#becky 2 belts

[indeedgoodman]

[madhatterbri]

Rise And Fall | D.P.

Summary: Fem!reader is Rhea’s protégé & after Rhea gives up her title due to injury, the reader decides to get that title back to Judgment Day w/o telling the group. The group is shocked when the reader comes out with her new look & wins the title. Damian/Reader becomes close while Rhea sees her as a threat that needs to be taken out.

Author's Note: I changed it so Liv Morgan has the title and not Becky. Hope it's okay. ❤️

Requested by anon.

@plentyoffandoms @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy @theworldofotps

1!

2!

3!

The bell rang to signal the end of the match. Y/N sat on her knees with her fingers through her hair. All the training paid off. She was the new women's champion.

"The match is over, Michael Cole! We have a new champion! Y/N has brought the women's title back to Judgment Day!" Pat McAfee announced at the commentary table. The commentators watched in awe at the new champion. She looked nothing like what they had just seen on RAW. Tonight, she went all out, and she had everything to show for it.

Y/N could barely think over the deafening crowd at Backlash. She stood in the middle of the ring with a huge smile on her face. The ref raised her hand as happy tears slid down Y/N's cheeks. The women's title was coming back to Judgment Day, where it belonged.

The referee presented the belt to her. She slowly took the belt from him. Y/N kissed the belt and raised it high in the air with one arm. The crowd cheered loudly for her once more.

Y/N turned to leave the ring, but Liv was in front of her with her hand out. The two women put each other through hell the past few weeks. A simple handshake could squash the beef between them. With a weary smile, Y/N took her hand to shake it. Liv shook her hand yet pulled her close.

"Don't get too comfortable. You have a target on your back, and Mami will betray you," Liv warned her. The new champion rolled her eyes.

"She would never betray me. I brought the title back to its rightful place. You held her back,"

The laugh that Liv produced caused her skin to crawl. "Watch her,"

Y/N pulled her hand away and started to walk to the top of the ramp. As a face, she started to high five fans that reached their hand out. A few times, she stopped to take quick pictures with the fans. This must be what cloud nine felt like.

Once backstage, she was met by HHH first. He congratulated her and hugged her close. A quick picture was taken of the two before he had to get back to work. Dom and Finn were next.

"Way to do the Judgment Day proud, Y/N," Finn spoke and pulled her in a hug. "You made Rhea proud. Nice new look, by the way,"

Damian walked towards them. He easily towered over them. His normal serious look washed away once he saw how happy Y/N was.

"You know you are going to have a lot of challengers for that title. I think we should train together," Damian offered. Y/N blushed and looked away. A huge grin crept up on her face.

"I think we should too, Dam," Y/N agreed, unable to hide her crush on him.

Over the next several months, Y/N was able to beat anyone who stood in her way. All the women were adamant that they would be the one to take the title from her, but they all met the same fate as the last.

Damian stood by her side through it all. They eventually became closer and started dating. Rhea's long reign was seemingly forgotten, and Y/N was the new leader of the women's division. It all came crashing down once her mentor came back.

"I'm so glad you are back, Rhea," Y/N smiled and hugged her backstage. Rhea returned the hug, yet things felt off. The simple act of affection no longer had the same feel it once did.

"I'm glad to be back, Y/N. You are making quite the name for yourself out here," Rhea commented.

"And I only have you to thank for it," Y/N agreed. She looked at the time and sighed.

"No need to thank me, darling. You are certainly talented," Rhea complimented and patted her shoulder.

Y/N started to get waved at by production. She sighed and gave Damian a quick peck on the lips and hug. "I gotta go to the ring. See you guys soon,"

The protégé excused herself and took off to release an open challenge. Rhea watched her leave. Damian could see the look in her eyes. Mami wasn't happy.

"You know, she did a lot while you were away," Damian started. Rhea looked up at him. "Y/N kept the women's division in check while you were away,"

"Yeah, well, Mami is home now, and it's time Y/N learned what that means," she told him. They had a brief staredown before Rhea walked to be the next challenger in Y/N's reign.

[thekims4]

Daily Lookbook #63

Hair / Skin 1, 2, 3 / Eyebrows / Eyes / Eyelids / Eyeliner / Blush / Lips

Clothing - Top

Crying Center Classic Top Set - Long Sleeves @charonlee

Teddy Sweater @punchyo

Eye Sweater @lynxsimz

Basic Hoodie @seoulsoul-sims

Basic Short T-Shirt + Jacket @seoulsoul-sims

The North Face Puffer Jacket @bella-studios

Clothing - Bottom

Boyfriend Jeans @rimings

Random Set - Pants @miro-sims

Unique Pants @seoulsoul-sims

Denim Slit Mini Skirt @sunberry-sims4

Teyma Shorts @belaloallure3

Rock Belt & Flare Denim Skirt @rimings

Acc

Valentino VLogo Signature Squared Acetate Frame @bradfordsims

Bold Circle Earrings @gorillax3-cc

Chanel Round Earrings @eunosims

G Crystal Earring @rimings

Flo Headphones @fukkiemon

Headphones @pralinesims

Clarity Rings @mlsim

Fingernails Polish 7V @magic-bot

Balenciaga Emo Bucket Bag @bergdorfverse

Marc Jacobs Heaven Puffy Bag @bergdorfverse

Prada Re-Edition 2000 Mini Bag @bradfordsims

Valentino Roman Stud Handbag @bergdorfverse

Fashion Socks @bedisfull

Shoes

Ballet Flats with Transparent Inserts by MysteriousOo

Balenciaga Track Sneaker @becky-sims

Tekno Sneakers @darknighttsims

UG Slipper @sunberry-sims4

Uniform Leather Shoes @arltos

Y2k Denim Shoes @sunberry-sims4

Pose

Catsblob @helgatisha Hongzo @roselipaofficial

[sabiami]

Sim Maria Harris

Sim download

Look CC: Hair - @mooo-oood ; top - @diggoverse ; pants - @asansan3 ; shoes - @becky-sims ; piercing - @magnolia-c ; necklace - ciel ; rings 1 - R0ach ; rings 2 - Blanche ; belt - @simstefani ; headphones - @nickname-sims4

Thank you to the cc creators!!!

