#elvis fan fiction

[vintageshanny]

Waiting for Love - Part One

He’s a Married Man

I felt inspired and started a brand new series! It’s a bit different from anything else I’ve done, and I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! ❤️

Content: Story starts in summer of 1970, marriage problems, infidelity, smut (lighter in this first chapter but still there), fun Elvis-y things, 18+

Early July 1970

Vivien walked slowly past the Graceland gate on her way home from work. She always told herself that if she didn’t actually stop and wait, she wasn’t one of those crazy obsessed fans. She was just a normal curious person. Who walked five blocks out of her way every day in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of Elvis Presley. There were a few other fans milling about, but it was too hot for a huge crowd. Right as she was about to cross over the driveway entrance, a big black car came roaring down the street, barely slowing to turn into the drive where the gate was starting to open. Vivien’s jaw dropped open as Elvis himself leaned out of the passenger window with a big smile.

“Hey, honey, didn’t mean ta scare ya. Got a crazy driver here,” he said, pointing a thumb over at the stocky man behind the wheel. Elvis gave Vivien a quick glance up and down and smiled again. “Were ya waitin’ for me?”

Vivien smoothed out her knee-length skirt and quickly glanced down to make sure none of the buttons on her short-sleeved blouse had popped open. She was always having trouble with that third one down. The one that would reveal the most, of course. So far, so good. “Oh, um,” she stumbled over her words. “I, um, was walking home from work, but it is nice to see you though.” Her face turned red as Elvis chuckled.

“It’s nice ta see you too, honey. It’s too hot ta be sittin’ out here talkin’, but why don’t ya come to the movies with us t’night,” he said it as more of statement than a question. “A group of us are goin’ to the Memphian. Just come in the side door at 10:00 and say Joe invited you.” The driver rolled his eyes at this, but neither Vivien nor Elvis seemed to notice.

Vivien tried in vain to keep her cool as she exclaimed, “Oh, wow, okay, I’d love to.” As she pushed her glasses up on her nose, she made eye-contact with Elvis right as he was also adjusting his own tinted glasses. They both laughed, and Elvis gave her a little wink.

“Okay, honey, I’ll see ya t’night,” he called out as the car continued up the winding driveway. Vivien was pretty sure her smile was lighting up the whole city as she continued her walk home.

As soon as she got inside her apartment, she picked up the phone. “Roxanne, I need you to come over right now. It’s a fashion emergency.” Ten minutes later, her best friend arrived at the door from her apartment two buildings down, panting and out of breath.

“I got here as fast as I could! What’s going on? Hot date?” Roxanne asked as she barged in and flopped on the couch.

Vivien bobbed up and down excitedly as she squealed, “I’m going to the Memphian with Elvis Presley!”

“What?! When?!” Roxanne exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and then sinking back down onto it in shock.

“Tonight! I told you my walking by the gate every day would pay off eventually,” Vivien announced triumphantly. “And you have to go with me! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind; he said it would be a big group.”

Roxanne’s face dropped a little bit. “I can’t tonight!” she wailed. “Michael made us reservations for this fancy anniversary dinner, and he’ll kill me if I bail on him. Especially for another man. I’ll just have to live vicariously through your stories about the night,” she sighed dreamily.

“Has it been one year already? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Vivien teased.

“Oh, very funny, goody two-shoes,” Roxanne retorted. “At least I’ve had something in me.” Vivien blushed at that dig. She’d always been holding out for something really special. “Speaking of that,” Roxanne continued, “are you gonna try to hook up with him tonight?”

“Who? Elvis?” Vivien asked with shock.

“No, the pope. Of course Elvis! He invited you personally, he probably thought you looked cute in your little secretary outfit,” Roxanne said with a knowing wink.

“N-no, he-he’s a married man,” Vivien sputtered out. “I’m just excited to be around him and maybe talk to him. I bet he’s so interesting to talk to.”

“Hmm,” Roxanne tutted disapprovingly. “Well, I think you should go for it. I heard that marriage has been on the rocks since the beginning anyway,” she said as Vivien shot her a look. “I’m just saying, you could be waiting in the wings. Now let’s find you something to wear.”

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

At 9:55pm, Vivien stepped off the bus two blocks from the theater, feeling severely overdressed in a low-cut sparkly cocktail dress and red kitten heels, her wavy dark brown hair pulled back off her face with a jeweled hair clip. Well, that’s what she got for asking Roxanne’s advice. She should’ve known she’d be sent out into the world looking like a good-time girl. Roxanne also told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to wear her glasses. Despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see the movie, or probably even recognize Elvis from across the lobby, she followed the advice and tucked them in her purse before heading toward the side door of the theater as instructed.

A red-headed man was acting as some sort of security guard right outside the door. Vivien told him she was invited by Joe and he held the door open for her to go in. She was surprised to find that the side door led directly into the darkened theater. Patton was just starting. She squinted down the aisle looking for any familiar faces but found nothing, so she nervously sat down in an empty seat, wondering if she would even see Elvis at all. Her nerves, plus the fact that everything on the screen looked fuzzy, made it hard to even focus on what was happening in the movie. She decided to sneak out to the lobby and see if the concession stand had anything that might settle her stomach, which had been doing flip-flops since she stepped off the bus. She rose and quickly scurried down the aisle, trying not to block anyone’s view of the movie.

Vivien pulled her wallet out of her purse to pay for her 7-Up and noticed she had brought a copy of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, one of her favorite books. She decided maybe she’d just find a spot to sit and read until the movie was over. Maybe she could catch Elvis’ attention on his way out. She wandered the little lobby looking for a spot to sit and ran right into Elvis coming out of the bathroom. His driver from earlier was standing next to the door. Vivien thought maybe she imagined it, but it looked like Elvis’ face lit up when he saw her.

“She is here!” Elvis turned to Joe and glared at him. “I told ya ta bring her ta sit with me when she got here.”

“I told Red to let me know when she got here! I said she had long dark hair and glasses…” Joe’s voice trailed off as he realized Vivien no longer matched his description.

Elvis started laughing as he realized what the problem was. “Why’d ya take your cute glasses off, honey? How’s anyone supposed ta find ya?”

Vivien smiled shyly. “Bad advice from a friend, I guess,” she said, fishing in her purse for her glasses. “Plus I didn’t know you’d be looking for me.”

“Hey, whatcha got there? The Prophet?” Elvis asked excitedly, noticing the book peeking out of her purse.

“Oh, yeah, I never go anywhere without a book,” Vivian admitted, feeling silly. Elvis looked at her, his eyes literally twinkling with delight.

“That’s one of my favorite books! You should come visit me tomorrow, I’d love ta talk to ya about it.” Elvis had now moved so close that their arms were touching. Vivien could hardly breath, so intoxicating was his presence.

“Are-are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I’d love to talk to you more, but I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition, honey, I’m always up for some good conversation. Plus the guys’ll be busy tomorrow, right, Joe?” Elvis gave him a pointed look, letting him know they should make themselves busy. “I’ll be wantin’ some company. You don’t want me sittin’ there all lonely, do ya?” Vivien felt goosebumps raise on her skin as Elvis ran the backs of his fingers down her upper arm.

“No, of course not,” she whispered, suddenly unsure of exactly what he was asking. “I’d love to keep you company.” She felt embarassed at how flirty she was being with this married man, but she also couldn’t seem to stop smiling at him. It was all so surreal. Elvis pulled her in a for a tight hug, his arms wrapped all the way around her so that his fingers were brushing along the sides of her breasts. The affection he displayed had her weak in the knees.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow, honey. Come by around three. After breakfast,” he smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. He started to walk away and then quickly turned back, asking, “What’s your name, dear? In case ya try ta go incognito again.”

“Vivien,” she said with a smile. “What’s yours?” Elvis tilted his head back and let out a loud burst of laughter before walking away. Vivien was floating so high that she almost didn’t wonder why he no longer wanted her to come sit with him. She supposed he’d found a new seat mate when he thought she wasn’t there. Maybe his wife?, she wondered. But then why would he be looking for me?

After the movies were over, Vivien hoped to say goodbye to Elvis again, but he was surrounded by fans, and she felt silly interrupting. She observed that he was affectionate with almost everyone, and worried she had read way too much into their conversation. Does he even really want me to come over? Since he had insisted, she decided it would be rude to not show up, but she tried to get her expectations in check. Plus, he’s a married man, she reminded herself.

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

The next day was Saturday, thank goodness, because Vivien had given no thought to her work schedule when agreeing to these outings. She wondered if Elvis even kept track of the days of the week like normal people had to. She had already decided not to call Roxanne until she got back from Graceland later. She didn’t want anyone else’s thoughts getting in her head; she was confused enough on her own. Unsure of what to wear or how fancy she should look, she decided to just be comfortable in some black capri pants and a red and white striped shirt that hugged her body in the way she liked. She slipped on some sandals, grabbed her book and purse, and headed out the door.

It was much more pleasant outside than it had been the day before, which was a relief. Vivien thought how awkward it would be to show up with sweat dripping down her face. Whoever was at the gate must have been expecting her, because they opened it right away and told her to just knock on the front door. Elvis answered the door himself, wearing crisp white pants and a satin-y red shirt with arm garters. His feet were bare, which made her heart flutter for some reason.

“Vivien! Perfect timing! I just finished gettin’ dressed,” he smiled. “Come on in.” He led her into a beautiful living room with a massively long couch. She noticed a framed photo on the coffee table of him, Priscilla, and their cute little daughter.

“You have a beautiful family, Elvis,” she commented when he noticed her staring at the picture.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, sounding a little dismissive of the compliment. “‘Cilla’s out of town right now. She went to visit her parents with Lisa.” He seemed to be answering a question that had been hanging in the air, unasked. Vivien just nodded and tried to look like this fact didn’t both excite and worry her.

“I brought my book. Is there any particular chapter you wanted to talk about?” she asked, hoping to guide the conversation away from absent spouses.

“All of it!” he said excitedly. She noticed he had a copy sitting on the coffee table as well. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable, honey. You can take your sandals off and just set your feet here.” He indicated the space on the couch next to him. Feeling a little self-conscious, Vivien curled up so that she was leaning slightly away from him but her bare feet were next to him. While they talked, Elvis would occasionaly rest his hand on her ankle or rub his fingers absent-mindedly over the top of her foot. It was very soothing. He didn’t seem to be aiming for anything more, just a soft, gentle affection. When the phone rang, he excused himself and said he’d be right back. He seemed slightly agitated when he returned.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Vivien questioned, noticing his tense demeanor.

“Yeah, honey, ever’thing’s fine,” he drawled. The butterflies in Vivien’s stomach flew into overdrive at the way the word “honey” always dripped off his tongue like the sweet sticky substance itself. Elvis sighed and continued on without any prompting, unable to keep his frustration to himself. “It’s jus’ ‘Cilla, she’s always got-got-gotta be so suspicious of me,” he vented, his irritation clearly growing. “She c-c-can’t believe I’d jus’ be talkin’ ta someone about books and stuff that she’s not even interested in. It’s always gotta be somethin’...nefarious with her,” he emphasized each syllable of “nefarious” and rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back next to Vivien on the couch.

She swallowed nervously and nodded, trying not to be distracted by the way his chubby penis flopped loosely against his thigh when he leaned back, clearly uncontrained by any underwear. She actually wasn’t sure if it was chubby, but it looked like it would be, and she’d been sneaking enough glances at it to feel like she had an idea of what it would look like if he exposed it to her…Vivien was pulled out of her less-than-wholesome thoughts by the realization that Elvis had followed her eyes down to his lap and seemed to be reading her thoughts as if they were comic strip bubbles showing next to her head. Instead of the bravado he sometimes exuded, Vivien was surprised to see him blush and rest his hand on his lap in a way that blocked her view.

“W-w-where were we?” he stuttered, thumbing through the well-loved pages of The Prophet, pretending not to notice the way Vivien’s racing heartbeat seemed to make the whole couch shudder with desire.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Vivien blurted out against her better judgment, causing Elvis to look up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. “I mean,” Vivien began to ramble nervously, “if I were, um, if you and I, I mean,” she fought back at the tears of embarassment that were welling up in her eyes and started again. “If I had you, I wouldn’t probably like you talking to another woman much either,” Vivien cringed at her awkward wording. “I’d want you all to myself all the time, especially to talk about things you’re so passionate about,” she finished with a whisper, looking down nervously at her red-painted fingernails.

Elvis nodded his head slowly, considering her words. “W-w-well, ‘Cilla ain’t like that though. She ain’t interested in these things. Sometimes I feel we have nothin’ in common…” his voice trailed off sadly as he seemed to be contemplating all his life decisions in this moment. Then his soft lips tugged up into a crooked smirk and he looked over at Vivien slyly. “How often do ya think about havin’ me?” The bravado was back.

Sneaking just the tiniest peek back down at his crotch, Vivien racked her brain for a witty answer that wouldn’t sound ridiculous and came up with nothing. “It sure looks nice out,” she quickly changed the subject with a glance out the window.

“It sure does, honey,” Elvis chuckled. “We should take a break from the book and go for a swim.” Vivien flushed at the thought of seeing Elvis’ body in just some swim trunks.

“Oh, um, I don’t have a swimsuit with me,” she explained as he sized her up appraisingly.

“That’s okay, dear, I think I have somethin’ for ya,” he said, jumping up and hurrying upstairs. He came back five minutes later with a beaming grin and a little red and white polka dot bikini. “I bet this’ll fit ya okay.” Something in his cheeky grin told Vivien that he wouldn’t be too upset if it didn’t fit quite right. It looked very tiny.

“Oh, Elvis, I can’t wear your wife’s swimsuit,” Vivien protested, but he had clearly already made his mind up.

“It-it’s fine, honey, she ain’t gonna miss it. She had ten of ‘em up there, brand new, I jus’ cut the tags off.” Elvis grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the room leading out to the pool area. He nodded to the changing area and told her to just meet him out at the pool when she was ready. Vivien wriggled herself into the little suit and nervously eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. Everything essential was covered, but a soft little roll of skin was squeezing out from the suit bottom, her butt felt too exposed, and her breasts were spilling out slightly from the molded cups on top. She bit down on her lip, trying to make a quick decision. If she got right in the water, the ill-fitting suit wouldn’t be too noticeable. She decided it would be much more embarassing to have to get dressed again and go tell him that the suit was too small.

Elvis let out a low whistle from his lawn chair as soon as she stepped outside. So much for sneaking right into the water, Vivien thought as Elvis jumped up and circled around her. Her heart started racing at the sight of him in little red swim shorts and a striped shirt. She sinfully wondered if there was any chance of something flopping out the bottom of the shorts.

“Damn, baby, I like the way you fill that suit out,” Elvis murmured as his eyes stayed a second too long on her overflowing bikini top.

“It’s a little too small,” Vivien couldn’t stop herself from pointing out.

“Nah, honey, it looks perfect.” That crooked smile sent the butterflies on another flight. “Now the rule is, to enter the pool, ya have ta go off the diving board,” Elvis announced with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Vivien responded, thinking of all the body parts that could come flying out of her suit upon impact with the water.

“C’mon, Vivien,” he teased, giving her bare sides a little tickle with his long warm fingers. Her skin felt on fire from his touch. “Don’t be a party pooper. I’ll even go first!” He peeled off his t-shirt, causing a strange tingle to shoot through Vivien’s core, tossed it aside, and sprang into a messy dive, his long legs flailing a bit in the air. He surfaced, spitting water in the air like a fountain and beckoning her to come in. Vivien set her glasses on a little table by the chair, walked gingerly until her toes were at the edge of the diving board, took a deep breath, and plunged in, hoping for the best.

As she came up for air and pushed her dripping wet hair out of her face, she caught the flustered look on Elvis’ face that made her realize that her fear had come true. She glanced down to where his eyes were fixated on her chest, his lips hanging open slightly as his tongue subconciously slipped out and licked them. Vivien let out a little yelp when she saw that one of her nipples had escaped out of the bikini top and she quickly moved to tuck it back where it belonged. She covered her face in embarassment as Elvis swam closer to her. He pulled her hands down from her face and drew her into a gentle hug.

“Hey now, honey, ‘s okay. I wasn’t even lookin’...too much,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh as Vivien swatted at him.

“It’s not funny, Elvis, I’m embarassed,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Aw, honey, you ain’t never gotta be embarassed around me. And it’s jus’ us here, okay? Good thing all the guys had errands to run today, ‘cuz I want ya ta save that show only for me, okay?” Vivien finally smiled a little at that and nodded. “Would it make ya feel any better ta see my nipples?” Elvis joked, pushing his chest out in an exaggerated fashion. Vivien laughed and blushed as she eyed his torso, willing her eyes not to keep going down further, but that little trail of hair leading down past his belly button was just so enticing. “Hey, my nipples are up here,” Elvis teased, catching her under the chin with his tanned fingers. Vivien’s head was swimming at how flirtatious things had gotten since she’d admitted that she had thought of… “having him.” He’s a married man…hold it together, Vivien, she whispered inside her head. As if sensing her nervousness, Elvis quickly changed the subject, pulling her over to lean against the wall of the pool. “I’ve been talkin’ your ear off all day about my problems. Tell me somethin’ about you, honey.”

“Um, well, I’m 21, I work as a secretary at a law firm, I was named after Vivien Leigh,” she started out tentatively, wondering how much Elvis was really interested in anything about her life.

“Really? Vivien Leigh?” he exclaimed, his rapt attention giving her the confidence to continue.

“Yeah, my mom really loved Gone With the Wind,” she said with a laugh. As she talked about her family, Vivien took note of how Elvis’ eyes and nose crinkled up so cutely when he laughed, how the drying hair of his sideburns curled up and tucked into his ears, how the hint of gray at his temples sparkled in the sunlight. As he reached over and brushed a stray hair out of her face, a little shiver ran through her body.

“Is the wa-wa too cold, honey?” he asked, looking concerned. “Lemme help ya onto the ledge here so you can warm up in the sun.” He lifted Vivien onto the ledge and leaned in between her legs as he sat her down. “That better?” She nodded and her breath caught in her throat as she stared down into his sparkly blue eyes. “Vivien, you are beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in and pressed his pillowly lips to hers, slipping his tongue gently into her mouth. As he moved his lips down to the soft skin of her breast that was spilling out of the bikini top, her brain was screaming at her to stop him, but she couldn’t stop her body from responding to his every touch. He pulled the cup down a little bit, popping her nipple back out into the warm sunshine. Vivien let out an involuntary little gasp as he touched his tongue to her nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. As he rubbed his thumb over the saliva he left on it, he whispered, “See you ain’t gotta feel bad around me at all, honey. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He tucked it back into her top before leaning his head down and kissing her thigh. “Mmm, honey, you are drivin’ me crazy in this little suit. I see your cute little beaver wants ta come out and visit me,” he murmured as his fingers traced up Vivien’s inner thighs and rubbed gently at the dark wiry hairs escaping from the elastic of the bikini bottoms. Elvis hooked his long index finger into the elastic and tugged it to the side. He let out a groan as he slipped his fingers through the wetness. “You’re glistenin’ for me, Vivien,” he said with a smile.

“Elvis, I, um, ohhhh,” Vivien let out a load moan as Elvis slipped a finger inside of her. He tried to pump it, but her whole body seemed to tense up and his finger was meeting too much resistance. “Elvis, I’m sorry, um, I’m,” she started to explain her embarassing lack of experience, but Elvis shushed her gently. He straightened her suit out and pulled her back into the water, into his arms.

“Shh, ‘s okay, honey. You’re a good girl ain’t cha? I can feel it,” he whispered as he rubbed her back soothingly. “We ain’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“It’s, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just, um, I care about you Elvis. I don’t want to be something nefarious for you. I want to be something good.” Elvis looked a little shocked and - delighted maybe? - that someone would care enough about him to reject him, in a way. There was a warm glow on his face as he looked at Vivien tenderly.

“Can we jus’ be friends for now then? I really love talkin to ya, honey,” he said softly. “And, like I said, we ain’t gotta do anything you ain’t ready for. I jus’ want your company.”

Vivien nodded and looked up into his eyes. “I’d love to be friends. I think you’re a really special person,” she added, causing Elvis to blush.

After they were dressed and saying their goodbyes, Elvis promised to give her a call to come back and talk about the book some more. He leaned down and pressed a soft sweet kiss to her lips. “Not nefarious, just friendly,” he whispered as he pulled away with that lopsided smile. Vivien smiled and nodded, even as the gentle poke from something firm and definitely chubby below his belt told her that wasn’t quite true. And next time, she wasn’t sure she’d have the wherewithal to stop him from exploring her in any way he wanted. She walked away from the mansion feeling giddy, confused, thrilled, and terrified.

Tag List (please let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love

#elvis #Elvis fan fiction #Elvis fan fic #Elvis x oc #i love this man

[mahg-stuff]

Sunup Hues - a bd!elvis b-day special!

⸻

AN: Hello loves! I decided to give ya'll a late bde birthday special! 'Sunup Hues’. I got this idea very, very early in the morning due to tossing and turning in bed all night. I'm not sure why but the idea of a moody volatile elvis on his birthday morning intrigued me! He's bit of a man in this drabble which I *caugh, cough* am weak for sometimes. I definitely captured some of 'his doll' essence in here although I did not intend for but, my fingers just typed away. Okay! Excuse my yapping, enjoy my darlings!

- also, tysm to every one of you loves who enjoyed and rb 'bitty'! ♡

Now enjoy! & pls excuse any errors! 🫶🏻

- a drabble so 1-2k words?! Summary: He had all kinds of sides, you never knew which one you'd get, but either way, you were content, tending to whatever one he gave you. Like a chameleon, he was constantly quick to shift hues. Pairing: bd!elvis x afab!reader Warning’s: I'll be presenting you a moody/capricious!elvis, mention of elvis' pill use and sleep issues, e sorta having an ego and being assertive towards reader, fluff!!, pet names, age gap (not implied), bby talk, just kissing and cuddles here, use of word daddy (only once), power dynamics

You'd woken up early this morning, excited to celebrate his day. You felt the warmth of his body next to you and heard the soft snores he let out. Lifting your head a tiny bit to peek over at him, to your surprise, he was in a peaceful slumber. You admired him for a bit, your eyes going from sunken ones to his pillowy lips that were a bit agape. You smiled to yourself, you liked seeing him in this unconventional form.

Elvis had asked everyone beforehand not to pay him a visit today, he'd told them they could just come by the following day. Besides you, naturally, he'd always asserted that you were his little angel and felt at peace when you were by his side.

Since you first started dating you'd noticed how his moods were constantly fluctuating. Whether he’d been too pilled up or hadn't had enough sleep, which was less and less these days, you had gotten familiar with his behaviors and how quickly they could change. You had observed yesterday that, following his late show, he appeared very worn out and lethargic.

So, of course you were debating whether or not to wake him up, and as you thought about it, you recalled that he had mentioned how much fun you two would have at Graceland. He’d promised you to go golf cart riding together out back and, overall, just have a lovely time together all day in Graceland.

You'd even heard him mumble to himself, "Just like old times," with a smile but bleak eyes.

Given that he had sounded upbeat (to you) about his plans for the day before, that darling little mind of yours decided it would be best to wake him.

You pulled the comfy covers off your body, sitting up on your knees in your frilly underpants to face him. You beamed at his sleeping form, some of his wiry chest hair peeking out of his silk pajama button-up.

“El.” You whisper as you leaned over and lightly tugged at his shirt.

You were sure to be gentle, it troubled you a tiny bit, waking him up when you'd known he didn't get much rest. You pause for a moment and back away from him, you sit there in your frilly bottoms and teeny tank, nibbling away at your finger.

"El." Mumbled this time.

He groaned and rolled over, burying his face into a pillow.

"Can't uh man get some sleep 'round here?" he mutters, his mood evident in his tone.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and reluctantly rolls back on his back, not bothering to hide his annoyance at being woken up. You sat there wide-eyed and began to speak softly, but he cut you off.

"Goddamn, honey, you should know not ta wake me up when ah am finally gettin’ rest.” He says this to you vigorously as his eyes narrowed at you.

You moved around the bedsheet's to get closer.

"But El, you said- said we’d spend time together and have a good time for your special day.”

You replied with furrowed brows, sounding like a child.

He takes notice of your contorted face.

“Mm, don’t do that now, it’ll start wrinklin’.”

He nudges you, and you relax your face quickly.

"Ain't fittin' for uh girl like you." He continues.

You frowned when realizing this wasn’t how you'd thought it out to be in your head. As you contemplated your disappointment, he seemed to hone in on your expression.

"What's wida frown, doll? Ah was the one who was woken up," he remarked with an emotionless expression.

“Now would ya lay back down, an’ quit frownin’ lil girl.”

He motions at you, and you bring your hand up to your lips to quite literally wipe that frown off your face.

You lie back down next to him as he brings his arm around you.

“Should be smilin’ your little ass off just ta be lyin’ next to me.” He mumbled more to himself than to you.

"Now hush up button." He said as he pulled you closer to him.

You'd become accustomed to playing the role of complying with his temperaments, always there to fulfill his every whim.

Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of his nurturing side. It's in the little things, like the way he’d brush your hair out of your face or sit you on his lap to read to you. Despite his demanding nature at times, you can't deny that he has brought out a different side in you as well, a softer, more vulnerable side that craves his affection and attention like never before.

His standards had grown on you, and you found yourself bending over backward to please him. It became a cycle of highs and lows, but through it all, you couldn't help but be drawn by his boyish and kiddish side. His playful antics and mischievous grin would always light up the room, reminding you of the carefree joy of childhood. And while his demands could be exhausting, you knew deep down that he just wanted someone to join him in his world, to share in the imagination and wonder that seemed to guide his every move. So you embraced all sides of him, knowing that within this distinctive combination lay a love that was both different and comforting. Well at least to you.

