#memphis mafia

[wanderingelvis]

Hi, I really loved your headcanons for how Elvis would talk about an innocent reader to his friends, and I was wondering if you could write an imagine or short fic going more in depth on the mafia guy's not-so-pure feelings for the reader?

I love this suggestion, I hope what I've written is okay - not been feeling the most confident in my work lately! 🧚

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

Everything always manages to fly right over your pretty little head

Dirty jokes, condescending comments, telling looks

Even when someone has to sit you down and explain to you what's going on, sometimes you just still won't understand

Even though you try to understand, sometimes you'll nod along with wide eyes and those pouty lips, at everything that's being said just to try and seem like you're convincing someone, anyone

But it's what makes you utterly adorable to Elvis

And to the rest of the Memphis Mafia

You're so goddamn clueless and innocent that you instantly make anyone with a bit more knowledge than you feel special

You'll cling to them, ask them questions, listen to every word they have to say and try and understand it

And you'll make them feel like they're the most important person in the world to you at that moment

And goddamn, that's an addictive feeling for any man to feel

So it only made sense when Elvis moved you into Graceland with him and you became Elvis' little darling

And the Memphis Mafia's little darling by default

They're all infatuated with you in some way

And Elvis knows

He knows that he's got the prettiest, sweetest, most adorable little thing in the world

So he knows he ain't gonna be the only one to be blown away by you

There's a policy of "look but don't touch" when it comes to you

For no reason, other than your safety, should any of the Mafia try to get handsy with you

But oh boy, do they dream about it

They know better though, they know how possessive and protective Elvis is of you

"I catch any one of you fellas tryin' it on with my Y/N and I swear there'll be goddamn hell to pay."

Elvis tells them on afternoon

You never notice the stares from all of the men

Or the looks they exchange with each other whenever you twirl around or bend over slightly too much and your pretty little panties become exposed

And whilst as a collective, they intimidate many

How else did they get the name, 'Memphis Mafia'?

They don't intimidate you

No, in fact, you'll sit by Sonny all night during a poker game, having him explain the rules and help you with your hand

You'll ask him questions like he's the best poker player in the world all night

And he'll feel incredible because of it

You'll babble and babble at him with questions and he has to try and not laugh as he finds it just so endearing how clueless you are

But how totally determined you are to be able to play with all of the men

And when you play a great hand at the poker game because of Sonny's help, all of the big, old men will suddenly shower you with praise, making you blush and get all nervous and shy at the onslaught of attention

"Atta girl!"

Sonny will chuckle

And you giggle that angelic giggle and give Sonny a hug, thanking him for his help

Only for Sonny to be aware of the unspoken and invisible policy that hangs over your head and he catches Elvis' eye from across the poker table, and he's watching you and Sonny like a hawk

"Why don't you go show EP what you did, hey hon?"

Sonny will suggest, letting you run to Elvis who smiles warmly at you, and engulfs you in a cuddle

A cuddle that makes you feel practically giddy with delight as he effortlessly brings you onto his lap, holding your tummy with his strong arm, keeping you in place

"My clever girl."

Elvis coos in your ear as you sit in his lap, making you smile bashfully and squirm about

Many of the Mafia members watch Elvis' interactions with you and whilst they wouldn't admit it, they were jealous

So goddamn jealous

Wishing it was their laps that you would settle in

That it was the rings on their fingers that you'd absent-mindedly play with when the men were talkin' about things you couldn't understand

Wishing it was them that would end up taking you upstairs and undress you

That it would be them that you'd giggle to as they kissed your body all over

That it would be them that would fuck you endlessly and they'd hear your sweet little cries and moans all night long

Only for you to say thank you at the end

Because you're such a good girl

But it isn't them that gets to experience that, and it never will be

It's Elvis, it's always Elvis

He has your heart

But the members of the Memphis Mafia will settle for having even just a conversation with you

Because even if Elvis has you, at least they have their sinful thoughts of you

[hooked-on-elvis]

I'm shocked (not really, but it's shocking to hear this anyway) to learn that at some point in life Priscilla sued Marty Lacker for a money Elvis gave him. She dropped the lawsuit when Marty counterclaimed it. Marty says "She messed with the wrong guy, but she was trying to use me as a test case against the other guys. She is a lovely person."

(1) February 25-26, 1965: Elvis signing autographs for fans in Nashville while he was in town for the recording session for the "Harum Scarum" movie soundtrack. Marty Lacker is seen by Elvis' side.

YOUTUBE - INTERVIEW WITH MARTY LACKER BY JOE KREIN PART 3 (out of 4) (go to 30:00 to listen his story about the lawsuit by Priscilla)

Now, this is just my personal comments on this but for all I've learned about Marty Lacker so far I believe he had the best interests at heart concerning Elvis. He helped EP with his music career A LOT. The way he puts it, it seems he worried with Elvis' name in the business because: 1. Marty knew EP had so much to offer (as everybody else knew), so much talent to go to waste on unworthy movies and its soundtracks and on general commercially weak songs, and 2. I bet it wasn't funny to see people mocking his friend for the kind of music and movies Elvis was making. Marty, as well as some other Memphis Mafia guys, worried about Elvis' personal satisfaction and well-being for multiple reasons... maybe not all of them being selfless but I still believe they did care about Elvis as a friend and human being even if they had hidden interests and whatever was the nature of them.

Now, all of those guys (all the people) around EP were seeing him killing himself little by little while trying to numb the disturbing thoughts in his mind and the sorrow in his soul... they were witnessing all of the sad incidents happening over the years where Elvis would end up hurting himself or almost dead. Marty was one of the few people that would go against Colonel Parker when he convinced Elvis to try something new for his career, something that would end up giving Elvis a great refreshing moment in his life, something he was hoping for deep down but somehow couldn't imagine how to make it happen himself and the ones who were in the place to advice him were too busy with their own personal agendas to care about the King's aspirations for his career.

Marty was the one to manage getting Elvis into the American Sound studio (later at the Stax too), and Marty was also the one to recommend the Sweet Inspirations to work on Elvis' concerts. Just by that alone, ALONE, could you really think Marty deserved a lawsuit for a money Priscilla didn't even need? I mean, where is the gratitude to some of the close friends of the man she allegedly says she loved?

As he said in the same interview, Marty was no saint… he wasn't a leech either. There was a time when Elvis lent him some money and Marty paid him back some time later, so Elvis was deeply touched by it because normally no one would pay him back ever! That shows something, right?

Maybe I don't know enough yet because I'm relatively a new born in the Elvis fandom, and I absolutely don't agree with every statement I've listened/read coming from Marty but in general I see him as one of the good guys from the Memphis Mafia bunch. I mean, every story has two sides. Maybe Priscilla sued Marty after being counselled to do so by some lawyer she had, like she was when she decided take Elvis to the court again in 1973, asking for more money after the divorce settlement had been set in 1972 - and by this I mean she could've been convinced to sue Marty instead of having the idea herself, which at least would make things a little less awful. But any reason she had to do that, I mean... why? There's things in life we just don't do. Even if she didn't personally liked the guy (and we know from Elvis' friends the ones she really liked were Joe Esposito and Jerry Schilling), she had to admit Marty was a great contributor to the Elvis Presley estate from which she benefits until today. I think for all Marty did for Elvis' career it's reasonable to think that any money he could've borrowed from EP would have already made its way back into the Presley's bank account in other ways. Maybe a little bit of gratitude and respect to him wouldn't hurt. I mean, I'm not totally against Priscilla... in some ways I can understand her, I really can, but not on this. Not when it comes to her greediness.

