#and make them take private exits at airports and private flights

[jentlemahae]

ifans saying the dreamies should have stayed in the us bcs knctzens are too stalker-ish as if they weren’t just as bad

[therealslimshakespeare]

Welcome to Germany, Mrs. Presley

A Sarge & lil Mama fic

Summary: After the birth of your firstborn twins and his subsequent deployment, you and Elvis reunite for the first time at a German Airport. Sweeping romantic scores and idyllic kisses in the rain may have to wait for hungry babies and overly full breasts…the latter problem your husband may or may not have a chivalrous desire to aid you with

Warnings; yes, this is the lactation “kink” you were promised, I tried to not make it icky, I swear I did, but beware if that’s not your thing 💋

Also note: I will be changing lil mama in this series eventually to an original character instead of reader insert. This one has remained an insert as I started it that way, although the reader is referred to by the name “Elaine” at the very end 🥂

“Welcome to Germany, Mrs. Presley!” the kind hearted stewardess pulled you away from your panicked survey through the window of the crowd on the tarmac. Prompted by the stewardess’ concerned smile you turned yourself to the task at hand -bundling up the babies in their carriers to prepare them for the torrent of snow outside. 

October born Memphian babies as they are, they’ve barely seen the outside of Graceland as the season turned cold, and impromptu as this flight has been, you were still prepared with blankets and woolen caps and fuzzy socks on their tiny feet. With all these precautions in place only their noses were susceptible to freezing off in the blizzard and that really couldn’t be helped without suffocating them and- oh god, you were a nervous wreck. 

Elvis had been arranging for you to join him in Germany since he married you, right after going into the army, it had always been the plan. But his first plan -to make a family with you, out of you- had worked a little too well, and you had been stuck at home with a complicated pregnancy of twins contracted on the wedding night, a terrible bout of mastitis following that, while he got shipped off across the globe. Evocative letters and the few stilted phone calls were all that had kept you going, a keen awareness that both of these could be intercepted having cooled the initial honeymoon ardour of your arranged union. A kind friend had alerted you to these available seats on this commercial airline and, tired of waiting for arrangement to come together for private jets, you’d torn apart your room to pack and roped Dodger into being a traveling companion and pack mule, and the four of you made it to the terminal with ten minutes to spare. Vernon had called ahead to tell his son that his young wife was hauling herself and her twins over the ocean posthaste, and you hoped to god that Elvis' previous insistence on you waiting to take a private jet had been out of concern for your comfort, not desire to prolong separation. 

When you’d said as much aloud to his grandmother she’d scowled at you and made a significant face at the twins, as if to remind you that he’d been the one hell bent on having you, not the other way around. 

You scan the waiting crowd outside in hopes of seeing him, noticing multiple fan signs held aloft in greeting for you and his babies, and wondered how rumors could spread that fast. And there was always the shock you felt that some people would freeze their toes off just to catch a glimpse of the gal Elvis the Pelvis had wedded and bedded. 

You grab a baby carrier in each hand, your “yittle” hands and arms having grown strong and defined in the past months just from hauling your progeny around, and Dodger determinedly manages the luggage. You bump between the airplane seats, shuffling sideways and maneuvering yourself and your precious load, smiling when making eye contact with one gawking passenger after another, even having to make small talk when the disembarking line stalls only a couple yards away from the exit door. There’s a bottle neck happening up there, just out of view,  no more passengers managing to get out the door and passed a charmingly stuttering young husband who’s giving the plane Captain the same working over he gave his commanding officer - the one that procured him a furlough to come pick his wife up from the airport with zero notice. 

“Elvis!” you holler, ignoring the fascinated way people’s necks swivel to watch two individuals they've only read both filthy and devine things about in the newspapers interacting in real time. 

“Mamas! that really you?” a very darling and familiar voice carries over a couple dozen heads in the tubular space and it makes you want to giggle over how desperate he sounds. Like he’s rescuing you from the lion’s den instead of a commercial airline. 

Elvis has a massive trust and appreciation for the common man, the set he came from, except when it comes to their treatment of you. Public feeling towards you has been exacerbated negatively by the newspapers stirring up filth and he’s nearly gone nuts with worry in the ten hours it took the plane to arrive in Germany. 

“Yessir, it’s me alright.” you yell after a giggle and the rest of the crowd joins in good naturedly.

“W-w-well, well come o-on o-o-out then!” he booms in exasperation. 

“Can’t.” you holler, “you’re clogging the drain, daddy.” 

“Oh well, I’ll be-“ and then there’s a sudden shuffling and the Captain starts waving people on again.

You make eye contact with a withered little lady who is right up ahead of you, her ancient smile lines craggy and you feel a little validated as she alone beams at you from where she is still pressed against the side of her equally weathered fella. You’ve found it’s this ancient generation, the one before the commercialized, sterilized, American household set, who didn’t really bat an eye upon reading a tapped phone transcript of Elvis assuring you that he’s “gonna stuff your yittle cunt to the brim as soon as you’re back with me again, gonna pump you full, darlin. Yer gonna be gushin out with every rut but I ain’t gonna stop, ain’t gonna stop till we’re half dead the both of us, and you got a gallon of baby gravy leakin outta ya. I swear it lil mama, I’ll get you full again, just hang in there, hang in there, oh goddamn, I hear ya whinin, those tiny fingers of yourn ain’t doin near enough, are they….”

‘Soon as you were back with him. That was the promise, and here he was now, he couldn’t even wait for you to disembark before trying to get to you. And the weathered dame smiles at you, and you wonder if she’s thinking of the times she rolled in the hay with her man, sat on him under a blistering sun when he was working his tractor, maybe made a dozen children in a room shared with two other couples. Back when no one gasped at the notion that married couples must entwine and rut and spew in order to make those “three little curly heads in a row” that everyone still sought after. 

She looks happy for you, she looks passed you back at Dodger and you know grandma is proud that someone’s out there not being a hypocrite and just acknowledging, revelling even, in the fact that marriage is a very primal thing.

Elvis, feels close to vomiting as he smiles and waves and even signs a few crinkled napkins as people file past him onto the jetbridge, standing ramrod straight in his uniform beside the rest of the plane crew who politely act as if he’s a member, not an embarrassingly frantic husband. A famous, frantic husband. A husband who keeps spinning his service cover round and round by the bill in desperate need to see his little woman come into view. 

He’d left you to fend for yourself at Graceland, still hemorrhaging and fighting a life threatening infection in those pretty tits of yours that he had been so sure would feed his children as dutifully as the rest of you had proven to be. But they’d rebelled, they’d swelled up, they’d grown hard knots and made you sob in pain and still you went down to the Memphis train station and clutched his hand smilingly until the locomotive's gaining speed had torn him from your grip. He’d never been more proud of a human in all his life. And then he’d been worried sick ever after. 

Not even married a year and he had inadvertently broken his promise that you’d always have him, always be a family, never be apart if you’d just be his wife. You’re healthy now, you’d assured him over the phone. Been feeding the children like a prize milk cow, even feel well enough to go down to the Graceland gates and stand and chat with the fans, have even stuck your dainty hand down south and played with the previously torn little petals of your cunt. You assure him all is back to normal. 

You can be a dirty, dirty liar, though, you don’t know it but Elvis does, he has seen the way you convince yourself you are grand so others don’t worry, when you’re not well at all. Your welfare and wellbeing is hai to ascertain, he’s your husband and he’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much. If he could just see you over all these ‘tarnal heads —

—god what a vision. His wife. Twelve hours on a plane and all it cost you was a droop to your eyelids that vanishes the moment you catch sight of him. That old spark in your eyes lights up and your face burns red as a smile splits your cheeks apart and he loves you so badly, loves knowing this ravenous joy hasn’t caressed your face since last time you saw him, he alone provokes that look. 

You are easily managing two carriers between the rows of seats and your hat is fetchingly tilted, your hair is curled and your coat is the one he ordered from the magazine and he’s gonna have fun peeling those nylons off your legs and — there’s still an ocean of people between you two but despite your moderate height, you two manage to keep the grinning eye contact as the distance jostles and ebbs closes and he plucks you forward by a outstretched hand, making you trip over your heels for the first time in this whole ordeal and he squats with you to let you set the carriers on the ground and before you can rise back up to your height, he’s kissing you ravenously in front of all the onlookers. My god he is comforting, his hands cup your cheeks with fevered concern and his warm tongue plunges familiarly and without prelude, his powerful embrace engulfs you, crushing you into himself like he’s gonna tuck you inside his heart. He’s your sanctuary and you slump into him, nearly knocking his hat off in your desperation to rake through his growing locks. 

“Ma darling” he pants against your cheek and you both rise up from your semi squat. 

Below on the tarmac, through the glass of the jetway, a dozen flashbulbs pop to capture this moment, the crowd of fans is screaming and the crew beside him titters. It’s what you signed up for, life and love in the fishbowl of fame, and he gives you an apologetic grin before you smooch it off him, and move to the side so grandma Dodger can pat his face. He gives you his arm and you both swing up a child apiece with ease, shuffling along the jetway to the immense relief of the remaining passengers. He can’t choose where to look, your face or down at the infant swinging at his side, peering over to look at Miss Ella as you carry her. He finally looks straight as the terminal comes into view, a literal light at the end of a tunnel, and he gnaws his lip and slows his stride and squeezes your hand rhythmically. 

“I’m sorry it’s so public.” you murmur, knowing a private jet would have spared him all this. “I just couldn’t bare it any more.” 

And even if he had been of a mind to begrudge you your rash action, hearing you unabashedly admit you missed him that much soothes everyone little worry he has harbored that now you’ve got these babies you wanted, you may have gone off the idea of a husband. Particularly one as testy and hungry as he can be. He is starving for you and it only grows as he registers in relief that you’re eyeing him up appraisingly, taking in the adjustments that “rigorous army life” has made on his physique and face. 

He looks older, he knows that, but not in the way of it being the sad, sulking, pudgy fella of before, he’s chiseled and broad and virulent now and he sees you lick your lips in between smiles. You married a sad boy, you’re returning to a capable man. You knock your forehead against the patch at his shoulder like an interested cat and he snickers happily just as you both walk into the gauntlet of the terminal. 

“C'mon Dodger, stick close.” he commands her and keeps craning his neck to make sure she’s not separated by the crowd despite her gripes that she’s quite capable. 

“Don’t mind me,” she says, “it’s your wife you should be frettin’ bout, get ‘er a room to relieve them yams of hers, they’re near burstin and she’ll catch another bout of the clogged ducts if she keeps being so damn prudish bout nursin in public-“

“W-what the hell is all this bout y-you, you -?” Elvis comes to a full halt in the middle of the busy thoroughfare and looks frantically from her to you. You want to curse her for her tactlessness in scaring him after all the fretting he’s subjected himself to, but in all honesty, you have not nursed in eight hours and the agony you forgot for a brief moment upon seeing him again comes to the fore at the mere mention of your engorged state. You can feel yourself leaking and each shuffle rubs the fabric pads against your nipples and makes you want to whimper. 

“I need a room to feed the babies before we get in a car.” you whisper the plain truth in his ear while standing atiptoe as more flashbulbs go off, capturing his look of recognition and the scarlet flush that burns his face at your confession. The tell tale vein in his neck thumps to life and you aren’t sure if it’s panic or desire sending his adrenaline through the roof. Neither will the captions under the photos in tomorrow morning’s paper. 

The thought of his wife’s breasts full and heavy and warm with his hands still so cold from the winter chill makes him want to hold them and bury his chilled nose between them and -he needs to get you a room. Hates himself for being so hungry for you when your eyes are watering upon closer inspection and his children must be close to starving. Oh god, how often do infants eat? Will they be stunted for having to wait? He’ll spank the hell outta you if this little plane ride costs Jesse or Ella a single inch of height or a roll of fat. 

You can see all this chaos flit underneath his crimson blush until Dodger grunts in so suggestive a way that it rouses him and suddenly he’s a man on a mission, the same man who got a furlough in record time and arranged your status on the board of the March of Dimes. 

Mr- umm, that’s Private now- Presley snaps his fingers and tells a man he needs a room, the man gets him a whole lounge, Elvis gets you all guided through a throng to it, and Elvis thanks the man with such charming profusion the fella downright forgets the brusque order preceding it. 

He spins around a few times in the lounge as if he can’t figure out what to fix first and you laugh and make your way to the couch, setting your carrier down and starting to undo your heavy mink. 

“Right, right.” he mutters as the obvious hits him, your presence working that old steady calm on him. He feels like he takes his first true breath of German air then and sets to work. 

Always, he doesn’t know how you manage it for him, but a soft smile, a head tilt and eyebrow arched in gentle direction and suddenly he’s got his feet back under him, even here as he arranges his children by the sofa -dear god he has kids, those are his kids-  

and helps you with your coat. You sit yourself down and he stands ready for the next softly spoken order.

“Could you help me unbuckle them, darling?” your sweet guidance spurs him and he’s squatting, face to face with his baby he hasn’t seen since it was fresh popped into the world.

“Hey lil mister.” he whispers, half astounded to see something so little and fragile with his eyes staring back from beneath a mountain of blankets. He has to will his hands not to shake and has to try about five times to get the buckle undone, he’s being so timid about the clasp and maybe pushing too hard on his baby son’s belly. He swivels around to you after he loses track of time watching his child stare back, but baby boy starts to scowl and of course, of course there’s a point to this, so he swivels back to you and finds you undoing the buttons of your silk blouse and you’re so damn lovely as the inches of creamy skin begins to swell into view and he longs to touch and then there’s a wet patch and those pretty little nipples peek into view and a dribble of white from them startles him, and he makes a noise he hasn’t ever heard himself make. 

“Whoops!” you laugh pained, leaking and swiping the flood from the one released breast before popping the wet finger in your mouth. 

You reach for the baby and he pulls his gaze from your leaking breast to hand him over, and you smile shyly in thanks, and he wonders if it embarrasses you for him to watch but he can’t help it, you look so perfectly in your element as you tuck Jesse in the crook of your elbow as your other hand guides your nipple into his shiny little mouth. He latches on eager and you moan in pain and relief. Elvis hears his own breath come out in a ragged exhale as if he were sharing your feeling. 

“This place sells soft drinks, yeah?” Dodger’s voice shakes him like a rocket going off as he remembers his grandma is here too, he nearly falls back on his ass in his haste to turn towards her.

“Yes’m, reckon they do.” he agrees, “different currency though, and you’ll get mobbed by the press outside.”

“Well, hand me some of them Nazi bills or whatever they use over here.”

“Dodger-“

“Hush boy, I’m in need of a coke and you’re in need of a minute alone with your family, I can handle it.” she makes a motion with her hand and he stands up and digs in his pocket and places enough currency in her palm to buy her a coke and a few mink coats, too.

She rolls her wise eyes and he suddenly hugs her hard, missing her and the home she represents. She strokes his back for a good minute before patting him and disentangling, going straight to the door and exiting without giving the sea of cameras even a sliver of a view of your makeshift oasis. 

Poor little Ella has begun to fuss in her carriage and he spins around and drops to his knees to tend her, joints cracking hard against the frigid airport tile. 

“No, no, no you’re ok my girl, you’re gonna be ok, oh no, oh shh it’s ok, it’s ok.” his worry for his daughter makes him forget his unease and he collects her out of her own mound of fluffy blankets and hold her to him, rocks her back and forth on his knees, face looking torn between adoration and terror that she won’t be pacified. It’s just a small cry and some baby faced puckering whimpers but you’ve never seen him look more devastated that she won’t respond. “How long’s it been since ya fed her?” he asks, voice raised and tone a little harsh. 

“Just a couple hours,” you soothe, running a pacifying foot up the top of his thigh since your hands are occupied, he understands the gesture for what it is and his posture softens and he starts patting Ella more confidently. “I brought formula, Elvis, it’s just me that needed…”

“Course, course.” he swallows and hates how unsure he is, how stilted he’s making everything by this strange brand of insecurity, “I’m sorry for bein’ all -for doubtin your capabilities.” he makes amends and you can’t help but feel terrible for the lost look on his face. “I don’t got any nowhere to speak from, do I? -leavin my wife and children behind after all I promised.”

“You didn’t leave.” you reiterate the point you’ve hammered on him over the phone a dozen times, putting Jesse on your shoulder to burp him as he was so lackadaisical in his nursing he nearly fell asleep, “You were commanded away, and no one here blamed you for that except yourself, and I forbid it.”

“It weren’t right-“ he’s got Ella calmed down now he’s looking down at her with all of the remorse of a man who orchestrated a family for himself and then left them high and dry the minute they came to fruition. 

“-really Elvis, I forbid it, that kinda talk,” you whisper and he looks up at you with those big eyes and a curious set to his mouth, like he wants to protest your command but it’s also everything he needs and more, “I forbid it ruining here and now, what we’ve got now -which is us, together, just as you promised. This!” you gesture between his kneeling form and yourself, each with a child you so lovingly made, “This is what your promised me, or nearly, if you could just, just not dwell on it any longer. Be here with me, please?”

He grabs your hand from Jesse’s little back and kisses your knuckles fervently, all that gentlemanly sweetness he showed you on your wedding night when he told you that it would hurt, but he’d give you babies and love and joy and forever in return. You’d sat atop him and done the deed yourself, impaling your virgin body on every hefty inch of him, and in return he had given you those babies you’d always wanted. And love, he gave you that, security, direction and a devotion you weren’t quite sure you had a large enough heart to match, but my god you wanted to try. 

“Yes, yes Darlin I - oh god you’re…you’re d-d-dripping all over the place.” the mood shifts towards comic as he watches your neglected breast splutter out sweet milk into your silk shirt and you offer him Jesse in exchange for Ella. 

Jesse’s head lolls back alarmingly once his daddy’s got him, his blue eyes half lidded in a mommy’s milk coma. Elvis giggles at it. “Son of mine, you’re plastered.” he takes an elegant finger and traces the tiny nose down to the little button chin, “Guess I should tuck him back in.” he sighs regretfully, hating having him out of his arms for even a minute, but also knowing he needs to get you back to the house in order to have any real and extended privacy. 

You hiss as Ella latches on vigorously, and he looks up from his work on Jesse’s carrier in concern.