[rinverno]

Candy Behr was honestly so fun to make over I kinda miss her already...

cc under the cut!

⟡ general: hair 1 | 2 (ea) | 3 | tattoo | hand tattoos | nails

⟡ everyday: top | pants | sneakers | headphones | belt | ring 1 & 2

⟡ formal: dress | boots | necklace

⟡ athletic: top | leggins | sneakers | cap

⟡ sleep: tee | headphones | under eye patches | socks

⟡ party: top | skirt | boots | sunglasses | headphones | bracelet | ring

⟡ swimwear: bikini set | sunglasses | sarong

⟡ hot weather: top | pants | sandals | hat

⟡ cold weather: top | jacket | pants | sneakers | headphones | choker | rings

thank you cc creators! @madlensims @belaloallure3 @serenity-cc @synthsims @simmerkate @sentate @dissiasims @pralinesims @ashwwa @plumbobsnfries @evoxyr @marsmerizing-sims @luminescent-cc @babyetears @miro-sims @greenllamas @rimings @simchia @nickname-sims4 @backtrack-cc @busra-tr @seoulsoul-sims @thekunstwollen @savage-sims @miikocc @bluerose-sims @caio-cc @overkillsimmer @becky-sims @kissyck @kamiiri @simkoos @dallasgirl79 @alinnsie @eggu-sims @gorillax3-cc @helsoseira

[mrchiipchrome]

W.C.- 3,2 k

People have always asked you why you’re so incredibly fast, is it because of your above average hamstrings or is it because of plyometrics?

To answer this question would be a pain in the ass, you could say that it was a little bit of everything. All throughout your life you’ve worked on strengthening your hamstrings and now it’s like they were made of steel. This was so that you could reduce the possibility of hamstring tears and other injuries to your legs. Plyometrics helped you with that explosive movement needed to drive forward and to be able to keep at that same speed throughout a longer period of time, though you only started using them later in life. Some people even thought that you were doping, but that was quickly debunked.

Though after you broke into the senior national team at the age of 16 the footballing community soon accepted that you were just speedy, especially for a youngster. Coming up through the youth groups along the likes of Jessie Fleming and Jordyn Huitema, you’d always been able to beat them in a footrace. 

When Jessie went off to college, you thought the decision was perfect for her and that she could learn and evolve her game to adapt to the brutality of football in America. But, even though she wanted you to follow in her footsteps, having become almost like sisters after spending so much time together, with the college route that was not what happened. Instead of committing to play college ball, you declared for the NWSL draft as soon as you turned 18 where you were selected first overall to the Washington Spirits. It wasn’t that you were bad in school per se, you weren’t interested in playing at college level.

You played football during the days while you took online classes in the evenings, classes in sports science where you found out about plyometrics. Those exercises became a daily occurrence and you soon found yourself even faster than before along with having a better technique while running and jumping.

After 2 years with the club, a rookie of the year award, two consecutive NWSL MVP’s and two golden boots under your belt your contract with the club ended. You had two options, resign with the club that drafted you or take your talents to Europe who had top clubs in bidding wars for you. Rejecting clubs like PSG and Eintracht Frankfurt, you settled for following your former teammate Rose Lavelle and national teammate Janine Beckie to Manchester City, signing a record contract with the massive club.

And while it was seen as an escape from the lockdown in the U.S. for players like Rose, the club had won your heart like no other, or rather one person in it had. A certain English forward, speedy like hell, blonde hair, 163 cm tall.

Lauren Hemp had stolen your heart with her subtle stares and quick feet that danced across the pitch in a way that had you entranced.

Moving in with Janine Beckie after signing the contract in the summer of ‘20, you met the English forward exactly 2 days 8 hours 34 minutes and 28 seconds after you had stepped on that plane heading from Dulles to Manchester airport, not that you were keeping track. It was like you were in one of those rom-coms Rose liked so much, your eyes met hers across the field and it was like everything suddenly made sense.

You had only been broken out of the moment by a barreling Janine Beckie, heading straight for you with no apparent need to stop. You had let out a loud groan the second she made contact with you, bringing you both down to the ground with her momentum. Greeting her, you hear scattered laughs from all around the pitch and as you had gotten up your eyes drifted in an effort to meet her enticing ones again.

After that, you and Lauren had become the tightest knit pair in women's football, even tighter than the ones that had known each other way longer than the two of you had. You know exactly what the other will think before they think it, it’s like you can hear each other's thoughts because you can make each other roll on the floor in laughter with just one singular look. You were known as City’s dynamic duo and one of Manchester’s two dynamic duo’s along with Alessia Russo and Ella Toone all while dominating the league.

Now having been at City for 3 years you’re constantly reminded on how you made the right choice, getting to play with your favorite girls and continuing to win awards. One of those being an olympic gold with your national team, one of the best moments of your current international career. Lauren had decided not to return with the rest of the national team when they were knocked out of the tournament, choosing to come and support you instead as you played for the final. 

She was the first one you ran to when you were let go to celebrate with your families, you didn’t have anyone else there as they were disapproving of having football as a job and deciding to freeze you out of family events while not going to any games. Although, Lauren and your national teammates were more than happy to fill that hole their absence left in your heart.

When Janine left for Portland in 2022 you felt quite lost for a while, your roommate and the person who had become more like a family member to you left. You felt betrayed for a while before coming to the realization that the move had nothing to do with you or the team, just that she had to leave for a situation that was better for her. 

But still the formerly shared apartment felt too empty and eerie without another presence accompanying it. One morning, while walking into the training grounds with your favorite person she gives you an offer you just can’t refuse.

“I could always move in with you, you know. I mean if you want to, my lease expires in like 2 months and you’ve been complaining about the apartment being empty ever since Janine left and I know I won’t fill the space that she left-”

“I’d love for you to move in with me Tempo.” And that was the start of an even deeper understanding of each other, even more inside jokes than before and an inexplicable amount of protectiveness directed towards the shorter girl. You had already had little to no tolerance towards players going in for tackles that were more aggressive than needed or players targeting her, but when you moved in together that tripled.

