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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

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Puppy Love - Uncle Eldis Pt. II

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: yes - i see y'all in the comments :)

Prompt: Ever since you and Elvis watched your friend's kids, you've been trying to get pregnant. It's not working out and you're feeling pretty down but Elvis has a surprise for you. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: None!

Rating: Pg, v soft || Word Count: 2042

A/N: not me accidentally posting this before i edited it 💀 im driving to cincinnati right now for a baseball game and just edited this in the car on 4 hours of sleep. send help y'all

Read part one here!

🦋 mila

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You lean against the car window, letting your eyes trail along the passing landscape. The green and yellow waves of grass are blotted with black and brown cows, grazing lazily in the hot Tennessee summer heat. You smile sadly as you pass a small farm and see a young family in front, a beautiful woman chasing around a small child. It's a lovely picture and one that you desperately crave for yourself.

Ever since you'd babysat for your friend's kids, you and Elvis have been trying to conceive. You've both been trying so, so hard. The sex is always enjoyable, of course, but it's not achieving the result you want: a baby. Eleven months of making love and taking pregnancy tests only for them to come out negative is starting to take its toll on you. You know that it can take time, but you're slowly losing faith. You just want so badly to be a mother.

"Ya aright, hunny?"

You feel Elvis' warm hand on your thigh and glance over your shoulder at him, offering a small but weak smile.

“Yeah, baby. Just…thinking is all,” you respond, not feeling up to hashing over your feelings again.

“Bout the baby?” Elvis asks and you cringe. You bite your lip to keep your eyes from watering and nod.

“It seems like I’m always thinking about that nowadays."

"It's gonna happen for us, baby. I know it will. Maybe we could...see a doctor or somethin. Maybe there's somethin we can do," he suggests.

Although you appreciate his effort, that's exactly what you're afraid of. You're terrified of the idea that something could be wrong with you, that you would need surgery or some kind of operation to fix you. You're terrified of discovering that you could never have children.

"Maybe," you reply quietly, shifting your eyes back to the window to watch as trees and barns flash alongside the car. "I'm just getting so impatient, you know? I just...I want that baby right now. And I know we're ready for it so why isn't it happening."

Elvis says nothing but reaches over to squeeze your hand. You sigh in response, closing your eyes to try and get some semblance of inner peace as your husband drives along the bumpy and winding country roads.

All of a sudden, you feel the car jerk to the left and start to roll down a long country dirt road. You snap to attention, sitting up and turning to face Elvis.

"Elvis, what's going in? This isn't the way home."

"I know, but don't you worry ya pretty lil head bout it. I'm takin you on an adventure."

A soft smile breaks across your face and you settle back into your seat. Your eyes return to the window to watch for any familiar signs. You're grateful, actually, to have something to think about other than your emotions. If there is one thing Elvis is skilled at other than singing, it's surprises. They almost always improve your mood and they're usually a lot of fun. You're completely alert now with the challenge of trying to guess what he's cooked up this time.

The sun is at its most golden angle, casting a gorgeous orange glow across the fields and farmlands that you whizz by in Elvis' flashy purple Cadillac. You must look lost with an outrageous and expensive car like that zooming through these desolate areas.

Your eyebrow quirks in curiosity as Elvis pulls up to what looks like a nice little country home. There are animals everywhere, every kind of animal you might associate with a farm. There's a big field to the left with a few brown horses swishing their tails in the air, white and black speckled cows grazing, and some chickens gathered around a bright red coup. You even catch a dog or two sprinting around the front yard, a couple of small kids chasing them around. An elderly couple are sitting on a large wraparound white porch in a couple of wooden rocking chairs. You smile at the couple as Elvis pulls into a makeshift parking spot on the gravel drive and turns the car off.

"Aright this is it," is all Elvis says before hopping out of the car and rushing around to your side.

You pop open your door and he takes it from your grasp. You climb out of the car with a confused expression resting on your face. Maybe you're here to visit some of the animals? Buy some country products like jams or eggs or veggies or something?

"What are we doing here, Elvis?" you ask. He neglects to respond and, instead, takes your hand and leads up toward the porch where the older couple are rocking slowly.

"Hi there," Elvis shouts, waving a hand at the couple. They both smile in return, the woman standing up to come and assist you.

"Welcome to Beverly Farms," she says in a voice that's deep and strong despite her old age. "What can I help y'all with today?"

You glance over at Elvis and squeeze his hand to tell him that you would like to know the answer to that question as well.

"We'd like to look at ya pups, please?" Elvis responds, gazing over at you with a toothy grin.

A big smile starts to spread across your face as you stare up into his beautiful bright blue eyes, which are extra sparkly in the gorgeous lighting. In that simple moment, you remember why you're so incredibly in love with this man.

"Alrighty, jus follow me back this way," the woman, perhaps Beverly herself, gestures toward the back of the house and begins to walk down a skinny dirty path.

As you walk around the home, you latch your hand onto Elvis' arm and pull him close to you. He leans over to press a soft kiss to your head, and you pull his fingers to your lips.

"We got a few different breeds right now, mostly retrievers and labs but a few mutts we ain't sure bout. We're runnin at about $100 per dog, without vaccinations or fixin or nothin like that. We got em separated, boys over here and girls over there."

She gestures to two pens, one pink and one blue.

"Feel free to get in there and play with em. Jus don't take any puppies our cause we don't want em escapin," she explains with a smile. "Let me know if there's anythin I can help y'all fine folks with or if ya decide on a pup you wanna take home with ya."

You smile, nod, and thank her. She turns to trudge back to the porch, leaving you and Elvis alone with the puppies.

You shoot Elvis a hug grin before rushing over to the pink pen holding the female puppies. There are a few sleeping in the shade, nestled into the grass and mud inside the pen. A few others are excitedly jumping at the wire, trying to get your attention with their tails wagging furiously. You smile and crouch down to stick your fingers through the wire and boop their tiny black snoots. Their soft golden and brown fur curls around their eyes and ears. Their puppy breath burns your nostrils, but you wouldn't change anything about them.

Elvis crouches down next to you, placing one hand on your back and the other over the top of the pen to pet some of the puppies.

"Decided on a girl, didja?" he asks and you nod.

"Girls are easier to take care of. And they're cuter," you joke before standing up and swinging your legs over the side of the pen.

As soon as you're standing inside of it, a swarm of puppies attack your legs, trying to climb up your jeans. You giggle as you reach down to pet them all. Elvis follows your lead and immediately picks up a tiny brown puppy. He lifts her up toward you, his hand circling around to support her tummy. The puppy's legs flail through the air as she tries to wiggle around to lick Elvis' face. He chuckles and sticks his lips out for a kiss. The dog’s hot pink tongue darts out, leaving nasty saliva streams everywhere. You laugh and shake your head.

“She’s very cute but a little too excited, I think. What about this one?” you suggest, quickly bending over to lift up a little copper-colored pup with the same fur.

You rest your face against her body, hearing her poor little heartbeat racing a million miles a minute. She barely even reacts to you snatching her up to hold her in your arms.

“Nah, she’s too calm. We need an in-between dog.”

"Thank you Goldilocks," you laugh.

You feel a little overwhelmed as you try and parse through all of the fur and eyes and noses that are staring up at you. Just as you're about to reach down to pick up another puppy, you hear Elvis yelp. You whirl your head around to see that he's fallen on the ground into the mud.

He's leaning back on his elbows, getting attacked by a horde of puppies. They're running on top of his chest, under his legs, into his armpits. He's desperately trying to fight them off but isn't very successful since he's laughing so hard. You giggle at the adorable sight of your handsome husband wrestling a bunch of puppies. You briefly allow yourself to imagine that they're not puppies but children. When you sense a familiar sadness in your chest, you banish the thought. One puppy, in particular, climbs onto Elvis' chest and just lays down, her little tail swishing frantically back and forth.

“Oh! That is sooo cute,” you shout, gesturing at the puppy. “That’s the one.”

You run over to Elvis, lifting the puppy from his chest and holding her under your armpit as you use your other hand to help Elvis up. He lets a few final laughs escape his lips as he stands. He leans down to examine the puppy, holding her tiny paws in his fingers and pressing his nose to hers. She licks his skin and barks. Elvis chuckles again.

"Yeah, she's the one," Elvis agrees as he reaches to brush some mud from her little wet black nose. Her tongue immediately darts out to follow his fingers. "What should we name her?"

"How about Goldie? It matches her fur and she is our little Goldilocks puppy," you suggest and your husband's eyes light up.

He reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek, gazing into your eyes with an overwhelming sense of compassion and love. You can't help but smile and lean into his touch.

"Goldie it is. Let's go make it official so we can take her to her brand new home."

You follow him back around to the front of the house, nuzzling your face into Goldie's soft fur. You get all of the official documents signed and even purchase a small pink collar and a few toys that the Beverlys are selling. You clutch tightly onto the newest addition to the Presley family and climb into the car. You let Goldie rest on your lap and she curls up into a ball, falling asleep almost immediately. You stare down at her, already totally and completely in love, as Elvis starts the car and pulls out of the gravel drive. Your fingers gently stroke the fur on her head.

"I know this ain't exactly what ya asked for," Elvis says with a little shrug. "It ain't a baby, I mean. But while we're tryna work through whatever's wrong, I figured maybe this'd be a close second?"

You smile sweetly at him, reaching to grasp his fingers.

“She's perfect, Elvis. Thank you baby.”

He glances over at you with a handsome smile, squeezing your fingers before refocusing on the road. A few moments of silence pass before you speak up.

“I do still want a baby, though.”

“I want that too, darlin,” he agreed. “Oh no, I guess we’ll just hafta try again when we get home.”

He looks over at you and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You laugh quietly, being careful not to wake the sleeping puppy in your lap.

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#elvis #elvis 2022 #austin butlere #milasthings #milasfics #milaselviscontent #milaselvisfics #elvis imagine #elvis fic

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lala1267 · 10 months

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Don't forget me (Part 4)

Summary: kiss and make up

Warnings: mentions of SH, throwing up, alcoholism.

Notes: it's kinda shit since I wrote this at 3 in the morning the other day.

Elvis and his buddies drove around in a black car with tinted windows. The car was going at a dangerously high speed. But Elvis needed to find Rosie, his Rosie. They drove down every street, road, and highway. Elvis's breath quickened as his heart pounded against his ribcage. He regretted every bad thing that he ever did to Rosie. He let the fame get to him. He rolled down the tinted window as he scanned the moonlit alleyways. His eyes settled on a small figure. He squinted his eyes as he waved his hand at Jerry as a way of telling him to stop the car. He quickly opened the door and rushed over to the mysterious mistress. She was passed out. Her hair was messy, and her mascara smudged. An empty bottle of liqour rested on the coble floor beside her. Elvis bent down to her level. He examined her before gradually cupping her face. He moved her head so that he could see if it really was..

"Rosie!"

He exclaimed. Fear coursed through his body as tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never seen her in such a bad state. She looked dead. He dragged her motionless body into his arms. He picked her up bridal style. His hot breath hit her cold, pale face that was lit by the moonlight. A few tears dropped onto her form Elvis's eyes. Elvis scurried back over to the car and placed her in the backseat with the boys. Sonny Red held her so that her unconscious body wouldn't move around. The boys eyes widened as they saw her.

"Is she d-dead?"

Jerry asked as he bagan to drive.

"I don't know what happened to her, j-just go to the hospital."

Elvis said with a muffled voice as he held his head in his hands. He felt guilty, he felt that this was his fault.

Within no time, they had already got her in a hospital bed, and the doctors were examining her. Elvis sat in the waiting room patiently with the Memphis Mafia. His leg bounced up, and down as he bit his nails. He stared at the clock as the minutes passed. Finally, a nurse approached him. She bent down to speak to him since he was seated.

"She passed out due to an excessive amount of alcohol in her system. We are going to have to keep her overnight just in case anything comes up. But you are free to stay here with her if you like."

Elvis quickly nodded as he stood up and rushed over to the room. She lay on the hospital bed like a sleeping beauty. Her long black hair spralled out over the fluffy pillow as her rosy cheeks made her look slightly more...alive. her long black eyelashes and her perfect pink lips enhanced her soft appearance. She had a face like an angel, but she was cursed with the worst memories. Elvis slowly walked towards her. Tears filled his eyes and dropped to the floor. He bent over the hospital bed to place dozens of kisses on her soft skin. His hand played with her hair as he whispered the word 'sorry' at least a hundred times.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never thought that t-this would happen."

He whispered with his shaky breath into her ear. He sat himself down on the chair beside the bed. He watched her in silence as a million thoughts rushed through his head. He covered his mouth with his trembling hand as he cried in silence. His whimpering slowly faded as he fell asleep. Only the sound of the hospital equipment beeping was left.

He woke up and instantly went to check on Rosie, who was still asleep. He placed a kiss on her forehead before he walked over to the telephone that hung on the wall. He dialled a number and twisted the spiralled cord around his finger as he patiently waited.

"Hiya Jerry, could ya get lots of bouquets of flowers and lots of gifts and decorations. Bring them into Rosies hospital room. Make sure to get her expensive gifts, though. Use the money that I left on the kitchen counter."

He said before placing the phone back on its stand. He slumped over in the chair as he patiently waited.

______________________________________

Rosie slowly opened her eyes. She looked around at the blurred room that was covered in red and pink. She furrowed her brows in confusion. She blinked a few times before her vision was finally restored. She saw dozens of bouquets of pretty flowers and hundreds of bags of designer gifts. She looked around to see the word "sorry" in big letters. She shifted her eyes to Elvis, who stood in the corner of the room, watching her reaction. Her heart turned cold as she grunted and hid herself under the covers. Elvis rushed over to her and pulled the covers off her.

"Hey, baby, why ya running from me?".

"Go away."

She said through her teeth as she shot him down with her menacing eyes.

"Look, I'm ever so sorry. I swear to God that I will never let you down again, I swear, Rosie."

Rosie's face softened as she looked at his watery eyes. He brought his hands to her face. She felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She needed affection and love, Elvis's affection and love. She quickly wrapped her arms around him before sobbing into his chest as she pulled onto his t-shirt. She felt lost without him, and she was overwhelmed with emotions. She pulled away to look up at him.

"T-thank you so m-much."

She said as her voice shaked. Elvis smiled sweetly, and so did she. He held onto her hand before helping her step out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She struggled to gain her balance, but with Elvis's hands to keep her steady, she was fine. He led her over to the gifts. She sat on the floor with Elvis next to her. Elvis looked at her hospital dress.

"Nice outfit."

He said sarcastically.

"Oh shut up."

Rosie said as she rolled her eyes and laughed. Elvis handed her a gift bag. She opened it carefully and pulled out a shiny necklace with the name 'Rosie' moulded into it. It was studded with real diamonds that shimmered in the light. Rosie's jaw dropped as she examined the expensive item that was basically foreign to her. Elvis giggled at her reaction.

"Elvis, this is too expensive."

She whispered yelled.

"No, it's not, I'm Elvis Presley."

He said rather arrogantly. Rosie laughed at his ego before she continued to open the gifts.

A few days later

Rosie sat in Elvis's lap as him and The Memphis Mafia discussed business. Her long hair got tangled in Elvis's long fingers as one of his hands held onto her hip. She laughed as Jerry cracked a joke or when Elvis tickled her belly. Elvis looked at her with lust in his eyes. He loved that she was so cute and pure, but she wasn't innocent or naive. She was exposed to a dark world of cigarettes and blades at a young age. Ever since Elvis saw her mutilated thighs, he would be extremely protective. He would always be around her so that she wouldn't lay her hands on any sharp objects that she could butcher herself with. He hadn't talked to her about it since he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Ever since that day she wore tights or trousers. She wouldn't dare to wear a bikini.

