#it's his job to keep vegas safe you know

[moon-rivr]

what happens in vegas

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: unplanned marriage, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v, nipple play, miguel reassuring reader, biting

author’s note: i know i said i was gonna do requests but i got this idea and i felt like i rly needed to execute it 😭

word count: 4.7K

"Let's get married!"

You and Miguel had taken a trip to Las Vegas after he got a job promotion at Alchemax, wanting to commemorate the occasion. While the two of you weren't too necessarily invested in gambling, you both figured that losing your money in Las Vegas would make you guys learn the rules of the game fairly quickly. Miguel was able to retain the information with much more ease, making a profit of a hundred bucks at the end of the night.

After a couple rounds of blackjack had passed by, you turned to look at Miguel with a small pout on your face. "Can we go to the bar?" You asked him, still reeling from your previous loss. He turned to look at you, pressing a small kiss on the corner of your lips as a way to get rid of the pout. "I thought you were so excited to try out blackjack," He whispered, getting up from the stool regardless. "Yeah but I thought it'd be easier to learn," you responded, following after him to the bar. He compensated for the fifty bucks that you'd lost tonight, telling you that you were doing good for your first time each time that you fumed to yourself.

He motioned for the bartender to come over with one movement of his finger, heart-eyes practically replacing her pupils as she approached the two of you. You wrapped your arm around Miguel’s instinctively, holding him close to you as you shot the bartender a small smile. Miguel didn't say anything about the small act, simply ordering the two of you shots of tequila. "Tan bonita que te ves cuando estas toda celosa," he teased you, his hand coming down to your thigh as he gently squeezed the flesh. (you look so pretty when you’re all jealous) "But you have nothing to be jealous about. You're the only one I want," he added, his minty breath ghosting on your skin as he leaned into whisper in your ear.

You clenched your thighs together and thanked the bartender for your shot, gulping it down in one take. "Alright, let's try to keep ourselves under control this time. Last time we drank together, we ended up on a yacht to Miami," you spoke up after he gulped down his shot, his lips curling into an amused smirk. "It was a nice yacht to be fair. Very accessible places if you don't recall," he responded, motioning for the bartender to come refill the cups. Luckily for the both of you, the bar wasn't too full so you were able to get quick service. "Let's just get three drinks. Safe number I'd say," you said after a couple seconds, extending your hand out towards Miguel. "Might as well make it five, y'know? End on a nice clean number."

The two of you did not in fact stop at five shots, both of you laughing as you asked the bartender for more and more shots throughout the course of the night. After taking a few too many shots, you decided you wanted to do something reckless and stupid as a way to end the night which is how you came to essentially asking him to marry you. "You sure you wanna get married in Vegas, nena? Wanna get you a pretty dress like you deserve," he told you, slightly slurring on his words as the two of you waited for a cab outside. "I don't want a big wedding, I just wanna be with you," you told him, your words coming out slurred as well. He tapped on his chin, seemingly pretending to be lost thought before shrugging. "Let's get married in Vegas!"

The two of you ended up at a small drive-in wedding chapel near the hotel room, the taxi driver struggling to navigate with the directions that you were giving him. "What's the whole legality of this place? Is the Elvis lookalike at the front even qualified for this?" Miguel mused, always the smartass even when he was under the influence. "It's really easy to get ordained so I'm sure it's all legal," you responded, grabbing hold of his hand and leading him inside the chapel. The inside looked more like a commercial for another casino, bright neon signs of poker chips hanging on the walls. "It's just going to be you two?" You heard behind you, a woman standing at the front desk asking.

"Yeah, it's just us two. We wanna get married!" You told her, clasping your hands together as you turn to look at her. "Why else would you be at a chapel then?" The woman muttered to herself, grabbing a document from one of her folders before placing it on the desk facing you. "I'm gonna need the two of you to sign this. It's essentially your form of a marriage certificate, the two of you could share your own vows and whatnot. It is a legally binding agreement so make sure the two of you consider this carefully before the two of you sign," she spoke to the both of you, leaving the room so you two could come to a concrete decision. Despite the fact that you would probably end up regretting doing it this way when you were sober, you didn't have any objections at the moment.

"I don't feel like backing out, do you?" You asked Miguel, grabbing a pen from the side and scribbling your name on the line to the best of your ability. "I don't feel like backing out either," he replied, grabbing a pen of his own and doing the same thing as you. While the two of you looked at the paper, the signatures that the two of you made seemed to be prettiest in the moment. In reality, the two of you had completely slanted the words of your name and signed two inches below the line but luckily enough, the lady didn't exactly feel like arguing too much. She led Miguel out of the room, explaining to him on the way that she was taking him somewhere where he could rent a tux for the night.

The lady came back when the two of you had changed into your proper attire, carrying a small box of plastic rings. "Since I'm guessing the two of you don't have rings, feel free to pick one out," she told you, your attention immediately drawn to the one with a plastic diamond in the middle. Even though you knew that it wouldn't sparkle the same way a real one did, your eagerness to get married in the moment overpowered anything else. Miguel picked out a simple silver band, the material stretching out a little as he tried it on. He extended his arm out to you, your hand wrapping around it as he led you two where the Elvis lookalike priest was waiting.

The other couples that were there served as the perfect spectators, staying quiet as the two of you tumbled and laughed your way to the front of the church. "Alright alright, tonight we're here for the union of these two lovely people," the priest started off, his voice sounding forced as he tried to get the same Elvis twang. The ceremony went on without a hitch, despite the fact that your wedding vows had been improvised on the spot. Everyone there stayed quiet as the two of you simply stated how much you swore to love each other, how much you two honored this marriage. "By the power vested in me by lasvegasfreemarriagelicense.com, I now pronounce you two husband and wife!" The priest announced, your arms wrapping around Miguel’s neck once he approached you.

He pushed the veil away from your face, a couple of tears glossing his eyes threatening to break through his rough exterior before he leaned in. He pressed his lips against yours, dipping you down to give the other people in there a show. Scattered claps came out as a result, the two of you too eager in the newfound union to really pay any mind to anyone except each other. Miguel completely forgot that the outfits you two had on were simply for rent, leading you to the hotel down the street. You'd walked in with every intention to celebrate your wedding night with him, but as soon as you got onto his lap, you ended up falling asleep with the warmth that his body provided.

Your body felt like you'd just been ran over by an 18 wheeler, your head pounding as you opened your eyes to adjust to the light that was pouring in through the curtains. You wiped away at your eyes, the events from last night coming out in brief appearances, but the more that you tried to think about it, the more that your head ended up hurting. You turned over to see Miguel dressed up in a black tux, the material wrinkled from all the tossing and turning he'd been doing the previous night. You recalled getting married but you had dismissed it as one of your dreams. You shook him awake, his lips smacking against one another as he sat up.

"Is there any reason why you're waking me up this early? Especially after a night out," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes while his hair stuck out from every direction. "Did we get married last night or was that all just a part of my twisted dream?" You asked him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned to look at you. "Well, you're in a wedding dress so I'm gonna have to say it's the first one," he responded, leaning back on the bed as he turned away from the sunlight. "Oh, this is a disaster!" you exclaimed, looking over at Miguel to expect him having the same sentiment that you did. He looked eerily calm about the situation, like he was actually content about the events that had taken place.

"Why is it a disaster? I mean, it's not the most ideal way to get married but I think that's taking it too far," he told you, your eyes widening slightly as you got up from the bed. "No, no! We need to get a divorce now," you exclaimed, watching as he stood up from the bed to stand in front of you. He placed his hands on your shoulders as he looked down at you, letting out a small sigh. "Why is it that you want a divorce?" He asked you, his tone sounding gentle as a way to calm you down. It wasn't supposed to go this way, you were usually the one that had to calm him down. "Well, I don't know. What if you get tired of me and you end up not liking me? Or what if you end up resenting me because of this marriage? Or like, you could still want to be with someone better."

Miguel kept his gaze on yours, his thumb coming down to your chin as he forced you to look up at him. "Ay mujer, we could be on our death bed and you'd still be convinced i could find someone else. I don't know how many times I need to tell you but I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, I don't want anyone else other than you," he told you, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest with how fast it was racing. "Look, I'll go get us some breakfast and we'll talk it over then. Go take a shower and let yourself calm down for a second before we jump to things like getting a divorce," he added, waiting for you to nod before leaving the room.

You got out of the shower to see a plate with chicken soup on it, your favorite flavor of Gatorade by the side of it. "How about we do this? I'll give you a three month period, just to test out the marriage. If you don't like it, then we get divorced. If you do end up liking the idea of us being married, then we can renew our vows and have a proper ceremony. How does that sound?" He asked you, taking a sip from his own soup. "That sounds manageable. Okay, we can do that," you responded, taking small sips of the soup so you wouldn't hurt your stomach too badly. After the two of you were finished eating, you settled down onto his lap and pressed your lips against his neck. "We didn't get to celebrate our wedding night the way we deserved, Mr. O’Hara," you told him, your voice sounding like pure sin to his ears. "We should change that, Mrs. O’Hara."

He led you to the top of the bed, laying you down slowly as his body hovered on top of yours. He took a moment to take you in, how the light coming from the curtains accentuated your every feature. He leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your forehead and moving on to your cheeks. "You’re so breathtaking Mrs. O’Hara," he whispered, his mouth coming to yours as he kissed you with such an intensity you'd never faced before. For someone that had a lot of doubts about the marriage at first, you didn't mind the sound of being called Mrs. O’Hara. in fact, hearing him say it with such pride had you clenching your thighs together.

Your tongue danced with his in what seemed to a synchronized tango, the two of you treating each other with as much love and affection that your bodies could exude at the moment. His hands toyed with the hem of your towel, his fingers drawing small circles on your thigh. You brought your hands up to his face when you two pulled away from the kiss, pressing your lips against the tip of his nose. "There's no need for you to give me that three month period. I overreacted, I want to be your wife," you told him, coming to the realization that you’d just been spiraling. His lips connected themselves to your mouth once more, a smile on his face as he did.

He undid your towel after you gave him a curt nod, tossing it off to the side. he pressed his lips to the side of your neck, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on the surface. You moved your neck to give him more access, offering what you could of your body so he could take. his hand moved downward, cupping your breast in his grasp. His fingers rolled around the nipples, pinching and tugging them the way that would have them hardening underneath his grasp. He bit down on your neck, his tongue running over the affected skin to soothe the sting a bit. His mouth moved down to your other breast, engulfing it and treating it the same as the other one.

You brought your hand down to his hair, grasping at the strands as his teeth gently tugged on your nipples. The buds started to erect with every swipe and lick that he took at them, his eyes locking on yours with every movement that he took. Your mouth slightly parted, your breathing starting to grow a little heavier as he stimulated your nipples. He pulled away, leaving a small kiss on the top of your breasts before pressing his lips against your stomach. He trailed kisses all the way down to your cunt, stopping where he knew that you needed him most. His lips moved to your inner thighs, pressing kisses against the delicate flesh. He bit into your right thigh, his fangs leaving their indenture when he pulled away from you.

His mouth eventually did make itself to your cunt, his tongue swiping across your folds to collect the slick that had accumulated. You closed your thighs around his head instinctively, watching as he looked up at you while licking a stripe up your pussy. "Always did taste so good for me, could spend hours buried in this pussy," he spoke up, his tongue going inside your hole after he finished with what he had to say. Your hands made their way to his hair, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he started to push his tongue in and out of you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when your slick coated his tongue, often taking more pleasure in this than you. "Oh fuck, right there," you moaned out, your voice sounding needy as you felt his tongue hit that one spot inside of you.

You felt the bed moving with every lick that he took, your eyes drifting downwards to see that Miguel was thrusting his hips into the mattress with every lick and swipe that he took. He'd told you before that he could get off on just tasting you, on seeing the way that you reacted to him but you'd never quite understood the extent of his words until now. He pulled away, licking at the slick coating his lips and chin before moving his mouth down to your clit. His fingers took place of his mouth, two of them already filling you up to the brim as he stretched out to his liking. His fingers curled as his tongue circled around your clit, your hips practically grinding against his face to get the friction that you needed.

"That's right baby, use me however you want to. I’m yours to use however you want to," he told you, the vibrations from his voice providing your clit with extra stimulation. You began writhing underneath his grasp, tugging at the bedsheets and at his hair as you felt yourself approaching your orgasm. You weren't sure where to tug at, how to express your need and desire to cum, but you didn't have to. Miguel could read your body almost better than you could at times, his movements remaining the same as he worked you through your orgasm. "That's good, you're doing so good for me mama. Just come when you're ready," he told you, the last vibration on your clit had you gripping his hair while your release coated his tongue.

You looked down to see him licking the slick with a blissed out look on his face, the release shining as the sunlight hit his face. You got up from the bed, pushing him to the edge as you got on your knees. You were eager to please him after seeing how much he seemed to be affected by just eating out, his cock straining against the thin material of his boxers when you tugged his pants down. You traced the outline of his cock, hearing Miguel take a sharp intake of breath. Your palm gently pressed against his cock, watching as he began to unravel for you. "Please stop teasing me, mi amor. Need to feel your mouth wrapped around me."

You took off his boxers, your lips pressing against his thighs the same way that he'd done to yours. You gently bit down, your teeth leaving their print on the same thigh that he'd left his in. Your lips gently ghosted at the tip of his cock, stopping yourself for only a couple seconds just to see the sheer desperation cross over his features. His brows were furrowed as he looked down at you, his pupils blown as he waited for you to started. You pressed a small kiss on the tip, giving it a small kitten lick. At the small motion, his cock already began to twitch underneath your grasp. Your tongue began to trace the veins of his cock, his hand coming to the back of your neck as his mouth slightly parted.

You'd seen Miguel in a number of positions and situations, but you always thought he looked the prettiest when he was like this. All needy and desperate for your touch. Your hands gripped his thighs as you took the tip of his cock in your mouth, your tongue swirling around it. "Oh shock," you heard from the man above you, a sense of pride at how much you affected him coursing through your veins. You took more of his cock in your mouth, trying not to trigger your gag reflex so early on. You began to push your head up and down as your cheeks hollowed, more of his cock being able to fit in your mouth. Small groans and moans came out from miguel, the sounds filling up the room along with your slurping.

You spat onto his cock, the messiness only becoming more appealing to Miguel as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He watched the fake diamond of the ring reflect the sunlight with every stroke you took, getting distracted when your hands came down to his balls. His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the sensation of your tongue and hands working in tandem to provide him with every sensation he desired. You pushed his cock deeper into your throat, ignoring the tears threatening to come out before pulling away with a 'pop.' Your hands tugged at his balls, massaging them in your grasp as you stuffed your mouth full of his dick.

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth a couple seconds later, a telltale sign that he was approaching his orgasm. "Shock, I'm so close. Keep going, mama. Make me cum," he groaned, his head moving back while you kept stimulating him. You continued with the same intensity from earlier, his cock shooting ropes of cum into your mouth. You pulled away from his cock once every drop of cum had landed on your mouth, swallowing the substance. He extended his hand out to you, helping you up from the floor before dipping his head down to meet yours in a kiss. You could still taste your previous release in his mouth, the combined taste of both of you making your head fuzzy.

He led you to the bed once more, setting you down on your back as his cock ran through your folds. "I'm gonna keep showing you how much I love you. Every day. Until you get it stuck in that little head of yours that there is nobody else other than you for me," he told you, pushing his cock into you in a swift motion. The response you were planning to give him died in your throat, getting replaced by a small gasp when you felt your walls engulf his cock to the best of their ability. Your walls fluttered around his cock while your cunt got used to the intrusion, no matter how many times the two of you had sex, it was always a bit of a stretch at the beginning. He held your hand while he waited for the sting between your legs to subside, kissing your temple.

"You always take me so well, you know that? Don't know why you think I want someone else when you take me so well," he whispered, kissing your cheek before retracting his cock when you gave him the okay. He pushed his cock in once more, the length and thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim. Miguel kept his eyes locked on your face, to gauge for any reactions of discomfort or pain before pulling away again. He started off slow, his thrusts slow and deep as he got you to ease up around him. "That's it, that's my girl. Pussy's practically gripping my cock," he told you, his voice coming out slightly breathless as he pushed his cock inside of you once more.

Once he saw that you were more receptive to the movements that he was making, he started moving his hips faster inside of you, his heavy balls slapped against the back of your thighs with every thrust that he took. His hands came underneath your legs before he placed them onto his shoulders. The new angle felt like his cock was drilling into your cunt, the tip of his cock reaching your cervix every time that he moved. Your hands came down to his arms, slightly clawing at them as your mouth parted. The entire hotel room screamed sex as moans escaped from the two of you and as your fluids mixed together in the bedsheets. Even with the lewdness of the scene, the entire action between the two of you was nothing less than a display of love.

You'd had sex with Miguel where it was a rush to take each other's clothes off, teeth nipping at each other as your mouths collided together, but this was everything that those times weren't. This time was slow and sensual, his main focus being to prove to you the amount of love that he shared for you. You felt it with every thrust that he took inside of you, his touch and love imprinting into your skin with every second that passed. You gripped his arms as a form of keeping yourself grounded, your back slightly arching from the bed as he started to speed up the intensity of the thrusts. He brought his head down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. While you loved to have sex with him, it was the little fleeting moments of intimacy that had you giggling when you recalled the events at a later time.

Your walls clenched around his cock like a vice, engulfing him even deeper with every push of his hips. Even with the sweat that was starting to drip down from Miguel’s forehead, you couldn't help but think about how breathtaking he looked. He looked so heavenly as he focused on your pleasure, the sun kissing his tan skin in the perfect way. "Keep going, I'm almost there," you moaned as you felt his thumb touch your clit, the sudden touch making sparks run down your body. Your legs began to tremble as you got closer to your orgasm, the coil building up inside you threatening to snap with every thrust that he took. "That's it, you're doing so good," Miguel whispered, talking you through your impending orgasm.

Your release coated his cock completely as you came, the slick giving him easier access into your cunt as he chased his own orgasm. Your back slumped back against the bed as you started to come down from the high, watching the determined look on Miguel’s face as he worked through his own orgasm. He let out a groan as his head lolled forward, ropes of cum shooting inside of you. With his cock still of you, he leaned in and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "You always do such a good job, y'know? Truly an outstanding performance," he mused, pulling his cock out gently so as to not hurt you during the process. "Wasn't aware I was getting graded," you mumbled, looking over at him as he grabbed some towels from a dresser nearby.

He ended up taking you to the jacuzzi room downstairs, letting the jets cool down the coils that'd built up in your legs. He held you in between his legs, his arms wrapped around your waist while his head dipped down to your neck. He gently pressed some kisses there, his hands gently scratching on your back as the warm water filled you with a feeling of relaxation. "I'm sorry for overreacting about the wedding, I know that the circumstances aren't exactly ideal but I wouldn't change anything about being your wife," you spoke up after a while, his mouth moving to your shoulder. "I know Mrs. O’Hara. Trust me, I know," he whispered, his voice laced with pure affection.

Despite the fact that you told Miguel that you wouldn't be needing the three month trial period, he still asked you at the end of it if you wanted to get divorced. After hearing you say no, the two of you began to arrange a small ceremony solely for your family and friends to renew your vows. While the situation wasn't something ideal at first, it provided you both with the type of comedy material that had everyone laughing when you told the story at parties. You loved to see the way that Mayday clapped her little hands as you told her the story at a Christmas party once like she understood, Miguel’s hands all over you when the two of you got home that night. "How would you feel about starting a family in Vegas?"

[safetycar-restart]

Soft night! I'm down (welcome back btw)

Lando post Vegas. Just got him back from the hospital after his check-up, that goofy smile still on his face cos the hospital knows he's good for the bill, so he's on the strong, expensive pain meds!

They've made him all sleepy, but also horny but he can't do anything about it cos again. Too sleepy! Just a whiny, frustrated mess! 🐇

I… I think whiney, desperate but too tired to help themselves boys are my new kink… this is entirely fault. Anyway, let’s discuss!!

Of course when he first gets taken to the hospital he’s so panicked and he has no idea what to do. He’s so scared that he might have a serious injury. He’s in a lot of pain too, so they give him plenty of pain meds before they check him out.

He’s an anxious mess until he hears the results of the tests, keeping a death grip on your hand and shaking a little.

But once hears that it’s all fine and he actually starts to accept that? Yeah he becomes so loopy!! He starts giggling at absolutely everything at first, and then he’s demanded cuddles, making grabby hands for you because you’re not in the bed with him and that’s absolutely unacceptable. He requires cuddles!! Now!!

He enters the tired, horny phase about halfway through the drive back to the hotel. You’re in the backseat with him, being driven by someone from mclaren and he’s trying his level best to get his hand under your shirt while he’s curled up against you. Only he’s not very coordinated at that moment so it’s more like hes just batting your shirt and whining.

You roll your eyes at his antics but still keep him close, knowing that if you pushing him away he’ll be whining much much louder.

Luckily the car ride ends before Lando figures out how to get a hand under your shirt and you quickly take him up to the hotel room, thanking the mclaren staff and bidding them goodnight, promising that you’ll take good care of Lando (all while Lando is hugging you from behind and trying to drag you back into the hotel room).

Once the door has closed and he’s satisfied that you can’t leave (he seems to have forgotten that doors can be opened again), he flops face down on the bed. He whines a little and then turns onto his side and curls up, lifting a hand up to you to indicate you must come join him.

That’s when you notice he’s hard, and is halfheartedly canting his hips like he’s trying to get friction. He looks down at his crotch then back at you and whines, clearly frustrated but for some reason unable to help himself out of this dilemma.

You consider refusing to help him, but then you think about how he’s clearly feeling tired and frustrated and probably still a little sore from the crash and anxious from the hospital trip and he just…. He deserves to feel good.

So he gets a sleepy hand job in your arms where he hides against your chest and clings to you and comes embarrassingly quickly but that’s more than fine with you because he deserved it.

The next day when you ask him about it, he says his memories are a little fuzzy but he knows you made him feel safe and good.

[acciokaidanalenko]

Don’t Leave Me Behind

They’d almost made it. Together. Just like she had promised. But, once again, things hadn’t gone according to plan. Kaidan felt a knot tightening in his chest as Natasha’s gloved hand landed against his cheek. Her piercing, bright blue eyes met his gaze before she quickly studied his face. He felt the contusions and cuts, but they didn’t matter. He had medigel. He could still make it.

“Look at me, Kay. How bad is it?” she asked as she met his gaze again. Her finger brushed against the small cut on his forehead, smearing the blood from the wound. Garrus watched over them, his head on a swivel as he made sure they were safe in this vulnerable moment. Kaidan looked up at Natasha as she knelt beside him and nodded his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Nat. We can do this. Just let me slap some medigel on it,” he answered through labored breaths. Several broken ribs wouldn’t stop him from finishing this mission. His hand moved to activate the automatic dispenser on his omni-tool. He couldn’t stop the wince that fell from his lips at the movement.

Natasha’s hand moved up to her ear as she activated her comms.

“Normandy, do you copy? I need an evac right now!”

Her tone was urgent and demanding, and he could sense the panic she felt as her eyes swept over his body, taking stock of his current condition. His armor had mostly done its job, but there’s only so much it could do to protect him from a mako exploding beside him. He quickly glanced toward the Turian on his left, noticing the scorch marks on his armor and wondered how bad he must look in comparison.

The knot in his chest tightened at her words, and all he could think about was the promise they’d made to one another the night before. This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to make it to the beam with her. They were supposed to make it to the end.

Together.

The sound of an engine drowned out everything else as the Normandy landed a short distance away, and Kaidan was hefted to his feet by Natasha and Garrus. They quickly led him toward the ship that would take him away from here. Away from her.

Kaidan’s heart began to race as the door to the docking bay opened to let them in.

No. She can’t go alone. She was alone over Alchera. She can’t be alone for this.

“Natasha, no!” he yelled as she started to move away, the space between them suddenly more painful than the broken ribs in his chest. Garrus was the one mostly supporting his weight now, and he kept his hold on the soldier as Natasha turned to face him.

“Kaidan, you have to go. You’re injured and I need you to be safe,” she answered as she stepped closer to him again. “If there’s one thing that will keep me going, it’s knowing that you’re okay.”

“Please, Nat, I can’t do it again.” Kaidan’s expression was pleading as he reached toward her. “You made me leave you behind over Alchera. Don’t leave me behind.” She hesitated for a moment, but then she stepped forward, falling back into his orbit. He found it easier to breathe again.

“I love you, Kay. Always,” she said as she reached up to cradle her hand against his cheek. Her tone had changed, softened, as she attempted to comfort him. “You have to let me do this. One last push, and then it’s over. We can finally rest.” It did nothing to assuage the tidal wave of guilt crashing over him. It felt too much like the Collector attack three years ago. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he let her go, he’d never see her again.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He reached up and gripped her hand in his, squeezing it lightly before she pulled away.

They’re running out of time.

Vega suddenly appeared, attempting to help them get Kaidan aboard quickly so Natasha could return to the mission objective. He’s wearing his armor. And perfectly healthy.

Kaidan’s fingers roughly gripped the collar of Vega’s armor, pulling him close as London burned around them.

“You have to go with her, Vega,” Kaidan ordered. His tone was dark, and Vega stared at him for a moment as if processing what he’d said.

“Aye, aye, Major,” he finally agreed as he quickly glanced toward Natasha. She’d backed away from Kaidan slowly, watching them from a short distance.

“She survives this, or I’m holding you personally responsible, Vega. Do you understand me?” Kaidan’s tone was dark, and Vega nodded his head in answer.

Kaidan’s gaze wandered past the lieutenant, to where Natasha stood, waiting. They’ve already said their goodbyes, but he refused for this to be the end. She insisted this time. Last time she’d sent him away he’d watched her vitals fall as she’d spun over Alchera. So many things had been left unsaid, unfinished.

Not this time.

“Do whatever it takes. Just make sure she doesn’t try to do anything too… heroic.” His tone had softened as he looked into Vega’s eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry, L2. I’ll have her back to you in no time,” Vega answered, trying to reassure not just Kaidan, but also himself. They both knew that Natasha was willing to do whatever it took to end this. No matter the cost.

Kaidan swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that last time he’d lost more than her. The same would happen today if she didn’t make it. The finale of the Reaper War was happening, and all he could do now was wait for its conclusion.

Losing her once was hard enough. He’d been a shell of himself, his world darkened without her presence. It would be even worse a second time.

“Come on, James! We have to get to the beam!” Natasha yelled over the chaos surrounding them.

Vega reached up, his hand gripping Kaidan’s which still clung to his collar. “Kaidan, trust me.”

“Just bring her back to me.”

[websterss]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 — 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Luke’s new girlfriend stands front row of your concert, and you can’t help the green monster growing inside of you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Some angst, pettiness and jealousy

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,036

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! ♡

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐎 — 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Los Angeles, California, 1995.

You never really thought to talk about your feelings. You would have rather cried it out in the shower. A therapist always seemed like the solution, but so was screaming and shouting out hatred lyrics till your voice gave out. At this point you could only roll your eyes hearing the phrase girlfriend slip past Luke’s mouth.

“The crowds can get rowdy, so whatever you do, do not try crowd surfing alright.” Brian, your bodyguard, informed the band as you all sat around in the dressing room. You noticed that the room grew silent, causing you to get out of your daydreaming. You looked up to find Alex, Reggie, Brian, Bobby, and Luke staring at you.

“You catch that, Y/n?” Brian eyed you, sternly.

“Somethin’ bout crowd surfing?” You gave a tight lipped smile.