The amount of yellow cards your mouth and subsequent protectiveness had earned you made Georgia look like an angel in comparison.

When the 21/22-season ended and you had signed another long term contract with the Manchester based club, you decided to go home to Canada for a bit as you were given some time off. You had promised to get back in time for the start of the Euros, and you were never one to break a promise.

So after a vacation where you had eventually went and visited your former roommate, you made your way back to England to watch your best girl and her national team hopefully lift the trophy at the end of July. 

And like you had done the year prior, Lauren makes her merry way right into your arms with you being the first one she greets. And there you stand with her in your arms, just muttering reassurances and words of praise before releasing her to her parents. Now both of your medals hang together in your living room, right above your tv.

—-

Parting ways with Lauren has been hard ever since you met her, even if it only was for a week. But as you stand in her arms at the Manchester airport, you contemplate on not even taking the plane to France for the international friendly. She lets her grip on you go, letting her arms hang limp at her side from where they were just placed around your waist. But your grip doesn’t lessen, not wanting to leave her. The voice over the speakers calls out the number of your flight and the gate which you should find yourself in during the next few minutes. Giggling softly into your ear, she gives you a nudge to indicate that you should let go but you just do the opposite.

“You have to let go sweets. I love you and we’ll see each other after the break.” Her revelation has your heart beating out of your chest despite how many times it's been said between the two of you, never in the way you want to though.

“Love you too, so much my Hempo Tempo. I promise to sneak away to watch the Brazil game, maybe I can convince Jessie to watch it with me.” Your own confession has her heart beating restlessly in her chest as you finally let her go with a kiss to her temple. Hearing the last warning for your boarding ring out between the walls of the airport, you take your hand baggage and walk towards the gate. You don’t turn around, knowing that  you wouldn’t be able to board the plane.

The nearly 2 hour flight was incredibly boring and you spent most of your time restlessly sitting in your window seat, tapping rhythmically on the food board. When you finally arrive in France you’re ready to crash in your bed, having flown late at night, but you had promised to call your roomie to call her when you arrived in the star-shaped country.

You stay on the call until you’re laying in your hotel bed, under the covers and in your favorite hoodie of hers. It was oversized though for her, but the length fit you perfectly. And like usual you were roomed with Jessie, the older forward seemed to have a special power for getting you to calm from your hyper activeness. 

As you’re dozing off you hear Lauren mutter out a quiet ‘I’m in love with you’, but your brain is way too tired to process the sentence before she hangs up the phone.

You nearly convince yourself that the confession was made up by your mind in a moment of vulnerability, especially when your flatmate acts like nothing happened the next day, texting her normal good morning. You stand your ground though, sure of what you heard her say over the phone.

Jessie can tell how distracted you are when you sit down with her for breakfast, your mind at a million places at the same time. She doesn’t push you to talk, contently sitting in the comfortable silence just waiting for you to crack up like you usually do when you have too much  on your mind and need someone to vent to.

“I think Lauren’s in love with me”, your whispered confession has Jessie looking towards you, a soft smile playing at her lips.

“What makes you think that?”, she replicates your tone, curious but not invasive, as she whispers back to you.

“Well, I’m pretty sure she confessed last night when I was on the brink of sleep. It’s also the way she acts around me, I haven’t really noticed it before but she’s always been more…”

“Affectionate?” The older Canadian finds the exact word you were searching for and you send her a quick grateful smile before continuing,

“Yeah, affectionate. My City teammates have pointed it out to me for a while now, but I’ve never really given it much thought, now after I heard what I heard I’ve been thinking a lot about our interactions.” Nodding in thought, Jessie asks the crucial question that you know has been at the tip of her tongue since you started the conversation.

“And how do you feel about it?” The question is one you have to think over long and hard, thousands of emotions swirling around in your head making your judgment clouded. It seems like everyone knows exactly what you’re feeling, except you.

“I don’t know, I mean my head is saying one thing and my heart a completely different thing. Everything’s so divided and I don’t know what I feel at the end of the day.” The words are spoken through short breaths and quick movements, indicating your stress.

“What is it that your heart is saying?”

You reply without thinking as your heart clearly takes the reins of your body before your mind takes over again. 

“That I’m completely and utterly in love with her”

“And your mind?”

“That I’m in love with her but that she doesn’t love me back and that I have no chance with her.”

“You should know that letting your heart take over every once in a while isn’t a bad thing. Everyone can see how much you love each other, your mind is always going to make up insecurities and lies just so that you don’t step out of your comfort zone. But your heart” She puts her index finger right above where your heart is beating steadily, “is always going to tell you the truth. And now it’s telling you that you love her, so just listen for once.”

“When did you become so wise?”, you’re back to your joking ways, retreating back into yourself as things become real all of a sudden but you take Jessie’s advice to heart.

“I always have been, you’ve just always been too slow to understand. Come on now we’ve gotta go to training.”

—-

A few days later you find yourself sitting in your hotel room sending Lauren a good luck text, all your teammates sitting at various points around the room waiting for the game to start. Somehow they had all overheard you when you were asking Jessie about the game, which led to them inviting themselves into your hotel room to watch the game with you.

You pay extra attention to the small rapid forward of the England squad, watching as her feet carry her all over the pitch. Small exclamations are let out as the Brazil players are more rough than necessary, not just towards your best friend.

Your cheers bounce around the small room as Lucy assists Ella for the first goal of the match, your usual rival playing for Lauren’s team which means that she’s in your good book for the night. When the whistle for half-time blows you sigh a quick sigh of relief, not having to see anyone get battered even more. 

As the second half starts you’re at the edge of your seat, Brazil coming out blazing while England just manage to stop their attempts. What happens in the 88th minute of the game completely takes your attention from everything else.

