#elvis impersonator

[clwhowrites]

Prompt 22/8/24

It’s 1978, almost a year after the death of Elvis. A man stops to pick up a what looks like a hitch hiking Elvis impersonator

[moonshadowslament]

I GOT A SCARF FROM ELVIS (kinda)

[floralcyanide]

𝑺𝒂𝒚 𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 ⚡️ 𝑬𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓!𝑨𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒓

Part One

Austin Butler x Reader

You have the opportunity to see the dazzling Austin Butler, a world-renown Elvis impersonator, live and in action. You become enthralled with him, becoming an avid fan and attending every convention and tribute concert he attends. Very quickly, you become a favorite in the crowd of Austin's. But will it go any farther than being just a fan? Or will you stay the person in the crowd who always gets a kiss and a scarf? (Will eventually have smut. Takes place in the mid-2000s) (Y/BF/N = Your best friend’s name.)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, kissing. nothing else, really.

word count: 2049

author's note: so I got an idea the other day and decided I needed to write it immediately. special thanks to Ally, @elvisabutler for confirming that this idea needed to be posted for the world to see. thanks everyone for responding to my poll btw! it was to see how many people would likely read this. this is the first part, so nothing too exciting happens quite yet, but I hope you all enjoy (: (I wrote this in like, 2 hours but wanted to post it asap so if it's dull I'm so sorry lol)

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

“I got the tickets!” 

You lay the book you were reading down in your lap, raising an eyebrow at your roommate and best friend, Y/BF/N, “Tickets for what?”

You’re curled up in a chair in the sunroom, reading one of your favorite books. You’re off work this weekend and didn’t have much else to do. Y/BF/N had gone out to run errands for the day. You wonder when they had time to get tickets for whatever or wherever.

“The Elvis Impersonator Convention, silly!” Y/BF/N says, plopping down in the chair beside you and shoving one ticket in your face.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you ask boredly, eyes nearly crossing at the proximity of the slip of paper to your face.

Y/BF/N rolls their eyes, “You’re going too.”

“I probably have to work, plus, I don’t really dig impersonators that much,” you make a face as you pick up your book to resume reading.

“Trust me, I made sure you don’t have to work that day. And you never know, you might like it! There are some hot ones,” Y/BF/N giggles.

You peer over the top of your book at them, narrowing your eyes as you ponder it. It’d get you out of the house for once. If it was a Saturday, none of your shows came on TV that day, so nothing else would occupy you. With a sigh, you close your book and look over at Y/BF/N.

“Fine. When is it?” 

“Tomorrow!”

“You’re kidding. Tomorrow? How on earth did you manage to get tickets so last minute? Especially at a big convention?” you ask, appalled.

“I’m a big Elvis fan, remember? I have my ways,” Y/BF/N grins.

You’re a big Elvis fan, too. It’s just the impersonators aren’t really your thing. And big events aren’t really your thing, either. So tomorrow is going to be interesting for you.

“Yeah, you and your ‘connections,’” you roll your eyes, motioning quotation marks as you speak.

“Exactly. Now, let’s pick out an outfit. It’s gonna be comfortable temperature-wise tomorrow, so keep that in mind,” Y/BF/N says, getting up from the chair. 

“Alright,” you shrug, getting up and sitting your book down in your chair. 

You follow your roommate down the hall to your bedrooms. If you’re honest, you don’t know what to wear. You want to look nice but also be comfortable. You wander over to your closet and flick through your clothes, spotting a dress you’ve yet to wear. It was a secondhand dress you got from a vintage thrift store, and it looks like it’s from the 60s or 70s, perhaps. It’s a soft pastel color with white details. The above knee-length dress is the only decent thing to wear, plus it’s kind of on theme. You find some white Keds to wear with the dress, quickly deciding that heels or uncomfortable shoes are a no-go. 

Y/BF/N knocks briefly before barging into your room, “Did you find anything yet?”

“Yes, and thank you for knocking,” you say sarcastically.

“I wanna see!”

You show them the dress and shoes, and they nod in approval, “I’m wearing some bell bottoms and a white button-up. Simple yet effective.”

“Sounds good. Not sure what I’m gonna do with my hair, though. Maybe curlers?” you think out loud.

“You would look so cute with some body in your hair, for sure,” your roommate smiles.

“Thanks. Now that we’ve got our clothes settled, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“It starts at seven, and I want to walk around to look at merchandise and maybe get food or a drink beforehand, so I want to get there at five. And it’s an hour away, so we’ll leave at maybe near four o’clock?”

You take a moment to process your best friend’s train of thought, then nod in agreement, “That works.”

“Awesome,” Y/BF/N claps, “Let’s get started on dinner?”

That night, you sort of struggle to fall asleep. You won’t admit it to your best friend, but you’re a tad excited. You’ve never been to a convention of any sort, let alone an Elvis one. And you love Elvis, so it will hopefully be a pretty cool experience. 

You’re standing off the side of the line at a food truck, waiting for Y/BF/N to finish ordering. You can’t help but hum to A Little Less Conversation, the last song on the Elvis CD you and your best friend played in the car before getting out. Admittedly, you’re distracted and not really paying attention as you study an interesting painting of Elvis at a merch booth nearby. Before you know it, someone runs into you accidentally.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention like I should’ve been,” the man who bumped into you says.

