#....not that elvi is much of a love interest in the show but

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

I know you’re in the middle of Kinktober (and crushing it btw!!!) so I’m sure you won’t be taking requests for a while, but leaving this in your inbox because I cant stop thinking about it. Humbly requesting wholesome cockwarming with BDE 🙏🏼

A/N: Thank you very much! I decided to make this a sequel to Bunny.

Not that innocent

Pairing: BDE x reader

Word count: 2.3K

TWs: Erectile dysfunction, cockwarming, p in v sex, a lot of cum, a short appearance from angry!Elvis, reader cries (not sex-related).

Elvis likes you, so he wants to keep you around. He was a little anxious that maybe you didn’t like him back when you said no to his invitation to spend the night. But then you turn up to his show the next night wearing the dress he’d had sent to you, so some of the anxiety dissipates. He feels like he does the entire show for you, the moves, the songs, even when he’s kissing all those other women he still has you in mind. You intrigue him - he thought you were shy, and then you asked him all those questions. All those oddly pertinent questions. As though you could see inside his mind and knew that he was sad and lonely a lot of the time. He wants you by his side again so he can talk to you some more. And of course it wouldn’t hurt to teach you a few more things in the bedroom. 

This time you decide to go to Elvis’ suite alone. Your friends aren’t that interested in going again anyway - they’re only in Tahoe for one more night and then they’re going back home. You’re supposed to go with them, only you’re not sure if you will. There’s not a lot pulling you back to Virginia. Your job, of course, but no significant other or pets or anything like that. And you could get another job. It might not be that professional to just stay in Tahoe until the end of Elvis’ residency, but part of you is wondering if you should try living a little. 

As soon as he sees you Elvis’ hands are on you, guiding you around the room as he murmurs questions in your ear about the show and what you’re drinking tonight. You answer him brightly, because you loved the show and you’re dying for another margherita. He settles you down next to him on the sofa and immediately starts talking to the rest of the people around him in an extremely animated fashion. You sip quietly on your drink and watch him. He really is very handsome, and you love the way he talks. Not just his accent, but the way he says things, something about it really appeals to you. 

After an hour or so, you start to get antsy. You’ve been sitting in the same position, with Elvis’s arm around your shoulders, being jostled by him as he moves back and forth. And you’re uncomfortable. And if you’re really, truly, being honest, a little bored. You tap his leg cautiously and look up into his face. He’s still talking though, barely registering anything else in the room other than the conversation that he’s so completely immersed in. You tap again, but there’s still no response. Then you think of something that will get his attention, your little hand wandering over to his groin and squeezing his balls. 

“Bunny!” Elvis’ face is red and his eyes are wide. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, your eyes meeting his a little reluctantly. “I tried to nudge you but you weren’t paying attention.”

Elvis is briefly furious at the fact that you’ve touched him, there, in public, and part of him wants to throw you out of the suite and never see you again. There’s a weird stillness in the room as everyone around him waits to see how he’s going to react. It’s not as if any of them actually saw what happened, but they all know that tone, and that there’s a high likelihood of the entire suite being cleared out in the next couple of minutes. 

“You can’t do that!” He rages, far too loud and too close to your face. 

You’d heard that he has mood swings nowadays, you’d read about them in the newspapers. He’d been nothing but sweet to you last night, though, so you hadn’t really believed it. But here you were now, right in the middle of one. You burst into tears. 

“I d-didn’t mean to… I… I… it’s uncomfortable and loud and I don’t know anyone but you and I don’t even know you…” the words are rushing out of you at a rate of knots and you struggle to make them stop. “I just wanted y-your attention, it’s too much b-being here on my o-own…” you sniff loudly and then succumb to sobbing again. 

“Oh, bunny…” Elvis softens immediately, seeing how upset you are and knowing he’s the cause of it. 

“Right, Charlie, everyone out!” He shouts into the room, and then without warning scoops you up and carries you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

“Bunny I’m so sorry,” he coos, placing you down on the bed and sitting himself next to you. 

You sniff and try to get your breathing under control as he passes you a box of tissues. “It’s… it’s okay.”

He watches as you wipe your face and take a few more gulping breaths of air, gradually calming down again. 

“Ya don’t like all those other people?” He asks, gently. 

You shake your head. “N-no. It’s just a bit much.”

“Sorry, honey. C’mere.” He pulls you into his arms, your head on his chest as he strokes your hair lovingly. You both stay like that for a while, and then he wonders what you were trying to get his attention about in the first place. Now he’s had some time to think about it, it’s kind of a funny way to get his attention, and if nudging didn’t work he can’t really blame you for doing it. 

“What did ya want anyway, Bunny?”

You move your head to look at him. “Jus’ your attention. Wanted to move off that sofa and do something else.”

He grins. “Well ya got what ya wanted.”

You wriggle up his body, your hand burrowing into his hair. “I kinda wanted something else, too.” You press your lips against his and he responds eagerly, kissing you gently at first and then with increasing passion. 

You start to pull at his clothes and it’s not long before he finds himself naked with you, a position he doesn’t usually like to be in with the lights on, but somehow your little body is making him care less about it than usual. He caresses you with his big, guitar-roughened  hands and you moan, kissing him and rubbing your body against his. He’s shocked when you pull away from his embrace and straddle his thighs, your hand tugging on him just like he taught you yesterday. He’s even more shocked when he feels you rub the head on your pussy, your arousal covering him as you sink down onto his length. 

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at you through hooded eyes. “Thought ya were an innocent lil bunny.”

You giggle, settling yourself down, his dick completely inside you. “I’ve had sex before, Elvis.”

He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “‘parently so. Ya not gonna move then, bunny?”

You giggle again, shaking your head and running your hands over your breasts, arching your back as you do it. He groans. “Thought I might tease you a little?”

“T-tease me?” He stumbles over the word a little. He really read you wrong when he met you, you might’ve been terrible at handjobs but you definitely know what you’re doing with your body right now. 

“Mmm. Jus’ sit on it.” You bite your lip and tip your head to one side. One of your girlfriends had told you about teasing and you thought it seemed fun, but you hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to try. The couple of guys you’d been with were so demanding about their own pleasure you’d been more of a fun plaything than a woman with agency. 

“S-sit on it?” Elvis feels like he has to stop repeating everything you say back to you as a question, but it’s like his brain has gone completely blank. Apart from the part that reminds him that he’s 40 and he takes too many meds for his dick to co-operate like this for too long. And he doesn’t want to say that out loud. 

You grin. It seems like it’s working. You rock your hips just a little and he moans in response. Biting your lip, you decide to try pushing it a little further. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice about being so mean to me, next time?”

Elvis’ expression changes a little, and you wonder if you’ve pushed it too far. His hand reaches to slap you on the side of the thigh. 

“C’mon. I apologised fer that. Ya need ta move.”

His tone is bordering on annoyed, and you consider it for a minute and then shake your head, going for your best attempt at a girlie cute little grin. 

“No! Not yet.”

Elvis groans, feeling himself starting to get soft. 

“Please!”

“No!” 

You think you’re still teasing, until you feel something change inside you and watch something changing on his face, too. 

“Ya may as well jus’ get off,” he huffs. 

You tilt your head to one side and look at him. “Don’t want to.”

Still huffing, he gets up onto his elbows and looks at you sternly. “There’s no point now.”

His tone is bitter but he keeps staring at you, waiting to see what you’re going to do. Expecting you to move. But you don’t want to. You don’t feel as full as you did earlier, but he’s still nestled inside you and you like that feeling. 

“I like it,” you tell him, then you hold out your arms. “Want you closer.”

He’s confused but the way you’re being with him softens his frustrations and he finds himself sitting up as you ask, with you adjusting to make sure he doesn’t fall out. After some wriggling he finally finds himself with his arms around you and his head on your shoulder, breathing in your scent. 

“Too old ta be teased,” he whispers. 

“Maybe I’m jus’ not good at teasing,” you suggest. 

“Hmmm.”

“Like the feeling of you inside like this.”

He grumbles into the crook of your neck, then sighs, relenting. “Like it too.”

You sit there for a while, in one another’s arms, enjoying the feeling of closeness. Then you wiggle your hips a little. 

“You think I can get it back?”

“Hmmm?”

“Your hard-on. Think I can get it back? I’m not that good at teasing but I am good at… other stuff.”

Elvis shakes his head a little to clear it of your dirty words. “I dunno, honey. Little Elvis isn’t that co-operative nowadays.”

You giggle, moving so you can look at him properly. “Little Elvis? You named it?”

He looks down, shyly. “Y-yeah. I named it.”

“Ohhh. Maybe I should talk to him.”

“What’re ya gonna say?”

You think for a while, tilting your head to the side and nibbling on your lower lip, going through several options. Then you decide you’ve come up with it, and smile brightly at him. 

“I think I’m gonna say, Little Elvis… you’re not actually that little, are you?”

Elvis bursts out laughing, his fingertips digging into your fleshy hips as he throws his head back. Your hands hold onto the back of his neck as you grin at his reaction. 

“I’m also gonna say, I like playing with you, and I’d really like it if you got all red and hard for me again. But if you’re too tired, I understand.”

Elvis is still laughing, all the tension from earlier has completely gone and he just loves how silly you’re being. It’s making him feel like the whole thing is less serious than he’d first imagined. Then he starts to feel something as you rock your hips back and forth on him, your ass firmly pressed against his thighs so he doesn’t slip out. A little hardening, a little rush of blood back down there again. Your lips find his ear and you murmur into it. 

“Want to show you how good I am at this. I know you’ve had a lot of girls and I’m sure I’m not the best, but I want to try.”

He groans at your words and your movements, and he starts to think that you’re right, you are good at this and you can bring his erection back. He’s never known a girl be able to do it before, he usually gets so psyched out and upset when it happens he doesn’t even let them try. 

“Bunny,” he breathes, feeling your pussy hugging him again as you start to roll your hips forwards, pushing your breasts against his chest. 

“Elvis,” you moan back, raising yourself up on your knees just a little before sitting back down. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands on your ass as you start to make your movements bigger and bigger, until finally you’re bouncing on him like…well… a bunny rabbit. 

You move one of your hands to rub your clit as the familiar feeling inside you builds, his dick pleasuring you just the way you like. You’ve only been in this position once or twice, but those are the times you’ve been able to cum from sex and so you’re excited to do this with Elvis. You watch his face contort in pleasure and it brings you even closer, thinking that you’re the cause, you’re what’s making him feel so good. Your fingers rub faster and you keep bouncing, his hands helping you move now too, fucking you on his dick. 

Leaning back, you finally sigh out your orgasm, so quietly Elvis would’ve missed it if he was just relying on his ears. But he feels you, and then he knows he has to move you before he cums. His strong hands pull you off him completely and set you down somewhere around his knees, before he grabs his dick and quickly jerks himself, cumming in seconds, his release spurting all over your belly and tits. Lying down with a groan, he wraps his arm around you as you lie down next to him. 

“I need a shower,” you whisper in his ear. 

He’s still breathing hard, trying to recover from his orgasm, and he pries his eyes open to look at you. You’re literally covered in his cum. 

“Shit.”

You giggle. “Told you I was good at it.”

He shakes his head with a wry smile. “Knew Bunny was a good name fer ya. Jus’ didn’t realise how good. Until now…”

***

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley

[wolfiesmoon]

Countless nights

Malleus x gn!reader

i felt like writing something super cute and lovey dovey and basic after listening to can't help falling in love by elvis presley so here we are lol😌🩷

this is nothing revolutionary that hasn't been done before just so much fluff you'll throw up a furball (made of fictional fluff) by the end

There are many a night which he spends thinking of you.

Lilia had told him about it, a long long time ago. How your chest would tighten, how your face would become warm, how your heart would flutter when gazing at the person you're in love with. But he never imagined that it could feel this amazing, this freeing, this beautiful.

There are many moments he thinks of on these nights...

You run up behind him, yelling the silly little nickname he's grown to love hearing fall from your lips.

He turns around, grinning at the sound of your voice. Truly, you are a sight for sore eyes. Your little furry companion is with you, too, dozing off in your arms.

"It's so nice to see you in the hallways for once." you realise that you mostly see him in front of your dorm when he randomly shows up. Because of that, you kinda forgot that he's also a student at the school and takes classes as well.

"Likewise. It's always a pleasure to see you." He didn't say anything presumptious, so why are you making that excited face all of a sudden? Now he feels giddy.

A silence falls between you.

"Ahaha... Um... I actually have no idea what to talk about... I kinda just ran to you after seeing you..." you admitted awkwardly.

That is... very comforting to hear. All you need is the sight of him to want to be by his side. The warm feeling spreading across his body is very welcome.

He wants to hear you say that sentence over and over, but greed is not a good quality to bear, so he'll settle with hearing it only once.