As Lauren’s going in for a header, the Brazilian player's body is in the way and her elbow smacks right into her nose. You can see how the blood is gushing from her nose as she goes down, and your breath hitches in worry. Frozen in your place, the camera zooms in on her face as blood rushes from her nose and down into her mouth and you can feel how the bile is rising in your throat.

This wasn’t the reaction your teammates were expecting, just sitting there completely zoned out, they were expecting a furious Y/n storming around the room shouting in all directions. But they leave you be after a stern look from Jessie, the girl having moved beside you for comfort. You can’t focus for the rest of the game, not as Brazil equalizes or during the pens. 

Getting the ‘i’m okay’ text did little to assure you, but ultimately you had to believe her as you couldn’t fly out to check if she was actually okay. During the nightly facetime call you observed how she seemed to be in a bit of pain, even though she was slightly loopy from the painkillers she had been given to combat the obvious source of hurt.

The rest of the international break goes by fast, Canada drawing 2-2 with France off a brace from yours truly and England losing for the first time in 30 games with a 2-0 loss to Australia. And if you’re being honest, you were waiting for the chance to go home now.

Packing your bags, you’re off to the airport towards Manchester, and this time the flight felt like 18 hours instead of 2. But you make it to Manchester and the only thing you want to do now is to embrace Lauren and do as Jessie told you.

Luckily enough for you, Lauren had promptly told you that she would pick you up from the airport, no argument from you there. Now the only thing you need to do is find her in the sea of bodies.

A familiar squeal sounds behind you and you turn around just in time to catch a sprinting Lauren in your arms, careful to not bump her nose in the process. You lift her in a tight hug, just cherishing her company that you’ve missed oh so much. Eventually, you put her back onto the floor before making a split second decision.

Taking her face in your hands, you let your heart take over as you pull her into a sweet kiss, the kiss being everything it’s supposed to be. When you don’t feel her reciprocate you start to pull away, thinking that maybe Jessie had been wrong anyways and that Lauren didn’t like you back. It seems like Lauren comes to her senses at the last second though as she pulls you closer by putting her hands on your waist, tilting her head up slightly so that you don't have to lean down as much and pressing her lips more firmly into yours.

Pulling away from her has a whine escaping her lips as she goes up on her tippy toes to press a few quick pecks against your lips. This whole situation taints your lips with a permanent smile and as the girl opposite you asks a question you can’t help but tell her the truth.

“What was that for, bubs? Not that I didn’t enjoy it…”

“Well my dear Hempo, I followed my heart and it led me to you. You’re the reason why my heart beats a little faster and why my palms get sweaty, you’re the reason why I sometimes stumble over my words and why I can’t seem to focus when we’re in the same room. I am completely and utterly in love with you, and if I heard you right then I think you feel the same way.”

“You heard that?” Only giving a nod in response, you clasp her hand in yours as you stroll to the exits of the large airport. Out of nowhere, you let out a hum before speaking up,

“You know what they say Tempo, ‘the airport has seen more genuine kisses than a wedding hall’, I think we just proved that my love.”

Y'all better pray for me, I finished writing this instead of studying for my test tomorrow, but I hope you all like it as much as I do :) also gif is hilarious

[wwenhlimagines]

ooo passing out candy with my boyfriend HOOK?

Fall Fluff Prompts

A few weeks before Halloween, you heard about a nearby Trunk or Treat event and asked your boyfriend Hook to go with you to pass out candy. He hesitated since he didn't want to tamper his character on TV in case anyone recognizes him. You work backstage in AEW, so you don't have to worry about that as much, but you do understand him not wanting to pass out at your own house for your own safety. Obviously, you don't want your address getting leaked and to get unexpected visitors looking for your boyfriend.

The week before Hook seemed to get a change of heart as he came home with 2 giant bags of candy. "Fuck it, let's go pass out candy next week. Maybe it will help promote the show and sell more tickets."

You smiled and hugged him, cuddling into his chest. "So you want people to know you aren't always the cold-hearted handsome devil?"

He shakes his head as he pulls back, and his hands caress your cheeks. "Only when it involves my girl."

Halloween - Trunk or Treat

You grabbed the candy from the trunk of Hook's car as he grabbed his backpack and your camping chairs before the two of you found a spot to set up and pass out candy.

You saw so many different costumes, and the kids all looked so cute happily saying Trick or Treat, asking for candy. Your bubbly personality, in contrast to Hook's, made the kids laugh. You happily engaged with the kids complimenting their costumes while Hook simply handed them candy.

That was until you saw a kid walking up with sweatpants and a hoodie with a mini FTW title belt on his shoulder. You awed and looked over at Hook to see him rummaging through his backpack. "Hey there, are you dressed as a wrestler?"

The kid beamed so excited to have someone understand the reference. "Yes! I'm the best wrestler in the world, the cold-hearted handsome devil Hook!"

At that moment, the kid's jaw dropped as Hook turned back around with his own FTW belt slung over his shoulder. "Hey dude. Nice costume. What candy do you want?"

The child was speechless for a moment before you piped up, "How about we take a few pictures, and then you can have one of everything?"

The child nodded excitedly as Hook knelt down next to him, and the child's parents saw the interaction. His mom walked over and took some pictures of her own as you took a few pictures for your memories. His dad walks over with his little sister, who is dressed like Becky Lynch with a WWE women's title around her waist.

"Well, it looks like wrestling runs in the family. I love your title, Becky!"

"Thank you, but my name is Claire."

You tried to hold in your laughter as you nodded your head. "Nice to meet you, Claire. Your brother dressed up like my boyfriend Hook. They are taking pictures now. Do you want any pictures with him?"

She nods and quickly runs over to get her own pictures with Hook before turning to ask him a question. "She's nice. Is she going to be Mrs. Hook?"

Hook smiles, following her finger pointing over to you. "Someday, she will be."

You blush as the girl asks another question, "Are you going to have kids?"

Her parents intervene as her mom rushes over to her. "Claire, we don't ask strangers questions like that."

