#He notices that people probably aren't as close to P&L as they think they are but doesn't act like this is some evil unnatural con

[sissylittlefeather]

Fools Rush In (where angels fear to tread)

A/N: I don't know what's up with me and elevators right now, but here's a one-shot I hatched after a conversation with @atleastpleasetelephone about what I'd do if I met Elvis in an elevator. This is obviously the fantasy version 😂

Thanks to @ccab for helping me with this one. It was a little rough at times!

Warnings: 18+ SMUT minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, someone has a glass of wine

Word count: ~3k

You work at the hotel, so you're no stranger to this elevator. You ride in it all the time to take things up to guests when they ask for them. Thats kind of been your job since you started here three months ago: fetch-things-for-guests-girl. You're supposed to just be working the front desk but for some reason anytime anyone needs anything, it falls on you to run it up to them. You've run up toothbrushes and newspapers and even trays of room service. That's really not supposed to be your job but you're not sure you can say no when they ask. That's probably why you keep ending up on the elevator.

Today, you brought a guest a sewing kit. He was a nice older gentleman and he asked if you could help him with a button on his shirt. Again, not a thing that's part of your job description but you did it anyway. He even tried to give you a dollar for helping. A sweet gesture, but you assured him it was unnecessary.

Now you're on the elevator headed down. Or at least, you were supposed to be headed down but for some reason the elevator starts rising towards the penthouse. You don't think much about it, not sure which rich or famous person is up there right now. You look at your shoes and notice the toe of the left one is scuffed. You're trying to figure out how that might've happened when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. It takes you a second to look up. But when you do, your heart stops and you do a double take.

Elvis Presley.

And he's alone.

He gives you a small smile and steps into the elevator with you. You can't stop yourself from whispering.

"It's you..." He gives you a sideways look and smiles.

"It's me." You look up at the ceiling and try to politely ignore him, assuming he doesn't need another person fawning over him. That would probably get old fast. You look at the buttons. 30 floors. That's a long time to ride in silence.

"Wouldja push the L for me, honey?" You're rattled out of your deep thought by his smooth baritone. It dawns on you that you're standing in front of the only set of buttons.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." You gently press the lobby button with your finger and look at him sheepishly.

"Thank you." The doors finally slide closed and the elevator begins its descent. You've fantasized about something like this happening for as long as you can remember. He's been your favorite singer since you saw him on Ed Sullivan as a teenager. You're not a kid anymore, though, and you know he's been playing Vegas for about a year now. He's a regular here at the hotel, but he hasn't been here since you've been here. You must've had your head buried in the sand to not know he was here right now.

You chance a quick glance in his direction, trying not to make it obvious that you're looking at him. He's absolutely stunning and it's like you can feel him in the tiny room with you, alive in a way that other people aren't.

"You're staring, sweetheart." He says, just above a whisper. You snap your mouth shut and look away panicked. Your heart rate is through the roof and you can't believe he caught you looking at him. But it's so hard to look away from him knowing he's right there.

"I'm sorry." You whisper it quietly and he chuckles.

"It's okay. Happens all the time." You feel him turn to look at you, but you will yourself to keep your eyes forward. "Besides, I don't mind when pretty girls stare at me."

Your head whips around and your mouth opens again. Did he just call you pretty? Now you're looking directly into his face and he's so breathtaking that you feel like you might pass out.

"You always this speechless or is it me?" He smirks mischievously. You've never been known to be quiet. It's him. You still can't find your voice to answer him, though. His smirk falls and he turns back to the doors, sighing bitterly. "Sometimes it would be nice to not have this effect."

You look at the buttons: you're passing the 19th floor. Still so many to go and goddamnit why can't you talk?!

"Sometimes I wish I'd just stayed a truck driver so I could have normal conversations with pretty girls on elevators."

He did it again. He called you pretty. You have to find your voice. You've got about 16 floors before he walks out of your life forever.

"You probably wouldn't be staying in the penthouse of this hotel then." Good God. What on earth made you say that?! You finally find your voice and that's what comes out?!

He chuckles and looks back at you.

