#washbag

[fruityfinch]

Who doesn’t like a good uuhhhhhh exploded bag diagram from time to time??

Eris’ is interesting in that there is nothing superfluous or notably personalised in it… well, almost. The bitter-tasting vitamin-sweeties are an Eris thing. Plus there’s the antique lighter she took from her parents’ home - but she’d be annoyed if you suggested it was of sentimental value. It’s just a good lighter, is all, and it saved her buying one! Sheesh!!

[allthishumanityforfree]

I know these are the delusions talking, but I’m counting the shirtless selfie as a third soft launch, after Andrew sharing his Paul drawing and Paul’s smug NY selfie.

It's a shared delusion here, don't worry. It really feels like it's making a point after rumours. They know there are rumours about them and they are not stopping them, in fact Paul seems to want EVERYONE to know he is man about the boy. I am not sure it's launching but more he's not hiding his love.

My friend does not go there and messaged me to say she definitely gets it after seeing this photo.

[xosannie]

Dirty Little Secret

☆Genre: Smut MDNI 18+ only

☆Pairing: sex worker!mingi x afab!reader (best friends to ??)

☆Word count: 7.6k

☆Warnings: Porn, eye contact, praising, oral/face sitting (f receiving), use of sex toys (m receiving), reader records Mingi masturbate, dirty talk, begging, Mingi is pretty soft, fingering (f receiving), you’re both desperate, reader is easily flustered and Mingi is a tease (let me know if I missed any)

☆Summary: Your best friend Mingi stays the night at your place after not seeing each other in a while. When he abandons his phone you decide to play on it, the last thing you were expecting to find was his secret porn account.

—————————————————————————

After a nice shower, you’re lying in bed watching the show you’ve been binge-watching for days. Suddenly, you feel your phone vibrate beside you, getting a text from Mingi.

Loser (Mingi): Yo, I’m here >:)

A smile grew on your face, jumping out of bed and running toward the door. When you swing the door open, you’re met with a smiling Mingi, his sleepover bag in one hand, his other resting on the top of the doorframe.

“Wassup bitch!” You exclaim.

Mingi smiles wide, pulling you in for a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as your hands wrap around his waist. You swear he grew taller from the last time you saw him. 

You and Mingi haven’t been able to hang out much anymore. With your different jobs, your schedules just don’t align. Adult life is lame. Sometimes you wish you could go back to your teenage years, when you both hung out practically every day. After school, during lunch, whenever you wanted. But here you are; you have your own apartment, car, and job, but life is still boring when you can’t see your best friend much.

“Hello to you too,” he giggles.

When you pull away, Mingi steps inside, sliding his shoes off and putting his keys down on the table.

“Oh my god, I’m so excited! When was the last time we had a sleepover? It feels like ages.”

Mingi runs his hands through his short blonde hair, thinking to himself to recall the last sleepover, letting out a sigh. 

“Damn, I don’t even remember.”

His hand dropped to his side, and you watched as his black and white beaded bracelet swung around his wrist. You look down at your matching one on your wrist and smile softly. 

“Aw, you still wear this?”

You reach over, toying with the beads on Mingi’s wrist. This was a bracelet you made for Mingi years ago, and you decided to make a matching one for yourself. It was basically a friendship bracelet, but Mingi never liked calling it that; he thought it was too cringeworthy. (You know he secretly likes it, though.)

“Of course I do; I never take it off.” 

You both make your way to the bedroom. Mingi drops his bag down on the bed, and you plop down on the mattress. He unzips his bag, digging through to pick out his sleeping clothes.

“Before I get settled, I want to shower; I just got out of the gym not too long ago.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like Adam Sandler?”

Mingi snaps his head up, glaring at you with narrow eyes, fighting back a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

You giggle at his reactions, looking him up and down with a feigned disgust.

“Oh honey, you’re wearing shorts, a baggy tee, and flip-flops. If that’s not an Adam Sandler fit, I don’t know what is.”

Mingi rolls his eyes at your comment, secretly thinking it was funny, but he wouldn’t let you know that. Your ego is already too big. He grabs his clothes and washbag, heading toward the conjoined bathroom in your bedroom. 

“I’m going to ignore you and shower.”

Mingi stops in his tracks, pulling his phone out of his pocket to hand it to you. 

“Oh, before I go, can you charge my phone?”

You grab it, still laughing softly to yourself, and plug it in the charger. 

“I got you; now go shower you smelly boy.” 

Mingi chuckles and walks off into the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, you hear the shower running, and you’re laying back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Mingi was only gone for a minute, and you were already bored. You let out a sigh, looking around the room to find something to entertain you. You peek over at the bedside table, glancing at Mingi’s phone.

You grab the phone, laughing to yourself. You used to do this thing whenever Mingi left his phone around: take a bunch of funny photos of yourself and set them as his lock screen. You liked to see his reactions when he finds the photos, and sometimes he would keep it on his phone screen for a long time. You haven’t done it in a while, so why not do it again? It was a harmless prank that always made you two laugh. 

You turn on his phone, the screen shining brightly on your face, almost blinding you. His lock screen was a picture of an anime character from Chainsaw Man. ‘What a dweeb’ you thought to yourself. You put in his passcode, letting out a little victory chuckle when it let you in. Although your laugh immediately died down when your eyes met with a random Twitter account. That’s weird; you follow Mingi on all social media platforms, but you’ve never seen this one. 

You furrow your brows in confusion, Sir Min, the username read. What was this account? And why was Mingi looking at it? Clearly he was just on it; the app loaded up right as you turned on the phone. You read the bio, and your heart pounded.

‘18+ NSFW These videos and pics all belong to me. If you like what you see, sub to my OF;)’

What? 

You spring up, hunching over with the phone inches away from your face. You heard the pounding of your heart in your ears; you were frozen, blankly staring at the words on the screen. There was a voice in your head telling you to stop; this felt like something you shouldn’t be seeing. You should really turn Mingi’s phone off and put it away, out of sight, out of mind. 

Yeah, you definitely should put the phone down... but your curiosity got the best of you. Your trembling thumb slowly scrolled down the page. Your heart dropped when you saw the first video. 

A man sat back in a chair; you were unable to see his face; only his neck down was in view. His sweats were pulled down to his midthigh, and his shirt was hitched up, exposing his soft stomach. Your mouth grew dry when you noticed the way he was teasingly stroking his dick, occasionally slapping it against his abdomen. You watched in awe as a string of spit ran down into view and landed on his pink tip. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You watched the way his black and white beaded bracelet bounced on his wrist as he stroked his (fairly big) cock. Your breath hitched, and you were ashamed when you felt a pant of arousal rush through your body. Your stomach churned when you realized the man on the screen wasn’t just any man; it was Mingi. 

You were so engrossed in the video in front of you that you failed to notice the trickling of the shower ceased. The sound of jiggling from the bathroom doorknob brought you back to your senses, and you immediately turned off the phone and threw it on the bed. 

Mingi walked out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair with the towel to dry it off. You laid back, grabbing your own phone to look as casual as possible. 

“I feel so much better now.”

Mingi sighed, throwing the towel on a chair in the corner of the room. He looked at you with a small smile, placing his hands on his hips. You’re heart was still racing, and you had to stop your eye’s from wandering down at Mingi’s topless body. His sweats hung low on his hips, and Calvin Klein underwear peaked at the top.

“About time, I almost died of boredom.”

You sit up, internally patting yourself on the back for sounding so nonchalant. Mingi chuckled and crawled in bed beside you. 

“So what do you want to do?” 

You stared at Mingi as he grew closer to you, subconsciously scooting away a bit. It was a little change in demeanor, but Mingi noticed it right away. He decided not to think too much about it, and he leaned in closer.

“You’re not going to put on a shirt?” 

Your tone was a bit more nervous than you anticipated. Mingi looked down at his topless body and shrugged.

“It never bothered you before.”

He reached over, grabbing the remote to scroll through the TV. He’s right, it never has before, so why does it bother you now? You sit back against the headboard, staring at the TV screen. You’re mind kept thinking back at the video; you definitely shouldn’t have seen it... but why are you a bit disappointed you couldn’t see more?

You never thought Mingi would be the type to sell nudes for money. You knew there was a lot of catching up to do, but you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

“Oh my god, I love this movie. Have you seen it?” 

Mingi turns to you, his eyes bright with excitement. You couldn’t seem to stare at him; your gaze stayed on the TV.

“Oh, no, I haven’t. We can watch it.”

“Yes! Okay, I think you’ll like this one a lot; it’s hilarious.”

Mingi smiles wide and plays the movie. He lays back in the bed, turning toward your direction to lay his head on the pillow beside you. His hair tickled your arm, and your body grew hot when you felt his leg entangle in yours. You sit up abruptly, and Mingi looks up at you confused.

“I have to use the restroom. I’ll be back.”

“Ok… Don’t take too long, though. I know you just sit on the toilet watching Tik Toks.” 

You roll your eyes and chuck a pillow at him. Mingi giggles while blocking your attack. You walked into the bathroom, trying to act as casual as possible. When the door closes behind you, you press yourself back against the wall, trying to comprehend everything.

Why hasn’t Mingi told you about this? 

How long has he been doing it for? 

Why did it turn you on? 

All these questions raced in your head. You hate how you’re acting right now. I mean, Mingi is a grown man; he can do this type of work if he wanted to. You never cared when you found out other people were interested in sex work. So why are you reacting this way when it comes to Mingi?

After you pulled yourself together, you stepped out of the bathroom. Mingi laid in your bed, head resting on his hand as he watched the movie. You sat down beside Mingi, keeping a little distance from him.

“Welcome back.”

He smiled, noticing the way you sat a bit farther, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“I don’t have some kind of disease; come over here.”

Mingi reached over, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You gasp loudly, feeling your core ache again at the way he can easily manhandle you. You mentally curse yourself for reacting that way. 

It’s not unusual to be clingy with Mingi; you both do it all the time, but for some reason every time he touched you, you couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have his hands touch other places.

You let out an awkward chuckle when Mingi snuggled his head in your lap; you’re body tensed when feeling how close he was. You couldn’t believe yourself; you’re really thinking dirty thoughts about your best friend, who is innocently snuggled into you.

The whole time you guys were lounging and watching the movie, you couldn’t seem to relax. Your hands stayed glued to your sides, and you keep getting lost in thought, not paying attention to the film at all.

Your unnatural behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He tried to let it slide the first time, but when he saw that your body wasn’t relaxed and you weren’t playing with his hair like you usually do, he let out a sigh. He sat up, pausing the movie and turning to you with a suspicious look.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” 

Your head jerked in Mingi’s direction, not expecting him to ask that. You try to find words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What do you mean?” 

Mingi stares at you with a knowing glance and a small frown. 

“You’re acting weird. It’s like you’re scared of me or something. You won’t relax; you’re hardly talking to me, and you won’t even touch me.”

Your heart aches at his words; you were so shaken by what you saw on Mingi’s phone that you subconsciously started to treat him weirdly. You thought for a moment, debating whether to come clean or pretend like nothing happened.

Mingi stared at you intently, waiting for an answer. You can see the slight worry in his eyes. You already knew he was starting to feel a bit insecure by the look on his face. You let out a small sigh.

"No, Mingi, you didn’t do anything wrong to get me upset.”

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“You’re making that sad puppy face.” 

Mingi smiled softly at your words, looking away as you both chuckled. He felt a small pang of relief but was still worried, wanting to know what’s wrong.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He scooted closer, wanting to wrap his arm around your shoulder, but based on your behavior earlier, he kept his hands to himself. 

You decided to give in; fuck it, just tell him the truth. You take in a breath before speaking in a shaky tone.

“Well, when you were in the shower. I wanted to mess with you, so I took your phone, and when I turned it on..."

Your voice drifted off. Mingi waited patiently to hear you out. Soon he came to realize what you saw; his heart dropped and his eyes widen.

“Oh-“

You turn away feeling embarrassed; you didn’t want to look Mingi in the eyes. You felt so bad; how could you invade his privacy like that?

“I’m sorry; I swear I didn’t mean to see that. I just wanted to take funny photos of myself on your phone. The app was already open when I turned it on.”

Mingi lets out a small chuckle at your nervous rambling. The noise caused you to relax a bit, knowing he wasn’t angry.

“I’m sorry..” 

You say quietly, looking like a sad puppy with its ears flopped down. Mingi coos internally at your expression, ruffling your hair.

“It’s okay”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, leaning back against the headboard and hiding your face in your hands. 

“Did you see anything?”

You can hear the slight shyness hiding under his attempt to sound confident. You paused for a moment, thinking back at the video you watched, and nodded slowly.

Mingi nervously chuckles at your response, trying to sound cocky and playful to lift the mood.

“Did you like what you saw?” 

You sat there in silence, your face heating up behind your hands at his question. Your silence was all Mingi needed to know the answer; he raised his brows and his heart quickened. He mostly said that as a joke, but seeing your reaction ignited a fire in him. 

“Oh…..oh. What video did you watch?”

He smirked, scooting a bit closer. You nudged Mingi away, rolling your eyes at his teasing behavior. 

“Fuck off, Mingi. I already have the sight of your dick in my head. I don’t need to hear your sexy voice.”

Mingi smiles wide, liking the reaction you’re having. To be frank, Mingi was embarrassed at first when you revealed that you saw his secret porn account. Although after seeing your reaction, he has a newfound confidence coursing through him. 

"No, no, just tell me. Which video was it?”

You glared at him wanting to smack the smirk off his smug face (or kiss it off, but let’s not get needy). You roll your eyes, knowing Mingi wasn’t going to let this go.

“It was...the one of you.”

You moved your fist up and down, not being able to say it out loud. You couldn’t meet his gaze; you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking wide.

“Oh that? That’s a popular one of mine.”

“Ugh, Mingi I don’t need to know what gets your fucking fans all horned up.”

You groan, pushing Mingi away. He laughs softly, noticing the small blush creeping up in your cheeks.

"Aw, come on, I know you liked it.”

It’s not unusual for Mingi to talk to you in a teasing, flirty tone. It never used to phase you, but something about this situation in particular makes you ache between your legs. 

You roll your eyes, plopping down on the bed, and cover yourself with the blanket. Mingi chuckled as he watched you hide away. You spoke back in a muffled voice.

“I’m going to bed, freak.”

He patted you on the back, still laughing softly, and turned off the light.

“Good night; try not to have any wet dreams of me.”

You kicked him under the covers; he let out a small groan and forced yourself to sleep. Embarrassing to say... you do in fact have a wet dream of Mingi that night. Not your proudest moments, but you’re only human. 

————————————————————————

Weeks have past since that night. It almost felt like you two grew even closer after finding out Mingi’s big secret. After that night of the sleepover, you both had a deep talk about why Mingi entered this line of work in the first place. 

He explained to you how he was struggling with money and his own body image. At first he didn’t want to resort to that kind of work, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Once he uploaded his first video, he grew an audience pretty quickly; that’s when he learned that he liked making content more than he thought he would. 

It taught him how to appreciate his body and his own pleasure, and after meeting new people in the same kind of work, he realized that he wasn’t alone in his struggles. Also, the amount of money that comes in was very nice; who could complain? 

After he opened up to you, you had a different view on the situation at hand. Knowing the reason for everything, you grew to admire Mingi more, and it never bothered you when he would speak about his "films." He would even ask you for advice or requests on what he should post next. 

What you weren’t proud of, though, was the late nights you spent staring up at your ceiling. Phone in hand, the Twitter search tab open as you fight the urge to search his account again. The amount of times you made yourself cum while watching Mingi fuck a flesh light was embarrassing to say out loud. 

You were on your way to Mingi’s house, a grocery bag of snacks in your hand. You parked in front of his house, pulling out your phone to text him. 

You: “Aye loser, I’m here.”

You gather your belongings, stepping out of the car and walking to his front door. You didn’t get a reply, which was weird. You glanced down at your phone, waiting to see the three dots to indicate he was typing. When they don’t appear, you shoot another text.

