#elvis angst

[wanderingelvis]

hi girlie! love your work, please could you write about a reader that loves sex with ep but is still very innocent?

i hope you like it! thank you for requesting!

masterlist is here for more elvis fics takin' new elvis requests here

wc - 2.8k

warnings - SMUT, daddyk!nk, profanity, overstim, praisek!nk, innocencek!nk, all the usual stuff for me

Elvis was the one to expose you to a lot of your firsts. Your first kiss, your first time in Las Vegas, your first designer dress, your first sip of alcohol but most importantly, your first experience of sexual pleasure. 

Now, despite your innocence, even you knew that Elvis had been with many lovers and was well known for his abilities in the bedroom. Sure, it made you a little hesitant at first, a little scared that he would find someone more exciting and experienced than you and forget all about you. Actually, you were more than a little scared of that happening, you were terrified, you didn't even want to fall for Elvis because you never felt that you were worth the famous man's time or attention but oh Lord, you fell hard.

And you could tell straight away why so many people fell for him, when he looked at you, it felt like he was looking through to your soul and out the other side again. It was like you were the only person in the world to him in that moment.

But when Elvis introduced you to the world of pleasure and sex, you couldn't get enough. You were nervous during your first times, so, so nervous and Elvis could tell. But he went slowly with you, praising you and cooing at you as you took all of him, even if it stretched your walls and made a few sweet, little tears trickle down your cheeks.

Elvis would always praise you and make it clear what he was doing too, never leaving you in the dark.

"M'gonna take off these pretty lil' panties now, little girl."

"Open them lips f'me doll, that's it, just like that, good." He would hiss.

"Daddy's gotchu, s'okay baby, yer likin' that ain't ya? S'okay, I know yer overstimulated. That's my girl."

"Yer takin' my fingers so well little one, that's right, you're doin' so good f'me. You like that dontchu dolly? Yeah? M'gonna add another finger, stretch out yer pretty lil' cunt, I know you can handle it baby."

And he'd delight in watching you get so worked up under him, writhing with pleasure and practically begging for more through whimpers and tears each time.

Yet still, that sweet naivety that clouded you never left. You were always still seeking Elvis' guidance and love and attention and that's when Elvis realised the gem that he had in you.

You'd gaze up at him with uncertainty, seeking reassurance with every move as he would teach you all the ways he enjoyed being pleasured and Elvis would have to stroke your pretty little head as he taught you how to give it.

You became obsessed with feeling pleasure from Elvis, you found yourself begging and mewling for it in the morning, whispering in Elvis' ear during the day asking for him to take you, and undressing yourself at the earliest opportunity in the evenings so that Elvis would have his way with you.

And he'd always chuckle at you fondly, adoring your sweet desperation. 

You didn't even know the names of the acts that the two of you were performing but it didn't matter, your head became fuzzier and fuzzier over time, your only goal was to feel the pleasure that Elvis gave you.

And it wasn't long before Elvis realised you were his naive little nymphomaniac.

You were sat in your regular spot in the International, watching Elvis perform. You just thought he was oh so magical, the way he sang, the way he moved and gyrated on stage, captivating you and the rest of the audience. You watched tiny beads of sweat drip down his tanned face onto the chest hairs that were exposed by the white jumpsuit he wore.

He'd look over at you, every now and then, sending you a wink to make sure you knew he remembered that you were the most important little girl in the audience and by the end of the show, that sweet desperation that had started to become an all too familiar feeling, was creeping its way in. 

And Elvis just loved to tease you. He practically relished in watching you whine and plead for his touch and his love, he just thought you were so sweet, especially when you still didn't understand half of what was going on, you just got so carried away. 

So, when you and Elvis finally made it back up to the hotel suite after the show, you were nothing short of desperate. See, Elvis had this thing where he was just so damn nice to everyone that after a show, he'd go around and thank everyone for their hard work, and whilst you loved that about him, you were growing needier and needier by the second.

Elvis knew you all too well though, he knew that he was dragging this out for his little desperate baby. In fact, he didn't just know, he enjoyed it. Elvis decided to drag out the process and turn you into his own needy little mess tonight.

"You look so pretty tonight baby, y'know that? Got all dressed up n'pretty f'me huh?" Elvis teased, lowering his head slightly to kiss the top of yours as his large hand traced your skimpy, sparkly dress that he'd bought for you, only three days before. 

You gulped and nodded quickly, smiling and letting out a giggle - he'd barely touched you and yet there you were all flustered. 

It was no surprise though that just a couple of loving words and a gentle touch from Elvis would send you spiralling each time he did it. You'd never experienced life the way that you had since Elvis came into it, before Elvis, you would attend your part time job, go to the library and do your studies. It was mundane, unexciting, and repetitive. Then, you met the most famous man in the entire world and everything changed, you had so many new experiences from spending hours in lavish boutiques, to dining next to the King of Rock n' Roll as you both sat in the crowd, watching Frank Sinatra singing. 

In all honesty, it was a life you were never prepared for, you still weren't adjusted to it all that well, that's why you clung to Elvis, he was like some form of security blanket for you, a protector of sorts that looked after you and cared for you. He knew you were new to everything so he would always take things slow with you, making sure that you were always okay and comfortable. 

He'd help alleviate the stress of the lifestyle change in lots of ways, for example, he would choose what you wore each day and how you did your hair and make up. Now, many people had called this controlling, but how were you, a girl that had never stepped foot on the Las Vegas strip, supposed to know what to wear to a casino and show? Elvis knew what would look good on you and what would be appropriate for each occasion because Elvis always knew what was best for you. He ended up knowing you better than you knew yourself.

The new world that surrounded you, Elvis' world, was intoxicating. You hardly ever had time to think straight or understand what was going on around you. 

But what you did know was that when Elvis touched you, you felt good, so you chased that feeling. 

"C-Can we, can we do the stuff?" You whispered, avoiding Elvis' gaze.

Elvis smirked, oh Lord you were just the most adorable little thing. "The stuff? Well baby, yer gon' have to use a couple more words than that." Elvis said with a dry chuckle, lighting up one of the Cuban cigars that Sammy Davis Jr had gifted him.

You sighed a little, a mix of desperation, impatience, frustration and embarrassment. "Can, c-can you, touch me?" You asked softly. "Please?" You squeaked, pleadingly.

"Oh Little One," Elvis hushed, causing a sweet whine to leave your lips. "Y'need me t'touch you huh baby?" Elvis teased as you nodded almost frantically with wide eyes, leading him to chuckle at your state. "Need me t'make you feel good hm?" Elvis said, his eyes growing dark in comparison to your wide, sparkly eyes.

"Uh-huh," You squeaked adorably, barely an inch between the two of you. 

God, Elvis could just devour you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he cupped your face in his large coarse hands, his left hand also holding his cigar between his fingers, the warm filler of it tinging the skin on your pink cheek, making you wince as you gazed up at him with eyes wider than a Disney princess.

"I ain't gon' touch you tonight honey, no, yer gon' do it all on yer own." Elvis whispered cooly, as you whined at the thought of not having him touch you, your eyes resembling that of a puppy dog as your desperation grew.

"What do you mean?" You murmured looking up at Elvis tentatively with a shaky voice as Elvis placed his large hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bed where he set you down, moving you like you were his own little doll, but in many ways, that's exactly what you were.

"You're so needy Little One, yer gon' have t'learn how to pleasure yerself baby," Elvis teased, facing you as you sat upright, letting his hands roam up your sides as your body trembled in his hold.

You chewed on your lip cutely, "Are you not gon' touch me at all?" You asked, your head tilting.

"No honey, y'gotta learn how to touch yerself, yer gon' touch yerself f'me okay baby?" Elvis instructed and you nodded despite feeling apprehensive. "Good girl." Elvis praised. "All I'm gon' do is get you undressed so I can watch all of you as you play with your lil' pussy."

You shivered as Elvis' coarse hands shimmied your dress up, exposing your white panties that already had a wet patch that was making the fabric sheer and translucent, letting Elvis see the pretty pink flesh that was so needy. 

"Let's get these cute lil' panties off baby, looks like y'need them off." Elvis chuckled making you blush. "Oh baby, m'only teasin." Elvis said, soothing you as he dragged the damp panties over your legs, letting them pool at your feet as he grabbed each leg and helped untangle them from you, all the while being careful not to singe your skin with the burning cigar that he took a puff from every now and then. "Atta girl." He cooed. "Now, pretty girl, spread them legs f'me." Elvis instructed and you did exactly what you were told, gazing at him intently.

Elvis really had taken over your entire life, you basically worshipped the man. Sure, there was a noticeable age difference and there was a definite power imbalance but as much as you worshipped him, Elvis treated you like you were the most delicate, precious thing in his life.

Despite Elvis having all the power, he could practically feel his old men knees buckle whenever you would lie there on the mattress, staring up at him adoringly with those wide eyes full of curiosity and love. Your plump, glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you studied all of Elvis' movements as he took your tender wrist in his large hand, guiding your hand to your slick coated cunt.

Your breathing was shaky at best, your chest rising and falling ever so erratically, making Elvis smirk at how nervous you were, even though he knew how much you needed to be satisfied.

Slowly, he directed his hand over yours, making your soft, small fingers fondle your soaked folds, your slick leaking from your pussy as your fingers traced up and down your slit. 

Your gaze wandered back and forth between Elvis and what was happening 'down there', the curiosity and nervousness getting the better for you as you let out soft gasps and mewls at yours and Elvis' actions.

"Keep going." Elvis commanded, removing his hand from yours, letting you continue on with the motions as you began to pleasure yourself in front of the old man. "Tell me how it feels honey."  Elvis said, his voice emotionless as his eyes darkened on you as you squirmed about.

You blinked hazily, your mind becoming a mess, your attention becoming divided by the overwhelming sense of pleasure and the God of a man that stood at the end of the bed, towering over you, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

Only a single, small lamp illuminated the room in a dull, dark pink tone, the rest of the light coming from the Las Vegas strip, the bright lights reflecting into Elvis' suite, letting Elvis see the silouhette and highlights of your body as you let your fingers rub around your clit in circular motions, eliciting soft whines from you.

"Feels so... feels so nice." You sighed lazily, moving your hips in a pathetic attempt to create more pressure between you and your own hand - but Elvis could only find it adorable how desperate you were. "B-But," You said through breathy whimpers. "Want you."

Elvis smirked, a slight chuckle leaving him, one that had an almost sadistic tone to it as he walked to a chair opposite the bed and sat in it, taking a puff from his cigar, letting the smoke cloud him as he stared at you.

"Not tonight little girl. Yer gon' keep going until yer learn how to make yerself cum like a good girl." Elvis hissed, causing you to whine at his denial. "Tell me what yer gon' learn, I want to hear you say it." Elvis softly demanded.

"Gonna, gonna," You whined, trying to do as you're told all the while touching your cunt. "Learn how t'make myself cum." You recited, your mind becoming hazy and the pace of your fingers quickening.

"Why?" Elvis teased, enjoying watching you battle with yourself, as he made you have to think whilst he knew that all you wanted to do was mindlessly pleasure yourself.

"Good girl, m'a good girl." You whimpered, your eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"That's right baby." Elvis praised, taking a drag from his cigar, never letting his eyes leave your body. "Put your fingers in your pussy for Daddy." Elvis instructed firmly - almost coldly.

You blinked at him, pausing your motions to silently confirm what he had said to you.

"Now." Elvis growled and you nodded tearily, pushing two fingers into your soaked hole, whimpers leaving your lips as your pink cheeks felt tears trickling down them from the sensations and the experience.

"You've never fingered yerself, pretty girl?" Elvis asked, watching your trepidation and jolted movements, he could tell you were experienced from the smallest of things.

All you could manage was a shake of your head as it rested on the mattress, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head as you let your fingers pump in and out of your pink pussy - and if your cheeks weren't already pink enough, Elvis would've seen a blush creeping onto your face at the question.

You cry out adorably from the pleasuring feeling, as you practically hump your own fingers, not noticing that Elvis is now palming the large bulge in his pants.

Oh, how he loved to be the one to corrupt you like this.

"Faster." Elvis demanded before you stared at him with nerves and apprehension in your eyes. "Don't you want to be my good girl?" Elvis teased, exploiting your desire for praise.

You nodded feverishly, tossing your head back onto the mattress as you let your fingers tease your hole at a quicker pace, slipping through your walls, your own slick acting as lube.

"Look at you, so needy, doin' such a good job of playing with your cunt and puttin' on a show fr' Daddy." Elvis praised, knowing his words would send you spiralling.

And he didn't stop, urging you on with gentle commands, praises and downright filthy comments as he got off to you masturbating for the first time.

"Such a needy puppy, ain't ya? That's it, doin' such a good job baby."

"Yer such a pretty sight fr' Daddy, fuckin' yerself with those fingers baby, it's okay, you can go faster, you can do it."

"Just breathe baby, y'can fit in another, I know that pretty pussy of yours can handle it. Good girl, that's it."

"Feelin' good huh? Gon' touch yerself when I'm on stage huh? Yer cunt that desperate huh kid?"

Elvis continued teasing and praising you, talking you through your first orgasm from your own masturbation, your mewls turning into full-blown cries before your body collapsed, and you lethargically pulled your fingers from your glistening, wrecked cunt.

You pushed yourself up and blinked adorably, looking at the wet patches on the silk bedding before you shyly looked up at Elvis.

"M'sorry, I made a mess on your sheets." You whimpered, still feeling overwhelmed and extra-sensitive, sniffling as you wiped away a stray tear.

Elvis couldn't help but smirk at the adorable sight in front of him.

You, the love and light of his life, a naked, flustered, soaked mess on his silk bed sheets, your chest rising and falling erratically as you came down from your self-inflicted high.

"Uh-uh, ain't nothin' t'be sorry about baby." Elvis cooed and he watched relief wash over you as you offered him the goofiest, sweetest smile at the reassurance and Elvis felt his both his heart and cock jump.

How had he been so lucky to have such a sweet, little, naive nymphomaniac such as you?

[jaqueline19997]

ohhh ugh ugh 🫦💦

(y'all will never understand the THINGS I would do for this man and ofc all credits to owner 😊🫶🏻)

[starryschoolgirl]

Elusive Engagement

a Baby Love snippet - Circa: March, 1968

Summary -> When the news leaks to the press about your upcoming wedding, Elvis holds his own interrogation which wreaks havoc within his entourage. But you're told not to worry your pretty little head about it, however you can't help when you have a hunch that the leak came from your family.

Warnings -> It's only a little angsty, crying, throwing bottles, angry Elvis, misunderstandings, possible manipulation, disapproving mother-in-law, Roy Orbison makes a very short cameo

WC -> 2.5k

Thank you to that lovely anon who suggested making this newspaper thing, you have sparked a snippet you inspiring poet. And many thanks to Jeanie and Willow for helping me with the newspaper, lovely those ones.

The shrill ring of the bedstand's telephone had been an abrupt and unpleasant wake up call to Elvis after a long night of playing piano keys and renting out a bowling alley. To be quite fair it wasn't that this caller was being rude, it was after all digging into the day, 1 or 2PM by Elvis' guess.

He drawled out a deeper than usual, "Mm hello?", rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he did so. The hand extended from his eyes to drag down the skin on his face tiredly, the pull of the skin would only serve to tug an eyelid open. 

A joyous voice had filled Elvis' ear, an old friend's voice,

"Now I knew you had a wedding coming but why didn't you tell me I was invited to your wedding? And why didn't you tell me I was gonna sang too apparently?"

Elvis' eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head in a tired confusion, his lips smacked before he mumbled, "Roy? Man what are you talkin' about..."

He shifted in the bed slightly and turned to your side, warmth was emanating off you, his personal little heater. Elvis pulled the cord of the telephone from the bedside table so that he wouldn't knock over anything on the table as he scooted closer to your sleeping figure.

Roy's laugh filled the line, it was loud and had a bit of a pitch to it in the way Roy's singing voice could have. Elvis pulled the telephone away from his ear as he settled next to you, placing a hand on your stomach for contact as he leaned his back against the bed's headboard.

As he ran his hand down your stomach to your thighs, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at the laced hem of your short nightie as he complained into the phone,

"It's too early in the mornin' for ya jokes boy, what's goin' on Orbison?"

The laughing on the other line had subsided as he realized Elvis really didn't know what was going on.

"Elvis, it's all over the papers here, ain't it on the papers in California? Your wedding, it’s been leaked..."

-----

As you awoke from your much needed slumber you reached for your favorite pillow on the bed, Elvis. Only, it seems Elvis wasn't in bed? Maybe if you reached further you’d feel him, he tended to roll around in his sleep.

After the first swipe around the bed your hand turned frantic as it searched for him, you quickly sat up just to see he was gone. You pulled a stray hair out of the corner of your mouth and tried to smooth your mussed up hair back to at least look presentable as you scooted to his side of the bed, the warmth of his body long gone and now just a cold bunch of sheets and blankets.

The pads of your bare feet against the wood floor filled the room as you walked to grab your robe, it was a very chilly March morning, then again every morning was as Elvis had an obsession with keeping the house cold.

You felt very carefree as you wandered through the upstairs hall of the Hollywood home you and Elvis had been residing in, you didn't hear the loud guffaws and crude jokes of Elvis' entourage, dubbed as the Memphis Mafia, so you hoped that meant you could enjoy a sweet domestic morning with Elvis.

Just the thought excited you as you let your robe flutter open while you pranced down the stairs girlishly looking for your fiancé. Just as you rounded the bottom of the stairs and steered yourself into the sunken living room you had seen Elvis in his usual dressy attire, his back was turned to you as he was facing another part of the room that you couldn't quite see yet.

Just as you were about to call his name, your feet finally landing onto the plush white carpet of the sunken room, Elvis’ voice boomed through the room as he yelled, “Speak Goddammit!!” His yell closely followed by a bottle that had flown across the room and shattered against the wall, your guess of it being a bottle had been confirmed as fizzy brown liquid began to drizzle down the wall that had intercepted the bottle. The sound that had filled the air as it shattered had made you jump and squeal from the shock.

Elvis' broad shoulders had turned at the noise of your distress and your eyes shot around the room in a bit of panic, Elvis' friends were here, but instead of being their usual joyous, loud selves they were quietly standing straight with blank faces, like soldiers in trouble with their drill sergeant. 

They were in trouble with Elvis, and if that couldn't be told from the way they all stood with sunken expressions, then the way a few of them remained in a flinched stance from the bottle being hurled just inches from their heads was the giveaway.

You made eye contact with Jerry for a split second before he looked away, when you tried to make eye contact with the others they only looked away as well, then you turned to a fast-approaching Elvis.

He hadn’t yet shaved and his hair looked to still be tussled from sleep. Your wide eyes softened slightly at his facial expression, he looked upset, you could tell by the way his jaw clenched and his nose was just slightly scrunched in a way that only someone who was often close to his resting face could tell.

Your voice was soft and questioning as you reached a shaky hand up to smooth back his hair, “Elvis..?”

You then realized why the others wouldn’t look at you, especially with Elvis in this mood.

Before you could say anything else you watched as his hands found the sides of your robe, pulling the sides together to hide your figure. You’d felt an embarrassed heat spread up your neck as you realized Elvis’ friends had just seen you in your short nightie, and with the cold air of the room, they no doubt saw the two little hardened details of your chest that Elvis liked to admire most.

You let out a breath as he tied the string of your robe especially tight.

“Elvis, what’s the matter?”

Elvis sighed, his hardened expression softening just for your eyes as his back was now turned to the other guys, he shook his head for a moment while staring down at the floor. Now you felt worried, you brought a hesitant hand up to cup his cheek as you murmured softly,

“Can I help in any way?”

He cracked a little smile at the question and placed his hand over yours as he turned his cheek to kiss it. With his unshaved cheek rubbing against your hand you felt the slightest tickle, and any hesitance or fear you might’ve housed for a moment was out the window as you couldn’t help your giggle at the sensation.

The sweet noise only served as a reminder to Elvis that he had a duty as a man to handle it on his own, and not have you worry your pretty little head about anything.

Elvis’ hands rested at your waist and he leaned down to kiss your cheek and murmured against the skin close to your ear, “No little one, why don’tchu you head right on upstairs, be up there in a minute with ya alright? Just talkin’ with the boys”

He pulled back for you to see his little encouraging smile, to which you returned tenfold with your own sweet grin.

As you headed back down the hall that led to the stairs the house was silent and as you had left sight of the room you could hear Elvis saying something quietly but couldn’t quite make it out. You wanted to but at the same time you didn’t see the point, Elvis was handling his business, therefore it was none of yours. As you reached the staircase you noticed paper placed on the first stair.

Of course your eyes glazed over it as you were taking a step up the stairs and just as you had passed it, the headline finally hit you smack dab in the face.

“ELVIS PRESLEY TO BE MARRIED IN JUNE”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly bent down to grab it, taking slow steps up the stairs as you read the contents. 

A close source had revealed the upcoming wedding? Who could that be? Is that why Elvis was so angry downstairs? No one was supposed to know until after.

As you had reached the top of the stairs you had to lean against the wall and think, a million thoughts going through your brain as to why one of the people close to Elvis would reveal it. They’d risk losing more than they’d gain. Elvis didn’t like people who couldn’t keep their trap shut about his personal business.

There were even a few times where Elvis had stepped up to his manager, Mr. Parker, because the man wanted to release some information to the press about you and Elvis to keep his name before the public due to his movie career going down the toilet.

That argument didn’t end well as Elvis had almost gotten the two of them sued by refusing to participate in a project unless Mr. Parker promised not to go to the press for publicity, as Elvis didn’t want your name being dragged in the mud. Those journalists often found a way to make anyone, even someone Elvis deemed as saintly and perfect as you, seem like last month’s garbage.

But a thought that seemed to reoccur in your brain at the moment was the worry that the leak came from your side. After all, your family didn’t approve of this union. Especially your mother.

No, she wouldn’t do that, would she?

Your body remained stiff even though you felt as if you were buzzing all over, this vibration in your stomach, mixing and stirring your stomach acids all around.

This could all be your fault. Those guys could all be paying for your own mother’s actions. It was enough to make you feel a little sick.

You kept a hand on the wall as you wandered down the hall to your and Elvis' shared bedroom, your steps grew faster as you heard a bang and Elvis yelling at one of the guys, as if your growing guilt would tackle you to the floor if you slowed down.

Once you made it to the room you closed the door behind you, and with the newspaper still in hand you sat on Elvis’ side of the bed, turning the rotary dial to your mother’s number.

After a few rings and a shaky breath you heard a familiar voice say “Hello”, it was Rienne, one of the maids.

You tried to remain composed, heeding your mother’s lesson that if you weren’t composed around the help, they wouldn’t respect you.

“R-Rienne, is mother home?”

Your palm felt sweaty as you nervously clenched your free hand into a fist, biting your lip to keep it from enacting its nervous quiver.

“Cosette, is that you? Oh how are you Dearie?”

“Rienne, please is my mother home?”

There was a short pause before Rienne answered with a yes, you spoke as softly as you could without stuttering, asking her to call for your mother. And when your mother finally did come to the phone she answered with a soft, quiet, “Cosette?”

Your lower lip wobbled as you spoke in a soft, quiet voice that almost completely mirrored your mother had it not been for the little crack at the end,

“It wasn’t you was it?”

As you were greeted with silence you brought your other hand up to clench the telephone nervously. Then your mother spoke once more,

“Setty, what ever do you mean?”

You breathed out wetly, allowing for vulnerability as you clenched the telephone as if you would your mother’s hand had she been here, “Th-The wedding, it’s in the papers Mommy”

More silence followed before your mother’s sympathetic voice, “Oh my love, I-”, she paused trying to find the right words, “Well, I-”

With her sudden loss of vocabulary your worry spiked and you questioned quickly, voice not raising in volume, only in distress, “It wasn’t you was it? Tell me it wasn’t please-”

“I told you not to get involved with that man, with men like him these things are bound to happen.”

You felt your eyes begin to burn slightly. You had almost worked yourself into tears from that last sentence. “You mean you didn’t leak-”

“Of course not my dear, why would Mommy do that to you?”

You wished you could see her, not only for the comfort she could offer, but also for the giveaway she could offer as well. You shared many traits with her, one of which being a giveaway for when you lie, and over the phone you really couldn’t tell. You wanted to believe her, you really did.

Suddenly her voice was much colder, as she instigated,

“Is that what that man has you thinking? Is he making you think that your mother and father are these big bad wolves? Figures, a man like him doesn’t have much to offer so he has to make it look like everyone else has even less to make someone stay. You know I warned you-”

The change of tone was abrupt, and the burning of your eyes violently increased from each syllable she spoke. Your eyes would be pools in no time.

“N-No Mommy, no he didn’t say anything, he-”

Your voice had caught in your throat. God you couldn’t do anything right, and now your mother is misunderstanding what a good man Elvis is. When you could finally speak, your nervous panic had left your voice so pathetically quiet that it came out like a choked whisper,

“He’s- No, I, it’s not that, I promise, I,”

Your mother cut in again with a scoff through the line, “It’s an isolation tactic my darling, he’s turning you against us. Goodness, why can’t you see that? I know I didn’t raise a stupid girl”

And just as it always had since you were a little girl, your voice gave out completely as you tried to explain yourself to your mother. The same way your mother’s voice would give out anytime she tried to explain something to your father. 

And as no noise would leave your throat, you would only be able to silently listen to your mother’s quiet voice that somehow even in a crowded room seemed louder and more present than any other person’s voice.

Despite its quiet softness, it could somehow often surpass Elvis’ loud harsh one.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you sat on the bed and listened to her go on about what Elvis was doing to you, what it would be like when you finally married him. She topped it all off with how much someone can change when he goes from man to husband. And that you’ll regret it all in the end.

You bit your lower lip harshly to stop it’s quivering, and as her voice rang through your skull you didn’t even recognize the click of the door, or the sound of Elvis’ shoes striding closer and closer on the wood floor.

It was only when you felt a pull on the telephone did you look up to find someone else, Elvis. He looked at you with worry before mumbling into the line as if your mother were an afterthought, 

“Goodbye Mrs. Chevalier”

That was so fun to write! I had a whole other part written but I figured if it's a snippet, it's best I keep it short eh? Goodness I just love writing for this universe, I'm having so much fun messing around with these two!

Thanks plenty for reading!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

Taglist Lovelies: @fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat, @suraemoon, @geanecore, @pinkpuffycloud, @s0phlabrunette, @that-hotdog

[jhoneybees]

Your little Muse

Hello lovelies! Coming in with another fic🤭 This one might be a bit all over the place because my brain isn't cooperating with me at the moment but I hope you all like it!

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X artist!reader

Warnings/triggers: insecurities, nudity, angst, nude art

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @theelvisprincess @i-r-i-n-a-a @thelonelyheart @polksaladava @hooked-on-elvis

_____________________________________________

For the past few months, Elvis has been feeling extremely insecure. All the horrible thoughts swirling in his head about his appearance have been taking a big toll on him.

He rarely looks in the mirror, he never feels like dressing up anymore, just putting on tracksuits everyday and he's isolating himself in the bedroom for days on end so he doesn't have to face the newspaper headlines commenting on his growing waistline and he's also not seeing any of his good friends except you, his lover and that's making you terribly worried.

He hates it all and you know he hates it all, he’s told you that he hates himself even more because of it. You try your best to comfort him and help him take care of himself when he's sulking, feeling like a sack of potatoes but you've realised that it all doesn’t seem to last very long so one night you come up with an idea.

__

“H-Honey, I-I-I don’t know about this-” Elvis stutters nervously as he grips his robe, watching you move back and forth from one side of the bed to the other. Gulping when you turn around and smile.

“Come on, let’s take this off.”

You’ve come up with an idea of how you have this challenge for your art, drawing one thing that you love every single day for a whole month and for today’s thing you’re gonna draw is him. He’s been so hard on himself this week with his self esteem so you hope this might cheer him up.

Show him how beautiful he truly is.

Peeling his hands away from his chest, you carefully begin to unwrap his robe pushing it over his shoulders but he quickly stops you. Looking down at you, almost afraid. “N-No baby, I-I don’t know if w-we should do this…”

You give him a reassuring look, getting up onto your tippy toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Cupping his soft cheek with tenderness. “We should, darling.” smiling when you see his puppy eyes.

Slipping his robe off of his body, you let it fall to the floor and take a moment to admire his beauty. “Oh sweetie…” Carefully smoothing your palms up and down his arms as your eyes scan his naked body, frowning when you see him move his hands to cover himself. “There is no need to do that…”

Your eyebrows furrow looking up at him, carding your fingers through his hair as his eyes avert away from yours.

“This is a lot, Y/n.” He mumbles quietly and you nod in understanding.

“You’re already doing so well, baby…” cupping his left cheek again to bring his pretty blue eyes to face you again, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “My little muse doesn’t need to hide anything.”

He starts to blush and you give him another kiss, making him suck in a breath. Growing courage in his body. “A-Alright…” Slowly pulling himself to climb onto the huge bed and grunting as he sits down in the middle of the massive pile of luxurious cushions. He looks down at himself and quickly rips his stare away, swallowing thickly. Turning his head to look at you as you move closer.

“Get yourself comfortable.” You tell him, softly. Leaning over onto the bed with a knee on the mattress, you guide his arms to rest on the cushions behind him, adjusting a few things here and there and positioning his cross necklace on his chest and fixing his hair, you pull back to observe the picture in front of you and your small grin slowly fades when he tries to cover himself. “Relax, baby…” Gently stopping him.

Elvis groans. Moving his arms back to where they were then you grab the light pink silk scarf from your nightstand and mindfully draping it over his thighs covering his most intimate parts, he sighs a little, bringing him a bit of comfort.

“Oh honey…” You coo with genuine love in your voice, admiring his beautiful body of how he just lays there.

His legs parted with one knee bent slightly, his arms looking soft and cuddly, his perfectly dishevelled hair on top of his head, his baby boy blue eyes watching yours shyly, his chestnut coloured hairs decorating his glorious chest with a bling of a gold cross and his delicious belly laying over your pink scarf.

You sigh, he really is a sight for sore eyes.

“Baby, d-do I really need ta be naked like this?”

Your eyes flick up to his insecure ones and respond with a hum. “Mhm, drawing something that I truly love…and that’s your handsome self, baby.” Picking up your sketchbook and adjusting your art pencil set as you sit down in the armchair you organised right at the foot of the bed. Rolling your stare down his body once more before getting yourself focused.

“...Don’t know what makes ya think that.” He grumbles.

Bringing your gaze up to him again, your eyebrows knit together. “Because I love you…”

“Hmm-”

“That’s what makes me think that.” You finish making him lock his baby blues to yours then shuffling around, you breathe through your nose and quietly lean onto the bed and grab his foot to place a kiss to the bridge. Making sure he knows that you meant every word.

__

After a while of reassuring Elvis and getting everything organised, you finally get to work. Flicking your focused stare up to specific parts of his body every now and then to get every detail right, you take your time.

You started around 9 PM and as time goes by, it feels like it’s almost morning.

You’re so proud of Elvis. He’s trying his best to stay still, despite how uncomfortable he is. You can see the discomfort on his handsome face.

He’s avoiding looking at his body at all times and the way his lips curl into a frown and his nostrils flare slightly makes your heart break.

He looks like he’s slowly losing himself in the darkness and you can’t let him sink in too deep so you quickly get up and pad over to the side of the bed to place a soft kiss to his temple making him lift his head.

Giving him a loving smile. “Hang in there, honey.”