 “All’s good.” you put on a brave smile, the one you gave him as the contractions started to hit, the one you gave him when you sank down on him fully for the first time and tried to be brave about the feeling of a cucumber in your keyhole. He may have not had that much quality time with his family as a whole so far, but he’s been studying you for years. He spots bullshit.

“You’re dirty little liar.” he tsks but he can’t help his smile, you look so bashful and then haughty about it.

“I just, I hope she’s hungrier than him.” you explain, and somehow you have a great deal of elegance about you, he thinks, sitting in your pressed skirt and heels and hat and curls with your shirt open and leaking ripe tits gushing at every mewling sound the infants let out. Its fascinating to him just how, well -full- they look, how it’s like a leaky faucet or a break in the hose or…precum, dribbling and oozing without coaxing and it’s making your whole breast shiny from the mess of it and -he can’t help it, he licks his lips, and you don’t miss it, even as he blushes scarlet at the desire that flashed across his brain. 

You don’t out him, the jive of your relationship still feeling somehow precarious, like there’s a old shyness in the air. You pat at Ella’s bottom encouragingly, trying to keep her eager as her daddy still kneels and watches. She’s already starting to slow. And your breasts ache, they ache terribly still despite the munchkin’s having their dinner. You wonder about this shyness, you wonder about the way he’s shifting on the floor, the way his licked lips shimmer and the way you have a sneaking suspicion that the force of both your yearnings is so strong you’re playing safe until it can explode in some contained environment.

At some point he stopped just watching and took to leaning over your lap, the better to watch and stroke little Ella’s cheek as she sucks down what you give her. “A goddamn miracle, she is.” he whispers in awe and you nod in agreement, “We made this.” he states as if in shock, “We made these!” he boyishly exclaims, swiveling back to look at a conked out little Jesse before he turns back to you. 

“We did indeed.” you grin warmly and he bites his lip, hands running up and down your thighs atop your skirt. 

The familiarity of his old touchiness soothes you, and you lean over to kiss him gently, Ella already having let the nipple slip from her lips, sated with a measly meal after all that formula. You dribble on the cuff of his sleeve during the kiss and his eyes lock on the white stain seeping into the wool. You watch as he impulsively brings the sleeve to his mouth and sucks the moisture. His eyes blow wide, and you suck in a breath. 

“I d-dunno what I-I-“ he protests his rash action.

“No, no, Elvis, would you -do you…” you lick your own lips and look down at Ella as she snoozes in a tremptohan dream, your engorged breast neglected. 

You gently set her beside you on the couch while he clutches at your legs, waiting breathless to see if your mind is as compatibly wicked as his own. 

“I need you, Elvis, I really do, please.” you whisper it so pained that he’s drawn closer as if it were a sirens sing -his woman needs him. “It’s not wrong, is it?” 

All you’ve ever learned about any of this has been from him and the good book, and neither said nothin about forbidding anything done between couples in love. His tongue darts out and he shakes his head vehemently, even as his face burns scarlet across his cheekbones. 

It’s like a slow movie kiss, the way you both gravitate towards each other, he rising up higher on his knees and leaning over your lap and you inclining yourself towards him. 

You lift up a heavy breast and he’s so close to it his hot breath makes your wet nipple burn and tighten impossibly more, he pauses, open mouth puckered right before, eyes flicking up to yours with a wild need for assurance. 

You put your other hand to the back of his head, knocking off his army hat and lacing your fingers through his shorn locks, gripping and guiding him that last inch, and then he’s there, his searing mouth engulfing you just as you remember from when you were a milkless maid. 

“Please, please.” you gasp out, pushing his head closer and you see the broad line of his sturdy back ripple beneath his army greens in a shudder before he gives you what you need, mouth tightening, tongue dipping, cheeks hollowing. He sucks. 

You moan in agonized relief, tugging his hair unconsciously and he moans back as the shockingly sweet deluge of you coats his tongue and slides down his throat. His heavy lidded eyes fly open at the taste, so sweet and refreshing and he finds that it’s not just the heady eroticism of it, or even the soothing closeness you’re both finally managing here and now that makes him float -it’s the truly comforting state of being clasped to your breast like this and being looked down upon so adoringly by the mother of his children. His arms wind round your waist and he locks his hands together at the small of you back. You’re a wonder of creations, an unfairly beautiful creature with a near unbearably impressive use. Rather like your tits, he thinks, and that makes him snicker around you little bud and you “oh ha!“ prettily in surprise at the vibration before settling and stroking his face. 

“That’s it, that’s perfect, daddy, please a little more.” you whisper as he guzzles down his children’s sustainance.

He wouldn’t think of stopping, redoubles his efforts just to show you how invested he is, that this is no favor he is doing you. The painful throb between his legs, pressing as it is against your shin, ought to be proof enough to you he finds this nothing less than agreeable. His frostburned nose is warming up, nestled against burning hot flesh as it is, and he takes a chilled hand away from your waist to reach out and grasp your other breast. You gasp in shock and pain as out dribbles more milk, running in rivulets over and between his knuckles, down to his wrist.

“Oh my lord, there’s so much.” he groans in appreciation, greedily switching his spigot of choice and latching onto the other tit eagerly and your head falls back from the overwhelming feel of being taken care of. 

“So good to me.” you marvel, dragging your hands through his hair, anchoring him still to you and he hums, his eyes growing heavy and milk settling warm and calming in his gut. “Always so good to me.” 

You’re not suprised to feel the hot splash of what must be a tear on your breast, his sniffles just a little audible above the lewd noises of his suction and moans. This is you two, this is back to how it ought to be. You can feel him as he settles back into place with you, his whole body relaxing and leaning in. You flex your foot and it makes your leg brush against where he’s pressed to you and he bucks against your shin helplessly, a hand back on your waist and the other hefting your breast to his mouth. He ruts against your leg, months of absence and abstinence turning him into something no better than a dog in heat as he leans across your lap. 

He pulls away with a gasp as if he’s been submerged this whole time. His face is glossy and his lips puffy and the collar of his shirt is wet from some of the milk he couldn’t catch. He looks wrecked and dazed and you thumb at the messy corner of his mouth. He reaches out and squeezes the breast he just deflated and laughs at the way it sags.

“Don’t.” you whine, a little shy but he just giggles harder and keeps jiggling it until you have to laugh, too.

“You all better now?” he asks soft, and your face is swimming in front of him, his hand staggers upwards on its way to clasp your cheek.

“Heavens, are you milk drunk?” you laugh, his whole expression hilariously childlike.

“Feel a lil funny.” he nods, slumping back on his knees but keeping his hands on your knees. 

“That is becasue all the blood is down there.” your shiny black shoe toe nudges the tent in his pants and he grins bashfully. 

“Well, hang on now!” he speaks up after a moment, frowning at one of your breasts and you look down to find a bead of milk gathering to drip again, “I just drained you!” he protests with wounded pride to your offending breast, “I just drained ya, and you're already drippin, what’s the big idea?”

“Elvis baby,” you laugh merrily, “It makes up to replace what comes out. Nursing encourages more production.”

“Sure but -but this is excessive!” he’s being louder than usual, inhibitions gone out the window the minute he’s sucked titties like a starving newborn while wearing his country’s uniform. “Hell, they ain’t gonna win this time.” he shakes his head and leans in again, “Gonna keep you comfy now you’re here wi’me.” he swears competitively before latching on again to the fuller breast and swallowing down the fresh brewed batch. 

You can feel the relief mounting in your chest as that final little bit gets drained, soon there won’t be any more for him to suck out, so while you can, you take the opportunity afforded to you, one you never thought you’d have. You place your hand against his throat to feel it work as he swallows you down, a motion he is familiar with, one he does around your throat every time you swallow his release. It makes him growl in want and he laps around your bud as he ruts and stares deep into your bright eyes. The fan of his eyelashes flutter against your breast and you push back his hair, thumbing at his eyebrows, he goes a tad crosseyed as his pupils blow out and suddenly the desire for a nap is mighty powerful in him. He giggles, nipple falling from his lips, and you giggle too, through your blush, and cradle his head.

A hard knock on the door snaps both this pretty moment and the line of drool from his lips to your nipple. He rolls and scoots out of your lap and back on his ass like a soldier out of his foxhole and you hear Dodger’s voice saying something about the car being ready through the muffle of the partition. 

“Right, right, ok.” Elvis hollers, vigorously wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he watches you do up your soaked shirt with nimble fingers. 

“You’re really drunk, I think. You sure you’re alright?” you murmur, watching as he blinks and shakes his head as if he’s got water in an ear. 

“Maybe.” he hiccups and then looks horrified by it, “Lordy, really don’t know what’s wrong with me, I-I-ill be fine i j-just a lil…what’s in that stuff anyway?” he nods at your now (sadly, deplorably, regretfully, criminally) covered breasts.

“Nutrients and sugar, I guess.” you chuckle, choosing to strap Ella in yourself, since he seems a little woozy. 

“More like moonshine.” he gripes and then gasps in shock and you see what he does about the same time, a massive wet patch on the crotch of his khakis that he pokes at as if he isn’t sure when he’d spilled a drink in his lap. 

“You didn’t!” you exclaim in gleeful shock and he gives you a warning look but you’re too far gone in smug satisfaction at making him blow a load just from tiddy sucking that you keep grinning down at him manically. 

“I-i-I didn’t!” he insists, flustered and bewildered, “I don’t remember doin it! Wasn’t even touching m’slef.”

“You looked pretty happy there for a minute.” you tease merciless.

“Hell mama, how am I gonna stand up without makin it run ery’where? Gonna be goddamn humiliatin goin out there with wet pants.”

“Your jacket covers that area.” you soothe, ascertaining that the patch is high enough up. 

“Not when I stand up it won’t, whole load is gonna run down ma leg an’drip on the floor. That’s three loooong months worth of cream right there, lil mama.” 

Dodger knocks again and he looks up at you half panicked, “I’m coming in, all this press doin my head in.” she hollers in warning.

“Yes of course, come on in!” you encourage her while reaching down into the carrier and snagging the burp cloth, “Here, sop it up!” you hiss at him, extending the cotton cloth and he looks at it incredulous for a brief moment before the door opens and he spins away to shove his hand and the fabric down his pants and collect the mess so it doesn’t streak his pant leg upon standing up. 

He has to give ya credit, it sorta works. He pulls the sodden rag out of his waistband and turns around to see his grandmother helping collect the luggage and you smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt. He thinks he sees a shiny patch of fluid on the shin of your nylons. He shivers again. 

Dodger makes no comment on your wet blouse, she expected as much and the mink you don again covers it just fine. Elvis she observes with a critical eye and a shake of her head, he’s a hopeless case really. He looks a mess, not in any particularly blatant way, just the dazed light in his eyes and the plump of his lips and the wet around his collar, the glow to his cheeks. He looks like he just enjoyed himself somehow, though the HOW remains a bit nebulous. One can only hope the papers put it down to familial affection. 

There are reporters from every paper outside, American and German and British, and then the fans to boot. It’s all rather rude just to plunge ahead through the well wishes and welcomes so you and he walk arm and arm through it all, a baby carrier strategically carried in front of him, and dish out pithy replies to an abundance of questions. 

-“You look lovely, Mrs Presley! So glad to see you recovered!”

-“Oh my god I can’t believe it’s them!”

-“Did she really fly commercial?”

-“How do you feel about her going spring unaccompanied, Elvis?”

“She weren’t unaccompanied,” he shakes his head, “she was with my Grandma.”

-“Can we see the babies?”

“Sure ya can!” he tugs the blanket down past Ella’s chin but as the bulbs go off and her eyes crinkle sadly he quickly snaps back the hood of the carrier, “Aww, she ain’t a fan of your lights, man.” he apologizes, a huge smile on his face as the crowd coos and he almost forgets in his pride to not raise the carrier up and expose his accident. 

“You look a little, uh, wet, Elvis.” an oft encountered American journalist has the audacity to reach out and touch the soaked collar of his shirt, a shit eating grin on his face. 

Elvis tenses and his stride beside you gains speed but the slimey columnist keeps pace, “So much meltin snow out there, man,” uour husband tries to grin for the cameras, “I’m from Memphis, I dunno how to handle that stuff, gets on ma trousers and collar and er’ryrhing.”

“Sure, sure.” the reporter nods, “Bet you’re glad to have your wife on this side of the pond but there’s gonna be a lotta disappointed Frauleins.”  

“They won’t be disappointed for long once they get to know ‘er.” Elvis states with jovial certainty. You can’t help but beam.

“You can’t blame them for being sore,” the guy won’t be put off or dislodged from your side as you exit the airport out onto the frigid sidewalk, “not every dame was born to be a cum guzzler.” the guy acts as if he’s agreeing with something Elvis said while throwing this tabloid trash back up into your face. 

You positively refuse to flinch at the reference to the bugged phone call but Elvis stalls to a complete halt right beside your shiny ride, looking over at the man with deathly hate in his eyes, “The hell did you just say?” he inquires, terribly quiet. 

“I was just quoting you, man.” The guy throws his hands up defensively and you duck and scoot around Elvis to help Dodger load the car, watching your husband coil up for an attack out your periphery.

“You’re quotin a newspaper that coughed up a couple million in damages for illegally tapin’ a private call!” he explodes and if anyone was unaware of what spurs him to grab the fellow by the shirt front and pin him to the hood, they are now informed. “If you ever, and I do mean ever,” he goes on, fist crushing the guy's diaphragm and voice shaking in terrible, hushed rage, “say or repeat or even so much as think of my wife like that again I’ll ruin ya. I don’t mean your job, I don’t mean your life, I mean I’ll ruin ya so bad you’ll wake up everyday wishin your mama washed you out with a douche when she had the chance. You hearin me? Yeah, yeah, what’s that? You’re sorry? That’s reaaalll nice of ya, you should be sorry. Alright, alright, I’ll take your apology but yer gonna apologize to my lil wife, too, you hear me? Go’on now, you scummy sunnuvabitch, you don’t even deserve to look at er.”

You lean against the inside of the car door, straight backed in your heels, family all packed inside the cab and await the windless reporter to get his voice back enough to stammer out a “apologies, Mrs. Presley, I didn’t mean to be inappropriate, I didn’t mean to-“

“We all know what you meant to do, you ungentlemanly bastard,” your husband shakes him by his collar and you glance uneasily at the gathering crowd but they seem mostly sympathetic, “You’re tryin to shame an admirable woman for her God given talent of pleasin her husband -and for likin it while she’s at it. Well you ain’t gettin away with it, not this time.” 

When he lets go of the man, the guy nearly catapults into the crowd from the force of the shove. He meets no helpers among them and ends up face first on the cement. 

Elvis saunters back and holds the car door open wider and motions you into the cab, you take your seat. He clears his throat before turning back around and dipping his hat to the throng, “Night yall, god bless.” before scooting in beside you and the ride takes off to your new home, your new life here in Germany.

Dodger’s eyes are smiling around her coke as she sits between the babies, watching proudly as Elvis settles next to you and heaves out a long breath. 

“Always some bastard tryin to ruin a nice day.” he murmurs but it fades into a happy little sigh as you reach out and take his hand, your head leaning on his shoulder, finally snug beside him again. You smile, knowing he’ll raise your son right, kindly, respectfully. 

Elvis’ pant leg beneath your fist is wet and you sneakily pat him there beneath his coat flaps. He nuzzles your hair with his nose and you feel his hot breath tickling your ear as out comes a deep whisper, “Don’t fret o’er that, Elaine, there’s more where that came from.”

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith 

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks 

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

[arielburrow]

California Love

description: Joe pops the question at your favorite spot in the world 🫶 (little bit of smut but not too much)

“up up up!” you shake your boyfriend awake excited to get the day started.

“Joe the plane leaves in 30 minutes, i’m going with or without you my love!” your voice trails off as you enter the bathroom packing last minute essentials. Looking around you double check to make sure everything is packed; deciding to throw in the fuzzy handcuffs last minute, cause why not?

You hear Joe’s morning groans and can’t help but smile to yourself. You loved your annual summer trips, they were always so perfect, Joe was off from football for some time now and you two really got a chance to just soak up time together. This year he wanted to take you back to California, it’s been a while since you guys have been but he knows it’s your favorite getaway spot.

“babe do you know where my grey jeans are?” Joe joins you down stairs as your pour a coffee.

You quickly turn your back to him trying not to give away the fact that you donated them to goodwill last week. “mmm no haven’t seen them, but Joe were staying on the beach anyway i don’t think you’ll need jeans.”

He pouts as he head back upstairs to grab the last of his belongings. Smiling to yourself you yell to him. “I’ll start packing the car!”

The two of you arrive to the landing strip where the jet was waiting. In all honesty you and Joe were not frequent private jet passengers, it always felt like a waste, but he insisted that we took the jet this time. Crew members greet the two of you, helping you unpack the car. Joe takes your hand as you approach the plane, the small action still bringing warmth to your body even after being with him for years.

Taking your seats, a crew member hands you a mimosa to which you graciously accept.

“Let me know if I can get you two anything else, enjoy the flight Mr. and Mrs. Burrow, we’ll be in Laguna beach before you know it.” The man finishes as he exits the main cabin. You turn your head to Joe to see his reaction to the name mix up, but his eyes are glued to the runway, hand still grasping yours. You just giggle to yourself and pull out your headphones, shuffling your playlist and lying your head on Joes shoulder. You close your eyes as you feel the plane begin takeoff and feel Joe lie a kiss on the top of your head.

“y/n we’re here” Joe nudges you awake.

“you slept for the entire flight, I was so bored.” he frowns as you two exit the plane.

“Well I was up until 3am packing your bag you swore you wouldn’t forget to pack” you respond poking him in his side.

An uber picks you both up from the airport, dropping you off at the beach resort. It was easily the most jaw dropping resort you’ve ever been to and the suite was absolutely stunning.

Dropping your bags on the floor Joe pulls you onto the balcony, “Look at this view, we can see everything!” He excitedly scans the shore line below seeming full of anticipation which kind of surprised you. Joe usually was laid back when it came to vacations and typically found a way to incorporate football into them, which he promised he was avoiding these next 3 days. He even assured you he had an itinerary in store which you were excited to see play out.

“I know it’s so beautiful, we have so much of the day left cause of the time delay, what should we do?” You both walk back inside the suite and Joe wraps his arms around you from behind.

“I could think of something.” He smirks at you in the mirror and you playfully push him off.

“No Joe not right now, later” you laugh “i need sun! The uv is 10!”

