#Austin Limo service

[nationwidecarservice]

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[austinluxorlimousine]

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[austinexpresslimo]

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[austinpremiumlimousine]

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[quickaustinlimo8]

Black Car Service Austin

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[quickaustinlimo2]

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LimoServiceinAustin

[paradigmlimo]

Paradigm Limo offers the largest selections of Luxury car rentals in Austin TX. Our cars are comfortable, spacious and feel executive. Reserve your car today!

[partyrideaustin]

Make Your Special Day Memorable With a Luxurious Wedding Limo

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[coleskingdom]

High Rollers, Keep Em High

Jay White xF Reader

Genre Smut Minors DNI NSFW

Inspired by this

“ I feel like Colten and Austin got robbed?” I told Jay as we were sitting in the couch one evening. “What do you mean? “ Jay asked his curiosity peaked. “ I mean they haven’t gotten to experience the perks of being in Bullet Club. Hell I even miss the old days. They’re young they should be out running shit, have you even taken them out.” he slid closer to me “Colten is older than I am, I’m sure their dad took them out.” he said “ Jay you can’t be serious. “ I shoved him playfully, “After all the time that was spent creating the aura of bullet club you’re gonna just cop out with their dad took them. For fucks sake till they were with you they looked like they shopped at an hbk fire sale for their gear. What’s one night? I don’t even have to go, take the boys out they deserve one night.” I said hoping to convince him “ Oh no , you’re not dumping this on me, I hear your point, and I think you’re right. Besides if there’s gonna be a one night extravaganza you have to be there since you miss it so much.” he laughed pulling me in close.

I kept waiting for him to tell me what he had planned, and the weeks went on. As the days ticked off ahead of Double or Nothing I thought for sure he would’ve said something finally the week of the show I told him “So I rented a room at that place in Vegas. I arranged the bottle service, cigars, and entertainment for the evening. Will you please make sure that the boys are dressed appropriately?” I said casually “ You really want them to see what it means when I say high rollers keep em high. Seriously though I was going to take care of it but thank you.I did however take care of our hotel for the weekend, I got us the bungalow at the cosmopolitan that you like so much.” he said walking up behind me and putting his arms around me. “Thank you for taking care of the boys. You’ve always been so good to me and them.” He kissed the side of my neck. “ I’ll take care of the boys and lay the rules out , I may even invite a few of your favorite people. I know this integration isn’t your favorite but I appreciate you doing this.” He said “ You’re welcome” wondering what he had planned.

Arriving at the hotel, it was just as I remembered the pool looking over the strip, the bath tub that o could lay down in, “ Jay, I was wrong, we don’t need to go out. We can stay in” I pleaded, “ Oh no, this was your idea. You better go get ready, we have a car coming.” he slapped me on the ass playfully. “Fine, but I’m gonna make you regret denying the offer.” I said sauntering off . “I have no doubt in my mind that you will.”as I shut the bathroom door. I emerged, Jay looking handsome as ever his black suit with the black shirt open , the gold watch the only, and the aviators his only accessories , his hair pulled up into a bun. “Jesus Jay, really, I’m not letting you go out like that.” he chuckled, “Your one to talk on your short black dress and heels, can you even sit in that ?” Pulling me into his side. “ We are quite the pair” he said admiringly.

We went down stairs to the waiting limo, both Colten and Austin were down there, Juice and Toni, then the surprises started showing up , Adam and Britt, Matt , Nick and Page. I hugged each of them “ Kayfabe is good and dead huh?” I said laughing at Cole. “ Well if there was ever a night for the devil to show up, it sounds like it’s tonight besides Britt wasn’t around then.” he laughed ,”Besides those Gunn Boys are gonna need reigning in” I figured I’d come in as back up. “Who convinced Matt and Nick to show up?” Still genuinely surprised “Did I hear someone ask who convinced me? Does everyone forget we were part of the original members? Besides we didn’t celebrate the 10 year anniversary better late than never right.” Matt said . “ Everyone in, let’s get the night rolling “ Jay said as though he was hoarding cats.