“Yeah, don’t do it!” He sighed. “I don’t need to be ripping you off from anymore prying hands.” 

“The only prying is the girls that think they have a chance with these three.” You gestured to Bobby, Reggie, and Alex.

“Hey!” Reggie and Bobby made a noise of complaint. “She’s got a point.” Alex pointed at you with his drumsticks. 

“What about me?” Luke exclaimed.

“You’re taken, almost seventy percent of people dig that. You might want Brian on stand by tonight. She won’t like it.” You joked, getting a laugh out of the boys, except Luke.

“Uh yeah no, we hired Brian specifically for your crazy ass.” Luke fired back.

“I’m perfectly tame!” You scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Remember the Orpheum.” Alex stated. You all looked up as the memories flooded back.

“Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever. But live it like it’s now or never….” You ran forward diving into the crowd who caught you. The guys all watched in bewilderment as Brian noticed a guy’s hands getting too close to your bra. The cut sleeved shirt that was Luke’s being the cause for attraction that night. To say the least the guy ended up unconscious that night.

You began to intercept but Reggie beat you to it. “The club on Main…” Reggie added.

You were singing the chorus when someone came onto the stage from your left. Your back was to them, but Luke was there to stick his foot out to trip them, which only backfired as they fell into you. You ended up pushing them…off the stage, and they too ended up unconscious. 

“Okay but-” You let out a nervous laugh.

“How about the bra incident in vegas.” Bobby smirked.

During the bridge of Long Weekend. A bra had been thrown onto the stage causing you to lose focus on the lyrics. You laughed, as you picked it up. You made a joke and handed it off to Bobby, saying that it was for him. You being the wild child that your parents grew to know that they couldn’t control forever, put your mic down and unclipped your own bra. Your/Luke’s ripped tee still on. The crowd went crazy as you tossed it onto the crowd.

“Hey if they can do it, I can too!” You argued, putting your hands up in surrender.

“That’s just it though! You keep doing things that get a reaction. Not only are you putting yourself at risk, but the guys as well.” Brian hardly raised his voice, but when he did he meant business. You looked down playing with the laces of your black boots.

“Look, my job is to keep you, and the boys safe. I can’t do that if you keep being reckless.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay…I won’t do anything crazy.” You sighed. You didn’t have to look up to know the boys were throwing pity stares at you. You could feel that it was going to be a long night.

-

You head banged your head to the last beat of Alex’s drums. Your chest rising and falling, indicating just how hard you put your energy into this song. You glanced at your boys, watching their faces stained with smiles. Finally free was always a good set that drove the crowd crazy. Much to your amusement the crowd ate up the said chemistry you and Luke radiated. Luke just had chemistry with everyone.

Only this time it gave him some serious chemistry with a blonde. Who was eyeballing him the whole four sets you just played. You could not believe that he had invited her to your concert. You hardly ever saw the blonde haired blue eyed gem. Most times you did though, your blood boiled with envy. Whether it be because her hair may have looked better than your careless styled do, or the way her clothes fit her well, while you hid behind an oversized hoodie and tee. Then there was the real reason for your envy…Luke. She had, well, Luke’s heart. You’ve tried to gain it for two years, but the subtle hints weren’t so subtle to him. All you had was a heartfelt emotional single that sold millions in just under the span of two weeks.

It was the perfect fifth set.

“Okay folks, we’re gonna switch gears. How my ladies doin’ tonight?” You talked into the mic getting a commotion of cheers as your fans raised their hands in the air. “Yeah! Let me hear ya!” You pointed your mic out into the crowd. Cheers and screams sounded out. “Sing along if you know the words, I know ya do, okay.” You laughed. “How many of you have ever felt a little bit of…jealousy?” You smirked and trailed off. You turned to Reggie who played the opening of Jealousy Jealousy on his bass.

The crowd went crazy recognizing the intro. You swayed to the beat as Alex picked up the rhythm on the mounts, and cymbals. Tapping your fingers on the mic in your right hand. Then you sang out the first verse. You walked up to your mic stand and placed the mic in its place. “Kinda wanna throw my phone across the room…’cause all I see are girls too good to be true.” You closed your eyes, then licked your lips. “With paper-white teeth, and perfect bodies. Wish I didn’t care.” You shrugged. “I know their beauty’s not my lack, but it feels like that weight is on my back, and I can’t let it go…”

Luke looked over to you, catching your eye. He nodded you over with that winning smile of his, but you felt the need to stay put. You just didn’t feel like playing into his teasing and friendly smile tonight. No tonight your jealousy got the best of you.

“Com-comparison is killin’ me slowly…” You dragged the last word. “I think I think too much…‘bout kids who don’t know me. I’m so sick of myself. I’d rather be, rather be. Anyone, anyone else.” You rolled your eyes and swayed your body in the movements of a drunk person. “My jealousy, jealousy started followin’ me. He-he-he, he.” You smiled as you stuck out your mic to the crowd who sang back.

“Started followin’ me. He-he-he, he.”

You bobbed your head to Alex hitting his drums onto the second verse. You were vibing with the song and so was the crowd. Yet that burning rage was building closer and closer as you were soon getting to the bridge…the whole reason the song was written. The lyrics just hit home personally.

“And I see everyone gettin’ all the things I want…” You breathed out. “I’m happy for them, but then again, I’m not.” You shook your head no for show. “Just cool vintage clothes and vacation photos. I can’t stand it!″ You rolled your eyes. In the corner of your eyes you saw Luke move up to the edge and play his guitar in front of her. “Oh God, I sound crazy!” You eyed them. The way their eyes lingered on each other. You wished you had his attention. “Their win is not my loss. I know it’s true, but, I can’t help gettin’ caught up in it all…” You slowly made your way with purpose across the stage.

“Com-comparison is killin’ me slowly. I think I think too much…’bout kids who don’t know me.” You eased your way up to Luke and pulled him away from the edge. He caught himself from the shove and eyed you like you were insane. “I’m so sick of myself. Rather be, rather be. Anyone, anyone else. My jealousy, jealousy…Yeah!” You shouted.

“Y/n!” Luke tried calling after you, but your pettiness was making its debut.

You walked up to the edge of the stage right in front of where she stood, and knelt down as you sang the bridge out harshly.

“All your friends are so cool, you go out every night.” You gave her a fake smile. “In your daddy’s nice car, yeah, you’re livin’ the life.” You nodded innocently. You reached forward to caress her face. Her eyes wide and her mouth opened agape. She didn’t know what was going on.

“Got a pretty face, a pretty boyfriend, too.” You winked at her, then threw a nod over your shoulder gesturing to Luke. “I wanna be you so bad and I don’t even know you.” You ruffled her hair, messing up its perfection. “All I see is what I should be…” You stood up and quickly made your way to the center of the stage. Then started running forward.

“Happier!’

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Luke frowned, shouting after you as you passed him, but you ignored him. His voice was drowned out by the instruments anyway.

“Y/n!” Reggie yelled this time, trying to stop you. 

“Prettier!”

“Is she serious?” Bobby mouthed to Reggie.

Alex continued the beats as he stared after you in concern. His eyes widen as he sees you grow closer to the edge.

Yup, you were seriously jumping…

“Jealousy, Jealousy!” You shouted out the last two words of the bridge and threw yourself into the screaming and happy crowd, who caught you. You laughed, you felt the rush run through your veins. Then continued singing as the crowd made sure to move you across the stadium without dropping you. “All I see is what I should be. I’m losin’ it, all I get’s jealousy, jealousy.” Brian watched in disappointment, letting his arms fall to his sides. He shook his head…he wasn’t getting paid enough for this.

You opened your eyes again, as you looked up at the stadium’s ceiling. It felt like time flew in slow motion. The crowd cheering, the stage lights, your bandmates on stage with you. It was a moment to take it all in. These were the moments you cherished every time you crowd surfed. You knew you were gonna get your ass chewed out by Brian. Bigger crowds, bigger safety risk, yadda yadda yadda. You laugh one more time. Then bring the mic up to your lips.

“Com-comparison is killin’ me slowly. I think I think too much…'bout kids who don’t know me. And I’m so sick of myself!” You threw your head back and belted out. “ Rather be, rather be…” 

“Oh, oh, ohhh.” Luke and Reggie sang, each eyeing you with different expressions. Reggie with concern, and Luke with annoyance.

“Anyone, anyone else…” You let your head fall back as the fans finally brought you to the stage. Brian there to help you onto it with a half stern expression. You smiled up at him. Nudging his gut as you skipped back to your spot in the center.

“Anybody else..” Luke sang back.

“Jealousy, jealousy….Oh, I’m so sick of myself…I’d rather be, rather be…”

“Oh-oh-oh.” The boys echoed you.

“Anyone, anyone else. Jealousy, jealousy..” You looked over your shoulder to find Luke already staring at you. Then back to the front row. You stepped back from your mic and walked over to Luke. “Started followin’ me…” You breathed out. Then tugged the front of his shirt smashing his lips onto yours. He grew stiff, as his last note played out. You pulled back, only to have his rough hands place themselves at the back of your neck pulling you back into him. The stadium roared, as your jealousy faded, and hers grew.

[punchlove-blog]

@kpquickndirty ok. Giving this a try!

Kim quietly stubbed out the cigarette and slipped around the corner, the effort to stick to the shadows and remain unnoticed was as ingrained as his feather light foot falls. 

Chay had made it to his friend’s safely again, his hair was now a deep midnight blue, but he was locked into the home and would be alright until morning. 

Making eye contact with Sam and receiving the return head nod, Kim slid onto his bike, revved the engine and headed for home. Chay would be guarded until morning, it was time for Kim to rest for a few hours until he returned to shadow him thru his day. 

—

Kim stormed out of the bar furious. ‘I've never messed with you’ reverberating in his head. 

He pushed to ever faster speeds as he raced around corners. The ability to control the bike taking the edge off his inability to control Chay. 

—

Walking into his apartment he was shocked to hear Khun’s voice. 

“No he isn't here yet. Are you sure he left an hour ago?  Why couldn't you tail him properly and do your job right?  Ugh. Yes. No I will stay til he shows up. My Kim needs me.” Khun slipped the phone into his pocket as he explored. 

Kim drifted into the shadows to watch his older brother.

Khun seemed to drift from the instruments to the table. Slowly taking it all in. Pausing to stare at the portrait of Kim on the wall. 

“I know you're there Kimmy. I can smell the cologne and smoke.”

Kim had to grimace, Kinn he could fool. Kinn he could string along, but never Khun. As long as he could remember, Khun was the one who seemed to see through him. 

“Did you leave Sam watching him again tonight?”

“How did you know about Sam?” Kim said, stalling for time. “Arm?”

“Of course Arm.”

Kim sighed and decided to get it over with, stepping out of the shadows and walking to Khun. 

“KIMMY!” Khun shrieked, tackling him onto the couch. 

Kim counted off the moments he had to allow for Khun to be assured of his health and then pushed to sit as far away as possible. 

Tonight Khun was wearing relatively reasonable clothing. Black pants and shirt with a repeated embroidered silver pattern. In fact it was a highly restrained color choice now that Kim considered it. 

“What's wrong?”

“What's wrong with me?  Oh no Kimlet, what's wrong with you?  Why are you busy stalking Porsche's little brother?”

The fury of the evening seemed to wash over Kim again. Chay was being so unreasonable. Kim never promised him anything. And he had to know he was in danger forever now. And still he went off…

With only a trace of his fingers fisting Kim replied, “I heard that Kinn and Porsche were together. Its important to the family that Chay is safe. It would be difficult for us if something happened to him.”

“Kim” Khun stared at him and then repeated flatly, “Kim”

Kim forced himself to return the gaze, trying to keep his face impassive. 

“Kim”, and it was the third time that got him, his eyes slipping away to stare at the floor. 

“Chay, he” Kim paused and then the words seemed to escaped him, “Chay doesn't know what he's doing and he, well, he”

“So it's Chay who doesn't know what he's doing? He seems to be doing all the normal things after heartache. I approve of the hair, but the clothes, ick. He needs help there.”

“Khun!”

“Oh Kimmy. When will you understand that I always know what is going on.”

“Fine then. What do I do if you know everything?”

Khun finally seemed to get entirely serious. 

“Don't stop. Something is wrong with Pa and Kinn. Kinn moved out with Porsche. Vegas is up to something.”

“I'm done. Ask Arm to organize it. You have resources.”

“No I can't. No one can know. Keep your boy safe.”

“He's not my, that is, he, well he just isn't”

Khun glared, “Do I look like I'm joking?  Keep. Him. Safe. Don't let up.”

Kim sighed and nodded his head. He knew Khun was right dammit.

Standing up, Khun grabbed a red cape with silver swirls to match and thrust his arms through it. Sliding on sunglasses he strode to the door. 

“I'll stop by to see you again soon Kim. Don't bother changing the locks, I'd just get new keys made.”

The click of the door was the last sound before silence enveloped the room. Kim set his shoulders and began to mentally make a list of how to continue to protect the most innocent of boys who definitely did not, could not, must not have his heart. 

***Spoiler. Kim is lying even to himself at the end there. 🤣🤣

Remix if someone chooses. :)

[justanotherdrfan]

Ladies and gentlemen the last instalment of DTS BREAKDOWN!

Spoiler below, open as you will!

S6E10 (Red or Black) 🔴⚫️♥️♠️♦️♣️

Charles in the snow (he is the snow angel)

HOLY SHIT CARLOS 🥵

They are quite literally fire and ice at Ferrari

It’s Mercedes vs Ferrari (but let’s use the Red Bull car for the pitstop intro because remembers it’s always RED BULL)

GUENTHERR ♥️

Red Bull have the best driver content

Look Danica I know, we know your full of shit when you say ‘there is so much put into the race’ (yeah just not in the drain covers to keep them screwed down)

Ohh you came to Vegas before with your bestfriends did you Charles? ( I do recall you went with Daniel so he’s a bestie then) 👬

Not Christian giving Daniel shit about leading a race for once

Daniel mentions Vegas and you can see him look off recalling the time with Charles in his memory (fortunately or unfortunately Charles can’t recall his time there 😂)

Not Lando and Pierre talking about Charles losing on the tables 😂

MAXIEL ❤️💙

FRED’S BACKKKK

They are Fred who that think is the most vain team principle (Fred doesn’t even get to ask before DTS is already faded the scene and in comes Toto) like clearly you know the answer

Oh look practice 1 has arrived (cue drain fucking shit up)

IT’S MAXX THEY FINALLY INTERVIEWED MAX (like it’s not like he dominated the season)

SHIT THAT DRAIN REALLY COULD HAVE DONE PERMANENT DAMAGE

There is no waiver. (Hold the fuck up let me put my non-existent glasses on and get real. If a car gets damaged due to a track issue (aka drain cover) F1 should cover the teams cost and all replacement parts should not be taken from team allocations set for the year. And no penalties should be applied. It’s quite simple. It’s not bad luck. It’s F1 and the circuit providers duty to have a safe, functioning and up to date track. Full stop.)

Cue press conference dialogue:

Tom Clarkson: ‘Well, let’s look bigger picture because….’(Enter Fred smack down time).

Fred: ‘But this one is a good one. I don’t need to have a bigger picture than this one.’ Tom: Okay. But, Fred, I did want to ask you about this event, if we can just talk about the Las Vegas Grand Prix.’ Fred: ‘Yeah, guys, but I [chuckles] I’m not sure this is the topic for me today. Not, uhh…We had a very tough FP1. This will cost us a fortune. With a fucked-up decision for Carlos. But we have to change the chassis, half of the car, or two-thirds of the car. Okay, the show is the show and everything is going well, but, uh I think it’s just unacceptable from the F1 today.’

Tom: ‘Okay, well, this is the last..’

Toto: ‘Fred is upset.’

Fred: ‘I am, Toto, but you would be upset in my situation.’

Tom: ‘ Fred, let’s look at 2024 as a whole, okay? Your first year as team principal of ferrari.’ (Mate will you fucking quit hounding Fred)

Toto: ‘Your putting yourself into more trouble. No, I can tell you. I’ve known him for 20 years. He has…’

Tom: ‘Fred, can we just…’

Fred: ‘Can I leave now or..’

Tom: ‘Can we reflect on the year?’

Fred: ‘No.Ask a question to Toto about something.’

Tom: ‘All right. Well, look, we’ll come back to you, Fred. We’ll come back to you. (NO YOU WILL NOT TOM, NO YOU WILL FUCKING NOT)

Fred: ‘Sure.’ (It’s giving very fuck around and find out mentality)

End press conference.

Also bat of king Fred don’t take shit from no one. I’m glad I wrote my opinion before I got to this part and Fred sounded off in the press conference.

THEY PUT CHARLES POLE POSITION ON THE DOME (I fucking forgot about the bloody thing) 😂

Look George I understand your good but Charles is the qualifying king

Toto chatting shit about naysayers to some lady (probably on some Las Vegas council or something). Mate you spend most of your time being the naysayer for everything or do you not remember the porpoising drama?

Will Charles convert pole to win (we all know the your ratio) but you do a hell of a job of damage limitation 👏🏽

Abu Dhabi grid school photo time

Ohh look Daniel flirting with Charles in front of Max (he’s such a attention baby girl) 😂❤️💙

Lawerence stroll looking like bad Santa

George why are so dramatic?

McLaren fuck up Lando’s pitstop (cue me clacking)

Not all the teams congratulating their drivers on the year and where the team sits in the constructor

Cue Hass at the bottom and bottom

Ferrari being a killjoy and won’t let Charles do burnouts (he just wants to go play with his bestie Max) 🥺

Ohh Charles you deserve better your too pretty not to

Lawerence was that you wheeling and dealing with James?

Here we go Max’s wrap sheet for the year! (Yes boy you one the whole damn thing on your own. No teammate needed!)

Ohh his last ‘Hi Gene.’

And they left his seat empty to end🥺

[topguncortez]

Bad Medicine | Chapter 2

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

word count: 5.4k

synopsis: A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good. MAJOR SLOW BURN (ENEMIES TO LOVERS)

WARNINGS: death/murder, guns, violence, physical abuse, cursing, mentions of prostitution, mentions of murder, grief, blood, nudity, mentions of drugs, mentions of a brothel

Y/N’s apartment looked over the upper East Side of New York. It was a cute little place that was within walking distance to the club. It gave her both things that she loved, the chaotic life that came with living in New York, and privacy to where she felt safe coming home at night. And that was partially because of Rueben, aka Payback, her bodyguard that Rafael had hired when she moved back to New York. That was part of Rafael’s deal in sending Y/N back to New York, she had to have a bodyguard. Y/N was smart though, and could figure out how to leave her bodyguards in the dust and jet off around the world, except Rueben could see right through that all. 

Y/N stood on the balcony, taking in her surroundings for the last time. She hadn’t stood out on the balcony in a long time. Good and bad memories filled her mind as she held her cup of tea close to her body for some warmth. Images of her relationship with Francisco filled her mind and sent a shiver down her spine. She also thought about all the good times she had while working at the club. Sure it wasn’t the best job she could ever have, but she loved the girls she worked with. She was probably going to miss them more than anything. 

“Y/N?” Gianni asked softly, “You ready?” 

Y/N and Rueben had spent the whole night packing. She looked over at the small carryon and purse sitting on her bed. She packed the essentials to make the trip over. Her brothers would be sending the rest of her clothing in the coming weeks. 

Y/N took a deep breath, she wanted to tell him no. She didn’t know a thing about Jake Seresin, to the internet it was like the man didn’t exist. She knew that he supposedly studied law at University of Texas, but never went past that. He took over for his father when he had a heart attack nearly two years ago. It was all fabricated bullshit about “Seresin Enterprises” and how they bought several blocks of casinos and clubs in both Vegas and San Diego. Apparently they had been on the FBI’s radar for sometime due to an underground boxing and prostitution ring. However, they claim no such truth about it. Which was something all mobsters said. 

“Y/N, we gotta get headed to the airport. The Don is mad we held it off this long,” Paulo said walking into her room. Y/N sighed and walked into the room, leaving the warmth of the morning sun, “You got what you need?” 

“Yeah, Payback took my bags to the car,” She answered and fixed herself in the mirror. She wore a simple skin tight black dress and paired it with matching black heels. Her tan skin looked sunkissed compared to the dark colors. She looked around at her barren apartment and frowned. She didn’t have a lot of stuff to begin with, but seeing it all boxed up made her feel kind of sad. Y/N nodded, and Gianni gently led her through the house and towards the waiting car. 

“Wait,” Y/N said, and turned to face her brother, “Have you heard from Sophie? I haven’t heard from her since she left for Greece and I know she’d want to be a part of this wedding bullshit.” 

Paulo looked at his two brothers, as if to tell them to keep their mouths shut. Narciso clenched his jaw and Gianni whistled, looking away from his little sister. 

“I have not heard from Sophie,” Paulo answered, “But I’ll make sure someone reaches out to her.” 

“She’d kill me if I got married and she wasn’t there for it,” Y/N smiled sadly and pulled her phone out, dialing the number again. Paulo ushered her into the car as Sophie’s phone went to voicemail again. Y/N sighed and left her yet another voicemail. 

When Y/N arrived at the small private airport she noticed the black SUVs and armed men that were standing around. She would try and make a break for it if it weren’t for the military style weapons ready to fire at any moment. One would think that the president or some diplomat was about to land, but in reality, it was just some man from Italy. Although the Santiagos had slowly defeated their enemies over the years, some still lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

The Don stepped out of his own vehicle when the Santiago siblings arrived. He looked pissed and Paulo fixed his suit as he walked over to talk to him. The patriarch stared his daughter down through the dark tinted glass of the SUV. She gulped and looked over at Payback who simply shrugged. He didn’t want to do this anymore than she wanted. 

“Do you want to make things easy?” Payback asked and Y/N nodded, “Don’t try and fight every little thing he says.” 

“You know me better than that Rueben,” Y/N smirked, and opened her car door. Her heels clicked across the ground as she walked up to her father. His stare sent a shiver down her spine, and it made her hold her head up higher, trying to show him that she was not afraid. 

“No funny business, Y/N. You get on the plane here and off in San Diego. I hear you made the pilot take you to England or Paris, I will cut off the expenses for the wedding,” Rafael threatened Y/N. The girl rolled her eyes, “We’ve set up for you to be married to Jacob in four weeks.” 

“Four fucking weeks?!” Y/N cursed and was met with another backhand across her face. 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” The Don yelled, “This is why you couldn’t find a husband on your own.” 

“Maybe if you would give me a damn chance!” Y/N yelled. 

“Why? So you could find someone else to murder someone in our family?!”

Y/N clenched her jaw and looked away from him. She had heard it almost every year since her mother’s death, Rafael never let her live it down. What happened to her mother was one of the worst things that Y/N and her family could’ve gone through, but no one knew that Francisco would turn his anger towards Marie. Her brothers forgave her for what happened, but Rafael still held it over her head. 

“Are none of you going to say anything!?” Y/N yelled at her brothers. They were all looking down at the ground, not bothering to jump in and say anything, “Spineless fucking idiots,” Y/N cursed and licked her lips, “I’ll see you in hell, Rafael.”

Rafael stood with his head up, his jaw clenched as he watched Y/N and Rueben walk up the plane steps. She sat down in a chair that was by the window. She watched as her brothers wouldn’t look at the plane, but the Don looked like he was ready to give an order to shoot it down. Y/N knew once the plane took off he would scold her brothers for telling her about Francisco, but the Don didn’t dare punish the boys in front of her or anyone else. People needed to know the boys were untouchable, but Y/N’s life was useless.

“Miss Santiago, can I get you anything to drink?” The flight attendant asked.

Y/N looked around the small jet and noted who the security was. There was, of course, Reuben and what looked to be like his new partner. Rafael hardly let Y/N go without two guards. The last one had been killed because the Don caught Y/N and him together. The new guy was all of 6 foot tall, with tan skin and a scar running down his face. His dark hair was gelled back and it looked like he had just bought a new black suit and dress shoes. Payback could see the glint in her eye and knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“Well, Rueben will have a Hangman IPA, I’ll take whatever red wine you have open, and a glass of whiskey for the Rookie,” Y/N smirked. Payback rolled his eyes, knowing Y/N’s plan like the back of his hand. This wasn’t the first flight he had taken with her and some new rookie, he had seen this episode before. 

“We can’t just have one plane ride where you leave the Rookies be?” Reuben asked, and Y/N just smiled, “You know what’ll happen.” 

“Then why not enjoy the fun while it lasts,” Y/N said as the flight attendant handed her the glass of wine, “Leave the bottle please, dear.”

“Laying it on thick,” Payback said, taking out his headphones. 

“My life has been signed away, Reuben. These are my last moments of freedom until I have to go wait on some mobster hand and foot,” Y/N said and Rueben frowned. He glanced outside the window to see that the black SUVs that carried her family were gone. 

“Fine,” He muttered, “Just know this one is on you.” 

“Of course,” Y/N nodded, her eyes going over to the Rookie who was seemingly confused. She just gave him a wink, and settled back in her chair as the pilot told them to prepare for take off. Y/N closed her eyes, she wasn’t ever a fan of planes taking off, she always felt like she was going to fall right out of the sky. 

Once the plane got up to cruising altitude, Y/N opened her eyes and looked at the Rookie, “Have you ever joined the Mile High club?” 

“N-no, ma’am,” He said. He had a thick country accent, making him out to probably be from the South. 

“Perfect,” Y/N smiled and stood up, taking his hand in hers and leading him to the private bedroom in the back of the plane. Payback groaned in annoyance, and pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. He settled them in his ears before going back to look through his magazine. 

“They never learn.”  

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

When the plane finally touched down in San Diego, California, the skyline was already starting to light up. Y/N smiled, noticing the familiar sight of the skyscrapers in the distance. Rueben followed behind her, straightening out his suit, and looking at The Rookie behind him who had a smirk plastered on his face. He felt like the king of the world having bodied the princess of the Italian Mob. The Rookie fixed his suit jacket and ran a hand over his gelled back hair. 

“Good evening Miss Santiago, my name is Martin, and I’ll be handling your movement from the airport to the Seresin compound,” Martin was a middle aged man who had salt and pepper hair. Y/N held her hand out and Martin kissed the back of it. Y/N’s favorite pastime was making men bow to her like she was the Queen of England. In a way, Y/N was a queen, the mafia queen. If Y/N was into old men, Martin would be added as another name on her list.

“How was your flight? Everything went smoothly, I assume?” Martin asked, as he ushered Y/N towards the awaiting white Range Rover. Her father hated white cars. He said it made them stand out too much and put a bigger target on their backs. 

“Yes the flight went very well,” Y/N said, and glanced over her shoulder at the Rookie. He smirked to himself, and fixed his suit jacket. He felt like he was the king of the word having bagged the Italian Mob king’s daughter. But that feeling was short lived as Rueben tightened the silencer on his gun, and then fired a shot into the Rookie’s skull. 

“Clean this mess up,” Reuben said to the men standing by. Martin opened the door for Y/N, and she noticed a group of men picking up The Rookie’s body. She looked at Rueben who was tucking his gun back into the holster of his jacket. 

“What?” Reuben asked, and Y/N nodded her head towards the body, “I told you not to.” 

“Mood killer,” Y/N said and Rueben shook his head, shutting her door before getting into the front passenger seat. 

The Seresin mansion sat in the neighborhood of Mission Hills, which was about ten minutes outside of San Diego. Y/N had only visited a handful of cities in the US, and had only been to California once. She understood why mobsters picked quite poor towns to set up shop. The busy hustle and bustle of the nearby ports could mask the terrors that the mobs did. Y/N eyed the prostitutes as they hung around the street corners in downtown San Diego.  