He nods and his dissociated stare drifts back down to his toes. “Mhm…”

“I’m almost finished.” Placing another peck onto his lips as your finger goes under his chin. He doesn’t say anything and you hesitantly go back to your chair to carry on with your art.

__

As 2 AM comes around and you add a few finishing touches, you’re finally satisfied to say you’ve completed the drawing.

“It’s done.” You sigh, relieved.

Crawling onto the silky bed sheets towards Elvis and kneeling beside his thighs as you reach over and grab his robe from earlier and lay it over his legs and chest, he notices you holding your sketchbook in front of him and when he sees the picture on the white paper, your heart buzzes with warmth when he carefully takes the book from you.

Hesitantly tracing a finger beside the lines to not ruin the drawing and watching his chest start to shakily rise and fall, your soft smile falters hearing him suck in a weak breath.

“Baby?”

You angle your back to see his face and the sight of his eyes, watery and a couple of tears dropping from his eyelashes, you immediately cup his cheek and lift his chin to inspect him better. “Oh…” Bringing your other hand to wipe the tear from his right cheek. “I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head slightly, gently touching the back of your hand to look back down at the drawing.

“Thank you…”

Your heart thumps at his soft words and as your gaze goes down to your drawing, Elvis moves your hand to rest on his chest. Rubbing it with his thumb as he thinks. Realising that you're showing a different version of him to him.

A version you say he is but he never understood until now.

A version that’s loving, soft and angelic.

A version that you call, little muse.

Your little muse.

“I love it.”

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love Pt. 7 💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]

TW: Cussing, angst, mentions of infertility, Elvis being ~very difficult~😠

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Hi everyone! Posting in Elvis hours again hehe. This chapter is an emotional rollercoaster so be prepared! Forgive me for putting these two through the wringer🫣 I would recommend re-reading the first chapter again because I did leave some clues of what is going to be unveiled... Hope you enjoy! Elvis needs a hug and a slap on the wrist in this chapter🤭

July 5th, 1969

Tonight was another planned dinner and you couldn’t be more excited. This means you get to see Elvis with no other explanation and if you were lucky, you’d sneak away from everyone and kiss him like he’s your only supply of oxygen. Elvis coordinated this whole dinner. After five full days of rehearsing hours on end for his show, he wanted to have a little fun and invite some friends over. You liked how excited Elvis got over things lately. It was such a turn compared to a few weeks ago when he barely liked any company, especially yours. 

John was never thrilled about these dinners. He wouldn’t sit by you and would barely look in your direction so you and Elvis always sat next to each other. You’d joke and glance at each other with longing stares that made you feel aflame. His hand would brush your thigh and you couldn’t help but inch closer to him, longing for him to keep touching you. You loved those secret moments.

It was almost time to leave and you put on some glossy pink lipstick before rushing to get your heels on. You open the door and the phone rings as you’re about to leave the house. You run back in and grab the phone.

“Hello?” You say a bit winded.

“Hi baby when are you coming over?” Elvis asks smoothly. 

“I was just about to leave but here I am on the phone with you,” you tease him.

“Well, I’m glad I caught ya then. I want you to pack some things. I want you to stay the night,” he says matter-of-factly. You almost gasp at his request. He wouldn’t dare make it so obvious that you two were seeing each other. 

“No, absolutely not. Are you insane? We’d get caught and that would be the end of that,” you say shortly.

“No one’s gonna be home tonight. Dianne won’t be here, she’s got a flight later tonight to see some family,” he explains. You grew nervous, it was still too risky. This plan of his was going to blow up in smoke.

“And what about John? You need to deal with him. He expects me to be home with him. I don’t need him to start to grow suspicious of why I hang out at your house so late,” you say annoyed.

“Let me deal with him. Just bring your things, okay?” He says low and hangs up quickly.

You grunt frustrated, you hated that it had to be his way or no way at all. But you also didn’t have it in you to fight with him. You liked him taking the lead and having his way with you. You quickly go back to the bedroom and scour the closet for a duffle bag to pack some things for the night. It was a little nerve-wracking that you’d be there all night but you knew you’d love it. You race back to the front door and put the bag in your trunk, excited for tonight’s adventure. 

*

You pulled up to the house and the driveway was already packed with cars. Some of the guys were out there waiting to open the gate for you and you quickly parked the car, rushing to get inside. Walking up to the door, the murmur of voices behind it made you a bit nervous. Elvis better be on his best behavior. There were going to be too many eyes around tonight. You couldn’t get too close to him or disaster could strike.

There were a few people at the entrance of the house and they politely smiled at you and said hello. You do the same but your eyes frantically search for Elvis. You wanted to see him, as bad as it was, you needed to see what he was wearing tonight.

You round the corner and into the living room and you stop dead in your tracks. You found him and he was wearing all black and a blue scarf that made his eyes pop. He forgoes a shirt underneath his jacket and it shows off his tan chest. You loved his fashion choices lately and not wearing anything underneath his jackets with scarves or leaving his shirts unbuttoned scandalously low. He looked absolutely gorgeous and his eyes lit up when he saw you too.

Your smile begins to fade when you realize Dianne is sitting on his lap, wearing a short ruffled skirt and tank top, twirling his scarf around her finger. Your blood boiled, you hated seeing her on him. It was stupid honestly. She was only playing a part and so was Elvis. But this wasn’t a public event, there was no need for a dramatic display of affection from the two of them. You do everything in your power to force the fakest smile you’ve ever given. Elvis probably saw right through it as you stared at him blankly. 

“Hi y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” Jerry says on your right, snapping you out of your jealousy.

“Hi Jerry, always nice to see you,” you say to him and give him a hug. 

John was sitting next to Elvis and goes to hug you. It shocked you a little, he wasn’t the type to give affection so publicly. You smell the faintest scent of alcohol on him. I guess that answers why he’s so affectionate. You hug him anyway because you want Elvis to feel the same jealousy you felt when you looked at Dianne sitting on his lap. You grab John by the face and kiss him. You felt Elvis’ eyes burn into your skin. He hated what you were doing. You loved getting the reaction out of him though.

You pull away from him and act embarrassed, “Oh hi Dianne, so nice to see you again! Hi Elvis,” you say a bit flatly. Dianne quickly gets up and gives you a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! I can use a girl’s company! Please sit down,” she says sitting back on Elvis’ lap and having you sit right next to him. There was a small space left on the couch and you squeezed beside him, placing your purse on the side of it and out of the way. His legs were spread open and your leg touched his. You try not to let it get to you but your body says otherwise.

“How have you been y/n? How was your day?” Dianne asks.

“Oh, it was fine. I just worked a shift at the diner and went home for a bit to relax before coming here,” you tell her.

“Oh, how nice. Do you like your job?” She asks as he continues to twirl Elvis’ scarf around her finger and rest her other hand on his bare chest. You tried to let it not distract you but you’re failing. It irked you the way he was letting her touch him. It was ridiculous of you, but it didn’t matter. You hated it and wished you were the one in his lap instead.

“No, not really, but it pays the bills in the meantime,” you joke.

“You’re an actress right?” Jerry butts in. Thank God for that, at least you don’t have to look directly at Dianne anymore.

“Yes, I am. I’m on a bit of a hiatus. Things have been a little tough and I’ve needed to take a break from it. I wasn’t getting as many jobs and it started to affect us,” you say a bit hurt.

You hated admitting that your dream wasn’t panning out the way you wanted it to. You didn’t quit the business, you were just falling on hard times and needed to make some quick money before going back out there. 

“Sorry you’ve had to take a break, you’ll get back on your feet in no time. I’ve seen some of your movies, you’re a natural,” Jerry says sweetly.

“Thanks,” you say sheepishly. It was nice to hear someone saw the potential you had. You look at John briefly and see he has this annoyed expression on his face when he’s listening to you talk about your career. It ticked you off even though you should be used to it by now.

“Maybe you can focus on other things in the meantime,” Dianne says cheerfully, “Maybe you can start a family,” she tells you.

You look at her blankly. You didn’t want to talk about this stuff with her around. She was the last person you wanted to talk about family stuff with.

“Umm, no, I don’t think that’ll be happening,” you try to deflect.

“Oh, why not?” She asks.

“It’s not the right time,” you try to shrug like it doesn’t bother you.

“Well, you never know. Blessings can happen when you least expect it,” she says as she wraps her arms around Elvis’ neck. It took everything in you to shove her off of him and get her to stop asking a million questions.

“Yeah, but we’re good. It’s not the right time to start a family,” you reiterate a bit sharply, hoping she’ll shut up.

“Oh but can you imagine, a little you running around? That would be the cutest,” she says excitedly looking at Elvis, “maybe we can try again?” She says looking at Elvis, leaning in to kiss him.

You felt like screaming at him, both of them for that matter but God that got under your skin and stayed there. Again?! What does she mean again?! You wanted to yell and scream your head off at him if he was actually having his way with both of you at the same time. You clench your fist closed and do everything in your power to swallow your pride and not say anything to him. Yet. He will get an earful from you later, you were going to make sure of that. 

“Well you have fun with that,” you say sarcastically, making sure to not look at Elvis.

“You two really would have the cutest kids!” Dianne continues to ramble.

“Yeah, that's not happening. We’d need a miracle to happen,” John mutters a bit too loudly as he takes a sip of his beer.

You feel every pair of eyes dart to you and you freeze. You stare at John in disbelief that he just said that. He looks at you as though he sees right through you. He looks at you like you’re such a disappointment. You glance at Elvis and see a look of concern. 

“What? What does he mean?” Dianne asks confused. You wanted this night to end right here and now. You were sick and tired of her incessant questions and angry at John’s drunken slip-up.

“It means I can’t have kids. It’ll never be the right time it seems and I can’t do anything about it but move on,” you say sharply and throw daggers at her. She grows quiet and looks away from you.

The room was extremely quiet and you felt everyone’s uncomfortableness as the rest of the house was loud and full of laughter. You tap your leg nervously, hating that the attention is on you and this topic. You debate whether you should just leave the room or pray to God someone changes the topic again. You were hoping Jerry would be that person again but sadly he didn’t get that memo.

“I’m so sorry y/n,” Elvis says softly, almost too low for you to even hear.

You look up at his puppy dog eyes and let your anger get the best of you. Looking at him made you more angry and hearing that he was sorry for you pushed you past your boiling point. You stare at him blankly, fire burning in your eyes as you don’t want to be around him anymore. 

You get up from the couch and try to put on a believable smile like none of this got to you.

“I’m going to grab a drink, does anyone want anything?” You ask cheerfully.

Everyone murmurs no and you see yourself out. Your smile instantly drops when your back faces everyone in the living room. You squeeze your way through the dining room where a lot of people are gathered and go to the kitchen. It's a bit quieter in here and you get to breathe and try to shake off everything that just happened. You hated how this was brought up, it made you feel shitty. You don’t know if Dianne brought this up on purpose or what but you like her even less now. 

You find champagne on the kitchen island and pour yourself a small glass. You sip the bubbly drink and try to calm yourself down before you go back out there. You suddenly feel a hand gently grab your arm and pull you to the side. You look up and see it's Elvis and he keeps walking to a side room off of the kitchen. You shrug out of his grasp and grunt frustrated.

“Elvis?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You snap.

“I needed to talk to you,” he says.

“It can wait, let's get out there,” you say flatly, trying to push past him. 

He steps in front of the door and locks it.

“No, I’m not letting you out of here until we talk about this,” he says sternly.

“There’s nothing to talk about Elvis, let’s just go,” you grumble. 

“Yes there is,” he says as he pulls you in to hug you, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” he says gently. 

As much as you loved it when he held you in his arms, you didn’t want that kind of affection right now. You push away at his chest and feel the tears well in your eyes. 

“Elvis no. I can’t do this with you. I tried to tell you. I did, I tried. But you were too busy for me! That was the moment I realized we weren’t friends anymore. I told whoever answered the phone it was extremely important to talk to you and they said they’d go and get you but you didn’t answer the phone! I waited for hours for you, crying my eyes out hoping you’d talk to me but you didn’t. I needed you. I needed someone to go to and comfort me when I was going through this tough time and I had no one,” you say angrily. 

“God no,” he angrily mutters, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t remember-. When was this? Please help me understand,” he pleads with you. 

“A few years ago. ‘66 I believe. Everything went up in flames that year. I came to the realization I’ll never be able to have a family and things only got worse with me and John. I was losing traction with my career and not getting cast as much. It was all a mess and I had no one to talk to,” you weep turning away from him so he wouldn’t see you cry. 

“I’m sorry honey that’s awful. I wish I could have done something, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…” he rambles. 

“Nothing. You were thinking about nothing and ignoring me like every other man in my life,” you grumble. 

There’s a heavy silence that fills the room as you can still hear the liveliness of the party going on out there. 

“He isn’t supportive about any of it? Not even empathetic?” Elvis asks gently. 

“No. And I know deep down, he hates me for it. We were having some minor problems before this happened and a naive part of me thought that if I gave him a baby, everything would be alright. But years went on and it never happened. I had to face the reality that something was wrong with me and had to move on. There’s nothing I can do about it,” you say defeated. 

“Honey I-,” he starts to say but you stop him. 

“No! Don’t honey me! You are not innocent here. What the fuck was that about in the living room? Dianne saying you guys should try again?” You say as anger boils through you. 

“Are you messing around with her and me at the same time?! You told me the whole relationship between you two was just a publicity stunt and nothing more,” you seethe. 

He sighs and takes a step back from you, “It’s more complicated than that…” he starts to say. 

“No it’s not!” You yell at him. 

“Shh, please lower your voice,” he growls. 

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do! Yes or no, are you two screwing around or was she trying to make your little story more believable by saying that.” You snap. 

His face looks distraught and he looks like he can cry too. It was a horrible sight to see. You only wanted to see him happy and full of joy. You can see he’s searching for the right words but hesitates to say any of them. 

“Yes, years ago we did. I was very unhappy with my career and hated everything I was doing. A lot like you, I thought maybe I should get married or have a baby, maybe that would make me happier? But I realized that none of that was going to make me happy and I didn’t like Dianne that way. I would be miserable if I married her,” he explains. 

You felt bad for him too, how unhappy he was like you and had nowhere to go. Things should have been different between you two. If you had talked to each other about all of this, maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone and helpless. 

“But to answer your question, no, I’m not even touching her. I want nothing to do with her like that now,” he pauses and slowly gets closer to you, “I only want you baby, please you have to believe me.” He says sorrowful. 

You don’t respond to him. You were too hurt by all of this and don’t want to be here anymore. 

“We should go out there, they’re waiting on us,” you murmur not looking at his face. He doesn’t budge and pulls you into his arms once more. 

“Baby please look at me. I’m sorry about everything,” he purrs. 

You wanted to forgive him of course, it felt awful to be cross with him but you needed space. You still hold this grudge against him that he hasn’t been there for you when he said he always would be. You push past him and quickly get out of the room and into the kitchen. 

There were so many people around, that your absence wasn’t noticed where you had been for the last few minutes. You head back out to the living room with a drink in your head. You force another fake smile as you stand off to the side as you don’t want to sit by either Dianne or John. Fifteen minutes passed and Elvis still hadn’t joined you. You grew anxious as to what was taking him so long. It’s not like he’d just leave his own house and leave his party.

After an hour or so of dealing with insufferable conversation, it was time for dinner. An extra table was brought in so everyone could sit together. Elvis finally appears from the back of the house with a stark look on his face. As usual, he coordinated it so you had to sit next to him. This was the first night you did not want to be close to him by any means. Everything was ticking you off and everyone’s dumb jokes were annoying you more than anything. 

Elvis picked up on your mood instantly and he was quieter than usual. You could feel him looking at you through the whole dinner but you didn’t look his way once. You picked at your food, not really hungry after everything that has transpired. It was only ten but you wanted to get out of this house. You were no longer in the mood to stay over or be around Elvis at all. The longer you stayed here, the worse this night could get. 

You probably should have listened to your instincts and gotten up right now but you didn’t and disaster was about to strike. 

You tune back into everyone’s conversations and act like you’re interested in what they have to say. Some of the guys were talking about something that happened on a movie set a few years ago and were laughing about it. They brought up some girls they thought were pretty and how they didn’t give them the light of day when they asked them out on a date. 

Elvis would mess with them and tease that no girls were interested in them anyway. It was light-hearted banter and it did take your mind off of the uncomfortable situation you were in earlier. One of the guys turns their attention to you and it surprises you a bit. 

“You’ve worked with Nicole, haven’t you? You know who we’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah, I worked on a movie with her. She was so nice,” you recall the fond memory. 

“She liked you too. She hoped to work with you again. What are you working on now?” He asks. 

You don’t feel threatened by the question and brush it off, it was just an innocent inquiry. 

“Nothing right now. I’m hoping to get back out there soon though,” you say hopefully. 

“You are? SInce when?” John asks a bit annoyed from the other end of the table. You stare darkly at him and try to keep your cool. 

“Yes, I do. I miss being on set and everything. That’s where I was the most happy and had the most fun,” you say looking away from John and addressing anyone else that was listening to the conversation. 

“Oh, you should have been on the set for one of Elvis’ movies. We had some wild times,” one of the guys laughed. A lot more of them laugh, reminiscing about such memories and you giggle too, you can only imagine what kind of trouble they got into on set. 

“Oh I bet you guys have quite the stories,” you chuckle, “that almost happened though. I almost got the role of Elvis’ love interest in one of his movies in ‘66 but the producers went another direction at the last minute. It sucked but whatever,” you try to say nonchalantly.

“That’s right, I remember when Elvis found out you got cast. He freaked out,” he says laughing.

“Would you shut up,” Elvis says quickly, anger lacing his words.

You were confused by all of this. Why would Elvis be so freaked out about you getting cast in a movie? You thought it would be a nice reunion in a way. It was something you always wanted to happen.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, laughing slightly thinking he was just messing with you.

“Yeah, he saw your name on the cast list and called the director right away. You didn’t know? I thought he called you to explain,” He asks you confused. 

“He didn't call me for a whole decade,” you scowl. 

“That’s enough,” Elvis hissed. 

You were baffled at what was going on. None of this made sense. Why would he act like this when he found out you got cast in his movie? Your mind races and starts creating the worst possible scenarios. Did he actually have a hatred for you for whatever reason?

You slowly turn your body to face Elvis, a slow boiling rage is once again beginning to develop inside of you. 

“Why would you call the director about me?” You say sharply, holding your breath as you look at him like you could bite his head off. 

He looks back at you with the same intensity but you don’t waiver. 

“Answer me,” you say through your teeth. 

Everyone gets a bit uncomfortable, not looking directly at either of you.

You watch him swallow sharply, clearly not wanting to speak. 

“I-, I called him to tell him I had concerns..” he says gently. 

“Concerns about what?” You snap. 

“That maybe you weren’t the right fit…” he says timidly. 

You had enough and quickly got up and left the table. The screech of your chair moving back made everyone jump and not look at you in your state of fury. You walk back into the living room to grab your keys and your purse and head for the front door. No one moved an inch and watched you storm out of the house. You didn’t know whether you should scream or cry or do both at the same time. You couldn’t believe Elvis would ever do such a thing. Especially to you. 

You start to walk towards your car and you hear excited screams of a dozen fans waiting outside to see Elvis. A few flashing lights are going off from their cameras but are instantly disappointed that it’s just you. It was going to be hard getting out of here and you get frustrated, you needed to leave and get some space from all of this. You didn’t want to give Elvis any more time to fuck up anything else. 

“Y/n please wait,” you hear Elvis say behind you. You glance over your shoulder and see he’s trying to catch up to you. The backyard gate is on your left and that’s the only place you can go to hide from the screaming fans and everyone else at this party. You quickly open it and walk along the side of the house. Your heels make a loud echo on the concrete as you storm away from Elvis as fast as you can. 

“Y/n please,” Elvis begs and gently grabs your arm to stop you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You seethe. He looks at you stunned, he’s never seen you so upset. “Why would you do this to me?!” You continue. 

“Honey I- I don’t know. I didn’t know what-, can you just let me explain,” he tells you. You could barely see straight you were so upset. 

“No, you listen to me! Do you know what you did?!” 

“I know it was wrong. I-I-I’m sorry baby I just thought-. The script was absolutely terrible and I was tryin’ to-,” he stammers.

“You were thinking about yourself that’s what was happening! How could you take something like this away from me,” you say as your voice cracks with emotion.

He grunts frustratedly and walks away from you, his hands on his hips with his head fallen down. 

“I was afraid… I couldn’t see you after all those years,” he mutters.

“What?”

He turns around slowly and his blue eyes are filled with tears.

“I knew I was being an awful person. I wasn’t writing you back, I wasn’t answering your phone calls, I didn’t even try to see you in person once I came back from the army, I knew you hated me for it all. And I couldn’t blame you. As time went on, I knew there was nothing that would have excused how I was acting. I panicked and couldn’t see you. I called the director and said I was nervous working with you. I explained there was a certain history we had and I couldn’t shake my nerves. Before I knew it, they had you recast. It wasn’t what I intended to happen. I was just hoping they would push the start date or something. I never wanted you off the movie, I just needed more time to figure out what I’d even say to you,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you say something like that then? Why didn’t you tell them you wanted me in the movie,” you ask.

“I just-, I was still afraid. I thought it was meant to be this way… to keep not seeing you,” he admits.

You sink to your knees and sit on the hard ground. You cover your face in your hands and let your tears fall. You couldn’t believe any of it. How could you be so dumb? All you wanted was to be close to Elvis again but he proved time and time again he didn’t want that.

He was afraid to see you? What did he possibly think when he agreed to hire John. Did he think that he could still ignore you? 

“That one role could have changed my life you know that? If I had on my resume that I worked with Elvis Presley, maybe the tide could have changed for me. Now I’ll never know if that could have been a possibility,” you sob.

“I know… I’m sorry…” he says softly. “And I didn’t know what you were dealing with personally which makes me feel even worse,” he says kneeling in front of you.

You both sit there motionless, not wanting to talk anymore. You felt your heart hurt, you never thought you could feel so broken. Just when you thought things were getting better, it came crashing down. You knew this whole thing was too good to be true. You just didn’t know how messy it would be.

You get up and smooth your dress out. Elvis quickly gets up too, looking at you with concern. 

“I’m sorry baby, please. I was an idiot I didn’t know what I was doing,” he pleads as he gently caresses your face. His touch burns your skin and makes you feel weak. You hate yourself for liking his hands on you so much. You sigh softly and lean against the wall. He presses his forehead against yours and his breathing hitches. You place your hand on his cheek and feel the wet drops of tears cover his face.

“Please, forgive me,” he begs, his voice quivering softly. You stay silent as he tilts your head up to look up at him through wet eyelashes. He places the softest kiss on your lips, making you feel weak. Both of you gasp, needing air over this small kiss. He places another kiss on your lips, this time with a bit more urgency. You squeeze at his arm, trying to fight his magnetic pull. It’s almost useless. His arms pull you closer to him and you both sigh exasperated. You tremble with emotion and he places another passionate kiss on you. 

“I’m sorry baby, please,” he whimpers. 

You feel on fire but the tears pouring down from your eyes are making you feel like you have a fractured soul now. You’ll never be whole again. You struggle for breath and try to get a hold of yourself. You push at his chest and blink through your tears to look at him. You had never seen him cry like this and it breaks you. 

“I can’t see you anymore. Whatever this was, it's done,” you sob.

Fear engulfs his eyes and he shakes his head. 

“No no please baby, don’t go. Stay, we can talk more,” he pleads. 

“There’s nothing else to say,” you whimper. You start to take a few steps away and he gently holds your hand. 

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me. I can’t be without you. I don’t know how to get by without you here. I need you,” he begs. Tears stream down your face and you feel like the air got sucked out of your lungs when you hear him confess this. It sounded too good to be true. These were words you always longed to hear coming from his lips. It’s too late though. 

“I have to go,” you sob. 

“Baby no,” he cries, slowly crumbling to his knees in front of you. 

You feel your heart break in two, this was a sight you never wanted to see. It felt awful to say but you needed to walk away. There was nothing else to fix this relationship. 

“Bye E,” you whimper and pull your hand away from his. It felt physically painful. 

You walk back out to the driveway and you see some of the guys waiting to open the gate for you. Putting the keys in the ignition, your radio blares and Elvis’ voice rings from the speakers. It was a song you didn’t recognize. It must have been off of his new album or something. You quickly shut the radio off and want to drive in silence instead. Backing out of the driveway, you see Elvis standing in the middle of it. He looked distraught, like he just witnessed a death. 

In a way, that’s what it felt like. This whole evening was ruined from the moment you walked into the house. Any possibility of what could have been with you and Elvis was washed away by a flood.

*

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Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

@ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @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

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[ladelinee]

Ladeline’s Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to my masterlist. Here, you can find my fics organized in a more structured manner.

Series

• 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒖𝒑 | 70’s Elvis. Smut, angst, violence, fluff

[Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4], [Part 5], [Part 6], [Part 7], [Part 8], [Part 9] [Part 10]

One shot

• 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 | 70’s Elvis. angst, smut

• Saturday night | 50’s Elvis. fluff

• Taking good care of her | Requested, fluff.

• Little killer | 70’s Elvis,fluff.

• Vampire in Disguise | Halloween Special [1] [2]-> new!

If you’re interested in reading the fics in Spanish, feel free to check out my Wattpad profile where they’re also available in both languages!

[sergeantelvis]

"I'm Sorry"

SUMMARY: After following Elvis throughout his career and being there for him, he seems to forget what's most important... you.

warning: ANGST, hurt to comfort?, shouting, miscommunication, insecurity.

A/N: This is my first ever post on Tumblr I've been on here a while so I thought why not give a shot at writing, please keep in mind English isn't my first language :)

Pairing: Elvis x reader (can also be Austin elvis!)

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As the sun set over Memphis, the vibrant city whispered tales of heartache and passion. Among the countless souls navigating the streets, a young woman could be found strolling the dimly lit pathways with what seemed to be a small frown perched upon her face.

That woman also happened to be one of the worlds most talked about people in this current moment, yet she felt like she was the only one talking and no one was listening. That woman was who teenage girls could only dream to be, yet she didn't want to be herself in the very moment. Why would she?

Today was supposed to be different she told herself, he would actually remember, she really tried to believe her own husband would be there to support her during one of the biggest achievements of her life, just like she had done for him the last seventeen years. You see she had been there for him through all walks of life, since he was a tiny little blonde haired ray-of-sunshine and when he dyed his hair black and decided to switch up his style, she was there. And he couldn't even show up for one stupid court-case?

God she felt pathetic, she knew he wouldn't come, so why did she think this time it would be any different. But what could she do? She was Mrs Presley, and thats all people would see her as. As she walked along she moonlit streets she became more wary that she had been pushed aside by her husband, she had made a fool of herself letting him walk around with his wedding band off and acting like a single man with women surrounding him. People warned her about marrying Elvis but she would never listen to them because he was her Elvis and no one knew him like she did, and for a while that was true... until it wasn't.

Her beautiful Navy suit had been especially picked out for this trail, hoping that people would see her, hoping that He would see her. Thoughts swirled in her mind as she tried to process why she had let herself go so far as to have to beg for his attention, she was not some groupie he had picked up from his concerts or some teenaged fan that adored his music, she was his wife.

And she had enough.

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The night air clung to her like a heavy shroud as she approached the hallowed gates of Graceland. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the sprawling estate that had once been her sanctuary. But tonight, it felt more like a prison.

The grand entrance of Graceland loomed ahead of her, its ornate ironwork giving way to a long, winding driveway. As she ventured further in her green Beatle, the faint sound of music reached her ears, weaving its way through the evening breeze. Laughter, muffled and distant, hinted at a revelry she was not a part of.

Stepping across the threshold she had first hesitated towards, she entered the foyer. Dimly lit chandeliers bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, casting intricate patterns onto the polished marble floor. The air was thick with the mingling scents of expensive perfume and the anticipation of a vibrant gathering, yet it only deepened her pit of despair that was building inside of her.

Through the open doorways, she glimpsed the living room, ablaze with colour and movement. Lavish gold accented decorations adorned the walls, reflecting the vibrancy of the party within. The room seemed pulse with energy, the laughter and voices of the guests hanging in the air like an invisible veil.

In the midst of the festivities, Elvis stood at the centre, a star among the crowd. His charismatic smile drew people to him, their adoration evident in their eyes, but as her own guys met his, he remained transfixed by the merriment, not even batting an eyelid in her direction.

Her heart sank the steps, becoming slow and weighted with the sorrow she could no longer bear. She carved attention, his understanding of this passing sea of celebration. She appeared to be nothing more than a ghost existing in the peripheral of his attentions.

There, at the centre of the circle of vibrant guested, Elvis, his charm radiating like an Ethereal light. He was locked in at dance of words with a fan Her face flashed with the light basked on his attention. She observed the ease with which he engaged in stranger, his smile more genuine than she had seen in months.

The woman's voice, light and melodious, carrying hints of infatuation as she flirted shamelessly with Elvis. Hello, after accompanied by the soft music in the background seem to melt with the rhythm of his wife's own shattered heart. She could hardly fathom have someone. He didn't even know how to more sway over him, and she is devoted wife.

As she watched her husband, his eyes, twinkling with amusement, she felt an indescribable pain gnaw at her chest. She had dedicated her life to him, bent over backwards to keep their love and life. I need to find herself reduced to an inconsequential presences.

As she leaned against the wall, her tears subsiding, but her pain still palpable. Elvis's eyes flicker towards her. His eyes lingered for a moment before realisation, dawned on him, and with Swift footsteps, he crossed the room to reach her side.

"Hey, baby," He drawled, attempting to dismiss the intensity of the scene, she had just witnessed. His voice infused, with a southern twang still sent shivers down the spine, had once been the balm to her weary soul, but now it only served as a reminder of the golf at grown between.

Her eyes, once filled with love and admiration, now held a mix of sadness and anger. She took a deep breath, collecting the fragments of her resolve, before confront the man she had given her heart to all those years ago.

"You've missed my court case, my own battles and achievements, all while you were caught up in this whirlwind of adoration from strangers," She finally blurted out.

Elvis blinked, his azure eyes mirroring the confusion in his voice. "Satnin? Why didn't you say anything?" He cooed, attempting to soothe her. "You know I've got a lot on my plate."

The word "Satnin" would have once brought a smile to her face, an endearment she cherished, due to Elvis's late mother Gladys who was her second mother growing up in the small area of Tupelo. She shook her head, causing her locks to cascade around her like a waterfall of frustration.

"How can you think we are okay?" She exclaimed, her voice quivering. "

"Elvis, I can't help but feel pushed aside. It's not just about this one encounter; it's about so much more. You've missed my court case, countless family dinners, and it feels like our connection has dwindled to empty conversations. I've been left here, alone, while you bask in the adoration of fans."

Elvis's brow furrowed in confusion as he attempted to grasp the gravity of her words. He had been so immersed in his own world that he failed to recognize the depth of her emotional turmoil. "Satnin, I didn't realize you were feeling this way. I've just been caught up in the whirlwind of fame. Ya know it's not personal, right?"

y/n's frustration simmered beneath her surface, threatening to erupt like a dormant volcano. "How can it not feel personal, Elvis? We used to be each other's entire world. Now, I'm just an accessory on the fringes of your life while you play the role of the adored superstar."

Elvis's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and offense clouding his features. He tried to interject, but her pent-up emotions poured out like a torrential rainstorm, unable to be contained any longer.

"You think this is all about my support? It's not about that, Elvis! It's about feeling invisible, unappreciated, and alone. I've offered my unwavering support, but what have I received in return? Empty promises and missed moments. Is this how our love is supposed to be?"