He dramatically rolls his eyes, “fine let’s go to the pool, but i can’t promise i’ll be able to help myself if you where that blue bikini.” He smirks giving you hopeful eyes.

“oh don’t you worry, i’ll wear my wet suit” you wink.

After a long day of sitting at the pool and even doing some shopping, you and Joe enjoyed a beautiful dinner overlooking the ocean. Dating Joe has obviously come with so many luxuries, but no matter how many experiences you too have, there’s just something so special about being in his presence. Knowing that no matter how busy his world gets, he always comes home to hold you through the night. It’s nights like these when you look back upon the span of your relationship and how far you two have come together, it could bring tears to your eyes just thinking about your future together.

Entering the suite, you notice a vase of flowers left upon the dresser. You smile at Joe and he brings you in for a kiss.

“You’re being so lovey dovey Joseph I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” You giggle between kisses. He unzips your dress not daring to leave your lips, pushing you back unto the mattress.

“You just look so beautiful tonight.” he purs against your neck as your dress hits the carpet. Within seconds he has you against the pillows, moving quickly down the center of your stomach with kisses. You giggle as you feel his scruff against your soft skin. you arch your back as you feel his fingers dragging across your body as he continues to leave marks along your thighs.

“Joe, please I need you baby.” You arch your back at his actions.

With that he slips a finger inside of you, causing you to moan instantly. He adds another one as he begins to thrust into you, increasing his pace.

“you like that baby?” he pushes on, knowing damn well you do.

“Yes joey please don’t stop,” Your moans only increase when he presses his tongue to your clit, lapping at your sweet juices.

You feel your orgasm building up as you tug at Joes locks. His hair was growing out so quickly and it felt like every time you had your hands in it now, it was a little longer. You gave it one hard tug which Joe expectedly moaned in response to.

“Cum for me y/n” Joe rapidly pushes into you smirking against your center.

“Oh Joe!” you yelp

As your climax hits you feel him lapping up the residue of your orgasm. He brings himself up to your lips once again, not wasting any time. The rest of the night consisted of several rounds of Joe making you scream which you couldn’t complain about.

The next morning your eyes fluttered open at the view of the sea from your balcony. You felt the rise and fall of Joes chest as you laid there for a few moments. You feel a hand run through your hair and look up with a smile to Joes morning face.

“Good morning Joey.” You stand up heading to the shower when Joe reaches out for you.

“Hey wait I have a surprise for you,” he says reaching into the end table. He pulls out a pamphlet and hands it to you. It’s a certificate for the resort spa, the best in orange county.

“Oh my gosh Joe I needed this, thank you my love.” You pull him into a hug and he smiles.

“Go pamper yourself today my love, we’re going to dinner later too.” he stands gathering some things.

“Awh, what are you going to do all by yourself today?” you feel bad realizing Joe will be on his own.

“Well…um i know i said no football…but i kind of planned to get some throwing in today, I know you wanted a football free trip but it’s only a couple hours and-”

“Joe babe it’s okay” you giggle, “I know a trip without training in unheard of. Go have fun, i’ll meet you back here later.” You kiss his check and head off to the shower.

The next few hours were absolute heaven. Filled with facials, massages, pedicures, and lots of mimosas. You felt like an entire new person walking out of the spa and hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. It was already four by the time you had left.

“Joe you here?” you call out entering the suite.

“No” he responds

“Hey you!”You join him in the little living room, sitting with him on the couch.

“Was the spa everything you dreamed of and more?” he asks pulling you into him.

“Yes it was, how was your workout?” you ask.

He pauses almost looking confused for a moment, “oh! it was good, great actually.”

“that’s good.” You snuggle into his lap, but he abruptly stands up.

“No ma’am we have a dinner to get to” he commands.

“Joe” you laugh, “where are we going?”

He leans down close to you and smiles, “cant tell you, it’s a surprise.” He kisses your cheek and walks off into your shared room.

“Joe!” you yell, “We don’t do surprises! How do i know what to wear?”

“Come look on the bed!” he yells back.

Walking into the room you smile at the gorgeous red dress he had laid out on the sheets. It was strapless and had the most perfect slit to it, you couldn’t believe he picked this out.

“And these”, Joe comes out with a pair of Prada leather slingbacks that went perfectly with the dress.

“Joe this is unreal” you respond so shocked at the gesture.

“Where are we going dressed like this?” you question again which he of course doesn’t respond to.

You slide on the dress and applied your makeup, carefully curling your hair, making sure everything was perfect. Dressed like this, nothing could be out of place. Joe joins you in the bathroom to touch up his hair and you couldn’t help but to be taken aback by the button down and slacks Joe had someone figured out how to wear. You thought for sure the Looney Tunes sweatshirt or Seinfeld sweatpants would make an appearance.

“Wow…you look fancy” you say leaning in for a kiss.

Joe gives you a wink and takes your hand, guiding you to the living room.

“Let’s take a walk before dinner, I want to see the sunset.” He says. You notice a slight change in his demeanor, not a bad one, just an unrecognizable one.

As you both slowly stroll through the resort and out to the beach, the sky becomes breathtaking. You lock arms with him and walk along the pavement adoring the view.

“Isn’t it so beautiful Joe?” You look up to him with a smile, but he just nods in return, eyes glued to something in the distance.

“You okay?” you ask, he turns his head down and smiles.

“Never better my love”

You continue the walk passing few people along the way, you figured Joe would want to turn back soon, but instead he makes a turn, leading you onto a paved path that led to the shore. You weren���t familiar with this spot but figured maybe Joe had seen it at some point. You feel him squeeze your arm a little and you giggle at the gesture. There was no one around, this felt like a little escape for the two of you, it was beautiful.

As you near the end of the pathway, you notice flowers, so many flowers. Scattered along the pavement, they picked up a bit with the wind. Each petal had its own glow with the reflection of the sunset. That warm hue the sun lets off as it ends the day reached the both of you, making you feel as if you were the only two people in the world. Distracted by the scene infront of you, you didn’t even notice that you two had stopped walking. Joe picked up a flower and put it behind your ear, bringing a blush to your cheeks. You watched his body so carefully, his face was so full of love, you just wanted to kiss him; but before you could do so, he was down on one knee.

“y/n…” he opens the top of the little velvet black box.

You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing or skipping beats.

“These past 5 years have been full of so many experiences, and the whole way you were always right there by my side, you’ve always been my person. I know I don’t always say it enough, but I love you so damn much, I wouldn’t even be close to the man I am today if it wasn’t for you. I’ve know since the beginning that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and spend every last moment with you in my arms. y/n will you marry me?”

“Yes” you can barley weep out. Joe instantly slides the ring on your finger and brings you into a kiss. You both have come together like this so many times, but this time was different, this time felt like the force of all those other kisses coming together in one.

You pull away cupping his face and wiping his tears, him doing the same. He picks you up spinning you around as you squeal. This was easily the best moment of your entire life.

After watching the sun finally set in each others arms, Joe reminds you of dinner. You both follow the path back up to the sidewalk and continue on towards the restaurant. As you walk up the steps, you notice far too many familiar faces at once.

You’re smile widens as both of your family’s surround the two of you in hugs and tears. Both sets of parents were in instant tears at the sight of the ring. You look up at Joe with a silent “thank you” and he smiles.

As everyone sits down for dinner the conversation starts about how Joe managed to pulls this off and the little white lie he told about his training this morning. Your mom explains how he had to figure out a way to pick up everyone from the airport and set up the proposal without you finding out.

You couldn’t believe any of this was happening, it all felt like a dream. Looking around at the group of people all cheering and laughing with one another, you realized you were looking at your new family all together.

“You’re my fiancé now,” You turn to Joe with a smirk.

“No, You’re my fiancé now,” he says pulling you closer to him.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Welcome to Germany, Mrs Presley

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: After the birth of your firstborn twins and his subsequent deployment, you and Elvis reunite for the first time at a German Airport. Sweeping romantic scores and idyllic kisses in the rain may have to wait for hungry babies and overly full breasts…the latter problem your husband may or may not have a chivalrous desire to aid you with

Warnings; yes, this is the lactation “kink” you were promised, I tried to not make it icky, I swear I did, but beware if that’s not your thing 💋

Also note: I will be changing lil mama in this series eventually to an original character instead of reader insert. This one has remained an insert as I started it that way, although the reader is referred to by the name “Elaine” at the very end 🥂

Enjoy: AO3 Fic Link

“Welcome to Germany, Mrs. Presley!” the kind hearted stewardess pulled you away from your panicked survey through the window of the crowd on the tarmac. Promoted by the stewardess’ concerned smile you turned yourself to the task at hand -bundling up the babies in their carriers to prepare them for the torrent of snow outside.

October born Memphian babies as they are, they’ve barely seen the outside of Graceland as the season turned cold, and impromptu as this flight has been, you were still prepared with blankets and woolen caps and fuzzy socks on their tiny feet. With all these precautions in place only their noses were susceptible to freezing off in the blizzard and that really couldn’t be helped without suffocating them and- oh god, you were a nervous wreck.

Elvis had been arranging for you to join him in Germany since he married you, right after going into the army, it had always been the plan. But his first plan -to make a family with you, out of you- had worked a little too well, and you had been stuck at home with a complicated pregnancy of twins contracted on the wedding night, a terrible bout of mastitis following that, while he got shipped off across the globe. Evocative letters and the few stilted phone calls were all that had kept you going, a keen awareness that both of these could be intercepted having cooled the initial honeymoon ardour of your arranged union. A kind friend had alerted you to these available seats on this commercial airline and, tired of waiting for arrangement to come together for private jets, you’d torn apart your room to pack and roped Dodger into being a traveling companion and pack mule, and the four of you made it to the terminal with ten minutes to spare. Vernon had called ahead to tell his son that his young wife was hauling herself and her twins over the ocean posthaste, and you hoped to god that Elvis' previous insistence on you waiting to take a private jet had been out of concern for your comfort, not desire to prolong separation.

When you’d said as much aloud to his grandmother she’d scowled at you and made a significant face at the twins, as if to remind you that he’d been the one hell bent on having you, not the other way around.

You scan the waiting crowd outside in hopes of seeing him, noticing multiple fan signs held aloft in greeting for you and his babies, and wondered how rumors could spread that fast. And there was always the shock you felt that some people would freeze their toes off just to catch a glimpse of the gal Elvis the Pelvis had wedded and bedded.

You grab a baby carrier in each hand, your “yittle” hands and arms having grown strong and defined in the past months just from hauling your progeny around, and Dodger determinedly manages the luggage. You bump between the airplane seats, shuffling sideways and maneuvering yourself and your precious load, smiling when making eye contact with one gawking passenger after another, even having to make small talk when the disembarking line stalls only a couple yards away from the exit door. There’s a bottle neck happening up there, just out of view, no more passengers managing to get out the door and passed a charmingly stuttering young husband who’s giving the plane Captain the same working over he gave his commanding officer - the one that procured him a furlough to come pick his wife up from the airport with zero notice.

“Elvis!” you holler, ignoring the fascinated way people’s necks swivel to watch two individuals they've only read both filthy and devine things about in the newspapers interacting in real time.

“Mamas! that really you?” a very darling and familiar voice carries over a couple dozen heads in the tubular space and it makes you want to giggle over how desperate he sounds. Like he’s rescuing you from the lion’s den instead of a commercial airline.

Elvis has a massive trust and appreciation for the common man, the set he came from, except when it comes to their treatment of you. Public feeling towards you has been exacerbated negatively by the newspapers stirring up filth and he’s nearly gone nuts with worry in the ten hours it took the plane to arrive in Germany.

“Yessir, it’s me alright.” you yell after a giggle and the rest of the crowd joins in good naturedly.

“W-w-well, well come o-on o-o-out then!” he booms in exasperation.

“Can’t.” you holler, “you’re clogging the drain, daddy.”

“Oh well, I’ll be-“ and then there’s a sudden shuffling and the Captain starts waving people on again.

You make eye contact with a withered little lady who is right up ahead of you, her ancient smile lines craggy and you feel a little validated as she alone beams at you from where she is still pressed against the side of her equally weathered fella. You’ve found it’s this ancient generation, the one before the commercialized, sterilized, American household set, who didn’t really bat an eye upon reading a tapped phone transcript of Elvis assuring you that he’s “gonna stuff your yittle cunt to the brim as soon as you’re back with me again, gonna pump you full, darlin. Yer gonna be gushin out with every rut but I ain’t gonna stop, ain’t gonna stop till we’re half dead the both of us, and you got a gallon of baby gravy leakin outta ya. I swear it lil mama, I’ll get you full again, just hang in there, hang in there, oh goddamn, I hear ya whinin, those tiny fingers of yourn ain’t doin near enough, are they….”

‘Soon as you were back with him. That was the promise, and here he was now, he couldn’t even wait for you to disembark before trying to get to you. And the weathered dame smiles at you, and you wonder if she’s thinking of the times she rolled in the hay with her man, sat on him under a blistering sun when he was working his tractor, maybe made a dozen children in a room shared with two other couples. Back when no one gasped at the notion that married couples must entwine and rut and spew in order to make those “three little curly heads in a row” that everyone still sought after.

She looks happy for you, she looks passed you back at Dodger and you know grandma is proud that someone’s out there not being a hypocrite and just acknowledging, revelling even, in the fact that marriage is a very primal thing.

Elvis, feels close to vomiting as he smiles and waves and even signs a few crinkled napkins as people file past him onto the jetbridge, standing ramrod straight in his uniform beside the rest of the plane crew who politely act as if he’s a member, not an embarrassingly frantic husband. A famous, frantic husband. A husband who keeps spinning his service cover round and round by the bill in desperate need to see his little woman come into view.

He’d left you to fend for yourself at Graceland, still hemorrhaging and fighting a life threatening infection in those pretty tits of yours that he had been so sure would feed his children as dutifully as the rest of you had proven to be. But they’d rebelled, they’d swelled up, they’d grown hard knots and made you sob in pain and still you went down to the Memphis train station and clutched his hand smilingly until the locomotive's gaining speed had torn him from your grip. He’d never been more proud of a human in all his life. And then he’d been worried sick ever after.

Not even married a year and he had inadvertently broken his promise that you’d always have him, always be a family, never be apart if you’d just be his wife. You’re healthy now, you’d assured him over the phone. Been feeding the children like a prize milk cow, even feel well enough to go down to the Graceland gates and stand and chat with the fans, have even stuck your dainty hand down south and played with the previously torn little petals of your cunt. You assure him all is back to normal.

You can be a dirty, dirty liar, though, you don’t know it but Elvis does, he has seen the way you convince yourself you are grand so others don’t worry, when you’re not well at all. Your welfare and wellbeing is hai to ascertain, he’s your husband and he’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much. If he could just see you over all these ‘tarnal heads —

—god what a vision. His wife. Twelve hours on a plane and all it cost you was a droop to your eyelids that vanishes the moment you catch sight of him. That old spark in your eyes lights up and your face burns red as a smile splits your cheeks apart and he loves you so badly, loves knowing this ravenous joy hasn’t caressed your face since last time you saw him, he alone provokes that look.

You are easily managing two carriers between the rows of seats and your hat is fetchingly tilted, your hair is curled and your coat is the one he ordered from the magazine and he’s gonna have fun peeling those nylons off your legs and — there’s still an ocean of people between you two but despite your moderate height, you two manage to keep the grinning eye contact as the distance jostles and ebbs closes and he plucks you forward by a outstretched hand, making you trip over your heels for the first time in this whole ordeal and he squats with you to let you set the carriers on the ground and before you can rise back up to your height, he’s kissing you ravenously in front of all the onlookers. My god he is comforting, his hands cup your cheeks with fevered concern and his warm tongue plunges familiarly and without prelude, his powerful embrace engulfs you, crushing you into himself like he’s gonna tuck you inside his heart. He’s your sanctuary and you slump into him, nearly knocking his hat off in your desperation to rake through his growing locks.

“Ma darling” he pants against your cheek and you both rise up from your semi squat.

Below on the tarmac, through the glass of the jetway, a dozen flashbulbs pop to capture this moment, the crowd of fans is screaming and the crew beside him titters. It’s what you signed up for, life and love in the fishbowl of fame, and he gives you an apologetic grin before you smooch it off him, and move to the side so grandma Dodger can pat his face. He gives you his arm and you both swing up a child apiece with ease, shuffling along the jetway to the immense relief of the remaining passengers. He can’t choose where to look, your face or down at the infant swinging at his side, peering over to look at Miss Ella as you carry her. He finally looks straight as the terminal comes into view, a literal light at the end of a tunnel, and he gnaws his lip and slows his stride and squeezes your hand rhythmically.

“I’m sorry it’s so public.” you murmur, knowing a private jet would have spared him all this. “I just couldn’t bare it any more.”

And even if he had been of a mind to begrudge you your rash action, hearing you unabashedly admit you missed him that much soothes everyone little worry he has harbored that now you’ve got these babies you wanted, you may have gone off the idea of a husband. Particularly one as testy and hungry as he can be. He is starving for you and it only grows as he registers in relief that you’re eyeing him up appraisingly, taking in the adjustments that “rigorous army life” has made on his physique and face.

He looks older, he knows that, but not in the way of it being the sad, sulking, pudgy fella of before, he’s chiseled and broad and virulent now and he sees you lick your lips in between smiles. You married a sad boy, you’re returning to a capable man. You knock your forehead against the patch at his shoulder like an interested cat and he snickers happily just as you both walk into the gauntlet of the terminal.

“C'mon Dodger, stick close.” he commands her and keeps craning his neck to make sure she’s not separated by the crowd despite her gripes that she’s quite capable.

“Don’t mind me,” she says, “it’s your wife you should be frettin’ bout, get ‘er a room to relieve them yams of hers, they’re near burstin and she’ll catch another bout of the clogged ducts if she keeps being so damn prudish bout nursin in public-“

“W-what the hell is all this bout y-you, you -?” Elvis comes to a full halt in the middle of the busy thoroughfare and looks frantically from her to you. You want to curse her for her tactlessness in scaring him after all the fretting he’s subjected himself to, but in all honesty, you have not nursed in eight hours and the agony you forgot for a brief moment upon seeing him again comes to the fore at the mere mention of your engorged state. You can feel yourself leaking and each shuffle rubs the fabric pads against your nipples and makes you want to whimper.