I just wonder what would Elvis think.

(2) The Presley's wedding day, February 1, 1967. Marty with Elvis and Priscilla.

FURTHER INFO: On July 17 1973, "in the papers presented to the court Priscilla's new attorney seeks to set aside the original divorce settlement." - Excerpt from 'Elvis Day by Day' by Peter Guralnick and Ernst Jorgensen. Now in addition to what has been agreed on the August 1972 divorce settlement, from the 1973 new settlement Priscilla would also receive, among other things, Spousal support, additional $625,000 (in cash) to the original $100.000 agreed and 5% of Elvis' royalties.

[ladelinee]

Little killer

Summary: Elvis will teach you how to shoot, Memphis mafia involved. Fluff (and a bit of comedy 🤭)

Wordcount: 2,7K

You could still feel your puffy eyes as you blink. Sitting in the luxurious dining room, stirring your hot cup of coffee, you wait for the sugar to dissolve, hoping the waiting will also bring the drink to a more bearable temperature.

In the meantime, your head rests on your left hand. God, it’s already 3 p.m., but it feels like 7 a.m you thought. You love Elvis Presley, but this disrupted body clock is driving you crazy. Keeping up with his schedule is exhausting and doesn’t come naturally to you.

The boys are around, laughing and joking. Normally, they don’t bother you, but today is one of those days when you can’t seem to rest. The only thing you need is just five minutes of silence.

Elvis suddenly strode in, his eyes gleaming like the sun itself with a sense of purpose that sent a ripple of tension through the room.

He slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump. “Darlin’!” he said, his voice booming, making you spill the coffee a bit. “Today is the day”

You blinked, wiping the coffee off your sleeve, half asleep. “Elvis, today what…?”

He came closer, with all the energy of a man who thought he was about to change your life. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, and said, “Today, you’re gonna become the girl of Elvis Presley, and no one, no one, will ever mess with ya again.”

You blinked. Your eyes darted to the boys in the other room, who were now peeking in with a mix of shock and panic on their faces. Red whispered to Jerry, “Is he… is he about to do what I think he’s gonna do?”

Your heart began to race as you caught their expressions. Wait, you thought, is he going to propose?A hundred different thoughts raced through your mind as Elvis swaggered closer, eyes locked on you.

Your eyes widened, a nervous laugh escaping your throat. “Uh… what exactly do you mean by that?”

The boys were watching from the corners of the room, looking more panicked by the second. One of them mouthed, “What the hell is going on?!”

You felt heat rise to your face, hands getting sweaty as Elvis stood up straighter, his presence towering over you. He gestured for you to stand up. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you clumsily got to your feet, still clutching your coffee mug like it was a life raft.

Elvis turned dramatically to the rest of the boys and then back to you, his voice full of conviction. “I’m gonna make a woman outta ya today!”

The room fell deathly silent. Just what you wanted but at the wrong moment. Joe was half-standing, ready to intervene, while the rest of the guys were practically holding their breath. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your mind racing with romantic fantasies.

But before you could say a word, Red, who had been sweating bullets in the corner, suddenly stepped forward, waving his arms. “Uh, boss, are you sure you wanna do this? I mean, she’s, uh… she’s not exactly dressed for… a life-altering moment, ya know?” He looked at your pajama situation and raised his eyebrows.

You shot Red a panicked look. “Thank you, Red. Someone who understands.”

Elvis grinned, ignoring Red entirely. He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the door with a flourish. “C’mon, darlin’. I got somethin’ to show ya.”

You stumbled behind him, barely able to keep up, still processing everything. Your mind was spinning. This is it. This is my big moment, he’s proposing to me in front of the boys while I look like a half-awake raccoon. You could practically see Elvis getting down on one knee, and hear him saying something like “Marry me, baby,” with all the charismatic aura he could muster.

Elvis stopped in front of the… wait, were we heading to the shed? Not exactly the most romantic spot, but okay. In the backyard behind Graceland, he threw open the doors with a dramatic flourish. Oh God, here it comes,you thought. He’s about to pull out a ring.

Except… instead of a ring, he pulled out a shotgun.

You blinked. And blinked again.

Wait… “… Elvis?” you said slowly, still holding onto the tiny shred of hope that this was all leading to some sort of romantic surprise. “What’s this?”

He grinned, grabbing the shotgun and holding it out to you like it was a bouquet of roses. “Today, baby, you’re learnin’ to shoot! No woman of mine goes out into the world without knowin’ how to defend herself.”

From the door, Jerry groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Red shook his head, laughing so hard he was almost in tears. “This is the best day of my life. She’s over here hearing wedding bells, and he’s giving her gun safety lessons.”

Elvis, meanwhile, was already in full-on drill-sergeant mode. “Now, darlin’, here’s what you’re gonna do. Take this here gun, stand like this, and aim straight at that target.” He set up a tin can on a fence post like it was a challenge sent from the gods.

You stood there in your pajamas, coffee-stained, barefoot, holding the shotgun with a look of complete disbelief. “Elvis, I don’t know if this is really…”

But before you could finish, Elvis waved his arm grandly. “Boys!” he shouted back at the house. “Everybody outside! I want y’all to see how my baby’s gonna blow y’all’s asses away real soon!”

The guys, now looking even more bewildered, slowly shuffled outside, clearly trying not to laugh.

You awkwardly positioned the gun like Elvis had shown you, feeling all of their eyes on you. Elvis stood back, crossing his arms, proud as ever. “Go on, darlin’. Show ‘em how it’s done.”

You pulled the trigger, and the recoil was so strong it almost knocked you into next week. The shot went wide, really wide. You weren’t sure where it landed, but it definitely wasn’t anywhere near the target.

Before you could even catch your breath, you glanced at Elvis, but his face was hidden from view. His gaze was fixed firmly on the guys, though you couldn’t tell why.

There was a moment of dead silence as everyone processed what just happened. Then, in perfect, awkward unison, all the boys started clapping.

Not a normal clap, either. Oh no. It was the most sarcastic, slow-motion, forceful clapping you’d ever heard.They didn’t want to disobey Elvis apparently.

“Wow” Jerry deadpanned, still clapping as he’d just witnessed the moon landing. “She really nailed it.”

“Right on target” Red added, grinning like an idiot.

You shot them all a death glare, your ears still ringing from the blast. “Thanks, guys. Really feeling the support.” You replied.

Elvis, still beaming, gave you an enthusiastic slap on the back that nearly knocked you over again. “That’s alright, baby! You’ll be the sharpest shooter this side of Memphis by the time I’m done with ya.”

You sighed, wiping a stray hair out of your face.I could’ve been getting proposed to right now you thought. Instead, I’m missing tin cans while grown men clap for me like I’m their five-year-old niece.

Elvis sauntered over, clearly noticing your less-than-perfect stance. “Alright darlin’, you’re doin’ great, but let me show ya how it’s done” he said, his voice a smooth rumble. Before you could protest, he slid in behind you, so close you could feel the warmth of his chest press against your back.

Your breath hitched.

He wrapped his arms around yours, his hands guiding yours back onto the shotgun, correcting your grip. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he leaned in to speak softly in your ear. “Now, you wanna keep it steady. Relax those shoulders, darlin’. Don’t be so tense.”

Your heart was beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it. Elvis’s hands were warm, firm but gentle as he adjusted your hold on the gun “See?” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. “Just like that.”