The room reserved that had been previously draped in black and white was now draped in black and gold. The dim lighting, the rooms segregated off into, a cigar lounge, a bar and then the stage with for the dancers. “ It’s perfect, it’s like stepping back into time.” Jay said “ Boys welcome to Bullet Club” as Jay handed Austin and Colten each a wad of cash . We took a seat in a darken corner, Jays natural instinct to watch everything took over, I curled in close to him. The drinks were following and everyone was having a good time. Britt and Cole came and sat across from us. “ Were we ever that bad ?” Pointing over his shoulder to Colten who had a girl on his lap a drink and money in his mouth. “Do you really want me to answer that?” Jay asked laughing “All I know is when I was handed the keys and the playbook your group left was something else.” Jay said “ Alright so we were that bad, well some of us, once in awhile.” Adam could tell Britt was paying attention. I looked at Britt and laughed. “ I’m kidding, before me they all stayed playing video games eating pizza and cuddling in their footie pajamas." Jay said getting the reaction out of Adam he wanted. Adam’s exasperated face made it all the funnier. He grabbed Britt’s hand and found somewhere else to be. “ Did you really need to do that?”, I asked still laughing , “ What you wanted the old me so here I am?” his smug grin telling me all I needed to know.

I had noticed one of the entertainers had her eyes on Jay. She looked him up and down , settling on his face wondering what the aviators were hiding, her curiosity just about to get the best of her. Her confident strut as she made her way over. “Just like the old days you’re being eyed.” I looked at the woman as I put my hand possessively on Jays thigh. “Jealous, much my dear” his voice teasing my ear, “She’s just doing her job. Do you want her to dance for us ? Do you want her to grind on me while you watch or should she grind on you while I watch? My personal favorite though is you sitting on my lap while she grinds on you and I grind on you.“ his voice that unnerving calm that was so seductive it just has an edge of danger. “ I want you to pay her to go away. As for me being jealous what do you want the answer to be Jay? No, because I trust you or Yes, because you are mine, and I don’t trust myself when she looks at you like she’s going to devour you.” I said. Jay pulled me on his lap kissing me, in full display of the entire room, his mouth claiming mine, in a show of dominance. His hand with cash over my shoulder for the woman. When he pulled away, I was breathless, “If someone is devouring anyone tonight, it’s me going to be devouring you.” his voice pure sin. He kissed me again then moved his lips on my neck in this dark corner of the room , a little noise escaped my mouth. “Shhhh… you’re gonna give yourself away. “ He kissed me again bringing me to be straddled across his lap, his hands on my ass, my hands in his hair. “Do you want to get out of here?”he said. Pulling me down on his hard length. “Not yet” I said, I could still feel the woman’s eyes on us, Jay kissed my neck as his hands ran up and down my sides before returning to my mouth.

“Jay, follow me. “ I said as I got off of his lap. I took his hand leading him towards the bathroom, I stepped inside grateful that it was more of a powder room he followed. “Dirty Girl” his voice like velvet, “ Couldn’t even wait to get in the car before you needed me.” His hands lowering the straps of my dress “ Now can you be quiet, or are you hoping that the dancer is listening on the other side of the door.” His mouth grazing over my breast, taking a nipple into his mouth, his hand massaging the other one. A little whimper escaping, “That’s it isn’t it.” Pinching my nipple while his teeth bit the other, a moan slipped from my mouth as I tugged at his hair. He dropped to his knees in front of me lifting the dress up around my hips, he lowered the thong, helping me step out of it “These are mine now"as he put them in his pocket. He pressed my back against the door my hand on the knob for balance as he lifted one leg over his shoulder and his mouth was on my core,licking and sucking, “Oh fuck Jay” words and moans falling from me, he kept going my hand holding his head , where I needed him. I felt the pressure build, his well practiced mouth drawing my orgasm from me, a louder than intended moan fell from my lips as I said his name. The smugness on his face when he lowered my leg from his shoulder. “ I think you’ve proven your point” he said wickedly “ Actually I don’t think I have” I said reaching for the button of his pants. “Greedy Girl, I think you’re right.” As my hands slid down his pants and boxers. “ Is this what you need? To claim what you already know is yours?”Lifting me up against the door, his cock aligned with my center, as he thrust in. “Yes” his pace was fast and I held onto him, scratching his back as he bit my neck. I moaned and clenched around him, drawing a groan from him. He changed the angle just enough that he was hitting deep inside and my clit. He could feel my second impending orgasm,as his own approached. I felt him twitch inside me. I cried out his name, as I felt it wash over me. He thrust two more times as I felt his release, I kissed him deeply, my hands now running gently through his hair. Soothing words fell from my lips, as our breathing returned to normal I kept him close to me.

