#i mean i played new vegas *gets shot*

[leemarkies]

ok alright i will watch the fallout show

[artbyblastweave]

One thing I really enjoy about Fallout New Vegas is that it's really really good at modeling The Long-Suffering Protagonist Who Things Just Keep Happening To. Fallout 4, one or two things happen to you at the start, and they're doozies, but then for the most part you start happening to everybody else. You don't suffer that many ignominies. Fallout New Vegas, you get shot in the head and dumped in a shallow grave. Two different guys stick a bomb collar on you and force you to run errands. You have to dodge howitzer fire like in that one Malcom In The Middle Episode. All your organs get stolen. You think you're gonna get an easy payday killing some feral ghouls at a test site and then boom, you're getting canonized as a saint by a ghoul rocket cult, pouring radioactive coolant out of toy rocket ships into a real rocket ship one at a time. You get tricked into initiating a nuclear strike. Twice. You play a shell-game with human trafficking victims to bluff a guy into thinking he's pulling a tantalus when it's really just beef. You're forced to have conversations with Mormons. You simply get involved in more situation per situation, hands down. Sole survivor's memoir, I mean, whatever, it'll be okay. Courier's memoir? Oh boy

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 2

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Terry makes you breakfast, bringing a sense of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic life. Still shaken from the shenanigans of your stalker, you enjoy the break Terry offers you. But all too soon, you’re forced to adapt to an ever-changing schedule. Your label makes you go to a club to promote your new single.

Word Count: 7,152k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: Idk why I keep doing this to myself, LMFAO. But ya'll see that man show out with his gold chain? Lordt help me, I love that man. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stood beside the door to your balcony staring at the brightening day. The cry last night was everything you needed to reset. Perhaps it had just been too long since the last time you did. That was okay. It was okay to cry.

You clenched your fists and felt your nails dig into your palms. It was a terrible grounding technique. But pain was good. Pain meant you were alive. And as long as you were alive, your stalker wouldn’t win. He wasn’t winning when you worked hard for this shit.

All the blood, sweat, tears, predatory producers, dickhead managers, trashy bitches with their “gossip” websites, all of it. You didn’t survive this shit to let an anonymous motherfucker get you down. 

You took a deep breath. One day, you’d be able to open the balcony and actually feel the sun on your bones. You had to agree with Terry that it was too easy for someone to take a pot shot at you. Though the stalker seemed to only want to scare you so far. Killing you would kill his fantasy, wouldn’t it? 

It was too morbid to think about on such a pretty Las Vegas day. It was nearing the end of your run here before you would travel to LA. You turned and pulled your robe tighter while walking to your bedroom door and flinging it open. 

It smelled like home. Like warm biscuits, sizzling bacon, and fresh eggs. You followed the smell to the common kitchen and peeked around the corner. Terry stood in the kitchenette in a gray tank top and matching lounge pants.

Your eyes tracked the subtle vein in his arm and followed it to where it ended in his hand gripping the pan. Terry looked up at you and smirked. “I figured after what happened we could all use a little normal,” he said. 

“This…is your normal?” You asked. You hopped onto the nearest barstool and leaned over the bartop to look at the spread. He actually did make biscuits. Fluffy ones with butter melting in the middle. You were tempted to grab one but something told you Terry didn’t play about his kitchen.

You grinned and glanced at Terry who lifted his eyes to yours. You peeked down at yourself and noticed that your girls were threatening to slip out. “I am so sorry,” you said. Though you flirted and harassed the man, you weren’t predatory about it. You truly didn’t mean to let them hang out. You fixed your robe and sat back in your seat like a proper lady.

“It’s all good. Biscuits look good, don’t they?” He asked, his lips dipping in the corners. He almost smiled. Hot damn. Terry brought his thumb to his mouth to lick it and he hummed. The sound vibrated in his chest and you couldn’t help thinking what the hell he was doing as a bodyguard. Bottle that sound and package it into a vibrator and there wouldn’t be a dry cooch in the house.

“Mhm,” you said absently. Maybe the cry hadn’t done its job. Now you were just stuffy and foggy and clearly off your damn marbles. You watched Terry as he finished with the bacon. He moved on to a bowl of eggs he had already cracked and watched his arms work as he whipped up the eggs.

“I really only know how to make scrambled eggs. An omelet if I’m feeling fancy. If you want something else –”

“No, no, this is…sweet of you. I can’t remember the last time someone actually cooked for me. It’s been mostly dining out,” you said. 

“You don’t cook when you’re home?” Terry asked. 

You had to turn away from Terry. He looked downright delicious and he was being sweet. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable by eye fucking him. 

“No, not really. There’s not usually enough time. When I have downtime, I’m usually writing a song or working out or preparing for the next tour. Gotta do something with this brain of mine,” you said. 

Terry nodded. “Shame. Nothing better than some good food cooked with love,” he said. His voice grew hoarse around the word love. Did he have an ex-wife? Did someone break his heart? There was so much you suddenly wanted to know about your bodyguard. You wanted pieces of him that no one else got. You were hungry and greedy for it. Though you had no right to be. 

“So you can’t make anything other than scrambled eggs, huh?” You asked.

Terry scooped out butter and placed it on the hot pan. It immediately sizzled and Terry’s bulging muscles worked back and forth to spread it around. He added the eggs and then turned to you. “I did say an omelet, too. Give me some credit,” he said.

“But only when you’re feeling fancy,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “You get me,” he said.

“So what makes you feel fancy?” You asked. Your eyes drifted to Terry’s every so often and it was bordering on creepy. So you hopped down from the stool and rummaged around in the cabinets.

“What are you doing?” Terry asked. 

“Setting the table,” you said. You grabbed two plates and placed it on the counter. 

“This was my gesture for you. You’re not supposed to set the table,” he said. 

“My grandma would roll in her grave if she knew I didn’t help some kind of way. You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Grammy Bean, would you?” You turned doe eyes to him and added in a cute pout, sticking out your bottom lip. 

Terry chuckled, turning back to the eggs. “I suppose I can’t hurt poor Grammy Bean,” he relented. You grinned and continued setting the bar top with plates, two cups, and forks. By the time you were done, Terry had finished up the breakfast. 

You stood behind him and handed him the plates one by one while he loaded up the eggs, bacon, and biscuits. He handed you the full plate and you set it down. “That was for you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said and giggled. “Thank you.” You rounded the edge of the bar top, suddenly feeling shy and girly. There was no reason for it. You just…fuck, how long had it been since someone did something for you just because? Not because you were paying them to do it? No hidden agenda?

Technically you were paying Terry too, but to guard you, not cook for you. It was unprompted and there was nothing you could do in return for him. There was nothing you could do to feel like you earned it. 

Terry grabbed his own plate and joined you at the bartop. He sat down and spread his legs to accommodate the long length of them. Feet planted firmly on the ground. “Don’t be too harsh on me. I know it’s not the fancy restaurant stuff you eat,” he said.

You laughed. “Don’t believe the hype, Mr. Terry. I am a southern girl at heart. This is way more up my alley than that french reduction, tuna tartar, or whatever else they think people want to eat.”

Terry chuckled and waited until you took a bite of your food. You sighed in appreciation and smiled closed-lipped at him. “This is delicious, Terry,” you said.

Terry grinned, showing off his beautiful smile. It was gone just as quick and he nodded. “Good to hear,” he said. 

What you wouldn’t pay or do to see him smile like that again. You ate beside Terry, soaking in the domesticity of it all. You were burning with questions. But you bit your tongue and just enjoyed the stillness. The peace. The quiet. 

Terry finished in record time, wolfing down his meal like he had just come back from jail or something. He stood up and grabbed two more biscuits. You didn’t know where the fuck he put it all. 

“Did Grammy Bean get you into singing?” Terry asked. 

You smiled and nodded, thinking of your grandmother. “Yup. She had a piano that she let me toddle on until she buckled down and got me piano lessons. She was a mainstay in the jazz scene. She knew them all. I was always following after her, so she ended up getting me started with singing. Encouraged me to do it for me if I was going to do this professionally. She bought me my first audition dress,” you said. 

Bless Grammy Bean, but whew, that dress was hideous. You were twelve at the time and she somehow transformed you into a little version of her. A blue and purple paisley dress with swirls and waves and too many clashing colors. Old lady shoes. If it weren’t for the studio rep who actually listened instead of laughing at you, you would’ve been sent home with tears to keep you company. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Terry said. 

“She really was,” you said softly, remembering the pain of losing the most important person in your corner all over again. “How about you? Any grandma stories?” 

Terry wiped his hands on the paper towel beside his empty plate and then wiped his mouth. He missed a crumb in his mustache but you decided not to tell him. If anything, it made him more endearing. He followed the towel with his hand, swiping away the crumb anyway. Bastard.

“Yeah, my grandma was no joke. Me and my cousin Mike were terrors. Always running in and out of the house, always getting into trouble. One time, we had been play-fighting in the rain. We were covered in mud. When grandma saw us, she hosed us down, gave us a proper whuppin’ for tracking mud on her porch, and then made us clean off her porch before we could come inside,” Terry said, smiling at the memory. 

You smiled with him and shook your head, trying to imagine Terry at such a young age. Was he an awkward teen? Probably not. He was probably born with “responsible" stamped on his forehead. 

“Oh, she was really no joke,” you said.

Terry smiled and shook his head. “Not a one. She’s the one that got me into the Marines. She would tell me all her stories of the Air Force and how she was in charge of making sure the women who served were in bed by curfew. A lot of them tried sneaking out to meet up with boys. My grandma was there with a clipboard and her service weapon telling them to try her,” he said, chuckling to himself. 

“Not the clipboard too,” you said, chuckling with him. 

“They could either get checked off or checked out,” he said, pitching his voice to sound like an older lady. With his deep voice, the sound didn’t quite manage what he went for. You continued to laugh at his impression, waving your hands. 

“I’m not trying–” you kept laughing, unable to apologize. 

“It’s all good. She was a funny woman. She’d want us to laugh,” he said. He sobered and looked at you while you tried to catch your breath. Giggles escaped you as you calmed down yourself, finding yourself getting lost in his stormy eyes. 

You cleared your throat and sucked on your bottom lip. You both opened your mouth at the same time and then giggled. “You go,” he said.

“No, please,” you said.

“Ladies first,” he said. You sighed and rolled your eyes just as the doorbell rang. You cursed under your breath. You almost forgot for a few moments that you weren’t a normal person.

Terry stood up from the bar stool and went to the door for you, checking to see who was there. But you already knew. In five, four, three…

“There you are! Didn’t you get my text?” Mirage asked, walking into the room. 

Joya followed close behind with a shy, pained smile on her face. She clutched her calendar to her chest and you smiled. You nearly had a heart attack looking at Terry. There was no way in hell your sweet assistant could handle Terry’s muscles on full display. 

“I did not. I was eating breakfast, forgive me. Remind me what we’re doing today?” You asked. Because at this point, Terry effectively made you forget for a morning that you were a singer. 

Terry re-entered the room silently, moving around Mirage and headed towards the kitchen. He began to pack up the plates. “Let me help,” you said, hopping off the stool. 

“I got it. Go be awesome,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled. You followed Mirage and Joya into the living room and sat down on the huge, white pleather couch. Joya sat down in the armchair, faced away from Terry, and opened her calendar. 

“I managed to push your LA costume fittings to eleven to let you sleep in. You have an interview with Essence at three. Here is the list of questions,” she said, sliding over a piece of paper to you. You looked them over. Nothing too bad, not much you hadn’t answered before. 

“Okay, pretty light day,” you said. 

“Jake called. He needs you at the club tonight, rather than tomorrow,” Mirage said.

“What? Why?” You asked. 

“Lord AK flew in early and will be there and Jake needs you to hype up the single,” Mirage said. She cringed at your expression as you sighed and fell back against the couch. 

“I was looking forward to staying in,” you said. 

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t push it. I tried telling Jake about what happened yesterday-”

You waved off her incoming apology. “It’s not you. I know Jake is only thinking dollar signs right now,” you said, thinking of your good for nothing agent. 

“How long do I have to show my face at the club?” You asked. 

“You can’t go to a club. There’s no way to secure your safety,” Terry chimed in from the kitchen. 

“I have to. If I don’t, the single won’t get promoted. If the single doesn’t get promoted, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, my ass is out of a job,” you said. 

Terry’s jaw flexed as he took in the information you gave him. “There’s no way around it?” He asked.

“Ah, sorry. No,” Mirage chimed in for you. 

“There’s going to be a lot of influencers there. Lots of cameras. I don’t know if you could have a bodyguard close by,” Mirage said. 

“I can blend in,” Terry said. 

You looked at Mirage and Joya before glancing guiltily at Terry. He caught on, a smirk stretching his lips. “Don’t think I can hang?” 

“I mean…I wouldn’t call you a square…” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded his head. “I can blend in, princess,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled, returning to cleaning up the kitchen. You shook your head and turned back to your team. You went over a few more details for the day, the logistics of everything. 

“Ugh, I didn’t pack club clothes,” you said. 

“Already have you covered. After the interview, you’ll have a few choices the label is sending over,” Joya said. She consulted her calendar and thousands of tabs and sticky notes. You marveled at the way her mind worked. 

You smacked your teeth thinking of the type of clothes your label wanted you in. “Oh ye of little faith, girl! I already told them nothing silver, nothing sparkly, and nothing that’ll have your ass hanging out,” Joya said.

“I love you,” you said and giggled.

“I love you too, miss lady. We have fifteen minutes to get on the road before we’re late for your fittings,” Joya said. 

“Ugggghhhhh,” you groaned, sliding off the couch like a toddler. 

Mirage laughed and shook her head. “It’ll be painless. Well…as long as it isn’t Francois,” Mirage said.

You shivered from the floor. “I’m convinced he pokes me so many times to see if my ass is real,” you said. You all laughed and for a brief moment, you pretended that you were sixteen again with a circle of good friends, having a movie night. But those days were long past and gone. 

“Alright, alright, alright. I’m getting up. Fuck,” you said. You stood up from the floor and collected yourself. You squared your shoulders, threw your head back, and took a deep breath.

Movement to your right made you turn to Terry who had stopped cleaning to watch you. He nodded his head at you and you nodded back. Yeah, you had business to attend to.

The fitting was a breeze. Luckily Francois was nowhere to be found so you didn’t have to grab bandaids as you were done with the fitting. That was the secret part you loved about being a musician. Playing dress up. Seeing the mix of fabrics and clothes and getting to see the hidden seams to allow for quick costume changes on stage. 

The interview went just as well, talking with Brandi Harper, a journalist for Essence. She was cool, down to earth, making the interview feel like a conversation rather than a Q&A. You had bonded over your love for anime, discussing the different shows you watched. 

She did end up asking about the A’Kierra interview that you did and you had to fight everything in you not to drag A’Kierra’s nasty ass. You only ended up shrugging and dismissing it. Why give that clown more ammunition? 

Now, you were back at the hotel, getting dolled up for the club. Terry sat on the couch watching everyone like a hawk. He only allowed one make up artist and one hair stylist and only after he did his little background investigation on the both of them. Your team was loyal. You told him as much. Yet he still looked at everyone like any one of them could snap. 

Angie worked on your makeup while Nicky worked on your hair. “You gon’ sweat this out?” He asked.

“Probably, yeah,” you said with a grin. Nicky rolled his eyes but laughed with you as he switched tactics. He quickly abandoned what he was doing and then undid your hair from the ponytail. 

“You gon’ stress me out, chile,” he said.

“I love you, Nicky,” you said. 

Nicky harrumphed and you blew him a kiss while he started to braid your hair. “You lucky I stay ready, miss thing,” he said. He grumbled about you while he got to work, braiding quickly and efficiently. That was why you paid to bring Nicky wherever you went. No one had hands like him. 

Joya entered the circus that was your hotel living room carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. Mirage was in the corner, on the phone with Jake setting up details about the club. 

You snuck a glance at Terry who caught you looking. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth and Angie groaned. You apologized to Angie who had to switch tactics as well. “Every time, girl?” She asked. 

You giggled. “You’re right. I’m a bad client,” you said.

She sighed and shook her head. “You’re lucky I like you,” she said. 

“Oh, it’s my lucky night then. I need to do some gambling before we leave Vegas,” you said. You let Angie remove the gloss from your lips and went with a lip stain instead. It was a darker red than what you were used to but some sneaks in the mirror had you feeling yourself.

You may be a homebody but deep, deep down in your crevices, you liked to party too. Liked to dance and move and sing your heart out. Get some drinks going and you were the life of the party. 

Joya managed to get closer and tapped the bag. “Got what you needed,” she said.

“Thank you,” you told her. “Terry? Can I see you please?” You asked.

Terry was by your side in a second, crowding your space. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You pointed to Joya. “I had her get some outfits for you as well. If you’re going to blend, I need you to really blend. And I doubt you have a club outfit in that duffel you carry,” you said. 