Elvis continued to admire her side profile. The way her nose was perfectly straight and her lips were full, and plump made a tingle rise in him. He pulled his fingers out of her black velvet hair. He rested his hands on her thigh, gently moving it up and down. Rosie gasped quietly as she froze like ice. She gulped as she swallowed the salty tears at the back of her throat. She quickly pushed his hand off as she plastered a pathetic smile on her face. Elvis suddenly realised what he had done. He moved closer to her ear.

"I'm sorry honey."

He whispered as his puppy eyes gave an apologetic look. She looked at him as all of the memories came flooding back. She felt a sudden wave of nausea come over her. A spicy feeling lurked in the back of her throat slowly creeping up to her mouth. She turned away from him before gagging. She instantly covered her mouth with her hand in hopes of stopping her insides from pouring out of her mouth. She stood up.

"Will yall excuse me."

She said before rushing out of the room. She ran to the downstairs bathroom and opened the door before slamming it shut. She grasped onto her long hair to keep it in place as she hunched over the toilet. Before she could blink, gallons of puke escaped her mouth. The men that sat in the room had concerned faces as they heard the sounds of gagging and splashing.

"What the fu-"

Elvis said quietly before getting up from the cream coloured sofa. He rushed over to the door, nocking loudly.

"Are ya ok in there?"

He inquired.

No response, only the sound of her coughing.

"Rosie, talk to me."

He said as he attempted to twist the golden door knob.

"I-im ok."

She said quietly as she cleaned herself and the toilet up. She washed her face thoroughly with cold water. Elvis sighed before she opened the door. He looked down at her as she looked up. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked half dead. He instantly brought her into a hug.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Rosie. I didn't mean to touch your thigh."

He whispered as her face was buried in his chest.

"It's ok."

See managed to muffle out. He held her as if she were a baby. From that day, he made it his life mission to keep her safe, no matter the circumstances.

She wasn't depressed or anything like that. She just couldn't escape her sick memories. She felt guilty that she had left her mother with her phsyco father, for all Rosie knew she could be dead.

#elvis presley #fanfic #lana del rey #elvis the pelvis #fan fic writing #singers #50s #60s elvis #sad stories #throw up #tw self h4rm #please follow me #please like this #he loved her so much

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elvispresleywife · 1 year

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Ok, I know it's been a hot minute! But I also know it wouldn't be an Elvis jumpsuit appreciation without the famous American Eagle Jumpsuit. So here we are!!

Two variations of the capes I know don't worry!!

So as we all know this is the infamous American Eagle jumpsuit also known as Aloha Suit, or Aloha Eagle Suit was made for the Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite shows. A slightly bigger version was made for the rehearsal and was later worn on the tour and Vegas of 73 and 74. There were 2 different capes made in case you didn't know, one was WAY to big and heavy for Elvis to wear onstage, apparently while trying it on, he almost fell backwards because of how heavy it was. So for the Satellite Show Elvis wore the smaller cape, and later through it into the crowd. And apparently this one suit weighed more than 70 pounds, that's 31 kilo's, and was considered his most expensive suit costing $65,000 in the 70s which would now be $250,000. I don't know about you but to me, this is one of his best looks, he's so fit and tanned and stunning and masculine and beautiful!! I don't know many men who can call themselves straight and wear as many jewels and jewelry like Elvis did😂

So there's some facts!

Love you baby, my darling, the love of my life forever and ever!!💗💗💗💗💗🥵🥵🥵💗💗💗👆👆🥺🥺

#Love you my darling #My baby #Strong Man #Handsome man #Love you #Elvis #Presley #Elvis Presley #American Eagle #Jumpsuits #1973 #Love of my life #Love you darling forever

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star-shard · 2 years

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Headcanons~

Dating Pre-fame Truck driver!Elvis

Soon as he gets off work, he takes you for a quick spin in his truck.

You drive all around Memphis and the radio hums in the background, he's got the best taste

The two of you sing along to your favorite choruses and you can really hear his gospel when he gets into it

You notice that when he holds your hand in the truck he's got a minor work injury

He's got little burn marks on his finger tips from some faulty wiring but even when he says, "it's nothing too bad, darling," he still smiles and blushes when you kiss his fingertips

"Gotta save these for when you're playing guitar," words like that just make him smile brighter

Sometimes he'll go a little too fast but it's all in good fun on the turns, he likes a minute of thrill

You also can't help but notice how often the truck passes by Sun Records, and how he gets excited when someone walks out, and he'll get so excited about their new hot record

When the truck gets hotter and he sees you sweating you two stop for a Pepsi, he chooses a shop on a street that's lively with a little music down the road

The sweet lady working there says you two look sweeter than peaches together and now it's your turn to blush

When you two kiss you can still smell his work on him, but you suppose that makes him all the more 'electric'

By the time he's taking you home, he's putting something in your hand

It's a little silver ring on a string, it's not expensive but it's the finest ring you've ever seen. He delights in your reaction and says one day he'll get one better for you

But, you feel more than taken care of right here and now. And when you kiss this time he just smells sweet

#Elvis #was thinkin' about pre-fame Elvis #headcanon/mini fic #went sweet on this one :)

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daltonacademia · 3 years

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There’s A Time For Daring - 1

charlie dalton x fem!reader [post events of the movie]

word count: 1.7k

warning: allusions to sex / slight sexual harrassment? drinking, mentions of neil’s suicide, horrible parents

Charlie couldn’t help but emit a low growl as his vomit-inducing, picture-perfect, high-society mother and father, whom he despised, prodded him towards the expansive front entrance of Nealson Preparatory School located in southern Vermont. His fuschia-lipped, cakey-faced mother, Cynthia Dalton, was a well-dressed, dignified housewife by day and charming socialite by night; she was particularly harsh as she trampled his pen-stained oxfords with her spearish kitten heels. His eyes shot daggers at the snow-strewn path below, a familiar fire burning in his core.

There were many things Charlie was tempted to furiously spit out at his parents, but instead, he managed to keep his jaw clamped shut, his pearly whites digging into the light pink of his lips hard enough to draw blood. No matter what he shouted, cried, pleaded, they wouldn’t budge. They never would. And it was infuriating.

“Charles! Being expelled from such a prestigious school is no laughing matter, young man. That school cost us quite the pretty penny! How dare you defy the rules to the extent of expulsion. It’s disgraceful, and I will tolerate it no longer!” Charlie’s mother shrieked, furious tears smudging the thick mascara that coated her eyelashes.

“You’ll be shipped off to Nealson Preparatory School in February, and if I hear so much as a single mention of your name not followed with overwhelming compliments, you can expect nasty, nasty consequences! Go pack your things, you’ll be staying with Aunt Barbara until the first of February finally arrives!” The rims of Charlie’s brown eyes stung with anger, frustration, and furthest down, sadness. He was diminished to nothing but an image-ruiner to his mother. The person who was supposed to love him, protect him, save him from the horrors of this hell called Earth.

Mr. Dalton silently observed the boisterous outburst from his expensive leather armchair across the den, a glass of strong, half-drunk whiskey in his palm. Charlie couldn’t bear to see their despicable faces any longer, and as his body felt no longer under his control, stomped up the stairs in a huff, rapidly swiping away the glassy tears spilling from his eyes. Thoughts of running away, escaping it all, flooded his unstable mind. ‘I get why you did it, Neil. I really do. But did you have to go so soon?’

But instead of lingering on the image of Neil any longer, he hastily threw his bare necessities into his suitcase, which was still covered in an array of Welton Academy stickers.

The grounds of Nealson were unsurprisingly well-maintained; it reminded him a lot of Welton. The impeccably manicured lawns, gleaming, icy blue lake, the gothic stone arches and pillars. It was eerily similar to Hellton, even down to the ice-cold blanket of snow coating the distant rolling hills. It’s beautiful, Charlie thought, surveying the slow sprinkling of snow, No, it’s hideous.

Before he could fully vomit at the vile grounds of his new school, his parents fiercely shoved him inside the Headmaster’s dingy office, politely taking the vacant mahogany seats beside him. Charlie couldn’t be bothered to listen to a word his parents said with pearly white smiles, which were no doubt tooth-rotting, sugar-coated lies about the real reason he was expelled over a month prior.

He knew that they couldn’t just be transparent and tell the Headmaster that he had socked the utterly vile Richard Cameron’s face in (rightfully so, in his opinion), or that he was a star member of the infamous Dead Poets Society, or that he had gone to the extreme lengths to stage a phone call from none other than God himself. It didn’t work like that.

His mother’s cheeky, artificial voice sounded precisely the same as it always had: carefully rehearsed and slathered with naivety. Seemingly without hesitation, the catty woman could deflect any less-than-pleasant questions or insinuations about her “golden role-model” son, who’s admittedly “a little misguided at times”.

The new headmaster seated across from him appeared to be around the same age as Mr. Nolan, which, as far as Charlie was concerned, was older than the Cretaceous period at least. His pale-as-a-ghost skin was wrinkled and paper-thin; his patchy, gelled side-swept hair was (very obviously) dyed a deep, midnight black, reminiscent of an off-brand Elvis.

Charlie’s ears continued to mute the awkward conversation happening amongst him, his focus instead shifting around to the various awards and certificates lining the ivory walls. They all seemed so phony; ‘Best Headmaster- 1947-1959’, ‘Nealson Academy: Exceeds Expectations’. The Headmaster had even framed his high school superlative: ‘Voted Most Likely to Succeed’. What a pathetic-

In a swift blur, his parents rose from their seats, his mother clutching her magenta purse with matching pursed lips. Charlie was handed a hefty, stapled packet packed full of school rules and guidelines with a denture-toothed smile from Headmaster ‘Campbell’. This’d make some decent kindling, he thought as he yanked the packet from his clammy clutches, leafing through its pages with a smirk, this garbage’s almost laughable.

A syncopated rhythm of raps on the door, followed by a gravelly, ‘come in', presented his new dorm escort. His chauffeur just so happened to be you, the accomplished and universally admired student body president in the same grade as the newcomer. You were dutifully donning Nealson’s horrendous uniform: a crisp, white button-up accented with a blue and silver tie was topped with a depressing grey sweater vest. An equally loathsome pleated skirt concealed your thighs, and your ankles were shielded from the chilly February air with black crew socks.

You extended your perfectly manicured, soft hand out to your brand-new peer with a yearbook-worthy smile, introducing, “Hi. Welcome to Nealson, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You swore you heard the brunette mutter something disrespectful under his breath, but nonetheless, he, rather unprofessionally, shook your hand with an eye roll. Things between the two of you were not starting off the way you hoped, but you were determined to make a good impression. The best impression possible.

“Charlie Dalton,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. The brunette standing in front of you reeked of cigarettes, and there was the slightest smell of cheap beer clinging to his clothes. His brown hair was messy, springing out in every direction, despite the water furiously combed through it. His eyes glinted with rebellion, a look so alluring yet dangerous.

“I’ll be showing you to your dorm, which you’ll sleep in for the remainder of the year.” Since Dalton was starting in February, he only had five months of studying before long-awaited senior year. Mr. Campbell waved the two of you off, and with that, you trekked towards the Boys’ wing, Dalton sauntering at your side.

The walk through the main corridor was silent and awkward. You had tried to enchant him with fun facts about Nealson and its (extensively selective) history, much to his obvious boredom and dismay. His umber eyes glazed the walls, uninterested in the decor. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but for all you knew, it could be on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

After a while of treading through the high-ceilinged corridors illuminated with fleeting pale rays of sunlight, the boy next to you made no attempt to hide him drawing designs up and down your body.

“I’ve never been to a school with both boys and girls,” he drawled with a smirk. “Do things ever get exciting around here?”

You shook your head no while indiscreetly tugging down the hem of your skirt uncomfortably, and he said, “Do you think you’d maybe wanna spend the night with me in my dorm? Make sure I’m all settled in?”

Your whole body, from head to toe, froze. The audacity of this… creep! Your tongue poked, nearly stabbed, the back of your teeth, wanting to unleash a select few words to the disgusting Dalton beside you. But alas, if he were to tell anyone of your fiery wrath, you’d be demoted from class president faster than you could explain what really happened. It’s a corrupt system, sure, but even with the power that comes with such a title, there was no way to mend it.

Eventually, while you were wrapped up in the furies of your mind, Dalton revealed a small, autographed golf ball from his trousers pocket and began throwing it up and down above his head casually with every step.

“Can you not?” you snapped at the chestnut-haired boy after he tossed the sphere up and down again in an arch. “Don’t wanna get in trouble on your first day, do you?”

“You think this’ll get me in trouble? Have a little fun, it won’t kill you. I promise.” Dalton turned his gaze towards you, an annoyed but smug grin painted on his lips. He slowly tossed the golf ball to your hands, intending for you to catch it. However, the small ball evaded your grasp, instead bouncing around the hardwood floors below you, creating a series of loud, reverberating thunks.

“You were supposed to catch it, you know,” Dalton teased, nonchalantly watching you chase after the rogue orb. After it was finally safe in your clutches, you stomped over to the no-good newbie, irritated.

“Nealson’s strict. They don’t let stuff like creating an awful lot of racket go unreprimanded.” You were seething; red-hot blood pumped through your veins. Dalton didn’t look anything but utterly amused.

“Wow, you’re just about one of the biggest suck-ups I’ve seen in a while.”

“A what?” you growled.

“A suck-up. A rule-following poster child of excellence? A bratty, know-it-all? Anything along those lines?” He sputtered insults so nonchalantly, it made your blood boil and eyes sting.

“You better watch it, Dalton. I don’t know who you think you are-”

“I’m the best thing that’s happened to this school, by the looks of it.”

You had nothing left to say to this conceited shuck of a boy who really thought that he was all that and a side of fries. Well he wasn’t! Not in the slightest! And if his first day of classes wouldn’t drill it into him, you would.

The rest of the walk was pin-drop silent and tense. No more fun facts about Nealson escaped your downturned lips, just the light patting of his beat-up oxfords and your pristine mary-janes on the polished wood floor. The hallways seemed more depressing than usual, their framed portraits and condensated windows didn’t fill you with the motivation that you came to expect.

After finally arriving at the boys’ dormitories, you grumbled, “well, this is it. Have a swell life, Dalton.”

“Right back at ya, Y/L/N. Let’s hope this isn’t the last time we meet.” He gave you a cheeky wink before slamming the door in your face.

#dead poets society #Dead Poets Society (1989)#dead poetry #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society quotes #DPS #dps fanfiction #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton x y/n #charlie dalton

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vinyls-and-valentines · 3 years

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✨ + cherri and author's pick please

Description: Cherri Cola runs an errand over to Chimp and Newsie's station. Warning(s) for: Briefest Mention of Christianity Tagging: @dagger-queen, @organhaver, @struckbysatellites Additional Notes: ao3 link || wordcount: 770

Cherri Cola is not good at keeping in touch with people. That's just the way things are and, more or less, how they've always been— time always seems to be blinking in and out around them, a week here, two months there, until years become as obsolete to them as their namesake is to the Zones. Still, even in the space outside of time they've found themselves in— somewhere between the bright midday sky and Hyperthrust's once plush-covered floorboards— the winding paths still lead to the same familiar places Cherri always finds themself circling back to.

Today, those paths lead them to southern Zone 4, the sun shining brightly in their wake as they speed by ruins that haven't heard the whispers of another soul since long before the agent was even born. They know better than listen to the siren call of the two-story house hovering above the horizon ahead in a striking illusion of quaint suburban living, instead taking a hard right and driving straight ahead in their sardine can of a pick-up truck until an old, broken-down gas station comes into view.

"Name and occupation." Hot Chimp hollers from the rooftop, with a paintball gun in hand that Cherri has no doubt is loaded, though they find it hard to feel intimidated as they watch the girl struggle to keep her fringe out of her eyes, wind tousling her bleach blonde and hot pink hair.