He has jet-black hair and blue eyes, just like Elvis. From how he’s dressed, you’d say he’s an impersonator. He’s not in costume but rather in a lace shirt and colorful pants. It’s something Elvis would’ve worn, for sure. 

“You’re fine! I also wasn’t paying much attention,” you chuckle, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” the man smiles, subtly taking you in from head to toe.

“Sure,” you smile politely with a nod, and the man turns around and walks away.

“Who was that?” Y/BF/N asks as they approach you, food in hand.

“I’m not sure. Maybe an impersonator?”

“I didn’t see his face, so I’m unsure. I guess we’ll find out,” your best friend shrugs, grabbing a fry and offering it to you.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say.

“Where to next?”

The afternoon turns into evening, and you’re now sitting in your seat next to Y/BF/N with an alcoholic beverage in your hand. You’re front row, much to your shock. There’s a plastic bag with some new t-shirts and various merchandise items you bought stuffed under the seat. You’re anxious for the show to start and excited to see the different performers come on stage. Yeah, impersonators aren’t your forte like your best friend, but their costumes and song choices are always interesting to you.

The lights dim, and everyone begins to cheer as the first performer enters the stage dressed as 50s Elvis Presley. He’s pretty young, probably a teenager. He starts with Hound Dog, plays a few other older Elvis songs with his guitar, and waves goodbye to the crowd with a gracious smile. A few people toss roses and teddy bears onto the stage. You’re impressed with his performance and give Y/BF/N a look of approval as you sip your drink.

“That was Alex. He’s like, fifteen I think? He’s been impersonating since he was a kid,” your best friend says, “He’s getting so good that everyone wants him to perform at their parties and weddings.”

“Impressive,” you nod, “Fifteen, you say? That’s wild.”

An older man takes the stage, dressed in a Blue Hawaii outfit. He strums his ukelele as the band starts up behind him. He energetically sings some of the songs from Blue Hawaii, and you’re dancing along with the crowd. You’re having so much fun and are excited to see your favorite era soon. 70s Elvis. There’s something about the hair and the tight jumpsuit that gets to you. You swirl ice around in your drink, getting slightly distracted at the thought of Vegas Era Elvis.

“That was Steve,” Y/BF/N yells over the commotion of clapping, “Mom dated him for a little while, actually.”

You chuckle, “Of course she did. He was pretty good!”

A very tall man in the ‘68 Comeback leather suit makes his way to center stage as he sings the songs from the Special. His performance of Memories was spot-on, and you couldn’t help but sing along. After he finishes his last song and leaves, someone comes on stage and announces a “special guest” named Austin Butler, and the crowd erupts. You look around, confused.

“Who’s that?” you furrow your eyebrows, elbowing your best friend in their side to get their attention.

“Oh my god, no way! They didn’t have him on the roster! Austin Butler is, like, the best impersonator in the world, no exaggeration.”

“Really?” you shout over the crowd, “Is he cute?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Y/BF/N says, “He’s around thirty like us.”

Before you can respond, the lights dim, and the intro music begins. You can vaguely see Austin enter the stage in the dark, shaking himself out before the lights come on. He’s in the iconic white jumpsuit, and it hugs him everywhere it needs to. You squint at his face, realizing he’s the guy that bumped into you earlier.

“That’s the guy who I was talking to earlier,” you shout in Y/BF/N’s ear.

“No way, are you serious?” they gasp.

You nod.

“Did you get his number?” they yell.

You shake your head, and your best friend frowns momentarily before going back to cheering.

The notes of C. C. Rider begin to blend into the music as Austin bounces his leg, his eyes scanning through the crowd. He begins to sing, and god, he sounds just like Elvis. He looks fairly similar to him, too, with the sideburns added to his look since earlier. Girls begin flooding the barrier to the stage, reaching their hands out to the impersonator. Y/BF/N grabs your wrist, dragging you toward them.

“Are you crazy?” you ask, trying not to panic at the thought of being right up front.

Yeah, you’re already at the very front, but not so close that the stage is right there at you. 

“Of course! Come on!”

You reluctantly let them drag you up front and center as you down the rest of your drink. The two of you fight to the makeshift barricade, your best friend gleaming at Austin. You can't help but laugh at them and their excitement, but you quickly turn your head back to the stage as Austin stands right before you. He starts to sing Polk Salad Annie, and the women around you go nuts. You do, too, admittedly. You begin dancing to the music and screaming the lyrics like a crazed fan. Chills cover your body at the energy Austin is putting off in his voice. You decide you absolutely must see him do a complete set.

Austin pauses his singing for a moment, talking to the crowd. 

“How are y'all doin’ tonight?” 

Everyone cheers and whistles, clapping as well. 

“Good, good. I see a lot of pretty women out there tonight,” Austin winks, and the girls around you squeal.

“This next one is called Wonder of You.”

Austin walks along the stage, singing his heart out as he wipes his sweat with the various scarves around his neck. It’s kind of gross, but you also find it somewhat attractive. A part of you hopes he hands some of the scarves out. And then he does. Austin leans down and kisses an older woman on the cheek, wrapping a baby pink scarf around her neck. She’s so delighted even after he pulls away. 

Y/BF/N nudges you, “You should try and get one!”

