#i think i maybe slept for a total of like 2 hours

[horce-divorce]

wow that was absolutely the worst night of sleep I've had in recent memory, gonna have to spend my whole birthday napping to make up for it 👻

[narutomaki]

hey genuine question here: why does it cost me nearly 80$ to ship art from an American store regardless if size but under 1kg ... but it (would) costs me under 60$ to get 0.7kg of (art) stuff from Japan? both I'd be getting charged the same amount of import fees on if any.

[cloudd-nyne]

.

[kanmom51]

The story of a JK, a JM and some late night wrestling

Or not, but it definitely ended with a very sore nose for JM.

So this is what we were waiting for, right?

They just couldn't stop talking about it.

On Suchwita.

On their live with RM and Tae.

From all that talk about it I thought we'd be living on that footage for the next 10 months.

At least.

And then this is what we get:

But then again, I guess we got the Jikook treatment.

Them telling us about something and us never getting to actually see it.

The question I ask is: Why?

Why don't we get to see it?

We know there are cameras inside the hut.

We know they are angled at the bed as well.

We know that they were on at night, as we got footage of poor JM at the fridge.

We know the mics were on as well.

*Side note: my guess is there was no worry of anything inappropriate happening seeing that JM was literally out of commission.

So why?

Why did we not get the footage?

Not even of JM showing JK how he hit him!!!!!!

It would have been so much funnier than just hearing about it, right?

Could it be because the cameras were unable to catch them in the dark? Somehow I don't think that's it. Even if it was totally dark why show the hut from outside and not from inside, in the supposed dark?

And it's not because of it being two dudes in one bed. That's not a reason not to show it. We've seen BTS sleep in the one bed. Disney+ has shown the Woogas all in one bed.

It's not about the who (well, maybe it is a little), it's about the how. The who combined with the how makes for too much perhaps.

I think we all know nothing was "going on" there, seeing JM's 'condition'.

My assumption (based of course on my opinion) is that they just couldn't. That seeing them in that bed together was just too much. Too intimate.

Pretty much like here:

You hear how close JK is to JM, seeing that JM is so damn clearly heard on JK's mic. Too close for comfort I'd say. Just like in CT, too much!!

Stop and think for a second.

The only bed that we know the two slept in together we didn't get to see them in bed together in. Not falling asleep and not waking up. And most certainly not during the night when JM was elbowed in the nose.

I guess it was really just too much.

And that is really funny seeing that we got to see those two playing around creating content that could easily be used in a BL drama.

If I'm already at it, this is JM supposedly walking into the hut for the first time.

And why do I say supposedly?

Because that bed is not a "fresh" bed you get in a clean room you just checked into. This bed, my friends, has been laid in. This is not a bed a little creased because staff had to set up cameras. Someone must definitely made use of those pillows. My guess would be that at some point poor JM, who was clearly unwell, had to rest before continuing with the shooting, and this happened before they filmed this. He was probably feeling so bad he needed to lay down for a bit before continuing with the shoot. Understandable. Also understandable that they didn't want to spare us of them 'first' entering the hut and their impression of it.

This my friends is why I keep reminding you that this is edited content, not live running. We have just over 2 hours of Jikook in CT when those two basically spent there close to 3 full days. We get some of the picture, not all of it.

But one thing I do have to emphasize here - as much as content is edited, their interactions, what they have between them, it's genuine. Some we get to see, some we don't, for obvious reasons.

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2

Robin Buckley was unfortunately well-aware of Steve Harrington, long before they started working together. He had been the worst kind of popular in high school, the completely effortless kind. And Robin was not looking forward to working with him. 

Sure, he had been better than the other jock dickheads Robin was forced to share space with, but that probably had more to do with his weird Eddie Munson friendship than anything else. Being friends with the town freak kind of forced you to be more accepting. Or in Steve’s case, force you to punch anyone who insulted him in the face. 

And while that was all nice and chivlirous or whatever it didn’t stop the fact that Steve Harringinton was a complete ass who slept with dozens of girls and threw them away immmeidtly after. There was no way that a guy like that wasn’t a dick. 

And after their first shift working together, Robin was convinced that she had been absolutely right. He was a total slouch at work, spending most of his time failing at flirting with girls or yapping to his friends on the phone in the back. He was a complete diva about his hair, and their manager had given him three reprimands in the span of four hours for not wearing the dumb hat. And he was always trying to get out of work early. 

After their first week together Robin was ready to strangle him. The only thing she’d give him is that he accepted being assigned indefinite bathroom cleaning duty with grace, otherwise she probably would have killed him and hid the body in the freezer by now.

Though he was really trying to expedite the process over here.

It was another annoying, Harrington filled day, only for him to once again try and leave early. 

But before he could get to the door, Robin was dragging him back behind the counter, hissing, “Where the hell do you think you’re going? We have inventory tonight.”

She had expected him to whine in response or maybe say something dickish that she could kick him in the shin for, but he just looked horrified.

“Tonight? B-But it won’t take that long right? Like just a few minutes?”

“Try a few hours. They’re making us count the spoons man. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

His eyes got wider with each word, and for a split second Robin was actually worried that he was about to have a panic attack. That was until he opened his mouth again, “I-okay. Look dude, I really can’t do this tonight. I have a thing that I need to go to. But I can make it up to you! Or I can come in tomorrow morning-”

“The manager is going to look at it tomorrow morning,” Robin interrupted, arms crossed and brow twitching, “What is so damn important that it can’t wait till tomorrowow?”

“Does that matter?” Steve asked, oddly defensive for someone who was literally begging, “I just need to leave. But I can make it up to you! I’ll even pay you. You can have all the tips for the week and if that’s not enough then I’ll do the trash for three-no four days. I’ll do anything. Please?”

He actually looked like he was on the edge of tears and Robin had to begrudgingly admit that the puppy eyes were working on her. Christ, she was too good of a person. 

She sighed, “Trash duty for two weeks, and for the week I get the tips I expect you to be extra charming. We clear?”

“Yes! Totally fair!” Steve was already speed walking backwards to the door, and those misty eyes had suddenly completely disappeared. Robin was started to think that she just got played and big time, “Best co-worker ever! Really couldn’t ask for better-”

“Just fucking go.” Robin said as she shooed him off, near snorting when Steve actually started running out of the mall. 

She looked back behind the counter, groaning when she realized that his trash promise apparently started tomorrow. Fucking dick. She’d take out the trash, do inventroy alone, and then curse the Harrington name.��

She started to lug the disgusting trash bags full of soupy ice cream through the backdoor, shivering a little in the cold. The dumpster was right next to the almost empty parking lot, everyone gone except one long running van.

Robin stopped, realziing that two people were making out infront of it, and one of them just so happened to still be wearing his cutsy uniform while he shoved his tongue down the stranger’s throat. Robin stared at them, barely concealed by the dumpster as her blood boiled. 

Steve ditched her to make-out with some chick in the parking lot? Oh hell no. He was not getting away with this. She was just about to come out of her hiding spot to start tearing into him when she heard Steve giggle. Honest to god giggle. 

He was standing in front of the girl, obscuring her face while he played with a lock of her hair, “Aw, don’t pout. I didn’t make the schedule. Besides, I already said I’d make it up to you in any way you want.”

Robin rolled her eyes, wondering if she should include warning the poor girl that whatever two week anniversary they were celebrating would definitely be their last when she called him out. 

“I just didn’t expect to spend most of our four year anniversary eating cake in bed alone,” The stranger answered, their voice instantly recongnizble, “I was supposed to be eating you.”

That wasn’t a chick, that was Eddie.

Robin gasped, a hand going over her mouth. She had heard that voice many times, usually yelling about comforimity while standing on a lunch table. But that didn’t make sense! It couldn’t be-

But then Eddie was spinning them around, crowding Steve against the hood of his car, his signature DIO vest on full display while he ploundered Steve’s mouth, Steve laughing into it all the while. 

Robin felt like her brain was short-circuiting as she watched them. She was actually witnessing Steve Harrington happily shoving his tongue down Eddie Munson’s throat.

Steve pulled away first, holding Eddie back with a hand to his chest, still giggling, “God, that was so lame. Even for you.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” Steve easily agreed, “And I’ll love it even more when we’re home and in bed. Then we can really start celebrating.”

That was more than enough for Eddie. He dragged Steve off of the hood before opening the passenger side door for him, stealing one more kiss before running over to the driver’s side. 

Robin watched as they settled into the van, hands immediately clasped back together over the centerconsole. But it didn’t stop there. No, Steve was licking his lips and looking down muttering something to Eddie that she couldn’t hear. But she could guess, especially when his head suddenly dissapeared right before they drove off. 

Robin stayed hidden behind the dumpster, still trying to comprehend what she’d just seen. She just watched King Steve make out with the resident freak, and maybe start the beginnings of road head, all while giggling and laughing about their fucking anniversy.

What. The. Fuck.

From an unpublished chapter of this fic

[tennypress]

MINORS DNI

WARNING: angst, jaegyon is red flag, gender neutral reader

“I dug my key into the side (into the side), of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights (both headlights), slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats…”

“Baby please it was an honest mistake” he says nonchalantly on the phone. You can hear him drive in that stupid car if his.

“Honest, HONEST?!?! What me seeing you with another girl in the car was an “Honest” mistake Jaegyon?!

“Oh cmon , it was probably another guy-“ “What, some other guy has another car that has another red and blue car that states NO MORE CONFIRM on their car, REALLY?” You say over the phone clearly pissed as you packed your shit. He tried to make an excuse but failed to do so.

You just leave his apartment as you make sure you had everything before throwing the key he gave you on the couch as you take your luggage to your own car. A nice silver Porsche your father had gaved you after you finished your exams. Throwing it in the trunk as you start your car. Before driving off, blocking him on every platform. Huffing as you start the engine and drive off.

The reader might think, “oh she must be so sad, or is she gonna get revenge. “They’re totally gonna get back together and she will shit on his heart.” Well in my own logic(lol) here is how to went:

She fully speeds as she arrives at a secluded beach. Parking her car as she angrily smokes. Grumbling on how she fell for his stupid face, or how he looked like some people that she knew(ahem ahem DG, Eli, and Johan) as she crushes the cigarette under her heel.

She put up a plan that will ensure her revenge and possibly not end up in jail.

She comes up with a couple of strategies

1. Scratch his car - nah she doesn’t wanna get sued

2. Cheat on him? - too much work

3. Find the bitch who slept with him - she’s probably big or something and will probably get sued

4. Block him and never speak to him again - she’s already doing that

There’s another solution: Get a better look and shit on him with her new looks - sounds better and is easier(and also legal)

“So that’s it!” She says out loud. She drives to her own separate home and get ready. Watching different YouTube videos for I don’t know, maybe an hour before finding the perfect video. Then getting a different outfit as she texts up a friend she knows and ask him about that car race meet up spot that she knows that jaegyon will be at and they agree.

The following week comes up and she’s with her friend as they went to who knows where as she flaunts her new looks. Form her hair, makeup, outfit, and heels as she finds a spot for her Nissan Silvia s13 in a big spot as the other people admire her.

She talks with them as she talks about her car when she sees him in the other side next to two girls at his side as he talks to some of his friends. His friends caught up and whisper to him as he notices you and glanced your way sometimes. You only ignored them as you chill with the other car owners, some of them being friendly

There was an announcement where there would be a race. Your ears perked up and headed over there as you see your good friend participating against, a very oddly familiar car. Oh shit it’s his car isn’t it

You walk to your friends side as you warm them up and he gave you thumbs up as you see a swarm of girls near his side. Ugh

———————————————————————————

After the race was over your friend won and you congratulated him. As you head to your car you hear yelling and see Jaegyon come towards you. In a panic you drive away and far as you could as you head home.

You sit at him as you wash your makeup when you heard your doorbell ring. Running over you open the door and met up with a tall blondie. Jaegyon…

He just looks at you before excusing himself in

“What the hell are you doing here” you asked a bit pissed

“Came here to say sorry…” he says. Looking away

“Well I don’t want your apology so get out”

“But-“”No buts, out!” You point to your door and shut it. Sighing in relief as you sat back down as you just finished your relationship

[teddybearspankingoffurski]

*Paul blinked himself awake, the white and red of the HR community office a bland sight at eight in the morning. The lady standing up front continued talking.*

HR Lady: We are aware that a lot of you from floor seven, section five are likely feeling very shocked and hurt about the incident that transpired yesterday at 11am. Right now we're working very closely with the authorities to make sure that your office time isn't interrupted while they do their job to find out what happened. If there is anyone who feels they need to take a couple days off to process we encourage it, we want you working at your best and if that requires a few mental health days we are ready to provide it.

*Her voice was sickeningly sweet in Paul's ears, but it felt so manufactured and fake, like artificial coffee sweeteners. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as murmurs spread around the room.*

Coworker 1: Authorities? Does that mean they think it was a murder?

Coworker 2: I bet it was Stephen from cubicle 4A. That guy's a total freak.

*Paul could see Stephen frown beside him, he almost felt bad, poor guy. But who could blame his coworkers when the all the guy talked about was how easy murders would be. Paul stared down at his hands, not wanting to look around the room and risk accidentally catching Ted's stare. He knew Ted had been looking over at him, glancing every few seconds with those exhausted eyes. He looked back up at the HR speaker as she continued talking.*

HR Lady: Now, moving on, before we conclude this meeting we had another matter to speak upon before the unfortunate casualty of yesterday. We'd like to remind all CCRP workers to keep your personal and work lives separate from each other at all times.

*He didn't miss how her eyes flicked over him and Ted for a split second and he frowned, right. That.*

HR Lady: Thank you for your time everyone, please try to have a good day. There are donuts in the hall for everyone on your way out.

*Paul stood up quickly, tie flopping a bit as he left the room without grabbing the free donut. He wanted to avoid as much interaction with Ted as possible for the time being. Sure, he had calmed down a bit since last night, but it still hurt to look at him. He was really trying to forgive him, he was, but he had never been very good at forgiveness until the person was already dead. He stepped back into his cubicle, Charlotte's crossed off with caution behind him as a few Police buzzed around it. He sat down, work on his mind as he began typing into his files again as if nothing had happened yesterday.*

@paul-j-matthews

[Ted forced himself to sit through that meeting, stone faced and completely not put together whatsoever. His hair was a mess and it was clear he hadn't slept very well the night before. After watching a few movies with Pete, finishing off that whole pizza and an entire box of hot Cocoa mix, he sent the kid off the bed. After all, Peter still had school in the morning, and Ted had work. But Ted didn't go to sleep. No. He just is laid there in his bed for 3 hours, staring at his phone screen waiting and praying a text from Paul would appear on it. One never did.

So yeah, he was kind of staring at him through the whole meeting. And yeah, he was kind of hoping to get at least a slight glance in return. He didn't get one of those either.

As soon as the meeting ended he went straight to Mr.Davidson, heeding the HR woman's advice to take some time off. Davidson really couldn't tell Ted no in front of the HR crew, so he nodded his head yes and Ted thanked him before quickly rushing off to the door.

And maybe, just maybe, he brushed by Paul's cubicle on his way out. Just hoping, wishing, praying for some acknowledgement of his own existence. He didn't get one.

The way all that felt was just...awful. He glanced at what was once Charlotte's cubicle, the cops searching for evidence there. That implied it was a murder. Paul seemed to be too laser focused on his work while the cops were right beside him, and he didn't seem very bothered by the meeting either.

The theory in his mind was only being further confirmed moment by moment. But he couldn't say anything. Not yet, not here.]

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 2, Wave 3, Poll 1

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Gobber-How To Train Your Dragon

Qualifications:

He has a prosthetic arm and a prosthetic leg. And is confirmed to be gay (in an admittedly really weird way :/)

Propaganda:

He's gay. He's disabled. He's a viking. He's good at his job. He has a stone tooth. He uses his arm prosthetic like a toolbelt. He knows a lot about dragons. Idk man. He's cool

Zhou Zishu-Faraway Wanderers / Tian Ya Ke

Qualifications:

He is mlm, though there's no consensus in fandom whether he's bi or gay. (He had slept with women prior to meeting his male love interest, but the way he speaks of that kinda doesn't make it sound like he enjoyed it? So there's room for interpretation. Maybe hes bi who just happened to settle with a man, maybe hes a late bloomer gay.) Either way, the novel's main romance is his relationship with another man, and they are in a committed relationship by the end! Now, for the disability part. He has a physical disability that's a result of, how do I put it, non-realistic circumstances (stabbing poisoned nails into his acupoints non-realistic), but I think it qualifies for how it affects him.