You and Hook say goodbye to the family as they continue on through the Trunk or Treat event. You see a couple more kids dressed up as wrestlers, and by the end, Hook was smiling from ear to ear. As you place your chairs back in the trunk, you decide to ask Hook what his favorite part was. "The mini Hook and Becky family. The kids were nice, and although the girl got a little nosey, it was still pretty cute."

"So about her questions... do you want to talk about them?"

You sit down in the passenger seat as he sits in the driver's seat, and you both turn to each other. "Well, obviously, I wouldn't be living with you if I didn't expect to put a ring on your finger someday. As for the second question, I hope one day we will have mini versions of us running out."

You blushed before leaning in to kiss him. You pull back and whisper against his lips. "Well, how about we go home and practice making those babies?"

Hook perks up and quickly starts the car before driving you home and giving you his own idea of a Halloween treat.

Tags: @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thesupreme316 @99hook @seeingstarks @hooks-martin @hookswifeeyy @hooksredrum @plentyoffandoms @730hook @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Chapter 2

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 2: Sweet Baby

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

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

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

Words: 14K

Catch up on Chapter One here

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

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

Monday, June 9,th 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

Approximately 6:10 pm

About ten minutes since we begin in Chapter 1….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elvis… I can’t….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on baby, stick out your tongue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok… but I’m still a mess…”

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

“I - I …. I don’t know if —“

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

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

“Elvis, you’re crazy…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey… wait… why are you doing this? ”

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

You smiled back, tousling his hair, exhaling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This ok, baby?”

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

“Want me ta keep going?

You nodded your head, breathy whimpers stuttering out.

“Know what I wanna hear…”

“Yes…… Elvis….” You smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis’ right hand smoothes your pubic hair down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned, buttoning your jeans.

“Not Joe…..”

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

“What you got against ol' Diamond Joe?”

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

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

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

“Wanna wash your hands?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon Becky," Elvis helped you.

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

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

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

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

You blush and look down. 

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

Jerry’s eye brows bent in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joe let out a loud sigh.

“That a problem for you, Joe?”

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

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

Elvis hit him in the back of the head.

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

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

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

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

———————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis guffawed, then groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed and pulled on his collar.

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

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

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

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

“Well, EP… I … I …”

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

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

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

“Twitch?”

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

You groan and put your face in your hands. 

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

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

“Ughh..” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

“Never met a more willing victim…”

“Ha!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Larry clucked his tongue.

“What’s your birthday?”

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis smiled devilishly, standing. 

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

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

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

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

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

You playfully slap his shoulder, meeting his eyes.

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

He grips your butt, then smacks it.

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

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

“Hey, now… what she say?”

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

———————————

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

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

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

He looked down at you and winked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— ----------

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll  wanna fix your lipstick.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So how you doin?”

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

“Hmmmm… just fine and dandy…” 

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

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

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

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

——-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands

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

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

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

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

“Not bad, for an amateur I guess…”

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

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

You turn your face up to his, and nod.

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

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Spread the shelter of your peace over us 

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Save us for the sake of your name 

Shield us from hatred sorrow and pain 

Elvis lips kiss your neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis’ knuckles trailed across your cheek. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no!”

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

——-----------

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

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

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

“Have a good time tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh GOD, Elvis! Fuckkkkk….”

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

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

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

“Ugh, oh, God, I don’t know——“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean up, kissing the tip of his nose.

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

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

You purse your lip. “Elvis… I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——----------

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Just kidding…” Ruth giggles.

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

“Mhmm, mom, yeah. I know….”

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

“Ok, love ya mom.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“9.” You look down.

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

You just nod, as he takes your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist:

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

Read Chapter Three Here

[sister-cna-reader]

Math tutor

“Please save me Becky” Anya pleaded,  rubbing her hands together in prayer at the heiress. 

Golden eyes narrowed. “Why? What are you avoiding?” Becky still did not move her bag nor pull back from the table for her best friend to drive under. 

“Nothing! Really just nothing!” 

“FORGER!” a deep voice boomed across the campus, almost rattling the panes of glass on the library. 

Becky perked up at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice then smiled with a promise of torture to the pink haired victim. 

“Nothing huh?” 

The Heracles of Eden, Bill Watkins rounded the corner, eyes set on the dainty procrastinator, the Math textbooks in his hands. His frown wavered only a moment at Becky’s wave, pinning Anya down with annoyance. 

“It’s 2:30.” he observed. 

Anya futility hid behind her betrayer, making the decision to crawl away like a Bond with a plushie he shouldn’t have. 

She only got so far as the table edge as his massive hand fished the belt of Anya’s uniform into three fingers, the sturdy leather firm against her petite, flailing body as he lifted her. 

“We agreed 2:30 was for an hour of math tutoring.” The teen said, letting go momentarily to adjust his hold on her. Anya dropped a few inches in the air with a screech before being pinned- arms to waist- by one of his large arms. Between the rock of his limb and the hard plane of his chest, there was no place she could pry apart.

“I hate Math!” was the only thing that Anya could protest with as she wiggled in vain to escape. “Why do they gotta put letters with it?!” 

Bill was unbothered by his prey’s struggles, leaning down to dutifully press a kiss on Becky’s head with a promise of talking later.  

“60 minutes of math tutoring won’t kill you.” 

[slut4corbin]

Torn To Pieces

Note : *I have never done a sad fanfiction like this, so this might not be as good, but oh well!*

Summary : The reader is in love with her best friend Baron Corbin, but what happens when she catches Baron kissing someone else

Inspired by Torn To Pieces by Pop Evil

Warning (s) : Angst and slight profanity

Your name (Y/N)

Word count : 568

Tag list : @adriennegabriella @dulcesitapr @sassymox @ava-valerie @wwelovergirl @romanthereigns @mysticvampyre @nerdypanda20

1 2 3 The bell rang. I got up and grabbed my new championship belt from the refree and hopped out of the ring, and began walking up the ramp to the gorilla. As soon as I made it through the curtain, I was greeted with congratulations and cheers. My best friends, Becky Lynch and Liv Morgan, gave me a big hug and congratulated me as well. After a while of being in the gorilla and celebrating my victory, I decided to head back to my locker room, so I grabbed my championship belt and took off that way.

