#Tupelo Press

[rustbeltjessie]

Big news, everyone! This April, I will be doing a 30/30 on the Tupelo Press website!

I almost always participate in a 30/30 during the month of April—but I don't always post each poem publicly, and the poems I do post wind up on my personal blog. This year, I decided to recommit to my poetry practice and to sharing my 30/30 publicly, and helping Tupelo Press while I'm at it.

This month, I, alongside several other fine poets, am writing thirty poems in thirty days, and sharing them on the Tupelo Press website. After the month is over, these poems are ours to edit and submit as we wish (meaning: they won't be up on the site forever, so read them while they're 'hot off the press!'). We are doing this both to share our own works and practices with the world, and also to ensure Tupelo Press can keep publishing beautiful books featuring an impressive array of diverse poets.

My goal is to raise $350 this month, though any amount beyond that would be even better. I am offering some incentives for those who donate:

For any donation $10-$35, I will send you a postcard featuring an original tanka (written by me) + my original artwork.

For any donation $36-50, you will receive the postcard + have the opportunity to help select one of my poems each week, which I will then incorporate into a video featuring a reading/performance of said poem.

For any donation $51 and above, you will receive the postcard, the input on the videos, and at the end of the month I will send you a mini-zine/chapbook featuring a selection of my poems from throughout the month.

I will make a new post on April 1, with a link to where you can read my poems. I will also post regular updates on this project (and others) throughout the month. In the meantime, please consider helping me kickstart my fundraiser. Every dollar gives me confidence to write more, and helps the press place more poems in gorgeous books. Help me to help this distinguished press, and to recommit to my poetry practice. Thank you, and I'll see you again in April!

[amyjasek]

The Darts of August

photo by author (canon digital, lensbaby burnside 35 lens) as the archer, you point arrows, fulfilling some sacred oathelastic and flying, half-transcendental,seeking mending from thistledown, they bloom brighter than merciless skiesfinding the line in the sand while seashells bleachand the 150 year old banyan tree tells how to withdraw a sword from a backyard stone This poem is a Cento, made…

[roughghosts]

Some thoughts about living with mental illness and a few books that, in my experience, address the matter well

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, at least in Canada and the US, and this morning I awoke to find an essay in my inbox titled “The Last Great Stigma” by Pernille Yilmam. This Aeon article addresses the workplace discrimination that workers with mental illness experience  claiming that it “would be unthinkable for other health issues,” and asking if it can change. As the piece demonstrates,…

[eggwhiteswithspinach]

👏 Tupelo Press 30/30 Poetry Challenge

[litbowl]

From Maggie Smith's book, Good Bones. (Tupelo Press).

[dreamingofep]

A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person. 

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life. 

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it. 

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say. 

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing. 

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage. 

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today. 

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much. 

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage. 

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot. 

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage. 

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand. 

Click. 

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors. 

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted. 

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head. 

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out. 

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight. 

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way. 

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. 

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything. 

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.  

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch. 

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling. 

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him. 

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you. 

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you. 

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good. 

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse. 

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand. 

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you. 

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

*

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Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

[wanderingelvis]

Heyy so i have a request since u want some ideas mabye like an elvis x Innocent reader 🤷🏽‍♀️ I mean I don't have that much imagination so whatever u do with it will be brilliant 💕

Oh wow! My first request and I've barely started but this is such a dream request, so thank you!! Here goes nothing, I hope you like it! 🧚 🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻 word count: 1,503 pairing: elvis presley x f!reader

Ever since you'd been signed to the same label as Elvis, you'd struggled adjusting to the Hollywood lifestyle. You'd found a friend in Elvis though, something you'd never thought you'd say. As soon as he'd met you, he'd been kind, protective and patient with you, when not many people had been. He'd let you spend time in his trailer between takes and rehearsals which you were grateful for, especially since you were having a tough time in media training classes with other new talent that had been signed.  The boys and girls in those classes weren't as kind to you as Elvis was, they all came from the Hollywood area, with rich relatives who were higher up in the label, whereas you'd auditioned and came from a pokey little town out in California. You tried your best to fit in but your upbringing just hadn't been the same. 

That's where Elvis felt awful protective of you, he'd faced a similar difficulty, growing up in Tupelo all those years ago. He could see the talent and potential in you, not to mention how hard you worked. He didn't want you to face the same hardships he'd had to. 

You'd had enough today, you'd been made fun of, yet again by the other guys that were all training to be dancers and stunt guys, and it had all gotten too much. You missed home and everything that came with it. You made a beeline for Elvis' dressing room, keeping your head down because you knew if someone even dared to ask if you were okay, you'd burst into tears.  You gently knocked on the door, praying that Elvis was there and hopefully not with his entourage. The door swung open and you were met with Elvis' grin.  "Are you busy? I don't wanna bother you." You asked quietly, looking past him to see if he had company. 

Elvis moved away from the entrance, making room for you to walk in, "No honey, want to come in?" You nodded, walking into the room that smelt of cigar smoke as he closed the door behind you. "Don't you have your press conference training now little one?" Elvis asked as he went to pour himself a drink.  "M'not going." You said grumpily, collapsing down onto the plush couch.  "I know it's a drag baby, but you gotta go, I made your Momma a promise that you wouldn't slack on your work." Elvis chuckled, not clocking onto your upset mood yet.  "I said I'm not going!" You snapped, your voice cracking a little. You were just so upset at always being left out and feeling like an idiot.  Elvis stalled, he hadn't heard you speak like that before, especially not to him. You were an innocent little thing, everyone on set knew it and you would never openly challenge or disobey anyone, whether it was a label executive or one of the catering staff.  "Baby, I don't know where you found that goddamn attitude but you best get rid of it right now. I ain't gonna let no little girl talk to me like that." Elvis warned, walking over to you. 

The harsh words tipped you over the edge, the last thing you'd wanted was to upset your one friend on set. You were just frustrated and Elvis snapping at you caused you to burst into soft sobs. You covered your face with your hands as you blubbed and Elvis immediately softened, taken aback with concern as he watched you hiccup and cry. "M'sorry," You choked. "I had a b-bad day." You stuttered, tripping on your words as you let out soft cries. "Oh little un', what's happened hm?" He cooed, sitting next to you, placing his hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles as he grabbed some tissues with his other hand to give to you. "I miss home, Elvis," You said quietly, "Everyone at the rehearsals and classes is so mean and they say stuff and I don't know what they mean and um," You paused to sniffle and wipe your pink nose, "They all laugh at me and it's n-not funny." You said as you sat cross legged on the couch, your whole body now facing Elvis. "What are they saying baby?" Elvis asked gently. He wasn't exactly surprised at what you said, you were an easy target, you were sweet, kind and gentle and it was a tough industry, one you weren't exactly made for. "I don't know, I don't understand it." You said quietly, feeling dumb and ashamed. "Can you tell me what they said to you, little?" Elvis encouraged.  You paused, taking a wobbly breath, glancing at Elvis who only smiled at you. He never made you feel dumb or stupid, even if you could be at times, a bit naive. "They a-asked me if I 'give a head' or if I ever have done and I said I don't know w-what that means, because I don't!" You said, tearily. "A-and they all laughed at me and they wouldn't tell me and I don't know what they mean and it's really confusing." You said, quietly trailing off.  Elvis felt his blood boil. He knew he was protective of you, the baby in front of him, everyone knew he was and maybe he was overprotective at times but how could he not be when this would happen to you? In front of him was the sweetest little girl and whilst Elvis would never call you dumb, even if other people might, he knew you were just innocent and inexperienced and definitely someone that somebody with bad intentions could take advantage of easily. It made Elvis, rightly or wrongly, want to protect you and take care of you in the way that he saw fit and that way was to preserve your innocence.  If Elvis could have his way, he'd take you away from all of this sin and misdemeanour, all the way to his home, Graceland, where he would let you stay and do everything you loved without the stress and pressure of working this gruelling schedule. "Who said this to you?" Elvis said sternly. "It's all of them Elvis, i-it's just confusing." You hiccuped. "I want a name, Y/N." Elvis said as you glanced up at him through wet lashes. "Paulie Matthews." You mumbled softly. "Are you gonna make me go back to rehearsal?" You asked meekly. "No honey, you're gonna stay right here, with me." As soon as Elvis said that, it was as if a visible weight had lifted from your shoulders. Elvis knew the press team would be angry at the lack of your attendance but he had enough power that no-one would question it. 

"Elvis?" "Yes, little one?" Elvis said, gently pushing back some hair that had fallen in front of your face. "What does 'give a head' mean?" Your brows furrowed together and cocked your head to the side with confusion and curiousity. Elvis breathed a heavy sigh at your question and the innocence in the way that you said it, before the door burst open with laughter and chatter, making you jump slightly. Elvis rubbed your back soothingly straight away to try and calm you. It was Jerry, Red, and the rest of the Mafia, chatting after their outing to the local steakhouse. "What have I told you about goddamn knockin'?" Elvis barked furiously. The guys all apologised, insisting that Elvis just needed to hear this story about how Red had pulled a waitress and got a free steak out of it, none of them paying any attention to you, the sweet thing, sat near Elvis. As the bustling continued, Elvis noticed you shuffled a little closer to him. 

You were visibly overwhelmed at all the men and the commotion. "You okay baby?" Elvis whispered to you softly. You chewed your lip feverishly. "Want to stay by my side and keep me company?" He offered, in a sweet and gentle tone. You nodded almost instantly, making Elvis smile down at you. "C'mere sweetheart." He nodded. You nestled into his side as he led his arm across the back of the couch, allowing you to perfectly slot in next to him. Elvis pet your hair and placed a tender kiss atop your head, as your wobbly breathing evened out.  "Elvis?" You whispered. Elvis hummed in response, lowering his head so you could whisper in his ear cutely. You leaned up a little, putting your hand by your mouth so no one could see or hear what you were whispering. "Do ya think the guys might know what 'give a head' means? Should I ask them?" You asked before moving back a little so you could study his face. Elvis laughed a little at you, he couldn't help but adore how sweet and innocent you were. "No baby, I'll show you later, you just relax now pretty girl." Elvis smiled. You smiled back, feeling relieved that you could always be yourself around the most famous man in the world.

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 3

A/N: Buckle in, folks. Shit's about to get real. Once again, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader. Prepare yourselves, friends.

Special thanks to @ccab for always being my beta, to @elvisfatass for always being my support, and this time to @tacozebra051 for encouraging me to post this, even when I almost chickened out.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, ANGST, ANGST, AND MORE ANGST, talk of death, grief, etc. Also kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie (I promise this is not a smut fest. I tried to make it very tasteful- the sex has a purpose. You'll see why.). But also so much angst and sadness.

Word count: ~2.7k

You jump up and walk slowly towards the portal, your heart beating wildly in your chest...

