#ElvisPresley

[presleybutlervsp]

April 25, 1912

Gladys Love Smith, Elvis' Mother, was born in Pontotoc County, MS to Doll and Bob Smith.

#elvisaaronpresley #elvispresley #elvis #graceland #elvis history #elvishistory #tcb #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvis the pelvis #elvis music #elvis the king #50s elvis #gladys presley #vernon presley

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Fort Dix to Memphis

Summary: Having traveled for 24 hours, hopped two continents and crossed an ocean, little baby Rosalee has no more patience for the endless homecoming interviews and pageantry required of her Daddy’s precious time, time that should be her’s in this strange, loud, American new world. What’s a new father to do when his baby “Schnucki” won’t stop wailing when he leaves her? Why, do the interviews with her in his coat, of course!

Warnings: Fluffy and wholesome as can be, PG, only small upsets may include a woman nursing, a father helping a baby latch while nursing, colonel parker not minding his business and trying to shove Elaine out of the public eye, Journalists being passive aggressive, little children in some distress

Word count: 4k

Requested: yes

Masterlist

Circa: Early Spring, 1960

“I don’t think she’ll settle without nursing.” Elaine really tried to keep the emphaticism out of her voice as she reclined into the rather luxurious bed the sleeper car was furnished with, watching as Elvis paced in the tiny walk between the window and bed, cradling a fussing Rosalee, lights turned down to nearly nothing and her baby cheek pressed to his just like she liked it. She wouldn’t fully go under though, and Elvis was certain she suspected his motive of making her sleep to then slip out and speak to the journalists waiting outside, while Elaine surmised it was an empty belly keeping the sweet dreams away.

Dark Cherry wood paneling and padded headboards that made it easy to lean against and nurse, low lighting that made it feel like something out of the old Hollywood movies, the train car was coziness personified -and of course Elaine had her exhausted children all in a tidy row between her and the vibrating train wall. All but Rosalee.

Colonel Parker had balked at the expense of such a luxury car, an en-suite bathroom, two beds making an L in the room and a little sitting room adjacent through a door, perfect for press and visitors -and play space- on the long trip. Elvis thought it was perfect for his family, and that’s where he and his manager differed. Colonel Parker had been very eager and very full of plans upon meeting the freshly stateside Presley’s. He’d come aboard the plane as soon as it touched down at Fort Dix and stressed the importance of Elvis going off solo.

“Colonel, I’ve got four children outta the womb, and my wife’s only got two hands.” Elvis had pointed out the obvious and that logic had won over the Snow Job’s dream of reintroducing a rehabilitated and unencumbered Memphis Flash back to the American public.

Colonel Parker then had some ideas about various ways to ship Elaine back to the backwater by cattlecar while Elvis did press in the north -alright he didn’t put it like that but it was the essence of his intent, according to Elaine’s shrewd perception, so much so even her father, Mr. Phipps had balked in offense at the obvious intention of shoving Elaine and her growing belly away from public view.

If Elvis Presley wanted to be so besotted with her that he’d give her five children in less than four years, he could damn well walk down a jetway with her. A sentiment her Mopey agreed with, of course he did.

And before much more fuss could be made, Charlie Hodge and good ole Rex Harrison had spent their newly demobilized time procuring the best train car on the line, and they spent a great deal of Elvis’ money to incentivize that train car to go to Memphis instead of Baltimore.

Those were the sorts of logistics, haggling and arrangements that Elaine usually took great interest and responsibility for negotiating, but freshly arrived from a transatlantic flight, three press conferences deep, decently pregnant and toting four children and a jumpy husband, she found herself ceding such tactical responsibilities for the seemingly endless amount of breast-feeding and lullaby singing her jet-lagged infants needed.

To be honest she was exhausted. As was Elvis. And their children. So much traveling and so much interacting and never a quiet moment. If one pair of twins was down the other roused and neither parent had gotten a full hour of uninterrupted sleep in two days. But still, Elaine felt happy with the warmth finally soaking into her as she snuggled beneath down covers with three little heaters tucked beside her, Daisy Mae dozing at her breast.

And she got to watch Elvis pace and coo and take the responsibility of soothing Rosalee very seriously, he always did.

“C’mon Schnucki, daddy ain’t goin’ nowhere far, hims right here, you jus’ lay your pretty lil head down and close those pretty yittle eyes, alright? You just close them eyes and picture a pretty green lawn with lil blankets on it and wildflowers we can pick and I’ll even get you little lambs to jump around and -that’s home Schnuki, we’re gonna be home tomorrow baby. I know, I know s’been so long for daddy too, hims could cry to, I could, I swear I could but it’s happier to think ‘bout bein’ there soon, and if you close your yittle eyes and dream bout them pretty clover flowers, you’ll get there even sooner. Did ya know that, Schnucki? Sleep makes ya time travel, it does, honest, baby. It does. So you just close those lil eyes-“

His low, murmuring babble was so soothing Elaine felt her arm holding Daisy go limp and she nodded off for a breed second before a resumption of Rosalee’s pitiful fussing jarred her again.

“Elvis baby, let’s try nursing.” she whispered gently, snagging his blazer hem on one of his turns along the little path he’d made and keeping him close.

He pulled Rosalee off his shoulder and held her little onesie clad form at arms length, surveying his inconsolable little one. “I dunno, ya look pretty fat Rosy, but I reckon there’s always room for more, hmm? Hmm baby? You wanna snuggle with mama’s titties, hmm? Get you all nice and warm and full of milk.” he stepped closer to the bed and Elaine scooted aside, with some fear of crushing her other children, to give him room to sit beside her, “C’mon Schnucki, go to mama, baby girl, get your tummy full so those rumbly tumbly feelin’s don’t wake ya up.”

Elvis’ large hands laid his little bundle on the breast that Daisy had not just supped from and helped Elaine position Rosalee in the crook of her mama’s elbow. He helped straighten her legs and tipped her on her side and when she kept turning her little head to watch him instead of focusing on the task in hand, Elvis even fed her little mouth the nipple like feeding a dog a treat. He squished her cheeks closed and tugged at Elaine’s bud until the milk came out and at it sprayed on Rosalee’s palette the baby’s eyes finally lit up.

“There we go,” Elvis laughed quietly, “don’t know what’s good for ya yet. Shouldn't doubt me Schnucki, I knows what’s best for hers, yes I do, and I always wants what’s best and I know, I know that look, good ain’t it? S’warm and sweet and so soft for your cheek, mhmm, nothin’ to fight.” he crouched over her for a minute as she latched and vigorously began to suck, much to Elaine’s relief, and he ran his fingers across her poofy baby cheek.

Elvis and Elaine watched her, too tired to make conversation or wish to break the hypnotically cozy spell Elvis’ cajoling nursery talk had lulled them all into. Jesse stretched in his sleep beside Elaine and cracked open an eye, smiling a silly, happy, lax mouthed smile at seeing his daddy still there. Elvis laid his hand on his boy’s chest and the the little guy turned on his side, rolling his body around it for a moment before falling back to sleep.

“God, y'all look so cozy, could break my heart.” Elvis mumbled as he took his hand back from Jesse’s lax hold, his other still supporting Rosalee’s bum as the baby girl would unlatch and search frantically for him whenever his touch left.

“You could stay.” Elaine pointed out the obvious, reaching her hand to swoop up the glorious flip of hair he had grown out. In the dim light, and even the bright sunshine, now that he’d grown out his army cut, it was more obvious than ever where Rosalee got her chestnut locks. “Don’t have to do press tonight.” she thumbed at his under eyes, marveling how a man could look so beautiful and so exhausted all at once.

“Naw naw, they’re waiting.” he jerked his head back at the sitting room and the low hum of the waiting reporter’s voices through the door, “If I do it tonight, won’t have to do it tomorrow and with any luck they’ll hop off on some northerly station and we’ll have a spot of peace ‘fore Memphis.”

“Alright.” she murmured, holding very still as Rosalee had come unlatched, cheek squished to Elaine’s large breast and her breath coming out in steady little puffs. “Do you think she’s gone?” she asked the man who knew her best after a bit of study.

“I-I think, I think so.” he hesitated, peering at her pink eyelids and the lax set of her mouth.

“She’s gone very limp.” Elaine remarked.

“Here I’ll try takin’ my hand back a-and if that works I’ll wait a minute and get up.” he suggested, slowly pulling his hand away from his infant's body with all the slow precision of a man dismantling a bomb.

Both hands clutched to his chest, Elvis and Elaine watched to see if baby so much as twitched but 48 hours of traveling seemed to catch up with their Rosalee and she didn’t move a muscle. Elvis carefully snagged a pillow and brought it under Elaine’s arm now she was holding all the weight and she carefully snuggled into a position she could maintain without moving for however long the press conference took.

“You alright mamas?” he asked her as he gravely reviewed his precautions for her comfort.

“I’m perfect.” she whispered, pursing her lips and he leaned over her gently, pressing his forehead to her mouth as he knew she wanted. “Oh I’ve stained you.” she lamented, the faded remnants of her lipstick having transferred to his golden face.

He snickered softly and rose from the bed with as little motion as he could, using those strong thighs of his to leverage straight up without a bounce and when he was successful in not waking the Schnucki Monster he went into the en-suite bathroom and reviewed the pale kiss mark above his brow. It was barely noticeable and rather affectingly situated, like a pretty stamp above his more mobile eyebrow.

As Elvis stared at it his heart twisted with a burning loyalty for the woman in bed with his five children while the Colonel’s words ricocheted in his mind until he found himself emphatically redoing his lashes with more than a moderate coat of mascara and after a moment's hesitation, he opened Elaine’s matching toilette bag and took from it today’s shade of coral. Unscrewing the gold cap he pondered it for a moment before leaning into the mirror and gently dabbing it onto the places where her kiss mark failed to make an outline. He was cautious not to overdo it, pulling back to review his entire face and take in the effect.

He had no desire to make her favor look garish, but neither did he want it unnoticed. He looked rather like one of last war’s recruiting posters, white smile, long hair, fresh face with a big smooch printed thereon.

He knew all these press conferences weren’t just about his career. They were according to his manager but for Elvis, he knew he was coming back to a rather different place than he left, social change and an upcoming election had galvanized folks into a sorta mood Elvis hadn’t had the chance to gauge for himself. And in it he wanted to find his footing again, not just as a star but as somebody who could do good. And he couldn’t do nothing without Laney, whatever Parker said, and poor Laney had suffered enough, been put through the American press for her pretty figure and affectionate ways.

