#genuinely a nice thing elvis did

[zilabee]

Alf Bicknell, Beatles Chauffeur (and friend), 1964 to 1966:

“It's weird to explain. Even after I left them in 1966 and went back to working with captains of industry and on a cruise, I could never get those songs - all their tracks - out of my system. They'd become a part of me. To be there was the job of a lifetime.”

“It was exhausting. I remember waking some mornings and being filled with trepidation. Filled with the feeling that I couldn't do it, that I couldn't go on at this pace.”

“I ended up with George and this guy, who turned out to be an Italian prince. He offered to show us around Rome. So, together with this prince, his beautiful girlfriend, and George, I had one of the most wonderful of my times with the Beatles. He took us at dawn on this whirlwind tour of Rome. We ended up on some of the Seven Hills of Rome. We were in St Peters Square and all these wonderful places I'd only seen on picture postcards.”

All four had been fond of doodling in an effort to while away the boredom of touring. On this leg of the tour [in Japan] Alf noticed the sketches began to take on a darker tone. Perhaps a legacy of the touring treadmill, although the Beatles discovery of hallucinogenic substances may have coloured their doodles.

“I'm often asked what my favourite tracks are. I don't really know. I guess the two which I think are most poignant are Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever. They make me really sad - I don't know why.”

After the Beatles visit with Elvis, he sent his own roadies round in a giant Cadillac limousine to take the Beatles' road crew out on the town:

“We were wined and dined and went round all these wonderful Hollywood clubs. One place was closing for the night but Elvis's people Sonny and Marty had them open up just for us. Vintage champagne and platters of delicious food duly arrived. Then the singer who had been performing that night came back on and did another set, singing just for the likes of yours truly. I've always thought what a wonderful gesture of Elvis to have remembered us, the humble roadies, this way.”

Re the airport in the Philippines:

“George Martin, in particular, has been documented as saying 'Stupidly Alf Bicknell raised his fists.' I always thought that was pretty rich coming from a guy hundreds of miles away, safely tucked away in a recording studio. Whereas here I was, surrounded by this baying mob, desperate to tear the Beatles to pieces. It was my job to protect them. And it was obvious that reasoned arguing wasn't the answer. You don't stand there and wait till one of the band is hit. It was a case of 'it's the first blow that counts'. ”

Alf decided to leave in 1966, at Candlestick Park when they announced they wouldn't be touring any more. He doesn't go into a lot of detail about why, he just says:

“It had been two years. A magical time, with me privy to one of the most exciting times in the last century. I'd been privileged to be along for the ride. But like the band, the repetition had sort of got to me.”

Ticket to Ride, by Alasdair Ferguson and Alf Bicknell

I'm going to stop now before I type out the entire book. But there are other nice bits in it still. At one point or another he drove each of them back to Liverpool and stayed with their families. He really likes Jim McCartney: "There was a great spiritual feeling about him." He seems to genuinely like everyone. There's a bit where he drives George and Pattie to the airport after their wedding, speeding to escape the press, but when he gets pulled over the officer just pretends to give him a ticket and then holds up the reporters for him. There are the standard bits where John is a bit of a dick, and other bits where he's soft and kind. There's a bit where Alf goes to a bullfight with Brian because no one else will. A bit where he talks about Paul putting on a terrible disguise and going out to look for grandfather clocks, and everyone in the shops pretending not to know who he is. There's a bit where he runs into George in the mid-seventies and they have a hug on the pavement.

(If you're wondering why the Beatles' chauffeur called his book Ticket To Ride, yes, I was also wondering. But he does have another book called 'Baby You Can Drive My Car', so that is why. From what I can work out it's a better version of this one - because honestly outside the quotes from Alf, which I'm assuming are true, this book is badly written to the extreme. It kind of tries to dramatise everything, like 'he sighed dramatically' etc, and is full of small careless mistakes like using passed where they mean past, not once but twice. Unfortunately the other book costs a little fortune, so this one is good enough for now.)

[muppetjackrackham]

since 2022 is almost over i’ve been thinking about all the movies i watched this year and man, nothing really compares to watching elvis in the theaters. the only other movie i had gone to see during covid at the time was no time to die the year before (since it was daniel craig’s last bond film) and prior to that i hadn’t gone to see a film in the theater since knives out came out in 2019. i’ve loved baz lurhman ever since i was old enough to watch moulin rouge, so i kind of figured i’d like elvis but man, i never expected to care so much about a film like elvis the way i do. and not only that, but the experience itself. the sheer fucking spectacle of this film is one that i don’t know will ever be surpassed for me, because i saw this film eight times in the theater and wondered if it would ever fail to meet the expectation set by that initial viewing, and it never did. not once. it was good every. single. time. i sat in just about every row you could think of and it was not only consistently good, it almost surpassed itself with every subsequent viewing. in 23 years i can’t think of a single movie that has ever made me feel that way. what elvis accomplished is nothing short of miraculous in every way imaginable. i’ve talked about how elvis as a film made me care about a man that only ever existed as a fixture of rock n’ roll music, another name for the history books, a name that mattered in the context of music my folks grew up listening to more than i did. a movie carried on the shoulders of a relative unknown compared to every other major musical biopic to come out in the last few years (bohemian rhapsody and rocketman bolstering far more recognizable star power in rami malek and taron egerton respectively), a name that i hope will go on to even greater heights as a result of his performance and his work ethic. a movie that has given me an experience unlike any other before it, one that i try to relive every time i watch it on my own. a movie that will always be one of the greatest experiences i’ve ever had the privilege of seeing on the big screen.

elvis 2022 man. elvis 2022.

[hanaridulsetcheese]

dancing with dean

You walk out into the main room of the bunker after taking a steaming hot shower, hair was slightly damp and you were in a tank top and shorts, the usual get up.

You were on your way to the kitchen to get something to drink when you pass Dean in the main room.

"Hey, you're up late. " Dean follows you and sits at the kitchen table as you opened up the fridge to get water.

"Just took an everything shower, I need some hydration. "

Dean watches, his eyes roaming over your body in your tank top and shorts. He can't help but let his gaze linger on your curves before quickly looking away, clearing his throat as he tries to maintain a casual demeanor.

"Water, huh? Not exactly the typical drink around here. " he teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smirk. You chuckle at take a seat opposite him.

"So an 'everything shower'? Sounds like you scrubbed yourself from head to toe," he teased, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment before he looked away.

"That's basically what it is. I'm as fresh as a daisy now. " you nod.

"Fresh as a daisy, huh?" he repeated, a small smile playing on his lips. "But what exactly makes that different from a regular shower. "

"You don't know what an everything shower is? " you fake offence. "It's something every girl does at least once every two weeks. Extensive hair care, body washes, personally this is the time I get to use my expensive washes, a little luxury I get to have after all the hunting. "

He raised an eyebrow, a look of mock surprise on his face. "Sounds like a pain in the ass if you ask me. " he teased, taking a swig of his beer. "Seems like a hell of a lot of work just to get clean," he continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But hey, I get it. You girls need your little luxuries.

"I'm so clean, I smell like a cupcake, smell. " you lean across the table to let Dean smell you.

He lets out a hearty laugh, his green eyes glinting in the dim light from the moon. The scent of your freshly washed skin filling his lungs as you leaned across the table. His eyes met yours, lingering for a moment, "You really do smell good," he admitted, a genuine smile on his face. "Like a damn cupcake."

"Vanilla body wash and perfume. " you give him a proud nod. He laughs at your antics and opens up your water bottle without having to ask. It's a common thing amongst you two for him to do things like this unconsciously.

It was instinct for him, opening the bottle for you. He didn't even realize he did it half the time, it had become so second nature. But he liked doing it, making things just a little bit easier for you.

"I like it," he replied with a smile, watching as you take a sip of water.

"So, aside from smelling like a damn cupcake, what else does this 'everything shower' involve?" he teased, taking a swig of his beer.

"Depends on the person to be honest. It's just a way to relax and wash away the bad stuff from the week or whatever. It's therapeutic. "

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful look on his face. "Sounds like something Sammy would do, not me," he commented with a small chuckle but secretly he thought it sounded kind of nice. Being able to wash away the stress and tension of hunting sounded heavenly. But he'd never admit that, of course.

"Maybe I should give it a try sometime," he teased. "But don't expect me to smell like a cupcake afterwards. I've got my own unique scent. "

"Oh definitely. You would smell more like a pie. "

He chuckled at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'd smell damn delicious. "

You chuckled and rolled your eyes at his teasing before you both fall into a comfortable silence. The hum of the refrigerator make you slowly hum along. Before you knew it you were humming 'Can't help falling in love' by Elvis Presley and Dean immediately a recognises it.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked up, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. He tried to keep his cool, but he couldn't help the way his heart thundered in his chest. "Elvis, huh?" he said casually, trying to keep his voice steady. "You know I love this song."

"I didn't even realise I was humming it. " you say shyly before getting an idea. "Stand up. "

His eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden command. "Stand up? " he asked with a hint of amusement, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips but he obediently stood up, curious to see what you had in mind.

Taking the beer from his hand and setting it on the table you grab both his hands in yours. "We're going to dance. " you say, grinning up at him. You place one of his hands on your waist and intertwine your other hands.

"Dance? Me?" he teased, his voice filled with disbelief but as your slender fingers intertwined with his own, and he felt the warmth of your waist beneath his palm he agreed. "You know I can't dance," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "I'll probably step on your feet."

"Then you'll just have to trust that I'm a enough good dancer for the both of us or that I'm way worse than you. " you giggle taking a step back and Dean follows.

The movements were slow at first so they both of you get the hang of it. Dean lets out a quiet chuckle but concentrates on not stepping on your feat. Soon you get comfortable and dance around the kitchen slowly to non-existant music.

Dean followed your lead, his movements still a little clumsy at first but slowly, as you swayed together, his steps became more confident.

He could feel your body moving in sync with his, the warmth of your skin sending a thrill through him. He tried to keep his focus on not stepping on your feet, but the feel of you in his arms made it difficult to concentrate.

"You're a good enough dancer for the both of us, it seems," he murmured, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"I supposed so. " you allow your head to rest on his shoulder, Dean places a gentle kiss atop your head before resting his own head on yours.

He held you tighter as you continued to sway together. It almost felt natural, dancing with you like this. A sense of peace washed over him, something he hadn't felt in a long while.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in... " you begin to sing and Dean follows along in his own unique and husky voice.

"But I can't help falling in love with you," he continued, his tone low and gravelly.

He pulled you even closer, his calloused hands now gently tracing small circles on your lower back. The sound of your voices intertwined in song filled the air, the lyrics echoing around the quiet kitchen.

That night, you and Dean spent dancing around the kitchen. The chaos of the world silenced for a moment leaving just the two of you alone. The moonlight streamed in like a spotlight for you, the refrigerator hummed giving you music. Your voice and his became one just as your hearts had done.

Every now and then, he would place a soft kiss on the top of your head, as if to remind himself that this moment was real.

[hotvintagepoll]

hotvintagepoll Hot Men Tournament rundown thoughts

I promised a final recap post and here it is! I'll try to cover the questions I saw the most as we closed out the bracket, reveal my ✨secret faves✨, and talk about the biggest surprises and turnarounds I saw in the brackets.

Yes, this will get silly.

