#perfumer priscilla

[catcas22]

Perfumer Priscilla

This became a whole thing in Prince of Death ch. 116 because I didn't properly think through my name choice for a background character. But I'm kind of glad it did.

Priscilla is a medicinal perfumer in Radahn's army. When asked what she used to do for a living, she'll always say she's retired. No one knows exactly what she retired from.

The Redmanes are split on whether she's a former drake knight or the hybrid offspring of an ancient dragon in human form. But they all agree that there's something distinctly dragonish about her. They've never seen her without the headband. She is their favorite aunt.

Will occasionally grab a pint with Sir Ogha, as he's the only one even close to her age. She also has a pet crow that she's trained to deliver short messages and fetch ingredients for her.

[gotholsentwin]

one of my wishlist fragrances 🍰 - annabel’s birthday cake by marissa zappas

[slaycouture]

🩵Powdered Skies🩵

[midnightcowb0ys]

priscilla presley advertising this bottle of 4711 snapped me out of depression for a minute

[prncessjaeger]

every girl gets her wish ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

ღsyponosis: eren’s pink obsessed spoiled!gf goes to the mall!

ღan: idk this is kind of a selfship then again idk, anyways song inspo for title: every man gets his wish

ღcw: suggestive ending but that’s it.

“baby, you think this top is cute?” you held up a pink longsleeved shirt and showed it off to eren, who was currently on the phone with his co-workers talking about boring business bullshit, “hm yeah but it’s pink…again-” “so?” your lips formed a pout, knowing he might not even buy the shirt (mainly cause you already have like 3 similar ones in your closet but who’s counting?) and that saddened you deeply. “soo you should pick the grey one, goes well with those pink patricia pants right?”

“they’re called priscilla pants and i mean yeah they do, but i wanna do pink on pink though…” your pout was evident and eren knew this tactic from a mile away…but he couldn’t just keep you sad all day, so! he sighed and grabbed the shirt, adding it to the pile with all the other clothes you’ve chosen. “so i can get it?!” “just keep looking for things you want, i’ll be at the front waiting.” he walked away, clothes in hand and you smirked to yourself, knowing you got your way once again. 

once he paid for your items, you took him inside of this cute daiso like shop, and eren internally sighed before walking in, “oh my god eren! look at these cute headbands, wanna get em?” “no-.” “yes? okay, get that white basket and hold it please?” he snatched (playfully) the basket up and let you sit both headbands in there. you both browsed around the shop, grabbing anything, whether it was perfume sets, stationary sets, and other miscellaneous items. “i’m finished-and the basket’s not even that full this time, baby!” “right…” he looked down and saw the basket (which was full) and just agreed with you, wanting to keep you happy! “your total is $137.20! cash or card?” “card.” eren grabbed his card and you smirked once he tapped it against the green. “thank you for shopping here, girl! your outfit is too cute!” “thank you! yours as well!” you both left the store and immediately you grabbed the bag with the headbands in,

“eren-” “no.” whining, you ignored him trying to move his head away from you  and put the headband on him anyways,

“aww you look adorable! now, let’s go get smoothies!” he finished up his call and smiled softly at you, grabbing you hand and instead of going to the smoothie section, he took you straight into victoria’s secret. 

“oooh they have pink bralette sets and the teddy to match, grab those yoga pants eren with the pink lettering- oh my god! they have pink and grey sets!” eren picked up a few things and walked back to where you were, checking out the new scents for fall, “go try these on.”

“okay, you coming in?” he nodded, “yeah, give me a minute though.” you grinned and walked into the dressing room the worker, kira, opened for you and you checked out the cute set he picked out for you, and hastily tried it on. “eren!” “yes, my love?” “it’s on.” you could hear the scuffles from his shoes rushing to the dressing room, “lemme see it baby,” opening the door you pulled him in, not wanting anyone around you to see you in such little clothing, “soooo…?” “you look…beautiful baby, do a spin for me?” he took your hand and raised it up, twirling you around twice, “yeah, this is real nice…can’t wait to fuck you in it too-”

“eren! people can hear?!”

“so? now c’mere,” grabbing your waist, his lips connected to yours in a soft kiss, moving one hand cupping the fat of your ass cheek as he deepened the kiss, “mmh- eren, c’mon let’s buy it already?” he saw that certain glint in your pretty doe eyes and poked his tongue in his cheek,

“yeah, come one, we’re ending this mall trip a bit early today.”

ღan: boring, yawning, sloppy….lazy.

[ribb0ngirl]

𝑎𝑐𝚑𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔 𝑣𝑖𝑏𝑒/𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑎 𐙚𓂃࣪˖

a guide to radiating the girlblogger/chic mystery girl aura ♡

𝑤𝚑𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟?

♡ Of course there are many types of girlbloggers, but the ones that I am going to be referring to today is the type of Coquette girlblogger, who posts whisper conffessions, girl memes and moodboards. She's attractive, smart, mysterious and knows her worth.

𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑒𝑡

♡ Never over-share! Only vent to your closest friends, if you do stuff like that nonchalantly then people with bad intentions could spread it around and use it against you.

♡ Don't indulge or join in drama, like obviously you can gossip cause who doesn't like to gossip, but don't overdo it.

♡ No more people pleasing! Nobody is worth it, you should focus that energy on you! But still be a good friend and help others when they need it, just remember that your well-being should come first

♡ Stop caring about what others think about you. Like if someone hates on you think will that really affect your life? I don't think so. Care about things that matter like: academics, friends, family, hobbies, girlblogging, etc.

♡ Self-care is important! Take care of your physical health, hygiene and overall well-being.

𝑓𝑎𝑠𝚑𝑖𝑜𝑛

♡ lace tops

♡ floral tops

♡ pastel colored sweaters

♡ ballet flats

♡ uggs

♡ flared jeans/leggins

♡ low-rise jeans

♡ knitted sweaters

♡ pattern tights

♡ mini skirts

♡ leg warmers

♡ heart lockets

♡ bows

𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒/𝑠𝚑𝑜𝑤 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Virgin suicides

♡ Black swan

♡ Gone girl

♡ Pearl

♡ Girl, interrupted

♡ Jennifer's body

♡ Buffalo '66

♡ The World of Kanako

♡ Priscilla

♡ Gossip Girl

♡ Pretty Little Liars

♡ Scream queens

𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ My Year of Rest and Relaxation

♡ The Bell Jar

♡ The Chic Diet

♡ Metamorphosis

♡ The Secret History

♡ Perfume

𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Lana Del Rey

♡ Fiona Apple

♡ Marina

♡ Amy Winehouse

♡ Mazzy Star

[mistybunny]

⋆˚࿔ 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧ 15 yrs old

୨୧ infp - scorpio

୨୧ the 6th lisbon sister

୨୧ anakin skywalkers gf (real not fake)

୨୧ started this acc to make friends / moots w the same kinda vibe as me so if u like any of these things let's be moots!!