And for daring to love him so well.

It wasn’t just his image. It was hers too, that he was re-introducing, and as such he was introducing the parents of his children, going out there to talk about movies was only the side issue, he had the Presley reputation to establish. Tired as he was, Elvis didn’t feel daunted by it, he felt energized and revved up at the prospect of such momentous responsibilities and he snapped the lid on Laney’s lipstick with an emphatic snap of his thumb.

Elvis liked the ‘loved on’ look. He’d never pretended he didn’t with his fan’s love and he wouldn’t with his wife’s.

He exited the bathroom and upon seeing Elaine as dead asleep sitting up in bed as the rest of the babies, he tiptoed out of the cozy space and cracked open the door, squeezing out and shutting it gently, much to the amusement and chuckling cooperation of the reporters waiting outside.

“Whole crew’s sleepin’ in there, gotta stay quiet, man. How’re y’all doing?” he asked them, basking in the colder air that whistled through the cracked window and took his seat on one of the benches, splitting a smile as a camera flash whited out his vision.

It had been near twenty minutes when Elaine was roused from the dead and dreamless sleep she’d fallen into by the shift of Rosalee’s sweaty little head on her chest. She increased the calming pressure of her hand on the little girl’s back and held very still, hoping it was a gesture in sleep. It wasn’t. Soon after she began to root around and whimper, upon waking up enough to notice soft feminine flesh beneath her cheek she began to fully cry, endangering the rest of the others. Elaine promptly untangled herself and stood up, walking away from the others, pacing by the door, trying to hush her poor infant.

“-besides those three films lined up I-I-I really d-don’t have plans, no, I-I-“ Elvis paused in his answer as the sound of crying came from the inner room. He knew which baby it was and his heart clenched.

“Oops!” one of the reporters snickered, a sympathetic father who knew how annoying it could be to have a baby crying all night, keeping a guy up and the wife not able to make it hush.

“I-I uh…” Elvis tried to go on but the cries increased and while it wouldn’t disturb the journalists or even be perceptible on the recordings, he couldn’t bear it. “If you’ll excuse me, gentleman.” he apologized as he rose, determined and unabashed as he crossed across the train car and wove through the pack of reporters back to the suite door.

“Oh darling I’m sorry.” Laney gushed as he slipped in and cast a wary glance at the stirring children left in the bed.

“Don’t be.” he told her sharply and didn’t even ask for the baby, just took her out of Elaine’s arms with surety and sushed her with his familiar hums. “Ain’t no reason to be apart, we’ll just buddy up for this, huh Schnucki?” he murmured and Elaine’s eyes went wide.

“You’re going to do press with -a child?” It wasn’t an image anyone in Hollywood or even politics really tried to create, the family man leading man wasn’t really a seller at the box office or in the gossip column. Not unless he had affairs and regularly got redeemed by famous children, she supposed the Fairbanks might yet prove role models.

“I’m gonna hold my baby while they ask me questions.” he framed it with a pointed look and placed a kiss of his own on Elaine's forehead, “Now I can’t keep ‘em waiting. Go get warm, go, move that cute lil butt, go, shoo!” he swatted her nighty clad backside until she had the covers up to her chin again and Ella tucked into her side. It wasn’t till he had turned back and headed out the door that Elaine gasped in recognition of the kiss mark.

The chattering greetings of the journalists upon his re-emergence quieted as soon as they noticed the bundle in his arms as he stepped back through their ranks to his seat. Sitting with all the nonchalant confidence of a king as he tucked his pacified child into the crook of his elbow and patted her bottom rhythmically with a bejeweled hand. Those who had once lingered around him on tour, chasing him down backstage to snatch sound bites and headliner quotes over the scream of women and the edgy young performers' preoccupation with kissing and winking at every passing female were astounded by the change.

Bob Gary, one of the reporters who had covered his stardom since the hayride and had the pleasure of meeting Miss Gladys, god rest her, was a little less astounded than others that her wild boy had in him the makings of a lovely young man. Bob always thought Elvis was respectful and always got a sense of goodness when around Elvis. It made sense Elvis would set his mind to good fatherhood and perform its functions with as little shame as he felt when moving to his music. “Now who do we have here?” Bob asked kindly after the quiet room got a little too absurd even by journalistic standards.

“We’ve got a pretty little lady joining us, gentleman, this is Rosalee Presley, prefers to be called Schnuki but maybe not by you strange men. Heh.” Elvis proclaimed his sniveling baby’s chosen name proudly and jostled her mopey self a little, only succeeding in making her pout further into his jacket but the tears had ceased. “All this travelin’ has been doin’ their heads in, man, my poor babies. So, you mustn’t mistake her whinin’ as personality, ya see she’s been a very stable baby, hasn’t ever been outside Germany, ‘cept for a trip to Paris, and now she’s across the whole ocean. That’s a heap of miles for a yittle itty-bitty thang like her, you understand gentleman? So as I was sayin’, my lil daughter’s most congenial, most nights, gonna have to forgive her tonight*

Bob Gary laughed as did a few of the press who were equally lost on the topic but eager to return to their questions. “Why can’t her mother calm her?” one fellow asked benignly and Elvis squinted at him, jaw tickling before he smoothed his face and shrugged:

“My wife’s jugglin’ four kids in there, includin’ the one cookin and she does a remarkable job.'' Perhaps Elvis said it sharper than he meant to, but Bob Gary licked his pencil stub and got to writing, paper didn’t convey tone unless the writer mentioned it. “A-a-and see, me and my Rosalee,” the young father went on, “we’re the same, two peas in a pod. I’m the same when she ain’t around, get all mopey and the like. I do man, I do. Got my own lil wooby here, uhuh. What? Oh ha! Sure sure, call it that. Emotional crutch, whatever man I-I-I -all I know is I-I need her, man. What? You ain’t ever wanted to hang out with your kid? They’re a heap of fun man, don’t talk over ya neither.”

“Can we see her face, Elvis?” Asked one hopeful with his camera at the ready.

Elvis thoughtfully prodded Rosalee’s pink cheek but the little girl was always shy of crowds, worse yet when they were masculine ones and despite Elvis’ little pokes his baby only burrowed deeper, as if aware of his query and answering it with a wriggle that buried her face beneath his jacket’s lapel.

“Aww man, I think she’s too shy for that.” Elvis decided, carefully tucking her further in, her chubby little legs, two dangling feet and the back of her reddish head the only visible parts of her. “Now I don’t want y’all thinkin’ this is her usual personality, -all the travellin’s been rough on her.”

“I bet it’s hard on all the kids.”

“I-i-it’s challenging, sure.” Elvis nodded, running a soothing hand up her sweaty back, “But we’re headed home. Gonna be right as rain, soon as we get to Memphis, I just know it. Ya know these last two, they were born in Germany! Ain’t ever been home yet, they’re restless for it.”

That seemed a bit improbable for a bunch of city slickers who considered home to be a vague notion of rented flats and let rooms and so one asked:

“__Mr. Presley, you’ve quite the large family now, uh, how old is your daughter? Hard to keep up.“

“She’s not yet one.”

“—And your wife’s already expecting again, correct?“

“Yessir she is.” Elvis nodded soberly and he felt little Rosalee begin to forget her bashfulness and twist herself a little so she could play with the rings on his left hand.

“Does the growth of your family surprise you? It certainly surprised the rest of the nation. Do you have any regrets?“

Elvis thought about the adoring bundle in his arms who gave him all the terrifyingly unconditional trust he always wanted to be saddled with and stuttered out a reply after clearing his throat, “Well uh, no sir, not really. My wife she -she was on me like a duck on a junebug, sir, right away like. And uh, I saw it as my peace keepin’ duty to keep her peaceful, ya see? Heh. So, so anyways, we’ve got all these kids now and I find them mighty precious. They’re the most special things I’ve ever had. I-I- didn’t-what we had gentleman, when we married -it weren’t no great romance, see, it were rather like the reasons our parents married. Course I love her now but we’re intentional and this is what we wanted. She’s made what coulda been some of the darkest years of my life, well she -she’s made them the best. Awww yeah you too Schnucki, yesss, of course hers too.” he trailed off with a coo as Rosalee raised her face to watch him, learning by his tone that he was talking about mama.

“—What do you expect for your little family, what with you gone to work on the movie contracts Colonel Parker has lined up for you?“

“Oh well, they’re comin’ with me, ain’t no question of that. Whole family I-I-I gotta have ‘em. They’re not a favorite pillowcase you can leave behind. Colonel Parker says the trailer ain’t big enough but he forgets they’re lil still, we all fit in a single bed. Sleep that way most nights, they’re all yittle still. And I need ‘em. They’ll be with me.”

“What’s Miss Rosalee think about seeing palm trees, huh?” the same hopeful as before, this time with his damn camera lowered, took the liberty of grabbing at one of her little feet, intending to wag it playfully but Miss Rosalee let out a wounded cry of disbelief and climbed up her father’s chest with the alacrity of a hunted koala.

Elvis tried to moderate his voice when he cautioned the young journalist, “She don’t wanna be touched, man, please don’t.” but nothing could temper the cool blue flame of his eyes at the guy’s presumption. “Hey, hey hers ok, yes hers is.” he whispered to his baby and slowly brought her down into his lap, a curled little dough ball in a soft pink onesie. “Here Schnucki, curl in baby, have at it.”

He opened his jacket wide and exposed a soft sweater beneath his blazer, dark red and with a deep neckline, he’d bought it for the cowl neck he liked for shielding from the wintry gusts and hiding his chicken neck from photographers. Rosalee likes the way it warms her up and tickles her nose, she burrows her face into his chest so fast it’s comical and the guys laughed as did Elvis gently, all while he closed his blazer back around her little body and gathered up her one vulnerable outlier in his large hands - her little footsies.

“I dunno what y’all are laughin’ at.” Elvis pretended ignorance, crooked grin about ready to split his face, “There ain’t nothin’ here, man, nothin’!” he protested as the guys wheezed in amusement over the tiny, frizzy shock of chestnut hair sticking out the top of his buttoned coat. “Now’re you fools gonna ask me about formula brands or hollywood, hmm?”