"Haven't you heard? I'm the second coming of Christ— I'm here to fix your cable TV." Cherri grins, clearly proud of their joke, though the reception begs to differ as the ground in front of them is splattered in fluorescent yellow, stirring up a puff of dust upon impact.

"That's for taking so long to pick up my call, fucker." Chimp says before disappearing out of view, off to do whatever it is that she does up there, and Cola makes sure to flip her off as they lazily make their way under the overhang shielding defunct gas pumps, briefly considering whether they should try to convince her to let them give the paintball gun a go as well.

What once was the station's main building— a store designed not only to take your money for whatever car-related expenses you might have, but also just about anything else as well— has long been stripped of all the racks that once served as isles. Instead, several arcade machines have been pushed against one of the room's walls, guarded by wood and carboard scraps towered high on top of and around a wooden chair that matched none of the others strung about in disarray, sporting all sorts of mismatched piles of what can only be affectionately described as junk. Behind the counter, NewsAGoGo is tapping away at the keyboard of the computer haphazardly mounted there, bulky screen all but toppling over and onto the tiled floor, seemingly unaware of the agent's presence.

Cherri quietly treads their way to the front desk— which is a feat in itself, between the laughter bubbling in the back of their throat and the wires wrapping themselves around their ankles almost as if sentient— before resting their head on top of the monitor and aligning it with the Elvis bobblehead figure watching the microchip at work.

"Hey, worm, what you working on?"

Newsie startles, looking up almost confused at Cherri from behind its sunglasses, before signing "Secrets." and sticking its tongue out, which the older returns, much to their own hubris as they accidentally lick the back of the figurine.

"Oh fuck— that's disgusting," they declare, their sibling laughing at their misery, as they try to wipe off their tongue on the back of their hand, "There's got to be some repercussion of disturbing something as ancient as that."

NewsAGoGo stops laughing for a moment, thinking intently about its brother's punishment for disrespecting the king of rock 'n' roll, before settling on signing, "That'll 12 years of bad luck."

"Oh, yeah? Do those 12 years start before or after I totally kick your ass at video games?" Cherri teases, leaning back on the monitor, clearly not having learnt anything whatsoever.

"Before." News nods sagely, though a small, mischievous smile soon creeps onto its face, "Not like it matters, though— you can't beat me even in your wildest dreams."

"We'll see about that, wormy! I've been practicing lately." the agent declares, making the other give them an inquisitive look, but they only wave it off, "I'll tell you later. Now, where's the infamous soundboard that's been possessed by the second biggest wet blanket in the Zones, after Tommy Chow Mein?"

#me? writing actual canon interactions from my killjoys universe? more likely than you'd think!#anyways. cherri *did* practice because they a. suck at DDR and b. can't use their funky sight cheats on digital targets 😔#killjoys #danger days #killjoys fanfic #boo's writing #agent cherri cola #cherri cola #newsagogo #dj hot chimp #ttlotfk #answered #autostrad

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five-miles-over · 3 years

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Holiday Gift Ideas for Joaquin Phoenix Characters

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this List: Arthur Fleck, Joker, Theodore Twombly, Jimmy Emmett, Doug Holt, Doc Sportello, Freddie Quell, Johnny Cash, Max California, Merrill Hess, Ray Elwood, Bruno Weiss, Abbé de Coulmier, Joe, Lucius Hunt, and Emperor Commodus.

Arthur Fleck from Joker: A cookie gift box (or homemade Cookies), an evening with good conversation and company, and perhaps a dance

I’m not sure from where I heard this from, but there was a tumblr post that said Arthur really loved ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ - so that’s why the vinyl record is there. Also, Arthur would be happy to spend the holidays with good company and delicious cookies. (He deserves to have a sweet Christmas and a dance with someone who will enjoy being twirled by him.)

Joker from Joker: Green Hair Dye and a Cigarette Lighter

The green hair dye never hurts because it is something Joker probably needs all the time. Also, I thought the pin-up girl on the vintage cigarette lighter would amuse Joker.

Theodore Twombly from Her: Calligraphy Set

I think a calligraphy set would appeal to Theodore because it would give him a break from his tech-filled world, and indulge in something a bit old-fashioned. It’s great for someone who wants to believe in a romance that many around him see as outdated.

Jimmy Emmett from To Die For: A brand new denim jacket and an M&M candy cane

The denim jacket might fit with Jimmy’s grunge aesthetic, and the M&Ms are there because Jimmy likes candy of all kinds.

Doug Holt from Inventing the Abbotts: An Elvis Presley poster and a nice wallet

The Elvis Presley poster is a bit of a nod to the beginning of Inventing the Abbotts, when Doug draws fake sideburns before going to a party. The song he’s humming in this scene is ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, hence the poster. Also, the wallet is a nice, classy gift for any guy entering adulthood.

Doc Sportello from Inherent Vice: An ornate hookah

It was either this or tarot cards for this pot-smoking, hippie P.I. It might suit his eclectic taste.

Freddie Quell from The Master: A bottle of fine scotch whiskey

It’s a good gift for someone who enjoys alcohol. Plus, it might be a good break from mixing questionable cocktails.

Johnny Cash from Walk the Line: A Watch

A watch is a timeless gift, just like Johnny Cash’s music :)

Max California from 8 MM: Grim Reaper socks, nipple rings, and a steampunk choker

It was tempting to pick something dirty or X-rated for Max’s gift, but since he works in an adult store, I thought why not choose something that encouraged Max’s personal style. Hence, the nipple rings (which would look great under a mesh shirt) and a steampunk choker that looks like it has a phoenix on it.

Merrill Hess from Signs: A hot chocolate gift basket, and a baseball mug

Merrill Hess would probably enjoy hot chocolate during the holidays with his niece and nephew, so the hot chocolate gift basket seemed suitable. Also, I thought the mug would be funny for our favorite baseball professional (even though he can’t drink from it while the kids are around).

Ray Elwood from Buffalo Soldiers: A Beer Gift Basket and Playboy Magazines

The Playboy magazines might be entertaining for Elwood (obviously), plus charging others to read them would be a great way to make extra money on the side. Also, the beer gift basket would be a nice care package for someone overseas in an army bunker.

Bruno Weiss from The Immigrant: Cufflinks and Cologne

Cufflinks and cologne are things that make almost any man feel debonair. For a man like Bruno, with a taste for the finer things, a great set of cufflinks and an unforgettable scent would give him a great impression with other businessmen.

Abbé de Coulmier from Quills: A scarf and a day of playing with abandoned kittens

Abbé is someone more interested in simplistic gifts, rather than in over-the-top, expensive gifts. So perhaps a knitted scarf would be nice for those cold days in Charenton. And because Abbé enjoys altruistic events, he’d be delighted to play with kittens that need warmth during the holidays.

Joe from You Were Never Really Here: Noise-cancelling Headphones

This gift may sound a bit strange at first, but it might be nice for Joe to wear when he’d like to relax. It might also help him deal with noisy areas, or listen to calming meditation music while trying to sleep.

Lucius Hunt from The Village: Tea Set and an assortment of tea bags

I think Lucius Hunt would appreciate a warm cup of tea during cold nights in the village. Also, the strawberry decorations make this tea set a good addition to any cottage.

Emperor Commodus from Gladiator: A spa day, a bouquet of flowers, white chocolate truffles, and a full hug.

Given how stressful it can be ruling over a large empire, a day of relaxation (think hot stone massages, facials, manicures, pedicures) would be a nice change. The white chocolate truffles are a way to pay homage to his iconic armor that he wears for his duel in the Colosseum.

And for the full hug...it goes without saying that the Emperor of Rome deserves many of these year-round, not just during the holidays

Also, a question for anyone reading this: If you had to pick a Joaquin Phoenix character to spend the holidays with, who would you pick?

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dansantat · 3 years

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NOW WE ARE TWO: A Eulogy for My Father

Adam U Santat (October 21,1943 - April 27, 2021)

Today is April 27, 2021.

When I was very young and we lived in New Jersey my father took us to the beach and he lifted my tiny frame over his neck and we walked out into the ocean together. My mother watched us from the coast as we wandered 50 yards into the shallow sea. I was terrified of whatever lurked in the water convinced that sharks would come and eat us. My father gripped my legs and whispered, “I’ve got you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

I don’t exactly know why this particular memory rests so clearly in my mind, but it’s a good one. That was my father in a nutshell.

I interviewed my parents for a memoir I’m currently working on. This is what I know of my father.

He was born in the small village of Khlong Dan, Thailand on October 21, 1943, though the official birth certificate indicates October 27 because of a typo (21 sounds like 27 in Thai) He was the youngest of nine kids. His parents immigrated from China and started a merchant business. For fear of being racially ostracized by the local Thai people the oldest brother changed their name from “Lim” to “Santativongchai” (he found the word in an old book)

They collected rain water off the storm gutters in order to drink. He didn’t get hie first pair of shoes until he was 10 years old. They were sandals, really. Knowing facts abut Western culture was cool and he had an insatiable desire to learn everything he could about America. Coming to the United States was a dream of his obsessed with Elvis Presley, Paul Anka, and movies like “Shane” He admits to being spoiled by his mother and says he was lazy during most of his childhood, but was gifted in math and science. And he truly was. He attended medical school, paid for by his older sister, Yawanit, and he came to Newark, New Jersey in 1969 to do his internship.

My mother followed a year later

His first car was a Red ‘69 Camaro. No air conditioning. He ran the car into the ground because he was unaware of the fact that you had to change the oil. He never owned a car before then.

This was the American dream.

I was born in 1975 and they soon made a mass exodus to Southern California along with many of their Thai doctor friends with brief career stops in Wykoff, New Jersey and Hopedale, Illinois until we settled in our newly built four bedroom home in Camarillo, CA.

He worked for the state of California as a pediatrician, and eventually as a cardiologist, and then a psychiatrist continuing his education over the years to fill the needs of the state. He was an accomplished man in his field.

He loved golf, tennis, and buying things he would see on TV. He loved Ralph Lauren clothing, he owned one of the first Apple computers, and he loved making weekly trips to Los Angeles to buy classical CDs and audio equipment.

Three weeks ago I stepped inside my parent’s home for the first time in over a year. The COVID-19 Pandemic had kept us apart . “Stay at home. We’ll see each other after this is all over.” my parents told me.

Under normal circumstances I would happily avoid their company for fear of constant nagging about a plethora of reasons which mostly dealt with my weight, or my political views.

But this was different.

My father had been diagnosed with Stage 4 liver cancer and he returned home to hospice care. My mother was helping him get situated on his favorite couch because he refused to use the hospital bed that hospice had offered him and recommend that he use.

They say that doctors make the worst patients.

Besides his stubbornness my mother was angry at him for not putting up a fight, turning down Chemotherapy and Immunotherapy and opting to just let the cancer take him. She herself having been a breast cancer survivor over 25 years ago (along with living with lupus for 45 years) could not comprehend the thought of just giving up. But my father knew the odds. He had taken one look at the CT scan and he knew the primary source was in the liver and it has metastasized to the lungs, his jaw, and his pelvis.

His body was dying but his mind was still as sharp as a tack.

I understood the diagnosis, as well. When speaking to the doctor on the phone he did not mince words by emphasizing quality of life. My father’s days were limited, and I was there to make the most of the time that was left between us before he departed.

“I have one last question for you before I go.” he said to me.

“Anything. What’s your question, Dad?”

“How much....do you earn annually?”

My mother and I quickly glanced at each other and we both immediately let out a huge laugh. “HA HA HA! You have one last question and that’s what you want to ask me?!”

He was always curious about my finances.

He is my Asian father.

Normally, this type of question would be a point of heated contention and it would typically result in an argument at a restaurant, and yet, here he is living his last weeks and he STILL wouldn’t let the question go. And this time, without argument, I simply tell him.

Why deny a dying man his last wish?

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” he shouts as we all share in a good laugh.

“I have one more question...”

“What is it, Dad?”

“Why do you always get upset when I ask you that question?”

This too would have normally resulted in a heated discussion, but I simply gave him an honest and simple answer, “Because you taught me that it was rude to ask people that question.” And I left it at that.

My mother gets up and heads to the kitchen and it’s in this moment that my father pulls me in closer to discuss more pressing matters.

“I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve accepted my fate and I’ve lived a good life. I’m worried about your mom. I want you to take care of her after I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve saved up a lot of money. Use it to buy a house with a guest house for her. Make sure it has a big yard so she can do her gardening and she’ll be fine.”

“I promise, Dad. I’ll spoil her.”

“Good.”

My mother returns to the family room with an assortment of shirts for my father to wear. I grab a blue button up collared shirt from Tommy Bahama. “This shirt actually isn’t too shabby.”

“It was originally $125 and I got it for $90!”

Always in pursuit of looking his best while also landing a great deal.

He is my Asian father.

“If you like the shirts they’re yours now. All of this is yours.”

None of the items that my father owned interested me. What interested me was giving him one last amazing experience before he was gone. The one thing my father truly treasured among all his possessions was a one of the finest wine collections I had ever seen. It contained over 500 bottles of wines he had collected over the course of twenty years housed in three separate wine refrigerators, which were spread throughout different rooms in the house and sent their electricity bill skyrocketing to the moon, and my mother’s nerves to the very edge of insanity.

“Hey, what do you think about going into your wine collection and we drink the most expensive wine you have?”

“No,” he says hesitantly.

“But don’t you want to know what you bought? Don’t you want to at least know what the best wine you own tastes like? I don’t think you should leave this world without enjoying your one great vice in life.”

My father looks away from me and mutters, “No...It’s yours now. All of it.”

This is not how I want it to end. I want him to have one last good memory.

My mother interrupts, “I’m hungry. What are we having for lunch?”

I try to keep my father focused on his bucket list. I’m hoping for just one last memory, “Whatever you want, Dad. My treat.”

He looks at me and says, “I want a Pink’s hot dog.”

My mother and I look at each other in shock. This request from a man who was obsessed with his blood pressure. A man who constantly avoided salt like it was Kryptonite to Superman was now requesting for one of the saltiest most nitrate rich foods in America.

“With mustard and relish.”

25 minutes later I returned home with three sodium bombs per his request. My father, who hadn’t eaten in three days, grabbed a hold of his hot dog, and ate the entire thing. My father, a man who did everything in his power to stave off death by cardiovascular disease to the point of obsession, was indulging in the one thing he avoided like the plague.

SALT.

As I sat on the couch and watched him eat his hot dog I could see the look on his face as he solemnly took each bite thinking, “What was the point of being so scared for all these years?” I took solace in the fact that for the first time in my life, I saw him as a person unafraid.

Later that day, a few of his closest friends came over to wish him well. I met them at the front door, “Hey, do me a favor. Can you see if you can make him agree to having one last glass of wine?”

It was a good idea.

HIs friends all walked in, paid their respects, and then peppered him with little hints like, “Hey, how about one last sip of wine before you go?”

My dad finally agreed.

“That fridge has the best stuff!” my dad shouted as he pointed to the fridge closest to the door.

I was not as knowledgable about fine wines as my dad and his friends were. That’s what Google is for.

I reached into the back of the fridge and found a bottle of Opus One from 1995.

This was $600 bottle of wine. It wasn’t his best but it it would do nicely.

The room let out an audible “oooooh” when I entered the room with the bottle.

His best wine glasses were brought out, we each poured a glass, and we toasted my father. We share stories about his life, he boasts to his friends about my accomplishments, and we are basking in a moment of complete harmony.

For this moment in time, I was his perfect Asian son.

He thoughtfully studied the peaks generated by the swirling of the wine on the edge of the glass

“It’s been a good life. No regrets.”

I was glad I could give him this.

This week I bought that house for my mom. I told my father this as I fulfilled his last dying wish while I held his hand.

“I’ve got you, Dad. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’ve got you.”

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry XIV. Salir.