“I’m good, thanks though,” he said.

“And just what do you plan on wearing to blend in then?” You asked.

He spread his hands and you looked at the black T-shirt and jeans he usually wore. You giggled and shook your head, much to Angie’s and Nicky’s frustration. “You cannot go to a club like this wearing your uniform, soldier,” you said.

“It’s a club,” he said. “No one’s worried about me.”

“Sheeit,” Nicky whispered. Angie elbowed him and he cleared his throat, returning to braiding your hair. He was already halfway through your head. 

You were tempted to lick your lips to keep from laughing at the adorable, confused expression on Terry’s face. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t make some kind of effort. Please, indulge me. Otherwise I’d have to go in by myself and without you there to guard me, who knows what could happen?” 

Terry’s jaw flexed. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. He grabbed the clothes bag from Joya who looked like a deer caught in headlights. She lowered her eyes and tried to back away as nonchalant as possible. Poor tink. You understood though. Terry was intimidatingly sexy as hell. 

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling anything,” you said. 

He gave you a blank stare before disappearing to his side of the suite. You turned to Joya with a grateful smile. 

In no time at all, Nicky had your head braided and put on a wig. He flat ironed it and then pulled it into a half up, half down style. “Oh, I like this,” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror he brought. 

“I know, I know. I’m the greatest,” he said.

“We’re running behind, let’s wrap it up soon,” Mirage called out, returning to her call. 

What was taking Terry so long? You wondered which outfit he chose or if he’d stick to his uniform. You had to get dressed yourself so you went into your bedroom with Angie and Nicky to help put on your club outfit and make sure you didn’t mess up your hair and makeup. 

The jumpsuit was sheer and looked painted on when you got it on. The back was out but it made your ass look extra fat. Oh, you were so keeping this. It had a tropical flower design on it that looked fun and perfect for the club. Partnered with your hair and makeup, hell, you’d fuck you tonight. 

You left your room and Terry stood up. You paused, your heels near skidding on the floor. Got. Damn. He chose to wear a navy dress shirt with gold flowers on it. He left it buttoned all the way to the top and his black jeans made him look extra delicious. 

He smoothed the shirt and looked at himself like he couldn’t believe how he got here. You giggled to get over your initial shock. “Not bad, Mr. Terry. Not bad,” you said.

“Don’t look so bad yourself,” he said. 

You smiled and followed your army of people out of the hotel, to the waiting car. Terry opened the door for you and helped you inside. He went around to the other side, climbing into the back with you. 

“Oh, not driving tonight?” You asked. 

“I gotta blend, right?” He asked. 

If he did any more blending, people would think he was a famous movie star. He pulled on some shaded glasses, completing the look while a member of your security team got in the front seat. Mirage and Joya would be in the follow car. 

Sometimes they were your best friends. And sometimes they were your best employees. The ride beyond to the club was short, really only going from one hotel to the next. But because you’d be spotted instantly, it was somehow easier to take the car than walk. 

Paparazzi lined the entrance to the club and those flashing bulbs immediately turned to your car when it was your turn. You took a deep breath, looking out at the sea of vultures. There were some fans mixed in. 

“Guess word got out that I’d be here,” you said with a rueful smile. “Wondered who leaked that.” 

Jake was such a leech. But you kept him around because if nothing else, he could hustle a dollar from a beggar. And for an artist determined to do this shit right, you needed all the money you could scrounge up. After living paycheck to paycheck growing up, robbing Paul to pay Peter, you had plans. You didn’t ever want to go back to the poor little girl you were before. 

“We can turn around,” Terry offered.

You sighed. “No. We really can’t,” you said. You took a deep breath and pulled on your metaphorical armor. You pictured it encasing you in the hardest known element. Not a chink or weak spot to exploit. 

You pulled on your own shades because the flashing lights left you dizzy. Terry’s counterpart got out of the car and then swooped around to open the door for you. Terry got out by himself and quickly walked around the car, offering you his arm. 

The paparazzi resembled a feeding frenzy at the zoo. They called your name endlessly, squawking with demands to turn here, look here, give us a smile, give us a pout, who’s your man, and on and on it went.

You posed and waved to them all, playing into your persona. You singled out a few fans and took pictures with them, signing some autographs. You blew kisses as you walked up the club’s doors and the bouncer let you in without any fuss.

The sudden darkness of the club’s interior foyer after all the flashing lights gave you whiplash. You swayed on your feet and Terry steadied you with a hand on your hip. “You okay?” He asked. 

You shook your head to clear it. “I hate that shit,” you said. But you were fine. You’d live. 

“We made it,” Mirage said, coming up from the side entrance. She wore a simple black party dress that fit her full figure well. She pulled her braids back into a ponytail and added on makeup. You hugged her and then Joya who peeked out from behind Mirage. She had changed as well, into a pair of dark jeans and a flirty shirt. 

“You both look amazing!” You said. 

“Not as good as you!” Joya said. You waved them off. They were too adorable. Linked arm in arm, you passed through the curtains and entered the club proper. Nothing was small in Vegas on the strip. The place was huge, a mass of people gyrating on the dance floor, hanging out by the bar, or trying to make moves on each other.

You made your way to the VIP section. The section was already bumping with multiple artists bopping their heads to the music. Groupies hung around the various rappers and singers, each all similarly dressed in baggy pants and jerseys or oversized coats. 

“You’re here!” Another singer, Alexandra Crane, beamed and then wrapped her arms around you. You screamed with her. The cute little singer from Atlanta had become a friend during a concert you performed together. You were glad to see that she ditched the other two in her group. 

“It is so good to see you!” You said. You introduced Mirage and Joya and true to form, Joya fangirled. 

“Oh, and who’s this?” Alex asked. 

“This is my-”

“I’m her toy for the evening,” Terry said, extending his hand to Alex. She shook it but gave you an exaggerated wink. You waved her off and let your eyes adjust to the dizzying array of spinning neon lights in the club.

The dance floor was full of uncoordinated people jumping up and down to the same four club remixes on repeat. Ugh. “Have you seen Lord AK?” You asked.

Alex shook her head. “Are you meeting up with him?” She asked. 

You nodded and bent closer to be heard over the music. “We’re promoting ‘Down Bad’,” you told her. 

She smiled and nodded her head. “Oh my god, I love that song!” She said.

You flopped onto the couch with Alex and caught up, leaving Terry to sit beside you and scan the club for potential threats. You relaxed as the night went on, going shot for shot with Alex and your girls. 

As the night progressed, some fans dared to approach and ask for pictures. Terry tried to deter them but you went against his orders, taking pictures anyway. It was incredibly brave to even ask. You wouldn’t deny them a quick picture and wave. 

The club finally changed the music to something you could actually shake your ass too. The alcohol warmed your belly and had you feeling yourself. You grabbed Alex’s hand and made your way to the dance floor. 

Terry grabbed your hand as you reached the bottom step of the VIP section. “I can’t protect you around all of them,” he said.

“I wanna dance. You can join meee, boy toy,” you sang, crooking your finger. Terry tilted his head and if you could see his eyes, you were sure he would be judging you. Ah well. You hadn’t had fun in a long time. Your stalker preferred to catch you unawares. The mask had been the creepiest contact so far. 

The fanboy letters and poems were what really creeped you out. You shivered just thinking about it. But that was the point. You didn’t want to think about your stalker. You wanted to have fun. 

Terry let your hand go and then you squealed, getting onto the dance floor and immediately started shaking your ass to the Ying Yang Twins song. You let go. You just followed the rhythm of the music and danced with Alex, pretending you were just a girl in a club, quietly hoping some man would come holler at you for a second. 

You danced in a circle so that it would make you face the VIP section. Terry’s profile was turned towards you, eyeing you as you danced. You put extra flair into your sexy dancing. Swaying your hips, shaking your ass, flirting with him with your body from across the room. 

He watched it all. He didn’t even pay attention to those around him. Didn’t give the waitress a glance as she lingered, hovered, trying to grab his attention. He lifted his fingers to wave her off and she left with a huff. That only made you smile and roll your body to the music. 

The DJ scratched the record, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to the DJ in the middle of the club, up on stage surrounded by a paneled wall full of screens with colors dancing in the display. 

“Ya’ll ready for some hot, new shit? Fresh off the tracks?” The DJ asked. The club screamed. 

“Ya’ll ready or not, damn!” The DJ asked. 

Behind him, Lord AK stepped out with a microphone. “Call me a simp, ‘cause that ass got me mesmerized…” he started rapping the opening lyrics to your song. You screamed, just as shocked as everyone else.

Why didn’t Mirage tell you this was part of the plan? You looked towards the VIP section but Mirage wasn’t there. Were you supposed to sing as well? Were you just there to witness? This mickey mouse shit was unprofessional as fuck. 

Lord AK seemed to know what the hell was going on because he made a beeline through the crowd to you, serenading you with his rap, grinning widely. Gahh, he was so damn cute. If he didn’t have some deep seated fucking issues, that would be your man for real. But after the scare last year at a party, he had disappeared for counseling. 

Fuck it. You grabbed the mic from him when it came time to your part, singing to him, flirting with him and the crowd. You involved them, making them think that they were the ones you were down bad for. 

Mirage’s head bobbed in the crowd. She gave you a harried look, waving a microphone covertly. You pushed on Lord AK’s chest and sang while backing him away. You grabbed the microphone from Mirage just as Lord AK leaned in for a fake kiss. You tapped the microphone on his lips and he grinned, grabbing the microphone and began the breakdown of the song. 

There was a call and response in the middle of the song, getting quicker as the lyrics turned nastier. You and Lord AK circled each other, getting closer and closer, until you reached the climax of the song where you belted out the final lyrics. The club exploded with cheers and whistles. 

The DJ played another one of Lord AK’s songs. The idea was to get people focused on the music, not his hiatus. You felt bad for him, really. He was a talented rapper. People should already focus on the music and not that he was going through shit. Everybody was going through shit. 

Mirage fought her way to you, grabbing your microphone and Lord AK’s. “Fuckin’ Jake sprung this shit on me. By the time I knew, he was already in place and I couldn’t find you and…”

“Babe, breathe,” you said. Mirage stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill him,” she said, shaking her head and walking away. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Somethin’ told me this shit wasn’t right, ‘cause I almost didn’t find you out here,” Lord AK said. 

You waved him off and hugged him, covertly taking a deep whiff of his cologne. He smelled heavenly, like a mix of spiced flowers and sandalwood. You should’ve been having his babies. You inwardly groaned at the loss of your fictional family as you pulled away. 

“It is so good to see you. Need some familiar faces, for real,” you said. 

His grin was wide and genuine, his eyes no longer cloudy now that he got rid of most of his entourage. That whole group had been toxic and you were glad to see him on the other side of it. Healthy looked good on him. 

However, back in his presence, his luminance seemed to dim. He no longer really turned your head. You only had eyes for – him. Terry remained in the VIP section but there was some unknowable expression on his face. You didn’t know him well enough to decipher this particular look. 

He was always so damn grumpy. “How long you here for?” You asked.

Lord AK shrugged his shoulders. “Enough to be seen. Then I’ma dip. This club is ass,” he said. 

“True that. Don’t leave without me seeing you again,” you said.

“You’re gonna see me in LA, girl,” he said.

“And what that mean!” You tapped his shoulder and made your way back to the VIP section. Most of it had cleared out but there were still a few movers and shakers talking, their phones out recording everything. 

The lights began to go crazy, turning the VIP section darker as the lights danced in time with the club remixes again. “Having fun?” Terry asked when you got up the stairs.

“Are you? Have you gotten up once?” You asked.

“Mhm. Just sitting here. Enjoying the free concert,” he said.

You giggled, looking away. You wanted so desperately to ask what he thought of the performance. The words to excuse the behavior were at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to make it clear that it was all an act for you and Lord AK. That you weren’t really into him, ya’ll just had good chemistry. 

But there was nothing to really explain, was there? You didn’t owe Terry an explanation. You grabbed two shots and handed him one. “If this was what you call blending in, it’s so bad. You scream cop,” you said.

“I look good, what you mean?” He asked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and you shook your head with a giggle. 

“You gotta drink. You gotta dance. Those are the rules,” you said. 

“I don’t drink,” he said. 

“Like a you can’t handle your liquor thing or is this a health nut thing?” You asked.

Terry chuckled. “Health nut?” He asked. 

“You know you can be addicted to working out, right?” You asked. 

Terry shook his head. “I don’t drink on the job,” he said. 

“This isn’t a job. You’re blending. Blending means going method,” you said. Terry sighed and grabbed the shot out of your hand. He knocked it back without a grimace and you matched him, tipping the shot glass back and grinning at him. 

The DJ gave the club remix a break and turned on Post Malone’s “Rockstar”. You squealed and threw up your hands. “I love this song! Dance with me,” you said. You grabbed his hand and tried to pull him to standing. He remained firmly planted in his seat.

“I definitely don’t dance on duty,” he said. 

The alcohol made you petulant. At least that was your excuse and you were sticking to it. You gave up trying to get him to stand so you took another shot for courage and then began dancing in the VIP section.

The neon blue and purple lights danced across the shades he still wore. You couldn’t see his pretty eyes and you pretended that he was a famous person. Someone who understood what it was like to feel lonely in the middle of a crowd. That image quickly disappeared though. You didn’t want a fantasy. 

You wanted to remain yourself. You wanted Terry to remain Terry. The inflexible, professional, gorgeous man who took your safety seriously. The same man who let you peek behind the curtain of his control earlier today. The same man who made you feel in ways you hadn’t in a very long time. 

You turned around and began dancing for him. Just for him. Rolling your ass in a slow circle to the song, bending down as you did so, making your knees do most of the work to entice Terry. 

He adjusted himself in the seat, tilting his head at you. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice rough. 

“Dancing with you since you won’t dance with me,” you said. You continued to dance, looking back at him every so often to make sure he was still looking. You grew more bold as you danced, now doing it just because. Just because he made you feel normal when so much of your life wasn’t. 

You backed into his lap and mimicked bouncing on it. You grabbed his knees and ground your ass in lap, used him for support while you danced slower and slower. The thrumming beat matched the beat of your heart, turning you bolder. 

You looked over your shoulder and bit your lip, still grinding in his lap. Terry took a deep breath but you weren’t making it easy for him. “You know you want to dance with me,” you said over your shoulder.

Terry leaned forward and grabbed your hips, slamming you down onto his lap. You yelped, feeling a third leg pushing at the fabric of his jeans. He placed his lips next to your ear and whispered, “Behave.” 

You grinned and kept grinding and dancing on him, giving him a lap dance whether he wanted it or not. He didn’t stop you, only gripped your hips harder with his thick fingers. He slowly began to move with you, rubbing his bulge into your ass.

He moved one of his hands from your hips to trail a finger along your exposed, sweaty back. You gasped, feeling electricity pass from his fingers to your skin. You took back control by abruptly standing up, turning around, and climbing into his lap. 

You continued your dance, wriggling in his lap. You bent backwards, stretched, and then rolled forward. Terry dragged a finger down your chest and you wished it was open in the front too. You liked his hands on you. You really, really liked his hands on you.

Your skin grew overheated, waves of heat rolling through your body. Terry gripped your ass and squeezed. You gasped and fell forward, knocked off your rhythm with just a firm grip. You ought to be ashamed you were that easy, but hell, who could blame you? 

When he looked that good? Smelled that good? Felt so damn good? 

Terry leaned forward and you steadied yourself on his shoulders. You braced for those full, lush lips to touch yours. Watched as if in slow motion as he leaned in. Your breathing was so rapid, your chest rose and fell. 

Terry moved one of his hands to your face, bringing you closer by cupping your cheek. Your eyes drooped, too eager to get this over with yet wanting to savor every little second. His hand was hot against your cheek. His breath fanned across your face.

He bypassed your lips to bring his closer to your ear. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he whispered. He licked your neck and you moaned, shivering as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water down your veins. “I like my women sober when they’re riding me.”

You gasped while he stood up and gently placed you on the couch. “Stay here. I’ll grab you some coffee.” 

You stayed put while he disappeared to do just that. You stared after his retreating form, at a complete loss for words. You were hot and bothered. Your flabbers were ghasted. And you were so damn horny you thought you’d pass out. 

Such a bastard. You fanned yourself as Terry returned with coffee and water, making you somehow drink both. He escorted you out of the club with a few stops to take pictures with fans. Despite whatever the hell he thought, you were not drunk. 

He had you tucked into the car before you could say, “Cinderella”. There was nothing to talk about in the car. The interior was too tense. Too thick. Too cloying with the mix of cologne, perfume, sweat, and hairspray. You rode in silence back to your hotel, escorted to the room, and stood silently while Terry checked every nook and cranny of the room. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you sang lazily, heading to your bedroom doors. Terry crossed the living room to his side.

“Goodnight,” he said. 