“Those are someone's daughters,” Her mother used to say when they would pass a young female on the street in barely there clothing. Her mother would take them in, like stray cats, give them food and a place to bathe, before they would run off back to the streets they know.

“Everything is pretty close,” Martin explained as they drove through the busy streets, “It’s no European country side, but it suffices. Los Angeles is about two hours by car. San Fran is two hours by jet. Mr. Seresin has his own private jet. It’s one of the best ways to travel around. Sometimes, they’ll take a private train. Although, most of his work is done in Miramar or North Island.” 

She knew that from the google search that she did. Jake owned a flight club and a bar in North Island called the Hard Deck. It was a quaint little place that attracted a lot of sailors to the area. It also just so happened to be where his brothel was set up. If there was anything Navy men loved more than causing a fight, it was getting pussy after a long trip out to sea. 

“What is the legality of their business?” Y/N asked. 

Payback looked at her in the rearview mirror, “You know what they do.” 

“I can’t ask questions to get to know my future husband? I am going to be investing in this, so it is only fair that I know what he is doing.” She had a point and both Payback and Martin knew it. Y/N was smart and knew how to play her cards correctly, “Tell me what they do.” 

“Mr. Seresin’s grandfather set up a very vast trading company back in New York during the twenties. The Seresins own and control almost 50% of the US trading ports. Seresin Trades is working on going global with the help of Mr. Santiago. Mr. Bob Floyd has been fast at work creating Seresin Industries, one of the fastest startup technology companies,” Martin said. 

“A trading company,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, “How unique. And the brothels, fight rings, clubs, and casinos, those are just. . . extra amenities?” 

“Athena,” Reuben warned. 

Y/N held her hand up stopping Rueben, “Martin?”

Martin scoffed, “You act like your family is the greatest gift to God’s green earth.” As soon as the words left his lips, Martin regretted it.. Y/N glared at him through the rearview mirror and a cold sweat broke out down his back, “I apologize.” 

“A little too late,” Reuben said and Y/N smirked.  

If there was anyone who knew Y/N better than her own brothers, it was Rueben . He had become her personal bodyguard after Francisco attacked her and her mother’s death. Y/N had gotten too smart, she figured out how to run away from her guards. So Rafael hired Rueben , and the man watched her like a hawk. Y/N was never out of his sight. He had not only become her bodyguard, but also her closest confidant. She could tell him anything and everything. 

Martin’s knuckles turned white with his grip on the steering wheel, as he turned on to a magnificent compound. The black gates rolled back as the SUV drove onto the marble driveway that was lined with black lamp posts. Buried behind the trees was almost like a castle. The Kiszka house stood tall, at least 3 stories, and had a complete wall of windows. 

“Mr. Seresin likes windows. Makes him feel less caged in.” Martin said as he pulled up in front of the house. There was a large water fountain in the middle of the circle drive and Y/N could see water lilies floating around in the water. 

“Lovely,” Y/N said. When the car came to a stop, her door was opened. She reached her hand out and a guard gently grabbed her hand, helping her out of the car. She smoothed down her dress as Rueben  quickly rounded the car to her side, “Where is he?” 

“I believe they are at the club, or getting ready to go,” Martin responded. The glass front door opened and an older woman stepped out of the house. 

“Welcome Miss Santiago,” She introduced herself, and bowed her head softly,“I am Emile, I will be your personal attendant. Do you care for a glass of champagne, maybe even wine?” 

Y/N took a step into the house, and looked around the foyer. It had high ceilings that opened into a glass grand staircase. Everything was red and white, giving the entrance a cold yet warm feeling. The living room was open, and had white leather couches and a fluffy black rug on the floor. Hanging above a roaring fireplace was a picture of a young man in a black suit. She stood in front of the picture, the man’s green eyes were enticing and almost as if they were locking her in a trance. She looked away at the sound of the front door opening and Rueben walking in. 

“I’ll take a bottle of white,” Y/N said to Emile, “And please take the bottle to my room. Oh! And if you would, can you draw me a bath? I don’t like the feeling of blood on my hands.” 

Rueben scoffed, “You’re one to talk.” She could see a smudge of blood on his collar, more than likely from killing Martin before he walked into the house. 

“Yes, Miss,” Emile nodded and scurried off towards the kitchen. Y/N stepped farther into the house surveying everything. She walked over to a set of windows and glass sliding doors. She looked over the backyard, an infinity pool and giant garden that looked daunting at night, caught her eye. Y/N made a note of wanting to test the water in the pool at some point tonight.  

“He would like you to come to the office,” A guard said, standing in the doorway of the living room. 

Y/N turned around to see about ten or so men standing in the living room, all of them wearing black suits and ties. 

“No,” Y/N responded, a smirk on her lips. Her eyes not leaving the reflecting water of the pool, and kicked off her heels. She reached for the zipper of her dress and undid it. Payback also knew this tactic, and rolled his eyes. Y/N let the sleeves of her dress fall down her shoulders, and shrugged the dress off, wearing absolutely nothing underneath. All the men standing around her tried to avert their eyes the best they could, but failed miserably. 

“I want a bath first,” She said. 

“I can’t let you do that,” The guard responded. 

“Why not?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him, “Do I turn you on?”

“I-I. . . Mr. Seresin  had strict instructions-” 

“I bet these pants are feeling pretty strict,” She let her hand shamelessly trail up and down his body, before landing over the clothed hard-on

“Please,” The guard practically begged. Y/N smirked as she gently palmed him, “You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

“What are you going to do about it?” Y/N challenged. Before the guard could respond another gunshot rang through the house. Y/N shrieked as the guard’s body buckled and she moved out of the way to let him fall. She looked over at a tall man with curly hair, holding a gun out.

“That’s what I’m gonna do about it,” The gun wielding man said. He tucked the gun back into the waistband of his black dress pants. He was tall with beautiful brown eyes with scars on his face and neck. Y/N smirked and walked over to him, but he held his hand out, “Don’t think about it. Let’s fucking go.” 

Y/N opened her mouth but squealed as he threw her naked body over his shoulder, “Hey! Put me down!” She yelled, hitting his back. The man tightened his grip on her body so he wouldn’t drop her as she kicked and squirmed in his arms, “Payback!” 

Reuben took a step forward to try and intervene but was cut off by guards standing in front of him, “Just keep your mouth shut!” 

Y/N felt a shiver run down her body, “I’ll fucking kill you,” She threatened the man. 

“I’d like to see you try,” The man said and tossed her down onto a cold leather chair, “Wait here, don’t fucking move.” 

Y/N looked around the office, seeing more pictures of the man from the living room. There was a bookshelf with tons of old leather books with gold writing. Y/N narrowed her eyes, reading the titles on the side, most of them were in Latin, but she could understand that they were law books. There was a large dark oak desk in front of her, which must belong to her future husband. On the wall behind the desk were various diplomas from colleges that he must’ve gone to. 

He’s distinguished, Y/N thought to herself, and smart. 

Y/N almost got out of her chair to go explore more things around his desk, when she heard the clicking of fancy dress shoes coming down the hall. She sucked in a breath as the door opened, and a beautiful blonde man with green eyes stood in the doorway. He was wearing all black, with his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He forewent the tie, and Y/N could see he was wearing a thin gold chain around his neck. 

“You couldn’t give her the dignity to walk in here by herself? With her clothes on?” The blonde man asked.

“She didn’t want to,” The man with the gun shrugged and looked over at a man who was wearing a big pair of glasses, with a smirk, “We lost Martin and Dominick.” 

“Fucking idiots,” The blonde cursed, “Welcome Y/N, I’m Jake, your new husband.” He held his arms out as if he were presenting some great prize. Y/N looked him up and down, he looked like the human version of Adonis, “My beauty stunned you into silence. It happens, sweetheart. But thank you for finally joining us.” 

Y/N scoffed, “You basically bought me from my father to help your little group here get up and running.” 

“Oh don’t flatter yourself sweetheart. You weren’t the pick of the crop I wanted,” Jake said, but then shrugged, “No offense.” 

“Offense taken,” Y/N said, “What? I’m not good enough for you? You prefer underaged prostitute pussy instead? I bet, he-” She said pointing at the man with large glasses, “Would you like a taste?” 

“Not my type either,” He said, “I like my pussy tight and silent.” 

Jake chuckled and Y/N clenched her jaw. He walked towards her, his green eyes looking her up and down as if he were examining her. She felt like she was under a microscope and wanted to hide away. She was suddenly very aware that she was sitting naked in front of three guys who could easily kill her, and had no idea where Rueben was. 

“Where are your clothes?” Jake asked. 

“I like being naked,” Y/N smirked, sitting back in the chair, exposing more of her body. Jake looked like he was about to murder everyone in the room. He looked from her face to her chest, his eyes seemingly assessing every millimeter of skin, down her stomach and to her legs, which were crossed hiding her modesty. Y/N caught the wandering eyes of the men behind Jake, and slowly uncrossed her legs, opening them slightly. That was the final straw for Jake, as he moved quickly, snatching her up by her chin.

“I was told I was getting a mafia queen,” Jake spat, holding her throat tightly, “We got rules, sweetheart, and you’re going to listen to them, got it? Or I swear to god, I’ll fucking sell you for whatever your worth to the highest bidder. I’m sure these-” He said, tracing his fingers between her breasts, his knuckles brushing against the soft mound of skin, “could get me a pretty penny. Of course, the face is a little fucked up.” 

Y/N clenched her jaw at the mention of the scar that ran down her face. Her eye socket had to be repaired and left a permanent scar, a constant reminder of what Francisco had done to her. It was easy for her to hide the other scars on her body, that one, was out in the open for everyone to see. Her mother told her to not hide what he did, to embrace it. 

“Understand me?” Jake asked and Y/N nodded. He released her chin. 

“Asshole,” Y/N said, before spitting in his face. Jake clenched his jaw, and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to look up at him. 

“Don’t fucking test me, sweetheart,” Jake seethed, “I won’t hesitate to throw you down on the pew, I don’t give a fuck who your daddy is. Don’t fuck with me, doll.” Y/N trembled and nodded. Jake picked up her body and put her down on the wooden chair, harshly. Her ass still stung a bit from where the curly haired man had thrown her down earlier. 

“If you’re done being a brat, I’d like to introduce you to my right hand men. The one that brought you in here was Rooster, he’s in charge of security. You need to go somewhere, you take it up with him. If he tells you ‘no’ you don’t fucking argue. This is Bob,” Jake said, pointing to the man with the glasses, “He’s intelligence. Don’t try to fucking go somewhere or call someone or do something fucking stupid cause he’ll find out about it and I’ll kill you.”

“And what do you do?” Y/N asked. 

Jake smiled, “I’m the Hangman. I am the reason this whole place ruins and operates. The face of the family and the company.” 

“Bob would’ve made a cuter face,” Y/N said and looked at the man. Bob couldn’t help but chuckle, but Jake quickly shot him a glare. Y/N sent him a wink though, which made his ears turn red. 

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ve got a couple rules. One, don’t be in my way or anyone else's way. Two, don’t fucking speak to me unless you are spoken too. And three, don’t piss me off. If you follow those three rules. . . I don’t see why this relationship won’t work out great.” 

“Because you’re a fucking psychopathic murderer.” 

“Says the one who’s gotten three men killed in your first two hours of being here,” Jake said. 

Y/N smiled, “You say that?” 

Jake leaned his hands on either side of the chair she was sitting on. She could smell is cologne and see a thin scar by his eyebrow, “I see everything,” He spoke softly, “Go fucking clean yourself off. I don’t want to see your face until tomorrow.” Jake said and turned to walk out of the office, “Actually, I don’t want to see your face at all, unless I fucking ask to see you, which I probably won’t. I don’t want you here any less than you actually want to be here. If I knew you were a part of the expansion gun deal we made, I would’ve never fucking made it.”

Y/N tried to not let his words sting. She had heard worse from her father, but there was something about hearing it from someone else. Y/N turned her head to the side as Jake and the boys left the office with a slam of the door. As soon as the door shut, she let the tears roll down her face. She waited a minute before she got up from the wooden chair and walked out of the office. She was suddenly very aware that she was stark naked in a mobster’s house. 

She moved softly as she walked down the hallway, trying to avoid the eyes of the workers in the house. Y/N looked up and noticed Emile walking towards her with a robe. The older woman smiled softly at her and handed her the robe. Y/N nodded and wrapped it tightly around her body. Emile gently wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, guiding her over to the grand staircase and up to the second floor. 

“Mr. Jacob and the boys went out for the night,” Emile said. She had a heavy french accent that reminded Y/N of some of the older maids back home at her father’s mansion, “I ran a bath and had some of the other guards bring your belongings into your room. Any specific way to put your clothing away?”

Y/N shook her head, “I can get that tomorrow when the rest of my things arrive. Thank you, Emile.” 

“You are very welcome, Miss,” Emile said, nodding her head as they stood outside one of the bedrooms, “The master bedroom,” Emile said, pushing open two wooden doors. Y/N’s jaw dropped at the sight of the bedroom. It was white with red accents that reminded her of the suit that Jake wore. Hanging above a california king bed was a picture of the fucker himself. Y/N scoffed, of course, he had a picture of himself hanging above the bed, “Mr. Jacob doesn’t stay here. He prefers a bed on the third floor with his brothers.” 

“They are all very close?” Y/N asked and Emile nodded. 

“Very close. They all served together in the Navy.” 

Now that was one thing the internet did not tell Y/N. That meant one of two things, they never served long enough to make an impact, or the Navy was trying hard to keep them all a secret. Whatever the reason was, Y/N was going to find out more about it. 

Y/N walked over and ran her hands on the satin bed sheets. They were soft and still smelled like the packaging. The room had an overall cold feeling to it, like no one had ever stayed in the room. Y/N could tell that the paint on the walls wasn’t the original colors. She could see the slight difference in paint colors as the walls met at the ceiling. She ran her hands over the footboard of the bed, humming to herself as she did. 

“Is that tune from ‘Annie’?” Emile asked, and Y/N lifted her head, smiling. 

“It is.” 

When Y/N was little, before she knew most about what her family did for a living, she used to play around like she was the little Orphan Annie first coming to Daddy Warbucks’ house. She used to play the song ‘I Think I’m Gonna Like it Here’ while running up and down the halls with her mother, making the butlers and the maids sing along with her. She did it at every house she moved into, it was one of the good memories she had with her mother. 

Y/N paused and looked at the picture above the bed, and then at Emile, “When will they be back?” 

“Oh, they stay out very late,” Emile answered, “I see them leave at night and stumble around the next morning with hangovers.” She smiled and sighed, “Your bath is waiting for you, dear. Any questions, don’t be scared to ask.” 

“Thank you.” “They aren’t all monsters,” Emile said, “Just a little rough around the edges. You know what they say, ‘only the good die young’.”

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[h0unds-of-h3ll]

Polaroid

Since Elvis has taken you from home and to Vegas he’s been insatiable. Buying you everything you asked for, giving you the world. Giving you the gift of photography turned into something he never imagined.

Dads best friend! Elvis Presley x Reader smut.

Word count: 20k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: 70s dilf Vegas era Elvis, major age gap (17yrs), barely legal reader, perv dark Elvis, groping, grooming?, unprotected sex, mean Elvis, slapping, breeding, blow & hand jobs, innocent kink & corruption, power play, sugar daddy Elvis, language, explicit content, choking, voyeurism, use of drugs, nudes, talk of divorce, taboo themes, creepy man borderline sa, mentioned pregnancy.

A/n: I wanted to thank everyone who read my first Elvis fic. Again, this is fiction and for entertainment only. Nothing is meant to be discriminatory against Elvis or anyone. It’s an interesting story I wanted to share! It’s the second addition to this Honey. I skipped Monday lol, apologies. Like five smut fics in one. There’s some timeline inaccuracies like the cameras and clothes. First part is in Honey.

Monday. 

________

   When your head is moved from the anchor of his shoulder, you know that you’ve landed. Moving your shoulder from the window, you find the dazzling strip of Vegas waiting for you. A warmth spreads across your skin and it tingles at your fingertips. He takes a hand to smooth a clumped side of your hair. Taking off his sunglasses from your face, you can fully embrace the beauty of the flashing lights. You whip your head back to him with a gleaming smile. 

   “We’re here?”

   Asking to make sure that this isn’t a dream. An intricate dream with Elvis and Vegas. What drug did Mom accidentally cook? Curtly nodding, he kisses your forehead softly. 

   “Welcome to Vegas, baby.”

_______

   Sitting in a long stretched limo, its windows are blacked out, and you’re pouting. You can’t see the strip, the people. He has his hand on your bare thigh, right above your knee. He runs his thumb back and forth on the bone. Pinky just slightly tucked into the end of your shorts. Reminds himself to thank Sinatra for the flight, and the limo at dinner tomorrow. Becoming anxious, he gives you a rundown of his rules. The rules to keep you safe. 

   “I can see how much you love the lights, honey. Vegas can deceive that way.”

   You pinch your brows together. Face scrunched up in confusion. 

   “What?”

   He takes his hand from your thigh, running his fingers through his hair. Sighing. Blissfully unaware. Leaning down he presses a button by the floor, the roof of the limo opens. Your eyes widen as you watch the stars move. 

   “Go on.”

   You lift from the leather seats, standing straight up through the window. Laughing when you can feel the breeze hit your face. Elvis cups your sides to make sure you don’t fall. You’re immediately overwhelmed, trying to see everything at once. Hearing booming music, the strobing lights. You find thousands of people walking along the sides, crossing the streets. You’re laughing loudly as you find someone dressed up as Elvis doing an impression. 

   “I've found another version of you!”

   Whisper-shouting to the authentic version below you. He shakes his head, you’re not truly seeing. Just looking and that is going to be your downfall. He bites the inside of his cheek, pondering if he’ll have to hire more security just for you. As the driver takes many more turns and stops, you see it. 

   The International Hotel. 

   Finding the sign with his name on it, you blush. You’re affiliated with the biggest name in the world. It was scary thinking about it too, but you stomached the feeling. The childlike curiosity overlapped it. 

   “So is this where you’ve been hiding all this time?”

   He wished he were hiding. 

   “Not hiding, just working.”

   You couldn’t hear him with the wind whipping your hair. Elvis tugs at your hips and you follow the motion and sit back in your spot. Your face is flushed. You’ll never forget that moment. 

   “Thank you.”

   It’s rushed and slurred together from adrenaline, he understands the memo. 

   “You’re welcome, little one.”

_______

   You’re barely keeping up with his long strides as he walks through the lobby. He’s bombarded immediately by admirers and paparazzi. Smiling through gritted teeth. Holding tightly to one of your hands as he signs photographs and other merchandise. The flashing white lights blind you. Soon a hoard forms, even if his supporters didn’t know you. You felt like you were on celebrity status. 

   “Who are you?”

   “Y/n, y/n l/n.”

   “How long have you known Elvis?”

   “All my life.”

   “Have you slept with him?”

   Your heart hammers in your chest and you bow your head sheepishly. No, but you’d like to. Your forsaken brain flashes to him dressing you in your bed. As his eyes skim for an exit, he finds Jerry. He bids farewell and you’re too stricken with a crush. You wave though. You watch the back of his head, his long shoulders swaying as he walks. An array of guards move the crowd to be bystanders again. You look back with a smile. 

   “Where the hell were you?”

   He spits and points at the crowd. 

   “You said you would help us avoid this.”

   As Elvis spits venom, you’re still contorted backwards watching the crowd. It only grows larger as the guards try to disperse them. Jerry looks behind Elvis to find your stupor. He smirks. 

   “Is that the girl from home?”

   Elvis’ patience grows thinner as he speaks to his friend. Who else would it be? He nods quickly. Jerry’s eyes never leave the side of your face. You never once looked away from the sea of people. 

   “Seems like she’s star struck.”

_______

    Jerry introduced himself, and you the same. He likes you more than the other women Elvis has strewn around. As they talk you listen. They’ve known each other far longer than you’ve been born. You watch as Elvis smiles- the big authentic one. His eyes crinkle and lines form around his mouth. The mere sight of his age sends you into a frenzy. You bite down onto your tongue and avert your gaze to the floor level. He mentioned his suite takes up the entire upper floor. The last floor of the hotel is mostly a secret to anyone else but staff. The elevator bounces to a stop. Elvis squeezes Jerry’s shoulder. 

   “You gon’ be at Sinatra’s tomorrow?”

   Jerry nods with a little smile. Elvis pats his shoulder and when the doors open he grabs your hand. His rings caress your fingers. You look up at him as if you witnessed shooting stars. 

   “Sinatra?”

   Your head tilts like a puppy in confusion and he cranes his neck back as he walks to his room. He smiles, plush lips parting so his teeth shine. 

   “Your world is ‘bout to come a lot bigger sweetheart.”

   With one hand he opens an enormous door into a lavish open floor room. He steps aside and stretches out his arm. Letting go of your hand to assure you into his living space. Your bags that he packed are already at the dresser. A shrine of televisions are stacked against each other on the wall. You almost trip onto the couch as you practically prance around. Each turn and step you feel encapsulated. Each piece of art or furniture was chosen for him. The best part was the view- God, it felt like you were on a cloud. The sun had gone down fully; it was around nine. You spin around, hearing him shut the door. 

   “It’s a dream, Elvis!”

   You squeal. It was a dream, just not for him. He hated this room with a deep passion. Dreaded coming into this room- made excuses to stay out of it. However, seeing you stand there in front of his windows, the denim front of his pants wrap tighter around his thighs. He slips off the jacket, slinging it over the top of the couch. He saunters behind you. He wraps his arms around your torso. His mere bicep covers the width of your ribs. His hands squeeze your hips, his face is on your shoulder. Nose brushing the curve of your neck. Dragging along the chain that has his ring on it. Cupping your hands over his, he kisses your collar. 

   You watch the city below you twinkle. The headlights of car’s beam past, the casinos signs glare at your eyes. Suddenly you feel as if you’re floating. The world below you doesn’t exist, mind completely empty, and the culprit is Elvis himself.      

    His sideburns scratch gently under your jaw. Kiss after sloppy kiss you can feel the pressure at your lower back grow. Can feel your own pleasure as you sweat. His hands scoop up your shirt before he releases entirely. Taking long steps back he’s petrified. That’s the closest he’s ever been to touching you intimately. As you turn around to question his actions, he presses his thumb onto your lips. Your eyes widen and you smile softly, he tugs at your lip. His eyes are half closed, he looks drunk with a light blush on his skin. 

   “What do you wan’ for supper little lady?”

    You almost spat out his cock and your ass lit on fire. You bite your tongue; he moves his hand to cup your jaw. His thumb is now tracing the point of your chin. 

    “Anything?”

    “Anything.”

    You act like you’re thinking for a minute and then it hits you. 

    “Chinese?”

   He doesn’t even consider anything else. He takes his index and middle finger, pressing them to his lips before pressing them to your cheek. 

   “As you wish.”

_______

   Banter. Card games. And a fashion show. All those things had occurred as the both of you waited for the lobby to come back with Chinese food. Elvis couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard. You feel more comfortable around him, it’s more personal without your folks' presence. He’s curious to know how long this bubble will last. Make you go through each bag of luggage he packed for you and wear the clothes. See- this was for educational purposes. The education was knowing what he loved seeing you in. Hated the dark greens and browns, loved the pinks, blues, and whites. Specifically the white, it showed him the innocence he loves. What flattered his little girl the most and otherwise; he told you to never wear the garment ever again. 

   “But my great grandmother bought it for me.”

   “Honey, hate to tell you this but that’s probably why your granny ain’t in Vegas.”

   You shut your mouth and didn’t question his judgment after that. He made you twirl, stand on your toes. Posture perfectly straight- if not he would put the yellow pages on your head. The weight made you scrunch up your face. If you made that foul face he would stand and hit your cheek with his palm. It hurt little, but it was enough to not make you want to scrunch up your face again. Currently wearing a little purple satin nightgown. You huff in aggravation. 

   “Cmere wanna teach you something.”

   You smile, taking the book off your head. Placing it on the coffee table you walk. 

    “No.”

   You freeze and look at him. He leans up on his elbows and snaps to the ground. Your face becomes on fire and you nearly go into a conniption. You squeeze your eyes shut, and lower to the ground. Your knees hit first- then your hands. Crawling to him. When you sit between his thighs, he takes your face into his palm. Thumb tracing over your lips. 

   “Going to teach you a brief lesson that most girls don’t know how to do.”

   He takes his touch away from your face and goes to his belt. Your throat closes and your eyes open wide. Unbuttoning his jeans he pulls them and his dark blue boxers down around his thighs. You almost roll your eyes at the thought of his color coordinating going even as far as his underwear. Broad arms are spread open on the back of the couch. He peers down at you like a king. A menacing, belittling glare is set behind those blues. When your eyes settle onto his shaft you become petrified. It’s huge. The small experience you had with the boys back home hadn’t prepared you for anything like this. If you wanted to compare, you would’ve guessed it would’ve been as long and similarly as thick of a glass coke bottle. It’s a lighter color than the rest of his body, the head a rouge. His veins are protruding, up from his sac to the tip. There’s a bead of white catching at the slit. At the base, he’s trimmed almost precisely like his hair on his scalp. Not a hair out of place. His balls are already drawn taut and round. Even if you had given the worst head of your life. (Which he doubts you will.) He'd be able to cum. 

   “This lesson is about sucking. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

   He watches the terror in your eyes, the innocent deer is being tempted and isn’t sure how to react. He leans up, his length jabbing into his lower stomach. Pulling a hand up from behind the couch to wrap around the back of your neck. 

   “Ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of.”

   He squeezes softly. 

   “Not scared, just nervous.”

   It’s a squeak, and he smiles as he pulls back. 

   “It’s human nature honey, pleasing a man. You wan’ please me right?”

    He’s got you under his thumb. The low baritone of his voice makes your skin tingle. His ring around your neck is a perfect representation of your devotion to him. You won’t say no to him- you won’t ever disobey him. You’re perfect. You nod. 

   “Yes, daddy.”

    There it is, his good girl. He swallows hard, reaching over to guide your wrist to his thigh. 

   “Whenever you’re not nervous, you can touch me.”

   Ogling at the way the curve is settled below his belly button. You’re not entirely sure how to not be nervous. What if you did an awful job and he’ll send you back home? What if he leaves and never talks to you after? You overthink and soon become overwhelmed. 

   “I don’t know how.”

   Voicing your fears, he smirks. He’s smug, he already knew that you would cave into his mentoring. 

   “I know little one, but that’s why you’re learning.”

   His breathing is heavier, he’s edging himself from your shyness. 

   “I’ll demonstrate and once you get the memo you copy. Understand?”

   “Yes.”

   He wraps one of his enormous hands around the end, right above his pelvis. Working at a rapid pace to get him started. He thinks back to your room. The way you needed him- wanted him. The purple panties you’re wearing right now that undoubtedly have his dried semen in them. He pushes his head back, eyes clamped shut. 

   As you watch him, you study the fury of his fist. How he doesn’t care about the tug of his rings on his sensitive skin. Each tug more of the sticky substance smears along his hand. His neck is flushed red along with his cheeks. His lip and his right brow are arched. The ball in his throat is rolling the most you’ve ever seen.    