A/N: I personally love this. I hope you enjoy it too! :)

***Preview:

It's funny to me that she thinks my infatuation with her is about her neckline. I mean, sure, it got me breathless when I saw her tonight because she doesn’t usually dress like this and man, she looks like some sort of sex goddess; but it’s just so much more than that. It’s the way she walks, the way she bites her bottom lip, the way she calls me off…

After she unbuttons my shirt, her warm hands caress my exposed chest and she takes my shirt down my arms until it joins my jacket. Her eyes roam my chest before she smiles and takes the air out of my lungs.

“Naked Harry is my favourite Harry, you know?”

Fuck... She’s so naughty tonight. I feel her nails sinking down the skin of my shoulders before she scratches my chest and watches the pink mark she’s leaving with lustful eyes.

“Next time, don’t take so long before you kiss me.”

She pouts and it seems to have a direct line with my cock, especially when her plump bottom lip sticks out. I want to bite it and suck it into my mouth and lick it until we’re both out of breath. This girl is going to drive me crazy. I don’t know what she wants from me.

INDIE’S POV

Antonio Vega floods my room as I stare mindlessly at the notes professor Gibbins sent me. Not only did he send me the notes from the seminar I missed on Monday, he’s also sent me the notes for the rest of the week. He always sends us the notes but since he does that before lectures, we still have to add the stuff we discuss in class but I can tell he rewrote these notes after the lectures because I can read question: and answer: and it just fills my heart to imagine him writing those down for me. He must be such an incredible friend because he’s kind to everybody, I can only imagine how great he must treat his friends.

And talking about friends… I haven’t yet seen Jason or Ollie. Marie came over for lunch yesterday again but this time it was on me. I am a lot better now, I’d say I’m okay now, I just haven’t been going to the lectures because my teachers are doctors and the lectures hall is right after the hospital. It’s dangerous to go near a hospital with the flu. Some people there just can’t dare to get it.

But I know nothing from Ollie or J either. Olivia just doesn’t participate on the group chat and when Jason does it’s never to say something about himself. I hope he’s talking to the girls at least or that he just doesn’t have much to tell. Considering his situation, that’s a good thing.

I miss them though. I miss the Golden Girls and I miss going out with them and having a drink and trying to find a guy for Marie. I don’t know how long for I’m going to stand not talking to Ollie. I don’t know how she does it. I really miss her.

Harry: What are you doing tonight?

I try to get back to my surgery notes and ignore Harry’s text. I don’t know what I’m doing tonight but I don’t know if I want to see him. Okay, I’m lying, I seem to always want to see him but I don’t know if that’s what’s best for me.

Wednesday was the strangest day of my life. I woke up before he did for once and I let him sleep in. After what had happened in the am, and him almost crying and me not knowing how to comfort him, I thought he needed that sleep yet those hours of alone time and silence did no good to my racing thoughts.

I felt terrible. I still remember that feeling on the pit of my stomach that went up all the way to my throat. I felt terrible for him and I felt terrible for Dylan, I felt terribly guilty for both of them.

I don’t know why I want to know what was Harry’s turning point so bad. I’ve never been a nosy person, but maybe even that he’s rubbing off on me; and the uncertainty is curiosity’s best friend so I set my imagination free.

He can’t have lost the love of his life too. That would be too much of a coincidence but somehow, and in a fucked-up way, that would settle me down. If he was doing the same thing I am doing, I wouldn’t feel so guilty. He would have his own Dylan and I would be his Harry and that would make things better but that’s just a selfish thought and anyway the likelihood that that’s what’s wrong with him is so small it’s not even worth considering it.

Then I consider drugs. He does take diazepam in order to sleep and even though that’s not necessarily doing drugs, I read somewhere that anaesthetists are the kind of doctors who more often did drugs because of the easy access. What if he started taking amphetamines so as to study, that would partially explain his brilliance, and then he just couldn’t get out of it? He’s under so much pressure too and pressure and stress and not wanting to disappoint anyone are the perfect storm for an addiction like that.

I really hope that’s not the case. I don’t think I can go through that again but I’d feel terrible leaving him alone to deal with that if I found out that’s the case. I mean Harry is not my responsibility, his life is none of my business and I don’t have nor need to help him. Plus I wouldn’t even know how, I’m not a therapist. But I’ve been through this once already and if I couldn’t help Dylan, why would I be able to help him?

I wonder if I could ever share that with him. I’ve never shared that with anyone. Not even with Jason or Coco but they know because they’ve lived it too. Not like me but they saw it. I hate that he triggers me so much. I’m fine when I don’t think about, I’m fine when I don’t think about it.

“Blue…”

I turn around from my chair and face my begging sister. I know that tone, she’s going to ask for something. I give her a knowing look and she bites her bottom lip.

“What are you doing tonight?”

I think about Harry’s text.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Catching up on studying I guess.”

She walks slowly and somehow dramatically inside my room until she takes a seat on my bed. She’s wearing party clothes, a black mini skirt and a white silk blouse crossed at the front. I frown. I don’t know where this is going.

“It’s Elvis Buchanan’s birthday party tonight-”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” I don’t let her finish.

Those parties are just a combination of everything I hate. It’s just rich guys trying to prove to rich girls they’re as rich as their daddies and then someone showing you their fancy car and offering to take you home just so they can make out with you and then tell the rest of them. No, no, no, there’s no way I’m going to one of those.

When I was sixteen, that was all I did. Going to stupid parties with stupid people and buying stupid ridiculously expensive dresses and just try not to be left out because that’s what always happens, that’s all they know how to do, making you feel bad. But I’ve come a long way from there and I am not about to go back there.

“Please!” Coco pouts. “Chicco’s gonna be there.”

“Chicco’s a complete ass.”

“He’s not! Please, please, please.”

She’s giving me puppy eyes. I’m so sorry for her. Her friend Amanda left to Paris when they started uni and she was the only decent person in that circle so now Coco’s all alone with all those bitches. I wish she’d just ignore them like Rio and I do, but she’s just more fit for that high society than my brother and I ever were.

Harry: Do you have plans?

“Coco, those people-”

“I know, I know what you’re going to say but not all of us are as lucky as you and have friend as great as yours.” She sighs and looks away from me but I can still see her pout.

Oh, Coco, if you knew I’m not so sure I even have friends anymore.

“Chicco’s gonna be there and the rest of girls too… Daniela too… If I don’t go then they might get their way with him. I almost have him, Blue! He was here the other night! And had sushi with me! And he doesn’t like sushi!”

That makes me chuckle. Gosh, I don’t know what to do. I think leaving the house might do me good and I actually feel like going out but I want to go out with my real friends not with these rich kids. I bite my bottom lip.

Harry: Hey, rich girl

Harry: Don’t play hard to get

Harry: Tell me

Harry: Am I worth your precious time or not?

He has to be kidding me. I hate it when people call me that. It’s not my fault my family is wealthy but I’m not just that. I don’t want to be any of that.

Harry: You’re so boring, Indie…

“The girls said someone from your hospital was invited too. Guido Matteoti’s older brother…” Coco adds. “I think his name is Marco. They’re obviously Italian.”

“Mario.” I look up from my phone to her and her eyebrows raise on her forehead.

“Mario, yeah, that’s the one. Do you know him? He’s hot, they say.”

“He went out with Olivia a few times.” I tell her.

“He did?” Her eyes widen in bliss. “Maybe Ollie’s coming then! Did you text her?”

I shake my head. I haven’t texted her since last Saturday but I don’t think she’s going to be there. But maybe she is? She could have been invited anyway. Ollie moves in that high-class circle too… And she bought a Stella McCartney dress a couple days ago… And I want to see her.

“Alright, I’m going but-”

Coco doesn’t let me finish my conditions as she wraps her thin arms around me and squeezes me.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving if they start talking about cars to you or if someone orders a Dom Perignon special edition.”

I chuckle.

“I’m going to have a look through your closet. Don’t really like this shirt, it makes my legs look like two loose pieces of thread.”

I throw my head back and laugh. My clothes are oversized for her but if she likes anything she can take it. I text Harry back before I start getting ready myself.

Indie: I already have plans.

Indie: Sorry.

He’s online but he’s not answering. He types, he deletes it, he types, he deletes it. Honestly I don’t know what he was expecting. He really does think I’m going to drop everything for him whenever he wants me to. I’m not a toy.

I decide on a bodycon dress I’ve already worn hundreds of times before. It’s elegant and for some reason I feel comfortable with it even if it’s far more revealing that the clothes I normally wear. The neckline is low cut for starters but I like it, it flatters my chest. It’s got a tight champagne-grey lining embellished with a geometrical pattern of silver sequins and pearls. I combine it with champagne heels and a champagne clutch bag and leave my wavy hair down.

“Wow” Coco gapes at me and I give her a smile.

“Do you like it?”

“You do know you look like a goddess right? Man, I wish I had your curves.”

“I wish I had your legs.”

“You mean these needles?” She pouts.

I stare at her. She looks so gorgeous and so elegant on that dress. In the end she chose a bodycon dress with a low v neckline with a pattern of horizontal stripes with fringes, and sequins and pearls. The colours remind me of those of a majestic peacock with back and turquoise and indigo blue. The dress flatters her to perfection and her long, straight dark hair falls on her back making her look like some sort of aboriginal princess.

“You look incredible, Coco.”

“Your boobs look huge too!” She compliments? I guess.

I laugh and push her away from my room and towards the door. We’re taking a cab to the party and the taxi driver is already waiting outside.

Elvis Buchanan’s house is ridiculously huge. The kind of huge that could only be explained if you live together with another fourteen people. I don’t understand why anyone would need a house this big. It’s just plain silly.

Coco and I walk along the path that leads from the opened metal fence of the entrance to the house and I notice the tasteful tiny white stones that decorate the green grass. They look like hail.

A guy from the Buchanan’s service opens the door for us and I do a quick scan of the crowd hoping to find Olivia. It doesn’t matter how many people there are in a room, you can always spot Olivia. That’s how gorgeous she is. But I don’t see her.

Coco lets me know where Chicco is and to my surprise I see him talking to some other guys, not surrounded by slender rich girls like I had imagined him, so I take Coco’s coat and tell her I’ll leave it wherever it is we’re supposed to leave it for her. The longer I can be away from the party the better. I decide on asking the guy who opened the door for us where I should leave the coats but I get a call from a Marie.

“Hi, lovey.” I greet her.

“Hi, Indie-pixie, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you, and you?”

I want to ask her about Olivia. Whether she knows if she’s going to be here or not. I also want to ask her why in the world she’s not at all angry after what she did to Mario. Especially considering how judgy Marie can be; her words, not mine.

“I’m good too. You didn’t check the group that’s why I’m calling. Listen, Jason invited us all to have dinner at his house and then we can go out for a drink or maybe go to 505.”

Us all? I frown.

“I’m not stepping a foot in that house.”

“Come on, Indie, David is not even going to be there.”

“Oh, is he on a satanic spiritual retreat?”

“Indie…”

I sigh.

“I already have plans, Marie.”

“Oh.” I can hear the surprise on her voice. “Are you with Harry?”

“No, I’m with Coco. I went with her to this birthday party. You know, family friends’ stuff.”

“Oh.” That surprises her even more. “But you hate those things.” She chuckles.

“Yeah, but Coco doesn’t.” Plus, I thought Olivia would be here but I guess she’s having dinner at Jason’s now. “Anyway, I gotta go. I need to find out where to keep our coats.”

“Okay, have fun, honey.”

“You too. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I keep my phone on my purse and ask the guy that opened the door for us. He says there’s a cloakroom service. My face must speak for me because he chuckles along before I shake my head and disappear down the hall.

There is a freaking cloakroom service! I can’t believe this. Luckily, there’s no one waiting so I’m going to participate in this pathetic situation as little as possible. The girl gives me a polite smile as I hand over our coats but she doesn’t even take them as another guy jumps in and hands in his.

“Keep this one, please.”

She goes attend him and completely ignores me.

“Hey! It’s my turn!”

“Miss” The girl from the cloakroom tries to stop me but when the guy faces me I just raise my eyebrows.

His dark brown eyes set on me and his frown relaxes into a smile. His hair is dark and up in a casual quiff and his skin is tanned. He’s got a beautiful smile but he was still rude.

“That’s okay, Elisabeth.” He tells the girls. “Keep her coat in and then you can keep this one.”

“Okay, sir.”

Sir? He’s like a boy!

“Just so you know, if I get in trouble for this, it’d be your fault.” He points a finger at me giving me another smile.

“What do I care?”

I tilt my neck and stare back at the girl and I see her eyes widening. My rude attitude is probably freaking her out. It’s not usual for girls from my status to talk like that, especially to someone they don’t even know, but who cares? This guy came in here thinking he owns the place and trying to jump the queue and now he thinks he can win me over with that white teeth smile. The girl hands me a red silk ribbon with a number on and I keep it on my purse. The brunette offers me his hand and I look at it and then at him.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“What’s yours?”

I see the girl opening her eyes even wider from the corner of my eyes. She reminds me of Marie, with her judgy faces and her polite words.

“Heard that, Elisabeth?” He’s still grinning at me. “You’d think your guests would know your name at your birthday party.”

Elvis Buchanan. I should have guessed. He did not walk in here as if he owned the place, he does own the place. Well, all the more reason to consider him rude, jumping the queue over your own guest.

“You came here with someone?” I nod at his question. “And your date didn’t even take care of your coat.” He purses his lips disapprovingly.

“I can take care of my own coat.”

He grins, he liked my answer. He amuses me so I give him a smile before I walk away. He reminds me of Harry.

“You didn’t tell me your name.” He calls me out.

“Indigo.” It’s his birthday after all and this is his house, I can’t be that rude. “Anderson.”

“You’re Coco’s sister?”

I nod and he nods slower, readjusting his black suit jacket before he walks past me.

“I gotta go now but I hope we can talk some more later. Just walk straight up to me, yeah? I gotta feeling people won’t get off my back tonight, since it’s my birthday and all that shit.”

I smile and nod. It seems like I’m gonna like this guy after all. He’s at least interesting and that’s a lot more than I can say for the vast majority of them.

“Oh, miss, you’re lucky you’re pretty.” The girl from the cloakroom giggles. “I was honestly suffering for you. I thought he was going to kick you out.”

“Is he that bad?” I ask her.

“Aren’t they all?” She rolls her eyes.

I throw my head back and laugh and her eyes widen again when she realizes, after all, I am one of them.

“Sorry.”

I dismiss her and silently pray for her to keep her job. I bet it sucks though because I’m sure every guy tries to hit on her. She’s pretty too and rich guys have a tendency to think they can have anything they want, more so if the girl they’re hitting on is not high class. They’re trash but that we all know.

I make my way inside the insanely huge living room and have a look around to see if I can spot Coco. She’s laughing at Chicco’s terrible jokes. I can’t hear them but I bet they suck. I try to get away from the dance floor before one of those guy who are uninvitedly throwing dirty glances at me thinks it’s safe to approach me and instead I make my way towards the bar. I’ll get a drink before I have to dodge familiar faces in my search for Mario. I mean, Coco said he’ll be here and if I have to spend the night waiting for Chicco to actually kiss her, I might as well do it with someone I like. I didn’t know Mario moved in this circle either so finding out about it might be interesting.

My phone vibrates on my purse though so I get it out before I order. I frown when I see Jason’s name. I should pick up but I’m still hurt by what he said the other night to me and I don’t want to do this over the phone. If this is about me not going to his stupid dinner, he has to understand I won’t go to that house. I keep my phone on my purse. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. When the waitress looks at me, I open my mouth to order but she places a drink in front of me. I frown.

“Bulldog and Fever Tree Mediterranean, right?”

“Yes but how did you-”

She smiles and points at the other end of the bar and I can’t believe my eyes. Harry’s smile goes beyond his cheerful mesmerising green eyes and I could fall on my knees.