You: "I said I’m here 💀"

No reply; that’s weird. 

You jiggle the front door knob only to find it was unlocked all along. Usually when he leaves it that way, he expects you to just walk in, and that you do. 

When you stepped into the living room, it was vacant; there weren’t any games set up for you two on the table. You furrow your brows in confusion and set your bags down, slipping off your shoes.

“Mingi?”

You hear a thump noise coming from his bedroom, and your heart drops. What was that? It sounded like something falling. Without a second thought, you rushed to his bedroom, afraid that maybe he fell to the ground or something like that.

You hear a small groan of annoyance coming from his room; you barged in no hesitation and immediately froze when you saw him. 

Mingi stood at the edge of his bed, pants down and very hard; his tripod lay broken on the floor. When Mingi looked up at you, he frozen for a second, rummaging behind him to pick up a pillow and cover himself up. You quickly shut the door in your own face, walking away from his room. 

Once you reach the front door, ready to drop everything and leave because WHAT THE FUCK MINGI WAS FILMING A PORNO, you hear his bedroom door open and he runs toward you.

“Wait y/n, don’t...”

You stop in your tracks, turning around slowly when you feel Mingi’s hand grasp your shoulder. He was wearing black sweats and nothing else. His cheeks were flushed red, and he was out of breath.

“I’m sorry, Mingi; I texted you but you didn’t answer. The door was unlocked, so I came in, then I heard this sound and thought maybe you were hurt.” 

“Y/n, you’re rambling again.”

You shut your mouth, looking away from Mingi. He chuckled softly, moving his hand from your shoulder to his waist.

"Sorry, I didn’t see your message. I thought you would have taken longer to get here, and I needed to film a video.”

You scratch the back of your neck; it took every ounce in you not to look down at his large bulge in his sweats. You clear your throat, feeling awkward and bad for just barging in the way you did. 

“Do you, um, want me to go? so you can..you know.” 

You gestured toward his bulge, trying to maintain eye contact but failing. He looked down, a blush creeping on his cheeks, before covering himself with his hand. 

"Um, I would, but that thump you heard was my tripod falling and breaking into bits, so...”

“Oh, I mean, do you really need that? Just prop it down on the table or something.”

“I can't; it doesn’t get the right angle.”

You roll your eyes at his remarks, scoffing.

“You’re being picky; just put your phone down and jerk it, not that hard.”

Mingi laughs at your words, the tension in the room lifting. Your body finally starts to relax, and you can tell Mingi was feeling the same way. 

“It’s not that easy; when I put my phone on the table, the lighting looks all weird. I want to make good videos for my viewers; that way I get more money.”

He rubs his thumb and index finger together. You smile at him, finding his care for quality videos strangely endearing. 

“Let me see.”

He takes you to his room; when you enter, you see the broken tripod. It was snapped in half on the floor; there was no fixing it. 

“I mean, do you have tape?”

“No.”

You stroke your chin, thinking on how to help this situation.

“Just get a new one; do you really need to film a video now?”

“Yeah, this isn’t just any video; it’s a commission. I need to film it, or else the buyer would be upset.”

You both ponder for a moment; you wanted to help but didn’t know how. Suddenly Mingi looks over at you, a look in his eyes that you couldn’t pin point.

“What if…you film me?”

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps toward his direction. 

“What!?”

Mingi walks closer to you, grabbing your hands with a pleading look.

"Oh, come on, y/n, I need to film this video. You’re my best friend, and I need your help; besides, you’ve already seen my dick!” 

You stood there, mouth open, unable to form words. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your ears heated up. You scoff at Mingi, looking away, not wanting him to see the small blush on your cheeks.

He keeps trying to meet your gaze, eyes desperate and pleading.

“Please? I’m not going to make you do this if you’re uncomfortable, but please consider. Help your bestie make a bag.” 

You laugh softly at his words, looking into his eyes; it was hard to deny that look. After a moment of silence, you thought, Fuck it. Mingi needed your help; you knew you were the only one who could help in this way (totally wasn’t because you secretly wanted to see Mingi touch himself). 

“Fine, okay,” you sighed.

Mingi smiles wide, pulling you in for a hug.

“Thank you! Okay, all you have to do is stand here and record me. Pretty simple.”

Mingi walked your body to the edge of the bed, wanting you to stay there. He gives you his phone after opening the camera app and looks at you excitedly. You couldn’t help but think how cute Mingi looked right now. (Despite the fact that he was going to whip it out in a few seconds.)

“Wait, before I do this, you better promise that we will pretend like nothing happened and move on. Don’t think I’ll be your camerawoman from now on, just this once.” 

“Okay, I promise.” Mingi chuckles.

You let out a sigh, holding up the camera to point it at the bed. 

“Hurry before I change my mind," you huff. 

Mingi scurries on the bed, sitting at the edge. He grips the waistband of his sweats, hesitating for a moment.

“Make sure not to get my face. Wait, sit down. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the chair beside you to take a seat. You were now at eye level with Mingi, sitting a foot away from him. After you take a deep breath, you press record.

“Ok go.”

Mingi moves when he hears the ding of the camera, indicating that you started recording. He reached behind him to grab something; your heart dropped when you saw what it was. 

His flesh light. 

He begins to speak, talking to the person who you presume bought this specific video as a commission. He stands up, rubbing his bulge through his sweats. You gulp, trying not to let your trembling hands mess up the video. 

You look up, locking eyes with him. Mingi twitched in his pants, biting his lip and letting out a small groan. You quickly tore your gaze away, staring at the screen in front of you. 

You swore you saw a hint of a blush creeping on Mingi’s cheeks when you both locked eyes. You watched as his hands ran up his hips, gripping the waistband of his sweats to pull them down slowly. You breathe hitched when his big dick sprung up and slapped his lower abdomen.

You swear you’ve never seen him that hard; from all the videos you (secretly) watched of him, you never saw him like this. His tip was red, leaking cum; a long vein ran down the side of his length. You subconsciously squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself throb between your legs.

That didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi; damn him, why was he so observant? He chuckled softly, taking his cock in his hands and stroking it at a slow, teasing pace.

“You want it?”

For a second, you thought he was talking to you, but you figured he was probably just speaking sexy for the video. He tends to do that a lot (I mean, how would you know that?haha...). 

Mingi sat back down on the bed, slowly stroking his dick and moaning quietly. He reached behind him to grab some lube, lathering it on his length. 

Your mouth watered at the sight. God, he looked so good. You wish you could just drop the phone and take his large dick in your mouth. Then he wouldn’t need the lube.

Your try to shake away the thought, keeping a neutral face as you held the phone in front of you. You watch as Mingi bites his lip, taking the flesh light and aligning his length with it. He slowly pushed the toy down, letting out a low moan. 

You had to bite your lip to hold back the noises that threatened to escape. Holy fuck, you’re watching Mingi fuck himself right in front of you. Not to mention, it’s turning you on deeply. 

Mingi leans his head back, letting out gasps when he moves the toy up and down. Your stomach churned, you watched the screen intently as his hand moved faster, and you noticed the way his hips buck up slightly.

“Fuck, that’s so good.”

You felt his intense gaze, and when you looked over at him, your eyes locked again. You press your lips together, trying so hard to stay quiet. His brows furrowed as he stared at you, fucking up into the flesh light desperately.

You sat there frozen, as if you were hypnotized by Mingi’s pretty noises and desperate eyes. His gasps grew more harsh, and he quickly pulled the toy off him. He panted while his hard dick twitched uncontrollably.

"Fuck, I almost came already,” he groaned breathlessly. 

You take in a deep breath; the aching of your pussy became more unbearable the more you watched. You tried everything to ease the feeling—crossing your legs, shifting in your seat. You couldn’t help it when your hand reached down to press your fingers against your clit through your leggings. 

Mingi watched your movements, moaning softly and taking his length back in the toy. His eyes glued to your hips as he fucked himself. The squelching from the toy shot straight to your core; you can feel your slick sticking to your underwear. 

“Fuck baby…”

He groans, throwing his head back and moaning. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down and his chest heaving. The bed was squeaking from the way Mingi’s hips bounced up and down in the toy. He could feel your eyes on him, and it turned him on more than he thought it would.

“I’m gonna….”

He moaned breathlessly, looking back at you with the prettiest fucked-out face you’ve ever seen.

“I’m gonna come for you.” 

Your heart clenched (and so did your pussy). At this moment, you knew he wasn’t speaking for the video; he was speaking to you. Your hand reached up to cover your mouth as you watched Ming unravel.

His eyes rolled in the back of his head when he ripped the toy off him, taking his cock in his other hands to jerk it off quickly. He whimpered, cursing out loud when his cum shot up, landing on his fist and stomach. You moaned quietly when you watched some of his release land on the beads of the matching bracelet you both wore. 

He sat there for a moment, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He chuckled softly, setting the flesh light down and waving at the camera.

“Thank you for buying.” 

You ended the recording, slowing, moving your hands down to stare at Mingi’s tired body. He plopped down on the bed, panting while looking up at the ceiling. You clear your throat, standing up on your trembling legs, setting his phone down on the table. 

“Well….that was…interesting.”

You stand there awkwardly, hands resting in front of you, trying not to look at Mingi, who was sprawled out naked on the bed. He props himself on his elbows after cleaning himself up, laughing while he looked at you.

"Yes, very interesting; that was good.”

You smiled softly, your throbbing pussy didn’t subside, and looking at a fucked-out smiling Mingi didn’t help. You noticed the way Mingi’s eyes ran up and down your body. 

“Do you think it was good?” He asked.

You bit your lip, walking closer.

"Yeah, it was good; you looked really hot.”

Mingi smirked at you, biting his lip. He sits up, reaching forward to grab your hips. You gasped when you felt him pull you closer. 

“I can tell you enjoyed it; I noticed the way you wanted to touch yourself. And the look on your face... you looked so cute.”

You blushed at his words; you already felt embarrassment creep up from the way you acted. You groaned, looking away and holding onto Mingi’s shoulders.

“Ugh, stop teasing me. It’s not my fault; you looked so….sexy.”

Mingi smirked up at you; the look in his eyes caused your body to shudder in desire. He gripped your hips harder, hands running down to grip your thighs.

“Oh yeah? I was sexy?”

"Mingi, don’t do that.”

Mingi cocked his head to the side, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like you want to fuck me. I won’t be able to control myself.” 

“Then don’t; let me make you feel good.”

You reach up, cupping his face while you look down at him. You knew deep down you shouldn’t do this with Mingi, but damn it, you both already crossed so many lines. Besides, you were desperately horny, and fuck Mingi looked so hot right now. 

You pushed Mingi down on the bed, crawling on top of him while you smashed your lips together. You felt him smirk in the kiss, and his hands reached to grip your waist. The kiss was hungry and needy, tongues darting out to entangle in each other's mouth. 

You couldn’t think about how you were acting in this moment because you didn’t care. You sat up, ripping your shirt off your body, Mingi’s hands instinctively running up to grasp your breasts through your bra. He smiled up at you, and you reached down to stroke his face.

“You looked so unbelievably sexy, Mingi. I can’t take it anymore. I need you to fuck me.”

Mingi chuckles, pulling you down to kiss you again; his hand makes its way in your leggings. His finger grazing your wet panties, he groans in the kiss, pulling away to look down at your hips. You feel his fingers push the fabric of your soiled panties to the side, dipping his finger in your folds. He gasps softly, looking up at you with furrowed brows, his jaw going slack. 

“Fuck baby, you’re already so wet. Did I do this to you?” 

You nod your head eagerly, rocking your hips to grind against Mingi’s fingers. He moans quietly at your reaction, feeling a sense of pride for having that kind of effect on you. 

He circles your clit, pressing down while watching your every expression.

There’s that look again—the same look Mingi gave you while you recorded him. You subconsciously rock your hips faster, getting lost in Mingi’s brown eyes. You whine, wanting to feel more; the slow circling of Mingi’s fingers on your clit wasn’t enough. 

“Baby, please take my pants off. I need to feel more of you.”

Mingi has never seen this side of you, desperate and pleading. He can already feel himself getting hard again, dick twitching when you begged for him.

“Oh god, don’t you worry, baby, I’ll make you feel good.”

He pulled off your leggings and panties; you kicked them off, pushing them to the side. Mingi took in your naked body, staring hungrily at you. His grip on your hips was tight, and the warmth of your pussy hovering over his hard length caused him to shudder in delight.

“Baby, before I fuck you, I need to taste you; fuck please,” he begged.

You whimper at his words, nodding eagerly and moving your body up till you straddled his face. Mingi held on tightly to your thighs, pulling you down. He did not hesitate to stick his tongue out, eagerly licking up your wetness. 

You gasp at the feeling, not fully preparing yourself for the sensation. You entangle your fingers in his short blonde hair, throwing your head back and moaning his name. He groaned the second he had the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Licking slow strips up and down your cunt, he dug his nails in your skin, needing to feel you as close as possible. 

You moaned when you felt his tongue dip in your hole, slurping up all your juices. His long nose bumped against your clit; you couldn’t help but ride his face grinding against him. 

This is something you’ve always fantasized about, sitting on Mingi’s nose while he sucked at your wet pussy. You felt like you were in a state of euphoria, moaning and whining loudly; occasionally Mingi would grunt against your pussy as well. God, you loved the sound—the sounds of his moans and the lewd slurping filling up the room. 

You looked down at him, whimpering when you saw he was already looking up at you. You felt him smile against your core; he shook his head side to side to cause more friction on your clit with the tip of his nose. He licked up, taking your bundle of nerves in his mouth and sucking, massaging the bud with his tongue. 

Your legs trembled around his head, and you pulled his hair, causing him to moan louder. His hands roamed up your body. Holding your waist to grind your hips again this face. He wanted to feel you, wanted you to smear your pussy all over him, make a mess. 

“Mingi…you are…so good,” you gasped. 

Mingi’s desperation turned you on greatly. He was so eager to please you; it was evident that he was just as needy for you as you were for him. Years and years of tension all let out in this moment right here. 

Embarrassing to admit, you were already feeling your orgasm creep up. You were so lost in the pleasure you didn’t even notice when Mingi’s hand snaked down your hips; the feeling of his finger prodding at your hole made your body tremble.

You fell forward, catching yourself with your hands resting on the mattress above Mingi’s head. His index finger pushed inside you slowly; you tried so hard not to let your arms give out beneath you. Mingi pulled off for a second to chuckle, sliding his finger in and out of you with ease. You whined pathetically and clenched hard around Mingi’s finger. Mingi, push your body up so you could sit up right.

“You wanna lay down, baby?”

His finger continued to move inside you at an agonizing pace, running his hand up and down your stomach soothingly. You couldn’t even form words; all you could do was pout and nod. He smiles at you, cooing at your expression before speaking.

"Aw, look at you; you’re so pretty. Come on, lay down on the bed for me.”

You whined when you felt his finger leave your cunt, making you feel empty. He helped you shift on the bed, laying you back against the soft mattress and crawling over to you. You looked down at Mingi, subconsciously spreading your legs wide as if you were inviting him in. 

He chuckled at the sight, his head immediately dipping down back to pussy. He softly licked your clit,  looking up at you and pushing his fingers back into your hole.

“That’s it, pretty girl; you take my fingers so well.”

You whimper, shyly looking away, feeling more vulnerable under Mingi.

"No, baby, don’t look away. Look at me.”

You felt a wave of need wash over you at his command, snapping your head back down to lock eyes with Mingi.

“Keep looking at me, okay? I want to see your face when I fingerfuck you.”

He entered another finger in you, pushing them in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your wet pussy  squelching were music to Mingi’s ears. He moaned softly, dipping his head down to suck on your clit while he fingered your hole. 

Although Mingi’s mouth and hands felt absolutely amazing, you couldn’t help but feel more needy. You needed more; you needed to feel Mingi inside you. You could scream if you didn’t get to feel Mingi’s dick in you right now.