"That's the damn truth, honey. I guess I should be thankful for what I have."

"I should be thankful for the opportunity to talk to you like this, but I can't seem to make words. Nobody's perfect." You finally lift your eyes to meet his and he gives a little snort-laugh.

"No, nobody's perfect. Except angels. And I'm not so sure you ain't one." Now it's your turn to laugh.

"Me? Let me assure you, I'm as human as they come."

"Good. Me too." You stare at each other in silence for a bit, both of you taking in the other. "You work at the front desk?"

"I do. I'm the errand girl." You cringe again. He doesn't need to know that.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you forget your comb or need a set of nail clippers, I'm your girl." It's like your mouth has disconnected from your brain and is working all on its own.

More silence. The elevator is playing a song you recognize and you hum along to try to soothe the awkwardness. To your utter shock, he hums with you. When you pick up the higher harmony, your voices blend and it gives you goosebumps. He doesn't tell you that it gives him goosebumps too.

"Hey listen, I-" He's cut off when the elevator reaches its destination and the doors slide open.

"EP, we thought we'd lost you!" One of his bodyguards hollers and they hustle him off the elevator. He turns to look at you one last time and you wave awkwardly. He smiles and lets himself be whisked away. You put your palm on your forehead as the doors slide closed again.

A wave?! Seriously?!

Then you realize you were supposed to get off in the lobby too and kick yourself for your idiocy.

******

The next day, you come in to work like usual and the hotel is abuzz with the fact that Elvis is back and playing shows. Thats why you didn't know he was there yesterday: he'd just gotten in. You think back to your encounter with him and try not to cry. He called you pretty twice and what did you do? Acted like a complete fool.

Your shift ends at 4:30 and you're just about to pack up and leave when there's a call down to the front desk. Your coworker picks it up and talks to whoever is on the line. At one point, he looks at you strangely. You're not listening to the conversation, but the way he looks at you makes you nervous. Finally, he hangs up.

"I need you to make one last run."

"Mark, I'm almost off the clock. You can't handle it?"

"They specifically asked for 'errand girl'. That has to be you." You sigh deeply and put your purse back under the desk.

"What is it and where?"

"A comb and some nail clippers to the penthouse." You look up quickly.

"Wait, really?"

"Yep. That's what the guy said." Your heart skips a beat and you stand there staring at Mark. "You better go..."

You nod and gather the two things from the place where you keep all the supplies. Then, you make your way to the elevator. Your stomach is in knots the whole way up. It has to be him asking for you, right?

******

Elvis paces the floor in the living room of his penthouse suite. He's only been awake for an hour or so, but he's been thinking about you since he got off the elevator last night. When he told Joe to call down and ask for you, Joe looked at him like he'd lost his mind. But he has to see you at least one more time to make sure what he's feeling isn't real. He had half a conversation with you. Why can't he get you out of his head?

The doors slide open and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. You step out of the elevator and look around cautiously.

"Come on in, honey." He smiles awkwardly and you almost giggle. You never dreamed he was capable of awkwardness.

"I brought your things." For some reason, it's a little easier to talk to him this time. He laughs.

"Oh, right. Thank you." He walks to you and takes the comb and nail clippers from you and sets them on the table. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure! White wine?" You try to smile as he walks to the bar and fixes you a glass of wine. "Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

"You probably get tired of people being all starstruck." He hands you the glass and shrugs.

"I'm used to it."

"Doesn't make it right. Can we just start over? I'm y/n." You hold your hand out for him to shake and he takes it and kisses the back of it gently.

"I appreciate the gesture, honey, but we don't need to start over. I'm Elvis. It's nice to meet you." You giggle softly and pull your hand back.

"See you can't do stuff like that!"

"Like what?" His eyes twinkle with mirth.

"Be all charming and cute like that."

"You think I'm cute?" You roll your eyes.

"You have to know you're cute. This isn't breaking news."

"I still like to hear you say it." There's a moment where he's looking down at you and it feels like he wants to kiss you. And he does, he really really does, but he's nervous all of a sudden. He clears his throat and sits down on the couch, spreading his legs wide. He pats the cushion next to himself. "Come sit with me."