******

The house is eerily silent and all you can hear is muffled sobs. Thank God you wore a dress that you bought at a vintage shop and not your typical jeans and t-shirt. Although, for the past year, you've been casually wearing clothing from the '50s just in case you stumbled across a portal.

It doesn't take you long to find him. In fact, you damn near trip over him. He's in the same corner of the house you were in, curled up and crying, clutching what looks like a woman's nightgown. Your mind races.

Gladys.

You're exactly 50 years in the past and Gladys Presley died two days ago.

You crouch down and try to approach him slowly. You don't want to scare him. You reach out and gently put a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you and his mouth drops open.

"Y/n. You're here?"

"I'm here." He grabs you and wraps his arms around your waist, head on your chest as he continues to sob.

"My mother..." He tries to choke out an explanation.

"Shhh, no, I know. You don't have to say it." He cries for a few more minutes and then it dawns on him. He pulls back and his face has changed from abject sorrow to unmitigated rage.

"You know? You knew this was going to happen!" He pushes you away from him.

"Elvis I-"

"You knew and you said NOTHING." Tears start to stream down your face.

"I couldn't say anything. I couldn't tell you."

"BULLSHIT. You could've said something. Anything. So that I could've done something. Or at least spent more time with her. God, how could you?" Your shoulders shake as your tears hit the floor. There's so much venom in his words.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Just get out."

"Elvis, where am I going to go? The portal is closed. I'm stuck here."

"That's your problem."

"Please." He looks up at you and the depth of his pain is evident on his face. You cup his cheeks in your hands. "I can't change what's in the past. You matter to the world, Elvis. Anything I tell you might ruin that. I know you're in pain right now, but I think you'll understand that when you're not." He nods, so you keep going. "Do you think I wanted to keep this from you? That I wanted to let you hurt like this? Do you know how badly I wanted to save you from this? How hard it was for me to know this was going to happen and be powerless to stop it? I'm here, somehow. This is the best gift I can give you. I'm here to be with you through it. God, I'm so sorry." You press him against your chest again and both of you sob together as you hold him.

You sit like this for a long time, not even noticing exactly how long. Eventually, Elvis falls asleep against you like a spent child and you continue to sit on the floor with him. When one of the maids finds you, she's shocked because she has no idea who you are or how you got there.

"Young lady, who are you?"

"I'm y/n, Elvis's friend from Tupelo." You pray that lie will be enough. Elvis stirs awake when he hears you talking.

"She's my girlfriend. I called her earlier and she came over. Don't worry about it." The maid nods her head skeptically and goes back to doing whatever she was doing. He looks up at you.

"My back is killing me. Come up to my room and we'll get in bed."

"Nobody will ask questions?"

"This is my damn house. They can kiss my ass." As you make your way upstairs with him, your mind wanders back to him referring to you as his girlfriend. If only.

******

You wake up together tangled in sheets and each other. He holds you close to him and kisses your forehead.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday." He whispers.

"No, it's okay. I would be mad too."

"You really can't tell me anything?"

"I really can't. It might jeopardize too many things. And besides, I know that I won't because the future is what it is."

"That makes my head hurt."

"Yeah, it's complicated." You lay in silence for a little while, arms wrapped around each other. Finally, he speaks.

"I am glad you're here. I've missed you a lot over the past year."

"I missed you too. I've been looking for you everywhere, going to places you performed and all kinds of stuff. I can't believe I found you here."

"Well, I live here."

"I know, but I've been here three times in the last year. I never found a portal." You lay there together for a bit not saying anything. Finally, he speaks again.

"I like your dress." He looks over at the black and white polka dotted garment where you laid it over a chair in his room. You're wearing one of his pajama tops now.

"Thanks. I bought it at a vintage shop."

"That's funny." He almost laughs, but then it's like a shadow passes over him. "I'm sorry I can't be like I was."

Your heart breaks because you know he'll never be quite like that again. He's lost his jovial innocence and even when he's happy later on, there'll always be a small piece of him missing.

"It's okay, Elvis. You're allowed to hurt." He rolls away from you and starts to cry again. You pull on his shoulder gently until he rolls back and you hold him again as he sobs. As he does, you run your fingers through his hair and notice how much shorter it is. Then, you remember that he's been drafted and will have to leave soon. What will you do when he goes? Hopefully, you'll find a portal before then.

He cries until he seemingly can't anymore and then he just lays on your chest trying to breathe.

"What should we do today?" You ask, your stomach rumbling.

"Can we just stay here and do this today?"

"You want to stay in bed?"

"Yeah."

"We can do whatever you want. But I'm gonna need some food." He looks up at you and gives you a small smile.

"Come with me." He gets out of bed and wraps you in his robe. Then, he takes you down to the kitchen, where one of the ladies that works there is doing some dishes.

"My girl is hungry. What do we have to eat in this house?"

"Breakfast or lunch?" You look at your watch. It's almost noon. You didn't realize you slept that long.

"Lunch, I guess?" You look up at him and he nods.

"Sandwiches?" You've read about the sandwiches Elvis eats. You're not sure you're ready to go there.

"Yes, but just peanut butter and bananas for me please."

"How did you... you know what kind of sandwiches I eat?" You smile awkwardly and he shakes his head incredulously.

The woman laughs and starts gathering the ingredients for the sandwiches.

You sit at the table talking while you eat and his mood seems to have improved a little bit. He still doesn't smile, though. When you finish, he grabs your hand.

"Better, honey?"

"Much better. Back to bed?"

"Yes please."

The woman who made the sandwiches raises her eyebrows at your suggestion, but Elvis doesn't notice or doesn't care. You make your way back up the stairs together and barely make it into his room before he falls apart again. He sinks to the floor and you hold him and rock him gently.

You manage to get him back into the bed and he settles against you while you stroke his hair and hum lullabies and gospel songs. He spends most of the day like this in your arms crying on and off. Any time you try to move, he pulls you closer and begs you to stay where you are, so you do. Luckily, the other people in the house seem to know how upset he is, so no one disturbs you. Aside from the maids who know you're there, they probably just think he's in his room alone.

When evening comes, he looks up at you from his place on your chest. It's been about an hour since his last crying spell.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Okay, that's good."

"I have a headache from crying. I think it'll help."

"I'm sure it will."

"Will you come with me?"

"You want me to sit in the bathroom while you shower?" You're willing to do almost anything for him at this point. It kills you to see him in so much pain.

"I want you to get in the shower with me."

"Elvis, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Please, y/n. I need you. I just don't want to be alone." His eyes well up again, so you agree quickly.

"Okay. Whatever you need. I'm here." He nods and slowly gets out of bed, pulling you with him. You start the water and he just stands there, so you go to him and help him undress. Once he's naked, you take off your own clothes and then get in the shower together.

The water runs down both of you as he wraps himself around you and cries again, big sobs this time.

"God, why?" He groans into your hair.

"Only He knows." You whisper back, praying that's a decent response. It seems to satisfy him a little because he stands up and nods.

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his feet.

"Elvis, please stop apologizing. I am here for anything. I love you." His eyes snap up to yours and he seems to be searching your face. All the pain and all the grief pause for just a moment as he thinks about what you just said.

"You love me?"

"Of course I do. I should've told you before you left last time." He leans down and presses his lips against yours softly.

"I love you too, y/n. Please don't leave me." You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest. You can't stay here forever. Or can you?

You feel his body quake as he begins to cry again, so you pull away from him and get a washcloth. Once it's soapy, you gently run it over him, cleansing him in a ritual of service and love. When his body is clean, you get some shampoo and massage it into his hair. He leans back into the water and rinses it out. You notice that he's stopped crying for the moment as he reaches for the shampoo.

"Can I wash your hair?"

"Oh, um, sure, if you want to." He nods and begins to massage shampoo into your hair. Trading places with you under the water, he leans your head back and rinses your hair under the shower head. When you stand back up, he kisses your forehead.

"Thank you. You're a nice distraction." He puts his hand on your neck and runs his thumb over your lips. He seems to notice for the first time that you're naked.

Your body is beautiful and even through his pain he can appreciate it. His hand trails down your chest to your hip.

"We should get out." You realize what's happening and decide it's probably time to put your clothes back on.

"Please, y/n. Let me make love to you."

"Oh, Elvis, I-"

"Please, I just want to feel something." He whispers as he kisses down your neck. He comes back to your mouth and kisses you lovingly, his tongue grazing yours gently. He whispers again.

"Please."

"Okay." You nod. If this is what he needs, you're not going to deny him. And it's not like you don't want it too. He kisses you more deeply and uses both hands to pull your hips into his, pressing his erection into your lower stomach. Bending his knees slightly, he lifts one of your legs and enters you slowly. Once he's fully pushed into you, he groans softly.

The intimacy of this moment, with the water streaming down your body and his connection with you undeniable, washes over him and he loves you completely. When he moves in and out of you, it's not driven by lust, but by a need to feel as close to you as possible. He has wrapped you around him like a much-needed security blanket and every thrust brings you closer together. Everywhere your skin touches is an opportunity for shared pleasure and he needs it so badly.

You whimper softly with the sensation of him pushing inside you so gently. You've never made love like this before and there's a softness to it that fills you with affection for him. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and you pepper him with small kisses on his face.

The weight of your connection is not lost on either of you as you move together. He begins to pump with a little more speed and you know he's approaching the inevitable end. Neither of you wants the moment of closeness to expire, but you know that it must.

When the end does come, he moans softly and tangles his fingers in your hair, kissing you with every ounce of passion in his body. He lowers your leg carefully, pulling out of you gently and pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you. I love you with all of me." Tears come to both of you, mixing with the water that's still running down your bodies.

"I am yours, Elvis." He kisses you again and pulls you close to him, reaching behind you to turn the water off. You open the shower curtain and step out and he wraps both of you in a large towel. You're so wrapped up in each other that you don't even notice it.

It's not until you almost step through it that you see the portal.

"No!" He says it loudly when he realizes what it is. You turn and grab him tightly.

"I don't wanna go."

"Then don't. Stay here with me forever."

"Elvis, you know I can't." You're both crying frantically now.

"You can't leave me here like this without you."

"I don't have a choice!"

"There's always a choice!"

"No. I know what your future is and it isn't me. It can't be me."

"I can't lose you too." His voice is so thick with emotion as you run into his room and dress quickly. He stands and stares at you, tears streaming down his face. You walk to him and hold his face in your hands.

"You're not losing me. You'll never lose me. I will find you again. Or you find me. We've done it twice now. I believe we can do it again."

"If I find you, I'm not leaving."

"Don't say that."

"Goddammit, y/n, why is this happening to us?!"

"I don't know! But I'm so glad it is." You choke on the last part of the sentence and he holds you so tightly it's almost hard to breathe.

"I love you." He kisses the top of your head.

"I love you too, but I have to go." He releases you and kisses your mouth again.