“Mingi baby, please, I need more. I need... to feel you inside.”

He smirked, replying back in a teasing tone.

“Aw, but I’m already inside.”

“Nooo, you know what I mean.”

You squirm under his touch, whining desperately to stop his teasing.

“Come on, use your words.”

You felt a blush creep up on your face, closing your eyes for a moment and taking in a breath. 

“Please….fuck me. I need to feel your cock inside.”

Mingi’s body ignited at the sight of you begging for him; you looked so desperate; how could he say no to a face like that? 

“Good girl.”

He pulled his fingers out, crawling up your body and smashing his lips on yours. You instinctively reached up, entangling your fingers in his hair. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in impossibly closer.

“You’re so fucking cute when you beg for me,” he grunted.

You could only reply with a whimper, cupping his face to keep his lips on yours. You’ve never felt this desperate before, but there was something about Mingi; you just needed him so badly. You felt his length prod at your entrance. Mingi kissed your cheek softly, then pushed in.

The moan you let out was embarrassingly loud, but you didn’t have enough care in the world to dwell on that. Mingi’s jaw went slack; the feeling of your warm pussy enveloping him was almost enough to make him cum. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to hide your face in the crook of his neck. You felt Mingi press soft kisses on your skin, letting you adjust to the feeling of his big dick. Once he felt your body relax, he thrust his hips, his dick rubbing against your slick walls.

Your moans muffled in his neck, and your legs trembled against Mingi’s waist. Mingi let out quiet moans in your ear, sucking and biting marks on your neck.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? You wanted to feel my dick pound in you.”

"Yes, baby,” you whine. 

You moan at his words; the feeling of his hard cock thrusting in and out of you made your head reel. You both held each other closely, and you could feel his warm breath on your skin; it all felt so intimate. 

“You’re pussy is so good; you’re so warm.”

“Mingi, I love your dick; please don’t stop fucking me.”

You felt his dick twitch inside you at your praise. He pulled away, adjusting himself so he could kneel in front of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, and he plowed in you even harder and faster. 

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your jaw going slack as silent moans escaped your lips. He moaned at your expression, biting his lip and grunting loud. 

“Look at you, baby; you look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he chuckled breathlessly. 

You reached forward, gripping Mingi’s flexing thigh; you needed to grasp onto something to ground yourself. Your moans grew high-pitched as you clenched around his length. You felt your release approaching quickly; words struggled to form from the way Mingi was fucking you so good.

Mingi threw his head back, moaning; the clenching of your pussy made his stomach churn. 

“So tight,” he whimpered. 

“I’m going…to cum,” you managed to let out. 

Mingi let a wad of spit drip down onto your clit, taking his thumb and gently rubbing the nub in circles while he fucked you. You watched in awe, feeling a pang of desire at the sight. You arched your back, and the way your tits bounced in your bra was too enticing. 

Mingi reached up to push the padding of your bra to the side, letting your breast spill out. Your nipple was now exposed to him, and he leaned down to take it in his mouth. You gasp, holding his head in place as you grind down on his dick. 

“Cum for me, baby, please; cum on my dick, I’m so close.”

That was all you needed to reach your peak. Your moans got stuck in your throat, head throwing back against the pillow as your orgasm coursed through you. Mingi panted heavily, letting out beautiful sounds as he tried so hard not to cum in you.

Mingi’s hips stuttered, pulling out quickly to stroke his dick. It didn’t take long for him to cum for the second time that night. It landed all over your stomach. You lay there, breath heaving, feeling Mingi’s warm seed land on your skin. He caressed your thigh soothingly, moaning softly as he came down from his high.

He plopped down on the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he panted against your neck. You both laid there for a moment, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. The silence was broken when Mingi let out a small laugh, pulling his head up to look at your face. 

“Didn’t expect our hangout to lead to this... I’m not complaining though.” 

He smiled, cupping your face to stroke your cheek. You covered your face in your arms, reality hitting you like a bus. You laughed, your face erupting in a red tint. 

“Holy fuck Mingi, that was…”

Mingi slowly pulled your arms down, wanting to see your expression. He smiled wide when he saw the blush on your cheeks; he couldn’t help but plant a kiss on your burning flesh.

“Amazing?” He asked, almost hopefully. 

You turned your body to face him, cupping his face; your voice came out softer than intended when you spoke. 

“Yes, it was amazing.” 

Mingi pulled you in to kiss you softly on the lips. You didn’t know what this meant for your friendship, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment with that thought. All you wanted right now was to enjoy his affection, basting in each other’s warmth. 

“You’re sending me that video, by the way.” 

He laughs at your request, nodding in agreement and pulling you in so you could lay on his body. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be getting a first preview of all the videos I post from now on.” 

~

a/n: Wow this fic took longer than it needed to. I hope you guys enjoy my first official story. I got many great requests for future stories, so keep an eye out for that ;). If you guys possibly want a small part 2 for this one let me know!

update: part 2 posted here ;)

[heyhihellosworld]

𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭

Trent Alexander-Arnold x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Your nephew loves Trent

Warnings: Pure fluff, mentions of stress

Notes: Seen too much kid-content so had to write something fluffy with kids. Not sure what this is, also tried to read through it in the middle of the night so it's probably a lot of grammar mistakes

"Pancakes?" you suggested, rolling your eyes as you heard a strong buzz sound, marking that pancakes wasn't what he wanted. "Cereal?"

buzzz

You took a breath, turning back from the fridge to look at the little beast.

"What do you want to eat then? I've said everything we have at home" you asked, watching his shoulders shrug.

"Can you make something yummy?"

"I told you what I can make already" you voiced watching his pouting face "but it's all not good" he whined, testing your limits

he is a kid, he is only a kid, don't yell, he is a kid

The small boy looked at you with big eyes, sensing you were upset with him which upset him and suddenly your heart melted, feeling stupid for getting agiated by him. He was only four, learning his way but you were spent to your limits after the day's work. You worked directly under your boss for the time being. You were supposed to learn the work and had a three months ‘test’ period where you were eased into it. The only problem was that you were next to your boss who was an absolute prick, treating you like his personal assistant making you go nuts and work way too much and hard. When you had crawled out of the office your brother had called for emergency babysitting as he'd had to work late and Leo's mother was on a work-trip.

"It's okay baby" you sighed, lifting the small boy up from the floor, feeling him snuggling into your chest contently, happy you weren’t mad at him.

"What about we go order food from somewhere huh? We can take the car" you hummed feeling relieved when the little boy squealed in delight. "Can we go take nuggets?" he asked hopefully, his eyes impossible to say no to

"Sure, we can go to mc" you promised, laughing as he squealed once again, fisting your hoodie in his small hands in happiness.

-

Leo as he was named was a very chatty boy, always happy and smiling, unless he was hungry. He had been your number one fan since he was born... at least until he came along.

You loved him, you did. After you'd first met him at that club on your first date and now even after you'd dated for almost three years you still loved him but you would never stop hating him for taking your fan. Because since you'd introduced Trent to your family he had taken the spotlight and suddenly he was all Leo cared about.

He was his biggest idol, the one he wanted to be when grown up and the one he wanted attention from. He had his shirts and posters in his room, stuff you'd helped him out off. He idolized Trent and you loved that because you idolized Trent too but he took your sweetheart away and you would never forgive that

.

You'd just arrived home from picking up your food when Trent let himself in in your shared home. "I'm home!" he shouted as always as he took off his shoes and popped his washbag into the machine, he didn't expect to be met with small feets tumbling at him, Leo's bright smile making him laugh as he picked the little guy up in his arms, swinging him around. "What are you doing here little man?" he asked sweetly, gently stroking his cheek as he giggled adorably. "Daddy had work and mom is not home" he answered knowingly making Trent hum

"What have you done then and where is y/n?"

Leo looked down sheepishly, not meeting Trent's eyes anymore as he mumbled "she is in the kitchen"

Trent looked at the little guy, knowing it was more he wanted to say "she is mad at me" he hummed, Trent's eyebrows raising "why would she be mad?"

Leo looked down again, chewing on his lip "I didn't want to eat anything at home and she was upset so we went to Mc" he mumbled sheepishly, looking down on Trent’s shirt

"I'm sure she isn't mad at you" Trent hummed, gently stroking his tummy as he met his eyes again "no?"

"No sweetie" Trent smiled, taking him with him into the kitchen where you stood, plating your food up. He could say from just watching you that you were stressed and tense, your moves erratic and stiff.

"Hey babe" He mumbled, wrapping his free arm around your waist as he kissed your cheek, Leo clambering stuck on Trent's side.

"Hey, how was training?" you hummed, turning to him with a soft smile, inviting him to peck your lips.

"It was fine, nothing special" he told you truthfully "how was your day?"

You shrugged "it was alright" you lied, smiling at him as best you could. It was starting to get too much but you had to keep it together in front of Leo, not wanting him to think you were mad at him because you truly weren't

You finished plating up Leo's food, taking it out to the sofa as Tren't put him down on the floor

"Here you go sweetie" you smiled, watching him hesitate "what's up?" you tried softly, his big eyes looking up at you

"I'm sorry I made you mad" he mumbled, his lips trembling, your heart clenching at the sight

"No baby, it's okay I'm not mad at you, not at all" you softly smiled, lifting him up and kissing his cheek "I'm mad at some annoying people at my work, not you. Okay?"

He nodded, a smile crackling over his face as you put him down, putting on the tv as Trent sat down beside him.

When he dug in you saw your escape, going back to the kitchen to take a breather  but Trent followed you just a minute later.

“Leo told me he had upset you”

His words made you grimace “Well it wasn’t my attention to but just ugh”

Trent chuckled, kissing you softly “It is okay to not feel great all the time you know,  don't try to hide it”

“You’re so poetic” you mocked, his eyes rolling at you playfully

It was late, way too late when you stumbled through your door. Trent had called two hours ago, wondering where you were but you hadn't given him an understandable answer, just mumbling that you had to go and would come home soon. Your boss had been a real bitch, again and needed you to clean up his mess, again.

You threw your shoes off before hurrying into the living room only for it to be empty. It took a moment to recognize where the voices were coming from but soon enough you located them from the kitchen.

Guilt prickled your skin as you breathed away the bad thoughts. You were supposed to be home at two to collect Leo from your brother but when he'd call and ask where the fuck you were you could only curse because you'd forgotten all about it. 

Instead Trent had welcomed him at the training ground before driving home to yours.

It was shitty, you knew it was not acceptable and you felt ashamed as you walked into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway as you spotted the two.

Trent and Leo both stood with their backs to you, laughing and giggling as they rolled up cookie dough on a tinplate. "No no you're doin it all wrong!" Leo giggled as Trent put down a ball on the folie

"What?! What do you mean buddy it's perfect" Trent argued, causing the little boy to giggle, shaking his head "No it's ugly T"

"Hey, what are you calling ugly!" Trent joked, smearing a bit of cookie dough on his nose causing the little boy to let out a shriek of laughter as he launched on Trent who swiftly threw him up in the air laughing with him.

The sight made your eyes water and chest tighten at how perfect it was. Such a moment you never wanted to forget.

"Hey boys" you voiced made them both turn around, Leo's face shone up as he saw you, tugging your heart "Aw hey buddy" you whispered as you took him in your arms, lifting him up on your chest, ees watering even more as he snuggled into your neck" Hi Y/n, I missed you"

"I missed you too, did you have a good day with Trent?"

You diverted your eyes to your boyfriend who stood facing you, leaning back against the counter with his hands and a content smile on his face, telling you it was okay even though it didn't feel like it.

"It was the best! I got to play with them and then we watched a movie, ate burgers then we made cookies for you because we know it's your favorite!" he cheered, your heart feeling too emotional, too moved for this greeting.

"Aw how nice of you" you hummed, kissing his cheek before putting him down on the floor again. The little boy quickly jumping up on the chair he was standing on.

"Okay buddie, it's time for the owen, ten minutes then we wait five before eating and then my little man it's bedtime" Trent hummed, Leo listening intently, nodding at his words "Can I watch tv whilst we wait for cookies?" he asked sweetly, his small eyes blinking up pleadingly in that way that made him get whatever he wanted.

"Yeah sure, you go we will clean up here" Trent chuckled as he looked after the boy who had already sprinted out to the couch quickly putting on his favorite program.

"I'm sorry!" you wailed, looking at him with guilt written all over you body. Trent chuckled, taking two long steps before wrapping his arms around you "It's okay love" he mumbled, kissing the top of your head "No no it's not Trent. I should've been here when my brother dropped him off at two and now the clock is eight thirty"

"I know how your boss is, so does your brother and he wasn't mad, not at all he just felt bad for you"

"I really am sorry" you sniffled, burying your face in his shirt, his arms wrapping tightly around you, stroking your back comfortably "It's okay, I promise. I know how important your work is for you even though it's shit and I want you to do what you dreamt off and you are soon there. In a week you’ve paid off the shit time with him and can pursue your dream. I wanna help you reach your dream just like you helped me reach mine so don't say sorry. it's the least I could do after everything you've done for me"

You looked at him with love-eyes. Kissing his chest where you could reach before he bent down to give you a kiss "I love you T"

"Love you y/n"

"Okay okay let's take out the cookies now you hummed after a few moments of just relaxing in his body. The smell of cookies filled the kitchen and he nodded, taking the tinplate and putting up plates and ice cream before calling in Leo who looked starstruck at the sugar shock he would most definitely get before sleep but it was worth it, seeing his face and cozying up between your favorite boys in front of the tv.

It was the annual bbq saturday, one day every summer the whole fam got together, grilling and hanging out at your parents summer house. It was a nice tradition and everybody always made sure to be there. What had first been a smaller gathering with your brother, parents, cousins, grandparents and uncles and aunts had now become a big group with partners and kids but the more the merrier, at least when it came to family.

Trent had been to the annual BBQ for four years in a row now, the first time as your friend though nobody believed that for a second. Your parents had fallen in love with him the first time they'd met him. His sweet smile and helping hand not taken for granted and quicker than ever before he was an obvious part of the fam. Your brother was a bit reluctant at first but the second you'd introduced Trent to Leo you brother couldn't fight the fact that he was a nice guy.

"So y/n, when is he gonna take the next step? It's three years now huh?" one of your cousins asked smugly, making you chuckle "I'm in no hurry you know. I don't want a proposal for at least two years" you admitted, creating a wall of hums "Two years?"

"Yeah, we are still young and I don't want to hurry into marriage. I love him and that's all that matters at the moment. I want to get married when we are thinking of starting an family""Oooh"

Your eyes rolled "Not anytime soon"

Your conversation was cut short by Trent who ran towards you, Leo on his back giggling like a maniac as Trent lifted him around, playing airplanes or whatever he did. A fond smile grew on your face as Trent gave you the laughing boy for a second, taking time to catch his breath as you played with him in your arms before he was off on Trent’s shoulders again.

"You really did a great choice" your mothers soft voice was heard from behind you, your eyes met her sincere ones and you nodded "I really did"

"I know everybody is pressing about an engagement, babies and marriage but don't listen to them. What you have is unique, he is so in love with you and you are so in love with him. Just look at how Leo loves him, he will be an awesome dad whenever the day comes and you will be a wonderful mother. There is no need to rush because your love is true"

You smiled at your mother, hugging her tightly "It really feels real"

"Finally" your mother chuckled, hinting at your past boyfriends that she did in fact not like at all and you giggled

"But seriously y/n, you deserve this, happiness"

You just smiled at Trent, watching as he jogged up to you with Leo in his arms again "Heyy what are you talking about?" he smiled, handing you Leo who were grabbing after you

"Nothing" you hummed, taking the now tired boy. "Just how amazing you are"

"Oh really?" he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at your mother who chuckled back"Do you want anything to drink?" Trent asked after a couple of seconds

"Yeah sure""Okay, i'll be right back I love you" he smiled, pecking your lips softly"Love you T"

[celestialprincesse]

Can you please do an anemic reader on who her lack of red blood cells are getting worse enough that she has to be hospitalized?! And we have to see soaps reaction?!

