#elvis sad

[asshlyyyy]

Expiration Date (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

If you thought The Inbetween was sad... just you buckle in. I got this request awhile back, and I think I deleted the ask. It was probably from an anon... but if it wasn’t let me know! I don’t think I replied to it... I literary just have a screenshot on my phone. 

I highly suggest listening to the song I have listed. I was listening to this while thinking of this fic and everything clicked inside of me... Um... if I make you cry, I probably cried. I was inspired by this song, so I do strongly suggest listening to it. Especially the point, “Love, I see you now.”

Request by @auranightangle, check out the original ask below!

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Sadness, Death, Funeral Mentioned, Prepare to Cry, Spelling and Grammatical Errors Most Likely.

Word Count: 4.8k

Song: Underground by Cody Fry

You sucked in a breath as Elvis made his way over to you. Your eyes had already started to leak the moment he walked out with bags in his hands. His freshly cut hair... the new uniform he wore. It all brought you through so many emotions... mostly sadness, but... you tried so hard to be brave and happy. You just couldn't. It was impossible to feel such a thing when the love of your life was about to go off to war. 

Now, the two of you weren't romantically involved... Oh no no no. Ever since the Colonel told him he couldn't date anyone... any thoughts of a relationship with Elvis were out the door. That didn't mean that you pushed away those feelings. Nothing can ever take over what you felt for Elvis. The man who swept you off your feet and took you away from your controlling uncle. The man who, you would even go so far as to say, saved your life. 

"Y/n," your name rolled off of his tongue. You put on a brave face and smiled as you looked up at him. His blue eyes held a glossy look, as did yours. 

"Elvis," you said softly. Elvis smacked his lips together and pressed his hands into his pants.

"'m gonna miss ya, darlin'." He smiled softly. 

"I'm going to miss you too," you sucked in a breath to compete against the tears. It was no use, you knew the moment he got into the car and drove away... it would be flood works for you. Nothing could stop that from happening. 

"Come 'ere," he said as he pulled you close. His arms brought you a sense of comfort, but it's what caused you to be pushed over the edge. You let out a sob and wrapped your own arms around his waist. Your face was pressed against his chest, his top acting as a rag for absorbing your tears.

"I'm really gonna miss you, Elvis..." 

"I know I know... 'm gonna miss you too. Really... I-I'll try to call ya?" He looked down at you. You nodded and sniffled as you pulled away.

"You better," you pushed his shoulder lightly as you let out a small gentle laugh. He smiled and nodded as he went back to his parents. He gave them both one last hug and picked up his bags. He entered the car and soon drove off. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to calm yourself down. You tried to contain your tears, but at this point, you were ugly crying.

"Bye," you whispered out as the car pushed past the gates. You didn't stay too long afterward. You gave his parents a hug and soon you were on your way. You made your way down to the drugstore to make a big splurge on envelopes. Were you going to do the cliche write letters every day he's gone? One hundred percent. Were you going to actually send them? That was something for later you to decide.

After you picked up all the supplies you needed, you made your way back to your cozy little apartment. It was something you were able to afford thanks to Elvis' help. You didn't exactly like him paying for it... but he wanted you to focus on your writing. You wanted to be a writer... it got a little hard sometimes though when you were starved for ideas... but you had an idea.

Letter 001 Dear Elvis, It may have only been a day since you left, but everything has changed. I went over to your place today and the air was thick with sadness. Your mama sat in the dining room with a beer in her hand. I tried to tell her to get rid of it, but she didn't want to listen to me. I couldn't stay there long. I just knew at some point your mama would end up snapping at me for saying the wrong thing. The day was nothing special. I spent most of my time at home reading a book and whatnot. It truly isn't the same without. I feel like I am not outside as much... I say as it's only been one day. Wow, Y/n. Calm down there. You're acting like it's been a year. You won't be gone for that long though... right? Anyways, I finished that book you recommended to me! It was great honestly. I wasn't expecting it to be that good. Not to hate on your book taste or anything... Here's a book for you to read. It's called Breakfast at Tiffany's. It's quite an interesting one! I can't wait for that phone call. I just know hearing your voice would lift up my spirits. Sorry, this was so long... Hopefully, they will get longer. With love, Y/n <3