"I will find you. I promise." You nod and walk away from him towards the bathroom, half hoping that the portal has closed.

But it hasn't. The air is still wavy and the buzzing sound fills the small room. He stands in the doorway naked with the towel wrapped around his waist. You give him one last sad smile and walk through.

He sinks to the floor and weeps. How will he survive this without you?

******

You're back in the corner of Graceland where you found the first portal. Your hair is wet and wild and you're crying and a tour guide is shocked to come upon you in such a state. Still, she's found weirder things in the mansion, so she gently escorts you out of the house. When you finally get back to your car, you sit in the driver's seat and cry hysterically. How will you find him again?

******

Please come back for Chapter 4!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @tacozebra051

[headfullofpresley]

Vamp!E Request! Elvis being shy about his hunger for blood, not knowing how to ask and being a southern gentleman about it 🫣

𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 6,5K

Warnings: 50s!elvis, vampire!elvis, best friends to lovers, strong language, blood consumption, gladys is alive, mentions of the colonel, mentions of nick adams, partly set at the tupelo fairgrounds, smut; slightly subby!elvis, semi-public, car sex, hand job (f. & m. receiving) vag penetration, creampie, unprotected sex.

A/N: damn, i'm gettin' kinda rusty at smut buuut i had fun writing this! also, i'm shit at writing shy stuff, but i tried. anyways, this has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute- sorry for taking so damn long, dear! hope you'll enjoy. ❤

masterlist | suggested playlist

“Goddamnit Nick, you’re fuckin’ useless- I asked you to bring enough, I have to get up there in 25 minutes and there’s nothin’ left!”

Gladys visibly cringed at the roar of her son’s loud voice and the slamming of the ice box that was inside the dressing room tent where Elvis was giving Nick Adams a piece of his mind.

People close to Elvis knew he had a bit of a temper now and then, but only few knew that was because he was dealing with heightened emotions he was still getting used to. He had only been turned into a vampire two years ago in an unfortunate accident and both he and the people around him were still learning about vampirism.

Having her son turned into an immortal creature that needed to feed on blood to stay alive was something Gladys had a hard time dealing with in the beginning, but she had gotten used to it now. She was used to the bloodbags in her freezer and the way he’d squeeze her a little too tight when hugging her sometimes, but whenever he was in a mood like this, she knew best thing to do was to stay away.

“What’s going on, Lovie?” you questioned as you arrived at the tent and heard your best friend barking at Adams, who wisely kept his mouth shut despite having been granted with immortality longer ago than Elvis. The beginning actor knew young vampires could be reckless and were hot headed- he had no idea how, or if, Elvis would lash out if he’d say or do anything.

“Oh, Y/N,” Gladys sighed with worry in her eyes, grabbing your hands and squeezing them softly to comfort herself rather than you. “You know how he gets- I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure you can calm him down. He always listens to you,”

It was true- he did always listen to you, because he knew he could literally say anything to you and you wouldn’t bat an eye. You’ve been friends with Elvis since you were children- he knew all your secrets and you knew his. When he had become a creature he knew nothing about, you were the first person he came to- scaring the living shit out of you when he stood in front of your door covered in blood.

But you didn’t turn him away, didn’t leave him to deal with everything alone. He trusted you, sometimes even more so than himself.

You turned to look over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of The Colonel who stood a few feet away, talking to Tupelo’s local press. He gave you a little nod, knowing that you were the only person that was able to go in there and come out unscathed- he sure as hell wasn’t going to try.

“Please, Y/N. I don’t know what to do with him anymore,” Vernon softly begged as he wrapped an arm around Gladys’ shoulder. You sighed softly and looked at her, giving her a gentle smile and a nod of your head.

“I’ll see if I can get him to calm down- don’t worry. Everything will be okay,” you assured Gladys, kissing her cheek and squeezing her hands before letting them go and stepping inside the tent.

 

Empty bloodbags were littered through the dressing room, Nick Adams very obviously being the culprit of the deed- guilt was written all over his face. He looked up and as he noticed you, he gave you a little nod and rushed out of the tent.

You didn’t give him the time of day, not being very fond of Mr. Hollywood.

“Did you at least get one?” you chuckled softly as you picked up a few bags, trying to lighten the mood. You knew it probably wouldn’t work, and a comment like that would only anger him more if it’d come from anyone else, but this was you.

He had never hurt you before and he wasn’t planning on doing so either.

“That motherfucker took everything, the fuckin’ pig,” he spat angrily, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against a vanity table and watched you throw some bags in the trash. “I have to get on that stage and I haven’t had a damn sip.. bite.. sip- ah, whatever,”

“When was the last time you fed?” you asked as you cleaned some drips of blood from your hands with a paper towel, walking toward him after you threw that away too. You lifted yourself on the table, putting your chin on his shoulder as you looked at him. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a second- it took him a little bit to give you a proper reply, your scent distracting him.

“T-this mornin’..” he opened his eyes, turning his face to look at you. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt his breath on your face- you had hoped you still had one secret that Elvis didn’t know about, but you were pretty sure he knew you were in love with him.

Your heart gave you away every time.

His eyes wandered down to your lips and to the curve of your neck. The sight of your blood pumping through your veins which was more obvious to his eyes than those of a human combined with the sound of your heart beating faster and faster against your ribcage made his mouth water. For a second there, you thought you could see him leaning in, but he was on the other side of the dressing room before you could even register his movements.

“You’re hungry, El,” you pointed out, a slight hint of worry on your tongue. He tried to act casual, combing his hair in one of the mirrors in the tent and fixing the collar of his velvet blouse. “You need to eat- you need to get your energy up for the show,”

“Y/N.. please..” he sighed as he looked at you, shoving his comb in the back pocket of his pants before crossing his arms loosely in front of his chest again. He already knew what you were getting at, but he refused. “I’m.. I’m okay. I’ll send The Colonel to the nearest hospital for some new bags, I’ll be fine,”

You shook your head at his stubbornness as you hopped off the vanity table, slowly walking over to him. You knew he never wanted to feed from you- it was dangerous, especially for a young vampire like him. But you wanted him to enjoy himself up on that stage and you knew he wouldn’t be able to do that on an empty stomach. He needed blood, one way or the other.

And the thought of him sinking his teeth in your skin made your knees weak- you had been dreaming about it plenty of times before.

 

It took Elvis a lot of convincing. A lot.

He only had ten minutes left before the show and he could already hear The Colonel pacing outside of the tent, nervous that Elvis would be a no-show. Elvis was growing more nervous himself, not because he didn’t want to feed on you – oh boy, did he want to – but because he didn’t want to hurt you.

He had never fed directly from the source- he completed his transition with a bloodbag, a diet he stuck to. It was hard to fight his urges, but if he wanted a career in showbusiness, he couldn’t go around biting people left and right.

But here you were, sitting on his lap as he had settled on one of the couches in the dressing room. Hair pulled back, the side of your neck on full display, inviting him. Your scent was nearly overwhelming, but still he had his doubts- with you being so eager for it, he found himself becoming a little shy.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he mumbled as he tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. The tip of his nose ghosted along your jawline and the curse he let out under his breath sent a tingle down your spine and in between your thighs. “W-what.. what if.. I’m not a-able to stop?”

You grabbed onto his shirt, your other hand holding onto his shoulder as your arm was resting around his frame. You pushed yourself even closer to him, making him groan softly as his plumb lips caressed your neck. “You will,” you whispered breathlessly, your hand moving from his shoulder to the back of his head, fingertips tangling in his gelled locks. “I trust you, the way you always trust me.”

He pulled his head back out of your neck a little, bringing his hand up to grab your chin and making you look at him. His cheeks were flushed and the growing erection that was poking your thigh underneath you made you nearly lose your mind. As much as you wanted so much more than just a bite, time wasn’t on your side right now.

“What if I hurt you?” he questioned in a low whisper, his tongue making an appearance to sweep over his lower lip.

“Maybe I like pain,” you grinned playfully, tugging on his hair a little as you arched your back, pressing your chest against his. His hand that was resting on your hip moved lower, large palm squeezing at your curves- just as he was about to kiss you, you pulled back with all your mental strength.

“We don’t have time, El. You need to feed,” you told him, pulling his head back a little by giving his hair another tug. He groaned as he looked at you through hooded eyes, squeezing your ass with a little more strength, stealing a small moan from you. Now you were the one with equally as flushed cheeks and it made him laugh softly, leaning back into your neck when you released the tension on his hair.

He knew he was going to have to be quick and he hated it. He wished he could take his time with this- kissing your neck, letting his tongue trace your veins and feeling the blood pump through them underneath his wet muscle. Right now, it was all rushed and he barely had time to taste the perfume on your neck.

But despite the lack of time, his mama raised him right. It was obvious that you wanted this and he didn’t need to ask for consent anymore, but he still felt it was the right thing to do.

“H-Honey.. can I.. can I bite you?”

The question was almost comical if you didn’t live in a world where immortal creatures roamed around freely. And maybe you would’ve laughed at it in any other situation, but right now it nearly made you jump out of your skin.

You wanted him. You needed him.

“Yes, Elvis,” you moaned softly as you felt him nuzzling his nose in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Please bite me,”

To the best of his abilities, he ignored how his cock twitched in the confinements of his pants upon hearing your words. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to properly kiss you or take you right here and now. He went for the next best thing- placing rushed kisses against your skin before he found the spot he was looking for, parting his lips and pushing his fangs into your neck when they appeared.

 

Elvis didn’t know how, or if, he could ever go back to bloodbags.

He also didn’t know if it was because you were the first human he fed from or because warm blood was just so much better, but he found the taste addicting.

Your blood gave him a rush of energy, even more so than bloodbags gave him, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting one of his hands roam your body, his other hand cupping the other side of your jaw to keep you in place. He was squeezing your ass and hips, pushing you firmer against his chest and at one point, his hand found its way in between your thighs. You were wearing pants and you cursed yourself for making that decision this morning- before you could even focus if you felt his fingers there, his hand was gone again.

The more blood he took, the weaker you were starting to feel but it didn’t stop you from moaning and clinging onto him. The pain was starting to turn into pleasure and you wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were soaked by now, but your mind was too foggy to care about it.

 

“Elvis! What’s takin’ you so long?” Vernon yelled from outside the tent, making both you and Elvis freeze. He didn’t want to pull away, wanted to take more of your blood, but he was forced to. Elvis knew if he wouldn’t provide his father with an answer, the man would come inside the tent and Elvis didn’t want him to see you and him in a position like this.

His mother would have his head.

You whimpered softly at the feeling of Elvis gently pulling his fangs out of your flesh, his vampiric features disappearing again as he cleared his throat a little. “I’ll be right there, Daddy!”

You heard Vernon mumbling something you couldn’t make out before he shuffled away from the tent. Elvis turned to you and no words needed to be spoken as he crashed his lips onto yours, laying you down on the couch. He was in between your thighs in a split second, grinding against you and sucking greedily on your lower lip.