The next thirty minutes passed uneventfully, for Rosalee at least. It was warm and damp in daddy’s jacket, against his chest and she could feel the thoughtful rumble of his answers buzzing her right cheek. When he was done she felt a little whoosh of flight as he stood up but she was safe, his arm kept her anchored to him and the buttons cocooning her near his chest held up. She had been oblivious to the nervous way her daddy sweated when he dodged answering about who he’d vote for in the coming election but she had felt when he had tensed at a question about her parents’ taped phone call. She raised a clammy hand out the top of his jacket and patted his jaw till he had laughed. The press laughed too. He never answered that question after all. Rosalee smiled a proud baby smile against his sweater.

All Miss Rosalee knew was daddy laughed and then he calmed and his chest rumbled some more then there was a whoosh and the jostling of him shaking hands and soon he was walking, she could feel the bounce of his gait. “We fooled them, didn’t we Schnucki.” she heard him whisper down into the jacket.

The soft click of the door. Mama was near.

And soon, Rosalee felt a chilly little gust as the inferno was opened and the faint lights of the bedroom suite crept in as daddy unbuttoned his jacket and gently laid her down next to mama on the bed before stripping out of his clothes. Mama lay on her side in the bed and deftly slipped the lacy strap of her nighty off her shoulder, gently cupping Rosalee’s head to her breast, hoping for cooperation.

Without preamble or hesitation the little girl latched on for her midnight snack.

Elvis was slipping in beside them, tucked in with Rosalee between himself and Elaine, when his pretty wife chuckled in disbelief.

“What is it baby?” he asked, whopped from all the diplomacy and melting like butter on pancakes at the mere proximity to his little tribe.

“You smart little lady,” Elaine murmursd to Rosalee in admiration, “you know your daddy isn’t leaving anymore and now you want to eat, huh?”

Elvis grinned with half his pretty face smashed into the pillow, trying in vain to stay awake to watch one of his favorite activities under the sun -his wife feeding his babies from her own body. His eyes began to droop anyway and he found himself jolting periodically, having drifted off.

The third time he awoke like this he felt Laney’s cool fingers gently tugging his eyelids down, smudging the mascara but soothing him, “Night, night mopey, you can go now, she’s gone, too.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

@dragonkingsdaughter

@presleysgirl6

@that-hotdog

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #fic #Elvis #army elvis #elvis and me #welcome home elvis #elvis on tour #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley x reader #elvispresley #elvis the pelvis #elvis presley fic #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis fandom #elvis fluff #elvis fans #elvis presley fan fic

[suraemoon]

modeling some jumpsuits ⚡️

#elvis #elvis presley #70s elvis #i’m loving all of these poses #cutie pie #1972 #elvis fans #vintage #elvispresley

[elvisalltheway101]

••••••••••it’s impossible•••••••••

summary: Reader just can’t sleep, she never can. Elvis walks in just in time to help shush you to dream land.

author’s note: HEHHEEHEHHE! I’m back hunniessss. So I wanted to get this out before all the nasty deeds come flying out of my drafts. And let me tell, they’re gonna be nasty. Anyway, this is inspired by ahem, ✨me✨ I don’t have diagnosed insomnia but I’m rlly thinking I’ve got it. Lmao I’m too broke to care, ain’t nobody got that government money 😭🤧.

author won’t shut her chapped lips: so I really hope you guys enjoy…hehe the fluff for now. It’s gon be hell’s butter on bread real soon 😭.

•••••••••• ••••••• •••••• •••••••

You huff to yourself in frustration. Tears flood into your doll eyes, only making the dark room fuzzy and cloudy. You purse your lips and frown, having absolutely no idea why you’re not getting any sleep. You were so tired earlier today, throughout the longing day, and now wide awake in bed.

You cross your arms, giving up as your chest heaves up and down in irritation. Thoughts, stupid thoughts that have nothing to do with anything just continue to swarm and bug you.

Is this even normal? You scoff to yourself finally, rolling your eyes that makes the tears streak down your cheeks. You rub your sweaty palms to your eyes, adjusting to the darkness and squinting at the dark, navy blue clock across.

You read, 1:13 am, and you groan. Throwing yourself back into the fluffy, silky sheets, and jumbo pillows arch into your back. You truly don’t know what’s wrong with you. It’s impossible to sleep like this! It’s impossible.

The sound of the bedroom metal, cool shiny door handle being twisted and opened clears your thoughts for a second. You glance back and meet the warm glowing eyes of your darling love. A soft sigh leaves your pretty lips as you look away and trail your gaze into your lap.

“Darlin’? Why ya still up? You’re usually asleep by the time I come back from work.” A warm, honey-sweet southern accent stuffs the room, a pinch of concern is present.

You shrug and frown, furrowing your brows and sighing heavily. You slump, your pretty pastel pink nightie hugs you loosely as one of the straps falls off one shoulder. “I-i dunno…I’m tired but I can’t sleep.” You admit, tilting your pretty head up to look him back in the eyes.

There’s an understanding spark of blue in those pupils that meet your eyes, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Walking slowly over to the bed, the soft sounds of his footsteps thudding onto the red, thick carpet are the only things that busy the room.

“Oh…gotcha, hunny? Is something on your mind?” He whispers out softly, crawling slowly onto the big fluffy and soft mattress. You don’t bother to look up though, still so absorbed and worried in what’s going on with you. Hell, you don’t even know what’s on your mind.

Everything seems to fall and not matter when a large pair of big chubby arms embrace you into a warming hug. “Baby, c’mon, ‘s okay, ya don’t gotta answer. I jus’ wanna sleep wit’ my yittle baby, mhm?” He whispers ever so gently into your locks of hair, the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo fill his nostrils. You only nod slowly in agreement, wrapping your arms around his big frame. He’s almost like a huge soft, brown teddy bear.

His arms engulfing you into a bear hug keep you to his prodding belly that bulges into your side, and that only adds to this intimate, loving moment. Slowly falling to your sides, he pulls you closer and lets one hand slip away to swiftly grab the thick, velvety red blanket. Pulling it up your chin, only ending it up to his shoulder but he’s already warm enough in love.

You feel your eyelids already starting to droop, suffocated in his delicious spicy, strong scenting cologne, with the feels of his tickling chest hair that peeks out from his shirt. You nuzzle your face into his chest, sighing softly in delight and satisfaction.

“It’s impossible, ta tell the sun to leave the sky it’s just impossible.”

You hear the soft tone of his words, so light and an airy fluff. The scent of cherry coke and the faint scent of smokes from cigars lingers in his hot breath and warms above you, and you can feel his chest rise slightly as he takes in another breath to continue.

“It's impossible to ask a baby not to cry It's just impossible.”

He laughs out softly into your curly, puffy locks, gently shoving his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling the sweet, pretty scent of that new cherry strawberry perfume. “Can I hold you closer to me. And not feel you going through me? But the second that I never think of you Oh, how impossible”

He whispers out warmly against your skin, and your eyes close for bedtime. Your long lashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings, as his voice continues to soothe you.

“Can the ocean keep from rushing to the shore? It's just impossible”

He shakes his head to himself, and you feel a soft peck of his plump, hot lips press to your collarbone. His nose pokes against the silver necklace he had customized just for you, shimmers with its glittering font that reads: Your love. “If I had you, could I ever ask for more? It's just impossible”

He smiles and nods slowly, his heart fluttering at the memory of you and him buying it from the shop. When he draws in a long, wandering breath, he adjusts his arms on your body tighter and full of passion. “And tomorrow should you ask me for the world Somehow I'd get it, I would sell my very soul And not regret it, for to live without your love Is just impossible”

He finally ends, ending with a hushed warm whisper. Finally pulling his face out of the warmth of your neck, he cups your doll jawline and scans so lightly of your calmed facial expression. You look so peaceful and restful as your eyes shut and you’re finally asleep. Leaning down to press a loving kiss to your smooth cheek, then holding, cradling you to his shoulder with a happy sigh. Shaking his head to himself and resting his own chin onto the peak of your itty bitty little pretty head,

“It’s impossible.”

•••••••••

I hope you enjoyed! It’s been a while so…my apologies if it’s not as detailed as before. Anyways, love you lovesss

tagging my hunny dolls: @bigdaddyelvislover @jhoneybees

#Spotify #elvispresley #big daddy elvis #elvis #elvis x reader fluff #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis fanfiction #elvis fluff

[rjmartin11]

Which Elvis Girl are you?

#elvis #elvispresley #elvis fans #romance #elvispresleyseries #ElvisGirls

[kjoy678]

the most handsome groom.

elvis on his wedding day on may 1, 1967. 💘

#elvispresley

[elvisiana]

#ElvisPresley #King

[hooked-on-elvis]

On March 24, 1958, Elvis Presley was inducted into the United States Army. At the snack break, he had a few bites of a ham and beef sandwich, drank some milk and had a bit of an apple pie slice. 20 minutes later he felt like napping. LITTLE BOY ELVIS. 💙⚡

#elvis presley #elvispresley #50s elvis #privatepresley #army elvis #elvis the king #elvis #elvis fandom #elvis fans

[dreamingofep]

Some reading before bed🤭✨

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis photos #elvis history #68 comeback special #elvispresley #elvis pictures #elvisaaronpresley #60s elvis #love of my life

[fairybloodsucker]

My drawing of Elvis from the ‘68 Comeback Special.

#elvis #elvis presley #presley #elvispresley #elvisdrawing elvis68

[aliypop]

Married In The Morning

Word Count: 1.872

Writers Note: Figured I never talked about the wedding so @sissylittlefeather here you go

Warning: Fluffy

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: Christmas 1960 2 years after their Christmas Engagement Elvis and Cecelia are finally united in marital bliss.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

Tennessee December 25th, 1960

The chapel halls welcomed family and friends to the quaint wedding of Elvis and soon-to-be Cecelia Shanel Presley. Music played through the sanctuary, and members of both parties chattered about what they were about to witness. However, at Graceland, there was a nervous, leg-shaking Elvis. Who was getting ready for his big day? He'd waited long and hard for this day, and here it was. 

"Will you stop moving so much!" Alberta said as Elvis was giddy and in a mood that one could explain as in love. 

"Birdie, I can't!"

"And why is that?" Fixing his bowtie.

"It ain't every day a man gets to marry his best friend." 

"Joe or Red?"