You walk over and perch on the edge of the couch by him, sipping your wine and trying to think of something to say that won't sound dumb.

"Are you glad to be back in Vegas?" You wince. You did not succeed.

"Yes and no. I love performing for people. It's my favorite thing. Gets a little lonesome here, though." He's not sure why he's telling you this, but he just feels comfortable talking to you.

"Your... your wife doesn't come with you?" He shakes his head.

"No, she doesn't. And she's not really... I mean..."

"She's not good company?" He sighs.

"No, not really."

"Hmm." You're not eager to be the other woman, but he seems so desperately lonely that it's hard to imagine leaving him here.

"Enough about that. You wanna come to my show tonight?"

"Elvis, it's been sold out for months."

"I'm Elvis Presley. If I want you there, they'll build a table for you." He shrugs nonchalantly, but you can tell it matters if you say yes.

"I'd love to see it." He looks at you with his eyes sparkling.

"Yeah?"

"Of course. I've loved you since 1956. Why wouldn't I want to see you perform?" He raises his eyebrows and you wish you'd kept that part to yourself.

"That long?" You nod sheepishly. He sits up and puts his hand on your cheek. "You're somethin' else, sweetheart. You sure you're not an angel?" A soft laugh falls from your lips and you take a sip from your glass.

"Not an angel. Just a fan." He shakes his head.

"No. Not just a fan." Without warning, he pulls your face to his and presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode inside you and it feels like you might die with the sensation of his soft lips. After a few seconds, he pulls back, sets your wine glass on the table, and presses his forehead to yours. "You're about the prettiest thing I've ever seen. And you seem to understand me in ways I didn't think possible. I'm pretty sure you're my angel."

You look deeply into his eyes and it's like your souls touch. All of a sudden he's a part of you and the idea of being without him breaks you.

"Elvis, I..."

"I know, honey." He dives back into kissing you, parting his lips to slide his tongue into your mouth. His hand grips your hip and he pulls you onto his lap, straddling his thighs. He mumbles against your lips. "Can I make love to you?"

"Yes... oh God, yes." You moan into his mouth as he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom. He lays you on the bed gently and hovers over you, rolling his hips forward to meet yours.

"My beautiful angel. I want to give you everything."

"Everything I am is yours, Elvis. Please..." He groans and runs his hands over your body, stopping to memorize the gentle curves of you. You lean into his touch, desperate to feel him on your skin. In a shockingly small amount of time, he has you both stripped naked, his body pressed against yours in a feverish frenzy of passion. His hands make hot trails over your flesh, followed quickly by his lips pressing desperate kisses to you. You've never experienced anything like this: the unbridled need for connection and sultry heat as it possesses you.

When he presses his tongue into you, it's like you've been waiting for him your whole life. Your body trembles with need and he moves his tongue on your clit with such fervor that you'd swear he's trying to devour you whole. But the ecstatic pleasure that rushes through you causes you to arch into him, begging for more. He obliges, sliding two of his long fingers into your pussy to tickle and tease you on the inside. You whimper and cry out, desperate for the release that's building in your hips.

"Elvis... god..." You moan, overcome with desire. He licks and finger-fucks you harder than you've ever experienced and you dance on the edge of an explosive orgasm.

"Cum for me, angel." He whispers into you, obsessively chasing your pleasure. It doesn't take long for you to do what he tells you, leaping over the edge into oblivion as your climax overtakes you, spilling out onto his hand as you shudder and pulse and scream his name.

"Elvis! Fuck!" He licks you through it, coaxing more ecstasy out of you as you cum harder than you ever have. When he feels your clit soften and your body relax, he pulls back, lips and chin glistening, and crawls up your body.

His cock aches to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around him and connected to him in an undeniable way. He kisses your neck and shoulder and cheek until he finally lands back at your mouth. You position him at your entrance and roll your hips forward, begging him to fill you.

"Such an eager little pussy. You want me to fuck you, angel?" He whispers it in your ear and you swear you could cum just from his voice.