I grip my drink and don’t take my eyes off him- I couldn’t if I wanted to- as he makes his way towards me. Everything around him disappears to me for he drinks all of my attention. He’s without a doubt the most handsome, sexy and magnetic man in this room, and in every other. He looks so dreamy, like some sort of eye candy in a light pink shirt and a dark grey suit that makes him look like some sort of illusion.

I’m completely spellbound and it’s almost hard to stand on my feet. I feel my blood running fiercely through my veins and my heart beating wildly and I just saw him. This reaction is not normal and I know that, this has never happened to me, but I can’t control it.

From this distance, there’s nothing I don’t like about him. The way he looks, the way he walks, the way he smiles, the way he’s looking at me; even the way he lifts my chin with two fingers and closes my gaping mouth. How embarrassing.

“It’s a good thing I got you a drink, right? Bet your mouth is dry already.”

I roll my eyes. You see from this distance, I can hear him talk, so there are some things I don’t like about him. He chuckles though.

“So this was your plan” He guesses. I don’t answer but he keeps on with his monologue. “You must be at ease here, right? With all these posh rich kids…”

I don’t mean to but my face says what my words don’t because I feel my eyebrows cocking and he grins wider. He’s annoying me but for some reason he’s doing it on purpose.

“If that’s what you think then what are you doing here?”

“I was invited.” He shrugs.

“What an upgrade” I smile bitchily like these girls do “a nobody from Bellamond in a posh rich kids’ party…”

His jaw clenches. He only likes these games when he’s the one playing them. Well, I don’t like it when he calls me posh rich kid either so fuck him and his feelings. A tall brunette man swats Harry’s back before his brown eyes set on me. He roams my body up and down nastily and makes me uncomfortable.

“Styles, who’s this beauty here?” He grins at me.

“No one.”

His words hurt me but I won’t show it. No one? Is that what I am to him? His friend laughs.

“I’m William Buchanan.”

Another Buchanan. Man, I’m gonna meet the whole family.

“She’s Barbie’s brunette’s friend and we were just leaving.” Harry answer for me and pushes me away but I pull away from his hold and give him a death glare.

“I’m Indigo.” I shake his hand.

“Wow” Willian Buchanan smiles “so your name is as pretty as your face.”

I want to roll my eyes so bad at him but I keep it together. Harry’s standing next to me and he’s nervous. I like it. I’ve never seen him act like this before and he was just a jerk so he deserves it.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you-”

“Hey” The little brother joins the party and Harry tenses up next to me. “Do you know my brother?” His brown eyes bore into mine and I think I can sense some warning.

I look at Harry but he’s looking away and then my eyes set back on the Buchanan brothers.

“No.” I frown.

“Better that way.”

“Elvis, what the hell?”

“Just go away, Will, please. Leave my guests alone.”

I stand flabbergasted at their interaction and Harry stands next to me tensed like a block of ice. Elvis waits for his brother to disappear before he gives me a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry about that, my brother is not a good guy.” He wrinkles his nose. “If I were you, I’d dodge him.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about a sibling.”

He nods his head.

“Exactly, just imagine how terrible he must be for me to warn you. See you around?”

“See you around.”

Before he leaves, I stop him placing my hand on his bicep and he looks at my hand before he looks at me.

“Thank you.”

He gives me a smile before he finally walks away. When he does, I turn so I’m facing Harry and find him frowning.

“Do you know the Buchanans?” He asks me.

“No, do you?”

He shakes his head and surprises me as he places his hand gently on my waist.

“Would you like to go outside with me?”

I would love to but before I can answer, Mario, another two guys and two girls reach us. I greet Mario with a hug and he introduces me to his brother, Guido, and the two girls, Savannah and Anastasia. Harry’s let go from me and I don’t fail to notice the way Savannah looks at him and then at me. I almost smirk to myself.

It's clear she was hoping to sleep with him and I wonder if she would have gotten it if I wasn’t here. She’s breath-taking and I gotta the feeling that Harry’s rather easy, not just with me. I almost laugh when she tries to wrap a slim arm around Harry’s waist and he discreetly dodges her contact.

They invite me to sit with them. Apparently Harry was already with them before he went to the bar to get a drink and found me. I steal a look at Harry from the corner of my eye. I guess he was going to order water or some soft drink but I take it these people might not even know he doesn’t drink at all.

We sit down on some couches and this time Harry seems to wait for me to sit down and then he sits next to me. He rests his hands on the back of the couch behind me so even though he’s not touching me at all, it kind of looks as if we were together.

I learn Mario’s family owns hotels and he tells me how his brother and he have to endure these torturous fancy parties so their parents keep their contacts. I already liked Mario but after knowing he comes from the same circle I do and that he also doesn’t care about this, I like him even more.

Like last time I had a drink with him, we click and talk about anything and everything and it takes him almost an hour to ask me about Ollie.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He shrugs. “I thought we had fun and she told me she did and it sounded sincere to me but… Now she doesn’t pick up my calls and it takes her days to answer my texts…”

And you’re still trying? I suck my lips inside my mouth. I need to tell him. He’s such a good guy, he doesn’t deserve what Olivia’s doing to him.

“Listen, Olivia’s just… A free bird, you know?” But she’s my friend and friends’ have each other’s back. “She’s not the type of girl to settle down.” I shrug. “It’s not about you.”

“Oh.”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I think he had gotten there on his own.

“I’m just so inclined to fall in love, you know?” He chuckles. “It’s always the same story.”

His words surprise me. I thought girls were the ones inclined to fall in love and the fact that he’s saying that only makes me want to protect him more. He must sense the surprise on my face because he laughs.

“What? You weren’t expecting that?”

Harry straightens his back next to me and I wait for his smart comment.

“Guys fall in love too, you know, Indie?” There it is.

I give him a look and my eyes meet his amused ones. He’s clearly messing with me but I’d much rather have this Harry than the one calling me a posh rich kid. I roll my eyes at him and look back at Mario. He’s smiling.

“I just thought that was more typical of girls.”

“That’s incredibly sexist.” Harry complains and I swat his arm and he laughs along with Mario.

“I mean I’ve only had a girlfriend but it was the same with her really. It was like way faster for me than it was for her, you know? But still she got there.”

No, don’t keep your hopes up with Olivia! She’s gonna break your heart, Mario, she’s gonna break your heart. I try to push my thought away giving him a smile. I feel the alcohol on my system already and I notice I’m a little woozy because Harry’s scent and warmth is pulling me under his spell even more than usual. All of a sudden I want him to wrap his arm around my shoulders so this Savannah girl would stop stealing glances at him.

Coco waves her hand at me and gives me a cheerful smile before he has a look at Chicco and when she realizes he’s preoccupied ordering the drinks she gives me a thumbs up. I chuckle at her antics. I can tell she’s tipsy already. From the corner of my eye, I see Guido unconsciously smiling as his eyes fix on her.

I wonder if they’ve met. I don’t understand why Coco is so obsessed with Chicco when she could easily have a guy like Guido, sweet and polite and funny. And then I realize, I’ve actually been having fun in this stupid fancy party.

Turning my body on the couch, I face Harry and he gives me a confused look. He’s been so quiet, only adding hater comment every once in a while and he hasn’t even tried to touch me. I make sure he can see my exposed legs and chest and my belly tightens when his eyes drop to my breasts. I don’t normally like it when a guy stares at my chest, hence why I don’t normally wear low cut necklines, but for some reason it drives me wild that he does it. I guess, even after all the times he’s told me he thinks I’m beautiful and after having sex with him multiple times, it still thrills me that he actually does find me attractive. And he looks so good tonight… I bite my bottom lip. I want to have him so bad.

“Are you not having fun?” I ask him and tilt my chest in order to give him a full view.

His eyes drop to my breasts again. I love this.

“In this stupid party?” He frowns. “It’s not really my thing.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well I got stood up this evening.”

His beautiful green eyes stare into mine firmly and his calm contrast my longing. I’m not sure he’s talking about me. My lips part as I bore my eyes into his, trying to read him. I hope he is talking about me because the thought that he might be talking about someone else, a real date he had tonight that stood him up, and that he only texted me after that left a sour feeling on the pit of my stomach that I don’t like. He seems to sense my discomfort and for the first time tonight he grants me his contact. His fingers caress my temple before he tacks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m happy you’re here.” He promises. “Even though I would never bring you here.”

Bring me here. When did he become mushy? I think about our date, our single date. After that, he got what he wanted and he has never asked to take me out ever since.

“Where would you take me?”

“My bed.” He smirks.

Of course. Where else? Sex is everything he wants from me. I feel suddenly embarrassed so I look away from him. I spot Coco on the dance floor and my desperation to feel Harry’s touch gets the better of me.

“Would you like to dance?” With me?

He just shakes his head but his green eyes don’t leave mine. I can’t believe I just had him on my mouth a couple days ago and now he doesn’t even want to dance with me. I wonder if he just wants to be left alone with endless-legs-Savannah. I don’t want to blush so I look away from him and back to the dance floor. There seems to be several people between Coco and Chicco so it might be safe to check on my sister. That way I can leave Harry and Miss Universe alone too. Before I stand up, I turn my body away from his and I think I feel his fingers skim my low back but I’m already standing.

“I don’t dance, baby.”

I shrug, feigning I don’t care.

“That’s fine.”

I hand him my purse and silently leave him as the guardian and make my way towards the dance floor without saying another word. I don’t even have to draw Coco’s attention because she turns around as if on cue and as soon as she sees me we both start dancing like nobody is watching. Dua Lipa’s Don’t Start Now fills our ears as we both let her voice move our bodies.

I think it’s the first time I actually have fun at one of these parties and it has nothing to do with Harry for he’s been off all night. It would have been a lot more fun if Ollie had been there too. Also if Jason and Marie were here dancing with us. Jason’s so funny when he dances to this song… I wonder if they’re having as much fun as I am. I hope so, even though it still makes me a little jealous. I wish things were different, I wish everything was normal between us, like it used to be… It hurts to be apart from them more than I let out.

When my eyes look back up, they meet Elvis’ amused ones. He grins at me and takes my smile as an invitation to come closer. Coco’s eyes and mouth widen right behind him as he stands in front of me and I try to ignore her as best as I can but I am feeling all giddy. I’m drunker than I thought.

“Damn.” He’s got a beautiful smile.

I roll my eyes but smile back.

“You’re a good dancer, Indigo.” He compliments. “Don’t stop because of me.”

Fearlessly I start swaying my hips and my chest again at Dua Lipa’s rhythm and see the way his eyes roam my body. I would much rather have Harry looking at me like that but after his rejection, Elvis’ attention is boosting my confidence. After all, he’s the birthday boy and very handsome, I take it half the girls here would want him to give them the attention he’s giving me. He tilts his neck as he watches me.

“But dance with me, birthday boy.”

He laughs but obliges and I try not to laugh. I don’t know why but most guys’ dance moves are funny to me. I mean when they try to act all manly and stuff, it’s just funny. I guess that part of me is happy Harry declined my dancing request.

“You can laugh.” Elvis tells me grinning. “I know I’m a funny dancer but that’s just ‘cause my body doesn’t stop me.”

He then starts doing the most weird dance move I’ve ever seen, acting like some sort of snake, and I throw my head back and laugh but he doesn’t seem to mind because he keeps it up, showing me some more ridiculous dance moves. I start imitating him and he laughs too and like that we start some sort of ridiculous dance competition.

“I take it this is your birthday gift.” He tells me.

My eyes widen. Oh, God, we didn’t bring a birthday gift. He laughs and points a finger at me. It’s the second time he’s pointed a finger at me tonight.

“I’m kidding, woman.” He laughs. “You should have seen your face!”

I swat his chest but he grips my wrist and turns me around so my back is against his front. We’re not touching and I appreciate his respect. The only man I want to touch me is sitting on the couch. Wait, no, he’s not. I panic and stop, looking for him around the huge living room. Again, another uncalled-for reaction but I’m getting used to them.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elvis’ hand rests on my shoulder.

“Elvis” I need to stop him now before he gets his hopes up, I can’t go around criticizing Olivia and then acting like her. “You are really nice and really handsome but” the good thing is he’s smiling “I didn’t come here for you. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know it was your birthday.”

He frowns but is still grinning so I take it he’s just confused.

“You’re with that guy who was with you earlier.”

“I mean” My head starts shaking uncontrollably “we’re not like together-together but, uh, I just don’t know where he is and… I’d like to go find him.” I smile at him, hoping that would excuse me.

He’s still grinning. I don’t get this guy. No one has ever taken a rejection so nicely.

“Okay, well, just to be clear, since you’re not together-together” he mimics me “I think you are really pretty and funny and I was hitting on you, I’m not gonna play it down. I appreciate that you told me that and” he offers me his hand and I shake it amused “it’s been a pleasure not flirting with you.” He grins. “Now-”

“Hey, Indie, what are you doing?” Harry cuts him off as rudely as he can go.

I almost feel embarrassed on his behalf but Elvis’ grin only widens. He offers him his hand for Harry to shake and he does just that. I don’t think I’ve ever been more uncomfortable than right now.

“This is him, right?”

Harry looks at me and then back at Elvis and I just look straight ahead. If I don’t make eye contact with any of them, they might think I’m not here.

“Sorry, man.” Harry’s words surprise me.

When I look at him, he’s tilting his neck and raising his eyebrows and his lips are pursed as if he was actually sorry for Elvis. Elvis, on the other hand, just looks amused like a little boy who heard a good joke. I wonder how old he’s turning. He looks way younger than Harry and even myself.

“It was nice meeting you, Indigo.” Elvis bows his head with a charming smile and then he just turns around and leaves.

I face Harry, ready to scold him for his childish possessive behaviour but he just hands me my purse and gets me confused.

“Here” he says “don’t leave me on charge of these things, I’m not used to it, almost forget it on the couch.”

I get the purse and don’t look at him. It bothers me that he’s been ignoring me, that he didn’t even want to dance with me, and when he sees me having fun with another guy he just appears claiming me like I was his pet and it bothers me even more because I know he sleeps with other girls but he doesn’t want me to do the same? Who the hell does he think he is?

“Are you okay?”

Well, no. I feel like some… convenient girl. I don’t want him to read me so I keep my eyes fixed to his expensive shoes.

“Why did you do that?”

I dare to look him in the eyes and the emotion in them takes me by surprise. Once again, I can’t read him. Warm hands cups my face until our lips touch. It’s timid at first and in that moment I don’t care who’s around, who could see, whether this is inappropriate or not. I embrace his closeness and let my lips move against his. He places one hand on my low back and closes the gap between us until there’s not enough space for air. It’s just clothes and longing as his tongue slides over mine in a delicious, slow caress. If he wasn’t holding my waist, I’m afraid my knees would have failed me and I’d be on the floor now.

“Why did it take you so long to even touch me?” I complain against his lips.

I feel him smile against my lips.

“I tried touching you before and you dodged me.”

“You didn’t want to dance with me.” I whine pulling away so I can look into his eyes.

“I didn’t want to dance.” He clarifies. “But you are driving me crazy with this fucking dress.”

He tacks a strand of hair behind my ear and pulls me into another kiss with his hand on my cheek. My hands find his hair too and I tangle my fingers and pull from some soft locks on the back of his neck. He’s disassembling me and I feel like I can’t trust my legs.

“Harry…” I all but gasp against his lips.

“No.”

I pull away and stare confused into his eyes.

“Call me like you do.”

“Love?”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

He nods before he pecks my lips again. I have one last look at Coco but the way people around us are looking at me intimidates me. Family friends look at me disapprovingly and I try to have their stares slip down my body but for some reason it affects me. I say my goodbye to Coco and after she reassures me that she’ll be fine, Harry and I make our way to the cloakroom.

As we wait for our coats, I can’t help my mind from entertaining the thoughts that those judgemental stares have put inside. I could easily think those girls were just jealous. After all, the most handsome man in the whole party was kissing me and not them and in front of everyone at that but deep down I know I feel embarrassed because I can’t help but feel somewhat dirty.