ROUND 1

As I've mentioned before, I worked off submissions for who to include in the bracket, so if your fave was missing—that's why. I used submitted pics when I could, but many submissions didn't have one, so I tried to find decent ones in the couple of days I had to prep the first round (I didn't always succeed). By decent, I mean pics where 1) I could see the hot man's face, so not too much moody lighting, and 2) hopefully conveyed something about his vibe, even if it was a funny thing (yes, I showed Howard Keel in full Shakespeare get-up—I'm not beyond putting up a pic because I think it's funny). I didn't know all of these hotties going in, so some I had to guess with, but when I could I tried to pick shots that had a touch of the humor, class, or genre of the hot man.

For Round 1 and Round 2, I grouped the hotties by each decade, so only '60s actors ran against '60s actors, '50s against '50s, etc. Male beauty standards shifted pretty dramatically over the sixty years this tournament covers, and I didn't think it was fair to pit dramatically different styles of beauty against each other immediately.

I pitted hot men against each other based on opposing energies—hot vs cold, elegant vs rough, comedy vs drama, etc.. I wanted the polls to be interesting and I've never liked brackets where everyone is clearly in different "lanes" until the finals! I also wanted to make polls where I couldn't tell which way they would swing, so by setting matchups that felt opposite but equal, I got to be surprised by the bracket results too.

The only reason we had any three-way matchups is because the amount of men submitted didn't round to a nice bracket number. I don't like them generally and find them really hard to balance.

Secret faves from Round 1—I am a James Coburn girlie and knew he would die immediately, so that was not a shock but a bummer. I similarly knew Robert Preston is only magical to people who have seen him do His Little Dance Routines in That One Iowa Musical, but it would have been nice for him to last longer.

Surprises—Jeremy Brett was a last-minute add and I didn't think he really had a shot, so I put him in as a third wheel on the Sean Connery/Dean Martin matchup. Little did I count on the Granada girlies. (Always count on the Granada girlies.) The Elvis/Peter Falk poll was the first one to gain any momentum—Elvis was winning for the first 24 hours but then, my god, did Peter fight back. I didn't expect the Tab/Toshiro poll to make that bad a mincemeat out of Tab—people have different tastes, and I thought the people who like blonde sunny All American white boys might turn out for The Blonde Sunny All American White Boy. Sorry, Tab. I hope you've peeled yourself off the sidewalk by now. And, of course, I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that James Cagney would be obliterated by, of all people, Mr. Bing Crosby.

SHADOW BRACKET

The fervor of the Harold Lloyd and Fredric March people inspired the shadow bracket, and I couldn't be happier at the way it's gone. You were right, the original photos I had for them did suck. Cunty Harold Lloyd in his little life guard uniform was a revelation.

ROUND 2

For Round 2 I'd gotten a better sense of who was doing well and who was not, so a little of that came into play, but I mostly paired on vibes again. (I genuinely think this is a good way to make a fun, challenging bracket.)

Secret faves—Noooo not hot dilf Dick Van Dyke don't take my hot inventor dilf away uwu!!! (He was up against Marlon Brando. I would have been shocked if he'd won but for a minute there, a glorious second, it was possible.) I am also a big old softie for David Niven's particular brand of repression to the point of volcanic rupture, but he is one of many hotties who does not look good without moving and speaking so I figured he would be going.

So much beef—hey! hey you. I ran a poll asking if we are horny for dancers. Yes, was the resounding poll response. Where, then, did all the fucking dancers go? This round we lost Donald O'Connor, Fred Astaire, Harold Nicholas; Sammy Davis Jr., Danny Kaye, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby all sneak into this category as well, by token of having been in the kind of big MGM bang-a-pan-and-put-on-a-show beloved bedlams we all watch at Christmastime. Round 2 voters HATED musical matchups. Except for one.

The one—SOUND OF MUSIC, the voters said, WE LOVE SOUND OF MUSIC. we will KILL the man responsible for salad dressing because of the SOUND OF MUSIC. every other dance man can die but THIS man dances a FOLK DANCE with JULIE ANDREWS in a GARDEN. I did not go into this poll with strong opinions about Christopher Plummer or Paul Newman but my god did I leave having heard all of them.

Surprises—James Edwards/Anthony Perkins matchup was a nail biter! Conrad vs Oscar kept me up at nights. Surprised to see Basil Rathbone survive against Sabu Dastagir—both very fetching, but Sabu had some top-tier propaganda. Cesar Romero put up a surprisingly stiff fight against Cary Grant (an omen for things to come).

Oh horrors—horror heroes surprisingly fell all over the place. I was sure either Bela Lugosi or Turhan Bey would sweep their three-way matchup, but Michael Redgrave of all people carried through; Boris Karloff went down against Johnny Weismuller (while holding hands with fellow fallen hottie Fred Astaire), but at least we got his guacamole recipe before he went. Delighted to see that the Venn diagram of the coalitions who support horror hero Vincent Price and funny lil guy Donald O'Connor is a circle.

Secret faves pt 2—oh yeah, I fucking love Danny Kaye and Donald O'Connor. RIP funny lil kings.

ROUND 3

For some reason this was the hardest one to make matchups for. Oh no, all the men are hot.

Secret faves—Michael Redgrave i love you SO much you're SUCH an idiot, how did you make it as far as round 3. I want you to sweep the whole thing but you should NOT be surviving this. I love you, here's a kiss, go home.

Surprises—Marlon Brando is gone! Errol Flynn is gone! Christopher Plummer exhausted himself beating the organic oreos man to death and goes out with a whimper. Beginning to actually see the roots of #mifunesweep as Tyrone Power, a hot man very different from Burt Lancaster, who was in turn very different from Tab Hunter, also gets swept under the wheels of the unbeatable toshirobus. Conrad Veidt finds that no amount of purring svelte eccentricity compares to the people who will fuck a young Lt. Columbo.

SHADOW BRACKET 2

Cannot believe it but Veidt loses this one too. Perkins sweeps and becomes Prince of the Shadow Realm!

ROUND 4

At this point I've set a formal bracket that I'm following.

Secret faves—this isn't secret anymore, but losing Jimmy Stewart hurt.

Surprises—The Gene Kelly/Jeremy Brett matchup was the diciest one all round, moving back and forth between the two by sometimes .01%. Far more surprising, however, was Cary Grant getting eliminated before the quarterfinals. Grant has never been my type, but he is famous for being THE type, so while the writing had been on the wall the whole tournament—how on earth did Michael Redgrave even get 36% in his matchup?!—seeing Grant go down was a SHOCKER. Other fallen hotties included Gregory Peck, James Dean, Harry Belafonte, and Sessue Hayakawa. Peter Falk finally met his match in Omar Sharif.

QUARTERFINALS

Secret faves—I don't know if it counts as a secret fave, tbh, as my horses in the race really went out with Stewart, but I do have a soft spot here worth mentioning. Here's my childhood dog, Keaton.

The resemblance is truly striking, and yes, he was short, fast, and not prone to smiling.

Surprises—I couldn't predict how any of these matchups would go down, but I was most interested in Keaton vs Sharif, as they are both SO hot in SUCH different ways.

SEMIFINALS:

This was such a good batch of semifinalist contestants. By this point I think we could all tell Mifune was unstoppable (though I thought Sharif might give him a run for his money), but I really didn't know which way Robeson vs Poitier would flip.

FINALS:

I wanted Sidney Poitier to pull a last-minute sweep out of nowhere, but alas, Toshiro is just THAT GOOD (maybe. I will admit that I find Toshiro's domination a little hard to believe, given the variety and hotness of all his competitors; the man is hot but all these men are hot). I'm still happy with how the tournament went.

FINAL MEDITATIONS:

Biggest shock of a dropout: the loss of Paul Newman

Biggest "you people have no taste": the loss of James Cagney

Biggest victory: Paul Robeson making it to the semifinals over often-assumed champion Gregory Peck

Biggest coalition who deserve justice: dancing men

Biggest ask character: vents anon (currently eating Laurence Olivier)

Biggest, uhh, anything: how many of you are here! I genuinely thought it would be me and 10 other people voting for the whole tournament. I'm thrilled it took off like this!

I think that's everything, but I'm happy to answer addl asks. And THANK YOU to everyone for your tags, rants, impassioned propaganda, beautiful pics, and love for the hot men! See you for the ladies!

[jhoneybees]

The prettiest man.

Hehehe I just love our shy man🤭

Characters: Late 60!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: insecurities

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a

_____________________________________________

Elvis and you have always been very truthful to each other when it comes to insecurities. You brought that communication in the relationship and when he would come to you to ask if he looked good in his outfits, hats, whatever, you'd smile and tell him he looks good in everything.

Not in a nice, ‘because I'm your girlfriend’ kind of way, you genuinely think he looks ravishing in anything.

Even in a clown suit for crying out loud.

There are some things you don't know he's insecure about though, until one afternoon you were about to open the bedroom door and walk in. You catch the sight of Elvis sitting on the bed in his silky navy blue pyjamas, reading his bible…with glasses?

“Elvis?” You call out, cautiously pushing the door open seeing him snatch the glasses off his face and hide them under the blankets.

“Hi, baby.” He answers, looking over at you with a smile and clearing his throat.

“What’chu doing?”

You pad quietly, along the carpet and stand next to the bed in your pink nightgown. Glancing down at the bible in his lap.

“Jus' readin’... D-Did you need somethin’?” his voice, deep and rumbly.

You shake your head, gently picking up the book and straddling his lap. “Just missed you.”

Elvis takes his bible back from your hold, putting it aside and sliding his hands up your thighs, he hums smiling softly. “Hm?”

“Missed you.” You repeat. Resting your hands between your thighs on his lap.

He chuckles, squeezing your flesh a little. “I heard you, baby.”

You lean in to peck his lips and observe his face for a moment.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I didn't know you wore glasses.”

The smile he had dissolves and his face turns beet red. Averting his eyes away all of a sudden. “What do you mean? I-I-I don't have any glasses.”

You tilt your head to the side, the corners of your lips poking at your cheeks. “There's no need to be embarrassed, Elvis.”

“A-Ah don't know what yer talkin' ‘bout.” He mumbles with a slight frown.

You giggle at his shy state and kiss his cheek. “Can I see ‘em?”

“See what?”

“Yer glasses.”

“What glasses?”

“Elvis…” You laugh, quirking an eyebrow at his eyes, hesitantly flicking up to yours. “Please?”

He grumbles slightly and starts to fidget with the silk fabric of your nightie. “I don't know, darlin'...”

“Bet you'll look real handsome in them.” You encourage, lightly. Nodding with sparkly eyes as he looks for reassurance. “Go on…”

He grumbles again and then sighs, digging underneath the blanket beside him pulling out the pair of glasses he's been hiding. Delicately holding them in both hands.

He gazes up at you again and you nod quietly, smiling to show comfort.

Then he slides them on and the sight makes your heart melt.

“Oh Elvis…” Gasping softly as he uses his index and thumb to adjust them a little with a shy little boy look in his eye.

“I look old in ‘em.” He mutters.

You frown in confusion and tell him otherwise, lifting his chin up with one finger. “No, you're so handsome.”

He whines a little. “Yer jus’ saying that.”

“Nonsense.” You say, reaching up to run your fingers through his dark hair. Grinning at how adorable he looks.

“Wish you were my teacher at school.”

You giggle. Placing loving little kisses on his lips as he groans and tries to take his glasses off.