OHH He shits his pants

It's a routine blood draw, nothing you're not used to. Just a cell count to make sure everything's working properly and that your supplements don't need to have their dosage increased.

"So this here is the red blood cells.." The nurse drones as you sit in one of the consultancy rooms of the local hospital, chin resting in the crook of your palm. "They're low enough that we'll need to keep you in for a couple of days for an iron transfusion and monitoring before and after."

"I'm sorry?" You choke, snapped from your reverie as you look at the nurse and your results paper she currently points at.

"It's really nothing to worry about. We'll keep a good eye on you, you'll probably be in for three days, tops." "No but I have work." The woman across from you looks frustrated at your resistance as she raises an eyebrow your way. "I'd really strongly advise you not to go back to work like this. It'll only exacerbate your condition." "Right. Fine. Can I just make a call quick? Get my boyfriend to swing by with some essentials." "This isn't prison. You can call who you like when you like."

You tap your foot anxiously on the linoleum floor of the hallway as the phone rings persistently, waiting for Johnny to pick up.

"Bonnie! How'd it go?" John's Scottish brogue still manages to send flutters to your tummy, even after three years of dating and just having received bad news.

"They're keeping me in for a few days." The anxiety in your voice is obvious, and John can practically picture you worrying at your bottom lip.

"Why? Wha' happened?" "Just a really low red blood cell count. They're going to monitor and do a transfusion on Wednesday. I was wondering if you could bring me some stuff? Toothbrush and pyjamas and whatnot?" "Course I'll bring ye a bag. Text me what ye need and I'll be there in a half hour." "Thank you Johnny." "You dinnae need to thank me. I love ye, bringin' a bag is nothing." "Well, thank you anyways."

Johnny must've sped with how quickly he gets to the hospital, conveniently sporting his tags on the outside of his khaki hoodie and a pair of military issue boots. If his charm isn't enough to wriggle the visiting hours around, his job most certainly is.

You give a little soft 'Hi' and he's already dropping a black duffel to his feet, scooping you up, trying to ease the tension from your back by rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades.

"Bought all yer things. Clean clothes, washbag, laptop, chargers." "You're an angel." "Am no, 'm just very worried for my woman."

[airandangels]

If you’d like to contribute to a further shipment of much-needed period underwear (with washbags included) they’re taking donations here:

[tangerinesgirl]

If you're taking requests could you please write something about thigh riding with either Frank from Abigail or Mark Hoffman please?

Occupied

Fem!Reader x Adam 'Frank' Barrett

Rating: NSFW, explicit, 18+

Word count: <1k

Synopsis: You've been teasing Frank all evening during the Abigail mission, despite both of you promising to keep it professional. He wants to teach you a lesson.

Warnings: shameless smut, thigh riding, asphyxiation, hair pulling, degrading, mirror sex

Notes: I did originally write a Hoffman one but lost enthusiasm for it idk why I might continue it! Hope you enjoy!

🦇

As you're looking in the mirror trying to regain your thoughts from the evening, you hear the bathroom door open and shut. The fact none of the doors in the house have any locks really irks you, "Occupied!" you shout at the intruder. But you're met with silence.

You roll your eyes as you slam the mirror and lipstick into your washbag and start to leave. You reach for the handle and notice Frank in the corner of your vision, "Jesus Christ!", you drop your bag out of shock.

"Not quite", is his reply. He's sat on a chair opposite a very tall mirror with lights around the outside, reminiscent of a backstage dressing room. You know the place is posh when there's a waiting area in the bathroom. He breaks his gaze away from the mirror and looks at you.

You freeze as Frank stares you down, "Did you uh, want something, or?"

Frank nods at his thigh, beckoning for you to sit on his lap. You scrunch your eyebrows and swallow out of nervousness. You glance around to make sure no one else is in the room, and slowly start to sit down on his thigh. Frank gets impatient and yanks your hair, forcing you closer to him, as you quickly slam yourself down onto his lap, turning you at the same time time so you face towards the mirror.

Frank leans into your ear, a tight hold on your hair still, exposing your neck and ear to him. "What the fuck has gotten into you tonight huh?"

You have been flirting with Frank the entire evening. You both agreed to keep it professional even if you are dating outside of the job, but you decided to have a little fun. You couldn't help but enjoy seeing him wound up.

"I'm... sorry, I-"

Frank cuts you off as he adjusts his grip in your hair, tightening once again. You wince as he does so. You glance down at the tent forming in his pants in the mirror, Frank notices your gaze and scoffs, "I don't think you deserve that tonight doll. I want to see how much of a desperate slut you are instead". He looks into your eyes in the mirror as he moves his thigh between your legs. You roll your eyes as you feel the fabric start to scrunch between your folds.

Frank's other hand starts to trace up your thigh and notices you're not wearing any underwear. He arches an eyebrow, "You really are dirty, aren't you? Just asking for it, with no underwear." You whimper, starting to rock back and forth with Frank's leg, looking for more friction to help release your pent-up energy. You moan as Frank's hand continues to roam your body, starting to dip under your neckline, playing with your breasts and nipples.

Frank pulls on your hair again and hushes into your hear, "Shhh, you want someone to walk in on us and compromise the whole mission? Shut the fuck up and watch". He grips your jaw and forces your gaze to the mirror. You continue to ride him, you're close but you need more to tip you over the edge of your orgasm.

"Frank, I'm close".

Frank clenches his jaw, your words turning him on even more. He swears under his breath, "Good girl, keep going."

He lets go of your hair and starts to undo his belt buckle, releasing his cock from his underwear. It's leaking with precum.

You also swear looking at him in the mirror, "Fuck, Frank I need you inside me".

He starts to palm himself looking at you, "No baby, remember, this is a lesson, I want you to cum on my thigh like the whore you are". He dictates every syllable in the end of his sentence like your three years old.

His words seem hurtful but you enjoy them in a twisted way. Frank moans in your ear as he jerks himself off, also adding to your pleasure. You're increasing your pace, struggling to finish, when Frank grips your throat with his other hand, squeezing slowly. Frank watching you in the mirror as the air slowly leaves your lungs, all while rubbing his cock, sends you over the edge as you arch your back and cum over his trousers.

Frank isn't too far behind you as he cums over his hand, some splashing onto the mirror and, unknowingly to you, on the back of your black dress. Frank pants breathlessly as he sinks into the back of the chair, reaching the end of his orgasm. You continue to stare at him in the mirror, his reflection slightly obscured by his seed.

You get up out of his lap, your release standing out on his black trousers. Frank tucks himself back into his trousers as you take one last glance at him and leave the bathroom, people would be starting to wonder where you are, and it would be suspicious both of you leaving at the same time.

Frank starts to clean up, he washes his hands, and starts to clean up the patch you made on his trousers with the same water. He looks down and notices your bag, and looks back up in the mirror at the cum, he smirks to himself and decides to leave the mirror and bag as is. He turns around looking for a hand dryer or a towel but is unsuccessful. He swears and shakes his hands aggressively to get rid of the excess water.

He walks out of the bathroom, mumbling under his breath that the house doesn't have any towels, when he looks up and notices Joey pointing a gun at Sammy and Peter.

[bluesmason]

oh how i missed seeing him and his little matchday washbag 🥺 MASE!

[transgenderization]

coming to my attention that the closest thing to a washbag i own is the lockedinlust drawstring bag from roxyfication days this is a nightmare

[links-in-time]

Hero's Scars

Part 3 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Happy Pride Month!!!

@hyruledwarriorr

The gushing of blissfully hot water filled Link's ears, as he leaned comfortably against the side of the large wooden bath tub. It was so loud in fact that he failed to notice Sara sneaking into the bath house. Visa versa, Sara was walking backwards into the mostly quiet room and had no idea she wasn't as alone as she had suspected.

The sound of the running tap caught her attention quickly however and she couldn't stop a shriek of surprise escaping her lips. Link's previously closed eyes flashed open at the noise. He ducked low behind the rim of the bath and turned his head to see the intruder.

"Oh by Hylia!" Sara exclaimed, managing to half whisper her scream. She slapped a hand over her mouth as her cheeks flushed bright pink. "Captain! I had no idea anyone else was in here. I'm so sorry, I'll go."

Sara immediately turned on the spot and began to open the door. She couldn't believe of all people Link would be in the bath at this time of night. Moreover, she couldn't believe she had managed to walk in on him naked twice now.

"Sara?" She heard Link call behind her.

She paused with her hand on the door knob, wondering whether to ignore Link and go back to her chambers, or to stay.

"Yes Sir," she replied sheepishly, scrunching up her shoulders.

"What are you doing here this time of night?" He asked, equally as bewildered as she was.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came to have a bath," she replied, still facing the door. "I didn't think anyone else would be in here. I'm so sorry Captain."

Link considered for a moment, leaving Sara hanging in a painful silence.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to," he said.

"Really, it's not a problem Sir..." Sara tried to argue but Link interrupted her.

"Nonsense, it's fine," he insisted. "Honestly I don't mind. You just surprised me. But, I'm not king of the baths."

Sara let out a steadying breath and finally turned around. She gripped her washbag close to her chest and walked towards the other end of the room. She was aiming for a bath in the opposite corner to Link's, but he noticed this and called out to her.

"Where are you going?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna go run my own bath," she replied. Link chuckled.

"Sara, these baths are built to hold ten people, are you really going fill one up all for yourself?"

"Well you did," she remarked, but regretted making such a snide comment.

"I suppose I did," Link laughed again. "But it doesn't make sense wasting water now there's two of us," he pointed out.

Sara let out a long sigh, slumping her shoulders and dropping her head. It had been one thing accidentally walking in on Link getting dressed. That had given her dreams enough fuel already. But sharing a bath with him. The two of them, naked, together. Not that she didn't want to. But he was still her commander. Realising that Link wasn't going to drop the subject Sara waddled over to his bath and placed her wash bag on the floor.

"Erm, can you close your eyes, or turn your head. Or something?" She asked, tugging at the hem of her top like some bashful school girl.

"Of course," Link replied. He rested his head back against the bath tub and closed his eyes.

Sara waved her hand a little to make sure he wasn't peaking, then quickly stripped off her shirt, trousers and boots. Climbing into the large tub was a little awkward but she quickly settled herself under the water, sinking down so it covered her all the way to her chin.

"Alright, you can open your eyes now," she said tentatively.

Link opened his eyes slowly. He didn't want Sara to think he was being impatient with her, or trying to catch a glimpse.

"Sorry this isn't the quiet bath you hoped it would be," he apologised, with a little tilt of his head.

"It's okay, at least this way if one of us falls asleep we won't drown!" Sara replied matter of factly.

Link burst out laughing. Surprising Sara as he slapped the water with his hand, sending ripples and splashes her way.

"You know, I hadn't thought of that," he spluttered, wiping water from his face, but only succeeding in dampening his bangs.

As Link's laughter subsided they settled into an awkward silence. Sara wanted to reach for her washbag, but for that she'd have to ask Link to close his eyes again.

"Do you want me to close my eyes while you wash?" He asked for her.

"Just for a minute, if you don't mind," she replied, relieved she hadn't had to ask.

"I don't mind at all. I usually sit here with my eyes shut anyway," Link sighed, closing his eyes once more.

Sara leant over the side of the bath to grab her bar of soap and a sponge. She set to work cleaning herself, always keeping half an eye on Link in case he was peaking. But like the gentleman he was, he kept his eyes closed the whole time.

"How often do you come in here at night then?" She asked, scrubbing the soles of her feet.

"Whenever I get the chance really. I er, I don't like to come in when there's other people about?" Link explained, his ears turning a shade of pink. He wished Sara was the one with her eyes shut so she couldn't see him blushing. He hoped she would think it was just warmth from the water.

"Why's that?" Sara asked, splashing water over her face and hair to wash off the last of the soap.

"Well, remember when we talked about my secrets. They would be a lot more difficult to hide if I bathed with the rest of my troops."

"You can open your eyes now," Sara sighed as she settled back down in the water.

Link opened his eyes and found Sara looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity.

"You told me yesterday that you wanted to talk when we got back to the castle. Is this what you wanted to talk about?" She sighed.

"I wanted to talk about... Wanted to ask... Argh, I don't know how to say any of this right." He groaned, pressing his hands into his eyes.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to Link," Sara tried to assure him. But Link shook his head.

"No, I want to. I need to." Link curled his fingers into his wet hair in frustration.

"Alright, just please take a breath and stop clutching your hair so tightly. You'll hurt yourself," Sara pointed out, concerned for Link.

Link realised what he was doing and released his grip. He let his hands fall back into the water and let out a long pained sigh.

"Take your time, I've got all night if you need it Link."

"Hmm, you're very sweet Sara," Link remarked. "How did I end up with you as a friend?"

"I'm honoured you consider me a friend Captain," she nodded.

"Why wouldn't I?" Link frowned. "We've always gotten along haven't we? And you came to my rescue at the Inn the other day. I hoped that we might have been growing close. But you're still calling me Captain."

"I'm sorry, I guess it's just a force of habit," Maari blushed. "I'm also glad we're friends."

Link took a moment to collect his thoughts and consider what he wanted to tell Sara.

"I said it would be difficult to keep my secret if I came in here with the rest of the troops. I suppose I should start by explaining what I meant." Link paused, dropping his gaze to watch the ripples in the water.

"When I was a kid I never felt comfortable in myself. I always felt isolated and trapped somehow. As I grew up things about my life just didn't make sense to me, until one day I watched the soldiers parading through Castle Town. I asked my mother who they were and she told me they were the proud men and women who defended Hyrule and the royal family. I felt inspired. And something told me I might find a purpose as a soldier. When I was old enough I enlisted and began my training. I found a sense of comradery and fellowship I hadn't had anywhere else before. No one cared who I was or where I was from. Everyone had their own story and most were low born like me.

Soldiering felt like my calling and it made me feel a lot less lonely and I felt more like my true self than I ever had before. When I found out I possessed the triforce of courage and the hero's spirit," Link paused again. He sighed and gazed off into his memories. "I guess it reinforced everything I had always known about myself. I felt validated in my own body and I didn't feel quite so isolated anymore. But it came with its own challenges. Being the hero came with a specific image people expected, and I suppose I still wonder sometimes if I truly live up to that image."

Sara had been listening intently to Link as he spoke. She could feel how this was both a releaf but also difficult for him to say all these things. Understanding more about Link's past gave her a window into his troubles, but she couldn't help feel he was leaving something out.

"I'm sorry you felt lonely for so long Link. It's a hard thing to feel alone, especially when you're surrounded by people who adore you."

Sara stopped and considered before asking her next question. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries, but she felt she had to ask.

"What do you mean when you say you felt validated in your own body?"

Link didn't answer. His gaze shifted away form Sara to literally anything else in the room. He gulped hard and picked at his finger nails beneath the water.

"Link?" Sara leaned forward a litte. She wanted to reach out to him, but buried that instinct down quickly.

"Can I ask you something first? Then I'll tell you the rest of my story. If that's alright?"

"Of course."

"I know we've become friends, and I really enjoy our time together when we can get it. So my question is, do you maybe like me?" He asked with almost a wince.

"Of course I like you, we wouldn't be friends if I didn't like you Link," Sara replied, giving a simple answer to what she saw as a stupid question.

"Sara," he raised an eyebrow at her. "That's not what I meant. I'm asking if there's a chance you might have feelings for me?"

"Oh," Sara exclaimed, as a dark red blush washed over her face.

Of course she had feelings for Link. He was intelligent, he had a sense of humour and as far as she had seen he wasn't the kind of guy to sleep around. Not to mention he was incredibly handsome with blue eyes deeper than their bath tub.

"Um, I wasn't expecting you to put me on the spot like that." She began, subtly splashing water on her face in a vein attempt to cool down the heat in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, but it's important to me that I know if you do. I didn't mean to make you even more uncomfortable than I assume you already were!" He apologised, giving her a crooked smile.

