feel fine. 

Perhaps he was subconsciously avoiding whatever he had been worried might come next. But here Terzo was, acting perfectly normal, currently kissing his way up Omega’s neck. Terzo’s tongue came out to lick a mark he’d just made. Omega softened, letting his shoulders relax. Maybe he was being silly after all. “I will run us a bath, yes?” Terzo pulled away, heading to the bathroom. Omega’s head was swimming, one half of his brain preoccupied with lust and the other with worry. He shook his head. So Terzo hadn’t wanted to connect with him. That was only one night, and besides. Terzo was allowed to say no whenever he wanted, to whatever he wanted to say no to. Why should it bother him that Terzo exercised his free will? Satanas knows how few opportunities he got to do that. What kind of beast did it make Omega if he got upset over his husband telling him no, especially about something concerning his own body and mind? 

Omega took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Will you be joining me tonight, bello?” Terzo teased from the bathroom door, having returned from starting the water. He could faintly smell the rich vanilla bubble bath that Terzo was so fond of. Omega slowly looked him over from head to toe: he wore nothing but his favorite black diamond earrings and his wedding ring. Omega swallowed hard. He would sooner be dragged back to the pit than to ever get tired of seeing Terzo naked. Omega didn’t realize how much tension he had been carrying until he sank down into the hot water. As his muscles began to relax and his eyes fell closed, he once again reassured himself that yes, everything was indeed ok. Terzo helped affirm that by climbing onto his lap and straddling his hips. Omega hummed as Terzo sucked at his chest, his nipples, leaving little bruises in his wake, kissing each one before he moved on to grace his skin with another. As his mouth made its way up to Omega’s neck, his hand began to slowly slide down his torso. Terzo grinned against Omega as he found what he was looking for: Omega was already hard from all the attention he was giving him.

Terzo pulled Omega’s face down to meet his in a searing kiss, pumping the ghoul. Omega groaned into Terzo’s mouth, his own hands traveling down to grip Terzo’s ass, rubbing and squeezing, digging into the tender flesh with his claws. 

Omega felt lightheaded. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was because of the affection he was receiving, the heat of the water, or his earlier ruminations. Reluctantly he pulled himself away from Terzo’s mouth, needing to lean his head back on the edge of the tub. Terzo returned his attention to Omega’s neck as he released his grip, choosing instead to ride up against him, their cocks rubbing together. He wanted in on the friction. Omega whined. Terzo rode Omega hard, gripping him by the shoulders now, flushed from head to toe. He seemed to be desperately turned on, dragging his tongue up Omega’s neck and face, grinding faster. Omega almost chuckled; he’d heard members of the clergy joke throughout the years about the idea of ghouls going into heat, but he’d seen enough to believe that no ghoul could ever hope to outmatch the libido of his little human mate. Fondness bloomed through his chest.

He released his grip on Terzo’s ass to catch his face with one hand for another kiss. The other reached down between them; his hand was large enough to stroke both of them together. He pumped them both until Terzo’s breath began to come heavy, his hips bucking up against Omega. Omega moaned into Terzo’s mouth before he had to break away to breathe, panting. Omega picked up the pace until Terzo groaned almost painfully before falling onto Omega’s chest, cum splattering hot between them. Omega followed immediately behind, throwing his head back and arching hard. It took a long time for them to actually get to bathing. After the initial recovery came the kisses, the nuzzling, the soft caresses and sweet nothings. The basking in the afterglow. Omega was the one who had to get them back on track, as he often did, turning Terzo around and scrubbing at his hair with shampoo, making sure to be careful of his claws. Terzo had wanted to soak in the tub for even longer, but Omega gently urged him out as the water was quickly cooling. “We can’t have you getting sick. You humans are so fragile,” he fussed. Terzo had pouted, as always, but complied. When they were dried off and ready for bed, Terzo had been about to climb under the covers still nude before Omega stopped him. 