“No…”

“Yes.” pulling his hands away. Playfully pecking his cheeks and mouth making him complain but you continue on.

“Baby!” Elvis carefully pushes you and turns his face away.

You start to laugh and peck him once more on the temple, earning a grumble.

Touching his cheek to bring his shy gaze to face you. Smiling gently.

You hum, earnestly.

“You’re the prettiest man I have ever laid eyes on.”

[undying-love]

Paul on the last time he saw John

Paul was answering fan questions on Reddit about 3 years ago, and somebody asked him when was really the last time he saw John. And It's odd to not remember the last time you saw your best friend before death.

For some reason, I always get the feeling that Paul doesn't want to admit he saw a lot more of John throughout the 70s than what the public thinks. One time an interviewer told him "You saw a lot more of John in the years leading up to his death than people assume, didn't you?" Paul didn't answer directly, and just replied, "I was very lucky we settled our differences". And in the interview with Sean a couple of years ago, Sean tells Paul "I’ve seen interviews with him around the time when he’s about to go and see you and he seems really genuinely happy that he’s about to see you. I think he says like, ‘Well actually I’m about to have a meeting with him, Paul, I’m on my way’, or something and he kind of jokes, but he sounds happy that he’s going to see you." Oddly, Paul does not even aknowledge what Sean says and starts talking about something else. His exact reply was, "I think so much of what he did just, obviously Imagine and Instant Karma is great and the nice thing was, when I listen to the records, I can imagine him in the studio and go, ‘Oh ok, I know what he’s done. He’s just said to the engineer, “Gimme some Elvis echo.. Bog echo.”

WTF Paul

[ssinnerplazahotel]

𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙚&𝙀

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter One*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC:5k

Warning: age gap, eventual smut, fluff

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Masterlist: Prologue

YOU WEREN’T YOURSELF WITHOUT YOUR MOTHER. You didn’t think you would be yourself ever again. You carried a piece of her with you—a silk scarf wrapped over your head and around your neck, patterned in a floral paisley print. The red matched the skirt you wore. You had purposely chosen a blue blouse that day, being that you were a true believer that the clothes you wore should reflect the way you felt on the inside. You, of course, couldn’t always abide by that rule. If you were to, you’d be wearing blue all the time. You carried your mother in the hairstyle that she had sent you to the nearest hairdresser to have done. She had the appointment and style picked before you even knew you were going to Memphis.

“If you look your best you feel your best,” She had said. As if three hours in a salon would make you feel any better or different about your situation. “You’re gonna look just like Donyale Luna!”

You may have looked your best the day you arrived at your aunt's house in Memphis, but you felt nothing short of miserable.

“You’ll sleep in Chris’ old room,” Dawn mused as she led you through the single-story house. You tried to look around to take in everything you saw but there wasn’t much to look at. Nothing special caught your eye in the plain, empty house. Apart from the old choral sofa in the living room and a few dull paintings on the walls, the house was minimal. “He stays on the road fixing houses most of the year. So it’ll just be us the majority of the time.”

You tried to smile as you walked over to the twin-sized bed in the middle of the room. It creaked under the weight of your single suitcase. You surveyed the room. Similar to what you saw of the house before it was very minimal. There was a tall rosewood dresser opposite the bed and a wardrobe in the corner. Above the bed was an old, washed-out painting of a dove soaring through the cloudless sky holding an olive branch between its beak. Your eyes lingered on it as Dawn rambled on behind you. Although it would never be your home, you could make the most of it if you genuinely wanted to.

“Thank you, Aunt Dawn, it’s really nice of you to let me stay.”

“You can stay as long as you like.” Dawn smiled at you. “Go ahead and get your things put away, we’re off to work when you’re done.”

“Work?” You asked. You were no stranger to work, not by a long shot. Being the youngest of two, you had been working from a young age. When you were still a small child, your father had taken your brother with him when he left. It wasn’t much of an anomaly, just another part of your life.

You were caught off guard by Dawn’s mention of a job. A job where the two of you would work together no less.

“You didn’t think you’d show up all pretty and get out of earning your keep, did you?”

She laughed. She was quite the comedian when she wanted to be. You usually enjoyed that about her. But right now, when all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry, you weren’t in the mood for her jokes.

“I didn’t know, that’s all.” You forced a laugh. “Is there anything I need or~”

“Oh no, everything we need is already there,” Dawn said. “I would leave that scarf, you wouldn’t want it to get dirty.”

“I’ll take it off in the car.” You examined your outfit and wondered if it was suitable for the job. You asked Dawn just what job it was.

“Housekeeping for the Presleys.” She straightened out the collar of your blouse.

“The Presleys?” You repeated—your mind registered the name slowly. It took you all of two seconds to realize who Dawn was referring to. “Elvis Presley?”

Your expression was so shocked it looked like dread.

“You heard of ‘im?” Dawn asked, crossing her arms with a prying smile. “The girls and the women run around here like chickens with they heads cut off since he come back from the service.”

“No.” You quickly changed your answer as you registered the question. “I mean, yes. Who hasn’t?”

“His songs play every day on the radio, especially here in Memphis.” There was an edge of distaste in her tone. “I’m lucky when I can find a station playing anything else.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I like the Elvis I know. I don’t know about that person everyone makes him out to be.”

Dawn always had some elaborate explanation for everything. You could always count on her to have some sort of mystery behind her words.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t change?” You asked, but the question was futile as you were already in the car headed to Graceland. “I feel overdressed.”

“You’re fine. The Presleys don't believe in being overdressed.” Dawn laughed as she took another right onto a long curving road that led right to the front of the house. You couldn’t deny the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach as you eyed the house through the passenger window. You felt yourself starting to regret ever coming. Before you could say anything you were already climbing out of the car.

“Ms. Dawn.” A male voice called. Your head snapped immediately in its direction but you relaxed when you saw that it wasn’t him. Instead you saw a lanky guy with wavy blonde curls, the sides gelled away from his face. “I’ll take her off your hands a while.” He held his hand out with a smile.

“Don’t get lost pulling her around back again,” Dawn said pointedly—handing over the keys to her car. “I’ll know if you did.”

“You know everything.” He went to climb into the car, his eyes stopping on you before he waved his hand in a halfhearted hello. You barely returned the wave before he was climbing into the car and driving away.

“That’s Joel, the Klatten’s boy.” Dawn led the way inside as she spoke. “He likes to pull the car around. His dad’s a mechanic so he practices under the hood from time to time to try to impress him. They own the dealership in town. You wouldn’t know it.”

You nodded your head. It was hard not to focus on the anticipation building in your gut. You weren’t exactly a fan—you or your friends never bought any of his records and you hadn’t bothered seeing any of his films. Yet, you were absolutely trembling at the thought of meeting him. At the thought of seeing him with your own two eyes.

Once inside you braced yourself for the encounter. You didn’t want to be caught off guard by his sudden appearance. It wasn’t until you saw him barreling down the stairs with two other guys hot on his trail that you realized that nothing could have prepared you for seeing him for the first time. Even as he roughhoused with the other guys and shoved them the rest of the way down the stairs you felt his presence. You couldn’t look away. Even if you wanted to, you were too struck by his beauty. You didn’t want to miss a second of his smiling face as he reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes met your Dawn’s, he offered a smile and a polite head nod. You almost thought he was going to completely ignore your existence. You would’ve been perfectly fine if he had. But he stopped short when he saw you—sending the others crashing into him.

“Let’s go, E. It starts in half an hour, we’ll never get there in time.”

“Hold on a minute.” Elvis held his hand up, his eyes somehow still on yours. He turned and headed towards you. “Ms. Dawn, how are you?”

He spoke in a deep southern accent as he stalked over. As they exchanged pleasantries you took a moment to quickly look him over. You forced yourself not to stare, it was nearly impossible when everything about him caught your eye. Everything from the forest green sweater he wore to the way he towered over you with his hands in his pockets. Something about his stature almost looked shy, but you quickly dismissed that thought. Elvis Presley was anything but shy—you didn’t need to be a fan to know that much.

“Who might this be, Dawny?” His voice said, ripping you from your thoughts before they went haywire. You met his eyes briefly—you couldn’t hold his gaze as your aunt introduced you.

“My niece,” She said, putting her arm over your shoulder. “ She’s gonna be staying with me for a while. I figured she could help us out around here.”

Elvis agreed—his eyes shifting to you again. “Can always use an extra pair of hands I s’pose. It’s nice to meet you, honey.”

“You too.” You felt as though your body was betraying you in the way it reacted to him. The hairs on your arms stood at attention, your palms were tacky, and there was an endless shiver running down your spine. You had never experienced such a fierce and immediate attraction.

“Pretty scarf.” He nodded at the piece of material still wrapped around your head.

“I meant to take it off.” You rushed to remove the scarf. He stopped you with a wave of his hand.

“Leave it.” His lips twitched into a smile. “It compliments you.”

You let your hand fall away from the scarf–staring up at him with the overwhelming urge to cower under his eyes. Not because you were afraid, but because every second his eyes were on you it felt like you would spontaneously combust.

“Let’s go, EP.”

Elvis’ smile widened and his eyes darted across your face once more. You couldn’t tell if he was aware of what he was doing to you, or if he was simply waiting for you to thank him for his compliment.

“I-I gotta get goin. Daddy’ll get all the paperwork and stuff figured out for your niece here. It shouldn’t be an issue havin her hired.” His eyes finally left yours. He and Dawn shared a few more words that sounded muffled to your ears before he finally made his exit. “Take care, Ms. Dawn.”

“Thank you, you too, Mr. Presley.” Your aunt responded as she headed further into the house, expecting you to follow.

“It was nice meeting you, honey,” He said again. You looked over your shoulder at him briefly before scurrying after Dawn. You found her in the kitchen tying an apron around her waist.

“Look at you, sweating like a sinner in church.”.

“Stop it. I’m not.”

“Mhm. Don’t you go getting any ideas. I work here, I don’t need you messing this up for me.”

“I don’t have any ideas.”

You tied the apron that she had handed you over your skirt. She reached under your chin to unravel your scarf and deflated a bit as she placed it in your hand.

“You just stay out of trouble and keep a low profile. You’ll blend right in.”

You tied the scarf around a loop on your apron, keeping it there as you followed Dawn’s directions. You did everything she said. You stayed out of trouble and kept your head down for the day. Even when supper came around and everyone gathered in the dining area, you didn’t meet Elvis’ eyes again. Although there were a few times that you swore you felt his on you. It must’ve been all in your head.

After a few unfamiliar glances from the other residents, you seemed to blend in perfectly just as Dawn had expected. As you were leaving that night the two of you ran into Elvis again. He was leaning against one of the pillars outside—alone.

Your aunt’s words rang through your head as you avoided eye contact, nodding politely when he wished the two of you a good night.

***

“There are more dishes up there than in the kitchen.” Dawn motioned for you to follow her to the kitchen. “I’d get the two confused if I didn’t know any better.”

You hummed in acknowledgment of her words but didn’t give a verbal response. You got to work putting the dishes in the sink. There was never much conversation between you and your aunt, not like there was when you were younger. You stayed out of her way as much as you stayed out of everyone else’s. She usually left you alone when she saw that you weren’t interested in conversation, which you were grateful for.

As you were busy polishing the last of the glasses you felt another presence enter the room, not your aunt or any of the other help. Despite your brief encounter months ago, you still recognized the musk of his cologne and the click of his shoes as he walked—his feet dragging the ground with every other step. You turned in time to watch him walk across the kitchen, his eyes meeting yours before you turned away.