You stared at each other as you closed the doors at the same time. Finally alone, you turned and leaned your back against the door feeling like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. 

Whew. Help yourself to some more treats! The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 3

Tag list: PLEASE. I love ya'll FRFR.

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[khaylin27]

The Alchemy

pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader (past relationship)

series: the tortured poets department

synopsis: the alchemy is a term coined in the old days before chemist but back then the aim was to produce gold from other elements by mixing certain chemicals. knowing that she is now with the man of her dreams; she came out of the dark in which she has stayed in for a very long time and found the person in which there was 'no denying the alchemy' that if they were together, there's gold, which to her means love.

warnings: literally none because it's all fluff

author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU'VE GIVEN THIS SERIES 🥹😭🩶 also i had a different collage for this but i didn't like it so here's a new one

This happens once every few lifetimes These chemicals hit me like white wine

Marriage happens every few lifetimes, but not for you. You once thought you were going to marry Carlos. Looking back now, you're extremely grateful that you didn't marry Carlos last year. The 'chemicals' of love that you had with Carlos had an intoxicating effect similar to white wine.

I circled you on a map I haven't come around in so long But I'm coming back so strong

After the Australian Grand Prix, you and Oscar decided to spontaneously get married here since all of the important people in your life are here in his home country. The wedding ceremony was being held at the beach that Oscar's parents had private access to.

As you're walking down the aisle with your father, you start tearing up seeing Oscar wait for you at the alter. Everything you've always wanted is finally happening.

Once you reach the alter, your father gives your hand to Oscar. "Take care of my daughter." Your father smiles as tears form in his eyes.

"Forever and always." Oscar says to your father and takes your hand from him. Oscar walks you up the alter and you both look at Zak. Zak was officiating the wedding ceremony.

"The bride and groom have decided to say their vows to each other." Zak looks at you telling you to go first.

"Oscar Jack Piastri. I can't believe we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other." You smile in disbelief that you're actually getting married. "I remember when we first met, we had a shot of tequila together cheering to new beginnings for both of us. That night Lando ended up wasted while I was a little bit tipsy. You drove us back to our hotel on an empty Las Vegas Strip. The song 'Downtown Lights' by the Blue Nile started playing in your McLaren and we found that we both loved this song. We sang it loudly while Lando was passed out drunk in the back seat. I didn't know it at that time but it was going to be alright because I found the love of my life." Oscar wipes the tears falling from his face while you continue to speak.

"That week was the first time coming back to the paddock in so long. I remember breaking down in Lando's room because of something an ex said about my papaya family and I. You were so worried about me even though our relationship was barely building. I remember you told me 'it's time to crack these locks from him and start throwing rocks at that past relationship.' After that night I circled you on the map of my heart and came back so strong." You finish your set of vows and the Oscar speaks his.

Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

"Y/N Marie Norris. If you're shocked that we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other. Well honey, I'll do you one better. I'm surprised I'm marrying a MILF." Everyone including you two laughed at the joke Oscar made about you being older. "But in all seriousness, I'm so happy I'm getting to marry you. I remember when you told me that night in Abu Dhabi that you loved me. I was the happiest man alive because I started to love you too." Tears start dripping from your face as you recall the night in Abu Dhabi.

"I know you have been through the slammer in your past relationship, but the universe knew your heart was always reserved for me. There was no reason to fight to alchemy because you're the one for me."

Once Oscar finishes his vows, Zak continues with the ceremony. You two put your rings on each other and Zake announces you two as Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

yourinstagram thank you to the man that dumped me, i found the man the universe reserved for me 💍🤍✨

oscarpiastri i love my milf wife 😏

yourinstagram LOVE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GET ME PREGNANT BEFORE YOU CALL ME THAT landonorris you're basically a milf @/yourinstagram yourinstagram i'm only 26 😭 landonorris you're basically 30 at this point sister, you can't deny it. please give me a niece/nephew soon 🙏 leo can't be my only nephew, he needs a cousin charlesleclerc i agree with this. @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri please have a child soon so leo can have a play mate. alexandrasaintmleux preferably a human one so i can convince charles to give me one too @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri i'll start working on it soon 🫡

user1 OSCAR'S COMMENT IS SO UNHINGE I LOVE IT HAHAHA

user2 i love that lando is playing along with it too HAHAHA they were always meant to be family 🥹 user3 i love that alexandra and charles are playing along too user4 maybe baby piastri might be coming soon 👀

oscarpiastri honestly, who are we to fight to alchemy? mr. and mrs. piastri 💍

yourinstagram the love of my life 🥺🤍✨

liked by author

logansargeant so glad you found the girl of your american dreams

liked by author and yourinstagram

landonorris STOP RUBBING OFF ON MY MAN HE'S AUSTRALIAN yourinstagram excuse me @/landonorris he's legally mine now step aside

zbrownceo congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍🧡

liked by author and yourinstagram

yourinstagram thank you zak for officiating the wedding. this wouldn't have happened without you 🥹

mclaren the papayas are now married 🥹🧡 congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍 now we need papaya babies

racerbia please we need a papaya baby around the paddock @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 🥹👶🧡 yourinstagram we're working on it @/mclaren @/racerbia 🫡 user1 BABY PAPAYA IS IN THE WORKS!!!

f1news A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN: After 4 months of knowing each other, Oscar Piastri and Y/N Norris, Piastri's teammate's sister, decided to tie the knot. This is definitely better than the disaster of a wedding Norris had with Ferrari driver, Carlos Sainz.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri!

user1 the way she went from thinking she lost the love of her life to then finding the love of her life on the team where she truly belonged at 🥹🧡

user2 CARLOS BETTER BE CRYING AT WHAT COULD'VE BEEN

user3 papaya love 🥺🧡

****

I haven't come around in so long But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

After your wedding and honeymoon, you shortly found out that you were 10 weeks pregnant. You didn't notice you were pregnant at first with all the traveling you do until you took a break on your honeymoon. At the end of the trip, you felt like you had a stomach bug but it wasn't. When you went to the doctor to check what was wrong, she calmed you down by telling you that you were pregnant.

You've never seen Oscar so happy in your life other than your wedding day; you were shock on the other hand. At the doctor visit you asked your doctor when she thought the baby was conceived and she said January 22. That was the night when you made love for the first time.

"I still can't believe I'm pregnant," you exclaim as you two were relaxing on the couch. Oscar puts his hands on your stomach and starts rubbing it. "I don't think I can go to the races anymore."

"I know honey, it's okay." Oscar kisses your lips softly. "I know you'll support your favorite guys no matter what."

"Actually you're my favorite, Lando is ..." As you were about to continue you started to remember the comment Lando put on your wedding post. "Lando is going to be so happy that he's getting a niece or nephew soon."

"I understood the assignment Lando, Charles, and Alexandra told me to do." You laugh together recalling how they all wanted you two to start having a child as soon as possible.

****

For your 27th birthday, you decided to celebrate in Miami where Lando and Oscar were racing at. Even though Oscar wasn't on the podium that day, you were so happy for Lando. Finally Lando got his first ever win in F1.

Once Lando got away from the crowd and back into his private room in the garage, you decided to congratulate him. "Congrats little bro. It's been a long time coming." You hug Lando tightly but then he pulls away feeling your 15 week baby bump.

"Y/N are you pregnant?" Lando asks still on his high of happiness, you nod yes and Lando gets more excited. "YES THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

"That's why she hasn't been coming to the races because we wanna make sure the baby is safe." Oscar explains to a very happy Lando.

"My doctor finally approved me to travel to certain countries. I'm making a comeback to where I belong." You smile as Lando hugs you one more time.

****

The next race you went to was Emilia Romagna Grand Prix, you were currently 18 weeks pregnant. You decided to stay in Oscar's private room since you wanted to ditch the crowds.

Once the race was over and the crowds went home, Oscar, Lando, and Charles with Alexandra came into Oscar's private room to see you. You had messaged Alexandra earlier telling her you wanted to catch up with her and meet baby Leo.

"Hey Y/N ..." Alexandra stops talking after seeing your growing baby bump. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!" Charles finally comes in with baby Leo in his hands.

"You understood the assignment." Charles smiles at Oscar and gives him a side hug. "Congrats my friend."

Your celebration of happiness was interrupted by a Spanish man knocking on your door, "Lando where are you?"

Lando opens the door wide to let the Spanish driver in, "What's up Carlos?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on getting 2nd. It was one hell of a fight." He smiles at Lando until he looks around and is confused what's going on. "Why are you guys here?" Asking Charles and Alexandra.

Alexandra, happy for your bundle of joy says, "Y/N is pregnant. Isn't it exciting?"

"It is," you smile at Carlos with your pregnancy glow radiating off you. "Oscar was so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby girl. As soon as we told Lando about the gender, him and Oscar were online shopping on the couch together." You look back at Alexandra telling her about your pregnancy.

"My niece needs to have the best of the best. Oscar and I were looking at the McLaren merch to see if the factory can make baby versions of it." Carlos didn't care what Lando was saying because all of his attention was on you. Oscar's hands were wrapped around you and your midsection. "Carlos are you listening?"

"Yeah," Carlos coughs. "Congrats on your pregnancy Y/N and Oscar." Carlos says and leaves the McLaren room.

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads Beer sticking to the floor Cheers chanted, cause they said There was no chance, trying to be The greatest in the league Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

It was the end of the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles had won the race and Oscar was in second place. As soon as Oscar parked his car and ran out to you so he can hug and kiss. All cameras were on you two as this was the first time you were showing your baby bump to the public. Before Oscar went up to the podium, he kneeled down and kiss your baby bump.

The rest of the McLaren plus Lando, lifted Oscar away from you so that he can get to the podium. There Oscar and Charles got their trophies while you and Alexandra were smiling happily at them. Once the national anthems were played, the drivers got to spray each other with champagne.

There's no chance to be the greatest in league due to Max's dominance in F1, but you knew Oscar was on a high right now in life. From getting married, to soon having a baby girl, and now getting his first podium of the season. Life was just beautiful.

These blokes warm the benches We been on a winning streak He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E"

Once Charles was done with his post race interview, the interviewer starts talking to Oscar. "Congrats Oscar on your first podium of the season and becoming a father soon. It's amazing how these two happened weeks apart."

"Thank you for the congratulations. From getting married at my home country, to finding out we'll be having a baby girl, to now getting my first podium of the season. I'm truly on a high with life right now." Oscar smiles at the camera knowing that you're watching the post race interview with Lando.

"Right now McLaren is in 3rd place for constructor's standings compared to last year's standings at 6th place. Tell me what you and Lando are doing for the team." The interviewer asks.

"Well Lando has been on a winning streak getting podiums after China but to be honest we're not doing anything different. It's all my wife's doing. I joke with her that she's like heroin but this time with an 'E' at the end." Everyone except for Carlos in the room laughs at Oscar's little joke.

"And soon you're going to be having a baby girl." Charles adds to the conversation. "You'll have two lucky charms on track." They both smile at the interviewer before they move on to Carlos' interview.

This happens once every few lifetimes

yourinstagram this happens once every few lifetimes 🌊 ✨

tagged oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri thank god for the alchemy or else our love would've never created this ✨

liked by author

taylorswift congrats mama can't wait to meet her

liked by author

user1 mother swift approves of oscar and y/n using the alchemy lyrics 🥹

user2 MOTHER IS ACTUALLY BECOMING A MOTHER AHHHHH

mclaren BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON 🥺👶🧡✨

liked by author

oscarpiastri baby papaya coming soon 🧡

tagged yourinstagram

mclaren baby papaya is already so loved by the mclaren family 🥺🧡

liked by author and yourinstagram

racerbia yay! i get to be a tita aunt to a little papaya 🧡

liked by author and yourinstagram

landonorris IM CALLING DIBS ON BEING THE GOD FATHER

yourinstagram i already picked a god father and it isnt you landonorris WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT ISN'T ME? charlesleclerc it's me and alex landonorris WHAT!! @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri say sike 😭 oscarpiastri she's messing around with you of course your the god father landonorris thank god 😅 charlesleclerc have another one already so i can be the god father to that one yourinstagram LET ME HAVE MY BABY FIRST

user1 not lando and charles fighting over who's gonna be the god father 🤣

user2 i love how they’re calling the baby "baby papaya" instead of "baby piastri" 🥺

f1news BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON: After Oscar's first podium of the season, the couple has announced that they are expecting their first bundle of joy weeks after getting married. The driver had made it know that Y/N Piastri, his wife and teammate's sister, was expecting after running to her before he went on the podium.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri on your bundle of joy!

user1 OSCAR MOVING IN THE FAST LANE WHILE CARLOS IS GETTING HIS HEART PUNCTURED LIKE HIS TIRE 🤣

user2 wonder how carlos is feeling after seeing his ex fiance go from getting married to now being pregnant in a span of a few weeks

user3 who cares because he missed his shot of having this in his life

user4 did you see that carlos was about to cry while oscar was talking about y/n and the baby? 😭

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3

[yoonbroom]

BTS FIC RECS

a list of BTS fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 if there wasn't a summary I just included a little blurb from the fics! and anything with * are my own thoughts. now onto the recs ↓

KIM SEOKJIN

TURN BACK TIME - @raplinesmoon

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut

After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

WITH YOU - @yoonpobs

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, ceo, marriage, divorce, parent

marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.

UNTITLED - @eoieopda

drabble, fluff, est relationship, parent

"I loved the dad joon and dad yoongs drabble 🥹 it's freaking cuteeee omg jade 😭😭 *whisper* can you do dad-to-be or dad seokjin too please...? I'm on a seokjin missing hour 🥹 thank you ❤️❤️"

LONG TERM COUPLE - @taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, idol au, strangers to lovers

long term couple masterlist *the whole long term couple series is honestly one of my faves😭*

MIN YOONGI

LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

long term couple masterlist

NO MORE - @gyukult

series (two-shot), angst, smut, fluff, unrequited love, college, secret relationship

yoongi doesn’t like your consistent pining, and one day, after finally coming to terms that he will never reciprocate any feelings back, you give up. yet, for some reason, yoongi is the one who can’t come to terms with the consequences of when he says ‘no more.’

VOWS AKA 10 WAYS TO WIN YOUR HUSBAND'S HEART - @hamsterclaw

series, fluff, angst, smut, arranged marriage, est relationship

You’ve been in your arranged marriage with Yoongi for five years, and he’s never once retaliated for anything you’ve done to him. One day you realise you’ve lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

CARE FOR YOU - @archivedkookie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, marriage, doctor au

Yoongi will always care for you, no matter what.

BABY, YOU CAN DRIVE MY CAR PT.2- @jungshookz

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, mechanic au

welcome to min mechanics - what can i do for you today, doll?

THE TROPHY WIFE - @taeyohonic

oneshot, fluff, angst, est relationship, idol au

the proposal doesn’t go as planned

BACK-BURNER - @/yoonpobs

series, angst, fluff, smut, sisters best friend, friends to lovers

sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

VEGAS BABY - @chimivx

series, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, parent au

A peek into the life of an Idol and his soulmate tackling the obstacles that come with having a surprise in the whirlwind of a world they live in. { This link takes you to the full collection of works. }

JUNG HOSEOK

LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au

long term couple masterlist

ONE NIGHT LIGHT - @bts-reveries

series, fluff, angst, smau, parent

Hoseok has been living his very own version of a perfect life. Unlike some of his best friends, this doesn’t include a happy marriage, adorable kids, or even a stable relationship. All he would ever need was music, dancing, and of course, the parties. Now what happens when he gets a wake up call from reality when the door rings approximately six years after his last one night stand?

AT THE CONCERT - @katnisspeetaprim

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

Hoseok was quite insistent that you come to this show in particular...

KIM NAMJOON

LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au

long term couple masterlist

UNTITLED - @/eoieopda

drabble, fluff, est relationship, parent au

dad!joon

ALONE ON YOUR BIRTHDAY - @monimonimoon

drabble, angst, est relationship

Namjoon promised he would be there on your birthday, he wouldn't be working, he certainly wouldn't work late. Sometimes, increasingly frequently, he broke his promises.

ME AND YOUR MAMA - @joonberriess

oneshot, smut, fluff, est relationship

you like to remember both what life before the little one was and after with your loving boyfriend namjoon.

PARK JIMIN

ROCK BOTTOM - @jkbabiey

oneshot, angst, fluff, smut, marriage, idol au

When, in a four-year marriage, you get to the point where you question its worth, you know that’s your rock bottom. How many I’m sorry’s will you handle? How many times are too many times?

MASK ON - @herherteartear

series, fluff, angst, smau, single dad au

blind dates are never the move.. unless your best friend is vouching for the person you're going on a date with. it couldn't be that bad, right? wrong. now you're in love with a man who has a big secret. a big secret with chubby cheeks and pig tails.

LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, idol au

long term couple masterlist

KIM TAEHYUNG

MINI ME - @bts-reveries

series, fluff, angst, smau, strangers to lovers, parent au, artist au

Unlike his best friends, Taehyung was young, wild, and free. No relationship, no babies, no responsibilities. Well he had his puppy, but that was it. Taehyung watched his nieces and nephews grow up and it was no secret that he too wanted to have one of his own someday. So what will happen when he finally finds someone that matches his personality (and himself) well?

WELCOME TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL - @tteokggukk

oneshot, fluff, idol au, strangers to lovers

"He’s been watching your videos for quite some time now, ever since your channel started rising. Art was one of his major interests and he absolutely adored the way you made your videos with the calming, ASMR-like sound of mixing paint and how you skillfully glided the brush across the canvas. On days when he found himself tired and in need of a quick way to relax, he’d subconsciously find himself binge watching videos on your channel— even repeating several videos since you were only starting. He found it fascinating, but also because he found you interesting."

ONE OF THE BOYS - @littlemisskookie

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, high school

All your life you wanted only one thing- for Kim Taehyung to like you. You did everything you could to make this happen, from picking up his hobbies and rejecting anything feminine. But who do you start to become when you stop trying to impress him?

LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, smut, (best)friends to lovers, idol au

long term couple masterlist

"I WISH ID NEVER MET YOU" " I HATE YOU" - @v-hope

oneshot, angst, idol au

"pls do 12 and 27 with tae (angst)"

JEON JUNGKOOK

UNTITLED - @onlyswan

oneshot, fluff, angst, est relationship, idol au

in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

ME AND MY HUSBAND - @gashinabts

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, est relationship, parent au

You don’t want to brag but you have the world’s greatest husband. Jungkook packs your lunch everyday, and makes cute shapes with the fruit. There’s even a little note, ‘ Have a good day at work, Baby! <3’. Smiling to yourself you place the note down, and eat your food with content.

17 GOING ON 27 - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, photographer au

one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken.

HOME - @bonny-kookoo

oneshot, fluff, smut, idol au

Singing about love without having experienced it properly before, Jungkook felt a little foolish- as if he didn’t quite have the rights to the words he’d put out there for others to listen to. But Jungkook also loved to learn new things; and loving you was one of them.

LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches

series, fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au

long term couple masterlist

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

[therealcocoshady]

Could you make a one shot where Marshall x Reader have been dating for almost 2 years, they start talking about kids and the thought of reader pregnant is a big turn on for him.

Author’s Note : Thank you for your request 💕. I hope you enjoy this ! ⭐️

If you like my writing and want to support it, here’s my Ko-Fi (I’m also open for commission. It’s like a request but that way you’re 100% sure I see it fast & indulge you 😉 - rn I have 200+ asks in my Inbox. Also, by commissioning my work, you’re literally helping a struggling neurodivergent student get by !).

Baby talk

You were the first one to be surprised when you felt it. The desire to have kids. You had never been a kid person. You had always found these tiny humans to be terribly underwhelming. To be fair, you didn’t hate them. But you never really understood what all the fuss surrounding babies was. Puppies ? Yes. Kittens ? Absolutely. Human babies ? Meh. When you were a kid yourself, you didn’t show an interest in babies and, as far as you could remember, you had never really enjoyed playing with dolls. And growing up, you hadn’t shown more of an interest in the topic of motherhood. Older people had told you you’d change your mind and eventually come to want kids of your own but you doubted it. When you became an adult and got into serious relationships, you had that talk with your partners and you told them you didn’t want to have children. You enjoyed your free time, being able to sleep until noon if you wanted to, the possibility of spending money on silly things like an impromptu girls trip to Vegas or a new handbag instead of diapers and an overpriced daycare. In your mind, it was clear that you weren’t meant to be a mother. You did have a lot of love and admiration for parents around you, but you didn’t envy them. So you built a child free life that was absolutely wonderful. Sure, it hurt a bit when your previous partner ended up breaking up with you because he changed his mind about kids and you didn’t. But you understood his decision and knew it was the right thing to do, rather than forcing yourself to have kids when you did not have any actual desire for it. You didn’t want to force yourself to live a life that did not resemble you, taking the risk of one day resenting the children you never wanted to raise in the first place. It all worked out in the end : your ex went on to marry a woman who, from what you heard, was wonderful and have a kid with her, and you ended up meeting the love of your life. 

Marshall was everything you hoped to find in a partner. He was kind, funny, thoughtful, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and handsome. Yes, he was older than you, but he was definitely young at heart. If anything, you benefited from his experience in life. Also, him being older and having three grown-up children meant that he was « done with all of that », which was a relief. The feeling was mutual, his lack of desire for more kids having caused a couple of breakups for him as well. But just because the two of you decided not to have babies didn’t mean you didn’t have your hands full with them. Marshall was a loving uncle to his brother’s three kids and you were entering that stage of your life where all your friends were starting families. So whether it was a birthday party, a basketball game, a recital or a baby shower… you had your share of kid-related activities. You liked it though. More than you ever thought you would. Marshall being very family-oriented, he loved that you were involved with his family. Together, you built a perfect life. You had all the fun that came with being around kids, without the obligations. You were the fun aunt and uncle, who enjoyed spoiling other people’s kids rotten and playing with them, before happily handing them back to their parents and letting them handle the sugar crash and the noise caused by the toys you bought them. You thought you’d spend the rest of your life just like this, perfectly content, enjoying a peaceful existence with your boyfriend, with whom you would eventually grow old. 

But then, without seeing it coming, you found yourself thinking about it. Wondering how you would look like with a baby bump. Pregnant ladies had always looked like aliens to you, but you started thinking you’d actually be cute, carrying a little baby. Marshall’s baby. A baby with the cutest nose, pouty lips and the most beautiful blue eyes. The thought of a baby that would be part you part Marshall had your heart melt. And you knew he’d be such a good baby daddy, too. Obviously, he had raised three amazing daughters he was very proud of, but he was also amazing with other people’s children. He was his nephews’ favorite person in the world and he was so great with your friends’ babies. So you found yourself thinking that, if you got accidentally pregnant, it wouldn’t be the worst thing on earth. Sure, it would be inconvenient, but maybe you’d keep it. Not that it would ever happen anyway, since you were more than diligent with birth control. Then, it turned into thinking about what your life would actually look like with a little one. And you figured that, what you would have found dreadful years ago, maybe wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you’d crush it as a soccer mom. Maybe there was actually something beautiful in having kids with someone you love, teaching them stuff and watching them grow up. 

Then, one day, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You actually wanted to have kids. With Marshall. You were at the store, doing your weekly shopping. How you ended up in the baby aisle, you weren’t sure. But you found yourself mesmerized by the tiny items of clothing. Eventually, you came to your senses and mentally slapped yourself. You were with a man in his fifties, who already had his kids and did not want more. Now was not the time to change your mind. As if to imprint the thought in your brain, you went and stocked on condoms, buying a fuckton of them. The cashier even threw you a weird glance. You probably looked like you were doing  a comparative study, getting a bit of everything from ribbed ones to flavored ones. Marshall chuckled when he saw them in the bag. 

That’s a lot of condoms, he chortled. 

Yeah, there was some kind of sale, you lied. 

He shrugged it off and promised to put them to good use. You knew he would make good on his word and figured you just needed to have that silly idea banged out of your system. Except that it didn’t work. You went a few months without talking to him about it. But the more time went on, the more you realized you really wanted a baby with this man. You still liked the idea of having a flexible schedule and 9 hours of sleep a night. But you didn’t love it as much as you loved the idea of carrying this man’s offspring. And the more time went on, the harder it was not to talk to him about it. You dreaded this, though. Because you’d been on the receiving end of that conversation. Of not wanting kids and having someone you loved tell you that they wanted to start a family with you, and having to disappoint them and see the heartbreak in their eyes. So you put it off as long as you could. Until one evening, you weren’t able to hold yourself. 

I think I want a baby, you blurted out when you walked in the kitchen while Marshall was cooking dinner.

You think you want what, baby ? He asked as he turned to you. Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the noise of that kitchen fan. 

No, I said I-I think I want a baby, you repeated nervously. 

You think you want a baby ? He repeated carefully. 

I mean… yeah, you simply said. 

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Clearly, you were taking him by surprise. He turned off the fan and the kitchen stove, before walking to you. 

That’s new, he said matter-of-factly. 

Kind of, you admitted. I mean… I’ve been thinking about it for some time now. 

So you don’t think you to have want a baby. You know you want to have one, he pointed out. 

Y-yeah. I’m sorry, you mumbled as you looked down. 

For how long have you thought about it ? He asked. 

I’m not sure, you admitted. Does it matter ? 

I thought you didn’t want to be a mom, he said. That you were perfectly happy with being an aunt. That it was the best of both worlds. That’s what you said. 

I know, you replied. And I meant it. I’m as surprised as you are, really. But then I thought about how I’d react if I got pregnant. And I realized I wouldn’t mind that. Having a baby that’s part you and part me. 

Oh wow, he said as he scratched the back of his head. 

Yeah, you hummed. And I thought it was just something random and that I’d forget about it. But I can’t. And it’s been months now, and I think you have great genes and that our baby would be really cute. And Target has the most adorable baby clothes and I know condoms are cheaper than a college education but there were little bunnies on the pajamas I saw the other day and I also found out that they make baby Jordan sneakers that look like the ones you love and-

You caught yourself rambling and stopped talking. Now, you weren’t making any sense and you were just dumping the whole thing on him. Probably not the best way to go about it. He was staring at you with an amused look on his face. 

I’m sorry, you said will a sad voice. I know you’re done with it. We’ve talked about it and I know it really sucks that I’m changing my mind but I needed to tell you because I’ve been thinking about it a lot and-

Do you plan on letting me speak ? He asked with a smile. 

Yes. Sorry. 

Ok, he chuckled. I have a few questions. Is there a reason why you changed your mind ? 

Well… you, I guess, you shrugged. I mean, I love you, and I see what an amazing father, what a great uncle you are. 

Ok, he said. And, another question : is that something you want ? Or is it something you need ? 

I don’t know, you admitted. I’m really happy with our life just the way it is. I don’t need a baby to be fulfilled and for my life to have meaning. But I can’t stop thinking of how much I’d like a baby with you. 

Ok, he hummed. So… it’s not something you’d break up over ? 

No, you said. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. And I don’t think I want a baby if I can’t have it with you. You’re the reason I want one. Because the baby I have in my mind… he has your eyes, your nose and your smile. 

Meh. Doesn’t sound too cute, he chuckled. If anything, it sounds like an ad for contraception. 

Oh, come on, you giggled. 

But… he ? He asked with a smile. 

Sometimes she, you corrected. I never really wanted kids so I don’t really care, I guess. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just dump this whole thing on you… we both know this talk sucks. But I couldn’t really keep it to myself. I needed to tell you. I’m sorry. 

Quit apologizing, babe, he said reassuringly. I’m glad you told me. 

Really ? You asked nervously. 

Of course, he replied. I can tell it hasn’t been easy for you. 

You nodded and he pulled you into his arms before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent. You definitely felt lighter after telling him, even though it didn’t really change anything. 

So… can I get back to you on that ? He finally asked. 

Huh ?! You asked as you looked up from his chest.

I think I’m gonna need a bit of time to think about it, he continued. I can’t promise I’ll say yes. But I’ll consider it. 

Wait… seriously ? You asked in shock. 

Isn’t that why you brought it up in the first place ? He mused. 

I don’t know, you said. I guess I mostly expected you to convince me it was a terrible idea. I mean, you’ve broken up with people over that. 

So have you, he pointed out. But it’s you. It’s us. What we have is different. I feel like my family’s complete so I never really wanted to have another kid. But I’m in love with you. And if there’s anyone I’d give it a shot with… it’s you. 

Ok, you said with an emotional smile. 

I’m not saying yes to anything, though, he warned. Don’t get your hopes up. 

But you’re not saying no, you pointed out with a smile. 

I’m not, he agreed. Because even though having kids can be tough… it’s pretty great, too. And I know you’d be a great mom. 

You flashed him a smile and buried your face in his chest.  The simple fact that he was willing to consider it because he loved you filled your heart with joy. 

You didn’t really bring up the topic in the following weeks, but you could see a change in Marshall’s demeanor whenever someone around you talked about kids. You could absolutely tell he was thinking about it. You weren’t too sure what the best way to go about it was. Of course, you were curious to know how he felt about it, what was on his mind. But you didn’t want to be annoying and press him on the matter, so you figured that it was probably better to wait for him to get back to you on that, once his mind was made up. 

Waiting was trying, though. Because in the meantime, you had to watch him interact with countless babies and young children, feeling like your ovaries exploded. Patience is a virtue and that waiting period was definitely an opportunity for you to practice it. Thankfully, it finally came to an end when you came back from work to Marshall waiting for you in the living room, with a bouquet of roses on the table, as well as a paper bag. You greeted him and thanked him for the nice gesture.

What’s the occasion ? You asked. 

Since when do I need a special  occasion to treat my woman to some roses and a present ? He asked back. 

Touché, you giggled. Thank you my love. Can I open the bag ? 

Not yet, he said. I want you to have a look at this first. 

He handed you some papers and you skimmed through it. It was a printing of his schedule for the foreseeable future. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

That’s, erm, fine ? You said, unsure of what he was expecting you to say. 

It’s my schedule, he said. For the next two years. 

I see that, you chuckled. I’m just not sure why you’re showing it to me ? You usually don’t consult me when it comes to your work schedule. 

As you can see, I’ve moved a couple of trips that were already planned, he explained as he pointed to a few dates. Meaning that I’ll be going to LA a little bit more in the upcoming three months. But after that, no more work trips and I put a hold on the performance planning. I’ll stay in Detroit. 

Ok ? You said - still not grasping what he was getting at. That’s nice. But why did you change the schedule ? Is there a specific reason why you need to stay here ? 

Apparently, when you’re trying to have a baby with your woman, it’s better to be in the same city, he grinned. 

You stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly agape. Marshall was smiling from ear to ear. Next thing he knew, you were in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, peppering your face with kisses. 

Oh my God, you said emotionally. Really ? Oh I love you so much, Marshall ! 

I love you too, he hummed. 

I can’t believe it, you whispered. Wait- What’s in the bag ? 

Open it, he chuckled. 

You reached for it and saw it contained a bunch of ovulation prediction kits, pregnancy tests, some folic acid and some lube. 

Apparently, these are the basic essentials for trying to conceive, he commented. 

You’re amazing, you said with the biggest smile on your face. So… we’re doing this ? We’re making a baby ?

If you haven’t changed your mind, yeah, he nodded. 

As a response, you threw yourself in his arms and kissed him passionately. He chuckled into the kiss and cupped your face, staring at you lovingly. 

I’ll give you the cutest baby, you promised. 

I have no doubt, he grinned. 

Do you think I’ll be a pretty pregnant lady ? You mused. 

Are you kidding me ? He asked. God, you’re going to be so hot. The thought of you carrying my baby… You have no idea the things it does to me. 

Oh yeah ? Like what ? You asked defiantly. Show-

Before you had the chance to finish your sentence, Marshall had you pinned to the couch and was grinding against you. It didn’t matter that you were both fully clothed, you could feel his excitement through the fabric. 

I’m gonna fill your pretty pussy, he promised. And I’m gonna make a pretty mama out of you. 

Mmmyes, you whimpered. 

Gonna give you a pretty belly, he continued. I can’t wait to see you carry our child. Can’t wait to start trying. 

When ? You asked pleadingly.  

How about now ?  He whispered in your ear. 

[mj1343]

The Fallout Show, The NCR, Vegas, and Taking a Chill Pill

Fallout Show spoilers hi

i knew when i saw they were going to touch Shady Sands people would get angry regardless of what they did and i totally 100% understand being upset with the treatment of that location and the choices of writing that it took to get there but i genuinely do not understand the sentiment that Vegas is noncanon all of a sudden

Shady Sands is where the NCR formed and the first capital but they do not exclusively exist there. We know by New Vegas the NCR holds a lot of territory, and has territories they want to claim in the future:

'Hayes: "Sure can. The NCR was founded from the survivors of one of the great Vaults. We started as a small settlement called Shady Sands. We now consist of 5 states, that make up the greatest nation since the Great War."'

'NCR history holodisk: "Founded eighty years ago, the NCR is now comprised of the states of Shady, Los Angeles, Maxson, Hub, and Dayglow. Approximately 700,000 citizens are pleased to call NCR home."

In fact, we SEE a small sect of NCR remnants IN THE SHOW. I know a small group of people does not equate an entire nation but just the fact people are still fighting under the flag means they are not magically game ended forever and it is VERY overzealous to assume the ENTIRE NCR was housed in Shady Sands as late as 2277 when we know they were incorporating new territories before AND AFTER 2277

On the 'Vegas is a desolate nuked wasteland' front, i also genuinely do not understand it because, shockingly, locations IRL are larger than they are in the game!!!! The Strip in New Vegas is what, two cells? and one road with 4 casinos on it? The irl Strip is a 4 mile stretch of road that can have anywhere from 30 to 50+ casinos depending who you ask and over 100 casinos in all of Vegas easily. I understand they flash the Lucky 38 and the New Vegas sign to get excitement built but we have to look at scale a lot differently in the show than in the games. There are many scenes (which i have criticized) that are completely empty deserts for miles to see. Hell, the scale of the Vaults is different because they need to actually function as a building and not a location in a video game.