"Y-yes..." He thrusts forward, his cock pushing into you halfway. You yelp and he stops to give you time to adjust to the size of him. As your pussy relaxes around him, he presses deeper until his hips meet yours and his dick is fully inside you.

"How does it feel?" You whimper and sweat.

"S-so good. Don't stop."

"Oh, my angel, I'm won't stop. Not until I know you're fully satisfied." He groans as he begins to pump into you with more speed and intensity. Your breasts bounce and he bends down to kiss you as his cock pounds you, over and over again. He fucks you like this for a while before he pulls out and rolls you over on your stomach. You moan as he pushes into you from behind, pressing his lips to your back and shoulders repeatedly.

The overwhelming sensation of being filled and fucked from behind threatens to push you into another orgasm. He slides his hand between you and the mattress to reach your clit and run over and around it with his fingertips. The orgasm crashes into you like a freight train as you scream into the mattress and cum on his dick.

"That's it, angel... I'm so close." Your pussy squeezes him and he grunts, no longer able to hold back. His cock throbs and fills you with his release in the aftershocks of your own climax. He whispers in your ear as his body jerks into you. "Yes, honey, yes..."

For a bit, he lays there with his head on your shoulder, the sweat dripping off of his hair onto your back. Then, he pulls out and rolls you over, collapsing on your chest and breathing heavily.

You run your fingers through his hair and hum again. He closes his eyes and soaks in the intimacy of being this close with you. The heavy weight of loneliness that's usually in his chest has dissipated and it feels in this moment like he'll never be lonely again. He looks up at you from where he's settled between your breasts.

"Stay with me."

"Tonight after the show?"

"Forever." It's crazy to consider. You've known each other less than 24 hours. But you hear the word as it exits your lips.

"Yes."

******

The End

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Taglist;

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[ljblueteak]

Has anyone else read George Tremlett’s The Paul McCartney Story (1975)? It was really interesting to see some of his mid-seventies takes on Paul, other members of the rock press, the Beatles, Wings, and Linda. 

For example: 

“There is a widespread feeling which occasionally shows itself in conversation between musicians that McCartney is overshadowed by Lennon...One can see why people might [make] a judgement of this kind, for McCartney often tends to understate himself whereas Lennon is a towering figure for reasons not altogether connected with his music. 

If the rock generation has had the impact on world thinking that I personally believe it has, and if the world’s politicians now realise that the day has passed when old men could create wars for young men to die in, then the one person more than any other who has delivered that message, more effectively even than Bob Dylan, is John Lennon, with his shrewd use of images and acorns, Bagism and the Plastic Ono Band. But Lennon has only been able to do that as one-quarter of The Beatles, and as one-half of the Lennon-McCartney song-writing team he found himself with a ready made platform. And had it not been for the simplicity and melodic content of McCartney’s own music, which made The Beatles’ music acceptable to such a far wider audience, would Lennon ever have had such a platform?

What is so extraordinary is that the two of them--originally so raw, rough, determined, often aggressive but very different people--should have found something bigger than themselves through skiffle....Of them all, Paul McCartney was and is the truest pro--seldom giving away a trick in an interview, bending press conferences, never letting the world outside know when something was going wrong, always smiling for the camera-men, and quick to help a fan given rough treatment by a stage-door keeper. It was the essence of good public relations--and the fans warmed to him. Beneath it all, he is every bit as tough, determined, and as aggressive as Lennon, with that rare blend of qualities that I have already mentioned. Perhaps the most remarkable thing of all is that, despite all of his success, and the fact that he is self-assured, dresses expensively, enjoys a high level of living and the freedom to travel anywhere in the world whenever he wants to, McCartney still has no phoney graces” (15-18).

Right before this, Tremlett describes how Paul (and Linda) both had good memories and could remember to check in about specific things: 

“My wife and I had a long private interview with Paul and Linda McCartney, in which--after the interview was over--we started talking about their farmhouse in Scotland and our cottage in Devon...my wife mentioned that she was looking for some Tiffany-style lampshades, and Linda had recently found some. About a year later we attended a Wings concert at Oxford, when there was a conference for journalists from all over the world afterwards--and McCartney suddenly called across to me: ‘Have you been down to Devon recently?’ A few minutes later Linda asked: ‘Did your wife get those lampshades?’