“I need a room to feed the babies before we get in a car.” you whisper the plain truth in his ear while standing atiptoe as more flashbulbs go off, capturing his look of recognition and the scarlet flush that burns his face at your confession. The tell tale vein in his neck thumps to life and you aren’t sure if it’s panic or desire sending his adrenaline through the roof. Neither will the captions under the photos in tomorrow morning’s paper.

The thought of his wife’s breasts full and heavy and warm with his hands still so cold from the winter chill makes him want to hold them and bury his chilled nose between them and -he needs to get you a room. Hates himself for being so hungry for you when your eyes are watering upon closer inspection and his children must be close to starving. Oh god, how often do infants eat? Will they be stunted for having to wait? He’ll spank the hell outta you if this little plane ride costs Jesse or Ella a single inch of height or a roll of fat.

You can see all this chaos flit underneath his crimson blush until Dodger grunts in so suggestive a way that it rouses him and suddenly he’s a man on a mission, the same man who got a furlough in record time and arranged your status on the board of the March of Dimes.

Mr- umm, that’s Private now- Presley snaps his fingers and tells a man he needs a room, the man gets him a whole lounge, Elvis gets you all guided through a throng to it, and Elvis thanks the man with such charming profusion the fella downright forgets the brusque order preceding it.

He spins around a few times in the lounge as if he can’t figure out what to fix first and you laugh and make your way to the couch, setting your carrier down and starting to undo your heavy mink.

“Right, right.” he mutters as the obvious hits him, your presence working that old steady calm on him. He feels like he takes his first true breath of German air then and sets to work.

Always, he doesn’t know how you manage it for him, but a soft smile, a head tilt and eyebrow arched in gentle direction and suddenly he’s got his feet back under him, even here as he arranges his children by the sofa -dear god he has kids, those are his kids-

and helps you with your coat. You sit yourself down and he stands ready for the next softly spoken order.

“Could you help me unbuckle them, darling?” your sweet guidance spurs him and he’s squatting, face to face with his baby he hasn’t seen since it was fresh popped into the world.

“Hey lil mister.” he whispers, half astounded to see something so little and fragile with his eyes staring back from beneath a mountain of blankets. He has to will his hands not to shake and has to try about five times to get the buckle undone, he’s being so timid about the clasp and maybe pushing too hard on his baby son’s belly. He swivels around to you after he loses track of time watching his child stare back, but baby boy starts to scowl and of course, of course there’s a point to this, so he swivels back to you and finds you undoing the buttons of your silk blouse and you’re so damn lovely as the inches of creamy skin begins to swell into view and he longs to touch and then there’s a wet patch and those pretty little nipples peek into view and a dribble of white from them startles him, and he makes a noise he hasn’t ever heard himself make.

“Whoops!” you laugh pained, leaking and swiping the flood from the one released breast before popping the wet finger in your mouth.

You reach for the baby and he pulls his gaze from your leaking breast to hand him over, and you smile shyly in thanks, and he wonders if it embarrasses you for him to watch but he can’t help it, you look so perfectly in your element as you tuck Jesse in the crook of your elbow as your other hand guides your nipple into his shiny little mouth. He latches on eager and you moan in pain and relief. Elvis hears his own breath come out in a ragged exhale as if he were sharing your feeling.

“This place sells soft drinks, yeah?” Dodger’s voice shakes him like a rocket going off as he remembers his grandma is here too, he nearly falls back on his ass in his haste to turn towards her.

“Yes’m, reckon they do.” he agrees, “different currency though, and you’ll get mobbed by the press outside.”

“Well, hand me some of them Nazi bills or whatever they use over here.”

“Dodger-“

“Hush boy, I’m in need of a coke and you’re in need of a minute alone with your family, I can handle it.” she makes a motion with her hand and he stands up and digs in his pocket and places enough currency in her palm to buy her a coke and a few mink coats, too.

She rolls her wise eyes and he suddenly hugs her hard, missing her and the home she represents. She strokes his back for a good minute before patting him and disentangling, going straight to the door and exiting without giving the sea of cameras even a sliver of a view of your makeshift oasis.

Poor little Ella has begun to fuss in her carriage and he spins around and drops to his knees to tend her, joints cracking hard against the frigid airport tile.

“No, no, no you’re ok my girl, you’re gonna be ok, oh no, oh shh it’s ok, it’s ok.” his worry for his daughter makes him forget his unease and he collects her out of her own mound of fluffy blankets and hold her to him, rocks her back and forth on his knees, face looking torn between adoration and terror that she won’t be pacified. It’s just a small cry and some baby faced puckering whimpers but you’ve never seen him look more devastated that she won’t respond. “How long’s it been since ya fed her?” he asks, voice raised and tone a little harsh.

“Just a couple hours,” you soothe, running a pacifying foot up the top of his thigh since your hands are occupied, he understands the gesture for what it is and his posture softens and he starts patting Ella more confidently. “I brought formula, Elvis, it’s just me that needed…”

“Course, course.” he swallows and hates how unsure he is, how stilted he’s making everything by this strange brand of insecurity, “I’m sorry for bein’ all -for doubtin your capabilities.” he makes amends and you can’t help but feel terrible for the lost look on his face. “I don’t got any nowhere to speak from, do I? -leavin my wife and children behind after all I promised.”

“You didn’t leave.” you reiterate the point you’ve hammered on him over the phone a dozen times, putting Jesse on your shoulder to burp him as he was so lackadaisical in his nursing he nearly fell asleep, “You were commanded away, and no one here blamed you for that except yourself, and I forbid it.”

“It weren’t right-“ he’s got Ella calmed down now he’s looking down at her with all of the remorse of a man who orchestrated a family for himself and then left them high and dry the minute they came to fruition.

“-really Elvis, I forbid it, that kinda talk,” you whisper and he looks up at you with those big eyes and a curious set to his mouth, like he wants to protest your command but it’s also everything he needs and more, “I forbid it ruining here and now, what we’ve got now -which is us, together, just as you promised. This!” you gesture between his kneeling form and yourself, each with a child you so lovingly made, “This is what your promised me, or nearly, if you could just, just not dwell on it any longer. Be here with me, please?”

He grabs your hand from Jesse’s little back and kisses your knuckles fervently, all that gentlemanly sweetness he showed you on your wedding night when he told you that it would hurt, but he’d give you babies and love and joy and forever in return. You’d sat atop him and done the deed yourself, impaling your virgin body on every hefty inch of him, and in return he had given you those babies you’d always wanted. And love, he gave you that, security, direction and a devotion you weren’t quite sure you had a large enough heart to match, but my god you wanted to try.

“Yes, yes Darlin I - oh god you’re…you’re d-d-dripping all over the place.” the mood shifts towards comic as he watches your neglected breast splutter out sweet milk into your silk shirt and you offer him Jesse in exchange for Ella.

Jesse’s head lolls back alarmingly once his daddy’s got him, his blue eyes half lidded in a mommy’s milk coma. Elvis giggles at it. “Son of mine, you’re plastered.” he takes an elegant finger and traces the tiny nose down to the little button chin, “Guess I should tuck him back in.” he sighs regretfully, hating having him out of his arms for even a minute, but also knowing he needs to get you back to the house in order to have any real and extended privacy.

You hiss as Ella latches on vigorously, and he looks up from his work on Jesse’s carrier in concern.

“All’s good.” you put on a brave smile, the one you gave him as the contractions started to hit, the one you gave him when you sank down on him fully for the first time and tried to be brave about the feeling of a cucumber in your keyhole. He may have not had that much quality time with his family as a whole so far, but he’s been studying you for years. He spots bullshit.

“You’re dirty little liar.” he tsks but he can’t help his smile, you look so bashful and then haughty about it.

“I just, I hope she’s hungrier than him.” you explain, and somehow you have a great deal of elegance about you, he thinks, sitting in your pressed skirt and heels and hat and curls with your shirt open and leaking ripe tits gushing at every mewling sound the infants let out. Its fascinating to him just how, well -full- they look, how it’s like a leaky faucet or a break in the hose or…precum, dribbling and oozing without coaxing and it’s making your whole breast shiny from the mess of it and -he can’t help it, he licks his lips, and you don’t miss it, even as he blushes scarlet at the desire that flashed across his brain.

You don’t out him, the jive of your relationship still feeling somehow precarious, like there’s a old shyness in the air. You pat at Ella’s bottom encouragingly, trying to keep her eager as her daddy still kneels and watches. She’s already starting to slow. And your breasts ache, they ache terribly still despite the munchkin’s having their dinner. You wonder about this shyness, you wonder about the way he’s shifting on the floor, the way his licked lips shimmer and the way you have a sneaking suspicion that the force of both your yearnings is so strong you’re playing safe until it can explode in some contained environment.

At some point he stopped just watching and took to leaning over your lap, the better to watch and stroke little Ella’s cheek as she sucks down what you give her. “A goddamn miracle, she is.” he whispers in awe and you nod in agreement, “We made this.” he states as if in shock, “We made these!” he boyishly exclaims, swiveling back to look at a conked out little Jesse before he turns back to you.

“We did indeed.” you grin warmly and he bites his lip, hands running up and down your thighs atop your skirt.

The familiarity of his old touchiness soothes you, and you lean over to kiss him gently, Ella already having let the nipple slip from her lips, sated with a measly meal after all that formula. You dribble on the cuff of his sleeve during the kiss and his eyes lock on the white stain seeping into the wool. You watch as he impulsively brings the sleeve to his mouth and sucks the moisture. His eyes blow wide, and you suck in a breath.

“I d-dunno what I-I-“ he protests his rash action.

“No, no, Elvis, would you -do you…” you lick your own lips and look down at Ella as she snoozes in a tryptophan dream, your engorged breast neglected.

You gently set her beside you on the couch while he clutches at your legs, waiting breathless to see if your mind is as compatibly wicked as his own.

“I need you, Elvis, I really do, please.” you whisper it so pained that he’s drawn closer as if it were a sirens sing -his woman needs him. “It’s not wrong, is it?”

All you’ve ever learned about any of this has been from him and the good book, and neither said nothin about forbidding anything done between couples in love. His tongue darts out and he shakes his head vehemently, even as his face burns scarlet across his cheekbones.

It’s like a slow movie kiss, the way you both gravitate towards each other, he rising up higher on his knees and leaning over your lap and you inclining yourself towards him.

You lift up a heavy breast and he’s so close to it his hot breath makes your wet nipple burn and tighten impossibly more, he pauses, open mouth puckered right before, eyes flicking up to yours with a wild need for assurance.

You put your other hand to the back of his head, knocking off his army hat and lacing your fingers through his shorn locks, gripping and guiding him that last inch, and then he’s there, his searing mouth engulfing you just as you remember from when you were a milkless maid.

“Please, please.” you gasp out, pushing his head closer and you see the broad line of his sturdy back ripple beneath his army greens in a shudder before he gives you what you need, mouth tightening, tongue dipping, cheeks hollowing. He sucks.

You moan in agonized relief, tugging his hair unconsciously and he moans back as the shockingly sweet deluge of you coats his tongue and slides down his throat. His heavy lidded eyes fly open at the taste, so sweet and refreshing and he finds that it’s not just the heady eroticism of it, or even the soothing closeness you’re both finally managing here and now that makes him float -it’s the truly comforting state of being clasped to your breast like this and being looked down upon so adoringly by the mother of his children. His arms wind round your waist and he locks his hands together at the small of you back. You’re a wonder of creations, an unfairly beautiful creature with a near unbearably impressive use. Rather like your tits, he thinks, and that makes him snicker around you little bud and you “oh ha!“ prettily in surprise at the vibration before settling and stroking his face.

“That’s it, that’s perfect, daddy, please a little more.” you whisper as he guzzles down his children’s sustainance.

He wouldn’t think of stopping, redoubles his efforts just to show you how invested he is, that this is no favor he is doing you. The painful throb between his legs, pressing as it is against your shin, ought to be proof enough to you he finds this nothing less than agreeable. His frostburned nose is warming up, nestled against burning hot flesh as it is, and he takes a chilled hand away from your waist to reach out and grasp your other breast. You gasp in shock and pain as out dribbles more milk, running in rivulets over and between his knuckles, down to his wrist.

“Oh my lord, there’s so much.” he groans in appreciation, greedily switching his spigot of choice and latching onto the other tit eagerly and your head falls back from the overwhelming feel of being taken care of.

“So good to me.” you marvel, dragging your hands through his hair, anchoring him still to you and he hums, his eyes growing heavy and milk settling warm and calming in his gut. “Always so good to me.”

You’re not suprised to feel the hot splash of what must be a tear on your breast, his sniffles just a little audible above the lewd noises of his suction and moans. This is you two, this is back to how it ought to be. You can feel him as he settles back into place with you, his whole body relaxing and leaning in. You flex your foot and it makes your leg brush against where he’s pressed to you and he bucks against your shin helplessly, a hand back on your waist and the other hefting your breast to his mouth. He ruts against your leg, months of absence and abstinence turning him into something no better than a dog in heat as he leans across your lap.

He pulls away with a gasp as if he’s been submerged this whole time. His face is glossy and his lips puffy and the collar of his shirt is wet from some of the milk he couldn’t catch. He looks wrecked and dazed and you thumb at the messy corner of his mouth. He reaches out and squeezes the breast he just deflated and laughs at the way it sags.

“Don’t.” you whine, a little shy but he just giggles harder and keeps jiggling it until you have to laugh, too.

“You all better now?” he asks soft, and your face is swimming in front of him, his hand staggers upwards on its way to clasp your cheek.

“Heavens, are you milk drunk?” you laugh, his whole expression hilariously childlike.

“Feel a lil funny.” he nods, slumping back on his knees but keeping his hands on your knees.

“That is becasue all the blood is down there.” your shiny black shoe toe nudges the tent in his pants and he grins bashfully.

“Well, hang on now!” he speaks up after a moment, frowning at one of your breasts and you look down to find a bead of milk gathering to drip again, “I just drained you!” he protests with wounded pride to your offending breast, “I just drained ya, and you're already drippin, what’s the big idea?”

“Elvis baby,” you laugh merrily, “It makes up to replace what comes out. Nursing encourages more production.”

“Sure but -but this is excessive!” he’s being louder than usual, inhibitions gone out the window the minute he’d sucked titties like a starving newborn while wearing his country’s uniform. “Hell, they ain’t gonna win this time.” he shakes his head and leans in again, “Gonna keep you comfy now you’re here wi’me.” he swears competitively before latching on again to the fuller breast and swallowing down the fresh brewed batch.

You can feel the relief mounting in your chest as that final little bit gets drained, soon there won’t be any more for him to suck out, so while you can, you take the opportunity afforded to you, one you never thought you’d have. You place your hand against his throat to feel it work as he swallows you down, a motion he is familiar with, one he does around your throat every time you swallow his release. It makes him growl in want and he laps around your bud as he ruts and stares deep into your bright eyes. The fan of his eyelashes flutter against your breast and you push back his hair, thumbing at his eyebrows, he goes a tad crosseyed as his pupils blow out and suddenly the desire for a nap is mighty powerful in him. He giggles, nipple falling from his lips, and you giggle too, through your blush, and cradle his head.

A hard knock on the door snaps both this pretty moment and the line of drool from his lips to your nipple. He rolls and scoots out of your lap and back on his ass like a soldier out of his foxhole and you hear Dodger’s voice saying something about the car being ready through the muffle of the partition.

“Right, right, ok.” Elvis hollers, vigorously wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he watches you do up your soaked shirt with nimble fingers.

“You’re really drunk, I think. You sure you’re alright?” you murmur, watching as he blinks and shakes his head as if he’s got water in an ear.

“Maybe.” he hiccups and then looks horrified by it, “Lordy, really don’t know what’s wrong with me, I-I-ill be fine i j-just a lil…what’s in that stuff anyway?” he nods at your now (sadly, deplorably, regretfully, criminally) covered breasts.

“Nutrients and sugar, I guess.” you chuckle, choosing to strap Ella in yourself, since he seems a little woozy.

“More like moonshine.” he gripes and then gasps in shock and you see what he does about the same time, a massive wet patch on the crotch of his khakis that he pokes at as if he isn’t sure when he’d spilled a drink in his lap.

“You didn’t!” you exclaim in gleeful shock and he gives you a warning look but you’re too far gone in smug satisfaction at making him blow a load just from tiddy sucking that you keep grinning down at him manically.

“I-i-I didn’t!” he insists, flustered and bewildered, “I don’t remember doin it! Wasn’t even touching m’slef.”

“You looked pretty happy there for a minute.” you tease merciless.

“Hell mama, how am I gonna stand up without makin it run ery’where? Gonna be goddamn humiliatin goin out there with wet pants.”

“Your jacket covers that area.” you soothe, ascertaining that the patch is high enough up.

“Not when I stand up it won’t, whole load is gonna run down ma leg an’drip on the floor. That’s three loooong months worth of cream right there, lil mama.”

Dodger knocks again and he looks up at you half panicked, “I’m coming in, all this press doin my head in.” she hollers in warning.

“Yes of course, come on in!” you encourage her while reaching down into the carrier and snagging the burp cloth, “Here, sop it up!” you hiss at him, extending the cotton cloth and he looks at it incredulous for a brief moment before the door opens and he spins away to shove his hand and the fabric down his pants and collect the mess so it doesn’t streak his pant leg upon standing up.

He has to give ya credit, it sorta works. He pulls the sodden rag out of his waistband and turns around to see his grandmother helping collect the luggage and you smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt. He thinks he sees a shiny patch of fluid on the shin of your nylons. He shivers again.

Dodger makes no comment on your wet blouse, she expected as much and the mink you don again covers it just fine. Elvis she observes with a critical eye and a shake of her head, he’s a hopeless case really. He looks a mess, not in any particularly blatant way, just the dazed light in his eyes and the plump of his lips and the wet around his collar, the glow to his cheeks. He looks like he just enjoyed himself somehow, though the HOW remains a bit nebulous. One can only hope the papers put it down to familial affection.

There are reporters from every paper outside, American and German and British, and then the fans to boot. It’s all rather rude just to plunge ahead through the well wishes and welcomes so you and he walk arm and arm through it all, a baby carrier strategically carried in front of him, and dish out pithy replies to an abundance of questions.

-“You look lovely, Mrs Presley! So glad to see you recovered!”