You snuggled against his hefty, soft frame, still a bit dismayed at things not going the way you intended.

Resting your head on his squishy midsection, you felt the warmth of him, you could hear him mumbling his ear off, so you peaked back up at him from your spot. As you looked up, you saw him reading his Bible, his weary eyes scanning the pages with utter concentration. The gentle rustling of the pages and the peaceful atmosphere he was now creating making you ease, this was his escape, his source of solace.

You always enjoyed watching him immerse himself in his faith, the way he’d look, reminding you he still had a little boy inside of him. The weight of his earlier whims and discontent now seemed to fade away in the presence of this shared moment of serenity. You rested against his belly again and relaxed as you heard him sluggishly voice the words of God.

As he continued reading, he took a glance down at you, his sweet girl, whom he'd just denied. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as he saw you resting against him, listening to his words of faith. The words on the pages seemed to blur as guilt started to gnaw at him all of a sudden. How could he have been so selfish toward his little angel? He thought. The excitement he saw in those pretty doe eyes of hers quickly dissipating back when he'd used a tone with her kept replaying in his head now.

He looked at the back of your head, facing him, as you rested your cheek on his gut and held him with one arm. This sight of you quickly shifted his mood, as he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth. The contrasting emotions within him, like the bicolor markings on his soul, made it hard for him to keep a steady emotional state.

“Doll, A-Ah know ah made couple uh bargains last nighta, but man, am… am gettin’ old button. Can’t quite keep up wit’ a young girl like yuhself sometimes." He blurted impulsively with a bit of humor.

You mildly smiled to yourself, your mood lifted ever so slightly, hearing his voice shift behind you.

“El, y-you talk like you’ve turned eighty or something.” You said it almost below a whisper as you fiddled with the opening of his pajama shirt.

As you went on fiddling, his snickering filled your ears. The slightest lines on his face deepened as he grinned to himself, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of love for this man.

“The way ah’v lived, seems like ah have.” He grumbled as he looked away.

You kept still and quiet as you snuggled deeper into him. The movement caused him to look back down at the back of your pretty, hair-filled head. There was a moment of silence, and all that could be heard were your soft breaths and the birds chirping outside.

“Hey ther ma little cherub, was u-uh lil harsh on ya, huh." He cooed softly as you continued to rest your head on his upper belly.

“Her's was only tryna spend time with ‘er good ol' daddy on, on his ‘pecial day." He continued as he petted your hair, causing you to sigh with contentment, you unwind more as you also listened to the sound of his gold cuban bracelet swishing around his wrist.

He gently wrapped his longsome-fingered hand around your cheek to bring you up closer to look at him. He smiled, but you still saw that tiredness in those precious blue eyes, the back of your mind mentally cursing at you.

You couldn't help but feel culpable about waking him up so soon on his day.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice filled with remorse.

He shook his head gently, his hand still cupping your cheek.

"No, no needa ‘pologize, angel," he said, his voice baritoned.

"It's not yur fault," he reassured you, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“I would do anythin' for ya, even if it means sacrificin' a little rest on ma birday."

His words melted away the guilt—barely, bringing a weak smile to your pouty lips for him. He leaned in and gently pushed you on your back, he moved from his position and hovered over you as he now lay between your sprawled legs. You felt the pudnginess of his belly press against you as he shifted his weight, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of your tiny tank.

His hands traveled to one of the straps of your shirt and toyed around with it.

“She's hasn't wished em happy birthday." He spoke kiddishly with pursed lips.

You giggled lightly, your fingers now tracing circles on his supple warm chest.

“Happiest birthday to you, El." You voiced softly, as you brought your hand up to his chubby cheek. You leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his pillowy lips as a gentle smile spread across his face.

"Sweet as ever, button'," he drawled as you met with his disoriented gaze. You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him fully down to you, his face barried into your neck and his body fully covering yours.

As you both held each other, enjoying one another's embrace, you felt his hand slowly trailing down your back, reaching for your rear. You could feel the heaviness of his touch through the fabric of your frilly bottoms.

His Southern voice rumbled softly in your ear as he murmured, "Ain't nothin' sweeter than findin' my birday cake right heer in ma arms."

You let out a light giggle at his remark as you felt your face heat up at his groping.

“Oh, you." You mumbled as your face pressed against his silk pajama top, snuggling closer at the comforting warmth radiating off his pudgy chest.

• Master List

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[mamaspresley]

trouble | austin!elvis au

wc 5,693 tw violence, sexuality (its the trouble performance so what do u expect)

Your first concert. A charity event, one that your best friend had scored tickets to seeing as her father worked for the foundation they were raising money for. Elvis Presley just so happened to be headlining the event, and seeing as you were his biggest fan right after Lucy, she knew you were the obvious choice to bring. The two of you had known each other forever, and fangirled over the controversial singer since the day you’d heard That’s All Right on the radio. Neither of you understood why the rest of your friends disliked him - he was so talented, charming, he sang so well, and was quite frankly the most handsome boy you’d ever laid eyes on. Not to mention, the way he moved… he had awoken feelings in you that you didn’t know were possible that day you’d watched him perform Hound Dog on live television. It seemed that after that show, his quite sexual style that he showcased in his performances disappeared. You watched him on the Steve Allen show as well, bundled up on the couch with Lucy that night. The two of you had waited all day for it to broadcast, only to be disappointed when he walked on stage in a tailcoat and sang to a dog, for Christ’s sake. Since that performance, every one that followed it was seemingly censored, and even just watching on your tv at home, you could tell the boy hated it as much as the rest of you. 

When Lucy phoned you and surprised you with tickets to the charity event at Russwood Park, you were over the moon, and the two of you talked non-stop about it until the day finally came. You went over to Lucy’s house to get ready, and it was then that your best friend finally said what you’d both been thinking the last month or so.

“Y/N,” she’d started off hesitantly, her voice lowering as she dabbed on a few coats of blush to her cheeks. You sat on her bed, watching her get ready at her vanity. “Do you think… Do you think Elvis will be good tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like–” she paused, lowering the brush she applied her makeup with, and turned around to face you. “Do you think he’ll go back to his old ways? With the dancing, and stuff?”

Oh. You knew exactly what she meant – you’d been wondering the same thing. “I hope so,” you answered, and it became obvious that the two of you understood each other. “He’s still good, but… I miss the old Elvis.”

“Me, too.”

The two of you finished getting ready and headed over to the stadium, the even was being held at the field for the Memphis Chicks baseball team. Lucy looked great, dressed in a green plaid dress, her hair pinned up. You were all dolled up as well, wearing a pink skirt and a white blouse with Oxfords on your feet. You had your hair curled to perfection, with the help of Lucy’s mom. The two of you looked wonderful, she had said right before you hopped into the car with Lucy’s father. He was a nice man, and was kind enough to get his daughter an extra ticket for you as well as drive you two to the event. Once you got there, it was packed, half of the stadium being full only because the other half was closed off at capacity. 

“Where are our seats?” you asked Lucy, taking her hand as she led you onto the field. Onto the field? “No way…”

“Right up front!” Lucy looked back at you with a grin, and the look on your face was almost comedic, your jaw dropped. “Not necessarily up front, but it’s general admission, so it’s wherever we can fit.” You stuck to the side, walking against the rope that separated the coloured people from the whites, and glanced over. They were all dancing, laughing, having a good time, and you couldn’t help but smile. You never did understand the need for segregation, you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the idea of treating someone different just because they didn’t look like you. The crowd on your left looked a lot more fun than the one you were a part of, but you didn’t have too much time to think much on it as you almost lost your footing, getting pulled to the front by Lucy.

“We’re so close!” you gasped as the two of you found a safe spot, only a few rows of people separating you from the stage. Gripping both of her hands, you looked at Lucy with an excited smile. “This is unbelievable!”

“I know. I can’t believe my daddy got us these!” The two of you squealed in excitement, your heart racing more and more with each minute that went by, and before you knew it, a man stepped on stage and the crowd roared loudly. The man announced that Elvis Presley would be coming out, and if you thought the screams were loud before, you were in for a surprise when everyone laid eyes on the boy of the hour. He was standing off to the side, halfway up the stairs, bent over as he spoke to some man below him. He was dressed in all black, his tie red as the only accent on colour on him, and when he began walking across the stage, a guitar hanging from over his shoulder, you felt your breath escape you.

“Oh my God, it’s him!” Lucy was squeezing your hand as tight as she could, and the way your heart picked up in your chest, you were sure it was lethal.

Everyone was cheering, girls around you were losing their minds, and when he stepped up to the microphone and looked out into the crowd, you found yourself praying to the heavens above that he would notice you in the sea of fans.  You knew it was silly, even childish to think such a thing, but the excited teenage girl inside of you had the littlest bit of faith.

“There’s been a lot of talk about the new Elvis.” At his words, everyone booed. “And of course, that other guy…” He lifted a hand, wiggling his pinky finger in the air. “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog … cryin’ all the time.” He couldn’t sing the lyrics without letting out a chuckle, and you and Lucy cheered excitedly. That was your favourite song.

His laugh into the microphone was like music to your ears, and to see him smiling as he did so had your stomach twisting and turning. His voice was so deep and husky as he spoke into the microphone and projected out of the speakers all around the stadium. You’d never heard him in real life, only over the radio, your record player, or on tv at home. In person was so much different – he was so much different. Taller than you expected, leaner and much more handsome. You were sure every girl surrounding you was feeling the same way as you, overwhelmed by his perfectness.

“There’s a lot of people saying a lot of things,” he said, looking up into the night sky as he spoke, his hand wrapped around the mic. “Of course you gotta listen to the people that you love…” He looked off to the right, and you followed his gaze, wondering if his own family was here at the show. “But in the end you gotta listen to yourself.”

Screams erupted at that, and it wasn’t a long pause before he gripped the microphone stand harder and said, “So I want you to know those New York people ain’t gonna change me none!” Elvis lifted the guitar off his back, moving to place it on top of the piano at the edge of the stage. He muttered something to one of his band members before grabbing the microphone again, and in a deep, aggressive voice he yelled, “I’m gonna show you what the real Elvis is like tonight!”

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of wild cheers and screams, and you froze in your sport, palms clammy and your heart pounding in your chest. Lucy squeezed your hand tightly, squealing as excitement took over both of you.

The first note of the song came as a loud bang of the guitar, and everyone around you went wild. “If you’re lookin’ for trouble … you came to the right place.” You’d never heard this song before, he must’ve been saving it for this show. “If you’re lookin’ for trouble … just look right in my face.”

You watched Elvis put all that he had into performing the song. He was singing with so much passion and aggression, his body moving in ways that were definitely unholy and if they weren’t illegal, he sure was making them. The crowd was going crazy and you were getting pushed every which way as girls around you tried to claw their way to the front, some of them even attempting to climb on stage. At one point, Lucy stepped into a spot by the barricade of officers, and she reached for your hand to pull you up with her. You were in the front row, and the boy you’d dreamt about since hearing his first song on the radio was just a few feet away from you.

You felt like you were dreaming.

“I’m only made out … of flesh, blood and bones,” he sang. Lucy dragged you with her off to the side, away from the officers where one girl was leaning her entire upper half onto the stage. “But if you’re gonna start a rumble don’t you try it out alone!” Elvis swivelled his hips, swinging himself up onto his toes before he dropped down to his knees, right in front of you, and pushed his pelvis up into the air only inches away from your face. 

“Because I’m… evil.” Suddenly, Elvis was reaching for you, his fingers wrapping around your jaw as he leaned in as close as a man has ever been to you, and the way his dark, cloudy eyes stared into you had your knees buckling. “My middle name is misery.” You could feel his breath fanning on your face as he sang, his close proximity causing your mind to grow foggy as you took in his scent, his cologne suffocating you in the best way. 

The boy was so close to you, his slender fingers grasping onto your jaw in a bruising manner but you were completely okay with it. He was leaning down, his lips so close to yours, and you were almost sure he was about to connect them before he suddenly pushed himself back up, shooting a look in your direction as he walked backwards across the stage. “Well I’m evil,” he sang, never breaking eye contact, until he dropped the stand of his microphone, catching it just before it hit the ground. He leaned down, holding the mic up to his lips. “So don’t you mess around with me.”

You took the rest of the song to recover, and thankfully he didn’t really return to your section otherwise you were sure you would disintegrate into the grass below you. You couldn’t believe what had just happened, and apparently, neither could Lucy, as your best friend grabbed both of your shoulders, turning you to her as she screamed. “Elvis Presley just touched you!”

“I know.” You were in shock, your fingers reaching up to ghost over the place where his had last been, and suddenly you were pulled out of your trance by the crowd shifting, and you had been bumped a few rows back with Lucy right beside you. The magical moment was over, unfortunately, and the show went on as girls threw themselves at him left and right. The guards standing in front of the stage tried their very best to hold everyone back, but as Elvis turned his performance and lewd movements up a notch, all hell seemed to break loose.

He was lying on the floor, thrusting his hips up against the microphone stand as he sang, rolling around and feeling the music overtake his body. He moved to the other side of the stage, grabbing the statue of a dog that sat in the corner, and hugged it to his side as he sang to it. 

His acts became more and more deranged, the intensity and passion of the music getting to his head as he threw himself into the crowd. Fans left and right tried to get ahold of him, and he climbed back onto the stage, crawling across the floor and he reached for the mic and screamed the rest of the lyrics. It was absolute chaos, and you were overwhelmed at how fast the show had gotten completely out of hand. You could see at the edge of the crowd, police officers were beating people with their batons, mainly the coloured people that had escaped the restraints of their designated section, and your stomach dropped at the sight. You felt like you were going to be sick, and as you turned to point out the acts of violence to Lucy, you realized she was gone.

Elvis wasn’t even singing now, he was being tackled by security guards up on the stage, but you paid the singer no mind as you looked for your friend throughout the crowd. In the corner of your eye, you saw a group of girls climbing onto the stage, and thankfully recognized one of them in her green dress. “Lucy!” you shouted, pushing your way to the front. The crowd was getting violent, elbows were thrown and you’d nearly caught one in the face as you got shoved forward. “Lucy!” 

She glanced over at you, screaming your name as she reached out her hand down to you. You took it, letting her pull you up and escape the angry hoard of fans. It was then that you realized how bad this truly was – officers were trying to usher you and the rest of the girls off stage while they held Elvis back as well. He looked angry, his face red and dewy with sweat, the veins in his forehead along with up the side of his neck popping out of his skin while he pushed back against the men.

“Elvis!” a few of the girls called out, and suddenly, you felt a body collide with yours, and then you were on the floor of the stage. Your vision went blurry and a sharp pain shot up your legs when your knees hit the hard surface. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” a masculine voice yelled out, and you’d barely caught it before feeling a metal baton hit your side harshly, winding you slightly as you collapsed to the ground. Because of the pain, you blocked everything out – whatever you saw, anything you could hear, any presences around you; it was all black as you laid on the cool surface below you. It wasn’t until you felt someone grab your hand and pull you away that your vision came back, and you saw Lucy standing above you.

“Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey – is she alright?” If it weren’t for the haze that your eyes were casted in, you could’ve swore you saw Elvis Presley making his way over, his hand reaching out for you. Except your vision couldn’t have made out the way his touch felt on your cheek, and it was then that you finally blinked away all the tears in your eyes, and clearly saw the scene in front of you. Elvis Presley, with his hand on the side of your face, a look of concern cast over his features as well as splatters of blood and bruises, his hair damp and his skin sweaty as he knelt in front of you.

“You all right, darlin’?”

Whether it was the shock from the beating, or from the boy of your dreams right in front of you, you couldn’t seem to make up the words to answer.

“Elvis! Elvis!” Throughout the sudden bliss you’d found yourself in, there was still a riot happening all around you, and as more police officers tried to rip Elvis away, you realized he’d broken away from his restraints to help you. A girl he knew nothing about, not even your name, and he had focused his attention on helping you rather than escaping the cops after him. 

Lucy was quick to get you to your feet, her arm around your shoulders as she pulled you in the direction of a safer area, not caring too much about the man that had caused all this commotion. But you did, and you glanced back over your shoulder to see Elvis, his all black attire standing out in a sea of white uniforms, his body squirming under their hold as he tried desperately to get free.

“Get off’a me!” he yelled, pulling an arm free from one of the officers to push another one away, and you watched as he pointed out towards the crowd. “Mama, you get in the car!” Your gaze followed over to where he was looking, and saw an older woman trying to break free of the officers as well, worry written across her face as she screamed out for her son. Elvis was captured again, but he was quick to retaliate back as he swung a punch out, hitting one of the men square in the nose. He had managed to rid himself of the officers, but you knew there’d be more. And so did he, but he managed to look over at you frantically, checking to make sure you had made it out alright.

“Y/N, come on!” Lucy tugged you along, and you found yourself having to break eye contact with the boy as you followed your friend. With one last glance, you watched as the boy was shoved into the back of a police car, and when the door was slammed shut on him you turned back around, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in leaving your lips. “We gotta get outta here!”

About two days had gone by since the concert, and to say you hadn’t fully processed it would be an understatement. Lucy and her father had taken you to the hospital that night to get you checked out, since apparently you’d taken a pretty brutal beating – Lucy reinformed you of the events from that night, since you had blacked out after the first collision with the officer, and from what she told you, you were surprised you weren’t hurt more. A broken rib, they’d diagnosed you with at the hospital, and some internal bruising, but that was it. Everyone was saying how lucky you were, but you only began to think so a few nights later when the boy who had caused it all showed up on your doorstep.

“Y/N, honey, there’s a visitor for you,” your mother said as she peeked into your bedroom. You’d spent the last two days in there, curled up with a book as the doctor advised you take the next week to rest. Lucy had stopped by once to check on you but that was it – you assumed it was her again, but you were a little confused why she’d be visiting you so late at night. Her daddy had a strict curfew of eight pm, and it was hours past that.

Standing in your foyer was the dark haired boy you thought you’d never see again, Elvis Presley. He was dressed in all black, dress pants and a long sleeved button up, which did nothing to attend to the name as it was popped open halfway down his chest. His hair was styled messy, a few strands falling across his forehead, and as you took the final step down the stairs, you noticed the cut on his lip and bruising around his cheek.

“My God,” you mumbled, not at the fact that the Elvis Presley was standing in your home but at the sight of the boy from the events of two nights before. “They really hurt you, didn’t they?”

“I could say the same for you,” he said, the Southern drawl of his voice causing your heart rate to pick up, much like it did the other night when you’d laid eyes on him for the first time. “Took me a while to find you. I, I–” He raised a hand to the back of his neck, casting his gaze down nervously. “I couldn’t sleep, not knowin’ how you were doin’.”

Although it was beating rapidly in your chest, your heart seemed to be swelling up, as well, at the thought of Elvis caring so much about you. You wondered how he found you, not even knowing your name, but you pushed the thought to the side as you hugged your arms close to your chest. “You worried that much?”

“Of course. What they did to you was… was horrible, darlin’.” The nickname had your stomach twisting, but not as much as it did when he stepped closer to you. Suddenly, you were aware of the fact that your mother and father were in the room next to you, and you interrupted the boy to lead him outside. Soon enough, you sat on your porch in the dark of the night, his knee knocking against yours as you resided on the front steps, sitting oddly close together. The porch light was on as well as the lamps lining your street, but that was about it for light. It was pitch black out, and you wondered what he was doing wandering around at night looking for you.

“I wanted to come here and apologize, most importantly,” Elvis had said, holding your hands as you stared up at the boy. His eyes were much different now than they were when you were staring into them just the other day – they were dark, then, and dangerous. Now as you admired them, the porch light above you casting a shadow over his face, a beautiful shade of blue took them on, his irises sparkling when he looked down at you. “What happened to you was my fault, and although I don’t regret a thing I did for my career, I do curse myself everyday for lettin’ that happen to ya. I shouldn’t’a let it get that bad, and–”

“Elvis,” you said, cutting him off, and the boy closed his mouth as he let you speak. “It’s okay. I didn’t get hurt too bad.”

“But you could’ve, and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I’m sure you and your friend paid a hefty amount o’ money to come see me perform, and knowin’ that I put y’all in danger just by bein’ there–” The worry and concern on his face was something that you wish you could keep in your memory forever. Elvis was truly such a kind-hearted, sweet and caring man, and it hurt your heart knowing that he’d gone the last two days in pain from worrying so much about you.

“You did what you had to do,” you said, and the words that left your lips had a confused expression replacing the previous one on Elvis’s face. “That performance was amazing, and I’m glad I got to see it. Even if I did end up gettin’ hurt at the end.” You gave him a soft smile, and Elvis squeezed your hands. “That’s what everyone came to see, the real Elvis. No one wants to see you all dressed up singin’ to a damn dog.” 

Elvis smiled widely at your words, chuckling as he looked over at you. “You know, you’re the first person to tell me the truth in a long while.”

“Well I’m glad I could help,” you said with a nod, and Elvis reached a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Elvis?” The boy hummed, his eyes fixated on his fingers twirling in your hair. “For what it’s worth, I… I really like the real Elvis.”

His eyes darted back to meet yours, and the shy smile toying on your lips enticed a wicked grin on his. “You do?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “He’s unlike any other.”

His smirk had butterflies in your stomach, and you watched as the outline of his tongue moved to poke his cheek. “Well, thank you, darlin’.” His hand dropped from your hair, down to the ground beneath him as he leaned back onto his elbows, his legs extending as he crossed them at the ankles. He relaxed into himself, looking out into the dark before tilting his head to the side, gazing up at you. “You know, they’re sendin’ me to the army.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at the boy, not a trace of sarcasm or any joking manner to be found in his features. “What?”

He nodded, and you found your heart sinking in your chest. “It’s either that, or jail. I don’t think I’d do too well there,” he said with a chuckle, but you didn’t find it funny at all. “And who knows, maybe the service’ll be good for me. The Colonel says it’ll be like a fresh start. Clean cut, all-American boy for when I come back.” You had no clue who this Colonel fellow was, but you couldn’t disagree with him more. Elvis looked up at you, his eyes darting between yours in search of some sign of something. “What you thinkin’, baby?”

“I’m thinkin’ this Colonel guy’s a damn fool.”

At that, Elvis laughed. It was a throw-your-head-back, deep from the belly type of laugh, and if you weren’t so damn mad at the thought of him being sent across seas as punishment, you would’ve admired the sound. “A lotta people been tellin’ me that lately.” He looked down at his shoes, black and white and shiny and expensive-looking, tapping the toes together as he spoke. “He knows what’s best for me, though. He brought me this far.”

“Mr. Presley, if I may,” you started politely, placing a hand over his as you looked at him. “That was all you.”

The boy looked at you now, his lips pressed into a firm line as he took in your words. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, and it was beautiful how pensive the boy was, his eyes narrowing into yours. It took him a few moments to answer, but when he did, it was nothing what you expected.

“Where have you been all my life, Y/N Y/L/N?”

Jesus, was your heart being put through the ringer today. It had nearly stopped beating altogether at his question, and your eyebrows twitched inwards as you stuttered nervously. “What?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” His words were genuine, you could tell, and the look he was giving you, eyes never leaving yours for the past three minutes, had you convinced that he really meant what he said. 

“Well–” you stammered, and it took all of the confidence gathered within you to muster your next words. “Well I’d hope not.” Elvis smiled at this, and he laughed to himself a bit before finally breaking eye contact and staring back down at his shoes.

“You ever been in love, Y/N?”

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

“I thought I was in love, once.” The boy was talking to the air, his head leaning back as he looked up at the sky and the stars. “Dixie Locke. She was my girlfriend back when I was just startin’ out. I thought I loved her – Hell, it just took me the last couple o’ days to figure out I didn’t.”

“If you’ll forgive me,” you said, “I don’t got a clue what you’re gettin’ at, Mr. Presley.”

Elvis smiled, rolling his head over to look at you, not quite moving the rest of his body. The smile on his lips was lazy, relaxed, and the expression in his eyes was the same. It was like there wasn’t a care in the world that he had. Despite half the country wanting to throw him in jail, his awaited shipment off to the service, and everything else the most famous man in the world would have to worry about, there wasn’t a concern in mind when it came to Elvis in that moment.

“I didn’t know what love was ‘til I met you, Y/N.”

Your mouth ran dry. 

“I didn’t mean for it to be you, when I grabbed you that night, sang to you. It was like you fell right into my lap, all helpless and pretty and innocent. I thought you were gorgeous.” He wasn’t even speaking to you, more to himself as he recounted the night, looking back out off the porch. “Still do. Most beautiful girl I ever seen. And then everything happened and I– When I saw you,” Elvis looked over at you again, “I melted. Those goddamned police officers had me, but then I watched you get hit and I just… I saw red. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My God, Y/N, I’d never been so damn angry in my life.”

You listened to him silently, your hands in your lap while you watched him display every emotion he felt that night on his face while he told you the story from his perspective.

“They got mad at me for makin’ sure you were all right,” he said, and you assumed he was talking about his crew, the people he associated with, “but it was like I was possessed, or somethin’. All I could think about was you, and I wanted to stay with ya longer ‘n’ make sure you were okay, but I got snatched up by those damned officers again. Soon as they let me go I went searchin’ for ya.” Elvis laughed as he admitted that, and he was relieved to look over and see you smiling at the tale. “Took a while, but… I got to ya.”

“I don’t…” You were blushing, smiling shyly as he stared on at you. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t gotta say nothin’,” he said, reaching a hand up to cup your face, the pad of his thumb smoothing over your cheek gently. “I just needed to find ya, make sure you were alright.” There was a moment of silence, filled with the adoring looks the two of you poured into one another’s gaze, until Elvis spoke up again. “You know, it’s funny.”

“What is?”