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind listening to me talk? Do you happen to be partial to gargoyles?" He takes the opportunity to talk about the passion no one seems to share with him. He's fully expecting you to say no and change the topic, and he wouldn't blame you at all in some regard. He's well aware most humans don't take interest in something as specific as gargoyles.

"I never really thought much about them before. But sure, tell me about it." you actually look really interested, waiting for him to start.

He smiles.

Oh, he just can't help falling in love with you.

.

"Did you hear about that new ice cream place that opened in town recently?"

When you asked him if he could spare 2 hours of his day just for the two of you yesterday, he was certainly not expecting you to open with this.

"Lilia told me you like ice cream, and I was pretty curious about the taste myself." you wonder to yourself if there's any funny flavours you wouldn't find in the human world. If so, you're definitely trying them out.

"So, uhhh... wanna go try it with me?"

You don't even realise how happy you've just made him. He has to hold back the wide smile that threatens to spread across his face.

"Hahaha, you're so strange... Though I certainly wouldn't mind." You seriously just want to... hang out with him? What a pleasant surprise, indeed. It makes his heart beat with excitement.

"Let's go!" you start running down the hill to get to town, excited to share ice cream with him.

.

"Aw man, it's almost impossible to choose." you're contemplating between three different flavours at the moment.

"Shall I choose for you, then?" Malleus suggests. He already picked the flavour he wants and is waiting for you to make your choice. Not that he's annoyed by that. The longer you take, the more minutes he can spend by your side. How greedy of him.

"Go ahead." you sigh defeatedly. You're truly thankful he can put an end to the awkward situation of you just staring between 3 different flavours for like, 2 whole minutes now. You're creating a line behind you, no doubt.

"You should get the strawberry flavour." Malleus recalled a story of Lilia's in which he told him that strawberries are a symbol of love in a country he visited. He feels a bit cheeky, sneaking a subtle hint in like this.

"Uh, sure! I'll have one scoop of strawberry!" you raised an eyebrow slightly at his satisfied smile. Why is he smiling now, of all times?

If he's happy, you're happy, you suppose.

The two of you decided to walk around town while eating the ice cream. It was a nice change of scenery.

You were telling Malleus about a funny potionology mishap you had with Grim and Ace today when someone bumped into you, making you lose grip of the ice cream.

It fell splat on the ground, making it no longer edible.

"Oh come on..." you looked down at the wasted ice cream sadly. It was really good, too.

"I can return it to its original form, do not worry." Malleus suggested, already about to do it when you gently grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened slightly and a strange tightness enveloped his chest.

"No need. Just hanging out with you is enough. Enjoy the ice cream for the both of us." you're really fine with just watching him. He seems very happy when eating ice cream, which you can't get enough of.

"...If you wish." he felt his whole being warming up at your sweet words.

Oh, he just can't help falling in love with you.

.

"Child of man. What is the meaning of this?" his expression darkens when he sees your fingers wrapped in bandages.

"Of wha- Oh, you mean my bandages? It's, uhhh, a bit embarrasing. And also a suprise." you hid your hands behind your back, not wanting him to worry about them too much.

"Tell me." he looked quite scary in this moment, almost like he was ready to kill. Is he really that worried over it? It kinda makes you feel giddy.

"It'll ruin the surprise, I'm just saying." you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. His terrifying gaze didn't falter however, so you gave up.

"Roses are really important symbols in Briar valley, so I've heard. So I kinda wanted to give you a hand-picked rose boquet for your birthday tommorow, but I was dumb and didn't use gloves to de-thorn the roses. So that's why my hands look like this." you still felt a little bad ruining the surprise, but giving Malleus peace of mind is much more important.

"Oh... So it was that, I see." Malleus still witheld a somewhat cold, scary expression. He can't stand to see you hurt, in any way. And knowing it was all for him makes him feel even worse.

Still... you wanted to make him happy so much that you willingly hurt yourself to see it happen. Warmth rushes to his face at the thought of you handing the boquet to him. That's quite a common way of confessing love among humans, is it not?

He can't wait for his birthday all of a sudden.

On these nights, he just can't help falling in love with you.

[starkwlkr]

if you dance, I’ll dance | cillian murphy

2006

“Doesn’t this look nice? Look, I found the perfect matching earrings to go with the dress.”

Y/n stood in front of a mirror. It was a few hours before ‘The Devil Wear Prada’ premiere since she was invited by her good friend, Anne. Her assistant, Joli, was helping her get ready.

“I like it.” Y/n smiled to herself. This was her first big premiere, although it wasn’t her film, she still wanted to support her friend.

“Okay, oh my god, you look gorgeous!” Joli hasped at the sigh of Y/n.

“I just want this night to go great.”

“Y/n! You made it!” Anne yelled over the shouting of the photographers.

“I did, you’re my best friend, of course I was going to show up for you.” Y/n smiled and hugged Anne.

“You have to come to the after party. It’s going to be so much fun.” The brunette laughed.

“Let me remind you what happened last time you and I went to an after party. I lost my shoe and you almost got arrested.”

“I promise nothing bad is going to happen at this one.”

Something did happen that night, but it led Y/n to the greatest love of her life. Yeah, she might’ve been a little too drunk and confused her future husband with Henry Cavill, but at least she has an interesting story to tell to her future kid.

It started with a shot of tequila. Then the one shot became two and then three and so on. Not only was tequila consumed, but a waiter had brought a bottle of wine courtesy of the great Meryl Streep who wanted to celebrate the film’s success.

“Wait, shut up, shhhh,” Anne placed her hand over Y/n’s mouth. “Oh my god, they’re playing Poker Face! You have to dance with me!”

“I don’t think I can keep myself up. Where’s the restroom? I might vomit or I need to pee, I can’t decide which one.” Y/n admitted.

Anne pointed towards a hallway that had a sign pointing to the restrooms so Y/n mumbled an ‘I’ll be back’ and darted to the hallway. Like any other after party she had attended, the line to the restroom was long. The sight of the line made her frustrated so she left the hallway and walked outside to get some fresh air.

The night sky was shining. Y/n could see some guests already leaving, some women had their heels in their hands, a guy was missing his coat, Y/n even saw Ryan Reynolds being dragged by his manager. That night, she couldn’t really remember if she had vomited on ‘Henry Cavill’ or if she even vomited at all. All she remembered was that some guy had told her she had a pretty smile and gave her his number which she held onto for the rest of the night.

Oh! How could she forget! She had also shared a dance with him to a sweet melody that she forgotten the name of.

‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ by Elvis? No, that wasn’t it.

‘At Last’ by Etta James? Nope.

‘Unchained Melody’ by The Righteous Brothers? Not even close.

She tried so hard to remember the song that she dances to with the guy who made her smile so much. She just wished she could relive that night whenever she wanted.

“Cillian, his name is Cillian.”

BARBENHEIMER TAGLIST

@thatgirlthatreadswattpad @leclercloml

[stylespresleyhearted]

what’s the secret project you posted 👀

oh gosh i keep meaning to answer this and then i keep forgetting or pushing it back for reasons unknown to me i think im just unaccustomed to having any asks lol but anyways this is something that actually started because of a certain thing me and marina yell about when it comes to austin and then as our love for callum grew it came to something else grand and beautiful. now it’s only something that has been discussed in the chat, it has no doc or nothing official to it, it may never even come to fruition (marina is already gifting us with so much goodness in the fic worlds she dabbles in)

but i will share some of it and feel free to come further talk about it if it interests you 😘

Warnings: nsfw below the cut, open relationship, threesome, guy x guy, guy x guy x girl

So we’re all aware of how Austin put his blood, sweat, tears, and soul into his Elvis role. This man gave it his all and I’m truly so grateful to him for it because in my opinion (and most importantly in Lisa Marie’s opinion) he did Elvis Presley justice.

• Bree is a famous and highly esteemed guitarist, singer, and lyricist. She’s won multiple Grammies and written for and with Lana Del Rey, Arctic Monkeys, etc., that’s more her vibe. Baz hires her on during the making of Elvis movie so she could help him modernize the soundtrack and help with the choosing of songs. Maybe she’s even there when Austin gathers all the people from the record label and has them ridicule Austin after his first run through.

• But she’s there before filming and she’s there during filming and her and Austin even shack up together for a while during the first COVID lockdown, spending time with him in his apartment and staying up at all hours of the night to help him get certain scenes right. The bed sheets are tangled, kisses are shared, breakfast is eaten in bed not in the kitchen and there are multiple walks on the beach taken together.

• Bree tries her best to be there for him through all of it. She can sense he’s about to sky rocket and rightfully so, she doesn’t think anyone around can currently measure for his talent. She tries to be a soundboard and a friend and a girlfriend of sorts and a co worker and he’s got her playing all these different roles to keep up with him but keep in mind he never asked her to do any of that. She’s doing it because she loves him, maybe she isn’t in love with him or if she is she isn’t aware of it yet but she does love and care for him.

• And he’s going through his shit. He isn’t sure where Austin begins and Elvis ends and he isn’t in the headspace for a relationship, especially with Bree who deserves the world so when he’s sick as a dog and bed ridden before heading to London he makes sure to have the conversation with her. They were never official. Never went public or had rumors swirl. It’s better to end it on a good note and leave it how it is.

• So consider his surprise when a few months into filming MOTA, Bree shows up on Callum’s arm being introduced as his girlfriend. It’s supposed to be a lads night and Barry dragged him out and now someone who he calls one of his closest friends is introducing Bree as his current girlfriend. A close friend who he goes on walks in the parks with, who places kisses on his cheek after a few drinks, who places his hand on the small of Austin’s back when he approaches him, who pinches his cheeks and welcomed him with open arms. Dating someone who was there at his worst and gave him her heart and stayed up entire nights talking him down when his anxiety was too high and made him do self care when he forgot he was supposed to be his own person.

• and see, Callum and Bree are both Brits so they run in semi same circles and they knew of each other and were friends but Callum was with Vanessa Kirby and they were in love and for a while Bree was with Alex Turner and them afterwards there was Austin. So Callum and Bree were already friends and when they run into each other at a record shop and then head to lunch after and maybe Callum gave her a kiss goodbye when they went separate ways - it all just grew from there.

• so maybe Austin feels a green jealous monster growing inside his chest but who he’s jealous of he’s unsure and a larger part of him is actually happy for both of them. They’re good people, they love each other and both deserve each other.

• they’re suddenly everywhere. She accompanies Callum on set and it’s clear to everyone how in love they are and one time when they’re filming the POW scenes and everyone’s on lunch Austin is looking for peace and quiet so he wanders into their “bunks” but there right in front of him - Callum holding Bree up against the wood panel walls, pounding into her as she moans his name so prettily, his sheepskin jacket still on and making him sweaty. Callum’s eyes open and he catches Austin walking, Austin who trips over his own feet to back away but Callum just smiles and winks at him.

• and later Callum approaches Austin with a high five and a cheeky, “see how good I was giving it to her, mate?”

• and fuck, Austin gets hard thinking about it. Gets hard thinking about Bree’s moans and Callum’s grunt and his sweat and her breasts bouncing against his chest.

• then filming wraps and Austin’s free of them. Doesn’t have to be in there presence every day anymore and he meets someone, a nepo baby who’s beautiful and kind and he’s in a place where he feels he can be with someone so he goes for it and he falls in love.

• and MOTA press isn’t until 2024 so it’s two years of only a handful of run ins with them but then press starts and news break: Callum and Bree are engaged. And the entire cast and crew are happy and they all celebrate.

• She didn’t join Elvis press because she was touring.

• so now Austin is around his engaged friends and he has mixed feelings regarding both of them. See he’s happy and he loves his girlfriend and his career is good but if he’s being honest something is missing and when he wants to torture himself he admits he knows exactly what it is. And he’s doing interviews and Bree is backstage and Callum’s always so touchy and so kind in his words in regard to Austin and one day Callum admits Bree told him what went down between Bree and Austin and Callum’s a confident guy, he assures Austin it’s all fine.

• But maybe it’s the first screening of MOTA, and Callum and Bree are tired of Austin’s sad puppy dog eyes every time they catch him watching them so Bree corners Austin backstage. Gets close and starts palming him through his pants, assuring him Callum wouldn’t mind, in fact Callum has been purposely teasing Austin during interviews trying to get him to cave.

• Callum and Bree both decided if they all wanted it how could it be wrong? Why not go for it?

• And Bree’s falling to her knees and taking Austin in her mouth, pretty pouty lips wrapped around him as she takes him all the way in and suddenly Callum is there, watching them, talking her through it.

• “Isn’t she phenomenal, mate? Had to work with her to get rid of that gag reflex and now she can deep throat me.”

• and Callum waits until Austin mewls his name and calls him over, begging him to be a part of this somehow, to please hold him. So Callum is joining them, Bree so pretty on her knees between them and Callum is flicking Austin’s nipple and letting Austin let his moans out in his neck.