“Excuse me,” You muttered. You dried your hands and made your exit. Or at least you attempted to.

“Don’t mind me, doll.” Elvis stopped you. “I’m just grabbin a glass.”

You hesitantly turned back to the sink. You stood there unmoving for a moment before coming back to your senses. Your heart rate increased rapidly as you forced yourself to continue shining the glass in your hands.

He said your name suddenly. “Right?” He wondered, pulling a glass from the cupboard. His voice startled you.

You saw him coming closer and felt the urge to move away. “Can I help you, Mr. Presley?”

“Elvis.”

“Can I help you, Elvis?”

He lowered his head and chuckled shortly. He walked over and stood beside you by the sink. He smiled as he turned the faucet. “Nah, baby, you just keep doin what you’re doin.”

You turned your attention back to the dishes. You felt his eyes boring into you but you didn’t meet them. You expected him to—or at the very least hoped he would—leave the kitchen after running water into his glass. He didn’t. He leaned against the sink with one arm folded in while he drank the water—making no move to leave.

“Tell me somethin,” He propositioned. He swirled the water in the glass, twirling it around a few times before stopping—sending the liquid spinning through the glass weightlessly. “Why is it that every time you see me you get all spooked and run away?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Pres~”

“Elvis is fine.”

You turned your head in his direction. You almost mistook his insistent tone for being upset, but you saw that he wasn’t when you met his sapphire gaze. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean, Elvis.”

“You just did it.” Elvis laughed. “Dropped everything you was doin and ran for the hills.”

“I wasn’t running,” You denied. He laughed at you. You felt yourself almost become flustered by the way he tipped his head back slightly to laugh at you. There was something infectious about his laughter. Even in your flustered state, you couldn’t be upset. “I wasn’t, I’m…trying to not get in your way.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, chuckling slightly as his laughter came to an end. “You scared of me?”

“No, it’s just not my job to be in your way.” You tried to remain professional, focusing on the glasses you were putting away instead of his influx of inquiries.

“What kind of accent is that?” Elvis asked, completely ignoring your response to his question.

“Wilmington.”

“You’re from North Carolina?”

You were shocked by how much that piqued his interest. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” He asked, his eyebrow quirking. “I know a lot of great spots in North Carolina.”

You didn’t engage in the conversation. You reached for the top shelf of the cupboard, having to stand as high as you could on your tiptoes.

“Do you want me to~”

“No,” You said quickly, abandoning the leftover glasses on the counter. “I’ll put them away later.”

“I don’t mind,” Elvis insisted, setting his glass down and stepping forward.

“Mr. Presley, my aunt thinks it’s best if I keep my distance a-and stay out of your way,” You blurted—stepping away from him.

“Keep your distance? From me?” He asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“N-Not only from you,” You said. “From everyone.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Dawn told you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. She wasn’t solely talking about Elvis then.

“Why she tell you that?” Elvis asked with a troubled expression. “Dawn’s like family around here.”

You shrugged your shoulders, fidgeting with the front of your apron as you avoided his eyes.

“How old are you, birdie?” He asked suddenly. Birdie—he must’ve thought you were skittish and fragile.

“Seventeen.” You answered after a moment.

“Ohh.” Elvis drawled as if he’d figured it all out. “She thinks you’re just a baby.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Oh, I can tell. But you are to her.”

You looked away, you felt the warmth of the room suddenly. “Either way…I think it’s best if I do what she tells me. So I’ll stay out of your way.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” He stepped closer—drumming his fingers along the counter.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“If I want you out of the way I want it to be my decision. And I don’t think I do.”

You had to check if he was serious. He had a bit of a smirk on his face. His eyes flitted to where his fingers still traced the edge of the counter before settling on yours again.

“If you asked me to leave you be I’d try, of course,” He continued, moving impossibly close to you. Your breath hitched. “But I have to say, I haven’t got much practice at doin what I’m told.”

“Gotta start somewhere.” You didn’t mean it as a joke, but that didn’t stop him from releasing a deep chuckle. He reached out and took ahold of the scarf that was still tucked securely into your apron. Your mind short-circuited as you watched him finger the material. “I think I should listen to Dawn.”

He nodded, his eyes focused on the scarf as he ran his fingers over the patterned silk. You wanted to step back. You were too close. “Good girl,” He finally said. Officially knocking the wind from your lungs. For a moment you thought he was commenting on the fact that you had kept the scarf around. His next words, however, cleared that thought right up. “You should listen to your auntie.”

You didn’t take a breath until he walked away, watching dizzily as he grabbed his discarded glass and dumped the rest of the water out. He sighed heavily as he set the glass in the sink, staring down at it for a moment before turning on his heel and heading out of the kitchen.

“Don’t mind what I was sayin before.” He stopped short and faced you. “I was just messin. I don’t want you in any trouble with Dawn, she can be—y’know.”

“It’s okay.” Although he wasn’t apologizing something about his tone seemed apologetic. “Take care, Mr. Presley.”

“Thank you, honey, you too,” He said with a final smile before he was gone.

You released a tense breath and leaned against the counter. You removed your scarf from your apron with unsteady hands and stuffed it in your pocket. Pushing it down—all the way down. Along with everything you felt at that moment.

“Just push it down,” You told yourself. “Way, way down.”

***

“A live-in position?”

Your aunt had professed the news so excitedly when she first broke it. She smiled wildly and packed the house up in a hurry. She went on and on about how she would be able to save and buy a new house with the new position. Room and board and a steady paycheck weren’t things you would ever expect her to decline. Had it been offered by anyone but Elvis Presley.

“I might even save up enough to pay off the car.” Dawn beamed as she taped off another box. “You could work fewer hours, and start studying for the placement test at the school. Like we talked about before.”

You made yourself busy with helping her pack everything away. You tried to distract yourself from the thoughts that ran through your head as you got everything ready for storage. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but dread the change that was coming. You absolutely dreaded the thought of not leaving Graceland every night. You especially dreaded not having every other weekend away from the house completely. Especially now that Elvis, despite claiming that he didn’t want you in trouble with Dawn, had somehow made it a habit to coincidentally show up wherever you were in the house. Of course, you tried to write it off as all in your head, but you couldn’t make it up.

Despite this inner turmoil, you celebrated your aunt’s promotion gladly. You knew that it was something that would make a huge difference in her life and that was enough for you to push away your complaints. You had your personal things moved into one of the empty rooms of the house and from there the rest was history.

You continued with your daily chores, wrapping up around eight as usual. Instead of leaving, you enter your room on the second floor of the house. You were nervous that first night, Dawn’s room was on a completely different side of the house. You felt secluded from the only person you knew out of all the people living there. At times, you wished you could call up your mom and tell her all your worries, but you tried not to worry her with any bad news—only good. You wanted her to think you were happy here, even though you weren’t.

You gave up on sleeping after tossing and turning for a couple of hours. You got out of bed and wrapped yourself up in your coat, adjusting the scarf on your head before walking out of the room. You could hear a lot of commotion still happening around the house despite the early hour of the morning. A few people lingered downstairs, too many to pay you any mind as you slipped out the front door. You sighed at the silence you were met with. You walked a few steps, leaning against one of the pillars with your arms crossed. You were exhausted, but you knew that being in a new place would keep you up. That and the noise.

You were done fighting it.

The front door opened again as you were standing there, and you didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it would be. He didn’t say anything as he leaned against the opposite pillar, crossing his arms in a similar manner.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” You asked after he didn’t break the silence himself—he usually did.

“Nah, I saw you slip out.” He shifted towards you. “The noise keepin you awake?”

“A little,” You answered honestly. “I’m not a huge fan of new places either.”

“New places?” Elvis asked incredulously, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been workin here for months.”

“It’s different now.” You found his eyes already watching you—they usually were. “I can’t get away from you as easily now that I live here.”

“Maybe you’d find out that I’m not so bad if you stuck around for more than a minute.” He seemed to be enjoying the light conversation. You figured it was because he wasn’t used to you saying more than a few words to him at a time.

“Everywhere I go, somehow, you’re right there,” You said. Maybe it was because you were delirious and sleep-deprived, but you found yourself not caring what your aunt might think as you bantered with Elvis. “Why is that?”

“I like watching you,” He admitted. “I’m tryna figure you out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that—hiding the smile on your face. When you lifted your head you were met with an astonished smile.

“She laughs,” Elvis stated as if it was an anomaly that he wasn’t yet aware of.

“What?” You asked, though you heard his words clearly in the dead of the night.

“I’ve been watching and you hardly ever smile, you never laugh,” He stated, tilting his head. “I was starting to think you didn’t have it in you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, you knew you couldn’t respond with the truth. You were already pushing the boundary you had so vehemently tried to uphold by carrying on with this conversation. You couldn’t possibly wreck everything by actually opening up to him about your mom and the move to Memphis that you still were acclimating to.

“A little girl like you should be laughing all the time.” He continued after your silence.

“I’m not a little girl,” You said after another beat of silence. “And what do you expect me to do? Laugh while I dust your end tables?”

“Aw, birdie, don’t get cross now,” He chuckled. There that nickname was again—birdie. “I just wanna know what goes on inside that pretty head of yours.”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Your walls came back up as quickly as you had let them down.

“I see you goin outta your way to take care of everyone and to make everyone comfortable,” He started again, you weren’t sure if the man had ever tried to catch a hint in his life. “Who’s takin care of you?”

“You’re being inappropriate.”

“You haven’t told me to go away.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, you hardly had any patience so it didn’t take much to wear it thin. “I’m starting to wonder what goes on inside your head, y’know?”

“I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.” He suddenly decided to move towards you.

“Really?” You asked, your tone mildly sarcastic. “Okay then, what do you think your friends inside would have to say if they saw you talking to me right now.”

“I don’t think they’d have anything to say,” He responded. “We’re not doing anything wrong here.”

“I don’t think you believe that.” You had to fight the urge to back away from him as he stepped closer.

“You think I give a shit about what they think?” Elvis asked, his cool eyes hardening under the dim lights outside. “Really?”

“I do,” You said matter-of-factly. It seemed like the air thinned with every step he took, and your legs became more unsteady beneath you. “Or at least I think you should.”

“I don’t care and I’m not gonna start.” He stood close enough now to place his hand beside your head on the pillar you were leaning against. He leaned down to meet your eyes. “Is that why you’re so nervous all the time? Because you’re afraid of what they think of you?”

“They don’t think of me, Elvis, that’s my point.” Your voice was hardly steady as you forced yourself to keep still. “The only time people like that, or people like you, think of someone like me is when a chore is left undone. Or when you make a mess and you need someone to clean it up. That’s why I don’t understand what you want with me.”

He spoke your name and you were genuinely shocked. He had rarely called you anything outside of ‘honey‘ or ‘birdie’ in the months that you knew him—you thought he’d forgotten it. You stiffened when you felt his cool fingers gently slip under your chin but you let him lift your head to meet his eyes. “W-When I think of you…baby, that’s not what I’m thinkin about. When I look at you that’s not all I see. I can’t help that I’m drawn to you—that I want you. I want to know who you are, I want to know what you think, and how you feel. Since I first laid eyes on you, you've been on my mind~ b-but not for any of those reasons.”