“How fast I booked it outta there when Billy told me they’d found you.” Elvis smiled, his hand still on your cheek as he remembered the scene that took place less than an hour prior. “I was sittin’ at home, talkin’ with the Colonel, and Mama and Daddy about the war. I got my draft letter and Mama was just wailin’ – Oh, she was goin’ on about how I can’t go to Germany, and everyone was arguin’. Then Cousin Billy came runnin’ in – I’d never felt such excitement in my life. He told me they’d found your friend’s daddy and tracked you down. I swear on my mama, Y/N, I ain’t never drove faster in my life tryin’ to get to ya.”

The smile on your lips stretched wide and Elvis grinned, grabbing your hand as he lifted it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It felt like the end o’ the world ‘til I finally found ya.”

“You’re a real charmer,” you mumbled, blushing as Elvis continued to press kisses up your hand, around to your wrist, “you know that?”

He hummed, leaning onto his side now as he met your eyes once more. He was propped up on his elbows, holding your hand in both of his, his lips dancing around your fingers as he stared up at you adoringly. You nearly had to pinch yourself at the occurring event – Elvis Presley was sitting on your porch, leaving kisses all over your skin, confessing his love for you. Two days ago and you wouldn’t have even dreamed of this; it all seemed so out of reach.

“What are you thinkin’ about, baby?” he asked you, for the second time that night, and you smiled small as you gave your answer.

“You.”

You watched as he enclosed his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping the smirk he had growing at bay. “You’re a real charmer, you know that?” he teased, using your own words against you, and at the blush spreading across your cheeks you smacked him on the arm lightly. “Will you write me when I’m in Germany?”

The recurring knowledge of his departure hit you like a freight train, and the sight of the frown twitching at your lips didn’t escape him as Elvis squeezed your hand. “Only two years, baby. Then I’ll come home to ya.”

You had a hard time finding the comfort in his words as you were focused on the seven hundred and thirty days you’d have to go without him. “I’ll write to you everyday.”

He smiled, moving his free hand back to cup your cheek. “And you ain’t better find no other man to treat you while I’m away. You hear me, little one?”

You nod, falling into his touch, and it’s when you begin to close your eyes that Elvis sits back up, stirring you from your trance as he pulls you forward. As quick as you opened your eyes, you were closing them again when his lips fell on yours, inhabiting them with his sweet taste and the familiar smell of his cologne you’d been dreaming about since the last time he’d had you this close.

His lips were soft, glistening and swollen when you pulled away to catch your breath. Elvis held you close as he rested his forehead against yours. “Been dreamin’ about that since the moment I saw you,” he mumbled, and you smiled as you closed your eyes, taking in his voice, his scent, the warmth still on your lips after the kiss. “I’ll write you soon as I get there, my girl.”

“I’ll be waitin’, Mr. Presley.”

It was a short goodbye, he’d kissed you once more before heading down your driveway and hopping in his purple Cadillac. With a sad but excited feeling nestled in your chest, you headed back inside, only to be met with both of your parents standing in the living room, waiting.

“Sorry, Mama. And Daddy.” You looked sheepish as you closed the door behind you, leaning up against it as you read the looks on both your parents’ faces. Your father looked upset, whereas your mother, you knew, wasn’t mad at all. “He’s bein’ sent off to the service. Germany, for two years.”

“Good. I don’t wanna see that boy around you again,” your father said gruffly, and you gulped, nodding as you looked down. You heard his foot steps retreat and it was your mother’s clear of her throat that had you glancing upward.

“Don’t listen to your father. I think he’s a nice boy,” she said, and you smiled. “Very kind of him, to come all this way to check on you. That shows a lot of character. If your father knew the full story I’m sure he’d agree.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

“And he’s a real cute one, isn’t he?” She moved to look out the window, peering through the curtains but becoming disappointed after seeing he’d left already. “That’s a shame he won’t be around for a while. I’ve always sorta liked that Presley boy.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Me too.”

part two here!

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[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 5

Summary: Bess has plans to spend the evening having a picnic dinner with Elvis on post, and tries to juggle her family and keeping her relationship with Elvis a secret as her father presses her about her future.

Warnings: Some very heavy petting, dry humping, female orgasm (gasp), and discussions of mental illness, the Holocaust and Cold War operations. And all the usual typos.

WC: 6K

A (very very late) response to the prompt "Hey, quit splashin' me."

Many thanks to my lovely sister wives @whositmcwhatsit, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 who helped me write this.

If you need to catch up, you can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

Notes:

This one got more into Bess family life, but it won't always be this top heavy in the future.

Maus and spatz are german terms of endearment. Illsa is a German nickname for Elizabeth.

Schatzeleh, bubeleh, mamaleh, these are all Yiddish terms of endearment. The Yiddish phrase "shayna maidel" means beautiful girl.

Deutsch ist die Muttersprache - German is the mother tongue.

INCOMS - abbreviation for Army Intelligence

The USIA was really a wacky Cold War PR agency for the U.S. government that set up a radio system to blast US music and news into other countries, and promote art and performers and entertainers around the world, along with other stiff. What every fic needs, more Cold War history ;)

Wednesday, April 9, 1958

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

6:45 a.m.

Bess hovered over her sister’s shoulder and grabbed a piece of toast off her plate, scooping up some scrambled eggs and chewing as she dodged Kay’s swats to pour a cup of coffee.

“Curlers again? Jeeze, Bess, that’s the third day in a row you’ve worn curlers to sleep.”

Bess hit the back of her sister’s head with her elbow.

Their father’s eyes did not leave his newspaper as Kay yelped and Bess stuck her tongue out.

“Elizabeth, you are not a nomad. Sit and eat.”

“I gotta finish getting ready, Papa.”

“Is there anything special going on today, maus?” Her father raised his eyebrows as Kay giggled.

“Or maybe someone speci - ouch!” Kay got a pinch at her back.

“Oh, no, nothing special, just wanted to look nice, I told Emily we’d go shopping after work today, Papa.”

Papa folded his newspaper, crisping the edges at Bess' expectant eyes.

“Well?”

Kay grinned into her juice.

“I was just wondering if it was ok to take my own car in again, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ja, fine. Do you anticipate driving separately all week?”

Bess nodded, slowly, swallowing more coffee as her father’s eyes went from one daughter to the other.

“Hmm, sure are getting dolled up to go shopping with Emily OWfff.”

Kay got another swift pinch to her shoulder before Bess washed out her coffee cup and left to fix her hair.  Just as she got to the kitchen door, she heard the piano in the living room and looked back at her father.

“Did Mama wake up and go right back to work on the piano?”

“No.” Her Papa’s face went back to the newspaper.

Kay’s eyes met Bess’. “She’s been in there all night.”

“All night?”

Papa calmly set down his paper. “Your mother is fine, you know how she is. Once she starts a project, she becomes very focused. You both would benefit from such discipline. You just need to let her get it out of her system.”

Bess shook her head and ran to the living room to find her mother at the upright piano, hair wild as she wiped sweat from her brow. Mama had been hunched over sorting through a pile of tuning instruments, but her face lit up with excited energy at Bess.

“Oh Bessie, you’re doing your hair fancy again today, huh? Oh my sweet shayna maidel. Brains and beauty.” Mama stroked Bess’ cheek, then went back to hitting a key on the piano. “Ughh, hear that? Can’t get the D flat right.”

Bess tugged on her mothers house dress, the same one she had been wearing yesterday.

“C’mon, Mama, it will be easier if you rest the ole noggin, come back after you get some sleep.”

Her mother brushed off her hand.

“No, Bess, can’t you hear it? It’s all gooey, everything is gooey, when it should be tight. I can’t possible leave the plunkers gooey, it makes the whole room go orange, bubeleh.”

Bess rubbed her mother’s shoulders as she leaned her chin into Mama’s neck.

“You know the bedroom upstairs is all light and yellow, Mama, it will help you center yourself.”

Mama shook her head, and Bess sighed as she returned to the kitchen and mixed some of the thalidomide barbiturates hidden above the spice cabinet into a glass of milk.

Kay paused washing the dishes.

“Papa left.”

“Of course he did. A one star General who strikes fear into the Army Intelligence training officers, but won’t deal with his own wife.”

“That is not fair, Bess, Mama has been better since the treatment. Papa said she was great on the trip, she just needs to get back to routine and get the jitters out of her system.”

“Jitters, jitters is bupkis and you know it. Did you know Aunt Rachel came down to babysit Mama when they were in D.C.?"

Bess sighed and finished stirring the milk, and was finally able to coax Mama upstairs where she undressed her and tucked her into bed with a kiss.

“Oh Bessie, you have a yellow halo around your head schatzeleh, good things await you today, my pretty girl. “

“Thanks mamaleh, get some sleep.”

The black pumps were the last thing Bess slipped on before heading off to work, dropping Kay at school on the way. It was not far to Killeen High School, an easy 10 minute walk for Kay in her saddle shoes, but Bess wanted to talk with her.

“Can you come straight home after school? Keep an eye on Mama, maybe try to get her some sun gardening or going for a walk.

Kay nodded, tightening the scarf around her ponytail, “Sure Bess, she’s ok. I 'm telling you, she just needs rest after goin’ to DC and New York for two weeks.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

A car of high school boys pulled up next to them, their radio blasted as they made their way to the student parking lot. The boys looked over, whistling and laughing at Bess and Kay.

“Ugh, high school boys.” Kay moaned, fluffing her hair.

“Speaking of which, my dear sister. I thought we had a deal, ixnay on the elvisay or I’ll spill the beans on how often you sneak out with Dickey and tell Papa and Mama you’re spending the night at Gloria’s.”

“Aww, heck, Bess, you know I am not doing anything wrong, not since you scared me half to death about getting pregnant and having to get a back alley abortion.”

“I wasn't trying to scare you, Kay. I just want to make sure you take precautions. And that you understand it, are sure about it, ya know, when you are ready. Sex isn’t bad,it can just have consequences. You know you can always talk to me about that stuff.”

Kay rolled her eyes and hit Bess before getting out of the car.

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

5:15 p.m. Fort Hood Front Office

“She’s cooking brisket, and singing along with the radio.”

Bess held the phone receiver to her ear, she could hear her mother’s voice in the background along with Doris Day's. Guilt had been tugging at her heartstrings all afternoon, telling her what a selfish daughter she was to make plans with Elvis instead of going home to check on her mother. She kept listening to her sister talk as Dori come out of her father’s office and waved the CO on, telling him to bring the car around front.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, Bess, jeeze, go already. Have fun with Emily.” Bess grimaced momentarily at Kay’s sarcasm then remembered she was trying to smile back at Dori.

Mabel was typing along, making no sign that she registered any human life in the office. Hanging up the phone, Bess began to cover her type writer.

“So y’all really don’t think I should go walk my lil ole self round about his barracks?”

The clacks from Mabel’s typewriter paused as she exhaled a deep huff of smoke, meeting Bess’s eyes for a split second before returning to her paperwork.

“Uh, no, Dori, you don’t want to be another girl chasing after Elvis Presley.”

Bess mused that quite a few members of Fort Hood’s female workforce seemed to have business near the 37th’s barracks lately. She avoided Mabel’s stoic, knowing stare as she explained that she had not seen Elvis since the night of the dance.

“He is a world famous entertainer, Doreen, adjusting to the first phase of basic training, the hardest phase. Women are probably the last thing on his mind.”

This elicited an eyebrow raise from Mabel behind Dori’s back, as the blonde conceded with a sigh that Bess was probably right and skulked out of the Command’s Front Office, flinging her handbag around in disappointment.

“The most eligible Southern bachelor in the world is at my base, even takes me on a date, but has to live in a shack with forty other men and no phone while doing drills all day.” She stomped her foot. “Jus’ isn’t fair.”

Bess stopped watching Dori walk down the hallway and pulled out her compact, giving her lipstick one last check.

“I am just glad the Executive Officer has three male children.”

“Mabel, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like hell you don’t, that boy is gonna start world war three at this command, getting involved with two generals’ daughters. And, by the way, you need to come up with a better cover, one that doesn’t involve anyone on post.”

Flicking her cigarette, Mabel looked Bess directly in the eyes.

“General Schwartz was asking me about Emily in the switchboard office while you were at lunch.”

Bess swallowed, putting her compact away and rolling her feet back into her heels.

“Huh. Maybe I don’t give the old man enough credit?”

Mabel’s eyes were back on her typewriter. “You should go, before your father returns from his meeting and finds what is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairwell.”

Bess hesitated before she left. “I, um, I mean it, thanks, you know, for -”

“Git already, before I beat you down there and steal him for myself.”

Bess smiled as she tried very very hard to walk with calm composure down the hall and into the back stairs. Just the thought of Elvis’ touch made her tingle and Bess had to use her hands to try and keep her dress from blowing up as she danced down the stairs, heels clicking like Ginger Rogers. Heart in her throat, she nearly did a two-step on the landing mid-flight when she caught sight of a light green cap below. The cap tilted slightly, revealing lips, lips that curled into a welcome reprieve as Bess bounded down to meet him. The beat of her heart matched the sound of her breath as she launched herself onto Elvis’ mouth. He was a cushion and Bess threw herself into him unabashedly, feeling her body lift off the ground as Elvis twirled her around. It was exhilarating.

His light chuckle tickled her forehead and hands pulled her forward. “Happy to see me?”

“I guess.” Bess murmured into his clavicle. “You think too highly of yourself, Tupelo, just happy to be done with work, mostly. I actually forgot you were meeting me.”

He pulled her chin up and Bess heard her voice falter as his eyes melted her nervous system into a giddy mess.

“That why you are runnin' down these stairs like ya got a burr in ya saddle? Maybe I should check.”

His voice became slower as his hands moved from her waist to her bottom, pulling on her skirt as if to inspect it.

“Leave my saddle be, dirty boy.”

Bess cheeks flushed red swatting off Elvis’ hands and he grinned, fingers returning to their deliberate pace at her waist. Just their slow movement heated her belly, a sensation intensified by the warm air from Elvis nostrils as he nudged her eyelid. Bess was happy to see him, happy to have his arms around her, happy to have his fingers pushing the fabric of her dress back and forth over her skin. Those insistent, needy thumbs took her away from all her turmoil and into the comfort of his arms.

“So you aren't excited to see me? Go on then, tell me, tell me why you got ya hair all done up and ya lips all painted up, huh? Meeting someone else?”

Bess traced the top of his lip with her index finger, she was so close to him she could smell the faint hints of cologne, sweat and gun powder on his neck.

“I’m not meeting anyone else.” She looked up, not sure how she was summoning the strength to form words. “I just want to be here. With you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” He ran his finger over her nose. “Got lucky, boy, did I get lucky, that night I caught you stealing - ”

“ - reallocating Army resources.”

“Imma reallocate some Army resources.” He kissed her forehead, right between her eyebrows. “Right here.” She closed her eyes at the way his arms tightened around her. “Right now. For important morale operations.”

Bess’ nodded her forehead sideways into his nose and let her hands roll up his shoulders, the heat between them buzzed up her body. She sucked her bottom lip and the sound of air clicking from her mouth seemed louder in the still concrete stairwell. Bess kissed him gently at first and then with her entire being, grinding up as he thrust back into her and his hands moved to cup her face while his hips becoming sharper and more desperate. A moan escaped her mouth and Elvis stepped back, chuckling as he wiped the lipstick from his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here, huh?” Bess murmured, grasping at his waist to steady herself.

Bess tripped into him as they walked to her car, her head rotating from side-to-side, wondering if any one saw them and could tell how intimately Elvis gripped her hand. He didn’t seem to care, popping open her car door and sliding across the leather as if it were his own. His fingers were instantly over her shoulder, always pursuing physical contact, and he whistled at basket of food on the back seat.

“Watcha cook up for me, lil girl?”

“Um, just, ya, uh know, meatloaf sandwiches, potato salad, some pop.”

“Mmhmm, sounds real good, yessir boberino, real good.” Elvis growled and nibbled into Bess’ shoulder and she suddenly found driving very challenging.

Her struggle to hold the steering wheel only got worse as Elvis mumbled into her cheek while his fingers smoothed the small of her back. She tried, unsuccessfully, to elbow him away as he smirked at her breathy response. It was very clear to Bess that Elvis knew exactly what his fingers did to her as she drove them to a park at the back of Fort Hood’s residential area. Elvis lips trailed up and down her cheek in a way that made Bess not want to get out of the car, made her forget that she was hungry, made her forget her own name.  Grinning, he pulled back and pinched her side.

“Les eat, I’m so hooonnngry I could eat the north bound end of a south bound polecat.”

Elvis carried the basket of food with one hand, the other in Bess’ as she led them to a picnic table near a very small man made pond. She clucked at him to help even out the table cloth, and he grinned at the way Bess set out plates, cups and food methodically. Elvis caught her wrist as she moved to sit across from him, and guided her on to his lap.

“Where you goin’ baby? Don’t want you to get any splinters in that fine caboose.”

“Ha, ha, ha. How chivalrous.”

Bess pushed a spoon of potato salad into his mouth to shut him up as she set out the sandwiches for them, and opened the red cream soda with a bottle opener. Elvis took his pop, sucking it down.

“Just for future reference darlin, I like Pepsi.”

Bess grabbed the drink out of his hand with a playful sniff.

“This is the best cream soda this side of Little Rock, you can use it to make punch, jello, dye dresses red and clean your carburetor. And if you don’t like it, you can get your own drinks.”

Elvis pulled it back, stuffing meatloaf sandwich in his mouth before talking through his chews and taking another swig.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, now, no need to get sore.” He slapped her bottom, making her bounce up as she chewed some sandwich. “Jus’ sayin’ I like Pepsi best. ‘Sides, Dori said you were from New York, how come -”  He paused to take another gulp, “How come you like this local fizz so much?”

Bess took the bottle of Big Red from him, letting her mouth linger down and back up over the top as she sipped it, enjoying the way he raised his eyebrows while he chewed.

“Well, Private, I was born in New York. But I have lived in Killeen, Texas on and off since I was five years old. Papa was trained here before the war, and then we went back to Brooklyn while he was in London and then Germany - did your daddy fight?”

Elvis shook his head but offered no explanation, and Bess thought she saw a flicker of disdain or anger in his eyes for a split second, but it was gone. Then he pulled her closer with his right hand, holding up a sandwich to her mouth, lips apart in apt concentration as he guided the food into Bess' mouth and she giggled, swallowing it. He picked up the second bottle of pop and offered it to her as she wiped her mouth.

“Well, anyway, at first we went back and forth when Papa was overseas. We were in New York, and D.C., then he was given orders back here and they bought the house. Mama, Kay and I have stayed here whenever he got orders to go somewhere else: Heidelberg, Fort Hood, Berlin, then, you guessed it, Fort Hood, then DC, then back here. It’s been better for us to stay and go to school here.”

“So, uh, what, your daddy goes all ‘round teaching German?”

“Uh, well, yeah, mostly. Training Army officers to speak German has been a big part of his career.”

Elvis tilted his head for Bess to feed him more potato salad, his fingers otherwise occupied at her hips.

“How’d he get so interested in that?”

Bess licked the spoon they were sharing after feeding Elvis, looking across at the pond as twilight settled over the park.

“He, um, well, he actually grew up in Berlin. His parents sent him to New York in 1931 to live with his aunt and uncle.” She hesitated, scratching his collar, wondering how Elvis Presley felt about making out with Jewish girls. “You see, that was when his family’s synagogue was burned down, and they, um, started to, you know, worry.”

Elvis nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, gotcha.” His hands tightened at her waist. “Ya know, this explains why Dori looked at me funny when I told her I met you outside the base Chapel.”

“Ha! Yeah, well, I could have been there picking up dates.”

“You do that often, Moo Moo?”

“Oh, yeah, good little Christian boys are my favorite.”

He bounced her on his lap and tickled her sides.

“Huh, that right? I don’t know if I like the sound a that.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m no good at meeting good Christian boys. Only bad ones.”

“Oh baby, you have know idea what a good boy I can be.” He drew her close for a soft kiss on her neck, and the warmth of his lips made her shiver as he talked into her nape. “I’ve been told I’m very, very, very good at bein’ a boy.”

“Ha!” She shook her head, hands clutching the back of his hair as she looked into his attentive, gleaming bright blue eyes. They made her weak. Everywhere. ���Hey, you haven’t even told me how your day was, Tupelo.”

“Oh man, honey, today was a goddamn circus, and I was the lead clown, I tell ya.”

“What happened?” She played with the soft part of his ear lobe as Elvis wiped his forehead and sighed.

“Well, we had target practice for three hours today.”

“That sounds normal, it takes three hours to kill all the paper men.”

“You have idea, baby, no idea.” He looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one could hear him. “Well, go on ta find out I forgot to load my gun this mornin’, I was so goddamn flustered getting ready for inspection. Looked like a grade A idiot, man, standing out there front a every one.”

Bess soothed the top of Elvis’ shoulders, all the teasing lilt from a moment ago was gone from her voice as she massaged the stiff, anxiousness there.

“Boy, got me so keyed up, had ma hands in fists all day, bout nearly bust out of my uniform I as so mad at ma self.”

Bess soothed his cheek, running her hand through his hair.

“No one will remember tomorrow, I promise.”

“Huh, I bet you million dollars they all back in their barracks, writin’ home bout how they had a good laugh at Elvis Presley, the Elmer Fudd of the army.”

“I promise, if those soldiers have anyone to write home to, and that’s betting they know how to write, they aren’t wastin’ their time tellin’ their girls about the most handsome stud in America.”

Elvis looked up.

“Most handsome, what was that, baby, stud?”

“Ugh, stop, I was just tryin’ to cheer you up.”

Bess jumped up, and started packing up the picnic, and Elvis was instantly behind her, arms tugging at her was as she popped the last spoon of potato salad greedily in her mouth. He gave her a big, sloppy kiss, then let go, distracted by the water, he wondering down to the edge of the pond where he began skipping stones. She finished folding the table cloth and followed him down to the water, squatting beside him as she selected another rock and handed it to him.

“Sorry excuse for a lake, isn’t it.” Bess said, watching as Elvis aimed the flat stone across the small body of water.

“You better take that back, Moo Moo, you’re hurtin’ this poor lil baby pond’s feelins’” Elvis bent down and threw some water at Bess’ face.

“Hey,” Bess pushed him lightly, then stood up, backing away at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Quit splashin' me! You, you rock n’ roll hoodlum!”

Elvis grinned and cupped his hand full of water, throwing it at her as she backed away.

“Ohh baby, thems fighting words, better watch out!”

Bess shrieked and ran back up to the picnic table, circling around it as Elvis chased her, matching as she changed directions. Their laughter and panting filled the air until he caught her, running his dirty pond fingers through her hair with gusto as she made a face while he slapped her on the butt. Elvis quelled her protests with a kiss and brought her into his side and grabbed the food basket with his other hand. They walked  back to the car sweaty and out of breath like two giddy teenagers.

“Any lakes round here?”

Bess settled back into the car and smoothed her dress down while Elvis’ hands did their best to ruffle it back up, starting with the area over her right knee.

“There’s a reservoir, Lake Belton, bout 30 minutes away. You can go swimming, boating, horseback riding. Why?”

“This weekend phase 1 is over and I can start going off post on the weekend. Planning to see my friend Lamar, maybe some more of my guys, and I wanna take them somewhere fun Sunday. Somewheres maybe like this Lake.”

Bess tried to contain her disappointment that Elvis’ first thought wasn’t to spend the time with her. But she reminded herself that they weren’t serious, they were having a fling and besides, he saw her everyday. He sensed her mood change anyway as she sat up stiff and straight to start the car, and his hand became more attentive to her knee.

“I want you there, Bess, you’re coming out with me this weekend. Right after drills end at 1700 hours Saturday.”

“When does your friend get to town?”

“He’s already here. Lamar, he grumbles and fusses, but he is loyal and true. From Texas, too.”

“Where’s he staying?”

“At the Star Motel.” Elvis looked over at Bess, then down at where his long, thin fingers were on the inside of her knee, then back up to her eyes. “He, uh, he went and got a few a rooms so we can have a party Saturday night.” His voice became softer as he murmured. “Reckon it would be nice to have some time, just to be alone with with you, Bessie baby. Somewhere that ain’t a picnic bench. Or a car. Somewhere we could be alone and just talk.”

Bess parked behind the armory buildings near Elvis' barracks and turned to him, blushing.

“Um, yes, I guess I would like that too. To be able to just be somewhere, just talk.”

A wave of shyness suddenly overwhelmed Bess as she thought about being alone in a motel room with Elvis. What she thought he might really be asking her.  She wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with him this soon, though she could feel desire pulsing up through her rib cage and knew that if Elvis even looked at her sideways she would throw all abandon out of the window. But she had the impression, from just the few weeks she had known him, that Elvis was more old fashioned then she would have thought. She wasn’t sure where his boundary was, as far as respecting girls who went to bed with him. But his invitation definitely seemed like a proposition and the prospect of sleeping with him was at once exciting and terrifying.

Bess began to fiddle with her hands where they lay in her lap and Elvis picked up her left hand, bringing it to his cheek and kissing her palm delicately.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo, you’re so pretty. How’d I catch the prettiest lil moo cow in the field, hmmm?”

The words rumbled out of Elvis mouth in a low babyish voice and his eyelids drooped down in time with his bottom lip. Bess’ chest tightened, and it felt like the world tilted sides when she pulled him in and he kissed her down into the leather seat. They pawed at each other there, exploring how their noses fit together as their tongues played tug of war for control. It sent a jolt straight to Bess’ core when she felt his excitement stiffen against her thigh and she smiled into his goofy bedroom eyes.

“Hey, wait, are you calling me a cow, Elvis Presley?”

Elvis shook his head, his face focused on where his right fingers brushed over her breast, savoring Bess’ shiver, as his knuckles trailed back down over the hills and valleys of her skirt. Her blood rushed between her legs and she took a deep breath.

His fingers were back at her bosom, setting her skin on aflame with the way his finger tips trailed back and forth circling her breast.