You shake your head, “I am not doing that.” You definitely want to, though. But knowing many people would be staring at you makes you nervous.

Austin makes his way to the center stage where you and your best friend are, and he gets down on one knee, singing right to you. You’re looking directly up at him, eyes full of wonder as you stare into his bright baby blues. Austin leans forward, placing a pastel scarf that matches your dress around your shoulders, pulling you toward him for a quick kiss right on the lips. You blush as the alcohol starts kicking in full force, wiping your nose that got a bit of his sweat on it. You fight the giant smile that fights its way to your face as Austin gets up to finish the song. 

“Oh my god,” Y/BF/N screeches, “He kissed you!”

“I know,” you say, brushing your fingertips along your lips.

Was it so wrong that you wouldn’t have minded if the kiss was a little longer? 

taglist:

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[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Sin in Snow White Taffeta and Latex

It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding (Part One)

Part of the Yes Daddy Verse

Prequel

Prequel Series: 1 x 2 x 3 x 4 x 5 x 6

Yes Daddy: 1 x 2 x 3 x 4 x 5 x 6 x 7 x 8

Adventures in Toyland: Introduction

1 x 2 x 3 x 4 x 5 x 6 x 7

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: Nothing really, sorry guys this chapter is all fluff! Swearing, feminization, drug use, a little grinding and kisses but this is just a happy fluff chapter 🖤 Rating: PG-13

Neither of them had ever been the type to plan things out. No, they were wild at heart and deficient of attention and a little mental at times. Perhaps that was why even though they'd been engaged for over a year and desperate to claim each other in every way possible they still weren't married on paper. They'd made plenty of jokes, the idea of running away to Vegas came up constantly or just going to the court house, but Dom thought Colson wanted something showier and Kells was positive his Dominic wanted to dress up. They were both so terrified of disappointing the other that they never even asked and it just got swept under the rug over and over again. That is until some of their friends took it upon themselves to get the boys absolutely shit faced.

It was interesting because though their friends were around each other frequently they hadn't exactly intermingled, which is why it took so long for any of them to realize the two gave about the same amount of fucks as to how they got hitched, they just wanted to be together. Mod had asked Tom to help him with a video shoot and while editing they'd begun to talk. It didn't take long before they were complaining about their respective boy problems, how their best friend was constantly whining about still just being engaged. For Dom it was sadness and worry over actresses trying to steal his man for arm candy and for Col it was self hatred for not doing right by his bitch but ultimately they found they faced the exact same problem. They needed better friends.

No, they realized neither cared how it happened, they just wanted the end result and it got the two from bitching to calculating to actually setting something up. Of course it would have to start with lots and lots of alcohol.

That's how Dom and Col found themselves three sheets to the wind and window shopping little white chapels under the painfully bright lights of the Strip. They were dressed to the nines though they barely remembered how they got that way and stumbling over themselves. Mod was attempting to be the designated decider and Tom was leading them, his back to the world as he snapped booze soaked memories for when they couldn't recall a thing later. They were all buzzing with excitement and worried at the pain they might cause other people but the wedded pair-to-be had been kidnapped and couldn't change a thing- yet another calculation. They both knew they'd thank their friends for it later. No matter what they said it was a personal experience and they didn't need anyone else watching.

"Daddy look!" The boy slurred, pointing one of his white latex covered fingers at the perfect chapel. It was hot pink and precious with a rock n roll vibe and there was an Elvis impersonator smoking a joint on the steps. It felt like a sign to his liquor addled mind and he jumped happily in his platform ivory creepers.

Col laughed and pulled his lover close, giving him yet another once over. The all white still made him smirk but it was the sluttiest wedding dress he'd ever seen. Honestly it's what he pictured strippers wearing at stag parties. Bone pale fishnet clung to his skin in a long sleeve top, barely covered by a ripped to shreds and safety pinned tee. The tutu was cute though, he had to admit and more than anything he just wanted to bend the punk over and see what panties he picked.

He was dressed much more relaxed but no less on point, a red suit to match his baby's hair and a white button up underneath, with his patent alabaster docs to finish it up. Dom had actually drooled when their friends took the blindfolds off, they'd meant to leave them on until they were in a church but they were both getting too frisky in the car and it was almost impossible to lead them around even with their vision working. "It's perfect doll." He sighed back, trying to pull his princess in for a kiss but his BFF stepped in and yanked the punk away.

"Shit guys, we're literally feet away. You can wait. Come on babe you can walk with me." The rocker tugged at Dom's shiny white palm and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He got them a few feet in front of the grumbling rapper and whispered- "You look beautiful. Thank you for taking care of him." The kid sniffled, holding back his emotions because he refused to mess up his makeup and while he didn't completely agree with the statement, he could admit they took care of each other. That's what it was all about though wasn't it?

The King impersonator choked on a toke when they stopped in front of him, his brows going high behind his glasses. "Holy sh- Mama!" The man caught himself halfway through cursing and tried to pull his facade back. Kells reached to shake his hand and steal his weed. "What can I do for y'all?"

Colson arched a brow as he took a deep drag, teasingly looking between the chapel and his bride. "Here to buy a car obviously. What do you think?" It wasn't his best sarcastic line, he was a little too drunk but the guy laughed nervously anyway which was good enough for him.