This is stupid, I thought I could easily do this but now I can’t push those thoughts away and it angers me because it’s sexist and I don’t want to be but- I wish my mind could just shut down.

“Baby,” Harry places his hand on my shoulder “it doesn’t matter what they think… You’re better than all of these people together.”

His words touch me. I bore my eyes into his green, sincere ones.

“Do you really think that?”

“Of course.”

His words calm me only partially because they also mean he also noticed the way those people stare at us so it’s not just in my head. I don’t know why this is affecting me like that.

“I’m…” He stutters as the cloakroom girl gives us our coats.

I told her to keep Coco’s and give her my sister’s full name and she nods. Harry already has his coat on and is frowning when I turn around. He waits for me to put on my coat with his hands on his pockets and then the two of us make our way outside in sudden silence. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when he speaks.

“Do you regret it?”

He takes me off guard so I stop on my tracks.

“What?”

“Us.” His green eyes study me.

Do I? I guess part of me does. The part of me that doesn’t want to be seen as an easy girl, enchanted by an older guy’s charms, and the part of me who refused to have a pink stethoscope like the one my father got me because I thought it would only make it harder to be respected in the hospital. I know a woman shouldn’t be judged by those things but I also know we are and until that changes, we gotta do what we gotta do.

There’s another part of me that regrets the way I feel about him, the part of me that’s attached to Dylan beyond life and love themselves.

But the bigger part of me… I’m learning a lot from Harry. Not just about sex, but also about men and about me. I had never dreamt I could enjoy sex like I do with him or that I could feel the way I feel when he kisses me or when I touch him, even when I see him. I guess I just thought I was never going to feel that… Happy, again, after Dylan passed.

He makes me laugh too, even though he has a weird sense of humour, but I like that he shows me that part of him too. And he not only bears me but seems to enjoy my company, even seeks it; and that’s saying a lot, all things consider. I know I’m difficult. So I think… If I went back to that first dinner with him, knowing all I know now, I wouldn’t change it.

“No.”

He sighs and knowing he’s been holding his breath only makes me not-regret it more.

“It took you really long to answer.”

“It was a hard question.” I defend. “What about you? Do you regret it?”

“No.”

He doesn’t even think about it. We get on his car and he doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride. Neither do I. I don’t want to think about his question either, nor about his answer, but I wonder if it would have been different had he thought harder about it. I gave him a proper answer. It’s true it took me longer but that only means it’s true for I consider everything but he always seems to be this impulsive and I’m afraid that’s how he does everything, without thinking.

I need to push these thoughts away from my mind. He could have gone home with any other girl tonight and still he chose me and I could have gone home with Elvis Buchanan but… I didn’t want to. And that’s what scares me the most.

When we get to his apartment, he doesn’t push me against the door like he’s done other times and instead just waits for me to get inside before he locks the door after us. Maybe he’s doing all the thinking now, maybe he’s reconsidering everything and he’s about to tell me that he does regret it and that it’s best if we just stay friends. I place my coat on his dresses and only then I realize I’ve made it to his room. Where’s this familiarity coming from? Intruding into his room without his invitation… When I turn around to apologize for my intrusion, he pushes me into the wall and his hands grab the back of my thighs and squeeze my flesh. I moan at his contact.

“This fucking dress, baby…”

He pushes his hips against mine and I pathetically whine when I feel his arousal against my belly. I can’t believe just the sight of me got him this hard. I wish I knew what he’s been thinking and picturing in his mind.

“You are such a beautiful woman, Indie.” He presses his lips against mine almost violently and I suck his breath inside my mouth as his tongue licks my mouth. “When I saw you dancing with that guy, I thought maybe I wouldn’t be the one to have you and… I would have danced.”

“I want you so bad.”

I bring him closer to me pulling from the collar of lapels of his jacket and press our lips together hungrily and we both lap at each other’s mouth in a very heated, very passionate make out session that has me embarrassingly wet. I can’t wait for him to thrust inside me.

He seems to sense my desperation because in a second, he’s getting a condom out of his wallet and I surprise him by unbuttoning his suit pants. I hear him hiss as I pull his pants and his boxers down his thighs and then my hands slid across the soft fabric of his shirt and snake under the collar of his suit jacket, pulling it down his arms until it hits the floor. I bite his bottom lip and suck into my mouth and his groan makes my pussy throb.

His hand caresses my thigh up until he gets to the elastic of my pantyhose and pulls them down. We hear them rip in the process and he chuckles against my mouth as he apologizes but I can’t say anything because my breath gets caught on my throat when his fingers snake around the elastic of my underwear and he pulls them down my legs. I try to help him but loose my balance so I cling onto his arms whilst I pull them down my legs clumsily and he laughs. He kisses my neck and squeezes my hips with his hands before he lifts me up against the wall and my legs curl up around his waist.

When my head hits the wall, I pull from my dress to try to take it off or at least pull it down my breasts but Harry stops me.

“Leave it on” he breathes on my ear “I want to fuck you on this dress… It’s so sexy, baby… And you’re mine, fuck… I want to fuck you so bad… You’re so beautiful.”

Holding my weight with his hands on my hips, he lifts me higher and then sinks me down until he’s inside me. My back rests against the wall as Harry rises and lowers my body while he thrust his hips with more desperation and passion than ever.

“Are you” he gasps as his hips crashed me into the wall “do you like it like this?”

His words come out of his mouth in fits and starts while he fucks me and holds me tight so I don’t fall.

“Yes.” I moan, I love it when he fucks me against the wall.

This is so intense and the way he sounds and his firm grip on my body… I’m going to cum embarrassingly soon.

“Kiss me, baby.”

I love it when he asks me to kiss him. It makes me feel so powerful and wanted and I love that he loves kissing me as I do him. I lick his bottom lip slowly, I know it drives him crazy, and he parts his lips for me so I dive my tongue inside. I pull from his hair and try my best to kiss him whilst he pulls in and out of me faster and harder. He’s drilling me against the world fast but our kiss is slow and intimate and I bite on his lips whenever he hits the spot that has my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“I don’t get tired of fucking you, Indie… Fuck… You feel so good.”

“Oh, God.”

I gasp and moan, I don’t know what else to do to let out some of the pression he’s building inside my belly that’s getting more and more intense with each thrust. He groans and his guttural, animalistic sounds are driving me wild. I scream and even hit my head against the wall. I’m going to come but I know he’s almost there too, I can feel how tense he is.

Like a firework, the electric current starts at my belly but spreads fast down my legs and arms and I fight for air as I feel a gush coming out of me. He curses under his breath and kisses me.

“Calm down, baby.”

I try to do as he tells me but I keep lowly moaning against his mouth as my walls clench frantically when he tenses up and burst inside the condom. He’s gasping and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so out of breath so he rests his forehead against mine and catches his breath before he rises me higher and rolls out of me, gently placing me on the floor.

I watch him rolling out the condom before he makes a knot and lets it fall to the floor. He’s such a pig sometimes. We then stare into each other’s eyes and he undoes me with his dimply smile. We’re still catching our breaths when we kiss, calming one another with sweet wet pampers.

“Seriously you look stunning tonight.” He compliments.

I chuckle.

“What a low cut neckline can do to you.”

HARRY’S POV

She chuckles staring straight into my eyes and I think my heart is going to burst out of my chest. How can she still look as pretty as she did when I first saw her tonight? I mean I don’t know a lot about makeup but I’ve noticed most girls after partying, drinking and dancing like she did tonight, not to mention fucking like I just fucked her, look like panda bears but Indie doesn’t. She still looks like a fucking goddess.

Her hazel eyes look into mine as her soft hands unbutton my shirt. She’s a little drunk, not too much so that she doesn’t know what she’s doing but drunk enough to have less inhibitions and I love that she’s acting this free and wild and fucking sexy around me. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.

“Naked Harry is my favourite Harry, you know?”

Fuck... She’s so naughty tonight. I feel her nails sinking down the skin of my shoulders before she scratches my chest and watches the pink mark she’s leaving with lustful eyes.

“Next time, don’t take so long before you kiss me.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

Her hazel eyes widen and my cock twitches again. She looks so innocent and pure… But I know she’s a dirty girl… My dirty girl. She shrugs and looks down at my chest. Her fingertips caress the skin over my collarbone.

“I’m always afraid you’re gonna pull away.”

I frown at that. The gin she had tonight is taking away her filter and maybe I shouldn’t but I’m going to take advantage of it. It’s not every day she talks to me this clear.

“Hey” I lift her chin with my fingers and make her look at me “I love it when you kiss me, I won’t pull away.”

“Not even if we’re in public?”

“Baby, you’re the one who’s not into PDA.” I smile at her.

She’s just saying that because she’s drunk but I know she won’t think the same tomorrow when she’s sober.

“Okay” she smirks “and don’t claim me like I was your dog.”

Yeah, I know that was uncalled for. I don’t know what had gotten into me.

“You’re so bossy tonight.”

“Alcohol makes me fearless.” She smiles.

I feel her fingers sliding down my chest to my abs and lean down to kiss her again, holding her hands and bringing them back to my chest again. She challenges my attempt at keeping this a family show as her hands caress the end of my belly. She brings her mouth to my cheek but instead of giving me a kiss, her mouth moves to my ear.

“And horny.” She whispers.

Fucking hell. I groan when she squeezes me in her warm, soft hand and she presses a kiss on my jaw.

“Fuck me again, Harry.”

“So bossy…” I grin.

“It’s not always gonna be you in charge.” Her hand starts pumping me as the other one snakes around my neck and pulls my mouth to her perfect one. “At least let me do something for you.” She nibbles on my earlobe. She’s crazy if she thinks for one second I don’t want to fuck her again. “You’re dying for it, come on.”

Of course I am. I’m dying for her to touch me or kiss me or even just look at me all the time. I give in and kiss her hungrily. Sometimes I feel guilty for the things I wanna do to her and for the things I do to her but not these times. Right now I want to ruin her, fuck her so hard that her silhouette lingers on my bed when she’s gone.

She grabs my wrist and places my hand on her breast and it drives me crazy to know she wants me to touch her. She moans on my mouth when I squeeze her tit on my hand and makes my cock twitch. I’m crazy for her.

Without breaking the kiss, she turns around and starts walking backwards and I follow her suit like the sucker I am for her. When my bed hits the back of her knees, she pulls away from me and turns to the side, pulling the hem of her dress away from her skin under her armpit and unzipping it before she pulls the thin straps over her shoulders down her arms and gets naked in front of me.

I run her body with my eyes up and down and she smiles. She’s growing more confident on her own skin and I love it. I can tell she’s a lot more comfortable when she’s naked around me now. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t be. She’s perfect.

Her soft hand caress my chest as they make their way up and rest onto my shoulders as she pulls me closer to her and sits me down on the bed. She leans in and straddles me and her mouth licks and nibbles and sucks on my neck as she grinds her hips on mine, pressing her body against mine. Fuck…

I can feel how wet she is against my pubis and my dick is throbbing for her. I hold her hips and make a mental attempt to stop her movements but my muscles don’t do anything to stop her.

“Baby” I gasp “if you keep that up I’m gonna cum before we get started.”

Her lips leave my skin and I feel the air cooler when it hits the wet spot she was pampering. Her face is inches away from mine.

“And what do you want to do, love?”

Fuck, she’s driving me crazy. Usually it’s me asking her but I didn’t know it was going to be so sexy for her to do it. And when she calls me love… Something stirs inside me.

“Do you want to fuck or do you want me to suck-”

I cut her words short with a kiss. I want her, no, I need her. I push my tongue inside her mouth and taste the sour taste of the gin he had. It’s delicious combined with her otherwise sweet taste.

I try to lift her so I can grab a condom but her hips trap me under her as she kisses me harder. Shit.

“Condom” I manage to gasp against her lips “Need a condom, baby.”

She complains against my mouth and I feel her soft tongue shutting me up again. I grab her ass and the movement of her hips speed up. I can’t take it any longer so I just rise her up firmly and place her bottom on the bed and turn around to get a condom from the bedside table.

“I kind of wish we didn’t have to use them.”

My cock twitches as she whispers that behind me and I tilt my neck so my eyes set on her. She’s resting her weight on her elbows impatiently waiting for me. She looks away before she speaks next.

“But I don’t want you to give me an STD.”

I turn back around and get the condom before I start overthinking her words. I think if I had some blood reaching my brain I would read her confession differently but all I can think about is that he wants to have me bare just as much as I want to feel her without the barrier. It’s irrational because it’s not like the condom bothers me much but it’s just knowing we couldn’t get any closer then that’s driving me crazy for her.

I crawl up her body, spread her legs open with my knee and line myself up with her but she grips my biceps and stops me.

“No, I want to do it.”

Her hands push my chest away from her and they keep pushing until my back hits the mattress and she straddles me. She moans whilst she sinks down on me and the sound all but ties a knot on my heart. She circles her hips, rising and lowering them above me slowly, torturing me as I watch her and try my best not to cum yet. She’s overwhelming me, her scent, her sounds… And when she sinks her nails down my abs, I almost loose control. I hold her by her waist and turn us over, pinning her against the mattress and hovering over her.

“What-” She looks confused.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.”

I grunt when she grins.

“I’m gonna go rough, baby.” I give her a sneak peak, thrusting inside her fast and hard so her body bounces on the bed and she gasps through her smile. She wants this too. “You can tell me to stop anytime.” I reassure her.

“Just fuck me hard, love, like you know I like it.”

I enter her fast and rough, pressing my weight on her and squeezing her flesh on my hungry hands. I love having her like this. She doesn’t know the struggle on not getting a hard on whenever she acts all innocent and shit around other people because I know how dirty she really is but that’s something only I know.

She sucks her lips inside her mouth as she moans and I know it’s her way of helping herself from screaming but I want to hear her. I slip my hand to the inner side of her thigh and pull her leg over my shoulder and we both moan at the new angle.

“Don’t shut your mouth, love.” I warn her. “I want to hear you.”

She obliges and lets a loud moan out and I could burst.

“It won’t…” She stutters. I love doing this to her. “I won’t…”

I chuckle at her fight for words and she grants me a delicious smile.

“It won’t just be you hearing me if I” I push inside her “Oh, Harry…”

“Let my neighbours know” I push inside her again and watch her breasts bounce “let them know what I’m doing to you.”

I lean in to kiss her neck but I can’t barely close my mouth around her skin without getting dizzy. It’s hard to breathe when she’s wrapped around me like this.

“God, Harry.” Her hand pulls from my hair and I grunt against her skin. “I’m so close, love, I’m gonna cum.”

She tenses up underneath me and her skin covers in goose bumps. Lifting her hips from the mattress, she presses them further against me as her walls clench so she’s impossibly tight. I hide my face on the crook of her neck as I fill the condom and my hips keep sloppily thrusting inside her accompanying us down our highs.

I rest my head against the hot skin of her flushed chest and feel her collarbone against my temple every time he breathes in. I hold her hips as I pull out and her throat complains at the emptiness.

INDIE’S POV

I don’t know when I fell asleep but when I wake up is still night-time. I’m alone in Harry’s room and the cold drops a heavy paralyzing blanket over my naked body. I rub my hands against my arms but they’re cold too so they do nothing to warm me up.

Wrapping Harry’s quilt around my body, I get out of his bed and walk towards his living room. I can’t help but wonder where he is at. I need heat, possibly his, but if not I’m gonna need the heaviest duvet he has. I’m not normally cold in his house but because he’s a human heater.

Harry’s sitting on one of the high stools in the kitchen and the light from his laptop screen hits his face and illuminates his frown. He wears his cosy sweatpants I love so much and a long sleeves cotton t-shirt. I envy his warmth. It takes him almost a minute to notice my presence.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m cold.”