Letter 057 Dear Elvis, It's crazy that we're almost at sixty letters! Sure... that means sixty letters I haven't sent out... I'm sure one day I'll have the courage to give you these letters. I do have some news. I have been working on a song. I know right? A songwriter? Me!? Pleaseeee. I can barely finish the book I'm writing. It's a song called Underground. I am a bit upset that I haven't received a call yet. No harm against it! I'm sure you are busy with training...I just really miss you, Elvis. And it just sucks because when you're in love with someone... It hurts more when they are away for a long time. I know it's barely been two months... But when you hardly leave the house... it drags on. I got another book recommendation for you! This might be a children's book? But I absolutely loved it! It's cute and I of course cried. It's called, A Bear called Paddington! I'm excited to see how many books I can read while you're away. Not to mention the list I can create for you! I do have some bad news. My uncle called... He is still upset about the whole... thing... Says he wants me to come live with him in Nashville. Of course, I'm not going. Why would I want to be back in that situation? Anyways, I'm sure nothing will happen. If it does, You will definitely find out. With love, Y/n <3 

Letter 105 Dear Elvis, My song is almost done. By almost I mean... the lyrics. I wouldn't even know where to go for the musical instruments parts. Sure, I could see what they got at Sun Records... but I am imagining a whole orchestra. Don't know how to get one of those... Well, that's a problem for later me. Do you remember your first night at the Hayride? I do... I remember running into you as I was rushing to catch the end of Jimmie's song. You might've been a nervous wreck, but I was in a scared state. Not to mention I had to go on after you! I was practically kicked off the stage when the girls screamed for you! I have never been so embarrassed in my life ~

"Bring out Elvis!" Girls screamed as the curtains reopened and you were standing there.

"We want Elvis!" Another girl screamed out.

"Get her off the stage!"

"Elvis! Elvis! Elvis!" People started to chant.

You felt like you were about to cry. Well... you did cry. You remembered hurrying off the stage to only meet with your Uncle's disappointed stare. It's like he was blaming you for not being able to perform. How was it your fault that you had to follow up an amazing act! It didn't matter how wonderful or terrible you did. Hank found something to be mad at you about. 

"What was that?" He pointed past you, towards the stage where the curtains were once again closing.

"What was what? There was nothing to be done. No one was going to listen." You pointed out to him as you wiped away your tears. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of this idiot guy.

"That don't matter, you still go out there and perform!" He raised his voice at you. You shook your head and walked away. There was no way you were going to sit through a lecture that you didn't deserve. Not to mention, you rather not stand out on stage and perform for a group of people who just wanted to hear more of the Elvis lad. 

"Don't you walk away from me, you shouldn-"

"Excuse me sir, but you shouldn’ be yelling at her for something I caused." You turned at the new voice and that's where you saw the guy who just sent the whole crowd into a pool of water. Of course, you knew his name, you were pretty sure everyone knew his name now.

"Who do you think you are? Doing those... those inappropriate moves. I outta have you thrown out of here." Hank threatened him. Hank was the headliner of these things and everyone just followed afterward. You were sure that he could get Elvis removed if he really wanted to… but he needs someone to pull in the younger audiences.

"Leave him alone, Hank. He ain't did nothing to you." You said as you grabbed Elvis’ wrist and pulled him away and outside the building. After you guys were away from the building you let out a sigh and pulled your hand away.

"I'm sorry bout him..." you said softly and looked up towards his face. His blue eyes were piercing, yet mysterious and dark st the same time. 

"It's fine, is he your... father?" He asked. You started to shake your head from side to side.

"Oh hell no," you laughed gently, "he's my uncle. He's taking care of me."

"Jeez, I'm sorry." You let out another laugh and shook your head.

"You're funny. I'm Y/n," you held your hand out to him.