To start with, he is a martial artist, but the nails thing limits him to about half of his normal ability. Which is still pretty significant given he used to be one of the top talents of his generation, but there are many instances throughout the book where he finds himself frustrated, inconvenienced, or endangered by being unable to do what he *used to* be able to do, which I think tracks with acquired disability experience. Next, the nails also give him chronic pain issues with daily (or rather, nightly) flare ups, and additional ones when he strains himself. That usually last for several hours. (Fandom also theorizes that this leaves him chronically sleep deprived, but it's more conjecture than textual.)

Then, his biggest issue is that the nails are slowly killing him, and he has like 2-3 years to live... but uh given it's a happy ending novel his friend gives him an experimental surgery and it works out. But! Gotta note that I don't think it counts as a case of 'magically cured disability' trope. It is plainly stated that he will still have some issues post-surgery - just, y'know, no longer life-ending ones. The tl;dr here is that while his situation is not something possible in the real world, it still affects him in a way an acquired physical disability may: limits things he can do compared to his pre-injury state, results in chronic pain issues, and requires difficult medical intervention to stymie the negative effects.

Propaganda:

Zhou Zishu, how do I explain him... He is a spymaster and an assassin. He put the current Emperor on the throne. He committed atrocities. He lost the person he saw as his little brother as a result. He still thinks he did what was right, in the grand scheme of things. He decides to start his retirement at age 28 by stabbing a bunch of poisoned nails into his chest, disguising himself as a beggar, and vanishing into jianghu to daydrink and sightsee. He is living his best life, all 3 remaining years of it. He is in pain every night. He meets a man who, unexpectedly, understands him with a glance... and then begins to annoy him ceaselessly, insisting he has fallen for Zishu at first sight.

Cue Zhou Zishu's horrified realization that he's not only into men, but into this clown in particular. Zishu falls in love the way a cat falls into a bath - hes trying to get out but keeps slipping back, and hes hissing all the while. (We love to bully him for his clownsexual ways.) (Also, if this makes anybody want to check out the novel, remember: Zhou Zishu is an unreliable narrator and Will lie to you. Pay attention to his actions and reactions, not just what he *says* he thinks!) Now, I could spend hours gushing about how WenZhou (the couple's ship name, and yes they are canon and the main romantic storyline) gave me unrealistic standards for romance, but I'm gonna hold myself back from writing a 6k essay and focus on the theme of the tournament. I consider Zhou Zishu a disabled protagonist because: while his situation itself is non-realistic (aforementioned 'stabbing a bunch of poisoned nails into his chest'), the way it affects him is actually pretty similar, and in some ways really the same, to how an acquired physical disability may affect a person. First, it limits what he can do, physical activity-wise, to about half of his pre-injury state. (Which is still rather a lot, given he used to be a top dog martial artist, but it's still noticeable to him.) Second, it gives him chronic pain issues, with nightly flare-ups. (And additional ones when he strains himself.) (Also, at a certain point in the book his love interest starts holding him through his flare ups. Which doesn't lessen the pain but does help Zishu cope with it better. It's very important to me that it doesn't magically help but it does Mentally help and thats enough. The "stay with him morning and night, holding his hand" of it all (; v ;) yes thats a quote from the book.) And third, it requires a difficult surgery to stymie its negative effects (him dying in three years ones). (Yeah btw its not the case of magic surgery perfectly 'fixing' (bleugh) the character; he still need physical-therapy-analogue after it, and his uh medical professional also states he will likely still have some issues post-op.)

[cator99]

I love making phone calls I love sending emails and being overall pleasant to interact with I love looking for solutions and being eager to understand how the world around me operates and to ask people about the role they play in this beautiful world I love being able to tell that other people are excited for any reason at all to strut their shit in this way and I always take notes on how they do it. It's all so funny to me. I am doing this because I am an insane person. I am the best person for the job. I am like the inverse of Jude St Francis. Born in a wet cardboard box doomed fucked in the head and forced to make an accommodation with life BUT I think its cunty and will commit awesomely violent ritual seppuku when my life is at its absolute peak. But yeah I dont get anxiety anymore if I dont like something it I can just thank them for their time and then find a way to leave and literally do anything else no one really cares as long as you do it right and you know like you can just keep looking for better things you literally never know you might turn out to be really passionate about fish mongering and didnt even consider it and it's not always easy but if the alternative is unbearable then fuck it pack a bag and stick your thumb out on the highway and spend 2 hours chatting about life with a fat 60 year old semi truck driver with photos of his happy fatty family plastered over the entirety of his dashboard and who was concerned why some kid was wandering the highway without a jacket and is nothing but totally kind and appropriate towards you which you kind of didnt expect when you hit the road but then you get to the city and go to an orgy party at some xi/xirs apartment who you met while on a psychiatrist-approved leave to attend an LGBT youth summer camp during the tail end of your 4 month stay at a youth mental health/detention facility but you can't stay there because his 40 year old housemate just announced that he's moving to the states and suddenly wouldnt be contributing to next months rent and didn't want to say anything until the night before when his boxes were being actively moved out of the apartment in order to avoid any sort of confrontation and the resulting altercation is heart breaking this 40 year old workig professional gay dude just absolutely betrayed this screwed up teenaged lesbian with no hesitation but maybe the drug fuelled sex parties had something to do with it but im just there stoned watching some tv show about anthropomorphic fast food and xe really did care about me but this was not the time to be pulling some cutesy whimsical runaway shit so we said our goodbyes and xe gave me directions the youth emergency shelter. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream. This was just the "hard" part. I broke the high score on the ancient tetris machine at the day-shelter and barely ate anything because they relied entirely on donations and for whatever reason nobody thought to donate anything gluten free. I slept in the girls quarters of the cold shelter we were taken to every night, driven in huge vans by the staff at the day shelter. The girls were primarily quiet and didnt want to talk or even look at anyone. Some of the native girls were chill to play board games or watch tv with though. The guys were real rough. Mostly drug addicts. Mostly violent. They were known for treating each other terribly. I was told I could "use whatever rooms or washrooms that align with your gender identity". I told them I'd rather use the room that made me less likely to have me end up raped or my pillow pissed on.

[bubblepopsims]

previous- next Noah and Josiah spice

Script under the cut

[Josiah: “*groans* We need to get up..”] [Noah: “No. I am drawing the curtains. We only slept for 4 hours.. maybe. Who fucking meets at 9am?”] 2.0 [Josiah: “*chuckles* A very very anxious sister and bestfriend.”] [Noah: “Well.. *chuckles before sighing heavily* That’s cute and all.. but after our flight being delayed Mulitple times yesterday. Might I add.”] 2.1 [Noah: “I am allowed to be grumpy.”] [Josiah chuckles and crawls his way out of bed: “okay little grumpypants.”] [Noah: “Hey, where are you going?”] 2.3 [Josiah’s thoughts: “Oh look at him!] [Noah: “If it’s coffee, I want some.Please”] [Josiah’s thoughts: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HE IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!! FUCK ME UP!”] [Josiah: “mhmm…”] 2.4 [Josiah: “You know what? It can wait.”] 2.5 [Noah: “*chuckles* oh yeah? Once again it seems like everything is going against me. First I had to get up early, and now I am being denied coffee.. how is this benefiting me exactly?”] 2.6 [Josiah: “I’m going to show you.”] 3 [Juju: “Why did you stop it?? We were getting to the good part!”] [Izzi: “Baby, by all means watch it in your free time.. But I cant see Josiah doing anything remotely filthy *laughs* fuck god. Him even just being sexy… No.”] 4 [Izzi: That fucker is truly a brother to me. I am all for him getting it on and being in love.. but I am okay..”] [Juju: “Well. I’m curious so ill be poking and you will probably too just because you cant help yourself from not knowing.”] [Izzi: “Fuck you*laughs* Valid. Alright we can watch it later.”] Ruby and Tobias portion [Juju: “I cant..”] [Izzi: “What?”] [Juju: “WHAT do you mean WHAT?? She is not real dude.. she is squatting…. What is that like..80 pound weights plus bar..i cant read what it says on the weight for shit..”] [Izzi: “To my surprise of not being surprised… the weights says 20…yeah 40 each, plus bar.. squatting atleast over 100 including the bread that baking.. Tobias calls it a bun. *Laughs*”] [Juju: “I want ti see tis woman in the ring… Fuck WHY couldn’t you guys just sucked it the fuck up nd TALKED sooner?!?!?!!?!?!? We could have seen her DESTROOOOYYYYY!”] [Izzi: “*Laughs* don’t worry. We will see her one day.”] 1 [Ruby: “You know I find you sexy when you are annoyed with me.. you always get this “I am debating on what I am going to do with you” look in your eyes..”] [Tobias: “I am very annoyed that this little thing that you are doing right now is Turning me on, making me forget that I am annoyed at the fact you are still working your body lie you are not fucking pregnant.”] 2 [Ruby: “Tobias, did you really think I was going to stop? The Doctor has yet to tell me to stop.. Soooo until that day comes, I the future fucking Mother of your dorky cute buns will be making sure that the buns are incubated in a unbreachable stronghold which is me.”] [Tobias: “Mmmm..Unbreachable? You sure about that? Mind if I take a chance at it?”] 3 [Juju: “*chuckles* Pervert. But if you must know.. Ruby totally blue balled him.”] [Izzi: “unapologetically at best.”]

[veroniquesboutique]

Study Break pt. 2 - Taiga Kagami x Reader

Don't have much to say other than the KNB brainrot is still real. Fun Fact: I know it doesn't seem like it from the way that I write, but my favorite character is actually Atsushi Murasakibara. I just don't think I'd be able to handle a fic with him in it 👀

Hope you enjoy!

Title: A Silly Little Arrangement

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

Alternate Universe - College/University, Older reader, Older Woman/Younger Man, Younger Taiga Kagami, Taiga Kagami calls you baby girl, Friends to Lovers, love confession, FWB to SO, multiple orgasms, doggy style, oral f-receiving mention, explicit oral m-receiving, protected sex/condom mention, missionary, possibly slight love bombing but not malicious

Characters & ships: Kagami Taiga x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 4.7k words

18+ Minors DNI!

Very explicit below the cut

You have created a monster.

Maybe monster isn’t the right word you think to yourself as you bend over the cold kitchen counter of your dorm room suite, Taiga Kagami’s strong, large hands finding softness in the curves down your back and around your waist. His fingertips dig into the fleshy parts of your hips, and his cock is so deep inside you that you think you can feel it in your throat. The stretch of him thrusting into you at just the right pace - not too hard but not too soft - makes your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and if he kept going like this, you’d cum down his cock for the third time today.

The two of you had found an incredible arrangement since you took his virginity months ago: friends with benefits. It’s not groundbreaking, but when you had a friend that looked like Taiga Kagami who got drunk off your pussy every time you let him spend hours lapping at you between your legs, it was hard not to include the benefits in there sometimes.

You both had been very clear that a relationship couldn’t be on the table. Life was just too weird, too much, to handle the weight of a relationship. Plus, he was the best friend you had ever had, and you were his. Jeopardizing that over some good dick and even better head was a bad decision. However, you two were grown adults who could separate high sexual compatibility with the stable emotions of friendships. Absolutely nothing could get in your way.

So your arrangement was just that for months - an arrangement. You continued to study with him and eat dinner with him and walk to class with him and watch movies in your private RA dorm with him, and then, when the time felt right, you two would also set aside your friendship to have the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. And Kagami was just as insatiable as you were, so he’d take you wherever and whenever you wanted - at the dinner table, in your bed, in the shower - hell, you two even messed around in the library once. It was usually multiple times a day because neither of you could get your fill of the way the other person felt and smelled or twitched just right or panted out each other’s names breathlessly or held on to each other, nails digging senselessly, with each intense orgasm or slept with their mouth ever so slightly open in a cute, unknowing smile.

Totally platonically of course.

And sure you two could still see other people, but why would you want to when you were getting fucked like this on the regular? Naturally, the dating apps were deleted off your phone eventually, and then one night you realized they weren’t on Kagami’s either. You stopped mentioning other men, and he stopped mentioning seeing other women. You felt completely satisfied by your relationship with him, and he seemed to feel completely satisfied by his relationship with you.

Just like friends are for.

Of course.

Continued on AO3...

[annawayne]

I don't usually share about my personal life or myself, and I truly don't want to be a bummer, and sorry about it, but, truth to be told, I feel like I have to let it all out. Maybe, I feel extra lonely or extra exhausted, maybe, all together, or maybe, there's no real reason other then I'm just a human who's just enormously tired.

I live in Ukraine and I'm Ukrainian, and all these 2,5 years since Russia's full-scale invasion I don't remember a single day of happiness or comfort. Every day we have harsh attacks, every day the news it's a necrology and the pictures of ruins everywhere, of places I know, of places where I currently live.

I don't remember when the last time I slept well, it's been months of constant sleep deprivation because we have attacks. And, in waves, it's like this for 2,5 years. Some months - it's worse, some - with some short pauses, but it's always like this for 2,5 years.

And all while, I also have very ordinary problems like any other human, and a very stressful job, I work at night. I spent hours and hours on the floor during the attacks because it's the only "safe" place in my apartment where I live - I don't have the rule of "two walls", and on the floor, at least, if the window will be blown away, maybe, 2% will give me a chance not to have glass/small missile fragments in my body. In addition, we have the scheduled blackouts again - like we used to have it during autumn 2022/ winter 2023, now, due to other harsh attacks we have another deficit of power.

Not to mention, every time I see my arts and writing flopping, I feel even worse and even more demotivated; every time I see it, I think that "yeah, nice, it happened again, but who knows if I'll be alive tomorrow to see if it changes¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯".

I understand that I'm not that great in anything and nobody owes me anything, I truly understand it. And it's totally fair.

It's just sad for me on top of everything, on top of every other horror I'm going through every day.

Every day is just another survival game, and I'm holding on somehow, I have no privilege nor possibility to give up and/or to take a break.

I feel like I'm shattering, piece by piece, slowly. I'm still here, holding on, finding every drop of strength that left in me to keep going, but every day it's becoming more and more difficult. But I hold on like whole Ukraine holds on.

I'm writing it while listening to the booming scream of the sirens, our daily soundtrack, because right now we have another huge attack, with several types of missiles from dozens bomber jets.

It's my routine I didn't choose but the one I'm forced to live. The one I adopted to live in, the one that seems to me as a norm, as something quotidian. I don't remember life before. It seems, like it never happened.

I just want to let it all out, I don't ask for pity or anything else.

I'm fine, as much as I can be in such conditions.

So thank you if you've reached this. Hope you're doing fine, everyone, and I wish you all the best.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Chapter 2

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 2: Sweet Baby

Summary: Elvis convinces Becky to come out with him and she gets to know him better. Angst and smut and fluff and smut and angst ... historical inaccuracies.... for instance, I know Larry only did hair but he does make-up in this fic for narrative agility.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, gratuitous chest nuzzling, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol, some mild weird mind games and jealousy, a toe suck if you don't blink.

Sorry about the typos I've been agonizing over this since I finished it Friday,not totally happy with how it is but it was fun to write...

Words: 14K

Catch up on Chapter One here

There will be a chapter three, but for the love of big daddy please like, reblog, comment, share with your maiden aunt if you enjoy this fic.

This is playlist of music from 1970 - 1975 that I've been listening to get into the time period because I'm a huge dork.

Monday, June 9,th 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

Approximately 6:10 pm

About ten minutes since we begin in Chapter 1….

You glared at Elvis over folded arms, resolve hanging on by a thread, tempted to give in and go with him, but also, stuck. The heat of irrational anger and competition burned your chest. You weren’t even sure what this contest of wills was about, but you didn’t want to loose. You looked up at the ceiling, the fluorescent light flickered, and you wicked the sweat off your arms, vaguely aware you hadn’t slept, you hadn’t showered, and you hadn’t eaten much in the last 24 hours. A notion poked you at the edge of your consciousness that these factors had probably impaired your judgement, and maybe you weren’t making good decisions. This was, of course, true. All rational thought had been derailed by a night spent drinking, smoking pot and fucking Elvis Presley. Who, unlike you, hadn’t skipped sleep in order to rush home, get a kid to school and then go to work. No, Elvis had spent his day in rock star land where he could sleep as long as he wanted, eat breakfast at 3 or 4 pm and enjoy a leisurely shower. God he smelled amazing.  

You, well, you had started to smell worse and worse and worst as the day wore on.  There was no way you were going anywhere that involved getting naked with him. No. Last night had been the best night of your life, but you know how this ends, rock stars don’t date single moms who manage hardware stores.  They date beauty queens and movie stars, usually all at once. Where could this possibly go? Just be done with him, rip the band aid off now. Stand your ground. What was he going to do, throw you over his shoulder and carry you off into the night? You looked back over. Elvis was leaning  into the doorjamb, his hands resting on the front of his hips, under the slight rotund swell of his belly, fingers spread wide over the sides of his belt. Eyes closed behind tinted sunglasses, you watching his adam’s apple bob up and down as he breathed steadily and stifled rage transformed into an eerie zen demeanor.