"Play nice luv, it's our wedding night." Dom pouted trying to curl himself around his daddy but Derek pulled him back, grumbling about needing child backpack leashes on them both.

"Oh, awesome!" The Elvis grinned, seemingly giving up on the act. "Come on, I'll give you guys the full package on the house!" He pulled his leather jacket up to reveal a sleeve of music themed tattoos. A few that made them realize he was probably acting so flustered because he was a fan and some that implied he was definitely batting for their team. "Seriously, I'll take care of you. You guys fucking rock! Can I just say..." He started nervously. "I totally called this from your first video!" Kells chuckled and his bride-to-be agreed.

"You're not giving my bitch the full package kid." Colson joked, giving the actor a wink when he blushed and Dom tried to swat him.

"Don't fuck 'is up. You give 'im a 'eart attack who's gonna marry us?"

"Then let's fucking go. Wanna fuck you already." Col whined back, the poor officiate was blushing so hot he was probably sweating. The neon above made him look cherry red.

"Charming. That's exactly wha' a bride wants to 'ear." Dominic rolled his eyes but honestly he was flattered, he always was. He loved how much his daddy needed him. After all, it was just as bad for him. Already he could feel his lace thong a mess of precum and he felt pussy wet as his very soon husband liked to say.

The impersonator led them inside and Mod kept them separate as best he could until they reached the main room and he dragged the rapper away. "Literally two seconds and you'll be back together. Fuck you guys, you're obsessed." He chuckled as the doors shut behind them and Dom was left with his best friend and the camera he hadn't put down.

"You look beautiful." The man smiled, lowering his hand and reaching to fix the singer's veil with the other. It was attached with a cute little tiara, marking him the princess Col called him all the time.

"Yeah?" He asked, his eyes misting and his heart racing in his chest. They didn't need to talk much, they knew each other better than that and Tom was one of the only people the punk could just be quiet with. "Fank you for 'is. Not sure we ever woulda figured it out." He huffed, fidgeting with his skirt.

"No shit." He thought he caught the man sigh but it was so quiet he let him grumble to himself and he laughed when his friend offered his arm. "Someone has to give you to the bastard. Might as well be me."

He could tell Tommy was more emotional than he was letting on, he always was. He was right though, it shouldn't be anyone else. "Course it would be you." Dom beamed. "You kept us together luv." It was true, he knew the photographer had been pulling their puppet strings almost since day one. Tom was the one who told him he had to do the collaboration, he told Colson to go to London when the singer wouldn't answer his phone, he texted the rapper to join them on tour when Dom was feeling too bad about everything, he helped them with their entire relationship really and without him they wouldn't even be in Vegas. "Ain't no one I'd rather 'ave wiv me."

They were so wrapped up in their moment they both startled when the music started up and the door opened. Right inside was a drag queen who looked like a pin-up model and she handed Dom a bouquet of black and red roses before disappearing again. Yeah, this was the perfect place for them. Jade eyes took in the room, four empty pews and a little stage at the front. It was small and kitschy, something akin to an old rock club mixed with a disco and he couldn't help but wonder if they'd let him shoot a video here someday but nothing else mattered when his gaze found his lover. Everything went quiet and he felt himself calmed. It felt like his whole life led to this.

Kells smiled when their eyes met, his fiancé was perfect and he just wanted to get this over with so he could get his boy back to bed where they belonged. Of course he wanted to be married but he didn't care about the showy part all that much, he just wanted to call his bitch his. Derek was next to him, playing an electric guitar he found somewhere and the Elvis was on his other side, still shaking like a leaf.

Dom knew he was supposed to step carefully and slow but he'd never been either of those things and he wasn't about to start. His arm linked with Tom's and his fist gripped the flowers tight and he stomped down the aisle the same way he entered Col's house all that time before. Tom huffed but was smiling so wide, for once his camera laid forgotten around his neck. He could take more pictures after, this he wanted to be present for, not live through a lense. The closer they got the better Dom felt and when he was finally at his partner's side he could only think of one thing to say. "'Ere's me Machine Gun."

Kells felt his eyes burn with unshed tears, fuck his baby knew exactly what would get him. The whole trip he'd been thinking over their relationship and remembering the story of how they'd met. It felt like it all started with that, 'Where's the Machine Gun?' and their night would end with Dom being his Mrs. But first Tom had to actually give the kid away. He held his hand out as the officiant stuttered through the script but he barely heard a word. Everything felt like a blur around him but that boy he loved so much.

"I do." Tom sniffled when asked who gave Dom away and with one last squeeze to his hand and a kiss to his cheek that Colson growled about he let his friend go and handed him over. "Always trusted you with him."

That made the rapper grin and he nodded his thanks but he couldn't take his eyes off his queen. He looked like sin in snow white taffeta and latex and he felt his cock jerk in his too tight crimson pants. Those raven painted lips mouthed 'I love you' but when he moved in for a kiss he was stopped by a flash from Tom's camera.

They were both calmer than they thought possible and unable to look anywhere else but somehow as drunk and needy as they felt they recited everything they were told. When the fan paused and asked if they had their own vows Dom blushed but nodded fast, of course tradition wasn't enough. They hadn't been conventional since the day they were born and they wouldn't start with something so important. For the first time that night the punk felt truly nervous. How could he sum up everything his lover meant to him?