He helped me down, as we both tried to compose ourselves, “Can I have my panties back” I asked reaching out my hand. “Nope, in fact I’m going to let them show out of my back pocket.” he said mercilessly. I looked at him in the mirror my cheeks flushed, my lips swollen. “How do I look?” I asked, trying to compose my self. “Well fucked and satisfied “ he grinned, as he was smoothing out his own hair, and putting the aviators back on. He put his arms around my waist his chin on the top of my head. “Let’s get out of here.” he said , I nodded as he took my hand and led me out the door.

[venus-haze]

Fame (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Getting your start among the dozens of other fresh-faced teeny boppers in the 1950s, you expertly navigate your career through the decades, the only one remaining in public consciousness and on the charts–apart from Elvis. With yet another single at the top of global charts, you’re long past that part of your career, hardly thinking about the man who was long ago considered your biggest rival, until you run into him unexpectedly at a party, and he makes it his business to make sure he’s always on your mind.

Note: This is based on an anonymous request and also David Bowie’s song Fame. Reader is gender neutral and no specific descriptors are used. Paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks. This is set in the 70s because that’s just the vibe I got from the song, and I wanted to write a reader who was more of the aloof and superficial type of celebrity who only tolerates the fanfare and is more interested in the money and lifestyle. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as obsessive and manipulative behavior, stalking, abuse of power, and some elements of victim blaming, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Leaving clubs and parties was one of your least favorite things to do, not because the night was over, but because somehow word would inevitably get out that you were there, and weirdos would hangout at every exit just to catch a glimpse of you. Perhaps they wouldn’t care as much if you weren’t so private and aloof, mostly inaccessible to the masses, but you weren’t about to pretend you wanted to see any of them. Almost as soon as you opened the door to a service exit, hoping to leave undetected, you cringed at the sound of a girl practically screeching as soon as she saw you.

Putting on a forced smile, you hastily signed some of the things shoved your way with nothing more than your initials as you pushed through the small crowd to get to the limo that was waiting for you in the street. You were particularly horrified when a man collapsed at your feet, even more so when you realized he wasn’t moving. Of course, as soon as you flagged someone down to call an ambulance for help, the man stirred, throwing his arms around your legs to keep you in place. Enraged at his audacity, you barely managed to kick him off of you before your chauffeur came to your rescue, guiding you into the limo and locking the doors before anyone got the bright idea to try to join you.

Thankful the windows were tinted, you didn’t bother hiding your disgust as you sneered at the fans banging on the side of the car. You could never imagine debasing yourself like that, going so crazy over someone you didn’t even know. Hell, sometimes you hardly gave a damn about people you did know. From Hollywood to London, you’d earned your icy reputation over the years, and it served you well. People who you didn’t want bothering you left you alone, and those you wanted to talk to considered it an honor when you approached them.

The drive back to your hotel was uneventful, and as you dragged yourself into your room, you figured you probably shouldn’t have gone out that night since you’d be flying from Los Angeles to Las Vegas the following day for a party some friends were throwing. You planned to stay the weekend and then fly out to New York to record a promotional interview for a late night talk show. 