You could barely concentrate on what he was saying. The mix of his warmth against your back and the tickle of his breath on your ear was making it hard to focus on, well, anything.

"Now, darlin'," he said, "take a deep breath. Hold the gun firmly. Once you exhale, you'll find it easier to control the trembling."

You did as he asked, inhaling slowly, but your breath came out shaky. How could you not be shaky with him this close? The smell of his cologne mixed with leather was all around you, and his voice: deep, rich, and filled with that unmistakable Southern charm, was enough to make your knees weak.

“Keep your eyes on the target” he murmured, his mouth so close to your ear that you could feel the vibration of his words more than you could hear them. “And just… pull the trigger when you’re ready. I know you can do this, baby”

You pulled the trigger, and this time, the shot wasn’t as wild as before, but it still didn’t hit the target. It whizzed by it, probably scaring some poor bird in the tree behind it. The recoil was strong, but this time, Elvis held you steady, his grip keeping you grounded

He let out a low chuckle, still close enough that you felt it rumble through your back. “Almost, baby,” he said, his voice teasing but not unkind. “You’ll get it.”

From the door, the boys were clapping again: loud, exaggerated, sarcastic claps that echoed through the yard. “Great job!” Jerry yelled, laughing. “Nailed it that time!”

You groaned, turning your head to give them a look, but Elvis was still so close that you ended up brushing your cheek against his. Your face heated instantly but Elvis didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, he was grinning down at you, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Alright, fellas, that's enough for today. Give us some space."

Elvis's gaze remained locked on your lips as he spoke, his eyes filled with tenderness.

“Let’s try again, honey,” Elvis said, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he noticed you getting a little nervous under his gaze.

You tried to focus all your attention on the can ahead of you. You breathed in slowly, trying to follow the instructions Elvis had given you. But just as your finger grazed the trigger, his voice, soft and teasing, broke the silence. “You look beautiful today, darlin’ ” he whispered, his arms slipping around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

A blush crept up your face instantly, and you could feel the warmth of his body against your back, his masculine energy completely surrounding you. A shiver ran through you, not just from his words, but from the way his sideburns brushed against your ear as he leaned in to whisper.

“Even in pajamas?” you asked, your voice coming out softer than you intended, your smile tinted with embarrassment.

“Especially in pajamas” he replied with that irresistible grin, his blue eyes locking onto your face with such intensity it made your heart skip. And before you could even catch your breath, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling.

“Elvis, you’re distracting me,” you laughed, your voice a little shaky.

“I know” he grinned, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “But I bet my baby shoots even better when ol’ Elvis is givin’ her some love.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mixing with your nervous energy. “Why do you want me to learn how to shoot?” you asked, watching as Elvis moved his hands over yours, adjusting your grip on the gun with effortless confidence.

“’Cause you gotta know how to protect yourself if I’m not around” he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. “You’re gonna be my little killer, the boss of this house.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, and you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the can ahead of you. But with Elvis so close, the warmth from his body and the teasing in his voice made it almost impossible to concentrate. His presence was overwhelming, in the best way.

“Alright then,” you breathed, doing your best to steady your hands. You tried to follow his instructions, feeling the weight of his arms gently guiding yours as your finger grazed the trigger.

“Take your time, baby. Breathe with me,” he whispered, his lips brushing your cheek again in the process, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. His chest rose and fell against your back, slow and steady, and you instinctively matched his rhythm, your heart still racing despite your efforts to stay calm.

With his arms around you and his presence grounding you, you finally squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked back slightly, but the bullet flew straight, hitting the can dead center with a loud ping.

You gasped, wide-eyed with surprise. “I did it!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with pride as a huge smile spread across your face.

Elvis chuckled, his laughter rich and deep. He gently took the gun from your hands, letting it fall to the ground without a second thought. Before you could react, he swept you up into his arms, spinning you around effortlessly. “Atta girl!” he said, his voice brimming with pride, but there was something deeper in his tone, something tender. “Told ya you could do it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, still beaming from the success and the thrill of being in his arms. You could feel the strength in his embrace, but it was his warmth and affection that made your heart race even faster.

Elvis’s smile began to fade slightly as he stopped twirling you in the air and gently set you back on the ground. With a look of pure affection and love, he cupped your chin, his eyes soft as he spoke. “My sweet baby, I love you.”

In that moment, you felt so small, dwarfed by his height and his presence. But the way he looked at you, the depth of his love, made you feel both protected and cherished. His love surrounded you like a warm embrace, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft, a smile tugging at your lips.

“By the way, honey” Elvis said softly, his voice carrying a playful yet serious tone, “The best restaurant in Memphis is closin’ up just for us tonight. So, darlin’, get yourself ready. I got some plans in mind.”

Your heart immediately began to race. Elvis rarely went out to restaurants; that was one of the downsides of dating a celebrity. Fans would always be there, making it impossible for him to have a peaceful dinner, so you usually stayed in or dined privately in his suite. If he’d gone to the trouble of shutting down an entire restaurant… it could only mean something important.

Elvis winked at you, and you swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you fully.

Slowly, Elvis leaned down, his face inching closer to yours. Then his lips finally met yours, it was soft and slow, like he was savoring every second. His kiss was gentle at first, but as your lips moved together, you felt the growing passion behind it. The sensation of his smooth, freshly-shaven skin brushing lightly against your face sent shivers down your spine.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he deepened the kiss, but it never lost its tenderness. It was as if he was pouring all his love for you into that moment, holding you close but with the gentleness of someone who never wanted to let go.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to let your foreheads rest together, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes, dark and hooded, met yours again, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“Now that” he drawled and smiled “was better than any shootin’ lesson.”

[elvisbooty76]

[fayegonnaslay]

Graceland, 1969.

[doll-elvis]

MARTY LACKER : “I'll tell you something about Elvis. If he watched a football game on TV, he wore a helmet. He dressed for every occasion. If he watched guys on TV riding motorcycles, he would have his motorcycle helmet on. You'd walk in and it looked funny. I mean, you walk in, he's sitting there with a football helmet on. You’d say, ‘Good lord, Elvis, what are you doing?’. He’d say, ‘I'm watching the game'”

quote from “Friends remember Elvis Presley” on the Larry King show

[sergeantelvis]

"I'm Sorry"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she had enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.:*♪:･’.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.:*♪:･’.:♪*:･

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

[rosepresley68]

Elvis + You + Memphis Mafia = Chaos 2

Hello everyone, I hope you had a great day, here are some other thoughts that come to mind. I hope you enjoy them. 🥰❤️

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

Jerry: And how is married life going?

(Y/N): Okay, I guess, yesterday some of the guys went out drinking, and you know Elvis isn't a big drinker, but last night he drank quite a bit.

Jerry: Oh no, what did he do?

(Y/N): Well, I try to set our marriage certificate on fire saying "GOOD LUCK TRYING TO RETURN ME WITHOUT A RECEIPT!"

Jerry: Why am I not surprised?

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

Jerry: One night in Las Vegas, I was really drunk, and I married my best friend.

Elvis: (Y/N) and Charlotte are still upset, but it seems like a good idea at the time.

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

(Y/N): —Look at Elvis—

Elvis: Don't look too much, lest you fall in love. —Smile flirtatiously—

(Y/N): —smiles— I don't think it's a problem.

*MOMENTS LATER*

(Y/N): —Kick the Graceland door— THERE'S A FUCKING PROBLEM!

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

Elvis: Baby, I feel like we're growing apart.

(Y/N): I'm literally on the other side of this couch. Come here.