You were too overwhelmed. He was too close. His words sent the blood rushing from your head. There were tears in your eyes but you didn’t feel like crying, too much was happening all at once and you weren’t exactly sure how you got here when the two of you were joking a second ago. You stumbled away from him, trying to make a break for the door but failing as he steadied you with his hands on your waist.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” He said. He kept his hands around you until he was sure you wouldn’t sink to the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve…I don’t know.”

You closed your eyes in an attempt to force away your tears, you were having a hard time processing his words. You didn’t understand where all his feelings were coming from or why he was feeling them at all. “It’s a lot…”

“I know,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was suddenly embarrassed after his spiel. “I just don’t want you thinking I see you any differently because you’re…”

“You can’t even say it?” You heaved incredulously.

“N-No, I’m t-trying not to say the wrong thing. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, birdie, that’s it, honest.” His leg started to shake restlessly. “Ask anybody who knows me, I-I believe that we’re all created equal. A-And if I cut you right now I know we’d bleed the same~”

“Oh please, Elvis, you don’t have to preach to me~”

“Then stop tryin so goddamn hard to make me out to be something I’m not.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“That’s what it feels like.”

You watched him kick at the ground with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “I don’t think you’re one of them. I just think you know too many of them to ever truly be my friend.”

“What they think shouldn’t reflect who I am,” He said without looking up from his shoes, his voice low. “If I could weed out every goddamn racist I knew or worked for I would, but I’d be left high and dry.”

You fell silent, each of you staring off in thought for what felt like forever before he finally spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, honey,” He said, turning his back to you. “Go on back in the house.”

“Now you’re telling me to go away?” You teased in an attempt to lessen the tension in the air before you went inside. You felt like you did something to upset him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the conversation that way. “I thought that was my job.”

He looked over his shoulder at you. His features softened when he saw the small smile playing on your lips. “And I thought you were a good girl who did what she was told,” He said. “I guess we were both wrong.”

You shrugged, walking back to your respective pillar and leaning against it. You leaned your head against the post.

“I meant everything I said before, y’know?"

"...I believe you."

***

[iloveelvisss]

Little Sister

AN: okay so this one's a little bit on the long side, sorry. I have given Y/N's sister and dad a name, so I hope you don't mind. Request things please!!

1948

You were ten years old when you got a new neighbor. A man, his wife and their son. Your momma went over to welcome them to Memphis right away. She told them how wonderful the city was and how if you listened just right, you could hear Beale Street come alive at night all the way from your run down apartment building.

The week after your momma invited them across the hallway to eat dinner at your place. Your older sister, age thirteen was beyond excited to finally meet the boy your mother had revealed was also thirteen.

"Well hi there! Aren't you both just beautiful?" The mother of the boy looked between your sister and you as she walked inside your apartment. "My name is Gladys, this here is Elvis." She pointed to the boy, Elvis, who was standing in a very awkward stance beside her. "And that guy back there is my husband Vernon." She gave you a smile that looked like the most genuine and loving smile ever, you knew you were already going to love this family.

After shaking hands with Elvis and Vernon, all three of you children were sent to play while Gladys and you mother cooked, your fathers talking about god knows what. "You got any friends yet Elvis?" Your obnoxious sister asked. "You two I guess." He grinned.

Two weeks later and your families got along like they had always known each other. Elvis had also grown a liking to calling you his 'little sister' or 'little' for short. Living in that stupid apartment building suddenly wasn't so bad.

•••

1951

When you were thirteen and Elvis and your sister were sixteen was the first time Elvis had asked your sister on a date. What they didn't know was that you had a crush on Elvis. But a crush was all it would ever be, a meaningless secret that would nag at the back of your mind forever. You made a vow that you would never tell Elvis or your sister.

You were still 'little' to Elvis, and boy did he rub it in. Every time he got the chance he got he would constantly remind you that you were his 'little' and that's how he liked it.

"Mary where are you going this time?" You asked your sister, poking your head through her door. She had on one of her best dresses, loads of makeup and the latest trending hairstyle. She was always so beautiful, getting every boy in town she ever wanted. You felt as if you were boring.. ugly.

That's why your crush on Elvis would only ever be a crush and nothing more, you were his boring 'little' while Mary was gorgeous. The only thing you were ever praised for was being the honest and nice sister.

In a tone indicating that she thought you were stupid, "Elvis is taking me out to the movies. Looks like I'm his new 'little'." She said, jutting out her bottom lip like a toddler. Your blood boiled at that.

"You shut up! All you ever do if ruin everyone's lives." And with that you slammed her door closed and made your way downstairs. Your braided pigtails and skirt bounced as you stomped down the staircase.

You grabbed your book and took your place on the corner of the sofa. The sweet sound of Frank Sinatra's voice coming from your momma's record player. *knock-knock*

Elvis.

Instead of answering the door yourself you waited for your father or mother to answer, remembering the scolding you got from her last time you answered. "Elvis, my boy! How wonderful to see you!" Your momma's voice came from the door of your little apartment. "Hi. It's great to see you too!" The voice that constantly invaded your brain rung through the house.

You quickly turned your gaze back to your book when she came leading him into the living room. "Oh Mary told me about y'all's little date. How sweet of you." She smiled while squeezing his shoulder. "I'm gonna go find Stuart, Y/N you keep Elvis good company you hear!" You didn't get a chance to answer before she disappeared.

You felt Elvis sit down on the sofa next to you. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, they were matching his small smile. "How are ya 'little'?" It rolled off his tongue so easily. You rolled your eyes, "Elvis I'm only three years younger than you. I am not little!"

"Ya didn't answer my question, 'little'." An amused smirk was smeared across his face now. "I'm fine." Was the only thing you could manage to get out, partially out of annoyance but mostly because that smirk gave you butterflies. You crossed your arms and avoided looking at him.

He pulled at the ends of your pigtails and took a breath. "You will always be my 'little' Y/N and that's-"

"How ya like it, yeah I get it E." You swat his hands away which caused his fingertips to graze the back of your neck, sending vibrations through your entire body. He pulled away in an instant.

You stood up turning towards him. "Mary's comin' down," you motioned to the stairs creaking, "it was nice to see ya. Good night Elvis." You forced a slight smile and turned for the stairs. "Good night Y/N." You barely heard it.

As you trudged up, you brushed shoulders with Mary. "Have a swell night sis, pretty soon he won't remember you're there." With a sickly sweet giggle she was gone. Oh how you wished Elvis or your parents had heard that, she'd be grounded before she could blink.

You went to sleep that night with the ghost of Elvis's fingers on your neck. You dreamed that one day he'd realize who Mary truly was.

•••

1953

It had been two years since Mary and Elvis started dating. For the first half of 52' you had to watch in misery, the other half was when you met Charles. He was in Elvis's grade.

Charles was very sweet and you fell in love with him within three months. You spent the summer of 52' loving him. A week before school started back up he and his family moved away.

"I love you Y/N, a lot. But I think it will hurt less if we break things off now." Charles held both your hands in his own.

You nodded, letting the tears stream down your face. "I understand Charlie, maybe one day we'll see each other again." You paused to wipe away the single tear that rolled down his cheek. "I love you."

That was the last time you saw Charles Johnson. You cried for a couple weeks until it turned into nothing more than a hard topic that you ignored. But with Charles gone your brain pushed back up feelings for Elvis that you avoided for the sake of Charles.

Now it was 1953, the year that changed your life. A little over a week ago Elvis took Mary to a movie, only for her to ditch him in the middle of it with another boy.

Needless to say they broke up, and not in a good way either. They pretty well hated each other it seemed like. During that week Elvis took to spending his time with you, which resulted in you two becoming more close than you had ever been. Best friends in a sense.

He had only gotten better looking. What you didn't know was that he took a notice to the way you had grown over the course of two years. Your body had matured quite a bit, and your face had only turned prettier if that was possible.

This particular day was very hot. The two of you had taken to the ice cream parlor down the street from the apartment complex. "I've been thinking a lot lately Y/N."

"Hmm. About?" You met his eyes as you licked your ice cream. He looked away quickly before continuing. "You 'member when you said I'd go far with my singin'?" He asked. You nodded with a smile.

He finally caught your gaze again, grinning from ear to ear. "Sam Phillips, well he's gonna let me record something! Down at Sun Records on Beale Street!" His grin only grew, causing you to join in.

"Well Lord have Mercy, E! You mean your gonna sign with him?!" Goodness you were so happy for him. "He's givin' me a chance to prove myself 'little'."

You had both finished your ice cream and were now standing outside. At that moment you didn't care about the heat, you got up on your tippy-toes and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arms rested around your waist as you breathed in the scent of him. As you pulled away you saw something swirl in his eyes. When you noticed how close you were to his face, you took a step back.

"Whew, well we best be getting back. Our mommas will kill us if we're late for supper." You gave a breathy chuckle, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You walked home together and separated into your apartments. That single moment on both your minds. Though Elvis was bound and determined to make you his.

—

Two days later you were rushing down Beale Street. You desperately wanted to be there for Elvis. When you made it, you somehow convinced Sam to let you in.

You were hidden to where E couldn't see you, but you could definitely see him. Oh goodness was it a sight to see too. You were mesmerized by the way he moved, mixed with his magnificent voice, it was probably one of the most angelic things you had ever come across.

After Elvis was done and figured out you were there, you watched as he was signed to Sun Records. You just knew he was going to be big one day.

Now the two of you were stood outside. "My god, can you believe it Y/N?!" He was the definition of happy at that moment. "This is amazing E. You deserve it!" You grinned.

He took a step closer. "This is all thanks to you..."

Another step. "Jesus, you're the best Y/N."

And another. "Do you know that?"

His hands were making their way to your waist. "Elvis.." You whispered.

"Y/N." He whispered back. In one swift movement he had pulled you as close as you could get, his lips connecting with yours. Something ignited in your stomach, causing you to respond. You deepened the kiss.

He smiled against your lips then pulled away. "I've been wanting to do that, ya know?" He smirked, resting his forehead against yours.

"So have I."

Heyyy, so it seems as though my crazy little brain just wants to get all my past imagines onto Tumblr, so bear with me as I do so. (This is a 3 parter, btw). Much love😙

[austinslounge]

Okay, this is pure speculation and I’m just basically talking out of my ass, but IF the PR relationship theory is true, then Presley may be an indicator. I do believe that all Kaia’s public relationships were/ are PR stunts. So, let me fantasize a little. First, this whole Pete Davidson thing. After dating Ariana Pete was HOT(He still is tbh, I think that he is like cheap hype and publicity for celebs at this point). Cindy and Rande wanted Kaia to be famous since she was 10. I’m convinced that they paid for the articles before she was even legal. Then, as soon as Kaia turned 18, BOOM, Pete Davidson, dating, “candid photos” etc, etc. But then they probably had to break the contract, because Pete was indeed dealing with mental health/drug issues and our favorite helicopter parents finally realized it was a bad idea. I remember these photos of Kaia’s parents outside her apartment, when Pete was “freaking out”. It was late at night and I think it’s strange that the paps were there to witness this whole Kaia/Rande/Cindy/Pete drama. Gives me stages vibes too, tbh.