A minute ago he had hurled a torrent of swear words your way, it had been terrifying, yet, strangely arousing. You pushed the giddy tingle at the center of your hips down, thinking what the fuck is wrong with you? The guttural  grain of Elvis’ “goddammit” had gone straight from his tongue to your clit, igniting a fire that simmered in your belly. You had never seen such intense masculine emotion. Almost all the men in your life had been tight lipped and stern, yet very passive aggressive when angry. Not Elvis. He was a walking hurricane, unpredictable, impulsive, volatile. It was exciting and terrifying. However, right now, he was completely calm, seemingly meditating and quietly whispering to himself. Someone walking in would never know he had been screaming at you and punching the door frame moments ago. He turned to look at you, opening his eyes. They were dark, piercing, almost a purplish black through the lavender sunglasses. You could feel the air leave his throat as you watched him exhale again, and moved in your direction. The hair on your back stood straight up and you squeezed your arms tighter against your chest. Elvis’ tall frame hovered above you, his gut pressing into you with each inhale, his breath filling the space between you with warmth. Elvis’ entire body oppressively overwhelmed you. The cold metal of his rings caressed your cheek and his voice was now calm and low, yet commanding.

“You don’t know me very well.” He sighed into your neck. “Tell me I cain’t do somethin’, an’ well, honey … that just 'bout guarantees I’m gonna do it….” His lips moved closer to your left ear, he leaned on one hand against the wall next to your head, the other pulled your arms slowly away from your chest. Heat sizzled at the base of your spine as you looked down, his fingers grasped your hand tenderly.

“I can tell you ain’t never been with a real man before…. A man who treated you good …” then he whispered, “took care a’ his baby…. if you know what I mean?” He waggled his eye brows, while his fingers traced along your jaw, then down over your breast to your tummy and hips. “Took care ‘a you so good, you always came when he called.”  

His lips moved closer to your left ear as he spoke, a feverish heat tingling through your lobe, a crooked smirk raised the left side of his mouth. You say nothing, but your breath hitches in your throat as he pushes even closer, his lips almost on your neck, and you shake your head, looking down. Don’t cry you tell yourself, but you exhale with a loud, stilted tremble.

“Shhh, shhhh s’ok honey,” Elvis' left hand moves from gently rubbing your hip to trail up and down your side. ”Cuz I’m gonna show you what s’like to be with a real man.” He leaned closer, kissing the nape of your neck, his soft lips searing into the spot below your ear.  “I always take care a my girl.” You gasped as the warmth from each word hit your neck as he continued.

“I see you. I’m a seer…and I see ya, Becky, I see you. Underneath all this stubborn bitch crock of shit you putting up, you’re just a scared lil' girl… scared of being hurt, scared of being happy, scared of how good it was with me last night.” He paused, breathing deeply through his nose, and you looked down, shaking you head, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up into his dark purple eyes and the promise you saw in them to over power you, to break you, to own you completely. 

“S’ok… Cuz I’m gonna fuck ya so good, the only words you’re gonna know to say when I’m done with you are ‘yes daddy.’”  Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes remain locked on Elvis, trying to summon contempt and indifference, even as the spark in your core blooms up your chest. Elvis’ fingers work their way under your shirt, gently soothing you across your belly, and up over your bra before resting on top of your chest. A whimper escapes your mouth, and you look up, your voice cracking as you feel your resolve melting away.

“Elvis… I can’t….”

“Shhh… see, that’s the fear I’m talking’ bout right there… “

He leaned in and nuzzled the side of your cheek with his nose, gently rubbing up your jawline, his right hand over your heart, his left moving down to stroke your side.

“Shhhhh little girl…. Shhhh…. I ain’t gonna hurt ya …”

“It’s not that..” You whisper, your eyes averting his. “It’s just… I’m a mess… I haven’t showered, or ate much, or slept… I’m so exhausted… you deserve a proper date … you should be picking up a beauty queen or a play boy bunny…”

You felt the vibrations through his tummy, pressed further into you, as Elvis chuckled.

“Why, do y’all even have any of ‘em bunnies here in Jackson?” He stepped back, motioning to leave. Another chuckle, and he was flourishing a silk paisley handkerchief from his breast pocket, holding your chin up as he wiped your eyes and your forehead. The apples in his cheek formed as he matched your reluctant grin.

“Go on baby, stick out your tongue.”

You furrowed your brow, twitching your mouth, as he reached in to his pocket.

“Stop a twitchin’, for the love of Jesus. Les try one of those ‘yes daddys’ I was talking ‘bout…”

You scoffed. “I will never say that, specially to someone who tells me to…”

He looked down at an assortment of pills in his hand, and pulled out a single, small white capsule, grinning.

“We’ll see ‘bout that… mean time, just stick out yer tongue, woman!”

With a humpf, you acquiesced, and Elvis dropped the pill on your tongue, pushing it back in your mouth.

“Trust me, you’re gonna feel better in a few minutes… s’like caffeine, but a lil' stronger. ”

Swallowing, you look into his eyes. “What was that, speed?”

“Do I look like a drug dealin’ commie? I’m a federal drug enforcement agent.” You cracked a grin, and his eyes grew serious. “That’s the god’s honest truth. This stuff is jus ‘scription medicine, a diet pill. S'not strong, ain’t gonna get you high. Trust me, I’ve studied this stuff... I’m a trained healer - told you last night….”

“Ok… but I’m still a mess…”

“You’re not a complete mess. Goddamn, check out this fine lookin’ belt. Man, that’s really sumpthin'.” He grinned, amusement in his voice as his hands slowly pulled off your orange work vest from the top of your shoulders, then moved to the buckle of your belt. His belt. The belt you took as a souvenir back when this was just a one night stand. Elvis soft mouth was on your neck again, and your arms somehow found their way over his shoulders. Just as he moved his mouth from your neck to lean in and kiss you, you hesitated and pulled back.

“I - I …. I don’t know if —“

His finger moved up from their efforts to unhook your jeans.

“Hush now… no more guff. I’m here because something happened last night. I know you felt it. S’like we’re vibrating on the same frequency….”

“Elvis, you’re crazy…”

“No, now listen… I … my bed felt so cold when I woke up and you were gone… I’ve been missin' ya all damn day…  wasn’t gonna be able to do anything else til I found ya…”

His timbre was high pitched, and you heard it crack with vulnerability. His eyes filled with unabashed desire. Somehow in the last few minutes, Elvis’ temperament had gone from indignant swagger to sweet and needy. His right hand moved lower to fondle your left breast, his soft lips kissed your ear, and you tilted your head into him. It was freeing in away, to give up pretenses, and you let out a sob, releasing all the tension you were holding in. Elvis moved his hand from under your bosom and kissed your tears away. His face was framed by the soft, plush rounds of his double chin, and you leaned your forehead into them seeking out the warm comfort of his flesh. You would be happy to sink farther and farther into him and loose yourself in his snug, inviting body. 

“Shhhh … s’ok…” Elvis’ arms encircled you, and you buried yourself head forward into his neck, collapsing on his shoulder. His hips thrust forward into you, the swell of his belly smushed up into your breasts. Steady and strong, his hands smoothed you over your back, his mantra of murmured shsshhhhs continuing as he cheekily pulled the hem of your shirt over your head. You helped him, shaking the last sleeve off your arm impatiently and throwing it on the ground.

His lips were now on yours, gently kissing you, then bringing your head towards him, his tongue sliding into your mouth, sweeping over yours, daring you to push back, to resist it. Your hands gripped him at his neck, drawing him down further into your mouth, his finger fervently grabbed your hips and lifted you up, cupping your ass and you wrapped your legs around him. 

You felt him grunt and heave slightly as he carried you to the desk at the back corner of the room, his eyes unyielding, locked on yours, anchored by stormy dilated pupils.

“Gawd darlin’…I’m getting to oooooold to sweep lil’ girls like you off your feet.”

“Next time I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

“Honey, they’d be sweeping us both off the floor if you tried ta carry me across a room….” He grinned a breathy grin as he put you down.

Your bra was on the floor, followed by his jacket, and you squinted for a moment at the gun tucked into his waist. He smirked as he took it out and threw it on top of his jacket.

“There are three more, baby, wanna try to find them?”

Your breasts heave up as a guffaw slipped over your lips, but you forgot about his guns as Elvis pulled down your jeans, slowing to gently take your shoes off. He brought your left foot up to his cheek, nuzzling against your warm, soft skin, kissing the top of your arch, then following suit to take off the other one, reverently, slowly, removing the sock and then stroking the top of both feet as he looked forward into the center of your black cotton panties. You squirmed, suddenly self conscious and he bit his lower lip, hungry eyes meeting yours as his hands moved up your ankles towards your thighs. You shivered when the top of his index fingers delicately traced a line over your knees, clenching as he grasped the sides of your panties. Your hand went to Elvis’ shoulder.

“Hey… wait… why are you doing this? ”

“Figure I wanna do as much of this ‘fore I get too old,” he murmured, grinning up at you.

You smiled back, tousling his hair, exhaling.

“That’s not what I meant …. I meant …. like….… you can just, ya know, I mean we can just…you don’t really have to worry ‘bout, you know, doing this for me.” 

You pulled on his collar, but Elvis resisted, swiping your hands away and slapping your hip, an expression of delight on his face as he watched your side ripple in response. He pulled off your panties, leaning closer to your muff while looking up at you.

“Listen good, this is the last time I’m gonna ‘splain this. I’m a grown man, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. Now, lean back… and jus remember to breathe.“ He winked, a silly grin growing as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing the hair at your entrance before parting you with his mouth and pushing in, tongue first. 

The vibrations of Elvis deep moan reverberated through your pussy, his shoulders heaved up and his whole body moved in rhythm, slowly licking you from your taint to your clit, savoring your soft, slick silkiness. 

He paused, sitting back to remove his glasses, murmuring to himself as his thumb worked in circles around your nub and you found yourself moaning out, uncontrollably. 

“You need to get me some windshield wipers for those…” he looked at you, clearly amused with himself as you giggled. “We coulda been back in my hotel room doin' this if you weren’t so difficult…. never met a more stubborn woman… “

You moan, looking off to the side, as he rounded the bend of your clit, then lowered his fingers, flicking his wrist to slowly push his right index finger inside of you.

“This ok, baby?”

You nodded, you neck arched back as you cried out. Elvis was touching you in a way no other man had ever touched you, had ever wanted to or cared to try.   

“Want me ta keep going?

You nodded your head, breathy whimpers stuttering out.

“Know what I wanna hear…”

“Yes…… Elvis….” You smirked.

“So goddamn stubborn…” he shook his head, leaning backing into your hips, his mouth consuming your pussy, his tongue now stroked you softly and each flick made you shiver with a tingle. A burning fire coiled behind your belly as he moved his index finger in and out in time with the bob of his head, groaning into you. The sensation became almost too intense and your head thrust back, eyes looking up at the ceiling. Shifting your weight onto your wrists, you begin to move your hips forward to meet his mouth, surging to chase the tension building in your core as Elvis’ lapped and then sucked your clit, index finger rotating slowly within you. You found his finger somewhat distracting, and were just about to ask him to stop, when he hit a spongey nerve point inside you and your hips jerked back. You feel Elvis chuckle as he pulled up for air, his left hand holding up your hips to bring you back closer while he crooked his finger inside you. Each time the pad of his finger hit that spot you twitched.

“What is that? Ahhhh! Ughhh…” you cry out, your breath heavy because the sensation is so intense, it terrifies you. Elvis wipes his mouth on your thigh, his thumb is back at it, and he seems to delight in every twitch of your belly as you clench around his finger. 

“That… that’s the magic spot, lil' girl… Can’t believe I’m the first one to find it…” his eyes found yours, and he swallowed, deeply. “Goddamn. You’re blushing like a nun…”

You cannot take your eyes off him, even as his finger flexes and crooks into you and your mouth flinches open with a loud, insuppressible, high-pitched moan. 

“Hff, baby….you look like a scared kitten staring down the mouth of a gator…. ‘fraid he’ll snap ya right up…” he gnashed his teeth together loudly, for effect, exhaling deeply with another chuckle, before returning to lap at your clit, dragging his tongue slowly over it, up it and down it, and then all the way around it.

Your thighs quiver on his cheeks and you let out another squeak, embarrassed. The feeling of impending eruption terrifies you, and another powerful moan emerges unsummoned through your lips, half from pleasure, half from fear. You’re torn between your drive to climax and the almost unbearable sensation his tongue is beckoning from you. The dexedrine begins to take effect, and a wave of energy pulses through you. Every sensation is suddenly ten times more intense. A volcano erupting, your orgasm bursts forth and shocks you as you thrash into Elvis’ nose, crying out while the euphoria sweeps over your body.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD, oh my god…” He leans back, watching with a coy smirk as he thumbs you through it, wiping his mouth again on his right sleeve this time, his left hand holds you steady at your hips.

“Elvis stop, stop! I can’t take it any more.”

“Ok honey, s’ok, now,” he beamed, slowing the flick of his wrist, gently drawing out his index finger. “Man, twitching and clenchin’ so hard thought I might lose my damn finger in there… think I’ll call you Twitch for short. ”

You let out a loud snort, slapping the side of Elvis’ head playfully as he smirks up at you, leaning back on his haunches, now wiping himself on his pants.

“You make my ….  my … my nether regions sound dangerous …” 

Elvis’ right hand smoothes your pubic hair down. 

“Nah, nothing I can’t handle, baby…. just needs to be tamed is all…” he winked.

“So, come tame me…” you offer, laying further back on the desk top, caressing the side of his face with your left toes. He brings them to his mouth, slowly sucking on the big toe and you moan out, not expecting how delicious the soft, wet suction would feel. You can see the bulge of his cock shadowing his thigh as he pulls his mouth off your toe with a pop. 

 “Oh Jesus, take me to heaven now cuz I really am getting too old for this.” Elvis grunts, pulling on the desk to stand up.

He brushes off his knees, then shifts between your legs, and your hands pull him down by his collar to kiss your lips, not sure how you feel tasting the salty tang of yourself there. You think maybe you like it. Feeling your way to his belt, you begin to pull it apart as you kiss him back, but his right hand moves to firmly stop you.

“Dontcha want to fuck me, daddy?” Fuck, what made you say that? You chided yourself, you hated how happy it made him as you watched his grin grow wide. He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the top.

“Honey, I didn’t come here to fuck you in some dirty, dingy store room… I came here to invite ya to supper ‘after my show, which I might miss on account of you being a spoiled, no count brat…. so we better pop to it.” He looked you in the eyes as your smile faded and self-conscious guilt swept over you. He pulled you in tight and pressed his forehead against yours. Your noses touched, and his breath was warm and comforting.

“C’mon sugar, course I wanna fuck you, fuck you so silly all ‘a Jackson can hear you call out my name.” He chuckled. “But… this is not exactly the romantic setting I like to make love in…. know what I mean? Let’s get back to my place, get you all fed and cleaned up.” He bent down and handed you your underwear and pants. “Want you down in front at the show. Imma have Joe run out and grab you a proper dress….” Now he was handing you your bra, then your shirt. “But we better scoot, I go on at 8:30.”

He looked over at the clock, and you followed his gaze, it was 6:35.

You turned, buttoning your jeans.

“Not Joe…..”

Eyebrows tensed, Elvis’s eyes were sharp as he looked up from tucking his gun back into his waist.

“What you got against ol' Diamond Joe?”

“I… ugh… let’s say we didn’t hit it off exactly, last night…. “

 Elvis pulled you in front of him, and then took a step back, grabbing a comb from inside his coat, then brushing your hair, clucking his tongue when your hair flipped back the wrong way. Content after fixing your part, he tucked the sides behind your ears.

“That’s better… looks good down, jus like that….” He bit his tongue in apt concentration. Comb in pocket, he put his arm around you, and led you out of the room, down the hall and towards the front of the store.

“Wanna wash your hands?”

Elvis stops, and takes his right hand off you, then brings his index and middle finger up to his lips.

“What, this hand baby?” He sucks on his fingers, his eyes dancing. “Not ever gonna wash this hand again.” He chuckles as you swat him and his hand returns to your side, continuing to walk you to the front of the store.

“So why didn’t you and Joe, uh,… ‘hit it off’?”

You pause, then look up as Elvis walks you into the store front.

“Yeah, well…. he couldn’t take a hint and was kinda being … pushy…  last night …. right before you started lobbing pretzels at me …  He told you my name was Rachel, cuz that’s what I told him…. I don’t know, I guess didn’t want him to know my real name … I…”

“Huh… I see… alright, honey, don’t worry about Joe… I’ll take care a him.”