"Well..." Sara said, stretching out her vowels. "Maybe for a few months now I have been feeling those kind of feelings for you."

As she spoke she was unable to look Link in the eyes. In all her dreams and fantasies of confessing her affections for Link, this was not how she imagined it at all. Although she may have had a dream about them sharing a bath before.

"Really?" Link asked, his eyes lighting up even though she sounded unsure. Sara let out another long sigh.

"Uh, yeah. I'm definitely attracted to you and when I saw you sitting at that bar crowded by those admirers, maybe I felt a little bit jealous." She admitted, talking quickly to get the words out.

"Wow, well that's fortunate because I like you too Sara," Link uttered.

"And maybe when my room-mates tease me about my crush on you... Wait what?" Sara kept speaking, until she registered what Link had said.

"I said I like you too," he reiterated.

"Oh." Maari wasn't sure what colour her face was at this point, but the heat had now spread to her ears.

"It's true what I said about feeling more myself and less alone in the army. But I still get those feelings sometimes. I don't always feel I can be completely open with everyone. Which is why I asked about your feelings."

Link closed his eyes and tried to compose his next words. He was desperately worried about how Sara might react. Oh how he wanted her to accept him. Link had grown closer to Sara than any one he'd ever met. She talked straight to him, but she teased him too, called his bluff but was also so caring and considerate.

"Okay, here goes. When I was born I wasn't... I didn't start life... My parents thought I was a girl." Link fumbled out his words.

He looked over at Sara in the hopes of gauging her reaction, but he struggled to read her face. She was almost impassive, apart from the blush across her face.

Sara had had her suspicions. She wasn't completely ignorant and after seeing Link's chest scars she had an incling what his secret might be. But of course she hadn't asked about it. What kind of person would? Besides, it didn't matter to Sara whether Link had been born a girl or a boy, or something in between. She liked Link. Surely the rest didn't matter. It was at this point Sara realised she had been saying all of these things in her head instead of out loud and Link was beginning to worry about her stunned silence.

"You think that makes a difference to me?" She asked plainly, giving Link a sympathetic smile. "Link, it wouldn't matter to me if you had two heads, or goat legs! I just told you I like you, romantically or not, I do. I feel honoured that you've told me this precious thing about yourself. But you shouldn't have worried that it might change anything between us."

"I'm sorry. I guess since everyone has a specific image of me in their heads. When they find out that image isn't the whole story, some people freak out or react badly towards me," Link sighed. "But you really don't care?"

"Not a bit," Sara nodded her affirmation. "I'm just sorry you felt you had to hide who you are. I had a friend growing up who was born as a boy. But she always felt more kinship with the other girls in the village. When she realised her body didn't align with how she felt, she changed her name and now she's much happier living as Kristeen than she ever was before."

"I knew I wasn't unique, but," Link sighed, unable to keep talking.

"Hey, you don't have to keep talking about this if you don't want to. You've already told me so much tonight."

Sara caught Link's eye and he could see how earnest she was being. He relaxed a little, all of a sudden he realised how scared he had been of this moment. Now that it had past Link didn't feel the need to be afraid anymore.

"In fact," Sara continued. "I think I'll let you finish your bath in peace and go back to my room. Unless you'd like me to stay longer. But my fingers are already starting to prune up!" Sara asked, observing her wrinkly finger tips.

"No it's okay," Link chuckled, realising he had also been sitting in the water for a long time. "I think I'll get out soon anyway," he remarked.

Without needing prompting, Link closed his eyes and waited for Sara to get out of the bath and wrap a towel around herself.

"Alright Link," she sighed deeply. "I'm going to bed."

Sara gave Link a sleepy smile before turning and heading towards the door.

"Hey Sara," Link called after her. "Thank you. For listening."

Sara stopped half way across the room. She turned back to Link and smiled more broadly.

"Thank you too."

"For what?" He asked.

"For telling me your secret, for telling me how you feel about me. And for kinda forcing me to do the same," she explained, rasing an eyebrow at the last sentence.

"Ha, yeah, I'm sorry about that," Link blushed, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Don't be, if you hadn't, I might never have told you how I was feeling about you. Goodnight Link. Sleep well."

<Part 2 :

[bitchslapblastoids]

i know ur the number one truther of ‘Dan and Phil wear makeup/foundation that isn’t their shade’ and in a couple of the clips in the video u can see the infamous blue capped foundation (which at first I thought was a makeup artists products not theirs) but it’s right next to a black and white bag which i then realised is the lazy oaf happy sad washbag which MUST be theirs bcs they own multiple lazy oaf products (first one that comes to mind is Phil’s red/pink socks in the no but seriously imagine it vid but there are more) which means they do carry around their own makeup in a bag that matches their socks which is cute and even cuter they share a makeup bag!! this info is useless but do with it what u will ❤️❤️

This info is not useless!! It’s so funny to me that these millionaires are rocking drugstore Rimmell foundation. And ah yes they are such lazy oaf people; the brand really matches their vibe so impeccably! (unlike their foundation matching their skin tones ahem) Ty for sharing!!

[ollierachnid]

Do you have any Ghostbusters as well as peckman(idk if there's a ship name either, it's surprisingly a rare/not common ship) hcs?

I can absolutely give you some of the Peter/Peck ones I have been accruing while scribbling and pondering them. Apologies for getting to this ask so late, I've been real busy eek!

Under a read more, for brevity's sake... there's a lot

I feel as though they're drastically different people with a similar streak of escalation and jabbing at each other who have managed to reach a very bizarre mutual understanding, and therefore, they don't naturally coalesce.

Judging on how Peter behaves towards other objects of his desire, he's VERY forward, comfortable displaying affection, or inducing embarrassment in public. And is pushy in response to what he sees as 'playing hard to get'. Peck, working off his usually stiff demeanour and position as a government man, is exactly the type of person his shtick does NOT work on. And so initially I picture a lot of push and pull, hot/cold etc., which causes conflicts. Somebody like Peter can't understand why Peck is fine in private but snappy and cold in public. Conversely, Peck doesn't understand why Peter can't exhibit discretion. I imagine the bicker a lot while trying to find a middle ground, I don't exactly perceive the relationship as easy or one of natural understanding.

Peter is veryyyy comfortable inserting himself into Peck's space and very quickly makes himself frequent in his home; works out where the spare key is, gets sweet with Peck’s family so they're keen on letting him in (the game had a cut line suggesting he lived with his mother and aunt, which I like, and might commandeer). Peck, although he doesn't appreciate the immediate intensity with invading his home, prefers it to staying at Peter's bachelor pad or the firehouse - picture him combing through amorphous piles of belongings and curling his nose here lol. He likes cleanliness and lives in neat spaces, Peter's apartment tends to look like a victim of the blitz. When Peck DOES stay, he brings his own towel, pillow and washbag, which Peter finds very funny.

Peck is not an easy person to get along with. He's naturally combative and caustic - Peter, in a similar way, is a little difficult interpersonally. Together, they are one of the most insufferable forces of nature going, especially when they don't like somebody. The other GBs very quickly realise this and find it funny to stick them on opponents. Peck doesn't like people treading on his toes with the anti GB campaign either.

A little softer, but Peter is heavy on both nicknames and petnames, and Walter can not escape them. His least favourite is Wally. Peter is about the only person who can get away with using it unscathed, just with a scolding.

Peck does not take kindly when Peter returns to him a little battered or bruised. Janine has learned to avoid picking up the phone if Peter goes to Walter's after a particular nasty scrape with the supernatural because whoever answers immediately gets an earful. Louis has not yet learned this. Peter enjoys being pampered in Walter's fancy apartment after a bad brush with a ghost though, let's him wash all the ectoplasm off in his bath.

They have similar music tastes, at least in terms of romantic tunes. Which is a nice point of relation between them, in a sea of many differences. Although Peter wants to dance to these, Peck doesn't. So Peter sort of tends to just wrangle and slightly limp Walter around the room while he sings and dances his heart out. (Peck secretly enjoys these little displays).

As it pertains to other, non-specific headcanons, I have a few! But probably need prompting in terms of character, so I can focus on something more particular... anyhow - Enjoy!

[whositmcwhatsit]

Summary: Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

Previous chapters

Chapter 5: Forgive me?

At the hotel, Chancy felt herself easing into the routine. The room was already set up by the advance crew. She stood beside Elvis while one of the Colonel’s people outlined the itinerary for that evening. Apparently, the Governor was coming to the show and wanted to meet him beforehand. There was also a couple of long-time members of a fan club who would be backstage.

Joe managed to usher the outsiders out by arriving with dinner courtesy of some all-night diner that the local police had recommended. Chancy picked at the burger- far too overcooked for her taste- as Elvis and several of the guys tucked in with gusto. Jerry was there, sitting in the armchair adjacent to the sofa, and she could feel the weight of his gaze. Whether it was fixed on her or Elvis, she wasn’t sure because she didn’t dare return it.

“You not hungry, baby?” Chancy shook her head and gave Elvis the same fake smile she had been hiding behind for most of the night. She offered him the rest of her burger and her fries. “Hell, I shouldn’t…” Even as he was speaking, he picked up her burger and took a large bite out of it.

The guys started to disperse as soon as everyone finished eating and Chancy helped Joe tidy up after them while Elvis used the bathroom.

“We got the appointment with the doctor at 4.15,” Joe said as they threw wrappers into the paper sack. “So I’ll be up to get you at about 3.30. How is it feeling now anyway?”

“Oh, just a little achy,” she shrugged. “Thanks for arranging the doctor and the x-ray and everything.”

“No problem.” His grin was always quick and bright. “It’s my job, the road manager needs a healthy crew.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Of course. You help keep the show on the road, right?”

“I don’t know how much I help with that.”

“You do, of course you do,” Joe replied smoothly, shaking his head in admonishment. The bathroom door opened and Elvis came out in his pyjamas and robe. “Anyway, I’ll see you at 3.30.”

“Call the room around 2.30,” Elvis said. Chancy fought a little irritation at the lack of a request, or a please.

“Yep, not a problem. You want me to let Ricky-“

“No, I need a break from that horny little bastard,” Elvis replied, rolling his eyes. “Cha-Cha’ll wake me up, won’t you, baby?”

The sudden responsibility filled her with horror, but they were both looking at her like it was nothing, so she could only shrug and nod.

“Okay, so I’ll call at two thirty, pick up at three thirty. Good night all!” They called their good nights, despite dawn not being far away, and suddenly the room seemed very still and quiet.

“You gonna get ready for bed?” Elvis asked softly at her shoulder when she couldn’t find anything else to fuss over. “It’s getting pretty late…”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t have to wait for me though, honey. You need to rest- I had that nap on the plane, remember.” His gaze weighed tons, she was barely able to keep her head upright from the pressure, and she could feel him prodding and poking at the borders of her mind, trying to force his way in.

“Go get changed,” he said quietly. It was clear from his voice that he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Someone had already unpacked all of their things in the bathroom. She didn’t know who or how. Her toothbrush was laid out next to Elvis’, her washbag and make up bag all arranged on the counter. It seemed so ordinary and domestic. 

She glanced up into the mirror as she squeezed the toothpaste out onto her brush and, for a second, didn’t recognise the woman staring back. She looked haunted, hunted, ready to make a run for it.

It was a relief to wash off all the make-up. She didn’t tend to wear much during the day when she was home and the layers she was wearing now were reserved for special occasions and nights out. Her skin felt oily and yet somehow dried out, like it was begging for relief from the onslaught. A little like how she was feeling in general. Her hair, well, her hair was never very happy with her.

Finally, when she had no more excuses, she came out of the bathroom and into the muted light of the bedroom. Elvis was in bed waiting, and he threw back the corner of the blankets in invitation as she approached, a small smile on his face.

Before she had even settled herself onto the mattress, he was presenting her with a pill held between his finger and thumb.

“Here, baby, take this,” he instructed, like it was perfectly normal for him to administer her medication, part boyfriend, part pharmacist. He looked a little put out when she drew back slightly.

“What is it?”

“Just something to help you sleep. It won’t hurt you.”

“I’m okay, darlin’, I don’t think I need it.” She tried to smile like her refusal was nothing, but he was frowning intently at her.

“It’s like you said though, honey, you’ve already had a nap. This’ll get you good and sleepy straight away and then we’ll fall asleep together at the same time. That way I know you’re safe and sound with me where I can protect you.”

The idea of Elvis being able to protect himself let alone her when he was deep in his usual sleep coma was laughable, but she could tell that he wasn’t about to let it drop. Since the plane, he had been looking at her a little more intently as if he was aware of her growing ambivalence.

Feeling perturbed, but knowing that she would not be able to escape without causing another outburst, Chancy opened her mouth and let him place the pill onto her tongue.

“Good girl,” he murmured as she took a sip of the water he offered her. “You know I always know what’s best for you.” He followed up the water with his lips, pressing her back against the pillows. She sank pliantly, her good hand clasping his shoulder.

“I’m gonna take care of you so good that you’ll know that this is right,” he murmured. “By God, there ain’t nothing more right than this.” He moved down on his side so that his head was beside hers on her pillow and he slid his legs either side of one of hers, entangling them. “See how good we fit together?”

His words were already slurring and though she had no doubt he intended to be emphatic, his tone was actually more imploring. She laid her hand on the side of his face, stroking the contour of his cheekbone with her thumb as he smiled slightly at the touch. 

“Shhh, baby,” she whispered. It was harder to talk than she remembered, her tongue felt thick. “Go to sleep for Cha-Cha.” She jolted slightly as he tightened his grip around her, squeezing her to him so close that she was no longer sure where either of them began or ended.

Fall 1954

Chancy crossed the lawn arm-in-arm with a girl from her English class. It was Friday and they were discussing their plans for the evening ahead. Barb inhaled, and Chancy already knew her friend was going to start in again about going on a double date with Vince’s cousin that night.

“C’mon, Chance, please? I’ll owe you a huge favour. Vince said that he’s a real catch with the girls back home. Think about it, a true-blue looker in uniform. And he flies a fighter jet, so you know he knows how to manoeuvre his hands.”

“You know I can’t!” Chancy giggled, as Barb yanked her arm up and down like she was trying to pump her into submission.

“Why not? You gotta sit at home and wait to see if one of your neighbours gets a phone call for you?” Barb tried to soften her caustic words with a smile even though they both knew they were often true.

“No, the boys are playing at a dance tonight, at a high school, and it’s not too far away.”

“So you’re going along?”

“Well…” In truth, Elvis hadn’t asked her.

“Chance-”

A loud, sharp whistle pierced the pleasant ambient hum of the afternoon and they, along with half the kids on the lawn, turned in search of the source. A grin spread across Chancy’s face as she registered the truck, even more when a long, lean figure leaned out the window, beckoning her.

“Oh well,” Barb sighed in resignation. “I guess I can try Jeanie. Hey, you want me to wait for you?”

Chancy shook her hand and waved her hand behind her as she hurriedly crossed the sidewalk towards the truck. She leant against the open window and revelled in the sight of her boyfriend grinning at her, his arm hanging from the steering wheel.

“Hey, pretty girl, wanna go for a ride?”

Chancy wondered if her stomach would ever stop flipping when she saw those hooded eyes and that shy smile. She was weak, a prisoner, but an enraptured one.

“Sorry, fella,” she replied, forcing her face to stop grinning mindlessly. “I don’t think my boyfriend’d like it.” He pouted and tilted his head.

“Aw, c’mon, baby, not even a teeny, widdle one? No-one’ll know. Your boyfriend the jealous type or somethin’?”

“Yup,” she returned, stepping back and swinging her linked hands slightly. “And he’s big too. Built like a gorilla, an’ covered in hair.”  

“Heck, you better get in here ‘fore he catches us then!” He leant across and opened the door, barely waiting for her to step up before he was dragging her across the bench seat.