That’s all we have more to come soon if ya’ll wish 🌚

• oh yeah there’s a scene where Bree holds Austin’s hand the first time Callum fucks him because she’s aware of the pain of how large Callum is.

@precious-little-scoundrel

[capuccinodoll]

The Holiday

Before the sun hits (chapter two)

Summary: You spend an interesting morning with Joel drinking hot chocolate.

-

DECEMBER 19TH

When you got up from bed, your parents were gone. You looked at the clock on the living room wall. 8:20 am. Outside, the snow covered almost the entire ground and the sun had barely finished rising completely. You'd been awake for at least thirty minutes and at no time had you heard them leave, so surely they had gone out earlier. Where had they gone?

You didn't think too much about it and approached the window that overlooked the entrance to the cabin. The scenery took your breath away. You and your parents arrived yesterday afternoon after a five-hour flight, and you fell in love with the place from the very first moment.  It was high tourist season, you saw them last afternoon when they'd fleetingly strolled through downtown, you being a tourist too. The quaintly decorated cafes gave off a delicious aroma of coffee, cinnamon, chocolate and apple, and all sorts of events were taking place in the local bookstores and galleries, such as movie showings at the local theater. Your mother mentioned them to you the night before; all kinds of Christmas classics would be playing and after eight o'clock, the occasional Christmas horror classics. The last part really caught your attention - seeing Black Christmas in a cozy theater in Canmore? Yes, sounded like you. 

You moved away from the window as your feet began to cool. The smell of the coffee was still fresh in the air and it didn't take you long to fill a cup and sit down at the kitchen counter.  The whole cabin looked like a fairy tale. The ceiling, with exposed wooden beams, was high, giving a sense of spaciousness without losing the intimate feel. The large windows that dominated the front walls allowed natural light to flood the room and offered a breathtaking view of the snowy outside. Through them, you could see snow-capped mountains, fir trees with white flakes on their branches, and a pale blue sky that promised a sunny day. In the living room, an L-shaped sofa upholstered in soft, light gray fabrics sat in the center, accompanied by red pillows and wool blankets. In front of the sofa, a rustic reclaimed wood coffee table held a tray of empty coffee cups. Your parents, you thought. A cozier corner was created to the side by an antique leather armchair and a floor lamp with a warm glow. Maybe you could sit there and cry a little.

You connected your phone into the TV and opened Spotify in search of the perfect song to brighten up your morning. Suspicious minds by Elvis started playing through the speakers and suddenly your body began to feel light, as if the weight of the last year was no longer in your veins. Your movements were loose and carefree, letting yourself go with the infectious rhythm of the song. You turned and jump on your heels with a wide grin on your face, arms raised, as if there was no other concern in the world but to warm up. As the music increased in intensity, your steps became bigger, almost theatrical, emulating the style of the 60's, with little hip swivels and a light laugh that escaped your lips. You moved your shoulders in a carefree manner, improvising as you sang along with Elvis' voice. Suddenly your steps stopped and you placed your hands on your chest: Oh, let our love survive, you sang, i'll dry the tears from your eyes, let's don't let a good thing die, when honey, you know i've never lied to you. 

Your feet began to move animatedly again as the pace quickened, and a cold breeze began to blow across your back, but you ignored it. Until, after a few seconds, as you turned back toward the archway leading into the hallway, you saw your parents standing in the doorway, watching you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. And right behind them... Joel, with his coat in his right hand and a suitcase in his left, looking at you in surprise. Time seemed to stand still. Your eyes widened and the music, which had been the main character before, suddenly seemed very loud, too loud. You stopped, frozen in a strange pose; your arms still raised and your legs slightly bent, completely out of place in the middle of the room. 

You straightened up and were suddenly very conscious of how you were dressed: in your Snoopy pants and an old Soundgarden t-shirt.  Your parents exchanged an amused look, trying to contain their laughter, as one of them says in a soft but playful-sounding voice: 

You quickly dropped your hands, feeling acutely aware of your Snoopy pajamas and worn Soundgarden t-shirt. Your parents exchanged a look, smirking like they couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer.

“Are you rehearsing for a show, darling?” one of them teased, their voice a gentle mockery that only made your cheeks burn hotter.

You fumbled for your phone, fingers clumsy as you turned down the volume, then retreated to the kitchen counter. Sipping your coffee, you tried to feign calm, but the cup trembled against your lips. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Hi, Joel,” you finally managed, aiming for casual, though you worried your voice betrayed just how rattled you felt.

He gave a slight nod, dropping his suitcase beside the sofa. He moved toward the kitchen with a familiarity that caught you off guard, turning on the faucet to wash his hands as if this were just another morning.

You hadn’t expected him to show up, and your attempt to keep cool faltered. “I thought you weren’t coming,” you blurted, trying to play it off. “I mean, it’s good to see you… if you wanted to be here.”

Your mom appeared beside you as if she’d been eavesdropping from the next room. Her sudden presence made you tense. “Your dad talked him into it, you know how he is. And don’t be rude, honey. Nobody should be alone this time of year,” she added in that gentle tone of hers, the one that left no room for argument.

You glanced at Joel quickly, worried that he might think you were upset that he was there. That wasn't the intention, but you didn't want him to misunderstand.

You glanced at Joel, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret your words as unwelcoming. That wasn’t how you meant it, but you couldn’t help the awkwardness that slipped through.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry…”

“S’okay,” Joel cut in, waving his hand dismissively, like he hadn’t noticed your clumsy words. “I know what you meant.”

But then his eyes shifted down to your pajama pants, lingering just a little too long. Of course, this was how you always ended up—making a fool of yourself in front of him. Did he have to look so good while doing it? He was wearing a dark green flannel, black jeans, and leather boots that seemed perfectly suited for him. His hair was a little messier than it had been last night, a hint of silver in his beard catching the light. He looked unreasonably handsome, like he’d just walked off the cover of a magazine for outdoorsmen.

You noticed a small heart-shaped patch between his chin and jaw, a detail you hadn't seen before, and suddenly felt an absurd urge to reach up and press your thumb there.

When your gaze flicked back up, you found him watching you—his eyes lingering over your face like he was memorizing every feature. The air between you seemed to thicken, your pulse quickening as heat rose to your cheeks. And yet, you couldn’t look away, and neither did he. For a few moments, everything felt suspended, like you might say something—anything—to break the silence. But then, your dad called out to him from the doorway.

Joel broke eye contact first, the spell snapping, and straightened up. “Coming,” he replied, and as he walked past, you caught yourself following him with your eyes, feeling a pang of something you couldn’t quite name.

You asked yourself if he would ever consider mentioning to your dad what was going on with you. Or, if at some point during his flight, the thought would have crossed his mind. But you forced yourself to stop thinking about it almost instantlyy. He had assured you that he wouldn't say anything, and, for some reason you didn't fully understand, you chose to believe him. 

*

Your mother tapped lightly on your bedroom door before pushing it open without waiting for a reply. The door creaked, her silhouette appearing in the frame with a cheerful familiarity that was always both comforting and a little intrusive.

“We're heading to the market to get some stuff. Need anything?”

You were sprawled out on the bed, limbs loose, staring up at the ceiling like it might reveal something new. It was hard to remember when you'd started doing that, letting your thoughts run away with you, drifting without purpose.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright. We’ll be back soon. Don’t fall asleep,” she added with a gentle warning as her face disappeared back into the hallway.

A few moments later, you heard the rumble of your father’s car starting up, the low murmur of their voices mingling with the crunch of snow as they left. You knew they’d come back with arms full of holiday cheer—sweets, wine, things that seemed to make their eyes light up. You understood their excitement; you weren’t so different. Canmore at Christmas was magic wrapped in snow, each corner dressed in gold lights and bright red ribbons.

Who wouldn’t love this? Only someone heartbroken, you thought dryly. But then, you almost caught yourself sounding like your mother.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Ally:

I think this is your chance to find a hot Canadian to flirt with. I've heard the rumors, y'know.

You chuckled to yourself, though the suggestion wasn’t entirely unappealing.

Just got here, lol. Haven’t met anyone yet, but we’re going out to dinner later. I’ll keep you posted.

For a moment, your mind drifted back to Liam, to the last photo you saw of him, fingers entwined with his new girlfriend’s. And the words he’d left you with before your final day at the office. Strangely, the memory didn’t sting as much anymore—it had dulled, becoming something you could almost look at from a distance.

You exhaled, pushing yourself out of bed, and rummaged through the suitcase you still hadn’t bothered to unpack. Swapping your pajamas for a white turtleneck, a soft cream sweater, and black pants, you kept your slippers on because, well, you could.

As you opened your bedroom door, you nearly collided with Joel stepping out of the room directly across from yours. You hadn’t processed this arrangement earlier—your rooms were exactly opposite, separated only by a narrow hallway.

He had just showered; damp hair brushed back in a way that was somehow both careless and careful. His beard was neatly trimmed now, taming the stray grays you'd noticed earlier. He wore a gray flannel shirt, dark slacks, and practical boots, his look somehow fitting with the cabin’s rustic charm. You, by contrast, shuffled in your slippers.

You gave him a small smile and moved down the hallway. He followed, his steps deliberate and heavy. By the time you reached the stairs, he had already turned back towards the bathroom, the echo of his footsteps fading behind you.

In front of the television, there was nothing interesting, or at least nothing familiar to you. You switched channels without much enthusiasm until a sigh of satisfaction escaped your mouth. The Holiday was on the screen, right at the scene where Cameron Diaz throws her cheating boyfriend out of the house, yelling at him from the window while throwing his clothes from the second floor. Perfect, you thought. The Holiday. The only thing you were missing was a nice cup of hot chocolate.

You moved into the kitchen, feeling a little thrill when you found the chocolate bar your mother had insisted on buying at the airport. Maybe she’d been right after all. As you heated the milk, you glanced back at the couch, where Joel had reappeared, watching the movie with an unexpected intensity. You hadn’t pegged him for the rom-com type—more of a Western or noir guy, maybe. But he seemed to know the film, his eyes following the characters across the screen.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head slightly, his expression serious. “Too sweet, usually.”

“I can make it less sweet for you,” you offered, adding a faint smile to soften the words.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and then gave a small nod. “Okay, I’ll trust you on that.”

You poured the warmed milk into two mugs, adding three squares of chocolate to yours and just one and a half to his. You skipped the sugar—no way he’d go for that. You stirred until the chocolate dissolved into a rich swirl, then carried the mugs back to the couch. He took his with a quiet, “Thank you,” and you settled beside him, leaving a cautious space between your bodies.

“Do you like the movie?” you asked after a moment, your curiosity winning out.

He shrugged, but there was a softness to the gesture. “It’s... got its moments. Used to watch it with Sarah.”

You nodded, the detail fitting more easily than you expected. It made sense now, why he seemed a little drawn into it.

“I love the neighbor part,” you said. “The little old man.”

“I love the neighbor storyline,” you admitted. “The old writer."

“Yeah, the writer’s good,” he agreed, then fell silent, watching the TV again.

But you couldn’t help yourself, his presence pulling at something inside you. “Joel,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. His name came out unbidden, and you almost regretted it when he looked at you, brows drawing together slightly.

“I—thank you, for not saying anything to my parents. About what I told you.”

He considered this, then nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. “Wasn’t mine to tell, don't worry” he said simply, but something in his tone held a weight that made your throat tighten.

Don't worry. He looked you straight in the eye as he said it, and for some reason, it made you freeze for a few seconds longer than necessary. 

“Anyway, thank you,” you said, breaking the silence. “For listening to me, too. I'm not usually like that.”

“How?” he asked, without looking away. There was something about the calmness of his posture -chocolate mug resting on his lap, one hand resting on the armrest of the couch- that contrasted completely with the stiffness of yours: straight back, both hands clutching your mug, feet tangled together as if trying to keep yourself anchored.

“Emotional, in an exaggerated way.”

He straightened a little, taking your answer seriously.

“I get it,” he murmured, ”though I'm not sure you were exaggerating.”

“What d'you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual as you watched him bring the cup to his lips. The fact that he took another sip made you feel an unexpected sense of relief, as if the success of your chocolate was somehow relevant to that conversation.

“I mean your motives make sense,” he replied, before the television screen drew your attention. Kate Winslet was sobbing on screen, her character’s heartbreak mirroring your own too neatly. Joel’s gaze lingered on your face, his eyes scanning you as if searching for something beyond words.

Joel looked at you, pursing his lips slightly, almost as if he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it.

You tried to make a joke out of it. “It’s funny, right? The timing?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, but he looked down as if to hide it. “Yeah. It’s a little funny.”

“I don't want to butt in too much,” he began cautiously, ”but I get the feeling that boy doesn't deserve the crying.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, surprised by his unexpected statement.