His breath shook and he handed the impersonator his bouquet, curling both his palms in his fiancé's. "I didn't fink I'd ever learn 'ow to love. Wiv 'ow I grew up I fhought… I fhought I weren't worthy. I craved belonging so bad I started a bloody band." He laughed wetly, he couldn't stop the tears anymore. He just hoped his eyeliner held up. "I fink I were in love wiv yas from the moment we first met. You… you give me wha' no one else can. I feel complete wiv yas. You make me feel safe and loved and accepted and… fuck I barely know wha' to say tha' I don't tell ya all the time. You keep me sane. You… you 'elp me love me'self and when I can't do it you do. You the love of me life Colson. You every'fin."

Kells cleared his throat, fighting the lump that threatened to choke him. He didn't want to cry like a bitch but he didn't know if he could help it. His hands shook with pent up emotions and Dom squeezed him tighter, his pillow soft smile and heart eyed stare gave him strength. "I didn't have anything to live for before you stomped into my life and took up all the fucking space. No one shines as bright as you baby, nothing makes me feel as much. All this doesn't matter to me but I'd do anything to make you smile at me like you are right now. When shit gets tough you're what keeps me going. You inspire me every fucking day, and when I need it you kick my ass just right. You ground me when nothing else does and I just… you know I didn't have anything growing up and I thought I couldn't love right… that something was wrong inside me. You showed me my heart bitch. Without you I'm nothing and fuck I just… I just want to start our lives together and have a family with you. You're it babe, you're everything."

Dom didn't know how he made it through all of it without bawling but he stayed mostly composed until their friends produced two simple platinum bands. This whole night had obviously been carefully planned out down to his undergarments even and while maybe they both didn't think they understood love until each other, they knew they had been deeply loved for years. He took the larger one with trembling fingers, glad for the grip of the latex or it would be lost and he slid it carefully on his lover's hand, hearing the two most important words his man would ever say to him. "I do." When the question was turned on him and Colson was trying to work the glove off his hand he couldn't help but giggle.

Col almost growled when his boy slipped the latex between his teeth but he bit down on the fabric and held tight. His hand quivered as he took the ring and slipped it on his baby's finger, the first tear breaking free when his boyfriend repeated those words and he felt it like a brand on his soul. "I do."

They beamed at each other as Elvis finally exclaimed- "You may now kiss the bride." They even laughed at the cornily added "Huba huba, thank ya very much!" but Col was already scrambling to get the veil up and spit the glove out of his mouth. Dom went up on tiptoes as Colson bent down and when their lips met the universe went quiet and warm around them. They swore the world held its breath. They couldn't keep it chaste of course and Dom felt his daddy's touch ghost down his spine before his palms were groping hard at his bare ass and he was pulled flush against him. His lips parted on a gasp and their tongues explored, they knew every inch of each other but somehow it still felt new. Different but so much the same.

They broke apart panting and the four people present clapped, the poor Elvis seemed even more flustered than when they first met but he stuttered out- "May I present for the first time- Mr. And Mrs. Machine Gun?" His voice went up at the end like a question and Kells nodded. Dom giggled and swat playfully at his man's shoulder.

"I'll allow it for tonight but I don't know if I'm taking ya name luv." The boy rolled his eyes and yanked him down closer again. "Guess wha'?"

"What darling?" He hummed back, his voice a drawl as if just being around the actor made him take the accent on. He trailed kisses over the punk's cheek and held him close. He didn't think he'd let him go again all night. If ever.

"You me 'usband." His voice was almost a squeak he was so happy and with the revelation Col's heart skipped a beat. His palms tightened and he lifted as Dom hopped until strong thick thighs were wrapped around his waist.

"Shit you're right. Wife." He purred back, his gaze searching the chapel for somewhere they could hide away for a quickie.

"Mmm, 'usband say it again." Dom's breath hitched, his dick twitching in his too tight white lace thong.

He was so tempted to make a Borat joke but he could feel the bulge pressed against his belly and he was desperate not to ruin the mood. "Wife. Fuck need to find a place to hide for a few so I can make you a momma too." He teased with a wink.

"Guys! Hotel! We got you a fucking hotel not five minutes from here." Mod groaned, hooking his finger in the neck of Colson's jacket. "Tell the nice Elvis thank you and keep it in your pants for just a few more minutes please?"

They giggled together but did as they were told, both shaking hands with the impersonator and drag queen and they promised to tag them if they posted any pictures. It didn't take long but it still felt like eternity until the desert air was on them again and Tom was leading them down the Strip. "We'd ask if you wanted to party but…" Derek trailed off but they were barely paying attention to anything but each other. Colson truly didn't know how he was even walking straight with Dom almost grinding against him.

"Oh we'll party just not with you, no offense. Maybe breakfast?" He shrugged, his voice going thready when his husband started nibbling his ear. "Shit- brunch!" He corrected, his breath coming faster. He could make it though, he knew he could. They'd get to the hotel and spend their first night of wedded bliss buried deep in each other. He knew his words were probably a lie, they may not come out for days and they all knew it. No, it was the first night of the rest of their lives and they planned to spend it exactly as they always hoped to be, part of each other.