   However, the most erotic thing was the deep uh, uh, uhs. It sounded as if he was struggling to breathe. Your pussy throbbed and you can feel the middle of your panties being damp. His hips lift off the seat. The head of his cock is in contact with your lips. In shock you open your mouth with a yelp. Hands squeezing his legs. Your thighs clamp together to create friction. His hair is clotted on his forehead as he looks down at you taking him in your mouth. That flesh, the licks that a kitten would give to warm milk is his end.    

    You didn’t even have him down your throat, just circling the tip with your tongue and he’s folded. The bitter explosion loads into the back of your throat, your face pinches in disgust as he takes his cock from your mouth and tucks it back into his underwear. When he regains his vision, your nose is wrinkled, mouth in a snarl. He knows you're fixing to stick your tongue out to spit. In an instant he’s leaning down, placing his palm over your mouth. He glares down at you. 

   “Don’t you dare.”

   His other hand is tangled in your hair, making you lean your head back. His cum swishes in your mouth and you gag. 

   “Swallow.”

   You gulp the poison down; he holds open your mouth to see if you did. He huffs back into his seat, relaxing. Pulling up his pants. Leaving the zipper and button undone. Not caring to contain himself. Grabbing your biceps he pulls you up into his lap. Your legs on the sides of his thighs. The little skirt of your gown, riding up your thighs. The stretch is sending your cunt into a waterfall. He runs his hands over your skin. Such a beautiful caress overshadowed by lust. 

   “Knew you’d be a quick learner.”

   He kisses your temple. Then your cheek, and nose. He sits back after just looking at you. Fully admiring such a youthful soul. He’d be good to you. Give you everything. Teach you everything your dad couldn’t and more. He’s your guardian now, and he’s shivering with adrenaline. Thinking about telling his doctor he doesn’t need the medication anymore since he’s found a better drug. The touch of you. 

   Your small fingers trail over his cheekbone, the curve of his nose. The killer line of his jaw. Sweeping over the cut of his facial hair to the sweaty mess of inky locks. You’re the one lost in thinking of how he tasted while you kissed him not too long ago. Eager for another you crane your head to the side and press your lips to his. 

   You don’t know how to kiss him, but the alcohol on his tongue. The smoke of a cigar he had- you can smell it. He revels in the sugar you give him. It’s a deadly cocktail as he navigates his tongue past your lips, he tastes himself on your tongue. Usually he tells girls to chew gum after, but with you- it makes him already half hard. His tongue sweeps over yours. Asking if you care to attempt to dominate. You don’t and he takes your hips and pulls them over his hardening member. The muscles in his stomach are already pulling together again. 

   Before either of you continue your journey of exploration, there’s three quick knocks on his door. You trail after his lips as he takes them off yours. Eyes still closed, you almost sob from the riddance. He rests his forehead on yours and nips at your top lip. 

   “We’ll finish this later.”

   He grabs your thigh, taking it over his lap for you to sit beside him. Getting up to answer the door. Holding his britches up with one hand as he opens it with the other. You smile behind your hand at the idiocy. Snickering at seeing the cerulean boxers. The young server, roughly about your age, is struck with astonishment. Elvis takes up the entire door frame, as he leans on his forearm. The boy couldn’t see you. Although, he came up with an assumption why Elvis’ hair was wild and his pants were half down. 

   “Can I have an autograph?”

   Elvis is empathetic with the kid. Reaching into his pocket for some spare change. He finds a couple hundred and hands it to the gentleman. 

   “Keep the change.”

   The younger man holds the bags out chirping about how Elvis is such a promising leader. Blah, blah, blah. He closes the door with his foot and walks back down into the small den of his “living room.” He sets the plastic bags onto the coffee table. Standing with a hand on his hip, his brow arched, and he shoots you a serious look that sends a shiver down your spine. 

   “Dig in little girl, you’re gon’ need it.”

_______

   With a full belly and bruised kissed lips. You’re whipped. Laying your head on his lap, completely dozed off. He runs his hand over your side, committing your figure to memory. Never once chancing an inappropriate touch while you were unconscious. Deciding it was getting pretty late, he set his carton of noodles by yours. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he took you to bed.     

    When you lie on your side, you look like one of those cartoon princesses. He took his covers and tucked them under your chin. Content with what he thought was you “sleeping.” He started to undress. He took off the jeans that were already down around his ankles. His boxers followed. His back was to you as you watched him. The curve of his spine was beautiful, the arch before his ass was at a slight point. Perfect posture adapted for dominance. The muscles contort as he bends to fold his pants.

   After he walks into a room nearby which you presume as a closet since he comes back in a crimson robe with his emblem on it. It’s velvet and fluffy. 

   You quickly shut your eyes and go back to your stunt. He nonchalantly crawled up behind you, slipping under the covers. Grabbed your hip and pulled you back to him. His abdomen was on your lower back. You sucked in a harsh gasp, marveled at how eager he was. His nose was shoved at the nape of your neck, breathing in your pine and floral scent. It was natural the way he fits behind you. It’s routine now. His hand dipped from your hip, to your stomach just below the swell of your breast. His thumb sweeping over your nipple lazily. Stilling as he pushes his thigh between your legs. He feels the soaked middle of your hole. His lashes flutter on your neck, his breathing slows. The sleeping pills, kicking in his system. 

   “You’re a pretty good actress, honey.”

   He falls asleep after revealing your secret. You spent all night thinking of how you could get him to touch you more. 

Tuesday. 

_______

   Waking up with a wail of a metal clang isn’t ideal. Opening your eyes, the rays of the sun blinded through his windows. As you moved freely, you noticed the boulder behind you missing. You pout as he’s gone. Out of all of his routines- this was the one you hated the most. He left a piece of paper on his pillow. 

   ‘Around this labyrinth, come find me. Love you, my little girl. 

   Love, 

   E. P.’

   You fold the piece of paper into a square and slip it into your purse for safekeeping. With a stretch and a yawn you decide to get up. Searching for a toothbrush in the mountain of bags you finally find one in a ziplock bag. Walking into his bathroom it’s bigger than your room at home. The towels were painted gold with his name. There was a stash of his medicine in the corner. The sink was white but most of it was gold. In the back, the ringing blare continues. The monotone screech cut your morning routine short. You spray some perfume on and spit. Almost stomping to the phone. Taking it to your ear. 

   “Hello?”

   Muttering in a short quip. 

   “That’s no way to talk to your daddy, y/n.”

   Your eyes open wide and you gulp. Your dad just so called when you had the nastiest attitude imaginable. You cup the phone closer to your face. Amazed at the fact he called. You’d miss your parents since you last saw them Sunday. It was a culture shock going from seeing them everyday to not at all. You smiled to no one as you spoke. 

    “Daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you!”

   Continuing to plead your case he cuts you short with a small chuckle. 

   “There’s my baby. Been missin’ you.”

   Your heart flutters, guilt settles in your soul. Hated to imagine causing any pain to your folks. Your lips dip into a frown. Your heart gets torn to shreds as he continues.

   “Sweetheart, I’d hate to tell you this. You have a right to know that your Mother and I split.”

   Hearing toned out and you couldn’t hear him. Your parents split, you were now a child of divorce. Were you the only thing that kept them together? Your vision went blurry as tears formed. 

   “Your Ma got the house, and I’m staying at your Grandparents place for a while.”

   He hears you sniffle.

   “Oh, baby don’t cry. People just move on, it’s okay.”

   You bite your lip to stop a sob that was about to spill. 

   “I’ve got some good news too. I bought a ticket to Elvis’ show on Friday. Was wonderin’ if you’re not too busy we could meet.”

   You hiccup, and your eyes light up with joy. You’ll be seeing him again in three days. You smiled wide. 

   “I’d love to.”

   _______

   You slipped into a little sundress, resembling Marilyn’s. Never thought you were like her beauty, although you reveled in the fantasy. The muffin you ate during the morning buffet was stale. You ate little, too excited to do anything. Thinking of Elvis’ note more often than not. Was this a game? Or did he want you to wait for him? You sighed as you sat down on a stool. Sipping on the warm juice. 

   “What if we add more airy sounds, like flutes?”

   Your ears peaked like a dog hearing a whistle. Knowing that voice, you memorized. Got off too. Whipping your head in that direction you find him. Mission accomplished. He’s wearing a black suit, the middle two buttons are clasped and there’s nothing underneath. The big bedazzled belt sat heavy in the middle.

   “If we’re not bankrupt by then. Sure.”

   The Colonel replied with a shrug. You’ve only heard what they said about the large man. Slightly worried about the impression you’re going to give him. You grinned, taking your finished snack and throwing it away. Walking with a bit of a pep towards him. He sees you walking to him and smiles at you. His heart is warming at the sight of you. It had only been a few hours since he last saw you, but it felt like years. He opened his arm and squeezed you into his side. Kissing your cheek once you swing your arm around his waist. One of his fingers comes around the chain around your neck that holds his ring. He pulls you to his chest, fully pressing his lips to yours for a proper kiss. The Colonel watches this rekindling like a hawk. He says nothing- just watches. It irked you in such a way that goosebumps formed. 

   “This is my boss, Mr. Parker.” 

   Elvis whispers into your ear. You nod and stick your hand out in front of his counterpart. The Colonel doesn’t take it; he looks to Elvis patting his shoulder. Your hand drops back to your side at the disregard. 

   “Try not to be late. It’s a big event for both of us.”

   The man wobbles to the buffet table, each step with a pound of his cane. Elvis walks with your hand in his, walking you to the lobby’s doors. 

   “Is he always like that?”

   You couldn’t help but question the blatant lack of respect towards you. It boiled your blood at the thought. He shrugs as he opens the door for you. 

   “Some days he’s worse.”

_______

   There’s four heavy-set body guards following you around. There are a variety of expensive dresses and jewelry. You got your nails painted ruby red and manicured. You would raise a garment to ask Elvis what he thought and now it’s in one of the many bags he’s carrying. The simple touch of your hands he bought it for you. It went to your head. Made you feel like royalty. Everything was within walking distance at the Boulevard Mall. When he couldn’t carry anymore, he led you to a salon that he knew too well. There was no one in the store as he ushered you in. He rented it out. The receptionist smiles a toothy one. She was a pretty bombshell, and you wondered if Elvis had slept with her. 

   “Hey, doll is Armond here?”

   She nods before batting her lashes at him. 

   “Yeah, just wanted to let you know I got tickets to your show on Friday.”

   He smiles back at her. Your face becomes hot from embarrassment. 

   “I’ll see you there.”

   You shuffle your feet as you walk into the room. A man preparing his area is the only person other than you. He was attractive and when he looked up his eyes were pretty too. 

   “Elvis!”

   He claps his hands together as he saunters towards him. You watch amused as his personality shines. As they talk you zone out. Soon, you’re whisked away into a chair. Propping it up a couple inches. Elvis already told him what he wanted, along with your makeup. He sits beside you watching Armond perform his talent. You can see the bags under your eyes, the grogginess apparent on your face. You couldn’t sleep last night. It’s so clear that Armond commented on it, while massaging your face. 

   “How many hours of sleep do you get?”

   You snorted a laugh. 

   “Last night? Three.”

   He looks to Elvis, his mouth agape. 

   “It’s a crime how hard you work this girl!”

   Elvis throws his hands up, smirking. 

   “I did nothing other than what she wanted.”

   Armond raises an eyebrow at your reflection. Surprised at what he’s hearing. 

   “Oh. Hell, at least get her something to give her energy.”

   Elvis nods, kisses your hand and leaves. As Armond scratches your scalp you fall into complete serenity. 

_______

   When you open your eyes, you’re shocked by how healthy your hair is. It’s shiny and curly. Huge too. Elvis handed you a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. He had opened it and put a straw through the lip. Armond had also slaved away at your face. You looked sixteen, but it was so heavy and caked on you looked like a raccoon. Eyes so big that it made them more attractive. Sucking on the straw and having Elvis’ eyes trained on you. Only the filthy thoughts of last night flash in your mind. Size of a cola bottle. He smirks, becoming smug as he sees your train of thought cross your face. You choke as you swallow, coughing as you fold over. Armond pats your back with little concern. The concern was more of his makeup getting ruined, then your well being. Elvis pays and says farewell. Picking back up the ten bags he bought for you, he leans over to your ear.

   “Alway choking on things that you can’t swallow. Poor thing.”

_______

   At his suite alone. It was funny he gave you a long kiss goodbye like he was leaving for eternity. He only had to get things arranged for tonight. Leaving you to get ready once he was done he’d come back up. You’re practically running around getting ready. Slipping on diamond jewelry, you were reluctant to take off his ring around your neck. It was a symbol of loyalty…that you were taking off. You left it for the moment being. Going through the bags from the mall, trying on every dress. None of them seemed right except for one. It was long and black, a deep cut of cleavage along with a long strip down your side. It was almost to your hip. Looking at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t recognize the little girl who you came as, but as a sexy nymph. It slightly worried you how much you enjoyed not being yourself. Vegas embodied at this point. Hair puffy and wavy. His ring is the only thing that seemed to bring you down to earth. The heels you wore made you feel as tall as a man. Sitting down on a stool, you exhaled. The door had opened and warm hands fell onto your shoulders. He said nothing, but pushed his thumbs into your neck- rolling the tension out. 

   “What's bothering my little one?”

   You look up at him in the mirror's reflection. His hair is puffier like yours, his face a little more rounded. A smidge of rouge on his cheeks, a bit of a black liner on his tear ducts. He was handsome being domestic. Your legs felt like jelly, thankfully you were sitting down. Your eyes lock with his and you begin. 

   “I don’t know, it just feels like being without your ring is a sin.”

   He sighs behind you, a small smile graced upon his lips. He lowers to the shell of your ear, his lips brushing it. 

   “It’s not the ring that matters darlin’ , it's your devotion.”

   He pauses his massage on the open expanse of your back. His touch leaves licks of fire on your skin. 

   “Damn, I’ll buy you a thousand rings if that’s what mattered to you.”

   His lips press below your ear. 

   “But your heart is the only thing that matters to me.”

   You smile warmly, his loving speech moving you. He helps you take off his ring, replacing it with a diamond collar. You move your head to the side and he kisses you. It’s slow and methodical but as time passes, it comes sensual. His hand cups your jaw, his tongue passes over your bottom lip before he pulls away. 

   “Promised The Colonel I wouldn’t be late.”

   “Damn him.”

   You hiss as you pull on his lapels back down. He laughs softly before pulling back. 

   “Don’t let those diamonds go to your head, baby. He’s the one who helps me pay for ‘em.”

   You consider his words for a moment before admitting defeat. 

   “Touché.”

_______

   Elvis’ hand is wrapped around yours. You try to keep up with his long strides as he walks you out to the limo. He lets you enter first and follows you in shortly after. Waving at the photographers who’s flashing bulbs blind him. The limo moves and anxiety settles in your stomach. You’re quiet, mulling over unsure thoughts. He squeezes your hand. 

   “Hey, pretty girl.”

   He soothes you, and you look to him. He smiles, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. 

   “I’m going to give you some advice. If we ever get separated go find Jerry, he’s always nearby. We’re going to a relatively respectable restaurant, so keep your manners pristine.”

   He kisses your cheek and gives you a little half hug. 

   “You’ll do fine. Such a good girl.”

   You hug him tighter, before releasing. He takes your chin in his hand. 

   “Okay?”

   “Okay.”

   The door opens and Elvis steps out. He reaches his hand out to you to take. You wrap your fingers around his and he pulls you out. You’re bombarded with fans and paparazzi. Everywhere you look, you’re met with prying questions and judging remarks. He pulls you behind him; he waved and smiled but never stopped walking forward. You look at the restaurant's sign. The golden steer. The sign itself was Golden with bulbs lined along it. Elvis holds the door open for you as always. He lets go of your hand. There’s no line for reception, so he walks immediately to the booth. An older gentleman who’s graying, answers Elvis' request. You’re too enthralled with the luxury to listen to their conversation. It’s old, red and the lights are low. Lavish booths you’ve only seen in mob movies are to your touch. It’s very early 60s but modern. The older man doesn’t ask for an autograph and you admire him for it. As the man leaves behind the counter to escort you and your lover. Elvis turns around to give you a reassuring smile. He too felt the anxiousness that lived in meetings. He can only express his sympathy to settle your nerves. 

   Walking through the room, you’re instantly met with what felt like a million eyes on you. Was it the dress? No- it was how divine you looked. No longer a freshly made adult, but a woman who has her life together. Knows what she wants and has for years. In a way, it was true; you wanted Elvis for as long as you can remember. The part where you knew what you wanted in life? That was a joke. The man finds Sinatra at the back of the room in a cherry wine booth. Your throat closes, you are going to meet an American Treasure. What were you going to do with yourself? Elvis scoots along the length of the seat. Giving his gratitude to the employee. Before you can sit, your hand is tugged over to the legend. Frank's eyes look up into yours as he presses his lips to the back of your hand as a greeting. It didn’t last only a few seconds but to you it was a lifetime. You smile sheepishly to the floor once he drops your hand. You go to sit by Elvis shortly after. Sitting on the outside allows you to feel a little more spacious. Sending him a telepathic thanking. 

   “I thought you said she was a little farm girl?”

   Frank smiles warmly at you. He’s spellbound by your appearance. He was captivated by your beauty like a sculptor to a sculpture. One to say his admiration when the feeling is presented. Stumbling to find the correct words to capture how he felt, he settled to convey his surprise. 

   “She was. Couldn’t have her showin’ up in overalls.”

   Everyone at the table laughs. You bite your tongue to not say something rash in your defense. Those overalls he spoke so rudely about were mighty fine to do your job. You laugh quietly to not be a prude. However, you hear a high-pitched laugh that was too much. You were too caught in your anxiety to have realized that there was another guest in your party. Who was sitting on the other side of Elvis. The culprit unfortunately was Nancy Sinatra. Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach. Knowing of their little debacle back in 1960, had your blood running cold. They never dated you knew that, but deep down you couldn’t help but feel inferior. Allegations you remind yourself. Allegedly. She keeps looking at him, laughing too hard at every joke. A bile rises in your throat and you can’t speak, just watch this tragedy unfold. 

   Out of the corner of your eye, you find The Colonel watching you from the bar. To say tension was high for you was accurate. It was suffocating. He’s sat at the bar a few feet away, he’s not doing too good. He’s sluggish from all the alcohol in his system, drink after drink. Jerry’s there at the end of the bar, glancing your way curiously. He tilts his head to the side as if to ask ‘why aren’t you laughing too?’ His eyes are kind and filled with mirth. Sending a wink of reassurance, he hides behind a glass bottle of beer. 

   “I heard you’ve got a big show this Friday.”

   The more established Sinatra speaks, Elvis nods. 

   “Hopefully to be one of my best.”

   He can’t finish his thought before he’s interrupted. 

   “I’m sure it will be with how hard you’ve been working.”

   How would she know? It feels like she punched you in your stomach. Biting the inside of your cheek to stop your chin from trembling, you feel like the small girl you came as. The girl you’ve been told to smother since you’ve come here. This was stupid, it was just your imagination that was making you feel like this. But what if it wasn’t? 

   “Doesn’t feel like work when my girl is around.”

   Elvis smiles softly at you. He lowers his head to look at you. His hand falls onto your thigh, slipping into the cut so he touches your warm skin. Somehow that insignificant gesture made you find peace. Your spirits lift a little higher. He gazes at you longer than he probably should. It allows you to burn each scar and wrinkle he has in your memory. If you wanted, you could draw them out and label them. He wanted to kiss you, grace over your body with his fingertips. His dark eyes swim with your color, a beautiful painting to be shared. After the staring contest continues a server comes by. Everyone orders after waiting their turn. When it’s your turn, Elvis turns to the side to speak to you. 

   “Do you trust me?”

   He asks quietly, and for a moment you’d do anything to satisfy him. You’re confused and then you nod your head. It makes him smile as he orders for you. A long bone Tomahawk Steak, with caesar salad and whipped potatoes. To finish it was you guessed it. Two bottles of Coca-Cola. Elvis had an interesting sense of humor, which is what you’ve gathered from being with him. 

   “I don't think I can eat all that.”

   You whisper into his ear. 

   “I’ll help. As long as you give me dessert.”

_______

   As he talks and rekindles his friendship with Frank, his hand grows higher on the bare length of your thigh. Every time you thought he was done he would go higher. And higher, and higher. His fingers danced on the inside, pressing the tips into your plush skin. You bite down hard onto your tongue not to beg. It was outrageous, how he preached about ethics and this was his. To torment. Through lustful eyes, you still fell witness to Nancy’s injustice. She touched his arm, pawed at him like a cat in heat. His touch was enough to stomach the green wrath that grew. Replacing it with a stronger pleasurable jest. Your breath hitches as he tucks his pinky into the side of your panties. He pulls them to the side. You lift your hips up to allow him access. You look up at him with downward eyes. He doesn’t look at you while he deepens his touches. His thumb rubs over your labia. He knows where you want him. He knows how to touch a woman to make her keen. You’ve just never experienced a man with such knowledge. He laughs. 

   Watching his side profile, almost pleading with him to look at you. His big blue eyes you’ve never missed as much as right now. An attention seeking whore. You think of yourself, so you close your painted lips and open your legs. Grateful for your change of attitude he runs his index through your folds. Intrusive to where it felt like an exam. He’s examining your cunt, knowing which vein makes you squirm. He continues his voyage while you twitch. 

   “Can’t imagine being with Elvis. Always compare yourself to be on the same level of success.”

   Nancy smacks her colored lips together. Leaning on her elbows to peer over you. You don’t know if she’s oblivious or ignorant to his fingers playing with your wetness, but you smile. His thumb slips over to your clit, rubbing long full circles. You cough to stifle a moan. Your nails that he paid for dig into his hand. He knows if you wanted to stop you’d tell him. But those pretty eyes told him a different story. His index prods at your entrance. Dipping them swirling, never entering. Grabbing onto his thigh, you try to ground yourself. What was the question? 

   “Tell ‘em ‘bout your photography baby.”

   He looks down at you, those blues are killing you. He knew you’d forget, were you that predictable or did he morph you into putty? Ah, yes Nancy’s question. As you pant, your knees knock into his as you open them wider. 

   “I- I take photos of subjects that I find alluring.”

   Elvis’ index wedges itself into your warm core, you bow your head. He curls it once he slides fully in. 

   “I’m t-thankful that Elvis is helping me further my abilities.”

   His ring on his knuckle is cold on the lips of your pussy. He pushes his middle into your hole. Pumping in a steady flow. The blood rushes to your cunt and sweeps your clit that has his thumb on it. The pressure makes your head dizzy; the waves lap at your stomach. The dampness of his hand splashes back into you. You can’t do it, your mind boggles. Thoughts of how his chest would look on top of yours, how the softness of his abdomen would contort when he would cum. Cum. The dam breaks and suddenly both of your hands grab onto his forearm. Your eyes roll back, your legs are quivering. Breathing heavier than normal as you explode. His hand is undoubtedly drenched. 

   “That’s so sweet of you.”

   Nancy screeches, Elvis smiles lazily. Luckily, the attention was off of you long enough to regain your composure. You don’t know how many people saw, but that orgasm was well deserved. Frank scratches his face in thought, before he turns his attention back to you. 

   “You should come attend one of my shows to shoot pictures at. Hell, I’ll even pay you.”

   The deal of a lifetime is cut short as the server comes back with a tray. 

   “I’ll think about it, thank you for the opportunity.”

   He nods, tucking a napkin into the collar of his dress shirt. The server places the cokes down in front of you and Elvis. All you think about was what Elvis’ cock looked like. Girth the size of the bottom of the bottle, the head rounded into a circle. You place a napkin over your damp lap. The server sets down the dishes to each person, bidding all of you a good meal before leaving. Watching Elvis has become your favorite pastime. Your heart does gymnastics as he licks his fingers that had been buried inside you before he digs into his meat. He leans over to your ear, his voice husky. 

   “Taste so good.”

 _______

   Dinner wound down, people were scarce as the night grew. Frank had suggested going to The Landmark to see a show. The rest was a blur; you were being pulled into a limo. Nancy had sat by Elvis and you sat by Frank. It was a short drive that you could’ve walked, but with paparazzi and status you would’ve never been able to get there. The conversation you had with him was pleasant and very informative. 

   You just couldn’t take your eyes off of Elvis. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you either. He knew you were jealous; he didn’t care to fuck Nancy. She was just an easy target. The way your eyes were blaring red had his cock swelling fat on his thigh. Nancy’s hand was dangerously close to touching the cock he taught you how to use. He kissed her cheek as she snuggled closer and it made you sick. 

   As soon as the limo stopped and the door opened you were out. You didn’t care about the paparazzi or the prying eyes. Strutting forward in a haste to the big needle in the sky. Walking up the flight of stairs, you could hear the booming music and chatter. 

   Opening another set of doors, you’re constantly bombarded by people, flashing lights- the backbone of Vegas was in this room. You regretted coming up here alone until you found Jerry. He was yet again at the bar. You were slightly confused how he knew you were coming but he was there. Your little guardian. 

   He met your eyes, and that you were summoned to walk to him. He smiles, but it’s very tight-lipped. He’s riddled with concern, why are you alone? You wrote off his apparent discomfort, your mind was set on one thing. That thing was to forget. You hadn’t been to the disco scene in your entire life, didn’t know how to dance either. You remember doing a report for school about party drugs and their impact on society. Who were you to oppose? You’d be normal by tomorrow, so what was the point of not doing them? You put on your best puppy look mixed with siren eyes, touching his arm longingly. 

   “Do you have any tablets?”

   He laughed loudly with a roll of his eyes. 

   “You can’t be serious.”

   He looks closer to your face and notices that you were serious, his brows furrow. 

   “Oh.”

   You almost implode with anticipation. Were you really that easy to read? Was Elvis not the only person who could see through you? 

   “I’m sure Elvis will skin me if I gave you any.”

   He squeezes your hand softly.

   “Sorry darlin’”

   You didn’t accept defeat, rather you stomped your foot. Declaring war. A devious plan formed in your mind. As if on cue you found Elvis in the back near the windows. His eyes on you with Nancy dancing around him. He didn’t care; he was tall and even with the lights flashing you could see that he was pissed. You rubbed your thighs together at the thought of him taking his anger out on you. 

   “Actually, he sent me over here to get a couple from you.”

   Jerry was skeptical, but as he looked to where you were pointing. Elvis didn’t seem to even look your way anymore, he was enjoying himself with dancing. 

   “See.”

   Jerry holds up his hands, and sighs loudly. 

   “Fine. But if you’re lying, I might murder.”

   He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, tearing two tablets off a pack of twelve. He hands you both of them; you smile. Kissing his cheek before bouncing off into the crowd. The swarm engulfed you; you didn’t know where Elvis was nor Nancy. You didn’t even know if The Colonel was even here. Bodies moved and swayed, you quickly took the little tablets and put both of them on your tongue. It tasted bitter similar to cum, if anything it made your body erupt into something awfully dangerous. 

_______

   Jerry had given you a faulty piece of his stash is what you thought as you danced boringly. Pouting as you kept dancing in the middle of the crowd as the minutes kept passing you kept getting hotter and sweatier. Becoming discouraged and disconnected from all the surrounding people. There was a man who kept his eyes on you, it wasn’t Elvis so you paid no attention to him. He made his way through the sea and placed himself behind you. He groped at your hips as he ground himself into you. 

   “Keep dancing like you are Mama. I’ll treat you real nice.”