You were at least able to sleep on the flight from LA to Vegas, and slept off the previous night’s party in your hotel room before having to prepare for the next party. There were times earlier in your career when you could party for days on end with limited sleep, but now you had to be choosier about when you partied and who you partied with. The friends who were throwing the party you were getting ready for never disappointed in the past, so you figured it’d be worth attending. In all honesty, you hadn’t bothered to ask who would be there, but you figured some worthwhile people would be available to chat over drinks or whatever else was being served.

The penthouse apartment wasn’t far from your hotel, but as much as you would have enjoyed walking up the street to the party, there’d be no way to do so without the ten minute stroll turning into an hour-long ordeal as you’d be inevitably mobbed the second someone noticed you. Sometimes you wondered if all of those people even cared about you or your career, that it was just the excitement of being around a celebrity that they were interested in–the photo, the autograph, the story, whatever commodity they could get from you. That’s all you were to most people who weren’t famous; it’s why celebrities tended to stick to their own. Everyday people didn’t really get it, and you got to the point where you felt the most normal around other people whose lives were also undoubtedly abnormal from their fame and fortune.

To your relief, you recognized just about everyone at the party, which was full of familiar faces as your friends excitedly paraded you around at your arrival. There was one person, however, whose face you and just about everyone else on the planet were extremely familiar with, but you hardly knew the man personally. Still, when Elvis saw you, he greeted you like you were an old friend, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You hadn’t seen Elvis in person in at least a decade, the two of you briefly sharing RCA as a label for a few years in the ‘50s, but you were never that close to begin with. He was handsome as ever, though, as he’d undoubtedly matured over time. There was still a familiarity about him as he shared how much he enjoyed your latest single. You hadn’t kept up with his career, in all honesty, as being poised as rivals at the beginning of your respective careers left a sour taste in your mouth at the mere sound of his music for quite some time, but that was long behind both of you. He certainly didn’t seem to hold a grudge as he brought over drink after drink, sticking by your side for most of the night.

“It’s really nice to see ya again, Y/N,” he said when the party began to wind down. “Shouldn’t let it go so long without seein’ each other.”

You were taken aback, hardly considering Elvis a friend before, but the way he spoke, it was as if he’d known you far more intimately. “You know how busy schedules can be. Plus, I’m sure it’s hard for you to get away from Vegas.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he muttered. “I got things worked out, though. I think we’ll be seein’ a lot more of each other.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you said, figuring the alcohol was to blame for his odd behavior. 

“So, how much longer are you gonna be in Vegas for? Maybe you could come to my–”

“I’m flying back to New York tomorrow, or today, actually,” you said, rambling about the late night show interview and other promotional engagements that you’d be busy with for the rest of the week.

“Sounds great,” he said. “Never was much for New York, though. You still live there, don’t you? Near Central Park?”

“West 71st, yeah, I can’t believe you remember that,” you laughed. “Same apartment for all these years. Well, same building, bigger apartment.”

“Ever consider movin’?”

“Sometimes, maybe for privacy, but I love being close to everything. Nothing beats the nightlife there.”

When you bid him goodnight at four in the morning, you’d tripped over your own feet and into his arms, and you made a weak joke about definitely needing to head out. You thought it was kind of him to walk you to the car waiting for you outside, even going as far as distracting the fans who had congregated outside of the apartment building, talking with them and signing autographs as you were spirited back to your hotel.

Unbeknownst to you, Elvis had taken your answer of ‘sometimes’ and ran wild with the slight indication that you weren’t happy with where you lived. Privacy, as you’d emphasized, could certainly be afforded to you at Graceland, nightlife be damned. There was plenty of nightlife in Memphis. You’d get used to it in no time, he was sure of it.

Of course, you felt right at home when you returned to your apartment, never taking for granted how nice it was to sleep in your own bed and not have to travel far to record music or go on talk shows. Everything was so close, so convenient. You could hardly consider living anywhere else. You didn’t have much time to enjoy being at home before you had to leave for your talk show engagement. 