A flicker of realization darted across Elvis's face, but his natural stubbornness lingered. "Satnin, I've been trying my best, but I can't be in two places at once. This music, these fans, they're a part of me. You knew that when we got married."

Her voice reached a crescendo, her frayed patience snapping under the weight of Elvis's dismissive attitude. "I didn't expect you to choose, Elvis. But I did anticipate that you would make an effort to make me feel like a priority in your life. Instead, I feel like I'm a distant second to the screaming crowds that cheer you on night after night."

Elvis, his patience waning, raised his voice in frustration. "Listen, baby, I have responsibilities, commitments. This is the life I've chosen. Can't you understand that?"

She gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. "Understand? I understand that you're using your fame as an excuse to neglect your responsibilities as a husband. You blame me for not understanding, but what about the countless nights I've spent alone, waiting for you? What about the promises you've made and broken?"

Elvis's expression turned defensive, his charm morphing into frustration. "You're being unreasonable, Y/N. I can't be at your beck and call all the time; I have a career to manage."

Y/N's voice trembled with anger. "Unreasonable? You have the audacity to call me unreasonable? All I wanted was a partner, someone who would be there for the important moments, to listen and support me. But you're too wrapped up in your own fame to even notice."

Elvis's obstinacy overshadowed any semblance of understanding. His tone hardened as he lashed out, trying to deflect his own guilt. "Maybe it wouldn't feel so empty if you were more supportive, if you understood the sacrifices I have to make!"

Her patience snapped, her voice resonating with a mix of fury and hurt. "Sacrifices? Where do my sacrifices fit into this equation? I've sacrificed my dreams, my desires, to support you, to be the wife you needed. And all I ask for in return is a fraction of your attention, your time."

Elvis and Y/N stood face to face in their lavish Memphis mansion. The room crackled with tension as their argument escalated, both parties unwilling to back down. Her eyes were brimming with tears, reflecting her hurt and frustration, while Elvis stubbornly refused to see his faults.

"You just don't understand, Y/N! I give you everything, I give you this beautiful home, luxurious cars, and all the fame you could ever want. Why are you so miserable?" Elvis exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief.

Y/n took a deep breath, trembling with the weight of her emotions. She knew this was her moment to speak her truth and reveal the depth of her pain. "Elvis, material possessions and fame aren't enough for me. I want emotional connection, intimacy, and a partner who truly understands me. But lately, it feels like I'm living in your shadow. You're so consumed with yourself that you've forgotten about our marriage."

Elvis's eyes widened, struck by her heartfelt words. For the first time, he began to truly comprehend the gravity of his actions. "But Baby, I don't mean to neglect you. I love you more than anything. How can I make it right?" His voice wavered, a mix of desperation and regret seeping through his words.

Her gaze softened, her love for Elvis still evident despite the pain she felt. "It's not just about apologies, Elvis. It's about changing your behavior, showing me every day that I matter to you. I can't keep living like this, always feeling secondary to your career."

A mixture of guilt and sadness washed over Elvis as he realized the damage he had caused in their marriage. He reached out, gently cupping Y/Ns face in his hands. "Baby, I never intended to hurt you. I know my words haven't always been kind, but you're the center of my world. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm truly sorry."

The air hung heavy with silence as she contemplated his words. She searched his eyes, seeking a sign of sincerity. Slowly, she nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Elvis, I want to believe that you mean it, but forgiveness doesn't come easy. We need time to heal, to rebuild the trust that has been shattered."

Elvis nodded, his heart sinking as he realized the consequences of his actions. They moved towards the hallway, away from prying eyes, their voices lowering to whispers. "Mama, please don't leave me. I can't imagine my life without you. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

She looked into his eyes, her pain alongside her love for him evident. "Elvis, the road to forgiveness will be long and arduous. I need you to understand that. It will take more than just words to mend what's been broken. We both have work to do."

Elvis took a trembling breath, feeling the weight of his past mistakes. He gently squeezed her hand, a solemn vow crossing his lips. "I promise you, Satnin, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll be a better husband, a better man. Just please, don't give up on us."

As they stood there, enveloped in the intimacy of their private moment, Elvis and Y/N knew that the journey ahead would not be easy. But their love, their shared history, and the desire to rebuild what was lost provided a glimmer of hope. Their path to healing had just begun, one step at a time.

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A/N: I got a bit carried away! But I'm also looking to make more friends in the Tumblr/Elvis community and would love to follow people or have proofreaders :) thank you <33

[headfullofpresley]

Hey, babe! 🥰

Saw you needed some scenarios 👀 and idk if this is cute enough but I've had this idea for a while and just haven't gotten around to writing it myself—what if reader found some old photos of E when he was younger, and he catches her looking through them and he gets self-conscious, because he knows he doesn't look the same and he knows reader could have anyone else if she wanted, but she reassures him and they end up reminiscing as they go through the photos together. 🥹

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Word count: 3,2K

Warnings: angst-ish, Elvis feeling insecure, strong language.

A/N: thank you sm for the request, steph! i hope you like it, honey! 💗 the celine song was on repeat while i was writing this- i thought it fit pretty well. 😌

masterlist

“Mrs. Presley, I don’t think this is a good idea!”

Miss Jenkins called up to you from where she stood by the pull down attic ladder.

You managed to suppress a scream when you walked right through an old spider’s web and cleared your throat a little, shivering as you slapped it off of you.

“Don’t worry, Mary- I’ll be fine! It’s just.. very dark in here,” you made sure to lower the volume of your voice at the end of your sentence, but Mary heard you nonetheless.

Mary Jenkins loved you and she enjoyed having you around her whenever Elvis wasn’t home or sleeping, but you always came up with the darnest ideas.

Like on this relaxing Sunday afternoon where Elvis had some time for himself and was snoring up a storm in his bedroom, you decided you wanted to inspect the attic. When you told Mary and Minnie Mae that you had been hearing noises coming from up there and wanted to find out what it was, they told you not to do it.

Well, Mary told you not to, Minnie Mae cheered you on.

Graceland was built in 1939- there being wandering spirits wasn’t such a strange idea.

You liked the idea of it, but Mary did not like to mess with these things at all. Still, she wasn’t going to leave you all by yourself and stayed in her spot at the bottom of the stairs.

Partly to catch you in her arms if something would happen and you’d come down crying and screaming – which she knew was definitely something you’d do – and partly to keep an eye out if Elvis was coming out of his room or not.

“There’s a light in the middle of the room, pull the string if you can find it,” you did as she told you to, shuffling forward with your arms stretched out. “Oh, I really do think you should just come down, little girl. Mr. Presley doesn’t want you to go up there, you know that!”

Elvis did not want you to inspect the attic because he too has heard the noises and just like you, he was convinced it weren’t rats or mice. He told you to leave the spirits of Graceland alone, but he should’ve known that you weren’t going to listen.

“He’s asleep, don’t worry, Ma-AH!”

“What? Mrs. Presley, what happened?!”

You placed your hand over your heart, a headless mannequin standing in front of you, adorning one of Gladys’ dresses on the silhouette. Your adrenaline had grown tenfold, but still you didn’t come downstairs.

“N-Nothing- just another spider!”

“Hmmhmm,” she mumbled, obviously not believing a word you said. You were pretty sure she was rolling her eyes right now.

 

The lighting in the attic wasn’t much, but there was not much up there to see that you hadn’t seen yet. An old sofa that once stood downstairs, Elvis’ army uniform, some mannequins with Gladys’ dresses and a big, mahogany dresser- you smiled as you opened a few drawers and noticed Elvis’ baby clothing in them. You admired them for a little bit, until you spotted some boxes in the corner, propped up against the side of the dark Chesterfield sofa.

“Mrs. Presley, Minnie Mae needs me- I’ll be back in a minute. Please don’t stay up there for too long!” Mary yelled in a whisper as you sat down on the couch, waving some specks of dust out of your view while pulling the boxes closer to you.

You heard Mary shuffling away from the stairs, calling out to Dodger and you opened the first box. Inside of it were photo albums, a lot of them.

“Okay, Mary!” you yelled back, not caring if you woke up Elvis or not. You knew he’d forgive you for doing something he told you not to.

He was your husband, not your father.

Ofcourse, you couldn’t resist yourself.

You pulled out the first heavy album, placing it on your lap to open it. Despite the low lighting, you could make out that it was mostly pictures of Elvis’ parents, grandparents and other family members that you had never met. The pictures were old- the edges were frayed and in some were deep creases, indicating that they had once been folded and unfolded. Your smile grew as your eye fell on a picture of Gladys and Vernon, little Elvis sitting on their lap as he was shooting the camera a toothless smile.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, caressing your fingertips over it before you shut the photo album and moved on to the next one.

And the next one, and the next one…

Until you came across one filled with pictures from the 50s, from Elvis’ last years in high school and gradually going to when he was starting out his career.

You met Elvis in the early 70s and although you had seen pictures from when he was younger before, you hadn’t seen them all.

Mary startled you as she called out to you again and you quickly got up, shoving some albums back in the box though keeping the last one under your arm. You pushed the box back to the side of the couch and turned off the light, carefully climbing down the stairs.

“What’s the verdict, Mrs. Presley? Do we need a priest?” Mary grinned playfully at you and you frowned as if you had no idea what she was talking about.

Because of the pictures, you hadn’t even thought to check for mice or for ghosts.

“I don’t think so,” you then laughed, helping her push the ladder back up before you followed the other woman down the stairs.

Figuring Dodger was in her room and Vernon was in his office or at his own home, the house was silent. Extremely rare, but you liked it.

 

Mary joined you as you looked through the photo album together while nursing a cup of coffee. You giggled together as you pointed out Elvis’ boyish but flirty smirk in one of the pictures.

The both of you were so engrossed in the pictures that you hadn’t seen or heard Elvis wandering into the dining room where you were seated until Mary looked up and got up from her seat.

He told her to stay seated, but she just flashed him a smile as she told him she’d make him something to eat before disappearing into the kitchen.

“What are you looking at, baby?” he questioned as he walked over to you, his large hands engulfing your smaller shoulders as he stood behind you.

“You,” you grinned. As you looked up and behind you, you noticed his eyes were on the open photo album in front of you. He grimaced, though his features softened as he looked back at you.

“I told you not to go up to the attic,” he mumbled as he sat down in Mary’s seat next to you, keeping his eyes strictly on you.

You chuckled, looking at him with a small pout and a raise of your shoulders. “Someone had to check for mice,”

He hummed teasingly, squinting his eyes a little at you before he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. “Ghosts, mice- same thing, right?”

You hummed in agreement as he laughed softly, his arms snaking around your waist to pull you onto his lap. He gently leaned his chin on your shoulder and closed the photo album.

“Why are you even lookin’ at that? It’s just old, boring pictures,” he mumbled, trying to distract you by moving your hair over your shoulder and hiding his face in your neck, his lips parting against your heated skin to lick that little sensitive spot underneath your ear.

You would’ve given in any other time – it was hard not to – but Mary was right there in the kitchen and you weren’t done looking at the younger version of your husband that you never got to experience in real life.

“They’re not boring, Elvis!” you protested, raising your shoulder again to get him out of your neck. You opened the photo album again, flipping to the page you had been looking at before you were interrupted. “These are really beautiful memories, you should treasure them, not put them up in the attic- besides, you were really handsome,”

He scoffed, looking at the side of your face as he squeezed you in his embrace. He could practically see hearts popping out of your eyes and drool dripping down your chin.

“Were, huh?”

“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant,” you shushed him, waving your hand before you leaned your elbows on the table, happily looking at the pictures of your boyfriend posing with his car.

If the comment hadn’t struck some kind of nerve inside of him, he would’ve grabbed your hips and thrusted his hips upwards against your ass that was currently sticking out, but it did.

He didn’t know why – he did, but he just didn’t want to admit it because he knew it were his own damn insecurities coming out to play – but your words made his mood drop in a matter of seconds. Grabbing your waist, he got up from underneath you and pulled the album toward him as he stood next to you.

You sat down on the chair, looking up at him with confusion written on your features. You could see his mood had shifted, you just didn't know why.

“I told you not to go to the attic, so why would you do it- why don’t you listen?”

He kept his flat hand on top of the photo album, preventing you from taking it back when you tried. You scoffed and got up, folding your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just the attic, Elvis. You’re acting like you have some kind of gold treasure hidden up there,”

You had to surpress an eye roll, knowing that would get him even deeper in whatever emotion he was feeling.

“It’s just a bunch of old stuff up there, like this,” he tapped his fingers against the book, placing his other hand on his hip. “And the lighting up there is bad, you could’ve hurt yourself, Y/N,”

“Well, maybe I like old stuff,” you smiled as you took a step closer to him, your hand sneaking to the photo album. “I like you, don’t I?”

The words flew off your tongue before you could stop yourself. But that was who Elvis and you were- you’d tease the hell out of each other and your age difference was usually the main subject.

You’d call him an ancient old vampire and he’d call you a child, putting on Sesame Street during your movie nights.

And you could always laugh about it together, but right now, laughing was the last thing he did.

Grasping the album from the table, he turned around and stormed out of the dining room and up the stairs.

 

Elvis didn’t know why he was acting the way he was. He knew you- knew your jokes and what your personality was like and most importantly, he knew you loved him.

You had told him so many times, showed him so many times. You were the type of girl that would bite someone’s head off if they said something nasty about him, even stuff that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about. You were always there to stand up for him even though he could handle it himself perfectly fine.

But seeing you look at those pictures of his younger self, seeing you swoon over them, it made the demons in his head overrule the rational part of his brain.

Because he didn’t look like that anymore. He didn’t have the same body, nor the same face, nor the same hair. His body had gotten fuller and let’s be real- who would be happy about that?

Ofcourse he knew that you loved him for who he was and that you thought he was attractive, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you wished he was a little skinnier, maybe even a little younger.

A knock on the door startled him as he was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, looking up at a random show that was playing on the ceiling TVs. He knew it was you, so he mumbled a soft “come in”.

“I come in peace,” you announced yourself, stepping inside your shared bedroom with a tray full of food Mary made. He didn’t say anything, instead turning his head back to the TVs.

You put the tray on the bed as you crawled onto it on your own side, sitting on your knees. Smiling at him, you pushed the tray closer to him.

“’M not hungry,” he mumbled, grabbing the remote to absentmindedly switch the channel.

“Liar,” you squinted your eyes at him, catching him off guard as you snatched the remote out of his hand and turned the TV off, throwing the remote to the end of the bed. He sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the bed as he closed his eyes.

“What’s going on, Elvis? I know this isn’t about me going up to the attic,”

He sighed deeply, opening his eyes. He didn’t want to look at the food nor at you, so he opted for the black tv screens. You hated when he was this distant, because it usually meant something was wrong and in this moment, you had no idea what happened that got him to this point.

Moving the tray further away from the both of you, you crawled closer to his side and lifted his arm, forcing him to put it around you. Leaning against him, you put one hand on the side of his neck, your fingertips pressing against his jawline to get him to look at you.

He was resisting.

“Elvis, I know something’s up, but I’m not a mind reader,” you whispered, the teasing tone of your voice nowhere to be heard. You were getting a little worried now, because truly upsetting him had never been your intention.

For the first time since you came into the room, he looked you in the eye. A heavy sigh slipped past his lips and his arm that you put around your own shoulder squeezed you into his side a little firmer.

“It’s.. it’s those damn pictures,” he eventually admitted, his voice a mere whisper. “Ofcourse they’re great memories- I looked good, I looked better,”

You frowned, moving your hand down his chest as you sat up a little, looking at him as if he had just grown two heads. “Baby, you still look good,”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head as he looked down at your hand on his chest, placing his own atop of yours. “Hardly. I don’t look like that anymore, Y/N.. and when I saw the way you were looking at ‘em, I-I don’t know.. You can easily find some better looking fool- you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,”

You shifted your body, sitting back on your behind on the soft mattress to properly face him. You laced your fingers together with his, slipping your other hand in his as well.

“I don’t want any other fool, Elvis, only the one I already got,” you smiled softly at him, squeezing his hands firmly.

He sighed deeply, his thumbs rubbing the back of your hands as his eyes watched the repeated motion.

You hated to see this was bothering him so much. If only he could have a peek in your heart, then he could see it was full of him and only him. He stayed silent, so you continued, wanting your husband to know that you loved him more than life itself.

“Elvis,” the serious expression on your face made him a little nervous. “I love you for you- not for your body, or anything superficial like that. To me, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I fell in love with you, your soul..” you managed to release one of his hands, flattening yours against his chest. “… your kind soul and heart. Even though I can tape you to the ceiling on some days, you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met- you put up with me on my worst days, you’re always here for me and that’s why I love you,”

“You mean that?”

“Ofcourse I do, you silly man,” you laughed softly, moving to straddle him. Gently cupping his face, you grinned and pecked his lips. “Besides- Elvis in the 50s was cute, but he could never handle me,”

He watched with an amused look on his face as you threw your hair over your shoulder and fluttered your eyelashes at him. Laughing, he pushed you against him by placing a hand in between your shoulder blades and hugged you tight. “I love you, little one,”

“I love you too,” you hummed, pecking his lips once more as you pulled back from the embrace. Getting off his lap, you grabbed the photo album he had put at the foot of the bed and the tray of food, putting it on his lap. You sat next to him again, with the album on your lap.

“Now, let’s look at these pictures and I promise you I will make fun of every single one of your outfits,”

“Hey! There was nothin’ wrong with what I wore!”

“I meaaaan…” you opened the book, pointing at a picture of him on stage dressed in the gold lamé suit.

He ripped into a piece of bacon, grimacing at the photo before he looked at you. Giving you a nod and a small shrug of his shoulders, he agreed. “Fair enough,”

 

Elvis knew he had to get over himself and he was glad you were there to help him with it. You loved him and only him- you didn’t care about the clothes he wore, the size he was, or the wrinkles he inevitably was going to get.

You loved his style through all the years, but you kept making jokes here and there about some pictures to lighten the mood and he appreciated it. He’d joke along with you, or tell you stories about something that happened before, during or after a show or the backstory about certain pictures.

Being there with Elvis at the very start of his career sounded exciting – at least, from the stories he told you – but he was doing great things now as well. He was still making his fans happy with new records and live shows, or simply by chatting with them about their personal lives if he had the chance to.

Your husband was a person with layers- sometimes that manifested in moments and outbursts that were not so pretty, but most of the time it manifested in kindness and empathy.

So, yes; young Elvis was amazing. A trendsetter, if you will. That twenty something year old changed people’s lives even though he might’ve not realised it (and probably still doesn’t now).

But the man that was currently laughing at a picture of himself and telling you the funny story that went along with it was extraordinary.

No matter what he looked like, you thought the world of him. And if there was any possible way for you to give Elvis Presley the moon and the stars, there was no doubt you would.

Taglist: @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @woundmetender @returntoelvis @prayerstopresley @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @notstefaniepresley @wonka-gifs @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Summary: an episode taking place after “Three Way Script”

Warnings: talks of still born children, suggestions of threesomes, consensual infidelity and polyamory

Notes: gosh I’ve been off here so long and yet I’m still clogged with love notes! How’d i get so lucky? This fandom truly is the sweetest, most gushing and loving imaginable and each of you are dear to me and I miss you all. Europe has seemed to swallow me as I’m over for another month I had not anticipated. That’s ok. It’s that’s great in fact but I’m whooped and tired and missing the chance to make believe with y’all. Here’s a little resurgence in that, thanks for your patience and please, please, please keep spamming me all you want in my inbox and dms as I adore it and it helps me feel included even as I’m a little preoccupied with work right now. Xoxo🌹

Cautions: this was written and not edited a bit, wahooo

Anne’s The Name

Ann-Margret was rather used to being ambushed outside her dressing room by the occasional stray autograph seeker, an entitled producer or five anticipating more, or co-stars looking for a drink after shooting to wind down the chemistry of the day.

As of yet, she’d never been met by a wife.

But there she was, Elaine. Never having met her before didn’t afford Ann even a split second of ignorance. She knew who she was. Mrs. Presley was unmistakable, even when playing at being inconspicuous. Leaning against the stage wall in a somehow more provocatively natural stance than even her husband could manage, those long legs freshly tanned against a pink shift skirt and the elegant length of her -she was slimmer than the papers showed her, what with this baby making hiatus- topped off by chocolate curls getting whipped around her like the studio’s wind tunnel was a paid employee. More deadly still was when the opened door attracted her attention and that pretty pearl adorned neck turned to face Ann, that stunner of a face entirely full of curiosity and maybe…mischief?

Ann was too startled to be certain.

Startled by her sudden appearance, startled by the prettiness of her, startled by the lack of venom anywhere to be found on that compelling face, the lips of which were quirking up in a undeniable smirk of teasing enjoyment. She was enjoying Ann’s dumbfounded, half cocked, partway out the door, frozen in place shock. Somehow this was neither the self sacrificing Saint not irate Madonna that Ann anticipated maybe one day being confronted by.

Instead she was being warmly appraised by heavily fringed eyes that glimmered gold in the late day’s sun. Like her merits for lover or playmate were being gauged. Ann wondered if the rumors were true, if Elvis had really taken a lump of clay and fashioned himself a wife in his own image, more identical and fitting than any rib shaped lady could aspire. That sense of danger and intrigue and knowing that had filled her on meeting Elvis came flooding over Ann again, unable to do more than curiously inspect Elaine as she turns towards her.

“Thumper?” Elaine’s voice is as soft and hopeful as it was coming across the telephone receiver weeks ago, “You are Ann, I believe?” she presses when Ann’s manner can’t play catch up with her overwhelming emotions and she remains frozen, halfway out her open door.

“Ela- Mrs. Presley!” she corrects, wincing at the fumble, utterly unsure now that she’s not being met with open hostility.

“I didn’t mean to startle you!” Elaine straightens up from the wall and click clacks over in her heels to stand opposite Ann, just an arms reach removed from each other and Ann thinks of what a pretty scene they’d make if this were scripted, one red and one brown, a flavor for each taste, matching in height and complimentary in build, facing off in a tunnel. “It’s just I managed to give Esposita the slip and E’s gonna be busy with the studio dubbing and I’m no use at all. I thought I’d wrestle up a friend while I was free.” Elaine’s beaming smile dims the longer Ann stalls for time and etiquette, “Or-or if you’re not free, I understand, I at least wanted to say hello. I’m going to be in the city for a little while and didn’t want to be bumping along into you some day without having sought you out.”

Ann wondered if Elvis asked her to come, if Ann and her inventive ways to have sex without having sex wasn’t quite cutting it and he had caved and called the wife. Or if Elaine had heard Ann’s voice over the telephone and gathered from the whole sleepwalking debacle that it was high time to reel him and his affairs in. Or maybe the colonel had seen the papers, Heda Hopper’s column in particular stating that Elvis was taking a shine to his red headed mirror, and sent the wife down for damage control. The only thing is, Ann was sure that the Colonel was thick as thieves with Hedda, much to Elaine’s distress no doubt, and he loved every bit of publicity that Elvis’ wayward eyes could drum up.

Family men didn’t sell, after all. Ann had certainly played her part in his playboy reconstruction with convincing aplomb.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog of Ann’s concerns and suddenly she’s able to find her voice as she starts to tip over,

“No, I-I’m a little dizzy.” Ann admits, just as Elaine’s arms and a wall barely manage to keep her from face planting on the cement.

-I’m a little dizzy and I love your husband and you’re here to distract him and I’m awful aren't I?! but I couldn’t help it, if you love him as much as you say you’ll understand I couldn’t help it, I can’t help loving him-

“Woah, woah, have you eaten?” Elaine asks solicitously as she keeps Ann standing upright against the wall by an iron grip around her waist and under her arm. Anne winces at what she knows is the tacky feel of her sticky underarm pit cradled by Elaine Presley’s perfectly manicured hand. Why did she have to wear a yellow shift dress today of all days? She can feel Elaine’s fingers rubbing at the tassel on the waist, soothing her the same way Elvis does. By touch, gentle in a way that belies the ease with which she holds her upright. The woman is terribly strong for looking so delicate and there’s suddenly a great deal of logic to Elvis’ starry eyed submissiveness regarding his doll faced wife -Elaine is imposing when she gets her hands on you.

Embarrassment floods Ann next, blushing hot and dewy at being caught so weak in front of a woman the world would say she’s wronged. Heat replaces the cold and clammy dizziness of before and she struggles upright against the wall, getting her feet to work for her, stamping the heels a little to get a strong footing. Elaine doesn't budge in her grip on her, still looking concerned and gentle -god, she’s as comfortable with closeness as he is.

“Matter of fact I have neglected eating.” Ann chuckles weakly, puffing at the hair that’s fallen over her forehead and into her eyes, Elaine swipes it away when the directed huff proves ineffective against hairspray laden locks. “It’s been so hot and -and we had a dance scene, kept having to repeat it and -and so many takes. I got a little nauseous from the heat. I forgot to have lunch.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, poor thing.” Elaine tsks, “Makes folks sick and then they don’t want what they actually need. Happens to the kids on the beach all the time, it’s like bargaining with Castro trying to get Jesse out of the ocean to hydrate.” Ann finds herself chuckling at the mental image of this familial anecdote before she realizes she is chuckling at stories about Elvis’ kids. Should she say her condolences for Joe now? Should she even admit she knows as much as she does? “We should get some meat in you. Water, too.” Elaine decides her course for her, “Do you wanna go back in there to rest for a minute?” she points at the dressing room Ann just exited, “Or we can make a dash for my car and find ourselves a bite?”

What either of these options unspokenly state is that Ann will be spending her evening with Elaine, one way or another. If she’s gonna get throttled for being an adulteress she'd rather it be in a drive-in-diner and not some stuffy back-lot dressing room.

“I think I can manage the dash.” she answers agreeably because that’s what Elaine seems to illicit in her -agreeableness.

And as she finds herself tugged by the hand across the mostly empty parking lot, Ann wonders where that ornery streak she’s made her fame on has gone to. Maybe it’s the dehydration that has tuckered her out. Maybe it’s how Elaine acts like she’s her mother in a way that not even her own mother could make so charming.

Elaine is going to get her burgers and water and make her head less fuzzy. It’s been such a while since anyone met her needs so eagerly that Ann finds herself giggling as they race across the wavering hot asphalt, their heels echoing like clopping tattletales and Ann thinks it’s such a lark right as she tips over the convertible caddy’s door into the plush leather passenger seat.

The convertible is pink, because Elvis bought it for his wife and didn’t bother to ask her what her favored color would be, it was just understood that Mrs. Presley would like a pink Cadillac.

Ann is positive that’s how it went, she doesn’t even need to ask Elaine for the story as Elaine cranks the engine up while flipping the visor forward to tip out a pair of cat-eye shades in what strikes Ann as a strangely masculine getsure of proficiency. It makes Ann want to fan herself at the subtext of this woman having hung around Elvis Presley long enough to have picked up his impossibly cool mannerisms by osmosis.

That right there is intimacy. That right there is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. That’s a wife.

Ann doesn't know what to do with the rush of appreciation she feels towards what ought to be a nemesis as this cool gal who shields her knowing brown eyes behind tortoise rimmed glasses and flicks on the radios right as a crowd of studio workers begins to swamp the strange duo in their flashy ride.

The song choice by the DJ is downright unfortunate. Surrounded as they are by photographing fans and coworkers, there is nothing for them to do after Elaine’s manicured finger flicks the switch and the mournful rockabilly of Runaround Sue blasts as a ironically perfect soundtrack for the missus taking the side chick out for burgers.

Elaine’s gutsy laugh of recognition at the intro wailing “woaaaah woaaaah woaaaah” tells Ann she appreciates the irony just as much but the woman just waves at the crowd and revs the motor in a fake threat of running over a few studio heartthrobs who are draped over her caddy front trying to get a closer shot.

“If I change it now they’ll read into it more.” Elaine remarks to Ann out the side of her unwavering smile and Ann thinks that’s a talent she wants to learn, damned useful looking like you’re grinning while making conversation.

-‘ask any man that she ever knew, he’ll say keep away from a runaround sue, oh yeah, woaaaaaah”-

Elaine’s french tipped fingers thump out a corresponding rhythm on the pink lacquered steering wheel while surveying the mess of attraction they’ve brought down on themselves in the sweltering parking lot before playfully reaching for the wipers and flicking on the spray with bemused cruelty.

It’s strangely attractive, this distanced bemusement of hers and it fills Ann with notions of thanking Elaine for being a little nasty, something she never felt before for another soul. Suddenly those idiots who degrade themselves and get off in it make a little more sense as she watches the young bucks scramble off of Elaine’s shiny hood with soaked shirts and tented trousers.

“Sorry fellas, y’all were lookin’ overheated.” Elaine quips before the rest of the verbal sparring gets lost in the revv of the engine and they’re peeling out of the studio lot in a move that even Elvis would have found satisfyingly risky.

As it is, Ann lays her burning head back on the white leather seat and enjoys the feeling of the wind whipping her hair off her forehead as Elaine speeds them down Las Vegas roads that don’t tolerate a 75 mile an hour pace most times.

-“well I shoulda known it from the very start, that girl would leave me with a broken heart-“

The strip is truly lovely in the daylight and there’s a charm to it when viewed in the blur of a fast car and the veil of chocolate curls whipping around red painted lips.

“Was- that- did- did Robert Redford just wave you through his red light?” Ann splutters in disbelief at a lightning fast interaction at a four way stop that has Elaine’s head swiveling dangerously and a shark-like grin taking over her face.

“I think he did.” she replies with a guilty giggle and Ann wonders when the last time this woman got to be naughty without it being smothered right out of her the next second by a unfathomably possessive husband.

“A real good looking fella in the bright of day.” she ventures.

“He’s very blonde.” Elaine rejoins and Ann can’t help but laugh at that, at her partiality for dark haired men.

“Yes of course, you like yours so black they’re nearly blue.”

Elaine manages to swivel into their parking space in the drive-in diner with easy grace, the same sorta slide and swivel Ann imagines she’d use to scoot her body into a restaurant booth. “You’re forgetting who applies his hair dye.” she says with faux gravity that has Ann faltering for a moment until she sees her smirking, “And Jack’s not darkening up despite everyone’s predictions. I’m only saying that Redford is -“ Elaine doesn’t finish, she just shrugs and pulls the gear to park.

Noticing a star’s ride at first glance, an eager young waitress in her short skirt and rollerblades flys over and Elaine handles her and the order of five cheeseburgers and as many shakes with the same cooing authority she handled Ann with against the wall.

It sends Ann back to fidgeting, even more so when the girl takes off to plug in the order and Elaine turns the full weight of those perfectly lined eyes back at her and flicks up her sun glasses into her hair to study her closer. It lasts long enough that a blush burns Ann’s face and Elaine herself wonders if Elvis enjoys this girl’s charming unawareness of her own appeal.

Seemingly satisfied with her inspection for now, Elaine turns back in her seat and tilts the rear view mirror downwards to inspect the damage the wind did to her curls and upon catching sight of her face mutters,

“That man…” in a resigned drawl while dabbing away at a smudge of red lipstick out of her lip lines that could’ve only come about by a rather impassioned smooch. Ann figures Redford is not the man in question this time.

