elvisslut

[elvisslut]

One Bed

ib: @bils-comet

It was February of 1970. You were filling in for Kathy Westmoreland as Elvis’ backup singer for his shows at the Houston Astrodome—she was sick, and Elvis had asked for you personally.

You and Elvis had known each other practically your whole lives. Your friendship had always been platonic, rooted in music and long-standing trust.

You were on a separate bus from the other backup singers and band members. Elvis insisted you ride with him and the guys. You would’ve said no—if you knew it meant getting little to no sleep. The entire ride was filled with shouting, laughing, wrestling… the usual chaos that came with Elvis and his Mafia.

It was supposed to be an eight-hour drive from Memphis to Houston. It turned into nearly ten after Elvis decided to stop for food and stage a spontaneous roadside karate match.

By the time you finally arrived at the hotel, your head was pounding. You followed Elvis and the guys off the bus, barely keeping your eyes open.

“Ya look tired,” Elvis said, stating the obvious.

“I am,” you replied, rubbing your eye, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“You’ll be able to sleep soon, baby,” he murmured, rubbing your back gently as he led you inside, the guys trailing behind.

Elvis had rented out two whole floors, but just your luck—they were one room short. Someone would have to share.

“Y/N can stay in my room,” Elvis offered quickly. “That okay?” he asked, glancing over at you.

You nodded, too tired to think twice. “Mhm,” you hummed sleepily.

You stepped into the elevator together. As it began its slow ascent, you leaned your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. He wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your arm in slow, comforting strokes.

The elevator finally came to a stop. Elvis led you to the room and said goodnight to the others as they peeled off down the hall. You stifled a yawn as he fiddled with the keycard.

The door opened. One bed.

“There’s only one bed,” you sighed.

Elvis just smirked. “So?”

You followed him inside and shut the door.

“Wanna take a shower?” he asked.

You nodded. Almost too tired to care, but knowing it’d help you relax.

“I’ll start it for ya,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before slipping into the bathroom.

You sighed, opened your suitcase, and pulled out a T-shirt and shorts. Elvis returned a minute later.

“It’s ready. Boiling hot—just how ya like it,” he grinned.

You chuckled lightly. “Thanks,” you murmured before stepping into the bathroom. The hot water hit your body like a blanket, fogging the mirror almost instantly. You stayed there for what felt like forever, letting the warmth seep into your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you convinced yourself to get out before you fell asleep standing up. You dried off, changed, brushed your hair and teeth, and padded back into the bedroom.

Elvis was sitting on the bed, watching something on his video camera. One thing about Elvis—he loved recording everything. Photos, videos—moments frozen in time.

“Feel better?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded, your voice a whisper. “Yeah.”

You slipped under the covers. He stood and stretched. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Get some rest,” he said.

You nodded again, eyes already drifting shut.

He came back twenty minutes later. You were sound asleep, which didn’t surprise him. He carefully slipped into bed, the shift in weight making you stir.

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he whispered.

You mumbled softly and shifted, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively.

“Why do you have so many videos of me?” you asked sleepily. Before knocking out, you had peeked at his video camera—most of the footage was of you. You laughing with friends. Napping on the bus. Swimming at Graceland. Tiny, quiet moments.

His fingers, which had been tracing shapes along your arm, paused.

“You’re my muse,” he joked.

You glanced up at him. “Perv.”

He laughed. “Go to sleep.”

“Not until you tell me the real reason.”

“You’re real stubborn—”

“Elvis.”

Silence. He hesitated, like he was working up the nerve.

“I… I’m in love with ya, Y/N,” he finally said, voice soft. “I thought it was just one of those things we don’t talk about.”

“I’m in love with you too,” you murmured, pressing a kiss into the crook of his neck. “Now I’m going to sleep.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to your head and closing his eyes.

[elvisslut]

Im re doing my theme and ill post more stories after i get done

[elvisslut]

🎶Love Me Tender 🎶

[elvisslut]

Can we please get a part 2 of “why must we be like this” PLEASEEEE

Soon! I need to figure out what to do with it and give it a little more story then ill write it!❤️

[elvisslut]

Can I request a fluff where the girlfriend is pregnant but scared to tell Elvis and one day she gets the courage to tell him! And does it in a cool way. And can you add a little smut in there

||

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You had just found out you were pregnant from the doctor a day or two ago, the only person to know you might be pregnant was your best friend Charlie. He had taken you to the doctor to check, keeping it a secret from Elvis.

The night of Elvis’s residency in Vegas started, the lights were on the stage, your husband wiggled his hips just like he was back in the 50’s.

You couldn’t stop thinking of the growing child in your stomach.

Right before the show ended you made your way backstage, stopping by the room he would get interviewed in eventually and pulling one of the interviewers aside.

You’ve vaguely known the interviewer, he followed a lot of Elvis, he was pretty sweet and very respectful. Elvis even liked him, answered his questions and had normal conversations with him.

You plotted with him, whispering in the hall about how you want him to break the news to Elvis. You’d be in the room, off to the side so if he needs any help you’d be there.

Soon enough the interview started, Elvis walked in the room with his big grin and an outfit you wanted to shred off of him.

The questions spilled out all over till they had to make them go one at a time, then the question you’ve been waiting for.

“Elvis, whats it like knowing you’re about to be a father?”

“Well, i-do what?” He asks, frowning his brows slightly.

“Whats it like knowing you’re about to be a father?” The interviewer repeated.

Elvis glanced at you, his lips parted. You just nod, a confirmation.

“Well i..i didn’t just know till now” he says with a chuckle, his eyes focused on you still. “Come here baby” he says. “I’d like to introduce ya all to my wife, who’s supposedly pregnant”

You walk around the table to him and smile.

“Ya really are?” He whispers once you reach him, his arm slipping around your waist.

You smile at him and nod, your hands wrapping around his waist. “Yeah, i found out a few days ago”

He presses a kiss to your head. “I love ya” he murmurs, a wide smile on his face as he answers more questions.

“Go to the dressin’ room ill be in there to change in a second” he whispers to you in between questions, with that, you kiss his cheek and leave the room.

Your walk to the dressing room was quiet, open and needed. The smile on your face knowing Elvis finally knew.

It wasn’t too long till Elvis came strutting into the dressing room. His face glowing with that new found thought of being a father.

“Hi baby” he says, coming over to you and immediately pressing his lips to yours. “So its true? ‘M gonna be a daddy?”

“Yeah, an incredible daddy” you answer, arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you”

His hands moved to yours waist, a different more sensual touch than earlier. “I love ya too mama, so damn much” his hands slipped under your shirt, feeling up your ribs slowly.