Now, it is easy to be cynical about people who have this memory for detail--but with the McCartneys it is a very natural warmth that makes people feel they know them when in fact they probably have only a very superficial relationship” (15).

[cookypd]

Soft Bias Tag 😍

So @cutiechimmy tagged me in the soft bias tag which is lit because I am soft as hell so let's DO THIS.

1)Who is your bias?

Jeon Jungkookie

2)What made me notice him/her?

Ok so I'm a new army p l s no hate but I got into them after DNA. I was drawn to Kookie's voice first. After watching interviews I got big into Joonie because I wasn't deep enough to know anyone else since he was the only one who spoke in English interviews, but once I learned who was who, I was drawn to the boy with the big eyes and found out quickly it was the same boy whose voice I originally liked and that was my bias solidified.

3) Whats your favorite thing about him/her?

Not what everyone would expect. While obviously I love his dance, his voice, his looks, and everything, my favourite parts of Jungkook aren't what usually come to mind. His belly laughs when he really thinks something is funny. The proud look on his face when he has impressed his hyungs, because you know that's one of his biggest goals. His love of teasing his hyungs and how close he is with them. His big heart towards army.

4) who would initiate skinship more?

That's hard to say. Jungkook and I are a lot alike. Really shy and closed off at first, but once we open up we tend to get really tactile and open. So I'd say it'd probably be pretty even.

5) who would hog the blankets more?

Me 100%. I need to have like 3 blankets within reach at all times or I'm not comfortable. I need to have a nest around me.

6) who would be more clingy?

Probably me. I tend to get that way.

7) Who would say I love you 1st?

Hmmmm. That's a good question. I think it would probably end up being something accidentally said because we'd been thinking of saying it for a long time.

8) who would be easily more flustered?

I think me? Although jungkook would be internally flustered, he'd put up a better front than I would. 😂

9) what cuddle position would we have?

I don't care as long as he's holding me, tbh.

10) What colors remind me of him?

Black and red 🖤❤️

11) What season would I like to spend with him?

Spring and autumn. I like those seasons the best because they're not too hot and not too cold. Best of both worlds. But really any season would be okay.

12) who bakes cookies and who eats batter?

Okay let's be real we'd make batter and then just eat it all, no cookies would ever be made.

13) who would make bad puns and how would we react?

Jin would make bad puns and we'd both laugh.

14) who would want to adopt 50 cats and dogs?

He'd probably be sensible and say people don't need that many animals as I'm holding 50 puppies in my arms.

15) who would burn down the kitchen by trying to microwave something and who saves the day?

I would burn down the kitchen and there would be no saving the day because he would be just standing there staring at me being like "oh shit what do we do"

16) who likes to lean over railings and who would pull back?

We all know Jungkook. He'd be leaning over the railings, tempting fate, and I'd be standing there having a series of mini heart attacks.

17) how would watching a horror movie go?

We wouldn't because I would cry real ass tears begging him not to watch it with me and tell him if he needed to see the scary ass movie to please go watch it with Tae.

18) who’s cheesy and who is the smooth flirt?

I'm cheesy af. I think he would start out being smooth and then fuck it up with a huge amount of cheese at the end.

19) whose more competitive?

Jungkook 100%. I am 0% competitive. I know I am bad at things. This is just a fact.

20) who would give constant reminders?

Probably me? Make sure to eat, don't forget this, blah blah.

21) who send memes and who sends “I miss you” text at 3am?

Both. Constantly both. We would send "I miss you" memes. Kook and I are meme lords which is why we're soulmates.

I tag my loves @joonpd @ddaengi @glittrjimin @calicochim @winemom-yoongi @jiweon @jesugaismyname @euphoricbangtan @angejeon @rainyjeon @letsonlywalkonflowertrails @koalajoons