After Pete, there was this whole Cara thing going on. Presley’s meltdowns, tattooed face. If you read Daily Mails articles about this family in 2020, you can see that there was a lot of strange things going on and their reputation was not good, to put it nicely. Also, around this time Kaia got interested in acting. During this year, there were a lot of rumors and speculations about Kaia’s sexuality, what she has to do with Cara/Ashley etc. And then….surprisingly….she started dating Jacob Elordi! Yeah, right amid sexuality speculations, Presley’s meltdowns and starting her acting career. Her relationship with Jacob looks absolutely the same to me as her relationship with Austin. Stupid staged pap walks, zero chemistry, “happy and in love” articles. The only difference is that she posted something with him rarely on social media, unlike with Austin(Because making even a simple “Happy Birthday” is strictly forbidden, it seems). They date for a year and then suddenly break up. Maybe, this contract was just for one year, as Kaia was only 20 at that time. Besides, Euphoria hype was dying down slowly and there was another star raising on the radar. Austin is actually a very logical target for Kaia’s PR, especially since her family’s obsession with Elvis is creepy at this point.

So, yeah, a month after Elordi split, we have Kaia and Austin. Where did they meet? How? When? No one knows. I’m finally getting to the point why I think Presley might be an indicator of their relationship status. I hate this whole Gerber family, it gives me major Kartrashian vibes, BUT Presley is the only one I like and can tolerate. He seems the most real and genuine. I genuinely appreciate his idgaf attitude, so I think whatever PR campaign Gerbers have for Kaia, Presley is either not engaging at all or doing bare minimum. You mentioned that Presley unfollowed Austin for the first time in 2022. Looking back at her relationship with Elordi. Let’s say the contract was just for a year, maybe at first the contract with Austin was also just for one year, but then they saw how much publicity it brings Kaia and renewed it. Probably they went from one year contract to three. This may actually explain why Presley unfollowed Austin so suddenly this year.

But anyway, this is just my wild imagination. Also, sorry if my grammar sucks, English is not my first language, but I hope you got my point.

Hey girlie! Fantasize away! 😄 I don't mind lol.

But yea, your theory is actually a good one. All we (and even the general public) have picked up on with this couple is that something seems off.

I honestly wouldn't be shocked at all of Kaia and Austin's relationship has always been just PR. I actually think it started as PR. Maybe it grew into something more "real" as time went on, but as of right now, the love seems to have fizzled out in this ship long time ago.

It also seems like she sought him out, and imo, that's always the kiss of death for most relationships with guys. I always kind of feel like the guy should be a little more into you than vice versa if you want a guy who gives you the best relationship.

Another thing, maybe I'm in the minority, but I actually feel like her relationship with Elordi seemed more genuine. He was always hanging around her and her friends even while he was dating Zendaya 😵‍💫, and I think that he and Kaia genuinely had things in common. They're also both kind of weird with weird tastes for things.

I kind of think Jacob had his eye on Kaia even while dating Zendaya. I think she had all the power in that relationship. She even told Elordi early on in the relationship to shave his mullet off. You're only doing stuff like that when the man went after you and you know that the man likes you a bit more than you like him.

With the Kaustin relationship, it seems pretty clear to me that Austin is pretty much running that show. Kaia seems needy, clingy (remember the Taylor Swift concert video? The perfume video?🤭), she changes her personality and habits to fit his, copies what he says in interviews, her family has supposedly been putting pressure on Austin to settle down with Kaia, etc. To me, Austin is clearly wearing the pants in that relationship. This might also be slightly different from the Aunessa relationship, where Vanessa (being older) may have been more of the one to control things. To me, Vanessa seemed way more secure in her relationship with Austin.... maybe because she was older? Or, maybe she just knew that he actually really loved her.

I kind of feel like if Kaia were actually the one who was in control in the Kaustin relationship, she wouldn't feel the need to do half the stuff she's been doing. She'd be perfectly secure in the relationship.

Your thoughts about Presley are pretty spot on. He seems like the least likely to try to keep up a fake rosy-colored view of the family.

He definitely unfollowed Austin again from social media, and hasn't re-followed him like he did Ayo. Make of that what you will.

Btw -- Your English is perfect! 🥰

[hooked-on-elvis]

The Green Scrapbook 📗

Why is Elvis a legend? Simple answer: HARD, HARD WORK... on and off stage.

That's the most interesting thing I've learned about Elvis lately.

This fanzine was out… it is called "Elvis Answers Back!", printed by Sound Publishing Corp in 1956 (view photo 8 and video 1 further on). In its pages, Elvis answer questions about his career and personal life in that genuine way we love so much about his interviews. There's very interesting answers in those pages (I'll share more in this blog in a while) but this one got me in awe. What we're about to read Elvis did in the 50s, while he was in the peak of his success as a young artist, specifically in the year of 1956, it's a demonstration of his courage, down-to-earth spirit, and a passionate level of dedication to his craft that few artists, or normal people for that matter, have.

Some of the pictures printed in the Elvis Answers Back! magazine: August 18, 1956. Elvis at the Knickerbocker Hotel, Hollywood, CA. Photograph by Ed Braslaff.

The magazine article is in topics. This one is entitled "THE GREEN SCRAPBOOK", and here's what Elvis had to say about this "rumor":

"Yes, it’s true that I keep me a scrapbook of a lot of the stuff that’s printed about me. But you know something? I don’t save the articles or stories that tell nice things about me. My scrapbook only has stuff in it that isn’t very friendly. I’ll tell you why this is. "When I first started out, my momma wanted to save all the programs and pictures and things that everyone put in the papers and magazines. I wasn’t much interested in doing this, because I was so busy singing and working and learning that I just didn’t want to take the time to sit down every so often in the middle of something and start cutting out pictures and things. Momma bought her a big green scrapbook, though, and asked me to send her stuff whenever I got the chance. For the first year or so, I didn’t send her a thing, and the scrapbook was empty, except for a couple of clippings she got out of the Memphis papers.

Some of the pictures printed in the Elvis Answers Back! magazine: (1) June 30, 1956 in Richmond, VA. Elvis drinking water after having a bowl of chili, sitting at the Jefferson Hotel lunch counter; (2) Elvis at the RCA's Studio One in NY, for a recording session on July 2, 1956, when he recorded "Hound Dog" and "Don't Be Cruel." Both photographs by Alfred Wertheimer.

"Then one day I saw this article about me not being a very good singer. I cut that out and send it to momma and she wrote back and told me I didn’t want to fill my scrapbook with things like that. But I wrote back and told her, 'Momma, anyone can fill a scrapbook with good things. But what good does it do? I’d like to know the things people don’t particularly like and study them and try to make myself better if I can.' "So that’s how The Green Scrapbook got started. I’ve got a lot of pages filled, and a lot of them are still empty, but I’ll tell you this. Every time I go home to Memphis, I take down that scrapbook and study it. I know most of the things in it by heart, and I’m always going to do my best to improve whenever and wherever I can." — Elvis Presley, 1956 interview.

Cover of Elvis Answers Back! magazine, published on August 28, 1956 | Source: elvis100percent.com

SEE THE CONTENT IN THE PAGES OF THAT 1956 ELVIS MAGAZINE (this is an US limited edition reproduction of the 1956 original magazine):

Thanks "Collecting King Elvis Interviews and Memobilia" Youtube channel for sharing this gem.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE

I just crossed an interview of Elvis for the Hy Gardner Show ("Hy Gardner Calling") on July 1, 1956 (right after Elvis' performance on the Steve Allen Show). Hy Gardner asked Elvis if he reads the reviews on his concerts and he answers it with "Not if I can help it". Then Gardner goes on in the same matter and asks him further, "Do you keep a scrapbook at all?" -- Elvis' answer to this: "Only of the good stuff." -- We can figure, although Elvis had the Green Scrapbook probably since 1954, considering he said 'When I first started out, my momma wanted to save all the programs and pictures (...)', it was around mid 1956 that Elvis consciously decided to face his detractors more often and make a good use of their critics to help him improving his act. Fascinating. It's fascinating for a young man as talented, handsome and successful as he was, to pause the rush of excitement going on within himself just so he could think things through. Elvis was enjoying a tremendous amount of success already, so it would be more convenient to just have fun and let it happen while it lasted. 1956 was THE year when everything he ever dreamed about was happening at once in his life and he couldn't be more excited and thrilling with the attention he was getting from all over, yet that young man had the maturity to understand he had to keep working hard so he truly could have something worth sharing with the world, something better to offer to the people who seemed be starving for more of him. Fascinating.

WATCH THE FULL HY GARDNER INTERVIEW WITH ELVIS (July 1, 1956):

[marzipanandminutiae]

i just reblogged that post about saying nice things abt prev but i wanna send an ask too, so: thank you for being one of the only people to be correct about the winchester mystery house and sarah herself!! so many people spread the stories of her being weird/crazy/whatever when she was just. a woman who suffered some tragedies and liked architecture.

i went on a tour of graceland recently and was intrigued by how they barely talked about elvis as a person, whereas winchester tours are basically a trap where you think you're getting to explore a weird fucked up house but actually you're going to hear about how wonderful sarah winchester was for an hour and if you say anything mean about her design skills one of the tour guides will push you out the door to nowhere.

i go through your winchester tag sometimes when i'm nostalgic and missing the house (i got laid off during quarantine) and it's just nice to see that even people who didn't devote years of their lives to the house can genuinely understand and appreciate it.

I'm so glad it's gotten better! Someone once anonymously told me the guides had to sign a contract saying they would only stick to the story made up by that ridiculous carnie family that bought her house in the 1920s, and even though it was an anon and therefore unverifiable...I believe it, sadly. For Profits often are more about...well, profit. As opposed to history. But it's good to know the guides care about getting the truth out there.

In Sarah Winchester I see a woman whose character assassination for being different(tm) has carried on after death. It's not that she was perfect- far be it from me to lay perfection at the feet of a white 19th-century gun fortune heiress -but she seems like a genuinely caring person in many ways, about her workers and her community. She was an unattached woman of means with an unconventional hobby (architecture), though, and that seems to have made wagging tongues nervous. During her lifetime that meant claiming she thought she'd live forever if construction never ceased (it did, several times), and after- well. The tale of the mad widow fleeing from invisible ghosts has come to prevail.

It feels unfair to me that she should forever be remembered by what her detractors said about her, instead of her own triumphs and setbacks, merits and flaws. And that her beautiful house, where she poured so much love and attention, should be so misrepresented. I'm glad people are trying to fix the narrative.

[yandere-yearnings]

this is just the first design drafts for the 60s trio, sorry if I'm bugging you with all my asks. I wanted to get your input on how you'd like them to look, as I'm not too fond of these designs.

First, with the glases, is Sun. I made his ear a bit more elvish, along with making him have a bit of a pouty lip. I realy couldn't decide between plump or lanky. I wanted to have him dress more dark/ warm acedemia.

Second is Vio, he was semi designed after elvis, mostly vibe wise. I wanted him to be slightly provocative (for the time) . not much to say on him.

Lastly, is dice, I wanted him a bit more muscular, but legit made him look like a mob boss lmao. again, not much on him, just that the cigar could be bigger.