-“Oh my god I can’t believe it’s them!”

-“Did she really fly commercial?”

-“How do you feel about her going around unaccompanied, Elvis?”

“She weren’t unaccompanied,” he shakes his head, “she was with my Grandma.”

-“Can we see the babies?”

“Sure ya can!” he tugs the blanket down past Ella’s chin but as the bulbs go off and her eyes crinkle sadly he quickly snaps back the hood of the carrier, “Aww, she ain’t a fan of your lights, man.” he apologizes, a huge smile on his face as the crowd coos and he almost forgets in his pride to not raise the carrier up and expose his accident.

“You look a little, uh, wet, Elvis.” an oft encountered American journalist has the audacity to reach out and touch the soaked collar of his shirt, a shit eating grin on his face.

Elvis tenses and his stride beside you gains speed but the slimey columnist keeps pace, “So much meltin snow out there, man,” your husband tries to grin for the cameras, “I’m from Memphis, I dunno how to handle that stuff, gets on ma trousers and collar and er’ryrhing.”

“Sure, sure.” the reporter nods, “Bet you’re glad to have your wife on this side of the pond but there’s gonna be a lotta disappointed Frauleins.”

“They won’t be disappointed for long once they get to know ‘er.” Elvis states with jovial certainty. You can’t help but beam.

“You can’t blame them for being sore,” the guy won’t be put off or dislodged from your side as you exit the airport out onto the frigid sidewalk, “not every dame was born to be a cum guzzler.” the guy acts as if he’s agreeing with something Elvis said while throwing this tabloid trash back up into your face.

You positively refuse to flinch at the reference to the bugged phone call but Elvis stalls to a complete halt right beside your shiny ride, looking over at the man with deathly hate in his eyes, “The hell did you just say?” he inquires, terribly quiet.

“I was just quoting you, man.” The guy throws his hands up defensively and you duck and scoot around Elvis to help Dodger load the car, watching your husband coil up for an attack out your periphery.

“You’re quotin a newspaper that coughed up a couple million in damages for illegally tapin’ a private call!” he explodes and if anyone was unaware of what spurs him to grab the fellow by the shirt front and pin him to the hood, they are now informed. “If you ever, and I do mean ever,” he goes on, fist crushing the guy's diaphragm and voice shaking in terrible, hushed rage, “say or repeat or even so much as think of my wife like that again I’ll ruin ya. I don’t mean your job, I don’t mean your life, I mean I’ll ruin ya so bad you’ll wake up everyday wishin your mama washed you out with a douche when she had the chance. You hearin me? Yeah, yeah, what’s that? You’re sorry? That’s reaaalll nice of ya, you should be sorry. Alright, alright, I’ll take your apology but yer gonna apologize to my lil wife, too, you hear me? Go’on now, you scummy sunnuvabitch, you don’t even deserve to look at er.”

You lean against the inside of the car door, straight backed in your heels, family all packed inside the cab and await the windless reporter to get his voice back enough to stammer out a “apologies, Mrs. Presley, I didn’t mean to be inappropriate, I didn’t mean to-“

“We all know what you meant to do, you ungentlemanly bastard,” your husband shakes him by his collar and you glance uneasily at the gathering crowd but they seem mostly sympathetic, “You’re tryin to shame an admirable woman for her God given talent of pleasin her husband -and for likin it while she’s at it. Well you ain’t gettin away with it, not this time.”

When he lets go of the man, the guy nearly catapults into the crowd from the force of the shove. He meets no helpers among them and ends up face first on the cement.

Elvis saunters back and holds the car door open wider and motions you into the cab, you take your seat. He clears his throat before turning back around and dipping his hat to the throng, “Night yall, god bless.” before scooting in beside you and the ride takes off to your new home, your new life here in Germany.

Dodger’s eyes are smiling around her coke as she sits between the babies, watching proudly as Elvis settles next to you and heaves out a long breath.

“Always some bastard tryin to ruin a nice day.” he murmurs but it fades into a happy little sigh as you reach out and take his hand, your head leaning on his shoulder, finally snug beside him again. You smile, knowing he’ll raise your son right, kindly, respectfully.

Elvis’ pant leg beneath your fist is wet and you sneakily pat him there beneath his coat flaps. He nuzzles your hair with his nose and you feel his hot breath tickling your ear as out comes a deep whisper, “Don’t fret o’er that, Elaine, there’s more where that came from.”

[melanieph321]

Dusan Vlahovic x Reader - Boss Me Around Part 6/6

I had fun writing this series 😊

Hope you enjoy the last chapter.

Reader is a former yacht girl now newly moved to Turin, Italy for her job as a real-estate accountant. There she meets Dusan Vlahovic, a former client of hers, a client she never thought to see again. However, with Dusan being Readers new boss their past becomes a liability. Nevertheless the spark between them still lives. This story is a romcom with both His and Her POV!

Enjoy!

You stood in your apartment, surrounded by piles of clothes and a suitcase, heart racing with excitement and nerves. You were mumbling like a manic, rehearsing eligible responses to potential questions that the job interviewer may ask you. It was a life-changing opportunity indeed, since getting the job in Rome was the only thing that would guarantee your stay in Italy. You had worked so hard to arrive in this country and was not going to throw anything away for letting your past as a yacht girl haunt you. Those days were over. You were a grown woman now, with the world at your feet.

You stepped out of your apartment building, dragging your suitcases behind you. A taxi was waiting to take you to the train station. You had exchangee the flight tickets that Dusan's assistant booked you. You were very grateful for Louisa's help but it was too generous of her to ask you to travel with Dusan's private yet, not to mention bad for the environment, if riding the train was an option.

"Where to?" The taxi driver asked, as you hopped into the backseat.

"Porta Nuova, per favore."

********************************************

Dusan drove his Range Rover way past the legal speed limit, however it was easy to get away with it on the highway. He was heading straight to the airport since he just missed Y/N at her apartment. He had banged on the door like a crazy man, until one of her neighbors poked his head out to politly inform him that Y/N left in a taxi twenty minutes before his arrival.

"It's not too late." He thought. He had to believe that it wasn't too late for him to get Y/N back. He'd move heaven and earth for her to stay, this he was sure off.

"Fuck." Dusan cursed. His dashboard was lit up by an incoming call from his assistant. He tapped to take the call. "I'm a little busy Louisa, what is it?"

"Your clients aren't happy." She said monotone.

"Tell them that we'll reschedule their meetings."

"We better."

He rolled his eyes. "Was that all?"

"Yes and no. I thought you should know...."

"Know what?"

"That Y/N canceled her flight with your yet about an hour ago. I think she's headed to Rome by train."

"What?" Dusan almost took himself out off the road, as the Range Rover swirled in the traffic lane. "And you're telling me this now!"

"You said you were busy."

Dusan shook his head in disbelief, but did everything to recollect himself. "Do you know which station her train is departing from?"

"Most likely Porta Nuova."

"And which time?"

"I'll have to check the time tables, hold on."

By the time his assistant got back to him, Dusan had already taken the first exit heading back to the city.

"There is a train departing from Turin to Rome in about forty-five minutes. How far away are you?"

"Too far." Dusan tightned his grip around the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

"Have you tried calling her?"

"What?"

Louisa chuckled. "I take that as a no."

"Well what...?" Dusan paused. "What am I supposed to tell her. 'Y/N don't take that job, stay with me'?"

"Sounds pretty desperate."

"Exactly. And I don't want to make her feel like I'm giving her an ultimatum to choose a job over..." Dusan paused again, the words making him cringe. Thankfully Louisa was there to fill in the blanks.

"...love?"

"Yes, that."

"Then don't make her choose. Just call her and tell her how you feel."

"You think so?"

"It's worth a shot, no?"

Dusan went over the idea in his head. "Alright I'll do it, I'll call her."

"Great."

"Thank you Louisa."

"Talk to you later, Boss."

Dusan took a deep breath as Louisa's name disappeared from the dash. "Okay, here goes nothing."

********************************************

You were breathless, having dragged your suitcase across the train station. Nevertheless you were on time for your trains departure, all you had to do was sit and wait on the platform. However that's when your phone started vibrating in your pocket.

"Um...hello?"

"Y/N, it's me."

"Dusan?"

You perked up, not expecting to hear from him again after your one night stand.

"Where are you, I'm coming to get you."

"Excuse me?" You frowned.

"Where are you, are you already on the train to Roma?"

Panic struck within you. "Um...yes. Yes I am."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Dusan appeared to be somewhere noisy, somwhere with a lot of people.

"Shit." You gasped.

"You're lying." He exclaimed. "The announcers, I can hear them and so can you."

Shit, he was here.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about." You stood, looking up and down the platform.

"Where are you, upstairs? Wait for me I'm coming."

"Dusan, don't!"

He hung up.

You looked to the time tables, you train was arriving in five minutes. Five long minutes.

Dusan didn't seem exactly sure of your location so by the time your train rolled onto the platform he was still, to your relief, nowhere to be found.

"Y/N, wait!"

Just as you were stepping onto the train,  suitcase held tightly in your grip, a hand to your shoulder made you hesitate and turn around. Dusan, with messy hair and a damped forhead, was fighting to catch his breath, a look of desperation on his face.

"Y/N, please don't go," he begged, taking your hands in his. "I can't bear the thought of you leaving me. I love you. Please, stay with me."

"Dusan." You sighed and stepped off the train. There was still time. "You don't love me. You don't know the first thing about me."

"Then let me get to know you Y/N. Why would you even want to go to Rome?"

"Why?" You frowned. "Dusan you may have forgotten but I haven't. I'm not your little toy you can boss around and not expect me to react. I've given you my two weeks notice and stand by it."

"I know. I know. I screwed up. I made a mistake treating you the way I did, but after the other night...." He hesitated. "I thought it meant as much to you as it meant to me."

You search his eyes, not sure if he was coming to you in ernest. It was quite dramatic to be honest, a scene taken straight out of a movie. Nevertheless you were taken aback by Dusan's sudden confession. You had never expected him to admit his feelings so openly, you had no idea how to respond.

"Cinque minuti alla partenza per Roma! Ripete, cinque minuti alla partenza per Roma!"

On top of that your train was about to leave.

"Dusan, I don't know what to say," you stammered, heart racing as he was still holding onto your hand, refusing to let you go. "I've been preparing for this interview, I can't just cancel it now. But...I do have feelings for you too. I've been trying to ignore them, but I can't deny them anymore."

Dusan's face lit up with hope. "Really? You feel the same way? Then why don't we take a chance together? We can figure things out as we go along. Please, Y/N don't leave me."

You hesitated, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. However the trains doors closed behind you and just like that you were out of options.

"Dusan."

"Yes?" He was smiling, seeing the train roll out of the station, soon too far gone to even spot in the distance. It was decided. You chose him.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's take a chance. Let's figure things out together."

Dusan let out a sigh of relief and pulled you into a tight embrace. "Fuck." He inhaled your scent, taking it in with every deep breath. "I thought I was too late. I thought I lost you."

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head as you smiled. "No I'm here. I'm here to stay."

You yelped as he picked you up and started twirling you around.

"Dusan!" You slapped his shoulder, wanting him to put you down. This was not a damn movie.

He did so laughing into the crook of your neck. As you hugged, you knew that your life was about to change in ways you never could have imagined. But you were ready for those changes, as long as you had Dusan by your side, bossing you around.

[i-am-baechu]

Chapter Thirteen: The One About Exes Part Two

Summary: “Did you just ask me if I sell coffee in a fucking coffee shop?” And with that, Taehyung was smitten by the Barista in the crazy flower sweater vest. Friendships will form but most importantly Taehyung will finally meet his soulmate. 

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•°•✿•°•———•

Genre: Idol au, strangers to lovers au, barista reader!, slow burn (friends with benefits to lovers kind of), semi-short storyish format, friendships, romance, angst, comedy, and smut

Main pairing: Idol! Taehyung x Barista! Reader 

Side ships: Hoseok x OC 

Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, homophobia, smoking cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol usage

⇜ Masterlist ⇝

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•°•✿•°•———•

“Y/N, I-”

“Taehyung, I need a few minutes of silence...please.” 

Taehyung sighed and looked down at his hotel carpet in defeat. He had no idea this was going to happen, how could he? He was excited that Y/N was here with him, he missed her so much but he never imagined their reunion would turn out like this. Her sitting away from him mad/sad at what happened and him looking down at the ground with confusion. How was he supposed to know his ex-girlfriend was going to show up? 

Eight hours ago

Y/N was waiting at the airport with her phone in her hand. Jungkook was the one that helped her plan all of this and she felt touched that he wanted to help her. They didn’t have many interactions but she was glad that he liked her. She was reading random news articles until she got a text from Jungkook, I’m in the private section. I’ll meet you at the entrance and then we can go : ). 

She smiled at this and put her phone in her pocket as she stood up. She gathered her luggage and headed towards the area. This was her first time out of the country. She wanted to go to Ireland last year but things got complicated with the tickets. She's never missed someone so much that she would spend almost a thousand dollars to go see them but here she is. 

She looked past all the people around her the best she could and saw Jungkook leaning behind the sign. She knew it was him because she bought him that hoodie before he left New York. She smiled to herself and ran towards him with joy in her step, “Kook.” 

Jungkook looked up from his phone and she couldn’t see his face. He had a mask and sunglasses on but she could tell that he was smiling through the lens, “Y/N. How was your flight?” 

“It was long, it was my first time flying outside of the country.” 

“Oh, really? I hope it went well for you.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and let out a small laugh, “It was fine. Nothing great nor bad happened, that’s all you can ask for. How's Tae?” 

Jungkook looked around before he tilted his head towards the exit and she nodded her head. The two walked through the area with Jungkook’s hand gently on her back, “Tae’s been...he’s been off.”

She looked at him and frowned at this, “Why? Is it because of the lack of sleep or something else?” 

“I honestly think it's because he misses you. You know this is the first time he had someone on tour. I don’t think he knows how to act, he's a sensitive person who just hides it.”

“We-We’re not together.” 

“Sureee....”

She nodded her head and made a mental note. She bit her lip because she wanted to know how Taehyung was doing with Namjoon but she didn’t know if it was appropriate for her to ask, “How have you been doing?” 

Jungkook opened the door for her and they entered the parking lot. He took off his mask and sunglasses to give her his bunny smile, “I’ve been having fun. Hoseok has been taking me out to ramen almost every night.” 

“That sounds fun, has he talked about Julia?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes at this and let out a small groan, “Yes, he tells me everything. Why?”

Y/N sighed at this and looked at him, “Julia hasn’t really been talking to us all that much.”

“Oh, why?” 

“Her cousin is in town. When he's in town, we don’t hear from her. At least Hoseok talks about her, makes me feel better.” 

Jungkook opened the car door for her and nodded his head, “I’m sure she's okay. Let me put your luggage in the back.” 

“Thank you, kook.”He sat next to her in the middle after doing that and it was clear he was excited. She raised her eyebrow at this and let out a small laugh, “You're really excited about this.”

“I never surprised Tae before. Well, not like this. I’m excited to see his face and maybe then he can be happy.” 

Y/N frowned at this and looked down at her shoes, “Has he been sad?” 

“He’s been more irritated. He hasn’t talked to Namjoon or Yoongi in a week or so.” 

I know about Namjoon but Yoongi...that means something happened, “I’m sure it's stress too.”

“That’s true, he’s not really good at handling stress. I was thinking we should just go straight to his room.” 

She nodded her head and smiled at him, “That sounds exciting. I missed him.”

“And trust me, he missed you.” 

The ride there was short and the nerves started to come through. It’s been a while since she’s seen Taehyung. Yes, they talk on the phone almost every day and even Facetime but this was different. Would he act the same with her in person? She hoped so. She just recently figured out her feelings towards him and wanted him to feel the same way. She thought he did but you can never be so sure about people. Of course, he was different but you never know. 

They walked in the long tan hallway and with each step she took, her steps got louder in her ears. It felt like the walls around her were sucking her up and she felt like she was going to get sick. Jungkook noticed this and gently rubbed her shoulders causing her to look up at him, “It's going to be okay. You shouldn’t feel nervous, he missed you.” 

“I hope so...he’s told me so many times but I don’t know...it’s my brain being my enemy right now.” 

“Well, listen to your heart then.” 

She sighed and nodded her head, “You’re right...is this his room?” 

Jungkook nodded his head and smiled at her, “Good luck.” 

“What do you mean-” Jungkook knocked on the door and ran away leaving her standing with a confused look. She blinked twice and she registered what just happened. Jungkook left her and she was by herself now. That asshole. 

“Jungkook, I swear- Y/N?” 

She stared at him with a blank expression until she processed. It was Taehyung, it was really him looking at her with shock, “Tae, surprise.” 

Taehyung didn’t even say anything and immediately wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her into a tight hug. She smiled to herself and wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt soft kisses on her neck, “I miss you so much, Y/N.”

“I miss you too.” 

When they let go Taehyung smiled at her and pushed some hair behind her ear, “How did you get here?” 

“Jungkook helped me.” 

“That little brat. I should’ve known he was up to something.”

She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head, “How?”

“He was acting weird. He’s not good at hiding things.” 

She got on her tippy toes and placed a kiss on his chin, “I’m glad he hid this. I missed you so much, Tae.” 

“I missed you more. Did you pack that pink bra I like?”

She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulders, “Shut the fuck up and get inside.” He grabbed her luggage and closed the door as she looked back at him with a small smirk, “Yes, yes I did.” 

Taehyung bit his lip and set her luggage in the corner, “Are you wearing it?” 

“I don’t know...I forgot. It was a long flight.” 

“How about we found out together.” 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and sat on the bed with her legs slightly open, “I guess, I have nothing else to do.” 

Taehyung let out a small laugh and took off the shirt, “Let’s investigate.” 

She smiled to herself and shrugged her shoulders, “If you can. I don’t think you can solve the mystery.” 

“Is that right? I guess I have to get to work.” 

“Yes, you do...sir.” 

˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

After four rounds, Y/N and Taehyung lay in the bed as they stared up at the ceiling together. She was cuddled into his side as his arm was wrapped around her shoulder. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, “I missed you. Fuck, I missed this.” 

She let out a small laugh and placed a kiss on his chest, “I can’t believe I lasted this long without you.” 

“You sound dramatic.”

She moved to straddle his waist and shrugged her shoulders, “I have nothing else to do...hey can I ask you something?” 