   As long as you were being touched, you felt high. Maybe the drug was kicking in- you were in space. Colors and shapes melted together and drip. Faces blurred, suddenly you weren’t human anymore. Your hands turned to orbs and the flashing lights turned into symbols of hate. You were scared shitless. Shaking and cry, you turned around and pushed the man hard backwards. People looked at him and the crowd grew humorous. Some gave him looks of disownment others laughed. You fell to the ground screaming bloody murder. You sat on the ground as the sea parted; the music stopped, and the lights turned on. Then there was Elvis. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up and through the wave. The music turned up again, and it seemed like that never happened. He pushed you against the wall outside by the door. His large hands cupped the sides of your face. He was terrifying. His blue eyes turned into literal oceans and his lips were pink floating clouds. The only thing you could focus on. 

   “What did you take?”

    “I dont know.”

   You laughed in glee as you wiggled your fingers, eyes going crossed. 

   “What comes after one?”

   Elvis opened his mouth completely shocked, what happened to his good little girl? Your pupils were shot to hell, your face was dark with blood. You looked like you ran a marathon with how much you’re sweating. Your makeup was smeared down your face. He’s seen this before. Done this before and the only person he knows who has such a hefty dose was Jerry. He was going to kill him, but foremost he has to get you home. 

   “C’mon we’re going home.”

   He grabs your wrist and ushers you down the stairs. You push your heels into the ground. 

   “No!”

   He smiles, his best as a couple walks by. He turns around his face in a snarl. 

   “What do you mean no?”

   You’re sobbing again at him being so mean, nose stuffy as you bawl your eyes out. 

   “You’re going to kill Jerry!”

   He scoffs, tugging you into his arms briefly.

   “I will not kill Jerry.”

   He lied, but he couldn’t deal with trying to talk to a toddler. You blink your blurry eyes at him, chin trembling. 

   “You promise?”

   You stick your pinky out and this image of you reminds him of when he was teaching you how to fish, and he had to promise to not kill the fish. Jerry in this situation was the fish. He wraps his pinky around yours. 

   “I promise.”

_______

       The ride home was silent, you were curled up in his lap shaking. You watched the colors of the limo morph. 

   “I shouldn’t have made you jealous. I’m sorry.”

   You couldn’t acknowledge his apology as you laughed. 

   “Jellyfish.”

_______

   He helped you change into pajamas and he himself changed into his robe. He held you close to his chest as he coped with your troublesome mind. It was a flip of a coin that he got you to sleep. If his time was right, you were about three hours into a twelve-hour trip. Give or take. It was going to be a long night and he couldn’t risk not being there for you in your state. You curled up into his side, head on his chest. 

   “New rule: Don’t go to places where I’m not there.”

   You nod limply, knowing that you were going to give him a heart attack with your misbehaving. You were a princess, but you sure as hell won’t be Rapunzel. 

Wednesday. 

_______

      The rays that cast over in his suite were orange. Blinking awake with a stretch, you notice that it’s evening. You had gotten pretty fried last night and after knowing you had taken acid; he clung to you like a koala all night. Waking up without him there was a bit of a shock. It made a bitter taste form in your mouth and a hole in your chest. Was it longing or pure pain? You shrugged it off, rather to be in high spirits than to be in a gloom. Glancing at his pillow you find another one of his infamous notes. 

‘Be back later, sit pretty. Love you, honey. 

Love, 

E. P.’

   It was written sloppily, undoubtedly in a haste. You figured he must’ve overslept and left to rehearse in a hurry. You knew who he was and what was entailed with being with him. However, you waited all your life to be with him and he expects you to sit pretty in the land of mayhem? He can leave all he wants, but you would not wait around for him every day. He was crazy and so were you. You were slightly frazzled from your first exposure to narcotics, when you got up from the bed you were slightly shuffling but you were okay. You were moving. You had an idea. Not a good one, a thrilling one. Going through the suitcases seeking the one that had a metal clasp around it. It was shoved in the back of the pile glimmering at you. Asking you to go on. You sit on your knees, slipping the case on its flat side to pop open the lock. Your beloved camera stares up at you. Smiling softly to find it still intact. The memories rush to you, your body warming up as you touch the build. Picking it up you pop open where the film is, and replace it with a new one. Fresh beginnings. 

_______

   You needed a disguise. If you wanted to leave with no cautions or stumbles. You needed to be unrecognizable. It pained you to comb out Armond’s curls. Chewing off the fake nails hurt too. It was all in the name of journalism. The plan was to escape the tower (the hotel), get past the goons (the Memphis mafia), and take photos of Atlantis (Vegas strip.) It was easy enough, or so you thought. Currently in Elvis’ closet. Thinking it was smart to disguise yourself as a small man, rather than a young lady. It was ingenious; it was just the part that none of Elvis’ clothes were normal. As you touch the bedazzled vests and shining rhinestone, it was impossible to find something blendable. You dug through the stacks and the piles rejoiced to find a dark dress shirt. Putting it on you’re in heaven as you breathe in his smell. The trousers were just as hard to find. Through preservation you found a pair of beige khakis. They kept slipping from your waist and you had to wrap one of his enormous belts around to hold them up. Rolling the legs up to mid ankle just to walk. You stuck to your own sneakers to wear. Catching a glimpse at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t help but laugh. Looking like a toddler trying on their father’s clothes. Tucked behind a box was his old black sailor cap with a yellow emblem on the front. Surely he wouldn’t mind. You tied up your hair and precariously stuffed it under the cap. Striking poses in the mirror you decided was good enough. The camera hung around your neck with Elvis’ ring intertwined as one. The camera touched your chest as you breathed. Was this a bad idea? Was Elvis going to be mad when he found out? Surely not, he brought you here to broaden your photography. Right?

_______

   Sneaking past intimidating strangers and the mafia was tense. Every glance or side eye in your direction you were sweating bullets. You hid behind large artificial bushes and greenery. A ghost you remind yourself of. A complete and utter ghost. Your position now was hiding behind a man risking everything at a slot machine. Each stack of change he put in the divot the machine ate. Banana, banana, monkey. No winners here folks. The place was loud for a Wednesday night. People lost and were vocal about it. There were more losers than winners here. Music played through the speakers which was deafening. You were incognito. It was perfect. Absolute. Watching him pull the level once again, you couldn’t decide if he was drunk from how enthralled he was with the changing images before him. As he lost again he smiled. 

   The machine on the other side sounded, you craned your neck to the side. Startled to find who you were hiding from, seated so close you froze. He looked very charming at least, hair parted to the side and his chest looked very enticing. 

   “If you wouldn’t spend all of my goddamn money, maybe we’d grow my music!”

   His voice was a low growl, careful to not let eavesdroppers hear. You heard it and your eyes grew wide. Quickly switching sides with the man, thankful to find the seat next to him empty you took it. You could see through the machines, watching Elvis’ veins protrude in his skin as his blood pressure rose. The sight made your head fuzzy. 

   “It’s funny only now that you care about the money. Only needin’ it to spend on that farm girl you chose for this month.” 

   The Colonel pushes down the lever. Your heart beats like a drum on your chest. They’re talking about you. Elvis’ jaw clench. 

   “Don’t talk about her.”

   He spoke slowly, and his Southern twang was clear. Chills caressed your skin. The Colonel shrugged his big shoulders, watching the images not match. He lost another hundred. Then a thousand. Elvis watched in utter defeat, he was in despair. He begged his partner to change his ways for to benefit the both of them. It just felt like talking to a wall. A painfully bitter wall. 

   “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but you’re goin’ to have to. I’m plannin’ on marryin’ her.”

   You gasped in disbelief. The loud shrill was caught by neighboring ears. You clamped your mouth shut and scurried to find a distraction. Elvis almost stood up to see who it was, but before he could you clapped the man on the back and lowered your voice. 

   “This one is going to be the winner.”

   Speeding away in a fast walk, you almost ran through the lobby. Never looking back at the man who won, who shouted about his winnings. Nor did you dare to look over your shoulder. Maybe you were a prophet who summoned great abundance to those less fortunate. All you could think about was that he wanted to marry you. Elvis Presley wanted you to be his forever. 

_______

   Vegas was ugly, and you captured all of it. Vigorously walking with intention, the scenes you passed were less than kind. A girl was getting hit by a large man. Beggars took up most of the streets, well what you thought were beggars turned out to be an act. There were drunks and dancers. It was a circus. Luckily you snapped almost two full film rolls full of the discrepancy and corruption that lies in the heart of Vegas. Strangely enough, you matched the energy of it. The grandiose nature. You had to take a moment where you stood in the middle of a parking lot, looking straight up into the sky just to smile. The music and lights radiated off you. The bulb of your camera was almost burning out from how much the flash was going off. People even asked for you to take their photos and you gladly did so with a smile. You forgot about Elvis and all of your problems while taking pictures. The first time you checked the time it was one in the morning. Swearing under your breath you broke into a jog back to the hotel. Turn after turn and the same familiar buildings a nagging started in your gut. You were lost. How can you be lost when you’re living in the biggest hotel there is? You didn’t know, but you were far from the Vegas strip. It was dark and miserable as you walked down the sidewalks. Men catcalled you and grabbed at your arms. One was by an alleyway. He had far too much to drink as he staggered towards you. The man’s face was bruised and bloody.  

   “Hey, Mama let me show you something.”

   You kept walking, never even acknowledged him but he continued. 

   “I’m good, thank you.”

   You mumbled. 

   “No, I don’t think you are.”

   He looks around before grabbing your elbow and pulling you back into the alley with him. He grabs your camera from your neck and throws it to the ground. The lens breaks into a thousand tiny pieces. The cherry of it all was his foot crashing into the build, crumbling the film. You scream as he pulls you to the dirty ground. You land on your back. Elvis’ hat flies from your head. 

   “It’s a shame you don’t remember me.”

   He takes a knife out of his pocket. You crawl from him, tears forming. Terrified, you should’ve listened to Elvis. Should’ve stayed in his comfy bed. The man grabs your hips and pulls you under him. You hit him hard, scratch his face and he’s unfazed. When you finally get a good look at him you remember him, the guy from the club who you embarrassed. 

   “I see it now. How much of a pretentious whore you are.”

   He takes the knife and slips it into the fabric. Tear after tear, it looks like you got mauled by a lion. He wraps his hand around the chain and yanks it. Instantly the feeble chain breaks and he pockets Elvis’ ring. That’s when you sob. You didn’t care that he was hurting you or that you were scared. No, what hurt the most was the thought that he was taking Elvis away from you. He keeps cutting, teasing you. 

   “Help!”

   You shout, many times in abandon. Your pleas echo along the bare brick walls. Throat going raw and hoarse from your screaming. Nearly giving into exhaustion, your attempts are answered. A man grabs onto his shoulder and throws him back off of you. Another man comes and puts shackles onto his wrists. They’re officers you think in your foggy head. You’re curled up on the cold floor, your knees tucked into your shredded chest. You don’t know which is worse; he didn't want to touch you, he just wanted to hurt you in such a way to traumatize you. The officer helps you up carefully, as he walks you out onto the sidewalk he recognizes you. 

   “You’re the king's girl!”

_______

      Being escorted by police back to an eager Elvis was never on your bucket list. Looking up to the very top of the hotel you can just feel his presence. You just knew you were in trouble. Your cheeks were stained with dry tears, mouth dry from the coarseness. Head empty, you were emotionless. The most embarrassing part was walking through the lobby as hundreds of people gawked. You heard the whispers and the gasps. Pushing the floor number on the elevator, you watch as it opens and people walk out. You were the only one to enter when the doors closed. Looking at your reflection was the hardest thing. Clothes shredded, all the things you valued stolen from you. Your hair stuck to your face, hell even the band for your hair snapped. Wiping your nose, your hands trembled with anticipation. What was going to be your story? Oh yeah hi Elvis I disobeyed you and walked the strip alone? Ha, you were fucked. The doors bing open and you wonder if this is what it feels like to die. Accepting your fate you hesitantly walk out. Entering his room you can already feel the tension. He’s pacing, his hands on his hips. Angrier than a bull. You stand by the doors, head to the floor. 

   “Where were you?”

   You say nothing, tears slip past and roll down your heated cheeks. He walks long strides and stands in front of you. Clutching your jaw in his hand. The cold metal of his rings dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were dark, and the pupils filled with fire. 

   “I gave you simple rules.”

   Seething like a raging bull. His lip is snarled and his eyes are throwing daggers. At his haughty demeanor, a choked sob falls from your lips. Authentic alligator tears run like a river down your face. He’s blurry now. 

   “I’m sorry.”

   It’s all you can get out. He laughs bitterly. You’re sorry? For blatantly disobeying his few orders? He couldn’t help but laugh. 

   “Sorry? I bet you are. It’s a godsend that you’re even alive y/n! Don’t you get it?”

   Throwing your face to the side he walks away heaving. It was the first time he had called you by your name since you landed here. It hurt worse than him hitting you. Your stomach twisted as you got stabbed. Looking at you fully he sees the picture. His clothes that you stole were dirty and torn. He doesn’t know if he’s insecure or scared by the thought of not being with you. 

   “Maybe I was wrong about you, maybe you are just a kid.”

   Defiling you have disposed of his emotions. Sitting on the bed with his face in his hands- he mourns. Will you be the same big eyed innocent girl he took from the countryside? No, you most definitely won’t be. He felt sick. Your eyes roam over his disrupted form perched on the mattress. His shoulders tremble as he wheezes. Settling on the white flowers of his shirt, your own sadness turns into fury. Shuffling across the large room you stand before him, hands turned into fists. 

   “If I’m just a kid why’d you bring me here?”

   You wipe your damp face with the back of your hand. His head lifts at your question. His eyes are watery and softened, it’s too late for his change of heart. 

   “If I’m just a kid, why do you even love me?”

   You open your palm and push his broad shoulder back. His eyes widen in shock at your hateful actions. He purses his lips together to keep from making matters worse. Suddenly he understands you. You resent him since you find him as your guardian. Resented him for reminding you of your parents’ dysfunctional relationship. You hate him for making you want to grow up to be on his level, to be of his age. You keep shoving him back and he just gawks at you. The venom in your eyes replaced the little girls he once knew. He aches for her to return, there was a feeling in the bottom of his stomach that a piece of you would never come back. He took your shoving; he deserved it. One relatively hard shove pushes him on his back. He grabs your forearm and pulls you with him. Yelping as he straddles your legs and puts his weight on top of you. You squirm under his heavy hips. Slapping and scratching his chest like you did to the man in the alley, you yell at him to get off- instead he holds his ground. 

   “Is that all you’ve got? Hit harder.”

   You grit your teeth and start to actually punch him. His face doesn’t scrunch and he doesn’t wince. He lifts his chin up so you didn’t hit his face, letting you hammer onto his chest. His makeup team was going to have a field day tomorrow. 

   “C’mon you’re not even trying, hurt me little kid. Make me feel it.”

   You scream as you grow frustrated. Seeing the bruises form and the red abrasions you’ve done to his gorgeous tan skin. You cry. Placing your hands over your face to weep into. He grabs your wrists and pulls your hands from your face. Holding them with one of his palms above your head, pinning you to the mattress. You’re weak and deflated, a headache brewed. His hair is puffy and stuck up in all directions, similar to your own. A few strands hang onto his forehead. He leans down, his chest pressed against yours. His nose is almost touching your hairline. 

   “Now I don’t know what happened tonight. But from the looks of it- you’ve already learned your lesson.”

   He sighs, leaning back on his calves, releasing your arms. He looks down at you like he would after scolding you from putting your hand in a cookie jar. Not angry, dissatisfied. 

    “I don’t give the rules for no reason, kid. I just want to help.”

   You wipe your eyes again before nodding. Sniffling your wet nose in hope to breathe easier. 

    “I’m sorry. I really am Elvis.”

   He cups your cheek, his thumb soothing out your cheekbone. Smiling softly down at you. 

   “Don’t be sorry, just learn from it.”

   His other hand matches the one on your face. You place your hands in the skin you hit, this time he winces. His nose comes down to touch yours, his eyes closed. His long lashes fluttered against his cheeks. 

   “Would you be so kind as to allow me to kiss you?”

   He knew he didn’t have to ask, but it just felt right. The way he asked was so tender, it hurt your heart. Like a child he believed kisses were magic that can heal a wound. You whisper a prayer of yes. His lips come down into yours. Smooth and delicate, a sailboat teetering on the ocean. The white sails of surrender ooze from you. He didn’t let his tongue tease the seal of your mouth. No- this was different, almost like a kiss goodbye. It was sorrowful, yet it promised to set flames of renewal. This kiss was a promise to two hearts being whole. When he departs he presses a chaste kiss to your soft lips. 

   “How ‘bout a bath?”

_______

   Shedding your clothes in front of him should feel nerve racking, but it was quite on the contrary. It was the sultry look he gave you. He admires your curves and the scars you had. Not too big nor small, just right. Just his. Knowing that he wouldn’t be your first damaged his ego, but knowing that he was going to be your only until he perished was enough. Loved to see you move as if he wasn’t there. He had slicked his hair back with the hot water he soaked in. There were a few soap suds weaved into his thick hair. His arms dangled over the sides, the veins in his forearms captured your attention. His hands were bare and abnormal without his centerpiece rings. Your eyes roamed over his chest that was still crimson. The wispy hair hid most of the damage. His throat looked marvelous. He insisted on going first so you can see him bare, hoping if you had seen him vulnerable it’d help your nerves. He knew once you would get into the imposter sauna it’d replenish your joy. Finally reaching his bright blue eyes, he opens his arms wide. Droplets splash onto the tile at his reach. 

   “C'mere honey.”

   Standing at the porcelain, he helps you into the tub. Your back to his chest, your ass on one of his thighs. Relaxing instantly at the warm water and his touch. Leaning back into his embrace you sigh as he runs his hands over your arms. 

   “You wanna tell me why you left?”

   “Not particularly, no.”

   He chews his cheek, trying not to pry. He takes the bar of soap from the tray and slathers the mint smell onto your skin. Bubbles form in the water when he ducks it under the surface. 

   “I can’t help what I don’t know.”

   You roll your eyes, why couldn’t he drop it? You fucked up simply as that. He kept rubbing your face in it. 

   “I went because I was bored and I wanted to see Vegas independently.”

   You pout after speaking. Picking at your cuticle while you listen to him breathe. He rubs the bar of soap over your back. Thinking quietly for a few seconds before he replies. 

   “Are you independent?”

   His question wasn’t supposed to come across as rude, but it did. You blink slowly, in a way you were since he left you alone all the time. Look where you are. Thinking about it long and hard you swallow your dignity. 

   “No.”

   “Well, there’s your answer. A sweet little thing like you shouldn’t ever be alone.”

   His hand dips under the water and drags it up your back to wash the soap away. Going around your waist to rub the bar on your stomach. His lips trail up your neck, to your ear. 

   “Don’t you dare ever run away like that again, you hear?”

   You bow your head, as his hand slips to the inside of your thigh. You tense as he nudges your mound. 

   “Yes, sir.”

   It’s breathless and whiny. He continues to wash you, each thigh. Your lower stomach, then upper. He reaches the underside of your breasts. 

   “Tired of secrets.”

   Even if you were in his grasp- under his thumb, you narrow your eyes. Bitterness on your tongue. 

   “If you’re tired of secrets then why do you leave me when I wake up?”

   He huffs in response; he runs the soap over Your chest. Between the valley, up to your neck. His other hand goes around to lather. Squeezing your breast then releasing. You can feel his eagerness from how hard his cock is against your tailbone. He’s practically throbbing, you wonder if he got this indulged as soon as you undressed. 

   “I have to work, you know this. I don’t want to wake you.”

   “I don’t care, wake me. I want to be with you, don’t you get that?”

   You take his hand with the soap away from you, making him place it back into the dish. You trace over his knuckle before lifting and maneuvering around to face him fully. His shaft pressing onto your pubic mound. Holding onto his shoulders, your thighs spread open. Knees on the other side of his. His feet pressed up by the faucet. He’s too tall, he needs to get one custom made. Since he got there, he has been saying this, but it never mattered. He places his hands low onto your hips. His eyes lower to your nipples that are in front of his face, they still have suds around the peaks. His lips turn upward, noticing how hard they already are. 

   “The show is not ready, something is just missing.”

   He moves his head to the side, staring at your discarded clothes. He’s very torn about his practice. It has to be precise or nothing at all. It’s driving him insane not knowing what it was. He thought it was the flutes but not that. Was it the bass? 

   “Let me see it, and I can tell you what’s wrong.”

   Those promising words you whisper into his ears make him shiver. Your fingers trace over the bow of his top lip. So pink, like a flower. He kisses your curious digits. 

   “I’ll think about it.”

   You swiftly nod before removing your hand to weave your fingers through his hair. You kiss him. Long and slow, moving like a dance. His hands run up and down your waist. He puts his tongue down on your lips. His nails softly scrape your back. As you moan, he leans back with a cheesy grin. 

   “You like that, huh?”

   He digs his nails deeper and watches a little breathy whine fall from your lips. Mesmerized by your chest as you arch your back. 

   “I love how smart you are, almost fooled me at the slots.”

   Your eyes pop open at your secret being revealed. He knew?! He wraps his hand behind your neck and tugs you forward. 

   “I had a hunch from the pretty sound you made. It was only until you walked away that I realized it was you. From the looks of it, your curiosity almost killed you.”

   His hands travel down, one of them falls under the water between your legs to play with your folds. 

   “It would have been a shame to have never been with you like this.” 

   He leans up and nips at the underside of your jaw with his teeth. 

   “What do you say, sweetheart?”

   He’s asking you to devote yourself to him fully, unadulterated devotion. Without thinking you nod your head rapidly, saying yes as a mantra. He laughs softly, his heated chest rumbling under you. 

   “I won’t make love to you Little One, but I will fuck you.”

   Your breath hitches. He grabs your hips to lift them over his cock. The moment you dreamt of your entire life unfolds before you. 

   “There’s no goin’ back from this. You know that right?”

   Without speaking you answer by lowering your hips, he enters your hole with slight resistance. He watches your face contort from the stretch, soon your face falls apart. Mouth open wide and eyes closed, eyebrows high on your forehead. There it is. He knows he’s bigger and girthier than anyone you’ve been with. Maybe he should’ve fucked you with a Cola bottle to get you prepped for him. He doesn’t buck his hips up into your sweet cunt. Not yet at least. You sit flush on him, ass on his thighs. His balls are in the cave of your clenched hole. 

   “Elvis.”

   You press your sweaty forehead against his, eyes boring into the abyss of oceans. 

   “You’re the most beautiful man I know.”

   He smirks, eyes shining with mischief. 

   “I could’ve told you that, honey.”

   His fingers dig into your hips, now he bucks up into you. You feel the water slosh out the sides as he pushes up and down. Jack hammering. The crown of his cock spears your cervix with each thrust. Your head falls onto his chest as you take his plummeting. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to him to get better leverage. You’re limp, energy notwithstanding his. You’re completely drained, letting him use you to his advantage. If you came or not, you didn't care. As long as he was inside you, filling you- it was enough. The only effort you could exert was a breathy whine coating over the side of his neck, your face pinched in concentration at the familiar waves crashing in your abdomen. Your pussy hugs him like a vice as you shake with your first orgasm. He keeps fucking up into you, his hold on you strengthens. He’s on a mission now to fill you with his seed. 

   “Remember when you first grew into those curves. Always knew you’d turn into something gorgeous.”

   He looks to the side, down to your dazed eyes. He rubs your hips back and forth to cause friction. 

   “So pretty, my little girl.”

   Slotting his hips up, he squeezes your skin harshly, his short nails leaving crescent moons. His stomach clenches and he pushes up, and releases into your womb. He groans deep in his throat with a shudder. He cups your face to bring you in front of him. 

   “I want you to have my child. I don’t know how long it’ll take, or when it’ll happen but I want it.”

   You can’t even comprehend the words he’s speaking as he talks. Butterflies swarm in your stomach, you feel dizzy. You fling your arms over his shoulders and hug him tight. He smiles as he hugs you back. 

   “I take it you agree.”

   “Most definitely.”

_______

   The water is cold as Elvis cradles you to his chest. His skin along with yours became pruned. He doesn’t care, his chest still hurts from your beating but you’re touching him- so it’s not that bad. Stroking your back as you rest upon him. Reminds him of a distant time when he would bathe you after you played in mud. Nothing much has changed, just that you’ve grown up to be a stubborn woman. Maybe he should leave the idea that you want him back at home. You keep leaving and wanting to be away from him and he doesn’t know why. His nerves were shot from your little stunt, he thought that was going to be the end of it all. He didn’t dare to tell you about the tabloids he’s been seeing of nasty rumors about your shared relationship. All he did care about was keeping you safe, you were his existence. Without you he’d have no timeline, no meaning. While you slept on his shoulder, he knew you were no longer a princess yet a blossoming queen. 

Thursday.

_______

   He kept true to his word by staying with you until dawn. He breathes deeply behind you. Stroking your arm softly, he watched you snore quietly as you slept. Your lashes kissing your cheeks as you dreamt. An absolute dream. The bottom of your nose twitched, lips parted. He held you close through the night, his arm slung over your waist. His face shoved into your neck. The sun was rising. 

   The moment was too pure, untouched. The phone rang, and he wanted to tear it out of the wall. He pushed his face into your shoulder groaning. You awoke as the electronic drum continued. 

   “You’re just going to let it ring?”

   You rub your eyes as you speak. He kisses your shoulder before resting his chin there. 

   “It’s the cost of me not leaving.”

   His voice is groggy and it croaks. The phone drones on, finally he gets up. You reach out tugging him back to you. He leans down, his hands beside your head. He smiles softly, eyes crinkling. 

   “What do you want?”

   You blink dumbly, eyes rolling. 

   “A kiss.”

   He drops his face into a serious statement. His brow arches, shaking his head. 

   “In this economy those are scarce.”

   You roll your eyes once again before pulling up and giving him a chaste kiss. Nothing more than a peck. He watches you lazily crawl under his arms and get up to go to his closet. He sighs, walking over to the phone and picking it up. He answers. 

   “Hello?”

   He taps his rings impatiently against the plastic. His other hand tangles into the wire, suddenly he feels how it was a week ago. Getting a call from your dad out of the blue. This wasn’t your dad, but a rather pissed Colonel. 

_______

   Elvis’ head was going to implode if he gets another call by a publisher or a manager. The tabloids! Have you heard what they said in the paper about y/n?! He didn’t know how he was going to conceal you from the public, maybe you already knew. He knew you were smart even a little too much for your own good. What scares him the most was that he felt he couldn’t even protect you anymore. He had gotten seven calls in the past thirty minutes all about your stunt from last night. The Colonel took the cake for being the most accusing. ‘She’s making us look bad, get rid of her.’ His hands were shaky. 

   Once he did eventually become calm, he waited on you. Got you everything you asked for. Breakfast in bed? Check. Calling you the sweetest little names in the book? Check. He had kissed every square inch of your skin that you allowed. You knew he was tired; he was an angel whose wings were getting plucked. He laid his head on your stomach, his arms around your waist hugging you into him. You carded your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. You stared out the window. Your denim dress was snug on your hips with his dead weight on your lower half. You had a white long-sleeved shirt under it. He was thinking of a distraction. What can he do to leave temporarily? A vacation was a great idea, but with the biggest show he’s ever done on Friday? It was impossible. A collective groan sounded from both of you as the phone rang. As he got up, you pulled on his hair. 

   “Let it ring.”

   You hissed, angry at hearing the buzz sound. He kisses your denim stomach before giving you a small smile. 

   “It might be important, baby, I’ll unplug it after I promise.”