Yes. We see a few dead securitrons in the ending. You know where else you can find dead securitron? Littered about in the hit 2010 role playing game Fallout New Vegas. This is not a sign of desolation. This is a sign of some wasteland asshole killed a few. There are no people on the strip because this is supposed to drum up intrigue and tease a second season. We Do Not Know what has happened in Vegas. There could be hundreds of people on the strip and we just dont see them because they wanted a moody shot with no one in it. We have no idea. But you want to know what i can reasonably assume? it WASNT NUKED. because SHADY SANDS WAS NUKED AND ITS A CRATER AND YOU CAN STILL SEE EVERYTHING IN VEGAS STANDING. This is a post apocalypse franchise that, for better or worse (mostly worse) prides itself on Not Fixing Things from 200 years ago. A broken building or sign in New Vegas at the end of the show Does Not Mean New Vegas is completely removed from canon.

I know. I know you guys cannot be happy with anything Bethesda touches. I know you refuse to just take a breather for a moment. And i understand and entirely agree nuking a notable location from the original games is dirty. i am not giving Bethesda credit. There was some good in the show and some bad. I Understand. But this show has not decanonized New Vegas in any way and i truely do not understand the outrage from this point of view specifically. You can be angry about anything else. i know i cannot stop you if i wanted to. You will always find something to be mad about. But PLEASE think critically about this for a moment

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

What do you think are Raul Tejadas favorite and least favorite kinks? I think he'd enjoy doing it in his costume 😂

Raul Tejada (New Vegas) NSFW Headcanons

Much like with Cooper Howard, I think that it's been a very, very long time since Raul's been with anyone physically. He's spent a large part of his long life pretty deep in depression and survival mode in a way that I don't think would really lend itself to slinging a ton of dick around the desert, you know? Possible that he may have had a partner or partners when he and his sister were ekeing out a living among the incredibly irradiated remains of Mexico City, but the fact that the place was so overrun with raiders and fiends that Raul felt he had to turn to vigilantism doesn't really seem to lend itself to much romance, either. I think he's rusty and not exactly actively searching for a partner, but love often finds us at the most unexpected times.

Would take a pretty grand gesture of desire, in my opinion, to really convince him that you want that sort of relationship with him. I mean candles, whatever semblance of lingerie you can scrounge up, throwing yourself in his lap and basically begging for him, the whole nine yards. Lay it on thick, tell him how much you want him, how much you care about him, and I think he'll be receptive to getting physical...but he'll be incredulous for a good, long minute first. He's just incredibly beat down after so many hardships throughout the years and his self-confidence is shot full of holes.

I'm not convinced he's a "full-on penetrative sex the first time you two hook up" guy. I think he would like a few encounters to get to know your body and what you enjoy before the two of you get to that point. I think he would let you touch him early on, but over the clothes. Mostly, the early encounters would be about him getting to know your desires and reacquainting himself with his own.

This poor, tired, achy old man would be fairly lazy during sex. Don't get me wrong, he's embarrassed about it, and he's got more than enough strength and energy to make sure you're satisfied, but he's a big fan of laying back and watching you ride him, having sex laying on your sides, letting you bounce on him in reverse cowgirl and control the pace...pretty much any position that takes the stress off of his back and joints is a favorite of his. However, he isn't above pinning you down, or even picking you up to fuck you if you misbehave enough.

Canonically has a sweet tooth, like most old men (fun fact: as people age, their taste buds weaken, and, as a result, many older people have an affinity for sweet and spicy food, as those two flavor profiles remain fairly easy to detect as the ability to taste more complex flavors degrades). I bet he'd like to lick something sweet off of your naked body an awful lot. Granted, things like honey or whipped cream are difficult or impossible to get your hands on in the Wasteland, depending on where you are, so it might not be the easiest thing to pull off. But hey, you never know when you might come across a little bit of chocolate that you can melt, or something similar. Hell, the way the man loves himself a Sunset Sarsaparilla, maybe you could just dribble some of that on yourself and let him go to town.

Due to his insecurities, he loves an enthusiastic partner. He loves to be flirted with, romanced right back, treated like you see him as desirable. Little romantic gestures turn him on a lot. PDA makes him nervous (you never know how people are going to react to the presence of a ghoul, let alone a ghoul claiming to have a human partner), but when you two are alone, he likes to give and receive lots of kisses, affectionate embraces, ass pinches, whatever.

I'm not sure I can see him having sex in the costume (mostly because of the way he internally associates it with the death of his sister), but I can certainly see him still liking to play with certain "vaquero"-type activities. Rope play, for example. I don't think he'd be unopposed to tying your hands up if you misbehave.

Ass man ass man ass man ass man. Dude is checking out what you've got back there every chance he gets. One of his favorite ways to communicate that he's in the mood is to saddle up behind you and slide his erection up and down the cleft of your ass; it makes him even harder.

Because of the things he's seen and experienced, he's not willing to be rough with you. Passionate, sure. He'll fuck you hard, physically, but he isn't interested in violent or rough foreplay/sex. No primal play/dubcon/CNC play with him. BDSM in general isn't really his thing.

He also refuses to have sex with you when you're intoxicated in any way. The idea that there could possibly be any blurred lines when it comes to your consent makes him very uncomfortable.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 1st Of August In 1969.

Elvis Presley The 1969 Press Conference August 1st, 1969 Vegas NV.

Q: Elvis 'Why have you waited so long to perform Live again?' 'Did you return to Live Performing because of the Phenomenal successes of Wales Singer Tom Jones and British Crooner Engelbert Humperdinck?'

Elvis: (Elvis shook his head at the suggestion) 'I think they are great', 'But My decision to return was made in 1965, and it was hard to wait', ... 'I don't think I could have waited any longer' ... 'We had to finish up the movie commitments we had before I could start on this ... 'I missed the Live contact with an Audience'. 'It was getting harder and harder to sing to a camera all day'.

Q: 'Can you remember first coming to Vegas?'

Elvis: 'Sure, I was 19 years old'. (Elvis was actually 21) 'Nobody knew Me'.... 'Whe're you from...Boy?, They would ask'.

Q: 'How do you like being a father?'

Elvis: 'I like it!'

Q: 'Are you and Priscilla planning on adding to your Family?'

Elvis: 'You'll be the first to know'.

Q: 'What things do you do when you are at home at Graceland?'

Elvis: 'I ride horse back, swim and talk with the tourists hanging out at the gates'.

Q:'How does your wife feel about you being a Sex Symbol again?'

Elvis: 'I don't know... you would have to ask her'.

Q: 'Do your Wife and Daughter, Lisa Marie accompany you?'

Elvis: 'Priscilla is here,... but my Daughter is in L.A. with her Nanny'.... 'She could not make it'.

Q: 'How do you Manage to stay so Young?'.

Elvis: 'I don't know'. 'One of these days I'll probably fall apart'. 'I feel, I've just been lucky'.

Q: 'Are you tired of your present type of movie, have you grown tired of the movie plots?'

Elvis: 'Yes, I want to Change the type of Script I've been doing'.

Q: 'What kind of Scripts do you like?'

Elvis: 'Something with Meaning'.... 'I'm going after More Serious Material'. 'I couldn't dig always playing the Guy who'd get into a fight, Beat the Guy up,.., and in the Next Shot Sing to Him'.

Q: 'Do you think it was a mistake to do so many Movie Sound-Track Albums?'

Elvis: 'I think so'..... 'When you do Ten songs in a movie,they can't all be good songs'. 'Anyway',.. 'I got tired of Singing to Turtles'.

Q: 'When you met the Beatles', 'No press was allowed, why was that?'

Elvis: 'I think because we could relax more that way and we could talk Candidly'.

Q: 'Do you like to wear leather-jackets, like the one you wore in your TV-Special?'

Elvis: 'No'.... 'I hate wearing them, because they are too hot when your working'.

Q: 'Where did you get the design for your stage out-fits?'

Elvis: 'I got the idea by a Karate-gi,.. I once had'.

Q: 'What do you think of the Hollywood scene?'

Elvis: 'I just don't go for it....', 'I have nothing against it, but I just don't enjoy it'.

Q: 'How long did you rehearse for these shows?'

Elvis: 'I practised for nearly 3 months', 'Today I went through Three Complete Dress Rehersals'. 'This was the fourth time I did that show today', ... 'I'm really Beat'.

Q: 'How did you choose the songs for the show?'

Elvis: 'I just sang My Favorite Songs'.

Q: 'Do you want to do more Live Shows?'

Elvis: 'I want to ... I would like to play all over the World' ... 'I chose Las Vegas to Play First, Because it is a place People come to from All Over'.

Q: 'Are you trying to change your image with songs like 'In the Ghetto'?

Elvis: 'No, 'Ghetto' was such a great song, I just couldn't pass it up after I heard it'. 'There are a lot of New Records out now that have the same sound I started, ... But they're Better', ... 'I mean, you can't compare a song like 'Yesterday' with 'Hound Dog', ... Can You?'

Q: 'Why have you led such a secluded life all these years?'

Elvis: 'It's not secluded Honey' ... 'I'm just Sneaky'.

Q: 'Is it true you dye your hair?'

Elvis: 'Sure, I have always done it for the movies'.

Q: 'Did you enjoy performing Live again?'

Elvis: 'Yes ! ... 'This has been one of the Most Exciting Nights of my Life'.

Q: 'Did you feel nervous during the show?'

Elvis: 'For the First Three songs or so, I didn't feel relaxed until after Love me Tender before I loosened up' ... 'Then I Thought, What The Heck ... Get With It Man!, or you might be out of a Job Tomorrow'.

Q: 'Do you have a share in the International Hotel?'

Elvis: 'No, I have not'.

Q: 'Why did you choose a Negro backup group?:

Elvis: 'They help get a feeling and get to my soul'.

Q: 'Have you ever seen England's top singer, Cliff Richard?'

Elvis: 'Yes, I met him in Germany a long time ago'.

[Elvis was mistaken, he did not meet Cliff, but Cliff did try to meet Elvis, he visited one of Elvis' residences in Germany but unluckily for Cliff, Elvis was not home. Possibly Elvis was told the story and these years later miss-remembered the story. Memory does play tricks on people.]

Q: 'Mr. Presley',.. 'I've been sent here by 'Lord Sutch Enterprises' "To offer you One Million Pounds Sterling to make Two Apperances at the Wembley Empire Stadium in England',.... 'This Price will include a Documentary that will be Filmed during and after the Shows'. 'It will Only Take 24 Hours'.

Elvis: (Elvis points to Col.Parker) 'You'll have to ask him about that'.

Colonel Parker: 'Just put down the desposit'.

Elvis: 'Elvis, how much do you get paid for these performances?'

Colonel Parker: 'We are pleased with the deal. I am glad He is Here'.

Q: 'Is it true you get paid in International-stocks?'

Colonel Parker: (Parker Speaks up again) 'Certainly not'.... 'The only thing we get for Free are the Crickets in the Rooms'.

Q: 'Do you still own about 10 cars?'

Elvis: 'I have never owned that many'.... 'Only 4 or 5 at most'.

Q: 'Elvis is there any Other Individual You would Rather Be?'

Elvis: 'Are you Kidding?

Q: What’s it like to be the Grandfather of rock and roll?

(laughs). I didn’t know that I was.

Q: Are you doing shows because of the recent success of Tom Jones in cabaret?

No, that’s not the reason. Although I admire Tom Jones very much, and think he’s a great talent. I guess I felt it was time to do live shows because I missed doing them.

Q: I noticed in your repertoire you did some Beatles songs. What do you think of the Beatles and their material?

I admire the Beatles and think they are very good. The lyrics of pop songs are getting better all the time, they have more meaning.

Q: When you met the Beatles, why was there no press allowed?

I guess it was because we could relax and talk friendly to each other.

Q:  Did anyone influence you in your career?

Yes, people like him. (Elvis introduces Fats Domino). This is one of my influences from way back, Fats Domino. Just look at those rings and that diamond watch, aren't they fabulous?

All color candid photo's here taken at Elvis Presley's 1969 vegas press conference.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 6 - Nobody's Fool

Summary: In the aftermath of Elvis' last day in his 1969 Vegas residency, Valerie and Elvis get caught in a compromising position. A decision is made, and a plan is formulated. Late at night, Valerie and Elvis almost cross the point of no return.

There are moments when one wakes up, and everything seems okay. That blessed space between sleep and memory, before the brain catches up with your body? 

I had about three seconds of that peace before I opened my eyes and saw Elvis' jacket draped over my chair like a question mark.

The gin-stained dress I'd fallen asleep in clung to me like shame. My mouth tasted like I'd been gargling with Dean Martin's martini shaker. And somewhere in the building's guts, that damn dove was cooing its morning commentary.

The Colonel's note lay where I'd dropped it last night: "Meeting tomorrow, 2 PM sharp. Re: Memphis arrangements."

I looked at the clock. 1:07.

"Well, shit."

The phone rang before I could make it to the shower. For a moment, I considered letting it ring. But in Vegas, you learn quick that ignored calls have a way of turning into bigger problems.

"Hello?"

"Val? Thank God." my best friend’s voice carried all the manic energy of a Chicago morning. "I've been trying to reach you for hours! Have you seen the papers?"

I hadn't. Didn't want to.

"Listen, Dee, I can't really talk right now. I have a meeting—"

"About Memphis?"

The question hit like a slap. I sank onto the bed, still wearing last night's mistakes.

"How did you..."

"There's a blind item in the Tribune. 'Which Chicago music teacher has caught the King's eye? Sources say she's trading the Windy City for Graceland...'" Deena paused. "Val? Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

I practically felt whiplash from how fast the news got out. Through the wall, I could hear the Memphis Mafia stirring - boots on carpet, voices carrying through the International's expensive but thin walls. Red's laugh. Jerry's drawl. The sound of Elvis' world waking up.

"It's exactly what you think it is," I said finally. "And it's going to come out now anyway. His manager’s already planning how to 'handle' it."

The silence on the other end stretched like taffy.

"Holy shit," Deena whispered finally. "Holy actual shit. You and Elvis Presley? All this time? The mystery man you wouldn't tell me about... that was Elvis fucking Presley?"

"Dee—"

"But he's married! To that gorgeous wife who was in all the photos last night, kissing him like—" She stopped. "Oh honey. Those photos. Did you... were you there?"

The memory of that kiss, perfectly timed for the cameras, hit fresh. Elvis's hand on Priscilla's waist. The crowd's approving applause. Ann-Margret's knowing look.

"When I told you to ride that stallion till you break the saddle, I didn't mean steal someone else's horse!" Deena's voice cracked between humor and horror. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Elvis. Actually Elvis."

"I have to go," I said. "Meeting in, like, five minutes. Call me later." I lied. 

"Val, wait—"

I hung up. Stood there for a moment, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Last night's mascara made me look like a raccoon who'd lost a bar fight.

Time to face the music. Or in this case, the Colonel.

*

The Colonel's suite was a shrine to his greatest creation. Elvis stared down at me from every wall - movie posters, concert bills, gold records, photographs spanning from that first Sun Records publicity shot to last night's show. Young Elvis, GI Elvis, Hollywood Elvis, Comeback Elvis, Vegas Elvis. A hundred different versions of the same man, watching our little drama play out beneath their frozen gazes.

The irony wasn't lost on me. We were here to talk about Elvis, but the only Elvis present was made of paper and celluloid.

Red and Sonny flanked the door like bookends. Jerry lounged against a wall between "Love Me Tender" and "Blue Hawaii" posters, trying to look casual and failing. The Colonel himself sat behind a desk (flown in specially) that had probably witnessed a thousand deals, smoking a cigar that put out enough smoke to rival a carnival cotton candy machine.

"Ah, Miss Pedretti." The Colonel's eyes twitched with what might have been amusement. Or annoyance. "Right on time. Coffee?"

"No, thank you." I remained standing, though there was an empty chair positioned precisely in front of his desk - red velvet with gold tassels. The power play was obvious - him elevated, me lower. I wasn't playing. Behind him, a young Elvis smiled down at me. From the very early days. Had there been a girl standing in my spot that day too? Someone else who thought she was different, special?

“Suit yourself." The Colonel gestured at a stack of newspapers spread across his desk, right beneath a photo of Elvis signing his first RCA contract. His mom and dad were in the photo. Her eyes were sad. My eyes were sad looking at her. "I assume you've seen the morning editions?"