“Hmmm,” he murmured. His full, warm lips were a gift. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Chancy smiled and didn’t tell him that she had been doing the same; that she had probably failed her Math quiz because she had been thinking about how he had said goodnight to her outside her door the night before.

“Wait, what are you doing here?” she said instead, though her tone was warm. “Didn’t you get in enough trouble last week?”

Chancy had lost track of the times that Elvis’ boss had taken him aside and given him a stern talking to for veering off his delivery route to come see her, pick her up from school or for letting Chancy accompany him while he worked. Each time, Elvis would apologise and promise it would never happen again.

“I just made a delivery to a site near here,” he returned, looking overly innocent. “I swear it! And I thought I’d swing by and see if my sweet lil darlin’ needed a ride home. Gotta make sure she ain’t getting into another fellow’s car, don’t I.”

Chancy sighed and folded her arms, not wanting to go back through the horrible fight they had last week when Elvis had found out that a boy called Virgil from History class had dropped her at home because it was raining. He would have preferred her to be soaked through and then wrung out with pneumonia rather than accept a ride from another boy, even if she was not the only passenger in the car.

“Don’t pout,” he said, smushing his lips into her cheek and giving her lip-smacking kisses as he pulled her arms away from her waist. “I know I promised I weren’t gonna bring that up again.”

“Really, though, honey, you can’t keep getting into trouble over me. What if they fire you?”

“They won’t fire me, Cha-Cha! I do my work, I write out the paperwork good and I help out without complaining, even when I get all dirty and it damn near ruins my clothes. Besides, the way things are going with Scotty and Bill, we none of us’ll be needing our day jobs much longer.”

“You really think so?”

“I really knows so,” he returned, poking his tongue out at her playfully. “Big things are gonna happen, baby, I can feel it.”

Big things didn’t necessarily mean good things, Chancy reflected, and the foreboding cramp in her stomach seemed to agree with her. As much as she wanted Elvis to succeed, because she loved him desperately and knew how important his music was to him, she hated the thought of not being able to see him after work, and of those lonely weekends when he was away stretching into the weekdays.  

Giving her one last noisy, wet kiss on the cheek, he started up the engine and pulled out into the traffic. When he was driving, she had more freedom to stare at him without him noticing, appreciating the way he watched the road so carefully, a little crease between his brows as he negotiated the traffic, his long fingers tapping rhythm to the music only he could hear.

“Hey, uh, you know, if we do come across anyone from work, you should probably duck down though, just in case,” he said, giving her a sideways look. She sighed and nodded.

Without looking, he reached across and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him like they were on a date rather than cruising around town in his work truck.

“I think the first thing I’m gonna do when I make it, after I pay off the bills and get Mama and Daddy a present, is buy you a ring,” he said casually, his eyebrow twitch belying his calm expression. “How’d you feel about diamonds, sweetheart?”

“I like diamonds,” she nodded, playing along. “They’re supposedly my birth stone.”

“Is that right? Huh. What’s mine?”

“Garnet,” she answered, far too quickly to pretend she hadn’t already looked it up. The smile that lit up his face as he noted that made her embarrassment almost worth it.

“Maybe we could find a ring that has both,” he said, shrugging and quickly extricating his arm so that he could shift gears. ”Me ‘n’ you together.”

“Forever,” she finished with a shy smile. He replaced his arm around her, squeezing her to him, and she gave him a playful nudge, not wanting his dirty overalls rubbing over her clothes. Though it was a hardship she’d endure for the warmth of him seeping through her skin.

“You gonna get all dressed up for me tonight, baby?” he asked, glancing at her as she rubbed at a dusty smudge on the shoulder of her blouse.

“For what?” she asked. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him, not when he hadn’t even asked her to come.

“For what,” he echoed in a high-pitched voice. “You forget about our show tonight?!”

“No, but I wasn’t invited so I didn’t realise I was going.”

“Cha-Cha, I don’t need to invite you!” he retorted. “You should want to be there!”

“I do, Elvis, but if you don’t invite me then I don’t know that you want me there!” She could hear her voice getting higher, turning her into a cartoon character that could be laughed at and dismissed, and her face flushed with anger. He didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the road ahead and his jaw set. All of a sudden, getting to watch him drive wasn’t as much as fun.

“Damn, there’s Mr Tipler, get down, Cha-Cha!” She was already dropping as he pressed his hand on the back of her neck, holding her head against his thigh. She adjusted her cheek against a crease in his pants and held her breath. A couple of minutes passed.

“Is he still there?” she asked, trying to turn her face against the heavy weight of his hand.

“Mmm hmm.” He sounded muffled and his hand flexed against her neck as she stretched it, trying to move her head along his leg to get more air. Another couple of minutes.

“Elvis, is he-” His hand was shaking. No, his whole body was shaking, convulsing almost with the force of his silent laughter. Mortification flooded through her as she realised that she was the source of his glee.

Rigid with fury, she slapped his hand away, swatting at herself in the process. She rose and slid back along the seat, her back smacking into the passenger door. Elvis reached out to her, but he was laughing too hard to apologise, or say much of anything at all, which infuriated her more.

“You tricked me!” she cried, hurt and embarrassed. “Now, why you gotta be so mean?”

“Baby, I- I was just playing!”

She smacked away his hand and he hastily pulled over, the truck bouncing against the kerb as he misjudged the distance, eyes barely watching what he was doing. A woman in a dark blue shirt-waist dress and matching cardigan jumped back from the edge of the sidewalk and gave them a dirty look.

Elvis grabbed Chancy by the waist as she opened the truck door and tried to scramble out.

“Baby, baby, no!” He was still laughing! “C’mon, I was just kidding around!”

Chancy slapped at his arm, finding that it helped make her feel a little better. When he grappled with her, pulling her back against him, she slapped a little harder. As he tried to turn her towards him, she raised her arm again and his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“No more, Cha-Cha,” he said firmly. Something in his eyes made her lower her hand, though she still didn’t yield to his grip.

“Look, I really thought I saw Mr Tipler,” he promised, his eyes shining with unspent mirth. “But then having your face in my lap like that-” A tinge of pink spread across his cheeks, emphasising the blue in his eyes. “-It just felt so good.” She inhaled sharply as he dove forward and pressed his face into the groove where her legs met beneath her skirt. She had no idea that people did such things to each other or why it felt so good. When he started shaking his head from side to side, her stomach clenched so hard she thought she might throw up or pass out.

“See how good it feels?” he asked shyly, his blush a deeper, dark red now and his hair falling from its very structured, carefully constructed style. She couldn’t look at him as she nodded brusquely.

“Forgive me?” he asked lightly, sitting up and cradling her cheek with his hand. “For all of it? I shoulda invited you, Cha-Cha. I thought I did, I swear.” Her face had already started to soften, it had no choice. “’Course I want my little baby out there in the audience looking up at me with her pretty little eyes-“ He pressed his lips softly against each of her brows. “And her pretty little nose…” He pecked the tip of her nose. “And her soft, pretty little mouth.”

Oh, his kisses. She felt him melt and become boneless in her arms as his lips kneaded hers, leading her by example as she sighed and succumbed to his wheedling. Every time she felt him sigh, she fell a little further in love with him, always dropping deeper into this never-ending hole.

A sharp tap on the window made them both start, teeth clashing, and they scrambled back from each other. A police officer was standing on the sidewalk, an ironic twist to his lips. He nodded his head slightly, telling them to move along. Elvis swallowed loudly and lifted his hand in acknowledgement as Chancy straightened her skirt over her legs and tried to smooth her hair back into its ponytail.  

Back on the road, Elvis reached over and clasped her hand, squeezing it in a question. She squeezed it right back, because of course she forgave him, for the mean trick and the forgotten invitation. She forgave that, and everything that he would ever do, she imagined. That was the depth and breadth of her love for him. Didn’t mean that she wouldn’t make him suffer a little bit first though.

Outside her apartment building he left her after a brief, chaste kiss, mindful both of watchful eyes that would report straight back to her grandmother and that he should have been back from his delivery long before now. He told her that Scotty’s wife would be picking her up, which reassured her that he had apparently had it all planned, seemingly thinking that he had invited her.

A few hours later, she was waiting at the window when the glow of headlights lit up the flowery curtains she had made in Home Ec the year before. A second later, the horn blared. Chancy grimaced, knowing that Grandma would be complaining that all her friends in the building would think she was raising some loose woman the way that no one ever knocked on the door like respectful folk who were raised right.

The flinch in Grandma’s face as she skipped down the stairs in her tight new dress was all the confirmation she needed that she looked good. She clung to the bannister as she slipped on her heels, checking with her what time Mr Presley was picking her up. Usually, whenever she and Elvis would go out on a date, the Presleys would sweetly invite Grandma over for the evening to make sure she wasn’t lonely by herself. She got along well with Elvis’ grandmother and his mother, but had some reservations about his father which she expressed by saying nothing much about him at all.

Bobbie Moore smiled at her as she slid into the backseat and sweetly complimented her dress and hair, before going back to her conversation with Evelyn Black. The ladies were both older than her and had known each other longer. Chancy felt a little apart from them in the way that Elvis was a little apart from the band, except she didn’t have the benefit of being of any use to the women the way that Elvis, with his talent and front man good looks, was to the men.

“Oh,” Bobbie said over her shoulder during a lull in conversation, “Elvis told me to mention that he asked me to give you this ride last week. He said he set everything up but forgot to actually ask you to come to the show?”

“That’s what he says,” Chancy agreed with a closed-mouth smile.

“I’d be impressed he arranged anything,” Bobbie smiled. “He’s always going off at a hundred miles an hour, it’s a wonder he can get anything done. I swear Scotty has to wrangle him like a cross between a child and an excitable spaniel.”

The two women giggled in the front, but Chancy couldn’t quite muster a polite smile, it felt like a betrayal. Bobbie evidently noticed and quickly made a comment about how much he seemed to care for her.

The high school didn’t look much different from her own, same array of multi-paned windows across the front and pillars at the main entrance. Same yellowing lawn out front with worn tracks showing the most efficient footpaths to the external doors.

They melted into the throng of teenagers moving in waves towards the building, the air filled with the scent of aftershave, perfume and hormones. Chancy let the older women do the talking as they tried to find their men, feeling very young and strangely at home amongst the teenagers calling to their friends and talking loudly so that everyone could see how much fun they were having.

“Oh, thank God,” said Scotty when he caught sight of them coming down the corridor they had been directed to. “Tell me you brought the extra strings?” Bobbie rolled her eyes at the other women and fished a brown paper bag out of her purse.

“How’d you break a string before you even go on?” she asked, following him to the empty classroom they had been given as a dressing room.

“Not me,” Scotty muttered.

Chancy’s eyes fell on Elvis pacing at the back of the room, his back to them as he stared out the blackened windows at the lawn below. He glanced down at the floor, ran his hand down the back of his neck and then strode off in another direction for a few steps, before spinning and returning. It made Chancy’s blood bubble in sympathy at the anxiety he was exuding.

“Hi,” she murmured, weaving between the desks. He glanced up, eyes wide and mouth open in a way that made her heart clench, before smiling faintly.

“Hi.” He seemed paralysed in his loop and it wasn’t until she reached his side that he grabbed hold of her like she was his life preserver.

“You break a string?” she asked gently, trying to keep his attention on the room and not the swathes of people moving closer outside.

“Broke three. My fingers were shakin’ so bad I had to play that much harder to make a noise and, well, you see how that went.” She flattened his hand between hers, trying to press her faith in his ability into him, soothe him, but he couldn’t accept it. After a couple of seconds, he had to be on the move again too.

“The atmosphere is really good out there,” she told him. “They seem like a good crowd, they’re gonna love you.”

“Don’t-” He winced and stopped. “I got this pain up in my throat, Cha-Cha. What if I get up there and my voice is all but gone? I keep having that same dream over and over again, that I open my mouth and nothing comes out and everyone starts yellin’ and hollerin’. You know how sometimes some of my dreams come true and they happen-”

“It ain’t gonna happen,” she told him.

“But how d’you know?”

“Because I keep having a dream too. That I’m sitting in the audience at a show and we’re in some enormous auditorium, bigger than anything in Memphis, and you are on stage singing. Everyone in the audience is just crazy about you, cheering and clapping like you’re Frank Sinatra and Perry Como combined. And there’s little ole me sitting at the back, thinking about how I used to know you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he pulled her into his side to kiss her temple. She could see his skin glistening with sweat already and feel his body trembling.

“What do you think of the suit? It’s new.” She eyed the black jacket with pink lapels and cuffs and the baggy, pleated black pants with a pink stripe at the sides. Even his shoes had a small pink buckle.

“It’s real flashy,” she smiled. “It looks good on you.”

“Yeah, well,” he ducked his head, shaking his legs to adjust his pants leg, “I gotta wear something that gets their attention, you know. Especially after they hear me.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm, trying to hold him still.

“You look real handsome,” she said emphatically, her cheeks throbbing. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on all those girls.”

They turned as Scotty called over. Even without looking at him, Chancy felt the electricity fizzling through Elvis, it made her own skin tingle. She squeezed his bicep hastily before rushing to join Bobbie and Evelyn as they tried to find their way through the labyrinthine halls to the school auditorium.

The auditorium had been covered in streamers and glittery decorations. There was a harvest theme with straw bales for seating and a big, painted, slightly blue moon that twinkled in the stage lighting. She wondered if that was how the boys had been booked, because of their name, and their record ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ so high in the country charts. She knew how those girls on the committees loved a theme.

Some high school kids who thought they were The Crewcuts were just leaving the stage after a mediocre cover of ‘Earth Angel’ and there was polite applause rippling about the space. Chancy clutched her hands together, imagining Elvis in the wings vibrating with adrenaline.

A young man, obviously popular from the catcalls and cheers from the audience, strode up to the microphone to introduce the group, calling them a ‘big up and coming act from the city that’s been driving the kids crazy’. There was a healthy level of applause and cheering as Elvis bounded out in his usual loose-limbed way, Scotty and Bill following. For a second, Elvis stood poised behind the microphone, looking up at the ceiling. Chancy glanced up, wondering what had caught his eye, but there was nothing but ceiling tiles.  

“Well, have you heard the news, there’s good rockin’ tonight!”

It echoed around the hall like a siren. Chancy watched the looks on the faces of the kids as they started, they squinted, they frowned at the young man on the stage. There was a kind of pulse that was emanating from the stage and you could clearly see it rippling through the kids, who quickly began drifting closer, packing themselves together like they were drawn together by magnets.

By the time they got to Scotty’s first solo, some of the girls had begun to giggle and cry out, clutching at each other as if they couldn’t quite understand what was happening to them. The applause at the end was stronger and accompanied by a thick hum of murmuring. Chancy surveyed them with a small smile, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

With ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ it was the same thing all over again, since this song sounded so country that it threw the kids that thought they understood what they were watching. The girls got bolder and Chancy noted, ice beneath her skin, Elvis’ eyes darting down to the foot of the stage where they were congregating, his lip lifting into a gleeful sneer. But then she saw him as they did, this dangerous rockabilly rebel standing astride the stage above their heads, glistening like a god, and deigning to notice them. That look of adoration they were giving him, that unfocused want that was rising like steam from them, it just made him more beautiful, more otherworldly. They didn’t get to have him, because he was hers. 

It was like a feedback loop, the more Elvis sang, crooned, and at one point growled, the more the girls shrieked and giggled. The more his legs shook and his baggy pants fluttered about his groin, the more the crowd bounced. It was always more, more, more. Chancy had seen it first, that vein of magic in him, and she felt vindicated now watching the realisation dawn in so many other eyes.

“Every time we see them it’s always a little wilder,” Bobbie remarked, gaze still on the stage. She definitely wasn’t looking at him like he was a cross between a child and an excitable spaniel now.

Chancy hesitated and then made up her mind, skipping towards the stage and ensconcing herself in the back of the close knit throng. She put her fingers to her lips and gave a whistle, joining in and adding to the chorus of screams that made Elvis’ smile spread wider as he bounced joyfully to the rhythm.