His green eyes set back on the screen of his laptop.

“There are blankets on the storage bed.”

If I was already cold, now I’m freezing. I feel like he just took my heart and squeezed it on his hand. How can he be so harsh? Especially after what we did before I fell asleep. I embrace myself and turn around before he can see the effect his cold attitude has in me.

It's like he knew everything I was thinking before we got here and then threw it at my face. Yes, I am a convenient girl for him; yes, I am the easy shag; yes, I am a canned vagina with legs to him. I almost want to call Ollie and tell her she’s right and call Jason and tell him it happened that he got tired of me and then call Marie and told her I should have listened from the beginning.

I realize everyone in my life has been trying to warn me and still here I find myself like some free prostitute he doesn’t even want to sleep with. I mean who works in the A.M on a saturday morning? Am I so terrible he doesn’t even want to lie down next to me?

I need to get out of here and go look for my dignity because I must have lost it somewhere on the way here. I don’t want to cry because of him and I won’t. As I look for my underwear, Harry walks in and holds my arm as he walks me to the bed. He gets us both under the covers and spoons me, intertwining his legs with mine and hugging me tight.

“What are you doing?”

“You said you were cold.”

“And you told me to get a blanket.”

I’m glad he can’t see my face but my voice is trembling and betraying me.

“I’m sorry, I’m a jerk.” Yes, he is. “But can I hold you?”

“Why?”

“Because I like it.”

He has to be kidding me. I don’t understand a thing. I’m not cold anymore, the mixture of the internal heat from the anger and the embarrassment and now his warm skin heats me up until I’m hot. The temperature changes as his mood.

I’m not one to ask many questions but I think his constant back and forth might drive me insane. I pull away from him and lie on my back. I don’t know where to look at.

“Baby-”

“Don’t call me that.” I cut him.

He wheezes and lies down on his belly but his eyes are set on me. This reminds me of when he cried a few nights ago and I feel my heart wrinkling again.

“Tell me how you feel.”

I finally tilt my neck so I can look him in the eyes. Either he’s kidding me or he’s bipolar, there’s no other option. Oh my God, he’s serious. Are we doing this? Talking about our feelings in the A.M.

“How do you think I feel?”

“You thought I was very cold, didn’t you?”

I nod ad look back at the ceiling. I don’t want to do this with him.

“And you didn’t like how that made you feel.” I don’t say anything. “Well, you’re an ice floe, Indie. Constantly.”

I turn on my side again and give him my back hoping he understands I don’t want to talk to him. I won’t cry. I’m an ice floe, after all.

I know that, it’s true. I know I’m cold and difficult and obnoxious but the fact that he out of all people said that feels like a slap on the face. I remember what I once promised and stay quiet. Quiet is better than mean.

Yet warmth fills my insides again when his chest presses against my back. He tucks me under the blanket better before his arm wraps around my waist and pulls me to him and one of his legs wrap over mine too. I feel his hot breath reaching my neck through the gaps between my locks of hair and my eyes finally closed. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything at all. He brings my body to his and I cover the arm that hugs my belly with mine and feel him finally relax behind me.

“I really am sorry.” He whispers.

I don’t let him know but I’m sorry too.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 1 year

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DADDY ISSUES - Part Eleven: Jealous

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: After such an incredibly amazing night with E, you couldn't be more surprised about what's to come. But with Priscilla in town and an unexpected surprise on the horizon, it may not be what you're anticipating. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: nsfw themes, oral (reader recieving/e giving), bdsm: pain + bondage

Rating: M || Word Count: 6359

A/N: i hope y'all enjoyed the last chapter! the length of the outline i had for that chapter?? truly unmatched there was so much to fit in 💀

Song Rec: jealous - nick jonas

This is Part 11 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The next morning, you wake up in your own bedroom with a blanket wrapped tightly around you. As you sit up to yawn, you feel sticky and gross until the memories from last night start to come back to you. You bite your lip and smile as you reminisce on the dirty things you’d done. Lost in thought, it takes you a moment to realize that the telephone in the living room is ringing. You hop out of bed and dash over to it, picking up the receiver to hear Trixie screaming on the other end of the line that she saw you with EP on the cover of a magazine.

“What?” you shout, rubbing your eyes.

“Oh my god, yeah! Here you are right here! I’m literally looking at you, girl! I cannot believe this! The NECKLACE? It’s literally gorgeous. I cannot believe he really bought that for you. It looks so expensive and the fact that it’s basically a collar? So insanely hot.”

You laugh and agree. A knock on the door sounds and you glance over your shoulder at it.

“I can’t believe you went to dinner with him? What was it like? What did you do?”

“Hey, Trix, I’m sorry I’ll have to call you back. Someone’s at the door. Thanks for telling me about this,” you chuckle.

“Oh my god is it him? Oh, sorry! You have to go. I want the details later, please! Love ya, byee!” she says excitedly as you hang up the phone.

You open the door to, indeed, see Elvis standing before you. He looks stern so you stand aside to let him into the room. He enters and throws something down on the table.

“Seen this?” he asks.

Your eyes fall onto the object as you close the door. You lift it up to examine it. Sure enough, it’s a copy of the latest issue of Modern Screen magazine and there you are right beside Elvis in full color in your blue dress and the infamous EP collar. So the paparazzi had gotten a few juicy photographs of you last night. You sigh, knowing that Elvis wants to keep your relationship a secret. You look over to him as he reclines on the couch. You open your mouth to stutter out an apology, but he just grins up at you with a shrug.

“Well, I guess the cat’s outta the bag now, ain’t it, princess?”

“I thought…you wanted to keep our relationship a secret,” you say, sitting down next to him on the couch. “This is pretty much the opposite of that.”

He laughs.

“Ain’t no use in keeping it a secret no more. Not now that everyone’s seen us together, out in public, and with you wearin your collar like a good girl nonetheless. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that you can’t play games with the press. Lyin ain’t gonna work out well for ya. So say hello to the world, princess.”

You know it shouldn’t make you so happy to be acknowledged by something as ridiculous as a tabloid, but you can’t deny that your heart is beating a little extra excitedly today.

Since that day, things have genuinely changed between you and Elvis. Ever since the wild, unrestrained, untamed passion that you shared after dinner, you’ve started to visit Elvis twice a week instead of once, sometimes even more frequently. That experience showed you both what your relationship could be, the potential you have, how so very good you can both be together. He’s put in a lot more effort to try new things and pay attention to what you like. In turn, you’ve also tried to remember what he likes best and get better at it for him. You simply can’t stay away from each other more than a few days before desire returns with a vengeance.

Now, when you wake up each morning, your first emotion is a yearning for his touch, for his attention. Sometimes you touch yourself at night thinking about his fingers and fall asleep dreaming of him deep inside you. Occasionally, you even wake up in a cold sweat, panting and longing to reach for the phone and call him down to you. With the addition of his little room of goodies, you’ve spent many pleasurable nights with him.

Plus, now that you’ve broken through the awkwardness of not really knowing one another, you can actually enjoy your time together as friends. You’ve gotten a chance to know the real Elvis, unlike any other fan has. You hear about his problems, his childhood, his fears, anything he cares to tell, and you soak up like a sponge.

While all of this newfound passion between you is certainly doing wonders for your relationship, it also means that you’re spending far less time with the other people in your life. You still go out occasionally with friends for lunch or shopping. As for Max, things are…complicated. You can’t quite explain why but all of your affection for him has vanished. Every time he makes the slightest move to show interest in you, your gut reaction is to reject him immediately, redirect the conversation, or pretend you don’t understand or hear him. There’s nothing wrong with Max, of course. He’s very handsome and sweet but…somehow he feels like a disappointment. You can’t help but compare him to Elvis in every way and he fails to measure up no matter the criteria.

One evening, almost three months after your wonderful night together, a knock sounds on your door. You step away from cooking dinner to find a note taped to the outside of the door, inviting you up to Elvis’ room for the third time this week. You giggle to yourself and spend the rest of the evening finishing some tasks around your room before heading upstairs. The letter asks you to meet him after his second show of the night, which puts the time at around one in the morning. On a normal night, you would get dressed up and attend one or both of his shows before hooking up with him later, but tonight you have a better idea.

You change into a brand new lingerie set, a delicate pink one he hasn’t seen yet, and pull your favorite blue dress over top of it to conceal you. After taking a few sips of wine to bolden yourself, you grab some choice pieces of jewelry, including, of course, the collar he gifted you and the TCB ring. As you latch the EP choker around your throat, you sigh and drag a finger down your neck as you fantasize about what he’s going to do to you in just a little while. You take the private elevator up to his room and step inside, using a key that Jerry had made especially for you.

“Mr. Presley?” you shout into the space. “Daddy?”

You smirk when you receive no response, just silence. You step further into the room and shrug off the blue dress, leaving you only in lingerie. You glance at the clock to see that you have about five minutes before your meeting time. Perfect. As quickly as you can, you fetch the key from under the painting and enter your favorite room in the world. After spending so much time here, you’re very familiar with the drawer you need. You pull it out and grab a pair of handcuffs from inside.

You hook the cuffs around your wrists, maneuvering the metal chain around the back of one of the columns in the living room. You relax for a few minutes until you start to hear the whirring of the elevator. With an excited smile, you stretch yourself out, lengthening your legs and arching your back so that you’re bent at the waist with your hands resting flat against the column.

Just a few seconds later, the door clicks open and Elvis pushes through it. You suck your breath in quickly with embarrassment as you notice that Jerry is actually the one who’s opened the door. Jerry is in the middle of saying something but stops mid-sentence and averts his gaze from you. Elvis is straggling behind him but once he catches sight of you, your shame is replaced by pride. Elvis’ eyes are wide and his mouth is popped open in shock at the sight of your vulnerable body all laid out for him. He shakes his head and you giggle as his eyes grow dark right before you.

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow, Jerry,” Elvis says, waving dismissively and refusing to tear his gaze from you. “Get out.”

“Yes sir,” Jerry says, closing the door quickly.

You giggle impishly as Elvis comes closer. As he takes a few steps toward you, he reaches up to readjust the rings on his fingers. You stare at him with expectant eyes and his lips curl up into a smirk. He tilts his head and rubs his fingers on his jaw.

“Oh hi there,” you whisper, sticking your tongue between your teeth.

“God damn, mama. Lord have mercy on my soul,” he says breathily as he circles around you like a hawk stalking a mouse. His eyes trace every curve of your body and you breathe carefully through the squirming sensation in your lower gut.

“I hope you like this present I got you,” you say, arching your back to stick your ass out toward him.

He just growls in response, his warm hands sliding onto your skin. You close your eyes at the feeling of his touch, your stomach churning in knots. God it feels so good, so warm and soft. He gently trails his fingertips along the skin, wrapping them around your bum. He squeezes tightly onto one of the cheeks. You moan quietly in approval and then giggle. He does it once more before removing his hand. You whimper in disappointment but only for a moment before you jolt forward with the unexpected pressure of a spank. Your fingers grip tightly onto the column. You suck in a sharp breath and then giggle again. He spanks you once more before lowering his head into the space between your neck and shoulder. Your eyes remain closed as you feel his hot breath tickle your skin.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he growls, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

He bites down hard and your mouth pops open. You moan in pain, feeling your spine unintentionally arch back into his body.

“So bad but so good,” he says. “I like this one on you.”

He slips a finger underneath the strap of the thong you’re wearing, pulling it taut against your skin.

“What a nice little surprise you whipped up for your daddy,” he continues. “I think my little doll deserves a reward for being so good, doesn’t she?”

“Yes please, daddy,” you whisper back breathily.

He spanks you again and you thrust forward, clutching onto the column for stability. He pulls away from you and you glance down to see him sliding onto the floor below you. He smirks up at you as his face appears below yours. You laugh at the sight of him scootching back on the floor. He smiles and curls his finger toward himself, beckoning you to come down and meet him. Carefully, you bend down, sliding your hands as far down the pole as you can. He raises up from the ground to grab ahold of your hips and help you down onto his body. Once seated, he harshly grabs hold of your chin to tilt your face to the side. He attacks your neck, sucking and biting on the skin. Your fingers pull against the handcuffs as he sucks your skin raw. You moan in response to the pleasure and pain. When he bites down on the meat of your shoulder again, you jerk forward and accidentally grind onto his member, rock hard underneath you.

His hands circle around your figure to cup your ass, holding you firmly on top of him. You press your forehead against him as you begin to grind harder on him, pushing your hips back and forth on his bulge. He’s so big that you can feel him twitch underneath you as you move. The friction of the lacy lingerie and the leather of his jumpsuit is making your pussy swell with each thrust. You moan at the pleasure you feel as you drip onto him. Elvis’ fingers suddenly tighten and he holds you still over him. Your breath hitches in disappointment and you pull back to look at him.

He pushes your hips up and you straighten your thighs so you're sitting upright. With barely enough room, he somehow lowers himself down so that he’s directly underneath your heat. His finger slides underneath the lace panties and he pushes them to the side. Although you can only see his eyes below you, you can tell he’s smirking by the mischief sparkling in his irises. Without breaking eye contact with you, he drags a finger across your wetness. Your eyes close in pleasure at his touch and you smile. He repeats the action, far too slowly for your liking.

“Daddy,” you say, pouting, “you said I deserved a reward, not a punishment. Be good.”

He smirks again and then harshly pulls your thighs down onto his face. You yank against the handcuffs chained around the column as his tongue darts into your folds. His hot breath feels so good on your dipping pussy. You jerk your hips back against his tongue, begging for more stimulation.

“Mmm, you taste so fuckin good mama,” he mutters against you.

You moan in response, pulling against the restraints. He swipes his tongue up and down your folds, inserting a finger into you. He pumps it in and out rhythmically and you grind your hips on his hand as he drives his fingers deeper and deeper into your pussy while his tongue traces circles around your clit. You can feel yourself growing more sensitive by the minute. Your legs start to shake as you try to hold up your body weight while withstanding the waves of pleasure that are building inside you. Elvis’ fingers curl up and around your thighs, his fingertips digging into the skin.

You suck in a breath and release a strained moan as he buries his face in your pussy, sticking his hot, wet tongue all the way into you. With such a simple movement, you can already feel your walls threatening to clench tightly. You pull against the restraints, unable to stop him and too enraptured to tell him to stop.

“Sto-“ you start to say but wince as he hits a super sensitive portion of your clit.

Your legs are vibrating now, tired from the overwhelming sensations. You grimace as the metal from the handcuffs digs into your wrists. You’re relying on them to keep you stationary so Elvis can finish you off. But the mixture of his fingers and tongue and the pain from the handcuffs are all too much. You moan pathetically as you feel yourself climaxing. Elvis slips his finger out of you but continues to drag his tongue back and forth across your folds as you ride out your orgasm.

Between shaky breaths, you release a contented sigh. Elvis licks up your juices and you shudder as your sensitive nerves ache. When he’s finished, he pushes himself back toward the pole, resting his back on it to sit upright. Your legs quiver and knees buckle as you lower yourself onto his lap. Both of your faces are red, hot, and sweaty. He’s still in his jumpsuit, his hair stuck all over his face from the combination of his show and the glorious gift he just gave you. Your handcuffed hands fall onto his shoulders and he stares up at you with a smirk. His lips are red and swollen, glistening wet with your juices.

“Fuck daddy,” you say quietly and smile.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, brushing your sweat-stained hair from your face.

“Do you want me to-”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. “That was for you and you alone. You been so good. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you smile.

You get comfortable on his lap and sit together in silence as you both decompress.

“You know I was thinkin bout what you said the other day. Your advice,” he says, leaning his head back against the column.

“Oh yeah?” you cross your arms over your chest. “What exactly did I say, again? I say so many wise things, you know.”

He chuckles.

“About the tour, the international tour. You said that I should just go for it, with or without the Colonel.”