"'m Elvis." He responded and met your hand with his. A quick handshake and the two of you were talking for hours. It’s like you two had so much to say but didn’t have enough time to say it all.

“I wish I was able to hear ya sing. I bet ya sound amazing,” Elvis complimented. You let out a light chuckle and shook your head.

“I was forced into singing by Hank. While it’s fun, he makes it hard to enjoy it sometimes.” You confessed as you let out a sigh. Elvis frowned slightly and reached over for your hand.

“Hey, don’ let him force ya into doing somethin’ ya don’ want to do.” He said. You nodded slowly. He was right, and you did that to yourself as well.

“I want to write. I want to write a book.” You told him with a small smile. Elvis smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Then write. I bet you’ll be a best-selling author.” You blushed at his kind words and shook your head.

“Oh please~”

Letter 276 Dear Elvis, Do you know what today is? If you don't, it's Christmas. Our first Christmas without each other. I still remember our first Christmas like it was yesterday. We were still so young, well... as young as teenagers can be. It was a nice change of pace after your career started to jump. It was like one thing after another, but this was a time for us. A time for us to calm down and celebrate the birth of Jesus. You were so excited because it was the first time you could get everyone gifts, ones that you could afford that they wanted. You were so happy.The way you woke up like a little child. I remember you begged me to stay with you the night before. You were shaking me awake at six in the morning. No no, you didn't want to open gifts. You wanted people to open the gifts you got them. It brings me to tears every time I think about it. I still have the gift you gave me. I wear it every single day. I refuse to take it off in fear I'll lose it… and the presence of yourself. You refused to tell me how much you spent on it, but I could only imagine it was a lot. So, if I were to lose it I wouldn't be able to afford a new one... and I would have to wait until you get back. Not that I would admit that I lost it... because I know you would just laugh and not let me forget about it. These letters and this necklace are the only things keeping me sane during these times without you. Oh! My song is done! I included the lyrics on the back of this page in case you wanted to read it... I just have to find someone to let me record it... and then hopefully somewhere I can sing it. Who knows how long that will take. I will of course keep you posted. With love, Y/n <3

Letter 365 Dear Elvis, Wow... A whole year... A whole year and no contact... No phone call... no nothing. It's like you forgot about me... No no... No no... you didn't forget, right? My uncle says he is coming to get me tomorrow... How true will that be... I don't know, but god I hope he doesn't. If that's so, these letters will stay here. I will find a way to come back if he takes me. I will keep my letters here. Just in case you come looking for me here, you will find my letters. I have just accepted that the only way you will see these is if I hand deliver them, or if you find them.If I cannot come back, my friend will bring them here. She will make sure that everything I write will be left here in my apartment for you to find. They are all for you anyways… Including my book. You know how I started it a bit after we met? It's about our friendship, our relationship that could've been. Hence the title. Hopefully, I'll get this published, but god, if I can't even find someone to publish my song... how will I find someone to publish a whole-ass book? Plus, would it even sell well? Would people even like it?God, now I'm sounding like you. I remember when you told me you were afraid to put out your first song. Afraid no one would like it and now look at you. A famous singer. Maybe I can be a famous writer. Writing books left and right. That's the life I want. I want to be able to sit at home and write future books with a family. Married to my husband... whom I imagine would be you. I also imagine us having two little kids. A boy and a girl. The boy would be older of course so that he can look out after his little sister. With love, Y/n <3 