He was slow with getting your shirt off, like if a snail was put in slowmotion. He took his time admiring the woman who held his child, even if the child was smaller then his ring right now, it was still the start of something incredible.

“Need ya mama” he whispers. You nod and undo the buckle of his belt, his pants slipping down the belt making a clink against the floor.

He works on your pants, getting them off you and picking you up by your thighs. His current favorite position right now—against the wall.

He pressed your back against the cold wall and pressed his lips hungrily against yours, lining himself up and pressing his hips forward, letting out a groan from his throat.

“Fuck-..” you breathe out, pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath. “Youre doin’ so good mama, s’good” he says as he moves his hips at a steady pace.

“El-..shit” he searches your eyes and presses his forehead to yours.

“Can’t believe ‘m gonna be a daddy” he breathes out, you bite your lip and nod.

“An incredible one” you say as steadily as you can.

“Ya feel s’good mama, gonna-..fuck” he huffs, the adrenaline and excitement from the show the interview and the announcement all fell on him, he didn’t last as long as usual but you didn’t either it was all just as overwhelming to you.

“Me too, let go-..” you say before pressing your lips to his.

Then he did, so did you. In the arms of each other with nothing but love to show for it.

He cleaned you up after he rode both of your highs out. Laying you on the couch and getting his jacket off before laying behind you, his arms wrapped around you and a smile on his face.

“We just going to lay here naked?” He nods.

“Just for a lil’ while mama”

[elvisslut]

Hi my fellow EP fan. I'm in need of something uplifting as life has been shitty right now. Could you make a fic where female!reader has autism and has a severe sensory overload and Elvis and the Memphis Mafia take care of her and help her calm down. Thank you. And keep TCB real!!!!

“Ya okay baby?” Elvis asks as he sits beside you, buckling his seatbelt for take-off. His hand reaches over and buckles yours making sure you seen his hand.

You hum and lean your head softly against his shoulder. “Its okay mama, the plan will take off fast” he tries.

Your heart was starting to beat faster in your chest, that itself was making everything worse.

Your breathing sped up, your hands moved to find something—anything to fidget with. Then his hand caught yours.

“Hey hey..baby its okay” “im gonna be okay” you mumble back.

The guys are quick to get up and come help Elvis as you start. You started to get irritated, the noise of the jets, the pump of your heart in your ears, the seatbelt light.

Tears flooded your eyes then charlie smiled at you and put his hands up to signal he was about to touch you, he laid his hands over your ears and Elvis squeezed your hand softly.

Your heart beat became more steady and you were able to follow it with panic. That was the only noise you heard till the plane was safely in the sky.

Once Charlie removed his hands you didn’t worry much about the jets, Elvis talked over them and the guys made sure you had something to focus on to keep your mind busy.

An- SORRY i have no clue how autism functions and i didn’t have much time to research it as im getting ready for bootcamp but i hope its good enough.

[elvisslut]

Guys trust im working on your requests 🙏🙏

[elvisslut]

Let go.

||

||

Once Elvis died, you just laid in bed, begging god to give you the will to be okay without your husband.

He was your everything then he disappeared. Life without the man you evolved around.

Your heart broke more and more everyday. the man you owed it all to was gone.

You begged for him back, begged for the man that gave you everything to come back. It was cruel though. You wanted to be mad at him, you really did, but you couldn’t. Maybe if you could you wouldn’t be where you’re at now.

But Life doesn’t play fair, not when it’s stripped your heart completely out from under you. What made it worse was you saw him.

His face pressed against the floor, his skin pale from the time spent alone—cold. You weren’t home when he fell, so it all happened so fast you didn’t have time to process— then.

The last little bit of air escaped his lungs and he was completely and soulfully gone.

He didn’t even get to go on the tour he wanted to.

He wasn’t alive.

Your life, your whole world crumbled under your feet when you seen him laying there.

You could feel yourself breaking from that moment, the slow and painful descent of your health. Your will to be here without him.

It all fluttered, it ruined you.

Some nights you’d stare at his side of the bed, run your fingers over his pillow like maybe he was just away for a show. Hoping maybe he’d walk through the bedroom door with that big grin on his face.

You missed his dumb comments and his dumb jokes, The way he let you play with his hair and make it look stupid, his warm hugs especially the ones when you were upset, him. His everything. His voice telling you he’d be okay when he laid in a hospital bed. His rings pressed cold against your skin when you needed it most.

Life just fell apart without the structure he built. You had everything—his clothes, cars, house, money, everything. But him.

It worried you, not knowing if someone would try to do something stupid with him not being home or a call away to protect you.

The guys stopped coming over much, the house hurt them as much as it hurt you. The smell of him in every direction, a different memory playing in your head every time there was slightly different smell.

His laugh haunted you, lying in the beats of your heart.

You didn’t know how to deal with him being gone so you didn’t.

You hardly seen his friends, his daughter, his family—you were alone in this.

After a little over two months after his death, sonny came over. His footsteps coming up the stairs made you look at the open door, your cheek buried against one of Elvis’s shirts.

“Hey..” he says, coming into the room slowly so theres room for you to tell him not to.

You gave him that forced, small smile you almost perfected.

“You don’t look well” he says bluntly.

“Just tired” you answer, you were, that just wasn’t the full truth.

“Elvis told us to take care of you and lisa no matter what..he-” his voice cracked making him cut himself off to ‘stay strong’, clearing his throat. “He always knew he’d-..uhm..go young..”

“Im okay sonny” you say softly, he hesitates a little before nodding.

“Can i sit?” He asks, pointing at the edge of the bed by your feet.

You glance at the spot and nod.

Once he sat down, it was quiet for a little bit till he broke it.

“I never meant to hurt him, I loved him like family..” he says, looking at you. “I wanted to help him..I couldn’t watch my best friend kill himself with pills”

You looked at him fully, slowly sitting up.

“The last time i talked to him, he was upset with me..i didn’t know it would actually be my last time talking to him..” tears slid down his cheeks as he tried to stop them. “I just wanted to tell him im sorry”

You nod and scoot closer to him. “He didn’t hold a grudge against you, you know? He loved you too sonny, he was just mad”

“I didn’t want to make him mad, i just wanted him to see what he was doing to himself” finally, he lets out a sob. His eyes red from trying to hard to keep from crying. It was a lot on him though.

You wrap your arms around him, he immediately responds by wrapping his arms around you. “He wanted to have you and red back.” You whisper, trying to keep your own tears from falling.

“I just wish i was a better friend to him in the end” thats what broke you, again. ‘The end’ there that should never be said in regard to your husband.

It stayed quiet after that, save for the sobs that came from your mouths, 15 feet from the bathroom that held the haunting memory.