“I just feel it.”

"How?"

"I just do."

“You could try to convince me,” you said, half joking, half serious. “I've been feeling ridiculous about this for the last whole month.”

Joel let out a deep sigh, sinking back into the couch, his shoulders loosening. He raised the cup to his lips, the steam curling up between you, almost like it created its own fragile barrier. His usually guarded eyes seemed a little sharper, as if he was sorting through his thoughts, deciding which ones to share.

“How long were you two together?” he asked finally. His voice was softer than usual, but steady.

“Seven months,” you replied, bracing yourself for his reaction.

He frowned, his expression crinkling with something close to concern or frustration. And it struck you then, how natural that look seemed on his face, like it belonged there.

“And when did you break up?” He held your gaze, waiting for you to continue.

“Three weeks ago.”

He paused, considering this, then asked, “And how long had he been seeing the other woman?”

You hesitated, feeling a familiar sting in your chest, but you pressed on. “I found out about a month ago. But honestly, I’m not sure when it started.”

His frown deepened, shadows settling in the lines of his face. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger, maybe, or some unspoken frustration on your behalf. And despite the ache that came with telling him all of this, you couldn't deny the small, guilty satisfaction that he cared enough to be bothered by it.

“When did he get engaged?” His words came out slower now, like he was struggling to keep his disbelief in check.

“Last Friday,” you murmured, the memory fresh and bitter on your tongue.

“Last Friday?” He blinked, eyebrows knitting together, genuinely thrown. “You mean... like, right after you broke up?”

You nodded, watching him as he processed the timeline. He dragged a hand over his mouth, then licked his lips, as if trying to choose the right words—ones that wouldn’t be too harsh, even if they probably deserved to be.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone quieter but no less direct. “He doesn’t deserve any of those tears, you know. No one does.”

Something about the way he said it landed with you—his voice so matter-of-fact, so assured that it cut through the dull ache in your chest, striking deeper, in a way that was both comforting and disarming. It wasn’t a question or a gentle suggestion; it was a statement, one that left no room for doubt.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. It felt as if any sentence you might have tried to form would have crumbled halfway through. And he seemed to understand that immediately. He held your gaze, a faint crease of worry settling into his brow. For a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something else, maybe push further, but then the front door flew open, and your parents’ voices filled the space.

The moment broke, and he glanced away as if the sudden noise had snapped him back to the present. You felt his fingers graze your arm, just barely, as he shifted on the couch. You glanced at the spot where his touch had lingered, not sure if it had been a gesture of comfort or just an accident. But when you looked back up, he was still watching you, his concern barely masked.

You forced a smile, and he returned it, though his expression remained unconvinced.

Your mother swept into the room like a whirlwind, her laughter echoing against the walls as your dad set down bags of groceries on the kitchen counter nearby. She glanced between you and Joel, her eyes lighting up with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction.

“I love seeing you two hanging out together!” she said brightly, her excitement bubbling over. “See, honey? I told you we needed that chocolate.”

You gave a small nod, taking the last sip of your hot chocolate. Joel did the same beside you, his cup now almost empty.

“What do you guys say to taking a walk around town later? The fair is in full swing, and there are all kinds of goodies,” your mother suggested, practically bouncing on her toes.

A pair of hands rested on your shoulders, your dad’s familiar warmth pressing into you, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head. It was a gesture that grounded you, something solid amidst the mess of emotions.

“Sounds perfect to me,” he said, glancing over at Joel. “And Joel and I can finally get those beers he promised me. What do you say, Miller?”

Joel tilted his head, offering a faint smirk—just a hint of something roguish in his expression, and it sent an unexpected shiver through you. How did he manage to stir so many conflicting feelings in you, all at once?

“Sounds good to me, Evans,” he replied with that casual tone that always seemed to catch you off guard.

You got up from the couch, slipping away under the pretense of putting your empty mug in the sink. As you moved into the kitchen, you busied yourself checking the contents of the fridge, smiling at the sight of your favorite foods, thoughtfully picked out by your parents. And some things you didn’t recognize—probably Joel’s, adding a new layer of domesticity to this strange new dynamic.

With them still chatting, you stole a chance to slip back upstairs, seeking the quiet of your room. The familiar comfort of your bed wrapped around you as you lay back, staring out the window. The view was breathtaking: the snow-covered mountains, the trees standing tall under the clear sky. It was the kind of beauty that tugged at something deep inside, something that made you want to cry, but in a different way than before. A better way. Joel’s words echoed in your mind. Maybe the mountains deserved your tears. Maybe the snow. The sun, absolutely. And the moon, too.

A soft knock broke the stillness, and you peeled yourself off the mattress to answer. The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing Joel leaning against the frame, closer than you’d expected.

“Joel? Did something happen?”

He hesitated for a beat, then shook his head. “No,” he said, voice low, almost sheepish. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I feel like... maybe I was a little insensitive earlier, down there.”

You stared at him, taken aback by the admission. A warmth spread through your chest, seeping into every corner as you realized he meant it. A smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it.

“It’s all right, really. I promise,” you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

“You sure?” He narrowed his eyes, studying you, and there was something about the way he looked at you then—like he was trying to figure out if you were telling the truth.

From that angle, you could get a good look at him, the way his dark eyes studied you. From above, and you below. His gaze moving as it did in the kitchen; slowly across your features. What could be going through his head? You didn't know. But you did know what was going on in yours, and it wasn't anything pure. So you looked at his lips and felt that extending that attention for more than a second was daring, but you did it anyway. And something throbbed in you.

“So sure,” you said, managing to sound steady.

He nodded, pulling back ever so slightly. His gaze flicked over you one last time, as if memorizing the way you looked at that moment, then he stepped back.

“Okay,” he agreed at last. “See you in a bit, then.”

As he left and you closed the door, a strange sensation began to form in your entire body and suddenly, Canmore began to take on a very, very different tinge. 

[joons]

okay no wait, I'm so curious your thoughts on the elvis mythology! I'm trying to think of an example haha. anyway, thank you for that food for thought. your takes on elvis are so interesting and kind of a different perspective than I normally see

Thank you! That means a lot because I do love going into his psychology and thinking about how he thought about things. And I love being able to engage with Elvis stuff from all different angles!

I can think of a few - like there will be people who were close to him who make such absolute statements about him: he refused to wear blue jeans, he hated eating fish, he loved eating peanut butter/banana/bacon sandwiches, he was afraid of germs, he wouldn't sleep with women who were mothers. But not all of those are true for him 100% of the time, or they seem to be big outliers where no one else has reported anything like that. And as you read more, you can see moments where he behaves differently than these big eccentricities that people pin on him, and you have to think about why that might be. You pick up little clues that you can put together to figure out what he meant. Did he have an almost pathological dislike of blue jeans because they reminded him of his childhood poverty, or did he just tell one of his band members that because he had made a brusque joke about the guy wearing blue jeans in front of a bunch of people and wanted to find a way to apologize without apologizing? Was he covering up behavior he was ashamed of, or was he revealing the real shame that drove him to look his best and make sure his entourage looked their best too? Did he actually have an aversion to women after they had given birth (unlikely, since he had relationships with several mothers), or did he want to give Priscilla a reason for avoiding her that she couldn't work around, knowing that she always went overboard trying to change herself to get his attention and getting rid of things she thought were coming between them (his spiritual books/Larry Geller/etc.)? Was this just one of a long line of excuses he made for not truly being in love with her and not wanting to try anymore? Did he actually eat the same sandwich every day, or did he just make a big deal about it one time because it was Lisa's birthday and he wanted to fly her somewhere special? And the other stuff he did eat every day, did he do it because it was one of the few things in his life he had control over, and could extract comfort from, or did he do it because, as he told Larry, he wanted to make himself sick of it so that it would no longer be a temptation? And how much of these conversations are either hearsay or someone putting words in his mouth to absolve themselves of something that bothered them?

The long and short of it is that people have sometimes reported things he said or did without any surrounding context, or it gets stripped away when it's reported elsewhere, and we are left with these moments that don't make sense or tell us anything about him unless we see how he dealt with them throughout his life, around different people, and see him as a whole person and not the Elvis Image that he tended to embrace when it suited him and resent when it hurt him. A really great moment that I think shows how Elvis tended to approach things is reported by Steve Binder, where he said Parker was telling Elvis absolutely not to do something, and Steve felt like Elvis just kind of shut down and mumbled "yes" until Parker left, and then Elvis' eyes flashed and he turned to Steve and said, "Fuck him," and did what he wanted to do. He was a people pleaser! A huge one! He valued loyalty above honesty. He was willing to lie to people he cared about if he felt that it would avoid a confrontation, and sometimes that tipped into a selfish "I want to do things my way," and sometimes that tipped into a selfless "I want them to have everything I can give them." And he waffled between those extremes because of his own low self-esteem and loneliness. I'm! Screaming! About this! At all times! He is an unreliable narrator, he's such a bubble of emotions that pops with the slightly scratch, he's so complex that you are not sure if he wants the bubble to be an opaque shield or a transparent boundary that you can slip through. He was testing people all the time to know if he could trust them with his heart without expecting him to be the Elvis Image, telling them things that were an invitation and a challenge and an insult and a declaration of love all at once, and so much of the problem we deal with now is that people are still completely uninterested in these depths. I???? Love him??? And the things he can help us learn about ourselves??? Just by trying to see him as he really was????

I don't know, I just get very overwhelmed!!!!

[hooked-on-elvis]

I'm shocked (not really, but it's shocking to hear this anyway) to learn that at some point in life Priscilla sued Marty Lacker for a money Elvis gave him. She dropped the lawsuit when Marty counterclaimed it. Marty says "She messed with the wrong guy, but she was trying to use me as a test case against the other guys. She is a lovely person."

(1) February 25-26, 1965: Elvis signing autographs for fans in Nashville while he was in town for the recording session for the "Harum Scarum" movie soundtrack. Marty Lacker is seen by Elvis' side.

YOUTUBE - INTERVIEW WITH MARTY LACKER BY JOE KREIN PART 3 (out of 4) (go to 30:00 to listen his story about the lawsuit by Priscilla)

Now, this is just my personal comments on this but for all I've learned about Marty Lacker so far I believe he had the best interests at heart concerning Elvis. He helped EP with his music career A LOT. The way he puts it, it seems he worried with Elvis' name in the business because: 1. Marty knew EP had so much to offer (as everybody else knew), so much talent to go to waste on unworthy movies and its soundtracks and on general commercially weak songs, and 2. I bet it wasn't funny to see people mocking his friend for the kind of music and movies Elvis was making. Marty, as well as some other Memphis Mafia guys, worried about Elvis' personal satisfaction and well-being for multiple reasons... maybe not all of them being selfless but I still believe they did care about Elvis as a friend and human being even if they had hidden interests and whatever was the nature of them.

Now, all of those guys (all the people) around EP were seeing him killing himself little by little while trying to numb the disturbing thoughts in his mind and the sorrow in his soul... they were witnessing all of the sad incidents happening over the years where Elvis would end up hurting himself or almost dead. Marty was one of the few people that would go against Colonel Parker when he convinced Elvis to try something new for his career, something that would end up giving Elvis a great refreshing moment in his life, something he was hoping for deep down but somehow couldn't imagine how to make it happen himself and the ones who were in the place to advice him were too busy with their own personal agendas to care about the King's aspirations for his career.

Marty was the one to manage getting Elvis into the American Sound studio (later at the Stax too), and Marty was also the one to recommend the Sweet Inspirations to work on Elvis' concerts. Just by that alone, ALONE, could you really think Marty deserved a lawsuit for a money Priscilla didn't even need? I mean, where is the gratitude to some of the close friends of the man she allegedly says she loved?

As he said in the same interview, Marty was no saint… he wasn't a leech either. There was a time when Elvis lent him some money and Marty paid him back some time later, so Elvis was deeply touched by it because normally no one would pay him back ever! That shows something, right?

Maybe I don't know enough yet because I'm relatively a new born in the Elvis fandom, and I absolutely don't agree with every statement I've listened/read coming from Marty but in general I see him as one of the good guys from the Memphis Mafia bunch. I mean, every story has two sides. Maybe Priscilla sued Marty after being counselled to do so by some lawyer she had, like she was when she decided take Elvis to the court again in 1973, asking for more money after the divorce settlement had been set in 1972 - and by this I mean she could've been convinced to sue Marty instead of having the idea herself, which at least would make things a little less awful. But any reason she had to do that, I mean... why? There's things in life we just don't do. Even if she didn't personally liked the guy (and we know from Elvis' friends the ones she really liked were Joe Esposito and Jerry Schilling), she had to admit Marty was a great contributor to the Elvis Presley estate from which she benefits until today. I think for all Marty did for Elvis' career it's reasonable to think that any money he could've borrowed from EP would have already made its way back into the Presley's bank account in other ways. Maybe a little bit of gratitude and respect to him wouldn't hurt. I mean, I'm not totally against Priscilla... in some ways I can understand her, I really can, but not on this. Not when it comes to her greediness.