Letter 468 Dear Elvis, As you know... I'm in Nashville. Hank won't even let me leave the house for fear I would run away. Which I totally would. I have been giving my letters to my friend, so she's been stopping by to drop them off at my apartment. Which is still left in shambles. I told her to leave it like that after I was forcefully removed from my apartment. I still have the bruises. Which is ridiculous considering it's been well over a hundred days. I want my apartment to be untouched because I know you will want to know what happened. Gotta leave up that mystery.Anyways, update on my book... It's practically done. I have to go through the whole thing again and fix some things, but for the most part, it is completely finished! Since I can't leave the house, I am unable to record my song, which is slowly starting to drive me insane. I can't even open a fucking window! I mean how completely ridiculous is that? Jimmie shows up occasionally, but he's out living his own life. I tried to get him to let me out, but... Hank is always there. Some protective guardian he is. I am over twenty years old and he thinks he can still baby me!My parents died decades ago! I can easily take care of myself. I had my own apartment... sure I wasn't paying for it, but I was on my own. I was perfectly fine, and then this fucker decides to show back up. I should sue him for kidnapping me. Well... Now that I'm thinking about it... that sounds kind of nice. I probably won't… but the image of him in jail would be nice. With love, Y/n <3 

Letter 713 Dear Elvis, Welcome home. I'm glad to see that you are home alive and well. I wish I was there... God... I know it would've been just as emotional as it was the day you left... What I would give to just be able to hug you again. To be able to look into those goddamn breathtaking eyes. I would give an arm and a leg. I would do anything just to see you again. Hell, to even hear your voice again. I know the day will come when we can see each other again. I just hope it's... real soon. I need to see you again. I need to be saved.Elvis... you wouldn't forget me, right?You wouldn't just not look for me? You wouldn't just not call me or show up at my apartment... right? If you get to my apartment and open my letters, you will be able to find me. Please lord... Please please please God... please... I just want to be free. I want to be away from this place, I want to go home... I... I want to be with Elvis again. And I know I pray to you every night to make sure Elvis is protected... but now i want to be with him. With love, Y/n <3

"Oh- and there's this," The colonel said as he handed Elvis an envelope. Elvis looked at it confused but nonetheless took it out of his hand. He opened it with ease and peered in seeing a bunch of cash within it. He pulled it out and looked at the Colonel confused. Why was he just given a wad of cash from an envelope? 

"What's this?" Elvis asked confused as he looked at the Colonel. 

"It's your deposit from that unit you were renting. The tenet died so." The colonel shrugged. Elvis was renting out a unit? Since wh- wait- wait... Elvis shook his head and thought back. He was renting a unit... It was an apartment for Y/n. But- wait- what- wait...

"Y/n?" Elvis asked just to double-check. If it was Y/n, that meant she... that meant she...

"If that's her name... sure," the Colonel shrugged as if it was nothing.

"Wait- you said the tenet died? Y/n's dead?" Elvis couldn't believe it. Not only did he forget about his friend, and love, she was dead. How could she be dead? She was so young and had so much life ahead of her still.

"Yeah, they handed me this awhile ago and said you had till Thursday to clean it out or it would all get thrown away or sold." He explained in return.

"Today's Thursday!" Elvis shook his head at his unreliable manager, and he pushed past him to leave his residence. Driving down to the housing unit where you were living in, he parked on the side and rushed in. He knew the way to your unit like it was routine. He knew where you hid the spare key... he knew everything. As he walked it... it looked like a mess... like you were struggling. It's like you were kidnapped?! No no... you couldn't have been kidnapped. The door would've been tampered with. Well.. unless they used the windows. But you were on the third floor...

Elvis walked around and started to pick up some of your belongings. That's when he noticed a box shoved into the middle of the ground. On top of the box in big bold letters was his name. He picked it up and sat down on the couch before he pulled off the top. Inside he saw many envelopes and on top, he saw a hardcovered notebook. He picked it up in his hands and opened it up.

Forbidden Love...I dedicate this book to my best friend, and love of my life... Elvis Presley.

"She finished it?" He mumbled to himself and flipped through the pages. He spotted your cursive handwriting on every single page. It didn't seem to end. Well… in the sense that It wasn’t a short novel. No no, it was long. You clearly spent a bunch of time on this book. As he did sadly... reach the end of the story he paused. There was writing in the middle of the page.

I will forever and always love you more than a friend.

Did you love him? Did you really love him? Of course, he loved you too, but he just thought... He didn't... he thought you didn't even like him like that, let alone love him. He placed the notebook off to the side and reached into the box once again and pulled out an envelope. It was addressed to him... how was it that he somehow grabbed the one addressed to him. He was about to open it but then he saw a number on it. Were all these letters addressed to him?