When he whirled off stage after the fourth number, half of the audience emptied out too. Chancy shot a look of astonishment at the other two, and they exchanged a glance before hurriedly following the tide.

Out in the parking lot, they found Bill and Scotty packing up while Elvis was held fast at the side of the car by a crowd of girls. He was scribbling autographs, hastily trying to keep up with demand and beaming. Some of the girls had little brownie cameras and Chancy snorted when she watched his smile drop into a sullen scowl as soon as they started to pose, doing his best James Dean impression. 

Eventually, she drifted over to Scotty and Bill and their wives where they all muttered about who was going to be the one to break up the communion so that they could go and get something to eat.

After a while, Bill told the girls to head off to the diner because he was going to round up their errant singer and meet them there. As she settled herself in the back seat, Chancy watched Bill sail into the throng, a grin on his face as he reached over and mussed up Elvis’ hair. She winced and was glad that she wasn’t going to be around to see the outcome of that.

At the all-night diner back in Memphis, Chancy had already eaten a plate of fries by the time the bell tinkled and the boys entered in a bubble of loud talking and recklessly flailing limbs. Elvis’ hair was now falling over his face and he had Bill in a headlock, while Scotty was smiling faintly with that look in his face that he sometimes got, like he’d just like five minutes of peace and quiet away from the zoo.

“Where’s my food, woman?” Elvis demanded in a deep voice as he stared at her empty plate. Standing behind her, he grabbed at the front of her throat with his hands in a pincer. “Why, you good for nothin’-” She reached back and smacked the side of his thigh to get him to behave.

Bobbie rose with a sigh to go over to the counter to order more food, leaving the chair next to her empty. Elvis slid into it before she had even fully risen, goosing her a little. Chancy glared at him, even as he shrugged innocently, and Scotty raised unimpressed eyebrows. Forcefully ignoring their annoyance, he sat, his leg jiggling outrageously and making the table vibrate so hard that the salt and pepper shakers clinked against the napkin dispenser.

Chancy reached over and tried to rearrange his sweat soaked hair, but he batted away her assistance, pulling a comb from his shirt pocket and miraculously finding a shiny surface to use as a mirror like he had a built-in radar.

Once he was satisfied, he put away the comb and grabbed her hand off the table, examining her nails and fingers like he was about to be tested on them.

“See something interesting?” she asked.

“It’s just I’m so damned hungry,” he mumbled. “And they look so delicious…” He yanked them towards his mouth and she shrieked, writhing in his grip. He managed to get a sharp nip at the knuckle of her middle finger before she wrenched herself away.

“Behave yourself!” she hissed, but unable to stop grinning as she looked over to the counter.

“Baby, I can’t help it, I’m all keyed up. I wanna… I- Well, I don’t know what I wanna do, but whatever it is, I wanna do it bad!” His eyebrows quirked as his overly wide eyes zeroed in on her neck and he dove forward just as Bobbie returned with food.

Somehow, he managed to swerve at the last minute and he fell upon his burger and fries like a starving man. Bill, who was only just behind Elvis in the amount of mischievous energy he was exuding, tried reaching over to grab one of Elvis’ fries and got himself an elbow in the groin for his trouble.

The food settled them a little and they were able to analyse and reflect on the show as Chancy and the wives gave feedback, talking about what they saw in the crowd, the reactions of the girls and what was being said about them in the restrooms.

“We need to get some more photos, we’re nearly out,” Scotty told the other two men. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have more copies of our record. I had two people tell me that they couldn’t get it from the record store.”

“Goddamn it,” Elvis muttered, shoving fries sideways into his mouth. “What we gotta do, pay these chumps to put our damn record in their stores? Isn’t this why Sam’s always travelling around, trying to talk these… these fools into using their brains.” Chancy slid her hand onto his thigh and rubbed it comfortingly beneath the table.

“They don’t know what to do with it,” Bill shrugged. “It’s too hot and original for their tiny little minds to comprehend.

“Sam’s focusing on the next one,” Scotty reminded them. “We’re only as good as our latest record and he’s been all over the South pushing it with all his contacts.”

“Fat lot of good that does if no one can buy it,” Elvis snapped. He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the sound of himself wailing out, ‘Well, that’s all right, mama…” They turned to the jukebox where Bill gave them a ‘ta da’ gesture and a grin.

“You know, that’s him,” Bill told the disinterested cook behind the counter, who eyed them with yellowing, cloudy eyes. “Don’t s’pose we can pay our bill with an autographed picture? Up and coming star right here, I heard it on good authority from a high school kid all dressed up in his daddy’s suit tonight.”

Elvis threw one of Scotty’s fries at him and ducked down, unable to disguise how his face and neck had coloured up. He leant in, nudging Chancy’s shoulder, trying to hide in the crook of her neck.

After their food, they split up, Scotty, Bill and their wives took Bobbie’s car, while Elvis and Chancy were in the Lincoln. She prayed they would make it back, her dress was not cut for pushing cars.

Elvis was still twitchy, but he had quietened down, back to being regularly fidgety and nervous rather than like he was about to take off into outer space. He tapped his fingers along with the radio, even when the reception cut out and it was just static. Chancy dozed next to him, starting every time he swatted her thigh to wake her up.

When they reached the door of her apartment, Chancy hesitated. Despite how late it was, she didn’t feel it was time to say goodnight. She had barely had him to herself for more than a minute all night.

“You know,” she began, watching him touch the brass numbers on her door, scuff his shoe against the worn tile and shake his leg slightly, all the while tap tapping away on his thigh with his fingertips.

She tried again: “You know, Grandma is probably fast asleep by now. If we’re quiet…” His eyes snapped to hers and she would have betrayed her grandmother’s trust a thousand times over for the wave of joy that passed through her body.

“Yeah, I-I-I should probably check and make sure everything is on the up and up for you ladies. I mean, you can’t be too careful, could be monsters under your bed, spiders in your bathtub... What kind of man would I be if I let my woman face all these dangers alone?”

“You coulda just said yes, you know,” she returned, shaking her head. He nuzzled her in answer, forcing her to try not to squeal as she oh-so-carefully unlocked the door.

Clutching each other’s hand like nervous burglars, they crept through the tiny kitchen and into the narrow hall. Chancy paused at her grandmother’s door, but heard nothing.

It felt borderline criminal closing her own door, hiding them from sight. Whenever Elvis visited, ‘Grammy’ as he called her, insisted on being able to see them at all times.

“He’s a nice boy,” she had told Chancy after she recovered from the flashy clothes and the truck driver’s haircut. “A real nice, polite boy, but there’s something else about him, some touch of mischief that I just wanna keep my eye on.”

Eyes adjusting to the moonlit shadows, Chancy watched him cautiously approach her bed and pick up the framed photo on her nightstand. Not the one of him that Mr Neal had arranged to be done for publicity and that Elvis had given her a copy of with a secret message scrawled on the back. No, he picked up the blurry, worn picture of a man in a white suit with his arms around a dark-haired, shapely woman. Their faces were almost as featureless and white as milk with wear and Chancy’s faded memories could no longer fill in the blanks.

Elvis replaced the frame reverently and then turned back to her. The moonlight glowed in his eyes and smile. He bent down and checked under her bed for monsters.

“All clear!” he informed her in an exaggerated whisper. Then his eye caught something else that he reached down and swiped up. Chancy’s cheeks flushed.

Grandma was old fashioned and thought that music and movies were sent by the devil to distract impressionable minds from the Lord. She allowed Chancy to go to the movie theatre on dates and to own a few records, but there was strict accounting going on, weighing the devil’s distraction against church and bible study.

“What you got this hidden down here for?” Elvis asked, looking confused. He flicked through the movie magazine as if looking for clues, but returned to the front cover where Eddie Fisher was posing politely with a telephone as if he had just been interrupted taking a call. “Eddie Fisher?!” He raised an eyebrow like he was teasing her, but he wasn’t smiling. She rushed over and tried to snatch the magazine from his unyielding hands.

“Grandma don’t like me having movie magazines,” she whispered in a rush. “Elvis, give it back!”

“How long has this thing with Fisher been going on, huh? Does Debbie know?”

“Ha, ha.” Elvis was glaring at the picture, studying it like he was sizing up his competition. “Really now, I am not gaga over Eddie Fisher. The only boy I have eyes for is a much better singer, and dreamier too.”

“Oh god, who now?! Wait, you are talking about me, right?”

She shoved him as he grinned smugly, but he grabbed her hands and pulled her down with him onto the bed. They were entwined and kissing as easily and as quickly as gravity.

Elvis’ body, its hard planes and soft curves, still felt like foreign territory no matter how many times and how many ways she ran her hands over it. Even his dark blue eyes, when they devoured her with that fierce hunger, sometimes seemed like they belonged to a stranger. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. When he told her, as he did over and over, that he loved her, she understood that he meant it and still didn’t believe him at all.

Straddling his lap as she knelt on the bed, she shifted her weight to get leverage and then ground down onto him, eliciting that helpless boyish moan from him that always got her in the gut.

Too late, she pushed her palm against his mouth, breathlessly whispering for him to be quiet. He groaned a hot, muffled protest as she rolled her hips again and she could feel him, hard and eager beneath the pleats of his pants. He grabbed her hand in his, pulling it away from his mouth as he pressed his soft lips into her palm.

“Wait, baby, wait. We gotta stop… We should stop,” he whispered. He was right of course, but it didn’t mean that she wanted to hear him or listen. She kneaded her lips against the flickering of his pulse in his throat, smelling the faint remnants of his cologne, soap and the haze of his Vaseline hair oil. It was a heady mix of ‘Elvis’, the best smell in the world.

“Hey!” he snapped, hoarse but still quiet. “You ain’t being fair! You’ll get me all heated and worked up and then you’ll tell me to stop. And one day I ain’t gonna be able to stop!”

Chancy shivered and wished, through clenched teeth, that today would be that day. Her grandmother was wrong, that glint of mischief that she saw in Elvis was just a tiny reflection of what radiated from Chancy herself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, forcing herself to stay still in his lap, fighting the urge to swivel her hips and press into him. “Forgive me?” He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth, and squashed her cheeks between his palms.

“You drive me crazy, you cruel baby, but I forgive you. I’ll always forgive ya.”

“Not always,” she refuted. “How about if I went off with another boy?” He was quiet for a moment and, even more unnerving, still.

“No, you’re right,” he said in a small, uncomfortable voice. “God, why’d you even put that in my head?”

Chancy knew why, because she always needed to push the limits, see how far love and acceptance would stretch until they snapped, and they always snapped.

“I don’t know, it was stupid. And it’ll never happen.” She clasped her fingers together at the back of his neck and turned his head so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “I would never do that, because I love you more than anything else in the world.” His small smile made his cheekbones curve in a delicious way.

“More than Eddie Fisher?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Eddie who?”

“Eddie who better be right!” He squeezed the back of her neck as he kissed her with a dramatic, almost aggressive flourish, and then shoved her sideways off his lap and onto the bed. It creaked so loud that it should have woken up half the building, and they froze, staring at each other with wide eyes.

They waited a full, endless minute for sounds of movement or a light being turned on in the hall. When it didn’t come, they dissolved, giggling as they curled up together on the mattress.

At first, Elvis spooned her, the cradle of his hips fitting perfectly against the curve of her backside and his arm pillowing her neck. She could feel the bulge of him poking her in her butt cheek and it took all her willpower not to push back. After he had complained in a whisper about her hair tickling his nose, and had ground his groin apparently involuntarily against her, he huffed out a soft ‘Goddamnit’ and almost threw himself onto his other side, his back to her. She only had a second to miss the warmth before he was reaching back and tugging her arm, pulling her against him.

“You have to leave before Grandma wakes up,” she said directly into his ear, grinning as he shuddered and pressed in her hand that he was holding to his chest. “Elvis, y’hear? I mean it.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya.” She forced herself to relax, listening to his breathing as she simultaneously felt it against her hand. His heart was a steady, reassuring thump.

After a while, she pressed a little closer to him and whispered:

“Imagine being able to sleep like this every night.” Her heart felt swollen and tight with love for him, so much so that just thinking of forever made her eyes sting with hopeful tears. “Elvis?” She tried to loosen her grip on him in order to prop herself up, but he wouldn’t release her, just murmured and squeezed tighter.

Just imagine, forever.

Chancy woke in a start, feeling the panic before she even came to. Morning. Grandma. Elvis!

She tried to sit up, but the hands encircling her waist were determined, and all their focus was on holding her in place. She was so busy trying to free herself that she didn’t notice what else was going on until a warm, throaty moan tickled her ear. She froze.

Elvis was like a wall of heat behind her, making her clothes damp and creased as he pressed and rubbed against her. Her stomach clenched and roiled with panic and desire and she tilted her hips, catching his groin as he rolled into her.

“Baby, you awake?” he whispered hoarsely, adjusting his grip on her, grabbing at her hipbone so tightly that she knew it would leave bruises.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, squinting at the curtains, trying to determine whether the halo around them came from the moon or the sun.

“I-I don’t know. God, baby, I-I need you so bad. Can- can I?” 

Chancy was not certain what he was asking, but just his tone made her skin ripple with goosebumps. She turned in his arms and found that looking up into his face was a revelation. His cheeks were deep pink and his lips looked swollen and red, hanging open as he stared at her; thick lashes drooping over his half-open eyes. She had never seen him with messy hair, he spent so long fussing over it, combing it if even one tendril fell out of place, but now it fell over his forehead and stuck up in spikes at the side and he didn’t seem to care.

Chancy gasped as he ducked down and kissed her, fiercely mashing his lips against hers. She didn’t recognise this boy, this shaking, dishevelled man writhing in her bed and wrinkling her sheets. His long-fingered hand slid down her blouse, unfastening the tiny buttons with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. He pulled her against him, the button on his shirt pocket scraping her nipple even through her cotton bra, but his hands didn’t stay at her back for long, scrambling down to fuss over the folds of her skirt, tugging it up.

“Elvis, honey, wait!” she gasped when he finally released her mouth to catch his own breath. “We can’t, we-“

“We can,” he murmured, unravelling the material wrapped around her legs. “Baby, we should. I-I-It’s time, it’s time.” She was trying to push down her skirt even as he was lifting it, tangling his legs with hers.

“You said we should wait,” she pleaded, quickly losing her fighting spirit as he nuzzled and breathed hot and heavy against her neck. “For when we’re married.”

“We’re gonna be together forever,” he insisted. “We already know it.” She giggled; his words were slurred and mumbled like he couldn’t quite think straight and his addled mind was pouring out syllables, hoping some of them would be useful.

It made her feel powerful to have brought him to this level of mindlessness. No one else, not the girls that screamed at the foot of the stage, not the beautiful singers that sometimes toured with him, or the experienced girls with their heavy make-up and tight, revealing clothing that somehow made it backstage and always knew which motel he was staying in. No, no one else, just Chancy.

“Okay,” she whispered, cupping his face. “Okay.” He stared at her intently, looking almost lost, before he seemed to register what she had said and gave a little nod.

In one fluid movement, he was on top of her, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. The bed creaked ominously and Chancy froze, not least because Elvis was leaning on her hair.

“Ow, Elvis, you’re-”

“What? Oh, sorry.” He lifted his hand, not realising the hand he now had all his weight on was also on top of her hair.

“Oh my- Oh God, Elvis, my hair!” He hastily drew back onto his knees, straddling her and looking sheepish.

Realising that it was all going terrible wrong, she stared back at him, flooded with disappointment and consternation. There was a beat before they both broke, sniggering and blushing at their awkwardness.

“Oh damn,” he grinned bashfully into his palm, running his tongue over his teeth. “Great job, Elvis. Real smooth.”

Chancy ran her hand up his thigh, her fingers trembling over the taut muscle.

“Honey, we could still-“ she began, even as he shook his head.