I just wonder what would Elvis think.

(2) The Presley's wedding day, February 1, 1967. Marty with Elvis and Priscilla.

FURTHER INFO: On July 17 1973, "in the papers presented to the court Priscilla's new attorney seeks to set aside the original divorce settlement." - Excerpt from 'Elvis Day by Day' by Peter Guralnick and Ernst Jorgensen. Now in addition to what has been agreed on the August 1972 divorce settlement, from the 1973 new settlement Priscilla would also receive, among other things, Spousal support, additional $625,000 (in cash) to the original $100.000 agreed and 5% of Elvis' royalties.

[from-memphis-with-love]

WELCOME, LITTLE DARLINGS

About me: Obsessed with Elvis for 25+ years. It's a problem.

About you: Hungry for some fanfic? Let me take you on a ride.

I write Elvis fanfiction with a special love for AU stories; I'll put Elvis in any historical or alternate universe situation to suit my - and our - collective fantasies, lol. When I write more reality-grounded fanfiction I like to focus on the mid-to-late 1960s and early '70s. If you ask me, he was at the height of his powers in 1970.

All of my writing is female-centric. I don't always write smut, but sometimes I do so let's all be adults here, use our discretion and of course enjoy. :) I love to take requests as well so please don't be shy.

Note: I am annoyingly self-critical. This means I often reread and retool my work, so please be patient with me! I am trying to kick this habit.

ONE SHOTS

Stubble Trouble (Requested): Elvis comes home from filming Charro!, looking sexier than ever with a beard. You decide to show him just how much you love it.

Magic Man: Big Daddy Elvis breaks in a virgin. You can also read on AO3 here.

1849: Lonesome and loving cowboy Presley is kind and nurturing to his wife on their wedding night. Historical western AU setting.

Phantom Frequency: Halloween night, 1969. Tired and lonely trucker Elvis Presley has a ghostly encounter. Spooky! You can also read on AO3 here.

Paper Hearts and Press Releases: Margaret Chen is a publicist secretly in love with her famous client, Elvis Presley. But his manager thinks she should cook up a story about him and his co-star to generate buzz for his upcoming movie. This involves arranging dates and photo ops for the two of them, but Margaret can't help but notice Elvis seems more interested in her. You can also read on AO3 here.

The Price of Living. What happens when a frontier nurse saves an entire town from deadly fever - and names her price? A child of her own, to be given by one of the survivors. When the straws are drawn, fate chooses Elvis Presley, a classics professor turned miner with a fiancée back home. Their marriage of duty becomes something neither expected.

SERIES

Gambling on Your Love: The fic that started it all for me. Mid-'60s Elvis is stuck in a dead end film career that he hates. Until he meets one Francesca Ferrara, a triple threat on a meteoric rise whose talent rivals his own. The Colonel is determined to put a stop to their hot and heavy romance at any cost, fearing it may hurt his client's career. But Elvis isn't gonna let that happen. You can also read this on AO3 here.

A Cowboy for Clementine: Late 1800s Western AU fic with delicious cowpoke Presley and inexperienced but enthusiastic young heiress from the North, Clementine Olivetti. Slow burn romance. You can also read this on AO3 here.

Songbird: The year is 1969. The place is The International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an unassuming aspiring young singer, has an unexpected encounter with Elvis Presley in a hotel elevator. It will change her life forever, both for good and bad. You can also read this on AO3 here.

Sin City Serenade: Elvis Presley has fled a murder charge in small-town Mississippi and started life over as Johnny "Velvet" Valentine, a world weary and jaded Las Vegas lounge singer. He's thoroughly escaped his past... until it comes looking for him. (Rewriting) All In: Elvis Presley is the hip swingingest, heart throbbiest, code breakingest spy you've ever seen. Set in the swinging '60s across multiple glamorous locales. (Rewriting) The King's Counsel: What if Elvis decided to fire Colonel Parker after the Comeback Special? And what if you were the saucy little minx attorney he hired to help him do it? (WIP)

[deathandthesoul]

Hey you! Do you like LA by Night and NY by Night? Want to branch out into watching more VtM actual plays? There's a few I really enjoy that I'd like to share. They are all 5th edition

Blood on the Grand Strand/Are We Dead Yet? from Huddyvonschland Coterie clans: Ravnos, Tzimisce, Salubri, Tremere, and some more regulars who swap in and out. And then also oops all Thinbloods! The tourist town of Myrtle Beach enjoys a vibrant nightlife. An eclectic Anarch coterie must contend with the Camarilla (and later Sabbat) making moves in their city while the Second Inquisition begins their operation. There's funky cults, a suspicious drug operation, weird Thinblood stuff, and a lot of juicy worldbuilding which sometimes brings in other elements of the World of Darkness. The players are an absolute delight, Huddy's storytelling is fucking delicious, and the table has a ton of chemistry. The atmosphere is moody and it's a very chill time. I consider this my comfort chronicle

Vegas by Night from Mayday Roleplay Coterie clans: Ravnos, 2 Malkavians, 2 Gangrel, Warrior Salubri, Lasombra This show is nuts. It has everything. Vividly gritty ST narration, occult mysteries, a coterie of forcibly Camarilla kindred in way over their head, wacky Vegas hijinks, lifelike and captivating characters, a meat house, Lake Mead being terrifying, so much buck wild combat. A gospel singer Ravnos who sounds like Elvis and the world's horniest Malkavians. Every plan goes haywire. They always pick the solution that will create the most consequences for them. It's super high energy but man it's fun. Caleb has spread such a wide web of plots that all somehow interconnect. It's really impressive seeing it all gradually unveil and all make sense together in the greater scheme of things. His brain is seriously huge

Legacy of Bulls from Adventure Tavern Coterie clans: [Spoiler], Hecata, Brujah, Toreador A Birmingham coterie inherits the grudge of their forebears and has to race against the clock to solve a mystery and prevent any damage. I'm in love with CT lmao he's my favorite representation of that clan I've ever seen. The chronicle has elements of the occult/magic, investigation, and an atmosphere that is often moody and tense with the occasional chaos. I love the drama in this one

ATL by Night from the Facility Productions Coterie clans: Brujah, Tremere, Ventrue, Gangrel. And some more regulars who swap in and out. In later seasons there is a new coterie: Lasombra, Thinblood, Hecata, Tremere, Gangrel, Ravnos After taking heavy losses during the Final Nights, kindred society in Atlanta must rebuild. Many were hastily embraced during those confusing times and the coterie is tasked with bringing those lost childer into the fold. There is a focus on character development and kindred Politics with heavy Second Inquisition involvement. All in all I find it to be very cozy and intimate, it's really relaxing to watch

The Rook and the Rascal: Montreal by Night from ThreeKingsLoot (audio only) Coterie clans: Tremere, Toreador, Nosferatu It's been a while since I listened to this one so I forget a lot but I remember there were werewolves, Pentex, and a lot of over the top violence. And something about a cult leader, I think? But it's also very cozy and has themes of community and friendship. They utilize True Faith in a novel way and the characters and narration are very charming. They don't follow the game mechanics exactly but it makes things way more high stakes and dangerous and interesting. I had a good time listening to this

[buglass]

Love a Man in Uniform

Summary: You really like seeing Elvis in his Army uniform and even more so without it, but the hat stays on.

Chapters: 1/1

WC: 3.3K

Rating/Warnings: Explicit; Smut aka minors DNI, late 50s

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Black!OFC, Elvis Presley x Black!Reader

A/N: I saw someone’s comment somewhere on here that they wanted Elvis to keep the hat on when they you know and I was already itchin’ to write Army Elvis. God bless the troops.

Being the daughter of an Army sergeant was far less exciting than one would think. When your father wasn’t off working long hours and days, he left your mother with you in a single-parent household. You didn’t know whether to be happy or cry when he got orders to Germany in nineteen fifty-six when you were seventeen. The only thing you knew about Germany was the war that just passed when you were a child.  

You had come to like Germany after all. Your mother and father reassured you it would be less like how it was back home feeling his absence. As the years went on, you finished high school on base and worked the local shoppette near the barracks. Usually it was a mixed bag of interactions from people since Jim Crow was ongoing back home, but most people were nice and conversational. 

You were restocking the shelves, knelt down as someone hovered nearby and you spared them half a glance. The man cleared his throat and you could hear some shuffling further down the aisle. You still didn’t look up fully at the man whose pant legs and hat in hand were all you saw of him and a posse of people hanging further back by the other end. 

“‘Scuse me, ma’am, can you tell me where I might find ointment for a cut?” The voice said. 

You heard about Elvis arriving the year before to Germany but you never so much as ran into him or met him. Your father moved your family off base once you graduated from school which completely lowered your chances. Now that you worked near the barracks, the odds had gone up and you had time to forget about him. When you did look up, he was towering over you and you had never felt smaller. You were taken aback by how beautiful he was in person compared to the magazine and newspaper photos that lined the stand in the store. You fumbled with the goods you were restocking on the shelf as you tried to stand, sweeping your hair from your face.

“I, um--it’s a few aisles over. Next to the cough medicine and Band-Aids.” You stammered, shyly meeting his eyes while he smiled.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Elvis said. 

You suddenly became unconvinced that he had no idea where to find ointment and when you looked at his hands you couldn’t necessarily see a cut either. You knelt back down to pick up what you were placing on the shelf, giving him a look as he lingered still.

“Is there somethin’ else I can help you with?” You ask nervously.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” He asks, all of his attention on you.

“Y/n,” you say.

“And how old are you, y/n?” He continues his line of questioning.

“Nineteen, almost twenty here soon,” you squint at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Go to Bad Nauheim ever?” Elvis humors, beginning to peruse the items on the shelf. 

Other customers are starting to notice now and it makes you nervous that he’s seemingly procrastinating to have a conversation with you.

“Not really. I hear there’s nothin’ to do but see where Elvis Presley lives,” you joke, placing your dropped item back into the box stacked beside you. “I can show you to your ointment, Mr. Presley.” You say, beginning to walk two aisles over. Elvis follows in his amusement.

“Where are you from?” He asks another question.

“Tennessee originally, but my Daddy was stationed in Missouri for a while before we moved here.” You say easily.

“I thought I heard that familiar accent. Listen, honey, I obviously don’t really need a Band-Aid, but I would like you to stop by this house I’m rentin’. I don’t care for the barracks too much. We happened to stop in and I saw ya. Thought I might pique your interest. So do I?” Elvis said, moving to stand in front of you.

“Do you what?” You ask.

“Do I pique your interest?” Elvis repeated.

You wanted to laugh because while you had never dreamed of Elvis Presley before, it was too good to be true so you must have been dreaming. You lick your lips as you reach around Elvis, grabbing the bandages first then the ointment.

“People will talk,” you say.

“You think I’m not used ta people talking about me? It does no good worryin’ about that sorta stuff. You’re pretty, very pretty. I would like your company. My buddy Charlie back there can give you a ride if you need one.” Elvis offered, dropping his chin to his chest to catch your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you say. “You’re sure it won’t cause too much fuss?” You ask warily.

“I’m perfectly sure. If it makes you feel any better, my grandmother and father also live with me. The people we have over are either battle buddies or strangers. We’ll listen to music and talk. What do you say?” Elvis looked at you expectantly. 

His eyes were unrealistically blue and you could feel his charm radiating off of him. If you were honest with yourself, you were ready to say yes ages ago. Elvis Presley was asking you to his home which you were sure nobody back home would exactly believe. Missouri not so much, but in Tennessee your friends or families could attest to Elvis’s kind and accepting nature.

“Tonight?” You ask.

“Tonight,” he breaks into a half smile.

You were still in shock by the time evening came. Instead of taking up Elvis’s offer to be given a ride, you borrowed your parents’ car for the night. You informed them generally of where you were going but didn’t want to worry them with who you were seeing. Wearing your best dress, you did up your makeup but kept it simple. You added a spritz of perfume in the car and the next few minutes were a blur after you bypassed the waiting girls outside to knock on the front door. Informed of what you would look like and your name, you were allowed in without issue.

Elvis was playing on the piano when you arrived so most people’s attention was on him. His eyes drifted to you while he played, dressed down in his button up shirt, tie, dress pants, and dress shoes of his uniform. You would have thought he would have changed by now but most of the men there still wore their uniforms. He finished the song he was playing and half sang in order to greet you. There was a half-hearted hug on your part as he bent down to kiss your cheek. That made you more nervous that he was so carefree about his affection. You were a little more reserved and private about who or what you did in your spare time. 

“Anyone give you trouble gettin’ in here?” Elvis rumbled low. He had yet to completely release you, an arm around your waist as he peered down at you.