“Mmmmhmm, not jus any cow, baby, you the prettiest little milk cow, bet you have the sweetest.” He bite his lip as he circled the cloth around her nipple again. “Cream.”

Bess exhaled out with a gasp, curling her left fingers at his wrist as he spoke.

“Makin' me want dessert.”

Elvis’ hand stayed at her side where she held it, his fingers brushing against her dress, but it was his eyes that knocked the wind from her lungs as they moved downward to settle on the apex between her legs. Elvis bit his lips and Bess felt a desperate flame tingle out from her core. No one had ever done what he was hinting at, and it scared her. Suddenly she didn’t consider herself as experienced as she had before. She had slept with what, twenty men? And no one had ever kissed her there. That was something she needed to prepare for, perhaps double the talcum powder she applied. Coughing, Bess slide out from him to sit upright and straighten her dress. Elvis’ hands were back on her hips, pulling her over to straddle his lap.

“You know, Moo Moo, I’d never do nothin’ you don wanna.”

Elvis kissed her neck as she nodded.

“I bet you taste sweet, though.”

Bess swatted him playfully, then gripped his shoulder as he nibbled her ear. Playtime was over. A feverish yearning took over and she met his hips as they rocked up into her. Bess’ heart was racing, Elvis slow and deliberate movements made him different from any man she had ever been with. He halted mid thrust to savor the moment, and his eyes looked deep into hers with a longing and and an eagerness to please. They were an invitation and a command that he followed with his fingers, trailing them softly over the curve of her breasts. She could feel his cock twitch when he noticed her shudder, or felt her nipples harden, and she knew what made Elvis different. Her pleasure turned him on.

So she chased it, moving in tandem to the rhythm of his thighs while she pushed her lips on top of his, feeling his tongue meet hers once more. She felt his bulge and sought the friction of it between her legs. His movements became more urgent, and Bess’ grasped for anything she could find to hold on to as the car filled with sound of heaving, gulping, loud moans. Her orgasm erupted suddenly with a litany of “oh Gods,” and Elvis thumbs stroked her cheeks as he shushed the fear and hesitancy from her.

“I gotcha, I gotcha, sshhhhh baby, don worry. Jus ride it out. That’s a good lil girl.”

Bess’ chest heaved up as she remembered how to breathe. This was the most intimate experience she had ever had, and all of her clothes were still on. She half chuckled as she steadied herself, meeting Elvis triumphant, satisfied eyes.

“Wow.”

“You ok, honey? Make me think you ain’t never tussled with a boy before.”

“Not like that.”

His mouth curled into a big crooked grin, and she laughed up into the ceiling.

“Huh, well, that’s true, Bess, and you won’t never find someone like me again, neither. I got moves you ain't never seen, honey." He smirked. "Stick with me, I told you, I’m a very good boy.”

“Good at being bad.”

Laughing, she shifted and noticed his erection still lingered in his pants and so she moved her hand to rub over it but he stilled her.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you, Tupelo?” She kissed his cheek, lips moving down his neck. “ Make you feel good? I  - I can, you know -”

Elvis patted her hand back into her lap and kissed the words out of her mouth.

“You were perfect tonight, Bess, perfect. But I jus as soon keep a lid on it. You don’t make it easy, though, baby, been makin’ me crazy all night, just walking round and sittin’ on me with all that equipment in your undercarriage.”

“Guess I know one pistol you have no trouble loading.”

Elvis tilted his neck back, laughing as he squeezed her waist as they made their goodbyes over a push and pull of kisses for the next fifteen minutes.

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

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

9:30 p.m.

The moon followed Bess in the clear night sky as she left post, still feeling Elvis’ hands all over her, hearing his laughter in her ears. She was giddy from the blissful release she had found on his lap, it had washed away all the tension she' 'd had carrying with her through the day. Hurrying up the stairs to her house, Bess stumbled upon her mother in the kitchen making camomile tea.The creases at the corners of Mama’s large brown eyes pinched together in a big smile.

“Oh Bessie Bess, my baby, you’re home late. Want some sleepy time tea, my shayna maidel?”

Bess strode over and put her arms around her mother’s back, leaning on her shoulder as her mother poured the kettle into the teapot, her chest filled with affection.

“Sure Mamaleh, I’d love some.”

Papa’s voice rang out from his office, so she kissed her mother’s cheek and promised to be right back.

“Aw, Elizabeth, how was your day shopping with, who, Emily, was it?”

Bess leaned against the doorway of his office, glad her father was at least making the pretense of settling down for the night in his dressing gown and pajamas. A pipe was in his hand as he read over some paperwork.

“Good, Papa, thanks for asking.”

“Gut, gut, ja.” He pushed his glasses up, and looked over his desk at his daughter, taking in her slightly disheveled hair, rumpled dress and newly applied lipstick below flushed cheeks. “You know, I thought your mother made two meatloaves for supper last night.”

“Oh, well, I took some for lunch today, Papa. I didn’t know you wanted it.”

“No, ja, I was just looking for a snack earlier, but no bother, no bother.” He put his papers down. “Are you still thinking of law school, because I saw General Brandon when we were in D.C.”

“I don’t want to go do propaganda for the U.S. government, Papa.”

“Yes, well, it’s not propaganda, spatz, it’s goodwill initiatives. This war is more about minds than mines, ja? Brandon’s information program is just making sure other countries have the opportunity to experience American art and culture. Someone with your background and expertise in foreign affairs, you’d be a good fit for a post open this fall. And they want women, smart, focused, attractive women like you. You would be perfect for this job.”

Bess tapped her fingers over her belt, she had not been thinking about her research project at all, or her law school applications for that matter. No, her head had been elsewhere, and she felt pangs of shame and guilt as she considered what her father was bringing up. Her future. Specifically, he was back at it trying to convince her to work for one of the newer programs in D.C. that his colleague in Army Intelligence had founded: the United States Information Agency. Its mission was officially “public diplomacy” overseas, but Bess knew it was essentially a PR agency for the United States.

“Is it in the Berlin office?”

“Ack, Illsa, Berlin is a coveted office, you have to work your way up to it. No. Helsinki.”

“I don’t even speak Finnish, or Swedish, and -”

“It is right there at the lion’s mouth, Ilsa, there’s a lot of action in Helsinki. All the spies from Moscow are coming through it. And the goodwill tours behind the Iron Curtain go off from there. It would be, what, two years? A stepping stone to Berlin maybe?  Besides, Deutsch ist die Muttersprache, you’d pick up Swedish and Finnish like that.” Papa snapped his fingers.

“Mmmhmm. Well, you got my attention. But what about Mama?” Bess fingers clenched in a fist. “She seems like she is backsliding.”

“She doesn’t do well when her routine is disrupted, you know that. She will be fine, give her a few days to settle.” Papa sucked on his pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco reached Bess’ nose. “And, well, you know I expect orders to INCOMS headquarters any day. That will be my last post before retirement, and I promised Mama New York after that. In the meantime, your Aunt Rachel wants to come and live with us in D.C.”

“What about Kay? I thought she wanted to go to Baylor.”

Papa’s elbow banged down on his desk, as he rearranged his paperweights, then he kept talking as he got up and put a jazz record on.

“Katharina applied to Georgetown, Radcliffe, Smith and many, many other colleges, she will be fine. She would also be fine at Baylor if she is determined to follow her silly friends there.”

Bess nodded, thinking of the girls in Kay’s high school class whose mothers had been in Baylor’s sororities, and how they had been giggling about life together next year. She thought of her own decision to stay in Texas for college, at the time she had wanted to follow her friends to a big school in a big city like Austin. She turned on her heel to head back to the kitchen and Mama’s camomile tea, muttering into the hallway in from to her. “Helsinki, huh?”

Her father’s voice followed her, his eyes narrowed at the smudges of lipstick Elvis had kissed into the back of Bess’ neck.

“Just think about, ja? You have so much potential, maus. I hate to see you loose sight of your goals.”

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

Click here to read Chapter Six: Guided Missiles

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[whositmcwhatsit]

Stay the Same

A/N: I am so close to the wire with this one! Angsty smut written for last week's prompt: army Elvis (We're sort of army-adjacent because I'm a rule bender.)

As always, shout out to my people: @thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @missmaywemeetagain, @from-memphis-with-love, @vintageshanny for love, support, encouragement and deep, depraved horniness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I need you, darlin’. You don’t understand. I need you somethin’ awful.”

It played over and over in Kitty’s head as she sped along the dark highway, praying that none of the wildlife she glimpsed skittering about at the edge of the road decided to do a suicide run in front of her car. She could explain away taking the car, an emergency maybe, a sick friend or someone who was having trouble at home. Lots of her friends were getting married right now, and there were always dramas in the early days. It was plausible. What she wouldn’t be able to explain to her mother was why her station wagon had an armadillo smushed in the fender; not many of them wandering around their suburban streets.

Oh Lord, what was she doing? She lifted her foot off the gas slightly and started to look for a place to safely pull in. She was not a flighty, foolish kind of girl. Ask anyone who knew her and they would tell you that Kitty Cowan was not the spontaneous type. For a girl who graduated early so that she could travel around performing in a country and western duo with her brother, Kitty had a surprisingly level head on her shoulders. Or she used to, until a certain Hillbilly Cat had wandered onto their roadshow with his Blue Moon Boys and promptly melted the sense right out of her mind.

Back then, all he’d have to do was stare at her with those shy, hooded eyes and flutter those long, thick lashes and she would be doing his laundry and pressing his shirts like she was a combination laundress/housewife. Her brother Chick, knowing how she pitched a fit when their mama asked her to help out with chores at home, would gawp at her like she had gone and sold her brain for a dime, but all Kitty needed was that lopsided grin and the press of Elvis’ soft lips against her cheek when she handed over the clean, pressed clothes and it seemed worth it. More, she felt like she had done something important for someone who was worth it.

Only, all that craziness had ended a couple of years before when Elvis had moved up to the big leagues and Chick and Kitty, having grown bored of the same old shows at the same old places, decided to stash their guitars in the garage and settle down for a real, normal life. There was never a question that they could follow him, Elvis paved his own pathway through the wilderness and none of them were quite talented enough to follow it.

Which was fine, Chick had got a job at a radio station, putting that gift of the gab to good use, and he was doing well at it, travelling around again as an emcee for the new rock n roll shows that had burst onto the scene, feeding off the teenage excitement. Sometimes he’d run across Elvis and get to spend time shooting the breeze backstage.

‘He’s just the same,’ he’d report back to Kitty, ‘His performance has gotten real smooth, but off stage he’s still the same old unassuming fellow. Everyone I talk to can’t say enough about him.’

It seemed like no one could say enough about him. Kitty couldn’t read a newspaper without an article about how that shy, charming boy was ruining the youth of America. She often thought about him quietly playing gospel songs on the piano between shows when she read that pastors were denouncing him as Satan in sideburns from their pulpits. When she saw him on television, jiggling and gyrating right there on the screen, she could still see the playful, bashful boy she knew, but there was something else now, something shiny twinkling in his eyes that she didn’t think had been there before. She wondered if that was what had everyone so flustered and furious about him.

Now that dangerous threat, that affront to polite society, was headed to the Army. Chick had spent night after night for the past few weeks fielding calls to the radio station from wailing girls calling to protest their heart throb being stolen by Uncle Sam and also requesting his new single. Chick said he couldn’t work out if it was career suicide or promotional genius, because everything Elvis released was shooting up the charts. And Kitty hadn’t thought much about it at all until the phone rang at home and Chick, up in Memphis for a series of dances, was shouting down the line saying that he had someone with him that wanted to speak to her.

“Hi Kitty Cat? You there?” Kitty’s stomach did a strange loop de loop that had her dinner almost returning the way it came. She recognised the voice immediately, even though it was louder than normal, much louder, trying to be heard over the racket in the background.

“Elvis? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, darlin’. You forgotten me already, huh?”

“No, no, of course not. Only I can hardly hear you! Where are you?” She heard fumbling and Elvis’ voice off in the distance, followed by some loud guffaws, then a thumping noise. When he got back on the line, it was quiet in the background.

“Had to shut myself in the dang closet,” he informed her, chuckling quietly. “Hi, hi Kitty honey, how are you? It’s been a hundred years. Where are you?” Kitty frowned at the receiver.

“You called me at my house, Elvis.”

“I know,” he laughed in that silly, self-conscious way he had. “I meant, why ain’t you here? Why ain’t you here where I need you, baby?”

Kitty didn’t know quite what to say. She cradled the receiver, feeling how cool the plastic was against her rapidly heating cheek.

“Hey, you still there? Damn stupid-ass phone, I-“

“I’m still here,” she murmured, touching her face, her hair and the back of her neck like she was reminding herself that she had a physical, material body that prevented her from floating down the telephone line that she wanted to.

“Oh, huh, thought I lost ya. You can come, can’t you, honey? You know they’re sending me away soon and I might not have another chance to see you before I go.” He’d had the last two years, a cool, doubtful voice in her head pointed out and she nodded at it before she disregarded it completely.

“Come where? Where are you?”

“Oh, right now? Right now we’re at Hotel Chisca, helpin’ out my pal Dewey on his, uh, show. Red, Hot and Blue, you know it?”

“Yes, I’m aware of Dewey Phillips and his show.” She wondered if he thought she had stopped existing the minute he had left her behind. Perhaps he thought she had been packed away in a closet with her guitar.

“How soon can you get here, darlin’?”

“Tonight? Elvis, I-”

“Now, I don’t wanna hear that you can’t make it. My days are numbered, honey. I tell ya, I just wanna see as many folks as I can before- before it’s all over.” He went hoarse at the end like it choked him up to even say it, and her heart panged for him. In her head she was already imagining herself running upstairs to change and sneaking her mother’s keys from her purse.

“Will you still be there?” she asked finally. “At the Hotel Chisca, by the time I get there?”

“I’ll wait all night if I have to. I need you, darlin’. You don’t understand. I need you somethin’ awful.”

After several aborted u-turns and a whole two-way argument with herself as she hit downtown, Kitty pulled into the parking lot for the hotel. She had been listening to Red, Hot and Blue on the way and Dewey had been hyping up his listeners with the news that Elvis was haunting the corridors and was even choosing some of the records he was playing, so she wasn’t surprised to find the lobby of the hotel packed with kids. Luckily, she spotted Chick having a laugh and a joke with some of the girls up on the mezzanine floor where WHBQ had its offices and booths and she called to him, beckoning with her arm as much as her little black bolero jacket would allow. His eyes widened and he hurried over.

“Kit, what in God’s name, girl?” He waved to the security guard, letting him know that Kitty could be allowed through. “Do Mama and Pop know you’re out this late by yourself?”

“I’m a grown woman, Charles,” she informed him. “And of course they don’t.” She felt bubbles of anticipation in her belly as Chick opened the door into the corridor and revealed a lively group laughing and talking over each other. At the edge of the group, but somehow still seemingly the focus, was an unmistakable tall, dark-haired boy.

“Well, folks, look what the cat drug in,” said Chick in his charming brotherly way.

Leaning against the wall, laughing and about to take a sip of Pepsi from the bottle in his hand, Elvis glanced over his shoulder and straightened sharply. The look on his face would have been comical if it hadn’t crushed Kitty so completely. He looked shocked, like he had not been in the slightest bit serious when he had begged her to come, like he had not thought her stupid enough to rush off into the night the minute he asked. Her face burnt with embarrassment and she leant back against Chick’s hand that was between her shoulder blades, trying to retreat.

As her vision fractured and blurred under the sting of mortification, Elvis shoved his bottle into his cousin Gene’s chest and strode towards her, giving Chick’s shoulder a squeeze even as he was pushing him away. She exhaled sharply when Elvis crashed into her and squeezed all the air out of her body. His arms were locked around her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and his hips were jammed against hers. She was trapped. The guys in the corridor snorted and guffawed like it was part of a skit for their entertainment, but the longer Elvis remained clinging to her, the quieter they became.

“I can’t believe you’re really here!” he murmured, finally drawing back, but only enough so that she could stare up into his heavy-lidded eyes and feel the breath from his mouth as he spoke. “You came all the way up here just for me?”

“You asked me,” she returned, the edge still in her voice because it still stung. Not that he thought she was pathetic now, but that he thought she didn’t care enough to come when he asked.

“Not everybody would’ve,” he said softly, adjusting his tight arm around her waist, tugging her in just a little bit closer.

“I’m not everybody,” she returned, studying his face.

“I know,” he said in a small voice, pecking her softly on the tip of her cold nose. He was almost cross-eyed staring so intently at her with their faces so close together. All of a sudden, that irrepressible, dazzling smile spread across his face and she had turned away from the glare. It hurt to look at.

“Come meet everybody.” He grabbed her hand and yanked her before she had absorbed his words, making her totter a little on her heels as he rushed back to his group. “Hey y’all, this is that little girl I told you about.”

Kitty’s inside froze when she heard those words, her chest tight and heavy. He wouldn’t have told them, he promised!

“Chick and Kitty here were real kind to me when I first started out. Man, I was so green, most everybody laughed me off the damn stage, but Kitty Cat-” He wrapped his arm around her waist again, tugging her into his side and pulling her off balance, making her stumble into him. “-She made sure I didn’t go down in flames inside of a week.”

The guys nodded politely, most of them eyed her chest and ran their eyes down her legs, but it was the handful of girls in the group that examined her most closely. Kitty could feel them measuring and portioning her up, their sharp eyes noting the body language and the way that Elvis couldn’t seem to bring himself to loosen his grip on her. Women saw things that men missed.

They lingered longer in the corridor, someone explaining that Dewey was about to interview Elvis, and everyone was laughing and joking. Elvis was boisterous in a way that Kitty had never really seen before, fooling around with his cousin like they were the two stooges, play fighting and talking in made up words that no one else could understand. The girls kept trying to join in, grabbing his arm and knocking into him, and he would get distracted for a minute, before he retreated back to where Kitty was standing with Chick. She was wondering what she had dragged herself out of the house for, because it wasn’t this brash, loud boy whose thumb had just ‘accidentally’ grazed a pretty blonde girl’s breast as she grabbed him by the waist.

Taking a couple of clumsy steps backwards, he wrapped his fingers around Kitty’s wrist and angled his head behind him, motioning for her to walk backwards with him. In the most ridiculous pantomime, they slipped away, giggling as they ducked inside a door, and Kitty found herself standing in a storage closet, a bare light bulb hanging over their heads.

“Was this where you were when we were talking on the phone?” she asked, glancing around at a broom and the cans and bottles on the shelves.

“Huh? Oh yeah, this here is my office at the Hotel Chisca,” he intoned in a deep, officious voice. “Not much room, but just take in those spectacular views!” She scanned the narrow cupboard and then frowned at him, flushing when she caught his eyes sliding down her body.

“Stop it,” she muttered, shoving him. He instantly placed his hand over hers on his chest and held it there. She could feel his heart pounding beneath the warm cotton of his shirt. “You used to be such a nice boy!”

“I’m still a nice boy,” he returned absently, his free hand slipping onto the small of her back and pulling her in. “Just like you’re still…” He bit his lip and his nostrils flared slightly before he exhaled. “…Sorry, what was I sayin’, honey? I lost track.”

Kitty shook her head, but she was grinning as she sank against him, her mouth finding his as if no time at all had passed. He tasted the way he always had, sweet and warm, which, when combined with the soft muskiness of being enveloped by him, brought her straight back to cheap motel rooms and hastily snatched minutes and hours on the road.

“Hell, I miss this,” he sighed, pulling her with him as he leant against the far wall and the sign that said, ‘All items property of the Hotel Chisca signed by Management.’ “Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty I don’t miss about those early days, the lousy motel rooms, havin’ to grab shut-eye in the back seat while Bill drove my car like a damn madman, washing up in dirty dressing rooms… No, but this, this I miss.”

“You mean to tell me that a big, fancy movie star like you doesn’t have girls just hanging off him at every turn? Because what I saw out there makes you out a liar.” He ducked his head so she only caught a glimpse of his wide, radiant grin.

“Naw, I ain’t saying that,” he admitted to his shoes. “There’s girls, there’s girls all right… None of them are you, though, honey.”

No one else could have said that so sincerely, she reflected, and had it received that way too. She didn’t feel like laughing, because she desperately wanted it to be true even as she knew it probably wasn’t.

“And I ain’t gonna be a movie star much longer.” The light faded from his smile, doors slamming shut and windows being shuttered. “Just gonna go back to being little ole Elvis, whoever the hell he is.”

Kitty put both her hands on his chest, a little surprised at how easily the old familiarity came back. Chick was wrong, she reflected, he wasn’t the same, but somehow he wasn’t any different either. Sliding her palms down his chest, she caught the way his breath hitched as she continued down his stomach towards his belt.

“He was- is- a sweet, talented, devastatingly good-looking man and no amount of time in the army will change that,” she informed him with absolute assurance.  He huffed a laugh, tugging her hips in against his, and she tried not to notice there was a firmness poking against her pencil-skirt now.

“Devastatingly good-looking, huh,” he replied with a grin. “I seem to remember you thinkin’ I was pretty goofy looking at first.”

“Well, that ain’t my fault, you were!!” she protested and he burst out in loud laughter, throwing back his head.

“You turned out all right though,” she continued with a playful wink. 

“I wore ya down,” he nodded, his features growing calmer and still, those sleepy looking eyes back and fixed on her. “Wore you down pretty good if I recall.” Kitty felt a wave of goosebumps crash down her spine as his hands descended, cupping her ass.

“Elvis,” she murmured, turning away her face, but making no effort to break free of his hands. “We should-“

“Get a hotel room?” he finished with a small smile and a lift of an eyebrow. He said it in a way that meant he could make it into a joke if she refused, but also sounded serious if she agreed.

“My brother and half of Memphis are outside that door,” she reminded him.

“I can handle Chick,” he murmured. “No one would even notice, honey, I promise.” He seemed to realise at the same time that she did how that made him sound: practised, and skilled at impulsive sex in hotel rooms. In response, he draped himself over her, his lips pressed into the crook of her neck, hot breath against her skin.

“I just- I just wanna- Wanna spend some time with you without everyone watchin’. I want you all to myself again, darlin’, like we used to.” She opened her mouth to respond. “You know, I’m heading off to war soon…”

“There’s no war, Elvis,” she answered slightly reproachfully, as if she was stupid enough to fall for that.

“Well, you never know,” he shrugged diffidently. “And you gotta get your kicks while you can.” The effect was ruined by the smirk he was wearing.

“Aw, Hollywood went and got you real good, didn’t it,” she remarked, shaking her head.

She didn’t mean it as a condemnation. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that he had become more confident, more aware of the effect that he could have on people, girls mostly, but she was a little sad. She had liked that boy, the one that had trembled when she first sat on the end of his bed and unfastened the buttons of her blouse. She still sometimes caught herself thinking of how he used to look, mouth open and eyelashes fluttering as he moved above her; the little lip curl as he flushed with pleasure, twitching in her hands.

Whatever she intended, Elvis’ face dropped and his brows drew together, making him look like a confused, sad little boy.

“Now, wait a minute,” he said, starting forward and somehow looming over her in the confined space. “How is that fair, huh? You got no idea the- the bullshit I gotta go through. I mean, I ain’t complaining, I’m blessed, I know that, but… If I act like I’m enjoying myself I’m big-headed and- and I’ve forgotten where I came from. If I try to seem humble I’m ungrateful and a liar… Hell, what am I supposed to do? How do I keep everyone happy?”

“Well, you can’t,” Kitty replied, reaching up and giving one of his beseeching hands a squeeze. “Nobody can make everybody happy all the time, honey, not even you.” He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but someone started banging on the door, disillusioning them that they had ever sneaked off unseen in the first place. They were calling him for his interview with Dewey and he hollered out that he was coming.

“Don’t go nowhere,” he instructed her, squeezing her arm as he sidled past her to the door. “I mean it now, Kitty.” She scoffed as he watched him being dragged along the corridor by his pals, wondering where he got the audacity to demand anything from her. But, of course she stayed, even as she judged herself for it, standing with Chick in the producer’s office, looking through the glass window into the booth where Elvis was teasing the girls peering in and grinning at Dewey’s hyper antics.

“You know what you’re doin’?” Chick asked out of the side of his mouth as they stood smiling.

“Rarely if ever,” she replied, shooting him a wry look. “Relax, Chickadoo, it’s just one night.”

“Yeah, those sound like famous last words.”

After the interview, Elvis strode out of the booth like he was on a mission, announcing that he was hungry and they were leaving. He rushed past Kitty, grabbing her wrist as he passed and not even slowing in consideration for the fact that she was wearing heels.

They took the service elevator down to the kitchens, Elvis bouncing on his heels and humming to himself. He started nudging Gene and they inexplicably engaged in some sort of battle to kick each other in the shin, even as he was entwining his fingers with Kitty’s.

Sneaking through the kitchens, they skidded around cooks and waiters, bursting out into the delivery bay at the back of the hotel. Kitty started to move towards her car, Elvis towards his and they engaged in a little tug of war that ended up with her skittering into his side because of her stupid shoes.

“What you doin’, we’re taking my car,” he said, looking at her like she had lost her mind.

“I need to drive home,” she countered. “I’ll need my car.” He gritted his teeth and looked intensely frustrated for a minute, before shrugging it off and announcing that Gene would drive her car. Gene seemed as unimpressed with this idea as she was.

“Look, everybody needs to stop coming up with goddamn problems!” Elvis snapped. “Y’all are doing my head in.”

It seemed a disproportionate reaction for a minor inconvenience to Kitty, but no one else seemed perturbed or surprised by his outburst. She handed over her mother’s keys with misgivings, making Gene promise, promise, that he would drive carefully what was technically a stolen car.