“No, no, you were right what you said, baby, we should wait. It’ll be better if we wait. Special.”

“Maybe I’ll get my haircut for the wedding,” she mused dryly, trying not to focus on the disappointment settling in her stomach.

“Don’t you dare!” He leaned forward, practically on all fours over her, and wrapped her dark hair around his finger. “I show up at the church and don’t see all these curls, I’m outta there!”

“You think I won’t have someone there ready to lock the door as soon as you show up?” she teased, reaching up to smooth back the hair above his ear.

“Hmm, cruel woman,” he murmured, eyes dropping to her lips and telegraphing his thoughts. “You think you don’t already have me locked up? I- I can’t think of nothing else but you, baby.”

“Aw, that sounds just awful,” she smirked, stretching up to catch his lips. “Forgive me?”

“Always,” he mumbled into her mouth.

Spring 1973

The phone was ringing. Chancy threw out a hand to grab at the receiver, but her hand only waved about in the air because she wasn’t in her own bed. She opened her eyes, waiting for her vision to unblur. The phone stopped ringing and immediately began again.

“Hello?”

“Thank Christ! I was beginning to wonder if you were alive!”

“Joe?”

“Yeah! Two thirty wake-up call, remember? Least it was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Sorry, Elvis gave me a pill.” She wiped her hand down her face; it felt numb, foreign.

“Okay. Get up.”

“What?”

“You need to get out of bed. If you don’t, you’ll go straight back to sleep the minute you hang up.” 

She lifted the receiver from her ear and peered into it as if Joe would be able to discern that she was not exactly in a situation when she could leap out of bed. Elvis’ head was tucked under her chin and his arms were wrapped around her. Even her feet were entangled with his legs.

“Uh, okay.” Then she was glad that he was not able to see through the receiver, because she had to slither and writhe to free herself, tumbling onto the floor with zero grace. “I’m out of bed.”

“Good. I’ll be there to get you in forty-five minutes.”

“Wait, what do I do about Elvis?”

“How d’you mean?”

“How do I wake him up?”

“Hit him. Hard, but don’t leave a mark, ‘specially not on the face.”

“Helpful, thanks,” she said to the dial tone.

Chancy started off light, shaking him, but it barely registered. So, then she patted him, getting progressively harder until she was hitting his shoulder with a closed fist.

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured. The clock now said two fifty-five and she hadn’t even started dressing. She tapped his cheek and, finally, his face flickered. Emboldened, she did it again, but there was no reaction this time. Out of options, she slapped him with her fingers, hard enough to make a noise. His face creased up and he squinted at her through dark, slitted eyes.

“Why are you hitting me?” he asked, or at least that was the vague sound that came out with some half-enunciated words.

“Oh, wakey wakey!” she trilled. “Time to wake up, sweetheart!”

He let his hand drop onto his face and grunted as he tried to pull himself up into a seated position, managing about halfway. Chancy waited anxiously to make sure the red mark on his cheek would fade away.

By three fifteen, she was dressed and washed, though not exactly looking her glamorous best. She had pulled her hair into a loose bun and just darkened her eyes to try and look more awake. It wasn’t like hospitals had a dress code.

“You slapped me round my face!” Elvis said accusingly as she emerged from the bathroom. He was still sitting up in bed, though he seemed closer to consciousness than not.

“No, you must have been dreaming,” she replied quickly. The mark was gone now and she had a new appreciation for Ricky’s skills.

“That ain’t something I’d dream about,” he returned, throwing back the covers. He eased himself up carefully and she paused, wondering if she should go to his side to make sure he didn’t lose his balance or stumble. She tried to seem casual as he fumbled and felt his way to the bathroom door.

“Um, baby? Joe’ll be here in a bit. You want me to get you anything before I go?”

“Go? I’m coming with you,” he replied, frowning at her as though she was speaking a different language.

Chancy’s reaction to that was complicated. She was touched that he wanted to, but knew there was no way that he would be ready to leave the room in fifteen minutes. Then there was the logistics of it. How could Elvis Presley walk into a hospital in the middle of nowhere and not cause chaos and mayhem? What seemed like a simple trip to the doctor had suddenly turned into a production.

“That’s really sweet, honey, but you don’t have to do that,” she said, crossing the room to him. His intense gaze followed her, so that by the time she was in front of him, she was feeling a little warm.

“It ain’t a negotiation,” he returned, his mouth stumbling over the syllables. “You ain‘t going without me.”

Joe knocked at exactly three thirty, but seemed completely unsurprised and unperturbed when she said that they had to wait for Elvis.

“I always allow a cushion of at least twenty minutes when I give him a time,” he revealed with a grin.

“You knew he was coming?” Chancy asked.

“Sure. I think it’s pretty obvious by now that he doesn’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

Chancy’s stomach clenched with apprehension at that observation. It gave her too little power and too much responsibility. She was an idiot in relationships, and she bumped into people’s feelings blindly and repeatedly. Nowadays, she liked her freedom too much and suffocated under the expectations of others. She was too much like her father, who had broken so many hearts without even knowing. Now here she was being presented with the most fragile heart of all. No, not presented, tossed it without warning, and she knew her butter fingers were going to fumble it no matter how carefully she tried to cradle it.

They were exactly twenty minutes behind schedule when Elvis emerged from the bathroom clad in black, the jacket of his karate gi showing underneath his coat, and wearing dark tinted sunglasses. While she was dressed to do a chore, he looked like he was prepared to go on TV, which was the way he always looked when he left the confines of his room. She had long ago stopped musing on how irritating and time-consuming that must be for him, to know that he always had to look his best even if he was just going to a doctor’s appointment.

“Morning, Boss, how you doing?” Joe asked, rising to open the door for them as Elvis came to Chancy’s side.

“Well, my day started with being belted round the face, so I’m hopin’ it’ll improve,” he returned, shooting Chancy a sideways look. He seemed more confused and amused than annoyed, but Chancy could still feel her cheeks heating.

“I still say you dreamed that,” she said.

“And I still say you’re full of shit,” he returned, sliding his fingers between hers. He hissed softly, swearing under his breath.

“What is it?” He grimaced and lifted their clasped hands so that she could see the back of his. His knuckles were grazed and split, and the skin around them was swollen dark from where he had been punching the wall the night before. “Oh, baby.”

She tried to release his hand, but his fingers tightened around hers, so she raised their hands to her lips and pressed them lightly against the sore area.

“Well, at least we’re heading to the right place!” Joe observed. She wondered if he was really as unflappable as he made out and, if so, what kind of craziness had he seen to make him so.

It felt a little like heading for a show. They rode the service elevator down to the kitchens and made their way out of the rear entrance of the hotel where a car was waiting for them with a driver and Red sitting in the passenger seat. Two or three people were waiting at the entrance of the car park and, as they emerged from the building, Chancy heard them yelling:

“He’s here! He’s here!” 

“No, he ain’t,” Elvis mumbled under his breath, before raising a hand and waving to them as they got into the car.

“What would you do,” Chancy asked out of curiosity, “if you went somewhere and no one blinked an eye like you were just a regular person?”

“It happens,” he returned, a defensive edge to his voice like he thought she was making fun of him somehow. “It’s not like I expect it all the time.”

“The worst times are when we think it’s okay, but then one person notices he’s there and raises the alarm,” Red interjected, half turned in his seat. “Happened once when we went to a karate tournament. Whispers started going round, people started getting out of their seats to ask for autographs and what have you. And I’m sitting there sweating bullets thinking I gotta keep him safe in a place filled with fucking karate masters.”

“Remember that theatre in Florida when we were there shooting that movie?” Joe put in. “We went to see a show one night and during the intermission, we got swarmed and the fire marshal had to shut the whole place down. Called it a health and safety hazard.”

“The point is I don’t go out looking for it,” Elvis insisted to her, as if they hadn’t spoken. “It’s not like I need it for my ego or anything like that.”

“Okay,” she murmured softly, nodding to show that she understood, because he seemed very intent on making that clear to her.

“Hey, remember when we thought we got away with it in Hawaii?” Red laughed, breaking the slightly awkward silence. “Went to a restaurant and no one blinked an eye. Order our food, nothing. Ate and hung out without a murmur. Then, when we got up to leave the entire restaurant damn near gave us a standing ovation. That was weird as shit!”

“Have you guys ever asked someone for their autograph or got starstruck meeting someone?” she asked the other two men, since Elvis was staring out of the window and chewing on his thumbnail, not exactly inviting conversation. She wondered if she had prodded a sore spot with her question and if so, how to soothe his hurt feelings.

“Don’t know about starstruck… You start to realise pretty quickly that famous people are pretty much just people,” Joe mused.

“Some can be complete asses, right, E?” Red remarked. “Remember Brando?” Elvis blinked and pulled a face like he smelt something disgusting.

“Aw, don’t remind me about that sonovabitch. Broke my damn heart.” He looked down at her, his eyes warm and intimate again, reassuring her. “You remember how much I dug that cat- We must have seen his movies fifty times a piece. Knew all the lines.”

“’Well, what d’ya do? I mean, do you just ride around or do you go on some sort of picnic or something?’” Chancy recited in a breathy voice, making her eyes wide. His smile grew and he poked his tongue between his teeth.

“’A picnic? Man, you are too square…’” He dipped down, pressing his nose to hers. “Anyway, we met him one time. I think in 1958?” He raised an eyebrow at Joe, who nodded in confirmation. “And he was just the rudest, most condescending motherfucker. Acting like he was hot shit and we were hillbilly hicks ruining his day. I swore to myself I weren’t ever gonna be like that.” 

“Well, who was the nicest star you ever met?”

“Tom Jones was pretty friendly right from the off,” Red reflected.

“Sammy Davis Jr is a cool guy,” Joe shrugged. She looked to Elvis, but he shrugged and demurred, saying most people were okay. There was something about the offhand way he said it that let her know there was something he wasn’t saying.

“You cannot think of one non-beautiful non-female celebrity right now, can you,” she teased. He licked his lips sheepishly and grinned.

“My mind went blank,” he admitted, running his tongue over his teeth. “I panicked!”

“You goof! Okay, including the beautiful ladies, who was the nicest?”

“This ain’t a trick, is it? Already been slapped once today…”

“Don’t do it, man,” Red murmured under his breath. She raised an eyebrow and faked a scowl.

“Well,” he sighed as he arched his back and adjusted his belt buckle, “Sophia Loren was real sweet and Ann-Margret’s a darling; Nancy Sinatra… Oh! Cary Grant! He’s a nice guy.”

“Congratulations, you thought of one man,” she laughed. He nuzzled into the side of her head as if testing her word, checking she wasn’t mad. She rubbed his thigh in answer. 

The car took a sharp right turn down a wide alleyway and pulled up behind a store that was most certainly not a hospital.

“What’s going on? You taking me to the vet instead?” she quipped, confused by Elvis’ little smirk as they all climbed out.

“I just gotta make a quick stop,” he replied, reaching for her hand again.

Red banged on the worn security door and a small window opened, before the door was thrown open. A small, slight, older man in a suit beamed at them, ushering them into the dark interior.

When Chancy’s eyes adjusted, she registered that they were in a jewellery store. An older woman in what looked like her best dress was standing by the register also beaming like she had won an award, which all store owners must have felt whenever Elvis Presley walked in.

“Hello, Mr Presley, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our store,” the man said, sounding adorably nervous as he shook Elvis’ hand. “My name’s Len and this is my wife Phyliss.”

“It’s good to be here, sir,” Elvis replied, head on a swivel. “You got some fine pieces.” He stepped back to take Phyllis’ hand and give her a peck on the cheek. “Hi, dear. We can’t stay long, because we got an appointment, but I think I’ll be back here next time we’re out this way.”

Len nodded and gestured to the counter where he had laid out a black velvet cover on top of which lay a dazzling selection of gold and sparkling diamonds. Elvis stepped up, squinting as he removed his sunglasses, his fingers immediately reaching to touch.

“Cha-Cha, c’mere, baby,” he murmured. Holding out a hand without looking. “What d’you think? Anything that catches your eye?”

“Of course, it’s all really pretty,” she nodded, nonplussed.

“Okay, looks like we’ll just be taking all of it,” Elvis told Len, gesturing for them to ring it up.

“What, no!” she exclaimed in a panic. Vernon Presley would have her shot! Elvis laughed gleefully like a little kid and swept his hand along the treasures.

“Then pick something, you silly girl! You ain’t quite woken up yet, have you, honey.” She frowned at him and then down at the array, her fingers hovering over a ring with a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

“Are you sure?” she asked. He looked confused for a minute, then his face softened, and he reached up and rubbed the skin between her brows, smoothing her frown.

“What calls to you?” he asked quietly, intimately, like they weren’t being watched by a handful of people. She searched his face, looking into his murky blue eyes, trying to understand what she was saying to him if she did as he asked, what she was forgiving, and what she was promising.

“I told you I’d buy you diamonds,” he murmured, giving her a wink. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she was assailed by guilt and shame for immediately wondering how she was being manipulated instead of appreciating the gesture for what it was.

“You’ve already kept that promise several times over,” she replied, thinking of the expensive gifts and surprises he had bestowed upon her over the years.

“And I’m gonna keep on keepin’ it.” She was about to lay her hand upon the sapphire when something else caught her eye, not on the velvet, but in the cabinet below.

“Does it have to be one of these?” she asked. He rolled his eyes and muttered about awkward women.

“Why, what you seen, honey?”

She pointed at the glass at the small, tasteful oval garnet stone haloed by diamonds. Len immediately crouched down behind the counter and drew out the pillow it was sitting on. Chancy smiled at it, feeling Elvis’ eyes burning into her face as she tried it on. It was a little big for her ring finger on her right hand, but it fit the middle finger perfectly.

“We’ll take this, please, Sir,” Elvis murmured, before leaning across the counter and snatching up three or four other rings like he was collecting seashells at the beach. He caught her look and shrugged bashfully. “What? You can’t just buy one ring, your other fingers’ll get jealous.”

Well, that explained a lot, Chancy reflected. Elvis turned down the offer to wrap up the other rings, asking for the boxes to be put in a bag, but insisting on holding them in his hand.

Before she could turn to follow Red and Joe, he grabbed her good hand and turned her back, sliding a ring onto as many fingers as he could.

“Elvis, I can’t, I-“ She stopped herself, catching the uncertainty as it flickered on his face. “Baby, they are so beautiful, it’s a little overwhelming. Thank you!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into him a little too long for a thank you hug. She relaxed, stroking his back and feeling him swallow against her shoulder. She could hear what he was asking, the way he always used to in his playful little baby voice. She gripped him as tight as she could in answer. 

_____________________________________________________________

AN: A huge thank you to my alpha reader @thatbanditqueen, who makes all things better.

Shout out to the wonderful authors/LE detectives and prolific nighttime messagers @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, and @from-memphis-with-love

A huge thanks to @lookingforrainbows for the baby elvis pic avalanche, you're a treasure!

@richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis

[allthishumanityforfree]

paul’s mind: andrew has his tiddies out so I need to take a picture with him immediately and share it to the world 😃

-Andrew is holding his toothbrush/washbag

-Paul's arm placement is so high and intimate

-The head touching

-Paul really saw those Gracie rumours and went let me get my shirtless bf

[mega2wheellife]

washbag

after he’d gone

died in the hospital

where his wife refused

to let him leave so he could

come home to die in peace

two days after that

she gave me bags of his clothes

can you take these to charity?

anything you’d like you can have

I found his washbag

bedside clock his deaf aids

spectacles he was too vain to use

old dentures worn & neglected

& I reflected on this man

my father this king I used to hate

for the violence the pain

those hands inflicted on me

reduced to these bits of plastic

his clothes to be thrown & gone

the casual indifference of his wife

we’d made our peace me & him

a while ago if I rarely visited

his difficult unhappy home

I was gone & dusted as far as

his queen let it be known

I kept the washbag for a little while

having nothing from him in life

& now so little in his death

the way we always had been

neil benbow