He went to pull another one and sure enough, his name was printed in that beautiful cursive. He let out a breath and searched for the letter number one. Which... weirdly enough took a long time. There were hundreds of letters, it would take him days to read all these, and your story... He would do it though. He pushed the stuff back into the box and moved it over to the door to take with him back home. 

He went through the rest of the apartment and grabbed the things he wanted to keep and put the rest on the other side to be given away to those who need them. He would make sure of it. He took one last lap around the apartment and stopped as his eyes caught a photo on your bedside table. How did he miss this? He picked it up and looked at the picture of the two of you back in the fifties. He smiled and felt his eyes start to water up. 

He couldn't believe that... he couldn't believe you were actually gone... nonetheless he couldn't believe that he forgot you. Goddamn, Elvis! How could you forget her?? How could you forever about the girl you love... the girl he was in love with? M-maybe it was because he met Priscilla... or maybe it was the fact that the Colonel had him working back to back on these movies.

Elvis got to his car and packed the things into his back seat and drove back home. He knew he didn't want to be bothered he- when even was the funeral? Did he miss it? Wh-where was your asshole of an uncle? Where- Something wasn't right... There had to be something... some kind of message in the letters... or even the book.

As he got back home he took the boxes up to his room and closed the door. He kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat and got down to the ground. He opened the box and took the notebook out and placed it on his bedside table before he dumped the whole contents in the box to organize. At first, he wanted to organize the letters by days of tens... but it just kept piling and piling... 

There were damn near a thousand letters. Sure, he looked at all the numbers, but he gave up at one point. It took him hours just to organize that he had to move into a separate room to lay everything out. It was covering his whole floor almost. However, he read every single one of them and moved them to different boxes. He labeled each box for so many days. He was able to fit a bunch into these boxes, but he wanted to keep them organized... in case he wanted to come back. He always had a box filled with his favorite letters

He read every single letter. It surprisingly only took him one full day. He was thankful for the one front-page letter. It wasn't too much, and it wasn't too little. It was just right. Well, that was until he got to the last one. The very last one... It just sucked that these didn't have dates on them, they were just numbered... He was sure he would probably figure it out, considering the first one started a day after he left... The last letter broke his heart.

Letter 913 Dear Elvis, I am performing my song today. After fighting with my uncle for the longest time, I got myself a place to perform. It is a small club... Like Club Handy, but for the less fun white folks. Still, it's quite a popular place... You may know the name of it. It's called Euphoria. While I don't want to become a singer, being able to earn some extra money to move back by myself would be amazing.It's been absolute hell since Hank took me. Which you already know since I've been complaining about it the whole time. But... I want my old apartment back... I want to be back in Memphis... I miss you... I miss my apartment... I miss us hanging out... I just miss it all. That.. Let's push away those sad feelings because... I'm singing today! God... I wish you could be there.After the show, I'm going to one of our favorite places to eat. It's a fair bit away from where I am, but it's going to be worth it. It's for a celebration! I do wish you could be there... One day we'll meet again, I just know it. I just hope it's soon because I want to show you my book! Gosh, everything seems to be happening all at once. First I finish my song, then my book, and now I'm performing my song I mean! Nothing could go wrong... I would love to stay and keep talking your ear off... But I have to go. I'll find you soon Elvis, or maybe you will find me... we'll have to see. Oh! Also, I heard about the new movie! Looks really interesting! I'll have to go see it at the drive-in or the cinema when it comes out. You always said you wanted to be like James Dean. Even in your first few movies, you were amazing. I bet this will be no different. I know I've talked about my feelings before in these letters, but I just wanted to say that I love you. No matter where you are, I will love you. Ever since I met you I loved you. Your mama may have not been my biggest fan of myself, but she would've liked how I loved you. I just know you're making your mama proud, Elvis. With love, Y/n <3

A droplet of water fell onto the page and Elvis wiped away the tears that had begun to crowd his eyes a few letters ago, but finally started to fall. That had to be it... you went to sing your song... did a beautiful job and went to your guy's favorite place to eat... He knew of Euphoria... it was an hour's drive away from the restaurant. You got in a car crash and it was fetal. How long ago was it? Well... if he had to guess... a week or so ago. Which meant- He needed to call Hank. He... he needed to be at that funeral cause... he fucked up. If he went to her the moment he got back... she would still be here.