“No, no problems.” You say.

“Good to hear. Did you want something to drink or eat before goin’ upstairs?” He asked calmly.

While his tone wasn’t suggestive, you knew why you had come there. You were no better than any other young woman that was just as virile as some of the young men present. When Elvis invited you to come by his place, you knew what you wanted and how you wanted it. You shake your head to his question and he scans your face again. As if it clicks in his head, his lips part in response.

“Go upstairs without me. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes,” Elvis rasps, starting to pull away. “My room is hard to miss.”

You follow his instructions though you feel it’s awkward to remove yourself. It’s not that you stand out but most of the people there have never met you before. But you knew being honest with yourself that it was probably something the regulars had seen before. When you get to Elvis’s bedroom, it is apparent between the sack of mail and his uniform jacket hanging on a nearby door. His hat hangs from the mirror and you grab it, thumbing slightly at the fabric. You didn't know what it was about seeing Elvis in uniform. Anything else you had seen him in just didn’t do it for you and he looked perfectly slender and taller somehow when he was dressed that way.

“Somethin’ catch your eye?” Elvis says from the doorway, making you jump. You turn around with his hat in your hand as he moves to shut his bedroom door behind him.

“No. Well, yes. I think you look damn good wearin’ this,” you admit, shy as your eyes meet his again. 

Now that you’re alone with him, reality sets in again that you’re alone with the Elvis Presley and he was unashamed to have been interested in a woman such as yourself. Elvis nods and slowly makes his way in front of you, gentle as he holds onto a part of the hat.

“It feels like just another monkey suit. Y’know what I mean, honey?” Elvis scoffed, moving past you to put on a record as promised. 

You go to sit on the end of his bed as he flips through an assortment of records, kneeling down. He would stop occasionally only to then continue flipping through the covered vinyls. When Elvis did settle on one, he stood up again to play the record and you quickly recognized the surly and crooning voice of Ray Charles. 

“You were playin’ this downstairs,” you say. “I couldn’t recognize it at first.” 

“I’m a big fan of Ray Charles. His music does somethin’ to me. I want to record more of his songs someday, but hell, I don’t think I can sing it as well as him.” He said. 

Elvis turns back to you, moving to sit on the bed at your side. When he sits, the bed dips, and his eyes drift back to his hat. You try to find the right way to express that you want him and think it might be too forward. Elvis takes the hat from you to place it on his head, further displacing his already strewn strands of hair that managed to fall out of place. He places a hand on your thigh through your dress and you feel that same tingling sensation you felt in your pelvis in the shoppette again. 

“Can I kiss you? Your lips are perfect, baby.” Elvis said, making his point by looking at your full lips.

You just nod because you’re nervous again and fully aware of the experience at hand. There was a steady tinkering sound outside of pebbles from people below trying to get Elvis’s attention. But they were too late because you had it in full and he was leaning in, soon kissing you. He was gentle, his hat tipped back far enough that you didn’t have to worry about bumping into it. Your boldness amped up as you take the hand he left on your thigh to direct it between your legs beneath your dress. 

You hiss as he takes the permission, running with it as he presses his hand into you right where you need him. You moan into his mouth as the kiss deepens, clasping a hand at the nape of his neck. Elvis presses forward so your back is on the bed and he massages at your clit through your already wet underwear. You feel his fingers working your underwear aside, gliding over your lips and using the wetness there to tease at your hole. You suck in a sharp breath, at some point kicking off your heels to hook a leg over one of his. Elvis draws back, a ruddy color covering his cheeks and nose as his arousal came to the forefront.

“One second, baby,” he groaned. Elvis sat back and stood up, licking his fingers clean. You felt heat coming to your cheeks seeing a man taste you so freely. He started undressing starting with his shirt and pants. Both went onto a single hanger and he smiled to himself. “Can’t risk having to get these dry cleaned.” He explained.

“Can… Can you keep the hat on?” You ask hesitantly.

“You want me to keep it on while we…? Sure, why not. Does it turn you on?” Elvis grinned, keeping the hat in place as he closes in on you. 

“It’s something about when you wear it. I grew up around the military all my life… I don’t know what it is, Elvis.” You admit, eyes scanning him from head to toe. Your eyes linger a little longer on the bulge within his underwear.

“Everyone has their thing, don’t they? Don’t be shy about it, baby. It turns me on knowing I can make you feel good. Do you want me to make you feel good?” He asks, his voice deeper than before.

“Yes, Elvis,” you whisper.

He crawls over top of you again then reaches beneath your dress to peel your underwear from your body. He tosses the fabric aside, returning his hand back to your slit. Elvis moves up, settling on a forearm as he watches your face for every change in expression and moan from your lips. He drops his head to steal another kiss, his tongue bolder than before and curling around yours. This time he groans, soon working a finger inside of you and making you shudder. You were past the foreplay already as much as you wanted to believe and trust Elvis would take his time, you wanted him now.

To get your point across, you reach down and grab a hold of him through his underwear. You don’t treat him like this fragile thing. Squeezing at his cock, you massage him before helping to get rid of his underwear too. Elvis obliges and works out of them to kick them off to the floor. He groans again as you shift, hooking your legs around his waist to draw him forward.

“Baby,” Elvis breaks the kiss as he moans, his resolve quickly weakening as the head of his length brushes at your pussy from top to bottom. “I should grab a rubber.”

“Just pull out, okay?” You whisper, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. 

“Y’sure?” Elvis grunts, holding onto the base of himself as he purposely rubbed his head into you forcefully.

“Yes, please, Elvis. I need it. I need you,” you beg.

The music beyond the door was finally turned up a bit louder which was a relief to you. You worried someone might be listening out for you both since the star of the household left to come upstairs. Elvis kisses you again and bears his hips forward, sliding his way into you and making you gasp against his mouth. He hikes your dress up to grab purchase onto your hips, resting right at the bones there to push you down to the hilt of him. You hook your legs behind his thighs, lifting your hips encouragingly as you adjust around him. It had been long enough since the last boy you slept with that stretch took some getting used to but then again, you think, Elvis was bigger than you estimated.

“Goddamn, baby. You’re tight,” Elvis whispers and drops his head into your neck which pushes his hat back, kissing and nipping at the skin there. 

He draws his hips back carefully, testing what you can or can’t take and thrusts forward. Your legs are trembling as he speeds up not long after when he realizes how vocal you are. He parts his lips, grunting as he holds his mouth right where your voice vibrates from your throat. Your hands and arms intertwine around his neck because if you don’t hold onto something it will drive you crazy. 

Elvis sucks in a sharp breath, pulling back and you loosen your arms to give him the room to move. He sits up on his knees and pushes his cap back down into place just over his brows, then guides your legs back toward your chest and watches as he fucks in and out of you. You forced your eyes open to watch him, amazed at how focused his looks. His lips purse as he spits down onto his cock and your cunt, his hips picking up in speed again. The head of him brushes that sensitive spot and you angle your hips down as your first orgasm of the evening builds, drawing tight like a spool that needs to be unwound. Elvis drops a hand down to your clit, his thumb working expertly as he reads into your body’s response to him.

“Oh, Elvis--you’re gonna make me--” you stammer, becoming breathless with every passing second. 

Elvis bucks into you that much harsher, your toes curling in response and your legs shake as he remained dead-set on bringing you to completion. Your eyes shut then, tossing your head back into the bed as you came on him and he hums in response to show his approval.

“Mhm, baby. That’s a good, little girl,” Elvis praises. 

He pulls out and drops down to close his mouth on you, lapping up the mess he created freely. He moans then directs you up onto your knees. “Don’t worry. You’ll still be able to watch me. That’s what you like, hm, baby? You like seein’ how I fuck you?” 

“Yes, Elvis,” you whimper. 

Your face is pressed into the bed after he angles you downward with your ass in the air. He balls a hand up in your dress and uses the other to line his cock back up with your steadily dripping hole.

“You’re a good, little girl. You take me so well, baby. I’m so close,” Elvis breathes as he sinks into you again, mesmerized by the sounds he causes you to make. “Tell me you love it, baby. Say how good I make you feel.” 

“I love it, I love it…” You gasp, pressing your hips back into him. 

The sound of skin slapping fills the room as Elvis no longer tries to stave off his own climax. You watch him, realizing a secondary orgasm was approaching seeing him like this. His dark lashes had become heavy as he watched your hips meet and then looked at your face. The way his hat framed his features, you had the perfect view and wished there was a camera on hand to remember the way he looked for the rest of your days. 

“Oh, y/n, you are a naughty girl.” Elvis playfully scolded and tossed his head back for a brief second. 

His hips moved with less consistency and you knew he was about to cum. He pulled out at the very last second with every bit of restraint he could manage, squeezing at the head with his free hand and pulling your dress down your back. Elvis gasped as he came, leaving streaks across your ass and along your spine.

“Fuck…” He moaned, dragging the head along your pussy again. Elvis’s cock jumped as he did so. He blinked slowly as he sat back and held your dress in place to keep it from being stained or dirtied by his cum.

“You can take the hat off now, if you want.” You joke, pushing up onto your hands to be on all fours again.

“I think I just might,” Elvis said, smiling.

[doll-elvis]

PRISCILLA (2023)

~ my thoughts as an elvis fan

(credit to @urpinkstargirl for the photo)

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD:

so I saw it last night and I’ve been stewing on it ever since as I wanted to be 100% sure in myself before saying this publicly

**brace yourselves**

After just one viewing… I feel confident in saying that I preferred this film over “Elvis” 2022 🤧. It was just so immersive and so deeply intimate that I walked away from the theater feeling like I had just lived a life with Elvis, and experienced all the ugly and wonderful things that came with it

I am seeing it again tonight and possibly tomorrow just to recapture that feeling (which made me cry… three times…)

And although I’m not the biggest fan of Sofia Coppola, there is simply no denying that she has perfected showing “girlhood” in film, and making the most unique experiences, like being Marie Antoinette and being Priscilla Presley, somehow universal to everybody. I haven’t felt being “14” since I was 14, which was a whole 5 years ago, but WHEW… I most definitely felt 14 again when watching Priscilla navigate life in Germany

Also- we all saw how Austin Butler was completely cheated out of an Oscar and so I’m begging that we do not do that again. Give the Oscar to Cailee Spaeny (who played Priscilla) right now 😤 There are no words besides “immaculate” to describe her performance. Her future is so bright as an actress, I just cannot wait to follow her career + she just seems like the sweetest person ever??

And I know it might seem insane to say that I preferred “Priscilla” over “Elvis” and some of y’all might crucify me for that take but my preference solely comes down to the fact that I appreciate Priscilla’s perspective much more so than the Colonel’s, who to me, has always been the least interesting aspect of Elvis’ story

My biggest gripe with having the Colonel narrative/tell Elvis’ life in the 2022 film is the fact that it made the film feel rather impersonal to Elvis as I don’t think the script or the storytelling ever fully allowed for Austin Butler to explore what he was like beyond the stage

And personally speaking, I have a much deeper love for Elvis the person as opposed to Elvis the performer, and I think that “Priscilla” showed the human side of him far more than “Elvis” ever did (like y’all we actually get to hear and see him reading his philosophy books in this!!!)