I walked along the side of the wall, looking down. After a few minutes of walking I heard a noise so I looked up. And when I looked up, I saw something I never wanted to see. It was my best friend Baron Corbin kissing Alexa Bliss. I stood there for a few minutes, feeling tears fill my eyes. I quickly took off running towards my locker room, not looking back. After a few minutes of running, I finally stopped in front of my locker room door, and I quickly went inside. Once I got inside, I threw my championship belt down on the couch while I leaned my head against the door and started crying as if my heart was torn to pieces.

"Why would he do such a thing?" I asked myself through the cries. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. "Y/N, are you in there?" I recognized that voice it was Barons."Yeah!" I replied, stepping back and opening the door. I wiped my eyes so it would look like I wasn't crying. "Y/N, why are you crying?" Baron asked, looking at me very concerned. "It's nothing," I responded quickly before taking a step back away from him. "What's wrong, Y/N? I'm serious. I'm not asking you again." He exclaimed, causing me to sigh "I fucking love you Baron I know it's weird since we're best friends but anyways when I saw you kissing Alexa it broke my heart."

Baron's eyes were wide and instead of answering me back he stepped towards me and pressed his lips against mine in the most passionate kiss. After a few minutes of kissing, He pulled away from the kiss. My eyes fluttered open. "Wha-what was that for?" I stuttered. Looking at him in the eyes. "I love you Y/N I always have!" He said, leaning down and kissing me once more.

I smiled against the kiss, causing him to do the same. Soon enough, the romantic moment between me and Baron had ended when Baron's best friend Corey Graves caught us flirting. "Oooh love birds," Corey laughed. "Oh shut the hell up, Graves!" Baron responded, causing me to laugh. Corey laughed as well before saying "Well I got to go back out to the arena!" He pulled me and Baron into a group hug after a few seconds he let go of both of us, and Corey walked off. Me and Baron watched as he walked down the hall and around the corner. "Want to come over to my place tonight?" Baron asked. "Of course," I replied smiling, and with that, he leaned in for another kiss.

[fandom-alley]

Rose Coloured Lenses | Spencer Reid Fanfic

Summary: Reader cuts her finger while cooking and Spencer bandages her up Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader Warnings: accidental knife cut, lots of mentions of blood/bleeding, kissing, swear words Category: Fluff Word count: 2k a/n: This is my first reader insert short. Got inspired because it's the 2 year anniversary of me cutting my own finger while cooking lol Also available to be read on AO3

Saturday nights were my designated home cooked meal nights. Even if Spencer was out of town on a case with work, I’d invite a friend or two over to the apartment for dinner. And on the rare occasion that no one was free, I would cook an extravagant meal to myself, playing music and dancing around the kitchen while belting out my favourite Taylor Swift song and hoping one of the neighbours don’t start knocking on the walls to get me to shut up.

Even though we've only lived together a short while, Spencer know’s enough to vacate the kitchen on Saturday nights, letting me take up all the space needed for multiple bowls, cutting boards, pots and pans. So when he arrives home from work a few hours early to see I’m on speaker phone with best friend, hair tied back and sleeves rolled up, mixing my famous meatball recipe, he knows not to get in the way. 

However, even with the rule of staying out of the kitchen, Spencer can’t help himself but to come in and give me a quick kiss hello, which I don’t mind. 

“It already smells amazing.” He say’s while tucking a strand of hair that fell out of my bun back behind my ear. 

“It’s really just onions and garlic right now, but thank you.” I smile at him. “Now get lost, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Hi, Spencer. Bye, Spencer.” My best friend, Becky, say’s through the speaker phone, having heard our interaction. 

“Good evening, Becky.” He turns to leave but thinks better. Stopping to place a hand on my cheek and pull me in for another kiss. It’s sickeningly sweet as he gently rubs his thumb along my cheekbone. I wish my hands were anywhere on his body instead of stuck inside a bowl of ground beef. There’s no way Spencer would let me get away with touching him before washing my hands. 

“Get a room you two!” Becky laughs from the phone. “I can hear you making out.”

“That was definitely not making out. That was just me saying hello to my beautiful girlfriend, whom I missed dearly at work today. And if she wasn’t wrist deep in ground beef and on the phone I would already have her on my bed.” Spencer says with a smirk, leaving me speechless.

“Oh, spicy boy! Where do I find a man like you?” Becky manages to ask through her continued laughter.

“Okay! Spencer, that’s enough of you. I would really like to get my hands out of this bowl, so I’m going to need you to leave so I can finish cooking, please.” I say.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Spencer leans forward for another kiss but I pull my head back as far as my constricted hands will allow.

“Stop trying to distract me! I’ll call you when it’s ready.” I laugh.

Finally, he walks out of the kitchen to grab his work bag. I watch him pull out a new novel and head into the office, where I’m sure he will finish reading it in a few minutes. 

“Alright, now that he’s gone. What were we talking about?” I ask Becky for a reminder. 

“I believe we were chatting about the rising costs of butter, to be honest. Not the most riveting conversation.” Becky laughs out.

“Oh yeah. Didn’t we star out by talking about Justin’s new girlfriend? How did we end up on butter.” I laugh with her. 

As we continue our conversation, I portion and roll out the meat balls. Then I brown them off in a pan before adding the sauce I made prior to Spencer arriving home, turning it down to low so they can simmer. Finally after what feels like hours, I’m able to wash the meat off my hands and gather the ingredients needed for the salad. 

“I should let you go, y/n. It’s getting late and I’ve got to give my mom a call as well and make sure she remembers about our lunch plans tomorrow.” Becky explains while I’m at the sink washing lettuce and carrots. 

“Of course, it was a great chat. What has it been, two hours? We should get coffee soon. Continue the convo in person.” I offer.