Author's Note/Tags: @triplexdoublex @manicpixiedreamb0y @jaxbreaker @hollywoodxwhore @cole-way-iero28 if anyone else wants tagged let me know and if there's anything you want to see between these boys just ask! My anons are always open but I never judge 🖤 This is my first pure story chapter and I meant to keep going but I thought it deserved it's own part. I hope it was still enjoyed and don't worry, the wedding night is still to come!

[jbgranic]

Friday Flashback. Elvis impersonator Wayne Jr. performing at the Canadian Health & Wellness Tour.

[kiankiwi]

This is amazing lol!

https://youtu.be/eqa0QSbYXrk?si=VfsvnYN5Bdb1Knzm

OOOOOOOH I've heard he's one of the best Elvis Impersonators! And I love that he takes it seriously and doesn't like make a joke out of impersonating him :( Love it!

[iliketoseeeverythinginneon]

[that-one-raccoon]

Soukoku Wedding in Vegas:

The Reception...

(just to clarify, i have no idea where the og picture was taken but i doubt its vegas)

[parchmentknight]

yeah mr. the king bust it down yeah yeah uh yeah yeah

i finally finished this piece. i still have some qualms with it though, but if i didnt finish it now it would stay rotting in my ibispaint app and the thought of it staying unfinished would haunt me. if i get another wave of "king new vegas/elvis hyperfixation" then... maybe ill do another. actively avoiding looking too long at him because then i start picking it apart and seeing all the mess-ups and UGH. im gonna listen to some elvis.

minorly unrelated but im devastated that i will never see a real frank sinatra, dean martin, perry como, and other ratpack concert... i was watching dean martin's live concert in london with my dad and i was just lamenting. I WANT TO SEE THEM MAKE FUN OF EACH OTHER AND PUSH EACH OTHER OFF THE STAGE!!!! dean martin and sinatra just fooling around, the atmosphere, the music (guy who only listens to 40s, 50s, and sometimes 60s all day every day), the comedy? everything except, you know, the beliefs and bad stuff. i like having rights.

and i gave him a spiked baseball bat instead of a mic. yippee!

[joleneghoul]

love my old dog

[situationalirony13]

good evening everyone. looking towards quali (actually at ass o'clock) today/tomorrow, here's the round-up of the most iconic shit in vegas.

Charles's Leo shoes

Max naming his new cat on the spot, or possibly lying about his cat's name

RB leaving max's rear wing in god knows where (watch him win anyway)

Franco colapinto saying everyone in the paddock is high? secondhand high? never media train him pls

Lewis just existing in hammer time for both free practices so far??

British invasion (I kinda love it)

pierre lighting up when he was asked about the zero damage stat

is it possible that rb and ferrari are doing a combined fan forum? cos what the fuck that instantly becomes #1 most iconic thing

weirder...but still iconic?

Something something, formula one corporate partners rang the NASDAQ closing bell

the fucking sphere (that thing's actually growing on me)

students from the university of nevada las vegas got to meet charlos???

one of the mclaren cars (lando's?) wouldn't turn off after fp1

All of them being so fucking cold (the temperatures are practically warm)

honorable mention: please never show this shit again

the fucking elvis impersonators (this can't be the best of american culture)

the guys strapped with LED lights that dance (see reason 1)

[moonshadowslament]

THERE’S A BLOCK PARTY THING HAPPENING IN MY TOWN AND THERE’S GONNA BE A FUCKING ELVIS IMPERSONATOR PERFORMING.

I’M GONNA PISS MYSELF AT 3PM EST HOLY FUCK

[floralcyanide]

𝑺𝒂𝒚 𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 ⚡️ 𝑬𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓!𝑨𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒓

Part Two

Austin Butler x Reader

You have the opportunity to see the dazzling Austin Butler, a world-renown Elvis impersonator, live and in action. You become enthralled with him, becoming an avid fan and attending every convention and tribute concert he attends. Very quickly, you become a favorite in the crowd of Austin's. But will it go any farther than being just a fan? Or will you stay the person in the crowd who always gets a kiss and a scarf? (Will eventually have smut. Takes place in the mid-2000s) (Y/BF/N = Your best friend’s name.)

warnings: none!

word count: 799

author’s note: hellooo welcome to part two! idk how long this fic will be tbh, maybe 5 parts? who knows. sorry this part is so short, I just felt it naturally came to an end where I finished writing. I hope everyone enjoys (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

To say you’re Austin Butler’s biggest fan is an understatement. 

After that first time seeing him, you decided you needed to see him perform again. So you attend a tribute show and have a blast. You had made your way up to the front once more, getting another kiss and another pastel scarf. Soon, you’d have a small collection of scarves- and kisses too. Because after that second show solidifying your new fixation, you swore never to miss another show Austin did. You would ask off work in advance and drag your best friend with you when possible. They had almost as much fun as you, but over time, they got kind of bored with it. Nonetheless, they still supported your obsession. 

Your second favorite Elvis era was the ‘68 Comeback Era, and tonight, Austin was doing a show specifically for that. This is your seventh show seeing Austin, and you’re hoping to run into him again, whether it’s literally or metaphorically. You’re in the front again, chatting with some other people your age. You’ve gotten to know other avid showgoers. This time, you’ve brought your digital camera, and you and some of the other big fans are taking photos together. You get their phone numbers and promise to give them copies of the pictures at the next show. 