It makes Ann feel funny, the thought of having woken up in Elvis’ bed this morning and between then and seeing him again he’s already necked his wife. Necked her thoroughly by the looks of that finger fluffed hair. Anne recalls reading an article in the Whisper about Elaine’s perpetual state of tousled hair and bitten lips, a constant innuendo to what happens to the woman the minute the curtain drops on her picture perfect, wholesome and southern, utterly above reproach little family life. Elaine gets mauled by Elvis Presley, that’s what happens. Elvis who can play the gentleman all he wants during the mating dance but in the act itself promises nothing less than a full, thorough, beastly claiming of his woman.

“Wanna go in?” His wife is asking and it shouldn’t jar Ann as much as it does but she’s so lost in her head that it spooks her all the same and she ends up nodding mindlessly, trying to think about optics and failing to see how this could be anything but tragic for herself. “Alright but use the door handle this time, it’s got one.” Elaine snarks with a pretty little snarl of those red lips and Ann bashfully opens the caddy door properly this time instead of spilling over the side like a tomboy.

She’s still learning how to be what Hollywood wants her to be. Shedding her wholesome girl next door image for a sex kitten verve that hasn’t been entirely unnatural. But it takes a bit of balance as even sex kittens need some glamor, some poise and grace, even as they’re promisingly feral. It’s like tousled curls that hint at obscene amounts of public fuckery without being remotely indecent in itself. She watches Elaine swing open the diner door and wait with charming annoyance at Ann’s preoccupied dawdling. Being billed the “female Elvis” brought about the challenge of having to figure out what Elvis’ appeal even consisted of.

Getting to know the man…intimately…hadn’t made that any clearer. There was a mystique about him that she feared her own shy and frank nature could never manage to do more than a cheap imitation of. Now she was beginning to fear half of his appeal was the promise of his capability that was shown in Elaine Presley’s every move and smirk.

Asking his exquisitely poised and deliciously no-nonsense wife about it didn’t seem a smart move. Recovering from tripping over the curb like an awkward preteen, Ann ducks her head appreciatively for Elaine still holding the damn door open and slips inside the checkered diner.

It was teeth chattering cold in the leather booths after the heat of the ride and both Ann and Elaine found themselves shrinking from settling back into their seats, leaned forward instead with elbows on the table in a cozy pose but no topic of conversation to break the ice as they hovered in such close proximity.

“I thought this would be easier.” Elaine finally let out with a little huff and Ann couldn’t be sure if she was annoyed at her or the situation. “I thought we'd have a lot to talk about.” she explained with a hint of sadness that bewilders Ann. In response to her nonplussed face Elaine went on, “Why, you know…about…lord, our interests! Which as I hear of it consist of many of mine, motorcycles and dancing, my husband of course, and thumb sucking -to name a few.”

Ann inhaled her shake at the mention of that particular sex act, utterly unmoored at the notion he’d told his wife the actual detail. The fact the wife would tell it back.

Elaine was smiling at her coughing fit.

“He’s got such pretty fingers.” she commiserates without pausing in the assault as Ann wheezes

in a vanilla tinged breath, “It’s ingenious really, he said it worked a little too well.”

It had, that’s true, though Ann had never expected Elvis to leave her flat and call his wife up and tell her about how his young costar had cajoled him into rubbing himself to completion as she sucked his thumb in a pantomime of both fallatio and abstinence. Ann had never felt so filthy as she had when she’d watched a married man spew over his knuckles as he hooked his other thumb into her cheek at the same time, leaving her with a knowing smile, happy to keep her revved up and hungry for him for days after until he finally caved and-

“Makes me wanna try it.” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog and Ann is faced yet again with the fact that this woman seems to wanna chat about her husband's technical infidelity like two girls at a sleepover. She’s still waiting for the seething possessiveness and or vicious cutting down to size.

“Thank you for the flowers, that was -that was much too kind.” Ann gets it out, burdened in a way she hadn’t been before the bizarre need to be liked by Elaine Presley had taken root.

“Thanks for being good to him.” Elaine replies without missing a beat but in so low and earnest a tone it seems to warm the entire diner and the leather feels cozy.

“I’m so sorry about Joe.” Ann blurts with hoarse earnestness because the grief of it is choking her as she watches this woman dazzle and smile her way through a cataclysmic tragedy, the size of which has Elvis Presley himself trying to sleep walk to his death to end the pain of it.

An emotion, something very cold initially and then frighteningly intense, almost a little ugly in its horrifying struggle flits across, then threatens to crumple, Elaine’s poised features and Ann suddenly wishes her tongue had been cut out, she oughta be locked up and never let out in polite society again. She watches helplessly as Elaine’s mouth firms into a hard line even as her eyes grow wide and wild and begin glittering madly with what Ann realizes, almost too late, are unshed tears -and then those perfectly manicured hands fly up to hide a deluge of grief that melts that serene facade.

“I-I’m so sorry, I just -I just had to say it.” Ann hears herself whimpering out condolences and excuses and her hands fumble over the linoleum table top in a helpless gesture as Elaine’s hands are too busy shielding her famous face from the entire diner’s occupants as her shoulders shake in a terrible rhythm that is peculiar to stifled sobbing. “I’m just so horribly sorry for you, for both of you, all of you. And everybody goes on like it didn’t happen but I- I can’t imagine how awful that is, the ignoring of it. I-I didn’t think before I said anything I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Elaine.”

Ann watches as the sobs seem to slow, and then they still, and eventually, this young woman leans forward again and rests her elbows on the table, face still hidden by her hands, one of which boasts that stupendously gaudy wedding band. Realizing there’s one thing she can mend, Ann reaches into her purse and digs out a hanky before pressing it against Elaine’s knuckles in a silent plea for her to use it.

It’s like witchcraft the way her face is entirely composed once those hands drop and the damp and smudged hanky is balled into her dainty fist. She’s looking straight past Ann at her surroundings, clocking her audience and even twisting a little in her seat to make certain no one’s overly enthralled by her lapse in perfection, it’s exhausting watching this haunted look of hunted excellence by, Ann can’t even imagine what it’s like living it. Suddenly Ann’s hands are being gripped and the woman’s fingers are burning hot and clammy and her eyes are boring into her own, seemingly satisfied that they are still anonymous enough for a little show of emotion and Elaine is murmuring in a husky whisper,

“Thank you, Thumper -you see, nobody talks about her. I-I -there’s no one I can talk to…about her.”

The fact that her own husband can’t even manage it but had to find a stranger to spill to instead strikes Ann with a fathomless guilt for taking that from Elaine, but it’s not as if she had elicited it! He came to Ann himself and what he spoke of she couldn't control. Still, actually getting to see the cracks in his wife’s soul from the loneliness of her grief is a different thing entirely and she is moved to make amends.

“You can always talk to me -if it helps.” she whispers and Elaine gives her a wincing smile.

“I don’t think anything will help.” Elaine replies with a moodiness that is both entirely understandable, if a little off putting in just how severe it is. And, forever the barometer of moods, as if sensing Ann’s unease with her glumness, Elaine perks up in a nauseatingly convincing display of cheer. “It’s just -I think that after Mrs. Kennedy lost her baby and all that sadness, the people just don’t have it in them to find much -interest, in the sad parts. They need happiness and, and courage from us.”

Elaine’s biting her lip in a vain attempt to make it stop wobbling and Ann wishes she could smack the American public for insisting these women, one the wife of the President and the other of the King, hold up a perfect little Camelot for them to read about every Sunday. It’s real lives, real lives grieving and straining and trying their best, real infants dying and golden couples struggling to regain intimacy beyond the midnight sobbing cuddle sessions that have taken the place of making love.

No money in the world is worth such a forced display of perfection in the face of such aloneness.

“You should worry about what you need right now.” Ann tells her what she told her husband the other night.

“Ah.” Elaine clicks her tongue doubtfully, “That’s all real well but I dunno what I need. But you -are you what Elvis needs? Hmm?”

Suddenly Ann wants to bolt again, throat tight and heart skipping a beat, “I-I don’t know.”

“How old are ya?” she asks like that is a natural progression in the conversation, as if Elaine is going to be the judge of wether it is beneficial for her husband to 69 his co-star in order to forget about his dead child.

“I’m twenty two.” It feels like a confession under that earnest eyed review.

“Lord.” Elaine bites off the head of a fry and Ann wishes she was a lil soaked potato crisp herself, that bemused meanness simmering to Elaine’s smooth surface again and turning Ann into a hot mess under her nylons. “And do you wanna get married, Miss Margret? You want kids and all that? Or is it the stage life for you?”

“No, I-I’d like kids, and I’d like to marry.” she insists, “Just not now -and not Elvis, of course not Elvis!”

“Well that’s good.” Elaine drawls sardonically, “Cause he’s taken and happy to be so.”

“Yes! Yes he loves you so much.” it’s a sort of masochism for Ann to admit that yet somehow she finds she doesn’t mind it.

“I know.” is all Elaine replies with, utterly unimpressed.

“So,” Ann finds this ordeal unbearable enough she might as well ask what’s been burdening her, “why did you wanna meet with me? Is- is he through with me?” The full scale of her own unease finally surfaces and she realizes she’s got cause to suspect Elaine of more than just being jealous. “Did he send you to do it? To break it off me with me?” she can’t help the way her voice raises in outrage, it may be misplaced but her love is not false and she doesn’t deserve this, he oughta man up and do his own dirty work.

Elaine doesn’t reply for a few beats that have Ann wringing her hands around her sweaty milk shake in suspense, curious as to why the woman doesn't take the easy route and admit it, crow over her -once again the straying husband has returned to her.

“This film has only got a couple of weeks left.” Elaine says instead in so measured a tone it slices Ann to the heart quicker than any boast, “But no, no he hasn’t sent me to do anything. I’m no one’s errand boy.”

“Of course not.” Ann mumbles in apology.

“But he has-“ Elaine’s mouth twists in distress over wording and every delay hurts Ann just a little more from suspense, “-Elvis has recommenced his interest in me.” that’s a positively hilarious way to say he banged his wife and not the side piece this afternoon and Ann hates her for her delicacy, and all the pain and complications it hides, “And the thing of it is, I’ve already noticed a waning of his preoccupation with you and -I’m just an observer. It’s what I do, I watch him and then I act on what he’s gonna do or what he’s gonna want. And, Ann, can I call ya Ann? Ann, I -I think he’s gonna try to move on from ya, when the movie wraps, like he’s moved on from the others.”

Ann bites at her straw and prays her jimmying leg beneath the table isn’t painfully obvious.

“I don’t want that.” Elaine states suddenly and Ann lets go of the poor, abused straw.

“What?”

“You’re not just some other gal, Thumper.” she rolls her eyes -fondly, unless Ann is greatly mistaken. “But I think he’d treat ya like one for me. I do think it’s what he intends to do. It’s -he said as much this afternoon…during.”

Ann’s cheeks flame hot from mortification and anger, but from something else too. An electric shock zapping through her at the unintended imagining of Elvis talking about her while buried inside of Elaine. To be thought of, spoken of, made a part of that dynamic���Ann is going to hell for the way it makes her clench and breath in like a panting racehorse.

“Well that’s all -settled for you, isn’t it.” she can’t help but try her hand at being a little mean herself. It comes out petulant and she winces at the pettiness of it.

“Yes.” Elaine doesn't bother with false remorse over her surety in her husband’s return, “Which means all that’s left is to help sort you.”

“Sort me?“ Ann isn’t above mud wrestling a fellow gal on the diner floor.

“Thumper, darling,” Elaine sighs gently while her eyes stray behind Ann’s head at some gathering fans behind them, “this industry crafts an image for its stars like suits for models. What they’ve got for ya right now sure is flattering, but make no mistake, they’ll be happy to discard you and your new suit whenever it no longer makes folks gossip. I’d like us to last a lot longer than all that.” her eyes focus back on Ann’s and a sad smile lights up her face, “I think we’ve got it in us to.”

“Who’s us?”

Elaine seems to take time to consider that before answering, “The trio of us.”

Ann remains wary, it’s altogether too easy to want her to mean what she can’t possibly have intended. “Us?”

“Yeah, us.” Elaine grins, “Or at least, I think that Thumper and Naughty and Tink could manage something. Even if the adults can’t.”

It’s wicked that smile of hers and awfully persuasive, like she’s figured something out. And maybe she has, that throat closing fear that Ann was a replacement suddenly allayed by the jimmying legged beauty who acts so brave while having the ill luck of having a soulmate in a married man.

Ann’s no replacement for Elaine.

She’s Elvis’ mirror and his double and a fondness blooms in Elaine’s heart for her at that realization, along with a healthy dose of exasperation that always seems to linger when in Elvis’ presence.

“So, will you let me sort you?” she presses the young woman and doesn’t miss the way she swallows hard in the same way Elvis does when Elaine starts bossing.

Interesting.

“Arrange a little something for us that’ll outlast those hooligans at MGM? You gotta think about what you want, Ann, they’ll get ya on the treadmill and never turn the damn thing down when you burn out unless ya make them. I’d have thought you’d have learnt that these past few weeks.”

Ann knows she’s referring to Elvis and his insomnia, his hollow eyed spouting of the newest script and his mechanical jiving while his soul atrophies from grief suppressed. Ann knows there’s a damned dead end at the end of loving him too thoroughly. Too exclusively. But God! -he made her feel important. That’s all a little silly now that she’s looking at his wife with those love kiss abrasions adorning her throat and a diamond weighing down her finger.

Ann wants Elvis. Ann also wants whatever it is Elaine’s got and if she ever wants to really get that, she's gonna have to let Elaine’s husband go and find herself one of her own. “Alright.” she whispers, smudging the linoleum table top with her wrist, “I mean -I would like to remain friends. Very much.”

“We can do better than just that. But it’s a start.” Elaine clicks her tongue in a strangely cocksure way that has Ann melting as she watches as if in slow motion as Elaine’s hand comes up to her face, a manicured finger swiping at the corner of Ann’s lip before bringing the vanilla frosted finger to her own mouth and sucking nonchalantly.

Already sorting her out and Ann complies with rapt attention and a shudder. “I had the good sense to leave Jack behind for this little visit.” she admits cheerily, as if making breezy conversation and Ann realizes the crowd behind her shoulder have moved in closer, “Which means we could have a dinner party, us three, and there’d be no chaperone to set a curfew.”

Mrs. Presley wiggles her eyebrows in a way that suggests they won’t be watching movies late into the night and Ann’s heart threatens to gallop away from her at the thought of it.

Someone from the crowd asks for an autograph.

Preoccupied, Ann accidentally writes “thumper” on the bottom of a fresh Polaroid depicting her and Elaine peeling out of the studio lot.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I hope y’all enjoyed, after such a long pause I’d be astounded if any of y’all were still invested in this but I swear that while I may not be as prolific in the next few months, my gargantuan plot for this universe and others are still alive in my brain. Love y’all 😘 if you wanna be added to the taglist please comment below

@paradsol000

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[vintagepresley]

Pretty Baby

Chapter Four: That's What You Get For Loving Me

Pairing: Elvis Presley x OC Reader

Word Count: 13,854

Warnings: 18+ SMUTSMUTSMUT Angst, lots and lots of angst, cheating, Linda is kind of a bitch, fluff, physical arguments (no one gets hurt), slightly toxic behavior, talks of porn, rough sex, slapping, dirty talk, use of the word 'whore', fingering, unprotected sex, crazy power dynamics between these two. Just a lot of drama. Typical Elvis stuff.

Author's Notes: Hello besties!! Chapter four is here and it's a DOOZY. I did not mean for it to be this long but here we are as usual. This chapter is going to be a bit wild and has a lot that's going to progress the story further. Side note, I didn’t remember who Jerry was dating around ‘75, so I used Sandy, lol. I hope you all enjoy it! Possible spelling errors!

Pretty Baby series

“And he looked at me, like there was something in me worth looking at.”

Morning had come quickly and Rebecca was turning over onto her side with her eyes half open as she checked the time on the alarm clock that said 9:15. She let out a soft groan and buried her face into the pillow. She just wanted to stay in bed the whole day, she didn’t think she could face Elvis after what happened last night between the two of them and these confusing feelings she had for him. She pulled the blankets over herself just wanting to hide away from the world. As she laid there she could hear some noise outside of her room, it was Elvis. She was surprised he was up so early and she listened as she heard him moving things around in the living room. Elvis had invited everyone up to have breakfast in the suite, he was doing his best to put what happened last night behind him but he couldn’t help but wonder why she was so determined to deny what she felt for him. He just couldn’t understand it. There was a spark between them and he felt it especially last night and was just left feeling sad. But it was only her second day in Vegas and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable and want to go home. He didn’t want to be alone and she made him feel less lonely, so he decided if she didn’t bring it up; he wouldn’t. 

Once Elvis had everything set up for breakfast he hesitantly walked over to Rebecca’s room door and he stood there for a moment and carefully placed his ear against the door to see if she was awake. He couldn’t hear anything and then he knocked lightly. “R-Rebecca? You awake, honey?” he spoke softly. She lifted her head up when she heard his voice and she turned over onto her back and popped her head out of the top of the blankets and she stared at the door. Elvis could hear her moving around in there and he furrowed his brow when he got no answer. She wasn’t sure if she should say anything. But she also didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want to see him, truthfully. Not now. Elvis let out a soft sigh and he placed his hands on either side of the door frame as his head hung low. “I-I-If you are awake, honey, I’ve invited everyone up for breakfast and they’ll be here soon. I hope you’ll join us..” he said softly. Rebecca just listened and still didn’t say a word and then she heard him eventually walk away and she exhaled softly before she threw the blankets off herself and then she climbed out of the bed and headed into the bathroom. She wasn’t going to be rude and not join everyone for breakfast. She figured with all his friends and their wives there she would feel less uncomfortable if it was just the two of them. 

Elvis sat down on the couch in the living room and he kept staring back at Rebecca’s room door and he was hoping she would join breakfast. He sat there silently playing with the rings on his fingers and he perked up glancing back at her door when he heard the shower suddenly start from inside her room. A small smile formed on his lips, as hurt as he may have felt he just wanted to see her, be near her at any cost. Elvis got up from the couch when he heard a knock at the door figuring that it was everyone and he went to answer it, letting them all in. “Where’s Rebecca?” Joan asked as she and Joe came into the suite. 

“She’s just gettin’ ready. She’ll be out in a bit. I ordered breakfast and all will be up any minute now.” Elvis replied. 

As everyone took a seat at the table Rebecca could hear all the chattering going on outside the door when she got out of the shower and she took a few deep breaths as she got herself ready. Once she had finished brushing her teeth and doing her usual skincare, she only put on her light pink lipstick and a bit of mascara and brushed her hair out. She then opted to wear her tan crochet bell sleeved mini dress that clung to her curves and she paired it with some cute floral print platform clogs. She took one look in the mirror and nodded in approval of her cute outfit and she headed toward the door, taking a deep breath as her hand grasped the doorknob and then after a few more seconds she opened the door and headed out to see everyone had started eating but then suddenly staring at her as she walked out. Elvis stood up out of his chair at the sight of her with a warm smile on his face as he stared at her. She looked beautiful as always and it was obvious he was starstruck by her. Rebecca noticed the way he was looking at her before she looked away from him and cleared her throat as she walked toward the table. 

“Good morning.” she hummed softly. 

Everyone greeted her with a good morning and Elvis stepped over to the chair beside him and pulled it out for her to sit. “Good mornin’, honey.” he said in his deep southern drawl. Rebecca exhaled softly, still trying to avoid eye contact with Elvis as she sat down hesitantly in the chair he pulled out for her. 

“Good morning, Elvis.” she said softly as she soothed out her dress. 

Elvis smiled as he sat back down beside her and everyone continued to dig into their breakfast and Rebecca began to reach for some food to put on her plate. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Elvis staring at her. But she refused to look at him. He reached over to grab the bacon and offered it to her. But she shook her head not saying another word to him. He set the bacon down and now he was starting to notice that she didn’t seem to want to talk to him or look at him. He sighed softly. As breakfast continued on it was obvious to everyone that something was going on between the two of them because she had hardly spoken more than a few words to him even as he was talking to everyone during breakfast and getting everyone to engage. She would just nod and smile at his words, but not share a glance with him. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but after last night she just couldn’t pretend as if everything was okay. She wasn’t okay because she didn’t understand her feelings and had wished she could just turn them off. As she had gotten lost in her thoughts Elvis had reached over to place his hand over hers and holding it as he was talking about what Rebecca thought of the show last night and she snapped out her thoughts and snatched her hand away and looked at him. 

“Can you not?” she mumbled to him.

Elvis leaned toward her with his brow furrowed. 

“What?” he mumbled back. 

“Don’t do that.. Don’t touch me..” she mumbled through her teeth putting on a smile for everyone else at the table. 

“Everyone is here, don’t start, Rebecca.” he whispered in a heavy serious tone as he glanced up to see his friends doing their best to act if they didn't notice what was happening at the end of the table. 

Rebecca scoffed at his words and she stood up from the table and angrily walked away to her room, slamming the door closed. Elvis, embarrassed by her behavior stood up and excused himself for a moment. He went to her room not bothering to knock and just barged in slamming the door behind him and Rebecca was facing away from him and he grabbed a hold of her forearm and turned her around to face him. “What is your goddamn problem?! You hardly said a damn word to me out there! I hold your hand and suddenly I can’t touch you??” Elvis said in an angry whisper. 

“I’m sorry I can’t pretend that everything is okay when it isn’t!” Rebecca shouted not giving a damn if his friends heard as she pulled her arm out of his grip.

“Are you talkin’ about last night?” he asked. 

“What else would I be talking about, Elvis!” she yelled. 

“Keep your goddamn voice down. I don’t understand you, Rebecca. You want us to be friends, that's what I’m doin’ as hard as it is for me!” he said softly. 

“I-I don’t know what I want! I’m confused.. I don’t know how to feel.. I just.. I-I don’t know! I didn’t even want to see you this morning.” she said frantically as she paced around the room. 

Elvis watched her pacing back and forth and he raised an eyebrow as he listened to her talk. He really could not understand her or what she wanted. One minute she wants them to remain friends and the next she doesn’t know how to feel. Elvis approached her and grabbed her to make her stop walking because it was making him nervous and he forced her to face him and they shared a longing look with one another. 

“Just answer this question.. Did you feel what I felt when we kissed?” he whispered. 

She looked away and then pushed him away from her. 

“I told you I don’t know how I feel!” she snapped at him.

Elvis exhaled sharply and now he was getting frustrated. 

“You're in denial and don’t understand why. I know you feel something for me, Rebecca. Why can’t you just fuckin’ say it?? You’re doin’ my damn head in with all these mixed signals!” he shouted. 

“Are you fucking deaf, Elvis?! I told you I don’t know how I feel!!! It’s not my fault you assume I want you.” she screamed. 

Elvis was growing tired of this now and he grabbed her by her arms and roughly pulled her toward him and he shook her in his tight grasp. 

“Goddamn it! What is wrong with you!? Can’t you fuckin’ see I love you! You heard me say I loved you! I know you feel the same for me! Just say it!! Just say it, baby.” he yelled at her as he shook her. 

Now he was scaring her and she was not one to scare easily and as much as she wanted to admit the feelings that she knew she couldn’t deny anymore, she just couldn’t. She was scared. Scared at the thought of loving him; loving anybody. She decided to say the thing she knew would hurt him and break his heart to hear. But she felt it was best just to make him stop wanting her because she was not ready for whatever he wanted them to be. Elvis continued to shake her violently and yelled at her to just tell him she loved him. She began to hit him as she tried to wiggle out of his grip. Now everyone outside the room was growing concerned because of all the commotion and screaming that they weren’t sure if they should intervene. 

“Stop it! Let me go! Stop it, Elvis!! I don’t love you and I could never love you!!!” she screamed with tearful eyes as she pushed him off. She knew those words were a lie. 

As soon as those words left her mouth Elvis stopped and he felt like his world was crashing down around him and he let her go. She rubbed her arms as her tears began to stream down her face, she could see the hurt in his eyes. The last thing she wanted was to ever hurt him because she got to know him so well and knew the loneliness he constantly felt and she was a light in his life that made him feel less lonely. Suddenly it was silent between them and Rebecca now had tears streaming all down her face and Elvis in shock and close to tears himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to be upset now because was filled with anger. 

“You’re a goddamn liar, Rebecca. Y’know somethin’, honey? Out of everyone you’re the last person I expected to hurt me.” he muttered angrily, giving her another look and shaking his head before he stormed out of her bedroom and slammed the door shut. She inhaled shakily as she burst into tears. She never meant to hurt him and now she was scared she may have ruined everything between them. 

As Elvis came back out it was obvious his mood was noticeably different as he plopped back down in his chair and didn’t say a word to anyone. He was so upset he couldn’t even eat and after sitting down at the table with everyone for another minute or so he just got up without saying a word and went to his room slamming the door so hard he could’ve broken it from its hinges. That was everyone’s cue that they needed to leave and they all made their way out quickly. When Elvis was alone in his room that’s when his anger had turned to sadness and now he was in tears as he sat on the edge of his bed trying to comprehend what just happened. He had hoped that she didn’t mean what she said that she could never love him. Hearing those words hurt him the most. What was it about him that she could never love? He knew he hadn’t looked like he once did and that he was much older than her, but she never seemed to mind. Now he had all these anxious thoughts running through his head and feelings of loneliness creeped up inside of him. Why couldn’t she just love me? Why? He thought to himself. 

Rebecca couldn’t stop crying. She had never cried for anyone like this but she was so overwhelmed with all her feelings that consumed her and the hurt she caused Elvis she had no other way to let it all out. She frantically grabbed her cigarettes fumbling through the carton as her hands were trembling and she ended up dropping the carton and her cigarettes all fell out. “Shit!” She cried and she just walked away and sat down on the bed sniffling softly as she continued to cry and now more than ever she needed some sort of guidance or advice and so she picked up the phone and decided to call the two people she knew that would be able to help her, Paul and Abby. She knew it was early in New York but she was hoping one of them would be up. As she dialed the number and held the phone to her ear she tried her best to stop her crying as the line trilled until there was a click and someone had picked up. 

“Hello?” Abby said groggily. 

“Abby? It’s Rebecca.. Did I wake you?” she muttered softly between her quiet cries. 

Abby could sense something was wrong just from the sound of Rebecca’s voice and she sat in bed as she grew concerned. 

“Rebecca, is everything alright? You sound strange.” she asked. 

“N-No.. Something happened with Elvis and I..” she said softly and now she started to cry a bit more. 

Abby sat right up in bed and she was fully awake now. It was unusual for Rebecca to be in such a state that she was crying. So she knew something really bad happened. 

“What happened? Did that asshole hurt you??” Abby said, concerned. 

“Oh god, no, no, no… Nothing like that.. We got into a fight.. I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said. I don’t know what to do..” she said with a sigh. 

“What did you say? What happened? And tell me everything.” Abby asked.

Abby had a feeling Rebecca was leaving something out. She was aware of how close she and Elvis had gotten and she was no fool the times she met Elvis, Abby could see how smitten Elvis was with her and the connection between them. But Rebecca loved to self-sabotage a good thing because of past relationships. 

Rebecca let out a soft sigh and she took a deep breath deciding to catch Abby up on everything that had happened between her and Elvis since coming to Vegas. Abby wasn’t the least bit surprised when she found out Elvis was in love with Rebecca. But she was more surprised at the fact that Rebecca said what she did to him when it was quite obvious she loved him too. 

“Becca, you fool. Why would you do that? That man is in love with you and probably has been since the moment you met. How could you say that to him?” Abby asked, now feeling bad for Elvis. 

“I-I don’t know.. It just came out. I.. I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t mean it.. I didn’t. I..” Rebecca stopped herself as she was on the verge of tears again. 

“As your best friend... Tell me honestly, I mean it. No bullshit here, man. Do you love him?” Abby asked. 

There was a silence that felt like it went on forever between them as Rebecca was hesitant to answer because that meant admitting her true feelings. 

“Rebecca? Hello? Do you love him??” Abby questioned. 

Rebecca wiped the tears from her face and held the phone close as she breathed in and out deeply.

“Yes..” she said faintly into the phone, finally saying it out loud to someone that it felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. There was another silence and Abby just smiled. 

“Why couldn’t you have told him that?” she asked. 

“I was scared. I’m still scared. Being in love scares me. You know that. But being in love with him? It’s terrifying. I know it sounds silly, but does he love me for me, or does he love me for what-.. Nevermind.” she said softly, forgetting her own friends had no idea what she did for a living. Abby furrowed her brow wondering what she was going to say, but not dwelling on it.

“Has he ever given you a reason to be scared of loving him?” Abby asked. 

“No, of course not. He’s the sweetest and so caring towards me. When I’m around him it’s like I become this different person. A softer person. He just.. I don’t know.. The way he looks at me like there’s something in me worth looking at. He makes me feel good. But I just still have my reservations about him. What could he want with me? Why me? He’s so much older that it just makes me suspicious. But maybe it’s just me trying to find something wrong with him.” she said with a sigh feeling herself begin to calm down. 

“Well, the only way you’ll find out is by giving him a chance to show you. If you just let him.” Abby remarked. 

“I know, I know.. I can’t now. I know he’s upset with me. You didn’t see what he looked like.. The hurt in his eyes. I probably ruined everything. I’m going to give him space and maybe go out just to get some air and think. You know?” Rebecca said, hoping Abby would agree. 

“You do what you think is best. But you should tell him how you feel regardless if it’s ruined or not. You owe him that.” Abby replied letting out a soft yawn. 

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Thank you, Abby.” she smiled. 

“Mhm.. That’ll be $100 dollars for my services.” she laughed tiredly. 

“Shut up. I’ll talk to you soon, bye.” Rebecca laughed softly as the both of them hung up. 

Rebecca needed time to decide on what she was going to do and maybe going out for a while and getting some air would help her think. She went to the bathroom to fix herself up and she did her best to reapply her makeup, but her eyes were so bloodshot and puffy from crying that she did what she could. She then grabbed her purse and headed out of her room, seeing that everyone was gone and no one had finished their breakfast, she sighed and looked over at Elvis’ room door wondering what he was doing and thinking at that moment. 

Elvis had closed all the curtains in his room and he climbed into his bed and had made a call for Dr. Nick to come up. He made no plans to leave his bedroom until the show that night. That part of him wished he could cancel, but he knew the Colonel would be furious. So, he hoped that whatever Dr. Nick prescribed to him would help and put him to sleep. Elvis heard the sound of Rebecca’s heels as she walked through the suite and then he heard the front door open and close and he raised an eyebrow wondering where she was going. Now he was worried that she decided to leave Vegas all together. He quickly got up and walked out of his room and went to her room to see that all her things were still there and he let out a sigh of relief seeing she hadn’t left him. Despite him being so angry with her he also still cared deeply for her no matter how she may have felt for him. It was something he couldn’t shake. There was a knock at the door and Elvis knew it was Dr. Nick at last with his medication. He would soon fall into a deep sleep with the pills he prescribed to him. 

Rebecca had decided to venture along the strip of Vegas on her own just needing fresh air and time to think about everything. As she walked she was still so amazed by Vegas even during the day it still seemed so bright and flashy with all the big marquee signs and all the people. She went into a few different gift shops to get a few souvenirs for Abby and Paul and stopped for food since she never did get a chance to eat her breakfast. Rebecca had stayed out for hours, she could’ve gone back to the hotel but she was afraid of going back and facing Elvis even though she knew she had to talk to him. But she decided to just spend as much time as possible out as a way to avoid her problems. Since there was so much to do in Vegas there was no limit to what she could do. 