Elvis: Can't you come?

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

(Y/N): I guess I have a slight tendency to criticize a little.

Jerry: You guess?!

Elvis: Slight?!

Red: Tendency?!

Sonny: A little?!

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

Elvis: Alright, you're all exaggerating. (Y/N) is not in love with me.

Coronel: Yes, she is.

Vernon: Yes, she is.

Memphis Mafia: Yes, she is.

(Y/N): Yes, I am.

[dailyallthingsjerryschilling]

Attending George Klein's Wedding.

[alienelvisobsession]

Jerry Schilling Appreciation Society

I just finished Jerry’s book (Me and a Guy Named Elvis) and oh my god, he’s the bestest friend. Unlike many others who wrote books about Elvis, he’s very tactful and respectful. His love for E is obvious and sincere, but it’s not just that. He seems to be just a very good person: honest, insightful and introspective. He doesn’t bad-mouth anybody, not even the people who didn’t like him. I loved reading about his shenanigans with E, like going to see Nixon or the taco contest they had in Hawaii! Oh and also, he’s hot, ya know?

Jerrah is love. ❤️ Let’s take a moment to appreciate hunka Jerry.

[aliypop]

My Babe

Word Count: 2,123

Writers Note: My first hardcore smut fic y'all! Thank @sissylittlefeather and my Graceland Trip for this masterpiece! I hope you all like it!

Warning: SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: It's 1971 and the Memphis Mob are hanging out in the TV room indulging in some delights of films until Mrs. Presley shows up.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

Graceland 1971

The movie room had been a well-missed room. With Elvis on tour and his wife Cecelia home tending to Jesse and Elaine, he needed some time to hang out with his boys, the Memphis Mafia. Well, some of them, sitting in the mirror-tiled ceiling room, there was Joe, Jerry, Red, and Elvis, who was puffing on a cigarillo, the smell filling up the room burying itself deep into the carpet. But there was something else that the men were buried deep into the picture show on the projector. It was a porno that was lying around if you'd asked Elvis about it. It was just on the table when he'd gotten there. Usually, he'd hidden those things so the kids and his wife wouldn't find it.

"You ever do anything like that with C," Jerry asked as Joe and Red egged Elvis on for an answer, 

"It looks uncomfortable," Red commented, looking as the actors went on to do one of many positions 

"It is." He winked back, taking a long drag. 

"You're kidding?" Red questioned, but Elvis had that sly smile on his face that said everything without his lips moving, 

"E, you mean you've done that?!" Joe laughed as Elvis nodded,

"Pleasurable for her, though," Elvis smirked,

"Cece is a loud one..." Jerry mumbled as Red agreed.

"Listenin in gets you off or something?" Elvis glanced at Jerry,

"I've been on the plane with you two." Jerry smirked, "Not to mention. My God Niece and Nephew are what seven now?"

"You make a good point." Elvis rolled his eyes as his friends laughed at him. 

Coming down the stairs in her pink nightgown and heeled slippers were Cecelia. Though she'd never admit it, she always loved the mirrored ceiling staircase. Because it reminded her of the day they had first installed them and their "test" run view with them. Inching around the corner, Cecelia could hear the sounds of laughter and moans coming from the TV room. As she finally arrived, Cecelia tried not to hold in her laughter from the sight she saw. Cecelia tried to hold in her laughter as she heard Elvis and the boys had been in a heated debate.

"What'cha watching, boys?" 

Joe, Red, Jerry, and Elvis got quiet like little boys caught with their mother's lingerie magazines. 

"Mrs. Presley, We were uh!" Joe started out,

"How'd that even get up there?" Red laughed bashfully,

Jerry just stared at her as if he knew there was a setup of some kind. 

"B-Baby, you shouldn't be watchin this crap!" Elvis tried to find the remote to stop the movie. 

"Right, a lady like you shouldn't-"

"Well, of course not. After all, it's not like I wasn't the one who purchased it." Cecelia smirked as Elvis' eyes went wide, "Who'd you think bought it, surely not Red?" she smirked as Elvis glanced at her. The robe over her shoulders and the feverish hue on her tawny skin was she sending him a message.

"You're one dirty girl, C," Jerry commented,

"You just now figured that out." She chuckled as she sat on her husband's lap to watch the rest. Elvis could feel his pants getting tight and the blood rushing to his cock as her straps fell from her shoulders. 

"You should tell 'em to go," Cecelia whispered in his ear, her fingers in his sideburns. 

"But honey..."

"Elvis, I'm not wearing any panties... And not to mention, I've had to touch myself lately." 

"Mmm, is that so..." Cecelia nodded,

"Mhmm, dripping wet right now," her voice had a whimper in it. Elvis trailed his hand up her dress and in between her legs as he brushed a finger against her lips, slowly pulling his finger back from under. He had a boyish grin that was devilish.

"You know this was a great time, but-"

"E, you're not kicking us out!" Joe asked, "Jerry, it's getting good he's not kicking us out!"

"No, but I am, Joe, Red Jerry out!" Cecelia projected as they got up and scattered out,

"Bit rude, don't you think..." Elvis joked as she straddled him,

"Elvis Aaron Presley, I'm hot and bothered, and I need you to fuck me. None of that soft shit tonight, just pure grade-A sex." she pointed to the projector. Elvis touched her skin as it was feverish with lust, her body grinding on his thigh to get some friction. "

 Fuck baby, tell me what you need, baby."

"Uh- uh, you've... Ah~ been so bad, which means..." her body still grinding in a rhythm that was driving her on edge,

"Means what..." He shivered, feeling her wet slick through his pants

"You can't touch me til I say so." her breathing was getting thin, and her eyes were fluttering, 

" You ain't gonna last long, darlin." He whispered, bouncing his knee against her clit as she moaned louder, her hands on her breast as if she were trying to rip her own clothes off, 

"Elvis! Fa! Fa!Fa!" slipping the dress off her, he plunged his fingers deep inside her, massaging her G-spot as his other hand was around her breast, massaging and sucking on her nipple, giving it a bit of a nibble and tug as she erupted in a pleasurable scream. 

"What was that about til you say so?" Elvis smirked as he looked up at the ceiling. Her face was even more heavenly in its reflection. Lying her down on the couch, Elvis was between her thighs as he lapped at the bud of nerves with his tongue like a kitten needing milk. He wouldn't lie and say that this wasn't his favorite fruit he couldn't get from any store, but with his fingers and tongue deep in her pussy, he couldn't help but fall more in love with his wife, 

"ELVIS FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!!!" was all he could hear in between her pulling his hair, glancing up she could see the sight that she'd forever have in her brain, Elvis between her thighs, eating like a man on death row, devouring her wet waters like a man who'd been thirsty for years, her legs squeezed around his head. But he didn't care. Elvis knew Cecelia was close to the light at the end of the tunnel. Watching as her eyes rolled back and legs shook, he'd begun to rub her lips and speed up his fingering and eating as she had soon squirted all over the couch.

"You okay, baby?'

"Mhmm."

"Good, cause I ain't done with you." zipping his pants, he took his cock out, stroking it some more to get it ready for Cecelia, who was now between his legs kissing his thighs as she focused all her attention on his pretty blue eyes. There was already loads of pre-cum on the tip, but Cecelia didn't mind. Her pretty lips were wrapped around the base as she bobbed her head to a steady rhythm. His head fell back on the couch as he looked up, almost finishing just from the sight of her on her knees, 

"Think you take it all down. baby." 