I am in desperate need of feedback and direction.

first off, you would never ever bug me w/ your asks so never think that, okay? it's always a pleasure seeing you in my inbox🥺🩷 honestly, you have sm to be proud abt with the 60's trio bc i am genuinely loving the designs, like you did so well matching the vibe of the times w/ each of them. i'm gonna go ahead and think that they're all a bit older than their contemporary counterparts,, also adding now that i love all the clothing designs for them❗️❗️

warm academia sun is the only concept ever so im loving it. his freckles are also the cutest addition, your creative insight really gives him such a nice rounded look overall, i feel like he'd take care of his appearance a lot so his hairstyle is smth i actually quite like here too. from the perspective he's in rn it's out of shot anyway but his cheek moles are the only thing left,, you did him perfect🥰 (his expression is so cute, pouty lip sun >>>>)

i am really really loving vio's design icl, i can see him as popular in the public but dabbling in shady business behind the scenes and that is the ✨️image✨️ nothing to say abt him other than i really really like how you drew his cheekbones haha

i actually also really like dice's mob boss look too, the thicker eyebrows and chin dimple i think really make the 60s theme pop. might get a couple of loose strands from his hair bc yk it's gonna fall out of place when he's dealing with his subordinates (they do everything wrong) he also has a few beauty marks, but they're not crazy frequent on his face so it works w/o them as well

but all in all, i love what you've done!! take your creative liberties w/ it, bc where you're starting off is really working for them. always know that there can never be a wrong version when it comes to interpretation😌✨️

[ygoartreviews]

Ojama Emperor

I've genuinely never seen this guy before now, but his art's really nice honestly. I'll be real though... His rating would probably be closer to a 10 if his artwork colors were actually like what shows up on his wiki page. Something about the more subdued, dark bluish purple there just looked super good on him. His actual, bright purple does feel more fitting with the rest of the Ojamas, however. The only weirdly realistically details are pretty much localized to his chin area and are honestly pretty ignorable (which is a good thing). His squished up face makes him look like he's in pain lol, especially with his narrowed eyes, but otherwise his head just reminds me of a squid (fun). I have no context for why they would make an Ojama specifically just to wear Elvis Presley's emperor jacket (and name him, of course, Ojama Emperor), but they sure did it, huh. His hat reminds me of the Pope's hat for some reason though????? Pope hat with included floral speedo design. I thought (for some reason) the decorations on his chair's armrests were supposed to be Unowns, but a longer look shows that they're just weird, one eyed Ojama heads, complete with big lips. If you look closely, you'll also see that his throne is modeled a little bit after Ojama Yellow, as it includes his eyestalks as a decoration. His background is fairly unique for an Ojama card, and it honestly looks like it would fit right in with the Performapals' backgrounds (I feel like Barokuriboh is a particularly fitting match).

Rating: 8/10, Your new Performing Squid Pope Emperor, Elvis

[zilabee]

- Ringo teasing Glyn about not getting to bed last night <3

George: Do you know about that? They collect all nice-looking things and make a garden around where they are, just with all the groovy things they find. It's great.

- George literally checking if Ringo even knows what an octopus's garden is. I love that he does a bit of work on it, and then immediately tries to get it to resolve! Everything must resolve. Even octopuses. It's such a beautiful happiness of a song. I love George M coming to smile at it. I love John wandering in in his sailor's hat. <3

- Oh my god everyone is so lovely with Heather today, maybe it would be actually nice if they just went to live in a commune and raised children together. Somewhere sunshine and easy.

- I love that John wants Paul to do 'that old gospel ending that Elvis did', and gets moody that Paul ignores him, and then sings it softly right up and at him.

- Paul on drums while Ringo's sitting right there next to him... We don't get to see how that came about so I'm going to assume it was fine.

- I hope Heather's little wrinkled face is a genuine reaction shot to Yoko's singing, because I think it's lovely how interested and confused by it she looks. I love that a bit later she goes and sits with John and Yoko because they're on the floor, and then does some Yoko style singing with them. I think it's so freeing and beautiful for her, and I just think all girls should see women make noise that way. And John incorporating her into the song, and this face when she sees someone watching:

- EVERYTHING SHOULD BE SONGVID. FOR ALWAYS EVER MORE. PLEASE THANK YOU.

- John and Yoko dancing, GM with a maraca, Paul chucking Heather at the ceiling, Mal having a little dance! SO LOVELY.

Heather: Mr Sock... Mr Sock? Mr Sock? Glyn: Er yes, Mrs Sock.

- GM trying to make them rehearse new songs. Beatles thinking they maybe just won't though.

- I love when Paul says he might add strings to Long and Winding Road, and GM teases them about how they've been on about doing things SIMPLE and in ONE TAKE and then John's constantly 'we can just cheat there' and Paul's constantly 'well we'll add orchestras obviously!'

- Paul feeling every bit of Billy's playing. - Billy feeling every bit of Paul's delight.

John: Very strong dream. We both dreamt about it... Amazing. Different dreams, you know. I thought you must have been there. I mean, I was touching you. George: Was it sexually oriented? Paul: Oh, you know, John, don't worry about it. John: There's nothing to worry about.

ANSWER THE QUESTION, JOHN.

[bcofl0ve]

on nail biting and multiverse theory

austin x priscilla actress!reader | can be read as part of my series but it doesn’t have to be! | TW: infidelity, slight daddy kink dynamics if you squint, sexual overtones/implications. and it is implied that reader is at one point in an abusive relationship (NOT!!! with austin). no graphic abuse is described in detail, but the implication of some physical violence is there. fic is not worth your mental health, pls put that first ❤️

the first time austin noticed it he didn’t say anything. the second time you were sitting next to him in bed- moreso curled into his side than sitting really.

you trusted him more than anyone, but that didn’t mean you were immune to feeling like you’d been hit by a truck after a particularly churlish scene in bed. on this particular night the come down was making you lightheaded- even as austin cooed into your ear about how good you were for him, stroking through your hair.

“sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, hating that you sounded so choked up. this hormone drop really was something.

“sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, hating that you sounded so choked up. this hormone drop really was something.

austin only shook his head, bringing your hand up to press his lips to your knuckles. “nothing to be sorry about sweetie- just don’t want you messing up your pretty nails. want you to talk to me if something’s makin’ you anxious,”

the elvis drawl was thick- but it was a drawl you’d found comforting since you started. well. whatever this was.

and if you purposely let yourself cave to the impulse bite your nails around him because of how soft his voice was as he took your hand in his… that was your own secret.

- - -

but time can change so much and change it did. filming ended, you broke up- for a few reasons, austin found kaia. and 5 months later right before cannes you found one of the memphis mafia extras that was tagging along for press since his sister was a producer.

he had almost 15 years on you, more than double the age gap with austin. but you were a big girl- an adult after all. and he was attractive, a sweet talker.

a less than sweet person genuinely, you learned a little too late.

-

things went from bad to worse before you could run, so you didn’t. you remained firmly planted at his side, and were standing there when your nails found the gap between your teeth for the first time in a few months.

you barley slept the night before, and your boyfriend (a label that he tacked on rather quickly- 4 days to be exact), gave you something with your morning coffee that was supposed to perk you up. but it wasn’t working yet.

“hey, quit it.” came at the same time as his hand knocked into your wrist, grabbing it roughly away before dropping your arm unceremoniously at your side. “are you three years old?”

it wasn't the first time he'd put his hands on you, but it was the first time he'd done with it other people around- everyone milling in the lobby as you waited to have pre-press junket morning brief with baz.

your chest tightened as you glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. and austin was occupied with kaia, but when your eyes fell to luke bracey he was squinting, looking between you and the man standing at your side skeptically.

you looked away.

-

completely avoiding austin was objectively impossible. you did interviews together and it was fun, a nice distraction from the boyfriend- until he started to watch them back under a microscope.

"that's how austin looks at everyone- he has a girlfriend, incase you somehow managed to miss them shoving their tongues down each other's throats every hour of the day." you bit back after a partically snide comment. something you regretted just as quickly as the words left your mouth.

but you tempered your demeanor during the interviews anyways. and if austin noticed he didn’t bring it up. not that you were really talking much outside of ‘work’ anyways. not until memphis.

-

your stomach was in knots from the second the jet touched down- something about being in tennessee just feeling wrong.

you overheard austin and baz talking as you filed off onto the tarmac to the cars- austin making a quip about how he had a feeling being at graceland was going to make his head spin. and that he was a little glad kaia didn't tag along for this press stop because explaining all the “complicated shit” he was feeling about memphis to her would make him sound like he'd lost his mind.

you didn't think he was losing it though, not when you felt the same way.

baz had said once as the movie was wrapping up that you and austin were always going to know each other, understand each other, in a way no one else did. the remark something he said when you were tucked into his side at a 'we're almost done with this thing' cast party. remembering it now, the remark and when things were so different between the two of you, made you nauseous.

that nausea, unfortunately, lingered as the day went on.

the presley family was welcoming, and most everyone had brought family members to memphis what with the bbq get together. so there were kids weaving between people's legs, there was laughter in the air, and you almost felt guilty for feeling so out of order.

you set out to find a bathroom to take a breather in, hearing austin's voice as you crossed through the main hall.

"i broke up with my wife on these steps,"

he was kidding, kinda, but baz seemed to see through it the same way you did. you clocked a little shake of his head as he looked at austin gently. "it's just acting aust,"

if either of them saw you crossing through they didn't say anything and you found the single occupancy bathroom you'd been looking for, taking a breath as you shut the door behind you- realizing absentmindedly you hadn't had a moment alone to catch your breath for the entire press tour thus far.

not when the thorn in your side that was your boyfriend barley let you out of his sight. you'd only managed to sneak off like you did because he was thoroughly distracted by chasing his nephew around the yard. and you couldn't watch it- couldn't let yourself be jealous of a three year old watching his uncle be kinder to him that he ever was to you.

lost in your thoughts, you nearly screamed when you felt yourself being jolted by the door you had your back against swinging open, realizing a few minutes too late you'd forgotten to lock it.

your breath caught in your throat when you turned around and saw who it was. austin.

"shit, 'm sorry,"

his face was flushed as he spoke, tongue swiping over his bottom lip like it had a way of doing when he was nervous.

you took a few steps back, glancing behind austin- your heart hammering half expecting your boyfriend to be right behind him.

he wasn't.

"my fault, i didn't lock it," you supplied, biting the inside of your cheek. "and this really could've been more awkward all things considered- i just came in here to get away from all the-"

"chaos?" austin cut in mid ramble, a light chuckle leaving him. "i was actually coming to do the same thing, feel bad for not having fun but it's just so, weird feels harsh. but i don't know."

the rational part of your mind was screaming at you to give a little laugh, duck past him and end this before someone came around the corner and saw the two of you in the bathroom together.

but you couldn't remember the last time you'd talked without mics clipped to your shirts. and you’d missed him, terribly. you could admit that much too yourself.

"close the door?" flew out of your mouth before you could think better of it, and austin raised an eyebrow- but listened without hesitation, shutting it slowly and turning the lock as he stepped further into the room.

the room felt smaller with the door closed, the concern in austin's eyes as he got a good luck at you making your stomach sink.

"how are you doin'?" he asked slowly, and you blinked at the ceiling.

"you mean with being in memphis?"

it was a question you already knew the answer to, but acting a little oblivious was worth a shot anyways, you thought.

"you've been biting your nails again. noticed when we were doin’ the interviews outside." austin said, gesturing a little at where your arms were folded across your body. "remember you tellin' me it was an anxious tic.”

of course he remembered, you thought, trying to will away the feeling of your eyes stinging with tears.

"i've never done a press tour like this,"

"or had a piece of shit boyfriend like the one you have now?"

to austin's credit he looked like he regretted that within seconds of it flying out, and your eyes widening.

you found the fact that he had noticed something was wrong comforting, and yet it made your gut twist all the same.