A bunch of people piled into the big, gleaming Cadillac and Kitty felt hemmed in pressed into Elvis’ side as he swung the wheel, trying to avoid the knot of people that spotted him and immediately tried to crowd the hood as if being run over by Elvis Presley would be an honour.

They drove over to Krystal and the car was flooded with greasy bags of their little square burgers.

“Didn’t you boys get Krystal’s last night too?” asked a blonde girl in the backseat, squashed very much like a slab of meat between two large guys.

“Yes, ‘cause they’re damn good,” one of the men said, shoving nearly the entire small bun in his mouth.

“Gotta make the most of it, huh, EP? They don’t serve chow like this in the service.”

Elvis had been fiddling with the radio knobs, moving his head in time with the music as he chewed, his cheeks filled like a hamster. At his friend’s words, his eyebrows dropped and he shot the guy a death look, which shut him up quickly. It seemed like Elvis was getting sick of hearing about what his life was going to be like after induction.

The atmosphere in the car got a little dense with nobody knowing what to say to ease the tension, when Elvis ducked down, his head pressed against Kitty’s chest, as he sucked on her straw from the cup in her lap.

“Hey!” she cried, overacting to counter the quiet, “that’s mine, you got your own!” She had her hand on the back of his neck and gave the hair at the nape of his neck a quick scratch with her nails, which made him shiver adorably. 

“I drank it already,” he shrugged sheepishly, sitting back up and pouting. Sighing, she offered him her cup and he grinned as he took it, repaying her with a lip-smacking kiss on the cheek.

“I like the hair,” she said softly, making the most of the relative quiet while his goofy, boisterous friends were still regrouping. “The black, I mean.”

“Oh yeah, well, it just looks better on film. Actors have been doing it all the way back to Tom Mix and Douglas Fairbanks, honey, right up to Tony Curtis today. Uh, I mean, I’m not comparing myself to them-” She nodded, reaching out a finger to snag a lock that had fallen across his forehead, giving it a gentle tug.

“It looks good,” she told him. “You look like a real movie star.” His lips curved into a more natural smile and he took another pull from the straw, his cheeks colouring slightly.

They drove around for about an hour, listening to the radio while Elvis took her on a whistlestop tour of significant places to him. They drove to Sun Studios. He wanted her to meet Sam Phillips and he thought that Sam might be up late like he often was, but the lights were out and the place all locked up.

“You know, I already met him a few times,” Kitty reassured him when he sighed and let himself drop back against the sooty wall at the back of the building. “Back when we were touring with y’all. I think Chick even talked to him about recording here, but it didn’t work out.”

“I was just hopin’ to see him,” he mumbled, his head bowed as he kicked out at a clump of grass that had fought its way through the concrete. “It feels like… like time’s runnin’ out.” She moved closer and gripped the bottom of his boxy striped sports jacket, giving it a tug.

“It’s just a pause, not the end,” she promised him.

“You can’t know that. No one knows for sure. I’ll tell ya, the Colonel and the folks at RCA Victor, and Mr Wallis, they all say right pretty things ‘bout how it’ll be when I get out, the plans they got to keep people interested and remembering me while I’m gone, but-“ He sighed a deep, chest-heaving sigh and drew Kitty in by the waist, squeezing her against him like he needed the comfort. “Look at how quick I came up, ain’t no one to say I won’t go down just as fast. Or maybe someone else’ll come onto the scene and all my fans’ll-“

“I know, because I know,” Kitty interjected, seeing how he was spiralling, one of his hands rubbing his face with increasing vigour. “I remember when I saw you sing for the first time, you were shaking and could barely put two words together between your songs. Even then I knew that you were something special, that you were different from the rest of us, and I was right, wasn’t I? I’m right about this too.”

“You know because you know,” he huffed a laugh and cupped her cheek with his hand, rubbing gently with his thumb. “Well, I’m convinced, Kitty Cat, by that stunning argument.” She gave his chest a shove with her forearm and ducked away as he laughed, trying to kiss her.

“You laugh now, boy, but when you’re out there in a couple of years buried under gold records and adoring fans, starring in all the movies, I expect you to come find me and beg for my forgiveness. On your knees!”

“Oh, I’ll always come on my knees for you, baby,” he intoned in a low, bass voice into the crook of her neck.

“You are so bad,” she giggled, smacking his shoulder. He nuzzled and nibbled on her neck, gripping her in a bear hold to stop her from wriggling away. Although they were sheltered by the shadows of the parking lot behind the studio, Kitty was aware that they were in public and that, at any moment, one of his friends might get bored waiting in the car and catch them.

“Elvis, Elvis honey, come on now, stop, people can see. Elvis!” She grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of his head, giving it a sharp tug to get him to let her loose.

“Come home with me,” he said one breath, squinting down at her, looking deliciously rumpled and excited. “I wanna show you- I can show you-”

“What about your family?” she asked in a low voice, her palms sliding up beneath his jacket, twitching as she followed the lines and curves, lingering over the peaks of his erect nipples beneath his shirt. He shuddered and didn’t waste time trying to answer, hooking her by the waist and merely lifting her over the low wall that separated the parking lot from the alleyway at the side of the building.

“We’re heading home,” he mumbled to his passengers, slamming his door. The car peeled away from the kerb with a high-pitched squeal. Nobody spoke and the journey passed in a blur of silence. Kitty’s eyes stayed fixed on Elvis’s white knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel. She barely registered the gate with the music notes, the winding drive or the impressive portico and columns.

“Well, I’ll see y’all later,” was all he said as he climbed out of the car, hands grabbing for Kitty’s forearm and tugging her towards him as he backed towards the brick steps. Kitty wasn’t sure whether anyone answered as she was too busy focusing on keeping up with him as he opened the front door. He turned back to her, grinning like a little kid and put his finger to his lips, pointing towards the stairs. Kitty slipped off her shoes, exhaling as she stretched her toes, and managed to grab them before he tugged her again, taking off up the stairs at a breakneck pace. She hissed at him to slow down, but he just shushed her and she could hear him laughing under his breath.

Kitty barely registered the dark room before Elvis shut the door behind her and pressed her into it, his hot mouth on hers snatching away her breath. Safely away from prying eyes, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and moaned into his mouth, pressing herself against him. He froze and pulled back, but she could barely see his face in the darkness and was about to ask what was wrong, when he gathered her up in his arms and threw her onto the bed. She shrieked, hastily slapping her hands over her mouth as she bounced on the mattress.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he murmured, kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket onto a chair like he was competing in a race. “This room’s supposed to be soundproof. Let’s test it out, huh.”

It was reassuring to see him clamber awkwardly onto the bed and throw himself down next to her just like he used to, a sign that the boy that she had cared for was not all gone, just hidden in pockets and alcoves of behaviour and words. 

“Kitty honey?” he asked suddenly once he had settled himself down on the pillows and was looking up at her with a slightly furrowed brow. “You know we don’t have to-“

She dove down, mouth catching his and draped herself across him. She felt his lips curved into a smile as his hands settled onto her back, soon grazing her curves until they were palming the weight of her ass, squeezing slightly.

Kitty’s body was buzzing and tingling, she could already feel the muscles contracting in her stomach and lower down and she tried to find some relief from the ache, but could barely move her legs within her tight pencil skirt. 

Elvis tried to follow her up as she withdrew, moaning a little when she pulled away, and she snorted at his forlorn expression as she drew up to her knees on the bed. His eyes widened as she shrugged off her jacket and started to unbutton the body-hugging blouse beneath.

Like a true gentleman, he was up on his knees too in seconds to help her. He was more a hindrance than help, his long fingers getting in the way of her slipping the tiny buttons out of the holes, but he seemed to want to be useful. He stared down at her bare chest and bra like a boy who had never seen either, which was funny because Kitty knew for certain that he had. Then, slowly, carefully, he reached out to cup the back of her head and bring her closer, kissing her like she was one of his co-stars and he was the romantic hero.

It was an intricate dance of shadows, Elvis moving with confidence and tenderness, while in her head she was seeing the first time when his hands had trembled and his ripe bottom lip glistened as he had panted, moving too slowly and awkwardly. She had had to guide him, her hands on his hips, around his ass, urging him to move faster, to stop apologising and asking if she was okay.

None of that now, it was more than a dance, it was a routine. Her eyes followed him as he kissed between her breasts, the tip of his nose grazing her skin as he made his way down, taking a detour to lick her nipples, circling them with his tongue before sucking. She arched up into him, noting the contrast of his hair as it splayed against her pale skin.

As his fingers grazed the inside of her thighs, she thought about how his body had changed, filling out and becoming broader, and there was hair on his chest that wasn’t there before. She raked her fingers through it as he moved between her legs, his eyes sparkling with tenderness and a little amusement.

“You okay?” he murmured, biting down on a smile, though his eyebrow twitched against his best efforts.

“You know, I told you that if you ever asked me that again I’d pummel you,” she gasped, tilting her hips so that he was grinding down onto the right spot, her nerves fluttering out and down the inside of her thighs.

“I know, I know,” he laughed breathlessly, his open mouth going slack as he started to inch into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, tightening her thighs to bring him in closer, faster, harder. One thing hadn’t changed, he was still too careful and gentle with her. He got the message though, thrusting hard until their hips were pressed together, slamming a hollow moan from her as he grunted.

She adjusted her grip on his shoulders, realising that she might need a tighter grip, and stared up at his face. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he adjusted to being inside her, to the friction and the pressure, but under the weight of her eyes, he tugged his upper lip up into his famous sneer, drawing out and then grinding back down just as quickly. She gasped and pressed her feet down onto the back of his thighs, finding a way to cling on as he demonstrated exactly how he had earned one of his cruder nicknames.

Somehow, they got turned around and they were horizontal across the vast landscape of his enormous bed, Kitty’s head hanging back off the mattress. He grabbed a handful of her hair as it trailed down towards the carpet, pulling her head back further, nipping and sucking at her pulse point at the same time as he pressed and rubbed and circled her clit and filled her too. Each time she opened her eyes he had this sly, mischievous look on his face like he knew how good he was, like he was proud to show her what he had learned.

Flushing with warmth, buzzing and trembling, she felt the crest of the wave beginning to build between her legs and she whined a little, gasping for air, wanting the sensation to only ever build and never peak. He tugged at her hair again, this time a little sharper, so that she opened her eyes and her vision swam and then slid back into crystal clear focus.

“Say it, darlin’,” he mumbled breathlessly. “I wanna hear you say it.” He drove into her harder and faster, making her cry out and he tugged her hair again until she relented and cried out his name as she came.

Seconds later, he pulled out and she felt him pulse against her belly as he crushed her mouth beneath his. She could barely breathe with his heaving chest pressing down on her, but she didn’t mind, it would be a wonderful way to go.

Finally, he pulled himself away, passing her his shirt to clean up, and he pressed himself to her back, tugging her backwards onto him like a blanket.

“You know why I kept asking if you were okay that first time?” he murmured, exhaling deeply into her ear as he drooped with exhaustion and satisfaction.

“Why?” she whispered, though she already knew the answer.

“Because I was fuckin’ far from okay,” he giggled, his words slurring and sliding together. “I was scared half to death, thought my heart was gonna pound itself right out of my chest… ‘Bout how I feel now I reckon.”

“You were fine then and you’re gonna be fine this time too,” she promised, reaching up to squeeze one of the arms he had folded around her chest.

“I sure hope you’re right.” He yawned, pressing a kiss onto her neck before dropping back onto his pillow. “You usually are. I just hope everything stays the same.”

 It seemed a strange and futile thing to wish for, especially for a man whose life had not stopped changing in the past three or four years, but she crossed her fingers as she relished the time that she had left in his arms and wished it alongside him. Let everything stay the same.

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fan fiction #writing prompt game #1950s Elvis #army elvis #whositmcwhatsit #elvis x oc

[elvishoneyy]

My Little Angel - Elvis Presley 🤍

elvis x reader

Warnings: SMUT, cursing, fluff, daddy kink briefly mentioned, Elvis is obsessed with you in your new outfit.

I’m still not the best at writing but I hope you all enjoy! 🤍

E! You cry out trying to get his attention. “Do you want to come see what I bought?” You had just gone shopping and bought the sweetest little white baby doll dress, and matching white thigh-high socks with bows at the top, also of course Elvis’ favourite white lace panties of yours underneath your extremely short dress that left little to the imagination. Something about you dressed in white was a major turn on for Elvis so you knew Elvis was going to love the set you picked up. “Comin’ baby” Elvis yelled back to you as he rushed down into your shared bedroom.

You were bending over the vanity fixing your hair when he walked in “wow” he stood staring at you, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Do you like it?” you replied with a smirk plastered over your face, already knowing the answer. “Do I like it? Huh” he chucked “I more than like it”. He pulled you close to him by your waist and trailed his fingers over the bottom of your baby doll dress, lifting it slightly and giving your ass a slight squeeze and slap. You couldn’t help but to let out a small gasp spill from your lips, sending Elvis’ famous smirk to spread over his face.

He backed up and sat on the edge of the bed, then reached out for your hand, pulling you sideways onto his lap. He began to rub his hands up and down your thighs sensually, getting awfully close to the place that was growing wetter by the second. While still stroking your legs he grabbed your face gently, turning your attention from your lap to him “you’re so beautiful you know that, baby?” Elvis then began placing soft kisses on your lips, cheeks, then made his way down your neck towards your chest, causing you to throw your head back with a sigh. He pulled away briefly, his eyes trailed over you in awe, but there was no denying the fact that those ocean blue eyes were quickly filling with pure lust “you’re my little Angel aren’t you honey” he spoke softly. “mhm just for you” you whispered whilst playing with his hair. He quickly retreated to kissing you all over, before bringing his eyes to you “let me make love to you huh?”. You nodded perhaps overly excitedly as Elvis let out a small chuckle.

“Get up on the bed baby”, you did as he said and crawled up to the top of the bed and spread your legs. Elvis stood at the foot of the bed gawking at you as he slowly began taking off his shirt, and then unbuckling his belt before finally taking off his pants. You watched him while biting your lip at the scene unfolding in front of you omg I will never get over how hot this man is

He then crawled onto the bed making his way in between your legs. Your lips quickly met his as he kissed you passionately. He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then neck, kissing, kissing and kissing you repeatedly. He nonchalantly pulled down the straps of your baby doll dress revealing your boobs whilst never pulling his lips away from you. Kisses then followed to your chest where he lightly sucked on your left nipple, then your right causing you to let out a moan. He sat up for a brief moment, trailing his hands down your waist to the bottom of your stomach “you gonna let out more of those pretty noises for me hm? Tell me what you want Angel” the way he spoke, the look in his lust filled eyes and his little smirk had you melting under him. “I want you” you mustered out, unable to say exactly how you wanted him even though he hadn’t even touched you where you needed him the most yet. “You want my mouth on you baby?” He asked as he started kissing down your stomach to the top of your panties, before pulling them off of you, leaving you only in your thigh high socks. God did this sight turn Elvis on. “Yes please” you stuttered back to him.

He kissed up along your thighs before pressing a gentle kiss on your clit whilst holding eye contact with you. Just the slightest touch had you spiralling, you needed him more than ever. He started flicking his tongue against your clit before sucking as hard as he could. “Omg e!” You cried out as you couldn’t help your head flying back, and your back arching against him. He was going at you like a man starved. You gripped onto his hair to stabilize yourself as he held your thighs stopping them from closing in. “Fuck Elvis mmmm” your moans filled the room, although you made no attempt to hide them considering the fact that Elvis loved to hear you coming undone because of his touch. You quickly realised that you weren’t going to last long like this, the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming. Before you knew it you were bucking your hips towards him as the tight coil in your belly came undone “oh my god” you screamed out while he continued his assault on your clit. He pulled away from you with a pleased smile on his face. That cheeky smirk seemed to be working overtime today. “‘was good baby huh?” he said whilst moving some of your hair out of your face. All you could do was simply nod as you were so fucked out with pleasure from some of the best head you’ve received in your life.

You felt like you were too sensitive to take him again right away so you sat up and began to tug on his boxers “let me make you feel good now e”. He switched places with you so now you were between his legs, slowly you pulled down his boxers that seemed to already have pre cum stains, to reveal his ever so hard cock that looked like it was on the brink of exploding. You licked from the base up to the tip whilst holding eye contact with Elvis, peppering kisses over the tip a few times before beginning to suck away. “Fuck” he murmurs out from the sight of you sucking at his throbbing member, with your ass raised in the air. That fact that you were doing such unholy things whilst still wearing those oh so innocent thigh-high bow socks had Elvis realing underneath you. He moves his hands to your head moving your hair out of your face holding it into a makeshift ponytail. “fuck baby girl, daddy isn’t going to last much longer like this” he breathily moans out to you. “you wanna fuck me now?” You mumble over his cock holding eye contact, your eyes innocently flickering at him.

“Get on your back” he ordered as you pulled his cock out of your mouth with a pop. You were dripping wet for him now, you could not wait one more minute for him to fuck you. He spread your legs wide open before rubbing his tip along your folds, teasing. “Please Elvis, I need you now”, “yeah you need me honey? are you gonna take me like a good girl”, “yes e, yes, please” you were practically begging at this point, god could Elvis turn you on, to the point where you could almost forget your own name. He listened to your pleas and began to enter you, the pair of you letting out a moan. He gradually began thrusting into you hitting your g stop with each thrust, “oh gosh Elvis mmm” the pleasure again he was giving you was immense. He leaned down so his head was in the crook of your neck whilst still thrusting in and out “you feel so good my little Angel, tell me how I make you feel” he whispered into your ear “s-so good daddy” you managed to stutter back at him. He leans back up holding your hips up higher to gain a new angle, one that hit your g spot even harder “ah fuck e” you cried out holding on to his arm that moved above your head, whilst the other held your hip. He was fucking you silly at this point and that climax was quickly approaching you again. “I’m gonna cum e” you cried out to him. “Cum for me baby” his thrusts were also beginning to become sloppier so you knew he wasn’t far behind. The coil in your stomach snapped at an instant, making you see stars “Holy shit mmmm”. “Ha fuck” he then came inside you, filling you with his warm cum.

Elvis collapsed onto you, the both of you struggling to catch your breaths, before he slipped out of you leaving you feeling empty. “My god baby, you drive me crazy you know that?” He spoke lovingly to you before kissing you.”Let me get a towel wait there” he quickly hurried into the bathroom, you couldn’t help but giggle at him running frantically butt ass naked, you whistled at him just to tease him a tad “hey” he yelled back with a silly look planted on his face. He came back with a damp towel and cleaned you up, before leaving one more good luck kiss on your extremely sensitive clit. “I love you Elvis” you said to him and the two of you cuddled up next to one another, “I love you too my baby girl. Oh and uh can you please wear these again with that little dress” he said whilst playing with the bows on your socks. “Of course my love” you giggled back to him.

Thank you for reading lovelies! If you enjoyed it would mean so much to reblog :) stay horny 🤗

#elvis fan fiction #Elvis #elvis presley smut #Elvis Presley #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis the pelvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the king #Elvis dirty

[mollyroseswanson]

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis presely smut #elvis fan fiction #50s elvis #wattpad

[satnindoll]

Mini fanfic

Warning: This is just a wholesome fanfic but it might lead up to mature romantic plots. The rest just have fun reading.

Elvis & Y/N (your name) also would be saying E/C (eye colour) and, H/C (hair colour)

It was 1970 in Las Vegas, and Elvis was performing onstage at the Hilton Hotel International. Y/N was in the middle row standing while Elvis was dancing and singing “You don't have to say you love me.”

Y/N was in awe of the power of Elvis's voice, and the passion he put into his shows. Y/N was visiting Vegas since she's always wanted to see Elvis perform, she has been a fan since she was a wee child. Dancing and singing along to his music using a hairbrush as a microphone, Y/N couldn't believe it was real, almost close to touching Elvis. As the show came to an end, Elvis usually closed the night with the song; “I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.”

He got down offstage and kissed every girl and shook every man’s hand, he was also a joker when he reached another guy pretending to kiss him when he shook his hand. Laughing along Y/N saw the human, humourous side of Elvis which was wholesome to see.

As Y/N was glancing at the women getting kissed, with beehive hairstyles, caked makeup faces with a bunch of blush, she was just natural, a dab of blush and eyeliner, mascara to bring more focus to her eyes. She would've never thought that this day would come when Elvis would give her one of his famous kisses. She glanced at a girl who was ignored by him because of the duration of time in which he felt bad. But when he stopped in his tracts staring at Y/N, he was starstruck but her beauty, especially with her bright, jeweled E/C.

He cupped her porcelain face, and her skin was soft on his calloused, soft hands. Leaning and tilting his head to the side, he pursed his soft, plump lips that looked and felt like marshmallows on your pink, glossed lips. It was a tender, soft, passionate kiss with meaning. You both felt electricity flowing through your veins. Elvis pulled back giving Y/N a wink.

Y/N was shocked but also had butterflies fluttering in her stomach. How could this have happened? Y/N pondered. What she didn't know is that Elvis whispered to one of his friends/ bodyguards from his clan called; “The Memphis Mafia.” or TMM for short. His name was Sonny, and he was tall almost as tall as Elvis, walking up to Y/N. You became shy and felt awkward that he was walking up to you when your mother taught you never to talk to strangers. Introducing himself he said that Elvis would like to meet you. You were stunned and flabbergasted that such a star would want to talk with you.

You arrived in his suite as Sonny gave the secret knock. As Elvis yelled, “Come in.” Sonny opened the door and there he was. In his comfortable change of clothes which were pyjamas, and his hair styled. Looking handsome as ever. He begins to introduce himself to you like the southern gentleman he was. He tells you to take a seat and make yourself at home. You begin to ask him why you. Elvis chuckled and nodded as he spoke with his southern drawl. “Well, I just couldn't stop looking at you. You also were cute in the way you marvelled at me. Tell me where are you from?” what he couldn't believe next was that you were born in his birthplace and had been living there since you were a baby. “You are from Tupelo?! No way? God, I miss that place. Well not when I was poor but we had some good memories, not all were bad. How is it there now? I haven't been there in like forever.” he chuckled. Y/N began to chuckle at his excitement you began to explain that everything was going fine and that it was getting known because that's where he was born. You begin to have a lot in common with each other and your grandparents are friends with his grandparents. You begin to have similar interests in books, theology, spirituality, and motorcycles. Elvis confessed how he felt and that his relationships tend to go faster than regular folks because his lifestyle doesn't make him build relationships slowly. But you were okay with it. You both shared a common demon; loneliness. You both had a deep discussion going on for hours until it was a quarter to 2:00 You looked at the time and were stunned at how late you were staying. Elvis suggested that you stay the night and he had an extra room. You knew staying at a stranger's place was bad but you began to trust Elvis, he always kept his word. “I will never do anything that you don't want me to do.” Y/N was suspicious at first but then she agreed. She excused herself to get her things but funny enough her suitcases were already in the room. She found it strange but Elvis explained that he told Sonny to take her key. She nodded. As the MM turned in for the night you and Elvis began talking more, you couldn't stop looking at his lips, oh how soft they were. He knew Y/N was eyeing his lips, so he pulled her close and began kissing her tenderly and softly. They spent the night making out. Till the next week, Elvis and Y/N have been spending a lot of time together, they went on secret dates, and sightseeing. She was happy she decided to go to Las Vegas to see the king of rock but to her, he was her soulmate, her kindred spirit. Girls were jealous left and right, the Memphis Mafia thought they had Elvis out of their hands and did not care. Y/N saw the toxicity in the “friend.” group. She pleaded with Elvis and hoped he would open his eyes. Only Joe and Charlie were his true friends and he'll always have her by his side. Elvis couldn't believe the betrayal he got from his “friends.” he was deeply hurt but kept them in his life to work for him but the damage was done for any repair of the friendship. They wouldn't know his private life anymore. He was happy he found Y/N, she kept him in line. They then lived happily ever after at Graceland.

Fin

#elvispresley #fan fiction #Elvis fan fiction #love aesthetic #Spotify

[claire-elvisgirl]

Masterlist

SMUT

FANTASY/GOTH/VAMPIRE

ANGST/SAD

FLUFF

ONE SHOT STORIES

MY LITTLE DRUNK BABY: You come back from a party after too many drinks. Elvis has to deal with you

WHAT A HOT BIRTHDAY: You got a big surprise for Elvis’ birthday, but he’s willing to do anything to find out what it is.

A CHRISTMAS PAINTING: Christmas time is near. You’re looking for inspirations to paint and Elvis needs some good feelings, since it’s the first Christmas without his mother

LITTLE SISTER: You and your big sister Emily have become Elvis’ friends and now you’re on tour with him and the guys. But suddenly he realizes he sees you as something more than just a friend.

DO NOT DISTURB: A strangely embarrassed Elvis tries to find a moment of relax with you after a concert, but the MM guys have other plans for you two.

(UN)DRESS ME: You got home after a day of shopping and you show Elvis what you bought for you and for him. Things are suddenly getting exciting.

LOVE LESSONS: You’re about to discover intimacy and pleasure for the first time, but you can’t imagine who’s gonna be your teacher!

ETERNAL BOND: How much can a life change in just one night, if the man who loves you turns out to be an immortal vampire?

I NEVER LOSE CONTROL: Elvis gets back from a concert totally exhausted and he desperately needs a shower. But he doesn’t intend to have it alone!

WANNA MAKE A BET?: You found some photos of Elvis with other women and you bet with him that you could do better than them.

A LEATHER DREAM : You’re in the crowd during the Comeback. He notices you. You end up in his dressing room living the best night of your life

SERIES:

BLOODY TRIANGLE: You, Elvis and his old Master. A love story beyond time.

Part 1 Part2 ...

MY LITTLE FRIEND: Elvis is your daddy’s best friend. He’s been around your family since you were a little girl, you practically grew up together never minding the age gap between you two. He starts to feel something for you. Is he ready to let his feeling go and ruin a long-life friendship?