“I have to go soon-..uh i’ll see you in a couple days okay? Ill come see you as much as i can.” He breathes out, you nod letting go of him and watching him leave not knowing that would be his last time.

You laid in the bed with a huff, glancing at Elvis’s bible. You grabbed it and ran your fingers through the fine pages, you felt comforted by it, reading his little notes and running your fingers over the ink lines.

You flipped to a random page, reading one of the verses.

“I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. They looked unto him, and were lightened: and their faces were not ashamed. This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of his troubles” psalm 34:4-6

You reread it over and over. You were tired, sick, hurt. But for some reason you read it so many times you could probably recite it in your sleep.

You thought maybe he’d save you from your troubles too, maybe he’d hear you cry for help long enough he’d hear you and help.

It was that night, you fell asleep. That page laid open, on Elvis bedside.

That’s exactly how you were found.

Your hand lying on your husband’s pillow, his bible open beside you.

He heard your cries, he helped you.

Though you passed with a heart too shattered to fix, your soul went to your husband.

The worst part of it though, sonny decided to come back the next day. He was the only to find you, through the broken sobs he let out he had to call 911 and the rest of the guys to let them know.

that a part of Elvis just left the building.

[elvisslut]

Hiii can I request a fluff Elvisxfem reader where the reader finds out she pregnant and tells Elvis in a cool way?

“Hey el? Can we go for a drive? Just a few minutes?” You ask, looking at Elvis. He smiles and shrugs.

“We can, i gotta get my shoes on” he says, looking at his bible—finishing the verse he was reading before getting up and slipping on his boots.

The second you get down to the car from the suite you turn on the radio to the station you called when elvis was asleep.

“We gotta listen to this?” He asks with a groan, turning down the last part of blue suede shoes.

“Yes dont turn it down”

Turning the knob back up you lay your head on his shoulder, let the next few songs play as he drives you around.

“We have an announcement for one of our special listeners. We want to give a special welcome to Elvis Presley and his family” the broadcaster says.

“Whats he on about?” Elvis reaches over and turns the radio up a little more.

“Now, everyone the announcement is extra special this ones not just a dedication, it’s a celebration We’ve got a message going out to elvis from his lovely lady.”

Theres a pause, Elvis’s lips parted in surprise and suspense.

“She says, To the man who stole my heart in 1960 get ready to share it, Because in the next 9 months we’re gonna be parents”

The fade of love me as though there was no tomorrow started up. Enhancing the moment.

“That’s right everyone, Elvis and his wife are expecting and Elvis is gonna be a daddy. So buckle up for the ride of your life Elvis, because you’re have alot on your hands..”

The car stops in a parking lot and Elvis looks at you, words unable to come out.

“Congratulations from all of us here at w-l-o-v-e and now, this one’s for the newest little heartbeat on the way and the king of rock and roll.”

The rest of love me as though there no tomorrow played, Elvis, smiled at you as glens voice rung through the car.

He pushed some hair out of your face and kissed your head. “When did ya figure out?”

“When i went to the doctor thinking i had the flu..but it’s just our baby” you say, he chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love ya so much” he whispers softly, planting kisses all along your face.

“I love you too El..so much”

An||THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!!!❤️||

[elvisslut]

Forever or not

Elvis sat by you, his wife. His heart hammered against his ribs. Confessions weren’t his strong point. Confessions Of being unfaithful, mentally unavailable. Unsure how long he could stand to be tied down.

He loved you, your kids, the twin girls that just turned 3. His heart hurt though, it didn’t beat for you the way it used to. But he still loved you. He was just..bored.

You weren’t enough for him. “What now?” You ask, confessions weren’t your strong suit either. Yours though. You couldn’t listen to them.

“I just..cant do it anymore..” his hand is hesitant but he grabs yours. “I-..still love ya..”

“But im not someone you want to spend your life with? What about the girls?”

He pauses. His breathing holding.

“‘M still their daddy..” he says.

“Not if you’re leaving like this..” you get up and go upstairs to your room, getting a bag and packing clothes.

“‘M sorry..i just don’ wanna hurt ya more” he says, you stop and look at him and sigh.

“Its not me you should worry about..its your daughters” you walk past him and go to the girls rooms, packing the bag with some of their clothes.

“Come on girls..tell daddy bye” they nod and make their way out of the room together, hugging elvis with big grins.

“Please don’ take ‘em” he says, leaning down and wrapping his arms around them. “I have to..” you go and grab their hands once they pull away from him.

“Bye elvis”

With that you leave. Leaving the home you built a life in. Leaving everything but your girls

[elvisslut]

professor o'connell: the mini series - 18

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension, quiet/shy reader

masterlist

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

liora woke slowly.

not the sudden gasp of alarm-clock panic, but the soft kind — like surfacing from underwater, each breath slower than the last. the blanket around her smelled like laundry detergent and the faintest hint of coffee. she blinked up at the ceiling, unfamiliar and pale with morning.

it took a second to remember where she was.

billie's couch.

her knees tucked toward her chest, the soft ache in her spine from curling too long against one of the throw pillows. the room was quiet. no footsteps. no voices. only the hum of the radiator in the corner and the occasional creak of old wood.

she sat up slowly, the blanket falling to her lap.

a mug waited on the coffee table.

steam still curled from it — faint but there.

beside it, a post-it note in cramped, lowercase letters:

"everything about you feels like a song i forgot i knew." —b.

liora stared at it.

felt the words land somewhere between her ribs.

she picked up the mug — still warm — and turned toward the window.

the glass was fogged slightly, but beyond it, the world had changed.

snow.

soft, steady, quiet as breath.

not heavy yet. not sticking to the pavement. but enough to turn the air white. enough to soften the morning light until everything looked like a dream you could walk into.

she pressed her fingertips to the glass.

watched the snow.

sipped the coffee.

and smiled — just barely — at the note still resting beside her. the snow didn't stop.

by the time liora reached the quad, it had thickened just enough to hush the world. footsteps muffled. voices softer. the usual chatter between classes dulled like someone had turned the volume down on everything but her breath.

she walked slowly, headphones in, music low.

instrumental. strings, mostly.

she didn't want lyrics right now. didn't want anyone else's thoughts in her ears.

her braid had collected a thin layer of snow. the edge of her scarf was damp from it. she didn't care.

her boots made small, careful prints in the white.

every so often, she passed someone — bundled in puffy jackets, hoods up, scarves pulled to their noses. but no one looked at her long.

she liked it that way.

invisibility could be peaceful when it was chosen.

beneath the music, her thoughts wandered.

to the night before. to billie's hand on her back. to the post-it note. the lyric that didn't rhyme, didn't scan, but still made something inside her echo.