   You mumble fine, releasing him from your grip he leaves to the dreaded phone. He picks it up despite wanting to throw it through the window. He rubs his temples as the other person speaks. His eyes grow wide and his brows furrow. It’s your mom. 

_______

   News had burned faster than wildfire when it came to Elvis. That you soon learned. Your hand trembled as you placed the phone to your ear. Anxiety flooding you. What could she want? How she found his number was beyond you. Your mother was a great wonder. 

   “Did that man rape you?”

   Your mouth falls open. You feel gutted, is what people are saying. That man raped you? You felt sick. Elvis watches you from the couch, his hand rubbing over his dark jeans. He had taken a brisk shower to ease his nerves. The black sweatshirt he wore made him sweat, he was too hardheaded to go change, so he sat in silence eager to know what venom your mother spits. 

   “No. He just stole my stuff.”

   You spoke quickly and solemnly, with no emotion. 

   “This is all because of Elvis.”

   You felt a rage bubble in your chest. Your face grew hot and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

   “You can’t keep blaming Elvis for everything wrong in your life just because he didn’t want to sleep with you! I’m sorry that he wants me rather than you. At this point mom, I never want to hear from you anymore if all you care about is his success!”

   You spoke with such a vigor that even Elvis sat shocked. That way you spoke with your heart had him strangely fall even more in love with you. Yes, it also made the crotch in his jeans a bit more stiff. Your mom doesn’t speak for several seconds, she was processing it. During those seconds you wondered if you should hang up. 

   “Your daddy died.”

   You scoffed, almost laughing at how outrageous this was. She has been deranged since your dad left. You knew it was bound for her to cling to you when you finally left her. You sniffle softly, the backs of your eyes burning. Anger shifts into complete despair. Emotionally drained you whisper,

   “Never call here again.” 

   As you hang up the phone, you sob. Fat ugly tears fall down your cheeks. You didn’t have a mother, you had the man who practically ran to your aid, and you were thankful. He cups your cheeks as you cry, his eyes boring into yours. He watches as tears form in your delicate eyes and slip past the ducts. 

   “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

   He meant it too. Your cheeks were warm in his palms. Eyes glistening like a painted portrait, your lips parted and breathy. He strokes your cheekbone, swiping the tears away. Your heart soars at his praise. You smile gently. It’s crooked, but he loves it. 

   “Really?”

   “Mhm.”

   He brings your face toward his lips; he presses a long kiss to your forehead. When he pulls back, you’re no longer crying. Magic kisses have worked on you for the past eighteen years and he hopes they never will lose their touch. 

   “How ‘bout I show you what I’ve been workin’ on?”

_______

   The auditorium was bare and dark when you walked in. The lights were up and people were indulging in conversations on stage. Women and men of different ages and backgrounds smiling and laughing. A few were actually practicing their instruments. He held your hand as you walked behind him. Your boots almost made you as tall as him. He helps you walk on stage before turning around to kiss your cheek. You watched shyly as he gathered his musicians in their respective positions. He made short greetings with everyone, shaking everyone’s hands or kissing theirs. He complimented everyone before standing in the middle right in front of you. There’s a mic stand between both of you. He leans to the side, away from the microphone. 

   “You ready?”

   You smile wide and nod. When he plays, that’s all right you nearly cry. He performs as he usually does, doing the karate moves you love. Your favorite being the way he thrusts. Those full hips gliding into the air with feverish movement had you flustered. He kept flinging his limbs and smiling wide. For the first time in a long while, he could have fun while performing. The poor two minute song turned into six from how much he stopped to joke, or to kiss you. He sent at least a thousand if not more winks to you. It’s a very personalized experience that you revel in. Watching him do it for you because you wanted it burns you alive. Pull the skirt of your dress down to hopefully cover your arousal. 

   When the song finally finishes, he slots the microphone back into the stand and walks over to you. He ties his hand into the back of your hair pulling you to him. Your hands fall onto his chest, you gasp lightly. His lips latch to yours. His tongue instantly invades your mouth, eager to taste you. His bestest little girl. The high energy easily runs into you. You moan into his mouth, his other hand rests on your lower back. Tingles form along your body as he kisses you. The crowd whistles and the kiss breaks as you both smile. He sarcastically ridicules the group, he turns to you with a grin. One that belonged to a boy, yet his eyes still crinkle and the lines form around his lips. 

   “I think the only thing I was missin’ was you.”

________

   Sat in a small dinner, you waited for a server. It was heavily reminiscent when you were little; him taking you out to eat when your parents were fighting. When you think about it, it has always been you and him. He sat across from you, black sweater blue jeans and converse. It was very weird but pleasant to see him laid back. He had a certain composure, so it didn’t feel like he was content. He was nervous as hell bringing you out in public, even if it’s a restaurant he knew would be confidential he was still shaken. The diner was deserted which he requested; it gave him more gratitude towards the place. He watched you like a hawk, the protective shield he held for you was restored. 

   The server eventually came around, she didn’t bat an eye towards Elvis. You almost had a psychotic break from the oddity. Did you slip into The Twilight zone? The order was simple. A couple of burgers, fries and one coke to share. When she went into the back with order Elvis reached over the table to squeeze your hand. His rings pinched you slightly from how hard his grasp was. The rings glimmered in the dull lighting. 

   “You know I’d do anything for you.”

   He spoke slowly, making sure you caught every word because it was true. Your heart flutters at his devotion. You smile softly, squeezing his hand back. 

   “I know, daddy.”

   He leans back laughing quietly at the pet name you chose. He arches his eyebrow and whistles low. His arms crossed over his chest, he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. The tendons bulged from his tan skin. 

   “Happy to see the rehearsal helped your mood.”

   You shrug, picking at the hem of your skirt. You blush slightly as he calls you out on your behavior. 

   “I don't know, maybe your love has magic properties.”

   You look up at him, and he smirks. His lashes kiss at the corners as he watches you. 

   “That it does.”

_______

   Eating all that food made your stomach push at the denim of your dress. You smiled at the sight; it was funny to find your gut filled. Two straws stuck out of the glass coke bottle. He moans as he finishes the last bite of his burger. Licking his lips after. The sight made him look young in the small light left outside. He had pushed his hair back from his face, his jaw was firm as he chewed. His nose was scrunched as he smelled the sweet scent of peaches. The smell zapped him back to your house, a week ago. Time had flown so fast, too fast for his liking. He pats his stomach, shaking his head as he swallows. 

   “I don’t think I can eat anymore.” 

   You snort a laugh, rolling your eyes.  

   “Oh, whatever. I’ve seen you eat Mom’s Thanksgiving feast like no other.”

   He opens his mouth, faking offense. That furrow brow shoots up as well. 

   “I’d watch your mouth, kid.”

   You would shoot back a raunchy quip but the server returns before you can. She passes him the bill. Elvis leans up and grabs his wallet, plucking three hundred bills and giving it to her. She leaves with giving him great thanks. He helps you out of the booth, taking your hand in his to walk you out. He holds the door open for you and as you pass; he speaks. 

   “I’m going to show you that Vegas can truly be beautiful.”

_______

   You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you have your head stuck out of his Mercedes-Benz 600. Your hair whipping as he drove up a long hill. Seeing the sun set over the valley. He held onto your knee, making sure you won’t fly out. His other hand was loosely hanging onto the wheel. Where he was taking you was private but yet again, he knew the owner. It cost him a fortune, but seeing your reaction would be worth it. 

   At the top of the hill, he parks by the drop of the cliff. A heavenly overlook of the Vegas Strip. The sun had fully gone down; the signs were vibrant. Faintly if you trained your ears to hear it, you could hear music playing down below. He squeezes your knee before turning off the engine. Walking out to the trunk, he lifts it up to grab the blanket he leaves for emergencies. He walks around to the side and places it on the ground. There’s a small warm breeze but not enough to take the blanket. He places it not too close and near to the drop. Going around he opens your door for you. He holds his hand out to help you out. You take it, smiling. 

   “Thank you, my knight.”

   He smiles, walking you to the blanket. Once you sit down with your legs under you. He plops beside you, his long legs sprawled out. He keeps his arms perched up to keep him sitting. You lean into his side, watching the city twinkle. You look up at the sky shortly after, enjoying seeing the stars shine. It was the first time you had seen them since leaving him. He notices your face tilted to the sky and he grins. He should’ve known you’d be more interested in the galaxy than the world below. Putting all his weight on one hand, he pulls his arm up to point out a few scattered stars. He tells you what specific ones are a constellation, what are planets and what ones are named. After he informs you on all the ones he knows he wraps his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. 

   “If you wanted I could get you your own star.”

   You beam at him amazed with big dopey eyes that he fell in love with all those years ago. 

   “You’re kidding!”

   He shakes his head. 

   “Nope, dead serious.”

   He then points to the brightest one that’s not the North Star but close. You shake your head, searching for a star that speaks to you. Finding a small one, that’s so far off that it might as well be space debris. 

   “That one.”

   He almost protests in obscurity, but as he looks at you. He knows you’re completely sure. 

   “What shall we name it?”

   You nibble on your lip, thinking hard and long about it like it’s the most important decision in your life. 

   “I think I’ll name it Ophelia.”

   He nods, chewing his cheek before speaking again. 

   “There’s going to be a position for my personal photographer when we shoot, That's the Way It Is. It’s going to be long, but it'll be fun. Plus, it’ll help you get your name out there.”

   He talks slowly, allowing you to digest all his words. You look at him in disbelief. He was practically giving you a career for free. As you listen to him he becomes nervous about your silence. 

   “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but I figured you’d be the best since you’re always around me.”

   You touch him, smiling like a kid on Christmas. 

   “Are you kidding me?! I’ll definitely do it!”

   He smiles with you before leaning up to kiss your forehead. 

   “You start tomorrow.”

_______

   The soft breeze has turned into a gust. Both of you must’ve stayed there for at least five hours watching the stars. The moon shone bright and glorious. He made you lie down to press kisses over your neck, your hands tied into his hair. It was to celebrate your new job. It was like one of those cheesy hills where teens go to get laid. But with Elvis it was different. He groped at your chest, pushing your breasts together to nip. 

   “Wanted you forever, just had to wait for you to realize it.”

   He bites at your collar; you buck your hips at the sting. The scratch of his facial hair was unbearable. 

   “A-always knew.”

   He removes his face from your chest and furrows his eyebrows. 

   “Oh? Tell me ‘bout it then.”

   Your cheeks burn from being called out. Tongue thick as you try to speak. Your mind goes back to your room, the gifts he gave you. Those lonesome nights where no boy in the radius was there. Those were the nights where you wept into your hand trying to stifle the moans as you touched yourself to Elvis. 

   “I think I was six, no- seven.”

   He bites your earlobe, his sideburns tickling your face. His hands move from your waist down to your thighs. He gathers up the fabric of the denim up around your hips. The cool breeze sends a shiver up your spine. 

   “Very good, tell me more.”

   He encourages you, you’re flustered. Barely able to concentrate on the memory. 

   “I was seven, and we were play fighting and you put your hand on my tummy. That’s when I knew I had feelings for you.”

   He groans into your ear, rutting his hard dick onto your pussy. 

   “What feelings baby? Daddy’s gettin’ old.”

   Your breathing stopped, and your heart raced. His eyes were half closed, lashes hiding his eyes. He strokes your cheek. You looked to your Star Ophelia for courage. 

   “The type of feeling I knew I shouldn’t be having. T-the one where I went to my room to rub myself on one of your stuffies until it went away.”

   He kisses your cheek. His grip on your thighs tightened. He pulls them apart. Laughing darkly deep in his chest at seeing those familiar purple panties. 

   “These little panties got me in trouble last time.”

   You suck in a quick breath and hold it there; you did it on purpose wearing the pair. Knowing he’d appreciate the gesture, but you didn’t think he’d comment on it.

   “Take them off.”

   You whine and he shakes his head, his thick thumb swiping over the dampness of the middle over your folds. 

   “Thought I taught you better.”

He tucks his fingers in the bands and pulls up, you’re surprised it doesn’t snap. The feeling of the string going to touch your clit has you dizzy and your stomach twisting. He’s on his knees now between your legs. He leans down staring directly into your eyes. 

   “Should respect your superiors, little girl.”

His fingers go behind the thin elastic to touch you. His calloused fingers run through your folds with such delicacy as if he was plucking a flower. You grind your hips into his hand, his rings becoming drenched with your slick. His middle finger teases your entrance, prodding at you. Every time he does the motion you cry high in your throat. Back arched and eyes connected to the sky. He groped at your hip. Pushing the long slender digit into your warmth. You squirm at the intrusion before welcoming the fullness. He curls it, kissing your jaw sloppily. Your hands go to claw at his back as he slips another beside the one inside you. 

   “Such an eager baby. Think you can take me?”

   He mouths at the front of your neck and you nod ferociously. 

   “Think so? Fit me like a fuckin’ vice last time. Couldn’t even move without you sucking me back in.”

   His voice was sultry and a warm fan on your sweaty skin. His fingers push upwards and his thumb swirls your clit making you jump. He chuckles, you can feel his teeth on your throat. 

   “Please daddy. I swear I’ll be good.”

He nips and pulls your skin; you wince before he kisses it. 

   “I know you will, how bad do you want me?”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as his rings tempt to enter. He laughs. 

   “Wrong question. Your pussy is crying for me baby, crying.”

   Your mind crashed with images of him claiming you as his own. The way he told you that, you looked pretty when you cried and the way he thrusted into the air without abandon. That combination was deadly, that combination made you cream on his hand. The climax of your unraveling. You shoved him close to you, wrapping your hands in his hair tugging at those full strands. Your teeth clacked together from how intense you came onto him but you shoved your tongue into his mouth and he moaned. The first time he ever questioned his dominance was that night. Your pussy fluttered on his intrusion as it tried to push him out. He touched your clit once more, and that’s when you pushed him off. The overstimulation was too much. As he sat on his calves, he smiled. He ran his hands up and down the tops of your thighs soothing your feverish flesh. He watched you in a trace from how beautiful you were. Before pocketing them, he pulled your panties down from your hips. Putting his hands on both sides of your head and shoved his face in your neck. Sucking on your throat then kissing then moving to start another dark patch. You tugged at the belt loops for him to grind into your puffy cunt. 

   “Please, Elvis.”

It’s whiny, and you should feel ashamed but you don’t. You tug him again and his head throws back and he gulps. You press needy little kiss on the base where his Adam’s apple is. 

   “Say it again, honey, like you did.”

   You blink up at him watching his face drop into a concentration.  

   “Elvis, fuck me.”

   You never had seen Elvis move that fast, he leans back and slips the leather out of his buckle, unbuttons the metal clasp then unzips all in a fury. He pulls his jeans down mid thigh and you can see how hard he’s straining under his black boxers. His wide cock head just touched the waistband, a fat drop of cum slithering out. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches. He reaches under the fabric and touches himself; he hissed at the feeling of his jewelry. He tugs at his length a couple times just to get him even closer to the edge. His balls are in front of his jeans as he pulls himself out of his boxers. He spits on his hand and smears it along his length, lubricating it for you.  

   “You ready for me?”

You nod, and he runs the crown of the head through your folds. His tip catches on the lip of your hole and he slowly pushes in. A collective moan punches through you. He focuses on the marks he gave you and half thrusts into you deeper. His cock stretches your core and you can feel him settle in your stomach. Bottoming out fast as you suck him in eagerly. He holds your hips up in his hands. He’s still waiting for you to give him permission to start his pace. 

   “Move.”

He thrusts furiously. Jab after jab deep in your stomach. His eyebrow arches and his lip turns up. Wet squelching every time he hits up into you. 

   “Wanted to fuck you since you opened the door for me at your house.”

   Your cheeks heat, did he really want that version of you? He continues and a buck of his hips punctuates each word. 

   “Been in my head for years little lady.”

His thumb cups your pubic mound and he rubs your clit in fast full circles.  

   “Knew you were nothin’ but trouble since you were born.”

   You didn’t know why it made you cum fast from the low growl of his voice or if it was how sensitive you already were. But you arch your back, eyebrows pinched as you cry into the air. His hips stutter and his pace becomes sloppy. 

   “F-fuck baby, let Vegas hear how good I am at fucking you.”

  The little uhs he does starts and his balls are drawn. He’s hammering deep and slow into your cunt. Your mouth falls open and you can’t even think, just look at your star.  

   “Gon’ name our kid Ophelia. I swear it.”

   He throws his head back and groans as he pushes deep inside and pours his orgasm into you. He fucks through it shallow thrusts at your opening. His breathing is rapid and his chest is constricted. He falls down onto you and crushes you momentarily. During his crushing his cock slips out of your pussy. He wraps his arms around you, kissing at your jaw. You run your hands over his back. You could already feel his cum seeping down your ass as you lay beneath him. You say a silent thanks to Ophelia. 

_______

   You were in and out of consciousness as Elvis drove back to your shared home. Smiling at the thought of living with Elvis. His hand was on your thigh and you watched him drive. It wasn’t a long drive by any means but he needed to touch you at all times and you were fine with it until it made your cunt sore. You thought he wanted another go as he pulled into a parking lot. He turned off the engine and leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek. 

   “Don’t go anywhere, it shouldn't take much time.”

   You nodded, and he left you in the car. Deciding it was the best time to go back to sleep you curled up in the passenger seat and dreamt of Elvis.  

Friday. 

_______

   You had gotten sick first thing in the morning dashing in to the bathroom to throw up. Curled over the toilet you were beyond confused why it was happening. You didn’t have a fever, maybe it was the food from last night but you were a little shaken about it. You chose to not tell Elvis for it might be nothing. He was already gone; it wasn't surprising since today was the biggest day of his life. You were already slacking on your new job, but how can you do it without a camera? You pouted slightly before getting over it deciding to face the music.

  He’s on edge, he’s shot up most of the drugs doctor nick has given him. Sniffing and wiping his nose from the coke he did. Bouncing his leg in the elevator impatiently. He’s grabbed the bag he left in the car from last night. Squeezing in giving it to you in the few minutes of his break. He’d rather sees your reaction then leave it on the dresser with a note. The elevator stops and he steps out. Slightly shaking from all the drugs coursing through him, he struggles to open the door. When he does, he finds you in his shirt dancing around the room. He could have programmed his tvs to the live feed in the auditorium. The sweet inspirations harmonized to sing little sister. His heart melts, and his cock is tight in his suit. He closes the door and hugs you from behind. You laugh as he swings you around. The bag in his hand hitting you. When he puts you down, he holds the bag behind his back. You look at him in his white suit with the low dip. His hair fluffed up. His skin tan and his eyes dangerous with the makeup. You blush at the sight and try to look past his shoulder and he steps back. 

   “Gimmie sugar and I’ll give you a gift in return.”

   You roll your eyes, going on your tiptoes to peck his lips.

He shakes his head.

   “You call that sugar?”

You huff, pressing your lips to his to suck on his bottom lip. He moans softly when you pull back he pecks your lips. He swings the bag in front of hands it to you. You take it with a smile; you grab the tissue you take it out. Your smile drops and your eyes widen. You take it in your hands the bag dropping. It’s a Polaroid sx 70. He watches you examine it with his hands on his hips his foot tapping. 

   “Think it’ll work, sweetheart?”

   You jump into his arms, a death grip on the metal frame.

He huffs as he catches you on his chest. 

   “It’s perfect! Thank you!”

   You kiss his face and say thank you a thousand times. You didn’t care that his makeup artists will chew you out. He cups your cheek when you go to your feet. You take the camera scope to your eye. Waling back to get him in frame. As you do, he takes two fingers his rings shining. Hr parts those fingers in front of his mouth and sticks his tongue out fully. His eyes close and his nose scrunch. You click the button and take the photo, completely lit on fire and out of shock you scold.

   “Elvis!”

  _______

   It’s an hour, a little more before the show and you keep taking pictures of him everywhere action he does. You’re trying out your new equipment absolutely bouncing off the walls with gratitude. He lays down beside you on the bed, his fingers tracing your thigh. 

   “Do you trust me, honey?”

You nod, biting your lip. He kisses your cheek. 

   “I can’t get out of this suit, but I wanna taste you.”

   He runs his index over your cheek.

   “Lay down darlin’”

   You shuffle on the bed, the skirt of his dress shirt bunching up around your hips. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. The camera still in your hands. He puts his knees on the edge.

   “The only rule is to never stop taking pictures.”

   His hands run up your thighs to part them. 

   “If you do, I'll stop.”

   You bite down on your tongue from whining. He situated himself between your legs he spreads you open. The flash goes off and he smiles. The photo slips out after a few minutes 

It falls onto the stack on the bed. He kisses your thigh.

   “Such a good girl. Makin’ me so hard baby girl, Jesus.”

He slips off your navy panties, the middle already damp. Tucking them into his suit for good luck. Smoothing his hands over the inside of your thighs. He can already see you glisten in the dim light of the evening sun. His nose pokes at your pubic mound. His hands push your thighs apart kneading the plush skin. 

   “You smell so good, baby, like peaches.”

   The flash went off and another photo of him between your thighs slid out. His tongue snakes out and presses to your clit first. You jolt from his hot tongue. He moans, and it vibrates through your entire body. 

   “It tastes like pure honey.”

   Your eyes roll back into your head and your toes curls. He looks up his bangs almost shielding his sight. Watching you drop the camera to the side. He stops and you mourn. 

   “I told you if you stopped taking pictures, I would stop too.”

   His mouth and nose were soaked, and you sniffled. Fine. You pick up the camera and takes a picture of his face. He smirks in that one.

   “Good baby.”

   His face returns to your cunt, licking a fat belt from hole to clit. Up and down. His chin rubs at your entrance. His cheeks are smashed between your thighs. Photo after photo he looks up into the camera every time. He grinds his cock into the bed for friction after you pull his hair.  Your hand shaky as it held the camera. His tongue flicked your bundle of nerves rhythmically. The pad of his middle finger swirls over your opening. Your face is heated, and your skin is damp. You squirm away from the bubble that builds in your stomach. The small tvs play love me tender. You can’t help but lose your mind. Your legs crush his head as you release onto his face. Almost going into a convulsion as he kitten licks you through it. Another Polaroid slips out and you’re surprised you haven’t used all the roll yet. When you come down from your high, he kisses your labia and then each thigh. His face is wet, but he smiles, breathing hard.

   “Almost suffocated down there.”

   He chuckles to himself and wipes your slick from his mouth with the back of his palm. He was on his knees the suit rubbing into your cunt when he overlooked you. His makeup was smeared. His hair in clumps. But the way he looked at you, pupils shot to hell and a big smile almost goofy looking. That too, you took a Polaroid of. 

   He had put you in a white sequin dress which was modeled after his suit. The jewels shined and glistened with every turn. He made you do his makeup and had given you his scarf to hide the hickeys. The flare of his collar on his suit made his neck the most suitable candidate for kisses. After deeming your makeup up to par, he squeezes your hips and smiles. A smile shouldn’t make you rub your thighs together, but it was his smile. He kisses your stomach all while looking at you. 

   “I’m goin’ to spend the rest of my life with you darlin’”

   You’re slightly confused before he stands and walks to the dresser pulling open a drawer then taking out a small box. He wouldn’t, would he? Your heart swells, and your hands get clammy. He drops to his knee in front of you and here goes the tears to mess up your own makeup. 

   “Will you let me be yours?”

   You nod fervently, tears slipping down your cheeks. You hug him over his shoulders and he hugs your waist laughing.  

   “I almost thought you wouldn’t.”

   You snort a laugh before kissing his nose. 

   “How can I ever say no to you Elvis?”

   He walks you to the back of the hall by the auditorium. The Polaroid camera in your other hand. Vernon is with your dad as they walk over and you smile at him wide, relieved to see him alive you jump into his arms. 

   “I’ve missed you so much daddy!”

   He hugs you tight and spins you around. You’re overwhelmed from how much you’ve missed him. He was the perfect thing to ease your nerves. 

   “I know baby, missed you too.”

   He kisses your cheek and smiles as you show him your big engagement ring. You pout softly remembering what your mom said about him. 

   “Mama said you'd died.”

   He laughs, popping a hip. 

   “She did?”

   “Mhm.”

   “I’m glad you’re not, happy you’ve made it. Gives me someone to sit by.” 

   Elvis comes by after talking to his crew and smiles at your dad, both of them nod. He swings an arm over your shoulders, hugging you into his side. Your dad watches his future walk before him with adoration. Elvis opens the big metal door open to you. He smirks when you look up to him.  

   “Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life, honey.’

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 9

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Tom sticks his foot in his mouth some? AN: Chicks have survived! We ordered 4, got 5 and they all hatched on V day and have Vday themed names. Chapter 8, Masterlist, Chapter 10 ~~~~~<3 “Let me be clear- I am committed for at least a year or until death. We’re married. I do not take that lightly.” It drove him mad that he had to keep saying it. When would she believe that it was more than just a whim? 

“Tom-”

“Part of being married is the sharing of resources and caring for each other. I care for you and I care for her. You don’t have to care about me- it would be nice but that may come in time.”

“What if you change your mind? What then?” 

Mia felt like screaming. She felt like running. She felt like crying. She felt like reaching out to him for comfort. Instead she sat stone still and board straight. 

“What if I let you find us some magical Las Vegas apartment, get us moved and three months from now you get tired of your secret American family and stop paying the rent?”

“I-” It was her turn to cut him off. 

“You’re right- I can’t afford anything better. I can’t afford food until Monday. If I let you in, let you change our lives and then you change your mind? We end up homeless. Hell, I can only afford this damn apartment because we’ve been there so long.” 

“I wouldn’t-”

“How do I know that? How can I trust that?” Mia’s frustration grew when her vision waved as her eyes grew teary. “You think I don’t want to give you a chance because you’re ugly or cruel or something. Any woman would die for this chance but I can’t. I’ve got a little girl who relies on me.” 

She harshly wiped away a tear that had the nerve to slip from her eye. 

“If I take a gamble and it’s a bust, she gets hurt. She ends up homeless. She ends up in state custody. She gets her heart broken too.” 

“I didn’t think of it that way.” 

She scoffed at him and he bristled at that, opening his mouth to try and defend himself. She started again before he had a chance to say anything though. 

“It’s my job to think of that. How can I trust a stranger, even a stranger I married on a whim, to not let some little girl who he’s known for even less time become homeless. How can I trust that you’re not going to suck her into your charm, make her see you as a father then walk away?”

“I don’t want to push her to see me as a father.” That was the easiest point to focus on first. “If that happens, it happens naturally. I’m not going to pretend that we don’t have a lot of things to decide on, to plan and work out but that will take time.”

Creeping fingers slid a few inches more. He wiggled his finger tips against hers, lacing them together. She didn’t pull away and he took that as a good sign.

 “Tom,”

“If I find an apartment- something modest but without gaps in the doors or maintenance crews that help themselves to tenant’s groceries, if I were to pay the lease up front for the year, would you consider it?”

“This is my life-” People would say she was using him, she knew that as much as she knew her name. 

“No, Mia- not any more.” His voice was soft, devoid of the harshness that had crept in. “It’s our life now. We get to decide what that looks like. We will go over what bills we’ll have, we’ll work together and come up with a plan that makes you feel safe and lets me feel assured that the two of you are safe.”

“I don’t want to use you.” She wanted to accept. 

Glancing at Sally, she knew for her daughter this sort of chance at financial security may never come again. If she allowed Tom to take care of them, even if things didn’t work out she could save her checks. 

“If I’m offering, insisting and fighting you to allow it, is that using me?”