“Of course you can.” 

She looked away for a split second and then back at him with a frown, “Jungkook told me you haven’t been talking to Yoongi...is everything okay?” 

Taehyung sighed, he needed to slap the shit out of Jungkook the next time he saw him, “Baby, it's nothing...I just found out something and I didn’t like it.” 

“Tae, please tell me.” 

He sighed and nodded his head, “I found out what happened with my ex...Namjoon and Yoongi lied to me about it.” 

“Tell me.” 

Taehyung told her everything and she was shocked, “I just don’t know what to do, baby.” 

Y/N kissed his forehead and gave him a small smile, “You just need time...but you have to remember you work with them. You have to try and work with them, even though you're not happy about it. Once this tour is done, you can have a small break from them.”

He nodded his head and softly rubbed her thigh, “You're right...I just can’t help it.”

“I know babe but time will heal. Don’t rush it.” 

Before he could say anything there was a knock at the door. She got off his waist and gave him a small smile, “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be waiting for you.”

He smiled at her and felt his heart flutter at her words. He watched her go into the bathroom and she gave him a small wave before she closed the door. He got up and put on random black shorts from his bag and a shirt as he made his way to the door. He opened the door and he frowned at what was in front of him, “Aria? What the hell are you doing here?” 

Aria gave him a small smile, “I wanted to see you...I needed to talk to you.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone, Yoongi told me everything. Why would you do that to me?” 

Aria sighed and looked away from him, “I was being selfish...I was protecting myself.”

“You broke me and you didn’t care.”

Aria looked back and glared at him, “I did care!”

“No, you didn’t. If you cared then you would have never done that to me. Honestly, I want to say thank you for doing that. I met the girl of my dreams and it's not you.”

“That tweet then, it's true.”

Taehyung sighed and rolled his eyes, “Aria just leave.” 

“Tae, is everything okay?” 

Tae turned to see Y/N in a white robe and he couldn’t help a smile, “Is that her?” 

Aria moved past him and looked at Y/N with a glare as Y/N returned the glare, “I have a name but you're not worth knowing it.”

Aria looked back at Taehyung and shook her head, “Your dream girl is this? She's average.”

“I may be average but at least I would never break Taehyung’s heart. You're embarrassing yourself...have some self-respect.” 

She scoffed at this as she continued to stare at Taehyung, “You really think I’ll let this go.”

Taehyund nodded his head and made his way to Y/N. He wrapped his arm around her waist, “Yeah because I don’t want you and never will.” 

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “You made the worst decision, remember I have pictures of us and I’ll find out who you are. I’ll make your life hell.” 

“Then I’ll sue you.” 

Aria didn’t say anything but she slammed the door. Y/N shook her head and walked towards the bed with her head hanging low. Taehyung followed her with a worried look, “Y/N, I-”

“Taehyung, I need a few minutes of silence...please.” 

Taehyung sighed and looked down at his hotel carpet in defeat. He had no idea this was going to happen, how could he? He was excited that Y/N was here with him, he missed her so much but he never imagined their reunion would turn out like this. Her sitting away from him mad/sad at what happened and him looking down at the ground with confusion. How was he supposed to know his ex-girlfriend was going to show up? 

He was about to leave but she grabbed his wrist, “Tae...what are we?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Y/N looked away and then back with a shy gaze, “Are we together? I heard you call me your dream girl but we never clarified...” 

Taehyung let out a laugh and shook his head, “A girl just threatened us together and you're worried about our status?” 

“She can try it. I can take care of myself, what are we?” 

“Well, you're my girlfriend.” 

Y/N smiled at this and leaned forward placing a kiss on his forehead, “Let’s sue her together then.” 

“That was really hot coming from you.” 

She smirked at this and untied her robe, “Then show me how hot it was.”

Extended Ending: 

Jungkook was eating ramen with Hoseok when his phone buzzed. Hoseok raised his eyebrow and put the bowl down, “Who is it?” 

“It's Taehyung but he shouldn’t be texting me.”

Hoseok let out a small laugh and put down his chopsticks, “What did he say?”

“When you get back I’m going to kick your ass...Hyung! What did I do! I gave him the greatest gift!” 

“Well...you're going to deal with it..” 

[stardust-swan]

How to Fly Like a Hollywood Star - Part 3: On the Plane

[Part 1: Packing] [Part 2: Before the Airport and at the Airport]

🛩 Food can be expensive on planes so bring something to eat, like a mozarella and sun-dried tomato sandwich on olive bread, some almonds, a fresh fruit, or even a whole bento box. Herbal teabags are also a good idea, just ask the cabin crew for a cup of hot water. Peppermint (to stay awake), chamomile (to make you feel calm), and ginger (for nausea) are all perfect.

🛩 Neck pillows work wonders for international flights (bring a pillow case from home to go over said pillow. Keep it in your bag until the flight to stop it from getting gross). Eyemasks and ear plugs/noise cancelling headphones are a good idea too.

🛩 Bring a cashmere wrap, or small cashmere blanket on board. Audrey Hepburn always had one throughout the years to keep her comfy on film sets and planes.

🛩 Try to pee before getting on the plane

🛩 Drink lots of water and bring a lip balm, small moisturiser, or even a couple of sheet masks, as the cabin air is quite dry. Food and drink high in electrolytes, such as nuts, tomato juice, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, coconut water, and sports drinks like Gatorade and Powerade also help combat dehydration. You can bring electrolyte tablets instead if you want.

🛩 Compression socks can help prevent your legs swelling and bruising.

🛩 Pay attention to the safety demonstration, and know how many rows away your seat is from the nearest exit (which may be behind or before you).

🛩 Download the Timeshifter app (for Apple and Android) to help combat jet lag. I can't recommend it enough.

🛩 If you choose to drink alcohol, remember that one drink on the ground is two in the sky. You will feel the alcohol a lot more when flying due to the altitude and cabin pressure.

🛩 Pass the time by reading a book with beautiful prose or listening to some relaxing music (Part 2 has links to sites you can use to download literature and music).

🛩 When you start the climb to cruising altitude, chew some gum to stop you ears popping. Pinching your nose shut and trying very hard to breathe out of your nose helps alleviate ear pressure/pain.

🛩 Bring hand sanitiser or antibacterial wipes if the airline allows them (Naomi Campbell is in the habit of disinfecting her entire seat!)

🛩 Turbulence is normal and has never crashed a plane. If you get nervous, close your eyes and pretend you're on a bus/car. It will feel like you're just driving over a bumpy road.

🛩 Be nice to airline and airport employees. Even if things are going wrong, it’s usually not their fault. Being nice can get you better service sometimes (meal vouchers during delays, better seats, an earlier flight, etc.).

🛩 If you're travelling alone, and planning to sleep on your flight, ask the ticket counter when you check in if you can be put in an empty row. When you get to the gate, ask if the row is still empty, and if it's not, to be moved to an empty row. Take some melatonin and a night time ibuprofen after your meal, lay across the row, and get some sleep.

🛩 Don't sleep with your legs crossed.

🛩 Changing into pyjamas on a night time flight will make the flight comfier, and you'll feel refreshed when you change back into your street clothes.

🛩 Meditate. Or close your eyes and just breathe. Take advantage of the fact that you are miles away from your everyday life, and no one can find you.

🛩 When flying private, act casual. Asking where the flight is departing from is acceptable. Asking "Wow! Is this yours?" is not.

🛩 And most importantly, enjoy your trip!

[sy3ra]

tokyo rev series; sanzu haruchiyo

episode III

tw: swearing, some spicy moments and grammatical errors.

You were an executive at Bonten. You were well respected by the underlings and the other executives except...

Sanzu.

He was your biggest enemy ever.

"What the fuck did you do to my shampoo, [Name]?!" Sanzu screamed in the bathroom.

He came out with his hair....yellow..

And you, well you were laughing your ass off.

💠

"Sanzu what the hell happened to my white shirt you fucking bastard!" Your voice echoed in the halls of Bonten. The white shirt was spray painted...in pink. The color you hated.

"You started it dumbass I'm just paying you back!" Sanzu's voice echoed back. To the other executives this was a normal day with you two pulling pranks on each other.

"Are they at it again?" Rindou sighed while his brother nodded.

You and Sanzu always bickered and fought like there was no tomorrow. Ever since you joined Bonten, Sanzu was irritating for you and you didn't know why. In the end you just shrugged it off.

💠

One Tuesday evening, You and Sanzu were called in by none other than Mikey himself.

"I have a mission for you two." Mikey said with his usual emotionless tone. "There's an important artifact in Korea and I need you two to assassinate the owner and take back the artifact." He explained while the underlings gave you two folders that contained the information.

You looked through the information, carefully scanning it. Sanzu did the same.

After a while, Mikey continued. "I'm sending the both of you to Korea for one week."

You tilted your head to look at Sanzu with a disgusted expression "1 week with you? I'd rather eat dog shit" You said. Sanzu scoffed at your reaction "I would rather go alone anyway" he rolled his eyes at you.

"No, you two are taking this mission and that's final." Mikey said "Pack your things, you'll be leaving in two hours." He added. With that, the two of you bowed and exited the room.

"I can't believe I'm spending 1 week with YOU" You said in annoyance.

"Deal with it dumbass it's not like I want to spend my 1 week with you too" He barked back.

💠(2 Hours Later)💠

You pulled your luggage behind you, making your way to the front entrance of the Bonten HQ.

"We're taking my car to the airport" Sanzu said.

"No, my car" You argued

"My car is faster than yours" He argued back.

"My car is more suitable for this than yours idiot" You hissed.

"Can you two stop fighting?" A voice said behind the two of you. You cocked your head to look over your shoulder and the voice was Rindou. "Boss said you'll be taking the private jet" He sighed.

"Tch" Sanzu scoffed. "I see, thanks Rindou" You said with a small smile but there was an evident irritation in your expression.

The two of you boarded the jet not long after that. You sat comfortably by the window to enjoy the view. But then lewd noises intruded your eardrums. "For fuck's sake pinkie, for once can you not fuck every woman you see?" You frowned angrily.

"Why not? If you want to I can.." Before he can finish what he was saying you smiled at him and put your middle finger out.

"I'd rather jump on a cliff than fuck you" You said with an irritating smile. Then you threw a pocket knife at them which, unfortunately, landed on chair. The flight mistress grew terrified of you and ran off with her clothes making Sanzu sigh. "Oops, I missed" You shrugged and returned to look at the view in silence.

Sanzu decided to scan the information on the folders some more, while you silently watched the scenery by the window in awe.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanzu looked up and stared at you. He was intrigued at how your eyes were full of wonder and astonishment.

For some weird reason, he found you beautiful.

💠

You stepped out of the jet inhaling the fresh air of South Korea. "How nice" You mumbled to yourself. "Let's go, we still have to check in the hotel" Sanzu said as he got into the car.

You sighed in irritation and you got in as well. The whole ride was silent like earlier, 'this is unusual' you thought.

The ride to the hotel was an hour long. And once you stepped out of the car you were dumbfounded at how tall it is. "I'd close my mouth if I was you" Sanzu smirked at you.

"Yeah yeah shut up" You hissed.

The building was owned by Bonten, of course but it was undercover as a normal hotel owned by someone 'anonymous'. By saying the code words, you and Sanzu were checked in an executive suite at the second to the top floor.

You slid the card in the door, opening it. The room had a great view of the city and the enormous swimming pool. But to your dismay,

There was only one queen sized bed.

"Why...IS THERE ONLY ONE BED???!!?" You screamed in horror (not quite literally).

"Who the hell booked this????!" He shouted in frustration, popping a pill in his mouth. Sanzu ran his hand through his hair "I'll sleep on the floor then" he said.

"No, I'll sleep on the floor and you sleep on the bed"

"No I'll sleep on the floor"

"NO I WILL"

"I WILL"

"YOU KNOW WHAT LET'S JUST SLEEP ON THE SAME BED"

He scoffed at you and began unpacking his things while you examined the blueprint of the enemy's base.

"Looks like the best time to sneak in is 3 days from now. Based on the info, Azier Delius has a family reunion in 2 days." You said.

"What are we supposed to do until then..?" He tilted his head to look at you. "Probably plot and get some energy" You shrugged. As much as he hated to agree with you, you were right.

You and Sanzu plotted for a while, for once you two had a decent conversation without fighting. After that, you rummaged through your luggage and grabbed your swimsuit.

"The hell is that for?" He said looking at you. "Hotel = Swimming pool." Was all you said before going into the bathroom to change.

After 15 minutes, you came out of the bathroom wearing a sheer jacket that showed the monokini you wore underneath and your hair was tied in a tight bun that is held together by a hair stick (or hairpin).

Sanzu stared at you, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he looked at you up and down.

"Eyes up here pinkie" You teased. "I'll be going bye" You added before heading out the door and closing it behind you. Sanzu stood still in his spot after you left.

You got on the elevator and went down to the 10th floor. Then, you made your way to the entrance of the pool.

You took off your sheer jacket and slowly dipped in the pool, shivering lightly when the cool water hit your skin. You sat there for a while getting used to the cool water before swimming around.

Meanwhile, Sanzu watched you from the window, he bit his lip to get rid of his thoughts and closed the curtains. You were having an effect on him and he was falling for you. Slowly but surely.

A sigh erupted from your throat, you decided to leave him be so he can bring some woman to fuck with. Deep inside, you still respected his privacy and you already expected this anyway.

After an hour or so, you left the pool with a towel wrapped around your body. Upon entering the room, it was empty. 'it seems like he did find a woman or he just wanted to to get some air' you thought to yourself.

Nevertheless, this was a good chance to shower in peace.

You stood under the hot shower, steam filled the entire bathroom. You had your Bonten tattoo on your lower back, near your behind. You thought it was quite sexy that way so you had it tattooed there. You wrapped a short towel around your body and peeked outside the bathroom door to check if Sanzu was around.

Well, he wasn't. So you went out and rummaged through your luggage while humming Red by Taylor swift. You slowly took off the towel around your body and softly swayed your hips along with the song you were singing.

Not until you felt a warm hand in your waist. "First you stand infront of me wearing a revealing swimsuit and now you stand here naked. Do this one more time and I might not be able to control myself.." He whispered. You felt his hot breath on your nape and he stood incredibly close to you.

Sanzu wanted to push her on the bed but he had to restrain himself. After all if [name] can't walk then this mission would fail. He went into the bathroom to shower leaving you alone again.

You were rendered speechless, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at what happened earlier. [Name] had never thought of having a relationship before, let alone be touched by someone..

You quickly wore pajamas and plopped on the bed. Sanzu slipped out of the bathroom after a few minutes. He was half naked with only a towel covering his lower body. The towel, however, hanged dangerously low showing his V-line, his hair was wet and honestly that looks so attractive.

You looked away to prevent yourself from staring. "Did you bring some wine [name]?" He suddenly asked you while getting changed in the bathroom.

"Well yeah it's in my luggage" You said. "You did? Good girl" He said taking the wine out of your luggage and chugging it down.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you slowly went to sleep. Sanzu sighed at you before also going to sleep. In the middle of the night, Sanzu woke up. He couldn't see properly but the moon illuminated your figure, you were shivering from the cold. You didn't cover yourself in the blanket before because it was still pretty warm.

He carefully took the blanket at your feet and gently covered your body with it. He stared at you for a bit, you looked so peaceful while sleeping.

"Good night, [Name]" He softly muttered before going back to sleep.

Part II?

-Mayven

[equallyshaw]

suprise for christmas - tyson jost

Warnings: nothing.

Word Count: 1.1k+

← master post. day two. →

────────────

kit hadn't seen tyson since he left for buffalo, she hadn't been able to transfer her position from kohls to buffalo just yet. soon, she kept telling him. in the mean time she cleared the apartment and stayed with a wag and old teammate. it was nearing christmas, and it was the busiest time for kit at work. tyson knew that, however; he had just been traded so he had been extra moody and needy since he left. they hadn't seen eachother in over 3 weeks due to her job. so, how they were both feeling was expected. besides, the two had been dating since he came to denver and hadn't taken the foot off the peddle since. kit was hoping her boss would let her take a few extra days off before transitioning to buffalo, in order to surprise her partner. it was currently december 20th and she had yet to hear anything. she was beginning to grow restless as she stared down her work email, as well as watching the time for her flight. she had five hours before she was set to fly up to buffalo. her email refreshed and she saw the email from her boss, either a yes or no. she silently prayed to the universe and opened it, she skimmed the sentiments from her boss before she saw the answer she had been waiting for her. her boss had granted her the extra few days off, and with that she jumped off the couch and began to rummage her things together.

kit was now sitting in the airports private lounge as she turned off her location, hopefully not alerting tyson. tyson had just texted her, stating he was gonna start decorating the christmas tree that evening to brighten the dampered mood he was in. despite being traded without warning, he was somewhat relieved that he was now on a team that cared about him. cared about his mental wellbeing, his wellness, physical health, above all else. he now longer had to walk around egg shells, which made kit more than happy. she was elated that he was getting along with the players and they had welcomed him with open arms. despite having been there for less than a week, he even went to tage thompsons thanksgiving he was throwing for the team; if they couldn't go home or didn't have anybody coming out to them. kit reminded tyson to eat some extra turkey for her as she was finishing the final moving boxes to be sent out his way. he even texted her the reminants of the turkey and a picture of pumpkin pie, which put her over the edge. though tyson promised he would have the best christmas dinner with her to make up for it.

kit was in the lounge, a mere 20 minutes before she was supposed to board the plane. she made her way over to the gate, and sent one last text to tyson. she played it off that she was gonna be taking a nap before heading over to a local kohls to check in on her team as district manager before parting for buffalo on the 23rd. tyson brought it and she was now ready for her 3 hour nap that was outbound for buffalo.