"Very funny,"

"Hey, E!" Billy shouted,

"What!"

"Hurry up, we're gonna be late!"

In the chapel, Cecelia was pacing around the room, fidgeting with her dress, "Oh, Midge, what if he gets cold feet!" she sighed, "Or Mama, what if he changes his mind." Rosa and Daphane both watched as Denise and Midge sighed, 

"Elvis loves you endlessly. He's not going to freeze." Midge responded, fixing her dress as Denise fixed her hair. They were right. If he hadn't left when they were dating, why would he leave now on their wedding day? Cecelia finally sat down, and she took a deep breath. There was a knock on the door. Midge jumped up to get it. Standing there were Eleanor and Ruby, Delta, Patsy and Dodger.

"Are we late for the traditional gift-giving of the bride?" Ruby asked as she nearly kissed her niece,

"Not at all, ladies." Rosa smiled,

"Good, wouldn't wanna miss indoctrinating the new Mrs. Presley." Patsy said, as she smiled, "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you, Patsy," Cecelia hugged her, as Patsy giggled,

"I don't think I've seen a prettier bride since Gladys," Delta said. Getting teary-eyed.

"Or Denise," Eleanor added as Denise took a deep breath. Her little pumpkin was now grown and getting married. She still couldn't believe it. 

"Alright, I'm not gonna cry, but something borrowed." Rosa looked around as Midge handed her pearl necklace to Rosa to put around Cecelia's neck.

"Something blue!" Daphane smirked, "It's not much, but it's a garter I sewed out of Elvis's old sock!"

"Why do you have that?" Rosa nudged her.

"Why not..."

"It's perfect." Cecelia giggled

The women in the room laughed at the news as they kept with the bridal good luck charms.

"Something new?" Eleanor and Ruby said in unison as they both handed her bracelets. They were dainty and added to her bridal look. Cecelia looked in the mirror as she got emotional. She looked like a princess. 

"All's next is something old," Patsy said as Delta looked at Dodger, then Denise. Denise had placed her old veil on her daughter's head as she kissed her on the cheek. She then went to the side of Dodger to help her up. Dodger was holding a jewelry box with earrings in them. They were pearls with diamonds around them. 

"These were Gladys's earrings. I'd want you to have 'em, dear." Dodger said, presenting them to Cecelia as she picked them up,

"Grammy, I couldn't."

"Gladys would want you to have them," Delta said. As she smiled, which might have been the first time Cecelia saw her do that. 

"She really liked you," Patsy said, helping her put on the earrings. 

"I wish she could've been here." Denise sighed, "Gladys would've loved to have seen her little boy up and married." 

"Elvis, you're shakin like a leaf." Vernon sighed, looking at his son. He wasn't nervous, he was just excited, 

"I know, Pa." Elvis took a deep breath as Alfonso was by his side, "It's just I haven't seen Cece all day. It's driving me crazy." he laughed, both fathers laughing a bit,

"No, don't go gettin no idea's it's bad luck to see the bride." Elvis had a look on his face that said the opposite. Marching out the doors, Elvis made his way to the door that Cecelia was behind. 

"You know. It's just exciting. I'm marrying my best friend and. I'm itching to see him and talk to him." Cecelia said as the women in the room awed at her. Cecelia was really in love, and it showed. 

"I can't wait to see his smile and how he's gonna look in his tux. I can hear his voice saying-"

"Cecelia."

"Yeah, like that."

"Cecelia, it's me, Elvis!"

"You can't be here, E!" Patsy shouted as Rosa and Daphane stood by the door.

"I ain't inside, Patsy," pushing past everyone was Cecelia, her ear by the door as she got giddy. They were something out of a romance novel. They were the definition of true love.

"Elvis! It's me, Cece." 

"Thank God, I ain't want much but to talk to you," Elvis said as Cecelia giggled,

"I want to talk to you too, handsome."

"I'll be honest. I'm nervous about this wedding thing cause what if I-I-."He took a deep breath, "What if I'm not good at being a husband." 

"Oh, Elvis, you're going to be a great husband. You listen, and you care, and you're gentle and kind. You're an angel." Cecelia smirked, "Well, most times."

"Whadya mean most."

"You know what I mean."

"I do? Oh... Oh." Elvis turned red, but she could hear the smirk on his face arrive. "What about you, Cece? You nervous about anything?"

"A lot of things, really, but when I'm by your side, I know I'll be alright."

 "Hey E, it's time!" 

"Hi, Joe!" Cecelia said from the door.

"Hey, Cece! We'll see you in a few."

The music in the chapel had begun to play, and Elvis and his friends stood there waiting for Cecelia. Rosa, Daphane, Patsy, and Midge. All stood on the left side, waiting patiently for the woman of the hour to arrive.

"I'm walking my little pumpkin down," Alfonso said, growling at his wife,

"No, I am..." Denise rolled her eyes,

"How about you both walk her down." Eleanor groaned, "And stop arguing! Thought you two settled that when y'all got married again." she rolled her eyes, walking into the chapel. Cecelia walked up to her parents as they were taken away, she was wearing her grandmother's dress and wedding shoes, 

"My little pumpkin... Is a woman." Alfonso teared up.

"Daddy, don't cry. It's a joyful day. I'm marrying Elvis, my true love." She hugged him. Her parents locked arms with her as Denise teared up, 

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." Denise sniffled,

Walking down, Cecelia could feel every eye on her, but she didn't care, for her eyes were on Elvis, his tux on as he waved at her and his mouth opened at how she looked,

"Damn, you're lucky," Red whispered,

"Nah, I'm blessed." Elvis teared up. He told himself he wouldn't cry, but an angel had just landed, and she was to be his wife. 

"Who gives this bride to this man." 

"We do." Denise and Alfonso said as Vernon helped her up,

Elvis took her hand as he lifted her veil. "Well, hot damn!" he whispered, "Can I kiss 'er now?!" everyone in the chapel began to laugh as Cecelia giggled, 

"I could ask the same thing, too." She smiled. The ceremony went on, and the two couldn't stop looking at each other. 

"Now, the vows."

"I'll be honest, I didn't write anything. Cause if I did, I'd been dead." Cecelia said as Elvis chuckled, "So I'll talk from my heart." Cecelia took a deep breath as she looked up at him, 

"Elvis Aaron Presley, when you bumped into my life in October 1954, I was hypnotized, not by the star we'd both become, but by your soul. It shook me to my very core." She blushed, "I've never been the same. You've been there for me through thick and thin. You're my best friend, my angel, my lover, my everything, and I pray you continue to be my everything just as I am yours."

Elvis blushed as he kissed her hand,

"Your turn." She winked,

"How am I gonna top that? Oh, like this. " Elvis smiled, holding her hand, "Cecelia, there are many ways I could talk about ya, but I'll start from when I first knew you'd Uh be mine." He laughed as he started to get nervous, " You know, I don't ever think you saw me as Elivs the star. You saw me as the guy who'd, uh eat the fries off yer plate. Or the guy who can make a fool of himself. You saw me, an I felt honored that you did. You didn't care if I talked too much, didn't care about none of it." He got bashful,

"Cece, I love you 'cause you see the imperfect me and still think I'm a swinging guy."

"Cause you are," Cecelia commented as he took her hand, 

"Well, by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you as Mr. and Mrs. Presley. You may now-"

Elvis dipped Cecelia as he kissed her passionately and sweetly, taking her hand as Rosa and Daphane dropped the broom at their feet, jumping over it. The new couple had been truly excited about their life together. 

Heading back to Graceland, the two were in bliss, it was cold, and Cecelia was in her winter fur, but she felt warmed by the love radiating off of her Elvis. Carrying her over the threshold Cecelia was filled with laughter and love as was Elvis, they were surrounded by friends and family, and, 

"Elvis look at how gorgeous the cake is..." 

"To think we'll have to cut it, with its strawberry filling in it." 

"It's what..." She cheesed like a kid in a record store, 

"Nothing, doll." Walking her by the cake as she took a taste of the icing, 

"HEY E CATCH!" From the backyard, his cousins and his father-in-law were playing football at the reception, and Elvis couldn't resist. As he looked at his wife, she waved him off to join them. 

"You wanna play around some?"

"Elvis I'm no good at sports."

"Oh come on." He pleaded as she walked over with him, the game was intense Alfonso had passed it to Billy who then passed it to Elvis, but then he fumbled it and Red caught it only for it to land in the hands of 

"I CAUGHT IT!!! WHAT DO I DO NOW?"

"RUN!!!" Denise looked over and shook her head, she couldn't believe her daughter was playing football in the Tenessse cold in her wedding gown. Cecelia ran like hell as she kept going until she felt someone tackle her, looking up it was Elvis who planted a kiss on her cheek,

"Thanks, babe I won," he smirked

"Oh no you didn't!" She said getting up, a grass stain on her dress as the two began to laugh. 

"CECELIA SHANEL PRESELY!"

"MAMA IT'S JUST A STAIN IT'LL COME OUT!" Cecelia shouted back, as his cousins agreed with her, 

"Spoken like a true Presley..." Elvis said kissing her again,

"And forever may I be." Nuzzling his nose as snow flurries fell,

 "Merry Christmas Cece."

"Merry Christmas El."

Oh, how it felt to be married in the morning.

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #romance #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis the pelvis #cecelia valmos #poc oc x elvis #1960s #1960s elvis #wedding fanfic #poc oc x canon #elvispresley

[presleybutlervsp]

April 23, 1971

Elvis with fans outside his beverly hills house

#elvisaaronpresley #elvispresley #elvis #graceland #elvis history #elvishistory #tcb #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvis the pelvis #elvis music #elvis the king #70s elvis

[precious-little-scoundrel]

As Requested: The Birth of Jesse and Ella

From the Sarge and lil Mama Universe

Warnings: pretty darn fluffy and sweet with the exception of descriptions of birth and labor, along with what might be considered disturbing inclusions of period typical insensitivity towards women’s wishes during labor and mention of a husband stitch

Word Count: 5k…a blurb was requested, well, uh, sorry about that

With excerpts from:

October, 1958 Memphis

Birth was awful, Elaine had always heard it, been cautioned of it, had the warning dumped like ice water on her motherly ambitions. You want a lotta kids? -just wait till you have to push a single one out. Elaine had expected it to hurt worse than anything she ever imagined but somehow, she thought it would feel more natural than this.