“Mio amato, its the dead of winter, and you just got out of the bath. You really will get sick,” Omega said with genuine concern. It wasn’t like they didn’t regularly go to sleep together naked, but not usually with wet hair, and not usually in February. Not unless they were in front of the fireplace, anyway. “Amore, I just want to feel y–” Terzo had begun to whine before abruptly cutting himself off. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, panic crossing over his features before he quickly smoothed them over. “I just want to f–feel the new sheets. I just changed them. One thousand thread-count. Very nice, yes?” Omega’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His heart sank. He knew what Terzo had been about to say. Those were the words they used to describe the bond that they shared when Omega used his quintessence. “I just want to feel you.” The same way that he hadn’t wanted to feel him yesterday. The way that, Omega was now realizing, he hadn’t asked to feel him tonight. All of Omega’s worries from earlier in the day came flooding back. His heart was racing, but he was determined not to let it show. If Terzo wouldn’t tell him, he wasn’t going to pry. Silent, he dug a pair of Terzo’s good silk pajamas out of the wardrobe and set them on the bed before getting dressed himself. 

As they lay there, Terzo’s head was on Omega's chest, but Terzo was uncharacteristically quiet. Omega’s mind began to race faster than his heart had earlier. He didn’t sleep well that night. 

The next two nights were much the same,

Terzo overcompensating with chatter and sex. Omega knew him well enough to know with near certainty that he wasn’t being honest. Terzo was definitely hiding something. He didn’t know what to do about it. If that something had turned out to really be a “someone”… He spent a lot of his waking time fantasizing about exactly how he’d handle that problem. While that served as a nice distraction, he knew that it would also mean the end of their marriage. Please, he would pray to no one in particular. Please don’t let that be it.  On the third night, Omega didn’t cuddle with Terzo when they went to bed. His heart broke to leave him all alone, to reject him, but he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie to Terzo with his body and pretend that everything was ok when it wasn’t. It wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t who he thought Terzo was, either. He felt guilty about even having agreed to sex, but he had gotten carried away. If he couldn’t get the emotional intimacy he was craving, he would settle for physical intimacy. At least, he thought he could, but now he felt even more hollow than before. So, he turned his back to Terzo and pretended to be asleep.

He didn’t sleep, though. Instead, he had one of the longest nights of his life, thinking of all of the ways his relationship might be about to come crashing down around him. He left in the morning before Terzo woke up.

Everyone was treating him funny the next day. They refused to look at Omega, giving him a wide berth. It couldn't be the dark circles under his eyes. No, those were hidden behind his mask. He didn’t look any different outwardly. He had made sure that not a hair was out of place before he reported for duty. No, it was that the other ghouls could feel the distress and frustration rolling off of him in waves. He couldn’t shield it from them no matter how hard he tried. When Air had come up to him after an exceptionally messy practice and snarkily asked, “Trouble in paradise?” Omega had snarled at him, ripping his guitar off wordlessly and storming back to his own quarters.

As he lay there unable to tell if he wanted to rage or to cry, he decided that he wasn’t going back to Terzo’s tonight. He turned off his phone and locked his door. He couldn’t handle another evening of deceit, and if things were about to end… No, he simply couldn’t face that. He didn’t have the strength. Maybe he could just run forever. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to hear Terzo say things that he could never unhear. When sleep eventually found him, he was greeted by some of the worst dreams of his life.

[pandorasfruit]

Umbrella Academy season 4:

I finished the entire season a few nights ago, so lets talk about some things;

I haven't checked in with the fandom in any way, but from most of the tiktoks i've seen, not many like this season. Completely understandable, makes sense, especially after seeing that weird (a lot of people used the word:) predatory relationship which went down between Five and Lila. I definitely did not see it coming, and though I don't find it predatory myself, as they are both consenting adults, since Five is in the body of an (i think) 20-something year old, but has the mind of an (if i remember right) 60/70 year old(?). I think how it happened can also be an excuse; they were trapped together for (what felt like to them) 7 years. Not to mention that Five had probably been lonely for some time now, and though Lila claimed that her marriage satisfied her, I really don't think it did.

This all however, is totally not an excuse for their behavior. Lila was married with three kids, and Five was the brother of her husband. They were in-laws, which does add to the weird pile.

The only thing I really enjoyed about their "hang", was their travels through all the different timelines. And now we have another academy (The Phoenix Academy), that's just a fun thought. I would have loved to see an episode where they explored the different timelines with different academies.

In other news: I love Luther.

I'm sorry, but I just do. I think the way he desperately tries to keep everything together when it comes to their family is commendable. In previous season, I always hated how he excused Reggie's behavior, but now that he's left that behind and focuses solely on his siblings instead is adorable. Both and he and Allison have given up on the whole incestuous relationship they had, and now they don't even mention it nor acknowledge it. Though normally I would say that that's not a healthy way to deal, I think it's actually better to just leave it all be.