You paused outside, locking the front door before pulling it shut, and then gasped when you saw the long, black car in front of the store with three guys waiting in it.  How long had they been there, an hour? A large man sat at the wheel, another skinny one next to him, and then there was Joe frowning in the back seat. He looked out the window after making eye contact with you. Elvis opened the back door, and barked at Joe to jump in front, motioning for you to get in. 

“C’mon Becky," Elvis helped you.

“Becky?” Joe asks, turning as the car takes off.

“Yeah, well it’s Rachel to creeps who can’t take a hint, but it’s Becky to every’un else.” Elvis barked at Joe, who started to turn. “I don’t want ta hear it, Joe, just keep your head forward an do as yer told,” Elvis said, palming a few pills out of his pocket and swallowing them dry. Joe huffed and hit his hand on the door.

The younger man in the middle seat turned, and shook your hand.

“Hey Becky, I’m Jerry.” Then he looked at Elvis. “What took you so long?”

You blush and look down. 

Elvis smirked. “Yeah, sorry to keep ya fellows waiting, decided to have a snack.”

Jerry’s eye brows bent in confusion.

“I thought it was a hardware stor—-“ The driver jabbed Jerry in the ribs and he grimaced, turning back around.

“Yeah, s’its a hardware store alright, but they have a bunch of peanuts, pretzels, jerky… what was that honey? Cold beaver ya got out for me in that ice chest in the back? Tasted pretty good once we warmed it up.” Elvis put his right arm around you, chortling as your cheeks turned bright red and you buried your head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry baby, these guys have been working for me for over fifteen years, ain’t nothin' to be embarrassed about…”

Somehow, the idea that Elvis might make his entourage wait around regularly while he was off fucking random women didn’t make you feel any better. Groaning the groan of someone who suddenly feels like a cheap, anonymous, whore, you leaned into Elvis’ armpit, and he responded by patting your back. You react to his tender rub and chortle by slapping his belly. He laughed harder, and pulled out a cigar from his breast pocket, lighting it up and humming as he rolled down the window.

“Hey, Lamar, what’s that department store downtown Jackson? The good ‘un we went to back in May?”

“Kennington’s.”  The driver in front responded, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Jerrah, you’re gonna go run in and get Becky here a few dress options, Lamar’ll come back for you after he takes us to the hotel.”

Joe let out a loud sigh.

“That a problem for you, Joe?”

Joe shook his head. “Have better luck for her at the Dress Barn, they ain’t gonna have her size at that place, nothing over a 10… she’s a 14 if she’s a day…”

You shifted, sinking further into the seat and blushing again.

Elvis hit him in the back of the head.

“Lamar, pull the goddamn car over.” Elvis gritted his teeth as the vehicle came to a stop. “GET OUT! Dammit, Joe, must have lost yer damn mind… if ya can’t be polite to my guests, you can walk yer happy ass back to the hotel.” Joe scoffed and looked over at Jerry in disbelief. “Don’t look at him, ya can file your complaints wit me.  Rude mother fucker, I swear…  forgettin’ your manners. Forgettin’ who the boss is ‘round here.” Elvis slapped Joe on the side of his head again, and Joe swore under his breath as he jumped out of the car and slammed the door. 

“Right.” Elvis murmured as the car drove off again. “Where were we? Oh right, let’s drop Jerrah at that store.  You know what kind of dresses would look good on her, right Milk?” Jerry turned around, looking you up and down. “Now, go ahead sweetheart, tell him your dress size, and shoes too… Jerrah, write this down.”

You look Jerry in the eyes. “Um…. dress size is a 12… 9 in shoes…” 

Jerry smiled at you, writing it in a small notepad, and hopping out as Lamar drove up to the curb at Kennington’s, yelling at Jerry, “The hotel’s just a few blocks away, I’ll be right back.”

———————————

Lamar flashed a broad smile at you as he helped you out of the car, and walked you and Elvis to the service elevator, opening doors and smiling at the staff you passed coming in through the back of the hotel. You ran your hand through your hair on the ride up to the pent house, imagining Joe walking backing in the summer heat cursing your name with each step. Great. Noticing your far off look, Elvis squeezed you into to him, bringing your other fingers up to his mouth to kiss them. 

“Nice fingers… that’s a French manicure, so you can’t be a mess all the time.” Your face softened as you look up at Elvis’ profile, flapping his left cheek with your fingers.

“Well, unlike some people, I usually don’t spend my nights awake at rock concerts followed by one nights stands. Getting my nails done, it's one the few things I do just for me. You’re welcome to admire them all you want, but…. they’re not for you.”

Elvis chuckled, lowering his arm from your shoulder to slap your ass as you get off the elevator, and you turn towards him, mock hurt through a smile as you walk backwards.

“There’s that back talk again, thought I knocked that outta ya…” he smirked, licking his lips.

“Ha! Never! You may have temporarily dazed me, but no man will ever tame me!” you announce, and shriek as Elvis raises an eyebrow and steps toward you.

“Oh, we’ll see ‘bout that…” he calls out, and you giggle, shrieking as you turn to run down the hallway, rounding the corner past the hallway you made out in last night and towards the pent house door. You can feel the thud of Elvis jogging behind you echo through the entire passage way. You sigh out as you get to the door and realize you are stuck, you don’t have the key, and you squeal out as you feel strong, hefty hands grab you at the waist and turn you around. 

“Gotcha!” He smiles, panting. “Man, what’s with you… this ain’t the Kentucky Derby baby… that’s the fastest I’ve run since I was in the army… back in 19… 19… 1916…” 

You  laugh out a “Ha, ha ha!” then feel his chest heave as he lifts you over his shoulder and starts to spank your bottom lightly. “Just you wait til I get you inside!” You slap him on his back, yelling out “Put me down you big brute,” through playful gasps and giggles. His fingers fondle your butt and thighs as he walks into the hotel room, and they glide over your backside as he helps you slid off his shoulder.

“You are a thick girl, aintcha?” He draws you into him, and you respond slapping the top of his belly.

“Ha, I’m ‘bout average… you should talk, you’re thicker than I am …” The laughter in your voice stops as you notice Elvis’s smile tighten and fade, his belly tenses up. You notice the hurt in his eyes, instantly shifting to sooth his chest. “The unfair thing is, though, men just get sexier the thicker they get.” Elvis’ eyes warmed as you played with his collar, talking into his chest. 

“Huh, that right? Well you should know honey, this layer right here,” Elvis patted the paunch protruding at his abdomen. “S’just an extra layer I keep around on purpose, as protection, it’s my bullet proof padding… really, that’s the truth.” His grin returned.

“Mmmhmmm… I feel safer already…” you bent your chin into the opening of his shirt, nuzzling his warm chest hair. “I know I’m thick, the opposite of the pretty women you usually date… Joe warned me last night, I’m not your type…”

Elvis grabbed your hips, kissing the top of your head.

“Well honey,” he laid another kiss on your hair, “ya ain’t particularly nice,” another kiss,  “ya don’t have particularly good manners… or any for that matter…” his finger traced along your neck to your collarbone. “Sneakin’ out of a man’s bed room without sayin' good bye, like a thief in the night…” you felt his fingers turning your chin up to him. “An' I do like it when my dates show up already dressed nice, wid their hair an' make-up already all done up…” he was trying to play it straight, but he couldn’t stop himself from breathing out a faint giggle through his nose. “But trust this, Joe don’t know shit, and he don’t tell me what to do or who to screw.” 

Elvis’ other hand stroked the side of your body with the back of his knuckles, the cool of his rings following as they trailed up from the top of your hip to the flap of flesh at your bra, where his knuckles lingered, tenderly rubbing that spot back and forth. Your heartbeat quickened, there was that lightening bolt rising up your spine. Elvis whistled out and you feel him stiffen against you. “Hell, you might be the most ornery, stubborn lil' girl here in Jackson… but there’s something about you -  God put you in my life for a reason - the lord works in mysterious ways. ”

“Like, through your dong?” you smirked, your hand moved down his chest to brush over his inner thigh, his hard, extended length spasmed under your touch. 

Elvis guffawed, then groaned.

“Sometimes… yes. Course. Lil Elvis is an implement of the lord, baby, just like the rest of me.” He looked pretty amused with himself, a humorous lilt intoned his words, and his voice rose up in jest like a preacher. “Wouldn’t feel so good if we weren’t supposed to use it…” 

You quirk your eyebrow. “That’s a bunch of bullshit… God does NOT care about your hard ons… ”

“Oh ye of little faith. How would you know, anyhow? He sent you to me, didn’t he? And suddenly I’m in hard-on town! Honey t’weren’t no accident. Everything happens for a reason. I really believe that. He brought you to my room last night for a reason, you caught my eye for a reason. There are bigger machinations at play that you and I can’t even begin to understand…”

“So I’m just a pawn in some celestial sort of plan to help you to get your mojo back?” 

Elvis’ hand left your arm pit and moved to slap your butt, then pulled you closer.

“Now woman, see here, my mojo is just fine. It’s just... selective… You always have a smart retort, dontcha.”

You nodded up at him. “I mean, I have a brain and I know how to talk, if that’s whatcha mean.”

He pulled you even closer, clutching you from your back.

“Know what I think?” He asked, and you raised your eyebrows, stroking his sideburns. “You talk too much.”

You huffed and pulled on his collar.

“So you want me to shut up and just be, what, some sort of snake charmer, huh? Doin’ the lord’s work to bring your python out?”

“Huh,” he grinned, his hands now pulling on the cushiony curves at your hips. “By George, I think you finally got it.  Now come-a here and be quiet.” He leaned forward, you felt the softness of his mouth on yours, your upper lip caught between his, and his nose crushed into your cheek. Elvis’ fingers grip your sides as he mumbles low. “You’re not bad looking when you hush up….  Not bad feeling’ neither... s’nice to have somethin’ to hold onto…”

Elvis was just beginning to pull your shirt up when you hear a cough behind you, and look over Elvis’ jacket to see Charlie jump up off the couch, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. Charlie must have been sitting there the whole time. Elvis’ arms dropped to his sides, and he spun around.

“Charlie, goddamn it boy,” he laughed. “Why didn’t you make yourself known, huh?”

“Well, EP… I … I …”

Elvis mocked him, “I ….? I…? I what? ‘I’m a big ol’ pervert?’” He sad the last part in a high falsetto voice. “Go on, git outta here.” 

“Yeah, sure thing, boss.. ummm… it’s just that its 6:45…. probably head out to the Coliseum in an hour… wanted to check in with you ‘bout —"

Elvis held his hand up to Charlie to stop him, and grabbed you by the hand, walking you through the suite, into the master bedroom and over to the bathroom. “There’s the shower, Twitch —“

“Twitch?”

“Yeah, member? That’s my new nickname for ya… cuz you twitch so much, and so prettily too….”

You groan and put your face in your hands. 

“Oh god…that’s why I never feel comfortable letting men do that…”

“Honey, you didn’t let me do nothin'… I do what I want….sides, nothing more natural, nor more beautiful…” 

“Ughh..” 

Elvis took your hands from you face, and kissed you. 

“I wish you didn’t blush so hard, might make me tease you less….” He stroked your cheek. “We better put the breaks on for now. Gotta get me to the show on time. Go take yerself a cold shower an’ get all scrubbed up…” 

You bobbed your head in assent, turning to walk to the shower. Elvis hung on the door frame watching you undress, winking as you look back at him over your shoulder and blowing you a kiss before he closed the door. The top of your head tingled, you felt wide awake, probably the pill Elvis gave you, but your forehead ached and the back of your eyes throbbed as if they were pushing up into your skull. The hot water soothed you and your muscles relaxed as you exhaled into the steam. You started to feel human again, washing the grime and sweat and sex from the last 24 hours off. You heard the bathroom door open, the last of the soap swirling down the drain as you finished rinsing out your hair, and you peeked through the glass door to see Elvis back, an approving smile on his face and a towel in his hands. You step out and his smile widened.

“Just how I like ya, naked and quiet.”

You reach for the towel but he shakes his finger and starts to dry you off, beginning with your breasts.

“Maybe you should go find a foxy mute to date… hmmm?”

“Now there’s an idea, ya know any?” The towel moved to your shoulders, and Elvis spins you around, gently rubbing the terrycloth over your back, bottom and legs. Then he spins you back to face him and wraps the towel around you, using it to draw you into him for a kiss. 

“Charlie and Jerry are grabbing my suit, I’m about to go get ready. I have your dress,” Elvis gestured for you to follow him back to the bed room, where he handed you a gold lame evening gown with a cowl neck. “There’s a hair dryer under the sink, honey, do you have any make up with you?” 

You shake your head.

“Man, you really didn’t do a good job planning for our date tonight…”

“Ooh, you mean my kidnapping? No, sorry…”

“Never met a more willing victim…”

“Ha!”

“S’ good thing you got kidnapped by someone who has a hair dresser, I’ll have Larry do you after me.”

You hear the door at the front of the room, and Elvis pats you on the bottom, again, as you turn back into the bathroom.

“Hey guys, back here!” You hear his voice call from the adjourning bedroom. “Becky’s in the john gettin’ ready…  Black Phoenix, good. Tell Lamar, I want supper laid out up here after the show, fried chicken, meatloaf, potatoes, maybe something healthy, like potato salad? Have ‘em fix it up good. Some snacks, you know, for us to pick at. Drinks. And I don’t want half of Jackson up here again…. just family.”

You tune them out, looking around for the hair dryer, eventually finding it next to a stack of boxed enema kits under the sink, an amenity that struck you as somewhat odd for a hotel to provide. But Elvis was only in town for a few days, why would he need so many? You didn’t want to think about it. Hair dry and somewhat straightened, you exhaled, taking a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, breathing slowly and trying to get your heart rate to slow down. Straining to get the gold dress over your bust, you suspected it is a size too small. The top was like a corset, constraining as it sucks you in, pushing your breasts up and almost out of the loose, cowl neckline. You snapped one of the thin gold straps, wondering if it would hold out for the night or break under the pressure your curves were exerting on it. Luckily, the gown fell looser at the waist, and the sleek, lame felt cool and silky over your bare legs. The shoes, at least were the right size, a set of matching gold platform sandals with a thick heel. A thick three or four inch heel. A thick heel that would mean walking may or may not work out for you, so you would need to go slow.

“Good, cuz you can’t breath anyway…” you tell your reflection.

Sucking in and moving slowly, you opened the bathroom door, finding Elvis sitting at the vanity decked out in a white jumpsuit with a black, zebra belt that has looped chains draped around the bottom. The silhouette of a large black bird in flight was stitched in black sequins on the back, and when he turned to look at you, you see the same silhouette on the front, black shiny wings rising along either side of his open chest. An older white guy stood behind Elvis, combing his hair out with his fingers and a spray bottle.

“There she is! Larry, this is Becky.” You nod at them, smoothing your hands over your belly, pulling up at your neckline.

“I think Jerry got me the wrong size… feel like I’m busting out of this dress…”

Elvis chuckled as he stood, walking over to you, hands on your waist, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they stared down at your heaving breasts.  “Nah, you look just right.” You cocked an eyebrow as he led you to the vanity and told Larry to get you ready while he sat back in the large, leather chair on the other side of the bedroom and smoked a stogie. Your eyes met through the reflection mirror as Elvis watched in amusement while Larry made small talk with you.

“Nice to meet you, Becky…  is it short for Rebecca?” You nod. “Beautiful name… a Biblical name.”

“Hmmm, I s’pose, if you go in for that sort of thing…”

“Yeah, well, I go in for all sorts of things … you don’t?”

You purse your lips slightly. “No, I stopped believing in fairy tales when I grew up…” Elvis cocked an eye brow, exhaling his cigar and smirking as he shook his head, as if to warn you that you had no idea what you were getting into.

“Oh Becky, oh man, that really hurts me to hear you say that,” Larry dusted over the top of your cheeks with blush. “Gosh, if that’s your definition of growing up, I hope I never do… what’s the meaning of life without the deeper, spiritual mysteries of the world… how do we achieve a higher plane of existence?”

You sighed, “Life has no meaning, Larry, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s all just chaos and I guess… I guess we just do our best to enjoy the way things get thrown together and figure out how to survive…”

“Oh man, oh man, in some ways, what you’re saying is very - close your eyes for a second, I’m gonna dust a finishing powder here - is almost existential, from a philosophical perspective, but I… well, I’ve experienced too many coincidences, too many psychic exchanges, almost too many dimensions to be able to even start to come back down to where you are.”

You were trying not to squint as he did a second coat of mascara.