"feels like a song i forgot i knew."

she repeated it under her breath once, barely audible.

what did it mean — to feel known in a way that didn't come from history, but from resonance?

to stay, not because you had nowhere else to go, but because the silence between two people felt more like a language than any word ever could?

she didn't have the answer yet.

but the snow kept falling.

and for now, that felt like enough. the door to the coffee shop swung open with a gust of cold air and the scent of roasted beans so rich it almost made liora dizzy.

she wasn't planning to go inside.

but nova had spotted her halfway through the quad — called her name, jogged up, and linked arms like it was nothing.

"you're freezing," nova said. "and you have that dazed poet look again. come on."

"i'm not—"

"i said come on."

and now she was inside. coat unzipped. snow melting from her scarf. cheeks flushed from the sudden heat of the shop.

nova ordered without asking — something warm, spiced, and overpriced — and shoved it into liora's hands like a challenge.

"drink. sit. explain."

"explain what?" liora asked, voice tentative.

nova gave her a flat look as they slid into a booth near the window.

"you spent the night at her place."

liora blinked. "i didn't—i mean, nothing—"

nova held up a hand. "i'm not judging. i'm just... observing."

liora stared down at the cup in her hands.

steam curled against her skin. "it wasn't like that."

"okay. then what was it like?"

liora hesitated.

then: "i don't know."

nova softened.

leaned back against the booth, fingers tapping against her own cup.

"you looked happy this morning," she said. "like... not in a cheesy way. just... softer."

liora swallowed. "i'm trying not to be."

"why?"

"because she pulls back every time it gets close."

nova nodded slowly. "and you?"

liora looked out the window.

watched a pair of birds land on the snow-dusted bench across the street.

"i don't think i know how to want something quietly."

nova smiled. "liora rai. saying the most dramatic shit at nine a.m."

liora almost laughed.

almost.

"you should've seen her," nova added. "last week. when i teased you in front of her? she looked like she was about to throat-punch me with a syllabus."

liora's cheeks flushed. "stop."

"no. i'm serious. jealous billie is real. and terrifying."

"she's not jealous."

nova raised an eyebrow. "babe. she looked at me like i was a midterm."

liora buried her face in her scarf.

and nova just grinned, sipped her coffee, and let the silence stretch between them — warm and teasing and a little too honest. liora was already in her seat when billie rushed in.

the door thudded open, coat barely off her shoulders, laptop under one arm and a stack of folders clutched to her chest like a storm survivor holding wreckage.

she didn't apologize.

just dumped her things on the desk and muttered, "technical delay, pretend i was early."

a few students laughed.

billie didn't.

she brushed hair out of her eyes and sat, fingers flying across the keyboard.

liora watched her.

not openly.

just... enough.

she looked different today.

less contained.

a curl of hair fell out of place behind her ear. her left sleeve was still half-rolled. her expression held none of her usual dry calm — only something tight around the jaw, like she hadn't exhaled since she'd gotten out of bed.

she didn't look at liora.

not once.

but when she pressed play on the lecture slide's background music — her weekly habit, just enough to set tone without distracting — it was a string quartet.

sad.

beautiful.

aching.

liora felt it immediately.

not the melody. the intention.

the chords swelled slow and minor, no resolution, just a steady pull toward something that never arrived.

someone behind her whispered, "jesus, it's like funeral music."

billie looked up briefly. "good. that means it's working."

liora stared down at her notebook, even though she wasn't writing.

her pulse thudded under her wrist like it recognized something.

like it heard the same tension she did.

the same almost.

and billie?

she didn't look at her.

but when she hit pause thirty minutes in and said, "some things only make sense when you stop trying to explain them," her voice cracked just slightly on the word stop.

and liora felt it like a tremor.

a message hidden in the music.

in the silence between the notes. the door to billie's office was open.

liora stepped in first, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, notebook tucked tight against her chest. her heartbeat hadn't slowed since class. hadn't really slowed since the post-it note.

billie sat behind the desk, glasses low on her nose, a pen between her fingers that clicked exactly once every seven seconds.

she looked up when liora entered.

then back down.

"you're early."

"i know."

"good."

a beat.

then nova waltzed in behind her.

"don't mind me," she said, dropping into the extra chair without waiting for an invitation. "i'm just here to witness the forbidden poetry club."

liora gave her a look.

nova grinned like she lived off tension.

billie didn't look up this time.

"nova," she said, voice sharp. "this is office hours. not a matinee."

"then charge admission," nova said sweetly. "i'd pay to watch you two circle each other in metaphors."

billie's mouth pressed into a line.

liora tried not to smile.

tried harder not to look at billie.

nova leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "so. what are we working on today? sonnets? suggestive haiku?"

billie finally looked up.

at nova.

not at liora.

her expression was cool, almost bored, but her voice had that edge to it — the one liora was starting to recognize.

"unless you're a registered student or scheduled for critique, you can leave."

nova blinked. "damn. chill, professor."

billie stood.

not dramatically. not fast.

just enough to close the folder in front of her with a quiet snap.

"this isn't a game."

her voice was low.

dangerous.

nova glanced at liora.

"you sure?" she asked. "because i think she's starting to play."

liora shifted, heart pounding.

billie didn't respond.

she turned to liora instead.

and for the first time in what felt like hours, their eyes met.

the silence that followed was thick with unsaid things.

nova stood slowly.

"okay," she said. "message received."

she slung her bag over one shoulder and gave liora a long look — teasing, knowing, a little smug.

"see you around, storm girl."

and then she was gone.

the door clicked shut behind her.

billie exhaled like she'd been holding that breath since the moment nova walked in.

"sorry," liora said, even though she didn't mean it.

billie didn't answer.

just picked up her pen again.

clicked it once.

then finally murmured, without looking up—

"you don't need to make me jealous."

liora froze.

and somewhere deep inside, something dangerous flickered to life. the room smelled like dust and varnish.

music room three was always colder than the rest. the windows didn't seal properly, so the air carried a bite, and snow had gathered in uneven clumps on the outer sill.

liora didn't mind.

she liked the cold.

liked the way it made her fingertips sharper on the keys.

she sat at the upright piano, coat still on, scarf pooled beside her, and let the notes come slowly.

just chords, at first.

nothing rehearsed.

nothing structured.

just the sound of her hands trying to remember something her mouth could never say right.

the door opened behind her, and she didn't look.

she didn't need to.

she knew the sound of billie's footsteps now.

the way her boots paused just inside the door.

the quiet, careful way she breathed when she wasn't ready to talk yet.

liora kept playing.

let the silence stretch.

then, quietly, billie asked: "what key?"