I hadn't, but I could see the headlines from where I stood. ELVIS ENDS VEGAS RUN WITH A KISS. KING AND QUEEN OF ROCK REUNITED. And smaller, in the gossip columns: MYSTERY WOMAN IN ELVIS' INNER CIRCLE?

"The paper’s been particularly... creative with their speculation," the Colonel continued. "Something about a Chicago singer-slash-music teacher?"

A distant coo echoed through the ventilation system. Even Tom's dove was eavesdropping.

"Now," the Colonel leaned forward, his head briefly blocking out Army Elvis's crisp salute in the frame behind him, "we need to discuss how we're going to handle your transition to Memphis. I've taken the liberty of arranging—"

"Where’s Elvis?"

The question landed like a grenade in church. Jerry straightened slightly. Red and Sonny suddenly found the ceiling fascinating - specifically, the spot where a massive photograph showed Elvis and the Colonel shaking hands on that first Vegas contract.

"Mr. Presley is... indisposed." The Colonel's voice could have frosted glass. "Mrs. Presley's flight leaves shortly, and certain... appearances must be maintained."

Of course. The real Elvis was playing the devoted husband one last time, seeing Priscilla off. Probably at this very moment they were posing for photographers at the airport, adding one more perfect image to the collection.

I looked at movie star Elvis smoldering down at me from the "Viva Las Vegas" poster. Had Ann-Margret stood in a room like this too? Had the Colonel tried to manage her the same way?

"As I was saying," the Colonel continued, "I've arranged for a house—"

"No."

His eyebrows climbed toward what was left of his hairline. "I beg your pardon?"

"No thank you?"

The silence that followed could have choked a carnival strongman. A hundred Elvises watched the standoff - jumpsuit Elvis, leather Elvis, clean-cut Elvis, rebel Elvis. All of them waiting to see what happened when someone said no to the Colonel.

"Miss Pedretti." He said it like he was explaining physics to a child. "Perhaps you don't understand how things work in Memphis. Mr. Presley's... companions require certain... accommodations."

"I'm not his companion." The words came out harder than I meant them. "I'm not his anything. I'm just going to Memphis."

The Colonel's laugh had all the warmth of a snake's belly. "My dear girl, nobody 'just' goes to Memphis. Not in Elvis' world." He pushed a folder across the desk, right past a framed photo of Elvis handing him a gold watch. "Now, I've had my people draw up some papers. Simple things - non-disclosure agreements, property arrangements, a modest monthly allow—"

"No." I didn't touch the folder. "I don't want your house or your money or your papers."

"Then what exactly do you want?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. What did I want? Elvis, obviously. But which one? I looked around the room at all his faces. Which one was real? The one who sang hymns with me? The one who kissed his wife for the cameras? The one who...

A knock at the door saved me from answering. Joe stuck his head in, looking harried.

"Colonel? Sorry to interrupt, but we got a situation. Seems Dean Martin's passed out in the fountain again, and he's telling everyone who'll listen about Elvis and the towel incident..."

The Colonel's face went through several interesting color changes. "Christ on a cracker. Red, Sonny - go handle that. Jerry, get the car ready. Mrs. Presley can't be late for her flight." He turned back to me. "This conversation isn't over, Miss Pedretti."

"Yes," I said quietly. "It is."

I walked out before he could respond, passing under the watchful eyes of a dozen paper Elvises. Behind me, I heard Jerry whistle low.

"Girl's got stones," he murmured to someone.

"Girl's got a death wish," came the response.

Maybe they were both right. I glanced back one last time as the door closed. The Colonel sat fuming beneath his gallery of conquests - every image a reminder of his control over Elvis's destiny.

But I wasn't going to be just another picture on his wall.

*

I found Elvis in his suite, standing at the window in an emerald green suit that hung perfectly on his tall, lithe frame. He was watching something in the distance - maybe the desert, maybe nothing. The real thing was somehow both more and less than all those images in the Colonel's room.

Our reflections caught in the window glass - him in that perfect suit, me still wearing yesterday's mascara and this morning's doubts. Despite myself, I let my eyes linger on the picture we made together. We looked good, in a way that had nothing to do with staging or the Colonel's careful arrangements. Where Priscilla was all porcelain perfection and carefully coiffed hair, I was warmer, earthier. My olive skin glowed next to Elvis's golden tan. My long dark hair fell in natural waves, untamed by hairspray and hot rollers. Where Priscilla's baby doll lips seemed perpetually pursed in careful consideration, my wider mouth was made for laughter, for singing, for other things I tried not to think about.

Different kinds of beautiful, maybe. But standing there next to Elvis, I couldn't help but notice how well we fit.

The sound of my heels on the carpet made him turn. His eyes were hidden behind blue-tinted glasses. 

"Heard you had a meeting with the Colonel," he said softly.

"Gee. Word travels fast ‘round here."

His laugh was hollow. "Everything travels fast here. Except time." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which..."

"You have to take her to the airport."

"Back to Memphis," he nodded. "At least for now. She'll head back to California soon enough." Something flickered across his face - relief? Regret? "Just needs to..." He trailed off.

"Needs to what?"

"Settle some things. At Graceland." His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the implication. Priscilla would be there, in Memphis, when I arrived. On her turf. Or what used to be her turf.

"The Colonel had some interesting ideas about my living arrangements," I said, watching our reflections shift as Elvis moved closer.

His jaw tightened. "I told him to leave that alone."

"Did you really think he would?"

"No." He stepped behind me, his hands hovering near my shoulders but not quite touching. In the glass, we looked like a photograph waiting to be taken - the kind the Colonel would never allow. "But I hoped. Kind of like I hope you didn’t mean what you said. About finding your own place."

"I did."

"Even though I really want you to stay with me?"

"Even though."

In the window's reflection, I watched him study the contrast of us - his emerald suit against my rumpled red dress, his calculated (and rare) stillness against my untamed energy. When Priscilla stood next to him, they looked like matching dolls in a shop window. But this... we looked the part of the real couple. With real differences.

He nodded slowly. "You know what she said to me last night? After all the cameras were gone?"

I waited, watching his reflection's lips form the words.

"Said I better not turn you into another version of her." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Like I would even want that." His hands finally landed on my shoulders, warm through the thin fabric. "Look at you. Telling the Colonel no. Standing here looking like... like..."

"Like what?"

"Like the answer to my prayers."

I turned to face him then, breaking the spell of our reflection. Without the glass between us, he was more real, more dangerous. His hands slid down my arms, leaving heat in their wake.

"Elvis—"

A knock at the door made us both jump. Jerry's voice carried through: "Boss? Car's ready."

"Be right there." Elvis' hands tightened briefly on my arms before letting go. When he finally faced me, his eyes were tired behind those blue-tinted glasses. Human. "I have to..."

"I know."

He crossed the space between us in one fluid movement, caught my face between his hands. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he pressed his forehead to mine. He smelled of mint and promises.

"Wait for me?" he whispered. "I'll be back after..."

"After you play the dutiful husband one last time?"

His hands tightened slightly. "That ain’t fair."

"None of this is fair." 

I could be detached. I could deal with the casual dalliances and the pills, as long as it didn’t get out of hand. But Priscilla’s presence somehow still made my stomach queasy. I think it was the title. Wife had a certain ring to it. A certain authority, an outward declaration. I wanted that role. 

"No." He pulled back, slipped his glasses into place. Just like that, he was Elvis Presley again. "But it's what we've got."

The door opened and Red stuck his head in. "Boss? Mrs. Presley's ready."

Elvis straightened his jacket, checked his reflection one last time. Perfect again. Camera-ready. But just before he turned away, I caught him looking at our reflection once more - that impossible, imperfect picture of what could be.

"See you when I get back?" he asked.

I thought about all those images in the Colonel's room. All those different versions of Elvis, frozen in time. Which one would come back to me?

"Yeah," I said. "I'll be here."

He paused at the door, looking back. For a second, I could see him wanting to say something more. Then Jerry appeared with a reminder about airport traffic, and the moment was gone.

I watched from the window as they loaded into the waiting cars - Elvis in the lead car with Priscilla, the Memphis Mafia spread through the others like an honor guard. Even from so many floors up, I could see the photographers waiting. One last photo op of the perfect couple before reality set in.

*

I stayed at the window long after the cars disappeared, watching Vegas shimmer in the morning heat. Behind me, Elvis's suite felt different without him in it - bigger, emptier, more obviously a stage set than a home. His books were still scattered around, they hadn’t been packed up yet. A half-empty glass of water sat on the bedside table, aspirin dissolving forgotten at the bottom.

The phone rang, making me jump. Probably the Colonel, ready for round two.

But it was Lamar's voice that came through the line. "Valerie? You might want to come down to the lobby."

"Why?"

"Press got wind of something. They're asking about a Chicago music teacher."

My stomach dropped. "How many?"

"Enough." He paused. "Bring sunglasses. And maybe a scarf."

The lobby had transformed into a circus since I'd passed through it earlier. Photographers clustered around the entrance like hungry wolves, their cameras ready. Someone had leaked something. It didn't matter now.

What mattered was protecting Elvis.

I thought about Ann-Margret, about how she'd lost him partly because she'd talked to the press. About how fiercely he guarded his private world, even while living in the spotlight. About how trust, once broken, never quite mended the same way.

The Colonel stood near the reception desk, watching me with calculating eyes. For once, we wanted the same thing - to control this story. Just for very different reasons.

"Miss Pedretti." His voice carried across the lobby. "A word?"

Every head turned. I felt the cameras swivel, seeking their new target. Someone whispered "That's her." Another voice: "The teacher." A third: “I heard she’s a bar singer.”

I touched the scarf at my throat - one of Elvis's, smelling faintly of his cologne. Beneath it, my pulse hammered against my neck.

I had two choices: run back to the elevator, or face this head-on. But there was really only one choice. Because whatever happened next, I wouldn't be the one to betray Elvis's trust.

I dropped the scarf and sunglasses in my purse - hiding would only make it worse - and walked through the lobby like I had every right to be there. Like I was exactly what I'd tell them I was: a music teacher and a studio session musician (okay, so I stretched the truth a little) who'd found herself in an extraordinary situation, nothing more.

The cameras went crazy, questions flying like bullets: "Miss Pedretti, what's your relationship with Elvis?" 

"Are you moving to Memphis?" 

"What about Mrs. Presley?"

I stopped, turned, met their hungry gazes with a calm I didn't feel. When I spoke, my voice was steady.

"Mr. Presley has been very kind to a fellow musician. We share an interest in rhythm and blues. And gospel." A truth, if not the whole truth. "Beyond that, I don't discuss my friendships. If you have questions about Mr. Presley, I suggest you speak to his management."

The Colonel's eyebrows rose slightly - surprise? approval? - as I walked past him toward the exit. The cameras kept firing, but I didn't stop again.

I'd protected what mattered. Everything else was just noise.

*

A short while later, the Colonel caught up with me at the elevator on my walk back from lunch. "Interesting performance this afternoon."

"Not a performance."

"No?" His mustache twitched. "Could've fooled me. Very neat, very clean. 'Fellow musician.' 'Gospel music.' Almost like you'd rehearsed it."

The elevator doors opened. I stepped in, but he caught the door before it could close.

"Maybe," he said slowly, "we got off on the wrong foot this morning."

"Maybe."

"A girl who knows how to handle the press... that's valuable." He studied me with new interest. "Very valuable. Perhaps we could discuss those arrangements again—"

"No." But I softened it with a small smile. "Though I do appreciate the offer, Mr. Parker."

The doors started to close. This time he let them.

Back in my room, the phone was ringing again. Deena, probably, having had time to stew on it all. But when I picked up, it was Jerry.

"Boss wanted you to know he saw what you did down there earlier. Says to tell you..." 

Word traveled fast in this crew. I filed that bit of information away for later use. 

He paused, and could hear him smiling somehow. He was choosing his words carefully, aware of who might be listening. "Says you did good."

My throat tightened. "He's still at the airport?"

"On his way back, I think. Photographers were everywhere, of course." Jerry's voice dropped lower. "Listen, about Memphis..." I heard other voices behind him. “Listen, I’ll call you back.”

*

Lamar materialized at my door. "Boss is here. Wants you to meet him out back. Service entrance. Less cameras."

Less cameras, but not no cameras. There were always cameras now.

I found Elvis leaning against his Cadillac in the service alley, still in that perfect green suit but somehow looking more rumpled. His glasses were off, and his eyes were red-rimmed. The pills had worn off again. I made a mental note to watch his use a little more carefully. Just in case.

"Hey," he said softly.

"How was the airport?"

"Like a damn circus." He rubbed his face. "We played it perfect, of course. Always do. All smiles and waves, right up until she got on that plane." He paused. "Heard you had your own circus down here."

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Yeah." Something flickered in his expression. "Jerry told me what you said. About the gospel music."

"It's true, isn't it? We do share an interest."

"That all we share?"

The question hung between us like smoke. I thought about all those photographers, hungry for any hint of scandal. About the Colonel's calculating eyes. About Priscilla, perfect to the last moment.

"That's all they need to know," I said finally.

He studied me for a long moment, then pushed off from the car. In two strides he was there, his hands framing my face like he had in the suite. But this time he didn't stop.

The kiss was different than any we'd shared before - desperate, almost angry. Like he was trying to prove something. To me, to himself, to the whole damn world. His hands slid into my hair, messing it up.

When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

"Inside," he muttered. "Now."

But before we could move, a flash went off at the end of the alley.

"Shit." Elvis turned, putting himself between me and the photographer. "Red! Sonny!"

The Memphis Mafia materialized from nowhere, intercepting the photographer who was already running. But we all knew it was too late.

Elvis's hands were shaking worse now. "Val, I—"

"Don't." I straightened my hair, tried to calm my racing heart. "We knew this would happen eventually."

"The Colonel's gonna—"

"Let me handle the Colonel."

He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Handle the Colonel? Baby, nobody handles the Colonel."

"I dunno.” I giggled like I knew something Elvis didn’t. “I kinda think he’s starting to like me.”

Another flash, this one from a different angle. Elvis swore under his breath.

"Get inside," he said. "I'll deal with this."

"Elvis—"

"Please." His voice cracked slightly. "Just... let me fix this. I can fix this."

But as I watched him stride toward the gathering photographers, all controlled power and perfect posture again, I wondered which version of "fixed" we were about to get.

*

Back in the hotel, everything moved fast. The Memphis Mafia scattered like pool balls after a break, each man with his own mission. Jerry was on the phone with newspapers, his voice smooth as silk: "No comment at this time." Red had the photographer's camera - though we all knew there had to be more photos out there. Lamar was coordinating with hotel security to lock down the service entrances. Sonny and Marty were watching the elevators on our floor.

And somewhere, the Colonel was planning.

I made it to the elevator before he found me.

"Inside." He didn't wait for my response, just steered me into the car with surprising strength for a man his age. The doors closed on us, and he hit the button for his floor.

"Mr. Parker—"

"Not one word." His voice was deadly quiet. "Not until we're in my office." So much for him starting to like me. 

The elevator seemed to crawl. Somewhere above us, that damn dove cooed - even it knew we were in trouble.

His office felt different now. All those Elvis images on the walls weren't just pictures anymore - they were warnings. See what I built? See what I can destroy?

"Sit."

This time, I sat.

"Now then." He lit a cigar with deliberate calm. "Let's discuss what happens next."

"Nothing happens next. It was just a kiss."

His laugh could have stripped paint. "Just a kiss? With a married man? In broad daylight? After you so carefully told those reporters you were 'just friends'?" He blew a perfect smoke ring. "No, my dear. This is what happens next: You're going to take a generous settlement and disappear. Back to Chicago, preferably. We'll spin it as a brief friendship, nothing more. Elvis was being kind to a fellow musician, just like you said. End of story."

"No." 

"No?" His eyebrows climbed. "Perhaps you didn't understand. This isn't a negotiation."

"You're right." I met his gaze. "It's not. Because there's nothing to negotiate. I’m not disappearing unless—"

"Then let me be clearer." He leaned forward. "Elvis Presley is more than a man. He's an industry. An empire. And that empire is built on certain... understandings. With his public. With his wife."

"His wife who lives in California?"

His mustache twitched. "A temporary arrangement."

"Like I'm supposed to be? Another 'temporary arrangement'?"

"Now you're beginning to understand."

“I’ll only go away if Elvis wants me to. I’d like to hear it from him, please.”

As if on cue, the phone on his desk rang. He answered it, listened, then held it out to me.

"For you. It's Elvis." His smile hadn't wavered. "He's going to tell you he's fixed everything. That there's a plan. A story we're going to tell." He paused. "The question is: are you going to play along?"

I took the phone, my hand steady despite everything.

"Elvis?"

"Baby, listen..." His voice was tight. "I know what to do. But you're not going to like it."

Behind his desk, the Colonel watched me like a snake watching a mouse. Some choices, I was learning, weren't really choices at all. But how you played them - that was everything.