You broke the messy kiss by laughing, placing your hands flat against his chest. He whined softly as he pouted at you- which would look a whole lot cuter if his lips weren’t covered in your blood.

“Please, Y/N- I’m fast, baby. I can get you to cum before you even know it,”

You widened your eyes at his words, laughing again as he groaned dramatically when you shook your head. You grabbed his face when he kissed you again, not wanting to pull back, but forced to.

“After the show, okay?” you suggested, sounding out of breath, trying your best not to wrap your legs around his waist and trap him on top of you. “You’re full of energy now, but I need a minute,”

He grinned, nodding his head as he slowly got up from the couch. You sat up as well, pulling some tissues out of the box that stood on the coffee table littered with drinks and magazines, wiping some blood off your neck. Elvis cleaned his face, but he couldn’t stop his legs from wandering back over to you and kissing you again. You kissed him back, moaning softly in his mouth as he let his tongue explore your mouth- another voice calling for Elvis came from the outside of the tent and the young vampire pulled back with a deep, slightly frustrated groan.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay, honey?”

You smiled at him, throwing the tissues on the table. “I wouldn’t dare to leave,” you told him, slowly getting up from the couch. You were a little wobbly on your feet, but you managed to follow him to the exit of the tent. “Go have fun up there,”

He nodded, smiling as he leaned in to steal another kiss but this time, your lips didn’t get the chance to touch. Vernon bursted in the tent and grabbed his son’s arm, pulling him outside. You stuck your head outside, laughing softly at the sight of Elvis being dragged away- when you turned to your left, you saw Gladys was still there, this time with her hands full of snacks she had gotten at the fair.

She gave you a knowing look and a shade of pink colored your cheeks, following her back inside the tent and allowing her to feed you the snacks and tend to the little bite marks Elvis created in your neck.

You just hoped all she thought Elvis did was feed from you- nothing more, nothing less.

 

Gladys wasn’t born yesterday. She knew you probably just as well as she knew her own son and she was very aware about your feelings for Elvis and his for you- while he might be a little bit better at hiding his crush to you, not to her. He had always confided in his mother and that didn’t stop after he turned into a vampire. She’d sit at the kitchen table with him in the middle of the night whenever he came home from a show and she’d listen to all his, sometimes too, crazy stories- and also about how bad in love he was with you.

She thought you were the perfect girl for Elvis and she wouldn’t accept it whenever he said things would probably never work out because he lived forever and you didn’t. She wanted you as her daughter in law and no one else, so when  Elvis was done performing and giving attention to his fans and asked her if it was okay if he’d take you for a ride, she nearly threw you and her son in his purple El Dorado.

Elvis was worried for a second, but she told him to stop worrying and Vernon was perfectly okay driving the pink Cadillac- after all, it was kinda her car, even though she didn’t drive it herself.

Neither Gladys or you seemed to care about the friends you brought to the event and were now kind of stranded in Tupelo and Elvis didn’t really think about it either as he started the engine of the car.

“Thank you, Lovie. Tell Mr. Presley to drive safely!” you told her as you hung out the open window and gave her a quick hug and kissed her cheek, quickly getting back in the car again- Elvis drove off with a wave and you didn’t stop waving until Gladys was completely out of sight.

Pulling the silk scarf Gladys had given you from your neck, you looked at the small bite marks through the rearview mirror.

“Here,” Elvis spoke up as he drove off the fairgrounds, avoiding the festivities downtown as he turned the other way. He bit into his thumb, breaking enough skin to draw some blood- you knew his blood was healing, but you had never needed it before. Despite not needing the substance to survive nor did it taste as good to you as it did to him, you being the one taking his blood now was kind of turning you on all over again. “Quick, honey,” he laughed softly as he noticed his skin healing up again.

Before it could, you quickly grabbed his hand and sucked his thumb in between your lips. His fingers clenched around the steering wheel when he felt you sucking on the digit, tongue lapping around it, your eyes boring into his. “O-Oh.. s-shit,” he stammered softly, his body immediately responding to your actions and the way you were looking at him, blood rushing to his cock.

You giggled softly as you released his thumb with a soft ‘pop’ and placed a quick kiss on the back of his hand before dropping it in his lap. Looking at your neck in the mirror again, you were fascinated by the sight of the marks disappearing like they had never been there in the first place.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you crawled closer to him, resisting the urge to plant yourself in his lap. He bit his lip as his eyes fluttered closed for a few seconds when you ran your fingers through his hair and dragged your nails down the back of his neck- all of his senses were on high alert right now.

He could hear your steady heartbeat, the traffic outside, the radio playing softly in the background. He could hear, see and smell everything but the scent of your growing arousal was the most dominant one and it was driving him insane.

He needed to find a parking spot and fast.

“I-I don’t know… off this road.. a-anywhere we can be alone,”

It was all you needed to know to mark your territory in his neck, having fun with creating hickeys and seeing them heal up before you even had the chance to admire them.

 

Luckily, Elvis knew his way around Tupelo. This morning, the original plan had been to hang around the fairgrounds after the shows as far as that was possible and then make the drive back to Memphis but both you and Elvis were too impatient to make the nearly two hour drive right now.

The vampire found an empty parking lot near the highway where he sloppily parked the Cadillac and as soon as he killed the engine, you were straddling him and kissing him hard. Right now, you did not care at all if you looked desperate or not, because you were. You had been painfully turned on the second he bit you earlier today and you waited long enough- your chance to have him was being presented right in front of your nose and you were going to grab onto it with both hands.

Elvis sure as hell didn’t mind either- he had been waiting for this moment ever since hormones came out to play during his teenage years.

“Damnit,” he mumbled against your lips with a grin on his face, his hands fumbling with the few buttons of your pants. “Why didn’t ya wear a dress today?” he teased, not really caring what you wore or whatsoever. He’d have the fabric off soon anyways and to him, you looked good in anything. But inside the tight space of the car, it would’ve made his job a bit more easier.

Pulling back from the kiss, you laughed and playfully swatted his hands away to flick open the buttons. He grabbed onto your hips and swiftly put you on your back on the front seat of the car- his movements were so quick that there was no room or time for clumsiness. He seemed confident in himself as he pulled your zipper down and tugged your pants down your thighs after you kicked off the flats you were wearing, but still there was that sense of nervousness coming from the both of you.

You weren’t worried about the fact that you were about to have sex with a vampire, but this was your best friend. The boy you had a crush on since you were a young girl- the boy who gave you your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle, the boy who stood up for you against everyone and everything. Your relationship could either change for better or for worse, but with the way he was looking up at you while kissing his way down your leg and to your thigh, he got you too distracted to let the worries take over your mind.

Elvis didn’t waste time and pulled your panties down, dropping them somewhere on the floor as he placed his flat hands against the back of your thighs, spreading your legs- the sight of you being so exposed in front of his face and the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils so deliciously made him dig his thumbs in your thighs and thrust his hips forward against the seat to create some friction. Despite the sun having set a few hours ago and the only light you had shining in the car came from a lamppost on the other side of the parking lot, he could see you clear as crystal and he found it hard to look away.

Your pussy was quite literally glistening because you were so wet- he was mesmerized.

“How long are you gonna stare at it?” you teased as you raised yourself on your elbows, getting a better view of having him settled in between your legs.

His eyes met yours as he laughed, releasing tension on one of your thighs to move his hand down and gather some of your slick on his digits as he ran them through your folds, making you gasp softly. “Sorry, honey- it’s just so… pretty,”

Your cheeks heated up at the odd compliment- you weren’t a virgin and had seen other guys in this position, although not in a car, but none of them had ever said anything like that. And none of them had ever admired your most sensitive body part as if it was a piece of fine art.

“Been waitin’ too long to see it,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear through the sound of your heart thumping faster in your ears- a soft moan rolled off your tongue as his thumb rubbed small, slow circles on your clit. Your hips automatically moved along to the rhythm of his fingertips and your hand moved down in his hair as he suddenly slipped in two fingers at the same time.

He knew you weren’t a virgin, so he knew you could take it.

“Elvis, please..” you whined softly, trying to push his face closer to where you wanted him most, but it was like trying to move a mountain- he didn’t even move a muscle.

“Impatient little thing,”

You could see by the way he was smirking that he wasn’t done teasing. It took him a lot of restraint to hold himself back, but he wanted to see how far he could take it. He kissed you before, but the both of you had never gone this far- he didn’t know what you were into and what you were definitely not into, but he wanted to find out on his own. He let you tug on his hair all you wanted as he kissed the inside of your thigh, rolling his tongue against your heated skin while pushing his fingers deeper inside of you- he pulled them back, but just as you were about to complain, he sunk them right back in, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit. As he rubbed it against the sensitive nub while bending the tip of his fingers inside of you, you let out a moaned curse.

He brought himself up, squeezing you in between his body and the front seat, his lips meeting yours. You immediately welcomed his tongue into your mouth, roaming your hands down his chest and to the buttons of his blouse. He deepened the kiss as he groaned, picking up the pace of his fingers which he pumped in and out of you as you easily flicked open all the buttons of his shirt and ran your hands up his chest. His skin was warm due to the velvet fabric he was wearing and it was just as soft as well- the sound of him moaning in the kiss when your nails caressed his nipples made your muscles tighten around his digits.

When you moved your hands down to tug his pants down his thighs and your hands disappeared in his boxershorts, he bit your lower lip harshly. Letting out a high pitched moan, you wrapped your hand around his cock and squeezed it softly in response- he sucked your lip into his mouth, tasting the blood he had drawn.

“Elvis,” you moaned breathlessly as he released your lip, swiping his tongue over it to get the last drip of blood. “Bite me,”

He moaned softly as he pressed his forehead against yours, his lips ghosting over yours- your hand picked up pace, thumb swirling around his tip to lace it with some of his pre-cum, and so did his fingers.

“W-wanna fuck while doin’ it,” he whispered as he flicked his tongue against your lips teasingly, making you laugh softly and nod.

Despite having all the time in the world, your body was screaming, yearning, for him- if you wouldn’t have him now, the world might just come to an end.

 

The stretch of Elvis filling you up as you sank down onto him left you gasping and whining, nails digging into his shoulders which you were holding onto for dear life.

Elvis wasn’t doing much better himself- he hadn’t slept with a lot of people after turning into a vampire. He was already in love with you before that and due to his heightened emotions, those feelings grew tenfold in intensity. Sure, he dated a few girls and did some fooling around now and then but they weren’t you. It just wasn’t the same. So, the feeling of your warm tightness trapping him inside of you right now had him throwing his head back on the seat and his hands gripping onto your hips, guiding your slow and gentle thrusts.