Part1 Part2 Part3

ALMOST ALWAYS TRUE: You argue with Elvis because you want to go on tour with him. He puts you back in your place.

part 1 part2

A GROWING LILY: You’re divorced. Elvis takes you and you little daughter to live with him. 13 years after he acts like a perfect possessive and jealous father, until the passion for his step-daughter catches him completely.

part 1 part2 part 3

FOREVER: Vampire/Elvis

part 1 part 2 part 3

A NEW BEGINNING: You and Elvis are married. You lost interest in having sex after a tragedy, but another tragedy will make you change your mind and bring you back to life.

part 1 part 2

#elvis presley #elvis the king #70s elvis #elvis history #elvis fans #60s elvis #50s elvis #masterlist #elvis fiction #elvis fic

[burninlovebutler]

30 - It's Not Living // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin butler x fem!oc | word count: 2.3k

summary: austin copes with the weight of his bad decisions with the help of a new vice. while aspen remains blinded by her feelings and her own addiction, she invites nox over for an in-house visit to help curb austin's withdrawals.

warnings/notes: drug use lol, withdrawals, addiction, shitty/angry austin, yelling, austin spiraling, nox, sad but important for plot, 18+ MDNI

see masterlist for chapter log + all other fics 💫

vibes -> fw playlist❄️

-AUSTIN-

I winced when the bright sunshine burned my freshly opened retinas. “Fuck.” I groaned. Once I had gained some more consciousness, I patted around the bed to find it empty. An immediate feeling of relief, then sadness washed over me at the absence. It made me ponder where I stood with Aspen; having her here constantly and being so… needy was suffocating. But on the other hand, it was comforting not being alone. God knows where I’d be without company through this down spiral. It’s not like it was the worst company you could have – she was kind, soft, caring, funny – and the fun we had. Maybe it was just the aftershock from her ‘I love you’ slip.

Suddenly, there was a hunger pain in my stomach and it crept up my ribcage - it climbed up each rib like a ladder until it was curled up in my throat. It wasn’t hunger for food but something else. I pulled myself to the edge of the bed, letting my feet hit the floor and shaking away the gnawing feeling. My nose suddenly scrunched at a familiar sweet scent filling the room. Using both hands to push myself off the mattress, I weakly made my way towards the kitchen.

The minute I rounded the corner I stopped in my tracks. There was Elsie, fluttering around my kitchen. I watched her wavy brown locks bounce as she wiggled a pan then tossed it upwards to flip a pancake in the air.

Pancakes – I knew that I knew that scent, it smelt like home. While having Elsie in my kitchen after everything was jarring, it was also greatly comforting. Maybe this would make everything okay, maybe pancakes could fix this too; they always fixed everything before.

“Els–“ I began but then Aspen abruptly swung the front door open.

“Aspen.” I sighed out, slightly annoyed and anxious.  

She went to the counter and dropped a pile of mail onto the marble. She knitted her brows at my tone, “Yes?”

I gestured my hand over to the kitchen with lifted brows, “Hello?”

She turns to the kitchen and I follow her gaze, we both land on the same thing.

A completely empty black and white kitchen.

“What? I know the muffins aren’t done yet I-” Her voice faltered as she looked back at me, confused. “What’s wrong?”

One thing you could never underestimate is a woman’s intuition – and by the way she looked at me, I knew she knew something was up.

“Oh, oh,” I fake laughed and waved away the question, “Oh nothing.”

She eyed me curiously, “Okay…” Setting her bag on the counter. “Well, I have some bad news – well I have good news and bad news.” She scrunched her face like she was waiting for impact.

“Oh god, what.” I sighed, letting my hands fall to my sides.

“Well… bad news is, that none of the girls at work could get me anything.” She fidgeted with the silver rings wrapped around her boney fingers.

It was too early in the morning for me to be receiving such bad news. “Okay, well what’s the good news?”

She smiled wide, “Nox is coming home sooner than I thought, so he’ll be back and we can re-up then.”

My fingers curled into a tight fist, “How soon.”

The next succession of days blurred together into a fuzzy haze. Aspen had barely left my loft, only for her shifts at the club and to get food. The entire weight of the past two weeks settled an overwhelming ache pulsing in my blood vessels. Between Christmas, the plan with Nox, Aspen, New Years and the morning after, this had been the most unstable I’d felt in a long time. Maybe even since my Dad’s passing – maybe even before Elsie.

Everything was just shitty – and it was because of me.

None of this would’ve happened if I had just kept my hands off of things that didn’t belong to me – if I kept them off my best friend.

If I hadn’t relapsed, I wouldn’t have been cornered with the plan that landed Aspen in my lap in the first place.

The details and the technicalities didn’t matter, I just didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to let myself dwell on the specifics, on all the ways I fucked up, all the ways I was a shit person. I wanted to forget.

And Aspen helped to do exactly that. When my cock was in her mouth, when she was lighting my blunts, when she was pouring pills in my hand, when she was offering me lines, when she was sharing bottles of alcohol with me, she was doing exactly what Nox had intended her to do – distract me.

It hadn’t even been a week since Aspen’s ‘I love you’ and after I’d already finished the bottle of Percocet she’d given me. The little white pills were meant to be temporary, just to get over the hump of Xanax withdrawals while Nox was away– but as the absence of everything settled, panic began to fill the space. I knew I could handle the Xanax, I knew it like the back of my hand. Since college I’d learned how to deal with it, even when it got bad. But this…this was a beast I was never prepared to battle. 

Xanax felt like a distant memory in the skyline of my mind. The only thing that took up any space in my head were those new pills. They put on little plays in the corners of my mind, they sang melodies into my ears drums. They were all I wanted, all I cared about, all I thought about.

In the midst of my withdrawals, the panic, the guilt from Elsie, and Aspen’s slip, tension was thick in the air between me and Aspen. I tried my best to stay calm, I really fucking did. But this comedown was nothing I’d ever felt before. I was just so ferociously angry all the time, at any and everything. I felt the aching need and the pure rage in my bones; it buried itself into the deepest crevices of my blood marrow.

I knew we’d end up in this situation eventually, where we’d run out and I’d end up in detox agony – or maybe I lied to myself and made the empty goal to not let it get to that point. But there we were.

This particular day, fury was burning holes through my veins, and Aspen’s lack of tidiness was my last straw. I stomped over to the bedroom, “I need you to come with me right now.” 

“What? Why?” She squeaked and the pitch of her voice only amplified the skull splitting migraine I’d felt for the past 3 days.

I didn’t reply and simply pulled her by the cuff of her babypink sweater to the kitchen. “This.” I pointed to the lukewarm milk left on the counter. “How many times have I told you not to fucking leave the milk on the fucking counter.” The harsh words slipped through my lips before I could stop them. There was a tinge of guilt as they left me.

“Austin, what the fuck are you talking about?” She scrunched her brows perplexed. “That’s not even-”

“I’ve told you multiple times to not leave the milk out.” I spat out, repeating myself through gritted teeth, “Now the milk is spoiled.” I felt as though I was talking to a toddler.

She raised her brows in surprise, “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t leave anything out.” She replied feigning innocence.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose between my middle finger and thumb attempting my best to remain calm. “Can you please stop fucking lying? I told you yesterday, literally right here in this very spot, to not leave the milk out.”

“Austin I-I don’t, we just,” She stuttered her way through, taking a step back from me.

“Oh my god Aspen, you can’t even admit to your own mistake?”

“I just, well I, I just don’t-” She faltered.

“Spit it out Aspen, what!”

“I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She paused, “I don’t even drink milk, and,” An even longer pause while her eyes lingered on the half-gallon of dairy on the counter. “Aus, that’s orange juice.”

The room began to spin, and I stumbled back a step, “I uh- Yeah, yeah that’s what I meant, the orange juice.” I cleared my throat, “I told you not to leave out the orange juice.”

“Aus,” She held a breath before exhaling it, “I wasn’t even here yesterday, remember? I was working all day.” She took a step towards me, and going to place the back of her hand on my forehead, “You feelin’ okay?”

Reflexively, I smacked her arm away from me, “No Aspen, I don’t fucking feel good, I’ve been detoxing for the past 3 days. I feel like fucking ass right now.”

“Babe, I’m sorry. I couldn’t get anything from anyone.” Her tone was sad, like she knew she was disappointing me. “But Nox will be home in two days, so he’ll be able to come over.” She crossed the space between us and gently tucked some of my overgrown blonde hair behind my ear, “Okay? We just gotta make it two more days okay?”

Just two more days. 

My front door jiggled open with the shuffle of two people coming through the door.

“Aus, we’re here.” Aspen called, the chill of winter hanging in her voice.

I spent the day in bed watching the ceiling and trying to smoke enough weed to stave off how miserable I felt. There was a brief moment of silence before her words had fully processed in my slowed mind. I closed my eyes and took a sharp inhale, both to prepare myself but also to gather enough strength to unglue from the engulfing mattress.

A rather unsettling feeling swirled in my stomach when my eyes landed on Nox in my kitchen. However, when I remembered that he didn’t come empty handed, there was an immediate wash of relief. Out of all the people in the world, my best friend’s shitty boyfriend shouldn’t be someone I got excited about seeing.

“There’s my man!” Nox beamed his signature disturbing grin. He threw an arm around my shoulders tugging me close in some fucked up half bro hug. The weight of his arm on my shoulders felt like sandbags. He pulled away and briefly inspected me, no doubt getting joy out of my bloodshot eyes lined with dark circles and pale broken out skin. “God you’ve never looked better.” His sarcasm sounded so genuine, maybe it wasn’t a lie that I never looked better to him.

Like straight out of a movie scene, he plopped down what looked like a high-end lawyer’s suitcase, unclasping each side of the locks before pulling up the lid. Inside was an addict’s candy land, the variety of substances seemed to hold anything you could possibly ever imagine. “So what’s it gonna be Butler? Take your pick.”

The air in the room became dense, like I was inside the walls of a cinder block. My eyes drifted between him and the full inventory.

I was really doing this. This was really happening.

“I uh-“ Running my tongue between my lips, then turned to Aspen. “What do you want babe?” Maybe if I gave her the responsibility, I would somehow make myself less accountable for our decisions.

She let out a small giggle then proceeded to point out the usual suspects. Pills, green, and powder. I gave Nox a nod confirming the decision and a smile curled across his lips, “Perfect!”

When Nox began gathering the products, I realized Aspen had made a mistake. It was the pure desperation that forced my hand to latch onto his wrist, shock flashed over his face before my eyes met his. “Not that one.” I stated lowly and he furrowed his brows in confusion. “I– We want Oxy.” 

It took a brief moment for Nox to put together the pieces but when he did, a sinister beam spread across his face, “Well, well, quite an upgrade we’ve made huh?” 

I crossed my arms, retracting into myself, “Can we just have some fucking Oxy.” I snapped, the anger bubbling up in me again. I was so close to tasting relief and he was just fucking around. 

He scoffed and shook his head, plucking a pill bottle from the case, holding it up and giving it a shake in my eyeline, “I wouldn’t be so hasty with your words with someone who’s holding your fix.” 

My brows lowered and my eyes felt like laser beams, but he was right, I couldn’t do much more than that. He held my salvation in his grimey tattooed hands.

“That’s what I thought.” He set down the bottle on the table. “I don’t have pure oxy, only Percocets.” He stated as he plucked the other parts of our order from his briefcase and set them aside in one little pile of substances. I nodded in acceptance.

Out of reflex, or maybe kindness, Aspen went to grab her wallet to pay but my hand landed on her arm. “You don’t need to.” I said simply.

Nox glanced over at Aspen with a crooked grin, “Don’t worry darlin’, your boyfriend and I got a little deal, you’re covered.”

“Oh.” She replied softly, retracting her hands back into herself and looked down at her fidgeting hands. 

After Nox packed his pharmacy up, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “Good doin’ business with ya Butler.” He leaned into me, near my ear whispering, “And if you don't wanna lose your supply chain, don’t ever talk to me like that again, got it?” He landed a heavy pat on my back, knocking all the wind out of me.

Before the front door closed behind him, the pill bottle was twisted open and there was already a pill down my throat. 

I felt the torment of a comedown like that and I didn’t plan to feel it again.

Next Chapter -> 31 - Mr. Percocet

Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

Sorry this update is so late 😅 and perhaps not the most interesting/fun but it is important to the plot! More eventful chapters are coming next 💗

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[pxnsneverland]

Beauty and The Boss | austin!elvis x oc (part 11)

plot summary: Laura Jean Walker is the daughter to Louisiana’s most powerful mafia boss, but to her, he’s just her jail warden. When she sneaks out to the Louisiana Hayride with her friend she sees Elvis Presley perform and instantly knows something is special about this boy. Especially when he saves her from being assaulted by a townie. She thinks she’s on cloud 9 until she gets kidnapped in the middle of the night by the Memphis Mafia led by Elvis himself. Will Laura Jean try to free herself or will something hold her back from finding her way home?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 1729

warnings/notes: Gun Violence

Chapter 11

I'd be lying if I claimed I wasn't worried about my father's impending visit. I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to wiggle my way out of his hands this time. There will be no rebellion or blackmail to save me or Elvis. This meeting would put a stop to everything, regardless of who won. I stayed close to Elvis while he and the rest of his mafia armed themselves with as many of Elvis' guns as they could conceal on their bodies. It was like witnessing troops train for battle. Elvis approached me, a fully loaded handgun in his hands.

He extended it to me. “Now, darlin’, I don’t know how this is gonna go. But I’ll be damned if I let him take you away from here no matter what happens to me.” He took my already trembling hand and placed the gun in it. “I’ll protect you with my life and you know that. But if Walker manages to fire first…you need to defend yourself. I know he’s your Daddy–”

“Not anymore.” I slid my hand around the gun's grip and tucked it into the waistline of my pants. Despite my quivering palms, the rest of me was rock solid. Even before I met Elvis, Daddy had been dead to me for a long time. I could pull the trigger if the time came. At least, that's what I told myself.

Elvis kissed both of my hands on the back. “When all this is over, we’re gonna have a Hollywood weddin’.” He grinned, but I could sense the anxiety he was attempting to conceal.

I smiled back and placed my hand on his cheek. “We sure will.”

~

2 hours appeared to fly away before Elvis received a call from the front gate. I knew it was time when his jaw clenched. He hung up the phone, nodding to the mafia guys who had been eagerly waiting for Elvis' signal. Elvis led me to his office, followed by his guys. When my father arrived at the door, just two people remained to accompany him in. Coming down the corridor, I could hear his dominating footfall. I took a long breath to calm my nerves, which were becoming more agitated as the steps became louder. The door flung wide, revealing my father and his mafia associates, men I had grown up with since childhood. Men who were previously like uncles were suddenly total strangers standing before me, staring at me with the same disdain they had for Elvis.

Elvis was absolutely disregarded by Daddy. He gave me a cheeky look as he glanced at me. His gaze slid down until it came to rest on my hand, which was lying on the outside of my thigh. His lower lip trembled. “Well…” he said slowly, “I guess my little gift was an early wedding present, wasn’t it?”

“You’re a sick man, Walker.” Elvis pretended he hadn't heard Daddy's remark. “You knew she would be in that car with me. You were willin’ to let your own daughter die just to prove a point?”

“My daughter made her choice.” While conversing to Elvis, he kept his gaze on me. “But once I get rid of you, well, her choice won’t really matter, will it?”

Elvis' jaw clenched. “I have no complaints about resolvin’ this peacefully. I’ll forget about the money you stole and your debt to me, but you have to leave Laura Jean here with me and never contact her again.”

“What kind of father would I be if I left my daughter here with you and your riff raff?” Daddy narrowed his eyes. “Especially when your bloodline has a history of killing mine.”

What was he on about? Until I met Elvis, I had never heard of the Presley family or their links to the mafia. And I knew Daddy would never miss an opportunity to tell me about another mafia family that was our rival. He had to be lying. Just trying to get something going inside of me so I'd make a mistake and he'd have the upper hand.

I discovered my own voice before Elvis had an opportunity to discover his. “What are you talkin’ about, Daddy?”

Daddy gave me a frightening smile, as though everything was going as planned. “You know your Mama died in a hit that was meant for me. You should know, darlin’. It’s his fault you don’t have a Mama anymore. Or should I say it's his Daddy’s fault.”

My cheeks heated, and I felt as if the world was whirling around me. My mouth got dry, and drums began to pound in my mind. Vernon Presley was the reason my life had crumbled. He was the reason my father saw me as a property rather than a daughter. His thugs had murdered my mother, an innocent, charming woman who had done nothing wrong but fall in love with the wrong guy. The name Presley was the boogieman I'd been looking for all these years, the thing that kept me awake at night hoping and praying for justice for a mother who died much too young.

“Laura Jean…” Elvis began in that lovely, delicate voice I had grown to adore, the one that was just meant for me..

My hands were quicker than my thinking, and I snatched the revolver from my belt and pointed it at Elvis. The Memphis Mafia attempted to make a move towards me, but Elvis stopped them and told them to keep still. Angry tears streamed down my cheeks, and all I could see through my clouded vision was red. “Did you know?”  I said, my voice shaking.

Elvis raised his hands. “Darlin’---”

“DID YOU KNOW?!” I yelled and removed the gun's safety. My finger was poised above the trigger.

Elvis' expression softened as he gazed at me with loving eyes. I have no doubt I could have shot him right there and he wouldn't have stopped loving me. I was blinded by the wrath, anguish, and heartache I'd been harboring since I was 12 years old. Elvis released both of his hands. “I didn’t know. But I knew Daddy had ordered some hits before he got jailed. He called it protectin’ me from the nearby bosses who would come sniffin’ around once word got out about me takin’ his place. When you told me about your Mama and with Louisiana bein’ so close, I—I thought maybe, but I didn’t want it to be true.”

The hammering in my brain became more intense, and the wrath within demanded blood for blood. I could hear my father laughing behind me. “See, baby girl? That’s why I’ve kept you so close, tried so hard to get you away from this boy. He doesn’t love you. He’s just tryin’ to finish what his father started.”

Mama's face flashed across my head like a movie reel. Her smiling face saying my name as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. Her hugging me and singing to me only to serve the purpose of making me smile and cheering me up. Her teaching me to play the piano and her bell-like giggles when I hit the wrong key. The images then altered. I saw Elvis's face. Elvis smiling at me and whispering my name to me in the breeze. Elvis cradling me in his arms and tenderly sang me to sleep. Elvis teaching me to play the guitar and his boisterous laughter when I couldn't figure it out. My thoughts abruptly cleared, allowing me to see Elvis's face directly in front of me. That was right. That first night when I watched Elvis perform, I rediscovered the affection I had lost from Mama. His love, our love, was as precious and beautiful as Mama's love for me. Elvis was nothing like his father, and I was nothing like mine.

I spun around, my gun now aimed squarely at my father. He also indicated for his men to take a step back. His amusement was unwavering. A memory went through my head of Daddy teaching me how to shoot a gun. If you aim at something with this, you better always intend on killing it, he had said. “What? Are you going to shoot me now? Your own father?” He laughed. “You’re not going to kill me, Laura Jean. As much as you hate to admit it, you need me. You can’t survive without me.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t needed you for a long time, Daddy.”

“You know that’s a lie. Look where you’ve ended up, look how far you’ve fallen.” He extended his hand. “Come with me, sweetheart. Let us be the family we were meant to be.”

I'd heard him talk like this before. He'd only used that voice with Mama. A sincere voice that made you believe he meant what he said. But there was something odd about it. The genuineness felt distorted and untrue. “Leave, Daddy.” 

“You’re coming with me, you little brat! Whether you want to or not!” He pulled out his handgun and pointed it at Elvis.

I didn't think about it. I simply reacted. In my haze, I heard a loud gunshot and had no idea who had shot first. I cast a brief glance towards Elvis. There was no blood or evidence of harm. He appeared unharmed and content. I carefully turned my head to see where my father had recently stood. He was now lying on the ground, blood soaking his costly suit from a gunshot wound to the chest. As I approached him, he was struggling for oxygen and choking on his own blood. His men just watched for a mob leader who fell quickly lost respect. I stood over him, his astonished and wounded gaze was returned with one of indifference.

I knelt next to him. “I want you to know two things before you die. That your daughter who you treated like an expensive object is the one who killed you. The other thing I want you to know…is that one day soon, your daughter is going to hold the name of the family who ruined your life.”  I kissed and placed my fingertips on his brow before rising to my feet. I aimed the gun at him once more. “Goodbye Daddy.” I fired, the bullet striking him between the eyes.

Stay tuned for part 11!! Click HERE to view!

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[vintageshanny]

Don’t Go Changing

I wrote this for an anonymous request that Big Daddy Elvis walk in on reader while she’s changing and smut and fluff ensue. 18+ I hope you enjoy! 😘

I envisioned this taking place in 1976-77, but there’s no real date references, so you can imagine it however you wish! ❤️

You drummed your fingers anxiously against the inside of the door frame as the car pulled up the driveway and around to the carport. George glanced over at you with a little smile. “Nervous?”

“What? No,” you scoffed. “I get set up on dates with superstars all the time.” George had been friends with your older brother and sister for years, and apparently had decided that you’d be perfect for his other long-time friend, Elvis Presley. You knew plenty of girls would still jump at the chance to meet him, but you had hemmed and hawed over the decision. Sure, he’d always been easy on the eyes when your sister had dragged you along to some of his movies, and you enjoyed his music, but the posters on your wall growing up had been of David Ruffin and Stevie Wonder. Although you were a little embarrassed to admit it, your latest celebrity crush was Jackie Jackson, who was honestly much more age appropriate for you than Elvis. But George had pleaded with you to just meet Elvis and see how it went.

“I really think you’ll hit it off,” George was saying as he jumped out of the car and came around to open your door. “Just be yourself. Elvis is usually very warm and friendly, nothing to be scared about.” You just nodded wordlessly as you stepped out of the car and smoothed down your pale pink eyelet sundress.

George led the way through the back door into what appeared to be a very gaudy den area where a handful of people were sitting around, talking and laughing. Every surface seemed to be covered with green carpeting, and the furniture was all elaborately carved. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Elvis sitting in a high-backed chair. As you locked eyes with him, you could feel a magnetic attraction that seemed to pull all of the reservations right out of you. He rose from his chair and strode over to you. His face was definitely fuller than what you remembered from the movies, but the trademark crooked grin that spread across it as he approached you sent a flutter through your body that caught you completely off guard. Elvis beamed as George introduced the two of you.

“Nice ta meet ya honey,” he drawled as he pulled you into a big hug, the swell of his belly pressing into you. The affection was making you weak in the knees. Elvis smiled as he pulled back and noticed the flush spreading over your cheeks. “Ya okay, doll?” he teased. “Ya ain’t scared of me, are ya?”

“No, no, um, it’s just, uh, kind of warm in here,” you whispered, knowing full well that everyone in the room could see that your face was on fire.

Elvis just chuckled and nodded. “It is a little warm in here. But now that you’re here, we can go swimmin’. Ya brought a bathing suit, right?” You nodded and motioned to the tote bag that you were clutching. George had warned you to bring a swimsuit and change of clothes because you never knew what Elvis might suddenly be in the mood for. Elvis grabbed your free hand and pulled you down a little hallway toward the bathroom. “You can change in here, honey, then jus’ go outside that way toward the pool,” he pointed. “I’ll be waitin’ for ya out there.”

You pulled on your swimsuit and examined yourself in the bathroom mirror, certain you had worn the wrong thing. Your royal blue one-piece had a halter neck that showed off your cleavage a little bit, but the bottom had a skirt that covered your thighs. You figured that Elvis was used to being around actresses and models, and you felt insecure showing too much of yourself. Now you worried that you looked too frumpy though. Just be yourself, you repeated George’s advice in your head. If he likes you, great. If not, his loss. With one last glance in the mirror, you turned and headed for the pool.

The others were already splashing around and playing a game of keep-away with a beach ball, but Elvis was relaxing on a lounge chair, his head tilted toward the sun, still wearing the powder blue tracksuit he’d had on when you arrived. You approached his chair and cleared your throat. “Are you, um, not going in the water?” you asked, clinging shyly to the pale pink beach towel you had brought.

“I was jus’ waitin’ for you, honey,” Elvis smiled, turning your insides right back to jelly. “Y’know,” he continued as he stood to remove his tracksuit, revealing a navy blue T-shirt and swim trunks underneath, “I do have towels here sweetheart. I wouldn’t have made ya stand out in the sun ta dry off.”

“I didn’t think you would,” you laughed, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on his sturdy thighs, “but George said to come prepared, so I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“And did ya?” Elvis asked with a little smirk.

“Did I what?” you responded, confused.

“Come prepared,” Elvis smiled, his blue eyes twinkling behind his tinted glasses.

“Oh,” you giggled nervously. “I don’t think so, actually. I wasn’t really prepared to like you so much.” The awkward words tumbled out before you could stop them. Elvis tilted his head back and let out a big laugh as you blushed profusely. “I mean,” you continued on, “it’s not like I’m some groupie and you’re, y’know, a bit older than me and, I mean, oh my gosh, I’m sorry, that was so rude, I didn’t mean, it’s just that you’re so nice and funny and cute and I wasn’t expecting…” your voice trailed off as Elvis’ laughter grew louder.

“Wow, ya really had high hopes for me, huh?” he teased, trying to recover from his amusement.

At that, you started giggling a bit too. “I’m sorry, I guess I just kept digging myself in deeper and deeper.”

“That’s okay, honey, it’s nice ta know I can still take people by surprise,” he joked with a wink. “Now let’s cool off. I can’t tell if that’s a blush or a sunburn covering you.” Elvis grabbed your hand and led you down into the water. As you passed through the game everyone was playing, Elvis suddenly dove for the ball. He came up sputtering and laughing, tossing the ball to you to keep the game going. As one of the other guys, whose name you couldn’t recall from George’s introductions earlier, lunged toward you to get it back, Elvis quickly grabbed it and tossed it to the other end of the pool. “Y’all stay down there with that,” he snapped as he shot the guy a glare for daring to get close to you, seemingly forgetting his own role in joining the game. He pulled you over to the side of the pool and smiled again. “Tell me more about yourself, honey.”