But before I get into what was actually depicted in film, and all my praises, I thought I would briefly state what I thought could have been done better. Don’t get me wrong, this movie was beyond amazing, however, it was definitely not without its’ faults:

1. If you have seen a lot of reviewers talk negatively about the pacing in this film- just know that they are unfortunately, completely right in that assessment. The whole timeline of Germany felt literally five minutes long, and the 70s also, felt maybe 10 minutes long which just made both the beginning and end feel rather rushed. Also there were at least 5 scenes that just faded to black before going onto the next one, and some very abrupt cuts in scenes which felt a bit awkward

2. Because this is a biopic, and because it’s based on a real life, there is no climax like you would be accustomed to normally in a film and so I think that the average viewer, like someone who may not really care about Priscilla or Elvis, will probably walk away from the film feeling unsatisfied- possibly bored. I saw it with my mom and my sister, and my mom was asleep in like 45 minutes 😭. The movie definitely got repetitive at some points but I acknowledge the fact that life is repetitive, especially for Priscilla in the 60s while Elvis was off making movies

3. While Priscilla (played by Cailee Spaeny) aged realistically and seamlessly, Elvis (played by Jacob Elordi) was essentially the same person (physically) for 95% percent of the film. For some reason, his hair was already dyed black in the Germany scenes, although we know it was brown at that time, and so there was no real transformation for him until Lisa Marie is born. The height of the actor was definitely jarring at first but eventually I got used to it…however…I damn near busted out laughing when they showed him in the Comeback special outfit 💀 His performance was nothing but incredible (ESPECIALLY THE VOICE) and so I learned to get over the physical disparities rather quickly

4. The ending of this film, particularly the song, was overwhelmingly sad and impactful but I was really disappointed that we didn’t get to see Priscilla’s and Elvis’ relationship after the divorce. This film ends with Priscilla leaving Graceland, starting her “new life”, which didn’t make much sense to me considering this movie was adapted from her book, which very much explores that part of her life, especially with Elvis

I would have really love to seen moments like this from Priscilla’s perspective ⬇️

excerpt from “Priscilla, Elvis and me” (avoid this book)

5. NO CIRCLE G RANCH!!! It is borderline criminal to make a film about Priscilla and Elvis and to not include their time spent at Circle G ranch ** which Priscilla has always said were their happiest times together **. I assume that this was likely an issue because of the budget and the fact that they only had 30 days to film but god… I would have really appreciated some of the domestic bliss that Priscilla and Elvis shared while living in the trailer on the ranch. There were many happy moments/sequences (y’all are going to die when you see the rollerblading/go cart scenes) in this movie, but I think their gradual separation/withdrawal from one another (post marriage) would have hit harder if we saw how happy they were together during their ranch phase

6. For those who have read “Elvis and Me”, we all know about the famed LSD scene that takes place and unfortunately, Coppola heavily missed the mark on it. We don’t see Lamar Fike making out with a tree, we don’t see Jerry Schilling in a closet- instead we see Priscilla and Elvis just kind of rolling around, laughing amongst themselves while the room around them turns different colors

There were definitely many key moments/stories like that missing from the film, and I honestly wish that the movie was an hour longer so that we could have seen the book more fully fleshed out

Lastly, here’s just a general synopsis of the scenes in Germany… I was going to do the whole movie but I don’t have the stamina to type it all out 😭. If y’all want to know something specific please feel free to comment below and I will let you know <3!!

After the beginning credits are shown, the film starts with Currie Grant (who was renamed as Terry West) approaching Priscilla in a diner, inviting her to a party at Elvis’ house. After talking with her parents and assuring them that Priscilla will be looked after by him and his wife, it cuts to her in the back of a car, on her way to meet Elvis. The scene is exactly like how it is in the book, Elvis asks her how old she is, he remarks that she is “just a baby” and so on- Elvis then plays “a Whole lotta shakin” at the piano and that is one of three musical performances we see from him

Priscilla is then re-invited by Currie aka Terry via Elvis to comeback to the house again. Elvis invites Priscilla up to his room, she looks around and sees letters from Anita Wood, and a poster of Bridgette Bardot just like in the book. After Elvis talks about Gladys and how he is still reeling over her death, and how lonely he has felt since then, they share their first kiss to the song “Crimson and Clovers”

There are some scenes of Priscilla at school and some scenes of her sort of convincing her parents to let her continue to see Elvis. And they do agree, but just like in the book, they want to meet him first. Elvis is questioned by Priscilla’s father on why he wants to be with her to which Elvis replies that she is very mature for her age and that he likes talking to her since she is from home aka the United States. He then assures Priscilla’s father that she will be taken care of. After that we see them going to the movies where Elvis expresses how much he wants to be a serious actor, and then they share another kiss on the car ride home. It then cuts to Christmas time where we see Elvis giving Priscilla a watch and then BOOM- Elvis and her are on the way to the airport where they say their final goodbyes as he leaves for the United States

The film really does follow closely to the book (at least from 59’ when they meet to 69’- again the 70s were really rushed) and so I really recommended to read that prior to watching the movie

As for the more sensitive scenes-

There is no explicit sex, no graphic nudity, and no scene where Elvis forces himself upon Priscilla. He does say “this is how a real man makes love to his woman” but all he does is kiss her before she pushes him off. There is a rather long “polaroid-taking” sequence where it shows all the outfits that Elvis would Priscilla dress up in but other than that, we only see Elvis and Priscilla make out

And it did show when Elvis accidentally hit Priscilla in the eye during the pillow fight scene in her book, along with the scene of him throwing a chair in her general direction after she expressed she didn’t like a demo of one his songs, and the scene where he grabs all her clothes from the closet and tells her that she should go visit her parents. I don’t think that the scenes made Elvis look abusive: Coppola was surprisingly nuanced in showing that he had reasons for his sometimes bad temperament i.e the pills he took along with the fact that he was frustrated with his film career

It also shows Elvis’ infidelities but really only through movie magazines that Priscilla sees. So it’s never explicitly shown, I would say it’s more hinted at than anything

And there are two scenes of Priscilla with Mike Stone but again, nothing that is explicitly shown, it’s just hinted at

Finally, to finish this up, this is what I wrote on my Instagram account which I very much stand by ⬇️

Just please give this movie a chance y’all, it was so beautiful and so sensitively done… I cannot wait to watch it again <3

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

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[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 3

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: It seems Elvis is concealing something, but you aren't exactly sure what. As you meet with the doctor, you try to come up with what you next steps are to get out of this situation.

TW: None

Word Count: 1492

A/N: I cannot stop writing this. Thank you for the love!

"Do you remember me finding you in my living room?"

Did you? You remember feeling terrible and passing out. You try to dig into your memories and bring that one to the surface.

"You were saying someone was taking you for a tour around the house."

Okay, you need to think of something quick. You're not dead and your not dreaming. So either you actually have lost your mind, or...

No. Something like that just isn't possible. But, what other explanation is there? Had you really time traveled back to when Elvis was alive and breathing? The notion made you start to feel sick again as you groan, holding your stomach.

Elvis quickly brings the cool, wet towel to your forehead, his other hand holding the trash can close as you lean forward, your hands clutching the bed sheets as you prepare to vomit again, but you just gag. Your stomach is officially empty.

"We'll get you somethin' to eat," he mumbles, looking over at the clock.

You take a glance too and it's now 6:10a.m. Okay, so you time traveled. That's what you are choosing to believe right now because it's the only option that will help you keep a grip on your sanity. Even if it seems impossible. So, you traveled back in time to the year...you look at Elvis' face. He looks to be around the same age as you. He's so young still. It has to be the early 60's.

Good God, how are you supposed to live in the 60's? You decide that's something you'll deal with later as you think of something to tell the man in front of you. Should you make up a crazy fan story or should you act like you don't remember anything? You decide the latter will be easiest now and give you more time to figure out what to do.

"I uh- I honestly don't remember much of anything."

Elvis looks back over to you as he takes his eyes away from the digital clock.

"Nothin'? What's your name, honey?"

That's when the idea hits you.

"I don't know. I'm so confused, I don't remember much of anything."

He looks at you for a long moment with sympathy in his eyes. You hope he believes you. You have no money that means anything in this time, and you have nowhere to go. You hope he's as generous as people have claimed him to be.

He gets up as he moves to the door, opening it and preparing to leave.

"Okay, I'll get a doctor over here to take a good look at you. In the meantime, I'll bring you up something to eat and show you where the bathroom is so you can freshen up."

You nod as you gaze at him standing in the doorway. You still can't believe it. He's even more gorgeous in person, you don't know how it's possible.

He smirks as he seemingly reads your mind, and you look away embarrassed as you preoccupy yourself with your sudden interest in the bedsheets. You hear the door shut behind him.

---

After you've eaten, you feel immensely better, your headache all but gone from having some food in your body. You are shown to a bathroom and are finally able to clean up. You look around for your clothes and stop.

You were wearing jeans. And a t-shirt. Maybe you could get away with it? You know girls usually wore dresses, but jeans and t-shirts started becoming popular in the 60's.

Neither Elvis or Sonny commented on that since you've woken up. You are about to ask Elvis what had happened to the outfit you arrived in, but then remember that you've chosen to take the completely clueless route. Surely you had to have arrived in something other than pajamas.

Opening the door to the bathroom, you look out in the hallway, it sounds empty. You listen a little longer until you hear movement from Elvis' room.

"Elvis?" You call, your voice still strained a bit.

You wait, then shuffling. You hear him closing something, maybe a drawer, before opening the door to his room.

"Yes, do you need help with anything?" he asks, his head popped out from his room, the door only slightly cracked.

His mind looks preoccupied.

"Um, did you find me in this gown?"

He pauses for a moment at this, his attention pulled to you as his eyes fixate on yours. It looks as if he wants to ask you a question as he hesitates. Your stomach sinks, of course he's going to ask you about your outfit. You don't have time to think of a response before he answers your question.

"Oh, uh-no of course not. But...well your outfit was dirty when I found you. The maid changed you and I had it thrown out. But there should be an outfit in the cabinet by the shower," he responded, opening the door fully now as he prepares to leave his room.

You note how he had changed from his pajamas and was now fully dressed. He isn't leaving, is he? It might be better for you if he is so you can find your way out of this situation, but you don't like the daunting feeling of being alone at the moment. As you nod in acknowledgement to what he had just said, another thought comes to your mind.

Why had he lied?

While you don't clearly remember the encounter of him finding you in his living room, you think you would've remembered if your clothes were dirty from earlier that day. He has nothing to gain by lying to you about what state you were in when he found you. Was he, in some way, protecting you? You quickly brush this possibility away, he doesn't even know you and you had intruded into his home. It's more likely that he is trying to get as much information out of you that he can.

"I also called my doctor, he should be here in about an hour to take a look at you."

You thank him and return to the bathroom shutting the door behind you, your heart now pounding in your chest.

---

"What did you say your name was, dear?"

You are getting a little tired of these men asking you so many questions. You have barely had time to think about what your next course of action is. All this attention is making you feel exhausted, and you've just woken from apparently a four day coma. Oh, and you had just time traveled and still aren't completely sure what year it is. You make a note to yourself to find that out as soon as possible. You open your mouth to answer, but someone beats you to it.

"She says she doesn't remember. Doesn't remember much of anything," Elvis states.

He's been in the room the whole time watching, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall. The way he's watching you, it feels like you're an insect he's looking at over a microscope.

The doctor hums in acknowledgement, as he presses a stethoscope to your chest, listening for your probably not so steady heartbeat.

"Is that right? Well, it sounds like a case of amnesia. Her memory will most likely come back, but there's no telling when exactly that will be. My suggestion would be to send her to the hospital since she can't remember any family members. She didn't have any ID on her did she?"

You try not to gasp as the color drains from your face. Did he find your ID? Were you even holding your bag when you sat down on the couch after the tour? You can't remember, but for your sake, you hope not.

"No, I didn't see any ID."

"Alright, well I can take her to the hospital with me. I'm going now, she can ride in the back."

Before you have time to panic as the thought of being alone and abandoned in a hospital in the 60's shakes you to your core, Elvis responds.

"Oh that's alright. I would feel better having her looked after here until she gets some memory back."

At this, the doctor's eye quirks. But he doesn't push the subject.

"Alright, just so long as she's not some crazy fan. Those girls will do just about anything to get close to you, won't they? Luck dog," the doctor laughs, getting up as he packs his equipment in his bag. He doesn't even motion a goodbye to you.

You roll your eyes. If you weren't freaking out right now you would be more annoyed.

Elvis laughs.

"You should've seen her just a few hours ago. Quite the opposite."

Your face burns with embarrassment as your eyes meet his, no doubt a scowl on your face. You imagine to see humour in his eyes, but instead are met with a questioning curiosity.

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Tag List:

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[arealtrashact]

Thank you for all the recent Homelander art, truly. I don’t have a single artistic rod/cone in my eye, but the way you draw him is so expressive and fluid that it’s changing the way I’m perceiving his scenes. I feel like I glimpse your version of him in the body language of that milkshake sipping scene with Ryan 😏

Thank you for the art and the occasional meta. ❤️ I’m glad the first half of season 4 is more inspiring than the entirety of season 3. Implying the second half might be worse? Perhaps. At least his vengeful god aspirations are couched as emancipation (heh) and remind me of your Homelander on the throne surrounded by the petrified Seven.

PS- The fact that you also just happen to be into Elvis, Michael Jackson, Lawrence of Arabia, Peter Pan, and Russian animation is both awesome and never fails to weird me out— what a hyper specific list of obsessions, er interests to share with someone.

It's my pleasure. For as much as I whine about this show, I love it. And it genuinely feels nice to be invested in it again ! Even if it means I have to pull a Sage and turn my brain off for a chunk of it. Here's hoping you didn't just jinx it and the rest of the season continues to be tolerable ( all it really needs to do is not be worse than S3. That's doable, right ? . . . . . Right??? )

The fact that my spin on Homelander takes up any space in your wonderful mind is such a win for me. And I loved that milkshake scene, so I'm twice as tickled.

Our shared eclectic taste(s) weirds me out too . . . but in a very excited, 'same hat!' sort of way. Occasionally you'll reblog something and I'll have to physically restrain myself from swinging into your inbox and saying 'You like -insert extremely specific thing here- too ? ! '

. . . .Would it be narcissistic for me to compliment your taste ?