Cecelia nodded as she took a deep breath and deep throathed him. Her nose brushed against his balls as she massaged them with her free hand, 

"Fuck baby, you're doing so good." his hips sputtered as he got closer, "Mngh!" was the noise he made when he felt her swirling, her tongue in between his tip. It was as if she were sucking his soul from out of his cock. 

"Oh God!" his eyes rolled as he pumped thick streams of his cum down her throat, coating her tongue with a heavy amount of the nearly translucent fluid. 

"Open wide, baby." He commanded as she did so. "Good girl." he pulled her up, kissing her swollen lips. The two exchange their separate tastes with each other. 

Picking her up, he walked over to the bar. He had her facing forward toward the mirrors, "Look at yourself, baby. Is this what you want." He asked as she nodded, "Baby, I don't read head nods."

"Yes~" She moaned, feeling him slide his cock inside her slippery wet cavern. 

"Hold on tight." He ordered as he began a steady pace, her breast knocking into the yellow leather as his balls were knocking into her skin. Cecelia looked up, and she saw the fucked out look on her face. Mascara smudged, her eyes rolling back, and her curls ruffled up. 

"Look how sexed up you look, baby." he pulled her hair as he kept going, his pace faster, 

"Deeper! Harder, faster!" That was what she commanded until he pulled out and carried her to the wall towards the Jukebox, her legs straddled him as she was up against the wall, 

"Put me in darlin?" He asked as she did so, his hips driving into her as her nails dug into his back and her curses began to sound like sinful prayers. 

"OH GOD, ELVIS FUCK ME!"

"SHIT, you feel so good," he began to rut in her until he carried her back to the couch, 

"Ride me?"

"Like your name was Charro." She smirked as Elvis reached for his Cigarillo again, taking another drag from it as she slowly began to bounce herself on his cock, his hand giving her a nice smack on the ass, telling her to go faster, blowing the smoke away from her face. Elvis put it back in his mouth until he felt it missing. Cecelia was bouncing faster, and his cock was brushing up on that familiar spot she loved so much. Hanging from her mouth was his beloved Cigarillo taking a big drag from it she sat it down inside the astray as she kissed him passing the smoke to him as her tongue wrapped around his. Pulling away slowly Cecelia felt his hands on her cheeks as he pulled her into another kiss, when she pulled away she was then leaning back almost into the position of the bridge as he began to ram himself inside her, 

"Baby you're so... Fuck! Sexy!" 

"Does this turn you on?" her fingers fiddling with her sensitive clit as she kept riding him, he had begun to lick his thumb placing it there to give her more pleasure, 

"Yes oh God yes," he groaned as he kissed her neck and bit down. Changing the position Elvis was lying down as she was still going, her breast bouncing in his face, reaching to grab them he squeezed and pulled on them, 

"You know these are mine right?"

"All of me is baby."

"Good." He said both of them were breathing harder as the coil in her stomach was getting near, she could feel the hot sensation of his cum shoot inside her "as she collapsed on his, a grin on his face, 

"Come on Angel I know you got one more in you."

"El..." her eyes were glossy, but there she was on her knees his cock between her breast as she began to rub him down with them, with the tip would hit near her mouth she'd open and lick the pre-cum off him as she'd nearly slurped him down. 

"Baby more." his eyes caught sight of hers. The way the curve of her breasts simply drove him insane. He couldn't help but believe that he was the most blessed man to have his own pornstar hidden in his wife, 

"Can't get this kind of lovin from those movies, can you?" she smirked as Elvis shook his head,

"I can't read head nods, darlin." 

"N-N Oh fuck faster!" he growled as she blushed hard,

"Good boy," She smirked, peppering his cock with kisses and love bites, 

"Getting closer, sugar?"

"C-C- Cece!" he began to shake as ropes of cum decorated her perky breast, a laugh escaping her lips as Elvis blushed,

"Baby, I'm sorry I didn't mean to,"

"Shush... It was sexy..." taking her fingers as she licked some of it off, like frosting from a cake. 

"You give me fever doll. a hot blistering fever." he laughed. Walking down the hall he grabbed a towel and cleaned them both off as they were lying on the couch now watching the news. Elvis was buried deep inside her his hands on her waist as she took a nice big sigh,

"Hey, can I get my jacket..."

"Jerry, you're still here!" Cecelia blushed, popping up from behind the couch."

"I'll come back tomorrow." Jerry sighed,

"That makes two of us," Elvis smirked, kissing Cecelia.

"Elvis..."

"Yeah Jerry."

"Shut the hell up." He sighed. "And put some clothes on Cece!"Elvis and Cecelia laughed.

"Sheesh guess someone's been getting railed by life lately..." Cecelia mumbled.

"I heard that!"

[wanderingelvis]

Hi, So can you do one with innocent reader where like she meets the mafia for the first time and they ask her sexual questions but she like wtf.

I love this!! I love interactions with the Mafia! Thank you for the request, enjoy! 🧚🏻

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

word count: 1,448

pairing: elvis x female!reader

warnings: mention of religion and sex

You were spending time in Elvis' lavish hotel suite with Elvis and the Mafia as you all took a break from the constant and relentless routine of shows. You'd just joined them all on the road as a backing singer and Elvis had taken an instant liking to you. You were docile and compliant, happy to do whatever he, or anyone else, wanted. He loved that he could mold you into whatever he wanted without taking away from your bubbly little personality.

You liked Elvis too, he never really pushed your limits like your singing coach would or some of the executives on the tour would. He was a safe haven. However, the same couldn't really be said for his entourage, the Memphis Mafia. It's not that you didn't like them, you just figured they didn't like you. You were quiet, reserved and shy and they were all the entire opposite of that. 

They hadn't really bothered to interact with you much either, they would barely even glance your way usually. Little did you know that they knew better than to speak to you. You were Elvis' little girl only.

Right now, you were busy telling Elvis all about how excited you were at the prospect of performing at a local carnival show, that it might be your biggest audience yet and that you were nervous but eager to do it.

"Pretty girl like you is gonna have all the boys and men flocking to you after that little show you give 'em. But I bet you're already used to that." Elvis mused, brushing away a curl of hair that had fallen in front of you face.

"Well, no actually." You said, oblivious the eyes staring down at her from one of the most famous men in the world, as well as his entourage.

"No?"

"No boy back home would even wanna come near me, they were all scared of my Momma," You softly giggled, remembering all the times your mother would practically bark at a boy that even looked in you direction. It had always been embarrassing and you were still terrified of crossing your mother.

"Wait, hang on a minute," A voice interrupted, you followed the sound and you were met with Sonny West, who was sitting on the couch opposite you, drinking whisky and smoking his cigar, listening in on the tales you were telling Elvis.

"So you've never...?" Sonny interrupted, taking a sip of his drink. You shook your head, sitting upright on the plush couch as Elvis walked over to the drinks table to pour himself and you a drink. "You're telling me, you've never even taken a mans fingers?" He said, clearly overstepping, but you were just a little confused.

You looked over to Elvis who was just watching the interaction play out, and gave you a reassuring nod. He knew that Sonny was prone to a drink or two and could get out of hand.

"Um... no, um, I don't think so." You said quietly.

"Fuck, tell me you've at least had your first kiss." Sonny said, cracking up at the idea of your lack of sexual history. You politely and sweetly stayed quiet, just shaking your head a little. Sonny's eyes widened when he realised you were being serious, laughing even more. When you looked over at Elvis, his eyes were dark and intense, trained just on you.