6:00pm - Elvis’ Suite 

Elvis was just waking up from his long slumber and he felt groggy and tired as he laid in his bed almost forgetting where he was for a moment, he rubbed his hand over his eyes and once his vision cleared he looked at the time and saw it was almost time for the first show and that he had to get ready. He slowly sat up in bed and placed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and he let out a long exhale as he sat at the edge of the bed before he finally stood himself up. He had wondered if Rebecca had come out because he didn’t hear anything. He walked out of his room to see this morning’s breakfast still on the table and the suite silent. He walked over to her room and knocked on the door and he got no answer. “Rebecca?” he said in a low voice. He knocked again and opened the door this time to see no sign of her and everything as it was the first time he came into her room. Now he was beginning to worry. Where could she be for so long? He walked back to his room and grabbed the phone calling down to Joe’s room and impatiently waited for him to answer as the phone rang. When someone finally picked up it was his wife, Joan. 

“Joanie, it’s Elvis, have you seen Rebecca?” he asked. 

“Uh, no Elvis.. Isn’t she there with you?” she replied. 

“N-No.. She left. All her stuff is still here so I thought maybe she went out with a few of you girls.” he said, trying not to sound worried. 

“Mm, no, I’m sorry I haven’t seen her, Elvis.” she hummed, part of Joan wanted to ask was he okay after what happened this morning, but she knew better to leave it alone. 

“Will ya tell Joe to keep an eye out and ask the guys if they’ve seen her?” he asked. 

“Sure, of course, Elvis.” she said before they hung up. 

Now he was more worried than ever if the girls hadn't seen her. She never been to Vegas so there was no way she could’ve possibly known anyone. He knew she was a grown woman and that she liked to remind him that she was a big girl. But she was a young girl and not that big at all and he was thinking of all the terrible things that could’ve happened to her going out into that wild city. Not only did he have to deal with the nerves of the show, now he had to be worried that something happened to the girl he loved. He went back to his room and freshed himself up before he had to go down and get changed and ready for the show. Jerry, Charlie and Sonny were coming up to meet Elvis to take him down to his dressing room backstage. When he heard the door open he assumed it was Rebecca and he came running out only to see it was the guys and he sighed. 

“Have y’all seen Rebecca? She’s been gone for hours..” he asked. But they all shook their heads assuming she was up in the suite with him. After this morning they didn’t even want to bring her up to him. 

“Maybe she made some friends and she’s out with them? I’m sure she’ll turn up, EP.” Sonny said. 

Elvis sighed and shrugged. “Maybe so.” he mumbled. He couldn’t help but feel worried when he knew he shouldn’t feel anything after how she hurt him this morning, but it was not in his nature to be uncaring especially toward someone he cared so much for no matter what. He couldn’t continue to dwell too much on it because he had a show to get ready for and all he could do was hope she’d turn up and still come to the show despite everything. Elvis grabbed his glasses and headed out of the suite with the guys down to the showroom where they were getting things ready for the show and he went backstage to get his jumpsuit on. 

Meanwhile Rebecca was finally heading back to the hotel she figured she’d still show up to the show tonight even if Elvis may not want her to be there. After watching him perform last night she wouldn’t miss it. Once she got back the place was filling up fast with Elvis fans dying to see him and she made her way through the crowd to the elevator so she could drop off her bags and freshen up a little. She got into the elevator and hoped that Elvis was gone already she wasn’t ready to run into him. She couldn’t take seeing him so angry and hurt again. She got onto the floor of his suite and walked down the hall getting her key out and unlocking the door and heading inside. Everything was still as it was when she left and Elvis’ room door was open and no sign of him and she felt relieved as she headed into her room to set her things down to quickly freshen up for the show. She didn’t have long so she did her best to hurry, she wasn’t even sure if she still had a seat. She just assumed Elvis would want her there. As she came out of the bathroom the phone began to ring in the other room and she went to answer it. The hotel front desk said there was a call on the other line for Candy. She knew it was probably her manager back in New York she had left the hotel she was staying at with him in case there were jobs out in Vegas. Something she had failed to mention to Elvis that she had agreed to do even though he said he’d pay her for work she’d miss. But taking his money didn’t feel right. 

“Yes, that’s me. I’ll take the call.” Rebecca said. 

As the call was put through a man’s voice on the other line came through the phone. 

“Candy? That you?” her manager said. 

“Yes, it’s me. I have to be somewhere so I don’t have long. What’s up?” She replied. 

“I just wanted to let you know there’s a skin flick being filmed out there and they’re looking for a girl. I recommended you to the director. If you want it, it’s yours.” he said. 

“Oh, uh.. Can I think about it and get back to you?” she responded, with everything going on with Elvis she didn’t feel right about going to work and having some guy fuck her. What once made her feel liberated now slightly repulsed her because of her feelings for Elvis. 

“Um, sure, but you’ve got until tomorrow or they’ll find someone else, Candy.” he said. 

“Okay, thank you.” she said before hanging up. She glanced at the time and grabbed her purse quickly headed out of the suite where she bumped right into Jerry.

“Rebecca! Thank goodness. Elvis has been worried sick about you.” Jerry said relieved to see her. 

“H-He has? Why?” she asked, trying to hide the small smile that formed on her lips. 

“Yeah, he wanted me to come and see if you had come back. He had no idea where you were.” Jerry said as the two of them walked down the hall to the elevator. 

“Oh, I just went out to explore Vegas and to think. I didn’t mean to worry him. Please tell him I’m alright.” she smiled. Jerry nodded as they both got onto the elevator and took it downstairs and she followed Jerry to the showroom where he took her to the same seat as last night and he headed back to Elvis. When he got backstage he saw Elvis almost ready to take the stage and Jerry went over to him with a smile. 

“I found your girl, E. She’s out in the showroom in her seat.” Jerry said 

Elvis smiled when he heard Rebecca was okay and that she was at the show tonight. He felt so much better that he almost forgot what happened this morning. He was more than ready to take the stage now. Rebecca looked around to see that there were more people than the night before and as the lights went dim and the music began to play she smiled when she saw Elvis take the stage and the women in the crowd screaming their heads off as she stayed seated in her chair, staring at the godlike figure on the stage. Elvis spotted her in the crowd and the two of them locked eyes and for a moment it seemed like things may be okay between them. Rebecca gave him a little wave and he winked at her before he began the show. 

When the first show came to an end Rebecca didn’t think she’d be able to stay up long enough for the midnight show. It had been a long day and she was tired. Jerry came back over to get her because Elvis wanted to see her. 

“I better not. Tell him I loved the show and I’ll be upstairs in the suite.” she said softly with a smile. 

“Did you want me to walk you up?” Jerry asked. 

“I keep telling you guys, I’m a big girl. But thank you.” Rebecca laughed as she headed out of the showroom and upstairs to Elvis’ suite. She knew he’d be a bit more upset with her since she didn’t go backstage, but she needed to talk with him and she wanted to do so in private and she didn’t want to do it while he was still amped up from his show and preparing for the next. As she waited for him she showered and changed into her pajamas, an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. She also cleaned up the mess from that morning and fixed the living room up and she plopped down on the couch and turned the television on trying to do anything to keep her from being so anxious about what she was going to tell him. She began to bite nervously her fingernails as her heart was racing waiting for him for those few hours that passed. 

When Elvis finished his second show he was a little disappointed that Rebecca hadn’t come back after the first show, but he understood things weren’t okay between them still. So, instead of lingering backstage to meet some of the people who came to his show he wanted to get upstairs to Rebecca and a few of the guys walked him up and when he came in Rebecca was laying on the couch nearly falling asleep until she heard the door closed and she sat right up swallowing harshly when she seen Elvis. Much like last night he had a towel around him and he was covered in sweat and his hair a mess. She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at him and he stared back. 

“Hi..” she whispered. 

“Hey.” Elvis responded. 

Things felt so off between them that they acted as if they didn’t know how to talk to each other now. But she knew she had to be the one to start the conversation. She needed to apologize to him. 

“Can we talk, Elvis?” she asked as she turned the television off. 

“I’d like that, honey.” he muttered. 

“Did you want to shower first? I can wait.” she said softly. 

“Nah, I’m okay.” he said as he made his way over to the couch and sat beside her. 

Rebecca turned to face him and she took a deep breath as she stared at him trying to find the words to say to him. 

“I-I’m really sorry about this morning, Elvis. I never meant to hurt you. The last thing I’d want to do is ever hurt you.” she said as she placed a hand over his. 

“Rebecca.. You don’t have-” but she stopped him before he could get another word out. 

“Please.. Just let me say this. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since our fight. I spoke to Abby because I was so upset and she knocked a bit of sense into me.” she exhaled sharply as she took both his hands into hers and Elvis raised an eyebrow as he turned his body to face her more. “I lied to you this morning about what I said about loving you.. I said it to hurt you. But I didn’t mean it. I was just scared and honestly I’m still scared. But it’s not helping you or me to continue to deny what I feel for you.” she said softly as her nervousness took over that her hands began to tremble in his. 

“And what is it that you feel for me?” he asked curiously, grasping her delicate hands in his big strong hands. 

“I..” she paused as she took a deep breath as she squeezed his hands in hers and she looked away as she spoke. “I care about you deeply. I was so scared of that feeling because of what followed the more we spent time together. But.. I-I love you, Elvis. I’m in love with you. I’ve never felt so deeply for someone but there’s just something special about you that just drives me crazy. But I’m scared of this feeling.” she looked up to see him smiling ear to ear. 

“You love me? Really?” he asked as he scooted closer toward her, he didn’t need to hear anymore. He had already forgiven her and just wanted to kiss her and as he went to lean in she leaned back and placed one of her hands over his mouth. 

“Elvis, please, did you hear what I said? Loving you scares me...” she whispered. 

“Why? I’m not goin’ to hurt you. I wouldn’t. I just want to take care of you.” he muttered as he kissed her hands. 

“I-I know, well I think.. But do you really love me or love me because of what I do? Because I’ve had men in the past say they love me when in reality they just loved what I did for work and how cool it made them seem dating a pornstar. But I’m not that person.. That's Candy.” she confessed. 

Elvis slipped his hands out of hers and he cupped her face in his hands and lifted her head to look at him and he shook his head at her. 

“Now you listen to me, honey, I know exactly how you feel not knowin’ if someone loves you for you or who you are or what ya do. But I’m tellin’ ya, I love you for you. I love Rebecca. I don’t like that you do porn.. Honestly, I hope you quit.” he said softly as he stared into those green eyes that drove him wild. 

She reached up to place her hands over his and she smiled as she got teary eyed. 

“You mean that, Elvis? Because I love you for you. The soft and sweet man I’ve gotten to know over the past few months. I didn’t like you or your music to begin with so that should tell you my honest feelings.” she teased, laughing softly. Elvis had joined in on her laughter and he pressed his forehead against hers as they continued to laugh softly. 

“I can always count on ya to be honest, baby.” he chuckled and a small silence fell between them as their eyes met for a brief moment and their noses brushed against one another as their lips grazed upon each other’s before they embraced in a deep kiss. The softness of his lips consumed her and made her feel completely drunk that she wanted more. His hands ran along her body and brought a chill down her spine and she lifted herself up and pressed him back against the couch as she climbed into his lap. The two of them continued to kiss passionately and his hands running along her thighs and tugging her shirt up just a little and she whimpered softly against his lips as her hands ran along his chest and his round belly. Elvis pulled back from the kiss for a moment and tried to catch his breath. 

“I ain’t showered yet, baby.” he mumbled. 

“I don’t care..” she whispered before crashing her lips against his again. They wanted each other more than ever. Their hands squeezing and groping at each other. He made her feel aroused in ways she never had before. He reached beneath her shirt and his hands ran along her panties and he slowly shoved his hand down them and she whimpered against his lips as she felt his fingertips graze along her pubic hair and his fingers slipping between her pussy lips that caused shockwaves throughout her body. She reached down frantically unzipping his jumpsuit. As things were getting hot and heavy between them the phone began to ring. Elvis pulled away looking toward his room. She grabbed his face to make him look at her. “Ignore it, Elvis..” she said breathlessly, kissing along his neck as one of her hands slipped into his jumpsuit. He listened to her running his finger along her clit and getting aroused feeling how wet she was becoming for him and she moaned softly as her hips moved against his hand. The phone stopped ringing for a moment and Rebecca was relieved until it began to ring continuously.  

Elvis pulled away and shook his head. 

“Mm, sorry baby, it could be important.. It’s probably the damn Colonel.” he sighed. Rebecca rolled her eyes and climbed off his lap fixing herself and hoping he wouldn’t be long and Elvis got up fixing his jumpsuit as he went into his room to answer the phone. He was met with a surprise at the end of the line. It was not the Colonel calling. It was Linda and she was furious. Elvis had been making excuses as to why Linda couldn’t come out to Vegas and when she tried to get some answers from the guys and a few of their wives, no one could give her an answer. She figured out there had to be another girl. As she continued to yell at him he quickly shut his door which caught Rebecca’s attention and she raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah hell, would ya calm down? I told you in two weeks you can come out.” he whispered on the phone. 

“You’re hiding something from me, Elvis! I just know it! Why can’t I come out there now? It’s another girl, isn’t it?” she yelled on the other end. 

“I told you, Linda.. I’m just too busy right now. Would ya stop actin’ like a naggin’ ass wife!” he whispered angrily. 

The two of them continued to go back and forth over the phone with Linda getting more upset especially because Elvis hadn’t denied there being another girl. Rebecca began to listen in on his conversation and she furrowed her brow because it did not sound like a conversation with his manager. She got up from the couch and quietly made her way to the door and pressed her ear up against it and she listened to him talking. She could hear someone yelling loudly on the other line. It sounded like a woman and she was hysterical. The way Elvis spoke to her sounded like this was someone he was close to. He was calling her honey and baby, which began to make Rebecca upset. Who was this person? Did he have a girlfriend? When she heard him say there was no else and he loved her that’s when Rebecca’s heart dropped and it felt like a lump was in her throat. She slowly backed away from the door and she didn’t know if she wanted to cry or kill him. She stood at the door silently waiting for him to end his phone call and she could feel her blood boiling as tears filled her eyes. When he finally hung up he let out a soft sigh and the moment he opened the door and saw Rebecca standing there with tears streaming down her face he knew he was in trouble. His heart began to race and it looked like he had seen a ghost. 

“You fucking asshole!” Rebecca screamed and began to hit him. 

“Rebecca, honey, I-I can explain!” he said frantically trying to get her to stop as he grabbed at her hands. 

“Explain what!? That you’ve had someone else this entire time!” she pulled back from him and she walked away from him and he tried to stop her by grabbing her arm.

“Take your fucking hands off of me!!!” she screamed in his face. 

“Baby, please, j-just lemme explain!” he yelled. 

She ran off to her room and slammed the door closed and locked it, crying softly. She felt like such an idiot. 

Elvis pounded his fist against the door.

“Baby, please let me in so that I can explain..” he pleaded. 

“I feel like such a damn fool! I knew it. I knew I should’ve trusted my gut when it came to falling in love with you. You’re a liar and a damn cheat! I don’t want anything to do with you, Elvis!” she yelled through her tears. 

“Rebecca.. Y-You don’t understand, honey. That relationship is over. It's been over for a while. I haven’t been happy with her in a long time and I’ve been tryin’ to leave her. The moment I was fallin’ in love with you, I’ve been tryin’ to end it. You gotta believe me, honey.” he pleaded. 

“How long?” she muttered. 

“What?” he answered. 

“How long have you been with her, Elvis?” she asked, sniffling softly. 

He sighed as his forehead rested against the door. 

“Three years..” he mumbled. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rebecca blurted out as she began to cry even more. 

“But it’s over! It’s done!” Elvis yelled. 

“It didn’t sound fucking over! I heard you tell her there was no one else and you loved her. So I guess I mean nothing to you?!” she yelled. 

“N-No.. Honey.. I.. It’s.. It’s complicated.” he stuttered. 

“Save it, Elvis. I don’t want to hear anymore of your bullshit.” she snapped, wiping her tears. She grabbed a pair of pants and slipped them on along with her shoes and then she began to gather up her blanket and a pillow and she unlocked and opened the door to see Elvis standing right there and she pushed past him angrily toward the front door. 

“Where are you going?” he asked as he followed behind her. 

“Away from you, asshole.” she sneered. 

She quickly headed out the door slamming it in his face before he could approach and he quickly opened it to see her hurrying down the hallway. She decided to go to Jerry and his fiance’s room, hoping they would let her sleep there until she could get her own room away from Elvis. He watched her disappear down the hall and he sighed and went back into the suite, slamming the door closed. “Fuck!” he yelled. He was so angry that he began to knock and throw things over in a fit of rage before he tired himself out and was nearly out of breath, plopped down onto the couch and put his face in his hands. He didn’t know what he was going to do now. 

Rebecca made her way to Jerry’s room and knocked on the door and Sandy, his fiance, was surprised to see Rebecca but she knew something was wrong because she was in tears. 

“I’m sorry to be bothering you.. But Elvis and I got into another fight and I just needed somewhere to sleep for the night. If that’s okay?” she said, wiping the tears from her face. 

“Oh my gosh, of course. Come inside.” Sandy said sweetly, helping her inside. 

“Thank you.” Rebecca smiled. 

Jerry came out of the bedroom wondering what was going on and then he saw Rebecca was crying and he furrowed his brow. “Is everything alright? What happened?” he asked. 

“She and Elvis got into another fight..” Sandy said, looking at Jerry and without saying much, asking him to give them some privacy. He nodded and headed back into the bedroom. 

“I know it’s none of my business, but did you want to talk about what happened?” Sandy asked. 

“Did you all know?” Rebecca asked without hesitation. 

“Know what, honey?” she said softly. 

“About Elvis’ girlfriend..” she murmured. 

Sandy clenched her jaw and cleared her throat a bit. She didn’t want to lie because they all knew Linda of course. But they were so used to Elvis and the different women he’d bring around they didn’t think much about the relationship with him and Rebecca. But Sandy was soon realizing things were becoming more serious with him and Rebecca from the way breakfast went that morning. 

“Y-Yes.. We did. I’m sorry.. We–” Rebecca put up her hand to interrupt her. 

“It’s fine. It was his responsibility to tell me about her. Not his friends. What’s her name?” she asked. 

“Um.. Linda. Linda Thompson.” Sandy answered.

Rebecca nodded and didn’t say a word as she made herself comfortable on the couch. 

“There’s another bedroom if you’d rather sleep there.” Sandy said. 

“I’m fine on the couch. Thank you.” Rebecca said softly as she laid on the couch. Sandy nodded and began to head back to the bedroom with Jerry who was hoping she’d fill him in on what’s going on. Rebecca laid there for a moment staring up at the ceiling and then she sat up and grabbed the phone, dialing her manager's number. She knew it was late in New York but he kept late hours working in the porn industry so she was bound to catch him awake. She was so upset with Elvis that just to spite him and piss him off she was going to take that job her manager offered. When he finally picked up she didn’t give him a chance to say hello. 

“Harvey, it’s Candy. I’ll take that job.” she said softly and she quickly grabbed a pen and paper to jot down the details of where they were filming and then she hung up and slipped the paper into pants pocket before she laid back down. She didn’t know how she was going to get any sleep. She felt heartbroken that Elvis had been lying to her this entire time and betrayed her trust. She just felt so stupid. She turned over and the more she thought about it the more it brought on the tears that she cried herself to sleep. 

Elvis, all alone in his suite, had finally calmed down and had decided to sleep on the couch in case Rebecca had come back in the middle of the night. But as time went on he soon realized she wasn’t coming back that night. He was so scared of losing her and just wanted to explain everything to her in hopes of understanding his situation. The longer he waited up for her he eventually ended up falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position on the couch and waking up anytime he heard a noise hoping it was her. 

The Next Morning

Rebecca had gotten up early before Sandy and Jerry were awake and she quietly gathered her things and headed out of their room and back up to Elvis’ suite. She had to be at the set early so they could get her fitted for her outfit and to do her makeup. So, she needed to shower and get dressed and she was hoping that lying, cheating bastard as she began to call him in her head was in his room asleep. When she got back to the suite she snuck inside to see him asleep on the couch still in his jumpsuit and she rolled her eyes at him. Just seeing him made her blood boil. She hurried to her room and shut the door which woke Elvis up and he could hear her shuffling around in there and then the shower running. He quickly sat up and stared at her bedroom door. He was hoping she calmed down a little so they could talk this out. He decided just to wait for her to come out because he didn’t want to anger her more than she probably already was with him. 

When she finished showering she brushed teeth and her hair and got dressed, sporting a pair of denim bell bottoms and a crop top. She then packed her little bag with a few things she always brought when she’d be making a film and once she made sure she had everything she headed out the room to see Elvis awake and staring at her and she rolled her eyes making a b-line for the door. Elvis jumped up and ran over to her.

“Leave me alone, Elvis.” she hissed. 

“Where are ya going?” he asked. 

“Work.” she answered, not looking at him.

“W-Work? Where??” he questioned. 

She sighed and turned to face him with her hands on her hips. 

“Yes, work. I’m a pornstar, remember? My manager set me up with a job. They were looking for a girl and I took it.” she said. 

“Don’t fuckin’ do this, Rebecca. I told ya, I didn’t want you doin’ this shit no more. No girl of mine–” Rebecca scoffed, cutting him off. 

“I am not your girl, Elvis! You made that abundantly clear last night! We don’t always get what we want.” she yelled.

Elvis tried to grab her to stop her from opening the door and she snatched her arm away from him. 

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you.” she snapped, swinging the door open and slamming it shut as she stepped out and headed to her destination. 

Elvis was furious and the last thing he was going to do was allow her to make that film. He went and grabbed the phone calling up Joe and practically yelling for him to get the guys up and get their asses to his room. When he hung up he went to his bedroom to shower and get dressed. The guys were already waiting for him in the living room of the suite, confused as to what was going on and what was wrong with him. As soon as Elvis emerged from his bedroom he was dressed in a two tone black and white colored suit with belt sewn into the suit jacket and his glasses on. The guys were more confused than ever because Elvis had made no plans to go anywhere today. 

“Everything alright, EP?” Sonny asked. 

“What was the uh.. the damn name of that guy who invited us to that porn set months ago where we met Rebecca?” Elvis asked. 

The guys looked at one another, none of them remembering what his name was but knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Wasn’t it like Harvey or somethin’?” Charlie chimed in. 

“Do y’all still have that bastard’s number?” Elvis asked. 

Sonny, who didn’t want to admit he kept in touch because he liked a few of the young girls Harvey managed and sometimes had a thing with them. 

“I may have it somewhere, EP. Why? What’s going on?” he asked. 

“He sent Rebecca to do some damn film and I need to know where the hell she is. Just get the goddamn number!” Elvis yelled impatiently. Sonny nodded and headed out and down to his room to look in his little black book and he tore the page out and headed back up to the suite nearly out of breath. 

“Call ‘em up and ask that fucker where he sent Rebecca. But don’t use her real name. She never uses her real name with ‘em.” Elvis said. Sonny didn’t hesitate to call Harvey up, especially seeing Elvis’ mood today. As soon as he called Sonny and Harvey chatted like they were old pals with the amount of times Sonny had spoken to him for his benefits. He began to tell him about Elvis and if he remembered the girl who left with him and Harvey knew right away that it was Candy/Rebecca he was talking about. Sonny lied saying Elvis wanted to know where she was filming because he wanted to see her again and since Harvey liked Elvis and the guys he happily gave them the address. Sonny hung up as soon as they got it. All of the guys headed out to Elvis’ Cadillac where Charlie hopped in the front seat to drive and Jerry sat up in the passenger seat. While Elvis and the rest of the guys sat in the back. Elvis was silent the whole ride, his leg bouncing and shaking as he stared out the window. He was pissed and upset and felt Rebecca was doing this because of last night. He understood she was hurt and upset. But she didn’t have to be spiteful. He was determined to get his girl back at any cost. 

Rebecca had arrived not too long ago and she was getting fitted in her costume for the film. She was wearing just a black and red corset with black stockings and a pair of heels. She finished getting her hair and makeup done and was waiting for her scene where she was supposed to be seducing the guy and then letting him fuck her. She had to admit she didn’t actually want to do this, she felt disgusted by her job now because of her feelings for Elvis and this just feeling wrong to her. But she was angry and hurt. She wanted to hurt him the way he hurt her and this was the way because she knew he hated her doing this. 

Once they arrived at some house Elvis and the guys got out of the car. Charlie and Joe stayed outside while the rest of the men barged in with Elvis who walked in on Rebecca in the middle of her scene of seducing the guy. He clenched his jaw staring at her. The director had yelled cut the moment Elvis walked in and disrupted the scene, but he had not recognized Elvis at first when he began to yell. Rebecca sighed wondering what was going on until she looked up and saw Elvis standing there staring at her with that angry glare of his. She felt like a little girl who got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She stood up and backed away from the guy as Elvis continued to stare at her. 

“What the hell, man!? Can’t you see we’re shooting something!” he yelled as he walked toward Elvis, Sonny and Red moving in front of Elvis to stop the guy from coming any closer and he finally realized who it was. “Holy shit.. You’re Elvis Presley!” he beamed. Elvis completely ignored him as the guys kept the director away as Elvis made his way over to Rebecca who was scared of what he was going to do. 

“E-Elvis.. How did you find me?” she said nervously. 

But Elvis didn’t say a word as he grabbed her by the forearm and began to drag her back with him to one of the bedrooms so they could talk. Rebecca began to squirm and try to fight against his strong hold over her. But he was much stronger than her and had a tight grip on her. “Elvis, let me go!” she yelled. The director, confused as to what was going on, tried to stop Elvis but the guys grabbed him to stop him. The entire cast and crew were terrified and confused.

When Elvis and Rebecca got to a room he pushed her inside and shut the door closed, locking it. As soon as Elvis turned to face her she slapped him right across the face. She backed up, afraid of what he might do. But he rubbed a hand over his face and smirked a bit, not saying a word. Then he grabbed her and slammed her up against the wall and he grabbed her face in his right hand and his face got close to hers and she began to squirm and whimper, reaching up to slap him and claw at him. 

“What the hell did I tell ya, Rebecca? No girl of mine is goin’ to be doing this shit! Why do you insist on hurtin’ me, baby? Huh?” he growled. 

“Oh fuck you, Elvis! You’re the one who’s been lying this whole time!” she mumbled out as he gripped her face harder. He slammed his other hand against the wall beside her head. 

“I told you, she means nothing to me. I love you!” he yelled. 

“Bullshit! You don’t love me!” she yelled back and began to hit him again, knocking his glasses off and now he grabbed her arms and slammed them against the wall, pinning them down to make her stop. She swallowed harshly as the two of them breathed heavily fuming in anger at one another as their bodies pressed against one another. She hated that part of her was turned on by this seeing how jealous and pissed he was when he walked in seeing her straddling another man. The possessiveness in him was so animalistic that it aroused her.  

“I do love you! Why can’t you fuckin’ understand that! I love you and only you, Rebecca!” he shouted in her face with his jaw clenched. 

“Then fucking prove it.” she whispered to him, challenging him.

They locked eyes and both filled with so much anger and lust for one another that the only way he knew how to prove his love to her in that moment was what he’d been wanting to do for a long time. There was so much tension in the air between them that it was almost hard to fight against their urges. Rebecca’s gaze fell from his eyes and to his lips and she kissed him hard and deep and distracted him enough that his grip on her arms loosened and she pulled them away and pushed him roughly that he nearly fell back and then he pushed her back and their pushing one another ended up with Elvis grabbing her, turned her around so her back was facing him and pushing her up against the vanity that was in the room and she fell against it knocking things off. When she tried to turn around to face him he stopped her and grabbed her by the throat, his hand grasping around it tight and she let out a soft gasp, becoming even more turned on and he leaned in to whisper into her ear. “The only man who’s gonna be fuckin’ you like a little whore is me.. Do you understand?” he mumbled as he pressed himself up against her ass. 

She captured her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded her head slowly as she stared at him through the mirror of the vanity. 

“Yes, daddy.” she whispered to him as her hands gripped onto the vanity, she could feel her pussy already dripping wet for him just by how forceful he was being with her and the feeling of his already erect cock pressed firmly against her ass. 

He smirked at her calling him daddy. He ran his hands along the corset that hugged around her curves and he wrapped his hands around the back of it and he tightened his grip around the cheap fabric and he tore it off of her and she let out a soft gasp as it fell from her body and his big strong hands cupped her breasts, squeezing and groping them tight as he kissed a few places along her neck slowly. She began to grind her ass slowly against his cock as she continued to watch him from the mirror and she could feel him growing and throbbing for her, a low groan escaping him. She continued to move her ass along the front of his crotch and up toward his belly and she let out a soft giggle when she heard him groan again. He grabbed her arms and forced them behind her back and he slammed her upper body against the cold wood of the vanity causing more items to fall and she hissed softly from how rough he was being. 

“You fucking asshole.” she mumbled under her breath as her face was pressed up against the vanity. 

Her words only caused him to smirk because he knew she was enjoying every minute of this and held her arms back with one hand as he used the other to trace over the fabric of her stockings and her ass, giving it a hard slap and she let out a soft squeal because his rings made the slap hurt even more. “I don’t want to hear another goddamn word from you.” he said angrily through gritted teeth. He gave her ass another hard slap which made her body jolt and then his fingertips traced against her stockings before he made a hole in them and ripped them open and his hand coming in contact with her bare ass she squirmed beneath him. He squeezed and ran his hand down her ass and slipped two of his fingers in between to spread her thighs apart and he raised an eyebrow when he felt her thighs slicked in her own juices. 

“You filthy little thing.. You’re wet for me already, huh?” he smirked. 

She whimpered softly wanting to close her thighs around his hand as it ran up and down in between them playing in her juices before he slid his hand up and his fingers traced along her pubic hair and he licked his lips as his rough fingers landed against her clit and she let out a soft moan. Her thighs slightly closed around his hand and she could feel the coldness of his fingers brush against her thighs as he began to painfully rub slow circles against her lip as he continued to keep her arms pinned against her back with his other hand. She begins to moan louder the more his fingers pressed firmly against her sensitive swollen clit and his hand becoming covered in her sweet nectar. The feeling of his fingers only gave her more pleasure and caused her to become so aroused that she was dripping wet around his hand and slowly beginning to grind against it. 

“Goddamn, baby, this little tight cunt of yours is soaking for me.. Such a good girl..” he mumbled. 

He slid his middle finger down and traced small circles around her entrance teasing his finger in and out of her tight hole and her thighs trembled around him. “Gonna stretch this little hole of yours to my liking and make you remember who you belong to..” he whispered. 

She nodded her head in response as she continued to moan out softly, desperate for him to shove his cock inside of her. He pulled his hand away that was covered in her slick and he admired it and loved the mess she made already, wanting her to make an even bigger mess on his cock. After staring at his hand for another moment he took it and smeared it all over her face and she gasped, desperately licking and tasting herself. He was so turned on he couldn’t fight the urge to fuck her any longer and he let go of her arms to start to unbutton his pants and while he had his guard down, she lifted herself off the vanity, turned to face him and she grabbed a hold of his pants, shoving her hand down them once he hand them undone and she wrapped her hand tight around his cock, squeezing him in her grasp and he grunted loudly. She got close to his face, smirking. “Did you think I was going to let you be in complete control?” she whispered, before she crashed her lips against his and now he could taste her pussy on his lips as they kissed and he pressed up against her as she still had a hold on his cock. She giggled seeing the needy look in his eye as her fingers grazed along the length of his cock. 