The lights dim, and Austin is announced, causing an eruption of cheers and applause from the crowd. You and the other fans swarm to the very front barricade, reaching out for Austin as he enters the stage. 

“How’s everyone doin’ tonight?” he rasps into the microphone, and everyone shouts back a response or whistles.

“Good to hear,” he smiles, “Everyone, please welcome the Blue Moon Boys tribute band!”

A group of men walks onto the stage, one you recognize as you’ve talked to him before one of the shows. His name is Xavier, and he’s a really nice guy. You didn’t know he worked with Austin in any way, but now you wish you had. 

The men all wave and take their seats on stage, with Austin joining them. Throughout the entire performance, you’re captivated by Austin and how great he looks in the black leather jumpsuit. Austin soon gets to the center of the stage. He notices you right away, sending you a wink. Some of the older women you’ve gotten close to giggle and pat your shoulder with big smiles, congratulating you on being acknowledged. Your face feels hot, and you wave back at him meekly. The show concludes, much to your dismay. But with every show, you and some fans hang around and talk. You excuse yourself to go to the restroom and walk away from the group. You’re almost there when you nearly bump into a guy exiting the men’s room. He’s got black hair, and he’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s tucked into his jeans. He looks up at you to apologize, and you nearly gasp.

“Isn’t this the second time I’ve bumped into you, sweetheart?”

You look at him, mouth slightly agape, “I think so.”

“Well, I might as well introduce myself then. I’m Austin,” he holds out a hand for you to shake.

“I’m Y/N. It’s wonderful to meet you,” you grin, trying not to freak out.

“I’m sure it is. I’ve noticed you come to every show, and I just wanna say I appreciate it.”

“Oh,” you look down, your cheeks burning, “Sorry if that’s weird.”

“No, it’s not. I love seeing people come out and still enjoy Elvis,” Austin smiles.

“Well, it’d definitely be weird to ask for a photo with you,” you trail off, but Austin’s smile remains on his face.

“Of course! I don’t mind at all, doll.”

You fumble for your camera in your bag, trying your best not to tremble nervously. Austin hails a passerby, asking them to take the photo for you. Austin stands beside you, sliding a hand on your waist. The first photo is a basic one with both of you smiling, and the second one is Austin kissing you on the cheek suddenly. So suddenly that the photo is taken before your smile turns into a look of surprise. 

“Thank you,” Austin thanked the person who took the photos and handed back the camera.

“Do you wanna see them?” you ask, going to the gallery.

“Sure,” Austin says, standing directly behind you and hovering over your shoulder.

“Those are nice. You should give me a copy sometime,” he winks.

“Oh, really?” you chuckle nervously, “I can definitely do that. I’m going to your next show, so.”

“Of course. I’ll see you then,” Austin says, walking away, “Don’t forget!”

“I won’t!” you call after him.

“I most definitely won’t,” you whisper to yourself, looking down at the photo of him kissing your cheek.

taglist:

@anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @austinbutler17 @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @amiets2 @mrs-butler @ari-nicole @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhore @mavericksicybabe @bobthefishiesworld @myguiltypleasures21 @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @cryingabtab @kaitaesupremacy @ash-omalley @tom-whore-dleston @every-dayiwakeup @butlerslut @fangirl125reader @dre6ming @edgeofrealitys-blog @cobra-kaii

[t00thpasteface]

genuinely kind of pissed off about how my enjoyment of many of my favorite characters can be traced back to being raised under the influence of my mom's intense, possibly parasocial elvis obsession.

some of them have surface-level traits, like black hair and blue eyes, or flashy iconic clothes like caped jumpsuits or hawaiian shirts. some of them are charismatic ladykillers. some of them are so gotdang yeehaw. some of them have fuckoff insane amounts of money, and some of them spiral into an early grave as their fabricated persona consumes them. and tbh, some of them are just straight-up elvis impersonators.

if your fictional man has even a single allele of elvis in him, it's too late. he's my teddy bear. i'm gonna put a chain around his neck and lead him anywhere

[katakaluptastrophy]

Can we talk about Juno Zeta?

You're living the dream, Master Archivist of the Sixth House. The Archaeology department hates you. The secretaries love you. Your son has risen to the very top of the absolutely unproblematic meritocracy of the House to become Master Warden. Sure, you treated him as a colleague when he was 7 too, but this is much more intellectually satisfying and much better for your publication record (suck it, Archeo). You sit on the Oversight Body, making decisions for the 3 million strong House of the Sixth.

Then the Master Warden gets summoned by god to become a Lyctor. (No civilian has seen a Lyctor for thousands of years. But the information you do have speaks of astonishing power. Are you intrigued? Do you regard it as an even more stellar opportunity for the Master Warden? Do Lyctors have access to interesting material for the archives? Does the possibility of your son becoming an immortal finger and gesture of god ever feel strange?)

A few months later, some fragments come back in a box. There's nothing left of Camilla at all. No one will tell you anything. Every House but the Third and the Ninth has lost its head or heir (the poor girl your son loved is dead. You're never going to get another overly-formal letter from the Fifth begging for Lyctoral documents from your archive.)