"a minor," liora said, voice low.

billie crossed the room.

didn't sit.

just stood behind her for a moment, watching.

liora felt it.

the way her presence altered the air. shifted gravity.

billie's hand brushed hers as she reached for the top octave.

she played a soft high line — just a counterpoint, just enough to fold into liora's melody without taking it over.

they played like that for a while.

no words.

just hands.

just music.

and in that space — between the notes, in the hush of winter air and the ache of half-formed harmony — something bloomed.

unspoken.

undeniable. they didn't speak as they left the music room.

the building was quieter than usual — most students gone, lights dimmed, the halls echoing only with the soft click of billie's boots and the hush of liora's breath.

outside, the snow had thickened.

the sidewalks were dusted in white, and the lamplight glowed amber through the falling flakes. they walked in silence, shoulder to shoulder, breath visible in the cold air.

billie's hands were deep in her coat pockets. liora's were bare, fingertips red.

neither of them brought up the music.

neither of them needed to.

halfway to the dorms, they slowed.

a flickering streetlamp buzzed above them, casting a halo of light that blinked in and out like a pulse.

billie stopped.

liora did too.

the snow gathered softly on their hair, on their coats, on the curve of billie's lashes.

she looked at her — really looked — for the first time in what felt like hours.

"you didn't have to come," liora said, voice barely above the wind.

billie nodded. "i know."

"but you did."

"yeah."

a pause.

the snow fell between them like silence made visible.

liora opened her mouth.

closed it again.

then, with a breath: "do you want me to stop?"

billie blinked. "what?"

"this. all of it. the looks. the tension. the... wanting."

billie didn't answer right away.

she stepped forward.

closer.

too close.

their breath met in the space between them.

liora's pulse was a drumline.

billie leaned in — not fast, not dramatic — just enough for her forehead to almost brush liora's.

her voice was quieter than liora had ever heard it.

"i don't want you to stop."

liora's breath caught.

"then why—"

"because i don't trust myself not to ruin it."

and for a second — just a second — her mouth was right there.

not touching.

but close enough to feel.

then, as if the weight of the moment was too much, billie pulled back.

just enough to breathe.

"goodnight, rai," she whispered.

and turned away.

the snow swallowed her footsteps.

and liora stood alone in the flickering light, her lips parted, her hands clenched in her coat pockets, her whole body trembling with what almost happened.

what almost was.

⸻

monday's light cut through the windows too clean.

the classroom was warm in a way that felt wrong — like someone had turned the heat up just enough to make everyone restless. liora sat in her usual seat, pen uncapped, notebook open, posture painfully perfect.

she didn't look at billie.

not once.

and billie?

billie didn't look at her either.

she stood at the front, back straight, arms crossed loosely, reading something from a small sheet of paper she refused to glance up from. her voice was even. steady. professional.

too professional.

"we're talking redaction today," billie said, eyes fixed on her notes. "how to say more by saying less. it's one of the most vulnerable forms of writing because you're forced to reveal through omission."

liora tapped her pen once. twice.

nova, sitting diagonally behind her, leaned in.

"so," she whispered, "how long are we pretending this isn't agony?"

liora didn't answer.

nova smirked and passed her a folded piece of notebook paper, edge torn jagged.

liora unfolded it slowly beneath her desk.

one word, underlined twice: cowards.

her lips twitched.

barely.

"you'll be working alone today," billie added. "you'll need a printed page of text — any text — and a pen. nothing else. no laptop, no noise, just instinct."

she clicked the marker closed and set it down too hard on the table.

a pause.

then, quieter: "honesty comes easier when no one's looking at you."

and that made liora look.

for the first time since she'd walked in.

billie didn't meet her gaze.

but her hand lingered on the table.

her fingers curled once. then stilled.

nova passed another note over, this time scribbled in looping cursive:

how do you both have so many words and say none of them?

liora smiled.

just for a second.

but underneath it, her chest ached.

because nova was right.

this wasn't silence.

this was screaming. the bookstore smelled like wood glue and old paper.

it was tucked between the chapel and a shuttered cafe, down a slope of uneven stone steps that always held too much shade. liora hadn't meant to go inside — not really — but her body had turned toward it like it remembered something she hadn't lived yet.

she needed quiet.

not silence.

something more intentional. something that didn't echo like an empty room.

the poetry section was near the back.

coldest part of the store.

she trailed her fingers along the spines — faded gold lettering, dog-eared corners, titles whispered rather than announced.

her hand stopped on a volume bound in navy cloth, title embossed in silver leaf: "late rain and the unnamed things" by a poet she didn't know.

she pulled it off the shelf.

it fell open near the middle — pages stiff, one corner slightly warped.

and tucked between two poems was a note.

a small, square piece of heavy paper. off-white. edges curled like it had waited a long time.

the handwriting was precise, lowercase, almost delicate.

for the girl who keeps choosing silence. it's okay to ask for what you want. even if your voice shakes.

liora stared at it.

read it again.

and again.

her throat tightened.

this wasn't a poem.

it was a mirror.

she looked around — no one nearby. no one watching. no sign of who had left it or how long it had waited for her to find it.

she folded it carefully.

tucked it into her pocket like it was something holy.

then took the book to the counter without another word. the library was nearly empty.

it was past six, the hour when most students fled toward food or warmth or noise. but liora sat tucked in the poetry alcove, surrounded by silence and soft lamplight, her newly bought book open in her lap.

she didn't read.

she traced the edges of the note again and again.

even if your voice shakes.

her throat still ached.

so when footsteps stopped just beyond the shelf, she knew.

she didn't look up.

not right away.

not until billie said, quiet as a page turn, "you weren't in the music room."

liora's heart stuttered.

"you said we'd pause," she said. "i was honoring the pause."

billie stepped into the lamplight.

no coat. sleeves rolled. dark rings under her eyes like she hadn't slept right.

"i didn't mean disappear."

liora finally looked at her.

"what did you mean?"

billie blinked. exhaled. sat on the edge of the opposite armchair — not across from her, but to the side, close enough their knees almost touched.

she didn't answer right away.

just said, "you're hard to unthink."

liora swallowed.

"then why do you keep trying?"

billie rubbed her temple. "because wanting you feels like detonating a room full of rules i built for a reason."

"so don't want me."

billie's laugh was soft and broken.

"too late."

the words hung there.

liora's hand moved slightly — just enough that the back of her knuckle brushed billie's.

neither of them moved away.

billie looked down at the space between them.

at the place they were touching.

barely.

"i've never wanted anything quiet before," she whispered.

liora tilted her head. "and now?"

billie looked up.

"now i want you."

her voice cracked.