She let him go and lifted herself up onto the vanity and brought her legs up, and firmly pressed her heels against the rough wood as she spread her legs apart in front of him, her throbbing, dripping pussy on full display for him and he licked his lips staring at the beautiful sight of her little pussy that was begging to be fucked. She ran a hand down between her thighs and traced her index and middle finger along her pussy and spread her soaking lips apart for him to get a better view of her. His jaw was nearly on the floor as his eyes never left her pussy as he slowly began to remove other parts of his clothing, revealing his upper body to her, she bit her lip as she stared at him at his hairy chest and his round belly, she thought he was the sexiest man she had ever seen. “Well? What are you waiting for? Fuck me.” she cooed.

He quickly tugged his pants down and as he moved in between her legs she lifted her right leg up and pressed the sole of heel against his bare chest and it pierced his skin, causing him to groan. “Don’t you dare cum inside of me..” she hummed demandingly. He nodded at her words, willing to do whatever she asked like a little puppy the way he wanted her. She smiled and set her foot back down on the table, her legs spread wide apart for him still as he moved in between them and one hand clung onto her thigh and his other hand reaching down to grab his cock and he teased the head of his cock between her soaking lips and the feeling of her pubic hair tickled against his cock as he groaned softly feeling her velvety folds brush against him. Rebecca tilted her head back against the mirror and let out a soft moan. After his little teasing he slowly guided his cock inside of her and he grunted and groaned lowly as he entered her and he stretched her pussy open inch by inch with his cock until he completely bottomed out inside of her. She gasped loudly and shut her eyes tight as she moaned, grabbing onto his big arms. 

“Ah, fuck, baby, you’re so tight..” he mumbled under his breath as he began to thrust his hips roughly inside of her and she whimpered and cried out his name as he forced her pussy to open up around him and take him deep, leaving her no choice to adjust to the size of him. 

“Oh, daddy.. You f-feel so good inside of me..” she said breathless. 

Her hands squeezed around his arms so tight that her nails began to dig into his skin as his hands grabbed her waist and tugged her forward as he began to slam his hips into her, fucking her roughly that the vanity beneath them began to shake and wobble, the mirror slamming up against the wall to the tune of his thrusts, her legs wrapping around him and her heels digging into his sides as she panted heavily and her eyes rolled back as she moaned and whimpered, nearly screaming his name with how his cock hit inside of her, so deep and hard that she could feel him hitting against her cervix and stretching her open that his cock fit like a glove inside of her. He leaned down to kiss along her neck and he was breathing heavily and grunting loudly with each thrust as sweat gathered at his brow and he kissed down to her breasts, his soft lips taking one of her nipples into his mouth and she kept one hand on his arm still and brought the other up to tangle into his hair as their bodies slammed against one another, moaning and breathing heavily in sync with each other. It was so loud that everyone could hear what the two of them were doing. He kissed back up to her neck until he reached her lips and they kissed sloppily and passionately as he lifted her up and began to slam his cock harder inside her, determined to make her remember just who she and her pussy belonged to. “Oh god.. Elvis.. Fuck.. Just like that!” she screamed, pulling at his dark hair. The faster he fucked her the louder the squelching sounds of her pussy became, she was soaking for him that it was making a mess of them. 

The both of them had so much pent up sexual tension that this little game they were playing of power dynamics and the anger they felt toward one another, but also the love was building up into something more and ready to explode at any minute as they continued to fuck each other. The louder she moaned the louder his groans and grunts became, their bodies growing weaker and numb to the pleasure they were giving each other as their orgasms built within in approaching the surface quickly as they continued on until they couldn’t hold on any longer. Rebecca was screaming his name as her orgasm hit like a train that her eyes rolled all the way back and her body went limp as she came all over his cock. He couldn’t hold himself back the moment she did and remembering what she said he grabbed his cock trying to slip it out of her stretched cunt as quick as possible and his warm cum shooting out onto her stomach in thick ropes all over and she watched with delight until he finished and collapsed against her. She slipped her arms around him as the two of them tried to catch their breath as their bodies laid trembling against one another. Her soft whimpers escaped her lips as she buried her face into his hair. 

“Oh, fuck.. Fuck.. That was amazing..” she mumbled. 

All Elvis could do was nod at her words before he pulled himself off her and she sat up, her legs feeling wobbly and her pussy sore from his rough pounding that she slowly climbed off the vanity and she grabbed a few tissues to wipe his cum off her stomach and she kicked off her heels and slipped out of what was left of her stockings. Elvis watched her as he got himself dressed and it was silent between the two of them now with some of the tension gone, but very much present between them. She glanced over to see him staring at her with a smirk. 

“Don’t go getting crazy ideas. I’m still mad at you.” she said softly as she continued to clean herself. 

“Are you? Because it sure didn’t seem that way, baby.” he said with a chuckle. 

“It was just sex. That’s it.” she mumbled. 

“No, it wasn’t. We just made love and you know that it was more than just sex.” he replied.

Elvis furrowed his brow as he watched her shake her head and once he had gotten his clothes back on he walked over to her and pulled her naked body against him, kissing her deep and she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him back. She loved him. She wouldn’t be able to stop loving him. But she was still hurt that he lied to her. She pulled back from him, shaking her head as she looked up at him.

“Elvis.. This doesn’t change anything. You lied to me. You broke any trust I had for you. It’s going to take more than us fucking to fix that.” she said softly. 

Elvis sighed and he knew it was a long shot to hope that the two of them making love would fix everything. He knew he was wrong and that he should’ve been honest with her from the start. “I’m sorry, baby. I-I didn’t mean to.. I want to fix this..” he said. 

A small smile formed on her lips, she nodded slowly. 

“I know you are. I know you want to fix this. But it’s going to take time..” she said as she pulled away from him and grabbed her bag of clothes. “I’ll meet you out there.” she hummed as she headed into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Elvis let out another sigh as he fixed himself up before heading back out to see everyone staring at him knowing what had just went on in that room. Elvis approached the director that Sonny and Red still had a grip on. 

“Let ‘em go, fellas.” Elvis said, the two men listening and letting the guy go. Elvis got close to him as he slipped his glasses back on. “Find yourself another girl because she quits.” he muttered before pushing past him and toward the front door where he stood to wait for Rebecca. She finished up in the shower and quickly got dressed and grabbed the rest of her things and hurried out of the room, seeing everyone staring at her and she just continued to walk, not making eye contact until she reached Elvis who took her hand and the both of them walked out together with the guys following behind. 

International Hotel

When they got back to the hotel Elvis and Rebecca headed to his suite alone as the guys went their separate ways. It was a quiet walk to his suite as they continued to hold each other’s hand and shared glances with one another. Elvis got his key out as they approached the door and opened it and much to both of their surprise there was a woman sitting on the couch who stood up the moment they walked in. It was Linda. She had flown from Memphis to Vegas because she had enough of Elvis’ lies and secrets and she didn’t trust a word he had said over the phone. She decided to surprise him with a visit just to catch him in his lies and his new girl. Rebecca furrowed her brow wondering who the strange woman was in his suite. 

“L-Linda..” Elvis mumbled. 

Rebecca pulled her hand away from him and looked at him and then Linda and then back at him.

“This is Linda?” she said softly.

“And you must be his new shiny toy.” Linda said snidely. 

Rebecca didn’t like her already as she narrowed her eyes at the woman and now she slipped her arm around Elvis feeling possessive over him. 

“Rebecca is my name.” she said sharply. 

“Right.. Do you mind? I’d like to speak with Elvis alone.” Linda said, looking her up and down. 

“Actually, I do fucking mind. Whatever you have to say to him you can say it in front of me.” Rebecca snapped as she tightened her grasp around Elvis who was too stunned to even speak and now both women were basically fighting over him. 

Linda scoffed and shook her head. Elvis finally cleared his throat and looked over at Rebecca. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just give us a minute, please?” he asked. 

Rebecca rolled her eyes and nodded at his words as she stared over at Linda out of the corner of her eye as she leaned up to press several soft kisses to Elvis’ cheek just to piss her off before she walked off to his bedroom on purpose, closing the door. Linda rolled her eyes in disgust as she turned her attention back to Elvis. As usual Rebecca was listening in on their conversation. 

“So, that’s her? She’s pretty. Super young.” she remarked. 

Elvis sighed. 

“Don’t give me that shit. What are you doin’ here!?” he shouted. 

“I wanted to see her for myself. Now I have and well I hope she’s the one this time.” she said softly. She had no tears left to shed for him after dealing with his infidelity for the past three years. 

“She may be the one. She makes me happy and she challenges me, she’s honest with me. Something no one else seems to be around here.” he replied. 

Linda laughed, nodding. 

“Right.. Sure..” she grabbed her purse and began to head toward the door, grabbing a hold of the doorknob and turning back around toward him for a moment. “I just hope she realizes you only like the beginning of things.” she muttered as her last parting words before she slipped out that door and out of his life forever. 

Elvis sighed and shook his head at whatever hell that meant as he stared at the door for a moment and felt a wave of relief that Linda had ended things between them so he wouldn’t have to. He turned back around to see Rebecca standing in the doorway of his room, looking up at him with those beautiful green eyes, she heard everything and the last thing Linda said really stuck with her. She stared at Elvis as he walked over to her, slipping his arms around her and pulling her into his embrace. She didn’t put her arms around him, she didn’t even move.

“It’s over, baby. It’s officially over. I promise ya” he said softly as he looked down at her. She was staring up at him and she shook her head and pulled away. 

“Elvis, I-I think I’m going to go back to New York tomorrow..” she whispered. 

Elvis furrowed his brow, confused. 

“What? Why?” he asked. 

“I need space from you. I need time to think.. I told you no matter what happens us having sex the two of you finally being over doesn’t change the fact that you still lied to me. What did she mean by you only like the beginning of things? How can I trust you not to do to me what you did to her??” she said as she backed away from him. 

“Ah, baby, don’t listen to her.. She just said that to stir shit up. I would never do that to you. I love you. I only want to be with you. Please don’t go..” 

“I don’t believe you, Elvis. I don’t trust you. I need space... I can’t stay here. So, I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’m sorry. I want things to work between us because I love you too, but if you mean what you say and want to gain my trust back it’s going to take more than you just saying it or fucking me.” she said as she began to walk away.

Elvis grabbed her hand, pleading for her not to go. 

“Please.. I-I need you, baby.” he said softly as his eyes welled up with tears. Rebecca shook her head and now tears were streaming down her face. 

“Then when you finish your engagement here, you come show me how much you need me and love me. You know where I live..” she said before pulling out of his grasp and going to her bedroom, shutting the door and locking it to keep him out as she gathered her things and began to pack. She could hear Elvis out there pleading for her to not go but she ignored him.

She felt horrible leaving him but she needed to. She needed space to think away from him and she’d hope time away from her would help him think about what he really wanted. She couldn’t get what Linda said out of her head. She knew she probably did say that knowing she was listening just to cause another problem between her and Elvis. But either way, her mind was made up and first thing in the morning she was catching a taxi to the airport and heading back home. 

He only likes the beginning of things…

Tagging: @18lkpeters @peaceloveelvis @iloveelvis @elvispresleygf @wanderingelvis @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @doll-elvis @kendralavon7 @honey6578 @marie73ep @wanderlustingtomboy @powerofelvis @lindszeppelin @idontwanttoputanything @amydarcimarie @returntopresley @literally-just-elvis-fics

[foreverdolly]

𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑(𝐩𝐭 𝟏)| 𝟗𝟎𝐬!𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your love life has been tragic to say the least, so after a rather public breakup you decide that you're done with bad boys. elvis is the lead singer of a well known and well loved metal band. he lives a hard and fast lifestyle and wouldn't dream of ever apologizing for it. the one thing that nobody would ever expect from a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy like elvis is the fact that the man is a hopeless romantic. and he's got his sights set on you. elvis presley was precisely the kind of person you were trying to avoid. you couldn't let him weasel his way into your life. . . . right?

warning/notes: SMUT! ahead, this thing is going to be dirty dirty so prepare yourselves, drug and alcohol use. you're seriously a sex symbol and everyone is obsessed with you. . . including me. elvis is an actual simp in this fic, but what's new with my writing? this fic does take place in the 90's. . . so just imagine 60's elvis throughout this fic, because that's exactly what i was doing. | this is part one of a three part mini series. i will be posting all three parts this week, so you will not have to wait a million years to be able to finish it. please please please heart this post, repost it and tell me what you think about it. i love interaction, and this is my first time posting in ages. i'm a little nervous about it.

word count: 5.3k

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The bar was hazy with thick cigarette smoke, but there was something special about the way that the neon lights shone through the fog that hung above the mass of grinding bodies. The music pounded away in your ears, and after the round of mixed drinks that you had downed with your group of friends, you couldn’t help but sway your body along with the beat. In a packed bar like this, where everybody was too drunk to notice or too high to care, you were just another somebody. 

That was the draw to nightlife for you. It was a small reprieve, and maybe it made you a bit sick in the head, but you cherished it. No matter how self absorbed and ungrateful it sounded, you missed the days of feeling like a normal person. You missed being able to leave your house in a ratty old t-shirt and shorts without the fear of being plastered all over the front of a gossip magazine looming above your head. You missed going to the grocery store and taking your sweet time perusing the aisles. You missed the way your life had been before the organized chaos. 

People have always paid extra attention to you. You had been the butt of many jokes during your early days in middle school. You were the ugly duckling- nothing but a scrawny little girl that came from an impoverished family. The year you turned thirteen everything changed though. Puberty had hit you like a freight train. Your curves had filled out and your face had lost all of its baby fat. In the blink of an eye all of the girls wanted to be your friends, and the boys that used to tease you were now trying their hardest to get your attention. 

You only got prettier as time went on it would seem. People stopped caring about the unfortunate state of your home life all together, instead focusing on your looks and likeability. School was no longer hell from you, and you entirely had your appearance to thank for it. Becoming a model had happened just as quickly. 

You had been on a date with an ex when you had first been discovered. You remembered that day vividly: the nasty fight during the car ride to the stadium, the overpriced beers as well as the crippling fear that you were allowing a man to emotionally beat you down. You had somehow ended up on the jumbotron, and all you could do was awkwardly smile and wave- blow a few kisses at the camera when it lingered on your face for a little too long. You had laughed it off, assuring your at-the-time boyfriend that it had been some sort of a coincidence. He had been the jealous and possessive sort. A man that worked in the marketing department of one of your state’s favorite beer companies saw you holding the bottle in your hand on the big screen, and the rest was history. 

You felt blessed for your booming career and all of the attention that you had garnered over the last few years, but a part of you missed the days where you could go outside without cameras flashing or people asking something of you. Everybody always wanted something from you. Be it a simple picture, a signature or even a smile- at this point there wasn’t a part of you not owned or wanted by the public. Even other celebrities had an ulterior motive for trying to connect with you. You’d learned your lesson though. Dating was officially off the table. Well. . . dating celebrities, at least. 

“I’m being serious this time, guys.” You tried to reason with your friends, reaching up to tangle your long manicured fingers into your messy updo. “Bad boys are out.” You seriously believed it this time too. No matter how hot, famous or rich you were, men were always going to be trash.

You had always been the type of girlfriend that went out of her way to take care of their partner. You hated drama, so starting unnecessary fights was beneath you. You were trusting to a fault, which had gotten you into trouble more than a handful of times. You had a big heart, and despite the constant disappointments you still believed in true love. You had finally come to the conclusion that the problem was never you. It had always been them. You were self aware enough to know that you had a bit of a. . .type. 

“Bad boys” only wanted one thing from you though. 

They just wanted sex. It had always been that way, even since high school. As much as you hated to admit it, you had never been in a stable relationship, even in the early years of your life before the tabloids kept tabs on your every move. 

You loved sex, but it never led to anything good. The most you got out of it in most cases was nothing but momentary, fleeting satisfaction that only left you feeling more empty than you had been before. You were done with being used to beef up somebody's ego only to be discarded like garbage soon after. 

Your close friend, Veronica, was quick to throw her arm around you, pressing your frame tightly into her side. “We need to find you someone nerdy. Like. . . like an accountant or something.” She snapped her fingers excitedly as though she had just solved world hunger. 

You let out a small squeal, leaning your head back to laugh without restraint. In your inner circle on a night like this? Things seemed to just. . . fall into place. You were happy- obnoxiously so- and you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. You were sick and tired of crying over men that didn’t care about you. Especially ones that didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt for them. All that mattered now was the fact that they were playing remixes of all your favorite songs at this particular club and that you had just gotten your nails freshly painted earlier in the day. Your dress fit you like a glove, you were actually having a good hair day without the help of a stylist and the people that you had surrounded yourself with loved you like family. This was your element.

The drinks were flowing, your heart was happy, and you were tired of moping around and feeling bad for yourself. 

An accountant was exactly what you needed. 

“You’re so right! I need a sweet little accountant that I can come home to at the end of a long day. That sounds perfect to me. I need a man that lives a boring life and is more than willing to take time out of his not-so hectic life for me.” You agreed, pressing your cheek against your friend’s in a display of affection before grabbing your drink off of the table. “A toast! To. . .,” You bit your plush bottom lip as you tried to think of the best way to word what it was that you were looking for in a man. “To good guys.” 

“To good guys!” They all chimed after you. 

Your friends were all quick to clink their glasses against yours, happily joining you in downing the rest of their brightly colored glasses of alcohol. 

“Excuse me!” You called out to one of the waitstaff, flagging her down with a wide dazzling smile. 

The scantily dressed woman was quick to make her way over to your marked off section. The owner of the club insisted on putting you and your friends in VIP for ‘your safety’, though you were starting to think that all it was doing was drawing more attention towards your area. The younger woman smiled sweetly back at you, though you weren’t blind enough to not see the way that her fingers were anxiously twitching at her sides. A-list celebrities didn’t frequent clubs like this, so you were sure that she was probably scared out of her mind to do something wrong and incur your (nonexistent) wrath.  

“W-What can I help you with?” What little confidence she had earlier was faltering now as she got closer and closer to you. 

“I want to buy every person in this club a shot of tequila! Top shelf, please. We’re celebrating!” Tonight you were in an especially good mood considering your recent split with your heartthrob co-star. You were finally starting to feel better about it, which was a good sign that you were moving on. 

You and your group’s shots arrived first, but within seconds tray after tray of plastic cups began circulating the bar. You were quick to cheers your friends once again, swallowing back the clear liquor. You had imbibed in a fair bit of alcohol already, so the burning sensation wasn’t as bad as it had been towards the beginning of your girls night out. Despite the slightly numb lips and hazy expression, you didn’t sway once in your heels as you continued to sway along to the beat of the music. You danced like nobody was watching, but little did you know that a certain blue eyed musician had his eye on you from across the club. 

“Compliments of (F/N) (L/N).” The waitress motioned to the tray that she was holding up in front of the brunette’s face. 

For a second all he could do was stare at the drinks, drunkenly trying to remember whether or not he ordered anything. His eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise as the woman’s words finally began to register. Wait a minute. . . who bought him a shot? The name sounded awfully familiar, so he must know the woman somehow. His rings glinted under the colored lights as he reached for the cup, the leggy blonde that had been keeping him company that night following suit. 

“Who?” He asked dumbly, squinting his eyes to follow the direction that the waitress had pointed in. 

“(F/N) (L/N). She’s an actress and model? She bought every-” And before the woman could let Elvis know that you had bought everyone in the entire club a shot he was already throwing the tequila back, tossing the plastic drunkenly back onto the table before pushing the blonde woman’s arm off from around him as though her touch burned him. 

Because he had recognized you the second that he saw you, even from across the bar. You were prettier in person than you were on camera, which was rare in Los Angeles. 

The woman that had once been keeping him company gaped up at the musician, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment as she realized that she was actively being ditched for another woman. In front of everybody that she had come to the club with. 

“Fuck you, Presley!” She screamed after him, but the curse fell on deaf ears as he wove his way in between the writhing, sweaty bodies of dancing patrons. 

He had his eyes glued on one person and one person only. Never in his life had he seen a woman that beautiful before- and Elvis had seen, kissed and fucked his fair share of hot women. He remembered exactly why your name sounded so familiar to him. You weren’t some chick whose feelings he had hurt or someone that his music label had asked him to play nice with. 

You were a fuckin’ Playboy Bunny. 

Your group of friends had stopped talking and had all turned to face him as he approached, their eyebrows knitted together as they tried to figure out exactly who he was and why he was there. Tall and lean, heavily tattooed with dark hair and blue eyes as bright as the morning sky. One by one he watched their expressions shift into recognition. Elvis lifted up a long leg, easily stepping over the velvet rope that had been put up around your section. 

All you could do was watch, wondering exactly why Elvis Presley was approaching you with a smirk on his face. Was there something that you might have missed? You’d never met the man before in your life. You would have definitely remembered if you had. 

He was clad in a black pair of jeans and a white tank top that fit snug enough to show off his nipple piercings. His thick gold necklaces caught the light as he bent down to shorten his frame, smiling directly at you. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the bar. His attention was perfectly undivided. His black hair hung loose in his eyes, undone from its usual updo that he had sported in all of the pictures you’d seen of him in the past. You had to admit though. . . there was something more dangerous about this version of Elvis. He seemed more wild and relaxed. More himself and less of the showman. It made your heart race, and admittedly kept you from shooing him off in the opposite direction. 

Not even ten minutes ago you had sworn off bad boys, and yet here you were, watching with wide eyes as one sauntered right up to you. 

His black boots stopped to rest right in front of your heeled feet, and he took his time looking you up and down, wanting you to see his approval. He wanted you to know just how irresistible he found you. In a club as loud as this one was, you had to learn how to communicate with your body. 

Elvis had been raised in the south by a Christian family, but that didn’t mean that he was always a gentleman. He was far too drunk for that. So instead of thanking you for the shot or trying his hand at flirting with you, he plopped down in the spot beside you and leaned over. 

Your jaw went slack as you felt his warm tongue trail all the way up from the sensitive pulsepoint at your neck to your temple. His nose brushed against your hair as his warm breath fanned over your ear. You could hear his heady breath, and it lit a fire inside of you. Rather than being outraged you found yourself clamping your thighs together in the hopes of creating some sort of friction. He pulled back only to smile drunkenly at you, drumming his tattooed hands against his seat as he waited for your reaction.

He watched you all while knowing that you had to have felt something. Your breath had caught at the sudden action, and he knew it. He saw the adorable flush to your cheeks and the glint in your glassy eyes. A cocky, satisfied huff left him as he leaned back against the leather booth. You, of course, exceeded his expectations when you turned towards your friend and repeated the action. Your group, no matter how prissy they all looked, were all good sports. They howled and cackled as one by one they licked each other’s face, following your lead without question. 

“I’m Elvis.” He called over the music, watching as you gave him a knowing nod. 

You opened your mouth in order to introduce yourself only for him to hold his hand up, giving a dismissive flick of his wrist. “No need. I know who ya are.” He stated with an upturned lip.

His smile was nothing short of goofy, his blue eyes sweet as he looked over your face again and again, almost as though he was committing every detail to memory. There was something about him that just felt. . . different. It felt good. 

“Do ya wanna dance?” He nodded towards the packed dance floor, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Your best friend tensed behind you. “What happened to good boys being in?” She whispered in your ear, shooting you a pleading look. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, waving her off like it was no big deal. “This is just for tonight. We’re only going to dance, alright? Promise.” And with that you stood up, letting him take your hand and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you danced, only that you could feel long strands of your wavy hair clinging to the back of your arms after falling out from its’s updo. You were a drunken, sweaty mess and didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was that Elvis was making you laugh harder than you ever had before. His large hands felt too good on your hips as he swayed you back and forth, pressing you against his thigh. All you would have to do is arch your back just a fraction, and it would be your cunt that he would be leading you to grind against his thigh, not your hips. You should have hated yourself for the thought, but you were too far gone. All you knew was that he was handsome and was looking down at you as though you hung the moon. 

He was so big and warm. Domineering in a kind of way that let you know he would be able to take care of you in the exact way that you preferred. 

Your fingers gently traced a few of the tattoos on his arms as you continued to sway back and forth, eying the colorful, sweaty skin as he continued to wrap himself around you. He smelled like expensive cologne and warm skin- and it took every last shred of self restraint that you had in your body not to bury your nose into his chest and inhale. Being around him was making you lose your mind.

The two of you only left the dance floor to down more drinks and get away from the loud speakers from time to time when you wanted to converse with each other. It was far too loud to have any sort of heart to hearts with him, but he went out of his way to show off his flashy personality to you. 

“I really have to go, Elvis. I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, which means I have to wake up early to pack.” You explained, stumbling outside so that you could wait for the cab that the bar had called for you. 

Elvis had been nice enough to offer to wait with you, not wanting any seedy characters to get any bad ideas. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and you didn’t even want to think about the kind of people that might be lurking in the darkness. L.A was a terrifying place to be left alone in. Especially at night.

“The clubs not even closin’ yet though. Why don’t you wait for just one more hour?” He begged, his gold bracelet sliding down to his forearm as he clasped his hands together over his chest. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the dyed brunette eyeing the adorable way your nose scrunched up as you did so. Yeah. . . he was completely smitten. It was official. 

“I’m serious, Elvis. I have to get home.” You weren’t giving in, no matter how much you wanted to. 

Your friend's words were finally pounding their way back into your head, reminding you that the man in front of you would only break your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces afterwards. Casual sex used to be fun for you, but you were bored with the notion. What you were looking for was someone to settle down with. Elvis Presley definitely didn’t seem like the type. 

“Well where are you doin’ tomorrow? Maybe we can do somethin’ fun.” He needed to see you as soon as possible. He could tell that staying over at your place or vice versa was completely out of the question, so he didn’t even attempt to offer. You were worth the wait anyway, so he didn’t mind taking his time. He could tell that you were old school, and he respected it. 

This way of thinking was completely out of character for Elvis though. The reason why he wasn’t afraid to sleep around and forget about the women that he spent time with was because the two of you were very similar. The musician was a hopeless romantic, and wanted to fall in love more than he cared to ever say. 

If you weren’t in love then you weren’t alive. That was his way of thinking, at least. 

He wanted somebody to share his life with, but he hadn’t met the right person. He had tried his hand at long term relationships a couple of times, but women had a track record of breaking his heart. So he had gotten into the habit of being the break-er and not the break-ee. 

“I’m headed to Mexico for this business trip. If I show up with huge bags under my eyes my manager will not be happy.” You watched as he perked up, your eyebrows raising in confusion. 

“I love Mexico! Where exactly are you stayin’?” 

“Cacún. . .” You replied slowly, not exactly sure whether or not you wanted him to know. There was something about his reaction to the news that made you think that he might try and. . . - no. No way. No normal person- musician or not- would book a last minute flight just to spend more time with you. Stable people’s minds didn’t work like that. 

“Oh, that’s perfect. We’re goin’ to Cancún then.” No hesitation. 

You guffawed, blinking hard at him as you tried to figure out exactly how to handle this situation. You were used to men being forward with you, but this was on an entirely different level. 

“You’re not following me to Mexico,” You told him, reaching out to give his arm a small shake when you noticed the devious smile pulling up at his lips. “Elvis, I’m serious.” 

“Oh, I’m so comin’, no matter how much you beg.” 

The taxi pulled up to the curb before you could say anything else. With a loud sigh you opened the door for yourself, blurting out “no you’re not” as you closed the door soundly behind you. Before you could even blink the man was wrenching the other backdoor open, sliding his way inside. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had to be playing with you, because there was no way he could be serious. 

“Sir, please wait a minute. He’s not coming with me.” You told the taxi driver before turning to face the black haired man. “Elvis, you are not coming to Mexico. Okay? It’s something that I have to do for work. Now. . . can you please let me go home?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on you, and you felt exhausted. Your bed was practically calling out to you. So no matter how charismatic or handsome the singer was, you refused to let him come home with you.

“I’ll get out of the car if you do one thing for me.” 

You weren’t surprised when he asked for your number, and like an idiot you complied, writing the words “don’t call” right above your digits. 

It was only when he got out of the car with a wide smile on your face that you realized how torn you were. Part of you knew that he shouldn’t call, but a large chunk of you really wanted him to despite that fact. 

What you didn’t see was the way Elvis stared after the taxi until it had completely disappeared down the street, and then at the small scrap of paper in his hands. He gently traced his finger over your loopy, feminine handwriting. Eager to get home so that he could give you a lil ring. 

The phone had been ringing off the hook since ten o’clock that morning. One after the other, Elvis had left you voicemail after voicemail. You had half the mind to just rip out the cord and cut your losses, but knew that your manager would have no way to contact you if she needed to. So you put up with the inappropriate amount of calls. 

“Ya did buy me a shot of tequila last night, which I think has to be a sign that I’m supposed to go to Mexico with ya.” 

Beep. 

“Me and my band just finished recordin’ our album, which means that I have way too much time on my hands. Really, you would be doin’ me a damn favor if you let me go with you.” 

Beep. 

“Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley and his weiner are fuckin’ comin’ to Cancún.” His singing echoed around the house. 

Beep. 

“Hola, mi amor-” 

Beep. 

“Cancún~,” You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay as you dragged your heavy silver suitcase down your stairs and up to the front door. “Cancú-” 

“Elvis.” 

“Darlin’!” He called out excitedly as you picked up the phone for the first time that entire morning. 

“Don’t. Come.” You tried using your stern voice, hoping he would finally take you seriously. 

A beat, and then came his answer. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin’.” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Don’t.” And with that you hung up, dragging your luggage out your front door and towards the waiting taxi. 

You should have been appalled, but how could you be? Because what if he really did show up? The thought of seeing him again made her palms go a bit sweaty. "U-Umm. . . You can just drop me off at the front. There's no need to try and park with all of that airport traffic."

“Are you looking for someone?” Your friend asked, standing up the tips of her toes so that she could shove her carry-on into the overhead compartment. 

You pushed the sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose, leaning further back into your seat as you watched the door to the plane like a hawk. You hated the fact that Veronica was so observant. Well. . . in this case, at least. She could read you like a book. She had already questioned you about last night until she was blue in the face, and the last thing you needed was for her to find out that there was a possibility that he might be following you all the way to Mexico. And why? You still had no clue. 

“Of course not. I’m just eager to lift off, is all. I’m hoping to take a little nap until we get there.” You hated lying more than anything, but you were willing to do anything to keep her from lecturing you. 

She meant well, and you loved her for that. You just couldn’t help but feel guilty for dancing with Elvis last night, even if it had meant absolutely nothing. It had to have meant absolutely nothing to you. The two of you hadn’t even kissed, which meant that you technically hadn’t gone back on your word. Good boys were in. And bad boys? 

They were out. 

The nicer beachside resorts loomed high above the bustling city, their sleek designs and gaudy terraces visible from the lower streets. You had decided to roll down the window of the car so that you could enjoy the warm night air. The smells, sounds, and sights were so different from those that you were used to in L.A. It was a nice change of pace, whether you were here for work purposes or not. All you had to do was play nice with a room full of rich old men and then you’d be in the clear. Your friend had excitedly made plans for the entire weekend, doing her fair share of research to make sure that the two of you had the best time. She’d even called your resort ahead of time so that she could know what kind of food they served. She had originally agreed to come with you right after your bad breakup to keep you company, but what had once been a means to look out for you and offer you support had quickly turned into her hatching a plan to keep your mind off of things. 

The fact that this trip also gave her a means to try and dissuade you from ever talking to Elvis again was just an added bonus. 

“Ronnie, have you ever seen something so beautiful? Look at that.” You pointed out the window, ushering her to lean closer against you so that she could see what you were seeing. 