"Sonny." Elvis said sharply, but it went over Sonny's head. Elvis could see you were uncomfortable and he knew Sonny was being an ass.

"EP, c'mon!" Sonny said, before turning back to you. "You must be pretty glad you're in the Hollywood scene now then, eh kid? You'll get a guy and everything that comes with it with a bat of an eyelash." Sonny chuckled.

"M'not a prude, I just wanna save it all for when I'm married, I want it to be real special. My best friend, Patty, she's done it all and that's okay, I ain't gonna judge none," You insisted, you knew how liberal and carefree Hollywood was, you knew that you were surrounded by different lifestyles, you just didn't want anyone to think that you thought less of them for it, because you didn't. Sonny let out a booming laugh, causing everyone's heads to turn to him and your cheeks to flush, worried you'd said the wrong thing.

"Waiting until marriage? Honey, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time, you're not eighty years old sweetheart." He patronised, chuckling to himself. You chewed on her lip a little, feeling a little stupid. "It's just what, um, m-my pastor says God wants." You said softly, crossing your arms to cover your chest a little, feeling insecure. You didn't really like all of the 'Mafia', you knew Jerry was nice and you could see why he was Elvis' favourite, but Sonny and Red weren't as friendly.

Sonny slapped his thigh as he burst into more laughter. "I thought this generation were supposed to be all loving, what happened huh? God?! It's like my mother's here." He chuckled. "Woah now, if Y/N wants to wait for marriage, she ain't gotta justify it to you Sonny. Really, it ain't got a goddamn thing to do with you does it, Son?" Elvis said, almost menacingly, to his friend. "Why don't you go find somebody else to berate rather than picking on the little girl huh? Goes for all of you, get outta here." Elvis said, nodding at the door before sending you a wink, making a smile creep onto your face before you felt your cheeks get hot. Sonny's cheeks also flushed, embarrassed at being scolded by the Boss, but none of the Mafia wasted any time in getting out of the dressing room, leaving you and Elvis alone. "Sorry about Sonny, he likes to think his goddamn opinion is more important than it actually is." Elvis said gently, sitting back down next to his sweet girl, who was still sitting firmly upright, not relaxed in the slightest. You looked up at Elvis with confusion on your face and a furrowed brow, which Elvis thought was the cutest thing he ever did see. "D'ya think I'm silly?" You asked softly, worrying that maybe your admission might make Elvis think differently about you.

"I think you'd be silly if you rushed yourself and made yourself unhappy." Elvis comforted, making your shoulders stop tensing. You shot him a quick nervous smile.

"Just want it t'feel right." You mumbled, picking at your fingers.

"I know, I won't let them upset you again little one." Elvis promised, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly to give you a cuddle, the type of cuddle you loved having with Elvis.

You felt so comforted and looked after by Elvis, he could be surrounded by anyone and yet he'd ask one of the Mafia to find you because that's who he wanted. You weren't sure yet as to why, but you never complained, you loved being in his company.

As your mind wandered, thinking about all the ways that Elvis made you feel good, your eyes widened with an idea.

"Elvis?" You asked as he hummed in response. "Would you give me my first kiss now?" You asked shyly, nerves flooding your little body as you peered up at him to gauge his reaction.

Elvis studied your face before shaking his head. "Baby, you're not ready, you know that, don't ya?" Elvis cooed.

"I just-"

"I know sweetheart. But you're not ready for all of that, you're just lettin' Sonny's words get to ya." Elvis assured softly.

"I know." You said, feeling a little embarrassed and defeated, even if you knew that Elvis was right, he always knew what was best for you, better than you did at this point.

Elvis watched you and all he wanted to do was kiss you, rip your babydoll dress off you and fuck you senseless. He'd imagined it more times than he'd like to admit and he couldn't wait for the day that he'd finally be kissing your soft skin all over. He knew that that day would come, but he knew it would only live up to his expectations if you were ready, and he knew you weren't.

"How's about I make you a deal then, baby?" Elvis suggested, gently tilting your chin up so that you would be looking at him. "How's about, when you're absolutely sure you're ready, you come find me, and I'll give ya a kiss?" Elvis proposed.

You giggled a little at the idea, but you liked it. You didn't feel pressured, only looked after.

"'Kay." You said gently, another giggle leaving your lips.

The pair of you smiled at each other, each letting out little laughs and enjoying each others company as Elvis decided to count the days until he got his kiss.

[hooked-on-elvis]

How did Elvis took care of his awesome hair? 🚿🍃

Plus, a quick overview on one of the King's hairdressers and Memphis Mafia man, Larry Geller: How somewhat he was the friend Elvis needed and how Elvis' over-controlling inner circle banned Geller from their surroundings for a while.

I was actually looking if I could find Elvis' haircut name - precisely the type of haircut he had on the '68 Comeback Special and "Charro!" (1968), since I'm a girl and I have zero idea about the names for male haircuts but I just love that haircut he had so much I wanted to talk about it... anyway. But I found an article about Elvis' hair care routine and that sounds very interesting to me, so it might be something you wanna know too.

This is told by Larry Geller, so this means this was Elvis' hair routine starting from mid 60's on, precisely from 1964 to 1967, and possibly also from late 1972 to 1977 *, periods in which Larry was responsible for taking care of the King's hair.

Geller, who will be launching his own line of organic hair products later this year, tested out some of his first custom mixes on Elvis. “I used to go to the health food store and get a benign base shampoo and get some vitamin capsules and pour 99 percent pure aloe vera and other herbs into it, and shake it up,” Geller tells Yahoo Beauty. “That’s what I used on Elvis’ hair. He said to me, right from the get-go, ‘You can do whatever you want with my hair, but one thing — make sure I keep it!’” Source: Yahoo Beauty: Elvis Presley’s Hairstylist Spills the King’s Secrets by Lilit Marcus. The article was shared on a Graceland's website on January 28, 2014.

Elvis, you're the best, man. LOL. Just that comment is worth this entire post. It made me laugh. But the article goes on.

Then there was the daily routine. “I shampooed his hair regularly, usually every day. I would massage his scalp for a few minutes, then brush his hair at least 50 or 60 strokes. I was focused on long-term health of his hair, which was so important,” Geller explains. He also used products like vitamin E and jojoba oil to style Elvis’ hair and replace conditioner. Hairspray was used to set it, with Geller alternating multiple brands so that none of them would dry out Elvis’ coif too much. As for its color, Geller dyed Elvis’ hair every two to three weeks with a L’Oreal formula. What did the two men discuss during all that grooming? Religion, philosophy, books, life, and anything else you can think of. “Elvis had everything,” says Geller. “He was an extraordinary human being. He had the greatest eyes, the greatest voice, fans galore. He also had great hair.”

Elvis in "Frankie and Johnny" and "Spinout", both 1966 movies.

Larry Geller styled Elvis’ hair for: "Roustabout" (1964), Girl Happy (1965), Tickle Me (1965), Harum Scarum (1965), Frankie and Johnny (1966), Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966), Spinout (1966), Easy Come, Easy Go (1967), Double Trouble (1967), and Clambake (1967). Geller prepared Elvis’ hair for the last time for his funeral in August, 1977.

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Elvis' hair must have been so good smelling and soft. Washed every day, organic products to make it smooth and shiny as it was. 🫠🥹

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Now, if you want to understand why there's a pause in Larry's association with Elvis, here it is:

LARRY GELLER QUITS WORKING FOR ELVIS IN 1967: INDIRECTLY CAUSED BY ELVIS' HEAD INJURY POSTPONING THE FILMING FOR 'CLAMBAKE'.