“Sure, I remember. I still think you should do that. Like I told you so long ago during the special, if you can dream, you should. If you can do it, you should.”

He just nods, staring up into your eyes. You smile down at him, wavering in the space between you. There that sensation is again in your stomach, those butterflies. Your eyes flick down to his lips for a quick second before returning to his eyes. His head is tilted and his eyes trained firmly on your mouth. You start to lean forward just slightly. You both grow closer and closer until he suddenly pulls away, turning his head to the side. You jerk back yourself, feeling heat flood into your face. You shake yourself back to reality and hop up from Elvis’ lap to go clean yourself up.

─────

Over the next couple of weeks, your audiences with Elvis slow down a little. You’re not too worried, since he forewarned you that he might be a bit busier as of late. Although you’re not concerned, you are upset. It’s already Friday and you haven’t been called all week. Just when you think he might have given up on you for this week, you hear a knock. This time, the letter is hand-delivered by Jerry.

“About time,” you say with raised eyebrows. “I was wondering when he was gonna call on me.”

“Well, he’s been a lot busier than usual, as you know,” Jerry explains, leaning against the door frame. He runs a hand through his feathery hair. “I…should tell you that one of the reasons for that is because of his wife.”

“His wife?” you blink hard, suddenly remembering her. Guilt floods through you as you realize you had completely forgotten about Priscilla. “His wife…of course.”

“Yeah, Priscilla has been in town this week to visit. That’s probably a big reason why he hasn’t called you, yet.”

“Right. I understand. Did she bring…” you can’t even allow yourself to say the name of Elvis’ baby girl. The guilt is too much and you feel like some sort of evil stepmother.

“No,” Jerry answers your question anyway. You gulp in relief and nod your head. “It’s just her. And she should be gone by now, anyway. She only stays for a few days at a time now. With Lisa in Memphis, I don’t think she likes to be away too long.”

“I can imagine. Well, thanks for letting me know, Jerry.”

“Of course. Good luck,” he smiles and turns to leave.

You start to close the door but then reopen it and stick your head around the corner.

“Jerry?”

He glances over his shoulder.

“Do you think she…knows about me?”

Jerry’s gaze drops and he’s silent for a few minutes before he glances back up at you.

“Honestly? She probably has a vague idea. I’m sure she doesn’t know who you are or what exactly it is that you do, but…I’m sure she can tell that something’s up.”

“Am I…a terrible person? For agreeing to this arrangement? For helping him cheat on her?”

Jerry tilts his head and his eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t think you’re a terrible person. I realize we haven’t known each other long but, from what I’ve seen, you’re surviving. You’re making the most of what was given to you. And I watched from the beginning as you denied and denied him. If anyone can understand how persuasive he is, I’m sure Priscilla would.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile. Jerry returns it and starts on his way.

After disappearing back inside, you get dressed and put the finishing touches on your makeup before rushing out of your room and into the elevator up to his place. You smile to yourself on the way up, excited to see him after so many days. Although you could never admit it to his face, you’ve missed him.

But as you step out of the elevator and down the hall, you hear voices coming from inside Elvis’ room. You pause outside the door, leaning forward to press your ear flush against it. For a few seconds, you stand still to listen for the conversation.

“…every weekend, Elvis!” I’m so sick of this shit!”

A woman’s voice. Your heart immediately pangs with emotion as you realize that Elvis’ wife must still be here.

“What the hell you talkin bout?” Elvis’ voice sounds. “baby, I-“

“Don’t you dare call me baby! Not after you sat around here all last night calling some other woman baby! I’m done, Elvis! I’m done with this. When you’re ready to be an adult, come home.”

Your spy session is harshly interrupted as the door swings open. You step backward just in time to avoid getting slammed in the face with it as Priscilla Presley comes wildly stomping out of it. She pauses abruptly in the doorway when her eyes land on you. She quickly looks you up and down, giving you just enough time to do the same with her. You remember the first time you saw her after the death of Bobby Kennedy; her face was drawn in sadness and regret. She was so beautiful then. Now, she’s terrifying. Pure rage is written all over her features. Her eyes are widened, mouth turned down into a deep frown, fists balled at her sides. Her dark brown hair is styled in perfect soft waves with curtain bangs, very fashionable and a wonderful look on her elegant features.

You anxiously stare into her eyes. Her bright blue eyes glare back at you and you watch as they flash with sadness for a brief moment before her anger returns. Her eyebrows gently tilt upward and then slam back down in fury.

As you and Priscilla take each other in, sizing up the competition, Elvis stalks toward the door and clutches his fingers around Priscilla’s arm. Her vision doesn’t waver from yours as she rips her arm away from him.

“Another one of your whores is here. Or your gold diggers, home wreckers, whatever you wanna call them,” she hisses and takes a step closer to you. “I hope you’re happy, you little bitch.”

You hadn’t honestly thought about the fact that Elvis probably is seeing many other women — backup dancers, fans, prostitutes, whoever he wants.

She pushes past you, nudging your body into the wall gently. You say nothing back, shrinking into the wall as she passes you. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to cry. Priscilla Presley just told you to fuck off…and you don’t even have the right to be upset about it because you understand. You understand fully and completely why she would treat you like this. What right do you even have to be here? Fucking her husband behind her back when he has a child at home who misses him dearly.

“Goddamnit, Cilla!” Elvis yells from beside you, throwing his hands up. “Cilla!”

But she’s gone. She’s already rounded the corner of the hallway and is probably getting into the elevator now. You keep your gaze trained on the carpet, feeling awkward, hurt, and disappointed. A few moments of silence pass before Elvis sighs deeply and turns to you.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he says, gesturing toward the inside of the room. “You shouldn’t have seen that. Come in.”

Your brain churns as you turn to step into the room. The hair on your skin raises as you glance up to look at the furniture and things. Everything looked so much different before now. As you take a good look at it, everything seems older and faded somehow. The memories and images that used to get you all hot and bothered are now making you cringe. You’re embarrassed and feel like a fool. You jump when the door slams shut and wait in silence for Elvis to address you.

When he comes into your field of view, his face is shoved into his hand. You wait a moment but when he doesn’t move, you step forward. You reach out gently placing your hands on his chest. He heaves a deep breath and moves into your touch. You wrap your arms around his back, gently rubbing your palm up and down his back as he breathes into your shoulder. You raise yourself up on your tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Let me help.”

He sighs but does nothing to stop you when your fingers latch onto the tie of that same red EP robe from 1968. You untie it and then step back, gently lifting your top from your shoulders. You hadn’t dressed up too much tonight, just a pair of flattering jeans and a sexy blouse you’d brought from home. Once you’ve stripped down to a matching set of bra and panties, you step toward Elvis. He smiles and you return a tight grin as you push him down onto the couch.

He tilts his head lustily as you climb on top of him, straddling his lap, while you try to forget what you’ve just witnessed. You lean down as if to kiss him but move your head at the last second. You press your cheek against his and latch your teeth onto the skin of his neck, biting down hard, pulling it back, and then releasing it. He groans into your ear and you squeeze your eyes shut against the guilt. You grind your body against him as you suck and bite on his neck. His fingers grip at your clothes, sliding underneath your top and up your back. You pull back and frantically unzip his jumpsuit, pushing it from his shoulders and off his torso. You climb down from him and he stands up so you can remove the jumpsuit fully.

As soon as you’re standing upright again, he rips your shirt off and tosses it to a different place in the room. He unbuttons your jeans as he walks you back toward the bedroom. You stumble backward and his hand slides smoothly around your back to keep you from falling. You both chuckle nervously as your legs hit the back of the bed. You hop up and Elvis slides your jeans from your legs. As you move backward on the bed, he climbs on top of you, pinning you down by your wrists.

He attacks your neck, sucking on the skin so hard that you dig your nails into his back. You’re trying to focus on the pleasure, the pain, the good sensations of sex. But you can’t. Every time your attention gets pulled, it finds its way back to Priscilla. Back to her face. You can see her so clearly, the anger, the betrayal, the pain.

The next thing you know, Elvis is flipping you around on all fours and yanking your panties down your legs. Although you’re, frankly, not too interested, you fake it. You jerk your hips back as he slides into you, wincing momentarily at the friction. As he gently thrusts in and out of your folds, you do loosen up a little. You breathe rhythmically, trying to get used to the feeling. It’s not that you don’t want him and you really do want to help him. You’re just…not in the mood.

As you glance around for something to focus on, your eyes land on a small frame beside the bed. Somehow, you’ve never noticed it before. You moan in time with Elvis’ thrusts and you realize it’s a picture of his daughter, Lisa Marie. Guilt overwhelms you and motivates you to get the job done quickly. You move your hips back against Elvis until you feel him starting to twitch between your legs. You don’t relent, pushing back against him. He groans, moans, and growls as he thrusts through his climax.

You move forward and he slides out from your core. As soon as you’re free from him, you readjust your panties and move to get off the bed so you can go back downstairs, take a shower, and just forget this night ever happened. You’re sure you’ll feel better in the morning. But as you reach down to grab your jeans, Elvis stops you.

“Where you goin? Come ‘ere for a while,” he says, gesturing toward the bed.

He’d scooted back so that he’s laying with his legs spread wide and his back propped up against the bedframe. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and his chest glistens with sweat in the moonlight.

“It’s late. I should really get back.”

“Nonsense. You got plenty of time. Come ere.”

You sigh, drop the clothes, and climb onto the bed. You nestle into his armpit. This isn’t the first time Elvis has asked you to stay with him post-sex. It’s been happening more frequently as of late. The first few times, you’d taken a woozy trip back down to your bedroom almost immediately upon finishing. Plus, back then you figured he wouldn’t want anyone to see you coming out of his room in the morning.

Although you assumed originally that it was because he didn’t want Priscilla to know about you, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually because he has other women visiting him. Now you feel like a fool for not considering it, but it just never occurred to you that there were other women like you in his life. You release a breath, apparently louder than you realize, because Elvis shifts to see your face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he whispers into the darkness of the bedroom.

“Oh, nothing…” you say, shaking your head.

“You know if I learned one thing from my wife, when a woman says nothin’s wrong, she’s lyin through her teeth. Now, Imma ask ya again, princess. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath.

“That was your wife, Priscilla, who left earlier.”

Now it’s Elvis’ turn to sigh before he answers.

“Yes. That was Cilla, Priscilla, my wife,” he replies and you nod solemnly. “Look, honey, I didn’t mean for ya to see all that. She wadn’t supposed to be here today. She told me she was leavin last night.”

“I guess but…”

“But what?”

“I feel…guilty,” you admit, cringing at your own words. Elvis sighs frustratedly.

“Well, don’t. You ain’t doin nothing wrong.”

“But do you…do you still love her? Your wife, I mean?” you ask. “And your daughter, Lisa? What if she…I don’t know what if she finds out about me? I’m not a home wrecker, I -”

“Stop,” Elvis says, clearly irritated as he shifts to sit up. You slide from his shoulder and scoot over, curling your knees into your chest. “Stop this shit. I don’t wanna hear it no more, y’understand?”

You can barely see him in the dark, mostly just the outline of his face but you can see his eyes glinting.

“Yes. I understand, Mr. Presley.”

“Stop that shit, too. I don’t like you callin me that. It makes everything feel so …cold. Call me Elvis. Mr. Presley, I fuckin hate that.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” you say, irritation growing in your tone. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m just upset.”

“Upset? What else you upset about?” he asks, throwing his hands up.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because your wife called me a whore and a home wrecker as she stomped off out of your room! Probably because I’m helping someone cheat on his wife, and apparently, according to her, I’m not the only whore that you’re fucking!” you shout.

You cringe after the words leave your mouth. It all just came out of nowhere.

As you stare at him with ragged breaths flying from your nostrils, you think about the past couple of weeks. Although you've ignored your concerns, Elvis has started to collect guns. Lots of guns. You know he'd never hurt you but...it makes you nervous to have them around. Not to mention that he's become paranoid, going so far as to take the guns on stage with him. Truthfully, you weren't going to say anything, but if he wants to know then he's gonna get it.

“Okay, fine. You wanna know? The guns. I don’t like the guns. It makes me nervous. I don’t like that you collect them, just leave them laying around. I don’t like that you take them on stage with you, that you’re so paranoid that someone is gonna hurt you. I hate it. I hate seeing them and I hate the thought of you using them.”

“It’s for protection! Maybe if you paid attention, you’d understand the boat I’m in. You think you know everything? Well, you don’t. Just last week I received death threats, princess. Death threats! These people ain't jokin around. They want to kill me, do you understand? Kill me.”

As you look at him in the darkness, you can feel yourself being moved by pity. Your angry tones fall and you drop your face into your hands. Silence settles and you reprimand yourself for judging him so harshly.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know…about the death threats. I never should have pretended to know what was going on. I should have just trusted you.”

You glance over at him to see his jaw clenched tightly as he stares forward. After a few seconds of remaining steady and firm, his shoulders fall and so does his head. He looks over at you, his eyes searching yours, and reaches out. His finger hooks behind a rogue piece of hair and he slowly, gently tucks it behind your ear. He does it so gingerly that you can barely feel it. His fingers linger on your skin for a few minutes before he pulls away, his thumb tracing your jawline. You close your eyes, sighing happily at the feeling of his soft touch, a touch you don’t receive very often with the desperate violence of your shared lust.

“I gotcha somethin,” he says, a tight smile spreading across his face.

You rub your eyes as he leans over the side of the bed to fish something out from the end table. He hands it over to you, a small, flat package wrapped in golden wrapping paper and tied with a neat white bow.

“What is it?” you ask.

“That's the point of the gift, princess,” he replies and you smile.

You rip through the wrapping paper, pulling it apart to reveal the back of a vinyl album. You carefully flip it around to see the title and almost drop it when you read the words. The Genius Hits the Road. He’d managed to dig up the album you mentioned the other night, the Ray Charles one that your parents used to listen to.

You bite your lip as a smile spreads across your face and then hold the record tightly to your chest. He really had paid attention to what you said, what you liked, what means the most to you. This gift isn’t just something that he whipped up. It’s something that he must have searched very hard for.

“Where did you find this?” you ask excitedly. “It must have taken you forever to track one of these down.”

“Less time than ya think,” he says. “I got my ways and contacts. I thought you might like to have it.”

“Yes, of course! I love it…so much.”

You flip it around to scan through the familiar list of songs.

“Listen,” he places his hand onto your shoulder, turning you to face him. You look into his eyes, they’re soft as they gaze into yours. “I don’t want you to worry none bout Cilla, okay? That’s got nothin to do with ya. That’s my…that’s my fault, my problem. Mine to deal with. Aright?”

You nod.

“Just please…" you say, "please try to get some rest and help. I can tell that you’re exhausted and I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. And I guess I need to do more prep work if I’m not satisfying you enough."

You laugh nervously.

“Oh that’s bullshit, sugar,” he says immediately. “There ain’t any other women. Just you.”

You smile weakly at him, his words unconvincing to you. You’re pretty sure there are other women. But he’s right. You aren’t exclusive and you guess you can’t expect a man like him to settle just for someone like you.

“In fact, why don’t you jus sleep here with me tonight. It’s late and I don’t like the idea of you wanderin round the hotel by yaself,” he says and you nod.

You slide down into the covers, unsure what to do with yourself. It's one thing to pass out after having lustful sex with someone or to have a one-night stand and jet out of the room first thing in the morning, but this feels…different. This feels too domestic, too intimate. Sleeping next to someone else is....vulnerable. And if there's one thing your relationship with Elvis is not, it's vulnerable.

You feel awkward as you try to relax next to him. Is he going to cuddle you? Is he going to hold you? Or are you just going to lay there in silence? Your questions are quickly answered as Elvis settles in with his back turned toward you. You fold into yourself, the pain of sadness bringing tears to your eyes. You gulp hard and squeeze your eyes shut, begging for sleep.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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