"The story's simple," Elvis said, his voice tight with something between exhaustion and resignation. "You're my new backup singer. Been rehearsing in secret. That's why you're coming to Memphis. Professional opportunity, nothing more."

​​I watched the Colonel's satisfied smile grow behind his cigar smoke. Of course this was his idea - neat, clean, controllable. A story that would explain everything while revealing nothing.

"The kiss..." Elvis continued.

"Was gratitude," I finished, seeing the shape of it. "Excitement over the opportunity. A momentary celebration caught at an unfortunate angle."

"Yeah." He sounded tired. So tired. "Colonel's already got the contracts drawn up. Real ones, not just for show. You'll actually have to..."

"Sing backup?" I almost laughed. "Elvis, I've been singing my whole life."

"Yeah, but this is different. This is..."

"Playing a part?"

The silence on the line spoke volumes.

"It's a good solution," the Colonel cut in, clearly having heard every word on his extension. "Clean. Professional. Gives you a legitimate reason to be in Memphis, access to Graceland for rehearsals, everything you want. Just with... proper boundaries."

Proper boundaries. Right. Like the ones he'd established for all those other girls, the ones whose pictures didn't make it onto his wall of fame.

"There's one condition," Elvis said suddenly. "My condition, not the Colonel's."

I waited.

"You keep your own place. Like you wanted. No arrangements, no settlements. You do this as a professional, not as..."

Not as what? His mistress? His kept woman? Another Ann-Margret who got too close to the sun?

"Okay," I said.

The Colonel's eyebrows rose slightly. He'd expected more fight, more negotiation. But he didn't understand - I wasn't negotiating. I was playing chess.

"Just like that?" Elvis sounded surprised too.

"Just like that." I kept my voice level, professional. "When do we start rehearsals?"

What followed was a blur of activity. Contracts appeared as if by magic - the Colonel had probably had them ready since that first elevator ride. Throughout it all, I signed where I was told, smiled when expected, played the part of the grateful unknown singer getting her big break. 

Statements were prepared for the press. A schedule materialized for rehearsals, appearances, recordings. Something flickered in the old man’s eyes - recognition, maybe. Of what, I wasn't sure yet. 

It was late afternoon by the time everything was "handled." The photos from the alley had mysteriously vanished, though we all knew copies existed somewhere. The press had their official story. Even that damn dove seemed to have finally found somewhere else to roost.

"Perhaps," the Colonel said softly, "I underestimated you."

I smiled and headed back to my room.

*

Packing shouldn't have been hard. I hadn't brought much to Vegas in the first place. But somehow my belongings had multiplied, scattered across the suite like evidence of a life I hadn't planned on living.

"You'll want to pack light," Jerry said from the doorway. He'd appeared with coffee and what he called "Memphis wisdom," though I suspected he just didn't want me to be alone after the alley incident. "Graceland's got its own weather system. Nothing you bring is gonna make sense there anyway."

"Helpful, Jer. Real helpful." I held up two dresses - one Elvis had sent up last week, one I'd brought from Chicago. The difference in quality was almost embarrassing.

"Take both," he advised. "You'll need the fancy one for show, the real one to feel like yourself." He paused. "That's the trick, you know. For when everything else gets crazy."

I folded both dresses carefully, thinking about Elvis's books scattered across my bed, their margins filled with his handwritten notes. Questions, observations, searches for meaning in scientific formulas and ancient wisdom. I'd been packing them when Jerry arrived.

"Speaking of crazy," Red's voice came from the hall, "wait'll you meet the Memphis ladies." He joined Jerry in the doorway, looking oddly formal. "Got a whole briefing prepared for you about that."

"A briefing?"

"Those women are sharks in southern belle clothing," he said seriously. "Especially the ones who've had their eye on Elvis since high school. They're gonna hate you on principle."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Red."

"Just trying to prepare you." But his eyes were kind. "Though something tells me you can handle them just fine."

I picked up Elvis's jacket from the chair - the one I'd been wearing this morning when everything changed. His cologne still clung to it faintly, mixing with the gin stains from last night's party. Had that really been less than 24 hours ago?

"Leave the jacket," Jerry said quietly. "Trust me on that one."

Before I could respond, Lamar appeared behind Red and Jerry, making the doorway look like a Memphis Mafia convention.

"Y'all telling stories about Memphis?" He squeezed past them into the room. "Let me tell you about Elvis's first day at Graceland. There he is, king of the world, right? And he can't figure out how to work the dang intercom system. Kept accidentally broadcasting everything to the whole house. And I mean everything." He winked. "Including some very private conversations with very private guests, if you know what I mean."

"Lamar," Jerry warned.

"What? She should know what she's getting into! Place is like a funhouse sometimes. Secret passages, hidden doors, two-way windows - Elvis had them put in during renovations. Says it's for security, but really he just likes playing hide and seek."

I tried to picture it - Elvis Presley, the king of rock and roll, playing hide and seek in his mansion. What would he need a two-way window for? Yet, somehow it wasn't hard to imagine at all.

The phone rang, making us all jump. The Memphis Mafia exchanged glances.

"That'll be your pal again," Jerry said. "She's called four times."

I stared at the phone. "How do you know?"

"We know everything, honey." Red smiled. "Part of the job."

I picked up the receiver. Sure enough: "Val? Finally! I've been trying to call you back all day!"

The Memphis Mafia made themselves scarce, but not before Jerry mouthed "be careful" and tapped his ear - reminding me that in Vegas, walls had ears and phones had extensions.

"Dee." I cut her off, gentle but firm. "I need you to listen very carefully. Can you do that?"

A pause. Then, quieter: "Yeah."

"I can't tell you everything. Not yet. But I need you to trust me when I say that what's in those papers... it's not the whole story. And I need you to not tell anyone anything beyond what's already out there. Can you do that for me?"

The silence stretched so long I thought we'd been disconnected. Finally: "This is really serious, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I twisted the phone cord around my finger. "It really is."

"But you're okay? You're being careful?"

I thought about the Colonel's offer, about Elvis's message through Jerry, about all the delicate threads I was trying to navigate.

"I'm trying to be."

"Val, a backup singer? Really? That's the story they're going with?"

I started folding a sweater, phone cradled against my shoulder. "That's the truth they're going with."

She caught the emphasis. "Oh. Oh." A pause. "So we're not talking about the real truth yet?"

"Not yet."

Another pause. Then: "Okay. But Valerie?"

"Yeah?"

"When you can tell me... when it's safe... you'll tell me everything?"

"Everything I can," I promised. "Just... not yet."

After I hung up, I found Elvis's books again. Opening one at random, I found a passage underlined: "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." In the margin, his handwriting asked: "But what if you're living multiple truths?"

*

A knock at the door made me look up. Elvis stood there, looking somehow both perfect and wrecked. His hair was immaculate but his eyes were tired behind his glasses.

"Hey," he said softly. He took in the scene - the half-packed suitcases, the scattered books, his jacket still draped over the chair.

"Need help packing?"

"I’m almost done. Just trying to figure out what belongs in Memphis and what should stay in Vegas."

He understood the real question. Moving into the room, he picked up one of his books. "Take ‘em all," he said. "We can read them together at Graceland. When things are... quiet."

"Does it get quiet there?"

"Sometimes. Late at night, or early morning. When everyone else is asleep." He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb my packing. "It's different than here. Better in some ways, harder in others."

"Because of Priscilla?"

"Because of everything." He rubbed his face. "You know she redecorated the whole place when we got married? Made it exactly what she thought it should be."

"Nothing wrong with that, Elvis. That’s what women do." I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah but now it's like living in a museum sometimes. Even the air feels..." He trailed off.

"Curated?"

"Yeah." He looked at me then, really looked at me. "That's what I love about you, you know? You always find the right words."

"That why you kissed me? In the alley?"

His hands tightened on the book he was holding. "I kissed you because I couldn't not kiss you anymore."

The air between us felt electric, dangerous.

"Baby—"

"I know." He stood up abruptly. "I know we can't. Not now. Not with everything..." He gestured vaguely. "But in Memphis. When things settle… God, Valley Cat, I can’t wait to…”

A knock at the door interrupted whatever he might have said next. Joe stuck his head in.

"Boss? Car's ready whenever you are. And the Colonel wants—"

"Tell the Colonel I'll be there when I'm there." For once, Elvis's voice held an edge of real authority. I liked it.

Joe disappeared. Elvis turned back to me.

"I have to go. More appearances, more pictures, more..." He shrugged. "You know."

"I know."

He moved to the door, then stopped. "The backup singer story... I'm sorry about that. I know it's not what you wanted."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. But it's what we've got." He smiled slightly. "For now."

After he left, I continued packing. The books went in first - all of them, even the ones I hadn't read yet. Then the dresses, both fancy and plain. But the jacket... Jerry was right. The jacket stayed behind.

The sun was setting over Vegas, painting the desert in shades of pink and gold. From my window, I could see photographers still lingering near the hotel entrance. Four weeks ago, I'd stood at this same window, watching Elvis's world from the outside. Now I was part of it, for better or worse.

A familiar coo made me look up. That damn dove was perched on my windowsill, looking remarkably pleased with itself.

"You're not coming to Memphis," I told it firmly.

It just cooed again, like it knew something I didn't.

Maybe it did.

*

I was deep in dreamless sleep when the knock came. So faint I almost missed it. For a moment I thought it was part of the dream, until it came again. Soft, uncertain, not like Elvis's usual confident rap.

When I opened the door, he was leaning against the frame, pajama shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes unfocused behind his glasses. His hair, usually perfect, fell across his forehead in a way that made him look impossibly young.

"Hey songbird," he slurred slightly. "Can I... can I come in?"

I hesitated. I'd never seen him this far gone before.

He swayed a little, caught himself. "Please?" His voice cracked on the word. "Just need... need somewhere quiet. Need you."

Something in my chest twisted at the naked vulnerability in his voice. I stepped aside to let him in. He made it three steps before stumbling. I caught him, guided him to the nearest chair.

"Everything's spinning," he mumbled, letting his head fall back. "Doctor Nick gave me something new. Said it would help with the... with the..." He gestured vaguely at his head. "But it's not... I can't..."

"Shh," I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "It's okay."

"No." He caught my hand, pressed it to his cheek. "Not okay."

He pulled me down onto his lap, hands clumsy but insistent as they found the zipper of my nightgown. "Need you," he mumbled against my neck. "Been needing you so long..."

For a moment, I let myself feel it - the weight of him, the heat of his mouth, everything I'd been dreaming about since that first elevator ride. But his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't manage the zipper. His words slurred together as he tried to kiss me and missed.

"Not like this," I said softly, catching his hands. "Not when you're not yourself."

"But I am myself," he insisted, eyes struggling to focus. "Love you. I love you."

My heart stopped. "Elvis, you're not—"

"No." He pressed his forehead to mine, suddenly intense. "This is right. I love you. Been trying not to but I do."

His voice broke on the last word and suddenly he was crying - silent tears sliding down his perfect face. Without thinking, I gathered him to me, cradling his head against my chest. He curled into me like a child, all that powerful frame somehow becoming small and lost.

"It's okay," I whispered, rocking him slowly. "I've got you."

I held him like that for what felt like hours, studying his face in the dim light. The thick fan of his lashes wet with tears. The vulnerable curve of his mouth. The slight tremor in his jaw that betrayed how hard he was fighting for control.

Something shifted in my chest - a fierce protectiveness mixing with a love so deep it almost scared me. I wanted to be needed by him. Wanted to be the one who could hold him like this, who could see him at his most vulnerable and love him more for it, not less.

"M'sorry," he mumbled eventually. "Didn't mean to... to fall apart like that."

"Don't be sorry." I wiped his cheeks gently. "Ever."

He caught my hand, pressed a clumsy kiss to my palm. "Still coming to Memphis? Even after seeing me like this?"

"Especially after seeing you like this."

We made our slow way to his suite, him leaning heavily on my shoulder. The halls were empty - the Memphis Mafia mysteriously absent. Maybe they knew to give him this privacy. This moment of absolute vulnerability.

At his door, he turned to me. For a second, his eyes cleared.

"Meant it," he said softly. "About loving you."

"I know." I touched his cheek. "But tell me again tomorrow when you're you."

"Promise you'll still be here tomorrow?"

"Promise."

I waited until his door closed before letting out the breath I'd been holding. The empty hallway suddenly felt very long, very quiet. We'd have to talk about the pills eventually. About limits and boundaries and all the things that could go wrong. But not tonight.

Tonight, I just wanted to remember the weight of him in my arms. The trust it took for him to let me see him like this. The way my heart had cracked and mended and grown when he'd said he loved me, even through the chemical haze.

Because somewhere between that first elevator ride and this moment, between Vegas glamour and raw need, I'd fallen completely, irrevocably in love with him. Not Elvis Presley the star, but this complicated, brilliant, troubled man who read numerology and cried in my arms and trusted me to get him home safe.

I wasn't going anywhere.

*

Morning came too soon. The hotel staff who'd barely noticed me four weeks ago now watched my every move, their eyes following me with a mix of curiosity and calculation. The maids whispered in corners. The bellhops suddenly knew my name. Even the woman who'd cleaned my room every day, Marie, looked at me differently as she helped pack my final items.

"You take care," she said softly, folding my last dress. "It's not like Vegas there."

The front desk clerk who'd checked me in that first day - Brenda, still blizzard-cold - handed me my final bill with a knowing smile. "So. Backup singer?"

I just smiled, remembering how she'd dismissed me a month ago. How I'd been nobody then - just another hopeful in a city full of them. Now I was somebody. Or at least, I was somebody's somebody.

Elvis had left earlier, his departure orchestrated by the Colonel down to the last detail. Priscilla was already in Memphis, preparing Graceland. I would fly commercial, arrive hours after them. Keep up appearances. Play the part.

I wasn't to go near Graceland, not yet. Not while Priscilla was there. The Colonel had made that crystal clear - I was to find an apartment far away from Graceland until... until what? Until Priscilla left? Until some arbitrary waiting period passed? Until the scandal died down? I felt caught in limbo, neither here nor there.

My stomach churned with guilt as I thought about her. How must she feel, knowing her husband's... what was I exactly? Mistress seemed too tawdry, girlfriend too simple for whatever this complex thing between Elvis and me was becoming. But whatever I was, I was coming to her town, into her world. Sure, Elvis swore their marriage was over, that she had her own life in California now. But she was still his wife. Still the woman whose home I was effectively invading, even if I wouldn't be living under her roof.

My cheeks burned with shame. Part of me wanted to do right by her - maybe even eventually talk to her, explain... what? That I loved her husband? That I couldn't help myself? That I believed him when he said they were done?

But another part of me bristled at feeling guilty at all. If they really were separated, if she really was building a new life in California, why shouldn't I be with Elvis? Why shouldn't I take this chance with him?

I made a mental note to find out the truth about their marriage - not from Elvis, whose view was complicated by pills and promises, but from someone who would know. Maybe Jerry. Maybe Red. Someone who could tell me if divorce was really on the horizon or if I was just another chapter in Elvis' story of extramarital adventures.

The press lingered outside despite the early hour, their cameras ready. I spotted the one who'd caught us in the alley - he had the decency to look slightly ashamed when our eyes met.

Red appeared at my elbow as I headed for the cab. "Ready?"

"No."

He laughed. "Nobody ever is."

Looking up at the International's gleaming façade, I remembered that first day. How overwhelming it had all seemed. How impossible. I'd been so naive then, thinking talent and determination were enough. Now I knew better. Now I knew about pills and promises, about public faces and private truths, about loving someone so completely that even their broken pieces felt precious.

A familiar coo made me look up one last time. That damn dove sat on the hotel awning, watching my departure like it had watched everything else.

"Still here?" I called up to it.

Red followed my gaze. "Tom's trying to catch it, you know. Says it's his responsibility."

"Tell him to let it be." I smiled. "Some things aren't meant to be caught."

The cab pulled up. Red loaded my bags while I took one last look at the Strip, already shimmering in the heat. Somewhere up there was the elevator where it all began. The suite where Elvis had cried in my arms last night. The lobby where I'd first heard him laugh.

"Miss?" The driver was waiting.

I slid into the back seat, letting Vegas fall away behind me. In a few hours, I'd be in Memphis. In Graceland. In Elvis's world for real.

The morning sun caught my reflection in the cab window. I looked different somehow. Older, maybe. Or just... more. More aware. More certain. More myself.

"Airport," I told the driver. Then, softer, more to myself than anyone: "Time to see what Memphis has in store."

As we pulled away, I could have sworn I heard one last coo from above. A goodbye, maybe. Or a warning.

Either way, there was no turning back now.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather  @atleastpleasetelephone @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy

[akilikesbread]

quotes from watching trigun stampede with my friends so SPOILERS:

“Bro he even falls zestily” (in reference to wolfwood)

“oh cool flashback” “more like a VASHBACK am i right? ZINGER” “kys.”