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Mia ran her hand through her hair, scarping her nails along her scalp. “It’s just- It’s a lot, really fast.”

“I know.” 

~~~~~<3

She stood in the kitchen crying. There were boxes scattered in the living room to be taken to the trash later. Tom was upstairs reading who knows how many bedtime stories to Sally.

It felt weird to not be the one putting her to sleep. It felt good to have someone to help with simple tasks like bedtime. 

If she wasn’t careful, she could get used to this.

Realizing the refrigerator and freezer both had been standing open while she cried, for how long was anyone’s guess, she closed it. It was overwhelming, seeing the full shelves. Tom had kept his word, stocking the kitchen in a way she had never been able to do before. 

There were drinks and snacks. Brand new pest proof bins held rice, flour, sugar and dried pastas. A electric kettle sat on her counter and a variety of teas were stacked next to her coffee pot. 

Things for him. Things for her husband. 

“Are you alright?” Tom asked softly from the foot of the stairs. “She’s asleep.” 

Mia couldn’t do anything but nod at first. 

“It’s just a lot.” She said weakly. Everything was hitting her now. Regardless of if she wanted to or not, she was going to have herself a good cry right now.

“Is it?” Tom wasn’t sure what to say as he approached. 

“No one’s ever- I’ve never. We’ve never had this much before.”

Tom moved slow, giving her chance after chance to tell him to back up, to stop, to give her space or go away. Large hands rested on her shoulders as he looked down to her.

 “Does he not provide for his daughter?” That was a question that had been rattling around in his brain since he saw the picture. 

“He’s supposed to pay child support but he hasn’t in over a year. It’s just been me and when Ashley can, she’ll help.”

Slowly, Tom pulled her to his chest. “It’s okay.” He soothed. 

It felt good to be held by him. The moment stretched on as she tried to keep her tears to a minimum. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked as she pulled herself away from him. 

There were things to do and crying in his arms wasn’t something on her schedule. 

~~~~~<3

They sat, cups of tea on the small table in front of them. Tom flipped through apartment listings only to have every single option turned down. Frustration built in him with each apartment, nice and basic, turned down. “Why? They’re all nicer than this place.” 

She sat in silence as he took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t her intention but she was being difficult. 

“I’m sorry.” And she was, to a degree. “It’s just so much.’ 

“I’m just going to pick some and we’ll look.” Tom decided, locking his phone and setting it facedown on the table in front of them. “There’s still a lot to decide. We can put the utilities on auto pay so you don’t-”

“I don’t want you to pay for everything.” It would be better to just shut up and let him pay everything, she knew that. It would allow her to save more for when this inevitably falls apart but she just couldn’t make herself feel okay doing it. “Let me at least keep the electric and internet- the electric will vary during the year and the internet isn’t a necessity.”

“I can send money for groceries-” 

“If I’m not paying rent, groceries shouldn’t be a problem.” 

For the first time in their marriage, they sat and talked into the night. The topics were not fun ones. They talked of financial histories, debts, education and potential future earnings. They talked about the cost of managing their individual households.