The show in particular was one you’d been on at least half a dozen times before, the host usually asking you softball questions that gave you the perfect opportunity to charm audiences and sell them on your latest music. You looked over the list of questions presented to you while getting your makeup done before going on, gazing over them before approving with a quick nod. 

You stood backstage, waiting for your cue to go on. As soon as you heard the host announce your name and the house band begin to play, you walked out, the friendly yet distant smile you’d perfected over the years painted on your face to the fanfare of the studio audience. The host greeted you with a handshake, and you sat down in the chair next to his desk.

“Y/N, every time you’re on here, ratings go through the roof,” he said. “You’ve been in the business for 15 years now, and people can’t get enough of you.”

You smiled, that much was true. By keeping your personal life as private as possible, the air of mystery surrounding you was magnetic. You were never a celebrity with a lot of drama attached to you, so whenever you did much of anything, people waited with bated breath to see what was going on.

The interview was going smoothly, until, oddly enough, the host brought up Elvis of all people. His comments and jokes confused you, though the audience seemed to be in on it. 

“What are you getting at?” you asked.

“You can’t fool us now, Y/N. The people at home are dying to know the details, how long have you been dating Elvis Presley?”

Suddenly, you felt like you were fresh in your career again, when you could hardly get through an interview without someone mentioning Elvis. Your chest tightened upon being presented with the photos, which you had no doubt would be blown up for home audiences so that they too could see you chatting up Elvis, drinking with him, and finally cornering him for what looked like a passionate kiss. 

You weren’t sure how to respond, not expecting the normally friendly host to divert from the pre-approved questions that he was supposed to be asking. A million thoughts ran through your mind, including how you didn’t notice any cameras around or how the hell you could convince people it wasn’t what it looked like. There was no point in trying to deny it, especially not on the spot like that. 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you answered coolly, hoping your bored expression would conceal your rage at being publicly humiliated. 

You blazed through the rest of the interview before storming into the green room, demanding a direct line to the International Hotel. Sure, the poor sap who was on the receiving end of your ire probably didn’t deserve it, but you wanted to make it clear that you weren’t going along with whatever Elvis was trying to pull. You wanted to laugh at the fact that you had felt bad for disliking him for so long. 

When you watched the interview later that night, you felt tears well up at how stupid you looked, from the photos to the host’s commentary after your interview. Who the fuck is he to do that to me? You made a mental note to never go on that talk show again, but most pressing was figuring out what was going on with Elvis. You had a busy schedule through the rest of the week, but you managed to move some things around so you could return to Vegas and confront him.

Even though you hadn’t publicized your intentions to go to the International Hotel that night, no one among Elvis’ entourage seemed particularly surprised to see you. In fact, it was almost like they were expecting you as you stormed past just about everybody to get to the man himself’s dressing room. Without so much as a knock, you barged in, all of the pent up anger and humiliation you’d felt the past few days coming to a boil upon seeing Elvis.

He was clearly unbothered as his face lit up upon seeing you enter. “Darlin’, what’d you think of the show?”

“Are you insane?” you raged, slamming your palm against the vanity. “I can deal with rumors, I’ve had plenty of rumors go around about me, but to stage photos that make me look like the instigator? I don’t know what your end game is, but I swear to god Presley–”

“C’mon, darlin’, after seein’ you the other night, I knew we should’ve been together from the start,” he said, too calm and collected for your taste considering how angry you were. “I’m just settin’ things right. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. Remember? At RCA’s New Year’s Eve party?” You didn’t show the recognition he’d hoped for, as he huffed when he had to elaborate. “1956 into 1957, you’d just released–”

“My debut album,” you whispered.

New York - December 31, 1956

There were definitely places you’d rather be spending New Year’s Eve than at RCA’s party, where even with the open bar you had to keep up appearances for the executives and their families in attendance. The party marked the end of a record-breaking year for the label as they brought on as many up-and-coming rock n’ roll musicians they could squeeze corny love songs and covers of covers out of. After a few weeks of well-charting singles, your debut album released to much fanfare and unprecedented sales–except for your label-mate, Elvis Presley. Even during interviews for your own damn album he somehow came up, and you had to do your best to politely steer the conversations back to your music. 