"quietly. loudly. all the ways i shouldn't."

liora's breath hitched.

she didn't close the space.

but she didn't pull away either.

and that almost-touch between them—

it said everything they couldn't. the quad was nearly silent.

snow muffled everything. her boots left small indentations that filled almost instantly. the lamplight reflected off the ground like moonlight — soft, cold, endless.

liora walked slowly.

nowhere to be.

no music in her ears this time. no nova teasing her into forgetting. no billie beside her, hands deep in coat pockets, voice just barely above a murmur.

just the quiet.

and the ache.

her phone buzzed once in her coat pocket.

she didn't check it.

didn't need to.

she already knew it was nothing that would change this feeling.

instead, she pulled the phone out. opened the voice recorder.

stared at it for a second.

then pressed record.

her breath clouded the air in front of her as she walked.

her voice came quieter than she expected.

"hi," she said. "i'm not sending this. just—saying it. somewhere."

a pause.

another breath.

"i know you're scared. i know you think you're protecting something. maybe me. maybe yourself. but i need to say this, even if no one hears it."

the snow creaked underfoot.

"you're not the only one risking something."

a flicker of wind cut through the trees.

liora blinked snowflakes from her lashes.

"if i asked you to stay," she whispered, "would you?"

silence.

she stopped walking.

looked up at the wide, empty sky.

then pressed stop.

the file saved automatically.

untitled.

she didn't delete it.

just slid the phone back into her pocket and kept walking.

into the snow.

into the quiet. billie's apartment was quiet.

too quiet.

the vinyl she'd meant to flip hours ago had long since finished. the needle still spun in silence, crackling faintly, like it was waiting on her. like everything else in her life.

she sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the couch, a whiskey glass untouched beside her.

her phone buzzed once.

nova.

[1 audio file] attached message: do something before she breaks.

billie stared at it.

she didn't ask how nova got it.

didn't care.

she pressed play.

and there she was.

liora's voice.

quiet.

raw.

like a wire held too long in bare hands.

"hi. i'm not sending this. just—saying it. somewhere."

billie closed her eyes.

"you're not the only one risking something."

her jaw clenched.

"if i asked you to stay, would you?"

the file ended.

billie didn't move.

not for a full minute.

then she picked up her glass and threw it.

not at the wall.

not at anything breakable.

just onto the carpet, where it rolled and settled without drama.

just like her.

she stood.

pulled on her coat.

didn't grab gloves.

didn't grab anything.

just the key to the practice rooms.

and the note she'd written hours ago and crumpled twice.

the one she thought she wouldn't need.

the one that said:

i want to stay. i just don't know how yet. music room four was almost dark when liora arrived.

the building lights had flickered once on her way in — a windstorm somewhere had knocked out half the power grid — and now the room glowed faintly with only a battery-powered lamp billie had set in the corner. it cast long shadows across the walls, soft and uncertain.

billie sat on the floor again, back against the wall, legs bent, arms draped casually across her knees like she'd been there a while.

liora didn't speak.

she just closed the door quietly behind her and sat down across from her, mirroring the posture, knees close, palms flat to the cold floor.

billie looked up.

the glow from the corner lamp hit just the edge of her face, catching in her lashes, the curve of her jaw. she looked tired. not in the physical way. in the way people get when they've been bracing for too long.

"you heard it," liora said softly.

not a question.

billie nodded. "i wasn't supposed to."

"but you did."

"nova sent it."

liora didn't ask why.

didn't need to.

silence stretched again, long and strange, almost holy in the way it wrapped around them.

billie broke it first.

"i never meant to make you doubt."

"you didn't make me," liora said. "i came pre-doubting."

that made billie huff a laugh. soft. real.

"you scare me," she said.

liora looked down. "because i want something real?"

"no." billie leaned forward slightly. "because i do."

the wind rattled the window.

liora's breath caught.

"then what are we doing?"

billie was quiet for a long beat.

then: "i think i'm trying to get out of my own way."

liora's gaze softened. "and how's that going?"

"terribly," billie said, a faint smile cracking through the tension.

liora shifted her weight, leaned her arms on her knees, chin resting on her sleeve. "i think i've always been waiting for you."

billie blinked.

"don't say that unless you mean it."

"i do."

billie's eyes shone — not from tears. from everything she was trying not to feel too fast.

liora reached out slowly.

their fingers didn't touch.

not yet.

but they hovered close.

closer.

waiting.

wanting.

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

tags; @bxllxebxtch @st0nerlesb0 @dousleepanymore @mxmsuki @billiescation @angellvk @bilswifee @ilomilobabyy

[elvisslut]

There will be a few chapters out of following Presley in the next few days, i finished writing a few chapters of it today but there are like 7?? Chapters on wattpad im posting the ones i wrote today later so if you don’t want to wait js go to wattpad its the same name ❤️

[elvisslut]

Tears streamed down both of your cheeks, looking at each other with want, not lust, just a pure need for each other to be present.

“Im not enough for you” he says, sobs stuck in his throat. “You’re more than enough” you say, going over to him.

“My life would not be where it is without you..you got me here..” you add, laying your hands on his cheeks. Something reckless and untold settled between you.

“I just wish you thought i was enough” your words cut deep. Straight to his heart.

“Ya are mama..please don’ go” he says.

Sneak peek to a new mini series ———

[elvisslut]

||Following Presley||

An Elvis fan fiction

~series warnings- smut, lots of angst, abuse, rejection, anger, fighting, strong language, denial, things that sound suicidal, death of multiple people, breakups, drama-

||warnings have been advised continue at your own risk||

Following Presley

He pulled back and looked over your face with a solum look. You felt like the only person in the world with the way his eyes looked at you—like the look promised a silent forever of unconditional feelings and surrender.

You knew it didn't, you knew he just had those stupid eyes. The only eyes that could roll you in a ball, tear you apart and you'd still forgive the man with them in his stupid face.

You've done exactly that too—let yourself get tossed around emotionally by the boy you dream of a quiet life with.

"They're bringin' her home tomorra' mornin'" he says, curling up against you and nuzzling his head against your shoulder. Your hand found his hair, messing with the messy curls on the nape of his neck that slowly but surely grew back, from when they cut it at the start of bootcamp.

"I know El..it's gonna be okay.." you say in a soft way that silently begged him to be okay. You needed him to be okay so you could too, even if someday for some reason you guys don't talk anymore, he has to be okay—no matter what you will keep tabs on him. He was and is such a big and significant part of your life.

"She ain't here to tell me that it will be though.." he said, voice steady like he'd almost come to terms that she wasn't ever going to be here to say it. He wasn't though. Of course he wasn't—she essentially ruined him. From the moment he was born to now, she set him up for an inevitable amount of disparate wondering and lost mindsets.