Elvis was fully blaming himself. Not only for forgetting his friend, best friend, love of his life... his whole other half... he surely caused her death because he was gone. The best he could do is remember her name. Get her book published and get her song out there because that's what she should've wanted. Well... she would've wanted him to hear it. Elvis wants the world the know about the girl he fell in love with, and missed his opportunity. One that he doesn't want anyone else to miss, because before you know it... they're gone. 

And I heard, "whoo" Then a light broke through the black I was standing on a track That little light began to grow There was no where I could go And the ground began to shake No time left to hit the brake That little light was closing in And suddenly, I'm floating ~ Love, I see you now You found me here Underground

At the end of the song, there are the lyrics “Love, I see you now.” I imagined this to be the moment when she’s six feet under... and she see’s Elvis once again. It is the moment that she’s been wanting to be in since he left, and now she gets to see him again.

I kind of just imagined this whole song of her wanting to see him again, and before the “Love, I see you now.” She basically foreshadowed her whole death. The lyrics I mentioned at the end... You could just imagined it for yourself. But, It’s basically... I imagine maybe she was distracted or upset because she wanted to see Elvis so badly... that when that light came in (aka the headlights of the car) it was too late, and she was gone.

Original ask: “So a wut about Austin!elvis x reader where he had met reader before going to army or meeting Priscilla and reader was the niece of hank snow so they used to meet secretly but when hank found out he took her away from him back to the reader hometown so after years of meeting Priscilla and growing feelings for her elvis gets a news from Tom that Reader has expired because of a car accident? And he goes to see the funeral and remembers all the old times? And regrets leaving reader?”

Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.

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[laurapetrie]

I was Elvis's doll, his own living doll, to fashion as he pleased. The more we were together the more I came to resemble him in every way. His tastes, his insecurities, his hang-ups — all became mine. My sole ambition was to please him, to be rewarded with his approval and affection. When he criticized me, I fell to pieces. - PRISCILLA PRESLEY

[animentality]

[eleutheria4ever]

[feralgodmothers]

[sweetbunnidreams]

[mythserene]

HAMBURG I: It's not just that the narrative becomes so ridiculous, it's that as usual all the other evidence we have contradicts it. George talking about punching Stuart. Stuart's letters. The sourcing voids. “The logbook recorded” nonsense, but a few pages before that the “logbook” is long lost, “unfortunately.” It's like Lewisohn forgot his continuity notebook.

But mostly it's the pictures that put the lie to “Stuart was all and Paul was off moping in a corner.” (And incidentally, very jealous of Pete getting all the best birds.)

I'm sorry but give me a fucking break.

One of my favorite AKOM Fine Tuning eps btw

[mrsroryhuntzberger]

Jeff Winger as 2022 Best Picture Nominees

(But I’ve only seen one of these movies)

(from @ wingeroocontext)

1. Top Gun: Maverick

2. Avatar: The Way of the Water

3. Elvis

4. Women Talking

5. All Quiet on the Western Front

6. The Fabelmans

7. Everything Everywhere All at Once

8. Tár

9. Triangle of Sadness

10. The Banshees of Inisherin 

[maniccherrygirl]

Ik she still misses him 💔

[angelunderheaven]

sometimes I love you and sometimes I don't

[rahabq]

[eleutheria4ever]

blessed are the peacemakers, for they are god’s children

[vintagepresley]

This would’ve been perfect if they did the movie like the book where Danny is a boxer.

[sweetbunnidreams]

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!  

Corporal Y/N  Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

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