“I didn’t go to college," you mutter, "So I’m not sure I really understand everything you're saying… but, its not like I’m miserable. I like my life, I guess...Sure I wish somethings were different, but… I don’t think I’m part of some bigger, coordinated plan… "

Larry clucked his tongue.

“What’s your birthday?”

You were startled for a moment, then responded. “July… July 26, 1948… why…?”

“8 …. You hear that EP? Just like you, her day of the month adds up to an 8!” He whispered to you. “Birth dates that add up to 8, well, they’re quite powerful… what, you don’t believe in numerology either, huh? Don’t you feel hopeless wandering around this beautiful earth, thinking like that? Were you raised with any religion?”

“Sure, yeah, my folks are Jewish, I still think of myself as a Jew - I.. um…it’s more of a.. um cultural thing, I guess…  if I had kids, I’d raise them the way I was, but I’d be honest with them about how things really are….”

Larry’s face lit up, as he turned to his bag to pull out a bottle of hairspray.

“Oh, I should have known you were mishpacha, look at those dark brown eyes… Oy Rivka, it makes my heart break hearing you talk about life so cynically…. Where did you find this one, anyway, EP? She’s cute, she’s smart and I can sense that you’ll have a real positive effect on her, bring some spiritually into her life... if she’ll just open up her mind …”

Elvis smiled devilishly, standing. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll have any probably getting her to open up for me… found her at the party last night, she’s just some groupie hanging round, wouldn’t let me be… practically begged to spend another day with me…”

Elvis stalked toward you, a smug look plastered on his face, his hand was on your shoulder as he looked into your reflection. Larry stepped back, pleased with his work. Looking at your reflection, it was a lot more makeup than you ever wore, gold eye shadow shimmered almost to your eyebrows. But you smiled, embracing the utter absurdity of it all and giving yourself over to the pleasurable of feeling glamorous. Not recognizing the tired, disheveled workaday Becky who walked into this pent house in jeans and converse an hour or so ago.

“Groupie…mmhmmm.. that’s me…” you smiled a broad, fake smile as you rose, grasping Elvis' shoulder to steady yourself. “This week it’s the great Elvis Presley, next week, Aerosmith is in town. Fingers crossed I can sneak into their party…”

Elvis grunts as he pulls you in front of him, hands on your waist.

“Ha! Not if I have anything to do with it….”

You playfully slap his shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“Told you Presley, no man can tame me…”

He grips your butt, then smacks it.

“I ain’t just any man, Twitch… mmhmmm… you’ll see…”

You turn to  Larry, saying in Yiddish, “How do you stand working with this asshole, huh?” Larry laughed, and Elvis crooked an eyebrow.

“Hey, now… what she say?”

Larry looked over at him, “Oh just how lucky I am to spend all my days with you.

———————————

Heading to the coliseum in a caravan of long black limos, you realize it’s past 8 o’clock, and you are anxious for Elvis when you arrive only 10 minutes before he is supposed to perform.

“Isn’t this cutting it close?” You murmur, taking his hand out of the limo and hanging on to his arm for dear life as you stumble alongside him through the stage door.

“Nah, honey, this is how I like it… otherwise I’m a caged animal, prowling around the dressing room. No, it’s better this way... I walk right from the limo onto the stage. Keeps the momentum going.” He looked over his shoulder. “Jerrah! I want Becky up in front, in the middle, and have someone keep an eye on her. Don’t won’t her gettin’ smashed in the stampede of women running up to get me.”

He looked down at you and winked.

“And Jerrah, I’m gonna need you to do better with the gatorrrr - ade tonight, last night my throat was so dry I thought I was Bob Dylan.”

He grinned down at you to see if you got his joke. You rolled your eyes, and he slapped your left butt cheek playfully. Again. Your butt was getting more attention in the last few hours than it had in the last ten years.

“Now, that was a good one… shudda laughed... most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here. Look at how hard she has to work to frown at my jokes. ”

You lean into his shoulder, relishing the coziness of his body enclosed around you as long as you could before you arrived at the backstage curtain. Elvis hands began to tremble slightly as he stepped away from you. Caught off by how cold and alone you suddenly felt without his arm around you, you noticed that Elvis’ breathing became shallow and panicked as he let go of you and walked toward the curtain, mumbling to himself.

”You can do this boy, you can do this….you love this…. you do this ev’ry night.”

“Is he ok?” You ask Jerry, who is now walking you around to the front of the stage. Jerry looks at you, a soft smile.

“Yeah, this is good, every once an a while we have a hard time getting him out of the dressing room. Crazy, huh? Think he’d have gotten over stage fright by now…”

Jerry pats your back, leaving you at center stage, thirty or so feet closer than where you had been last night. Tonight’s performance was similar, though it was rougher being in the eye of the storm. The music was louder, and the blare of the horns hit you in the face the moment they began. You watched Elvis propel himself on stage, where he was instantly transformed from nervous school boy to a charismatic rock star strutting and dancing and karate kicking himself across the platform. Exuding a cheerful, roguish vitality, he playfully bantered with the women who ran up to kiss him, joked with the audience, or stopped the music to ask a little girl about the drawing she brought up for him to sign. The restrictive, tightness of your dress and your unsteady heels all faded away as you were taken captive by Elvis’ showmanship. He stopped to wink down at you throughout the night. You were paralyzed when he strode over to center stage and bent his left leg back in a karate stance, then proceeded to thrust above you several times, grinning like a teenager and laughing as he sang. It brought a swarm of butterflies to your tummy, and they flew up your stomach to take permanent residence at the top of your rib cage for the rest of the show, fluttering around while you quivered. You felt yourself blush, and you knew Elvis had noticed it when he walked downstage and paused to fan himself with his own hand.

“Wheweee, this June weather is heating us up, ain’t it lil girl,” and he looked over at you. You didn't think your cheeks could get any redder, but you were wrong. Elvis grinned, then looked back out at the thousands of people behind you. “But that’s alright, that’s just the kind of show ya do on a Monday evening. We came here to be with y’all and to sweat and to hand out scarves.” 

He winked again, and you swore he was about to bend down and kiss you when he stopped just short of your position and kissed the blonde next to you, looking over at you with a smirk and an eyebrow waggle after wrapping a white scarf around her.

—— ----------

Thirty minutes after the show, and you were still sitting next to Lamar in the dressing room, waiting for Elvis to finish signing autographs by the stage. Lamar offered you a Pepsi and M & Ms from a bowl, and you crunched them angrily. 

“Five more minutes, and I’m fixin’ to just take myself home,” you whine, leaning your head back. 

Lamar chuckled. “Don’t let him hear that, EP’ll intentionally make us wait another hour just to show you what happens when you’re impatient… “

“I’ll be long gone before I spend two hours twiddling my fingers back here…”

Lamar looked at you, and shrugged, you guessed he’d seen worse. You stood up to go out to the stage. Lamar looked up from his newspaper.

“You’ll  wanna fix your lipstick.” 

You raised your eyebrows in disdain. “I wasn’t wearing any make-up when I met him last night?”

Lamar hit his knee, ”Well, I’m not gonna say it never happens… but its rare… I’ve been with him for almost twenty years, off an on, and I’ve seen Elvis go out with women of all shapes an sizes, older, younger, married, divorced, single moms, business women, sisters - one right after the other … but they’ve been … they’ve pretty much always … attentive to their appearance… let’s just say he’s never been shy to tell a girl, or any of us, I s’pose, what to wear, how to do our hair, how to look. He knows what he likes, and he almost always gets it, sonabitch… I mean, look at you now ….”

You looked at your self in the full length mirror. Lamar was right, you looked like a different person. An almost pretty one, like those old money debs who you were making fun of last night. You pulled at your neckline, vainly attempting to cover your breasts more.

“Do you think he told Jerry to buy my dress a size down?”

Lamar chortled. “Ha, at least! If not two… partly because he knows he likes the way it shows off your figure, no disrespect meant. But also partly to fuck with you. He likes to turn the screw a bit… it's subconscious, like, sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

“Yeah, well, he definitely knew what he was doing when he made Joe get out of the car on the other side of town…”

“Oh, “ Lamar popped some candy in his mouth, “that’s nothin’, he once fired Joe and left him in the middle of the Mojave dessert…” 

You gasped and shook your head, wondering if you should just go home. Fixing some stray hairs, you wiped your mouth, realizing you didn’t have lipstick with you, or anything, so if you did decide to leave you wouldn’t be able to get a cab. Maybe Lamar would take pity on you and drive you home? Or you could find a phone and beg someone to come get you. Maybe you should, the allure of the concert was starting to dissipate, the fatigue was coming back, it was 10:30 and seeing Elvis through Lamar’s perspective was making you question your decision to come out tonight…. For the thousandth time. Your pulled at your neckline once again, and gave Lamar a salute as you hobbled out to the stage to take another look at your date before deciding whether to sneak off, determined not to let these heels take you down.

Elvis’ face lit up with boyish glee when he saw you meander out. Just that quick exchange made you giddy and your desire to leave evaporated. You ambled over to lean against the stage from the grassy field, looking up and watching him where he stood ten feet away, surrounded by people waiting for him to sign their photos, stuffed animals, panties, or take a picture. Elvis bathed in their admiration, laughing and joking and pulling faces with them, while Jerry and five tired men moved them through the line. About every fifteen minutes, Elvis would turn to where you now sat on the tip of the stage, swinging your feet, and holler.

“Hang loose darlin’, just be another five minutes.”

It was 11:37 when you observed Elvis kiss the last pair of women goodbye and stomp over to you with an effected, stilted gait. A damp towel around his neck, his eyes still twinkling from the unfiltered love he’d been basking in over the last few hours. From where you sat, head leaning on your arms over the stage floor, he seemed fifteen feet tall. You gasped when Elvis suddenly plopped down on his knees about an inch from your face and poked your nose, his voice sweet and light.

“So how you doin?”

You smiled, to tired the fight his charm. Any lingering impatience or resentment you felt from waiting the last two hours melted like a popsicle in the glow of his radiance. Head still laying to the side, you responded in a breathy, dreamy voice.

“Hmmmm… just fine and dandy…” 

“Good… still wanna come have dinner with me?” 

You nodded, and Elvis took your hand to help you up.

“C’mon Becky Butt, let’s go get something in that sweet mouth ‘o yours …”

“You’re worse than a teenage boy, you know that?” You scowl, but nevertheless, can’t help your visceral need to seek out the warmth of his body and plunge into his side.

——-----------

You did find something to stick in your mouth. Potato chips, cheese and crackers, grapes, fried chicken, roasted potatoes, little bites of key lime pie. Sipping your second beer, you walk over to the couch and settle down. Looking around the room, you consider that, while there are certainly less people here tonight, this is hardly what you would consider a small gathering. The suite is filled with the men of Elvis’ entourage, a handful of band members, a handful of women, maybe wives, girlfriends, lovers? Your dress, thankfully, had given in to the roundness of your body and stretched out a bit, so you can at least breathe, although your breasts were still mounting their rebellion. You pulled up the neck line again, and shifted toward Charlie, who was tuning a guitar on the other side of the couch. 

“Hey, I heard Elvis during the show, he said you’re from Alabama?’

Charlie looked up at you, his fingers playing a few unorganized chords, and he nodded, then looked over towards the kitchen. You followed his eyes to Elvis, who’s back was turned. You noticed Elvis’ hand seemed very cozily wrapped around the waist of one of his backup singers, what was her name, Kathy? You watch his fingers rub her back. You sighed, he was a handsy guy and you were not into jealous drama, so you turn back to Charlie, who seemed to relax.

“Mhmm, where are you from … Becky is it?”

“Birmingham…. but I’ve lived here in Jackson, gosh for 10 years…. So,” you looked back over at the kitchen, and whisper. “Charlie, why are there 1000 enema kits in the bathroom?”

Charlie belted out a surprised guffaw, and shook his head.

“I’m not even gonna start with that….”

“Ok,” you grinned. “So, how many women you reckon big man over there has slept with?”

Charlie chuckled into his guitar again, and just shook his head.

“Too many… but I’ll tell ya what…I’ve been hanging out with that man these last 17 our 18 years or so, and I’ve eaten meatloaf and fried chicken so often I cain’t barely stand ‘em.” Charlie fooled around strumming the guitar a bit more. “Sometimes he just wants meatloaf, every night, like for six months at a time…. Sometimes he wants all his favorite dishes buffet style, all at the same time, see? He might go for somethin’ new, but even then, usually, it’s cuz its similar, like… shepard’s pie, that’s a lot like meatloaf, jus with mashed potatoes on top… then that becomes his favorite dish for a while, and he has to have it ev’ry night til it's not new any more…  see, EP, man ….he takes comfort in the familiar…”

You nodded, smiling, getting what Charlie was trying to say. I guess I’m the shepard’s pie of Jackson…

“So, where y’all headed next on this tour?” You smooth you dress as you bend your knees up behind you on the couch, and giggle as a nipple pops up and you push it back into your dress.

“Oh, well, we’re goin’ back ta Memphis tomarra, for—" all of a sudden one of the other guys was in front of Charlie, bending in his ear. 

“Crazy over there wants to talk to ya,” you heard him whisper.

“Sure, Dick,” Charlie nodded back, and looked over you, handing you his guitar. “Hold this for me, won’t ya?”

You lean across him to put your drink on the side table, and you feel Charlie tense as your breasts graze his lap, you’ve never seen anyone hop up so fast as he alights and hands you his instrument. Taking his guitar, you flip your legs back on the ground, and eyes following the two men as they walk over to Elvis, who is now very much turned toward you, a grimace clouding his face. Kathy has been replaced by another man who’s talking to him. You wonder what upset him? But you are distracted by the guitar in your lap, and start to strum a few notes, smiling up at Elvis as you start to sing an old folk song from one of your Joan Baez records that popped into your head, you don’t know why. You’re not in love with Elvis, you’ve only known him 24 hours, but he does have black hair…

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands

Closing your eyes, you let the buzz from the drinks and the show and the energy of the party creep over you and you give yourself to the song, singing softly. You open your eyes to see Elvis strolling over to you while you sing, and he takes a seat next to you where Charlie had been, leaning back into the armrest. There is wonder and affection in his eyes, and you push your leg into him as he rubs you knee while you warble out the last verse of the song.

“Where’d you learn to sing these sad sack songs, mhmm?” He scoots you closer to him, his hands snaking around your waist. You lean your head onto his chest, appreciating the way your head fits under his chin, strumming the strings casually.

“Summer camp… as a teenager …. it’s actually not far from here... just outside of Jackson.”

The warmth of his fingers trace up the side of your body, and you absentmindedly lift one hand to stroke his right sideburn, pulling on the curly, rough hair. His breath is hot on your ear when Elvis murmurs.

“Not bad, for an amateur I guess…”

“Ha…. most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here.” You call out, your voice is playful and loud, and Elvis pulls you on to his lap.

“Hmmm… you’re funny, ya know that?” He kisses your lips, and you dangle the guitar down by its neck, your other hand on Elvis’ shoulder to return his kiss, and then nuzzle back into him. “Go on now, play me a ‘nother one…” he cooed.

You turn your face up to his, and nod.

“K, here’s another from camp.” And you start to strum the chords to the folk version of an old Hebrew prayer, your head against his while his arm wraps around you. Your feet now dangle over the edge of his lap and his other hand rests over you, thumb rubbing your thigh as you sing.

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Spread the shelter of your peace over us 

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Save us for the sake of your name 

Shield us from hatred sorrow and pain 

Elvis lips kiss your neck.

“That’s beautiful honey, what’s it mean?”

You look down, still cradling the guitar. “I guess its a call out to God to lay us down with peace when we go to sleep at night, and give us peace when we wake in the morning… a call for protection.”

Elvis stroked your thigh, then moved his hands over yours on the guitar. “Go head, teach me the chords… I wanna learn this.”

You feel a firm rod hardening underneath you as you show him how the song goes, fingers over fingers, his lips on your neck, repeating the words. You laugh at his Hebrew pronunciations and he slaps your hip, laughing with you.

“How can you sing this music honey, and then say you don’t believe in God?”

You thought of your conversation earlier, and looked up to see if anyone heard what you and Elvis were saying. The crowd had gotten smaller, but those remaining seemed to be paying very little attention to the two of you.

“Of course you believe in God, Elvis, cuz your life is a fairy tale… handsome, talented, successful… but it’s really just random chance… why would God make some people beautiful and others ugly? Why would he make some poor and others rich? There’s no rhyme or reason to our lives…”

Elvis’ knuckles trailed across your cheek. 

“Ya don’t really think life is pointless?”