“Yes, definitely. Alright, have a good night, I’ll text you tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with Spencer after dinner.” Becky says, and even though I can’t see her I just know she’s wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Ha ha. Goodnight, Becky.” With Spencer tucked away in his office and Becky officially off the line, I decide to play some music from my phone to fill the silence. “Nothing like some good ol’ Miley Cyrus.” I mumble to myself as I hit shuffle on her new album. 

I make sure it’s not too loud, so as not to disturb whatever Spencer is working on in the next room, and get started on prepping the salad. The lettuce gets chopped and dried, then tossed into the big bamboo salad bowl I convinced Spencer to buy at a market a few weeks back. 

“It’s so pretty and it fits the vibe of the apartment so well. If it doesn’t force us to eat more salads at least it’ll look nice on the kitchen table full of fruit.” I had told him. But I don’t think it were my words that convinced him to buy it. I think it was the look I gave him through my eyelashes, silently trying to convey that buying the bowl wasn’t just for the greens, but as a way for him to show that he really was serious about me moving in and making changes to the apartment he’s lived alone in for so long. 

With all the lettuce in the bowl, I move on to cutting the carrots into cubes. As I’m working away, Miley’s song Flowers starts playing from my phone. I refrain from singing along, to spare Spencer and the neighbours of the noise, but I can’t help moving my hips to the beat. It’s easy to get carried away dancing to this song, which I do. So much so that I forget I have a sharp knife in my hand.

The inevitable happens. As the song reaches the chorus, I start to hop up and down to the beat and my knife slips off the carrot and into the side of my ring finger. 

“Shit!” I drop the knife onto the counter and grab my injured hand with the other, bringing them to my chest as I squeeze my eyes closed. I can feel the wetness as blood pools out of my finger. I breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm my already racing heartbeat. Knowing I need to assess the wound, I slowly bring my hands away from my chest and peak my eyes open. I barely move my uninjured hand away before I catch sight of the blood.

“Fuck.” I say, shutting my eyes and closing my hands together again. The sight make’s me feel nauseous and I end up crouching to the floor of the kitchen, unable to stand up any longer for fear of passing out. The initial adrenaline starts to ware off as my heart rate returns to normal and I can feel pulsing in the finger that I cut. 

After a few more seconds of sitting, I give in and lay fully onto the kitchen floor as I call out for Spencer. The sound of his office door opening is a relief. 

“Y/n?” I hear his footsteps come towards the kitchen. “Where are you?”

“Down here.” I groan from the floor behind the kitchen island. I don’t see Spencer come around the corner because my eyes are still squeezed shut, but I hear him. He rushes to me and kneels down to my side.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” His hands are on mine, gently trying to pry them apart to see the injury, but I don’t let him.

“I cut my finger.” I cry to him.

“Okay. Did you fall? Can you sit up?” He speaks softly, gently wiping a tear off my cheek that I didn’t know was there.

“I was starting to feel like I was going to throw up so I came down here. I didn’t fall, but I don’t think I can sit up yet.” I explain to him.

“That’s alright. That’s good that you didn’t fall. No head injuries to attend to. Okay give me a second, I’ll be right back I just need to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.” Spencer says and I hear him run off down the hall

When he returns I hear the first aid kit hit the ground beside me and feel him sit down next to my chest, where I’m still clutching my hands together. I gasp and open my eyes when something cold is placed on my forehead.

“Sorry, should have warned you.” Spencer says when I look at him. “It’s just a cold cloth to help sooth you.”

“Thank you.” I breath out. 

“Of course.” Spencer’s eyes are soft on me. He caresses my cheek, making me sigh in delight. “Can I take a look?”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes again so I don’t catch sight of it, then open my hands for him. He gently takes them into his own and I feel him inspecting them.

“There’s quite a bit of blood but from what I can see it’s not that big of a cut. Do you think you can make it to the sink so we can wash it off?” He asks gently.

“Um, yeah. I think so.” 

  Spencer helps me up with an arm behind my back, then holds onto me as we walk over to the sink. He tests the water until it reaches a warm temperature then gently pulls my hands under the stream. I open my eyes to take a peak and all I see is red washing down the drain.

“Oh, gross.” I groan and put my head down onto the counter. 

“I didn’t know you were this bad with blood.” Spencer says as he helps me into a chair after rinsing my hands.

“Neither did I. I’ve never cut myself with a knife before. How do you deal at work? I’m sure you’ve seen more blood in one day on the field than I’ll see in my lifetime.” 

Now that there’s no blood all over my hands, Spencer brings my injured hand close to his face to inspect the cut. He’s very gentle, but as his fingers grab the one that I cut, I can’t help but to gasp out in pain. It’s so tender.

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “It took a while to get used to. I guess I might not even be that used to it. But it’s part of the job and we try our best to not get attached to the scenes, makes it a little easier to sleep at night.”

“Wow. I don’t know how you do it.” I say.

“It helps that I have you to come home to now.” He says sweetly. “Well, I don’t think you need stitches. Just some good gauze wrap and maybe an Advil if it’s still hurting.” Spencer says. I watch him intently as he wraps the gauze around my finger, securing it with a little piece of medical tape. When he’s finished he brings my hand to his mouth to kiss my fingers.

“Thank you, doctor.” 

“It was my pleasure.” 

“I didn’t get to finish dinner. I still need to make the pasta.” I sigh, making a move to stand up but Spencer pushes me back down from the shoulders.

“I’ll finish up dinner, you go sit on the couch.” He says.

“Are you sure? Saturday nights are my home cooked meal night.” 

“I’m sure. It’s still going to be home cooked even if it’s me cooking it.” He laughs.

“Thank you. I love you.” I pull him into a hug and he tucks me under his chin, holding me tight.

“I love you, too.” He says with a kiss to my forehead. 