He wouldn’t be able to last long if you’d go any faster.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuuuck,” he cursed, rolling his head around to look at you through hooded lids. “You feel so good, Y/N- fuck,”

You laughed softly, your confidence growing at his words. You were slowly but surely getting used to the feeling of having him inside of you and wanted to pick up the pace, but he moaned deeply and held onto your hips firmer, preventing you from doing so.

“S-Slowly, slowly,” he warned, his cheeks a little flushed. You smiled at him and nodded, bringing your hands into your hair and moving it over your shoulder- he licked his lips at the exposed skin of your neck. You were curious and wanted to find out if you’d experience it in the same way you did earlier today- as he wrapped his arms around your waist, trapping you against his chest, and kissed your neck, it was like even that felt way more intense than before.

Your hands found their way back into his hair and you whined as you felt the sharp pain of his fangs penetrating your skin but as he tightened his grip around you, the pain was long gone. All you felt was pleasure and this was nothing compared to this afternoon- it felt so much better. You took advantage of his hands not being on your hips anymore, thrusting onto him a little firmer- it took him slightly by surprise and he groaned deeply against your skin, some blood slipping out from between his lips and down your collarbones.

He took less than before and you had eaten a proper meal in between his first and second show, so your energy didn’t fade as fast. The feeling of him pulling his fangs out of your flesh was still a strange one that made you shiver and the spot he just bit stung, but as he lapped his tongue over the bite marks, the uncomfortable hint of pain was gone as soon as it came.

Elvis pulled his head out of your neck and you cupped his face, staining your thumb with the blood that was on his lips before letting him suck on the digit. The sight made your muscles clench around his length tightly and he groaned, teasingly but softly biting your thumb before you pulled it out of his mouth. You didn’t know what came over you as you leaned in and licked up some of your own blood that dripped down his chin before kissing him- Elvis sure as hell wasn’t complaining, eagerly and sloppily kissing you back.

“Faster?” you questioned hopefully in between kisses, twirling your hips around teasingly.

Elvis laughed softly, loosening his arms around you and moving his hands down to your ass, harshly squeezing it. “Fuck yes, faster, baby- fuck me,”

You’d never expected Elvis to be a submissive type during sex, but it awakened a whole new side inside of yourself. Having him tell you to fuck him was something you wouldn’t forget about any time soon.

But unlike Elvis, you weren’t much of a teaser and gave him what he asked for right away.

 

Elvis wasn’t even sure if he was on this planet anymore. This was better than any kind of blood he’d ever tasted, better than the music settling in his bones when he was on stage- this was goddamn euphoric.

The entire car was shaking and rumbling with how fast and hard you were riding him, the fog on the windows hard evidence to people driving by that unholy things were being done in the vehicle, but he couldn’t get himself to care one bit.

He could barely think straight, didn’t even know where to put his hands anymore- they went from running through his hair, to squeezing your breasts which were on full display because he had hastily taken your top off minutes earlier, and squeezing at your thighs. The moans that left you were like music to his ears, but to you, his were even better.

He had completely put down his guard, moaning and whining desperately, calling out your name like a prayer. It got you more motivated than you’d ever been during sex with anyone else and you were pretty sure your thighs were going to feel like jelly after this, but you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop, not with him looking this pretty and vulnerable underneath you- you just wished you had more lighting to admire him in all his glory.

“God, I’m so c-cl.. close,” he grunted, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as you placed your hands behind you on his knees, arching your back to give him a priceless view of your body. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he wasn’t going to miss out on a view like that. “Yes, baby- just like that, feels d-damn good. Fuck, fuck- where’d ya learn that?!”

You laughed softly through your moans at his words, repeating the action of raising your hips until his cock threatened to leave your tightness altogether before firmly sinking back down onto him. It was obvious to you in that moment that the girls Elvis had been with before weren’t as bold as you and this only made you feel more confident, a little smug even.

“You wanna cum inside me, baby?”

Elvis’ jaw clenched at that- never had any girl called him ‘baby’ like that. Never had any girl asked him if he wanted to cum inside of her. But your question sure didn’t fall on deaf ears- he liked having you on top, but he wanted you underneath him when he’d fill you up. Grabbing your hips, he nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs as he changed the position to missionary.

You didn’t mind the change all too much- it gave your legs a little time to rest as you wrapped them loosely around his waist and with the way he was pounding into you in a pace that didn’t even seem or feel human, hitting your spot with every thrust, it had you screaming nearly as loud as the girls at the front row of his shows.

Now his name was rolling off your tongue in a mantra, nails clawing at his biceps desperately as tears stung in your eyes. You couldn’t even announce your climax if you wanted to, because it hit you in the face like a ton of bricks, making you arch your back and spasm so hard that Elvis had to place his hand on your stomach, keeping you in place as he chased his own orgasm.

You were seeing stars, feeling slightly light headed, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off your best friend as he let out a deep moan, followed by a string of profanities. His fingers were digging in your flesh so harshly you wouldn’t be surprised he was bruising you, but you were too out of your mind to comment on it or let it bother you.

His thrusts slowed down, hips stuttering forward as he threw his head back in his neck and grabbed onto your hips to prevent you from moving away. Not that you were planning to, despite starting to feel sensitive.

You were trying to get your breathing under control, whining softly as he pulled out of you and shoved his fingers inside of you again, stopping his cum from leaking onto the seat. You weren’t worried, knowing he wasn’t able to procreate anymore- you welcomed his lips as he softly pressed them onto yours, letting out a deep, content sigh in the kiss.

 

“We should probably go back to pick up the others,” you whispered against his lips with a soft laugh and he pulled back with a grin, slowly pulling his fingers out of you.

“They’ll find their way back,” he shrugged, going in for another kiss but you placed a finger against his lips, making him sigh and lower his head on your chest, snuggling up to you.

“It’s a two hour drive, El- we really can’t do that. Although Nick kinda deserves to be stranded,” you mumbled, making the male on top of you vibrate with laughter. “Also, I’m kinda in the mood for cotton candy,”

Raising his head, he gave you a goofy frown of his eyebrows and laughed as he shook his head. Then a grin spread across his face and he leaned in closer, kissing his way to your neck along your jawline. “You’re sweeter than cotton candy, beautiful,”

You winced softly as you felt his tongue lap at the bite marks in your neck, the pleasure not there to distract you from the pain this time. He immediately pulled out of your neck with apologetic eyes, biting the palm of his hand before holding it out to you- not feeling as turned on and freaky as before anymore, his blood tasted rather peculiar, but it did make the uncomfortable pain and bite marks in your neck disappear.

“Five more minutes,” you told him as you wiped some blood off your mouth with the back of your hand, wrapping your arms around him to bring him back in your embrace. “Then we’ll pick up the strays,”

He laughed at your words, nodding as he snuggled his face in your neck. He kept his fangs to himself this time, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing and licking the dried blood off your skin, the both of you hugging each other so hard you could barely breathe.

“I love you,” he blurted out in a whisper.

When you didn’t say anything back, panic started to creep into his veins and he slowly raised his head to look down at you. He caressed a strand of hair out of your face, about to apologize or maybe even tell you you shouldn’t feel obligated to say it back, but you beat him to it.

“I love you too, Elvis,” you told him with a smile tugging at your lips. He let out a soft, relieved sigh and kissed you again- eagerly, firmly, passionately.

The strays could wait a little longer than five minutes.

taglist: @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @woundmetender @returntoelvis @prayerstopresley @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @wonka-gifs @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @septembersghost @angelborn-1998

[rustbeltjessie]

I recognize him immediately. It’s impossible not to. He’s frozen at twenty-seven, young and drug-skinny, greasy strands of bleached hair sticking out from beneath his beanie. I’m just gonna let him be, not say anything, but we wind up next to each other at the wetlands exhibit. We’re both mesmerized by the taxidermied critters, these animals memorialized far past their natural lives. “I always liked raccoons,” he says. “Envied their masks.”

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from "Kurt Cobain at the Kenosha Public Museum" (Tupelo Press 30/30, Day 5)

Each day's poems can be found here. My fundraising page for the month is here.

[amyjasek]

Cimmaron

Cimmaron, NM | Polaroid photo by author End of the mountains, the end of the line.Dad used to say “the dead center of town.”The old bones resting here have done their time. Now they gaze out at the prairie, the fineendless grasses wave back. A man could drownin those mountains. He has to hold the line until it breaks, then hold on longer. Twineis good but faith is stronger. Dad’s short…

[kjoy678]

September 27, 1957: Elvis was in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi for a benefit concert for the Elvis Presley Youth Center. These are photos of Elvis at a Press Conference before the show.

[austinsmutler]

EEK i’m so happy you answered the request so i’m sending another one🤯🤯))

Austin! Elvis going to a press conference and seeing reader who is a famous singer. they grew up in tupelo but instead of going to memphis, reader was big in New York. After finally meeting again, they become as good of friends as they used to be. elvis begins harboring feelings for reader again?

during this press conference, reader gets a lot of “who’s your s/o” or “are you married yet” questions. Elvis can see the visible discomfort and sadness from the reader so he decides to step in. He asks for different questions and holds her hand under the table in a way to comfort them? at the end of the conference, elvis kisses reader and says some cheesy stuff like “for the next conference, you can answer yes to all the boyfriend stuff”

thank you so much EEK

Anon, did we just become best friends? I think we did. Thanks so much for this ask, and keep 'em coming! This one was such a cute idea, and so fun to write.

Thinking About You - Austin!Elvis x Reader - 3,900 Words

What you’ll like: Protective Elvis, 70s Austin!Elvis, BDE Elvis, Elvis stands up for reader, second-chance romance between old friends

Warnings: Period-typical misogyny (in SPADES)

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want!)

The press conference wasn't until tomorrow, but the hotel was already packed. Just take care of business. That was the only thing Elvis could think through all the noise, the shouting reporters and camera flashes.

But he had an evening to prepare for the worst of it.

He’d been first to arrive at the hotel, But he was only one of the big names up for an interview. The other artist and the conference moderator were arriving tomorrow. He didn’t even know who they were- hadn’t looked at the conference program or really anything to do with the press event. He just knew it was about music, that the Colonel was trying to set up a collaboration between Elvis and this other artist. The Colonel said it was vital to make an appearance. So here he was, appearing.

Answering a few questions (“I’m so excited for the conference, we have a real talented musician coming out tonight and I can’t wait to meet ‘em”) he made a few excuses (“My manager’s calling me, sorry honey”) and went up to his hotel room. A penthouse suite that was big enough to feel empty. 

Graceland might have been a mansion, but Elvis liked to keep it full of family, friends, and music. This was the worst part of being on the road, Elvis thought as he pulled back the curtain to look at the New York skyline. The city was beautiful, but compact; crowded and cold. The Memphis Mafia were crashing on another floor entirely, exhausted from the day of traveling. This floor was reserved for VIPs only. 