Rumor had it he would be at the party that night, but you hoped he wouldn’t show and steal the spotlight from you. While you liked getting attention from important people, signing autographs and taking photos with crying fans was the bane of your existence. By all accounts, Elvis seemed to relish in it, going out of his way for his fans in a way that seemed incomprehensible to you. You hated artists that tried to pull the humble act, finding it in poor taste. At the very least, his music was good and he was extremely easy on the eyes, you’d give him that much.

He did arrive about an hour later, much to your chagrin as the focus quickly shifted to him. You watched with contempt as everyone rattled off the exact same compliments to him that they’d been giving to you just moments before. Regardless of how handsome or talented he was, the last thing you were going to do was humiliate yourself by being a kiss-ass like the other RCA stars did, flocking to him as if being in his proximity would somehow make his success rub off on them.

You kept your cool as you nursed your drink and wandered around the party, making small talk with the other stragglers. All things considered, the as the night progressed, you were enjoying yourself, though you were wondering what your friends were getting up to at their New Year’s Eve party on the other side of Manhattan.

During a moment to yourself, someone called out your name from behind. You turned around, eyebrows raised as you watched Elvis eagerly make his way toward you. When he stood in front of you, he openly stared for a few moments before finally pulling himself together.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to bother ya. Someone mentioned you were here, and I had to find you,” he said. “I know you don’t know me, but I’m—“

“You don’t need to introduce yourself, Elvis. I’d have to live under a rock not to know you.”

A bashful smile appeared on his face. “I hope that’s a good thing. I swear I’m your biggest fan.”

“That’s what everyone says,” you joked.

Instead of the forced laughter you expected, his face grew serious. “Well, I mean it. There’s no one else like you.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling the pressure of his intense gaze on you. “You too, you’re all anyone talks about.”

“I’m sure you’re tired of hearin’ about me.”

“It’s not you; I promise. I know it’s just weird marketing stuff, the posing us against each other and all that. I think RCA sells more albums that way.”

He nodded. “Good, because you really have a gift for music, Y/N. The last thing I’d want is for you to think I don’t support you.”

He seemed to be laying it on thick the more you spoke to him, and you wondered if it was his weird way of trying to strong-arm you into bed with him. You weren’t impressed with what you perceived as his desperation, especially considering how high up he was in the musical food chain, and came up with an excuse to prematurely end the conversation.

Somehow, you found yourself buzzed and alone during the inexplicably minute-long countdown to midnight. Sipping your drink of choice, you half-heartedly joined in while glancing around the room. Everyone already seemed to be paired up, not that you cared too much about a New Year’s Eve kiss, anyway.

3! 

You looked over at Elvis, who incredibly seemed to be on his own too.

2! 

It’s not like it would hurt anything if you went over and kissed him.

1! 

Pushing your way through the party-goers, you stumbled your way over to Elvis, grabbing his arm. As soon as the clock struck midnight, you sloppily pressed your lips against Elvis’ for a brief moment, giggling a bit at his stunned expression before throwing a wink over your shoulder as you walked away. 

You left the party not long after that, hardly remembering the kiss the following morning, and even less so as the years went by. The two of you crossed paths briefly at RCA events the following year, but then he got drafted and focused on acting when he got back. Around the same time, you broke your contract with RCA to switch labels and branch out in your music to keep up with the rapidly changing state of rock n’ roll. The two of you were hardly in the same social circles, to say the least.

In Elvis’ mind, however, the kiss was everything. You had kissed him, not the other way around, and as nostalgia clouded his memory, the incident became increasingly personal and intimate. A half-drunk peck on the lips had transformed over fifteen years into a profession of love accompanied by a passionate kiss. The reasons why you couldn’t be together would change from time to time, but he had convinced himself you were star-crossed lovers, communicating through songs and veiled comments in interviews. Once you realized this was how things were supposed to be, he was sure you’d calm down one way or another.