"I am. I can tell you..i need you to be okay-..physically at-least..if you're not okay mentally I'm going to be here for you till you don't want me around anymore.." you say, moving your hand through his hair. His eyes lingered on yours for a beat. His lips parted like he was going to say something you needed to hear.

He instead sat there looking at you, his pretty eyes breaking your heart slowly. Crystal blue from the tears. The pain of everything settled deeply in your heart, your thoughts raced as you tried to figure out what to do with the thoughts.

"Her funerals soon.." he breathes out—okay, keeping it down is the best option; that won't be very good for you later. "I know..you think you'll be able to handle it?" you ask softly.

"No..not at all" he admits, you nod softly and kiss his temple. "Yeah..I figured.." you say against his hair. "Don' leave me like mama did" he almost sounds like he's begging, pleading for you to stay.

"I promise I'm always going to be here, even if you're far away from me. I'm stuck with you..you will always have me." You say softly, cutting yourself off there. You were willing to let it spill, let the emotions and the weight of your words lay on him, simmer slowly. Telling him how he's embedded himself so deep in your heart you cant let him go; for now—you stay quiet.

After a few moments his breathing steadied, became calmer. He fell asleep, his heart laid with his mama—yours laid with him, ready to take the pain he's willing to put it through.

"I will love you through everything you will let me love you through" you whisper softly, hand messing with his hair. Tomorrow was going to test that but you promised him—in silence, to yourself. You'd give him the unconditional love he gives the world that sometimes even hates him; because even though he's Elvis Presley, the love he puts out in the world needs to be put back into him—you plan to love him as much as he loves the world, forever.

The next day

Elvis woke up early, eyes dry and sore from the sobbing he'd done yesterday. He looked over at you and stared for a second.

He knew what he was doing to you, he felt bad for it of course—he did love you just not like how you do. Not the same way by a long shot. He didn't want you to hang the stars for him, he didn't want to hold you against his chest forever—it was his heartbeat against his ribcage, it beat for him, his mama, his fans. Not for you, not like how yours beat for him.

No matter how hard you tried to hide the look you gave him, he always seen it. He always hated it, even when he was little. Your life revolves around a man who loves lust—not women.

He sighed softly and got up, getting dressed and going down to the living room. There she was. His mama.

His tears were almost immediate. He ran over and looked at her for a moment, taking in the state she was in—lifeless, broken. His arms wrapped around her carefully. "Im here mama" he breathed out, worried she would be scared if she was alone.

He stayed like that for a while, till they threw a glass over her to keep him off her. To preserve her, like she was a museum sculpture.  That was when you came downstairs and let him cry in your arms, he cried like he wanted to cry on you. Like his breathing pattern on your neck was morse code for something sacred, something scary he didn't want to admit—it wasn't but thats what you wanted it to be.

"It's going to be okay..shes not scared anymore, shes not worried or afraid of anything..she got the mansion god built for her" you say softly.

"How do ya do that?" Elvis asks, his sobs slowly stopping. "Know what to say, how to say it, at the right time" he adds.

'Because its you, i love you.' Or 'i love you too much to let myself say the wrong thing at the wrong time' those were the answers. You kept them buried though—made sure your feelings were like a time capsule, deep in the soil of forget and blank slates.

"Your mama taught me" you say softly, she didn't. Gladys was bad with words, she taught you how not to be but you told him that to calm him, let him claim the side of his mother he needed.

"Thank ya.." he says, pulling away. He just wanted to rip the walls down, tear the floor up, throw it all at you. He doesn't want you to love him, but he wants you to. He wants to beg you to stop but turn around and beg you to stay.

Your heart burned for him. It was in a furnace of pain, hurt—nothing good. "You okay el?" You ask softly, he just nods and looks at his mama.

You watched him for a moment, glancing at Gladys then getting up and excusing yourself. You went to your room and sat down on your bed. You stare at your hands—your ring finger empty because you were waiting for him. For a man so deep in not wanting to love you.

A man whose only goal will be to rip your heart out of your chest and completely destroy it. To destroy you.

Early that next morning was the funeral, it went by in a blur—Elvis sobbed, threw his arms around his mama's casket, then it was over after her favorite singers sang. It was all too much.

You were dealing with it too. Sure not like Elvis but you lived with her, sat and talked with her, she was like another mother for you. But you buried it with everything else. At this point everything was in a box titled 'never let elvis know'.

You let yourself get drained, you let it happen because you love him. You helped him to his room, let him kiss you like it was his only fleeting escape, you wanted it to happen because you wanted him to feel loved—to feel the love you had for him. The love that left you bare.

"Hey.." Elvis breathes out softly as you walk to his door. You look at him and smile as much as your mind allows you to. You can see what he's doing but you refuse it. You let it sink. You'll let it continue to sink. "Stay.." he adds. And you did, for him. Always.

[elvisslut]

Following Presley

~series warnings- smut, lots of angst, abuse, rejection, anger, fighting, strong language, denial, things that sound suicidal, death of multiple people, breakups, drama-

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

To be continued..

Playlist

[elvisslut]

||following Presley||

An Elvis fanfiction

~series warnings- smut, lots of angst, abuse, rejection, anger, fighting, strong language, denial, things that sound suicidal, death of multiple people, breakups, drama-

||warnings have been made proceed at own risk||

Following presley

A few years past, Elvis and you had made up of course—you actually lived with him now in Graceland. Made a life with your best friend.

Elvis was going from girl to girl now, running around on his girlfriend. You of course slapped him in the face for doing it but it didn't stop him so you just gave him a look anytime he brought it up.

His mama didn't like it either, they fought a lot. They were insane when they fought, anger issues against anger issues. It was not a good time to hear the words they spit at each other.

Right now though, it wasn't any better. Gladys screamed, Elvis screamed louder.

Words you NEVER wanted to hear left Gladys' mouth. "You're leavin' for the army? An' ya thought it was a good idea to keep it a secret?" Gladys huffs. "I wasn' gonna keep it a secret mama i just didn' have the time" he says with a sigh.

They went back and forth for a while. Your mind was clouded with the thoughts of elvis going to the army. The boy you had to spend your every waking moments trying to stop loving the way you do—was leaving for the army.

6 months later

You were sitting in your room, messing with a few of the necklaces elvis had gotten you. Running your finger over the gold, praying maybe he'd just appear. Then you heard it.

The noise that changed everything, a loud thud. You rushed up and followed where the noise had come from. Gladys. She had collapsed.

From that point on it was all foggy. You don't remember the 911 call, the trip to the hospital, the call telling elvis he needed to come home. It all just mixed together. Even the next few days of elvis getting home mixed up together.