"he's a hothead, but he's working on it." you said slowly. which earned you an empathetic "c’mon, y/n."

you could see austin's hands fidgeting as you looked at your feet, like he wanted to reach for you but was holding back,

"if you tell baz what's going on ya’ never have to deal with that prick again. you deserve better, a lot better, if you needed to hear that."

forcing your chin up to look at him, you tried to force yourself to believe the words coming out of his mouth. you wanted to- you wanted to think you deserved better than your current situation.

but at one point you thought you deserved austin, and you'd evidently been wrong about that.

it was a thought that made your chest hurt to process when he was looking at you with so much love in concern. austin was a fixer, something he likened to his parents divorce after a few too many drinks once in queensland.

but he couldn't fix this. something he appeared to be unhappy with.

"i did," you said quietly, not realizing how choked you really were until you heard how watery your voice sounded. when you hiccupped you felt a few tears rolling down your cheeks, sucking in a breath when you felt the pad of austin's thumb wiping them away.

he was holding your face so tenderly, mumbling something about he hated seeing you upset, about how it was hard for him not to just go to baz himself about what was going on. that luke had mentioned it to him in passing but they both knew they couldn't.

and it was comforting, until your vision focused enough to realize just how close austin was to your face, his hand still cupping your cheek.

"austin," you swallowed- and the way his eyes crossed over your face to your mouth should've sent you reeling backwards.

but it didn't, and you tilted your head at the same time he angled his down, your mouths colliding in the middle.

the way austin kissed you was far removed from the way you'd been kissed for the past few weeks, and almost exactly the way remembered. almost because he was being excessively gentler than he was back then.

the care in that choice wasn't lost on you.

nor was the fact that while his girlfriend was across the country, your boyfriend was probably going to be looking for you any second now. but here in the bathroom you had him, you had some sense of convoluted security, and stepping back out into real life was something you found yourself wanting to delay for as long as you could.

there was an apology on austin's tongue when he yanked back and you shook your head in his hand that he still hadn't pulled away. his thumb rubbed circles on your jaw, and your bit the inside of your cheek before you spoke.

"five minutes," you said, trying not to let your voice shake. "five minutes, and we can just pretend this never happened.”

austin seemed surprised by the sentiment, but gave you a little nod as he leaned back in.

he only pulled back after a a minute to glance between you and the bathroom sink counter behind you, waiting until your arms found their way around his neck to hoist you up onto it.

the gentleness continued to wade into being excessive, not that you minded. not when it was austin. austin cooing over how much he missed you as he slid a hand up your dress at snail pace, making sure you were okay about every eight seconds. austin kissing the side of your head when you whined into his neck, feeling a little embarrassed over how tightly you were clinging to him. austin whispering “i gotcha honey,”- making you feel like maybe you were deserving of being treated kindly. that you weren’t undeserving of that because you’d screwed up royally in a past life or something.

but there was no way to make five minutes any longer than 300 seconds. or avoid the guilt you saw lingering in his expression as he helped you pull your dress down, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of his own clothes.

“aus,” you said and he looked at you hesitantly, fidgeting with his rings. “this didn’t happen, okay?”

“i meant what i said.“ he spat out, inhaling. “you deserve better and i uh,” he continued, tripping over his words as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “i wish better could be me. really y/n, i do.”

it was his turn to sound choked up, and you found your eyes falling away from his- unable to bear the possibility you’d see tears there.

“i know,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as you rolled your shoulders back and lifted your gaze just a little. “but maybe in another life, huh?”

“wouldn’t that be nice.”

xxx

[faegoddessog]

Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 1/41

Chapter 1: Hey, It's only dinner

Chapter Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes wishes involved here. Naughty stuff begins about Chapter 4 so stay tuned!

Chapter 1: "Hey, it's only dinner"

You are sitting on the Gold Coast of Australia, sketching ideas for the remodel you are about to start. The flat is nearby and belongs to your Uncle. You look up and notice a handsome young man walking by, black hair swept up 50’s style, head down, coffee in his hand. He seems to be listening intently to his earphones. As he walks by he is mumbling in a low deep voice, almost like he is repeating whatever he is listening to. As he passes by you hear “I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. Wrong. Wrroooong.” He sounds a bit like Elvis. You watch as he walks away, appreciating his finely shaped ass.

Later that week, you are overloaded with construction supplies in a ’one trip or bust’ moment trying to get into the elevator. As the doors open, a package starts to fall. “Whoa!” A deep sonorous voice says. Before it hits the floor it is caught by the man in the elevator. You look up into the most gorgeous blue eyes. It’s the guy from the beach.

“Would you like some help?” He says with a stunning smile.

“Thank you, that would be great," you say gratefully. You try to keep cool and suddenly wish you had thought to put on mascara, at least. But here you are, no makeup, in jean shorts, work boots and a questionable t-shirt, hair in a frizzy pony tail face to face with this handsome, dark haired, beautiful man. You get into the elevator with him. “I’m Austin by the way” His fingers touch your hands as he transfers a few items from your arms to his. “Which floor?” Handsome and kind.

You introduce yourself and tell him your floor. “Well, I don’t know what you are doing in about an hour, but if you are up for some heavier lifting, I have a few more things coming later and I could use some help.”

Ever since you started remodeling places abroad, this is the secret to your success. You make friends in the area, usually by asking for help.

“Yeah, I would be happy to help, I was just going to go get coffee, but that can wait,” he seems genuinely willing.

“I was about to make coffee, if you are good with french press, ” you offer as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” he says a bit shyly.

“Nonsense, I insist! Plus I just got some amazing smelling beans and I need to thank you for your help.” You stop at your door.

“All right, hey we are next door neighbors!” He exclaims, pointing to the next door down.

He carries his armload into the apartment behind you and as he sets things down on the table he finally notices the kind of packages he is carrying. “Looks like you are going to do a project of some kind," he says.

As you make coffee, you explain how this is your uncle's second home and he hired you to remodel it.

“It’s kind of a thing I’ve been doing for the past few years. I have a goal to live on every continent."

“Really? How many have you made it to so far?” he inquires.

“Let’s see, US is home, Hong Kong, Bueno Aries, now here, and I did a stint for the peace corps in Ghana” you tick off your fingers, “ so  out five of seven!”

“Nice!” he says, then thinks for a second, “how do you plan on doing Antarctica?”

“Well, I am in the process of applying to research stations as a maintenance worker. Hopefully I’ll get to go in November!” you cross your fingers.

“Wow, that’s amazing, you really are committed. What made you want to do that?”

You pour him a cup as you shrug, “I was in a pretty brutal accident in my early twenties. It really made me rethink how I wanted to live life. I loved to travel and I had already started flipping houses. I have been doing second properties. It has worked out so far."

“Whoa, Do you mind me asking what happened to you?” he inquires between sips, listening intently.

“It was bicycle vs car. A drunk driver hit me and I went off the road and into a ravine. Broken bones, internal organ damage, No spine or brain injury, thankfully. I was pretty broken for most of my 23rd year.”

“Oh wow. I’m sorry that happened to you,” the kindness in his eyes kind of melts you.

“Thanks Austin. After lots of therapy both physical and mental. I’m good now,” you smile reassuringly.

“I, uh, yeah 23 was hard” he says softly, obviously touching on his own memories, “ I mean, it wasn’t anything like that, but I lost my Mom. She was my biggest supporter and my best friend. It made me rethink my life too.” He talks a bit about his mom and how supportive she was of his budding acting career and how much he misses her.

You reach out and touch his hand, “Oh Austin, I am so sorry," you just want to hug him.

“Thank you,” he says looking into his coffee mug. He takes a big breath, trying to shake off the sudden melancholy. “Actually, I think my mom had a hand in getting me the part I am working on now," he admits. He tells you all about how he is making a movie about Elvis.

“Ah, that explains the hair,” you nod and smile.

“Yeah I’m naturally blonde, just like Elvis” He says, running his fingers through his hair. He explains how singing ‘Unchained Melody' to his mom is what made the director pick him, “that and Denzel put in a good word for me,” he smiles.

“Wait, Denzel? Denzel Washington?! No!” You say unbelievingly.

“Yeah, I got to work with him in the play Iceman Cometh in New York, he is amazing.” He pulls up a selfie of himself, Denzel, and other cast members on stage.

“Oh so you are a fancy pants actor, casually throwing out ‘ me and Denzel’, not just some guy trying to be impressive,” you say teasingly.

“No, no, I’m not fancy," he laughs, “I’m just a regular guy who loves to tell stories. I love the work, the delving into a character and figuring out their humanity, what makes them tick.” He explains. “But like there is SO much information on Elvis, it’s overwhelming.”

“My mom loves Elvis. When I was little, we used to listen to his records while she was working. I was on the balcony yesterday, and I am guessing it was you that had him on. It brought back so many memories!” You remember sitting at the little table in her workroom singing to Jailhouse rock and Blue Suede Shoes.

“I’m glad my practicing was enjoyable, I’m still working on his voice.” Austin says.

“ Wait, were YOU singing?” you realize just how good it sounded.

“Yeah, And playing guitar,” he admits.

“Holy crap Austin, I thought that was a recording. Damn you are good hun!” you say, amazed. He looks down shyly.

“Thank you,” he says with a smile. Shy is really cute on him.

The conversation continues. You talk about acting and jobs and experiences. You vaguely remember there was a live action “The Shannara Chronicles” because you read the book, but you haven’t seen anything else he was in.

“That’s probably for the best, most of that stuff when I was younger was… well, I was young. But it was a place to start,” he says a little sheepishly.

The more you get to know him, the more you feel that spark of attraction. When the delivery comes, you head down together and heft boxes of supplies onto the dolly the delivery driver brought. You can’t help but notice the ease of how Austin’s body moves. The muscles that pop on his arms when he lifts. How he doesn’t shy away from hard work. You think you see him eyeing you too, but don't really catch him at it. After everything is unloaded and stacked in the corner of the living room, you turn to him and say “Austin, I would love to thank you with dinner, I’m a passable cook. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Well, I would really like that, you are just so easy to talk to. But I do want to be transparent, I have a girlfriend back in L.A..” He informs you.

You put your hands up. “Hey, It’s just dinner with a friendly neighbor. I appreciate the honesty though. You tell me what time.” Yeah, you are a bit bummed, but you aren’t staying more than a few months here.

You agree to 8 the next day. He brings a bottle of wine and you guys talk and laugh and eat.

This starts a trend of having dinner together a couple nights a week at your place. You end up making your signature continent dishes for him. He is kind, a good listener, polite, and his deep voiced southern Elvis drawl that he floats in and out of is delightful.

You talk about everything. Growing up, losing loved ones, relationships, favorite trips, wishes, dreams, religion, god. He can’t help but bring Elvis into every conversation. You actually like learning all the things about Elvis.

Yeah, you are still quite attracted to him. Those high cheekbones and chiseled jaw, gorgeous blue eyes against the black hair make him stunningly handsome, while the freckles on his left cheek give him just enough of an approachable boyish quality.

As you get to know him, you find he is warm, kind, honest, real and present, these qualities are what make him truly attractive to you. You try hard not to flirt outwardly, just be a friend. You don’t dress up for him or hug/touch him unnecessarily . You refuse to be “the other woman.” But dammit if you don't end every dinner wishing he was available.