3 hours and 30 minutes later, she exited the airport looking for the uber she had gotten to take back to the apartment. the driver came out and helped her with her carry on, and 2 suitcases. she thanked them and hopped in the back, taking in all the snow that was coming down. somehow the flight hadn't been delayed and she was forever thankful. she could only spend so much time on the plane before growing antsy. they made their way through the downtown, taking a drive along the ocean. she smiled out the window, beaming at how gorgeous the city was and hoping, hoping hard that tyson was here to stay for some time. hoping that they wouldn't be picking up and leaving- anytime soon.

they stopped infront of the apartment building, and she made her way after thanking the driver for the ride. she walked inside the building and went up to the front desk letting them know that she needed to pick up her keys from them. they whisked her on her towards the elevator, and was on her way to the 4th floor. her leg shook as the elevator went painstakingly slow. her anxiety rising every floor. she had butterflies about not only surprising him, but butteflies of seeing him. even when they spent some time apart- they both got nervous to see one another. just a bit. she took a deep breath and walked out of the elevator staring at the two large apartment. she saw #4 and made her way over. even though she had a key, she smiled a bit as she knocked 3 times. it took about 15 seconds before she heard the lock of the door and then the door opened. she frowned with lips quivering as she saw a tired and dischevaled tyson. he had just woken up from a nap. he rubbed his eyes, trying to see if he was imagining this. the love of his life had flown in early to see him, he must of been imganing. he thought she wasn't done until the 23rd. "hi hun." she smiled and in an instance he wrapped his arms around her. she did as well, and then felt her body leave the ground for a few seconds. he couldn't believe that she was here in buffalo, his heart swelled at the thought of her surprising him. "oh my god...." he breathed as he moved his nose to the crook of her neck. she giggled as he set her down and she rubbed her hands up and down her back. "babe..." she said softly bringing a hand to the back of his head feeling his hair. something she had always done as a comfort thing. he pulled back and brougt her in for a big kiss. the biggest one he had done in a long time. one filled with love, nerves, excitment and everything he couldn't form in words.

they pulled apart and he let her walk in before grabbing her bags. she looked around at the clean and crisp apartment, smiling at the christmas tree that still had yet to be decorated. "crap-- the tree!" he said now realizing his surprise wasn't done yet. she turned around and smiled, "we can do that tonight." she mused before pulling him in for another kiss.

a beautiful and wonderful surprise for christmas.

────────────

hope you guys enjoyed day one!!!

Please reblog and like, and I appreciate any feedback :)

Just some random tags: @comphyjost @antoineroussel @mack-samo @cellythefloshie @fallinallincurls @laurenairay @starshine-hockey-girl

[numinousmysteries]

Vanquish by Wisdom Hellish Wiles (7/9)

On AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

@today-in-fic

William cursed at himself. How could he have been so stupid to just get in a truck with a total stranger? They hadn’t even been driving for an hour when Jake’s cell phone rang. William couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, just Jake “uh-huh-ing” in agreement to whatever the caller said.

Jake hadn’t been especially talkative since they met at the gas station, but he fell silent after the call and soon they took an exit and pulled off the highway.

“Where are we going?” William asked.

“Gotta make a delivery.”

William knew something was wrong when they reached what looked like a tiny airport. There was a short radar tower and a cluster of planes on a tarmac around a small, squat building. It must have been a private airport.

He’d never been on a plane before. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He imagined he must’ve been flown to Wyoming from wherever his birth mother lived when he was put up for adoption as a baby. He didn’t know how he knew exactly, but he always got the sense that she lived in a city, somewhere far from where he grew up.

If he hadn’t been so terrified, he would have been excited to take the first flight he could remember.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a panic.

“Sorry, kid,” Jake said. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but someone made me a very handsome offer to drop you off here. You got some rich parents you ran off from?”

“No!” William shouted. “Please–” He wanted to scream at him that no amount of money would save Jake from the upcoming alien invasion but he knew there was no way to do that without seeming insane.

Jake parked the truck and William tried opening the door but it was locked. He closed his eyes and focused his mental energy on unlocking it, but his terror was too overwhelming. He heard Jake get out of the cab and rummage around in the back of the truck. Then he came around to the passenger side and opened William’s door. William tried to struggle but Jake was stronger. He pushed the boy back into his seat and tied his ankles and wrists together with plastic zip ties.

“We said don’t do anything stupid,” the shorter suited man said. “This is what you get for not listening.”

The men grabbed him on either side as the door of the plane nearest to him opened and a small set of stairs lowered down.

“Stop!” William cried.

Suddenly, his body went limp. He wasn’t on the tarmac anymore but in the passenger seat of a car. He looked down and didn’t recognize his body. It was a woman’s body, slender with pale skin—and was that blood on her white shirt?

The man from the beach in his dreams was in the driver’s seat. He looked older now, his eyes locked in concentration on the road. Mulder. The word (the man’s name?) echoed in his head.

He’d asked Monica for his birth parents’ names before but she said it wasn’t safe for him to know. Of course, he would Google them, but then again when he Googled Monica, her name came up surprisingly clean. There was a website for her therapy practice in Wyoming and a LinkedIn page with all the right credentials, but other than that no trace of her at all.

An abrupt shove from one of the suited men jolted him back into reality.

“Move!” shouted the taller man, pushing him up the stairs onto the plane.

Their hands were off him now and he turned around to see the stairwell rising back into the plane and the door closing behind him, leaving the two men on the tarmac.

He quickly pivoted toward the plane’s cabin. Inside were two rows of leather seats facing each other. Monica Reyes sat in one of them. There was a figure in the seat across from her but William couldn’t see his face.

“William,” Monica said with a smile. “So glad you could finally join us.”

William couldn’t move. He stared at her from the aisle. The door to the cockpit was shut and he heard the plane’s engines revving to life.

“Come sit,” Monica said as she tapped the seat next to her.

William slowly walked toward her. He turned toward the man in the other seat and nearly gasped in shock.

The man was ancient. His skin hung off his face like it had been reattached and he had one of those smoker’s holes in his throat.

The man just grinned at him. “Don’t be afraid, William,” he said. “I’m your grandfather.”

Monica reached for him and eased him down into the seat next to her.

“You got cold feet this morning, huh?” she asked. “Sent us on a bit of a wild goose chase.”

“What the fuck is going on?” He spat out.

“I’m not surprised you played hard to get with us,” said the old man. “You are your father’s son after all. I’d be disappointed with anything less.”

“Mulder,” William said.

HIs grandfather turned to look at Monica inquisitively. She shook her head.

“Yes, that’s your father’s name,” said the old man. “How did you know that?”

William shrugged. Everything about this man creeped him out.

“What you’re doing isn’t right,” said William. “I don’t want to be part of this.”

“Oh, William,” said the old man. “You’ve been the linchpin of this entire plan since before you were born. I’m just lucky we got to you before your parents found you.”

William paused. Did he mean his parents back in Wyoming? Or his biological parents? Were they looking for him?

The plane lurched forward and William grasped the sides of his seat. Everything got louder and the plane started moving faster. Takeoff, William thought. A force pushed his back against the seat and he felt the wheels of the plane leaving the ground beneath him. Even through the terror of what was going on inside the cabin, the feeling of flight exhilarated him.

“You’re my only grandchild, you know?” the old man said, cutting through William’s thoughts. “When we first embarked on this project, we were promised survival in exchange for surrendering our family members. It feels fitting that now, as it all comes to fruition, I get to see the next phase of humanity with my only living descendent by my side.”

“What about my father–your son?”

“Oh, Mulder won’t be around much longer,” said the old man. “I had such high hopes for him but he never lost his naïveté. He didn’t understand the noble ends of our project.”

“Well, maybe I don’t understand what’s so noble about letting millions die so you can live,” William said. He felt anger boiling within him.

“William, we discussed this,” Monica said, leaning over to him.

“No,” William objected. “I want to hear it from him. How can you justify the extinction of everyone on this planet?”

“That’s what your father never understood,” said the old man. “We are saving the planet. Every breathtaking work of art, every brilliant scientific discovery, the history of every great man and nation—my group is preserving this knowledge so it won’t be lost to the sands of time. If we do nothing, the colonizers will destroy everything. But if we survive—you and I and our small consortium—we can keep the greatest accomplishments of humanity alive. It will come with a sacrifice, of course, but what righteous act does not?”

William sank into his seat. Could his grandfather be right? If it was too late to rescue everyone, didn’t it make sense to at least try to save the essence of what made us human?

“Rest up,” said his grandfather. “We’ll be in Spartanburg soon. Then the real fun will begin.”

[injestedsoap]

Graves Likes Soap

Chapter 6 (has been) up on ao3!

Time Together

Ghost did not want to wake up, pressing his face into Soap’s neck as he groaned. 

“Yes, it’s time to wake up, you walking Halloween decoration.” 

“Five more minutes.” Ghost slurred. 

“I asked, the pilot said no.” 

“Wanker.” Ghost grunted, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes. 

They were two of about a half dozen stragglers, Soap didn’t even try to start waking Ghost until he was sure Graves was off, lord knows the man would make a last minute attempt to drag him away from his leave. Soap stood, collecting their bags and handing them down to a still bleary Ghost who shouldered his backpack and duffel. Soap shouldered his own backpack, extending the handle on his suitcase, the other men could make as much fun of him as they wanted but he wasn’t going to lug around a backpack and a duffel when he had the option to get something that rolled. 

Ghost stood, looking mostly awake, “Got everything?” 

Soap looked around the seat quickly and patted his backpack to make sure he felt the outline of the book. “Yeah, you?” 

Soap couldn’t see Ghost’s eyes through the dark glasses but he felt them on him. “Yeah.” Ghost replied, giving him a little tap with his duffel, “Now come on, get your rolling bag ass moving.” 

Soap laughed, swiveling his bag around and pushing it down the walk way, the sound of heavy steps behind him. 

They exited the tunnel and entered the airport, Soap pulled off to the side to stretch and yawn loudly, Ghost slouched against the wall, still looking on the edge of sleep. 

“Plans for leave?” Soap asked through a yawn. 

“Not really,” Ghost replied, “Gonna see Price, get some hiking and stuff in, eat real food.” 

“Mmh,” Soap agreed, rolling his head on his shoulders and looking sideways at Ghost, “Hey do you–”

“MacTavish!” 

“ For bloody fucking dead Jesus’s Sake ”

“I was hoping I’d catch you!” Graves, somehow, didn’t look like shit. He looked the same as he did when they got on the plan, hair high and tight, polo crisp, shorts pleated. God Soap wanted to punch him. “Hey, how about this, you skip your flight to Scotland, and you come with me, we’ll have steak and we can go to the race track, I can take you to my own private shooting range, hell, we can even get in a few games of golf!” He jerked his head at the opposite side of the airport, “What do you say?” 

Soap stared, he felt the urge to smile, to politely shrug off the invite with a ‘maybe next time’ or something else that left the door even slightly ajar for the sake of not pissing off Graves. Then he moved his bag around and looked Graves right in his grinning, target of a face, “You know, Graves, I can honestly think of nothing I would like to do less than that, so no, no thank you.” 

Graves looked stunlocked for all of a second before he threw his head back and laughed, “You’re a tough one, MacTavish,” He reached out and Soap slipped out of his grasp, Graves recovered with a finger gun, “I’ll figure you out one of these days!” 

“You won’t!” Soap called as he watched Graves walk away.

“Good lad.” Ghost said sleepily. 

Soap grinned and turned, moving his bag back to the side and pushing into Ghost’s space. Ghost looked down at him, he could see a peek of blue under the dark glasses. “I think you should get on a plane with me.” Soap said. 

“Oh?” Ghost asked behind his mask. 

“Aye, I think you should get on a plane with me and come to Scotland. I think we should spend a whole day sleeping and then when we wake up I’ll take you hiking, and prove that haggis is delicious, and we’ll watch Bridgerton while you winge the whole time, then I’ll take you to meet my mum.” 

“Will you?” Ghost asked like his eyes weren’t glowing. 

“Yeah,” Soap pushed closer, pressing into Ghost now, “She likes to know the boys I’m snogging.” 

Ghost raised an eyebrow, “Do we have to meet her before we snog?” 

“Nah,” Soap said, resting a hand on Ghost’s hip, “Just so long as we meet her.” 

Ghost cast his eyes around as his hand smoothed up Soap’s back, his pinky finger slipping under Soap’s shirt, “I think I can live with that.” He said, tugged his mask under his chin, and leaned in to kiss Soap. 

Soap sighed and melted into him like a tension line had suddenly been released. He wrapped an arm around his neck, his hand clinging to Ghost’s hip. Ghost was rubbing his back with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other, his thumb rasping over Soap’s stubble. Soap parted his lips, his foot lifting up just slightly when Ghost licked into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on his tongue. Soap pressed up into him, his nails scraping over the back of Ghost’s neck, pressing their bodies together. 

“We have to stop before I fuck you in the middle of the airport.” Ghost grunted.

“Call Price, get us immunity,” Soap whined, clinging onto Ghost as he tried to pull back from the kiss. 

Ghost shook his head, pulling his mask back into place, “Take too long, we’ll miss our flight and you won’t get your second book.” He didn’t take his hand off Soap’s back as he lifted his duffel, still absentmindedly rubbing along Soap’s spine. 

Soap was so lulled by the feeling, the joy from the kiss, and the perspective of spending his whole leave with Ghost that it took him a few minutes to register what Ghost had just said. “Wait, you got me another book?” 

Ghost looked down at him, pushing up his glasses so Soap could see the smile in them, “Well you had another flight, didn’t want you to get bored.” 

“Drag me to the bathroom, let’s spend leave in a stall.” 

Ghost laughed loud and open as he dragged Soap to their plane.

[southeastasiadiary]

Day Twenty-Five: A Day in the Life of the Other Jim Thompson

There are those who say I lack the ability to be spontaneous. Or perhaps they'll admit that I can be spontaneous as long as every detail of my spontaneity is carefully planned and approved at least three months in advance. But to these naysayers, I say, “Ha! Let today be proof you couldn’t be more wrong.”

I awoke in Chiang Mai with every intention of calling today’s entry “Repositioning #5” because that was the agenda set for the day: “Transfer by private car without guide from your hotel to the Airport to take a flight to Bangkok (10h10-11h35). Upon arrival at the Airport, please head to the exit gate and look for your driver who will be waiting for you, holding a welcome signboard with your name on it. Then, you will be transferred to your hotel in town by a private vehicle.”

The transfer to the airport and then the flight to Bangkok went according to plan. But then I met my local guide, Rich (or maybe Mr. Rich; I’m not sure whether “Rich” is a personal name, a family name, or merely a pseudonym; I expect the latter), a really friendly young man with an almost Cambodian permanent smile and a love of laughter. While we were waiting for the car, he said, “I have a suggestion. Your hotel room won’t be ready for several hours yet. You are scheduled to visit the Jim Thompson House on your last day. Why not visit it today instead? Then we’ll go get lunch. By that time you could check in.”

That idea sounded terrific to me, so off we set in a midday Bangkok traffic jam to reach the Jim Thompson House.

Now, I have wanted to see this house since long before I ever thought I’d actually travel to Thailand, and I wanted to do so for the silliest possible reason. Back when I was a graduate student and a newly-minted college professor, one of my preferred means of relaxation were to read “noir,” hard-boiled mystery novels like The Killer Inside Me, The Getaway, A Hell of a Woman, and The Criminal. The author of all these novels was Jim Thompson. So, when I discovered that Jim Thompson lived much of his life in Bangkok, disappeared under unusual circumstances, and lived in a place sometimes referred to as The Jim Thompson Mystery House … well, that was a place that intrigued me.

There was only one problem, however.

The Jim Thompson who wrote the novels and the Jim Thompson whose house is in Bangkok were two entirely different people.

The owner of the house was an architect who worked for the OSS (the predecessor of the CIA) during World War II. One of his last intelligence assignments was in Bangkok, and he fell in love with the city. He decided to live here permanently. Then, discovering that the cottage industry of making Thai silk was about to die out, he became fascinated with the fabric and the designs often printed on it. He took samples to New York and showed them to friends of his who edited fashion magazines, and they began to feature Thai silk in some of their designs.

Thompson’s big break came when “The King and I” was first a hit on Broadway and then made into a movie. All of Yul Brynner’s elaborate costumes were made of “Jim Thompson silk,” and the former architect/former spy now had a third career: fabric merchant. As his wealth increased, he bought six houses (four from Ayutthaya, the former capital of Siam/Thailand, and two from the Muslim community of weavers just across the river in Bangkok who wove his cloth) and joined them together into an East-meets-West mansion on the banks of one of the klongs (canals) of the Chao Phraya River.

All was well and good until Thompson took a vacation to the Cameron Highlands of Malaysia in 1967. Then, on March 26, he went out for a short walk … and was never seen again. The cause of his disappearance (and presumed death) remains a mystery. Some say he was kidnapped and then murdered, a random victim of a random crime. Others say he was still doing espionage work and was investigating something to do with the war in Vietnam, causing himself to be killed by an enemy agent.

And that, you have to admit, is a far more mysterious ending than that of the author Jim Thompson who simply died of a stroke at the age of 70 in 1977 after a lifetime of alcoholism.

The architect/spy/fabric exporter Jim Thompson, on the other hand, had filled him home with Thai art, such as this rare wooden Buddha (most Thai Buddhas are bronze)

and this sandstone Buddha.

He also collected ceramic works, like these pots that have no lid:

They are actually filled through a hole at the bottom.

Like the Confucius Cup in Hoi An, it's the level of the liquid itself that keeps it from running back out through the bottom. The claim is that, without a lid, the contents don’t oxidize as quickly and thus remain fresher longer.

Thompson’s dining room table consisted of two Chinese gaming tables set side by side.

His living room is open and spacious, looking like the perfect place to relax and read a novel by the other Jim Thompson.

His bedroom is set off from the rest of the house by a set of doors that once led into a pawnbroker’s shop.

In his bedroom are two horoscopes. The one on the left is his birth horoscope. The one on the right is (reportedly) a prediction that something sinister would occur when he was 61 years old. He was born in 1906 and disappeared in 1967, so …

His bedroom was simple and elegant.

Traditional Thai houses are built on stilts to protect the furnishings from flooding. Today the area beneath the house, which would have been plain in Thompson’s time, is decorated for visitors like me.

At the end of the tour, Rich suggested that we get sandwiches in the Jim Thompson Cafe. There were four sandwiches on the menu, and I ordered the ham and cheese. Unfortunately, the cafe was out of everything except tuna salad, so Rich said, “How about a tuna salad sandwich?”

You would think that, with all the plays I acted in earlier in my life, I could better conceal my emotions. But frankly, my face is often a dead giveaway for whatever I’m thinking even when I believe I’m being perfectly composed. So, less than a second after asking this question, Rich said, “Okay. We can find another place.”

Apparently, Rich can be spontaneous, too.