You hesitate. “Not pointless… but any meaning it has is meaning we give it, while we deal with all the bullshit we get dealt…”

“This…” Elvis murmured into your ear. “This is why he brought you to me. We’re meant to help each other… I’m going to help you seek him out…”

“Elvis…” you whisper, “what if I’m meant to help show you that there is no God?”

“Oh baby, I know there’s a God… I’ve seen ‘im….” 

You roll your eyes, and Elvis pulls you tighter, chuckling.

“Hmmm. So you’re bringing me to the light, how am I helping you?”

“Thought we already covered that… you’re using those snake charmin’ skills to remind me how God works in mysterious ways.” You feel him thrust his hips up into you a few times. His erection is undeniable, and you cough out a guffaw as he smirks, then lifts you up, one hand under your knees, the other around your arm. You shriek and drop the guitar.

“Oh no!”

“Don’t worry, baby, jus Charlie’s guitar, don’t matter one bit.” He smiled deviously over in Charlie’s direction and kicked the instrument out of his way, before bellowing out over your lifted frame. “Alright y’all, quitting time, s’been a long day, time to hit the hay.” You giggle, blushing again, its obvious that he is about to carry you to the bed room and you burrow into his chest to hide.

——-----------

Emerging from the master bathroom, face clean, hair brushed back, you’re wearing a slinky, pink silk nightie Jerry must have bought and put out for you on the bed. You shiver, seeing Elvis in his own blue pajamas already in the bed. He pats the space beside him, and you scurry over, launching onto the bed with a jump.

“Slow down, lil' girl, this ain’t the Grand Prix…”

You nod, breath shallow and nervous as you get under the covers and lay down next to Elvis. He turns, fingers slowly stroking your tummy, his face hovering an inch above yours. You shiver, breathing in more deeply, taking in his distinct musk of sweat, tobacco and spice. His lips softly skim over yours.

“Have a good time tonight?”

“Mhmmm,” your hands move up his chest and around his neck. 

His fingers trail down your belly, you feel the flames crackling at your core burst into a fire, and you bite your lip. Elvis grins, his cheeks expanding. His fingers are under your nightie, and he grins wider as he notices you aren’t wearing underwear, growling as he pushes your nightie up. You gasp as those fingers work their way down, running through your pubic hair. He raises his eyebrows, you feel his cock twitch against you, and you nod your chin, a slight moan escaping you as you lean up into his mouth and move your hands from his neck to pull down his pajama bottoms. He chuckles into your kiss.

“OK, woman, ok…. Now let a man take his own drawers off….”

You sit up against the pillows and Elvis rolls over on his back to pull his pajamas off and throw them to the floor first, pants then shirt. Why did we even get changed? You think as you turn to him, hand on his chest, mouth on his neck, his moans joining yours as you move to straddle his thighs. Looking up at you with awe, he pulls your night gown off and you slowly grind against him. Elvis’ hands move to your waist, grasping your soft, cushy handles, and you arch your head back when he lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks over it, then lowers it to your clit. Each stroke is deliberate, soft, slow, and you buck forward with a tremor, moaning out. His stiff length rubs between your ass cheeks, and you thrust against it. You halt your movements forward and rise up, using your hands to guide him inside you, then grunting out as you bear down on him, the friction and the stretch a welcome thrill as you slowly plunged further. Elvis grunts and sits up, responding to the magnetic electricity that had been building between you all night. Neither of you can get close enough, you pull each other as tight as possible, surging your hips down into him while he grips your handles. Your arms wind around his neck and his forehead is damp against your chin and his voice speaks into your neck high and breathy.

“Oh baby, sweet baby, where ya been all my life? Huh?”

Your chest heaves into him, and you ride him further, crying out with a twitch when his cock hits that new magic spot. Your G spot. Your E spot. Moaning, you kiss down on the top of his head, grasping him closer when his arms tighten around your waist. You feel the sweat dripping down through his chest hair as it chafes against your nipples, the sensation brings a gasp out of your mouth. You meld together with each clap of thunder as your hips meet his over and over, your skin is electrified and the sensation seems more intense than the previous night, your bodies seem more in tune with each other, so much so that they seem to fit together. You follow where he leads, and he responds to each movement you make, lips seeking out the nape of your neck, sending shivers through you until his soft kisses become aggressive and you try to consume each other before the flames rise up out of the bed to devour you both.

“Oh GOD, Elvis! Fuckkkkk….”

You call out, your whole cunt is vibrating with anticipation, you can feel electricity coiling behind your belly button.

“See honey? Its workin’ already… I’m bringing you closer to God.. ugghhhh....” he grunts as you bear down on him. You try to roll your eyes but then have to squeeze them closed when his hands work your hips up and down again and you spasm.

Another minute, and you are screaming out through the waves of pleasure emanating up your core, your rolls into each other slow, and there it is, you can’t help it, you’re sobbing again as a feverish warmth spreads over you. Elvis’ fingers are on your face, clearing away your hair, wiping your tears with his thumbs.  His hips are stilled, and he kisses your chin, your lips part with a deep exhale.

“Ugh, oh, God, I don’t know——“

“Ssshhh,” he pulls you into him. “S’ok...” He murmurs into your neck, you wrap yourself further around him from above, and begin to move again. “You wanna keep goin’?

“Mhmm” you breath out, clenching around him and you feel as if he’s gone even deeper inside you, like Elvis is probing so far into you he might burst right through you. The rhythm resumes, your bottom hits his knees as you lunge up and down and you feel him gasp in a soft, weak high voice.

“Oh darlin’, let me be your baby… just take me in you and let me be your lil’ baby….?” His eyes beg you, and his mouth contorts into a pinched expression of shock and pleasure. Hands on your hips, Elvis pulled you forward onto him and you increase your pace, pushing faster into him, wet skin slapping against his chest while he holds you close, your hands smoothing over his hair and you whisper.

“There’s a good boy, ahhh! ….. course you can be my baby… my good baby... my bubbleleh…” you murmur, smoothing the top of his hair. You have never talked the way during sex, it just comes out in the moment and you go with it as you both inhabit the roles you play in all the different aspects of your life at once: mother, father, lover, child.

Elvis’ eyes look up at you from below, with his chin jutting and the innocent expression lighting up his face, he looks ten years younger.  His eyes plead for release, connection, recognition, and his eyebrows are pushed up by desire while his left hand cups your neck. Jerking back, he pushes you off him and down on the bed, pulling out just before he explodes on to your abdomen with a stuttering growl. He pumps himself with his hand one, two, three more times, then exhales loudly as your bodies still. He coughs and grunts again, shaking his head, hands rubbing your sides up and down.

You look up, a dizzy smile on your face. “I’m on the pill, just so ya know…”

“Oh?” Elvis looked down at you, moving to get off the bed, presumably to get you a towel, but you pull him back, instead wiping your self off on the duvet. You push him down on his back, straddling him once more, this time to cuddle on top of him. You lean forward over him and relish the way his chest hair tickles your breasts. He fluffs a pillow as you rest your head over crossed arms and look up in delight at the goofy grin spreading across his face. His neck swells forward, and now his mouth sits above a tower of meaty jowls. His baritone voice reverberates up into your arms.

“Is that cuz you already have a daddy here in Jackson?”

You shake your head. “Nooooo. Just cautious, like you.”

Elvis bows his chin forward. “Yeah, well, I already knew you didn’t have a man, I could tell… I know things,” he grinned, pointing his index finger at his head. 

You lean up, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Yeah… I know…. You’re a seer…. what we just did was definitely a spiritual experience…” You giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything… anything like that…” you tuck your head into his chest, your fingers tousling the damp, sweaty curls they find. Elvis runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, s’always better the more you do it together, isn’t it… bodies get used to each other… I’ve… I’ve had some good rolls in the hay, but it’s been a while… boyoboy…” He gently pulls your hair back so you are looking up at him, his profile limned by the soft bedside lamp. “Come back to Memphis with me tomorrow.” 

You purse your lip. “Elvis… I…”

He shakes his head. “Uh uh, I don’t like the sound of that… woman, you just told me you had the best sex of your life. I ain’t asking you to marry me, jus come spend a few days an' have some fun… can’t tell me that store won’t get along with out you?”

You sit up, next to him, crossing your legs on the bed. 

“Elvis, you just met me… this is moving tooo fast..”

“Honey, fast is the only speed I know…”

“Elvis, I can’t go to Memphis with you.”

He pauses, brow furrowed. “This cuz you thought you were going out with THE Elvis Presssley, then ended up with me?”

You grab his shoulders, leaning over him to kiss his face as he turns in a huff, pouting.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? You think I’m disappointed because I got to see you up close? The real you?” You turn his face back to look at you and the hurt in his eyes dissipates. “No baby… no…. Look, I’ve had the best time with you. Ever. I mean it. You are…. Well, ‘m not one for making a fool of myself an tellin’ a man how foxy I think he is… you know you are…” you slap his shoulder. “And you’re actually better than I thought you’d be… you’re funny… and brilliant…. and.. ugh… I stole your belt last night because I wanted to remember this forever …. When I’m with you I… I … feel like a teenager again… all my cares and responsibilities, they melt away. And that’s nice, cuz I had to grow up kinda of early … so feeling free again… its been a dream —”

“Then why don’t you wanna come with me, baby?”

“I do. I want to. But I can’t… I have people who depend on me, people who need me… I’ve been taking over the management of my uncle’s store… I live with my aunt and uncle, they’re in their 60s…” and I have a kid I don’t want to tell you about because this is just fun and I don't want to bring the baggage from my life into this one night - two night  - stand …. “I have to go back to reality tomorrow… or today, depending what time it is?… I guess that doesn’t matter… I have to go back to my life and so … so do you…”

Elvis takes your hand, drawing you into the crook of his arm, his other hand caresses your shoulder, you can see the wheels in his head turning.

“Hmmm… let’s get some sleep, we’ll talk about this in the mornin’… jus promise no sneaking’ out this time without sayin’ good bye?”

You assent with a bow, and he kisses the top of your head, then sits up to take a pill bottle out of the side table drawer. You shake your head no when he offers you some, and watch as he gulps a handful down, no water, and turns off the light. Ten minutes later Elvis’ ragged snores lull you too sleep.

——----------

The room is black when you wake up in a naked embrace with Elvis, your hair matted down from the warm sweat of his chest. The windows are still covered with aluminum, but the bedside clock tells you it's 6 am. You gently lift his arm so you can get up, and as you swing your feet off the bed he sits up with a start, grabbing you from behind.

“Don’t leave me Satnin, don’t leave me in the dark… I can’t be alone in the dark…” his soft voice trembles with fear, and you push back into the pillows, taking Elvis’ head in your lap and sooth his brow, hushing him with a promise that you aren’t leaving, just going to the bathroom. 

Once he falls back to sleep, you get up and, finding your nighty, make your way to the en suite toilet. Looking over at him as you come back, you tip toe out of the bed room to call home and talk to Ruth in the living room. You had snuck off to a phone after the show last night, and had a long, apologetic conversation with Aunt Ida, who was, honestly, too enthusiastic about the fact that you wouldn’t be coming home for the second night in a row. You met someone, girlchik, I told you that you would, she had gushed. You had just been grateful that neither Danny nor Harriet had told their parents whom that someone was. Harriet had stayed over to help, as promised, and was going to open the store today, but you hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ruth. You leave the lights in the living room off, relieved that Joe or one of the other guys is not sitting in the living room to greet you this morning when you make your way to the phone near the pent house kitchen. You sit on a bar stool and have the operator call your house, then ask Ida to put your daughter on the phone.

“Hey baby, you’re not mad at me for staying out with friends?”

You can hear Ruth roll her eyes. “Mom… why would I be mad? You should do this more, Harriet lets me have as much ice cream as I want. For breakfast too.”

“What?”

“Just kidding…” Ruth giggles.

“Ok, good… hey, after today, only three more days of school left til summer?”

“Mhmm, mom, yeah. I know….”

“Ok, ok, I just called to tell you to have a good day at school, and I’ll see you tonight, ok, sweet baby?”

“Ok, love ya mom.” 

Just as Ruth hangs up, you jolt at the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and turn to see Elvis in a robe, rubbing his eyes with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Sweet baby? Thought you didn’t have a man…. “

Hanging up the phone, you throw your head back and look at the ceiling, then return to meet his gaze.

“I don’t… I wasn’t talking to a man…” you mutter.

Elvis’ brow creases, as he rubs his eyes again. 

“Well then, who were you…..ohhh…” he walks over to you, and sits in the bar stool next to you “How old?”

“9.” You look down.

“You must a been a baby yer self when you had ‘em?”

You just nod, as he takes your hand.

“An that’s why you can’t come to Memphis.” He drops your hand, getting up and pacing back towards the bedroom. 

You stand to follow him, but stop, you can tell he’s upset, but you’re not sure if it’s because he’s mad at you for not telling him you had a kid, or mad because his psychic powers didn’t show him this information, or mad because he’s not going to get what he wants, or mad because he thinks you’re some sort of tramp horrible mother and can’t believe he was attracted to you. Your worst insecurities assume its the latter one, the energy in the room has turned bitter and you want to run out of the door. You fight this, realizing clothes would be good first.

“I should go,” you offer, and he turns, hand on the bridge of his nose as he stands in thought.

“What? No… I mean.. Yes.. honey, do what you gotta do…”

You walk up and kiss Elvis on the cheek, then move to get dressed in the bedroom, finding your old jeans and shirt and converse in the closet. Elvis follows you, and perches at the edge of the large, leather chair watching you dress. He stands to grab something out of his black dress jacket, and pads over to you as you finish tying your shoe. The belt and ring he gave you are on the bed next to where you finish getting dressed, and you aren’t sure if you should leave them. He seems to read your mind.

“Take ‘em… go ahead, I want ya to have ‘em…” Then he hands you a wad of money. “And this too, for all your troubles.” 

You count it, $500. A sinking feeling starts in the pit of your stomach. Whore. You feel like a cheap whore. You crumple up the cash and throw it on top of his things, slap him in the face, and then walk out through the bedroom and leave without looking back.

Elvis rubs his stinging cheek, and turns to follow. No one has ever rejected his gifts. 

“What the devil in tarnation… crazy woman…” he mumbles to himself, still drugged and half dead from the sleeping pills and lack of sleep, his mind and body are moving slow. He hears the front door slam and he jogs after you, sticking his head out of the door to call you back, only to find the hallway empty. All that remains of your presence is the faint sting from your hand still burning his cheek.

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @butlervol6 @ab4eva @whositmcwhatsit @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley

Read Chapter Three Here

[sighthounds-and-sketches]

Let's talk about flying to pick up a puppy by yourself

And some ways to make it easier on you.

Your prep starts honestly, about a week before baby actually comes home. Maybe 2 weeks.

For my pre-flight prep, I first picked out a flight carrier. I went with the one my breeder recommended.

It has expandable sides, and a little storage pocket. And it's resistant to chewing. I'm really glad I didn't buy a cheaper one, and I can't stress enough that it's cheaper to buy a quality one the first time than have a zipper break or a tear in the middle of your trip. My trip in total was 4 flights and 4 hours in the car, with him being with me for half of it and having the longest layover of my day. I could only really let him out a couple times, so this next part was incredibly helpful.

I mailed the carrier to my breeder,

at her behest. This was *huge* because the siblings got their scent on it and he was acclimated to being in it before I got to him. It acted as a secure place for him to ride in the car and for his first few nights here, he slept in there through the night.

And now that he's in his crate, the removable pad with scents on it has been instrumental in establishing the crate as a safe place for him.

Video of why I'm really glad I got the durable carrier.

Please consider what you're wearing that day.

Wear clothes you don't need to fuss with *at all* that's normal airport protocol- but I can't stress this enough, you're carrying the puppy in your arms through the TSA checkpoint and other people will be fussing over him. Make sure your appearance and personal bag is no fuss.

See: jeans, hoodie, puppy treat and potty bag that can be shoved into my personal Item, and a no fuss backpack.

In my personal travel bag I kept:

Pee pads, his food from the breeder, a change of clothes in case of incidents, a portable battery to charge my phone, collapsible food and water bowls, collar and leash incase one wasn't provided, and SEVERAL toys in there.

The toys were great for waiting in the terminal. I'd expand the sides of the crate and introduce a new toy to him to help him run a bit of energy out before we had to board.

Peepads: Even though airports have animal relief areas, chances are they're either kind of gross or your dog may be a little too young for it to be safe. I was traveling through one of the busiest airports in the world, and nobody was checking jack shit so I opted for potty breaks to occur in bathrooms with pee pads. He didn't end up going but it's better to be prepared.

I flew Delta and used Skymiles accumulated from our credit card with them that we pay off monthly, so the only thing I paid for out of pocket was 95.00 to bring Argos on board. My flight only costed 20k miles total, and that was only a small portion of what we'd accumulated over the 6 months we've been using the card. I think it's worth considering if you're planning to fly to a breeder. It enabled me to go anywhere in the country that Delta flies and not worry about costs.