୨୧ i love Jesus, tumblr, music, reading, blythe, the dolls, vintage dolls in general, online shopping, music, movies, reading, fashion, the 50s/60s, brandy melville, pinterest, star wars, plushies, vs secret angels, pretty little liars, 2000s media, the colour pink, sweet food, sofia coppola movies, cats, puppies, bunnies, horror, junjo ito, vintage fashion, anything french or russian, philosophy, ancient greece, and nice perfume

୨୧ fav books include; my year of rest and relaxation, twilight, virgin suicides, no longer human, the bell jar, the secret history, tomie, and uzumaki

୨୧ some of my favourite movies and shows are; pll, twilight, gilmore girls, star wars, virgin suicides, girl interrupted, princess diaries, priscilla, palo alto, speak, victorious, I rlly just love any sofia coppola/tim burton films and any good horror

୨୧ music - I like rock, classic and a little pop, some of my fav artists are lana del rey, radiohead, the smiths, deftones, david bowie, ariana grande and the cure

୨୧ aesthetics - very much a coquette girly since 2021 but I dabble in vintage and gothic styles occasionally, coquette, vintage dolls, hyper-fem, gloomy coquette, morute, dollette, 2000s movie protagonist, 60s/50s, vintage americana, 2010s tumblr girly and southern gothic r some kinda keywords I would use to describe my personal aesthetic

୨୧ posts are mainly mood boards and gifs with probably a few little rants here and there, minor tw for maybe sadish content and some horror imagery as well as a bit of religious talk

୨୧ non-denominational christian girly converting to catholicism

୨୧ dni - basic dni criteria + nsfw blogs + anyone under the age of 13

୨୧ no pictures posted are mine unless stated - dm for credit / removal

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

TW: established relationship, toxic relationship, Eren has a temper. angsty

inspired by a scene from the movie 'Priscilla'

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

Eren has a bit of a temper, he is always under constant stress with everything he is trying to do and accomplish. He sometimes has a habit of snapping on people around him, including you. Most cases it's hard to tell if he means it or not. He swears he doesn't mean it.

Eren was in his office in the home you shared. The one he asked you to move into so you would be closer to him, so he could keep you safe.

You were cleaning out his bags from his last couple month trip. He didn't tell you were he went, he couldn't. You understood in a way, if you didn't know you truly couldn't answer when asked and therefore would be safe.

You pulled out a jacket, and shook it to straighten it. A piece of paper fell from the pocket, floating to the ground. Your eyes trained on the folded paper. Slowly you bent down and hesitantly took the paper and dropped the jacket.

The smell of a woman's perfume wafted towards you as you unfolded it. A woman's neat writing marred the page.

Thank you for everything Ren. Meeting you is the best thing to happen to me. ~Mae <3

The note seemed like it could be innocent but the hearts and lipstick marks that covered the paper made your blood run cold as your body shook.

Slowly you stood and walked quickly towards his office, you ignored the closed doors that usually meant to leave him be and stormed up to him. As the doors opened he looked up from where he sat with his feet resting on the desk. Slowly he straightened, giving you a dirty look.

"Sorry I'm gonna have to call you back. Something's come up." Eren hung up the phone and looked up as you held up the note. "Now don't go imagining things."

You scoffed. "Like what? Mae? Ren?"

He sighed annoyed and pushed away from his desk, walking past you. "Look, I don't wanna hear it right now." He continued out of the office. "Well is there something you're hiding?!" Your voice broke as you followed him down the hall towards the bedroom you shared.

"I don't have a goddamn thing to hide! You're always being too goddamn aggressive and demanding!" He stopped in the middle of the room. "You know what? Maybe you should go back home for a little while."

Tears brimmed as he glared and you and walked into your closet. Panic settled into your chest. "What?! NO! I'm not going! I won't!"

He ripped down a suitcase from the top shelf. "Well I think you should! You know what I'll help you start packing!" Eren blew through the closet, ripping hangers of clothes off the rack and throwing them in your general direction as he screamed. "AY! Someone get Y/N a chaperone and get her out as soon as possible! She's going back home for a while!" Eren continued his terror through your closet. "HURRY UP!" He continued throwing items towards you.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his temper took him over. Tears fell and slowly you sunk to the ground, picking up a few items as sobs started to loudly wrack your body. You could barely think as you kneeled on the floor, eyes blind with tears, trying to hastily fold the items. Sobs interrupted you from continuing as you closed your eyes and just let the cries come.

You hadn't even realized Eren had stopped. He kneeled down beside you and placed a hand on your arm. You sniffled, looking up towards him with tear stained eyes.

"I-I'm sorry baby. I didn't mean it. Are you okay?" A sob escaped you and he slowly stood, softly pulling you along with him. "Come on, come on baby, come here." He sat you on the bed, softly gripping your chin and turning your head towards him. You chest stuttered as you tried to hold back a sob, tears still fell rapidly as you looked at him.

"It's okay, I'm sorry. You need me." A soft smile crossed his face as he pulled you in. One arm wrapped around his neck and the other around your torso. He laid his head on your shoulder, kissing the bare skin that was visible.

You're body relaxed into a weird state of calm even though your mind reeled as the event but what could you say? He swears he didn't mean it.

[dolette444]

about me ౨ৎ

❣ my name is agatha, and my pronouns are she/her, i'm infj

❣ my favorite artists are: lana del rey, marina, mitski, alex g, beabadoobee, crystal castles, penelope scott, tv girl, hole, fiona apple, sky ferreira, paramore, arctic monkeys, the cranberries, charli xcx, radiohead, nicole dollanganger, slowdive, grimes, lamp, solya, amy winehouse, kate bush, nirvana, mazzy star, cigarettes after sex, deftones, ethel cain, phoebe bridgers, melanie martinez, air

❣ my birthday is 02/15

❣ my icons are: vlada roslyakova, lana, alana champion, mia goth, anya taylor-joy, sofia copolla, sylvia plath

❣ my fave characters are: cassie ainsworth, effy stonem, pearl, lux lisbon, nina sayers, tonya, priscilla, jennifer, corpse bride, daisy randone, lisa rowe, layla, tracy freeland, love witch

❣ i ♡ dior, 2000's models, miu miu, vs, chanel, old movies, french, purses, pink, white, pretty jewelry, perfume, coffee, 

❣ my fave lana albums r: lizzy grant, honeymoon, ultraviolence, blue banisters, ddyttatuob, may jailer sirens

❣ my book taste: unabridged journals of sylvia plath, girl in pieces, lolita, the secret history, little woman, the bell jar, pride and prejudice, the picture of dorian gray, before the coffee gets cold, my year of rest and relaxation

[luxe-pauvre]

APRIL 2024

Read:

Objectifying Expression

A Reminiscence on Youth and Our Former Selves

Self-respect: its source, its power

The Ugly History of Beautiful Things: Perfume

Goya: Bearing true witness

Camera Mortis

‘Everything Is Terrible, but I’m Fine’

The Antilibrary: Why Unread Books Are The Most Important

How to fall back in love with reading

#24: The Emily Ratajkowski effect

Deep Medicine: How Artificial Intelligence Can Make Healthcare Human Again by Eric Topol

Watched:

why you keep buying books you don’t read*

Dune: Part Two

Scoop

Priscilla

Elvis

Listened To:

Oppenheimer (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Went To:

Yayoi Kusama @ Tate Modern

Women In Revolt! @ Tate Britain

Accidentally West Anderson: The Exhibition @ 85 Old Brompton Road

DIVA @ the V&A

The Cult of Beauty @ the Wellcome Collection

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - suicide attempt,, arguing

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 15

By the mid-sixties he was holding Bible readings in the den of our Bel Air home. I sat next to him one evening as he read passages with great force. Facing us were several of his young female admirers wearing the lowest-cut blouses and the shortest miniskirts. They all listened attentively, disciples enraptured in the presence of “their” lord. The sermon stretched to hours, followed by a question-and-answer period during which they vied for his attention.