Elvis wandered around his suite: a small kitchen area with fully-stocked cupboards catered to his tastes, a large bed with thick covers of purple satin and velvet, gold trimmings on the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked half the city, the black roads dotted with yellow cabs and the gray sky above. 

“Although it's always crowded,” Elvis sang to himself softly, smiling down at the streets below, “You still can find some room… For broken-hearted lovers to cry there in their gloom…”

He shrugged the emptiness away, deciding to stroll along the floor instead of hanging there like a ghost in the gloom. The VIP lounge had a fully-staffed bar and a private kitchen, all fully-stocked with anything he could hope to order. 

“Whiskey and coke.” Elvis sat at the empty bar, surveying the green velvet booths. From this angle, there was a view of the brownish-grey Hudson river, just beginning to glow orange as the sun set over New York City. 

The bartender poured the drink just as the door to the lounge opened. Elvis turned in time to see a woman taking reluctant strides into the empty room, hair perfectly-coiffed, eyes darting around the room, only to freeze on him. His fingers tightened on his glass as he recognised who it was. 

You.

** ** ** **

“Elvis Presley,” A smile broke over your face, “It’s been a while, huh?” 

Your heart hammered in your chest as Elvis got up, drink forgotten on the bar, and gave you a hug. Almost a decade since you last saw each other, but his arms hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Wow, look at you.” Elvis pulled back, looking you up and down. It was hard not to feel self-conscious as he drank you in. You wore your best New-York-casual outfit. It glittered like the city lights with every movement, the egg-yolk orange sunset haloing you and Elvis as everything else seemed to melt away. 

You were glad you’d come dressed to impress- granted, that was due to the vultures outside with their cameras. Press conferences weren’t your thing, but your manager had insisted on coming here. 

Then you’d seen Elvis’ name on the program, heard about a possible collaboration, and your mind was set. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, E.P.” You grinned, using the old nickname everyone had called him in high school. Elvis returned the smile with his now-famous lip curl. He wore a red button-up that rose high on his neck, black flares and shiny boots that added to his already-considerable height.

“C’mon, let me get you a drink.” Elvis ushered you to the bar with one hand on your upper back. A respectful touch, but one that sent electricity sparking up your whole body. You fought it away with a shiver, which Elvis caught. “Are you cold? I can ask them to check the thermostat.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” You grinned. Protective as ever, after all this time. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to since moving to Memphis, but I think there’s not a soul in America who doesn’t know that.”

He laughed, “You could say I’m a modest success.”

“You must be proud.” You smiled, ordering a gin and tonic. Anything to loosen up under the way he looked at you, blue eyes focused on nothing else. 

Elvis shrugged. “I always wanted to make music, and I’ve been doing just that. Rock ‘n Roll, Gospel, Rockabilly, Country. I’ve done a little of everything at this point.” He sipped his drink. “What about you? I heard you were doing well, but I haven’t heard from you since…”

“High school?” You could still remember the last time you’d seen each other: a tearful goodbye as Elvis went on tour and you went to college, certain never to meet again. “Well, you know I was supposed to go to college here, but I actually dropped out. Realized medicine wasn’t for me.”

You smiled at the memories of that simpler time, when you had no idea how the music industry worked. “My first album didn’t do too bad, if I do say so myself. I’m not exactly touring all 50 states, but I do alright for a lil girl from Tupelo.” 

“I’ve seen you on magazines. I almost didn’t recognize you at all the first time, when you did that cover for Modern Woman…” He trailed off, slack-jawed. 

“Well,” You chuckled, “They slap a lot of makeup on me. I use my pseudonym, and I never talk about my personal life. As far as anyone knows, I was born in New York at the ripe old age of eighteen.”

“I have your album at home.” Elvis murmured, looking down at his drink. Were his cheeks lightly pink, or was that the light? You couldn’t tell for sure. “S’nice. Your voice- I’ve never forgotten it. Always thought that record sounded just like you.”

“Wonder why.” You laughed. “It’s so good to see you again, E.P.” 

“You have no idea.” The smile on his face was happy, but not entirely. Sadness echoed in his eyes for a minute- if you didn’t know him so well, you might not have caught it. You pursed your lips but didn’t ask. 

Even after years apart, conversation flowed between the two of you all-too-easily. Eventually the two of you moved from the bar into a booth, still sitting side-by-side instead of across from each other. It was as if there were an unspoken agreement between the two of you: no more distance. A decade was more than enough. 

“You never told me you wanted to be a singer.” Elvis coked an eyebrow at you. “Any other secrets I should know about?”

You shook your head with a grin. “I didn’t know myself, to be honest. You taught me how to play guitar, and when I moved to New York I had nobody to talk to, so I spent all my time in my dorm, playing until my fingers bled.”

You showed him your calloused fingers, the sure mark of a musician. They matched his perfectly. 

“Anyway, one night my roommate pretty much forced me to go out with them to this bar, and they were having an open mic. I didn’t want to do it at first, but my roommate was like ‘You’ll keep me up all night playing, but when you have a real audience you’re suddenly shy? Come on!’ So she shoved me up and I played some Big Mama Thornton. Started with Up Above My Head, then Ball n Chain, Hound Dog... They didn’t let me off the stage till dawn.” 

You smiled at the memory. The crowd, the encouragement when all you’d felt before was fear, everything about being a musician pulled you in. Almost everything.

“The rest is history. Thanks for those guitar lessons, by the way.” You nudged him with your elbow. “You could really make a career out of this music thing.”

He laughed. By now the sun had long since set, and Elvis’ face was perfectly framed in the purple neon lights of the lounge, making him look dark and mysterious. Masculine and sexy. You squeezed your thighs together under the table, trying to fight the more inconvenient memories away. That would hurt too much. 

The last time Elvis had kissed you was the day he left for tour. He left first, leaving your hometown empty. Letters had hurt too much to write, phone calls became too strained and distant, so you’d agreed to stop. But there were no hard feelings- you’d always understood each other, and that hadn’t changed, even though everything else had. 

But here you were. Older, established artists, with separate lives that parallelled perfectly. When Elvis’ hand brushed over yours, you didn’t pull away. He shot you a shy smile- the same he’d had when he asked you out to prom all those years ago. Young, naive, vulnerable. Some things never change.

You stayed in the VIP lounge, talking about life. The music you both enjoyed now, experiences with other celebrities (you’d made an infamous movie with Marlon Brando, leading to a lot of unfounded rumors). Eventually you got to ask how things were back in Memphis. You hadn’t visited in years. 

“Well, we’ll have to change that.” Elvis gave you that curled-lip smile, the one that melted every heart in America- but it had touched yours first. A spark of pride flamed in your chest, but you squashed it down. 

“Is that an invitation?”

There was his hand again, fingers warm on yours. 

“You come to Graceland whenever you feel like it. Just rock up, I don’t mind.” Elvis chuckled. “When they ask, tell security at the gate your name is Blue Suede Shoes. They’ll know you’re alright.”

Your heart fluttered. “Elvis Presley, you can’t just go giving anyone and everyone your secret passwords.”

“You aren’t just anyone.” 

You did your best to ignore the gleam in his eye. You’d probably just imagined it anyway. So much had changed- too much- and yet he was still the same man you’d loved all those years ago. 

Loved. Suddenly none of those feelings felt past-tense.

“I should go to bed.” You pulled away, ignoring the flash of hurt in his eyes. “You should too, conference starts early tomorrow.”

“I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Elvis offered a weak smile. “Can I walk you to your door?”

You stood on shaky legs- how many gin and tonics had you ordered? 

“If you like.” 

He frowned at your cool tone, but nodded. When you stumbled in your heels, he watched as you kicked them off without ceremony, padding along the luxurious, carpeted corridor in bare feet. 

“Remember when we’d drive down to the creek, in summer?” He spoke softly, and your pace slowed. “You wore those shorts your Momma hated.”

“You loved ‘em.”

“Wonder what she’d say to those shoes.” 

You shared a chuckle- while Elvis’ family maintained traditional Southern values, they also had a rebelliousness your family didn’t understand. Your mother went to special pains to ensure you kept your shoulders covered at all times, never touched makeup or booze, never wore a skirt north of your knees. 

The hotel room door loomed over the two of you, ornate and inviting. 

“Well, goodnight.” You turned to go, but Elvis’ fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you close. You looked up at his eyes, clear blue and inches from yours. His breath fanned hot across your face. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, tucking your head beneath his chin. 

“It’s been good to catch up, darlin’.”

He was still standing there, easygoing smile on his lips, when you locked the hotel door behind you. 

** ** ** **

Sleep didn’t come for you that night, and by the time sunlight streamed in through the ornate silk curtains you were kicking yourself for letting Elvis back into your head. The press were ruthless, ready to take any crumb of what you could give them and spin it into a national headline. You needed to choose your words carefully, to be ahead of whatever questions they could ask, but you weren’t. 

You put on a white suit with sharp shoulders and golden embroidery down the sleeves. It made you feel like a queen, but it didn’t take away any of the grogginess. You placed dark aviator glasses over your eyes and headed out with a sigh. 

“Excuse me?” You manager, Joey, ripped them from your face the minute he saw you. “We want them to see your face, sweetheart.”

They were about to announce names in the next room, the moderator taking initial questions from reporters. Your heart thumped so loud it drowned out every other noise. 

“The cameras flash really bright in there. I’ll look worse if I’m constantly blinking the lights out of my eyes.”

“Why do you think people buy your music?” Joey said with an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got a unique sound, sure…” 

He gripped your chin and you fought the urge to pull away. “But your face? There’s a reason we call that the moneymaker.”

“Is there a problem here?” Suddenly a large presence was behind you, and Joey released your chin so he could take two steps back. When you turned, Elvis was glowering at the other man. 

“No problem!” You squeaked. The situation with your manager was… standard, from what you could tell. Other female singers went through it all the time. “Joey was just giving me a… pep talk, before we get started.”

Elvis quirked an eyebrow, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “You’ll do great. You’re the queen of New York blues.”

Those two sentences filled you with pride, and your heart slowed, just a little. Elvis studied your face like he was trying to read your mind, and it was all you could do not to blush under those blue eyes. 

Then someone called his name, and he disappeared through the curtains to greet the crowd. There was only one rule at the press conference: each performer would have the spotlight, on their own, for ten minutes. Elvis’ manager swung it so he was on stage all by himself for the first ten minutes- even if you wanted to steal the spotlight, it would be impossible. Smart. 

His solo time was over in a flash though. Your name was called and Joey all-but pushed you out in front of the sharks. 

The flashes instantly blinded you, and you almost stumbled on your way to the table, but you sat down without a hitch. Step one, check. 

“Howdy.” You smiled into the microphone, prompting another roar from the crowd. Then the questions began.

“When are we going to see another album from the queen of New York Blues?”

“Keep an ear out. My new single will be out next week, and an album not long after.” 

“Your last album had a whole lot of love songs, can you tell us what - or who - your inspiration was?”