[im-some-lionheart]

It's one thing to want attention when you DECIDE that you want it, but it's entirely another to not have that choice. How is that so difficult to understand?

Calling the paparazzi to certain events she chooses to, isn't the same thing as flying commercial as arguably the most famous person in the world, or having people post her every move online.

She can choose to call the paparazzi as a marketing move, sure why not 🤷🏻‍♀️ whether it's cringe or fake is not the issue here. It's a thing famous people have been doing for ages. whatever.

But it's a whole other thing to say that just because she uses this marketing move sometimes, then EVERYTHING that she does and everywhere she goes should be public knowledge.

Planned pap walks when you're all dolled up with your bf to publicly show that you're together ≠ people recording your every move while you're on your pj's, drooling, etc, on a 10h+ commercial flight to Tokyo, then storming the airport and following you to the hotel.

See, how people behave when she goes to Chiefs games. She's literally Just There, she's watching the game and trying to have a good time, and people are constantly taking pictures of her and recording her when supposedly the show is happening on the field not on the vip booth. Also see, fans in Brazil standing in front of the hotel she allegedly was staying at. Because when you're arguably the most famous person on the planet, people feel entitled to your time and your smiles and to take pictures of/with you.

So OF COURSE she has to smile and wave at fans who show up wherever she is, if she didn't then everyone would have yet another "reason" to hate on her (oh did you see how rude she was? she's such an asshole, she doesn't even care about fans, she's so fake, etc, etc).

And no matter how grateful to your fans you are, eventually that is bound to get exhausting. Everybody needs some quiet and alone time every once in a while. Rich and famous people are also fucking HUMAN BEINGS. Just because they're public figures, it doesn't mean that the public has a right to every second of their time.

And as famous as she is, Taylor is also a very private person. For like a whole year she entered and exited her NY apartment inside of a suitcase bc there was always people waiting for her in front of her fucking house (not paid paparazzi, random people who felt entitled to a picture or more, just bc they knew who she was). And between 2018-2021 practically no one knew what she was up to, because she was just quietly living her life in London (where paparazzi are illegal mmm funny choice of home for someone who's obsessed with attention, apparently 🙄).

And I'm surely wasting my breath here, but if you've decided you hate her, then there's nothing she can do that will make her right in your eyes. She's damned if she does and damned if she doesn't.

If she flies private, you hate her bc that makes her guilty for the entirety of global warming. If she flew commercial, you'd hate her bc she'd be drawing attention to herself and fans would storm airports making it a fucking nightmare to everyone else who's there to fly.

If she doesn't buy carbon credits, she's an asshole contaminnator and doesn't care. If she buys carbon credits, then she did it wrong bc the companys that sell them actually don't use the money to help the planet.

If she buys the carbon credits privately, y'all say she isn't doing it bc it can't be traced back to her based on publicly available information. If she did it publicly, y'all would say it's just another attention grabbing attempt and she's just trying to buy her way out of things.

Either way, she's a selfish, horrible person and she's wrong 🙄

That's why I genuinely ask, what should she do instead, then?

imagine being that fucking rich and that fucking careless.

[tulumtransfers]

Luxury Tulum Private Transfers: Your VIP Ride

Tulum, a picturesque paradise on Mexico's Yucatán Peninsula, has become a coveted destination for travelers seeking a blend of natural beauty, cultural richness, and modern luxury. As more people flock to Tulum for its pristine beaches, ancient Mayan ruins, and vibrant nightlife, the demand for seamless and luxurious transportation has surged. Enter Tulum Private Transfers – the epitome of comfort, convenience, and exclusivity.

Why Choose Tulum Private Transfers?

When planning a trip to Tulum, one of the first considerations is how to get there smoothly and comfortably. While there are various transportation options available, none match the bespoke experience offered by Tulum Private Transfers. Here’s why:

Personalized Service:

Tulum Private Transfers offer a level of personalized service that is unparalleled. From the moment you book, every detail is tailored to your needs. Whether you're traveling alone, with family, or in a large group, the service can accommodate any requirement, ensuring a comfortable and enjoyable journey.

Time Efficiency:

Public transportation or shared shuttles often involve long waits and multiple stops, which can be frustrating after a long flight. Tulum Private Transfers provide a direct, non-stop service from the airport to your destination, saving you precious time and allowing you to start your vacation sooner.

Luxury and Comfort:

The vehicles used for Tulum Private Transfers are top-of-the-line, ensuring a luxurious ride. From plush leather seats and climate control to complimentary refreshments and Wi-Fi, every aspect of the journey is designed for your comfort and convenience.

Professional Drivers:

The drivers employed by Tulum Private Transfers are highly trained professionals with extensive knowledge of the local area. They not only ensure a safe journey but also provide valuable insights and tips about Tulum, enhancing your travel experience.

Safety and Reliability:

Safety is a top priority for Tulum Private Transfers. The vehicles are regularly maintained to the highest standards, and the drivers are vetted and trained in safe driving practices. You can relax knowing you are in safe hands.

The Experience of Tulum Private Transfers

Imagine landing at Cancun International Airport after a long flight. As you exit the terminal, you are greeted by a friendly, professional driver holding a sign with your name. They assist with your luggage and escort you to a pristine, air-conditioned vehicle. This is the start of your Tulum Private Transfers experience.

As you settle into the comfortable seats, your driver offers you a selection of refreshments and ensures the temperature is to your liking. The drive to Tulum, which can take around 90 minutes, is smooth and relaxing. With complimentary Wi-Fi, you can catch up on emails, update your social media, or simply enjoy the scenic views as you leave the hustle and bustle of Cancun behind.

Upon arrival in Tulum, your driver assists with your luggage and ensures you are comfortably settled at your destination, be it a luxury resort, a beachfront villa, or a boutique hotel. The entire experience is seamless, allowing you to focus on the excitement of your trip ahead.

Versatility of Tulum Private Transfers

Tulum Private Transfers cater to various travel needs, making them the ideal choice for different types of travelers:

Couples:

For couples seeking a romantic getaway, Tulum Private Transfers offer an intimate and private start to their vacation. The luxurious setting sets the tone for a memorable trip.

Families:

Traveling with children can be challenging, but Tulum Private Transfers make it easier. With ample space for luggage and comfortable seating for all family members, the journey is hassle-free.

Groups:

For larger groups or special occasions, Tulum Private Transfers provide spacious vehicles that can accommodate everyone. Whether it's a wedding party, a corporate retreat, or a group of friends, the service ensures everyone travels together in comfort.

Solo Travelers:

Even if you’re traveling alone, Tulum Private Transfers offer a secure and efficient way to reach your destination. The personalized service ensures you never feel lost or overwhelmed.

Booking Your Tulum Private Transfers

Booking Tulum Private Transfers is straightforward and convenient. Many reputable companies offer online booking platforms where you can select your vehicle, specify your travel details, and even customize your ride with additional services like child seats or special refreshments.

Here are some steps to ensure a smooth booking process:

Research and Compare:

Look for companies that specialize in Tulum Private Transfers. Compare their services, vehicle options, and prices to find the best fit for your needs.

Check Reviews:

Read customer reviews and testimonials to gauge the quality of service provided by the company. Look for consistent positive feedback about punctuality, professionalism, and vehicle condition.

Book in Advance:

To secure the best vehicle and service, it's advisable to book your Tulum Private Transfers well in advance, especially during peak travel seasons.

Communicate Your Needs:

When booking, communicate any special requirements you might have, such as additional luggage space, child seats, or specific pick-up times. This ensures the service is perfectly tailored to your needs.

Confirm Details:

Before your trip, confirm all the details with the transfer company. Ensure they have your correct flight information, pick-up location, and contact details.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Tulum Private Transfers offer an unmatched travel experience for those visiting this beautiful destination. From the personalized service and luxury vehicles to the time efficiency and safety, every aspect of the journey is designed to provide the utmost comfort and convenience. Whether you're a solo traveler, a couple, a family, or a large group, Tulum Private Transfers cater to your unique needs, ensuring your trip to Tulum starts and ends on a high note. So, next time you plan a visit to this tropical paradise, make sure to choose Tulum Private Transfers – your VIP ride to an unforgettable vacation.

Original Link: https://tucankins.blogspot.com/2024/08/luxury-tulum-private-transfers-your-vip.html

[stingrayvilla]

Navigating Cozumel: A Comprehensive Guide to Getting from the Airport to Your Hotel

When you land at the Cozumel airport, the last thing you want to do is worry about transportation. But don’t fret! This guide breaks down the best way to get from Cozumel Airport to your hotel, along with some handy tips to make your journey smoother.

Understanding the Cozumel Airport Layout

1. What to Expect When You Land

Upon arrival at Cozumel Airport (CZM), you’ll notice that it’s a relatively small airport. Despite its size, this airport is bustling with activity and there’s a lot to take in. After you’ve collected your luggage and passed through customs, you’ll find yourself in the arrivals area. Here, you’ll encounter several timeshare representatives who might approach you by offering assistance. Remember that these representatives are mainly interested in selling timeshares. Therefore, if you’re not interested, it’s better to politely decline their help and proceed on your way.

2. Finding the Shuttle Booth

Once you’ve navigated past the Timeshare representatives, you’ll need to locate the official shuttle van ticket booth. It’s conveniently located just to the right of the sliding glass exit doors. Look for a salesperson sitting behind a window and tell them “centro” if you’re heading to the downtown area. A shuttle to the downtown area costs approximately $5 per person. After making your payment, you’ll receive a simple paper ticket, which is your pass to board the appropriate shuttle.

Cozumel Airport Transportation Options

1. Airport Shuttle Service

One of the most popular and cost-effective ways of getting to your hotel from the airport is by using the airport’s shuttle service. This service runs several times a day and is a convenient option for travelers. The shuttle service is known for its reliability and affordability, making it a preferred choice for many visitors.

2. Taxis

Although taxis are not allowed to pick up passengers directly from the airport, there is a workaround available for those who prefer this mode of transportation. By heading across the street to Diego’s, a local eatery famed for its fish tacos, you can enjoy a meal and then either flag down a taxi or ask the restaurant staff to call one for you. The fare to downtown is approximately $40 pesos, but remember to confirm the price before you get in to avoid any misunderstandings.

3. Private Car Services

For those seeking a more comfortable and private mode of transportation, private car services are available. While these services are more expensive than shuttles or taxis, they offer a level of comfort and convenience that can be worth the extra cost, especially after a long flight. Companies like PrivateCar are well known for their reliable and professional service.

4. Car Rental Services

If you prefer to have your own vehicle during your stay in Cozumel, renting a car is a great option. While there aren’t any car rental companies located directly at the airport, there are several reputable agencies in the vicinity. Isis Rentals, for example, offers a range of vehicles to choose from and can either pick you up from the airport or you can take a shuttle directly to their location.

Tips for a Smooth Journey

1. Planning Ahead

One of the key factors in ensuring a smooth and stress-free journey from the airport to your hotel is planning ahead. It’s advisable to research your options before your trip and decide on your preferred mode of transportation. This will save you time and unnecessary stress upon arrival.

2. Staying Informed

Being informed about the local customs and practices can also go a long way in making your journey more pleasant. For instance, understanding that taxi drivers are not allowed to pick up passengers directly from the airport can save you from confusion and potential inconvenience.

3. Being Aware of Costs

Knowing the approximate costs of different modes of transportation can help you budget effectively for your trip. While prices can fluctuate, having a rough idea of what you should expect to pay can prevent you from being overcharged.

Enjoying the Trip

Finally, remember to enjoy the journey. Cozumel is a beautiful place with a lot to offer. Whether you’re on your way to your hotel or exploring the island, take the time to appreciate the stunning scenery and warm hospitality of the locals.

From navigating through the airport to choosing the best transportation option, this guide has hopefully provided you with valuable information to make your journey from Cozumel Airport to your hotel as smooth as possible. Now all that’s left to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy your trip to this beautiful Mexican island. Safe travels!

For more information on Cozumel airport transfers, Cozumel airport shuttle, Cozumel transportation, and other transportation options, feel free to explore our additional resources.

Why Book With Us?

Book through this website, and we guarantee you’ll get the lowest price on the internet. You’ll be dealing directly with us, the owners and we never charge booking fees, so you will save up to 30% of the cost over sites like Airbnb. Book our Cozumel Condos here.

[notyetdeadkennedy]

ㅤThe rest of what was suddenly his last day in Fiji was uneventful, but he was sure to take advantage of the beach, shower and nap before meeting up with Ada - he knew how jobs went, and who knew when he'd get a chance for sleep again, depending on various factors. Ada never looked tired the way he knew he did, and felt, but that didn't mean she wasn't and he knew it. It was also possible that he got the shit end of the stick every time, and that was also something he knew all too well.

ㅤAda did, as well, and she made that very clear as they arrived at the airport. They were both traveling light as far as he could tell, but he instantly knew that couldn't be the case for her despite her mention of 'shopping'. He showed up with a backpack and that was actually all he'd traveled with this time around; it was intentional because then he couldn't be expected to do any crazy bullshit if Hunnigan actually managed to get in touch with him, but he saw how well that had worked. Really, how could he have been expected to actually refuse Ada on this? It was when they didn't find themselves waiting on a normal commercial flight that he started to realize he was out of his depth, following Ada to the private charter plane and finding an unusually luxurious space waiting for them.

ㅤNaturally, Ada also knew that was unusual for him, because why wouldn't she? Between actual work-related briefing and playful flirtations, she was sure to stress what a difference it must be working for himself instead of the government, and though he wasn't going to admit that she had any points, it was utterly fantastic to not be crammed in a seat between two strangers who didn't understand personal space with no leg room and wishing that the worst he had was a raging hangover post-mission. It was the most comfortable traveling he'd done, despite being over a day on the move, and while it wasn't the beach in Fiji, it was still basically a vacation from the rest of his life.

ㅤThe resort in France was even more luxurious, and yes, he understood that if they were going to get close to the target for the invitation, the easiest way would be to pose as guests at the hotel, but he still faltered entering the suite that she'd reserved for them. He'd been in castles less opulent than that little apartment, and he was a guy who basically lived out of hotels. It made him feel even more like he stuck out as an outsider than the looks he'd gotten from the concierge when he walked up in jeans, definitely-not-new-boots and a leather jacket with Ada in her usual glory as he carried his worn backpack along. The suite itself made him feel like he wasn't supposed to touch anything. Those couches were just for show, he was almost immediately certain because they were velvet, and there was her luggage suddenly.

ㅤShe was clearly pleased with the place, claiming some of her luggage and heading off to one of the rooms, but he lingered a moment behind her taking it in and feeling a little like a stray that had followed her in. Exits, defensive points, weaknesses, all of those were decided on quickly because luxury or not, it was still just a structure, but damn, was this not a government job. It made him a little uneasy, because this was the kind of income at her disposal and he knew so goddamn well that being the good guy didn't pay. Was he making a huge mistake?

ㅤWas it really any different from the other jobs he'd worked, where she got what she wanted and got paid, while he did his part and got rewarded by being sent to some new shithole a week later? Yes, because he'd get paid for this one, not that he'd get any time or peace to appreciate it. "You know, I'd wait to pull anything spicy out of those boxes, that concierge might be calling the police on you for dragging a vagrant in here," he called out after that little pause to take it in, slipping into his own room with the unintentional air of a cat in a new place and setting the backpack down on the corner of the bed. It looked as out of place as he felt on the comforter that probably cost more than everything non-work-related that he owned.

ೃ⁀➷ As soon as Leon conceded, Ada's lips broke into a smug grin. Their relationship was a complicated one, from pointing guns at each other to saving each other's life. At the end of the day, she actually trusted the DSO agent to have her back, but that didn't mean he'd go willingly into danger with her. Especially if it meant leaving his little slice of paradise. It seemed that the hardest part of this mission was over. She reached forward just enough to clink her glass against his, then downed it quickly. Ada always had a high tolerance, but three tequila shots in a row was giving her a warm, pleasantly fuzzy feeling.

"Cassis. Just outside Marseille," the mercenary answered as she set down her glass. Golden brown eyes swept over Leon's body again as she smirked to herself, then put her sunglasses back on. "So pack your swim trunks, handsome." Standing, she looked at her phone to check the time. "Our plane leaves at nineteen hundred, so meet me out front an hour before. Now if you'll excuse me, a girl has some shopping to do for France." Without any further explanation, the spy left the bar, knowing that she had much to do.

.ೃ⁀➷

"Shopping", as it turned out, meant making arrangements to have necessary luggage placed in the suite at the resort in Cassis. Leon was right when he said he didn't have the proper tools for a job. Fortunately, Ada had it covered. Along with her own luggage of clothes and necessities, all manner of gadgets, tools, guns, and other weapons would be found in designer bags, waiting for them. Ada didn't see Leon at all the rest of the day in Fiji. She was busy making preparations to ensure that anything that could possibly go wrong, would be accounted for. The mere idea that she and Leon Kennedy were actually teaming up together, however, left a lot of questions unaccounted for.

The flight was uneventful. She chartered a private jet (while pointing out the pros of working for yourself instead of the government) so that they had absolute privacy to go over the details. Ada told Leon everything she knew about the mysterious Pizrak and his Scarlet Circle enterprise. She also revealed the identity of a known guest at the gala. Alessandro Borgese was guaranteed to have the invitation to get in, which they would need to steal, copy, and return to him before he could notice. It wasn't something that Ada was very worried about.

Given that Fiji was so far away from anything else in the world, it took over a day to get to France, but the spy reasoned that at least they could get that rest and relaxation that Leon was looking for. By the time they arrived in the costal town of Cassis, the sun was hanging low in the sky. Hôtel Les Roches Blanches Cassis was a luxury resort of creamy white stone nestled into the cliffside that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.

Not one to be humble if she can avoid it, Ada had reserved a two room suite for the pair of them. Walking in, they were met with the luxurious living room area with plush velvet couches and a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean. To the right was the kitchen and dining area, but to the left there was a wall that contained two double sliding doors of gold art deco. Behind each one was an identical bedroom, both of which were adjoined through through the bathroom.

On the black marble floor of the living area, designer boxes with metal frames were stacked neatly. Ada's luggage. "Look at that. Only five minutes here and already the service is magnifique!" she declared with an impeccable French accent on the last word. She grabbed two of the boxes, then headed into one of the bedrooms to claim it as her own.