“That was fifteen years ago. I didn’t even remember it until just now,” you said. “If you’ve been that hung up on a New Year’s kiss, you need help.”

”It wasn’t just a New Year’s kiss, and you know it,” he argued.

“All I know is that you’ve lost your damn mind, and you better find it before I–”

“Before you what, Y/N? I’ve spent all this time lovin’ you, and it’s like you don’t even care.”

“Because I don’t care! I don’t even know you!” 

He’d been leaning against the wall for most of the conversation, but when he stood up to his full height, you felt yourself wither under his gaze as he approached you. He was no longer the starry-eyed boy you had met at the RCA party nor the rival you harbored resentment toward for a solid two years. No, he was a man with determination blazing in his eyes as he stood over you. If he was willing to stage photos and make sure everyone and their mother saw them, you couldn’t fathom what other lengths he would go to have you.

Still, you had stormed into his dressing room, guns blazing, and you certainly weren’t going to let yourself be run down so easily. You returned his gaze with an equally determined one as you straightened your posture. Neither of you wanted to be the one to fold, to break eye contact or the silence. All you could hear was your heart pounding as you stared at him, and though he folded first, you knew you lost when he nearly knocked the wind out of you by pulling you in for a kiss where you had to steady yourself with his shoulders so as not to fall over. You could hear a faint click behind you, and pushed away from the kiss you had yet to return.

“You’re sick,” you spat. “Do you seriously think I’d want to be with you after all of this?”

Provoking him wasn’t the best idea, considering how angry he looked when you pulled away, but you had to use what little leverage you had in the situation since he had you locked in with yet another photo, one far more damning than the others. He had far more emotional investment in the situation than you, though you now had so much at stake far more quickly than you expected.

He shook his head. “You know they say to never meet your heroes. Makes sense in your case, I swear I’ve never met anyone as full of themselves as you.”

“I have lawyers and PR people who’ll tear you to shreds–”

“For what? Kissing you?”

Your face fell as a smug smile appeared on his. No one cared if someone kissed you without asking. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before at public events or parties, and Elvis doing so in his dressing room after you had let yourself in certainly wouldn’t elicit sympathy from anyone. Your general persona was the antithesis of sympathetic, and you were too admittedly too proud to even try to portray yourself as a victim. He played you right into his hands, and for half a second you considered lunging at him.

You inhaled, unsure of how exactly you ended up in such a situation but determined to figure a way out of it. 

“I can be photographed kissing anyone, you know,” you countered, voice shaky as you tried to hold yourself together.

He scoffed in clear amusement, not at all the reaction you had hoped for. “I got you photographed doin’ a lot of other interestin’ stuff too, darlin’. It’s almost unbelievable what bein’ friendly and generous to a few paps will get you.”

Just as you were about to call his bluff, he grabbed a folder from the coffee table in his dressing room and began flipping through it, your stomach dropping as he held up each one, describing what you were doing and when, every photo more compromising than the next. Almost a year’s worth of your most personal life which you guarded so fiercely. It was more than enough to end your career, and you knew he probably had copies stashed all over the place. 

“What’s your plan then? We become fucking Sonny and Cher? They hardly even like each other,” you said, quickly realizing he had little to no rationality that you could appeal to. 

“I got it all figured out, darlin’. You just need some guidin’ in the right direction to get us back to where we used to be.”

There was no point in arguing with him that there never was an us or we to begin with, just a stupid New Year’s kiss you gave him at a party you didn’t even want to go to fifteen years prior. He probably already had a retort to every protest you could possibly hope to come up with, like the promotional engagements you had planned leading up to and after your newest album release, or the fact that you lived in New York and he in Memphis. Over the years, you’d receive truly disturbing pieces of fan mail from people you could only assume had been stalking you. You began to wonder if any came from him.

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