Sitting at his feet was an attractive, wellendowed young girl wearing a blouse unbuttoned to her navel. Leaning over seductively, she asked in honeyed tones, “Matt, do you think the woman at the well was a virgin?” With me right beside him, he avoided taking in the fleshy spectacle obviously exposed for his benefit.

“Well, honey,” he said, “that’s somethin’ you’ll have to come to a conclusion on yourself. As for me, I personally think Jesus was attracted to her, but that’s my opinion. I’m not sayin’ it’s fact.”

I watched Matt and the girl talking, feeling undermined and angry. How stupid, I thought. Can’t he see what she’s doing? It’s so obvious.

He drew in a deep breath and said, “I like your perfume, honey. What’s it called?”

“Chanel Number Five,” she answered.

Chanel Number Five? That’s what I was wearing! Why didn’t he notice it on me? I slowly rose and walked into my dressing room adjacent to the den. Determined to snare his attention, I changed into his favorite outfit—a tight-fitting black sheath he had picked out himself.

Returning a few minutes later, I took my place beside him, but he was wrapped up in preaching to his devotees and had totally overlooked my absence. To make matters worse, he didn’t even notice my change of costume. I managed to conceal my distress behind a fake smile and an attentive gaze, but I couldn’t help noticing that he was responding to them with an occasional wink or smile.

I asked questions like they did, but my heart wasn’t in it; I knew they all wanted to take my place. “That’s it,” I thought. “If I’m not appreciated, loved, or wanted, I’ll end it. That will make it easier for everyone.”

I got up and went back to our room. Picking up a half-full bottle of Placidyls, I devised a plan to create a dramatic effect that, in my mind, would win his attention. I stared at them, thinking, What if I choke to death? I decided to take two pills to start. That way I could take a quick shower, redo my makeup, put on my prettiest camisole, and still have time to position myself dramatically on the bed before I consumed the rest of the bottle.

I swallowed the pills and started to prepare myself for the end. In tears, I thought of leaving him a note, writing down everything I’d never been able to say. I’d tell him how I wished that it could have been just the two of us again, as it had been during the long hours we’d spent together in his room in Germany. I’d confess that I was jealous of any woman who caught his attention and that I hated the times when there was only silence between us, even though he’d said he had things on his mind. I’d tell him how I feared his violent temper, which robbed me of my freedom of expression; and how I wished that he’d have tried to understand me as I’d desperately tried to understand him.

Maybe he’s missed me by now, I thought. I ran to the door and pressed my ear against it. I heard him laughing. He was having a great time. They all were. I found that I was disgusted with all of it. I wouldn’t go in there now if he begged me, I told myself. I was too tired anyway.

But I wasn’t too tired to remember how I wanted to be found. I lay down on the bed with my long jet black hair spread over the white pillows, my lips moist with gloss. In my naive fantasy he’d take my listless body in his arms and tell me how much he loved me, kissing me passionately back to life.

I forced down one more pill, lay perfectly still in the position I wanted to be discovered, and waited for what seemed like hours for sleep to overtake me. But the longer I lay there, the less sleepy I became. The more I heard Matt’s laughter, the angrier I got. My adrenaline-charged fury was overriding the effect of the pills. Soon I began to feel foolish.

Then I heard Matt say good night to everyone as he approached the room. I grabbed the nearest book and lay it at my side, as though I’d been reading and had fallen asleep. I heard him come in, quietly walk over to the bed, and pick up the book. He whispered the title, The Listener. I could imagine him smiling, pleased as always when I read philosophical books. He stood over me for a second, probably thinking how sweet I looked and how tired I must have been to retire so early.

Then he covered me snugly with blankets and bent down to kiss my carefully-parted lips. All my anger and jealously vanished. I realized how even a little of his attention could make me happy.

In April of 1964, Larry Geller was hired to replace Matt’s barber, Sal Orfice. Little did we know that their relationship would not only cause a drastic change in Matt, but it would create tension, jealousy, and fear within the group.

I was in Boston when he first met Larry, but I learned all about him through our nightly phone conversations. Matt’s enthusiasm over his newfound friend was infectious.

“You’re not going to believe this guy, Sattnin,” he said. “Larry knows more about the spiritual world than all the preachers and Catholic priests and religious fanatics put together. We have discussions that last hours, just talkin’ and talkin’ about the great masters and my purpose for being here. I’m invitin’ him to Graceland. He’ll enlighten your spiritual development.”

When Larry and his wife, Stevie Geller, joined us, I was surprised to find them both young and attractive. He was kind and mellow. She was sweet and quiet and kept to herself.

However, many in the group, myself included, were suspicious of them. We were all threatened by Matt’s involvement with Larry. It was keeping him from us. It seemed as if Matt was always off alone reading esoteric books or deep in discussion with Larry about God’s master plan for the universe.

Matt discovered there were many great masters besides Jesus. There were Buddha, Muhammad, Moses, and others, each “chosen by God to serve a purpose.” What I was now witnessing in Matt was the emergence of that part of his nature that was thirsting for answers to all the fundamental questions of life.

He asked Larry why, out of all the people in the universe, he had been chosen to influence so many millions of souls. Granted this unique position, how could he contribute to save a world burdened with hunger, disease, and poverty? Why was there so much human suffering in the first place? And why wasn’t he happy, when he had more than anyone could want? He felt he was missing something in life. Through Larry’s insight, he hoped to find the path that would lead him to the answers.

He was eager for all of us—especially me—to absorb all the knowledge he was consuming. Happy to share everything, just as he had with his Bible discussions in L.A., he read to us for hours and handed out books he thought would interest us. He announced that in order for us to be perfect soul mates, I’d have to join him in his search for the answers to the universe. To help me, he gave me several large books, including Vera Stanley Adler’s The Initiation of the World.

He suggested I attend the lectures of the metaphysical philosopher and author Manley P. Hall. I did. I found the lectures difficult to understand and painful to endure, but I managed to survive with the hope that “this too shall pass.”

Then he became interested in Cheiro’s Book of Numbers, which defined people’s personality traits and characteristics according to the day of the month on which they were born. To find out who was compatible with whom, Matt added up the numbers in the birthdays of everyone within the group. I waited in terror, praying that my number would be a six, seven, or eight, so I would be compatible with Matt, who was an eight. Fortunately, my number linked with his.

Although I was striving to be his soul mate and subtly becoming more aware of myself as a spiritual being, my heart longed for the very temptations he was fighting to conquer.

While I patiently waited at home at Graceland for his returns, planning romantic interludes, he was attempting to overcome worldly temptations and believed he was going through a cleansing period, physically and spiritually. Any sexual temptations were against everything he was striving for, and he did not wish to betray me, the girl waiting for him at home who was preparing to be his wife.

He felt guilty and confused about his natural reaction to female advances and I believe that this was his greatest fear when it came to marriage. He loved me and deeply wanted to be faithful to me but never felt certain that he could resist temptation. It was a persistent battle, and it even got to the point where he felt he had to resist me.

“y/nn,” he said one night before we went to bed, “you’re going to have to be pretty understanding these next few weeks, or however long it takes. I feel that I have to withdraw myself from the temptations of sex.”

“But why? And why with me?”

He was quite solemn. “We have to control our desires so they don’t control us. If we can control sex, then we can master all other desires.”

When we were in bed, he took his usual dose of sleeping pills, handed me mine, and then, fighting off drowsiness from the pills, pored over his metaphysical books.