The pain was terrifyingly foreign and without a single cessation to get on top of it, the contractions put broken bones and smashed flesh to shame, and the helpless urge to do something was a floundering and aimless desperation that filled her with anxiety so strong she could barely breathe from it. The nurse cupping the gas mask to her face smiled down assuringly and Elaine hated her for it, the gal was so sure all would be well when everything in Elaine’s body rebelled against the drugged misery, the flat back, stirrup strapped contortion the doctor had locked her body in and left her at.

She thought it would at least feel natural. Like pulling a tooth. Like taking a man. Like all the other painful rites of passage that women surmounted generation after generation.

But now, near puking from pain and cuffed like a psych prisoner to the bed, no distraction save the flicker off the fluorescent bulbs above her, Elaine felt a wrongness and a betrayal she never expected.

She’d been so agreeable to going to the hospital, never thought otherwise. The army had been accommodating enough to let them return to Memphis and everything, and here she lay giving birth in the same ward she was born in. It should have been sweet. She had assumed it would be and it had been non negotiable with Elvis, things were to be done properly for his babies, and she had no comparison to cause her to object.

Elvis lost his brother in a twin birth, a home birth, and nearly his mama too. Things had to be done properly. What else was his money for?

Elaine hadn’t thought to object. What else was there? Primitive squatting in the woods somewhere? She was a decent, suburban girl, she had passed through a successive graduation of establishments throughout her life, preschools and proms and community services and now she was at St. Joseph’s pushing out her first child in a condoned, sterile, proper facility. Elvis, cheated of such all American properness by his upbringing, often praised her teasingly for being “such an upstandin’ lil citizen”.

Somehow the pride didn’t manage to fill her this time. Just the wrongness of it all. She tried to think of Elvis in those first hours, how anxious he must be having been kept out of the room, how happy she’d make him by presenting two healthy children at the end of her feminine ordeal. She refused to accept the thought for anything going wrong. Women were made for this, and she had assumed a miraculous sort of sustenance and wisdom were given them during.

Laying rigid and wracked with pain on scratchy white sheets -Elaine had never felt so alone, not a shred of Divine motivation or husbandly encouragement left in her exhausted heart. Becoming frantic as the ordeal wore on, she found herself begging for some assurance, more than those spinster nurses and bored physicians could provide her. She begged for her mama, she begged for Dodger who had told her they’d do nothing more than torture her “in that big ole place.”

No visitors are allowed, Mrs. Presley -she was denied each time.

Dodger, as usual, had been right. And Elaine demanded she be let in. She was sure that her husband and his grandma had stayed in the waiting room, they weren’t far.

Bring Minnie Mae in -she was Elaine Presley, wife of Memphis’ own Elvis Presley, and if they denied her she’d ruin their hospital's name.

Bring her Dodger, she needed Dodger.

Dodger came in, in low, slung-back heels and a dress that was fashionable three decades ago, wrinkled bony hands and thin, hard set mouth. Elaine thought she’d seen an Angel.

“What do you want?” Dodger grunted down at her.

Elaine whimpered and shook her head, entirely unsure, she’d just wanted comfort or direction. “I thought you’d know what to do.” she explained in a wheeze.

“You push ‘em out.”

“I can’t.” Elaine sobbed, she physically didn’t feel capable of doing anything but enduring. She really had thought she’d be able to participate in her own delivery.

“What’s gonna make ya?” Dodger asked.

“I can’t do anything like this.” Elaine cried, yanking at her restraints.

“Wanna stand up?”

Elaine was startled at the suggestion and through the fog of pain and gas it sounded like a rebellion of sorts. She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“You ever shit layin’ down?” Dodger put it ever so delicately in clearer, enlightening terms. “No one can ‘nless they got the runs. Baby’s head ain’t no runs, get up.”

Dodger had yanked the straps off and threatened to use the forceps on the objecting nurse. She stood Elaine up with a yank to the girl's arms and spun her round till she was facing the bed, feet spread apart and hands on the bed, head hanging low and her back heaving in breaths now the position allowed her to breath. She’d taken Elvis this way a hundred times, nothing to it -you just hang your head and tilt your hips and breathe through it till the cock didn’t feel so big.

This she knew. “Ok, ok, it is better.” she agreed even as a scream tore out of her at the burning stretch down below.

That stretch had been Jesse’s head, although in the midst of agony and Bureaucratic chaos, Elaine didn’t know anything beyond fiery stretching and a gush down her legs. His little noggin almost hit the floor he slid out so lanky and tiny, no sooner had she register a modicum of relief from passing her first child than the doctor berated her.

“Almost hit his head, this is why we labor in beds.” he had said and she could have gnawed his balding head off his scrawny neck for using the word “we” when he’d never felt or ever would feel what she had just endured. “She’s torn, a lot actually, going to be a mess to clean up later but I guess it will help the next one.”

They took Jesse and they wiped him clean as his first cries sounded somewhere behind his mama, Dodger’s hand still pressed firmly to her lower back as Ella used his newfound vacancy to make an effort herself. Elaine struggled and twisted, trying to catch sight of her son.

“I want my baby.” she gasped, “Y’all give me my baby.” she stood straight with an effort that even Dodger tried to prevent. “I want my baby!”

“You can’t hold him now-“

“Give him to me-“

“Elaine honey,” Dodger shushed as gently as the old bird knew how, “you’re too weak, can’t push and hold. Let ‘em put him on the bed. Put him there, right in front of ya, yeah, that’s it, so you can see him. Just do it, ya pinstriped idiot, it’s her kid, ain’t it?”

When the nurse laid Jesse down on the sheets, he was a dark haired, swaddled little thing in a bloody towel. Tiny but not so shrimpy for a twin, he was red and purple all over with the puffiest little face and the juiciest little lips and a tiny nose and eyes that squinted shut in tears. His cord was still attached to her, hanging off the bed between her legs, the tether not yet cut. Elaine felt it to be the specialist moment in the world, that one right then.

Oh it’s an unaccountable thing, that rush of gratitude and relief when your first born is laid on you. Violent love surges after it, quick as a tidal wave, as a tiny hand still covered in your blood pats your skin to learn you from the outside this time, the only person who’s ever done it opposite from all others. It's immeasurable the strength that frail little being gives you, to push once more, to bring out another life after it, a twin to reunite the Trinity.

“My son” Elaine acknowledged the gift through the agony, her sweaty forehead against his fuzzy one, watching his brave little face take in the lights and sounds and pain of this life she’d given him with a wonder that steeled her as she braced and pushed again.

Ella was easier, in the way someone at the brink of their worst feels no exacerbation of their agony. It was every bit as bad and every bit as tiring, doubly so with one already done, but this time Jesse lay there with an oxygen cannula taped to his fuzzy cheek and watched his mama huff and grimace above him, her hips cradled by Dodger’s boney hands, and in between the increasing spams, Elaine gasped adorations and babbled welcomes to him. After a short time Jesse snoozed in his little cacoon, and his peacefulness was more calming than any breath coaching the staff could give her. She matched her breaths to the rise and fall of his tiny chest and soon enough when she felt between her legs, there was the furry little head of his sister.

This time the doctor was prepared and had a nurse knelt to catch Elvis’ Presley second child. Little Ella came out the opposite of Jesse, no trouble at all with her petite head but a decent belly and buttox in the little girl gave Elaine a brief bit of grief before she popped out entirely.

Ella may have been caught in the safe hands of a registered nurse but Elaine had no such luck. No sooner was the rush over and her impediments pushed out of her body than she staggered backwards and landed flat on the floor, her legs giving out. Dodger’s shins caught the back of her head and saved her from splitting her skull on the tile but it was a brutal jarring nonetheless and it cemented a terrified horror where Elaine felt that she was entirely neglected in a room full of people sworn to help her.

Dodger, bless her, cursed up a storm at the accident and knelt beside the poor girl, doing her best to gather Elaine up as blood and fluids gushed freely between her legs.

Elaine felt like sobbing. Soon she fully was and remained so as the Doctor and two nurses hefted her onto the bed as gingerly as they could, profusely apologizing to Mr. Presley’s new wife. Jesse was placed on her chest and Ella, after having the cord snipped and washed, bundled and had her foot stamped, was brought over, too. Elaine laid there on her back again, eighteen hours after she had first begun and did her best to hold them as the sugar crash and blood loss made her teeth chatter and limbs tremble.

“A healthy five pounds both of them,” the doctor beamed with the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished a hard day’s work, “although the boy has a couple points on the girl.”

They were perfect, they were positively perfect, that’s what Elaine tried her best to focus on as her bearings came back to her and tiredness drug her limbs down. They were perfect and they were here. “Dodger,” she addressed Grandma in a thin voice, not even bothering to send her request to the staff, “would you go tell Elvis they’re here? Tell him they’re perfect.”

“He can’t come in yet, dear!” The head nurse protested, knowing the mulish young man would be forcing entry as soon as he heard.

“Why not? It’s over.” Elaine sighed.

“We’ve got to clean you up!” The nurse was scandalized, “He mustn’t see you all disheveled like this, it can very negatively effect a man, seeing his wife rumpled and brutalized by the birthing process. It's ended some marriages.” She warned and then added, “And you must be stitched first.”

“Then could we please -do it?” Elaine asked, “I’d like to see my husband and I’d like him not to worry any longer.”

“Y’all clean her up,” Dodger motioned, “and I’ll go fetch him.”

They were applying ice towels to her swollen eyes to reduce the evidence of weeping when she left. They sat Elaine up and they checked her pulse and blood pressure and her temperature. All was well, or as well as could be hoped. All except down south with her house, Elaine chewed her lip anxiously and clutched little Jesse harder for comfort as the doctor inspected her, rather like Elvis had done when proposing. Except Elvis was always so tender and he worked his touches up from gentle to firm, never went right in and spread torn petals apart without a care. Elaine bit her lip and figured she’d been awful enough to the staff, harsh and stubborn, a rebel in so many ways and now her ordeal was over, it would be best to resume the proper attitude she’d been taught.

So she was meek, and she was obliging and grateful, and she tiredly agreed when the doctor said she’d need stitches, the same as any other tear to the flesh. And when, lamp beaming at her nether regions and needle in hand, the doctor told her he was going to add one extra little stitch for her husband's enjoyment, Elaine assumed it was a medical formality. After all, he didn’t ask if he could, he said he was going to, and doctors only do what doctors must. She had her babies now, and anything required to have more must be done.