Then gladys died. That day crumpled you down completely—elvis felt it even more. His mama, his life, his everything. Died.

He left that morning and went to the hospital. He came home with vernon—you stayed back to help with getting things ready. Honestly it was too much, you couldn't handle it.

Once he got home his cheeks were tear stained, his eyes heavy. He made it halfway up the stairs and sat down with a sigh. "Cant make it up.." he says, looking over at you as you round the corner.

"El..hey..you have to go lay down.." you say, going up and sitting by him, your hands pushing his hair over, out of his face.

"I don' wanna move.." he says softly, laying his head against your shoulder. "Okay but you need to lay down..please.." you say softly, he nods and moves down. He lays his head on your lap and sighs softly.

"I cant be here without her..she can't actually be gone.." he breathes out. Your heart broke for him piece by piece.

He stayed silent after that, waiting for her to come through the door. Begging in his head for her to come through the door. Hoping maybe this was a dream or sick joke. It wasn't though. He knew it better than anyone.

"I love you El" you say softly, leaning down and kissing his head.

"I love ya too..i love ya so much..so did mama" he whispers, closing his eyes and sighing.

You had managed to get him in bed after a little, turning away to leave—he grips your hand and shakes his head. "Stay please..don' wanna be alone..i don' feel good" he mumbles, you nod softly and lay with him, feeling his head and biting your lip at the warmth.

"You're burning El.." you say softly, searching his face. His lips are on yours, completely outta nowhere.

"Mm..El..hey, we cant do that. You have a girlfriend.." you say softly, looking over his face.

"I know..but i just..i want you.." he says with his puppy dog eyes before kissing you again, this time you let it happen—kissing him back.

Pent up feeling spilling out in silence, you were breaking your own heart by doing this you knew how elvis was, you know what he'll do but you let it happen.

[elvisslut]

||Following Presley||

An elvis fanfiction

~series warnings- smut, lots of angst, abuse, rejection, anger, fighting, strong language, denial, things that sound suicidal, death of multiple people, breakups, drama-

An-im proud of this storyline some of it is even self perception, i hope you all enjoy the series. God bless you beautiful people. I love yall and appreciate you will every inch of my soul.~

||warnings have been made proceed at your own risk||

Following Presley

You and Elvis were joint at the hip the second you became friends. That was when you were just 4–now you're 8 and even more inseparable.

He stayed at your house quite often, you would have stayed at his but it would have been hard seeing as him, his mama and daddy all shared a bed. It didn't matter other than the fact there was no room so Elvis just stayed with you whenever you two wanted to have a sleepover.

You lived pretty close to him, walking distance for 8 year olds luckily. You went to the same school, played with the same people, half the time even wore the same clothes.

You even begged your parents to keep you in 3rd grade with elvis. You knew all the multiplication and even more division but Elvis was there, there was absolutely no chance you would leave him.

You even sat down with him all the time, teaching him how to do the math problems on the work sheets. Your teacher didn't bother giving you homework, you helped Elvis with his and you did it incredibly fast it wasn't a real problem for you so she never gave you the homework.

Elvis used to tease you for being so smart—still does, probably always will. But you just shoot back with a smart remark.

You both were just perfect for each other in every way, he helped you with everything you needed help with, you helped him with everything he needed help with. You two just leveled each other out.

~

As the years kept going you just got more attached to each other, finishing sentences for each other, being there when you needed each other the most, going as far as being each other's first kiss— you both were 9 exploring the woods like usual and it just happened. Elvis just kissed you.

Ever since then you just got more attached to Elvis, middle school and highschool made it hard on you. You both went through puberty and were figuring yourselves out, Elvis was girl crazy even though he couldn't pull till after the talent show.

You weren't all that boy crazy, you liked to study more than sit and talk about gross and disgusting creatures. Elvis though—you could talk about him all day, talk to him all day. He wasn't disgusting to you.

It got to a point you realized your feelings for him, everyone but Elvis realized how you felt for him. Your brother and mother even teased you about it daily.

One day though, Elvis ran to your house and burst through your door. "I got a girlfriend" what. The. Fuck. Is all that ran through your head as Elvis raved about the girl.

After that you pretty much ghosted him, going out anytime he might come over, locking your door and keeping it locked when he would come over while your home. He didn't know what he did so it wasn't fair but you didn't care about fair, you were hurt.

He tried to talk to you at school, tried to get your help. You wouldn't budge, you just walked away. It started to worry him, he knew you were mad; he couldn't figure out why though.

"Y/n? Hey..can ya talk to me?" Elvis says, following you down the hall of the school. "Just go away Elvis" you say, keeping your head down as you walk towards your class.

"I wanna know what i did.." he grabs your arm and makes you stop. "Why ain't ya talkin' to me?" He asks.

"Because Elvis, just leave it alone" you say, sighing and yanking your arm away. "You're just too stupid to get it through your head elvis" you add, making your way to your class. Leaving elvis dumbfounded in the hall.

He stopped trying to talk to you for a little bit after that, you fell behind on school work—which never happened, you didn't go out of your room hardly except for dinner and school.

Elvis tried to act like it didn't affect him, like he didn't want to cry at night, or like it didn't impact his relationship with his girlfriend. But it did. A lot.

He was too worried about you that he forgot to be a decent boyfriend, even a decent son. Him and Gladys had double the fights they usually do, all the fights usually came from the question "has y/n talked to you?" Or "when are you going to try and fix things?". You talked to Gladys a few times, telling her about your feelings and what you said in the hall.

That lasted about a month before you two made up and acted like nothing happened. Till graduation, when he came up to you and kissed you outta nowhere. Your eyes widened as you pulled away.

"Elvis..your girlfriend.." you breathe out, searching his face. "But i thought ya would have liked it?" He says in a questioning tone.

"Ask next time, so i can say no if you have a girlfriend" you say, pulling away from him. "I have to go see my parents." You add, going to the bleachers where your parents and brother sat.

You talked to them for a little bit, hugging all of them before going over to gladys, vernon, elvis and his girlfriend. You hugged gladys and vernon before looking at elvis.

"Are we going to eat with red?" You ask earning a nod. "Okay im going to go ride with him, ill see you two there" you say, leaving the gym and going to red.

"Elvis and his girlfriend are going to meet us at the restaurant" you say, red nods and wraps a arm around you. "Im proud of you" he says with a smile. "Thank you red" you say, going to his car with him and getting in.

"So..did his girlfriend see him kiss you?" He asks, you look at him and sigh. "I don't know, i hope not..i was hoping no-one saw but you know..with so many people around.." you groan and shake your head. "He's so stupid sometimes.." you add.