As his soul mate I was expected to search for answers as fervently as he did, but I just couldn’t bear reading the ponderous tracts that surrounded us in bed every night. Usually within five minutes of opening one, I’d be sound asleep. Annoyed at my obvious disinterest, he woke me to share an insightful passage. If I voiced the slightest protest, he’d say, “Things will never work out between us, y/nn, because you don’t show any interest in me or my philosophies.” Then, pointedly: “There are a lot of women out there who would share these things with me.”

Faced with this threat, I forced myself to sit up and try to read the passage. The print swam before my eyes in one big blur.

I wanted to share romantic, not religious, inspirations with him. I tried to cuddle as close to him as I could, feeling the warmth of his body. He told me to sit up and listen, and he read yet another passage, repeating it several times to make sure I grasped its significance. I could bear it no longer. I lost control and started screaming.

“I can’t stand it! I don’t want to hear any more! I’m sick and tired of your voice going on and on! It’s—driving—me—crazy!” I was hysterical, pulling at my hair like a wild woman.

“What do you see?” I demanded. “Tell me, what do you see?”

He stared up at me, his eyes half-closed. “A madwoman, a goddamn raving madwoman,” he answered, slurring his words because of the sleeping pills.

I fell on my knees beside him, crying, “No, Matt, not a madwoman, a woman who needs to make love to and to feel desired by her man. Matt, you can have your books and me too. Please don’t make me beg,” I cried. “I really need you and want you.”

By the time I’d finished my tirade, all I could hear was the faint sound of religious music playing on the radio. I looked up at him. He had fallen into a deep sleep.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - i feel like you guys are going to want to kill me when i get to the last chapter..🎀

[slafkovskys]

how does priss tell the boys she likes them both?

it’s the middle of the summer and arber hates the way that she’s captured his attention. he heard from his brother that he had been hanging out with this girl he met during development camp only weeks earlier and when arber heard the name for the first time, the tires squeal in his brain, priscilla.

he knew her, of course he did. he passes her parking spot every time he walks into the arena, a sign blazing her name.

that’s where he was now, watching her shiny, white bmw pull into the spot delegated for. he’s leaning against his car, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants wishing so much that he could be at home, in bed, but no. priscilla liked to use the arena as her own personal gym during the offseason so here he was.

the young girl steps out of the car, grabs her bag, and before she can walk through the doors, arber bellows out her name. it echoes through the parking garage and he watches as her shoulders tense before her head turns, lips turning upwards to an evil smirk when she spots him. she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and crosses her arms just underneath her breasts, pushing them up a little and arber resists the urge to stare, “xhekaj? what are you doing here?”

“you need to stay away from florian,” he had a whole spill he had practiced on the drive over, while he waited for her, but he seems to forget it all as she’s ten parking spaces away from him. “he doesn’t know what you’re doing, but i do.”

“and what am i doing?”

she takes small steps towards him, “you’re getting him wrapped up in something that he won’t be able to get himself out of. just- let him have his career. you can have anyone else, so just leave him alone.”

“look at you being the protective brother,” she muses, coming to a stop in front of them. the sun hadn’t even come up yet, so it was by the lights above that illuminated the sinister look on her face as she uttered her next words, “now, do you want me to leave him alone because you actually care about him, or because you want me for yourself?”

“you’re ridiculous-”

“am i?” she interrupted his scoff with a raise of her eyebrows, “i saw the way you looked at me when you found me at your apartment during development camp. that wasn’t florian’s sweatshirt i was wearing, was it? you could see the bruises on my thighs, the hickies, and you wanted to be the one who left them. don’t hide under this protective brother facade, just admit it arber.”

she takes a step closer and the faint smell of her perfume wafts past his nose, “you want me.”

arber isn’t responsible for the way that he pulls her forward and smashes his lips to hers, or for the way he takes her in the backseat of his car after. or the shower in the arena thirty minutes later. or however many times they hookup in the coming weeks.

she’s a few days shy of heading off to miami for her freshman year when they find themselves in a bar. juraj is back and he’s across the room, trying to beat cole at a game of pool when priscilla bullies herself between arber’s thighs.

“i know what you could give me as a going away present,” the older man hums as she traces his jaw. her eyes drift over to his teammate, to one of his best friends, and her hands drop to rub at his chest, “can i have him, arb?”

“you want slaf?” he can’t really believe the words leaving her mouth. he was so different from him, from her. she nods her head, the pout on her lips that he can never say no to coming out to play and he rolls his eyes, “priss-”

“he wants me too! he just won’t do anything because of…” her voice trails off as her fingers tug on the waistband of his jeans, “please arber, i’ll be so sweet, so good for you.”

“oh that’ll be a first,” over her head, arber locks eyes with juraj and waves him over with two fingers. priscilla squeals and presses a quick kiss to arber’s cheek, turning around in between his legs and resting her back against his chest.

juraj hands his queue off to kirby and crosses the room, coming to a stop in front of the two, “yes?”

“do-”

“he said yes!” the girl interrupts, practically beaming up at the taller man.

“woah,” arber’s hands grip her hips as juraj’s face goes red, “you already talked to him about this?”

“we made out last week. would’ve done more, but he didn’t want to ruin your friendship or something,” she tilts her head back to press a kiss to the corner of arber’s mouth, “don’t be mad.”

“jesus-” arber scoffs, shaking his head, “you two are going to be the death of me.”

juraj went home with them that night and many thereafter. and now suddenly instead of priscilla and arber, it was priscilla and arber and juraj.

[thatbanditqueen]

I Was The Best Husband

An Elvis Presley One-Shot

A response to the writing prompt "‘are you always this shy?"

Many thanks to my lovely compatriots @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for talking me off the ledge every time and holding my hand and reminding me why I love Elvis and how fun this can be.

Summary: It is March 1972, a month after Priscilla officially told Elvis about her affair with Mike Stone and her decision to leave him and request a divorce. He is in LA, getting ready to go back on tour and his entourage have invited some women over to help cheer him up.

Warnings: Some mild soft core make-out stuff. I think my smut generator is broken. Please send help. Oh, I wrote this today and there are a lot of typos. And some of it or all of it may not make sense. I'd honestly skip it.

Word Count: 4.2K

I Was the Best Husband

Friday, March 31, 1972, 8:30 p.m.

La Fortuna Apartment Complex

Just off Pico Blvd in West Los Angeles, CA

Her first response had been a firm no when Caroline stuck her head around Maureen’s bedroom door and asked if she wanted to come to a party in the hills at Elvis Presley’s house.

“Please, please PLEASE, Mo, I need you there to make sure I don’t drink too much or do anything stupid. 'Sides, Joe told me to bring some friends.”

“Who’s Joe?”

Caroline walked into Maureen’s room and sat on her vanity stool, wiping the corners of her mouth.

“I met him at the Whiskey last summer, when I was in the cage. He’s works for Elvis, took me out to Palm Springs for Labor Day, ‘member?” Carolyn's long, golden hair glistened in the bedroom lamp light.

“Right, how many girls were there? Twenty? Didn’t you say the trip was a bust?”

“I go to sit on Elvis’ lap for a whole gospel song, and then he asked me and another girl to make out in front of him. That’s a story I’ll be telling my grandchildren one day. Don’t you want to be able to do that?”

Maureen shook her head. “Hmmm, I think I’d probably leave out the second part. I don’t know, Cari, I -”

“Ah ha! You’re thinking about it. Get dressed, we gotta pick up Teresa. You don’t want to miss your opportunity to meet Elvis!”