Day of hack: double check your flights on the airlines app and switch your seat if possible. I swapped one of my return flight seats to an empty row for 15.00, which meant I could have my carryon and him with me at the same time and that was very nice for readjusting where my stuff was and taking a damn nap. Because at this point, I'd been up for about 18 hours and still had 7 hours of traveling before I'd get home.

I think my last thing is that if you're like me and you do have an invisible disability- ask if you can preboard. Dont be afraid to say "hey, i have this problem and standing in the heat while carrying a bunch of stuff is potentially going to cause an episode. " The employees were extremely nice, and willing to work with me. Ultimately, I went through all of this because he's a service dog prospect and will hopefully help.

Small things for me specifically prior: ate in the morning and right before I picked him up, he was able to chill in his carrier while I ate dinner at a restaurant in the airport- didn't make any sounds. He slept the whole time. I don't think I couldve eaten in the food court, too much to carry between him and my main bag.

I think that's it. I may add to this if I remember anything I forgot.

Edited to add: for my besties with miscellaneous illnesses-

A baggie with your medicines is IMPORTANT. Do not forget some dramamine, advil, Tylenol, whatever, pack it if there's a small chance you'll need it!

I ended up getting migraine symptoms like 5 hours into travel, and that was not a day I could afford to have blurred vision. <3 remember to take care of YOU on the journey.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I've been feeling inclined to vent about the general concept of "substance use" and "dependency" recently for no particular reason, and it's probably just my own brain finally processing some of the things that happened to me in The Bad Times but what the hell lets go with it.

I was pretty much straight edge until my mid 20s, no alcohol, cigarettes, weed, nothing. Then I got into a series of abusive relationships, nearly died of Mystery Diseases, and a pandemic happened right after. My life went from barely getting by in the world to bouncing between constant crises overnight. I was in therapy and had been for years, I had self care tools and was using them. I was medicated for all of my diagnosed mental health needs (ADHD wasn't on the record yet, so was still unmanaged, but I was doing my best behaviorally to keep on top of shit, obviously that stopped working fast). I worked full time plus going to school part time plus working part time at my internship for a grand total of about 90 hrs per week of work/school related obligations. I lived with several other people who I worked to support financially and who I needed to also support emotionally, and I still managed to run my household for the most part with minimal support except from wifey who was also working about 60-70 hour weeks at her own job to help us make ends meet and was only barely medicated and managed herself. I genuinely don't know when I slept or rested.

The first thing I tried was weed. I used edibles to sleep without nightmares or the anxieties that would keep me up for the rare few hours I had to rest. It also helped with the constant pain I was in. I would get high as fuck on a weed brownie or a pre roll on the one day off I had each month so I didn't have to think or feel or exist because it was the only way I could find to genuinely relax anymore without worrying about the growing mountain of Life Responsibilities that I could never catch up on. Life eased a bit, and I kept doing that.

One day, I had a rare night off, and wifey was going to go out to a club with some friends. I hadn't been anywhere fun in years. I hadn't had time or money or energy. I was desperate to see people and relax and maybe sance a little. A pandemic was on, and the local clubs were having discounts like mad. We went and got shitfaced on cocktails that cost less than lunch at a diner for a round and I made out with a cute girl and I came home laughing for the first time in years. From then on, we would keep a cheap six pack of something in the fridge and every once in a while I would down 2-3 and get fucked up for a bit between that and the weed. Life felt a bit easier and I kept going.

But behind the scenes the cracks kept forming. It wasn't the substances that were causing them. And they weren't even what was making it worse. But they were letting me pretend those cracks weren't there. Letting me run from a reality I knew I couldn't fix. By the time I realized how bad things had gotten, how deep into the pit I was, I was living in a tent in the woods, cooking my dinners on a campfire with my family, throwing back weed and cheap booze like my life depended on it because god what the fuck else do you have when a creek and a rainstorm are the closest you get to a shower and your bed is a pile of blankets in a military surplus tent with all the warm bodies piled together so you don't fucking freeze at night?

I was still working full time though, and for those hours, I had to be sober. No if ands or buts about it. And I was okay with that line, even if it left me riddled with anxiety and trauma and stress 16 hours a day while I worked my doubles in the ER and came home to try and scrub the COVID off in the creek before I went back to the tent. And then a coworker asked me if I wanted to join her on a cigarette break. I did. I desperately wanted to feel normal. To chitchat and talk about nothing important, and feel the breeze on my face. So I bummed a cigarette and smoked with her. That one cigarette became 3 a day. Then 6. Then, a whole pack. A nervous habit of sucking on a cigarette or a vape whenever I needed to fidget or relax while still being sober. It's been 3 years now and I've tried to quit half a dozen times but here I am in my fucking home office pulling on a cigarette like it's my last hope of comfort.

I don't drink anymore though. My body won't let me. Blah blah allergic reactions blah blah. Fine. I kept trying for a while, allergies be damned. But it stopped being worth it. Sometimes the cigarettes aren't worth it either. I choke on every inhale and my body dry heaves like it knows I'm putting in something it doesn't want. On those days I don't smoke. I don't think there have been many days I've gone without weed. I honestly don't know what to do with myself on the days I abstain. Like I do? I can cope. I just. I'm still so tired.

The part of me that broke all those years ago and said fuck it, lets see what drugs do, is still recovering. It's still resting and healing. Some days are better than others. Some days it does fine and it says "lets fuckin rawdog the day my mans" and I do, and it's great. Other times it's so small and frail that I know if I tried I might break it again, and I just can't risk that.

I've been told before that this is dependency. Maybe even misuse. I've been told by others that this is the point. If it's helping, then let it. I don't know what the answer is. Some days I resent not being the person I was before I started using weed and cigarettes to get through the day. I've tried other things too, and they've never done much for me, so I never went back. Does that mean that I'm not "dependent" I'm "self-medicating"? Is that a good or a bad thing? Does it fucking matter? I honestly don't know. I wish it didn't feel like it mattered. I wish that I could go through my days and feel like I had more of a choice. I actually miss being able to get high lol. Like weed hasn't given me an actual high in years, it just. Helps me get through things a little better. But how much am I really willing to keep living that way? How much of my life do I *want* impacted by whether or not I can smoke or have some thc? Some days it's fine. Some days I'm bothered by it.

The thing that gets me every time though is how at every single point when I made the choice to pick up a new "substance" it was because I was desperate, overwhelmed, and completely without alternatives. I knew full goddamn well every time what I was doing. I had years of both anti-drug war knowledge and addiction/recovery knowledge in my brain and I understood that I was at my most vulnerable, I was my most at risk. That making this choice could be fine or could be life changing or could be somewhere in between and it was worth being self aware as I did it. But I just. I was so tired. I was so broken down. I just needed to rest. I needed to feel something other than the stress and fear for a while. And no one was offering me anything else that made a dent. Trust me. I tried.

I don't say this to suggest to people that Drugs Are The Answer. I genuinely don't think they are. I still wish every day I had never picked up that first cigarette. I still wish that I felt well enough to live my life without needing help to rest and recover. But I can't blame anyone who makes the choices I did. I can't doubt the feelings of need and desperation that often drive us to interact with our support tools the way we do. I've also found over the years, that it's not just "substances" that people will turn to for help with avoidance the way I did. Avoidance is so very very human, and the way I skirted around acknowledging how beyond my capacity for repair my life was getting (even while actively working to resolve those things) had more to do with mh inability to acknowledge that I was failing people I loved than what tool I was using to avoid the acknowledgement. It could just as easily have been my work, or video games, or shopping, or gardening, or anything else in the world that allowed me to isolate myself in a world that felt smaller and simpler for a while so I could take a break from problem solving the way the rest of my world was steadily crumbling around me. I chose weed, alcohol and nicotine. Other people will make other choices. But maybe we all sometimes run away from problems we realize we can't solve until one day we're backed into a corner we can't run from. Maybe that's just human. Maybe the drugs just made me feel less like shit while I ran. And maybe that's part of how I survived to make things right for myself.

I really don't know. I can't know.

What I do know is that I left the relationship that was destroying my life. I'm safe now, and wifey and I are doing much better now that our communication isn't being actively sabotaged. I'm doing much better now healthwise that the food in my home is consistently safe to eat for me and I'm not being left without any food at all on a semi-regular basis. I *am* still the primary breadwinner of the household, but it no longer feels as though I have to run the household itself on top of that, and I *am* consistently supported (encouraged even) to rest when needed, even if that is still hard for me to do. I've stopped drinking, and that does feel better. I spend less time and energy seeking substances and I *do* smoke fewer cigarettes less often even if I do still smoke sometimes. I feel happier and more stable than I think I ever have. My life is. Mostly working? And pretty good now. The cracks have been able to heal in ways that are, if not structurally sound, at least working up to it. I am fragile, but making progress. Does that mean I made the right choices? The wrong ones? Will I ever know?

I dunno comrade. But. We all do what we can, what we must, and what we can figure out. Maybe judgement and shame about all that just doesn't help.

[jakescaravel]

The Caravel (series)

🏴‍☠️ ⚔️ ⚓️

Part 2

Pairing: Jake x reader

Word count: 5,507

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, pirate life 🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️, storms, sword fighting, mentions of blood (it's pretty tame for now. Make sure to read the A/N below before jumping in!) 18+ MDNI!!

A/N: Hello! I’m so happy your back for more! If you have not read Part 1, you should go do that!! If you have, please consider listening to this playlist that I have carefully calculated for this specific chapter. The songs ARE in a particular order, and of course if listening to music while reading isn’t your thing, that’s totally okay ⚔️ Without further ado….

🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️

Her POV

CLANK.

The sound of metal hitting metal harshly pulls you from your slumber. You wake up feeling sore from having slept on a sack of sand. You rub your lower back that's a mess with knots.

If you had awoken hours earlier you would have seen Jake standing at the bow of the ship silently watching the rise and fall of your chest and your slight frown and crumpled brow from your dream. He had wanted to wake you from your nightmare, but he knew he had to leave you be.

You try to think back on your dream. Something about water. Maybe I was swimming? Wait no I was drowning. I think Jake was-

CLANK.

You look up to see Jake swinging his sword through the air like it weighs nothing. That must be like ten pounds.

They collide again making another loud noise. His opponent looks older than him but seems to be struggling. In the blink of an eye, Jake swings his sword once more knocking the other man to his feet. Jake points the blade inches away from his face, keeping him on the ground. 

The rest of the crew that surround them yell and cheer. They go up to Jake and pat him on the back, Captain Calico gives him an approving nod. 

Wow that was…

Just as the other man is helped to his feet, Jake’s smug face meets yours and he smirks at you. He returns the blade to its sheath to take a quick drink of something.

The sight of his hands fiddling with the leather makes your mind travel elsewhere. You also notice his silver rings shining underneath the sun.

My god.

He shoots you a wink and returns his gaze to the next man who approaches him slowly with an evil look in his eye. Jake doesn’t look phased in the slightest.

You sit up a little straighter to watch the show and the anxiousness and nervousness for Jake's safety start to creep up on you but something inside you knows he’ll win. You can see it on his face. He knows it too. 

You recognize the new opponent as one of the men who held you yesterday causing your fists to clench at the memory. Come on Jake. Get him.

Before the captain has the chance to start the fight. Patrick swings wildly at Jake's face but of course he dodges it perfectly. Patrick falls forward and his sword momentarily gets logged in the wood.

“Bad form!”

“He wasn’t ready!”

But Jake was ready. And now, he was angry.

He moves quickly on his feet and whips his blade through the air. Patrick is quick too and deflects it. The sound of the swords striking each is chilling.

They move together all around the deck until they are merely feet away from you. You back up against the inside wall of the ship to protect yourself. Jake sees you and makes sure to redirect their path. When he gets closer however you notice something different about his face. You can’t seem to place it but he takes another step and then you see it.

He’s wearing eye black.

There’s a slight black smudged line underneath Jake's eye. It makes his eyes look darker, sexier. You didn’t think something that protects your eyes from the sun could be so hot. But then again, it is Jake you’re talking about. 

You watch as they continue to fight slowly picking up the pace in their swings and you can see their faces locking in. They’re addicted to the game. You don’t blame them, it must be thrilling. 

This guy is more of a match for Jake.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, Jake knocks Patrick to the ground flinging the sword out of his hand. It slides across the smooth wood of the deck and Patrick scurries away with a panic struck face. 

Jake's eyes narrow and he laughs. He laughs. It makes the hairs on your neck rise.

Wow.

He closes in trapping his opponent. Jake makes a point of lowering himself so that they’re face to face. You can hear the crew in the back going wild. Jake holds out his hand and helps Patrick to his feet. They bow at each other and again Jake is met with cheering and praise. He looks to you silently asking for your approval and you clap and smile showing all your teeth. He copies the action and it makes you melt. His smile. You still don’t understand how a pirate could have such perfect teeth but there he is, only feet away from you. 

Jake is handed a piece of fabric and runs it slowly across his forehead collecting the sweat. He then wipes it down the exposed skin of his abdomen from where his shirt is unbuttoned. He misses a spot just above his belly button and the dampened skin glistens under the sun.

Don’t stare, don't stare.

He catches you looking and shoots you an all knowing smirk before he turns to his crew and is handed the same bottle. Your face flushes as you’re caught red handed. He takes a large swig of the amber liquid and returns to the middle of the deck. Likely rum. 

This time the captain himself makes his way slowly until he is right in front of Jake.

“Ooooooo.”

The crew eyes them carefully. This is gonna be a close one. You take a deep breath to calm yourself down but remember you’re not the one in the ring.

Jake looks calm and collected but you can see something shift in his mind. He’s focusing.

He brings his hands up to his hair slowly and carefully pulling it into a low bun. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does but something about it is just so attractive. 

He looks so good like this. All sweaty and concentrating.

What he does next surprises you. He turns to you and stares into your eyes as he slowly undoes the remaining button of his shirt. He slides it down his shoulders at an agonizingly slow pace. His lips curl into a smirk when he sees your face redden causing the men around to snicker and the captain to roll his eyes.

“Let’s get on with it shall we?” James raises his sword impatiently. 

The captain's words pull him into a focus once more and Jake nods. He unsheathes his sword and they hold them up to meet each other high in the sky.

Clang.

They back away circling, waiting for the other to make the first move. The crew watches with widened eyes. All of a sudden Jake thrusts his sword forward and the captain deflects it easily without even the rise of an eyebrow.

Oh he’s good. 

The captain lunges forward almost knocking Jake to the ground but he moves out of the way just in time. Be careful!! They move around the deck swiftly causing Jake's hair to fall from the low bun it was secured in. He moves around again and some of his hairs stick to his sweat covered face. It doesn’t seem to bother him but it’s all you can focus on.

Captain Calico moves forward quickly causing you and the rest of the crew to gasp when the tip of his sword just nearly misses Jake's head as he dodges it. Everyone else is intently watching as well.

Jake acts like this is no big deal and to test the captain, he raises his sword again smirking.

Stop, you’re gonna make him mad.

James walks towards Jake like a predator stalking its prey. He closes in backing him up until he’s forced to climb the stairs leading to the higher part of the deck. Their eyes never leave each other as Jake almost trips on the last step. You realize you're holding your breath when you let out a loud exhale. 

The rest of the crew follows them as they move around. You don’t know if you should follow so you stay back. They circle each other again before their swords meet high in the air with a loud clash. 

Little by little they deliver more swings and more jabs until their feet move along the wood faster and faster. They move in perfect opposition. When one of them moves their foot forward, the other moves theirs back. It’s like a dance. A beautiful, mesmerizing dance. 

With every swing of his sword, every step forward, every move, you can hear Jake panting and grunting slightly. The noises he’s making are sinful. You listen intently, devouring his sounds with perked ears while you feel a pool of wetness growing.

He’s concentrating harder than he was before and you can see a little crease in his brow forming as he sweeps his blade through the air. Fuck. The captain deflects it again as they move farther from you.

Just as the speed was starting to pick up and the tension rising, they stop. Frozen in time, waiting for the other to make a move. Even from a distance you can still hear his heavy breathing.

Jake looks to you for a split second and when he’s distracted James takes the opportunity to swing his sword through the air. The tip of the blaze grazes Jake's stomach ever so slightly and in seconds a small line of blood forms, leaking down his chest.

You grimace and the rest of the crew flinches. Jake looks down in horror. The cut doesn’t look too deep but it does look painful. He brings his hand down and smears the crimson paint across himself.

No, don't touch it!!!

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and opens them again. They look darker now, more revengeful. He extends his blade holding it in the air. 