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - death of loved one,, age gap

Chapter 2

The fog was so thick on the Autobahn back to Wiesbaden that I didn’t get home until 2 a.m. My parents had waited up, wanting to know everything that had happened. I told them Matt was a gentleman, that he was funny and entertained his friends all night, and that I’d had a wonderful time.

The next day in school, I couldn’t concentrate. My thoughts were entirely on Matt. I tried to recall every word he’d said to me, every song he’d sung, every look in his eyes as he’d gazed at me. I went over and over our conversation. His charm was captivating. I told no one. Who would ever believe that just the night before, I’d been with Matt Sturniolo?

I never expected to hear from him again. Then, a few days later, the phone rang. It was Steven. He said he’d just got a call from Matt, who wondered if it was possible for Steven to bring me over that night. I was ecstatic. “Steven, you don’t mean it? He wants to see me? Why? When did he call?” Unable to answer all my questions, Steven said calmly, “You want me to ask your father?”

My parents were as surprised as I. They reluctantly acceded to Steven’s request.

The next visit was very much like the one before—small talk, singing, Matt playing the piano, and everyone eating Grandma’s favorite dishes. But later, when Matt had finished singing, he came up to me. “I want to be alone with you, y/n.”

We were standing face to face, staring into each other’s eyes. I looked around. The room was empty.

“We are alone,” I replied nervously.

He moved closer, backing me against the wall. “I mean really alone,” he whispered. “Will you come upstairs to my room?”

The question threw me into a panic. His room?

Until that moment, it hadn’t crossed my mind that Matt Sturniolo might be interested in me sexually. He could have any girl in the world. Why would he want me?

“There’s nothing to be frightened of, Honey.”

As he spoke, he was smoothing my hair. “I swear I’ll never do anything to harm you.” He sounded absolutely sincere. “I’ll treat you just like a sister.” Flustered and confused, I looked away.

“Please.”

Standing there looking into his eyes, I was drawn to him almost against my will. I believed him; it wasn’t a difficult thing to do. I had discovered by now his intentions were warm and sincere. Moments went by and I still couldn’t do anything. Then I nodded. “All right, I’ll go.”

He took my hand and led me toward the stairs, whispering which room was his, and said, “You go on ahead, and I’ll join you in a few minutes. It looks better.”

He headed toward the kitchen as I slowly climbed the stairs, wondering, What would he demand of me? Expect of me? I will be completely alone with him for the first time. Since meeting him I had dreamed of this moment, sure that it would never arrive, and now I was in the midst of a reality I’d never expected.

I reached the second floor and found his bedroom. It was as plain and impersonal as the other rooms of the house. I went in and sat down primly on a stiff-backed chair—and waited. When Matt didn’t show up after a few minutes, I began to look around. It was an ordinary room with nothing unusual, certainly nothing to imply that it belonged to a famous rock-and-roll singer. There were books, a collection of records, his uniforms, and his boots. There were several letters from girls in the States on his night table. Many were from someone named Nicole. Matt rarely mentioned Nicole, but everyone knew he had a girl back home. I wanted to read the letters but was afraid he’d catch me. It was another twenty minutes before he finally appeared. He came in, removed his jacket, turned on the radio, and then sat down on his bed. I hardly looked at him, petrified of what he might expect. I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down on the bed, and making love to me.

Instead he said, “Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me?” I was reluctant, but he assured me that I had nothing to be afraid of. “I really like you, y/n. You’re refreshing. It’s nice to talk to someone from back home. I miss that. It gets a little lonely here.”

I sat next to him, saying nothing, but I was touched by his vulnerable, boyish quality. He went on to say that our relationship was going to be important to him and that he needed me. It was October and he was scheduled to return to the States in six months. He knew lots of girls, he said, and many had come to visit as I had, but I was the first girl with whom he felt a real closeness.

I cuddled into his arms, certain he would not move too fast. He held me closely, saying, “I just wish Mom could have been here to meet you.” He sighed and a troubled look came over his face. “She would have liked you as much as I do.”

“I wish I could have met her,” I whispered, moved by his sincerity.

I was to learn that Matt’s mother, Mary Lou, was the love of his life. She had died on August 14, 1958, at age forty-two, of heart failure following a long siege of acute hepatitis.

He expressed how deeply he loved and missed her and how in many ways he dreaded returning to Graceland without her there. It had been his gift to her, a private estate that he’d purchased for $100,000 a year before she died.

Matt believed that his mother had eventually given up on life. Her health had begun to deteriorate when he was drafted. Her love for James and Matt was so great that she could never face the loss of either of them and often said she wanted to be the first to go. In Mary Lou’s naive, country way she assumed that Germany still represented war and danger. She could never comprehend that peacetime conditions now prevailed.

It was Matt’s habit to phone Mary Lou every day. I was surprised to learn that up until the time he began entertaining, he never spent a night away from home. He told me of the time his car caught on fire while on the road and he barely escaped with his life. Although she was miles away, Mary Lou sat straight up in her bed and screamed his name—the intuitive link between them was that strong. Her concern for his welfare while he was away from home was so great that she would spend sleepless nights until his call came, telling her he was safe.

When he was in basic training at Fort Hood, Texas, he rented a house off base for James, Mary Lou, and Grandma. I felt that her death affected him more than anyone could fully understand. He blamed himself for not being with her when she fell ill and had to be sent back home to Boston under a doctor’s care.

In time he realized that Mary Lou had resorted to drinking, and he was very concerned that this could become a problem. As much as he consoled her, assured her that he would return in eighteen months, and even begged her to join him, Mary Lou’s fear of losing her only son drove her to her grave.

Matt’s unrelieved depression over Mary Lou’s death was intensified by the conflict in Matt’s mind over Angela Stanley, who James had met in Germany. Angela and his father had become inseparable shortly after Mary Lou’s death, too soon to Matt’s liking. An attractive blonde in her thirties, Angela was in the process of divorcing her husband and was separated from him and her three children when she started dating James. The thought that his father could ever conceive of replacing Mary Lou upset Matt terribly. He also had doubts about Angela’s intentions and whether they were in his father’s best interest.

“What’s Angela trying to do?” Matt sometimes asked suspiciously. “Make him into some dude he’s not? Why can’t she just accept him the way he is? I’ve never seen him so lovesick. She meets him at some restaurant and exchanges love notes all day.”

My heart went out to Matt that night as he confided his problems and worries. He was a world-famous entertainer, a great star, and yet a terribly lonely man.

Again our visit seemed to end too soon. He kissed me goodbye, my first real kiss. I had never experienced such a mixture of affection and desire. I was speechless but closely tied to the reality of where I was—locked in his arms, my mouth against his. Aware of my response—and my youth—he broke away first, saying, “We have plenty of time, Little One.” He kissed my forehead and sent me home.

By our fourth date, Dad had laid down the law: “If you want to continue seeing Matt, we’re going to have to meet him.” My parents weren’t so enthralled with his celebrity status that they were willing to compromise their principles. In the beginning it was convenient for Steven to come for me and bring me home, but by now my parents were asking why Matt didn’t do this himself. One Saturday night I said to Matt, “My parents want to meet you. They want you to pick me up.”

He bristled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said nervously, “I can’t come see you anymore unless you come and meet my parents.”

He agreed—provided he could bring his father along.

That day I went through my usual routine except instead of being ready one hour in advance it was two. I waited by the window, looking for his car as I played his records“Old Shep,” “I Was the One,” and “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You”—nonstop until my father yelled from the kitchen, “Do you have to play those records now? My God, the man will be here in a few minutes and you see him practically every night. I’d think you’d want to take a breather from each other.”

I was nervous. I knew that Dad wanted Matt to both pick me up and bring me home himself—and he planned to tell Matt this.

I didn’t know how Dad was going to approach him—whether he planned to be friendly or stern—and I knew only too well how stern Dad could be. I sat there, anticipating the worst.

About an hour later, I spotted Matt’s BMW and saw Matt and his father emerge from the car. Matt had come totally prepared; he was wearing his uniform to impress Dad. He knew that the service was their connection, and he played on it. He looked great.

He took off his hat and kissed me on the cheek. I asked him and his father in and led them into our living room, where Matt fidgeted and seemed, for once, at a loss for words. “Are your parents here?” he ventured. I could manage only a nod and he continued, “I know we’re a little late, but I had to get cleaned up—and we had some trouble finding the place.” I was amused—imagine, Matt Sturniolo making up excuses. I was now sufficiently aware of his habits to know that it took him three hours to change, chat with the boys, enjoy one of Grandma’s huge meals, and sign a few autographs along the way. Except when he was working, he had a stricter attitude toward time.

While James settled on the couch, Matt pointed to our family portraits on the wall and said, “Look here, Dad—here’s y/n with her whole family. I think she looks like her mother. Can’t see too much resemblance with her brothers or sister—they’re still a little too young.” “Don’t cut your hair, Baby. I love it long like this. You’re one pretty girl. How’d I happen to run into you? Must be fate.” The last few observations were uttered in a whisper to me as my parents came in.

Instead of saying, “Hi,” as most young men would have done, Matt put out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Matt Sturniolo and this is my dad, James.”

It sounded silly to me, they knew who he was, as did the whole world. But Matt was the perfect gentleman. My father was visibly impressed, and from that moment on, Matt always addressed him as Captain y/ln or Sir. This was characteristic of Matt, whatever a person’s position in life—whether doctor or lawyer, professor or motion-picture director, unless someone were in Matt’s immediate circle, Matt rarely used first names, even in dealing with people he’d known for years. As he once explained to me, “It’s simple. They’ve worked hard to get where they are. Someone should respect them.”

The conversation with my parents that night was just small talk. Matt said that he’d spent a busy day at the Kaserne and this led to an exchange about the service.

“What did they assign you to over here?” Dad asked, implying that it had better be a solid job if Matt wanted to take out his daughter.

“Sir, right now I’m basically driving a jeep for the Fourth Armored Division in Bad Nauheim.”

“That can be tough this time of year.”

“You’re not kidding, sir. We’ve had some pretty cold nights out there already. I have to be especially careful. I battle tonsillitis when my resistance gets low, which isn’t good for my voice.”

“I guess you’re looking forward to going home.”

“Yes, sir. Only five more months.”

Then Matt asked my parents how they liked being stationed in Germany.

“Very much,” Dad said. “We plan on being here for three years.”

There was a sudden silence. Then Dad offered dinner, but Matt said they didn’t have time. I sat attentively, observing Matt’s uneasiness and remembering his relaxed manner in his own home. He was on his best behavior and it was endearing. Mother was reserving judgment about this rock-and-roll star she had professed to dislike so much. I could see that his Southern charm was winning her over.

Finally, my father got around to explaining to Matt the y/ln dating rules. If he wanted to see me, Matt had to pick me up and bring me home. Matt explained that by the time he got off duty, went home, cleaned up, came to Wiesbaden and back, the evening would be gone. Would it be all right if his father would collect me?

Dad mulled this over, then expressed his concern. “Just what is the intent here? Let’s face it: You’re Matt Sturniolo. You have women throwing themselves at you. Why my daughter?”

Both Matt and James were caught offguard. James shifted from one side of the chair to the other, probably thinking, Okay, Matt, how are you going to get out of this one?

Matt said, “Well, sir, I happen to be very fond of her. She’s a lot more mature than her age and I enjoy her company. It hasn’t been easy for me, being away from home and all. It gets kinda lonely. I guess you might say I need someone to talk to. You don’t have to worry about her, Captain. I’ll take good care of her.”

Matt’s honesty disarmed Dad, just as it did my mother. I joined Matt as he stood, picked up his hat, and added, “Well, sir, we’ve got a long drive.”

There was one stipulation: Matt himself had to bring me home. He agreed, reassuring them that I would be well taken care of, that there were a lot of family members at his house. He could have ridiculed Dad’s request, yet he agreed to take me home every night. I was thrilled but contained my excitement. He really wanted to be with me.

The next night, when Matt brought me home, we parked in front of the pension. He poured out his heart to me, as he would continue to do throughout our time in Germany. He was lonely. He was unsure of how he would be received by his fans when he returned to the States.

When he’d entered the Army, he had been at the pinnacle of his fame. He’d recorded seventeen straight million-selling singles and had starred in four films, all of which had become box-office hits. When Matt was drafted there had been talk of him possibly joining the Special Services, where he could have sung and retained some rapport with the public. But Colonel William, his manager, and RCA were convinced that he should serve his country as a regular soldier, claiming that the public would respect Matt as a man if he went in as a buck private. Now Matt was afraid he might have lost the support of his fans.

While we were parked, one of the Frauleins who lived in the pension passed the car. She greeted me and then, when she glanced at Matt, her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

a/n - i know this is a slower paced story but its solely based off the book. there will be quite a lot of chapters and time skips so don’t worry too much! 🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

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