A crowd of people were dancing amongst each other, string lights swaying softly in the oceanside breeze as they clapped joyously along with the music. You were a stickler for romance films. The cheesier, the better. It was almost as though you were watching one unfold right before your very eyes. 

You continued to point this way and that, your eyes wide as you tried to fully bask in the city all around you. For a second you forgot all about the crazy musician and his threat to follow you to Mexico. It was just you and your best friend spending some much needed time away from the messy city life of Los Angeles. The car began to climb the brick road all the way up to the largest resort, intricate metal lanterns hanging from the large front porch of the building. 

“They have us staying here?” Veronica gaped, her eyes wide with excitement. This was her first time out of the country in ages, and she was planning to pack in as much as she possibly could over the three day weekend. She had been sure to warn you to prepare yourself for a packed itinerary. 

“I had no clue it would be this nice.” You mumbled your reply, reaching your hand out numbly as you watched a few members of the staff pour out from the front lobby. 

The car door was being opened for you in the blink of an eye, your luggage already being carried up and into the building. 

“Miss (L/N) and friend, we’re so pleased that you could bless us with your presence. My name is Oliver and I will be taking care of all of your needs. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything at all.” Oliver looked to be a year or two younger than you, dressed up in a pressed suit and perfectly starched tie. He sounded like he was reading off of a script, eager to please the star and her close friend. 

When you had envisioned Cancún you hadn’t thought of. . . such a fancy resort. Sprawling beaches and family owned restaurants were more your style, but this? You’d happily thank your manager for booking you such a sweet gig. You and your friend would be staying in your own suites on the top floor for free, and all you had to do was sit and look pretty during dinner tonight. Living the life of a celebrity was still new to you, so you had been told that you still had that “small town” charm that people adored so much. You were personable and genuine, which was rare to find in Sin City. Your good looks and sweet attitude was, thankfully, the reason why you were able to live such a lush lifestyle. 

“Thank you, Oliver. If you could just point me in the direction of our suites that would be amazing. I need to get dressed for tonight.” Your white sneakers and yoga pants felt hideously out of place in the large lobby. Men and women in full glamor passed by you and your leisurely dressed friend, causing the both of you to duck your heads down in embarrassment in fear of being perceived. 

“Of course. Here is your key ma’am,” Oliver slid you the golden key with a well trained smile. “And then here is yours.” 

You started to walk off in the direction of the elevator but froze as he called your name once again. 

“Someone delivered flowers for you. I can have them brought to your room as well if you’d like.” The young brunette reached down on the table behind him, placing the intricate bouquet down on the counter in front of you. 

Your jaw dropped as you realized just how expensive something like that must have been, especially to be delivered. Peonies, babies breath, roses- it was huge. You couldn’t think of anyone that would deliver flowers to you. Not in Cancún, at least. 

Veronica elbowed your side gently, eagerly urging you to read the card. 

“It’s from-” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, trying to keep your smile at bay. Tonight was already turning out to be wonderful. . . and you practically just landed. 

That smile, however, was quick to fall off of your face as you read the card.

i wanted to give credit to my amazing beta readers! @meds4beatlemania, @austinsmutler and a special thanks to @memphis-mania. mem literally held my hand throughout the editing process and gave me the confidence i needed to put on my big girl panties and post! are you interested in becoming a beta reader? feel free to message me!

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

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[wanderingelvis]

firstly, love your work!! second, can you write something about elvis being protective as well as maybe some Memphis Mafia content too? 🎀

i have a few of these requests so hopefully this works for all of them! 🎀🪩🕊️

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

word count: 2,508

pairing: 70s elvis x fem reader

warnings: kinda yandere themes, at least very possessive/protective elvis, manipulation

You’d brought new, fresh light into Elvis’ life. He was deep in his Vegas residency and you were this sweet little thing, bringing soft giggles, affectionate touches and happiness into the International Hotel.

Equally, this purity that you radiated came with a price. Elvis felt a need to protect you, in fact, all of the Mafia did. They were paid handsomely to protect you but even if they weren’t, you tugged on all of their heartstrings and they’d all look out for you, but none more so than Elvis.

Sometimes, he’d take it too far, not that you’d realise. His protectiveness went right over your pretty little head. 

Like the time that he’d kicked out two men from a meet and greet with him after a show because they gave you a “shifty look”, or when he fired a make up assistant for letting you have even so much as a sip of champagne. 

You’d ask about them, where they’d gone as you’d sit on Elvis’ knee and Elvis would plead ignorance, telling you that he ain’t getting involved with none of that personnel nonsense and you’d nod before turning back to your fashion magazine.

It was after a show that you thought was simply magical that you decided you needed to find a way to celebrate that success with Elvis. 

And so, you settled on getting Elvis a cupcake. 

You’d seen a stand of cupcakes as you’d headed into the auditorium before the show, as you’d been escorted in, with Elvis’ stepmother Dee holding your hand painfully tightly, seeing you as more of a burden than a friend. You had wanted to stop to try one of the cupcakes but Dee had yanked your wrist a little too harshly that you didn’t get the chance.

You had wished that you’d be free to roam around on your own but Elvis had made it clear that you were always to have an escort.

He insisted that of course he trusted you, it was strangers he didn’t trust, he couldn’t, he tried to explain to you as you nodded albeit with those adorable pouty lips.

In truth, he knew you were a mischevious and curious little thing, and not only that but you were just a little too naive to be left to your own devices. 

He just knew, if someone tried to take advantage of you, they’d be able to succeed just too easily and to that end, Elvis had made a rule to always be escorted, whether you liked it or not.

But you’d decided you were a big girl, you could surely get a cupcake on your own as a present for Elvis after his amazing show and it would be okay. 

Surely.

So as the crowd roared with applause, you scooted over in the booth to Larry Geller, the latest of Elvis’ entourage.

“‘Scuse me Larry, I, um, I gotta go to the ladies room and then I gotta go n’grab this, um, this cupcake for E, I wanted t’get him this present because, well, see that was such a lovely show, and um,” You quickly realised you were rambling to justify being left alone. “I wanted to get him somethin’ pretty!” You said softly with your big eyes glittering.

“Well, you sure you can go on yer own kid? Y’know I was told that you s’posed t’have someone with yer.” Larry mumbled, not really paying attention to you but watching a gaggle of female Elvis fans that were waving to get the attention of the Mafia as Elvis could be seen heading backstage.

“Oh sure Lar! It’s just the ladies room! I’ll be back in no time!” You said, seizing your opportunity. “Promise!” You giggled, scrambling out of the booth and making your way to the cupcake stand.

By the time you’d reached the stand, shuffling through all the bodies piling out of the auditorium, you were enchanted by all the different pretty cupcakes, delicately iced and decorated individually.

Meanwhile, backstage, Elvis had reached his dressing room only to be greeted by the Mafia and not the one single person he actually wanted to see. 

“Where is Y/N?” Elvis said sternly, looking around the room and missing an absent baby.

“She wanted to surprise you with a cupcake so she went to the stand in the lobby.” Larry informed him, not thinking anything of it. 

And suddenly, the tension in the room went from 0 to 100 as everyone else, more experienced with Elvis’ rules and regulations, especially towards you, knew what a monumental fuck up had just occurred.

“What do you mean she’s gone to the lobby? Who’s with her?” Elvis practically spat, his eyes scanning the room to see no one else missing but you.

“I- I sent her on her own.” Larry stammered, realising the error he’d made.

“Goddamn it!” Elvis shouted, slamming his whiskey glass on the table, causing it to shatter and make grown men flinch. “Go get her now. If she’s noticed and I swear to God, if that little girl is hurt, if any goddamn motherfucker has put their hands on her, I’ll kill all of you with my own goddamn hands.” Elvis roared.

A big group left the room and headed out in search of the little girl who was currently in the hotel lobby. 

“It’s you!” A shrill voice hollered at you just as you’d purchased a strawberry cupcake, making you glance up. “You’re Elvis’ chick,” the elderly lady said, partially to you, partially to her friend next to her as the two older women cornered you, the little thing as you held the cupcake for Elvis in your hands, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“I, um, I-“ You stammered, the poor baby. 

“You are a weird little thing aren’t you?” One of them said cruelly. 

“It’s like what they say in the papers about her being like some kinda little pet of Elvis’.” The other one said, in an observational tone that made you scrunch your eyebrows sweetly in confusion. 

“Wha-“ You managed to murmur before being interrupted.

Because then the pile on started, as the enormous crowd started noticing you.

“Y/N, over here!”

“Is it true Elvis dresses you?”

“Does Elvis control you?”

“Are you really a virgin?” 

“Would ya sign this for me?”

“Who did you screw to get with Elvis?”

With tears swelling up in your big eyes and your big bottom lip jutted out, wobbling as amxiety consumed you, all you had wanted was a cupcake for Elvis. 

But maybe he had been right all along, maybe you did need someone with you at all times. 

“Y/N, come here, come with us!” An older lady said, grabbing your forearm with a pinch, making the little girl yelp.

“No, no!” You whimpered as hot tears started to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. You cowered, trying to wriggle away from the lady. 

You were close to a fully blown panic attack, not that you knew what the words were for that. You just knew you needed your Daddy. 

“Get away from her! I said move!” A loud voice yelled. You recognised the voice as Red West and saw him and Jerry making their way through the crowds.

Red got the woman off you with ease as you clung to Jerry, petrified of your surroundings.

“S’alright now honey, we’re gon’ get you back to EP, you’re okay now darlin’.” Jerry lovingly reassured, sensing how terrified you were, as you sniffled and were rushed away by him.

Truth be told, Jerry thought Larry was a bit of an ass, he understood why Elvis liked him but he knew he wasn’t the right person to leave you with.

You were quickly ushered into the security room where you saw Elvis, surrounded by his entourage and you wasted no time in running over to him.

“There’s my little one.” Elvis soothed, consoling his baby, rubbing circles in your back as you hiccuped and clung to him. “Breathe now baby, deep breaths f’me. Are ya hurt lil’ one?” Elvis cooed but he didn’t give you the time to respond. “Jer, she hurt?” Elvis almost barked.

Jerry stood there, hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I don’t know, boss. There was a crowd and some old lady was hollerin’ at her when I got to her.” 

“A-a lady, a-a lady grabbed me and um, she wanted to, she wanted to take me away and I- I didn’t wanna, I didn’t wanna go Daddy,” You sniffled oh so vulnerably, letting out the nickname Elvis had instructed you to give him and one that slipped out when you did indeed feel needy.

Elvis felt his heart yearn to comfort you but he was still seething at the massive oversight that had taken place, as well as the fact that you’d disobeyed his rule.

“Honey, you know what our rule is about wandering off?” Elvis said coolly, devoid of emotion as he was trying to restrain his anger.

You nodded your head feebly, your cheeks turning a softer pink at the slight embarrassment you felt from Elvis talking down to you in front of all of the guys. “To not wander off on my own and always tell you where I’m goin’ to keep me safe.” You recited sadly in a soft voice. 

“Ain’t that right.” Elvis said lowly. “So why, did ya think it would be a bright lil’ idea to disobey me huh kid? Y’need me t’spank that sweet little ass right here and now so that y’learn and start listenin’ t’me? Is that what y’need huh?” Elvis chastised. 

You knew all of the guys were uncomfortable but you also knew that Elvis didn’t give a damn, his eyes trained darkly on you and oh boy, did it make you feel the size of a mouse.

You looked around, embarrassed with your wet lashes fluttering as you sniffled a little more, an overwhelming bundle of feelings, including feeling scared, shy, panicked, embarrassed and relieved all swelling in your little tummy.

“Well honey? Y’gon use that mouth little one or do I gotta pull you across m’knee?” Elvis said, taking his index finger under your chin and tilting it as he towered over you, so that your watery eyes could meet his.

“I just wanted to get you a cupcake…” You choked out as Elvis’ brows furrowed with confusion.

“A cupcake?” Elvis said, his expression softening as it so often would whenever you spoke.

You nodded with a pout, your swollen bottom lip jutted out. 

You weren’t intentionally trying to melt Elvis’ heart with those soft, sad puppy dog eyes, you were just naturally so sweet that Elvis couldn’t resist abandoning his threats. 

“Uh huh!” You whined. “See, I saw these pretty cupcakes, the ones, the ones out there!” You exasperated, turning your body to point in the direction of the lobby. “Them ones with the decorations and the icing and I just,” You and Elvis both realised that you were getting all worked up again.

“Baby,” Elvis hushed, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. 

He could tell just by your odd albeit cute passion for this cupcake that you were telling the truth and you really didn’t want to be in trouble.

You tried the breathing technique that Elvis had taught you for when you so often get a little too overwhelmed as your breaths got ragged. “M’sorry.” You mumbled.

“S’okay baby,”

“I just, you did such a good show, I mean, y’know  I love every show n’you were just so good n’ all, I just, just wanted to get you a present for it. And, see, the cupcakes were just so pretty!” You whimpered, pleading your case. “I know, I know I ain’t s’posed t’be wanderin’ off, I just really wanted t’get you the cupcake. I promise I ain’t gonna go on my own again, not ever!” You promised, your eyes wide, trying to convince Elvis. 

Elvis looked down at your poor state, he knew it had been a scary experience for you, he just needed to look at the way you were picking at your own fingers, actin’ all fidgety. 

When he looked up to observe the expressions on the Mafia’s faces, he knew they all agreed. His sweet thing meant no malice and she sure as hell had been spooked enough to never want to go anywhere without someone with her — and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all, Elvis thought.

“M’real sorry.” You said softly, calmer now that you’d finally managed to get your words out, even if they weren’t exactly coherent.

Elvis smirked as he saw a cupcake box on the side that you’d clearly put down before you’d run into his big arms only moments before. 

“That the ‘oh so special’ cupcake huh little one?” Elvis said with a smile, pointing his index finger to guide your vision.

You simply nodded, you didn’t really have all that much energy left, you were so overstimulated, you poor thing.

“Jer, hand me that box will ya?” Elvis hollered, with Jerry moving swiftly to grab the box and place it in your hands, the odd sniffle coming from you, observing it all. “Want me t’take a look, dolly?” Elvis asked you, his tone now noticeably gentler than it had been.

“Yup.” Is all you managed to muster as Elvis took your little hand in his big one and guided you to the couch, letting you nestle into his side.

You watched with glassy eyes the man you adored with all your heart open the box, showing a pretty little cupcake, even if it was the tiniest bit battered from all the chaos. 

“Oh baby, how did y’know this one would be my favourite huh? How’d you get so clever?” Elvis cooed, realising his job was now to make you feel better.

“Really?” You squeaked, pushing yourself up from his chest to observe his expression as you bit your finger. 

Elvis grabbed your hand to gently pull it away from your mouth, he never approved of you biting your nails, it would make you sick and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

“That’s right darlin’.” 

“They gave it a name, it’s called ‘The King’.” You said gently before Elvis threw his head back with laughter at having a cupcake named after him. “That’s why I got it!” 

Your whole body began to untense at his laughter and you looked around to see all of his entourage too, laughing at what you’d said, making you feel better.

“Oh baby, whatever am I gon’ do with you hey?” Elvis chuckled, pulling you in to lovingly pepper your face with kisses, eliciting sweet giggles from you.

Despite it being a rhetorical question, Elvis knew exactly what he was going to do with you.

He would never again let you get into such a vulnerable and volatile situation again. He was going to make sure you were always looked after  and always kept by his side. 

Constantly. 

[jaqueline19997]

😉 Dear Elvis, may you have the BIGGEST of them all 😉

and yes he did 🫣🫦

(credits to the owner 😘)

[starryschoolgirl]

Family & Fame

An attempt at a Elvis x Reader drabble

Summary -> In private Elvis was your loving husband and you were his doting wife, but in public Elvis was Elvis Presley, and you were just the wife. Unfortunately, sometimes that public dynamic would follow the two of you home, making way for arguments.

Warnings -> Jealousy, marital dissatisfaction, arguments, very cute and domestic 1st scene though, if you only want some pure fluff read that first scene it's adorable, denial of sex, yelling, swearing, flirty fans, circa 1956, Elvis' confusion leads to anger, Elvis is such a cutie I can't even be mad at him in this. Elvis is also a dad in this because I felt like it.

WC -> 3.5k

Request -> "i was wondering if you could write something with elvis x reader where there's a little marital dissatisfaction? just like a little drabble, doesn't even need to be over 100 words"

"You look handsome, now stop fussing"

Elvis leaned into your hand that cupped his cheek which was smooth from being freshly shaved.

"Now,"

You reached down for the comb on the hotel suite's bathroom counter, holding it casually between two fingers. While you smiled up at him your thumb stroked his cheekbone gently as you asked,

"Would ya hold still so I can fix that mess of hair?"

Elvis laughed softly and turned his cheek slightly to press his lips on your palm, smirking sweetly as he murmured against the skin,

"Sure thing Mama…"

With a smile you stilled his head by keeping your hold on his cheek, tapping it lightly you signaled for him to get lower, which he complied with as he bent his knees slightly, lowering himself to a height that you could see the top of his hair better.

As you neatly combed the gelled mess back into place you mumbled fondly,

"See what happens when a man fusses over his appearance? Just makes it worse, you men, so reckless with your hands…"

He asked testily with a smirk,

"And when a woman fusses over her appearance?"

You simply responded with one last perfecting swoop of the comb,

"Women don't fuss."

He drawled out a sarcastic, "Mhm…"

To which he was answered with a pointed, "Mhm."

After feeling pleased with your work you placed the comb down and smiled up at him, "Perfect", you said just before kissing his cheek.

You then turned to the long bathroom mirror that covered the entire length of the long marble countertops, leaning over it ever so slightly to rub at the skin around your lipstick, making sure it wasn't off-kilter in any way.

He smoothly stepped behind you, the front of his body pressed against the back of yours as his spine bent with yours, leaning over you onto the bathroom counter as you eyed him through the mirror. His arms wrapped around your waist and his chin fell to your shoulder as he stared back at you through the mirror.

His voice was low and gruff as he suggested,

"We don't really gotta go to this little gatherin' tonight now do we? Couldn't we just enjoy the rest of our time in San Francisco? We got about 10 more hours."

Elvis punctuated each sentence with a kiss to your neck, right in that spot he knew you were ticklish. You laughed softly and gently batted him away with a few swipes of your hand which in turn made him laugh.

You spoke while trying (and failing) to keep a serious face,

"Elvis, t-the mayor-"

Your laughing made it hard to put together a proper sentence.

"He's holding this soirée tonight in honor of you coming to- Ack..!"

Elvis laughed and said sarcastically before biting your ear,

"Oh, a soirée? I'm sorry little Ms. French I didn't know it was such a big deal"

You tried your best to continue through the giggle-fest Elvis could pull from you.

"Don't you w-wanna show them all that Southern charm you used to get me to marry you?"

Elvis growled playfully as his hands wrapped around your waist tightened and he picked you up from behind, evoking a squeal of surprise from you as he mumbled into your ear,

"Ya make it sound as if I schemed on you with those charms"

You laughed loudly as he held you up and responded,

"You did scheme on me! Made me think I was marrying a John Wayne cowboy type, just to find out you're a Harpo Marx clownish type, but instead of playing a harp you play a guitar"

He growled into your ear "Oh you little-" before ravaging your neck with playful kisses.

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted your fun, the both of you turning to see it soon opening after Elvis', "Come in Roberta"

As the door opened you smiled to see Roberta, the sweet old lady who'd been working for you and Elvis since a month or two after he released his first RCA record which brought in the money needed to have a personal nanny for yours and Elvis' daughter, sweet little Charlotte, who she was holding as she stood in the doorway.

Roberta smiled as she saw her two employers as in love as ever in each other's arms, the both of you looking like a million bucks in your outfits for tonight.

"Well kids, I just wanted to let the two of ya know Charlotte is all dressed and ready to go, and that the bellboy said the car's out front and ready.

She was much older so even though you and Elvis were adults, she still referred to the both of you as kids, because the two of you in life experience were like kittens compared to a sweet old cat like her.

You smiled and quickly made your way to take your daughter out of her nanny's arms, cooing over how darling she looked in her little dress and coat before saying with a smile, "Thank you, Roberta."

You looked back at Elvis as you bounced Charlotte in your arms, asking with a soft smile,

"Could you grab my purse over by the sink Honey?"

-----

Sometimes you forget how Elvis' emotions could flip like a switch.

One moment before walking into the big building as Elvis held Charlotte and nervously stared at the doors, you'd cup his cheeks gently and whisper reassuringly, "Hey, everybody here is here for you, to just be around you. You're the man of the evening, they're the ones who should be nervous right now, and I bet you they are"

And then the next, you're holding your sweet daughter in your arms while Elvis is holding some random girls (who you're sure are somebody's sweet daughters) in his arms as he's telling them what "overcomes" him to make him move on stage.

You could vomit, you really could, at the way they all put their hands mindlessly on his chest, and 'ooh' and 'ah' over him explaining what it was like for him to film his upcoming debut film "Love Me Tender"

You got along well with the mayor's wife and a few of San Francisco's socialites who were older women which meant they weren't here for Elvis they were here because their husbands who were close friends of the mayor were here. Due to their disinterest in Elvis, they were easy to make casual conversation with.

The younger women, however, were a different matter. Most of them clung to Elvis or waited their turn to do so. And as you watched from afar you were well aware you could go over there to claim what was yours, but you didn't feel the need to. The ring was on your finger, and his child was in your arms. Sure, he didn't often make eye contact with you through the night like he always used to, but that was just because he was surrounded by so many fans. Right?

Sometimes through the night, he'd shifted through the room to you, with a group of girls in his arms, only now it was a different set, and of course, the merry mayor following him closely, buttering up to America's icon. You shifted Charlotte to your hip as Elvis introduced you to the short, tubby man.

"This is my wife, and right there is our little girl, Charlotte."

The mayor tipped his head to baby Charlotte in your arms, "It's nice to meet you little miss, and," he then turned his head to you and held his hand out, "It's nice to meet you as well Mrs. Presley"

You laughed softly at the title and politely urged him to just call you by your first name.

The night went on like that, now and then a new important man would shuffle his way into the circle of girls that surrounded Elvis and the two of you would do introductions, eventually, Elvis had offered to hold Charlotte for you, and as he picked her up he smiled at her saying, "There's my little girl", making those big fish eyes that often entertained the little girl.

The women that surrounded him would coo at how sweet of a father he seemed to be. You only watched with an unimpressed look as one of the girls chimed in,

"She's blonde? I thought you said under that mop of shoe polish dyed hair was a light brown color, or are you just trying to fool me, Mr. Presley?"

The girl giggled and obnoxiously leaned her head against Elvis' shoulder and made a playful face at your daughter as she did so, clearly infatuated by the adorable baby, but not as much as she was with the man who had fathered the baby.

Elvis laughed softly at her jest, and responded simply,

"Well Hon, it's true that I have light brown hair now, but when I was a baby I had blond hair, it just turned brown as I got older, happens with a lotta babies"

The girl giggled once more and took an almost mournful sigh as she stared up at Elvis through her batting eyelashes (you were surprised she didn't fly away with how fast those things were flapping), and crawled her hand that rested on his chest a little higher as she spoke,

"I think I'd have to see that to believe it…"

Oh, brother.

You sighed softly at the ridiculousness of these girls, and the added ridiculousness of Elvis actually laughing and smiling along. He would get a little bit of nagging later. Thankfully you didn't have to stomach the situation too much longer as Charlotte began to cry. As Elvis tried to hush her and bounce her in his arms you smiled politely at the girls and made your way closer to Elvis.

As you took Charlotte from his arms you spoke softly,

"I think she's just a bit tired Elvis, I'll calm her in the car for a bit"

Elvis mumbled a soft 'Alright Hon', and caressed Charlotte's cheek gently with his index finger before leaning your way to kiss you. But, feeling as annoyed as you felt now, at the last second you'd turned your head, his lips landing on your cheek rather than your lips, his original target.

But he couldn't say anything as you'd already begun to walk off.

As soon as you slid into the backseat of the car, the driver asked where Elvis was. You explained that you and the little one were just resting up for a bit and that you weren't sure when Elvis would be through. Charlotte had calmed down and quite quickly fell asleep in your arms, the closing of her pretty little eyelids had marked the end of the party for you. You wouldn't leave your baby to sleep in the car alone, and you wouldn't force her to be awake for the rest of the party.

You didn't mind though as you felt all partied out yourself. As much as you hated to admit it, you don't think you ever could get used to seeing Elvis surrounded by girls and entertaining girls the way he'd been since his launch to fame.

You didn't think it was unfair of you to feel this way. It wasn't as if this was something planned when the two of you got together a few years ago. It was only recently that you'd had to start enduring Elvis Presley, the rock and roll heartthrob, and not just Elvis, the dorky boy who drove a truck and had a hard time putting together a neighborhood team to play football with him.

You closed your eyes with a sigh, resting a gentle hand upon your daughter's hair. You leaned your head against the car window, it was cold as the nights were beginning to have a little chill to them. The seasons were changing, and with them, so was Elvis.

Oh well, such is life.

-----

"…Just to the hotel Frank…"

You hummed softly at the familiar voice, pressing your head impossibly closer to the window as you tried to adjust to a more comfortable position. Just as you had settled comfortably back into the window a warm weight in the form of a hand pulled your head elsewhere. You were too tired to care, so you let it, your head soon resting comfortably on familiar broad shoulders.

That voice spoke again, but it seemed that in your half-asleep state, his voice kept coming in and out.

"…took me awhile, but… sorry… gotta entertain the fans…"

You felt annoyed by the voice interrupting your slumber, but you tried your best to ignore it after letting out a disgruntled hum.

It felt as though only a minute had passed since you'd gotten peace again before you heard that familiar voice, your husband's voice, whisper as his hand gently kneaded your shoulder, only now it was coming from the other side.

As you opened your eyes you saw the soft lighting of the hotel's sign lights spilling into the open door of the car along with Elvis' figure outside the car. Now it seemed he was holding a sleeping Charlotte in one arm as his hand tried to soothe you awake.

"C'mon Honey, we gotta get some sleep 'fore the flight"

You hummed softly and after mumbling a 'thank you' to your driver you got out of the car with the help of Elvis' steadying hand which naturally shifted to your hip after you were standing upright.

Elvis unlocked the room and kissed your cheek, mumbling something about the baby and Roberta, you were too busy on a mission to get out of this uncomfortable dress and still miffed at him, to care to process what he was saying. Your mission was to get to the bathroom to get ready for bed, as you made your way there you stopped by your suitcase to grab a short silk nightgown and your robe.

As soon as you stepped into the hotel's bathroom, and Elvis disappeared off to who knows where you could finally let out a breath. You were exhausted but you couldn't go to sleep just yet in your state. You tiredly shuffled over to the sink and began to take apart your pretty party appearance piece by piece. The hair clips that tugged at your scalp now rested on the sink, and the makeup that caked your face now caked a rag.

You struggled to reach the zipper of your dress, and for a moment your body went limp and you debated just going to bed in it. With your head hung tiredly and your eyes closed, you could've fallen asleep standing there had a set of familiar hands not graced your bare shoulders. Elvis' voice close to your ear as he asked through a smirk,

"Ya need help?"

You opened your eyes and looked at him through the mirror, you finally got a good look at him, his hair had been fussed with, could've been from him carding his hands through it throughout the night, or from one of those girls carding their hands through it. You nodded with a sigh, upset with him, but definitely in need of assistance.

As his rough fingers glided along your bare back before working at the zipper, Elvis' lips quickly fell to your neck, placing soft little pecks along the skin. You stared at him through the mirror blankly, and shook your head as you mumbled,

"Not tonight Elvis, I'm too tired…"

He hummed softly as the sound of the undoing of the zipper and the feeling of the dress loosening around your body filled your tired senses.

"Who says ya gotta put in effort Honey? I can handle ya the way I always do,"

You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he murmured,

"I know how ya like it when you're tired…"

You sighed and tried pulling your neck away but his lips followed, and his hands began to explore you thoroughly as the only thing holding that dress on your body was his pressed so close against yours. You quickly stepped to the side, leaving him to shuffle forward as you were no longer there for him to lean his body against.

You kept a hand on your dress to hold it up on your body as he watched with furrowed brows.

"Elvis, I'm not in the mood for it tonight alright? We have a flight in a few hours, I want to get some sleep."

"Baby-"

Elvis reached his hand out to you but you took a step back and shook your head, a firm, "No, Elvis." leaving your lips as you walked to where you placed your nightwear with a hand still holding up your dress. Just as you began to head for the closed bathroom door he followed and asked,

"What's wrong Hon? W-what did I do to ya?"

His voice got louder as the confusion he felt was beginning to get him worked up,

"Seriously Baby, I took ya out to this nice party or fuckin' soirée or whatever pretentious bullshit you called it and this is the thanks I get?!"

You shoved him by the chest as you whisper-yelled, "You're gonna wake the baby..!"

Elvis scoffed as he took a step closer to you, practically caging you against the bathroom's door, his teeth were grit as he stared at you incredulously,

"You've been in a bad mood with me all night, seems like ya haven't even been listening… I told ya I was puttin' her with Roberta tonight! You would know if ya didn't have a stick shoved so far up your ass."

You stared up at him, feeling a pang of hurt at his words. He continued,

"Actin' like you're too good to talk to any of the fans. Spendin' all ya time schmoozin' with the rich old hags who don't give a rat's ass about me or my music"

You abruptly yelled back at him, staring daggers up at him through your teary eyes,

"That's why I was with those women Elvis! Because when I'm hanging out with them I don't gotta watch as they make goo-goo eyes at my fucking husband! I don't need to watch them paw and grab at the father of my child!!"

Elvis shook his head with a scoff and looked away from you, still keeping his hands pressed against the door, caging you in one spot. He mumbled something along the lines of "naggin' me like a jealous old wife…", a term that had only become a thing said in your arguments since Elvis' rise to fame.

You cupped his cheeks in your hand and pulled him to look at you, your voice shook as you affirmed,

"That's cause I am a jealous old wife Elvis… And had I known I would've turned out this way when I married you a few years ago… I…"

Your voice had dissipated before you could finish your sentence. You stared down at the tiled floor of the bathroom. Elvis was still wearing his shoes, whereas yours had been off the moment you stepped into the room. You could see the creases in the shoe of the foot that he was tapping nervously, and you could see the way your toes scrunched tensely.

The bathroom was quiet, and Elvis' voice which was once full of defense was now softened as he spoke quietly,

"Now, ya don't mean that Baby. You're just tired is all…"

He looked down at his shoes nervously and then at himself through the mirror on the other side of the bathroom. His hands that once caged you in landed ever so gently on your arms, his words came out through nervous stutters,

"You were right, we-we gotta catch a-a flight. Better head to bed,"

There he goes. When things get just a little too real, when the words are just a little too honest, and when reality is a little too close to crashing into the both of you, he expertly redirects it all for another time. Wanting to keep his schoolboy fantasy of having a little family of his own intact.

The little fantasy that he would whisper in your ear late at night in high school as the two of you squeezed into his twin-size bed, knowing if he talked at a normal volume the very thin walls of his house would give way to his voice waking his parents in the small room on the other side of the wall.

The little fantasy that he assured your Daddy would come to fruition if he got your parent's blessing. And it seemed so as you soon gave birth to sweet Charlotte, but just months after she was born you saw the first few strands of that fantasy being shot to hell as Elvis' talent had started being recognized.

And though it had only been maybe a year or two since then, you felt as though the boy you married straight out of high school was becoming a man you didn't recognize. And while you could keep the fantasy with Elvis going when the two of you were alone such as during the time you spent getting ready with him, it all crumbled bit by bit as his love affair with the fans and the public would disrupt his love affair with his wife. And he would let it.