“my lawyers have advised me to not discuss what i would do to his stupid fluffy blonde hair”

WW: “the big man upstairs made me strong” “The big man upstairs made me like people with wires and mandibles.”

*vashs arm gets sucked into a blackhole* “bro wtf, hollow purple”

“boy why you so 🪴”

“motherfucker so gay the cigarette bends the second it touches his mouth”

“this is just a documentary of california”

*BadLads gang shows up* “BL? Boys love? They kiss men?”

*Livio standing menacingly* “SANS???”

*in reference to eye of Michael* “Why’s their logo literally new mexico”

*Legato appearance* “blue hair AND PRONOUNS??” “whats with daman mills and voicing gay men”

*Woowoo getting tortured* “theyre injecting 🏳️‍🌈 into his bloodstream”

*First wolfwood appearance* “He better hit people with that fucking cross”

“he looks hot when hes troubled”

*In reference to Rosa* “If pregnant lady dies i’m leaving the call

“OH MY GOD HES REDPILLED.” “Vashed and redpilled”

“Tricum stampede”

*we were watching on an illegal site so it kept opening new tabs* “AHHHH PORN”

*wolfwood gets fucking bent in half by legato* “Bro where can i get a massage like that”

“Roberto looks like. hold on.” The image sent:

“if the animation was a person i’d make out with them sloppy style. with tongue.”

*in Rollo’s old town with the biblical radio shit* “Guys this sounds just like something my bus driver would say”

*zazie turns into a swarm* “would you still love me if i was a worm :(“

“vash’s mom is pretty” “i’m gonna stop you right there.”

*vash.* “LOOK AT HIS SLUTTY WAIST”

“yeah nai just really liked taking out arms this episode”

*knives playing the piano in the distance* “IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER😨😨😨”

EG Bomber: “MASTER KNIVES😈” my friend in the zestiest voice ever: “master😳”

Vash: *reloading* “THATS SO FUCKING HOOOOTTT” “i wish i was that gun.”

*wolfwood gets fucking run over* “i think hes my new favorite character”

*vash getting chased by the residents of jenora rock* “california has never looked livelier”

“Call me Millions Knives.” “edgy ass emo name, he sounds like hes a 13 year old emo who listens to panic at the disco and cries himself to sleep at night.”

“is this prophetic stress dream bothering you queen”

“i wish Californian sand looked as good here, dont eat the californian sand, its chunky”

*conrad appears* “LUIGI???”

“so this is julai…” “its still may dude, idk how to tell you this”

*Julai screenpan.* “THIS IS JUST VEGAS.”

*wolfwood and vash running away* “me when i skeddadle”

*vash gets shot and walks away* “bros like ‘damn i just got shot :(‘“

“Nicholas the Punisher.” “he can punish me if he wants I MEAN WHAAAAAT”

*That Roberto Scene™️* “*through tears* SO HOW ARE YOU GUYS ENJOYING THE SHOW?”

*Knives dramatically playing piano* “You and that fuckin church organ.”

“5gum stampede”

“Why is nai so jacked???” “theyre both built like brick shithouses”

*Meryl points a gun at conrad* “KILL YOURSELF OLD MAN.”

“WHYS NAI CLENCHING HIS ASS SO HARD…”

“Vash wake up!!” “THIS ISNT LIKE YOU POOKIE”

*Wolfwood steals one last cigarette from Roberto* “Rare cigarette that wasnt fucked up”

“WHO CUT THEIR HAIR.” “Xinqiu.” “Yelan ass haircuts.”

*talking about vash* “hes such a shonen protag. Food friendship and (avoiding) fighting”

“Knives, ur literally gay. i dont wanna hear it.”

“The entrance to the higher plane!” “it looks like a butthole.”

*Knives fucking just floating into the higher dimension* “*cackling*” “WHY HE SLIDE LIKE THAAAT” “stone scraping sound effect”

“Vash shouldve been called damian”

“Prepare mentally for episode twelve, take a deep breath, take a sip of water-“ “KISS A MAN” “DONT KISS A MAN” “KISS A MAN!!!”

*start of episode twelve.* “surely this wont be horrifying”

“I promise to protect you both.” “well you really sucked at that, huh.” “yeah fuck you rem” “HELP???”

*looks at Nai* “Whys he wearing a speedo…”

*Red geranium sprouts in tint Vash’s hand* “NAI LOOK DO YOU WANNA SEE A MAGIC TWICK”

*Running through field of red geraniums* “this reminds me of the angry birds logo”

“metal wing?” “its made of knives, yk, like his name :D” “shut up.” “alright then.”

*chanting* “CUBE!!!!”

“HES GONNA STAMPEDE!!!”

“kiss my vash!!”

[fruitbasketball]

wnba highlights 8/17-8/18

okay so i’ve been out of it these past couple days so i’m just gonna give y’all the big games and moments and important shit

but please send in asks if i missed a game you wanted to see me cover, i’ll try to get to it 🤞🏽

new york liberty vs las vegas aces - 8/17

starting off strong with this 2023 finals rematch - LAWDDDD a’ja wilson you are a badddd woman. 24 points, 11 boards, but still could not walk away with the win.

that being said, the aces played like shit for being the aces. 37% from the field, 29% from 3 - what are we DOING bro. this is CRAZY!!!!!

i mean jackie young 1-8?? what the FUCK????

chelsea in double digits for points is a shock to me lately, but we’re here, so!!

not that the liberty as a whole played much better tho - slightly better fgp and slightly worse 3pfg BRO??? is THIS WHO WE ARE??

lord help me why is sabrina ionescu putting up 21 shots and only getting 23 points off of it. and 2 of those points were actually free throws so she got 21 on 21.

someone explain that shit to me. that math ain’t mathing.

jj with 17 REBOUNDS??? HELLO??? WHAT IN THE STAT PAD?? IS YOUR FGP THIS LOW FOR THAT PURPOSE??? fucking HELPPPP

y’all disappoint me. NEXT.

las vegas aces vs los angeles sparks

yeah i’m not here to speak on the game for this one. it was a slaughter from an efficiency perspective, i’ll say that.

i like watching the aces. they’re an entertaining team, and i feel bad from a basketball perspective that they had such a shitty start to the season.

but for aces fans to boo dearica in FRONT OF HER DAUGHTER - to act as though becky hammon is getting unfairly cancelled rather than acting as tho she committed a FEDERAL OFFENSE, which she DID…

fuckin crazy bro. you’re full of shit.

chicago sky vs phoenix mercury

the dee and angel hug at the end was everything. EVERYTHING.

but in case y’all missed the typa timing the chi town barbie been on: 19 points, 20 boards, on 8-16. play. with. ya mama.

they still lost tho don’t get me wrong, but the merc needed this after that fever loss bc bitch what the fuck.

y’all want me to be impresser that sofeet cuntingham got her first double double..? that ho been in the league for fucking ever gtfoh bro maga ass…

monique billings on a roster thank fucking god because i was boutta throw hands

anyway dee still got it like that… y’all don’t stress 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

seattle storm vs indiana fever

caitlin clark you are… something. telling the opposing bench to “stop crying” and then giggling right after is absolutely insane work. i might genuinely be terrified of that girl.

sds i love you bro if you wanna shoulder check that ho do it in game too. ain’t a damn thing. you do you baby.

aight real show of the night: LEXIE. MFKING. HULL.

don’t y’all EVER disrespect one of tara’s girls like that again. NEEEEVER. 22 points on 80%??? DO Y’ALL KNOW HOW CRAZY THAT IS??

i will say the fever played exceptionally last night (except kls, and imma ride for a husky always… but she should lowk not be starting): 3 guys over 20, 46 fgp, 3pfg at 48 so HIGHER than fgp?? some steph curry shit right there.

meanwhile in seattle, we don’t even breach 40. it’s getting to the point where i’m surprised that seattle loses a game, because what?? can someone HELP JEWELL BRO?? LORD!!! you just lost to a team that might have a lottery pick!!!

GET IT THE FUCK TOGETHER!!!

[fallout-lou-begas]

I have not tried to play modded new vegas since back during nexus mod manager. I used a computer running windows 7 until like, october of last year (my office still uses MS dos, win95, win98, xp and others for the ancient machines and writing reports, so my frame of refrence is fucked). Anyway, I used project nevada. I'm learning now that people dislike it these days? Im sure it's not being updated anymore, but could you explain what the problem with it is? I'm not interested in defending it, it's just that I have emerged from under a rock. Also, are there any equivalent mods that add the sort of "realistic" feeling where combat is harder and damage seems more meaningful (and also the first person goggles and shit)? I've been trapped in a bunker since like 2016

Project Nevada was really popular back in the day, but is considered very outdated and quite bloated by current modding standards and is the culprit behind a lot of performance issues. It gets an especial amount of flak because if you go to the New Vegas Nexus and sort by "Most Endorsed" or "Most Downloaded" of all time, it'll get recommended right at the top even though basically all of its features (sprinting, rebalance, loot scarcity, etc.) have been implemented by more lightweight, cleaner mods today.

Also, yes, absolutely.

NPCs Use Ammo

Simple AI Merge

Combat Enhancer Updated (NVSE)

Sweet Dynamic Detection System

Tactical Gameplay Modifications (highly recommended as an all-in-one damage overhaul for much more lethal, high-stakes combat that affects both the player and NPCs: my favorite aspect of it is that limbs take much more of the brunt of weapon damage, meaning that getting shot in the leg won't deal much HP damage, but your leg can be broken much more easily, enhancing the importance of aim and cover)

More Attentive NPCs and Creatures

Physics Based Ballistics (Bullet Drop)

General Animations: Realistic Movement and Dramatic Inertia

Combat Animations: Awesome Crippling Effects, Fetal Position Skeleton, Dramatic Staggering, and Better Stand-Up

Martialize: Unarmed Combat Maneuvers for NPCs

B42 Melee Bash

I've got detailed explanations of some of my favorite mods here, and my full mod list here. If you're looking to get back into modding New Vegas in 2024, check out the Viva New Vegas modding guide.

[sissylittlefeather]

One Shot Masterlist Part 2

Tumblr will only allow 10 pictures per post (DUMB) so I had to make a Masterlist part 2. This way I can continue to include the cover art.

Wait for Me

You never stopped loving Elvis, but it looks like he's moved on. When you run into him at a party, though, it seems like you might be wrong in this assumption.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, infidelity (Elvis is married), angst I guessss

Backseat Baby

When you push Elvis into the backseat, he has no idea what to expect. You have a plan, though, and you're not leaving until you get what you want.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, this is just filth, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m&f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

The Next Step is Love

It's 1969 and you're Elvis's new flower child girlfriend. He takes you on a picnic and, well, you know what the next step is.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, this is a smut fest, obvi, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Such a Night

Elvis takes you on a date to a scary movie and then asks you to stay the night. You've never done such a thing, but when a nightmare interrupts your sleep, dreams come true.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, this is pretty tame, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation, loss of virginity so small mention of pain during sex and blood

We Can Make the Morning (or Angel Take 7)

You've waited a long time to see Elvis in concert when you catch his show in Greensboro in 1972. What you don't expect is to end up in Elvis's arms after the show. How will he keep you awake if you've got a concussion?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, handjob, ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), possible concussion

Wonder of You

You ask Elvis to teach you how to play the piano and he uses those deliciously long fingers to play you instead.

Most of All

Elvis is freshly home from the army and boy, has he missed you. He worships at the altar of you and shows you exactly what you mean to him.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and shameless purple prose

Searching for You

You love Elvis and he loves you, but he won't leave his wife. When you decide you've had enough and run back home to Kentucky, he decides he'll do anything to get you back. Based on the song Kentucky Rain. (Reader request)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and touch of angst

Heartbreak Hotel

You're nervous just to talk to Elvis. What happens when you get stuck in an elevator together? This one is fluffy!

Warnings: kissing, an erection, some sexy thoughts, and a foot rub

Fools Rush In (where angels fear to tread)

You work for a hotel in Vegas, but you're shocked when Elvis Presley gets on the elevator with you. After a brief (and awkward) conversation, he can't get you out of his mind. You end up in his suite and the rest is history.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, someone has a glass of wine

[solasnotes]

anora; stripping down a character

from beginning to end, sean baker’s ‘anora’ drops the viewer onto a 140 minute rollercoaster packed to the brim with static character dynamics, honest dialogue, and thoughtful storytelling. ‘anora’ is a masterclass in the subtleties of detail that propel a character's motivation continuously forward. 

the performance given by mikey madison’s titular character– or ani, as she prefers– immerses the viewer into an entirely new world. outwardly characterised as cheeky and confident, ani is a driven and expressive woman. she knows what she wants and how to get it, all while maintaining her sense of self-worth. while the way she dresses and presents herself is very 'in your face', it is complemented nicely by her softer vocal tone and numerous tattoos that are described as 'classy' by her peers (a butterfly on her fingers, and a ribbon on each of her hamstrings). the complexities of ani are perceived from the get-go.

it is worth noting that anora as a name has various meanings in different languages; sweet, honour, and grace to list a few. madison’s portrayal of the nuances in her character is far and away the strongest selling point of the film and embodies the many different meanings her name has. ani feels raw and honest; she tips toes the line of youth and maturity easily- carrying herself to a high demeanour all while refusing to be called by her real name, anora. 

within the first ten minutes of the film, we are introduced to mark eidelstein’s vanya, a young russian man whose wealth matches his youthful demeanour and who quickly finds himself intoxicated by ani's very being. both characters stand to gain something beneficial from their time spent together. 

not much can be grasped on his character from a surface level past his fun-loving and wealthy characterisation. he spends most of his free time playing video games, partying, or under the effects of some form of drug. this is the first major direct contrast between him and ani. while it is clear immediately through her physical language and tone of voice that ani is assured and driven, vanya’s awkward nature and quirks paint a blurry image of what to expect- framing the viewer in the same position as ani.

what i find to be a core point of interest between the development of the two is the usage of colour, primarily blue & red motifs to elaborate on the movement of their relationship. ani is often in blue and cooler tones, whereas red is common in vanya’s styling. however, these colours do not bind the characters, nor is it only their clothing that represents these motifs. a primary example is their first time in vanya’s mansion; ani is brought to a world she is unfamiliar with and starstruck to be in, she is an outlier and this manifests in how the blues of her dress are drowning in the red ocean of blanket, slowly sinking into it. as their romance progresses, ani is decorated slowly in more red accents, whether that be in accessories, background, or lighting (red bouquet, pink/red nails, vegas’ red casino lighting). by the climax of the film the relationship takes its inevitable reality check and we see ani styled with a red scarf around her neck, almost symbolic of how vanya and the issues he introduced to her have been suffocating.

baker’s directorial prowess is unique and difficult to replicate, he places a focus on qualities of realism and uses the emotions of the character and the actor playing them to amplify that to create a real world within the screen. his ability to understand when the right time is to use close-ups, wide shots, and choreographed blocking is not to be understated– especially during the middle block of the film. arguably the shining jewel of the plot, a perfectly stressful and scripted ordeal that sees ani & vanya’s home broken into by his father's comedically incompetent henchmen. this marks a kick in the stomach for ani- the reality of the situation dawning, with feelings of confusion written all over her face. the differences between her and vanya come to light. with ani, it’s evident that her whole life she has had to fight for survival, even if they never outrightly tell you that- it is felt in the way she talks and carries herself. on the contrary, vanya has never had to fight in his life, point blank. in their joint moment of need, he runs away because he is incapable of accepting the responsibilities of growing up which results in her being left tied up and gagged by a group of strangers (who- although incompetent- are still strangers that could easily pose a dangerous threat). madison’s portrayal of defiance, anger, and frustration in this scene are strongly felt. lines of dialogue are spewed from across the screen by 5 different people and none are heard by the other. why wouldn’t somebody want to yell at the screen? 

after a wild goose chase around new york city, anora accepts defeat in the final scene and removes herself from the cinderella story she believed she was embarking on after a confrontation with vanya and his family. being dressed in shades of black, brown, and beige, in an environment devoid of colour is a deliberate choice that showcases the removal of all life in ani- a far cry from the lively and confident woman we were introduced to. what was left in the aftermath is an empty, bitter & narcissistic shell of a character incapable of disguising her rudeness anymore. even going so far as to question why her only supporter in the films climax wouldn’t sexually assault her while she was at her lowest- accusing him of having the eyes of a predator, and then later breaking down to him in the car before being dropped back off into her old brooklyn lifestyle- the most cutting scene of the film.

‘anora’ represents sean baker in his prime, a marvel in the engineering art of filmmaking that rightfully deserves to be rewarded. possessing the ability to filter 140 minutes of substance into a film without any of it feeling like filler, or having it be misrepresented by the cast is thrilling to witness. for those who seek stories that are full of life, unadulterated and emotive language, and generous usage of meaningful camera shots- look no further. 

-t.

✰✰✰✰½