Sat up on stitched and taut flesh, pillows stuffed behind her back and her face scrubbed into immaculate freshness, Elaine put on her widest smile for Elvis, not a hard thing to do with the gifts in her arms. It turned fully genuine as her man burst through the door only to stall and moderate his intensity the minute he realized he had arrived. Elvis looked bewildered, eyes wide as saucers and his long legs stumbling to a halt as the door thudded behind him in Vernon’s face, assessing every bit of equipment inside and potential threat before his eyes landed on the bed that held his new family.

Elaine could hear his intake of breath from across the room and her grin now threatened to split her face.

“Those our babies?” he asked hoarsely with a shaking finger, not making a single move to come closer. Like this whole ordeal had him so shaken he didn’t know which way was up or down.

“Yeah baby, they’re ours.” Elaine had to force her smile closed to talk, marveling at his timidity, the awed look on his face and the reverent little shakes coursing up his body like he was about to go up Mount Sinai and meet God. “Come meet your children, Elvis.” she whispered, framing it in a way she hoped would remind him he too belonged in this room, he was head of them all, their protector, their provider and perhaps most importantly, the architect of the dream that brought them into being. “They wanna meet their daddy, keep lookin’ around and fussing like they know someone’s missing.”

He gave her a look of reproof for fibbing to spare his feelings before one of the babies came to their mother’s rescue and let out a pitiful, newborn wail. Elvis flinched at the sound, drawing back into himself for a brief moment before the cry was repeated and his instinct to soothe dominated his tentative fear.

“See, I told you!” Elaine grinned as she pulled down the blanket little Jesse was swaddled in and showed his puckered face.

Slowly, with light footfalls and a hand running along the bed for support, Elvis drew closer until he was beside them and Elaine saw his face light up with more overwhelmed joy than she’d ever seen on him before, just as his eyes filled with tears in an instant.

“Oh Laney,” he put his hand to his mouth unsteadily, “you done good mamas.”

She did her best to scoot her legs over without wincing and nodded to the vacated little space on the bed. “C’mon Elvis, they don’t bite. Not yet.” she whispered, casting a glance at the nurse who was peddling soundlessly in the far corner, back turned and utterly discreet, waiting if she were needed at any moment.

“I’m jus’ worried ‘bout breakin’ ‘em.” he confessed, gingerly sitting down beside her, his eyes never wavering in their metronome bounce from one child to the next and back. “They’re so little, so fragile lookin’ and -a-and they’re so pink, baby, look how pinks and fluffy they is.” Elaine thought his wide-eyed, rosebud mouthed awe was rather identical to the faces he was admiring and understood his shock, pretty things take the wind out of you. “I-I-I was so damn scared of touchin’ you, you’re so lil and gentle a-a-and they’re even littler!”

“I’ve never seen a more tender man, you’ve got fingers so delicate they could undo a knot in silk thread.” Elaine disagreed, “You should feel their cheeks, even softer than they look.”

Elvis swallowed hard, screwing up his courage before he raised his hand from where it had been wiping sweat off on his pants and brought it dried and shaking to gently run along the curve of Ella’s tiny face.

He little out a little gasping laugh. “Angels, they’re gen-u-ine angels.” He pronounced softly after rubbing his forefinger along Jesse’s tiny nose. “Ain’t nothin’ made me happier than I am right this minute.” he realized and Elaine’s heart clenched in gratification for the success of all her labor. “God took away one, gave me three back.” he huffed in a breath and realizing he needed a handkerchief, pulled his hand back, looking around in the white sheets like one would appear. The kindly nurse took pity and brought one over wordlessly, Elvis was a little shocked to find her present, not registering her existence in the room before, (as was she to meet Elvis Presley wordlessly with a proffered tissue) but he took it gratefully.

“Would you like to hold one of them, Mr. Presley?” she asked after having given Elaine some water as Elvis still sat where he’d perched himself and stared like he was looking into a portal.

“C’mon daddy.” Elaine whispered, nudging his stiff leg with her foot, “they wanna meet their daddy.”

Elaine suggested Jesse be the one as he’d eaten most recently while Ella was having some trouble latching. The nurse took Jesse from his warm little cocoon at Elaine’s side, and brought him around the bed to his daddy, who carefully formed a cradle with his arms and the nurse deposited his son there.

“Yeah, give me my boy.” Elvis nodded through parched lips and shuddered as he felt the tiny weight of his child settle in his arms, tiny head cradled to his chest. “Hey buddy,” he whispered, head reared back and expression a little frozen, like he was either holding something very dangerous or something very good that could be taken back at anytime, “sorry bout all the racket in there.” he referred to his pounding heart right beneath Jesse’s pink ear, “S’just that I’m so glad to meet you. Been waitin’ so long.”

Elaine watched them happily, exhaustion and satisfaction turning her complex feelings into the most rudimentary emotions and thoughts. “We made these.” she marveled and thought she heard the nurse titter for a moment, “Does everyone say that?” She asked her with a laugh.

“Not uncommon.” The woman agreed bashfully, “Me and my man did. Couldn’t stop saying it.”

“Absolute miracle.” Elvis protested, growing bold enough the thumb as Jesse’s cheek as he held him, “We made ‘em alright, strangest thing, the way I’m holdin’ something that’s half me and half you!”

“Made duplicates just in case.” Elaine added her joke and they both laughed.

“Sweet Jesus I think he just cracked a smile.” Elvis’ laugh was suddenly cut short as he wheezed in fascination.

“Babies usually don’t smile until much later.“ the nurse soothed gently but Elvis interrupted with an adamant-

“-well it appears that my son is extra smart, ma’am.” He grinned down at his boy with an immense amount of pride at his good humor which reminded him of his pride in Elaine and his eyes flitted up to hers and locked there. “You know I love you, Tink, but I-I-I- d-don’t think you’ve got the vaguest notion h-h-how grateful I am to you right this minute. You’re makin’ dreams come true like a goddamn fairy. I-I-I can’t say enough I-I don’t got words for it I just -I’d die for you, girl, and you and our babies ain’t ever gonna want for nothin’, I swear it.”

Elaine had never trusted another human being more in her life than she trusted this young man sat on her bed, about as young and lost as herself but so determined that she hadn’t a single choice or doubt except to believe him.

Ella began to fuss and the nurse asked if she wanted to try feeding again, no doubt the baby girl was hungry and Elaine agreed. “Here, Mr. Presley, I’ll take the little boy so you can go.” she helpfully held out her arms but Elvis clutched his precious bundle like she was gonna take him permanently. Elaine was reminded of a story Miss Gladys used to tell her about baby Elvis and a prized sack of bananas.

“I-I-I don’t wanna give him.” Elvis settled for this moderate expression of his sentiments on the subject.

“But sir -your wife needs to nurse. I'm sure they’ll extend the visiting hours for you, no need to worry on that account.”

“Oh I’m not leavin’ for that ma’am.” he clarified breezily, “I hold eatin’ in mighty high regard and I’d like to see to it my daughter finds her footin’ in it, ya see.”

“But-“ the nurse was rather astounded at this simple logic and in torn loyalties she turned back to Mrs. Presley in concern “-wouldn’t you like some privacy, ma’am? We’ll have to…uncover you.”

Elaine looked at her a little puzzled before assuring softly, “I don’t mind, he’s seen me before.”

The nurse colored at this modest statement that spoke so much and Elvis wasn’t sure if she was taken aback at their comfortableness around each other or at the suggestion of The Elvis Presley and his little wife making babies. Half the nation were obsessed with what they did behind closed doors and Elvis eyed her suspiciously lest she turn into some sorta fascinated personage. She didn’t though, she allowed Jesse to remain with his father and, rather more delicately than necessary, helped Elaine with Ella’s latching.

There had been dribbles of milk that Elvis had seen before Elaine gave birth, but it was nothing like the profusion that poured out now, so much sustenance that Ella’s tiny throat made great gulping sounds as she drank. Elvis, much to the nurse’s horror, was fascinated by it and soon found his old boldness, scooting himself up till he was sat beside Elaine in the narrow bed and could support her elbow while watching. The nurse was made more uncomfortable when the new father took to whispering a thousand different thanks and endearments into his young wife’s ear, and sweet as it was, the aggressive smooches she answered him with were of the sort the nurse was usually of the assumption led to more. But not with this couple, they swapped affection easily, too easily, and shared sentiments and compared their two children for the next hour, pointing out features and guessing at characteristics until the nurse quietly took her leave, stumbling into a barricade of men outside waiting on their boss.

“You should sing to them.” Elaine suggested to him once she’d gone, when Jesse wouldn’t stop fussing when it was his time to burp. “They’ve heard it for nine months, worked with the kicks every time.” she recalled and Elvis smiled sheepishly in reminiscence that those little kicks he’d once poured his heart out to were now little souls laying in his arms with his features printed on them.

At the first swooping and softly sung words of ‘My Father’s House’ by their daddy both babies stilled and their little slits of eyes searched restlessly until they found his face and they stayed staring at him until their violet, paper thin eyelids fluttered closed in sleep.

————————————————-

|| Excerpt from Mrs. Presley and Other Living Martyrs:||

“There was a narrow window in the door he’d rather uh, rudely let slam behind him,” Billy Smith would later recall with a smile, “and you best believe the whole lot of us were pressed up to it trying to get a glimpse of them inside. We were all real excited about the babies and we knew Elaine was a champ but it’s one thing to think about it and it’s another for her to do it and be alright after. We were all worried for her, last time we’d been in this hospital it had been with Gladys. So we were all crowding the window and Vernon and Mr. Phipps were actin’ like teenagers with their elbows jabbin’ at each other for space but this one time the grandpas seemed to be actually jokin’ about it. Granny tried gettin’ us to leave ‘em be but it wasn’t like we were disturbin’ them none, they didn’t mind us one bit and it was the sweetest thing watchin’ them pass a baby back and forth and they were gigglin’ so much one minute then cryin’ the next. EP was an absolute mess, he was so happy. They looked like a couple of kids clutchin’ a candy haul they stole and figured someone was gonna come along and say they were too young for ‘em and had to give ‘em up. Just two kids really, two kids with a couple of babies they’d made. Not sure they’d ever had such a normal moment in their lives, not since he got famous, at least. They stayed like that for a couple of hours ‘till Elvis realized he could have some fun introducin’ his new kids and so he came out the door holding little Jesse above his head like he was the damn Prince of Memphis. The whole hallway was jam packed with folks who were visiting their hospitalized relatives, loitering staff, all sorts, everybody havin’ heard she was here delivering, and the whole place erupted when he brought the baby out, said that him and his sister were well and Miss Elaine was in fine shape. That applause must’ve been real gratifying for Mrs. Presley.”