So, I meant it when I said it was supposed to be a drabble, less than 100 words, short and sweet, as requested by a lovely anon. Don't know what happened...

[be-my-ally]

The Divorce Decision

bit of a departure from my regularly scheduled programming (i.e smut) with angsty fluff!

summary: A priscilla-esque reader au, divorce introspective fix it. Lots of mentions of letters.

I’m wondering if it’s too self-indulgent to hand write the accompanying letters 🙃

pairing: reader x elvis

warnings: no smut, mentions of infidelity + obviously, divorce. 

wc: 3k

The divorce is difficult, it feels never ending, and despite your best efforts he’s absolutely no help at all. You probably need a proper separation, rather than staying over at Graceland as much as you do. But it’s difficult, sharing custody is hard while trying to make it seem like nothing has changed to your young daughter. She’s tiny still but it doesn’t make her any less important. He loves her, adores her, as much as any person could love anyone and you could never bear to deprive him of her; she loves him just as much back  - chattering away to him, affecting his mannerisms, his speech. God, even his petnames for the two of you; she lisps ‘yittle’, ‘baby’ and ‘Satnin’ back at him. You couldn’t take that from him, nor from her, but especially him when he’s so delicate at the moment. It’s hard to describe such a character, a man that despite his current soft edges maintains a hardness about him, as delicate but he is. He’s more than that, he’s vulnerable. You’re all too aware of how much. Ultimately your lack of desire to hurt him comes from a desire to protect him as much as possible - you can’t deny that he loves her, she loves him and you love him. Love him too much. It makes you question these things - if you can’t pull them apart, from the love they share, from the love you share, is it even something you want to go through with anymore? But then, how do you get yourself out of this situation? 

When he pulls you up, from the front few tables, forcing you to stand in front of everyone - the world as his audience, announcing your divorce. You want to die. It’s not just the embarrassment of knowing you weren’t enough, couldn’t live up to the King’s expectations or desires, that everyone knows about the infidelity on both sides but blames you the most, but also the public nature of it. The public announcement that disallows you the chance to renegade on your decision and still hold your head up. You can’t say it was once a consideration but you worked through it, he’s stood there announcing it as a done deal. The papers weren’t signed. The deal was made, but the papers weren’t signed. He stands there and claims he still loves you, even after giving you millions in settlements, that you share this love - for your daughter and for him, evident in your gift of a new Rolls-Royce for him. A celebration of his success. But you sit down and tears run down your face, its not enough - he’d have given you more if you asked, had tried to, it was what slowed down the proceedings so much. And that had made you cry too, because you knew that he’d have given you the world if you’d asked before it was too late. 

And you worry, you worry that he’s different. That despite the fact you hassled him for months and then for some reason have put off signing the papers yourself he doesn’t say a word about it. His anger is never normally cold or silent. None of his emotions ever are and it worries you. His reservedness at such a huge betrayal. It worries you that you want him to rage at you. He had at first. Raged and forced himself upon you, thrown you out. But now it’s like he’s resigned, making it too easy for you, so easy that it becomes difficult. You’d had to beg him to agree at first, he was difficult in other ways after he had - offering you too much and then refusing to discuss it, you had to schedule all the meetings. He made it out like it was all on your terms rather than his although it was very much his that was being discussed. Or he simply nodded, silent and submissive, so unlike him it made you want to scream. But you know that he’d respond, if you questioned him, by asking how he is allowed to be then. Before he was too volatile for you to stay? But now he’s too steady for you to go? Make your goddamn mind up woman. 

Still you worry, worry that when he kisses your forehead and your daughter’s and heads to his room, that once was yours too, he’s not being sensible. You worry that when he emerges too late in the morning his eyes are still glazed and bleary. You worry that he seems to have a tremble that doesn’t go in the evenings. That his outburst on stage, the public declaration of your failed marriage, an oath that despite his infidelity he had taken extremely seriously, was a sign of something seriously wrong. But it’s not your place to worry anymore. 

Still, when you lie awake at night, straining to hear something from his room, despite knowing personally just how soundproofed the whole area was, you can’t help but pray for him. You thank the lord for what you’ve had, tossing and turning, asking for guidance on what to do next. You close your eyes and you can see his face, the way he used to look at you, Like you were heaven sent, in your mind he always looks so young. Although, you think, it was little over ten years prior it feels like a different lifetime. He’d praised his mama the first time you’d made love. Thanking the lord and Gladys for sending you to him. It had made you cringe a little - at the time you’d been there for a good time, not for the outpouring of emotion flipping your world upside down. It hadn’t taken long for you to feel the same but you’d always felt guilty about that first night. Guilty that you couldn’t equal his force of feeling. But then you couldn’t ever equal him in any way. Maybe that was your strength - your force of feeling; the acceptance that you would always be second to him, first only in his eyes, and that you were fine with that. 

Night after night an envelope is thrust under your door. You wished he’d just knock on the door, tell you what he wanted to say. You hadn’t opened any of them, not yet, couldn’t work out if it would swing your decision. If you even wanted it to make you change your mind one way or the other. You worried it might spell out how he really felt, his fury, his disgust. Spelling out that he never truly cared for you, that he was blinded by the need to be in love. That he didn’t believe you when you said you hadn’t been truly disloyal, that it was emotional rather than physical. But more terrifying was the concept that in those letters contained the very opposite. Apologies, expressions of his love, his desire for you. Wishes for your daughter, for your future. You stack them all up, piling them under the bed - they’re not in the box with your other letters. Part of you wants to, tuck them away, bookending your relationship - your courtship to your end. But the other part of you wants to keep it far away. Separate from your special memories. You don’t want a letter from now to brush against one from before, don’t want his apologies sandwiched against his sweet prose, his fervent declarations of love from your first nights together. Certainly don’t want him telling you it wasn’t real, that you’d tricked him, against letters that called you an angel, his angel, a gift from above. 

You wrote back, writing to words of your own imagination. Forming an epistolary compilation from your own mind. It made you feel insane, attempting to respond to every possible word but you still couldn’t bring yourself to open them. You wonder if his spirituality was rubbing off on you, had rubbed off on you, making you believe that as long as you spoke the words, wrote the words, put them out there, he might hear you. That by keeping those envelopes closed you could continue to delay the inevitable. That by willing it enough you might make it all alright again. 

He smiles at you in the morning, quiet, reserved, it’s not a word you ever thought you would use to describe him. And it’s sad, but knowing - you wonder if he can hear what you’re silently attempting to shout to him. He sits there, eating breakfast at the bar with your baby, coloured sunglasses balanced on the top of his head, his hair still flat from sleep. You look over at the pair of them, wondering if this was what you were taking from him. His quiet conversation with his daughter, her giggles as she swings her feet laughing at whatever nonsense he comes out with. This could be your life again, you could have more. But it wasn’t your life, and there’s no way to guarantee this is the future for you all - it’s quietly domestic and you can see he’s content right now but when he’s away, he forgets. Forgets how much he’s missing, forgets he has someone waiting for him, thinks only of himself in the moment - his need for affection, for attention. You can’t say he doesn’t think of his daughter, he does, gifts sent from every destination, phone calls made - and answered regardless of the time of night or day. You can’t pretend he’s not a wonderful father, absent perhaps, but not neglectful. Husband though? His sheer brazen infidelity was made all the worse for his denial of its importance. In some ways you wished he could have had just one other, if it was an affair, you might accept it more. If it meant something to him, as much as it did to you. Rather than the way it was, the girls simply warming his bed, keeping him company, he doesn’t even remember their names halfthe time. He can’t understand how you could possibly suggest that made it worse, thought he was doing you a favour, it wasn’t a failing on your part as a wife; he was just so “lonesome” on the road. Unlike your betrayal, which told him you believed he was failing, failing as a partner, as a husband, as a friend.

But now you’re both lonesome. It’s like he knows, like he can tell what’s on your mind, when that night the letter that’s shoved under your door isn’t even folded, open to his scrawly flourished handwriting. You try to grab it without seeing the words, trying to pretend that it too could go under your bed, as if the temptation wouldn’t force you to go back under and fish it out half hour later anyway. But you can’t stop your eyes from scanning it, and time stands still for a moment as you assess the words, assess the spot of blurring ink from a drop of liquid, a tear? or simply a spill? He tells you that he knows you don’t know what to do, that he doesn’t want you to bear the burden alone, that if you need it he’ll make it easier for you. He says that he knows what he did wrong now, that he won’t stop trying to make you see that he means it when he says he’ll do better, that he can’t bear that you want to give it all up - that he’ll never stop believing you were a gift from his mama. That this too was a gift from her - the wake up call he needed. 

You can’t help yourself, sneaking out of your room, the room that had become yours long before the divorce - since you’d angrily stormed out months earlier, and tiptoeing over to his. The door is, surprisingly, open a crack and you peer in. He’s lying in bed, in one of his customary silk sets, your daughter pillowed on his chest, singing softly as you can see tear tracks dry on her face. You pause, before pushing open the door, He glances up at you, and his song falters, your daughter makes a small, angry, noise and he smiles before continuing to shush her asleep. You stay quiet, leaning against the doorway until you’re sure she’s back asleep. 

“What’s…what happened?” 

“Nothing, honey, just a little nightmare, just needed a cuddle with her daddy s’all, think she would have liked both of us though.” You hum, coming to sit on the edge of that outrageously large bed, leaning over to smooth her hair. You stare down at her, silent for a moment, 

“I, I uh, read your letter.” You can feel his eyes on you, but you continue to avoid his gaze, watching your daughter sleep instead. He doesn’t respond, you take a deep breath, 

“It’s ok baby, I understand. You don’t need ta say it, I’ll stop botherin you.” You wince, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks like he’s about to cry, or has already been, eyes slightly red rimmed, and he looks at you with such reverence that it makes you want to cry too. 

“No, no, You’ve got me twisted, my love, I, if you, if you swear, Elvis. I mean it. I need you to know I can’t do it again, I can’t go through it all again, I’ve done it enough… I can’t do it again.” The shock is evident in his face, and it’s clear he wants to move, looks down at his daughter on his chest, and back at you. “I, I love you so much I can’t bear it; I don’t know who I am without you, and that terrifies me because until now I didn’t realise how much of me is you. I need to know I can be my own person, and you can too, without you… without anyone else.” You’re practically whispering, you’d never forgive yourself if your daughter woke up and heard this conversation. You’re sure she wouldn’t understand it but it’s nothing that she should be worrying over, her nightmares had become more frequent since you’d split. He nods, frantically, and you hate for a moment that you’re in this position, to make him so desperate, so needy. “I need to know that, that it won’t, that we can’t go back to how it was before, but that we’ll do better in the future.” He can’t stop the words flowing out of his mouth, half garbled nonsense as he can’t catch his breath for a second to sort out what he wants to say, as he interrupts you; 

“Honey - my love - baby, Satnin, I swear to you, I’ll swear it on whatever I have to, on the bible, on, on,” He looks down at your daughter, and you jump in, savagely cutting him off, 

“Don’t you dare, not on her.” He swallows and looks back up at you with innocently wild wide eyes, 

“On my mama’s grave then. On my mama’s grave, and the bible, and God himself, I swear. I’ll be different, it’ll be different. I just, I know now what it’s like to, to live without you baby, and I can’t, its hell. Goddamnit, it’s fucking hell. I need you back here. In my arms, with our baby, in our bed.” You nod, you believe him. You’ve not heard that tone from him in years, not felt the strength of his conviction, of your sheer belief in him since the day your daughter was born. He swore then too, on his mama’s grave, before God, on his voice, on his life, to do right by her. He looks at you like he used to, like you’ve hung the moon and the stars for him. It’s that earnest expression, he’s so open like this, 

“God, I wish I could kiss you right now,” You look down at your sleeping daughter, “E - I’ve missed you so much. So very much.” He smiles at you,

“I’ll always love you, always, you know that right? You know that even if you decide otherwise, I’ll always love you.” He doesn’t say it like a question, it’s a statement, an unquestionable fact. You place your hand on his arm, inching closer. He shifts gently, making space and you understand what he’s trying to tell you. You ease the covers up climbing in next to him, settling down against pillows that you haven’t slept on in months but the smell and feel of which immediately make you relax. 

You lean over him, placing the gentlest of kisses on his lips, whispering at him, “I love you, I can’t stop loving you.” and his breath tickles you as you pull away. You feel reborn, renewed. You tuck yourself down, allowing his arm to come around your shoulders, pull you into his chest, your forehead close to your daughter’s. You snuggle in, and a second later you’re jostled by his chest swaying in silent giggles, 

“What?” You look up at him, 

“Nothin’! Nothin’, I just - uh, I just I’m hopin’ you didn’t sign those papers yet is all.” You sigh, you hadn’t wanted to think about the logistics of everything right now. 

“No, I haven’t, I -“ He cuts you off, 

“You think then I’ll have to return that Rolls? You want it back babe?” You huff at him, thinking that it’s a little soon to joke about the division of your assets. 

“You can keep it, keep it as a reminder.” He laughs again, 

“What I need remindin’ for? I got you, and this little one for that.” He nudges your daughter, and she snuffles awake, you glare at him and he looks innocently back at you, cooing as she rubs at her eyes, 

“Daddy?” She’s bleary and barely awake, clearly confused at what dragged her out from her slumber, “Da-Mommy! Mama!” Her eyes lit up at seeing you, and she flings her arms out to throw herself at you, settling between the pair of you. It feels right again, as Elvis shifts over now that he can, drawing you both to be closer to the middle than the edge of the bed, that you three should be together. You feel at last like you’ve made the right decision. 

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love pt. 4💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. Fem! reader]

TW: Cussing, SMUTT!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello everyone! Hello everyone!! Hope you are ready for some steaminess from these two! There’s so much more to uncover but I thought I’d let them enjoy themselves before real life comes crashing down 😝 Enjoy this next bit, we’re starting off with some smut!😏

*

Your heart pounded against your rib cage, nerves rattling your bones. You could sense Elvis was nervous too as he walked slowly and squeezed your hand tightly. You both finally reach the back bedroom and he walks in first, closing the door softly behind you. He looks at you so lovingly and empathetically. Your heart soars the way he’s looking at you. It did feel like it was eleven years ago. This was exactly how you wanted it to go. You wanted those heated stares to only build and have him take you into his bedroom, taking care of every carnal desire.

He turns on a lamp on the side of the bed, giving the room a soft light. His bedroom was spacious and decorated pretty simply. He wasn’t at this house very often so it made sense he only had the basics in here. But so much of it reminded you of Graceland. He still had stacks of books on the side of his bed and various pictures on the dresser. It smelled like him even. That warm, clean musk scent has you feeling intoxicated just being here.

He takes a few steps closer to you, snapping you out of your meandering thoughts, and wraps you in his arms. He felt so warm and loving like there was nowhere else he would rather be. He pressed his body to yours and you can feel his hard length press into your tummy. You take in a sharp breath when you feel him and grab onto his waist, wanting to be as close as possible to him. He felt too good and your body ached for him already.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, needing his lips on yours again. He happily obliges and kisses you with the most intense energy. You feel on fire as your hands scratch along his back and more wetness pools in your panties. You needed to feel more of him. You discovered this new need to feel his skin on yours. You briefly break the kiss to unbutton his shirt.

Quickly ripping off his shirt, you gently touch his tan chest and feel the soft hairs on it. He sighs into your touch and tilts your head up to look at him. His hands softly brush against your arms and he starts to carefully turn you around.

You face a large mirror and stare at your reflection then look back at Elvis. He has one of his arms wrapped around the front of your waist, keeping you pressed against him. His other hand slowly pulls the zipper on the back of your dress. You shiver as the cool air hits your back. The dress slowly falls off your frame and leaves you in nothing but your panties. You look at Elvis in the mirror and watch how his eyes drink you in, how he bites his bottom lip and glides his hands up your body. You let out a breathy sigh as you feel him touch you more. His large hands squeeze your breasts and you let out a soft moan. His cock pressed into your backside as he does this and you like it all too much. He teases your hardened nipples, sending zings of pleasure through you.

He turns you around again to face him and his eyes have this drunken look, a similar one he gave you that night as he was about to kiss you at the piano bench.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

You feel your cheeks flush again, not feeling like you deserve such praise coming from him.

He moves back toward the bed and you follow without hesitation. It felt like you two were magnets, you couldn’t pull away from him for too long because you were longing to be close again. He pulls you into his arms again and ravages your neck with kisses. It felt too good to be true. You were dreaming of this moment.

He carefully picks you up and sets you down in the middle of the bed. He admires you lying there and crawls on top of you. He starts to kiss up and down your body, setting you ablaze. He starts with your legs, inching up closer and closer to your dripping core. You can feel his breath come dangerously close as he takes his time teasing the soft skin on your inner thighs. You couldn’t get enough of that tongue of his. You wanted him to eat you again if he obliged.

His soft lips were marking every square inch of you with his kisses. You had never experienced such affection. He was so good at taking his time and making you feel cared for. He hooks his fingers on the side of your panties and pulls them off of you.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you lay there completely naked. You look up at him and he stares at you in awe once again. You feel your cheeks redden more, not being able to handle him looking at you like this. He can tell you’re feeling insecure and washes those worries away with more kisses. The distraction works because that’s all you want from him; more and more kisses from those beautiful lips.

It felt like time floated by slowly with him, you could have sworn you had been kissing in bed like this for hours. You could barely catch your breath and your body felt like it was about to fall apart. Your hands continue to roam his body, loving how smooth and toned his back felt. You couldn’t wait any longer, you wanted to touch him somewhere… somewhere only intoxicated you would dare touch. You were in such dire need of him, you had to be this forward.

Your hand slides down to the front of his body and past his belt. You freeze when you go to rub his cock through his pants. The heat that came off of him was so intense and the size of him…

He groans when he feels you rub him through his pants. You tear your lips from him and look at him helplessly. He has the same look on his face as your hand kept moving on him. His hips buck into your palm when you rub the tip of him. The sounds he was making from this were driving you insane, you didn’t want to stop making him feel this good.

He gives you one more passionate kiss before getting off the bed. You want to run and hide from him looking at your naked body like this but you have this unwavering trust in him. You sit up a bit, wanting to get a better view of him. His fingers unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down.

He lets his pants hit the floor and your cheeks somehow turn a darker shade of red. Your whole body felt on fire as you looked at him. Dear God, how could one man look this good? Everything about him was perfection and you couldn’t help but stare. He was so tall and slender, nothing about this man was off-putting.

Your eyes wander down to see his length and you bite your lip to hide the moan you wanted to let out. Fuck, you wanted him. You had never wanted a man this desperately in your entire life. But everything about him was drawing you in and making you beg for him. If you weren’t so timid, you would drop to your knees in front of him and worship him in a way you had only fantasized about.

He has a smug look on his face, watching how you’re barely able to breathe just looking at his cock.

“What is it, honey? Your cheeks are redder than cherries,” he teases.

You shake your head, “Oh it’s n-nothing,” you try to say convincingly.

He crawls back on the bed, spreading your legs back open for him to get in between.

“Are you sure about that? You’re not thinkin’ dirty thoughts are ya?” He prods.

“Oh no I would never,” you say as you wrap your hand around his cock. He takes a sharp breath in as he feels you pump it slowly in your hand.

“Mhmm…not wondering what my cock would feel like inside of you hmm?” He groans as he pushes the tip of his cock through your folds.

Your eyes roll back when you feel him, “God,” you whimper.

He lets out a pleased hum and squeezes your breasts in his hands before licking your nipples. A bolt of pleasure pulses through you the more he touches you. His mouth sucks on your breasts, making your back arch off of the bed as he leaves little red marks on them.

He works his way up to your face again, peppering kisses on your cheeks and lips. He moves his hips subtly, coating his length in your wetness. You look into his eyes and see how badly he wants you. Your nerves make you feel on edge, you can barely breathe. God only knows how long it has been since a man made love to you. On top of that, this was Elvis you were going to do it with. You were so incredibly nervous about it all now that you’re seconds away from having him. You wanted it to be good for him, you didn’t want him to regret anything.

“Elvis,” you whimper.

He continues to kiss you, barely stopping to answer you, “What baby?” He murmurs, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. You groan loudly, relishing how good he feels.

“We- we can’t… We can’t do this, we’re gonna get caught,” you say trying to reason with yourself but instantly regret the words that came out of your mouth. You needed him more than anything. Fuck it all, you wanted Elvis more than you could have thought possible.

He stops kissing you and looks into your eyes, serious and concerned.

“We don’t have to honey, it’s okay,” he says gently, caressing your flushed face.

You pull his hair and try to get him closer, “No, please. I want you, I want you so bad,” you moan. He gives you a slight smile and sighs contently before kissing you again.

He can feel your body tremble underneath him, nervous and enticing all at the same time. You grab onto his hips and encourage him to move. He guides his cock to your entrance and pushes his length slowly inside of you. You squeezed around him at first, not prepared for what he felt like. But oh God he felt like heaven. You had never experienced such a feeling. The way your walls hugged him tightly and you became more relaxed and wet with each movement.

He held onto your hips tight, groaning as he moved slowly. You look into each other’s eyes, both having a similar look of pleasure. You had never experienced such feelings. This was all so overwhelming to you and you couldn’t get enough of him. You look where you both are connected and see your slick coating his cock with every thrust. He was taking his time and letting you adjust to his size. Your breathing becomes more ragged and you want him to move more. You wanted to know what more of him would feel like inside of you.

You buck your hips up and take more of him. You both gasp out, not prepared for such a feeling. There was a searing pleasure that built inside of you as he stuffed you even more. It was all too much but you never wanted him to stop.

“God baby,” he groans softly. He grabs ahold of your leg, pushing up toward your chest and swiveling his hips into you more.

You grasp onto his arms, needing to hold onto him to ground you to this moment. He moved his hips so easily. It reminded you of how he used to move on stage in the 50s and drive the girls absolutely wild. How they would try to rip off his clothes to have a piece of him and scream his name so loud. Now you were that girl that was ripping off his clothes and screaming his name.

“You feel so good,” you moan as he starts to move faster.

He loves hearing that from you as a smirk forms on his face because of it.

“Good baby, so damn wet for me.” He grunts with a snap of his hips. Your eyes roll back as you feel him fill you more, how there was this spot inside of you that had you begging for release.

You plead for him to keep going, you were all too close and about to come apart. He takes one of your hands that is holding onto the bed sheets and guides it down to your aching bud. You look up at him a little shocked, this was something you never thought of before. He helps you push your fingers on your clit and rub it in focused circles.

“Touch yourself, baby. Feels even better now hmm?” He asks.

You moan in agreement as you close your eyes and nod your head. It felt better than you could have imagined. You had never experienced pleasure like this and loved every second of it. His hips moved faster causing you to look back up at him.

His hair stuck to his forehead and a pearl of sweat ran down his temples. His jaw fell slack as he fucked you harder and watched you touch yourself. Jesus he looked good like this, so focused and also on the cusp of falling apart himself. Your other hand still holds onto his arm, feeling your orgasm about to come crashing down on you.

“Honey, I-,” you can barely squeak out.

“I know honey, I know. Come for me, I’m close too,” he tells you. He moves his hips the only way he can and pounds into you harder, leaving you breathless. You barely recognize yourself as you’re begging for him to make you come. Before you know it, you feel your body tense and your walls squeeze around him. You gasp for breath as you feel your pleasure skyrocketing. Your entire body tingles as you moan for him to keep going. He groans deeply as he feels you squeeze his cock over and over.

“Goddamn baby, fuck,” he growls through his teeth, fucking you through your orgasm.

You can’t help but cry out his name like your saving grace. He likes the sound of it too as his lips purse into a smile while he watches his cock fill you to the brink. You had never felt this good, never been taken care of this way. You were used to disappointment with sex but this, this was not disappointment. This was something so much better. He knew what he was doing and was enjoying it as much as you were.

His hips began to stutter and his breathing became more labored as his eyebrows furrowed. You stare at him wide-eyed, loving how he looks pussy-drunk on you and desperate for release. You grab onto his hips and thrust your hips up to meet his. You grind yourself at the base of his cock and he makes the most delicious groan. It makes your toes curl and your pussy squeeze around him again.

“Fucking hell baby,” he says exasperated, his face washed over with pleasure.

He grunts as he pulls out of you, leaving you aching for him. He wraps his hand around his cock and starts to pump it vigorously. You helplessly watch him groan with his cock in his hand and love how he lets his head fall back as pleasure consumes him. He comes hard and fast, his white seed coating your tummy.

You watch in shock, you had never had a man do that to you and frankly, it was undeniably attractive. His hand slows and he heaves for breath as the last few drops of his release come out of him. He was spent and squeezing your thigh tightly trying to bring himself down.

He lays himself beside you, bringing you closer to lay your head on his chest. He gives the top of your head kisses and holds onto you tightly as if you were going to fly away. You both lay there in silence for a while, the only sound is from your labored breaths. His fingertips trace the curve of your hip and up to your breasts. Every touch from him had you reeling for another from him. He made you feel at peace and yet you still had this unexplained energy that had you acting like a mumbling schoolgirl in front of him.

“Was that alright for you darlin’?” he asks gently after a long silence.

You nod your head, “yes. More than alright,” you squeak out.

“Good honey,” he says sweetly. “Sorry for the mess,” he quips smugly as his fingers slowly trail down past your breasts and makes you look down at your tummy.

You scoff slightly, he wasn’t sorry at all but you didn’t care.

“Mhmm,” you say softly.

After some time, he gets up to grab you a towel and cleans you up. You look at him in amazed still. Was this real? Did that really just happen? The one thing you wanted was Elvis’ attention and you got so much more than that this evening. What started out with raging anger toward him and how he was treating you, soon turned into blinding, burning lust for one another.

It was just the heat of the moment, your body betrayed any logical thoughts and you both got so caught up in it all. You can’t help but wonder if that night eleven years ago turned out differently, would you find yourself in this position? If he didn’t tell you no would things be very different now? All these hypothetical scenarios swarmed your head and made you want to go back in time to fix it all. Maybe you wouldn’t be married to John… maybe it would only be you and Elvis…

No. You can’t afford to think like that!

Elvis looks down at your worried face and tilts your head up to look at him.

“What’s goin’ on honey?” He asks.

“Nothing. Just overthinking things,” you quip.

You lift your head up off the pillow and see what time it is. It was almost ten and you panicked a little. It was getting late and you knew you had to go home before John got suspicious.

“Shit. Elvis, I gotta go. I’m sorry to rush out but I can’t stay,” you say in a hurry. You get off the bed and gather your discarded clothes and shoes. You start to slip your panties on when you feel Elvis walk up behind you. You shiver slightly as you turn to face him.

“Please,” he whimpers, “don’t run out honey. Can’t ya stay a lil longer?” He coos as he wraps his arms around your waist. You feel like putty in his hands and push yourself more into his body.

Damn it.

You sigh, “Elvis please, you know I can’t stay. This just can’t happen again.” You say but it comes out like a weak tease.

He caresses your face in his hand, memorizing every detail on your face.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want. But if you ever… need me again, you know where I’ll be,” he says coyly.

Yes, I need you.

“Okay,” you say weakly.

You pull away from him and it feels torturous. You never wanted to leave his arms now that you know what it’s like to be in them. You wanted those arms to pull you in close as you rode him and have him make those delightful moans… Fuck you’re weak. You pull up your dress and he helps you zip it up, gently touching the curve of your back as he does so. It leaves you aching and you can’t help but lean into his touch.

Damn him, he was good. He was doing everything in his power to get you to stay.

Once your dress was on and you slipped into your heels, you pushed at his chest and pushed him backward until the back of his knees hit the bed. He looks at you a bit shocked, not expecting you to be so precocious.

“Stop being such a tease,” you scowl. He doesn’t take your tone as a threat, he sees it more like a challenge.

“Or what baby? You going to pin me to this bed and have your way with me?” He says acting oblivious. His hands brush up your thighs and squeeze at your hips, bringing you in between his legs. You can’t denounce how much you like the feeling of his hands on you and he knows it. His hands slide to your backside and grab a handful of your ass causing you to let out an airy moan. Your cheeks blush by this all and the very scandalous idea of pinning him to the bed and having him writhe under you.

Nope, not happening.

“Keep dreaming,” you tell him rolling your eyes. You quickly twist out of his grasp and head for the door. Your heels loudly click in the hallway and that makes the walk to the front door so much more menacing. You weren’t supposed to be here this late and were going to pray that the guys didn’t find it weird.

“Wait honey, you forgot somethin’,” Elvis bellows as he comes from the back bedroom. He only had his pants on and looked damn good. His hair was an absolute mess but it somehow made him more attractive. He quickly reaches you and pulls you close, pressing you up against him and kissing you with fervor.

Those lips were your new favorite thing. They were sweet and pillowy, making you want them to never stop touching your skin. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair and you reach on your tippy toes to kiss him more. You felt on fire again as your tongue deepened the kiss. You were making this even harder for yourself. You had to stay away from Elvis or he was going to be doing this and have you begging for him in the bedroom again.

His hands roam your body once more and you knew you were in dangerous territory if you had his hands on you for a second longer. You quickly step back, both of you breathless.

“Elvis, I have to go,” you say weakly.

He nods his head at you, taking one last look at you standing there weak with need.

“Okay, darlin’. I’ll see you later,” he says like it’s a resolute fact.

You turn away from him and quickly walk outside, jumping in your car and going over the speed limit the whole way home.

*

You had to pray that John wasn’t in the mood to talk still. You didn’t know what to say to him honestly.

How was dinner?

Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t eat a thing but Elvis was starved.

You curse at yourself, hating that you found that slightly amusing. And the worse part, you didn’t feel bad for fucking Elvis. There was no ounce of regret. You loved it way too much.

You put the car in park and rush inside. The lamp was on in the living room but it was deathly quiet. You lock the door and decide to go to the bathroom and avoid John for as long as possible.

“Where you been,” you hear John’s voice say as you pass the bedroom.

Your heart drops, nerves shaking you from the inside out. You take a deep breath before turning back around and addressing John.

“I went to Elvis’ like I said,” you snap at him.

“And I’m sure he was in a shitty mood,” he grumbles.

“No he was actually quite pleasant to talk to,” you scowl.

The little talking we did was… nice I guess.

“That’s surprising,” he says annoyed.

“Whatever, I’m taking a shower,” you say walking away ticked off.

You lock the bathroom door and are thankful for the privacy. You knew you probably had Elvis’ cologne all over you and didn’t want to get questioned about that later. A warm shower would help clear your thoughts and make you feel better.

You reach behind you and pull down the zipper of your dress. You shrug the straps off your shoulders and let it pool at your feet. You pull your panties down too and see the evidence of how Elvis was making you feel during that ‘dinner.’

You’re about to open the shower door when you catch a glimpse of your reflection. Your breasts have light purple welts on the sides of them, probably only going to get darker tomorrow.

“Goddamn it Elvis,” you mutter under your breath. It wasn't like you walked around naked or anything. But the off chance that John saw you looking like this, it would cause a world of trouble.

Your fingertips trace each mark and can’t help but relive those moments you had together. How good his lips felt on you, his tongue taking care of every little desire that was in you. How those hands consumed your body and made you feel on fire. And how good you felt when you both were intertwined…

Shit. Stop daydreaming about it, you scold yourself.

Live with the memories of it, that’s all you can do. But with the ache that now resides in your core just thinking about Elvis, something tells you it’s going to be a really hard time to just move on.

•

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