His arm is shaking.

The captain lowers his sword to end the fight but Jake taps the end of his to indicate he wants to continue.

“Go get cleaned up sonny.”

Jake looks frustrated but lowers his sword and tucks it away again. His eyes find yours as he makes his way over. When he sees you his expression softens but you know he's still in pain.

“Are you okay!?”

“I was kind of hoping you would be able to tell me that.” He chuckles.

“Right, sorry.” 

Shit I don’t have any bandages or anything.

As if the captain reads your mind. He extends his finger towards you and beckons you closer. You look to Jake nervously but he nods.

You walk slowly over to the captain. “Thought we didn’t have any bandages eh? Don't worry laddy, we’ve got some left over from the last medic, We made him walk the plank.”

You whip your head back to Jake shooting him a nervous glance but he mouths the words, “he’s joking.”

Captain Calico leads you beneath the deck. It’s cold and dark down there and the stairs creak loudly beneath your weight. He leads you to a small room at the back and he opens the door. He quickly lights a match and brings the flame to the wick of a small candle. In seconds the room is illuminated with an orange glow.

There’s a hammock positioned just off to the right of the door and a big desk on the other side. A few books line a shelf just above the hammock and the floor is covered in crumpled pieces of paper. This place is a mess. 

The captain starts searching for something so you take the chance to further inspect the dimly lit room. You walk over to the desk and see another sword laying across a big red book on top of stacks of papers. You also see a drawing and some other miscellaneous things.

James isn’t looking so you start shuffling through the papers on the desk and come across a map. There are some markings on it. One to indicate where you are and a trail leading The Caravel right to.. what is that? 

There’s a small symbol on the map, one very similar to the one you saw on the flag.

Strange.

You only get a quick glance at it before you hear the captain hit something and curse loudly. 

“Alright I've found it, let’s go back up and help out our Jakey boy.”

You return back above deck and find Jake sitting alone.

You frown slightly at the sight of him staring out onto the water clutching his side. Why isn’t anyone comforting him? Or making sure he’s okay? And why does he keep touching the wound.

James Calico has handed you a small wooden box. You make your way beside Jake smiling up at him. He smiles back but he can't fully hide the pain that is written so clearly across his face. You open the box to find a mess of bandages and some other medical supplies. The bandages that lay in the box are a tangled mess. 

Why does everything have to be so unkept around here?

You look back at Jake's stomach. There's a large drying smear of blood connecting to the wound. Idiot.

You find something to clean the wound with and return your gaze to Jake.

“Deep breath okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” He smirks again watching your face turn a bright red color.

As carefully as you can you begin to clean around the wound. He winces slightly but it’s an easy job, you’re done before you know it.

You look back to the box of bandages. I'm gonna have to untangle all of this. “Who was the last doctor? This is gonna take so long to organize!”

“Yeah poor thing.” Jake teases. This man…

You begin the tedious task of untangling the feet and feet of bandages.

Talk to him. Talk to him. 

“How did you learn to fight like that?”

He looks up. “My father.”

“Is the captain your father?”

“No, my father died in battle but he used to be the captain of this ship. He taught me. He taught James too which is why he can beat me.” He looks away for a second. “Everyone else is too easy.” He shoots you a wink.

“I’m sorry Jake, about your father.”

“It’s alright darlin, that’s the way it goes.”

You reach your hands up to wrap the bandages around him but notice something. Hundreds of scars line his chest, his arms too, they’re everywhere. There's one particularly long one on his left arm.

He notices you looking. “Do you like them?”

“What?”

“Do you like my scars? They’re proof of all the practice I've put in, all the battles won, all the battles lost.” He beams at you.

“Oh I’m.. there’s a lot of them, some look like they never healed properly.”

Jake laughs. You bring your hands up and start to wrap the bandages around his midsection, tight but making sure not to hurt him. He shuts his eyes taking a deep breath.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize sweetheart, you’re just doin your job. Don’t ever apologize for that.”

You’re almost done wrapping the wound and a few moments of

silence pass.

🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️

Jakes POV

You feel a slight stinging coming from the cut but it doesn’t bother you much. In a few days it’ll fade and become another scar on your body, another story to tell. 

But this one will be about her. Besides, it doesn’t matter, she's touching me.

This is the closest you’ve ever been to her face. The sun is shining directly over the ship and it makes her hair shine. You think back to last night and smile to yourself.

Her skin looks so smooth and soft and there’s a thin line of sweat on her forehead, and another on her lips.

My god her lips. They’re perfect. You can’t tear your eyes away from them. If she was speaking to you, you didn’t notice. After a few seconds too many you notice her staring at you which breaks you from your trance. When you realize you’ve been caught in the act you try to hide it “Hmm?”

🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️

Her POV

As you're gently wrapping the bandages around his torso you try to ask him a question. When he doesn’t answer you look up to find him staring at your lips. You decide to test your theory by staying silent. A few seconds pass, he seems to be broken from his trance. “Hmm?”

You roll your eyes and continue your work but secretly you like knowing he was staring at you. Maybe he feels the same way I do…

“I’m gonna help you find your sister.”

What?

You look up at him and just stare, unsure of what to say. How does he know about her?

The harsh reminder sets a single tear rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away quickly hoping he doesn’t notice but of course he does.

“It’s okay to cry. I did, When my father died. But your sister is alive, and I'm gonna get you back to her when I can. I swear.”

A small “thank you” is all you can manage. You finish up the job and send Jake away so he doesn’t have to see you crying. You walk over to the edge of the deck looking out at the ocean. It’s a clear day, not a single cloud in the sky. You let a few tears fall before collecting yourself and returning amidship.

The crew is gathered around the captain, listening to him speak. You walk over curiously and stand next to Jake. He steps back in the circle giving you room to join.

You turn your gaze to the captain just as everyone else is doing. You try to match their stance. Strong, and tall, very much the opposite of how you’re feeling. 

“All across the west we traveled wayward for

Find the weight of dreams in gold

Heaven sent us here to meet the hallowed shore

To claim the wealth that we had sold.”

The men erupt in cheer. What was that?

Jake turns to you and whispers, “that’s just a little speech he likes to make, to start off the day. You have a lot to learn, little one.” He winks at you.

Next someone starts passing out around a crate. You watch in confusion as one by one the men stick their hands in it pulling something out.

“I’m starved!”

“Could eat a horse!”

The crate makes its way towards you and Jake lunges for it grabbing a piece of what looks like meat. He waits no time and immediately scarfs it down.

You hesitate slightly before pulling out a piece of it. What animal is this?

Jake watches you, waiting to see what you’ll do next. He finds it amusing. 

“You’re lucky you know, not all our meals are this fresh.”

You look up in horror as Jake laughs at you. You bring the meat up to your lips and take a small nibble, hardly tasting it at all.

Almost everyone is watching you now and the captain speaks up, “let’s see how the girl can handle her meat.”

The crew erupts in laughter and Jake joins them. You shoot him a look but he just shakes his head. “Come on take a bite, a real bite, it’s not that bad.”

You decide to trust him and take a bite. It’s not nearly as bad as you expected, you mostly taste salt. You take a few more bites until there’s nothing left. You’re left still hungry. Better get used to that I guess.

It only takes you a few minutes to realize that whatever that was, it was not agreeing with your stomach. You excuse yourself and make your way to the side of the deck until you're leaning over. The sight of the rocky waves are not helping in the slightest. You prepare yourself to vomit when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

You know it’s Jakes immediately. “You okay sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “It’s okay, the first day is a little rough, you just haven't got your sea legs yet.” He smiles. Jake feels bad for you but he just can’t help how adorable you look. 

You stand there for a few minutes trying to collect yourself and he just rubs your back patiently waiting for your cue. You don’t actually throw up thank god, but it does take a little bit for you to feel strong enough to stand.

“Okay, I feel better now, thanks.”

He removes his hand from your back and scoops you up in his arms playfully. You giggle. “Put me down!!” He jogs with you still in his arms and places you gently on a box of something. You both look up to find everyone staring at you. Jake clears his throat uncomfortably and walks away without another word. 

What? What was that all about?

The captain approaches him and whispers something in his ear. He nods and follows him to the other side of the ship, just out of your view. Did I do something wrong?

You stand there dumbstruck and another pirate walks towards you. He wears a red bandana and a black shirt with matching black pants. He's barefoot and he walks with a slight limp. You can see patches of his hair missing and he only has a few teeth left. When he gets close enough for you to hear him, you can smell him too.

“Ello lovely, having a rough first day are ye?” He smiles showing you his few remaining teeth. 

Instinctually you start to back away, distancing yourself from him but he continues to walk forward. Out of the corner of your eye you see another man approach the two of you. This one isn't wearing a shirt and he has on similar black pants. His hair looks like it's never been washed and he has a similar foul scent to the first man. 

“Has anyone given you a tour yet matey? Could show you where I sleep if you’d like.” He too starts closing in, giving you less and less room to move away. He grins at you wildly, moving his eyebrows up and down.

“Um no thanks.” Your voice is shaky and small, reflecting how you feel in this moment. They’re trying to scare you. It’s working. 

“What was that? You gotta speak up, we can't hear you pretty.” He speaks the name like an insult and all you wanna do is curl up into a ball.

Where's Jake? Why did he just leave me alone like this?

They step even closer to you until your back is pressed against the edge of the deck. You turn your neck around to be met with the waves crashing against the boat. You look back to see them smiling and exchanging an expression that you can't quite place. 

“Um I think I should just… go find Jake… I’m… I’m sure he's looking for me and-” 

“Oh he's not looking for you, didn’t you see him? He left you here, but that's alright we're here now, we're gonna take care of ye.” 

“That's right, your little boyfriend can't help you now, but we can.” They turn to each other and laugh, the one of the right licks his lips. 

“Jake?” You call out panicked, hoping, praying that he'll hear you over the sounds of the water. Where is he?

“He can't hear you, he can't save you.” The man mimics your scared expression. 

Your heart rate starts to pick up, and your feet are frozen. If you just stood there, what were they going to do to you? If you took any more steps backwards you would fall into the ocean and they were almost blocking you completely. No one else was paying any attention to the three of you and Jake was nowhere to be found.

They step even close until you can feel their breaths on your neck. 

“Jake?” You call out a little louder, still unsure if he can hear you.

Jakes POV

Captain Calico is scolding you about becoming too friendly with the newest recruit but you hear something. Someone yelling. 

Is that my name?

The same voice calls out again.

“Jake?” The voice is quiet but you instantly know who it is. She's calling for you. Something’s wrong. 

You cut off the captain by running towards the sound. You don’t care about the consequences of disobeying your captain, or the trouble you’ll likely be in. You hear her calling your name and you know she needs you. 

When you finally get to the other side of the boat you see a man called Peter and a man called Charles cornering her. They both share similar dangerous smiles and you can see her panic struck face searching for yours. Your eyes lock on hers and the regret of leaving her consumes you.

“What's going on here?” You walk right up to the three of them and turn to the two men.

“Is everything alright?” She rushes towards you and grabs your arm, holding you tight. It almost hurts with how hard she's squeezing you but you just pull her closer reveling in the feeling of her body pressed up against yours. 

Peter speaks up first. “Oh nothing we were just having a little fun isn't that right Charlie?” 

“Yeah we weren’t doing nothing.”

“Well that's not what it looks like to me.” You rest your hand on the leather concealing your weapon. Peter and Charlies eyes follow your hand and they look at each other. 

“Alright alright we weren’t doing nothing, we’ll just go.” 

“Right. Let's go Charlie.” 

“Yeah I think that's probably best. If either one of you ever hurt her, I swear to god you’ll both be nothing but bits and pieces of limbs strung out on the deck all bloodied and beaten.” They scurry away hurriedly but you can hear them mumbling something under their breath. You unsheath your sword and the sound alone makes them run faster.

You tuck it back into place and turn to her. You place your hands on either side of her shoulders. “Hey are you okay? I’m so sorry I left. I'll never do that again, ever.”

She looks into your eyes and her lip is quivering, her whole body is shaking. I fucked up. You bring her in for a hug and wrap yourself around her holding her tight. 

“Hey it's okay, I’m here now, they’re not gonna hurt you it's okay. Just take some deep breaths.”

She doesn’t let go for a while. You stay there holding her secretly wishing she would never let go. You can feel the warmth radiating off of her and you’ve never felt such comfort. Holding her just feels so… right.

Finally she pulls away to look at you. She is so beautiful.

“I’m so sorry, I'm so so so sorry.”

“It's okay Jake. But… why did you leave?” She looks hurt, and confused. It's killing you.

I can’t tell her why but I can’t lie to her. 

“The captain had to speak to me about something but it's okay, I'm here now.”

You feel terrible about keeping the truth from her. You know you can’t tell her about how the captain has forbidden you from having a relationship with her. You wish you could tell her about how much you like her, or about how her smile makes you feel all fuzzy inside and how all you want is to protect her for the rest of time and give her the entire world. Or even how you wanna wrap her up in your arms and never let go, or how much you want to kiss her, want to taste her.

But if the captain was ever to find out…

She frowns. She knows you’re keeping something from her but she doesn’t know how to say it so she just lets it go. There's nothing you can do other than pretend like everything's normal, so that's what you do. She sort of just looks at you for a second and then, she walks away.

Ouch.

A few minutes pass and an unexpected gray cloud makes its way to the middle of the sky covering the sun. A fog then settles around the ship enclosing it until you can’t see twenty feet ahead of you. You hear a rumble of thunder in the distance. A warning.

That's weird, that’s totally out of nowhere. 

The captain speaks, “looks like another storm might be rollin in, and to think we just got out of the last one.” He shakes his head and the crew eyes each other nervously. The last storm had depleted you of all your supplies and it almost wiped out everyone on board. Is there really another storm coming?

Another clap of thunder roars in the distance, this one slightly louder. A big bolt of lightning flashes across the cloud covered sky. She jumps slightly and turns to you at the noise. She looks scared.

“Alright men, batten down the hatches, looks like we're in for a rough night.”

A few men stand and prepare for the stormy weather. You stay behind with the others and she watches them nervously.

Say something, talk to me. Right now she doesn’t even look at you. 

🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️           🏴‍☠️

A few hours pass and no words are shared between you. She sits wrapped up in your blanket from when the rough water splashed overboard. Her back is turned to you. She’s mad at me. She thinks I’m keeping something from her. Well… I guess I am.

Another loud clap of thunder is heard and she turns to you again. Almost as if she's reminded of her anger towards you, she turns back around and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. I should be warming her, not that stupid blanket.

It's almost time for dinner and you’re starving. You reach for your bottle of rum and take a large sip. The familiar burn calms you and you feel your body warm as you drink down the amber liquid.

She's barely even looked at me in a few hours.

The captain walks around with the same crate of meat and she takes some before you do. You watch as she eats the piece in seconds and takes a large sip of her water. You reach your hand in and take a piece. She turns to you just as your stomach rumbles loudly. 

You look into your eyes and you just can't help it. Before thinking, you hand her your dinner. I’ll be hungry tonight but she won't be. 

The smile on her face makes it all worth it. “Thanks Jake.” She takes your food and eats it quickly, washing it down once again. I wonder if she drinks, you think taking another swig. 

The cloud that was once covering the sun slowly shifts to the side allowing a bit of sunlight to poke through. 

Strange.

You take another drink and feel your body relaxing and growing numb. You’ve always drank, ever since you were a little boy. Your father had told you it was just part of life, and now you rarely go a day without it.

After finishing the bottle you stand up feeling a little wobbly. After a few minutes the cloud has shifted completely leaving the sun shining once more. 

“Well it's a bloody miracle!” James Calico looks up to the sky confused but happy. The sun begins to set as the rest of the fog clears out. That's so weird.

You feel yourself growing tired and it has been a long day, some other men stand also preparing to return to their hammocks.

Is she gonna sleep on the deck again? What if the storm actually does come?

She stands as well looking at you, almost asking the same question. You want to invite her below deck. Just the thought of her sleeping with you in your hammock makes you giddy.

She stretches her hands over her head. Come sleep with me tonight, you shouldn’t have to sleep here all alone.

“Well goodnight then.” Her face falls and instantly you regret your words. Fuck why did I say that.

She stares at you. “Goodnight.” She walks away defeated leaving you standing alone. 

I am the world's biggest idiot. You watch her for a second trying to make herself comfortable and you want to stab yourself in the chest. You follow the other men below deck and return to your room. Your own private room, the main perk of being the son of Captain Thomas Kiszka.

She still has my blanket, I hope she's warm. Maybe I could go back up and just check on her…You lay there staring up at the wood ceiling debating your next move. You finally curl yourself up shivering slightly at the loss of the familiar wool hugging you so tight. It's all for her. -

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Part 3

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