Ten days were encouraged for the new mother to stay in the hospital but after five Elaine found herself anxious and uncomfortable away from her home and she begged Elvis to make the staff let her come home.

“Elvis was never more besotted with Elaine than when she was pregnant, and it only got worse when she’d just popped out a kid and was holding it and asking for something.” Joe Esposita wrote, “She talked him into making them send some staff to Graceland and letting her out early, and she swore she’d let him carry her up and down any stairs for the next week. So, after he made her sign a drink coaster that said as much, he went and charmed the administrator into sparing a doctor and four nurses to come live at Graceland for 10 days. We later learned the staff had flipped coins to see who got to go, everyone was so eager to see the famous couple up close. ”

Five days after delivering, Elaine got her wish and was wheeled out of the maternity ward in a wheel chair and down the hall to the elevator, a pristine and glamorous figure with a baby swaddled in her arms as her handsome husband strode by her side, wearing his uniform on leave as suggested by the Colonel, and carrying a precious bundle himself.

In “TLC: The Presley Way” -Marie Presley’s documentary of her family’s life- Ella recounted having often heard from her mother the story of Elvis preparing her to leave for home.

Ella recounted: “She would often tell me about how daddy had come up to the room with all these bags. He’d already brought so much stuff over during her stay, they had to haul literal baskets full of possessions and gifts and stuffed animals out of her ward back to Graceland when they moved out, it had been like a hotel stay, collecting so much. But he did come up that day with these pretty pink bags and he was so excited, he tore the tissue paper out himself and showed her this absurdly fluffy white coat he’d bought. It was way too heavy for October but it was a little chilly out and it gave her the perfect excuse to wear it. It was made out of arctic foxes and was the fluffiest, most expensive, whitest thing you’ve ever seen and it hid her swollen figure perfectly, made her look like an angel in the press pictures. Mama said he also brought a little makeup kit, and there was hairspray and curlers and combs in the other bag, and daddy sat on her hospital bed while she was in a chair and he carefully painted her face. She always loved telling about how sweet and careful he was about her image, she said she had felt very humiliated and out of control during the labor, and it was like he was putting her back together, making her familiar to herself again, crafting some dignity back. And -you’ve seen the pictures, she’s perfection, her makeup is flawless and he had swooped her hair back from her face so she’s glowing. Even tied it back with that little ribbon, it’s just so much, I mean -she looks like a doll carrying out smaller dollies from the hospital. And of course later the female press would slam her for making something as hard as birth and children look like dollhouse props but like a lot of things, they didn’t realize it came from love. It came from daddy caring about how she felt, how she wanted to be presented, they both had a lot of pride and were complementary in that way. She had just delivered twins and was about to meet half of Memphis on the curb before going home. Can you really blame her for letting her husband make her up? Can you blame him for pouring out his pride in what she’d done through his art?”

Along with tender care and as much provision for her comfort as possible, it would be Elvis Presley’s last gift to his wife before he left for Germany less than two weeks later.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

@dragonkingsdaughter

@presleysgirl6

@that-hotdog

@mydarlingelvis

@lookingforrainbows

@presleysweetheart

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@sexystarfish

@whatstruthgottodowithit

#prompts: filled #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #sarge and lil mama universe #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #Elvis #baby elvis #army elvis #elvis and me #welcome home elvis #elvis on tour #elvispresley #elvis presley x reader smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fanfiction

[suraemoon]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #50s elvis #1950s #vintage #elvispresley #elvis history

[elvisalltheway101]

•••••••A Mani & A Pedi•••••

Summary: the reasons on why you visit the spa and salon on a daily. You might as well move in, and live into their nail polish and spray stick closet. 18+

author’s note: this is a random blabble that popped into my head a while back and has just been dusting in my drafts since. I’ll make a clean version if many would like, bc from now on I’m really trying to accommodate everyone.

Author won’t shut her ass for a hot second: also shout out to my aunt for showing me this song way backkk. Also, I thank @firefly-graphics for the dividerssss!

Elvis loved to see your pearly white nails glisten and shine when you’d run your fingers through his hair. Your almond-shaped nails, that’s connected on your soft, delicate and slender fingers. He loved it all.

His blue eyes couldn’t help but just whimper softly at the sight of your pretty and freshly manicured nails pumping his hard cock. Your dainty and small fingers wrapping around his cock was already enough of a sight. But then to only add on your bubblegum pink nail polish that complemented the color of his red throbbing cock so perfectly.

He loves the aftermath after making love. He loves seeing the red marks lead down his back after you dragged your nails down in pleasure from just how good he was fucking you last night. He won’t brag to anyone of course, but he does definitely turn to the mirror with a dorky smile.

He loves your sweet fingers tangling into his hair whenever he devours into your sweet pussy. As he slurps up your slick juices, flicking his tongue and lapping up against your cunt, he moans out when your nails scratch his scalp.

Your cute little feet wasn’t left neglected either. They matched and shined in just the same color as your nails.

Every time he fucks you raw and hard, plunging his veiny length into your tight hole, he loves to plant your feet right onto his chest that’s decorated with locks of dark curls.

While your hands are busy squeezing the pillows above and tugging at the sheets, he holds you by the back of your thighs only to make you take him deeper. The sight of your feet that’s treated with care and love, can make him pulse hard alone, filling you up with so much of his seed that you can fill him dripping out of you when he pulls himself out finally. Which he only collects back on the tip of his semi-hard cock and swiftly shove it back.

And that’s why you’re sitting here now, in the best salon shop in town for the 3rd time this week. All pretty and dolled up as they continue to paint over your long nails and structure them just right.

Just right.

#Spotify #big daddy elvis smut #elvis smut #elvispresley #70s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis x reader smut #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader

[rjmartin11]

Faded Love

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: After finding out about Elvis infidelity, you decide to have one final decision before you walk out the door for good.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Infidelity, lies, crying, SMUT, cussing

Material is not suitable for people under 18 years of age. Viewer discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: I had a dream about this one. It was weird and amusing, too. This could have a happy ending if I write another chapter...

・ʚ♡ɞ・💙・ʚ♡ɞ・

You dated Elvis for three years, and you have been happily married for two years. There's nothing Elvis wouldn't do for you. He was your baby boy as you were his Satnin.

Life with Elvis wasn't perfect, but it was damn near close. You two shared everything together. He made love to you after knowing you for a week. He showed you things he had never ever shown anyone. You were head over heels in love with this lovely, blue-eyed man. He had your soul fly, and your heart sang.

When he proposed to you, your mouth was frozen. You almost forgot to say yes, but Elvis has a way of moving your tongue. The first week of marriage, you two were stuck in your room, never making it out. Room service delivered around the clock. Life was so sweet with Elvis by your side.

Elvis was the man of your dreams. Yet in the last month, you felt him drifting away from you.

Elvis would kiss you in the morning and whisper in your ear, "Good morning, my love." He would always hold your hand whether people were there or not. Now, it seemed he'd hold your hand for appearances sake. Lovemaking slowed down, and he stopped holding you in bed. It was all so random to you.

You feared the worst happened. He found another lover. Someone prettier, kinder, and more fun than you.

Someone who could give him the baby you couldn't. You tried. God knows how much you tried to give him that blue-eyed baby. He told you that he never worried about it. That the both of you could just spoil each other. He'd be your baby, and you'd be his mommy. Still, you wanted to give him more.

You saw him staring at a random beauty when you two were at the studio. You didn't pester or gripe. You simply just took his hand, getting his attention. He looked at you, and you leaned, placing your foreheads together. You whisper to him softly, "I love you the mostest, babe."

"Forever," Elvis says, kissing your lips gently.

This was your special thing with Elvis. It was your secret hand shake, password to love, and lover's coat of arms in one. At one time, it was your code for let's go upstairs and get naked. Now, it's an affirmation of love.

Tonight, Elvis had a one night only show in Memphis at the Orpheum. Elvis was on fire. He nearly brought the house down, and he looked astonishing in his black and green jumpsuit with the gold buttons. You screamed and cheered along with the crowd. You knew that Elvis was truly alive when he was on stage.

You danced to all the classics. That's Alright, Mama, Jailhouse Rock, Blue Suede Shoes, All Shock Up, and Hound Dog. The newer additions like Little Sister, and you swayed to sweet, slow songs like Love Me Tender.

Elvis started his joking segment and had the Memphis crowd laughing.

"He's incredible, don't you think?" The young woman beside you asks.

"Yes, very," you answered, your hands folded together over your heart.

"One of his guys asked me if I wanted to meet Elvis backstage, and I was like, "Who wouldn't?" She tells you. "I'm going to meet Elvis Presley."

You take a really good look at her. She's a blonde with beautiful blue eyes. Not as beautiful as Elvis's eyes, but beautiful nonetheless. She has to be about nineteen or twenty years old. Flawless skin and a nice figure. Her smile is pretty. Altogether, you understand how Elvis could be drawn to her charms. It's not her fault he requested her. Does she know who you are?

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be spreading this, but I'm here by myself. All my friends are on Beale Street, and I wanted to be here. God, I'm I lucky."

"Yes," you reply. "You are a very lucky girl."

"I'm Daphne," she says, extending her hand to you.

"It's nice to meet you, Daphne. I'm... Y/N," you say, trying to compose yourself.

"You are beautiful, Y/N. Have I seen you somewhere before? Like a magazine? Are you famous?" Daphne asks you.

"No. I'm no one special, but thank you for saying that. I needed that nudge of confidence."

A moment or so later, Jerry comes to take you backstage. Elvis was already in the middle of his final song, and you had to make a run for it. You politely say your goodbyes to Daphne, running away to get to Elvis.

As you run backstage, you formulate a plan to be the one in Elvis' arms tonight. He is your husband, after all, and there's not a sin that's has been committed against your marriage.