As you chatted with Elvis about your recent graduation from UT Memphis and what you were thinking of doing next, you couldn’t help but notice how his T-shirt, now soaking wet, clung to him like a second skin. You could see very clearly the bumps of his nipples and the raised pattern where a trail of hair led down from his chest to his stomach and beyond. It was like a very sexy topographical map. It was taking everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

“Honey, wh-wh-what do ya keep lookin’ down at?” Elvis asked with a frown. “Do I got somethin’ on myself?”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s nothing like that,” you blushed, caught red-handed checking him out.

“W-w-well what is it? T-t-tell me what you’re thinkin’ ‘bout.” Elvis sounded almost nervous, and for the first time you realized he might have insecurities too. You’d been so focused on your own nerves that you hadn’t even questioned why he would wear a shirt in the pool in the first place.

You leaned in closer, your breasts brushing up against his chest as you whispered nervously, “It’s just that I think you’re so sexy. It’s hard for me to stop looking at your body.” You pulled back in time to see Elvis’ eyes widen and his face turn a brilliant shade of red.

“I feel the same way about you, honey,” he murmured as he leaned in and softly pressed his lips against yours, apparently unconcerned about anyone else witnessing this display of affection. A little shiver ran through your body, and you could feel your nipples harden against his soft chest. Elvis pulled back, a blissful smile spread across his face. “Ya cold, baby? Ya wanna go inside with me?” You nodded, feeling a compulsive urge to follow him absolutely anywhere. “We’re gonna go in and have a little tour,” Elvis announced to his friends as the two of you got out and dried off. “Y’all can stay out here.” You slipped your hand into Elvis’ as you headed back inside. “Where ya goin’, baby?” Elvis asked as you walked back toward the bathroom.

“I was just going to change back into my clothes,” you responded, a little confused.

“Bring ‘em upstairs, honey, you can change in my bathroom. It’s a lot more spacious, and then we can keep gettin’ ta know each other.” You grabbed your bag of clothes and followed him, wondering just how well you’d get to know each other. As soon as you entered the dark, cool bedroom, you could feel the nerves set in. As if completely attuned to your emotions, Elvis squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Honey, we ain’t gonna do anything you don’t wanna do. I-I-I really like ya and jus’ wanna keep talkin’, okay?” You smiled and nodded. “Look, you can go right in the bathroom and change. I’ll be out here.”

“Thanks, Elvis. I really like you too,” you whispered, feeling suddenly very shy again now that the two of you were alone together. You slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. As you reached back to untie the halter neck of your suit, you realized that in your nervous state while putting it on, you had knotted it way too tightly. The water had tightened the knot even more, and now it was completely stuck. “Shoot,” you muttered as you kept picking at the knot. There was a soft rap at the door.

“Honey, ya okay?” Elvis called out.

“Yes, I’m almost done!” you lied, starting to feel panicked. You were too embarrassed to ask him for help getting undressed. Out of sheer determination, you finally loosened the knot and untied it. Right as you rolled your still-damp swimsuit all the way down your body and stepped out of it, there was another soft knock. Before you could answer, Elvis opened the door gingerly.

“Honey, are you sure you’re okay?” he started to ask before his voice trailed off to nothing, his jaw dropped a little bit at the sight of you standing there completely naked.

“Elvis!” you shrieked, trying to cover yourself with your hands. “Don’t look! I’m naked!”

“Well I can see that honey,” Elvis couldn’t help teasing. “What’d ya say before? Somethin’ about bein’ so sexy it’s hard not to look?”

“Elvis, it’s not funny! I’m embarrassed,” you whimpered, still trying to cover your top half with one hand and your bottom half with the other.

“Honey, you ain’t got a thing to be embarrassed about. You were hidin’ all that under that swimsuit? Goddamn,” he let out a low whistle as he gently moved your hands out of the way and pulled you in close to him, looking you up and down. He let one of his hands trace slowly down your side, over the curve of your hip, while the other reached around and gave your butt a squeeze.

“Elvis, I-” you started to protest but the words didn’t seem to want to come out after all.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean ta embarrass ya. I really thought ya were changed already. Do ya want me ta stop?” he whispered into your ear, the warmth of his breath tickling you.

“Don’t stop, Elvis,” you whispered as you leaned up and kissed him passionately, your tongues dancing together.

“Mmm,” Elvis moaned as he walked you back toward the counter and hoisted you on top of it. “I won’t stop until ya say so.”

“Wait, Elvis, before you do anything, can you, um, let me see you?” you whispered.

Elvis blushed and shrugged. “I guess fair is fair,” he said as he pulled off the dry shirt he had changed into. You could feel yourself growing slick at the sight of his broad hairy chest and soft belly.

“What about those?” you asked, nodding toward his pants.

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, baby,” Elvis teased. “You jus’ relax and let me make ya feel good.” He spread your legs apart and groaned at the sight of your arousal. He slipped two of his fingers through your folds and slid them inside of you.

“Oh, god,” you moaned as you reached out and ran your hands over his chest, down his stomach, and gently palmed what was growing hard inside his pants. Elvis let his tongue travel down your neck and over your chest as he continued pumping his fingers, crooking them just right to hit a spot that drove you wild. You explored his body as much as you could with your hands, and when you pulled him in for another deep kiss, you noticed he was panting just as much as you were. The simultaneous action of his hands and tongue finally took you right over the edge, your moans filling the room.

“I’m sorry, I usually don’t move so quickly with anyone,” you whispered as you came down from your state of euphoria, wondering what he must think of you.

“Neither do I,” he grinned. “But I can tell you’re somethin’ special that deserves to be taken care of.”

“Can I, um, take care of you?” you asked, looking down at where you had felt his chubby length through his pants.

Elvis grinned that sweet crooked grin again. “We should probably save somethin’ for next time, huh?” You smiled back, but you had noticed that there was a suspicious wet spot on his pants, and the noises he’d been making started to make a lot of sense. “Here honey, jus’ put this on and come lay by me,” Elvis said, handing you a silky robe from a hook by the door. “I jus’ wanna hold ya.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114

#elvis #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #big daddy elvis #elvis x reader #I love this man

[mahg-stuff]

I love the idea of your ‘his doll’ elvis mood board becoming a writing, I love the vibes & aesthetic it has!! Would u consider writing a story abt it?

I’m so glad you love it!! I’m finally going to try getting active on here. Also, I have made a rough draft of it but my writing skills aren’t so good I would say I need a little more practice, so I’m not sure if I’m ready to post any of my writing not until I feel somewhat confident with it at least. Thanks for the suggestion, although I do encourage writers on here to take the inspiration of my mood board and create a story of their own with it. I wouldn’t mind. :))

(here’s the mood board)

edit : I will be publishing a one-shot w/ the theme of this mood board!

(prompt & more info on here)

#elvis presley #elvis #elvisaaronpresley #70s elvis #daddy elvis #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis x y/n #his doll #big daddy elvis ? #elvis fan fiction #ask honey

[mamaspresley]

to find a cure | austinbutler

summary in which austin tries to find himself in the art of pottery, and instead, finds you wc 3,932 tw mentions of depression

note : aaa i saw the request @scrambled-eggs-y posted about this and i could not stop obsessing so i decided to write on the idea as well. go check out their fic, it’s linked here , it is phenomenal <<33 i hope u guys enjoy my rendition of pottery!austin !!

It was amazing, how much stress he lived under every day for two years. Shooting Elvis was nothing short of a dream, one that Austin would be forever grateful for, but it wasn’t as pleasant as his mind had made it out to be at the beginning. The past two years had been so strenuous, so draining on him from the long hours and the consistent studying and learning of his role. It had taken a seriously heavy mental toll on the boy and it wasn’t until he was bedridden in a hospital in Queensland that Austin realized how serious it was. 

He got many texts and calls from friends and family, wishing him well and hoping that he would get better soon. He was admitted for a week, so by the time he returned home to LA he was feeling a lot better, physically. But there was still a pressure weighing down on him emotionally, and Austin wasn’t sure if treatments and doctors would help him this time. 

That feeling never truly went away— not for a long time, at least. It was almost a full year since he finished filming Elvis, and he’d tried to cope with his depression by throwing himself into his other projects, into his friends and family. He never took the time to work on himself, so when he was between jobs and had nothing to do but be by himself, he was miserable. And that was just the case in the early months of 2022. 

“You should try getting into art, or something,” a friend suggested to him. Austin had gone to one of his closest friends, Ashley Tisdale, for help, finally admitting defeat after a year of living with this unhealthy mindset. “You know, I heard painting is really therapeutic. Maybe you could try that? Or I heard about this new pottery class downtown. That could be nice.” 

Since the wrap on Elvis, Austin had reached a level of depression he’d never even known was possible. It could easily be described as imposter syndrome — he didn’t know who he was, who was living in his body, taking over his soul. He felt lost within himself, like he wasn’t Austin every morning he’d wake up. For nearly three years of his life he dedicated every conscious moment to becoming Elvis Presley, so having to adapt back to his old ways — his own ways — felt impossible. Elvis was all he knew for such an extended period of his life… It made sense that Austin had lost his own individuality in that process. 

But trying art as therapy? Austin almost laughed at that — sure, he was an actor, but he wasn’t big into the arts, like sculpting or painting. “Ashley, you know damn well I can barely even draw a stickman.”

“You don’t have to be good!” she assured him. “Just try it. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

It was about a week after that conversation when Austin called her up, swallowing his pride and asking if she would stay true to her word and accompany him. “You mentioned somethin’ ’bout a pottery class? I’ve never tried pottery… let’s do that.” It took a lot of strength to pull himself out of bed every morning. But Austin was big on trying new things — it was something that made him feel excited, encouraged him to step out of his comfort zone, and since filming Elvis he hadn’t found anything that made him feel like that again. So he felt good about this; he felt good about getting out of the house — and that surprised him more than anything. 

“I’m happy you wanted to do this,” Ashley said, smiling at the boy from the passenger seat of his car as Austin backed into a parking stall just a few blocks from the building she directed him to. “It’s good, seeing you out and about again. I was getting worried for a bit there.”

“Yeah,” he said, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine as he looked over at his friend. “Me, too. But I think this will be fun.”

They both got out of the car, walking across the parking lot. “I have a feeling you’re gonna suck at this,” Ashley teased, and Austin rolled his eyes as he slung an arm over her shoulder. 

“You’ve got just as much experience as me at this pottery thing, so you can’t say shit if I’m terrible.” He smiled. Ashley was someone who Austin held very close to his heart, and he had for a long time. She was truly the only person he trusted enough to go to if he was struggling, and this just proved his theory. She was his best friend, nothing more than that, and it made Austin happy knowing that he had such a good support network in times of need. 

He held the door open for her as they walked in and Ashley found the two of them seats near the back of the room. There were a few other people taking the class, some looked more experienced than others, but Austin didn’t feel nervous at all. He was excited— he loved trying new things, even if he had no clue what he was doing. He couldn’t even guess what half of the instruments in front of him were used for, and it was comical how confused Ashley looked beside him. They were both screwed — so what else could they do but laugh about it?

They put on the smocks hanging near the side of the room, after realizing everyone else was wearing them, and Austin rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows as he sat down at his station. 

“Okay, I think we can start.” The voice came from you, standing at the front of the room in a pair of light washed jeans and a tank top. You were tying a white smock around yourself, which had paint splatters and stains all over, and you had your hair tied up messily but somehow it looked perfect, within the imperfectness. You had soft features, a kind smile, and Austin genuinely believed that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on. 

“Is she… is she the instructor?” He leaned over to Ashley, his gaze never falling off of you. 

“I think so.” Ashley looked over at Austin, who was too busy gawking at you to notice that his friend was watching him. Ashley grinned ear to ear at her realization, seeing the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes seemingly sparkling at his admiration over you, a total stranger. “Oh my God.”

“What?” He snapped out of his trance, looking over at Ashley like nothing had happened. 

“You think she’s cute.” At her words, Austin felt himself blushing. And he was quick to defend himself, stumbling over his words and the heat in his cheeks only made it worse. At his nervousness, Ashley laughed. “You totally do! Oh, this is adorable.”

“Would you shut up?”

“Okay, first things first, who here has experimented with pottery before?” You, who Austin was marvelling over seconds before, were now drawing the attention of the class, taking a seat at the station in front of you. A few people around you raised their hands, but Austin and Ashley kept to themselves. “So the rest of you have no clue what you’re doing, then?”

Everyone laughed, but Austin was too distracted, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You were enchanting, your skin glowy and your eyes so soft and kind, as well as your smile. He couldn’t get over how adorable you looked — you were the human embodiment of the word sweet. “Well that’s all right. You’ll figure it out with the rest of us. So the first thing we’re gonna do is wet our hands and prepare our clay on the wheel.”

The class went by quicker than Austin expected, and for the whole hour he figured he’d only spent a total of two minutes not looking at you. You were ethereal, encouraging a feeling in Austin that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and that was why when they were cleaning up at the end of the lesson, Austin turned to Ashley and asked if she wanted to attend next week’s class with him, as well. 

“Yeah, sure.” And that’s how Austin ended up as one of the class’s regular students, and by a month in, not only was Austin��s adoration for you growing, but he was actually becoming pretty good at the whole pottery thing. 

Currently he was attending a class without Ashley — she couldn’t find a babysitter for the night, and Austin assured her it was fine. He didn’t mind going alone, he quite enjoyed spending time by himself, and if he was being honest, he’d been trying to work up the courage for a while now to talk to you. Ashley continually teased him about it, and though he knew it was lighthearted, Austin really did like you. He wanted to talk to you, not just in passing or when you asked if he was doing okay with the lesson. He craved a real conversation, much like he’d been dreaming about since the day he saw you. Every night of his was spent excitedly going to bed, so he could fall asleep and make contact with the girl that mainly existed inside of his head. He’d never been so in love with the idea of someone before, and Austin was getting tired of only meeting you in his dreams. 

Austin was excited for this week’s class, a little bit more than all the others. He’d been planning to finally strike up a conversation with you, and once the day came, he couldn’t wait. 

So he showed up early. Only by a few minutes, but being in the vicinity helped ease his nerves a bit. It was funny, really, the contrast between the man he was now versus how holed up he had been only two months before. A pottery class, something that Austin never would’ve guessed he’d be frequently attending, was what saved him. A depressing spiral he was previously caught in, something that seemed would never come to an end, was easily prevented by a simple suggestion from a friend, something as silly as an art class. And now, he was working up the courage to ask out a girl, something he hadn’t even thought of since the beginning of his past relationship of nine years. He never really advanced towards a new one after their split two years before, never felt the need to nor did he meet anyone that he fancied, until laying eyes on you. It felt like love at first sight, and Austin was smart enough to realize that this was a feeling he didn’t want to let escape him just because he was a little scared.

The class started as it always did, with you welcoming the new students and saying hello to the returning ones. Today they were making vases, straying from the usual path of simple things like bowls or cups. The style that you wanted the class to try was a bit more advanced, with a slight curve and a weird shape to it. Austin was excited to try out his newfound skill, but the more he thought about it, he realized he would probably do anything you asked, realistically. It was humorous to him, how quickly he’d fallen for you when he didn’t know a single thing about you. Aside from your love for pottery, of course. That was something he found himself pondering a lot of the time when he dreamt of you — you were artistic, which was a trait that Austin loved. That meant you appreciated the beauty in things, you were creative and were such a kind, warm-hearted person. And this was just from what he gathered from the way you taught the class. There was so much more he was dying to know about you. 

About halfway through the class, you asked, “Okay, and how’s everyone doing?” You were walking the length of the room, peering in on certain people’s creations. Austin was working absentmindedly, his focus being more on you standing only a few feet away, admiring one of the older lady’s work. “Margaret, this is beautiful. I love the way you put your own spin on this.” And I love the way every single word sounds falling from your lips, he thought.

It was only a few minutes later before you came behind Austin, and he was momentarily embarrassed by the way his heart picked up so quickly at your presence. “This looks good,” you said, moving to stand beside him with your arms crossed. Austin watched as you chewed on your lower lip, eyes clouding over with thought before you bent down. “I feel like you might wanna add a bit more of a curve, though.” You placed your hand over his lightly, applying a slight pressure that caused Austin’s stomach to twist. By the speed at which his heart was racing, he was sure it was lethal. “There we go. Good job.”

You were gone as quick as you came and Austin focused the next few minutes on recuperating himself. It was child-like, the way you made him feel, the undeniable crush he had on you. But no matter how on-edge and starstruck he felt when you were around, he begged for the feeling back. 

It wasn’t long until the class was finishing up and they were putting their creations on the back shelf. Austin rinsed his hands off, drying them on his smock while he gave himself what seemed like the most important pep talk in the world. Just talk to her, he told himself, his eyes watching you as you cleaned up your station. She’s just a person. She’s not scary. Nothing can go wrong if you just say hi. 

Taking a deep breath, Austin made his way over. He owed this to himself. 

Nervously, Austin lifted the smock up and over his head, folding it once over before hanging it up. Then he turned on his heel, looking directly at you. “Hi,” he said. What the fuck was that?

“Hi! Austin, right?” 

God, you were so kind. The smile on your lips, forming perfectly on your face. It was as if the act of smiling was meant solely for you; you had perfected the art. Your eyes stared up at him like he was the only person in the world you cared to talk to. Austin’s heart thudded in his chest. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’m Austin.” Shut up, shut up— but say something! “I just, uh, figured it’d be nice to talk to you when you’re not teaching me how to make clay into a bowl.” What the fuck was that?— for a second time!

“You know, that is my speciality,” you said with a laugh, and Austin found himself smiling way too much for the simple small talk the two of you exchanged. 

“Well you’re really good at it.”

“Thank you, Austin.” He loved the way his name sounded when you said it. Thankfully, you continued talking, saving him momentarily from having to come up with something. “You’re getting pretty good, too! I noticed you’re coming every week. Usually your girlfriend is with you— where is she tonight?”

Girlfriend? “Girlfriend?”

“The woman you always come with.”

Oh! Ashley. “Oh! Ashley. She’s—she’s not my girlfriend.” His cheeks were heating up and Austin prayed that the nervousness he felt wasn’t transferring onto his expression. “Just a close friend. She got me out of the house for the class.”

“Well that’s good,” you smiled, and Austin crossed his arms as he smiled back. “I’m glad you continue to come. So you’re single then?”

What? “What?” That was a quick jump.

“Usually I find that a lot of the people that come to these classes are married couples.” You were speaking while continuing to clean up now, and Austin helped you as best he could. “Pottery can be a very romantic thing, so it’s not unusual to bring your significant other to a class. You should bring them, you know, if you have a partner.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.” You were speaking almost absentmindedly as you shoved things into drawers, wiping up the counter space. You kneeled down to grab a few paint brushes that had fallen to the ground before pausing, looking up at Austin. “This is gonna sound so weird, but I really feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Austin chuckled small, his hand moving to his jaw, his fingers playing with his lips, “I get that a lot.” You looked on at him, waiting for an answer. “I hate saying this because it makes me feel like just the biggest douchebag.” You laughed, and the sound was so pretty coming from your lips he had to answer. Maybe he could impress you. “I’m an actor.”

You snapped your fingers as soon as he said it, and Austin laughed. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood! Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t clue in.” You stood up, and it was then that Austin became aware of the drastic height difference. You were a lot shorter than him, which he adored, and he couldn’t tell if the glimmer in your eyes was from the sudden change in conversation or if it was just a look you always had. “I’ve lived in LA for so long but it’s always surprising to me when I meet famous people.”

“I could say the same about people calling me famous,” he joked, and you smiled at him genuinely. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know it was you. But then again, you’re almost unrecognizable in that role. I loved that movie — Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors. And for him to dip into the Charles Manson story, I just… that was such a great film. I loved Brad’s character, he was so complex and, like, the whole bit about Charlie’s deciples, I mean…” You rambled on about the film, hardly mentioning anything about Austin’s role, which was definitely something he noticed but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He loved that you didn’t talk about him at all, actually, and instead enjoyed hearing your thoughts on the film itself. “Quentin had such a good take on Once Upon a Time, Leo’s whole bit and how he tied Sharon Tate into it… I can’t imagine anyone else telling the story in a different way than he did. But I mean, he’s always—” You’d been going on for maybe about three minutes before realizing Austin hadn’t even gotten a word out, and your cheeks instantly turned a slight shade of pink. “I’m sorry.”

Austin was smiling, chuckling as he stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter behind him. 

“I can’t believe I just went on for, like, ten minutes about a movie you’re literally in. Like you didn’t know anything I just said. Oh my god.” You were rambling again, and Austin found it charming. “This probably happens to you all the time. I’m so sorry. This is embarrassing.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Austin reassured you, and you looked up at him as if to say, you sure? “I love hearing people’s thoughts on the film. It’s one of my favourite movies, too. I’m a huge fan of Quentin’s work, so I understand. I mean, I was completely fangirling the whole time over him.”

Your cheeks were pinkish, and you smiled small. An awkward silence settled over the two of you and it was almost thirty seconds before you spoke up again. “You know, next class I’m thinking of trying mugs.”

“Like coffee mugs?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “They’re a bit difficult, though.” Austin licked his lips as he listened to you speak, and the way your eyes flickered down to his mouth didn’t go unnoticed. “The, uh, the handles are the tricky part.”

He hummed, meeting your eyes when you looked back up to them. You gulped silently, lips curling into one another as you pressed them into a thin line. He couldn’t be making up the tension between the two of you. 

“Will you be here next week?” you asked, shifting back and forth between the balls of your feet and your heels as you waited for an answer. Austin nodded, and the softest smile grew across your cheeks. “Okay. Then I guess we will be making mugs.”

“I’d say I’d better come prepared, but I don’t really have the facilities to practice at home.” Austin didn’t know what he was hinting at, but it was something. And thankfully, you caught on. 

“I teach other classes so, um, maybe you would wanna drop in at some point this week and use the wheels here?”

“You’d let me?” He was grateful that you had offered, because if he was being honest, Austin had no clue where he was going with the rest of the conversation. It made him feel a lot better knowing that this wasn’t just his idea, but that you wanted to see him, as well. 

“I don’t see why not. If it’s strictly for practice, that is.” You gave him what seemed to mirror a firm look, and Austin smiled at your playful seriousness. 

“Of course.”

“Okay. Then drop by any time,” you said, stepping back slightly as you grabbed your jacket off the back shelf. When you spoke, you glanced back at him over your shoulder, making eye contact the whole time. “I teach classes on Thursday from five until nine pm, if that’s not too late for you.”

“Nine is perfect. Let me walk you out.”

After grabbing his things, the two of you exited the building. Austin held the door open for you like a gentleman, reaching above your head to push it open from behind, and you thanked him once you stepped out. He watched as you took out your keys to lock the door of the shop, Austin stuffing his hands in his pockets while he waited. 

“Where’s your car?” he asked. 

“Just up here on the left,” you answered, and Austin walked you to your vehicle. Once you arrived at the small sedan, which beeped from the unlocking of the doors, you looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you for walking me out.”

“Oh, don’t thank me for that. Common courtesy.” He gave you a smile.

“I’ll see you on Thursday?” you confirmed, and Austin nodded, reaching over to open your door for you. 

“See you on Thursday.”

Smiling, you silently thanked him before ducking into your car, and Austin closed the door for you. He crossed the street to his own vehicle, watching as you drove away in yours, and the warm feeling that enclosed his heart wasn’t something he was afraid of, but something he embraced. 

The past year was harder for Austin than any other time in his life. Depression was something he combated on a daily basis now and it was extremely difficult for him to move past that feeling of being lost within himself. But there was something about taking this class that made it just a little bit easier for Austin to climb out of the hole he’d been stuck in for so long. And now, after speaking to you for maybe ten minutes, he realized it was you. You were the cure that he needed to this awful sickness he’d fallen ill to, and he was finally starting to feel a little bit better. It’d been years since he felt that, better, but finally he did. And it was all thanks to you. 

➳ @satninbeaulieu @suspiciousbutler @sagesolsticewrites @shimmeringlights44 @butlersbitxh @floralcyanide @sassy-ahsoka-tano @austin-butlers-gf @butlersbabe @dontbesussis @x-earthangel @anangelwhodidntfall @she-is-juniper @butler-on-beale-street @iloveaustinbutler @http-sponge @theliterarybeldam @melodydior @dances-and-dolly-dresses @mommy-maia @alligator-person @elvisabutler @scarlet-knight @austiebutbut @80s-outsiders @a-bolanos @sweetheartlizzie07 @ghxst-heart @matchaluvr123 @emilykolchivans

part two is here!

#austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler one shot #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler fan fiction #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #austin butler fanfic #elvis presley #mamaspresley #jackie writes

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training

I Don't Date Soldiers

A new fic, possibly a new WIP, about Elvis' life at Fort Hood. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Bess is a smart, young secretary working for the Commander of Army Intelligence training at Fort Hood, dreaming of a life beyond the military one she has always known. That's why she doesn't date soldiers, they only break your heart, and she is looking ahead to something better. One Friday night in March, she stumbles in to the new draftee who's turned the base upside down, and in a moment of weakness, decides to try and help him sleep. Just this once.

Warnings: None, fluffy and angst combined, but innocent. For now. There are a lot of typos.