Yes, I know he's kind of pathetic. Yes, I know he is also somewhat selfish. No, I do not care. He's trying very hard to be cool older brother Luther and cool uncle Luther. I think his whole descent into sex work should have been talked about in a better way, but somehow he always brought it up as a thing he enjoys doing? I'm not going to go into prolematic things that the writers have been doing, but this is definitely one of them. There's nothing consensual about sex work, and it should never be shown as something that one might enjoy doing.

This is one of the first actual seasons, however, where we get to witness Diego doing his thing! (I know we've seen him do some other tricks, but they never been this detailed.) I was so shocked to see him do his little spin in the air to redirect the bullets during the second episode, but I was disappointed to see that Lila did NOT care.

Talking about Lila and Diego, did anybody else catch that one part in the first episode about how they basically had the twins accidentally? Diego explains to Luther that though he loves Lila and his kids, he feels exhausted and not at all satisfied. Then he explaines that they had the twins through Lila telling him that since she was breastfeeding, she couldn't get pregnant. It's unclear now if they were both mistaken, but just the way he was talking about it, it felt like to me that he felt betrayed by Lila. I'm pretty sure that Lila was aware that she could still get pregnant, she just knew that she wouldn't be able to convince Diego, so instead she did this.

Viktor is as cool as ever. He's always been very cool, but thinking back to all other old (pre-transition) Elliot Page roles, its so noticiable how uncomfortable he was in his body, and getting to see him now, playing a male character, whos not only accepted by his siblings but Reggie too?! Amazing. And him bonding with Reggie? Delicious, I ate that right up. Reggie calling him "boy" (and other masculine nicknames)? Love, love, love.

This is one point for the writers and Netflix, this is exactly how Hollywood should handle an actor coming out, and I hope that this will be an example for future media that will feature transgender actors in the middle of transitioning.

Klaus is our little weirdo who DESERVES a break. He needs it. Please.

We get to see him clean this season, but I did not expect him to behave like this while off drugs. Honestly, I'm not sure I expected anything. I guess I kind of just thought he'd do drugs anyway? Or that he'd get clean but still behave somewhat the same way.

Poor Klaus was also a character subjected to sex work this season, it just made a bit more sense this time. He definitely did not enjoy it, that was something they made very obvious, but they still couldn't do it just right. It was awful watching him have to make a choice between getting money to pay off his debt and leave or a sole condom for "dealing" with costumers. They didn't make it obvious how many clients he really had, but through dialog, you could kind of guess that he had way more than the one girl whose money he tried stealing.

I loved seeing his relationship with Allison this season. And I loved his relationship with Claire even more. I felt the scene where he went home to rob Allison's place so he could get money to buy drugs was realistic, but since I've never had any experiences with addiction of that kind, I won't speak on it.

The villains of the season were kind of nothing if I'm being honest. I loved their sense of style, but other than that they were basic, text-book style villains, who were mostly around to just help the story along. They weren't too memorable, but neither was Reggie's wife? Partner? I'm not sure who she was, or if she counts as a villain or not? I didn't really understand her role, but I did like how she treated the siblings the first time they met.

Then there is Ben and Jennifer.

I feel like we never really made Ben an official part of the siblings, even though he is supposed to be. His relationship with Jennifer was very cute, but once again, it was not too memorable, even though it was supposed to be the main story of the entire season. I find it weird how it all looks unplanned while also being completely planned? Like, you'd assume that ever since season 1, this has always been the story of Ben's death, and yet it still feels like it just wasn't? It feels like they were putting this whole thing together blindly, and then someone thought of the right thing and that was what made it all make sense.

And I don't like how things with Jennifer went unexplained! What does that fucking squid have to do with anything???

But anyway, other than all that, this season was a very basic example of a Netflix series. It was entertaining but not deep. It was a good watch, but I don't think I could ever do a re-watch. I think it was overall, just nice.