“Right, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to watch the two of you make out on his lap. I don’t know why you need me to come if Teresa is, she makes since, you' 're both waitresses at Bootlegger’s. I’m not sure this Joe was thinking of me when he told you to bring some friends.”

Maureen looked down, smoothing her tee over her small bust while Caroline jumped up and spritzed Maureen’s perfume over her wrists.

“You’re cute, you’re funny, and you have a car, so shake a tail feather and let’s go.”

**************************

Carolyn turned up the radio and “Maggie May” resounded through the car as Maureen guided her Volkswagen bug up the steep incline into the Hollywood Hills. The road twisted and got narrower as they went along and she had to lean forward to feel steady shifting the gears.

Maureen found herself staring at Teresa’s beautiful brown skin as it gleaming in the streetlights while they walked up to the front of the large, white Tudor-style house. Maureen felt like an ugly duckling about to wander into lake full of swans, and hastened her gait, jogging up to link her arm between the other two taller, dazzling women as she balanced herself on her wooden clogs.

Knocking a few times, the door was finally opened by a tall white guy whose name was either Dick, Rick or Nick, and the women made their way into the foyer and down the split level steps towards an large open living room where guests were milling around talking, dancing, drinking. 

Carolyn leaned into whisper, “Joe says they’re trying to cheer Elvis up, his wife just asked for a divorce and moved out.”

Maureen only had a moment to reflect on this when Carolyn’s wrist was grabbed by a stout, short balding guy wearing black sunglasses inside at 10 p.m. at night. This, apparently, was Joe. He reminded Maureen of a a think, fat ground hog with no neck and a big, friendly expression that hid rows of sharp teeth. Joe smiled as he kissed Carolyn’s cheeks and checked out Teresa, then nodded politely at Maureen, as he took Carolyn in hand and led them to go meet “the boss.”

They could hear Elvis’ voice echoing through the air before they saw him as they walked out to the pool patio.

“Man, I don’t know how she could do this to me, I was the best husband a woman could ask for. Ain't no one in my family ever been divorced, 'cept my mean-ass, desertin' no good sonofabitch grandaddy. Unnatural for a woman to wanna break up a family like that. After everything I gave her, too. Provided everything a woman could ask for. And what thanks do I get? She steals my baby away and breaks up our fucking family .”

Elvis stood there at the side of the pool, his arms around two beautiful women as he spoke to a short young white guy, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with long greasy dark hair and bushy eyebrows. Elvis paused his diatribe to kiss one of the woman’s cheeks and ask what her name was again, before his eyes met Joe’s and he made a half grin.

“Hey, EP, you remember Cari from Palm Springs, huh?”

Elvis let go of the women he was with and drew Carolyn into his side,  kissing her cheek and saying of course he remembered her. He hummed a few bars of a gospel song, which made Carolyn giggle, and then asked her to introduce him to her friends as he took Teresa and then Maureen’s hands, kissing them one at a time. Maureen shivered when Elvis took her hand, his eyes narrowed as his mouth turned upward into a crooked grin and he winked at her. She forgot how to talk as his nose grazed the top of her hand and he squeezed it to his mouth for light, warm kiss.

“This here is Arty Shiskee, he’s workin’ on this picture we’re makin’ with MGM, been filming our tour rehearsals all day.”

The short, dark haired man smiled anxiously, and uncrossed his arms to shake their hands. Carolyn leaned into Elvis, and Joe took Maureen by the waist to “show you around, maybe get you a drink, babe?”

Maureen felt as Joe was moving her out to pasture with the other guests not selected for Elvis’ harem, so she tilting her head toward the bar inside and said thanks.

Waiting for three white wine spritzers, Maureen turned to see Arty.

“Hey, Art, is it?”

“Actually, it’s Marty. I don’t have the guts to correct him, he’s Elvis, ya know? I guess I’m a coward. Also, how can I give the guy a hard time? He’s wife just left him.”

“Yeah, he seems real broken up about, huh? How will he ever find another companion?”

Marty chuckled, and pulled his hair behind his ear as Maureen carried on, she always talked more when she felt nervous.

“I guess it’s good he feels comfortable talking about it.”

“Um, yeah, ‘comfortable,’ that’s one way to put it.”

Before Maureen could ask him what he meant, her drinks were ready, and she enlisted Marty’s help carrying them back to the others. This was not easy, Elvis and the girls had disappeared from the patio, and Marty diligently followed Maureen through the mansion until they spotted the back of his shag hairdo on a couch in a large den. Maureen handed her friends their drinks and settled onto the floor, leaning back against the side of a brown velour couch and resting her shoes on the fur rug that extended out from the coffee table. Carolyn seemed at home sitting atop Elvis’ lap, buffeted by two other women sitting on either side all listening attentively as Elvis spoke.

“I am telling ya what, man, I gave her everything a wife could ask for, she wanted a horse, I got her a horse. She wanted ranch we drove by in Mississippi,  by god, I got her the damn ranch. And I bought everyone a truck for the ranch. She wanted a bigger house in Los Angle -lesss, why, I bought this huge goddamn house. Gave her unlimited budget to decorate this place to her heart’s desire. New car every time she blinked. Jewelry boxes filled with diamonds. A closet full of new designer clothes.”

Elvis rubbed Carolyns waist and extended his other arm around the redhead next to him, looking at one, then the other, as he asked. “Now, wouldn’t you like that, honey? Would that have made you happy?”

“Uh huh, daddy. That wouldda made me the happiest.”

Elvis kissed Carolyn’s cheek as she said this. “Right? Thank ya, baby. That’s cuz you’re sweet, normal, nice girl, ain’t got anti-freeze running through your veins.”

He kissed the redhead’s cheek too, and then her lips as she turned toward him and put her hands around his neck.

“I would have been so happy, Elvis, I wouldda let you know, twenty five hours a day, eight days a week.”

The loud smacks of their sloppy kisses echoed through the room, and Maureen suddenly felt very self conscious, as if she was watching something she ought not to. She didn’t go to these Hollywood people parties very often, although perhaps it wasn’t soo weird, she reasoned, for a handsome, wealthy, star like Elvis to make out with good looking women in his own house.

Surrounded by other good looking people.

Who were mostly 20-something females.

Maureen looked around and clocked at least another ten girls just in their area alone, with only three other men hanging out among the guests. Two after Marty waved a small goodbye and slipped out through the side door onto the patio.

Maureen returned her gaze to Elvis, who had paused his kisses with the sympathetic redhead in order to continue talking. Every few moments, Maureen thought she caught Elvis glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she told herself it was nothing.

“Ya see, honey, now, that’s what I told her, I said any other woman would fuckin’ kill to be where you are, to have what you have, to have a husband like me. Uh huh, but not my wife. Nah, that bitch has a heart of stone. What thanks do I get for everything I’ve done? Come home to find all that swag I bought, gone, man, gone.”

He snapped his fingers. “She packed it all up, gave up on a ten year relationship, over ten years, and and left me for another man.” Elvis shook his head, his squeezing Carolyn’s knee.

A smile came over Elvis’ face as he looked from Carolyn to the redhead, and Maureen thought maybe he was going to try and get the two  to make out. Instead, he asked them, “Hey, want to see something out of sight?”

As they nodded, he jumped up, and looked around, his eyes settling on Maureen as reached out his hand to draw her up from the floor.