[theonlyblackcanary]

My Night 2 predictions but it's Endgame gifs @staytiny-angel @swifteforeverandalways @axelwolf8109 @jameshowlett-20

Cody grabbing the weight belt from Rock

Seth and Becky defending Cody from Solo and/or Jimmy

Seth potentially taking a finisher for Cody

Brandi attacking Roman

Austin or Sami or Kevin hiding under the ring to attack

Heels and Faces that were fucked over allying to protect Cody

Bo arriving to avenge his brother who never got his second chance

Stone Cold and John Cena coming

Cody fighting through the pain to win

Randy or Dustin or MJF appearing

[dalekofchaos]

Wrestlemania XL predictions

Night 1

Jey Uso vs. Jimmy Uso. I predict Jey wins and it ends with the brothers reunited and Jimmy leaves The Bloodline with Jey

The Judgment Day vs. #DIY vs. The Awesome Truth vs. The New Day vs A-Town Down. I'm going with The Awesome Truth because R-Truth deserves a Wrestlemania victory

Gunther vs Sami Zayn. I say Gunther retains and I think it ends with Gunther absolutely throttling Sami with Gable at ringside preparing to throw the towel in, but he doesn't and Gunther and Gable have a Rocky IV stare off

Bianca vs Tiffany Stratton. Tiffany wins.

Bayley vs Iyo. Bayley retains(fuck you Dwayne and fuck you Cody THIS SHOULD BE THE MAIN EVENT, IT WAS BAYLEY'S FUCKING YEAR) Bayley wins and has her moment, Damage CTRL beats her down and who comes to save her? CHARLOTTE!

Cody Rhodes and Seth vs The Rock and Roman Reigns. Drew costs them the match and Rock gives the bloody belt to mama Rhodes lol

Night 2

Asuka and Kairi vs Jade Cargill and Naomi. I want Asuka to have her Wrestlemania victory, but we all know that's not happening.

LA Knight vs AJ. LA Knight wins

Rey Mysterio, Dragon Lee and Carlito vs Santos Escobar, Dominik Guerrero Mysterio and Andrade el Idolo. Santos team wins

Jade Cargill vs Nia Jax. Jade wins, obviously

Drew McIntyre vs Seth Rollins. Drew wins, Punk gets out of commentary and hits Drew with the GTS. And who comes out? DAMIAN PRIEST AND HE FINALLY CASHES IN AND WINS THE BIG ONE!

Rhea Ripley vs Becky Lynch. Rhea retains. I feel like Rhea needs to retain and get a better reign as champion. I also would save Rhea losing till she finally faces Bianca.

Cody Rhodes vs Roman Reigns. Bloodline rules, so expect a clusterfuck. Everyone comes out. Rock, Solo and Drew. Usos, Seth, Sami, KO and everyone the Bloodline has fucked around come out. Brawling all over the place. It's chaos. When all seems like Cody has the win, Rock yanks the ref out and Rock Bottoms Cody and Roman prepares for the spear. Spear and Rock is about to force a ref count and all of a sudden? GLASS SHATTERS.

Austin cleans house. Down goes Solo. Down goes Drew. and then Austin stomps a mudhole and stuns The Rock into oblivion and Cody lands the Cody Cutter. 1. 2. 3. Cody finally finishes the story.

[randalgravesgf]

Repost cus I ended up deleting the original while freaking out over something

MY CLERKS/VIEWASKEW OC!!!!

Full Name: Venus Reed

Nickname(s): Penus, Ve Ve, Creepy Chic

Age: 20 (Clerks) 30 (Clerks 2) 48 (Clers 3)

Gender: female

Date of Birth: 02/26

Sexuality: Demisexual bisexual

Pronouns: She/they

Occupation: (During clerks and the animated series) pet store employee, (During clerks 2) Cinema Usher

Height: Short, below average

Hair Color:Black and green split dyed

Eye Color: Dark green

Clothing: KoRn shirt, black and white plaid skirt, black long ripped socks, long black and blue boots

Accessories: Her big black bulky headphones and her black and white checkered belt she also has pierced ears and a naval piercing

Her relationship with Randal: She has a complicated relationship with Randal, they have a love-hate dynamic where they often tease and insult each other but also have moments of genuine connection and understanding. There is also some playful aggression between them at times.

Friends/Allies: She is on decent terms with Dante although the two never really interact, she thinks of Elias as a younger brother and is protective of him. She gets mad at Randal when he messes with him, she really likes Becky, she thinks Silent Bob is cool, & she can’t stand Jay

Personality: Self reserved, keeps to herself, pessimistic, she can be sassy and she loves putting up against Randal’s remarks usually revolting back with her own. She also has frequent mood swings, can be defensive, and does have a soft side for the few people she can tolerate

Likes: Numeral, horror movies, junk food, bugs, cats, sleeping

Hobbies: Doll collecting, CD collecting, bug watching, singing

Habits: She has a bad habit of ignoring people and blasting her music into her ears while people are talking to her, she also tends to eavesdrop on other peoples conversations when they think she isn’t listening

[mjfass]

The worst part of the whole Rock taking Cody's spot deal is this probably took Bayley and Iyo's chance to main event Night 1. No one knows if he's gonna end up as Seth's opponent or if Cody faces Rock or Roman on Night 2. But if Cody ends up with the participation trophy belt(I love Seth, but it's true), then that takes away from the women. AGAIN. Neither Rhea and Becky nor Bayley and Iyo will main event and that sucks.

I have to be honest and say that I didn’t even thought about this. Why would he end up as Seth’s opponent? What would they do if he wins the title? Like… it’s so confusing and I don’t even know what the hell they plan to do with Cody for Mania (maybe special referee?). But I definitely don’t believe he main events night 1. I think, especially after last night’s segment, Bayley and Iyo are main eventing night 1.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

I am officially not excited for WM... deadass

apparently Jimmy vs Jey (with hardly any build up)

Sorry y'all but i DO NOT want to see Cody vs Roman again, nor Becky Vs Rhea..

The IC title should be a ladder match

Tag Titles? Spilt them please

US title? Get the belt off of Logan Paul ASAP

IYO vs Bayley (meh)

Womens Tag Titles?

supposedly 2 nights worth of action and I'm not impress with what WWE is giving us..

IT'S 29 DAYS AWAY LKE WTF ARE YALL DOING!