On March 9, 1967, Elvis was staying in him home in Bel Air, Los Angeles, and one incident (Elvis tripped over a TV cord in his bathroom and banged his head against a porcelain bathtub) caused the beginning of the production for the movie "Clambake", for which he was preparing to, to be postponed. Colonel Parker was fuming when he heard about the need for Elvis to take a couple of weeks of resting to recover from the mild concussion he had. It was a critical moment in Elvis' life. By the time the filming begun, Elvis even put up some weight from his normal 170 lb (77 kg) to 200 lb (91 kg) — I said it before, whenever this happened to Elvis' body it was because he was extremely distressed. He was an emotional eater.

Getting back to the accident, Parker even thought Elvis did it on purpose not to fulfill his Hollywood commitment since Presley clearly was not happy about his movies anymore, something Parker somehow blamed it on Elvis' spiritual quest. He pulled some strings to manipulate Elvis to remove Larry Geller from his inner circle by saying to him that all that spiritual thing was getting too much into his head, distracting him from his business obligations. If not enough Parker said to Presley that Larry Geller was brainwashing him because of some personal agenda he must have had in his mind — it's mentioned by someone, somewhere (i'm sorry, I'm not gonna remember where I've read it now) that Geller was planning on using Elvis' money to open a religious study center or something like that).

Basically, Parker thought Larry was a threat because if Elvis decided in throwing his career away, like some say he was by becoming a preacher, Parker would lose his most profitable and only client. Consequently all the religion and spiritual "shit" (as they called) that Larry Geller had put inside the King's head (as they thought), presenting him with many books and having deep conversations for hours with Elvis about several religious and spiritual subjects but not exclusively that, they also talked about meditation and self improvement as a human beings, astrology and so on, all of that was threatening Parker's plans over Elvis.

But Parker didn't make it on his own. Even Priscilla says in her memoir book that Elvis was obsessively reading non-stop and wanting to share his learning with everybody else, but his friends and herself didn't care about none of this self-improvement and religious talk. His inner circle even looked at Presley's spiritual quest as somewhat annoying, including Priscilla. Their thoughts about Larry Geller were something like "Larry changed his mind. Elvis is not spending time with us as he used to." Ugh!

Nobody actually told Larry to leave, tho, and Elvis wouldn't do such thing if he didn't have a good reason to - until this point Larry was a confidant to him, one of the only people he could talk about life and wonder what was God's plan for him, his true life mission, something Elvis would never cease trying to understand. However, Elvis' inner circle and Colonel Parker begun making Geller feel uncomfortable, unwelcome among the group, while they took Elvis' attention back to them, practically forcing Geller to decide to finally leave and go away for good, and he did it. But it was not something definite.

Many things happened in Elvis' life since Larry Geller and him went different ways but by August 1972, tho, Geller got back in contact in Elvis when he attended one of Presley's concerts in Las Vegas, and from then on Larry begins working for Elvis again, till the end of the King's life in 1977.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Love In Trouble [Part One]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler,

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2576

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

Notes: The first couple chapters are a bit slow going but we'll meet Lori and Elvis soon I promise. Looking to post every other week with this one :) Enjoy

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Ever since he was a little boy Austin Butler had loved the sun. There was just something about it; the way it shined basking everything it covered in a golden hue or how everyone seemed a little happier whenever it was out. He supposed it was because it made him feel like he was at home in California, a place he had been missing quite a bit recently, the clunky fit of her new job and his run down flat making him yearn for palm trees and ocean breeze. He’d even take his old partner at this rate, a curmudgeonly old man knocking on the door of retirement and not one to care about a young detective trying to find his feet in a new precinct. Though if there was one thing he desperately missed about home it was the fact that the Californian heat couldn’t wreak half as much havoc on a dead body like the balmy air of Memphis did.

After working in homicide for so long he’d figured he’d gotten used to all the smells that a ripe cadaver could hold but in this tiny apartment with no air conditioner and the contending June temperatures he was proved wrong. He held his breath as he ducked under the police tape cursing himself for having eaten not so long ago as his turkey sandwich did cartwheels inside him. Then again he supposed it could be worse he could be the guy splayed out on the floor in front of him lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes still staring out glassy and cold.  Austin sighed.

Even though his entire job was murder it somehow never got any easier. The number of dead bodies he’d seen didn’t take that sickly feeling away whenever he was confronted by his latest victim. Though admittedly he wondered if that was less to do with a life being snuffed out too soon or the fact he knew that at some point he’d have to take this news to their friends and family and rip their world apart. It was a grief he’d known himself, one that never got easier no matter how much time or distance you shoved between yourself and it.

Given that the coroner had yet to arrive it meant that the crime scene was technically still closed and so he was careful to keep his distance when he bent down beside the body, wrinkling his nose at the fresh waft of decomposition. The guy was young, no more than early twenties if he’d had to guess, and attractive too in a boyish sort of way. Though they were lifeless now he could tell his pale blue eyes were striking and had no doubt once complimented the guy’s skin tone even if it was now waxy and pallid. In fact the only detracting feature was the bullet wound to his temple which he had no doubt looked better on this side than the one that had landed face down, spewing blood onto the beige carpet and turning it a deep shade of brown. 

‘There’s gunpowder on his face,’ his partner, Detective John Melling, said as he appeared from nowhere, his errand to find the manager of the place apparently done with.

‘Yeah I know, a close shot,’ Austin said, pulling up from where he was crouched and trying to ignore the way his slacks stuck to the back of his knees as if glued there by sweat, ‘which means that bullet is probably somewhere in that bookshelf.’

‘Good luck with that one,’ John snorted. Austin rolled his eyes. He liked John. He was a good detective, smart and good with families, but he, like most of the other detectives in Shelby County, had yet to make his mind up about the newcomer from California. And so he treated him as the rest did, with caution, until he proved his worth which in this instance meant finding a bullet amongst a backdrop of wood and wall. 

As John moved away to rifle through the man’s mail Austin moved around the room, stopping first at the bookshelves. He could see the path it had taken, ripping a novel in half as it hurried to its final destination only that looked to be out of reach and so he made a note to circle back to it. After that he moseyed on looking for his first impression, one that was building bit by bit until he spotted an older bald man standing by the uniformed officer at the police tape.

‘Can I help you?’ Austin asked the man who had been staring at the body as if in a trance. Austin moved to block his view, feeling a sudden urge to protect his victim as if he was now exposed as if he hadn’t already been ogling the guy himself. 

‘Uh, no, I er,’ the man mumbled. John barely looked up from the stack of envelopes as he said, ‘he’s the one who called it in. Landlord.’

‘Oh,’ Austin said, moving towards the man so that they were just separated by the doorframe and police tape. Again the landlord’s eyes flitted back to the body, his colour paling as he suppressed a dry heave. Austin cleared his throat, diverting his attention as he asked, ‘you see anything uh?’

‘Geoff, Geoff Halton,’ the landlord said, ‘and uh no. Like I told your friend I was just coming to collect the rent.’

‘When’s that due?’ Austin asked.

‘First of the month,’ Geoff replied. Austin raised an eyebrow.

‘And you waited,’ he paused, checking his watch for the date, ‘what five days to come and ask for it? That doesn’t sound like any landlord I’ve ever had.’