“Check this out honey, Imma show you how a real man protects his family. ’Git up here, woman, I need ya.”  Maureen stumbled up as Elvis pulled her to the middle of the room and positioned her arms out. “Alright, baby, now stand still and Do. Not. Move. Do you trust me?”

Maureen nodded hesitantly, her eyes wide with what could probably be best described as the opposite of trust. Elvis face lit up, and then he took a deep breath, his hands together in prayer as he centered them in front of his face and down to his chest. Then he proceeded to thrust his leg up, extending the knee forward in a swift karate kick out at her side.

Maureen froze in terror as Elvis grunted loudly and proceeded to demonstrate a rash of karate chops on either side of her face, followed by a few more high thrusting kicks, his black hair flounced in the air from his movements and “hiyas!” echoing around the room.  He chuckled as he caught his breath, rubbing her shoulder.

“Whoa, hey there, you can breath darlin, it’s ok. I’m a black belt.”

He turned to the little crowd that had formed around the room as they clapped and he took a bow.

 “See y’all? That’s how karate can be, if ya know what ya doin’ like I do. I can control my movements precisely and protect my family. I could kill a man with my bare hands if I wanted to.”

Then his face erupted into a grin as Maureen chuckled nervously.

 “Course, I wouldn’t. A true master only uses deadly force as a last resort. Against those who mean him or his family harm.” Elvis growled, and Maureen quickly ducked under his arm, about to sit, or flee, an option she was seriously considering until she felt his grip on her wrist.

“You did great, darlin, I could tell you liked it, saw it in your eyes. Watch out, once it gets you, there's no going back,’” he murmured, and kissed her on her lips, his hands on the sides if her face. Then he held out her hand for her to take a bow before he released her.

“Didn’t she seem fearless? Give it up for Colleen, everyone, bravest little gal in here. Probably the craziest too. Could see it in her eyes.”

He winked as Maureen joined people standing at the edge of the room, before sneaking off to use the bathroom and grateful she hadn’t peed her pants during Elvis’ karate demonstration. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, and mesmerizing. The violence and intensity of Elvis might even have turned her on a bit, but this sensation was almost certainly overwhelmed by the mortal fear that he was going to kill or seriously injure her.

***************************

It was past one when Maureen made a concerted effort to find her friends and persuade them to go home. She had been enjoying the free drinks and picking at some fried chicken as she made small talk with  other guests, avoiding the areas where she heard the loud refrain of the best husband in all of Memphis, Hollywood and the goddamn world. But now she would have to face him, and found Elvis in the living room where she made her way to the corner and scanned the area for Carolyn and Teresa. She was distracted by Elvis' direct glances at her every few minutes. Realizing her friends weren’t with him or in the room, Maureen turned to leave but was stopped by Joe's hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, boss man wants you to come join us," his arm snaked around her as he led her over to the few people still hanging out.

“Hey there, it’s my karate partner. Where’s the fire, honey? Come on,  take a load off.”

Maureen’s eyes widened but she found herself stuttering and unable to talk in the glow of Elvis full attention.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I have to find my friends, Carolyn and Teresa, I think they may have actually been on your lap, at one point.”

Elvis’ lips curled up, and he bit his bottom one as he muttered. “Oh yes, Careful Carolyn, mmhmmm, yeah, I think she and that purty Black girl went home with Jerry, huh Joe?"

The ground hog nodded.

Elvis winked, and then his eyebrows creased as he saw Maureen’s face fall. “Oh it’s ok, baby,  did your friends leave you behind? It’s ok, I, uh, I think they was lookin’ for ya, actually, yeah, they said to tell you not ta worry.”

Elvis squeezed her hand and nodded to the others as he turned and guided Maureen away from the living through a hall.

“C’mon, I know something that will make ya feel better. It’s my cure all for when life gets me down.”

Elvis’ hand slipped around Maureen’s waist, and she let her head dip into his side, more from exhaustion than anything else. The feeling of Elvis tall, sturdy body as he held her to him and kissed the top of her head was comforting, she made the decision not to think about how he seemed to be instantly intimate with every woman he met. She definitely decided not to question whether this quality had been appreciated by his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Elvis pushed them into a large country style kitchen, with a wide, wooden island in the middle. Loosening his grip, Elvis went to the fridge while Maureen determined she would be more comfortable sitting down and settled on the nearest and therefore most logical option: the island’s yellow tiled counter. This is where she sat swinging her legs as Elvis returned with a gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

“Well, now, ya hardly said a word all night, sweetheart, are you always this shy?”

“Um, only with people I don’t know.” Maureen murmured, looking down and pulling the strap of her black jersey dress back up from her shoulder.

“You sayin’ you don’t know me?”

Maureen looked up into Elvis’s eyes, and her heart fluttered as he stepped closer. Now his long arms pushed over her lap to settled alongside her body on the counter as he moved between her legs. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and felt the movements of his chest acutely against her nipples as he leaned closer and hovered in front of her. Exhaling through her nose, she tried not to gasp as she tapped out her fingers nervously and looked down. A lone, nervous giggle escaped her mouth.

“Um, not really. Not who you really are.” Maureen whispered to her lap, which now included Elvis’ hands, rubbing her waist.

He lifted her chin, speaking softly as he looked into her eyes. “S’ok baby, I don’t bite. Much.”

Then Elvis chomped his teeth together loudly into Maureen's face and she jerked back with a giggling gasp.

Elvis laughed, straightening his yellow tinted sunglasses. “Well, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley. Nice ta meet ya, Colleen.”

“Maureen. It’s Maureen, though my friends all call me Mo.”

Elvis’ finger’s trailed up the side of Maureen’s outer thigh, and she swallowed as he widened her legs around him.

“Alright then, see, I didn’t really know who you were.”  He murmured into her cheek. “Nice ta meet ya, Mo.”

Elvis seemed to recognize the effect he had on her, as her breath hitched in her throat and she found her self incapable of talking. He stepped back with a chuckle, and dragged the ice cream over the counter next to Maureen’s hip, pulling off the container top and flipping the chocolate syrup lid with his teeth and a dramatic exaggerated “humpf."

Maureen and guffawed watching Elvis poured the chocolate sauce directly into the ice cream container.

"What are you doing? No one else'll be able to eat that."

“Honey, do you see anyone else here? S’my house, now, dammit, and I’ll do what I want. Ain’t got no wife to nag at me. If I wanna eating ice cream outta the box, then I'll get it out of the box." He said, slurping a messy spoonful into his open mouth.

Elvis brought a second helping to Maureen’s lips. “Now, open wide, like a good lil gal.” He chuckled as she let him push the spoon into her mouth slowly, moaning in delight as she swallowed the sweet, cold, sugary goodness.

“MMhmmm. See, now, do I know how to make women happy or what? You wouldn’t have left me, would ya, Mo Mo?”

“No, but I'm pretty easy to win over. I'd forgive almost anything if a man feeds me ice cream.”

Maureen winked at him and wiped her mouth just in time for another spoon of chocolate swirled ice cream, which Elvis followed with a soft, grateful kiss. He threw the spoon down and leaned into her, his hands moving up her body until they were cupping the back of her head and his lips settled again over hers.

Slow, soft, tender movements turned needier as they rocked back and forth. Maureen’s hands stroked the top of Elvis' shoulders, pulling him in by the lapel as she opened her mouth to meet his tongue. Her wooden platforms hit against each other as she notched her legs around Elvis, gripping him to her, as close as as she could bring him. Elvis stepped back, panting as he wiped his mouth, his lips contorted in a dopey grin.