Confidence brims through you. You know what to say to Elvis. As you wait for him to get out of the shower, you catch up with the Sweet Inspirations. They have always been so... sweet and kind to you. They liven up the background of the show, giving it that lady's touch and soulful edge.

Five minutes later, Elvis emerges looking gorgeous in his all black jumpsuit. He was coming off of his high from the performance, and his cheeks are aglow. You can tell. He's absolutely breathtaking. You want him.

After shaking a few hands, Elvis makes his way to you. Excited, you jump into his arms to embrace him. You both laughed. You inhale his manly musk, allowing your senses to become aroused by him.

"My love, you were incredible tonight," you whisper in his ear.

"Thank you, baby," Elvis says, kissing your cheek.

He places you down on your feet, allowing you a moment to grasp his face in your hands to place a tender kiss on his soft lips. Elvis seems taken aback by this action, but he kisses you back. You take this as initiative to lean more into this kiss. You open your mouth to let him slip his tongue in your mouth. You taste each other, and Elvis pulls away slowly.

"What was that for?" Elvis asks, curiosity plaguing his mind.

"Do I need an excuse to love you?" You ask him.

"Not at all, Y/N," he says, combing a strand of hair behind your ear with his fingers.

He stares into your eyes for a moment.

"Darling, you seem tired? You ready to go home?" Elvis asks.

"If that's code for, let's go home and have fun. Yes, take me home, baby."

"I'll walk you to the car," Elvis says, taking your arm and escorting you to the black stretch limo.

He walks you to the private alley where the getaway limos are located for fewer fans to come swallow the car.

A few members of the Memphis Mafia are around for protection purposes. Elvis opens the door for you to get in.

"Wait," you say. "You aren't coming home with me?"

"No, I'll be home soon. I got some business to take care of first at the studio, then I'll be there."

How could he lie to you to you so effortlessly? You won't call him out on it, though. He hasn't done anything yet.

"Elvis. I want you. It's been a month since we've been physically intimate. I miss that part of us. Why are you pushing away?" You question.

"I'm not pushing you away. I'm... I'm just busy with work and this latest record. The Colonel's on my ass. I'm tired..."

"Are you tired of me?"

"Baby, never. Why would you think..."

"I want you to come home with me. Now. Please, Elvis," you beg.

"I told you I can't."

"The last month feels like you have been pushing me away. It's like you don't love me anymore."

"That's not true, Y/N," Elvis says, trying to convince you.

"Then come home with me. I'll give you that baby I promised."

"I'll be home before midnight, baby."

"Elvis, if you don't come home with me, something's going to happen," you say quietly.

"Jerry will be there with you. Nothing's gonna happen."

Elvis gives you a kiss on the forehead. Desperate, you grab his face and kiss him one more time.

"I love you the mostest, babe," you whisper.

"I know, darling. I know," he whispers back. "I'll see you when I get home."

He kisses you once more and walks back inside. You're left there wondering what you've done wrong. A second later, you get into the back of the limo, with Jerry sliding in behind.

"Jerry, can you please ride in the other car?" You ask. "I need to be alone for a little while."

"Y/N, I don't think..."

"Please!" You shout.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, opening the car door, exiting the vehicle.

Once the door is shut and you're alone, you begin to cry. Your heart shatters into a million pieces. For the man who was promised to be yours rather be with another woman.

The car starts to pull off, making its way to Graceland. You cry the entire ride home. You don't know what to do. You're speechless.

The car stops at the front door, and you start to pat the tears away from cheeks. The car door opens, and you get out heading to the house.

Once inside, you head straight to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and a glass. You're pouring your sorrows in this bottle tonight.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jerry asks.

"Just fine," you answer.

You move past Jerry, heading upstairs. Your mind wonders, and you have the most evil thought come to your mind.

"Jerry?" you say.

"Yes, Y/N?"

You look at his face. You look into his eyes. For the very first time, you realize Jerry has hazel eyes. He's always been attractive. He's not Elvis, though. That's a betrayal you can't even fathom. You breathy laugh at the thought of taking out your sexual frustrations out on Jerry.

"Y/N..."

"Thank you, Jerry," you interrupt him. "Thank you for being so kind. I'll never ever forget that. Take the night off and go home."

You make your way upstairs and pour yourself a drink as you sit on the bed. The tears begin to form in your eyes as you contemplate your next move. You don't bother taking off your dress.

You think about his lips and all the sweet things he used to say to you. Is he saying those same loving terms to her? These thoughts plague your mind as you glance at the clock.

12:35am...

No Elvis.

You refuse to sleep until you give him a piece of your mind.

As dawn approaches, you lift the wine bottle in your hand to see if there's any left. There's just enough to fill the glass that sits on your bedside table. You don't bother pouring it. You just put it back down on the floor by your feet.

As you look up, Elvis walks through the door. He sees you sitting there with the bottle at your feet. You look over at the clock and see that it's 6:05am. Six hours later than Elvis told you he'd be home. You look back at him.

"Baby, what are you doing up so early?" Elvis questions you.

"Did you have fun last night?" You ask. There's no time beating around the bush.

"What?" Elvis comes in the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Did you have fun last night? With her?" You restate.

"Baby, you've been drinkin'."

"Yet my mind is completely clear. Answer me. Did you have fun with her last night?!" You raise your voice.

Elvis doesn't take this lightly. He demands respect and doesn't appreciate being spoken down to. You don't know where you find the courage to speak to him like this, but you do.

"Watch your tone speaking to me like that, Y/N. I give you ever gawd damn thing you could want..."

"Except for your respect," you cut him off.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. There was no her," Elvis explains.

"Her name is Daphne. She's a petite blonde with blue eyes, and she loves a good time," you tell him.

Elvis freezes in place. How could you know what her name was or what she looked like? Did someone say something to her?

"How... did you know?" Elvis asks quietly. "Y/N, I'm..."

"I just want to know one thing, Elvis."

You stand up from your position on the bed and slowly walk over to him. Your blood boils as the tears wail in your eyes again. Elvis doesn't know what to expect from you, but he's prepared to be scolded.

"Was she good?" You ask.

"What?"

"Was she good in bed? Was she fun? Did you tell her all your secrets? Did you tell her about your spot right behind your neck? How you like it kissed? Licked?" The tears pour down your face as you approach him, kissing his lips.

Elvis, out of breath, folds to your advances. It used to be so easy for you and him. A simple look. The brush of your hand. The sparkle of your eye. The sound of your voice would drive to nuts about you. Now you have to cry to get his attention.

You unbutton his shirt and slide your hands down his hairy chest. You smell her all over him, which adds fuel to the fire within you.

"Does she know how you like you dick massaged?" You ask him as you undo his chucky belt from around his waist.

You drop the belt to the floor. You kiss his lips as you undo his pants, sliding them down his slender hips. As his cock springs forward, you get down on your knees in front of him.

"Did she kiss it like this?"

You ask kissing the head of his cock. You lick it the tip of him as he drips with precum, and he shivers. You slowly take him in your mouth, measure by measure. You moan and suck him off just the way he likes. Elvis holds the back of your head as you drive him deeper into his mouth. You pop him out of your mouth, then tend to his balls, licking and swirling them with your tongue.

Elvis is beside himself with lust. He recalls all the times you two made love. No one he's been with has ever made him feel this good or this pleased. You knew his body like no other.

After Elvis comes, you look at his face as he goes slackjawed. You know how to make him weak in the knees to get whatever you wanted from him sexually.

You stand up and push him on the bed. You take his pants off his legs and slide your dress off your shoulders, leaving you bare before him.

You climb on top of him, pumping his cock softly until he's good and hard.

"Does she know you like to be called Daddy?"

"No," Elvis sighed, catching his breath.

"You tell her about our baby talk, Daddy? Needs you, baby girl does. Miss you much, daddy waddy," you whisper to him as you lower yourself on top of him.

Unable to answer, Elvis shakes his head.

"Daddy in need of baby girl. Daddy need her," Elvis whimpers.

You slowly rise in fall on his hardened dick. You roll your hips so his tip touches the part inside of you that only he knows. You inhale sharply when he touches it just right that it drenches you completely. Excited, you start to push yourself off and on his penis.

You lean forward, looking Elvis in his eyes. You always get lost within his eyes. This was the way you glazed into the very soul of this incredible human being. This is when he showed you the real him. There was so much love within him give.

Elvis grasped your hips, forcing himself inside you deeper. He has felt this good in a long time. You knew him so well. You knew how to make feel alive when he was off stage, yet you knew how to bring him peace.

"Her wet for Daddy?" He asks.

"Daddy, waddy ever had it this wet?" You ask.

"No, baby. No," he answered. "Daddy cumming fast."

You speed up your rhythm a bit, chasing the orgasm within you both.

"Oh, Elvis, Daddy," you moan.

And like a count down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two...

You fall over the edge of pleasure into the space of oblivion.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N!" Elvis shouts, releasing his seed all over your walls as they pulse around his dick.

One.

Elvis holds you close as you both catch your breath. He kisses your lips, taking all you give him. You sit up on his chest.

"Was Daphne that good, daddy?" You ask him.

"No, baby girl. No where close. She doesn't compare to you," he says.

"If that's true... why would you even fuck someone that's not better than me?" You say.

Elvis is left speechless yet again by you this morning. You climb off of him and head to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

"Y/N, baby," Elvis calls out to you, but you ignore him.

You clean yourself off and wash your face. You dress yourself in your jeans and an old tee shirt.

"Y/N, c-can we talk?" Elvis asks from the other side of the door.

You open the door and look at him.

"What about?" You ask. "There's nothing left to say. I begged you to come home with me last night, and you refused me. You lied and went to be with that girl."

"I'm... I'm..."

"I'm done, Elvis."

"Done? Done with what? Where are you going?" Elvis asks.

"I'm leaving you! You've broken my heart. You promised me you'd never do that. I'm gone!"

"Y/N, baby. Please don't go," Elvis begs you.

You push past Elvis, leaving him standing there completely naked. You run down the stairs and out the front door. You hear him yelling for you to stay, but ignore him. You run to the front gate, asking Uncle Vester to open it. You run down the sidewalk and stick out your thumb to flag some down.

An old truck driver in a navy blue pickup stops and picks you up. You ask him to take you to Union Street near Beale. He kindly helps you to your destination.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop

#elvispresley #elvis #elvis fans #romance #elvis x reader #LoveAndLoss