Then the Master Warden makes contact from beyond the grave to tell you that the saintly founder of your House left a plan in place in case it ever became necessary to betray god. He tells you why god should be betrayed.

Suddenly, the Oversight Body has to make a decision. To take your home and 3 million people away from the Dominicus System (away from its thanergetic soil, no more necromancers will ever be born). To break the contract of tenderness made on the day of the Resurrection. Do you have time to call back your soldiers in the Cohort? Do you have to leave them behind? Has the Oversight Body ever felt unanimously about something before? And how frank can you be with the House? You have visiting scholars from almost every House, and who knows where the Bureau have eyes and ears.

There are calculations to make. How to transport a whole House? How do you work out that it takes five hundred and thirty-two obselisks? That there are deleterious effects past five hundred and sixty? How do you find a stele that would anchor such a big thanergy transition? (Only the Fifth make stele. Do you try to do it yourselves? Who do you trust on the Fifth to help with that? Is that why Kester Cinque left Koniortos?)

The Master Warden, who is dead, lives inside the body of Camilla, who is not. He picks you - in your capacity as Master Archivist - to be one of the negotiators. How do you integrate 3 million people into a completely alien society with whom your people have been at war for millennia? How does negotiating with terrorists feel compared to academic committees?

What happens then? One day you just...lose it? The sun rises too bright and too blue and you are in agony, unconnected from yourself, screaming and writhing. And when the thing in the sky is at its furthest orbit from you, in some exhausted moment of clarity, you nearly kill yourself using necromancy to restore your sanity. You blind yourself. Do you think beyond that moment? As someone who deals in documents and artefacts and forms in triplicate, do you mourn your sight alongside everything else you have lost? Your son, your home, your god, your sanity...

And now you are a hostage. Sixteen of you in the back of a sweltering truck, held at gunpoint, always moving. The only thing keeping you alive is the possibility of selling you back to the empire that you've betrayed. Your captors have signed a 'no torture' clause, and perhaps they do stick to that. You're needed for providing proof of life and are probably better off than most. But it's too hot, there's not enough water, you can't see, and the only way out is either that the Master Warden gives Blood of Eden a Lyctor or being released to the mercies of the Kindly Prince. You sit in the dark and do mental maths with each other to stay sane.

Somehow, the Master Warden has done it. Without a Lyctor, he's turned his own cell commander against her fellows and you have been released. Most of the Oversight Body can't even walk out of the truck without help. But you're free, and the Master Warden - now in the stolen body of a Lyctor's cavalier - has the sort of mad scheme only he could come up with. Those mental maths will come in handy. The cell commander isn't bad either...

You can't see your son die again (the last time he speaks to you, from that borrowed body, he calls you 'mum' instead of 'Master Archivist'). But you can smell Camilla’s flesh burn. Perhaps the Commander, holding your arm, describes it to you. You follow this new person, your child, now something else, back into the truck where you were held captive and watch as they drive it into the River.

The Tomb is open. Your child is part of a being of strange and unimaginable power. The House Formerly Known as Sixth is on the other side of the universe. You are on the Ninth with a dead cavalier in the body of her necromancer, the Emperor’s construct, legions of demons, and a very mysterious dog...

Anyway, I'm very excited to see what havoc Juno gets to cause in ATN. She's there to be snarky, do psychometry, and be a romanceable MILF. Let her yell at god. And for goodness sake, let her get some peace at the end.

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie's One Rule

prompt: cake | wc: 311 | rating: T (for language) | for @steddiemicrofic's August prompt :)

Eddie had been perfectly clear on the “No Strippers” rule for his bachelor party. Tacky Las Vegas casino? Sure. Concerning amounts of tequila served in glow-in-the-dark shot glasses? Whatever. Karaoke at a space-themed diner?

… Okay. He’ll admit - that last one sounds fucking awesome. He’s been rehearsing a thrashy rendition of Mr. Roboto for weeks now. In all honesty, strippers were his only veto. 

But here they are, standing in a dimly-lit club that’s not even remotely close to the Vegas strip. 

“Low blow, man. Really.” Eddie gestures to the pole in the center of the room, then back towards Gareth. Should’ve revoked his Best Man privileges while he had the chance. 

Gareth ignores him and yells, “Bring it in, fellas!”

“Bring what in-”

The low strums of ‘I Touch Myself’ by the Divinyls flows through the speakers as the backdoor opens. The rest of Eddie’s wedding party begin rolling out a wooden cart with goddamn cake on it.

And it’s not an ordinary cake - not even an edible one. This one is clearly fake and almost six feet tall.

The cardboard lid pops off, revealing Eddie’s fiancé emerging from the top, fucking shirtless (which is the least surprising part of the evening).

His anger dissolves behind the sound of Steve belting the song, head swaying offbeat. Looking so damn happy. Eddie hasn’t made many good decisions in his life, but Steve is by far his best.

“Still wanna marry me after this little stunt?” Steve asks, pointing at the cake structure around him.

Eddie saunters over, rolling his eyes despite that swirling pulse of love in his chest. Steve automatically bends over from the center. Kisses him, still humming the song as their lips meet. 

“Why wait?” Eddie smiles. He brushes a few strands of Steve’s hair behind his ear and whispers, “We’re in Vegas right now, baby.”