She could hear the front door slam as people left the party, but they weren't going back to that way when he drew her off the counter and left the ice cream melting where it sat. She could see it in his eyes, a hungry wolfish glare, and his arm pulled her the other way, away from the people, the music, and the main part of the house.

“C’mon, baby, let me give you the VIP tour.” Elvis announced as they walked through the other side of the kitchen to a narrow stair case.

“These are some stupid, expensive-ass refurbished stairs.”

He bounced into the second floor, and turned to draw Maureen into him once more, his hand at the back of her neck and her body thrummed with need as his fingers played with the scruff of her hair. Then he was pressing her to the wall, pressing all her thoughts and misgivings away with his lips, while his hands blindly felt their way over her hips.

Minutes passed by measured by the metronome of air popping softly between their lips. Elvis fingers began to migrate lower, tugging at the hem of her dress. He smiled at the arousal in Maureen’s wide, brown eyes, leading her through a door at the end of the hall.

“Oh loook, huh, I think,” he paused as he walked to turn on one solitary lamp on top of a dresser on. “I think we found, the, uh, bedroom.” He looked down, almost shy, as he grinned.

Maureen swished from side to side playfully, anxiously, hesitantly in place where she stood across the room from him. Suddenly self-conscious, her desire faltered as she thought about where she was and who she was with, and became profoundly insecure about her sexual prowess.

“MMhmmmm. There is a bed.” She murmured, her arm up behind her neck, twisting her long, brown hair aside. “And, it is a room. So I guess it fits the definition.” 

Elvis eyes narrowed in recognition as he strode back to her and took her hand, his lips kissing the top lightly and his nose nuzzling into Maureen’s knuckles. “Hey baby, we don’t gotta do nothin’, ok? You’re the boss.”

Maureen felt a blistering heat grow between her legs, and she let out a breathy exhale as Elvis moved his lips up her arm, kissing his way to the nape of her neck.

“We aint’t gotta do nothin’ you don't wanna do, nothin' at all, ok honey? Don’t shake, sshhhh, s’ok.”

Maureen put her hands around Elvis’ neck, willing away her trembling nerves as the knot in her belly propelled her to be as close to him as possible. She felt ashamed of how much she wanted to do the opposite of nothing, right now, all at once as soon as possible.

“I, um, I’m not one for, I mean, I don’t usually do one night stands.”

He took her hand, and led her over to the bed and pulling her onto his lap. “There, we don’t have ta stand at all.”

Maureen exhaled with a chuckle as Elvis rubbed his hand up and down her thigh slowly, suddenly sheepish and uncertain. He let out a hesitant exhale. For some inexplicable reason, Elvis’ sudden nervousness made Maureen relax a little, and she lifted her fingers to caress his cheek before stranding to take off her dress.

He stopped her, and lifted her right foot to his lap, and then her left, chuckling at her cries as he throw her shoes across the room. Then he pulled her up in front of him, instructing her to lift her dress slowly. Very slowly.

Maureen’s breath escaped her nose in long gasps as she lifted her black dress, drawing it over her head, inch by inch, encouraged by the short gasps Elvis' throat made as his eyes locked into hers. He groaned loudly and bit his lip when she revealed the light, yellow flowered panties with a little yellow bow at the middle. Lifting her dress like a curtain, revealing her belly inch-by-inch, then her breasts, then her nipples, the feel of the fabric brushing over her skin was titillating. Naked, except for her panties, she moved her arms over her tummy and did an awkward little wiggle as she hurriedly sought out the warm of Elvis’ embrace.

His movements were slow and purposeful, trailing his over her as he removed her arms from her tummy and just soaked in the sight of her body, biting his lip and breathing. He met her eyes, and gather her body on top of his, planting kisses along her clavicle, each breath made Maureen’s pulse quicken and she ran her hands through Elvis’ soft hair. He laid her back on to the bed, on his knees between her legs as he slid her underwear off, watching as he revealed her wooly, warm labia, sucking in air as he shook his head with reverence and whispered a low goddamn, goddamn.

Maureen let out a breathy chuckle. “What? What is it?”

“Just beautiful, honey, I just like looking at it.”

“I’m, uh. I think I’ve probably done this less than you.” She let out another nervous chuckle, every cell in her body was telling her to shut up but when Maureen got nervous, she started talking more. “I don’t know how I’ll compare to Vegas showgirls or or even —”

Elvis put his finger her to her lips, then he calmly stood up and kicked off his shoes, hanging up his sports coat and printed dress shirt over a chair.

“S’ok, honey, don’t get all up in your head like that. Shhh, just remember to breath and  uh, follow my lead.”

Elvis returned to hoover above Maureen and kissed her gently. He winked, and Maureen felt him tremble as he moved to unzipped his pants.

“I really was the best husband, ya know? I never expected anything from my wife. Ever. Knew it was my job to provide. And, uh, when it cimes to making love." He blushed. " I, uh, know, well, that its the man’s job to make it good. You’ll see.”

[sug4rcoats]

introducing . . .

welcome  to  excesstv,  SAVANNAH  ROSE OVALLES  —  or  should  i  say  the  GRIT AND GLITZ?  …  a  quick  google  search  tells  me  you’re  a  TWENTY SEVEN  year  old  SINGER  who’s worth 12M.  you've  called  avalon  home  for  SIX MONTHS,  however  something  tells  me  there’s  more  to  you  than  a  flashy  resume  and  penthouse  19B  on  your  door  ?  it  seems  you’ve  managed  to  earn  a  reputation  around  the   city   for  being  PASSIVE,  yet,  upon  further  investigation  it  seems  you're  also  quite  CHARMING.  but  hey,  thats  the  kind  of  mix  that  keeps  people  guessing.  i'm  sure  as  a  PISCES  you're  used  to  people  commenting  on  your  VANILLA SCENTED PERFUME  /  EYES SHADOWED WITH AMBITION AND DETERMINATION, A STAR SHINING IN THE DARK WITH OWN GRAVITY, HANDWRITTEN LYRICS FILLING IN MARGINS OF NOTEBOOKS, A SUBTLE MYSTERY.  but  still  we  can't  wait  to  watch  you  flourish  (  or  fail  )  these  next  few  weeks  … 

statistics .

full  name  :    savannah  rose  ovalles

nickname(s) /  alias(es)  :    sav,  savvy,  s.  

age  /  dob  :   27,  march 10th.

hometown  :    new orleans, louisiana

length  in  the penthouse :   six months

ethnicity  :  mexican .

nationality  :   american 

gender  /  pronouns  :   cis woman,  she  &  her

orientation  :   bisexual  ,  biromantic

character  label  :   grit  and  glitz 

faceclaim  :   priscilla quintana

language(s)  spoken  :  english  and  spanish

accent  :   southern 

hair  :  natural  brunette, long

eyes  :  big  ,  green  eyes.

height  :  5 ‘ 5.

tattoos  :  an array of tiny tattoos scattered in different areas of her body

piercings  :  two  on  each  ear  lobes .

biography .

triggers: alcoholism and death mentions .