[fkinavocado]

DADDY ISSUES ANNOUNCEMENT

ok guys. let's recap. i've been writing on this fic since august 2021. i was gearing up to wrap it up for its 2 year anniversary in august, but my mental health got in the way of writing in general, not just for this fic.

however, there has been another major block in my way.

many of you might remember this if you've been around long enough, but i got a lot of backlash at one point in the story. some felt it wasn't going in the direction they had hoped for (a typical happy ending, picket fence, kids, etc- the whole package).

and ever since, this has been bothering me- but not just because of the obvious reason (which is, that this is my fic and i should get to decide what the storyline is ultimately, and who doesn't resonate can just move on instead of sending me hate for something i share on here for free and for us all to enjoy- me writing it, and you, hopefully, reading it)

no, the real, or should i say, bigger reason is that i was upset with myself.

because, honestly... i wanted to end the fic where part 1 ended!

but... i gave into the pressure. so many ppl were pleading for more, and although the initial plan was to just write extras going forward, little check-ins mainly based on prompts, i felt like i owed it to you all to give you the happy ending everyone was rooting for... when, in reality, i'd meant for it to have an open ending all along.

yes, the check-ins would have had them be together etc, but no major plot developments such as... getting married, babies, etcetc. because i just didn't want to give them a typical story. i wanted this to be based on their dynamic, their relationship, them working on it, but not have it be the traditional story with a happily ever after.

(very many insisted a lot on the baby plotline, and maybe that's why i went with that twist in the story... because i didn't see it for them in the immediate future. and writing it in a linear timeframe without too many timejumps meant that i had to find a workaround... which only infuriated people more!)

so i'be been debating this for months now... should i go on and just wrap it up in a lame way that i didn't feel did the story justice (aka another timejump where they're finally settled, have a kid and another one on the way, and describe their happily ever after) orrrrrrrrrrrrrr backtrack to where i feel i deviated from my original plan, and take off part 2 and 3.

basically, go back to where they were on his front porch and part 1 ended:

Harry looked at you for a long moment, towering over you- you could barely see his facial features in the dark. 

But what you could make out clearly was the glistening in his eyes and the way his lips turned ever so slowly into a smile, his dimples on display. He was so handsome when he smiled, it hurt. 

You slowly smiled in return, your worried expression fading away, and you just stared at eachother like that, smiling after months of nothing but.

You didn’t need to say anything, your eyes had their own secret language. Once more, your bodies were doing the talking for you.

He held out the palm of his hand.

And… you knew.

this... this is how i wanted the main story to end. and then to just write extras, prompts you guys send in, whatever you wanted to see more of- but maybe not them having kids etc because fjdhfksd this is just not that kind of story to me! i just wanted this to be about them, the two of them rekindling their relationship after so much time apart and all they'd been through!

so... i finally took the decision, and as a result, you may have noticed that just the first 25 chapters are still listed in the masterlist (essentially, just part 1)

this was a hard decision, one i've been debating for ages, because, well... i hated having to just erase so many chapters. chapters i worked on, chapters i still see as genuine and true to their story but just... not what i wanted to write for them as a whole. i wanted to just focus on little moments. not have it be a chronological recount of their story, going further.

i had to let go of so many special moments that i loved writing! who knows... maybe i'll save some of them and integrate them into extras

that is, if any of you still want me to keep writing extras for them! i know many will still want to see snippets of them, but i am well aware most have probably given up on this fic and i honestly don't blame them. it's taken me forever to reach this decision, but honestly, i'm taking the advice of so many lovely people who came into my inbox along the years and encouraged me to stay true to what i'd envisioned for them in the first place

so this is me doing that ❤️i love their story, and all the love you guys have for it and it's just so so special to me. i couldn't bear giving it an ending that would just feel like i was wrapping it all up and putting a pretty bow on top when i have so much i wanted to explore with them, otherwise. thank you all for your patience and all your kindness. it means a lot, and i hope this news makes you happy because... it makes me happy knowing i stayed true to myself in the end.

now i can finally move on and write more for them. let's have some fun! if needed, go back and at least give chapter 25 a re-read so you know where things left off. i'm still not doing well mental health wise so please bear with me- i'm trying. i promise i am. i desperately wanna write, i love writing. writing extras is so much easier logistically- little fun check-ins that i don't have to overthink. i'm hopeful that this will prove to be the right decision going further ❤️

[skzpixie]

Happy Wedding, my love// happy ending saga

Part 1 - Part 3

CW: none! Just a whole lotta fluff and the two being unserious in their wedding

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @palindrome969

December 21st, 2024 

It wasn’t every day two idols got married, especially ones that were considered to be the nation’s power couple. But today was that day. The day when many people tuned into the news and livestreams to see the two get married.  

Kai paced a hole through the floor of the bridal suit, her brother looking at her confused. He never knew the type of stress brides got on their wedding day. Her bridesmaids had gone to get pictures with the groomsmen, so it was just her, Bo, and Yuqi, Yuqi being her maid of honor. 