The question would have made you stutter, but with a glance to the moderator, you knew you were on your own. 

Then a warm hand found yours under the table. You could feel the cool metal of his signet rings, and it relaxed you. Elvis.

“Inspiration is a funny thing for any artist.” You managed to keep your voice steady. Almost friendly. “Blues comes from the South: work songs, field songs, church music, folk and pop all coming together. It’s full of pain and love. It just so happens that when I write a song, I draw more from love.”

Your fingers dug into your knees under the table as you realized your mistake. Too specific. It gives them too much of an in.

“So is it safe to say you’re in love?” 

“With my music.” You said with a firm smile. “Every Friday I put on my red shoes and dance the blues, gentlemen.”

A chuckle spread through the crowd, but one reporter wasn’t ready to drop it. “Are you currently seeing any men?”

“Yes, a whole lot of them. Right in front of me.” Another laugh from the crowd, Elvis’ hand gave you a reassuring squeeze under the table before withdrawing. When you chanced a glance from the corner of your eye, he was smirking. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why, are you interested?” Your chuckle was a little high-pitched, forced. You could keep your cool well enough, but this was the part of the job you hated: the scrutiny of everything personal. It wasn’t enough to put your soul into your art, people wanted a piece of everything else too.

“Just interested in the truth.” The reporter smiled, but it was more of a sneer. “Who are you seeing?”

“Nobody.” Eloquent answers hadn’t worked, maybe short ones would. 

“Dating around?”

“No.” You shifted in your seat.

“What do you have to say to the rumors about your secret marriage?”

You rolled your eyes. “I starred in one movie with Marlon Brando. As a background character. We never even spoke.”

“Is that a hint of bitterness there?” A laugh- at your expense- broke through the crowd. You forced a smile. 

“Well-”

“Could we get some questions about her music, please?” Elvis leaned forward with a pointed gleam in his eyes. “C’mon, this is the queen of New York Blues here, fellas.” 

He glared at the moderator, who checked his watch. “Actually, it’s time to open up the floor to questions for both artists. Who would like to begin?”

The next few hours went by in a blaze of questions- mostly for Elvis, but a few about your upcoming album and collaborations. If any reporters asked personal questions, you deflected them- or Elvis glared at the reporter until they decided to change tactic.

By the time the event was finally over, you just wanted to go back up to your hotel room and collapse in bed. Maybe cry. Definitely cry. Something about giving away so much of yourself at once felt like being ripped to shreds, even if it was your job to feed the frenzy. 

“What were you thinking?” Joey said as he walked you to the elevator. He put on an insulting falsetto, “‘Oh, I’m not seeing nobody’, ‘No, I don’t date’- what was that? We need the fans to think you’re available, not a nun.”

“Yes sir.” Irritation knit your eyebrows together, and Joey pointed at your face. 

“And that. What have I told you about smiling? People want to see you as their happy girlfriend, not their miserable old crone of a wife.”

“I’ll get it right next time, Joey.” Your smile was all teeth. “They seemed excited about my next album.”

“Humph.” He grunted as you reached the elevator, you stepping inside while he hung in the doorway. “I’m going to be taking follow-up questions. I’ll try to sow some actual intrigue around your personal life, see what I can do to salvage this.” 

He took your aviators out of his pocket and tossed them at your feet. “You forgot these.” 

A growl interrupted the moment before you could think of a reply.

“You gonna get in that thing or what?” A low voice drawled from behind Joey, who turned to see Elvis glowering at him for the second time that day. 

“Not at all, Mr Presley. Fantastic job today, by the way.”

“Hmm.” Elvis dismissed the man with a wave of his hand that left no room for discussion. 

Once the elevator doors closed, he knelt to pick up your sunglasses. “You drop these?”

“Um. Yeah.” You blinked back tears, pasting on a smile. “Thanks, E.P.”

People want to see their happy girlfriend, not a miserable crone. 

Joey was a good manager. He could book you in anywhere- all the bars and clubs and even a few theatres, which was almost unheard of for a Blues artist, much less a female one. But the price you paid for that - aside from 40% of your royalties - was being ground into the dirt after every performance, musical or otherwise. You knew he enjoyed it, got a thrill out of tearing his performers down after seeing them built up. But there was nobody better in the business.

“You could do better than him.” Elvis said as you rode the elevator to the penthouse. 

“Who, Joey?”

“I know it’s not my place, but you’d really be better off with a player like Brando.”

“Me and Joey?” You laughed. “We’re not a couple. He’s my manager- just my manager. I wasn’t lying about being single.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, clamping a hand over your face. “But I can’t believe they asked about Brando. When I heard that rumor, I never thought they’d actually say it to my face.”

“Unprepared paps.” Elvis mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “Always ask stupid questions.”

“I hate them.” You spoke without thinking. It felt good. “Every time they ask me anything, it always goes the same way. Who am I dating? What does my non-existent boyfriend think of the album? When am I getting married? If I wanted to answer those questions I’d call my Momma."

Elvis smiled at his shoes, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. The elevator pinged and the doors opened on your floor. You both got out, but didn’t make a move. His room was on the right, yours on the left. 

"It’s not like anyone’s interested, anyway.” You'd meant it as a joke, a parting word, but Elvis stopped you before you could turn around.

Before you could open your mouth, his lips were on yours, hands cupping your face gently. Like you were something precious. He was the only man who’d ever touched you so reverently, like he was lucky to be so close to you. 

The kiss was soft, but hungry. Before you knew it, Elvis had you backed against the wall, his hands on your hips as he devoured your lips until you had to break apart to breathe. 

“Consider me interested.” Elvis breathed, thumb stroking over the small of your back. 

“E-” His name turned into a gasp as Elvis’ lips found your neck, finding the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder, as easily as he had when you were teens in the back of his truck. He remembers everything, doesn’t he?

“Next time they ask,” Elvis kissed just below your ear, “You can answer yes to all those questions." 

He pulled back to look in your eyes.

“Please.” He said, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question.

You nodded, leaning up for another kiss. “I forgot what it’s like.”

He looked at you curiously. 

“You. Being close to you. E.P, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I know it’s only been a day, but you still make me feel… safe.”

His arms tightened around you. “I should’ve called you more, on that first tour. I was an idiot, darlin’. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Kiss me again. I’ll consider it.”

[aliypop]

Anyday Now: Chapter 1

Word Count: 2,448

Writers Note: Lost steam on the Tupelo fic, so here's a new series

Warning: Angst

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Chapter 2

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

 Graceland 1967

"YOU'RE REARLY HERE!" Cecelia shouted, "You don't even know how things work anymore with the kids!" Elvis was shocked by her sudden shift in mood. An hour ago, he was reuniting with his wife and kids, and now it was World War Three. "Aw hell, Cece, I give the kids gifts, and suddenly I'm a bad father!" Elvis sighed as if he knew he added more fuel to the fire. Cecelia only laughed as she got closer to him. "They don't need a gift giving money totting daddy. They need their father!" Cecelia sighed. She had gone on too many stressful nights without Elvis now that he was doing more movies and The Colonel was working him like a musical mule, "But what would you know, you're probably in California with some young little thing, forgettin' you have responsibilities here in Memphis!"

"You keep it up, and you'll lose me like your mama lost your pa-" The bedroom door slammed in his face as he shook his head. He wondered when did things get so bad that they started arguing like this. He could hear her crying, and it broke his heart that she was in this much pain emotionally. He had to fix it.

"What would your mama say if she heard us fightin' like this, huh!" Cecelia said, her back against the bedroom door.

Elvis cleared his throat as he did one of his funny voices, "She'd say Booby! That's the one good woman you got. Either get yourself together, or you'll lose her." Elvis chuckled, as did Cecelia, leaning against the door as he fell into her lap. Blue eyes looking at cloudy hazel eyes, "You know I love you, right..." Cecelia asked,

"If you didn't, you wouldn't pitch such a fight to keep me in check." his hand on her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her, "I'm sorry if I made you feel all alone,"  

"I'm sorry if I made you feel like I nag you." Taking his hand, Cecelia pressed a soft kiss into his palm. Elvis then got up and carried her to the bed, 

"We haven't had any mama and papa time. Since I've been back. I think we're long over,"

CRASH!

"JESSIE BROKE IT!"

"DID NOT!"

"Duty calls Mr. Presley..." Cecelia sighed, getting up as Elvis kissed her lips, "You stay right here. I'll handle this." he winked at his wife as she bit her lip. Something about him taking charge did it for her. As Elvis went downstairs, his twins Jessie and Elaine greeted him.

"Who broke what..."

"Elaine broke a bowl," Jessie said, a smirk on his face. Jessie was the trickster and troublemaker, but Elvis loved him dearly, even if he did get punished a lot. 

"Jessie broke it! Cause you said no snacks out of the pretty plates!" Elaine stated. Elaine was a daddy's girl. But she was also independent at times and almost always slept between her parents in their bed. 

"What pretty plate was broken..." Elvis could feel a headache coming, especially if it was the plates from,

"The cabinet with the matching cups in it," Jessie said as Elvis had a face that read oh shit. Walking towards The China cabinet, he had hoped it wasn't the wedding china, but when he opened the door, he noticed the missing plate, which matched the shattered one on the ground. 

"And you were going to leave it on the floor..." Elvis asked, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah, 'cause mama won't notice!" Jessie said, telling on himself, 

"Mhmm, so you broke a plate and a bowl?"

"Mhmm!" Jessie nodded,

"And you lied, saying your sister did it?"

"Yep!" Jessie said, a smile on his face as Elvis chuckled. If parenting is this easy, he'd try being a bad cop even more. "So Jessie, you know you're grounded, right," Elvis said as Jessie pouted, 

"But...But..."

"No comic books and TV time for two days, and you're helping with the horses," Jessie grumbled as he tried to muster out tears. Elaine stuck her tongue out at him as Elvis cleared his throat, "You can be next too little Biscuit." he smirked as Elaine straightened up. 

"Sorry, Daddy..."Elaine sighed. Elvis ruffled up her curly, dirty blonde hair. 

"Now, you two clean this mess up." 

"But it's got pointy parts!" Jessie said,

"Should've thought about that when you broke it." Walking back upstairs to the bedroom, Elvis noticed Cecelia was asleep. She looked like an angel, and he was still proud to say that she was his wife. Kissing her on the temple, Cecelia began to wake up, 

"Hmmm..."

"Did I wake you, baby?" Elvis asked as Cecelia pulled him closer to her body like he was a teddy bear. Lying next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, taking in her scent, "No, you didn't wake me," her voice was raspy, "I just was resting my eyes a bit..." she sighed. Cecelia sounded exhausted, and he could see why raising twins was a handful, and she was doing this alone when he was shooting movies. God, he needed to make it up to her, "Say, uh, Cece,"

"Hmm..."