‘Well he’s never normally late so I gave him a few extra days,’ Geoff said as he pulled a crinkled-up handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks so that he could dab his sweaty brow, the perspiration nothing to do with the outside temperature. Austin knew he was being unfair that the likelihood of this weathered middle aged man having anything to do with this was low but he had always found putting the first responder under pressure to be a good technique. In their desperation to prove their innocence they offered up more evidence which looking around the bare bones of this guy’s apartment couldn’t be a bad thing.

‘Five’s a lot of days,’ Austin countered.

‘Like I said he’s never been any trouble and I’d rather have one good tenant a day or two behind once in a while than a nightmare one on time. But when he still didn’t swing by my office I thought something might be up,’ Geoff replied.

‘So when he didn’t pay up you came around?’ Austin asked, receiving a nod in return.

‘I knocked but there was no answer,’ Geoff replied.

‘Did you let yourself in?’ Austin asked, his eyes surveying the wood of the door for any scuffs or marks. If he had done it was likely that any prints on the door handle would be useless. 

‘I have the master key,’ Geoff said, adding in protest when he saw Austin deflate, ‘but I only ever use it for emergencies! And when I came in I could smell, well, that. I saw him lying there and I knew there ain’t no use checkin’ he was still alive so I called you guys.’

‘Do you know his name?’ Austin asked, suddenly realising he’d been poking around in this man’s life without even knowing his most basic detail.

‘Tony,’ Geoff replied.

‘Tony what?’ Austin pressed.

‘Bowen,’ John replied, holding up an envelope as Austin looked his way before turning his attention back to the landlord.

‘Did he live here alone?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Geoff replied.

‘Any relatives?’ Austin pressed, the mugginess of the room making this feel harder than he’d anticipated it to be.

‘I’d have to check his file to see who he listed,’ Geoff said, ‘we’re not exactly close.’

‘Obviously the man’s been laying in your building dead as a doornail for five days,’ Austin countered, his sniping coming out before he had a chance to stop it. Geoff seemed bolstered by his tartness, straightening up from the nervous pathetic puddle he’d been and growing irritated as he said hotly, ‘what I meant was I don’t know much about him. He keeps to himself; he keeps his nose clean and that’s as much as I need to know.’

‘Not too clean evidently,’ John countered, finally moving away from the stack of unopened post. Austin could feel him looking around, surveying the scene, and feeling as though they’d probably pressed about as much out of Geoff that was useful he decided to cut him loose in favour of asking his partner his opinions.

‘Go with officer Bryant here and find those papers. We’re gonna need a next of kin to notify,’ Austin said, not waiting for a response before he turned his back on the man. John raised an eyebrow but waited until the pair of them were left alone with just Tony for company who admittedly didn’t make much of an effort to join in.

‘You were a little sharp with him don’t you think?’ John asked, perching on the edge of a sofa arm.

‘It gets them to the point,’ Austin said dismissively, ‘and considering he wasn’t much help that’s a good thing.’

‘Yeah? Let me guess the room’s telling you more than the eye witness is,’ John said, his scepticism poking through. That was another thing he was still getting used to, the reliance people of the south had on human nature. Over the dozen or so cases they’d worked together he’d been astounded to realise just how much word and character spoke when clear cut facts were staring people in the face. In fact ‘they’re good folks’ was a narrative he was sure he’d never get on board with. Still he didn’t bother to argue the point but rather present the facts themselves showing how even without speaking the room had said more than the landlord had.

‘Maybe. He’s a single guy right?’ Austin asked.

‘Looks like,’ John said, glancing around, ‘he could have a girl though.’ 

‘One that doesn’t get in contact or check up on him for more than five days?’ Austin asked, raising an eyebrow. As John shrugged and nodded in agreement he continued, ‘from the looks of this apartment I’d say he’s a single guy living alone and his landlord doesn’t know his next of kin which means he either doesn’t have one or they’re infrequently in touch or at the very least they don’t come here to see him.’

‘Right,’ John replied.

‘So why are there two glasses of half-drunken scotch on the coffee table?’ Austin asked, watching as John noted the two whiskey glasses in front of him.

‘So there was someone here,’ John replied.

‘But his mail is unopened and the pizza box on the counter is full, an uneaten pizza just sitting there,’ Austin continued making John’s eyes drift past him to the De Roma’s pizza box sitting on the kitchen worktop, the bottom of the cardboard darkened by the grease that had been soaking into it as the pizza lay uneaten.

‘So what?’ John asked.

‘I think he came home with the pizza and mail in hand but he was distracted by someone coming over. It mustn’t have been planned otherwise they’d just eat the pizza together. If it happened after he’d been home for a while the pizza would be gone and his mail opened,’ Austin said.

‘He opens the door for the guy who’s gonna put a bullet in his skull and asks him if he wants a night cap?’ John said sceptically.

‘Maybe the person came to talk and Tony felt like he had to,’ Austin replied.

‘But if it was about something worth killing the guy for I can’t imagine it was a polite chat. And apart from the dead guy the apartment looks in pretty good condition to me,’ John said, glancing around the room. He was right apart from the unsightly corpse in the centre of the room; the rest of it was relatively tidy. Granted it wasn’t very large with the room split into a living and kitchen area but there was no clutter, apart from the bookshelf there wasn’t much personality to any of it. It actually resembled Austin’s current apartment, devoid of personality though his was due to lack of time to make it his own given the fact he was new in town and always working. Though at this point that felt slightly better. He may have not had a chance to put a fresh lick of paint on his walls but he also hadn’t had a chance to make enemies like Tony apparently had. Austin was thinking about that, wondering what had made the guy sit down with the person who would end his life. 

Had he known what was coming or why they were there? Or had he been blindsided by it all? 

‘Is that his file?’ John asked, snapping his partner out of his trance as the landlord reappeared at the door along with their officer. Apparently Austin’s attitude had left no love lost as he nodded but didn’t say anything, offering the small manilla folder over the tape as if signalling both his compliance and reluctance at the same time. Austin rolled his eyes but watched as John took the folder from him before he quickly scurried out of view.

‘What have we got?’ Austin asked as John threw the folder down on the tiled counter with a splat before he started to sift through it. If he was being honest with himself he wanted to read through it himself but knew it was probably better to give him the lead here. John’s eyes flitted across the pages. From what Austin could see there were a few info pages, copies of receipts and rent stubs but nothing much else.

‘Says here Grandma’s next of kin but it looks like she lives in Florida,’ John murmured as he read through the sheet, ‘lease agreement was signed over a year ago and he works at, oh.’

‘What is it?’ Austin asked craning his neck to try and spy what he had spotted. Though as his partner looked up, a beaten expression falling across his face he started to worry.

‘He works at Kings,’ John said with a sigh.

‘So?’ Austin said. He’d heard of the place. A little club on Beale Street, a home of good music and the hotshots of Memphis though he had yet to scope out the joint for himself. What he had heard though did not warrant the reaction John was giving, one that signalled their job had just gotten a little harder. Then again as a native Memphian maybe there was something Austin didn’t know yet. After all there wasn’t a club or bar on his patch when he worked the beat he didn’t know inside out. He knew which places were known for trouble and those he could rely on for a tip here or there. And from the look John was giving him he was sure Kings wasn’t one of those he could hit up for some friendly police cooperation.

‘So if he works there then chances are this is something to do with them,’ John said.

‘Who?’ Austin asked.

‘The Memphis Mafia.’ 

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @lettersfromvenus @artlesson8892 @presleyenterprise

AUSTIN TAGS

@purejasmine @caitlin1996

[elvisbooty76]

[ladelinee]

I’m enjoying so much this book! the last paragraph! 😂

Excerpt from Elvis and the Memphis Mafia