Tom wasn’t rich in the realm of his career but compared to her, he was far more financially secure. And unlike her, his career was ramping up and reaching for the sky. Tom swore to her, regardless of what direction his career took, if their attempt at a marriage did not work he would not leave her financially hurt but she struggled still to put faith in him.

~~~~~<3

Midnight quickly approached and Mia’s yawns were coming more and more frequently. They were so different in backgrounds that simply learning about each other’s past ate up more of the night.

“You should go to bed.” Tom’s hand reached out for hers. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’ve been up just as long as me.” Mia countered though she still stood up, slipping her hand out from under his. 

“I need to be up a bit longer yet.” He wanted nothing more than to go up to bed though. “I’ve got to make some calls back home. Face the music and take my licks.” 

“Are you in trouble with someone?” 

“No, not really.” Tom thought twice about his answer after he said it. “Probably but hopefully he’s cooled off by now. My publicist wasn’t so happy with me. I blocked him after breakfast yesterday.”

“He knows about-?” She waved her hand to try and encompass the whole situation.

“Yeah, at least some of it.” 

“I didn’t know you told anyone yet.” It was weird. They had built their relationship, small as it was, in a bubble where in a lot of ways he was just a normal man who was caught up in a Las Vegas situation fit for a Lifetime movie.

“I didn’t.” 

Tom knew he needed to face reality head on. Luke would tell him how important it was to get ahead of the story and now it’s been two days. 

“There are pictures of us at a bar and of me with you in your gown. I don’t know how much the world knows but I did tell Luke about our marriage.” 

“It would be better for you if we didn’t do this.” Mia felt the earth tilting under her feet as what he was inched in again. 

“Maybe, but that’s not something I want to change.” 

Mia had so many questions but she didn’t know how to voice any of them. “Marriage records here are public,” was all she could think to say. 

“That’s not a problem- I was planning on telling the truth. Or at least a version of it.”

“What’s that mean?” 

“I like to keep my private life private. We’ll probably present us as something recent but not same day recent.”

“Should I stay up too?” Mia didn’t know what her role in this would be. 

Tom stood and walked over to where she lingered by the stairs. He was touched at how she had opened up to him, slight though it was. It was there, he could feel it- the little buds that could maybe grow into the roots of a real marriage. 

Reaching out, he took her hand in his. These small acts of affection were easier to accept each time they happened but it was clear they still left her uncomfortable. It still very much felt like pretend to her. Mia struggled to believe he felt anything but duty in them. 

“Go on up to bed. I’ll be up as soon as I get done.” 

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Stand still. 

Stand straight. 

Write slow and careful. 

Be neat. 

Breathe. 

Mia checked and double checked her spelling on the form. She sucked on a breath mint, feeling like she was a teenager again trying not to get caught. If they didn’t pull this part off, the cards would come crashing down.

When she was sure, through the muddy sludge of her alcohol steeped mind, she handed the form to Tom. He filled his portion out just as methodically. Every time he would glance up at her, his concentration was broke by a wide grin. 

He was an old hand at filling out forms. Muscle memory took care of what Mia had spent ages overthinking. 

She followed his lead as they returned to the counter. Identification was handed over and then it was time to wait. They stood stoic and still. Every bone in their body wanted to dance, to move and to be in the moment. 

Toms fingers wove through hers. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. Softly, he told her things that went in one ear and out the other, lost in the sound of blood rushing. 

“Here’s your packet. Identification is inside it.” The woman behind the counter sounded like she was reading from the dictionary to Mia. 

But not how Tom would sound reading from one. Tom would somehow sound breathtaking reading a dictionary. 

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.” 

“Thank you,” Tom said before leaning down and kissing Mia on her cheek. 

They had pulled it off. The woman either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care that the two standing in front of her were not just intoxicated but very intoxicated. This was the one test they had to pass and they did.

“We’re going to get married.” Mia leaned into Tom’s arm as they walked out of the building and into the magical night lights. 

“Let’s go make you Mrs. Hiddleston.” Tom whispered, grin wide was he wrapped his arm around her waist. 

“Let’s go get married.” She smiled up at him, trusting him to guide her safely. 

Tom couldn’t help but glance down at the woman tucked into his side. The flashing lights reflected off her warm brown hair and danced in her eyes. 

He felt something he had never felt before when he looked at her, when she smiled up at him. It could just be the alcohol but he didn’t think so. In his heart, he knew what he felt was a love pure and simple. It was a love he had been chasing and seeking since he had become a man. 

It was a love he needed logic and fear to step aside for him to see clearly. 

Love was waiting for him, he had to just be willing to see it. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing

Ps: Sorry not sorry for the blog getting flooded in the next few weeks with baby chicken pictures, occasional dog videos and personal nonsense. Simply put, my pets are fucking cute and need to be seen. But also spring is coming and planting season is quickly approaching.

[birdclowns]

semicompleted saturday

ty for the tags @heartstringsduet & @inflarescent <333333

this was the first fic I started to write, and I don't think I've posted anything about it? I moved onto other projects and it's been at the bottom of my google docs forever. it's rough. it's only been looked over as I wrote it. but the premise of it is neat.

tk gets into a fight on a call. gets angry at carlos. goes out with the girls. gets into a different fight. tk things. <3

“I understand the situation was fucked, TK, but, baby, you can’t just punch people.” He absent mindedly holds TK’s injured arm, inspecting it as if he could do a better job than Tommy Vega herself. He looks into his eyes, all big, brown and soulful, “No matter how much they try to egg you on.”

He lifts his brows up as TK goes to argue, fixing him with a look. TK shuts his mouth.

“Your badge is to help injured people, not injure them." He frowns as TK rolls his eyes, pulling his arm out of his grip.

“I don’t think you understand how it was very much a fight or be fought situation, Carlos-”

“I was literally seconds away-”

“I didn’t know that.”

Their attention snaps towards the bay doors at the sound of the ambulance returning, watching it as it backs in. The shrill sounds of the back-up beeper halts their conversation, both unwilling to get into a volume battle with the ambulance - though TK would probably win if he really wanted to.

The paramedic duo hop out of it, Nancy waving wildly at them in greeting. With a wave back, the two idly watch as the women get back to work.

Once the sounds of Nancy and Tommy going through inventory and chatting fill the air, TK turns to face Carlos again, a smug grin replacing his previous frown.

He taps his temple with the uninjured arm. “At least there’s no concussion this time,” he says, eyes crinkling at the edges, unnecessarily proud of himself for not getting a concussion. “No harm no foul, babe, I’m perfectly fine.” His expression would be cute if he wasn't avoiding the point of the conversation.

“At least there’s no- TK do you hear yourself?” Carlos’ mouth is left ajar, looking at the paramedic as if he’d just grown another head. Maybe if he had another he’d have a couple more brain cells to stop himself from getting into fights.

“TK, the fact you don’t have a concussion and - by the way, you’re not fine, look at your arm and back - isn’t the point,” his voice is low, aware of the others in the station now, though the tone is still chiding.

TK’s nonchalance is hurtling him towards the edge of wanting to simultaneously wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him locked away in their loft forever so he can keep him safe and wanting to shake him furiously.

“The point,” he grits out, keeping his eyes locked onto TK’s, “is that you can’t keep putting yourself into dangerous situations because you can’t control yourself enough to deescalate without it ending in violence.”

Carlos watches the transformation on his husband’s face, stomach drooping. He watches the carefree smile disappear, teeth clenching behind tight set lips. The tension in his body is palpable, hands shoved roughly into the pockets of his uniform pants, posture straight and guarded.

Standing up straighter, Carlos gears up for the argument he knows will happen with this TK. The TK that closes off when a very specific button is pressed. The one that, years ago, would’ve simply fled, leaving a confused and upset Carlos in his dust, instead of talking out.

He watches in confusion as that is exactly what happens.

“TK-” Carlos calls, reaching a hand out, “what are you doing?”

TK stops from his ascent towards the ambulance, turning just enough to look at Carlos over his shoulder with a sneer.

“I’m controlling myself.”

thisll get finished. eventually. maybe. probably. I have him being injured in a different fic instead lmao

idk who's done it so uhhhhhhh

tagging; @mooshkat @thebumblecee @reyesstrand @lemonlyman-dotcom @sanjuwrites @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @bonheur-cafe and you 🫵

[probablygayattorneys]

I told my brother that if I never play Azran Legacy then Emmy never leaves and I can keep her in that moment forever

And he decided to lift the burden on me by just telling me why she left, thereby ripping off that bandaid. Only problem is, he’s never played Azran Legacy (or any Layton game, for that matter) so he doesn’t know either. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him, so he came up with a reason. And then a few more, just in case.

These reasons include:

-Roundhouse kicked a high ranking government official and is avoiding trial

-Layton doesn’t kill people… but he doesn’t always save them either, and then the train crashed.

-Took the fall for Two-Face killing cops so Harvey Dent’s legacy will live on

-She was the only one who could disarm the bomb but to keep her wife and kids safe she let Descole break her neck.

-Flashed her titties to everyone and is now off to find new people to flash

-She wasn’t actually the Professor’s assistant, she was his apprentice, but near the end of the game she really deepens her connection with the Force and starts to believe that she can overpower him and become the new Professor… however, when she tried to pull off this fight, it’s over, Emmy, the Professor has the high ground.

-Got a job at Hooters which has been a longtime dream of hers and the Professor told her she absolutely could not abandon her dreams to stay his assistant

-Bees.

-She learned the greatest secret the American government has been trying to keep from the public for years (Obama's last name) and had to be eliminated by any means possible.

-Emmy sacrificed herself to save the rest of them from the balrog but she comes back in New World Of Steam as Emmy the White.

-Got a ticket for the Eras tour and is still stuck in traffic leaving the stadium

-She was in a motorcycle accident and plowed into the side of an airplane hanger. She was so innocent… and stoned, apparently.

-After they all sang Seize the Day, she wasn’t able to escape from the cops and they hauled her off to the refuge.

-It’s not Emmy. The first Emmy you see, the teenage one he helps is Emmy, but every single one since is Don Paolo.

-She was just a courier, meant to deliver something to New Vegas, but the game was rigged from the start.

-Moved to Seattle with Grosky to start their own law office.

-This one just says "Bones"

-Was killed by 30-50 feral hogs that ran into her yard within 3-5 minutes while Luke was playing.

-Drove a segway off a cliff

-Bruce Willis was DEAD the ENTIRE TIME!

-Left a note that says “Professor’s Assistant Emmeline Altava Chooses Death” and then fucked off to Europe or something for a year

-She ran away to be with Descole. She was attracted to his manly figure. His Waluigi like body. His spindly little legs. The cut of his jib, if you will.

-Rode her Vespa into a crowd of people while screaming “PEPSI MAN!”

-Didn’t learn STREET SMARTS from JJ Bittenbinder and went to a secondary location

-“Tell me about the rabbits, Emmy.”

-She’s a Russian sleeper agent sent to kill the professor and it’s just taken so damn long because a good hitman doesn’t leave collateral damage but she finally got Layton away from Luke long enough to get the job done.

-Was at a bar on international women’s day, did two shots and tried to fight another girl which caused an all out full bar fight and she fell into a coma after a third girl hit her over the head with an almost full bottle of Hood River Gin.

-Professor Sycamore’s airship flew her to places she’d never been… now she’s lying on the cold hard ground (goat noise)

-The time machine wasn’t stable enough to keep her in the present and it sent back in time to the moment the time machine exploded, sealing her fate.

-Moved to France to learn how to be a heart surgeon.

-She finally was approved to manage her own Dairy Queen franchise.

-She is dead and has been for the past ten years. The professor needs to let her go. The accident wasn’t his fault.

-She walked to Memphis to become a dentist. Anything but this.

-Most think... She died.

-....But I think we oughta believe she made it to the other side :)

[pastelcheckereddreams]

Hear me out, okay: Pete’s breakdown in episode 13 has a lot to do with Tankhun. 

I know!!! I don’t want to think bad of Tankhun either! Tankhun is so earnest about Pete being missing - and even perhaps reveals too much of his own sharp intuition to Porsche, because as far as Porsche knew to this point, Tankhun doesn’t keep track of anything but his dramas. Which is how it’s supposed to seem. Which brings me to the next scene with Pete: 

Allow me a little play-by-play commentary, because damnit, I can’t take Vegas’s face in episode 13. The way horror dawns across his face as Pete says, “I’ve lost my humanity. No - I never had it. I don’t exist. I have no feelings. I’m useless.” All the while forcing Vegas to hold a knife to his throat. 

It’s the way Vegas utters, “Pete.” Helplessly, like it slipped out before he even knew what he was saying. Sexy, Vegas called him. Strong. “It’s no fun if you don’t choose.” He wants to know someone chooses him. 

But Pete - “I don’t exist”, he’s not allowed to have feelings, or a choice. “I didn’t like it,” Pete whispers to himself - a confession. Private, secret. Pete asked himse, “Why didn’t I say no?” Because in his job, in his life, he’s not allowed to say no - not allowed to have a voice. And for all that Pete may have wanted Vegas, he didn’t want him - like this. No choice. No humanity.

This is Pete, unfettered. Raw. Unmasked. And Vegas can’t believe how blind he’s been. His mouth falters around silent vowels as his throat works to gasp in air. 

It’s the way they wrestle for grasp of the knife, the way Pete screams “Let go!” and Vegas backs away instantly, hands raised and voice cracking - “Pete. Pete.”

“We can start over,” he says, “Just you and me.”

But here it is, the line that wrecked me:

“Need me? For emotional projection, like a pet with no feelings?” I initially read it as protection, but the implication is the same.

There is a parallel here between Vegas and Tankhun. I can’t help but think about Pete, and Arm and Pol, and how their job is laughed off as “babysitting”. Keeping the mad former heir happy and safe, emotionally stable in a realm of escapism. Just see how distressed Tankhun is without Pete (but, my love for Tankhun angrily whispers, he is distressed for Pete - although Pete doesn’t know this).

And isn’t that what the safehouse has been for Vegas? An escape? Where he has kept Pete like a pet. And isn’t that similar to how Tankhun keeps his bodyguards? Leashed to the newest kdrama. Think forward to how Tankhun makes literal dolls of Arm and Pol, to offer at Pete’s “funeral.” 

With all that context, I keep thinking about Pete walking in, drunk, on Kinn and Porsche. He latched onto the easiest source of distraction, of emotional sedation, of relaxation for himself and Tankhun: alcohol. If he had truly had fun, he could’ve just gone to bed (and unknowingly left KinnPorsche to their semi-public sex kink). But he came back out, to talk to Porsche. To tell him of his evening. It sounds more and more desperate and lonely, the more I think about it.

So Pete feels like a glorified pet, and Pete has seen exactly how the lifespan of Vegas’s pets expire: in a cage. They are loved, but it is a desperate kind, born of anxiety. (My father had me care for them, Vegas said. All of them died, one by one.) And he just - can’t do it anymore. It was one thing, to endure emotionally. But physically? Giving himself up bodily to Vegas? It finally broke him.

[”What the heck is this?!”]

Vegas’s flinch though as Pete lashes out. God, it’s a traumafest up in here.

And then - god, Build does such a good job at displaying the pure anguish Pete feels at attacking Vegas, touch flittering over him in apology while at the same time patting him down for the handcuff key.

Because at his core, Pete cares. And Pete - Pete knows Vegas knew that. That’s why he couldn’t accept Vegas’s plea - “Okay, Pete, just - promise me you won’t leave me.” It felt like a manipulation.

But Pete finally makes a choice. He chooses himself. He chooses self-preservation. 

And he could just run, let’s not forget that. He could run. But he doesn’t. He goes back to the main family, because it’s what he knows. It’s safe. I suddenly realise how little Pete has. Bodyguard to the main family - that’s the only identity we really know. The only identity he knows.

He chooses to go back. That is the first choice Pete will make for himself. 

The second will come much later - when he chooses his heart over his duty. Vegas was right, when he said his tattoo was a joke. It was just another shackle. Maybe he could get it replaced. I’m sure Vegas or Porsche know a guy.

The important point is: Pete chooses what his heart wants. And despite knowing all his flaws, he chooses Vegas anyway. Because he’s seen the good in him. 

“It’s no fun if you don’t choose.” You’re right, Pete thinks. And I choose you. 

...

But I can’t just leave it there. I have to circle back to Tankhun, because I can’t smear him like that. Honestly, I think Tankhun hides a lot from his bodyguards. Pete, unable to see the depths of him, feels toyed with. But Arm - I think Arm gets it. We see in the final episode, Arm and Tankhun have developed a toy together. It’s fun, it’s explosive, it’s unhinged yet makes an impact. Arm can see Tankhun for who he really is: the former heir, with all his faculties and training, burdened by trauma but not shackled by it. Not since Porsche came along. But ultimately, I think it’s a side of himself Tankhun only feels safe allowing his family to see, lest the minor family come for him again. 

“He’s nosy,” Tankhun tells Porchay about Kim. “He gets that from me.”

Kim certainly is nosy. Conspiracy-theorist pinboard nosy. Tracking a dozen leads at a time nosy. He got that from Tankhun. 

Let that sink in. 

Then remember again, how Tankhun worried for Pete, and went to Kinn and Porsche - and Porsche - to air his worries. He only lets family see beyond his mask.

Again and again, I keep seeing these small signs: Porsche is family now. 

[ourpickwickclub]

GR did NOT have the boys last NYE he had them Christmas. He gave them back on the 26th. He had a NY gig in vegas.

They’ve swapped for a few years now. One gets NY one gets Christmas. Then swap the following year

Also Lola hardly goes to GR house. He’s said on many occasions that when the boys are with him it’s a “boys only” time. Lola and Lola family have a much better relationship with G&B. That’s also clear by how often she’s with G&B and how close she is to G. So on the note about letting Lola stay at GR I don’t think he will.

There is no doubt King and the boys love GR. I always thought GR had a hold on King. But I think it’s very clear in the last year by the evidence in interviews from GR, photos videos on social media from king and G&B, King and Zuma are more comfortable with G&B and he doesn’t have the hold he once had on King.

Examples:

- the interviews where GR has said clearly King is doing his own thing now, photos with Apollo only. The way he said Apollo lives with him full time (he doesn’t) but he made it clear the other two do their own thing

- GR also said in an interview his job was done with King, he was grown and doing his own thing

-GR has a new GF which he spends a lot of time with, more than anyone recently. He even sees her on dates when he has the boys. Which he never done before

- he’s hardly had the boys this year, can’t blame tour for that, a lot has been his own choice EG he went to NYC for a week with his GF on his week break during tour when the rest of the band flew home to see family and it WAS his scheduled week to have them.

- the Blake and King video, of kings performance that GR knew nothing about (king didn’t even mention to him that he was doing it)

- no happy birthday from King to GR but he done one for Gwen

- the post from GR on Zuma birthday about him not wanting to be on social media but Zuma was happy for G to post the gig for his birthday, them together and a happy birthday.

This is great. Thanks for taking the time to compile it. I did know Gwen and Blake had the kids last NYE but was pushing thru asks late and tired. I find it interesting last year that GR was in Vegas too and they didn’t see him play a song or two before heading to Gwen. She certainly would have been okay with that if they had wanted it.

I agree that the boys love GR but don’t necessarily feel safe with him. Meaning, he can’t control trying to manipulate, talking badly about people they love, using guilt and little put downs to attempt to control them, lying to them. Basically, all the things he did to Gwen that made her so miserable for so long. It was so clear to me that his relationship with Zuma was at least a little strained when he gave the interview saying the wrong Zach over and over and then they printed a correction. Zuma must have been upset.

And King did not feel comfortable telling him about playing at OR. And then he says he basically has Apollo full time pw which is such a blatant lie but one he needs to tell himself too, to keep his own sanity and belief system about himself intact. I’m sure he has rewritten things in his mind that Gwen met Blake and that is why the divorce happened. Not his 3 year affair with his kids nanny which was going on before Gwen got pregnant with Apollo and after still going on after Apollo was born.

GR is such trash. But I agree with you that the kids love him, but Blake and their mom are safe and a type of unconditional love they don’t get from GR. They probably prefer that feeling over guilt, lies, control, and passive aggressive jabs.

- B

[chimivx]

yellow. (3)

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader ( ot7 KIND OF )

summary: Two months out of college you've hit a dead end, until your best friend scores the job of her dreams unknowingly throwing you at the feet of your soulmate. Life is about choice, and the choice is yours to make... You just hope you're making the right ones.

words: 5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, this part is a little horny - they're at THAT stage in the relationship, kissing like crazy, sex talk, NO explicit sexual content - but it's described, safe-sex, yoongi deserves a warning for being a good person, if I missed ANYTHING please let me know!

a/n: HI! PART THREE of the Vegas series that I can't get out of my head. Thank you for all of the support, and the continued support, you all keep me inspired. Thank you for loving this couple as much as I do, they melt my heart.

~ July 26th 2015 - LA ~

The mirror on one of the many bureaus in the room hit the wall with an obnoxious smack, one neither of you bothered to acknowledge, you were too busy.

Yoongi’s hands gripped your waist, helping you up onto the ledge the two of you just collided into while your lips were latched hungrily, not getting enough. Sliding your arms around his shoulders, you hold him close for a second before dragging your hands down his chest, gripping the hem of his shirt to pull him in as close as possible. Your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place, and you feel him smirk on your lips.

Pulling away for a second, he catches a glimpse of your dopey, tipsy, smile and returns it before he tilts his chin, nuzzling his cheek to yours on his way to plant sloppy kisses to your neck. A soft sound leaves you, one that makes his knees buckle.

“You’re not allowed to leave me again,” He mumbles into your skin, nipping at it with his teeth, making you jump.

“Keep kissing me like this and I never will,” You say, sighing right after the words spill from your lips. Yoongi’s hands reach for your face, holding your cheeks carefully as he lifts his head, brushing his nose against yours.

“No, I’m serious,” His voice is deep, “I’m not gonna let you leave, at least not now that I’ve gotten to touch you again.” Processing his words the best that you could in your drunken state at the moment, you  smirk.

“Then someone better tell Sunny I’m moving out,” You say. Pulling him tighter against you, as if it was possible, you find his lips and drag your tongue along the bottom one. Yoongi slips his hands into your hair, parting his lips to give back what you had given him. 

This is the first time since seeing him that you’ve been able to be alone, that you’ve been able to kiss him and put your hands on him. Of course it had to happen after a couple drinks, so it was entirely turned up a degree too high, but you didn’t care. Facetiming and talking on the phone wasn’t enough. Now, with the boy who’d been teasing you for two weeks in your grasp, you wanted to strip him down, you’d been undressing him with your eyes the second you saw him anyway.

Yoongi slips his arms back around your waist, gripping your hips, giving the curve of your thighs a gentle squeeze. You slide your hands up into his hair, giving the styled blonde locks a tug, sorry Sunny, one that makes him groan.

“Shit, do that again,” You mutter without taking your lips off his, tugging on his strands again. 

Obliging to your request, the sound he makes sends a spark straight down your spine to between your hips, a need growing stronger the longer you kiss him. Without thinking twice, you shift your hips, searching for friction somewhere as your legs hold him close.

Immediately Yoongi parts from your lips, bringing a hand up to hold one of your shoulders. His eyes are threatening to turn dark, but you can tell he’s holding it back.

“What are you doing?” He asks at a whisper, studying your tipsy pout. Messing with his hair, you shrug.

“Thought it was fun,” You say in a small voice, “And you’re hotter than I remember, and I’ve already thought about what it’d be like if we did it, and-“

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi laughs, quieting you down before you babble more truths he wasn’t sure you meant to be sharing at the moment, “You’re… drunk.” He tried to search for a better word, but there wasn’t any that fit. You were drunk.

“I am,” You nod, accepting what he’s said with a straight face without a fight, making him laugh.

“We can’t… Make a scene here,” He speaks with caution, watching you narrow your eyes, “As much as I want to, trust me, I want to… I don’t want the first time to be in a room next to Jimin’s underwear, or while you’ve been drinking.” Your expression hasn’t changed, making him wonder if you’ve taken in anything he’s said. He didn’t mind though, he loved how you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Huh,” You finally make a sound, then glance to the floor next to you. Sure enough a pair of lavender boxer shorts were tossed on the ground beside a pair of sneakers. “Damn, you were right,” You giggle, taking your hands out of his hair, resting them on your lap. He gives you a soft smile, then leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers. Widening your eyes a bit, you nod. 

“I snuck you in,” He says, and you gasp theatrically, “Mhm, Sunny helped me. She’s the one with the pass that got you back here, isn’t she?” Nodding again, a smile pulls at your lips.

“No one knows I’m here?” You ask.

“Well, the guys do,” He says with a little shrug, “But… If I want people back here, I have to go through the company, and you have to get, like, screened or something… I don’t know, it’s complicated, I know you and wanted to avoid the bullshit,” You tilt your head to the side, having heard every other word he spoke, you were getting distracted by the life in his eyes as he gazed at you, “When was the last time you ate?” He asks slowly. You straighten up and smile.

“On the plane,” You say proudly, knowing an answer to one of his questions without having to rifle through your brain for the information. Pressing his lips together, he sighs and glances away for a second.

“Of course,” He pops his brows, laughing to himself, “This morning.”

“Yup,” You say as if you’re confirming what he’s said, “Then we checked into the hotel, Sunny went to work with you guys, I found the bar, we watched the show, had a little more to drink, and now we’re here!” Your eyes light up as you tell him your story, one that he knew, you’ve told him already. With a sober smile, Yoongi bobs his head. He lifts a hand to push some hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Are you having fun?” He asks genuinely. Reaching for his hand that lingered by your cheek, you lace your fingers in his and smile.

“A lot of fun,” You whisper to him, and though you’re intoxicated, your words warm his heart. Over the twelve days you’ve been a part that's all he’s been wanting to give to you, some fun. He knew you weren’t having any in the city, but knew you and Sunny could have a blast anywhere, which is why he brought you both out here. Also, with how much the boys adored Sunny, if Yoongi only flew you out he’d be given so much shit from all six of them, even Jungkook.

“Good,” He says, “Now let’s go feed you,” With a hand still on your hip, he helps you off the ledge, steadying you on your feet, “Remember what I said, I snuck you in here, so just… be chill out there, stay right behind me.” Making sure you’ve understood what he’s said, he holds your chin with his fingers, squishing your cheeks, and leans down to kiss you.

You weren’t drunk in the sense that you were dizzy and seeing double, you were just a little loose-lipped and handsy. On your absolute best behavior, you stood up tall but kept your head down as you followed Yoongi down the hallway. The people walking the length of it didn’t seem to notice you were there, not many of them looked your way.

It wasn’t until you passed by an adjacent hallway with a familiar man in a uniform bustling down it, seconds away from colliding into Yoongi if he didn’t slow himself down in time. Pausing your walk, Yoongi turned to face him, ushering you to stay hidden behind him. You felt like a child, planting yourself on his back while he spoke to the man. With your head down you try to listen to what they’re saying, but the background noise was so loud while the people worked and chattered out here that you could barely hear a thing.

“I’m not lying,” Yoongi laughed.

“...that is there?” The man asks him. Looking down at Yoongi’s shoes, you smile. Big, chunky, colorful Nike’s. Classic D.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yoongi sighs, keeping a chipper tone as he speaks. It was entirely fake, it made you want to laugh because it added to the childish feel of trying to keep a secret that was totally dead obvious to everyone around you.

“How long are they here until? Assuming they came here together?” The man asks.

“Forever,” Yoongi whispers stealthily before breaking into a laugh that triggers you to join. The man across from his sighs.

“You give me more shit than Jungkook, and you’re four years older than him,” The man states, his tone becoming more stern than it had been, “...and let me know what’s going on so that we…..want you to have…..you’re not a prisoner…..have a life…..staying overnight?” His voice started going in and out again, and the way you were staring at the floor was starting to make you dizzy, so you had to look up.

“Branson,” Yoongi groans a bit, tilting his head side to side to crack his neck, “Do we have to do that?” The name he said makes you think about the first night you met, the night you went into the venue with Sunny, checking in with a security guard before wandering to the dressing room.  Popping out from behind Yoongi with a smile on your face, you point at the man.

“I knew you were familiar!” You say, looking him up and down. Yoongi’s eyes closed for a second, defeated. Branson looks down at you slowly, peeling his glare from Yoongi over to you. He was a tall man with mocha colored skin and jet black hair pushed back on his head. Taller than Yoongi, he was more muscular than him, too. It was no wonder he was their security, he seemed like he was literally built for the job, a knock-off Dwayne Johnson.

“Hello,” He says to you. It was totally condescending, but you didn’t pick up on it.

“You let me and Sunny in back in New York,” Your smile hasn’t faded, “You were cool then, what happened?” 

“Okay,” Yoongi mumbles, using an arm to nudge you back behind him, “She’s not wrong, though? You’re cool tonight, okay?” Peeking out from his side, you watch Branson make a decision, his intimidating eyes staring Yoongi down.

“Tonight, I’m cool,” He states, “Tomorrow however we’re having a meeting, and it’s not with me. I’m getting questioned about New York,” Branson shoots you a look, emphasis on your city, then he’s back on Yoongi, “Be… Smart…. You don’t want to create a lifelong problem, yeah?” Jutting his head backward, Yoongi scoffs.

“Yeah,” He answers, flustered beyond belief. His eyes dart around the hallway, giving you a sideways glance.

“Go, now, before somebody else stops you,” Branson rolls his eyes, gesturing for the two of you to get a move on. Without another word, Yoongi reaches back for you to take your hand. Pulling you along with a brisk stride, the scowl on his face makes you worried.

“Are we in trouble?” You ask, leaning on his arm. Raising an eyebrow, he looks down at you and laughs.

“With Branson? No,” He says, pointing his focus forward. Popping your bottom lip out, you squint and huff.

“Then why do you have to have a meeting, D?” You sing-song, wobbling beside him.

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles, “It’s fine.” 

“I don’t believe you,” You exaggerate your squint up at him and he laughs under his breath. 

“Trust me,” With a tug on your hand to stop you from walking, he stops in front of another room. “Everything will be fine,” He smiles, then lowers his voice so you can’t hear him and mumbles, “I hope.”

Yoongi wraps an arm around your shoulder to guide you in front of him as he pushes the waiting room door open. Giving you a little nudge, you’re the first one in and a chorus of cheers erupts amongst the occupants of the room- the other six members of the group and Sunita, dressed so chic you can tell she’s from New York.

“Look who’s here!” Sunny throws a hand in the air where she was sitting on a couch next to Jimin with her other arm slung around his shoulder. 

Plastering a giant smile on your face as you walk through the room saying hi to everybody one by one, you plop down in the empty spot beside your best friend, nearly sitting on her lap.

“Hi, oh my god, hi Jimin,” You greet her and the boy she was wrapped around in a whisper.

“Who are we hiding from?” Jimin whispers back jokingly, leaning toward you over Sunny. 

“Brans-” You whisper, but she cuts you off.

“Oh, she’s drunk,” Sunny waves her hand around, “I am a little bit, but not like this one.” Shooting a glare up at her, it quickly softens when you take in how beautiful she looked. Her natural curls were popping today, soft and full of life, and her make up was more on the natural side.

“Have you looked like this all night?” You ask, totally checking her out. Sunny laughs out loud, then looks at Jimin.

“Drunk,” She states.

Back at the door, after you start to walk through on your own, Yoongi shuts it behind him and leans against it for a second, making sure you’ve found your way to Sunny. Once you do, he releases a breath and starts for a table toward the back of the room, one lined with bottles of water and a plethora of snacks to choose from.

“Really?” Comes from behind him. Looking over his shoulder he finds Jin, grinning like a boy with a secret. Picking up a water bottle and a bag of chips he knew you’d devour, he turns to face the older boy with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” He asks. Jin’s smile doesn’t fade, if anything it grows when he starts to scrunch his nose playfully.

“Look at you,” He teases Yoongi, taking his hands to his hair, fluffing it around, “You gonna keep it a secret? You disappear for a half hour after the show and come back with her walking sideways, and messy hair.”

“Oh, god,” Yoongi groans, “Jin, no, that didn’t happen.” 

“But… you WANT it to,” Jin pesters, raising his voice. Shushing him, Yoongi glances to where you are on the couch laughing along with everyone else while nestled into Sunny’s side. Hesitating before answering Jin, he sighs.

“No shit, I want it to happen,” He mumbles, avoiding his eyes.

“You’re nervous,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes, holding his hands out like he was testing the air for disturbances in the force, “You’re… You forget how to do it. You… can’t get it-“

“Jin!” Yoongi grits his teeth. Laughing, Jin shakes his head and taps one of his arms.

“Go ahead, I’m sorry,” He says. Yoongi steals another look at you, finding you already looking over at him. Jin watches his brother's face soften into a look he’s never seen him wear before.  You smile at Yoongi, and he smiles back, a smile that makes Jin laugh again.

“Oh no,” He says quietly. Yoongi turns to meet his pretentious expression.

“What?” He asks.

“You’ve got it,” Jin mumbles, pulling his lips in between his teeth. Lowering his brows, Yoongi glances at the things in his hands, then back to Jin.  

“…What?” He asks again with more persistence.

“Bad… You’ve got it bad,” Jin grills, tapping his arm again, “You’ll be fine. You got this, you can do it.” Staring in near disbelief, Yoongi huffs a laugh, thanks his friend, and walks up to the couch you were on.

“Hey, lover boy,” Sunny smiles as he sits on the armrest next to you. Handing you the bottle of water and bag of chips, he smiles at her and nods once to say hello. She's overheard one too many of your phone calls.

“Thank you,” You say sweetly, pouting your bottom lip as you look up at him. Putting the chips aside, Yoongi shakes his head.

“No, you’re eating them,” He chuckles, reaching down to put them back on your lap. Messing with the cap of the bottle, you frown and hold it out to him.

Sunny and Jimin watch this entire thing pan out, how Yoongi takes the bottle from you, cracks it open and hands it back to you without breaking his gaze away from your eyes.

“Finish that,” He widens his eyes slightly, pointing at you as you sipped from the bottle. Wiggling your eyebrows, you smirk. Yoongi hops to his feet, still pointing at you as he walks away backward before he turns to start taking off some of the layers of clothes he was wearing from the show.

Looking over at Sunny, she’s got her eyebrows raised. You take the bottle away from your lips and lean into her.

“Think I’m having sex tonight,” You try to whisper discreetly amongst the boys chatter, but Jimin overhears you and laughs.

“Yeah, girl,” Sunny says, her eyes looking from the water bottle, the bag of chips, Yoongi, then you, “If you don’t, I will,” She jokes, cracking a laugh, “That boy wants you just as bad.” Your jaw has fallen open, your mind stuck on the words she’s said before her last.

“You will?” You question, crinkling your brows in the middle of your forehead. 

Taking her arm off of Jimin, Sunny tells him to move closer to the boys. 

Whining at first, he listens to her and finds a new spot across the room on Taehyung’s lap, who wraps his arms around Jimin’s torso happily. Beside them sat Jungkook, whose round, perceptive eyes were lingering on Jimin. The youngest hadn’t said much tonight, he was just simply happy to be there.

Sunny turns back to you, placing a hand on your thigh.

“Babe, it was a joke,” She says gently, “I’m not going to do anything, okay?” Her perfectly plucked brows raise with understanding, waiting for yours to do the same.

“Okay,” You say after a second, taking another sip of water.

“But you, you are going to do something,” She smiles, giving your leg a playful squeeze. 

“I am, I want to,” You nod, leaning into her fully so you were resting on her shoulder, “Since that one phone call, Sun, it's all I can think about.” Sunny nods, smizing with glee. She remembers the call.

It was a couple of days after he had left. He didn’t have a show, but he did have things to do, things that allowed him to keep his phone on him throughout the day. Most days, whenever he had a free moment he’d be calling, so it wasn’t strange to be constantly on and off the phone.

This time around nothing was different, except the time zone maybe, and the weather. The middle of July was hot, hot, hot, and Sunny had window units in her place, ones that didn’t air condition the entire space. At certain times the air outside was more refreshing than the air indoors.

You were out on her patio in a bikini top and pair of shorts, the two of you lounging on the furniture out there with a couple of wine coolers from her fridge. It was later in the afternoon, you were both dying for nighttime to break just for some relief from the rays of sun. With sunglasses on and your hair tied up messily, you were sipping your drink and bobbing to the music you had playing when your phone rang.

Sunny, who barely flinched, paused the music from where she was in her chair so you could answer it, knowing who it was.

It was Facetime, so you propped your phone up on the little table in front of the chairs and answered it with a smile.

“Whoa,” Was the first thing to come out of Yoongi’s mouth. Covering your mouth with your hand, you blush.

“Hi,” You said happily.

“What are… What are you doing?” He asked, his eyes glued to the screen though he seemed to be on the move somewhere, wherever he was. In the tiny little square, Yoongi could see all the way down to your waist with how you had your phone set up.

“Sitting outside, Sunita has shitty AC,” You tease, glancing at your best friend who shot you back a glare.

“It’s hot?” Yoongi asked, and though he’s on a screen, you can see the way his eyes study you up and down.

“It’s so hot,” You roll your eyes, “If the neighbors didn’t already hate us, I’d be out here naked.” You laughed. He only smiles, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. You watch his eyes, clearly looking at your face as you speak, but after you’re done they travel lower down your body.

“Don’t look at me like that,” You said sheepishly, placing a hand over your heart. Yoongi’s smile grows.

“Can’t help it,” He said quietly on his end, “First you answer like this, then you get me thinking about you naked…”

“D!” You gasp.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” He said, “I’m a gentleman, really, I am.” Thinking about what he’s said, you lean toward the phone and smirk.

“You don’t always have to be,” You said softly, and his expression changed.

“Damn, okay,” He cleared his throat and glanced around him, “Don’t do this to me right now, I still have a shit ton to get done.”

“Then certainly don’t think about me going to get a cold shower after you hang up,” You furrowed your brows and scolded him. Rolling his eyes he smiles and sighs.

“Thanks for that,” He muttered.

That Facetime took a turn, fast. It had you hurrying inside before Sunny got on her feet and demanded you get a room. She loved being a part of this and hearing about it, her best friend finally having some happiness in her life that was taking her mind off of the looming dread of adulthood hanging over her shoulders. But, when the two of you went too far she wasn’t afraid to speak up.

“Why do you seem unsure?” Sunny asks, her voice soft and soothing. The woman didn’t want any children, but if she ever had them they’d be the luckiest kids in the world to have a mother who spoke to them with such kindness. 

Taking another drink of water, you give her a glance then let your gaze settle on Hoseok and Namjoon. The two boys were a couple of feet away playing some kind of game on their phones. Their eyes were glued to their screens, a steady focus, yet they were still able to kick and yell at one another throughout gameplay.

“Not unsure,” You gently shake your head, “I want him,” You mutter and Sunny laughs again, “Just feel like since meeting him it’s all been happening so fast, like, Jesus, Sun, look at where we are.” Following your eyes she takes in the sights of the boys being the boys and finds an understanding.

“Experiencing life? Is what we’re doing, babe,” She turns back to you and gives you a hint of a smile while you ponder over what she’s said, “So what if this is all happening so fast… Look at where we are.” Repeating your words back to you confidently, restating them in a way to change your thinking, you meet her somewhere in the middle.

“We are,” You agree, turning your chin to meet her gaze, “It just feels fucking stupid to like him this much, this is his life,” You gesture to the guys with a nod of your head, “Am I gonna be stuck in New York while he does this? I know he has ex-girlfriends, did they ever do this? What if I’m a part of a bet, and I’m the next notch on his bedpost?”

“Stop,” Sunny squeezes your shoulder, cutting off your drunken rambles, “You’re not thinking straight right now, and this is not the time to overthink,” She says, “No one’s saying you’ve got to be serious, just… enjoy this little twelve day fling you’ve got going on. It’s fun, it’s harmless… and you guys have entirely too much fun.”

“Twelve day fling,” You lower your eyes, taking in what she’s said for all that it’s worth. It could honestly make you laugh.

“Who knows how long this’ll be, enjoy it while you have it, for god sake, look-at where-we-are,” Sunny repeats to you again, making your words even more appealing.

“A fling,” You mutter, “Yeah, who knows.”

You feel like you know, you overheard Branson in the hallway. He was what sparked this worry in the first place, him telling Yoongi that he was allowed to have a life. Said life was being lived on the road, traveling the world to perform shows for fans. Who knows if he had time for a regular life, a girlfriend, or anything like that. 

He was a regular rockstar, and it was kind of scary… but all the more enticing.

Pressing his forehead to yours, Yoongi takes you in, studying every little bit of you. You gazed up at him with puffy, parted lips, flushed cheeks and a little bit of mascara smudged underneath your eyes. Your hair was a mess on the mattress beneath you, one of Yoongi’s hands lost in it where he rested on his elbow, while his other gripped one of yours, tight.

About an hour and a half ago the two of you were hand in hand, sharing laughs while you both tried to make it look like you weren’t in a hurry to get to the room. 

It was way past midnight when you had gotten there, the time spent with your friends now a distant memory.

At the door, Yoongi fumbled with the key, almost dropping it as he rushed to get it unlocked. It was his own for the night. The other six were lodging elsewhere, and without needing to ask her, you knew Sunny was in heaven. A king size bed to herself, crisp air conditioning, and deafening silence. She was living her ‘traveling hairstylist’ dream. Plus, she needed you to do this. It almost disgusted her the way you and Yoongi spoke to one another and got along.

Sobered up and fully conscious, you and Yoongi made a mess of the room minutes after stepping inside. Clothes littered the floor along with a few of the pillows, and the blankets were slipping off the slide of the mattress.

The following hour was indescribable. It didn’t feel like a hook up, a one night stand or just casual sex… The way you moved together was magic. You listened to each other, paid attention to one another and you cared. You cared a lot more than you wanted to admit.

He touched you gently, with intent, and grace. His eyes, apart from admiring your body, stayed focused on yours, hanging onto the end of every sound that escaped your lips.

With barely a word from either of you, the sheer heat radiating off of you both was enough to get you to the edge, like the past twelve days have been an inconvenient tumultuous build up to this moment. Though, you’d soon learn that time didn’t fucking matter. Together, you both were just that good.

Taking your arm from around his back, you slide your hand up between your bare bodies and place it gently to his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth, clammy skin.

You knew yours felt the same, the entire room was sweaty, and a little blurry. The waves of euphoria were still radiating beneath your skin as you watched one another, neither of you making a sound aside from your heavy breaths.

Yoongi tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek just beside your lips. His lips trail further, kissing down your jaw until his head is nestled into your neck with his warm breath fanning your skin. Fluttering your eyes shut, you instinctively shift, tilting your chin so your cheek was resting over the top of his head. Slipping your hand into his hair, you run your fingers through it slowly, giving him a gentle scratch every other stroke.

Within a couple of minutes, your breaths get longer, and the grip you have on his hand loosens. The hand you were dragging through his blonde hair had slowed, and your body had relaxed further than it had already been pushed.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, lifting his head, feeling you start to drift off.

“Hm?“ You hum, half awake.

“Don’t fall asleep,” He says, “We gotta get up.”

“Why?” You mumble, your eyes still shut.

“Come shower with me,” He says, his words making you peek open one of your eyes.

“Why?” You mumble again. You hear him laugh.

“Because I care about your health, do I need to spell it out for you?” He jokes.  Opening your eyes you look at him in exhausted shock.

“No one I’ve ever had sex with has done this before,” You say, watching him as he raises his eyebrows and sits up completely.

“And what were you left with?” He asks, acting as if he knew the answer.

Frowning, you mutter, “Usually a UTI.” 

“Exactly, let’s go,” He nods, gesturing to the bathroom with a jab of his head.

“I’m too tired,” You sigh, letting your eyes shut again, “Feel too good to move.” Smiling to himself, he glances around the room for a bit before reaching over for your hand, making you open your eyes. 

“I’ll do all the work,” He offers, piquing your interest, “Then we can come back here, and sleep for however long you want.”

“Until our meeting,” You whisper, and he pulls an annoyed face, “You’ll do all the work?” You ask, and he nods, “Dammit,” You mutter, “I do have to pee.” Yoongi lets out a single laugh before he tugs on your hand.

“Come on. Let’s go, baby,” He says, and the word he uses stirs something within you. Sitting up, you pull on his hand harder than he was and catch his lips in a kiss as he falls toward you.

Pulling back, he smiles, shaking his head.

“Bathroom, now,” His tone is stern, not matching the grin he wore.

“I’ll meet you in there,” You say, “Promise.” 

Trusting you, he lets go of your hand and strolls into the bathroom. Searching for your phone around the room that looks like it had exploded everywhere, you hear him start the shower, running it so it’d get warm.

Finding your phone on the floor next to your pants, you slide it open quickly, your window of opportunity closing fast. Tapping on Sunny’s name in your messages, you take a deep breath and send her a text. A text that’s going to make her cackle out loud. You only wish you’d be with her tomorrow morning when she opens it.

“Are you asleep?” Yoongi asks, peeking his head out of the bathroom door. Tossing your phone on the bed, you turn around and smile at him.

“No, I’m coming,” You say, and follow him into the bathroom that was already getting steamy. Eyes on you with a gentle smile, he takes a breath and closes the door behind you.

[you]: Sunita. Twelve day fling MY ASS.

tags <3 @damn-u-min-yoongi

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(MORE MOTORCITY UNIVERSE WORLDBUILDING HEADCANONS 'CAUSE MY BRAIN WON'T SHUT UP)

from the episode "Vega":

"I heard everything outside Detroit was a wasteland." "Seems like that's just a story Kane uses to keep us from leaving."

from page 3 of the early Motorcity series bible:

the most effective lies often have just enough truth included to make them believable.

assuming that the universe of Motorcity exists in a post-apocalyptic/post-nuclear war future (all the aesthetics and environmental clues we see in-show point to this being the most likely theory IMO)...Kane's story has a solid grain of truth in it. the world outside of Detroit - really, planet Earth as a whole - is probably BIG messed-up. I imagine only a few places were hit by nuclear destruction (otherwise humanity would be, ya know, totally dead by now), but everywhere else has been badly affected by climate breakdown for nearly a century: brutal storms and flooding, boiling heatwaves, resource scarcity, etc...so yeah, there's a lot of wasteland and it ain't pretty!

the ACTUAL lie in Kane's story is that "there's nothing worth it out there".

in the aftermath of climate change, political chaos and "Doomsday", humanity did what it's best at: adapted. there are places ALL OVER North America and the rest of the world where civilization is still going and thriving, mainly in the form of big city-states and smaller colonies scattered around. the US government as we know it doesn't exist anymore, so these places all pretty much govern themselves and trade with each other to get what they need.

since sharing and trading resources is so crucial, being a trucker has become the most vital and dangerous job that exists in this world. they have to drive the big rigs and transport cargo through miles of irradiated land, nasty weather conditions, and cutthroat raiders looking for a target. most truckers are neutral/good guys just wanting to be paid fairly, but some are corrupt and easily bribed...a few of them are directly on Kane's payroll.

(Kane and his R&D department have been using those connections to secretly steal a LOT of ideas and tech prototypes from other city-states, and creating their own cheap twisted knock-off versions. the Safe-T Suit was one of them.)

truck-stop colonies are always neutral, peaceful territory, because those are the places that help maintain the big rigs and keep the flow of goods steady. there's a code among truckers, nomads, citizens, and even raiders - DO NOT FUCK WITH TRUCK STOPS. if you attack those places, a "Hunter" will hunt down who you are, snap your identity and spread word of your crime, and nobody will ever house, trade or work with you again and you're as good as dead! you will not be missed! bye asshole!

Capri Chilton just so happens to be a mechanic at one of those truck-stop colonies. the truckers all have a big soft spot for the clever, smart-mouthed biker chick who gives them free donuts and takes such good care of their wheels, so she gets to hear alllll the stories and rumors and gossip about what's happening in the world.

(one day, she's going to hear a rumor that will change her life...and send her speeding all the way back to Detroit on her Harley-Davidson with a new fire in her eyes.)

[writing-good-vibes]

a dark, dark night (ft. vincent, bo and lester)

tiny drabbles dedicated to @early20sfailingplenty because i love her dearly and the boys have their own special ways of keeping the darkness at bay 💕🕯

vincent (candle light)

vincent's workshop was warm and safe. well, maybe not safe for everyone, but safe enough for you.

the darkness of night was fast approaching and you retreated, away from the dark and away from the world, into vincent's lair.

the room glowed golden. dozens of candles dotted throughout the room like stars in the sky. they're mostly melted and crooked from vincent's haphazard fixing of them each time they burn down, but they do their job of banishing the shadows.

from beneath the heavy blankets on the cot in the corner, you watch vincent while he smooths and sculpts his latest creation.

one of the candles closest to him sputters out as it reaches the end of its wick. he glances up and, without a second thought, pulls a new candle from a shelf and lights it.

"vince," you mumble, "bedtime."

he turns at the sound of your voice, and for a second he hesitates. you can see his gaze flick back to his work before returning to you.

"please," your voice is quiet enough -- fragile enough -- that he connects the dots.

wiping his hands off on a rag, he makes he way over to the bed. vincent peels his sweater and apron off, slipping beneath the blankets with you.

sometimes, you wonder if vincent keeps the basement so dimly lit in order to hide away. the flickering light turns vincent's skin golden, like the golden boy they always said he was. as he settles into bed with you, he becomes half shrouded in shadow, like he always really was. his face is in shadow, even as he pulls you into his chest.

bo (television)

it had been a long, terrible day and you were praying the night would be better. as the sun set, you realised you might be out of luck.

the sinclair house -- your sanctuary, your safety -- was full of shadows. shadows you rather wouldn't see tonight.

bo can tell when something is wrong. the way you're checking over your shoulder and pausing at each threshold as you attempt to tidy up the kitchen and go to bed.

"hey, darlin', won't you come sit with me a while?"

"bo, it's late, i need to go to - go to bed."

"just for a minute, darl?"

you turn to look at him properly. he's lay on the couch, arm folded beneath his head, clad in his white undershirt, his work shirt long since discarded on the back of a chair.

he pats his stomach in encourageent.

looking to your right, up at the dark stairwell. darkness that you'd do anything not to venture into. you concede, crossing over to bo and collapsing on top of him. he lets out a huff of breath but chuckles anyway, wrapping an arm around you.

pressing your cheek to his chest. you're matching your breaths to his when he mutters against your hair, "bo's got'chu, you know that, right?"

you nod slowly.

the tv illuminates the room with a blue hue, an old movie that even bo couldn't find interesting. but it makes it easy to drift off, the images dancing before you and bo's solid presence beneath you.

before you fall asleep, you glance back up at bo's face. he's absentmindedly rubbing a circle at the small of your back while he watched the tv screen. the electric glow of the screen reflects from his baby blue eyes, highlights the sharpness of his jaw, tinges his skin like a neon angel outside a Vegas chapel.

lester (moonlight)

it had been a long day. a long day and all you wanted was to be able to sleep. the sounds of the forest engulf the trailer and you retreat to bed in an attempt to evade the expanding darkness. lester follows, sensing your unease.

in your bedroom, he throws the curtains open.

when you lay in bed, you can see the dust floating in the air. it is illuminated by the heavy beam of moonlight that spills in through the windows. you close your eyes and feel the silver on your eyelids.

you can feel lester's breath on the back of your neck, soft and steady. he whispers, "you wanna talk about anything, sweetpea? anything at all?"

you shake your head, and the arms around your waist tighten.

"that's okay," he noses further into your hair. "i'm here with you"

when you open your eyes again, you search for the moon, shining like a halo against the ink-black night.

you look down at lester's hands, clasped over your stomach, and marvel at the silver of his skin, ethereal and sickly all at once, like a fallen angel who hasn't seen the sun in a long, long time. veins traverse his arms like rivers, and you trace them with your fingertips.