"How can I make it up to ya?" Elvis asked as she laughed, "Well, I'd like some husband and wife time," Elvis laughed with her as he kissed her forehead, 

"So, a date night?" 

"Mhmm..."

"Say 7 pm tonight. Meet me downstairs?"

"Who's going to watch the twins..."She mumbled,

"The boys could."

"Elvis, remember what happened the last time the mob watched the twins." Elvis laughed, rubbing the back of his head, 

"Alright, fine. What about Jerry or, even better, Midge?"

"Midge is out of town with her wife Cheryl, but I trust Jerry," Cecelia agreed as Elvis laughed, 

"Why only Jerry?"

"Cause he doesn't let the twins chase each other with sparklers." 

"You got a point." Elvis laughed, kissing her forehead as he walked to their shared bathroom, "Say...Wanna make up for lost time?" Elvis asked as Cecelia looked up at him, "In the shower?" his eyebrow quirked up, and his smirk plastered on his face as she blushed, "Oh... The shower, " Cecelia blushed as Elvis took her by the hand, "Or would you prefer the tub?"

"Which gives you the better angles..." 

"Tub it is."

It was now a quarter to seven, and Cecelia was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She wanted to wow Elvis. Here she was wearing pink hot pants, a white blouse, and gogo boots. 

"You look pretty mama." Elaine smiled as Cecelia kissed her on the cheek, 

"Thank you, pumpkin."

"Where'ya going mommy..." Jessie asked, a pout on his face, 

"Well, I'm going out with your daddy," She giggled at the phrase,

"What about us?"

"Well, you'll be here with uncle-" The downstairs door creaked open as a voice boomed from downstairs, 

"WHERE'S MY GOD NIECE AND NEPHEW!"

"UNCLE JERRY!!!" Cecelia laughed as she got her purse and sprayed her perfume on. She was finally ready to head out for her date. 

"Lainie, Jess!" Jerry picked them both up as he smiled, "My favorite twins!" 

"We're the only twins, you know, Uncle Jerry!" The two laughed as Elvis shook his head. They were his pride and joy given to him by the most wonderful wife. 

"Hey. E don't look now, but there's an angel in your house." Jerry whispered as he saw the love-drunk look in his blue eyes, 

"How do I look?" Cecelia asked as Elvis was speechless,

"I-I- uh, Gorgeous." Elvis took her by the hand and kissed it, "Love the pants..."

"Love the scarf..." Cecelia pulled at it a little as she kissed him,

"EW!" The kids giggled as Jerry joined in, "Will you two love birds go!" 

"Okay, but remember Jessie gets hyper on sugar, and Elaine is only allowed one scoop of -"

"Ice cream before bed, I know, C," 

"And if you need us..."

"Cece, Jerry'll be fine." Elvis kissed her cheek. The two walk outside. It was still a little light outside. Fans gathered at the gates, and Cecelia already had her arms wrapped around Elvis, 

"I know he'll be fine. It's just mama's worry, you know." She shrugged as he laughed, "Papa's worry too. " he kissed her nose, walking toward the garage. Elvis scanned the room for what car? He wanted to take until he saw one of his motorcycles. There was a summer breeze, and he wanted to impress Cecelia. After all, they did start off on the wrong foot this morning. 

"Your uh carriage." He gestured as she got on with him,

"Groovy, as the kids say." Cecelia chuckled,

"Hold on tight, okay, darlin,"

"Of course," Starting up the motorcycle, they zoomed out the garage, down the gates waving at fans, and onto the Memphis streets. 

"Anywhere you wanna go?" Elvis asked,

"Wherever the wind takes us." She held onto him tighter, taking in his brutish scent and shampoo. Cecelia felt young again. 

"Mmm... What about memory lane?" 

"Memory lane?" 

"Yeah," Elvis smiled, the two racing like a speeding bullet. Their first stop was Audobon, and Cecelia could feel her heart pounding as if she were twenty again, holding pies, cakes, and potato casserole. 

"You know I haven't been back..."

"Since you moved, I know. It pained you when they kicked you all out, which was cruel." Cecelia held his hand, 

"But I remember when I met your parents." 

"You were so nervous, but my mama loved you," He chuckled, "I'm still envious of your bedroom..." she joked as Elvis laughed, 

"I don't think we paid much attention to it." He laughed,

"Between Bible scriptures and making out, I remember it well." she smiled as he helped her back on the bike. The stars were now out, and Memphis felt like a dream. They had passed Sun Records, and now they were at Russwood Park. 

"Still wished you'd seen the whole show." Elvis laughed, 

"I did, aside from climbing the fence and breaking my heel." Cecelia laughed as Elvis joined her, "Might I say, black is your color, 'cause..." She bit her lip as Elvis nudged her,

"Cause what, honey," 

"You look sexy and mysterious." She kissed his cheek.

"I'll keep that in mind," He blushed as Cecelia kissed the corners of his lips. They stayed in each other's arms for a little while until their stomachs started to grumble, 

"You hungry?" 

"I could eat." 

Sitting in a booth in a diner on Beale were Cecelia and Elvis. On their table were fries, a burger, two sodas, and a strawberry milkshake. It was almost like it was 1956 again. Sipping her orange Fanta, her eyes wouldn't leave Elvis's. Cecelia was still mesmerized by her husband, scooting her hand closer, her engagement ring bumping into one of the rings on his finger, interlocking their hands together as she giggled like a schoolgirl, 

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"I know you do, Elvis," She kissed his knuckles.

"Today really scared me." He sighed, taking a deep breath, "I don't want us to fight like that again. I don't ever think we should go to bed mad at each other either," looking deep into her eyes as she agreed, "We're a team El, we just gotta remember that, I don't want to be your enemy," 

"Then how can I make things better?" 

"When you're away, check in on us..." 

"No, I'll do you one better." He squeezed her hand, "I want y'all with me," He smiled, "I don't want to miss anything in their lives. I don't want to miss you either." He smiled. Cecelia gasped, leaning in to kiss him as she felt something cold spill into her lap, 

"Shit not again..."

"Elvis!" She chuckled,

"Seems it's tradition." He shrugged,

"Alright, did everyone take baths!" Jerry asked as Elaine and Jessie nodded, "Pj's are on," he smiled, "Teeth are brushed?" Elaine nodded as Jessie shook his head. Jerry playfully sighed, "Then, no ice cream for you." Jessie ran upstairs to brush his teeth as Jerry smiled. He didn't have kids of his own, but he and Rosa had thought about it some tune. Of course, it would be a bit hard on her. Considering she still wanted to sing and act, they'd cross that bridge when they got there. 

"Uncle Jerry..."

"Yes, Memphis," sitting at her level. 

"I don't think Mommy and Daddy are in love anymore." Elaine sighed,

"Whys that."

"Well, today they were arguing, and they both said mean things, and mommy was crying," 

"Adults do that sometimes, but they love each other, I promise." Jerry smiled, ruffling up her hair, 

"How do you know!" Jerry could hear the engine outside revving up as he took her to the window and showed her parents laughing and carrying on with each other. 

"So, wait, wait, The Colonel then said you should just do movies for the rest of your life?" Cecelia laughed, "Every day, that man proves why you should've signed under my mother." She huffed, 

"I know, I know, but now he's thinkin a Christmas Special for next year, and..." Cecelia looked at him, 

"You don't sound sure about it, baby..."

"Cause I'm not. I mean, I'll be performin again, but..."

"You feel like you're being told how to."

"Yeah..." He sighed, the two walking into the house, little arms wrapped around his leg, "What're you doing up, little biscuit?"

"Didn't wanna sleep without you saying good night..." her hand wrapped around his pinkie as his heart melted, "Alright baby, up on Daddy's back!" He laughed as Jessie tackled him from up the stairs, 

"How're things with you and Rosa," Cecelia asked as Jerry laughed,

"Well, she's droppin' hints about marriage, but..."

"You don't think she's ready," Cecelia asked,

"Not really. I mean, she's got wanderin' eyes and-" 

"Who's got wanderin' eyes?" Elvis interrupted

"Rosa."

"Thought she was engaged to Scotty..."

"They broke it off 'cause he was broke," Cecelia mentioned," Rosa is a good girl, she just, she's well..."

"A lot," Elvis smirked, 

"Just take your time with her," Cecelia added as Jerry nodded, "Well, goodnight, y'all two. And no more arguing." He winked at Elaine, who was at the steps.

"How'd you know." They both said. As they turned around and saw Elaine giggling, 

"Little biscuit!"

"Hmmm!" 

"Mama!" Jessie called as Cecelia sighed, running toward his voice, "You tuck Elaine in, and I'll handle Jessie." After their parenting duties were done, the two met in their shared bedroom, exhausted and cuddling each other, until the phone rang. 

"Hello... Who's this..."

"Oh yes, you..." 

"Elvis, it's the pain in my ass on the phone." Cecelia chuckled as Elvis nearly spit out his water laughing, 

[kitchen-light]

What is most resonant is that sense of connection between all beings. All beings have their own dignity, their own humanness. And the philosophy of vnvketckv remains at the center of what it means to be a Mvskoke person - that is, always keep your path in the direction of kindness.

Joy Harjo, from her essay “Beyond Time and Place”, from “A God in the House | Poets Talk About Faith”, edited by Ilya Kaminsky and Katherine Towler, Tupelo Press, 2012

[ruknowhere]

Approaching Seventy

A spider crawls beneath the screen,

designs a web in the corner and waits

with the patience of a calendar.

This is the end of summer,

scent of decay everywhere in the outside air,

flowers, planted last spring with such

a sense of promise, leaving one by one,

disappearing into the earth.

I think of endings--

final page of a novel

and the characters you've come to love

placed on the shelf,

a wave from a doorway-- those slight

or heavy sadnesses---

friend in Sagaponock the last time I saw her,

waving from the dock as the ferry pulled out

and the wake lengthened between us,

or swells on a stormy crossing,

pine boughs, dark, lifting and falling

in heavy rain, one night of my childhood,

beyond the small stair top bedroom

at my aunt's Vermont inn, as I lay awake--

wood smoke and voices from the lobby below,

a memory of suitcases standing by a farmhouse

front door, milk cans topped with snow, the pale

complexion of my mother who left and didn't return,

memory of lilacs--branches my brother and I used to climb through,

scratching ourselves as we hid from each other--

not long ago, at an airport, we hugged goodbye again--

what I left behind when I moved

to this senior apartment--some feeling of usefulness,

half of my books, most of my clothes.

Sometimes, it feels as if I've said goodbye to everyone.

Through the north window, I watch clouds move off

beyond my vision, and somewhere dissolve into rain.

Patricia Fargnoli of Walpole NH, a former New Hampshire Poet Laureate, is the author of five collections of poetry. Her latest book, Duties of the Spirit (Tupelo Press, 2005) won the Jane Kenyon Literary Award.