Word Count: 4.8 K

Some notes: Probably good to know the acronyms, every Army base has a chain of command, and at the top sit the Commanding Officer (CO), the Executive Officer (XO), and a bunch of other officers, of different rank denoted by their ascending O rank, from 1 to 10. WAC - Women's Army Corps, established in WWII, their was a sizeable WAC presence at Fort Hood in 1958. Oh, and Killeen is the closest city to Fort Hood and Austin, TX is about an hour away. Also I really wanted this to take place on a Friday night, but also have had Elvis at the base for two nights, so I gave myself creative license to make March 30, 1958 a Friday. Just don't look it up and we'll be fine.

This fic was inspired by the writing prompt:

Many thanks to my beautiful sister-wives-in-arms whose advice support and love make being an Elvis girl possible and fun, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @missmaywemeetagain and @whositmcwhatsit, from whom I have stolen her trademarked description of Elvis' awkward manner of kissing half on the cheek half on the lips like a goofy weirdo who was never taught how to kiss right so he decided to make up his own style. And thanks for reading and connecting with me here, the Elvis fandom is the best and I love our community!

Friday, March 30, 1958

9 p.m. at Sal's Cafe

Bess pushed her veal marsala from one side of her plate to the other, feeling the vibrations of her fork scrape across the bottom of the plate. The place checked off all the requisite Italian restaurant requirements: checkered table cloth, candle in an old wine bottle, violin player sawing away at a classical reinterpretation of “That’s Amore.” But the brown sauce, and the meat it was congealing around, was inedible. It was the sort of food that begged the question “why not stay in and cook at home?”

“I said, don’t you think, Bess honey? You follow that stuff, dontcha?”

Bess looked up at her friend Dori’s face, realizing she had drifted off daydreaming of a future far away from Killeen, away from her job at Fort Hood, away from the Army, away from officers, like the ones sitting across from them. Away from soldiers in general.

“What, Khrushchev? Well, I think we all knew he wasn’t going to take the threat laying down.”

Dori hit Bess' shoulder lightly, smiling at their dates, two officers from Army Intelligence.

“No, y’all will havta excuse my friend here, she still thinks she’s studying political science in Austin. You’d think a year of civilian life would make her normal again, huh?”

Dori flipped her blonde hair and drawled on.

“No, silly goose, no one here is interested in that Russian stuff, we’re talking about Mike Todd. What do you think poor Elizabeth Taylor is going to do now that her husband's dead?”

Bess tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Dori was right, she read the movie gossip magazines, but her friend’s distraught, serious expression had made her think they were discussing something with a little more gravitas. The recent atomic weapons testing, or Russian political shifts, the stuff at the top of her New York Times front page everyday. But why would any one in the Army want to talk about that?

Bess smiled at her date and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. Later in the bathroom, Dori chided her while applying a fresh coat of lipstick onto Bess’ mouth.

“I wish you would try to be polite.”

“Dori, you know I am breaking my rule here with you. I don’t date soldiers. I have two goals I'm focusing on: get into law school and shake off these twenty pounds. ”

Bess rubbed her hands over her waist.

“Rules were made to be broken, Bessie Pie, and you look great, men like a girl with a jiggle, I think you look like a brunette Jayne Mansfield.”

“Hardly. You’re Mansfield and Monroe rolled into one.”

“Don't sell yourself short. I know you were fixin' to marry that boy last year, and now all you talk about is law school this, politics that. Don’t you wanna get married? We're not getting any younger.”

“I’m twenty three. Same as you.”

“Eggg zactly. Sure, it seems young now, but you're gonna blink and be thirty and single, with nothing but your degrees to keep you company. You already have a good job now. I just know you’d set this law school thing aside if you met the right guy.”

“Of course I wanna get married, someday. But not now. You’re the one in a hurry to quit your job and settle down, not me.”

“I don’t have a job.”

“See, you’re half way there, Doreen. Me, I’m not giving up my goals for Captain Smarmy out there. How did you even meet these ones?”

Dori steadied her self on Bess’ shoulder.

“Stop moving, or this lipstick won’t be straight. I met them outside the PX, I thought they were cute. Arnie knew who you were, he was the one who suggested we all go out. He really likes you, I can tell - “

“Yeah, he was just in my pop's office lobbying for an assignment, he doesn’t like me. He is using me.  There’s a difference, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“So what if he was? Maybe he saw you there and couldn’t get you out of his mind. He’s good looking, smart, he’s already an O3 —”

Bess stopped her friend’s hand, and fixed her hair in the mirror, pushing up her bust and sighing at the rounder curves that had been widening at her waist since she’d graduated from college and settled into a very sedentary, very single, and currently very celibate life living back at home and working for her father. She turned to look at Dori who was waiting to blot Bess' lips with a tissue like the sweet girl she always had been. For Dori, a fresh coat of perfectly applied lipstick fixed all of life’s problems.

“Look, Captain whatever out there is only here for six months or so for training, then he's off to Heidelberg. That’s why I don’t date soldiers anymore. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m waiting for you to catch up.”

Bess gave her dark curls one last fluff.

“How’d you get these suckers to come out on a double date anyway? They aren’t scared of your father?”

Dori avoided eye contact as she smoothed her blonde bouffant and pursed her lips, then looked at Bess in the mirror.

“They don’t know.”

“How do they not know your father is the CO?”

Dori shrugged, then pinched Bess as they walked out of the ladies’ room.

“Don’t tell, ok? Let’s just have fun. What if you fall madly in Arnie? And he asked you to marry him and go to Germany with him?”

Bess snorted as they walked out to the men waiting for them in the restaurant lobby and Dori's eyes took on a knowing look.

“Hmm, so that’s big fat ol ‘no’ to dancing tonight, I’m guessin’?”

Bess nodded.

“Please at least tell me you aren’t going home to work on that boring research project?”

Bess smiled mischievously. “Professor Blotke agreed to help me, it’s going to be my submission sample for Georgetown. Papa took Mama to D.C. with him for his meetings, so I have the house practically to myself. It's just Kay and me, and she’s probably already asleep. I just have to grab a new typewriter back on post, I busted mine.”

Dori shook her disapproving of Bess’ plans for the night, then turned to greet their escorts with her usual vivacious pleasantries. Bess smiled at Dori's ability to interact with the men so casually and intimately, sliding her hands through both of officer's arms as they walked to the car. She considered how different she was from her girlfriend, despite the fact that they were both twenty three year old daughters of career Army officers. Every relationship she'd been in seemed to occur in spite of her inability to feel at ease or flirt with boys.

The conversation turned to recent events at Fort Hood as they walked.

“So,” Dori exhaled, squeezing herself against her date. “Has anyone seen Elvis yet?”

Bess pounded her foot a little harder into the concrete, hearing that name now provoked instant irritation.

“Ughh, no. It’s only been what, three days, and honestly I wish he’d been sent somewhere else for training. All I do is answer calls about him. It is driving me up the wall and I can’t get anything done. He’s turned the whole base upside down. Must have been a hundred cars parked outside the main gate, all scattered around the fields. It’s a security issue. I just —"

“Well, that’s not his fault Bess, and I think it's great. I wanna to meet him, don’t y’all?” Dori looked at the officers on her arms.

Arnie smiled a big dumb smile as he looked at Dori’s bouncing breasts and agreed. “I think it’s good for the Army, boy, I just - I just wish we could get the other enlisted to lay off him.”

“What do you mean?”

Bess felt the pit of her stomach tense as she thought of the thousands of green little boys running around base on edge with no external distractions for entertainment.

“Yeah, the boys’ have been giving him a hard time, shouting out when he runs during PT, or at the chow hall. There’s some concern he hasn’t been coming to eat all his meals cuz a the way they’ve been taunting him.”

Bess sighed, her irritation dissipating momentarily into sympathy as she considered how hungry and lonely Elvis Presley must be. Then she remembered that she was hungry, hungry because all the good restaurants had been filled up tonight by people trying to catch a glimpse of him. Elvis was the reason the only benefit from breaking her vow against dating a soldier, the free meal, had been a bust. She wondered if it was going to be this crazy around town for the next six months while he was here.

“I feel sorry for the poor kid, I do. But I still wish he was some other base’s problem.”

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

Back on post, Arnie asked Bess for the fourth time if she wouldn’t like him to come help her carry the typewriter to her car. Then they could meet the others at the night club.

Beth pursed her lips with a demure smile.  “I think I can handle a typewriter, Captain, I use them all day.”

Dori chimed in with a reminder that it was Friday night and they were only young once, but Bess put them off, grinning as she heard Dori exclaim that both men would just have to dance with her all night.

“Two gorgeous officers all to myself,  what eva shall I do?”

Free at last, Bess drove her car to the supply building, and snuck in the back door carrying the type writer that she had been using at home, the big sticker along the bottom reading “Property of U.S. Army” evident as she held the machine under her arm to unlock the door. Bess slipped off her heels at the door so that they didn’t click down the dark hallways, and she easily scurried in to slip the broken machine into the repair center and help herself to a new model, grabbing a few spools of typewriter ribbon and a package of paper on the way out. Balancing everything as she locked up to leave,  Bess smiled at the cool air on her sweaty arm pits and laughed to herself for pulling this stealth operation in a tight green cocktail dress and pumps.

“A better use of this outfit anyway, I’d say.” She muttered to herself, sheathing her right foot back into her white heel with a sense of pride that she’d managed to get in, get the new machine, and would probably be home before 11 p.m. Bess had propped her self up against the building to slip her left foot into the other shoe when she heard a voice behind her call out.

“Uh, hey, need any help there?”

Startled, she almost toppled over, catching herself at the last moment by dropping everything in her hands.

“OWW fuck fuck fuck a duck!

She screamed in pain as the typewriter clanged down on her bare left foot and she almost knocked heads with the tall, gangly soldier who squatted down on front of her at the same time to try and help her retrieve her supplies.

"Oh man, I sure am sorry, listen -"

“At ease, uh Private,” she glanced briefly at the rank on his uniform while straightening up, holding her foot in pain and taking in the view below her. The paper knob at the top of the new machine had broken off completely.

“Fuck, this is what I get, I suppose,” she laughed, looking up find herself across from the shy, inquisitive face of Elvis Presley.

“Oh fuck a duuuuuck.”

Bess forgot about the typewriter, the paper spilled everywhere, the throbbing pain in the left foot she was now holding up and cradling. She didn’t even notice how she was exposing her thighs until she rubbed her foot again and dropped it with a thud, realizing she was about to flash Elvis Presley. He seemed to realize it too, and smirked as he turned his face to look away as some sort of attempt to give her privacy while she smoothed her dress down. Bess did this while clumsily trying to balance between one heeled foot and one bare foot.

Elvis found it very hard to stifle his chuckles as he watched her stiffen, and held out his hand to put her at ease.

“Uh, hey there ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

Bess shifted and smiled awkwardly, wiping her dirty, sweaty hands on her silk dress and extending her right hand out to shake his. The the same right hand, that had, moments ago, been rubbing her smelly, left foot. Honestly, it seemed like the most polite option, since she decided to act as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. As if  sneaking out of the supply building past 10 p.m. on a Friday night with her arms full of government office supplies was perfectly normal.

“Bess Schwartz, I’m, uh, I work in the Front Office here. I’m, I’m, I'm the secretary for the Army Intelligence Commander.”

She gasped when Elvis took her hand, the hand cover in her foot sweat, and squeezed it warmly, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“Nice ta, uh, meetcha. Imma sorry, uh, for startlin’ ya Miss Schwartz, ma’am.”

Bess shivered in the darkness as she heard herself whisper for him to call her Bess almost incoherently while she watched Elvis drop down in front of her and fit her other white pump over her left foot. She tried to remember how to breath. It was hard.  Hard because she was struggling to subdue  her visceral reaction to Elvis' thumb as it slowly smoothed over the top of her foot, which made it harder still to recover from the embarrassment of getting caught stealing a typewriter. By the most famous person in the world. Bess shut her eyes in disbelief that this was actually happening, and was disappointed when she lifted her eyelids to find that it actually was happening and Elvis was still there. He met her eyes, his finger delicately stroking her ankle.

“There, now, honey, you think you can walk?”

She pulled her leg back and nodded as she scanned the parking lot, the road along and other buildings behind it.

“Mhmm. Thank you, Private. Say, what are you doing stalking around the base right now? Lights out is at 9.”

Elvis bit his lip, looking at the ground as he stood.

“Can’t sleep.”

Bess arched her eyebrow as she started to bend, but Elvis put his hand up to stop her and stooped to gather the paper. He crushed it under his arm as he grabbed the typewriter and ink ribbons, talking slowly and deliberately.

“Well, my first night some jokers went an put shaving cream in my shoes, I ‘spose it gave em a good laugh to watch me run around like a damn fool getting ready for inspection. An well, I ain’t been able to sleep since, can’t bare to, uh, to uh - ”

His voice trailed off, but Bess knew what he meant. He was afraid of looking like poor sport or tattle tale if he complained, and a coward if he just took it. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the bags under his eyes, calculating he must be going on 40 hours without much sleep. Or much food either, if her date was to be believed. Men. Boys, more like. Little boys amusing them selves by torturing this poor kid. This, tall, lanky, kid, who hovered above her and whose large hands made her typewriter ribbon look like a checker piece.

“Yeah, uh, they’re just scared they won’t be able to get any tail now that your here.” She smiled as best she could under the pressure of trying to talk with Elvis smoldering, lonely boy eyes piercing through her.

Bess looked at a passing car just so she could collect herself, then back at Elvis, thinking of the crowds of women lining the gates.

“The men should be thanking you, we haven’t seen this many pretty girls hanging around the base, since, well, since ever. Probably gonna be easy picking, especially for the soldiers who can leave post. Those poor girls hanging 'round outside the gates don’t know you aren’t allowed to go near ‘em for the next three or so weeks.”

“Mhmm, seems like, uh, uh, ya don’t havta go off post to meet pretty girls.”

Elvis bit his lip again, enjoying how Bess became flustered and embarrassed, smoothing the sides of her dress. She reminded herself that she hated him, as she felt the butterflies swarm through her belly and make themselves at home, flitting willy nilly up her spine. Bess also became keenly aware of how hungry she was from skipping dinner. She didn’t have time for his teasing and looked Elvis squarely in the eyes as she spoke.

“I recommend staying away from them, too. Especially the WACs. You’re definitely not supposed to fraternize with other soldiers.”

Elvis looked off at the trees that lined the road to the right. “How bought civilians? Is, um, ah, frater-a-nizin', uh, allowed?”

Bess turned, ignoring the question, though she was unable to ignore the warm, playful flirtation in Elvis’ voice as it washed over her and her chest heaved up and down at a quicker pace. Once again she told herself that she did, indeed, know how to breath. Her annoyance at his line melted away when she returned to his eyes and saw the exhaustion underneath his bravado, instantly regretting what she was about to do before she even did it. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, watching herself fumble through a simple sentence.

“Listen, I, um, I just had the worst date of my life, at the worst restaurant. Couldn’t eat a bite. You help me get another type writer, and I’ll, I’ll fix us something to eat. Then you can sleep on my couch for a few hours.”

Watching  his eyes light up, Bess felt the need to add. “But no funny business. I’m just helping out a new recruit, doesn’t mean anything.”

For the second time that night, Bess oversaw sneaking a broken typewriter into the repair shop and taking a new one, hobbling as she led Elvis to her car and directed him to put the stuff in her truck.

“Ya live on post?”

Bess patted the passenger seat of her blue Ford.

“Nope.”

“You know I ain’t supposed to leave?”

“Yup.”

“So — what’s the plan, stan?”

Bess turned to Elvis, removing his hand from her knee where it had somehow landed, and whispered with breathy excitement.

“I’m going to sneak you off.”

Elvis quirked his eyebrows as she kept talking.

“I, um, well, I share an office with the CO's secretary, Mabel. Who might actually be the most powerful person at this command. So, as long as I get you back in time for reveille, we’ll be fine. None of these guys will mess with me.” 

“I, uh, I don’ wan no special privileges, I wanna, uh, be treated like any other man, any other soldier. I reckon I better -”

Elvis trembled when Bess touched his shoulder and rubbed it gently, looking up into his face with her big brown eyes, now tender and reassuring. He looked to her like he might cry as he spoke of not being special.

“Look, I would do this for any new recruit. Boot camp, uh. Well. This is the hardest  part of being in the Army. I promise. I’m not offering because you’re famous. I actually kind of hate you, do you know how much trouble you cause my office? So, you should know I’m helping you in spite of who you are. Promise. I would - I would do it for any soldier in your predicament.”

Bess said this firmly to convince herself as much as to convince Elvis. Then she added a friendly wink and drove off, enjoying Elvis’ bemused smile and telling herself not to worry. Underneath her calm, confidence was the nagging thought that, unlike Elvis, Bess knew exactly what happened if some rule-minded officer were to find out that she had snuck Elvis off post. She had a good understanding of rule-minded officers. Like her father. Who, thankfully, was out of town.

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

The bacon and eggs sizzled on the stove and Bess flipped them, shyly avoiding Elvis’ gaze from where he was leaning with his back arched against the door jab, his right hip twisted up and his thumbs hanging from his belt loops as he watching her cook.

“So, uh, what’s a secretary doing taking typewriters uh, um, out late on a Friday night an a bringin' ‘em home for, huh?”

Bess shook her head into the frying pan, then met his gaze.

“I , um, I happen to have some very important work I need to do from home. For the General I work for. That’s, uh, why I have a master key.”

“Uh huh.” Elvis’ smirked, nodding his chin as he stuck his hands slowly under his armpits, and lifted one knee up to lean back further against the wall.

“Hand me your plate, dinner is ready.”

Elvis bounced off the doorway and strode slowly over to where Bess stood at the stove, his long arms dangling loosely at his side. He had become more relaxed and confident once they got to her house, after tearing up a bit in the car and telling her how much he missed his parents and home and how he didn’t have any idea what Germany would be like. He had then muttered on about how millions of guys have been through this, so he knew he’d be alright, though the tear dripping down his cheek made Bess think he believed the exact opposite. Now he was behind her, almost a different person, cocky and teasing as his strong arms snaked around her waist to steady her hands.

“Nah, see how the egg is still all jiggly wiggly, Bessie? S’not done, not nearly. Wanna get the bacon good and browned up, so’s there ain’t no more pink left.”

She flushed at the way his breath hit her neck while his words softly compelled her to make his food the way he liked it. The rumble of his voice as her nickname rolled off his tongue was an assault on her sense of decency, and she let his hands linger at her waist for another beat before lifting them off and assuring him that she understood.No jiggly wiggly, no pink. Black. That she learned, was how Elvis liked everything, and everything was what she gave him, as he ate the pound and a half of bacon om her fridge and her last six eggs.

Bess mused that sneaking a fatigued Elvis off post and filling him full of food must be what made him clingy, comfortable and forward when he put his arms around her as she led him upstairs to the guest room. Rubbing his eyes as he plopped on the bed, Elvis grabbed her wrist imploringly and begged her not to leave him all lonesome in a strange house, in a strange town, where she was the only nice 'lil gal to treat him like a real human bean. Sighing, Bess sat at the top of the bed and let Elvis lay his head in her lap, where she stroked his forehead, and, at his request, started to tell him her life story. He had passed out after five minutes, when she had barely finished detailing how her parents met at Coney Island in 1932, three years before she was born.

Elvis' eye lids fluttered closed and he mumbled, “That’s a when I was borned. Aww, Bessie boo, we musta been babies at the same time.”

Bess groaned as she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from him, and stayed there with his head in her lap for another twenty minutes, afraid if she rolled it off her lap she would wake him. She was cupping the back of his head to gently move it off her lap when he thrashed around and called out the name Satnin. This led Bess to give up and lean against the head board, reconciling herself to a night sleeping sitting up with the most famous rebellious heart throb soldier in the world calling out for his mama in her lap.

Elvis’ hands moved first at the sound of the alarm, roving over Bess tummy and breasts  before he opened his eyes to the smacks of her hand hitting him off her. Somehow she had been pulled down into his arms over the course of the night, and she jumped up, commanding him to get his boots on while she ran down stairs and made some coffee. She prayed her younger sister hadn’t heard the alarm. Still wearing the dress from the night before, Bess watched Elvis gulp down his black coffee and chomp down the bread and cheese she had thrown at him to eat in the car. Loudly. With an open mouth. Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he put his arm around her and squeezed.

Despite sleeping in his arms, Bess felt a shock and jolted at his touch.

“Just so we’re clear,  Mister, uh, Private um Presley, uh, this was just a friendly, patriotic gesture. I wasn’t, uh um, trying to seduce you.”

Elvis arched his eyebrow, his expression one of amusement and incredulity at the idea Bess thought of her behavior seductive. The way she had hesitated spitting out the word ’seduce’ so earnestly was adorable and endearing.

“OK, honey, you’re the boss, jus do me a favor and call me Elvis, huh?”

She nodded, eyes forward in concentration as she felt him squeeze her shoulders even tighter. She left it there, and found herself relaxing and leaning back into him after a few minutes with a sigh. She couldn't help it, it was an instinctive response to the way his fingers widened and began to tap out a rhythm on the side of her arm. Everything felt good, and their two bodies melded together in the dusky morning twilight for a spell until a gate came into view and Bess jerked up to throw Elvis’ arm onto the car seat with a smack, not noticing how he, too, stiffened with trepidation.

She stopped around the block from Elvis’ barracks and met his strong, uninhibited bear hug with her body, letting him press the air out of her lungs and kiss her cheek.

“Hey, Bessie Boo, I,uh, I can’t, I don’t even, I uh, I hate to leave you, honey, I ain’t even had time to tell you what I want to say, what -”

Bess put her finger to his lips, feeling his breath as she shhhed him. His brows were furrowed and he frowned, not wanted to leave her car and return to the barracks. She rubbed her hand up his chest reassuringly.

“You only have five minutes to get into your bunk, Private Pres - Elvis.” She murmured. “Now, go be a good boy, I have an idea, for how to help you sleep in the future.”

“Hmmm, sounds fun.” A naughty expression played across his face, his jaw hung open and he waggled his eye brows.

Bess realized the insinuation and hit his arm.

“Not that.”  She cocked her head towards the road. “You better go.”

“Huh, usually girls are tryin to run after me, not run me off.” She hit him again as he teased her. “Ok, ok baaaby. I’m off like a gun.”

Elvis face twisted into a crooked grin, and Bess felt like the sun was rising in her car, the earth was suddenly brighter when Elvis’ blue eyes beamed down at her and he kissed her goodbye. It was a light, sweet kiss aimed at her mouth but somehow missing and hitting the crease of her lips.

It had been, what, a year since she had been kissed? Bess kept her eyes closed, just enjoying the soft, tingling sensation of  his mouth crushed into her face. Elvis’ hands gripped her tightly, one hand on her neck, the other at her back, and he moved as if to kiss her again. In a brief moment of clarity, Bess realized she had been fighting her attraction to Elvis all night. It had been gradual and immediate, and she felt very different being close to him then she did when she saw hm in the movies or on the TV and radio. At the back of her mind she could hear all the reasons she shouldn’t kiss him. She pushed her hand up between their lips.

“Um, hey, look. Think we could just be friends? I, uh, I have a rule. I don’t date soldiers.”

Elvis sat back, a quizzical expression softening on his face into a smile as he rubbed her shoulder.

“Sure, Bessie baby, friends. Got it.”

He clicked his tongue and grinned, shooting her a thumbs up. Bess nodded, unable to stop the flutter of her heart as she watched Elvis’ long legs carry him forward as he jogged around the corner to his bunk, pausing to look back over his shoulder at her with a goofy smile as he waved goodbye.

“Fuck a duck.” She heard herself mutter, as she put her car into gear and drove home to shower and get Elvis Presley out of her head.

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

Chapter Two: Moo Moo & Tupelo

If you enjoyed this and want to read more, comment, reblog, and let me know what you think and if you would want to be tagged. Tagging a few of you on here who read my stuff, but DM or comment if you would rather not be ;)

@doll-elvis @richardslady121 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @father-of-2cats @everythingelvispresley @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @notstefaniepresley @louisejoy86 @amydarcimarie @kingdomforapony @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics

#elvis presley #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fan fiction #elvis fan fiction #army elvis #fort hood 1958 #basic training #elvis x oc #writing prompt game #banditqueenwrites

[whositmcwhatsit]

JADEY BABY i was perusing your masterlist thinking about rereading enjoyable slide when i noticed that- to my surprise- there was a third part to summer festival that id somehow missed when you posted it !!!!! what a wonderful surprise 🤩🤩🤩 didn't realize how much i missed darling sally and her poor overworked elvis until i was reading them again.! just wanted you to know how lovely and enjoyable i still find that sweet little series 🥰🫶🫶

What an absolutely lovely message to get! Weirdly, I have been idly daydreaming about Summer Festival Elvis lately while watching all the outtakes and unused footage from That's the Way It Is.

I'm pretty sure that the August 12th Midnight Show is the pinnacle of all human achievement and also the hottest Elvis ever looked (I reserve the right to change my mind at any time/constantly), which is saying something. When he's exhausted and his hair is soaked with sweat and sticking up in all directions and his eyes are heavy lidded and twinkling... What was I talking about again?

The sit down part of the show gets me like a punch to the gut. As he starts talking about Little Sister with sweat glittering on his eyelashes, I get why the girls pulled on their hair and screamed and fainted.

On the other hand, Aug 13 and the Red Ladder suit... See, how is anyone supposed to make a definitive statement about his hotness when he is just doing this all the time?!

Anyway, thank you so much for this message, the notion of anyone reading and enjoying my writing tickles every time I hear it. I love the idea of having a small part in making someone's day a little better, especially using my delusions and daydreams. We've come a long way from when my friends used to keep a tally chart of how often I mentioned Elvis and would try to perform interventions as only a disgruntled group of pre-teens could.

#elvis presley #1970 Summer Festival #remember when I used to post my writing instead of hoarding it like an irritable troll? The good old days #elvis fan fiction #elvis fan fic #whositmcwhatsit