despite  what  others  may  believe,  life  for  savannah  ovalles  hasn’t  always  been  as  sweet.  in  fact,  it  was  quite  the  opposite.  a  mother  who  bailed  on  her  family  when  savannah  was  merely  fives  year  old,  a  father  who  cared  more  about  his  next  bottle  than  his  kids  and  her  brother  –  who  had  been  her  rock  through  everything  –  passing  away  when  she  was  sixteen  years  old.  it  seemed  like  she  was  constantly  being  hit  with  brick  after  brick  and  her  only  means  of  escape  was  writing  in  her  journal.  song  lyrics  about  her  life,  her  dreams  and  everything  in  between.  it  was  an  outlet  for  her  and  always  had  been.   it  was  when  she  turned  seventeen  that  savannah  finally  grew  sick  and  tired  of  her  life,  her  home,  her  horrible  father.  all  it  took  was  one  bad,  and  final,  dispute  between  the  two  did  savannah  pack  her  things  up  and  go:    no  longer  wanting  to  hold  onto  anything  that  new  orleans  had.  honestly,  she  never  wanted  anything  to  do  with  that  city.  she’s  always  known  that  she  deserved  better  than  the  life  she  had  —  her  brother  constantly  reminding  her  of  that  when  he  was  live  —  and  now  she’d  hit  her  wits  end.  savannah  wanted  nothing  more  than  to  be  somebody.  anybody.  a  completely  different  person  than  who  she  was  currently.   the  journey  hadn’t  been  an  easy  one,  but  she  fought  her  way  through.  moving  to  los  angeles,  working  part  time  jobs  and  going  to  every  single  record  company  that  she  could  find  until  someone  finally  decided  to  give  her  a  chance.  by  the  end  of  that  year  and  immense  hard  work,  the  brunette  managed  to  get  her  first  album  out:    everything  seemed  to  go  uphill  from  there.  2024  being  her  biggest  year  yet  —  moving  to  new  york,  selling  out  arenas,  more  people  knowing  her  name  and  she’s  basking  in  it.   though,  there  are  people  that  know  of  her  that  are  constantly  bringing  her  past  into  the  forefront  but  savannah  refuses  to  discuss  any  of  it.  she  won’t  talk  about  her  mother,  her  father  and  only  speaks  about  her  brother:    telling  everyone  that  he’s  the  reason  she’s  where  she’s  at  today.  

discography .

albums.

can't  blame  a  girl  for  trying,    2014 .

eyes  wide  open,    2015 .

evolution,    2016.

singular  act:  act one,    2018 .

singular  act:  act two,    2019 .

emails  i  can't  send,    2022 .

emails i can’t send fwd : ,    2023 .

fruitcake,    2023 .

short  n'  sweet,    2024 .

[killedlolita]

݂۫ ♡ ִ࣪͜ ͝ 𓎢𓎠𓎡 ֪֪֪. ⑅ ִ

𓊆ྀི ׁ dollie diary 𝟅ϱ

𝓑asics . .

im a 16 year old 𝘯𝘦𝘸 girlblogger, n i have a boyfriend that i hold dear to my heart ♡

𝓕av artists/bands . .

lana del rey, tommyfebruary6/tommyheavenly6, elita, perfume, whirr, loathe, the cardigans, ptv, etc

𝓕av films . .

i believe in unicorns, tangled, lolita, priscilla, but im a cheerleader, bones n all

𝓘nterests / 𝓛oves . .

literature, unicorns, drawing, journaling, pinterest boards, posting, fashion, cosmetology, animals, japanese horror, jpop/jrock, manga, baking, stuffed animals, pink, glitter, bows, etc ♡

𝓣o note . .

my mental health isnt always the best n i might abandon social media at times

@ killedlolita on pinterest 𐔌 ͜ ݃ᥩྀི ꒱ྀིა more interests can be found on my boards

may update this later on

݂۫ ♡ ִ࣪͜ ͝ 𓎢𓎠𓎡 ֪֪֪. ⑅ ִ

[mrsnancywheeler]

i was thinking abt that one scene in priscilla where elvis tells that girl that he likes the perfume she’s wearing and then she says it’s Chanel no 5 (literally the same perfume cilla uses)

and like i was thinking, this scenario but with billy and “his” girl. like he could be talking to some random girl and then like be all flirty n shit and then he’s like omg that perfume is so nice (or something) and then the girl is like all smiles and giggles and happily tells him the name and the brand of the perfume and then once billy hears the name he recognizes it from seeing it in reader’s like bedroom or purse or something!

-🩰

imagining like this during one of those periods when they've had another blow up fight so you've gone back home, he's been able to push the need of having you around for a while with the writing, rehearsing, recording, the drinking, the drugs, the other girls, so the piece of him you were filling he's able to push away for a while. that's until he's flirting with one of the groupies and he likes that she smells familiar, he doesn't know why or how, but it feels comforting.

he's so close to her face, so close to kissing her and he's keeping that cocky smirk on his face, "nice perfume you got there." maybe if he has her it'll fill the void he's ignoring, the void of you.

she's smiling up at him, flashing a grin, "it's sweet honesty from avon." and boom, billy knows why it's so comforting. you refused to use anything else, you always had a bottle in your purse and one in the bedroom just in case. he misses being engulfed by it, misses you, the longing takes over. he needs you to come back, he can't function fully without your presence. he misses your laugh, messing around on the guitar while you smoked a cigarette on the floor, how animated you were when you talked, cuddling you in his bed, when you'd convince him to go swimming, he misses all of it. he's headed towards the nearest phone, trying to call you and you don't pick up. you always pick up. you're reliable, you're always at the phone when he calls, and now he's scared because maybe he's finally done it. he's told you how replaceable you were one too many times and you'd accepted it even though he was sure you weren't. you were like all the best and worst parts of him, he was attached to you and unbelievable amount.

so he's driving over to your house (more accurately the place your dad pays for) knocking on your front door and a friend of yours opens the door. she's rolling her eyes, sighing, yelling back at you, "he's here!" and he can't deny the way his heart skips a beat when you run up the door.

you've got a small spark of hope in your eyes, "billy!" before realizing you're not supposed to. even if you'd been eaten up inside because this call had taken longer then usual to happen.

"hi, baby." his face has the whisper of a smile on it, "I called."

then you're looking regretfully at the floor, that was the point, if he called you weren't supposed to answer. you were supposed to take care of yourself, but what could you do when he was driving all the way out here just to see you? it made you remember the best of times, made you immediately want to hop back into his car. he can see it on your face, that you'd done so on purpose. "billy..." you trail off and the suddenly you're crying. and he feels terrible.

"hey, come here." billy's playing with your hair, comforting arm around you. "let me take you out, baby. we can go to our place, get some burgers by the pier. need to spend some time with my favorite girl."

favorite, the word favorite rather than him saying 'his' girl irks you, maybe it shouldn't, but you don't want to fight again so you ignore it for now. "yeah, I'd like that." you're meeker after fights, softer when it's time to fix things. now you're playing with the buttons on his denim shirt, which he loves. "can I come back 'round?" you're not looking at him and he's smiling because he knows not to be worried this time, he's won her another highest of the highs with you.

"of course, baby. need my muse around." he's kissing you and you're back to being all smiley. you run inside to grab stuff and as he's standing on the doorstep he can hear your friend berating you for going back, but you don't have a care in the world. you've grown to need billy and you're feeling that lovely high that reminds you why again. before you're out the door back to him again. his arm around your waist as he pulls you with him, "you know, baby, that perfume smells real good on you."

you're smile is so bright, "really?" he's nodding and lighting you a cigarette as you climb into his car, driving off into a repeat of the cycle.