The wedding was taking place in a large greenhouse, keeping the people warm from the chill that was winter in South Korea. The large building held several of their closest friends and biggest celebrities. Yuqi and the rest of (G)-Idle were her bridesmaids, while Lisa and Wonyoung were the last two. The boys were Changbin’s groomsmen while Chan was the best man. Ateez, the rest of Blackpink, and almost half of the industry was on the guest list. The rest of the guest list was family on Changbin’s side, making the wedding have roughly seven hundred people attending. Even JYP and his family were attending, that was how big the wedding was being promoted. 

Along with the upscale wedding, came her dress. It was a slight mermaid style, the skirts flaring out after her mid-thigh. The dress from the thigh up weighed 5-10 lbs. itself. It was adorned in jewels and beads, making it hard for her to breath, the corset back not helping her case. Her hair was styled into an elegant updo, the front two strands of her hair freely flowing and curled to frame her face. Her makeup was simple, a nude look with peach lips to enhance her natural beauty. On top of that, her neck and ears were adorned with sapphires and diamonds, making her look like one of those dolls. The necklace, thankfully, wasn’t too gaudy, putting just the right amount of interesting texture to her look. 

Yuqi got a buzz from her phone, and she cursed. “Kai, baby, it’s go-time.” Kai internally groaned. She wasn’t ready yet, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be ready. She took a deep breath, linked her arm with Bo’s, and made her way to enter. Yuqi had quickly gone to walk down with Chan on her arm, giving her a look of encouragement. It reminded her of that day in February, not too long after their engagement. 

“Who's the best man?” Hyunjin asked Changbin, days after the announcement over Instagram and Dispatch. 

“I don’t know.” Changbin commented, braiding Kai’s hair, who was fast asleep with a glass of soju. 

“It’s going to be me, obviously.” Han snorted, making heads snap towards him. 

“Ain’t no way, it’ll be me.” Feliz said, and it became a huge argument between the seven members. Changbin watched them, amused, already having an idea who it’ll be. 

Kai stirred, making the men freeze. “What’s going on?” She yawned, making Changbin glare at the men who woke her up. 

“Just because of that, Chan will be my best man.” Changbin told the seven, picking the one that was least responsible for waking Kai up. 

Chan fist bumped, which led to the members wrestling and dog piling over Chan. 

Kai snorted at the memory, her nerves melting away as the music filled her ears. It was the instrumental version of Butterflies, making her crack up slightly. She met Changbin’s eyes, and they couldn’t stop the giggles that left their mouths at the sight of each other. 

After a quick couple seconds, she stood under the altar, hugging Bo after he went to sit down. The officiant, BoA, started the ceremony. The two had to hold in their laughs whenever they looked at each other, feeling shy whenever they made eye contact. 

“Now, repeat after me.” BoA instructed Changbin, who nodded diligently. She started telling the vows, pausing every now and then to let Changbin repeat after her. After his set, she turned to Kai, doing the same thing she did to Changbin to her. The two held bated breaths, until it was said they could kiss. 

The two went in for a kiss but instead of kissing, they bonked their heads together. This caused the two to burst out laughing. She cradled his head while the two laughed, trying to rub away the red mark while their wedding party couldn’t help but laugh as well.  

After a few seconds of the wedding party being anything but serious, Kai eventually landed a kiss to his lips, getting cheers from the crowd. She pulled away and continued laughing, making her wheeze from how tight the dress was. 

The two walked back down the aisle while their wedding party was following, bouncing and jumping up and down, like it wasn’t supposed to be serious, to hype the couple up. Security quickly crowded the guests into limos to transfer them over to the reception. Kai continued to rub the red mark on his forehead, before kissing it to make it feel better. Changbin chuckled, before kissing her deeply, making her squeak. 

She sighed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck before the limo lurched, the two falling to the floor with a laugh. Changbin quickly helped her up, pulling her into his lap. 

“My husband, ever the gentleman.” She snorted, Changbin kissing her cheek and making her giggle. 

“Call me that again,” he said. She smirked, before doing so. After each time she called him her husband, he would reward her with a kiss in a different place on her face.  

The two soon settled into a comfortable silence, ready to spend the rest of their lives together like this. 

BONUS!!: The pics that inspired Kai's dress (Can you tell these two have plagued my mind??)