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#Elvis
ccab · 3 days
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Lunch Break
Part 9: Grand Finale
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Elvis Presley x Shy!Reader
Word Count: 4,442
Warnings: 18+, sexual themes, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, oral (f receiving) (Hopefully, I included everything. If not, please let me know)
Author's Note: I'm back!! It has been way too long and I am so sorry! I am sure everyone has forgotten about this series. But finally, the last chapter is here (there will be an epilogue still so don't worry). Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think.
Also @sissylittlefeather thank you for everything I love youuuuu so much 💕
It's been a while...Read Part 8 here
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You woke up to the gentle rhythm of Elvis's breathing, his chest rising and falling beneath you in a steady cadence. Your head lay nestled on his chest, the comforting sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. Your hand resting beside your head, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in his chest hair before you instinctively wrapped your arm around his side, pulling him closer in a tight embrace.
As you lay there, a sense of peace settled over you, mingling with the memories of last night. You couldn't help but think back to what Elvis had whispered, both before and after he thought you had fallen asleep. His words lingered in your mind, echoing the warmth you felt in his arms.
You felt him shift slightly, his arm tightening around you in a protective hold as he blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the curtains.
"Morning, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
"Morning," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of his sleepy smile.
He stretched his limbs lazily, a contented sigh escaping him as he settled back against the pillows, his gaze meeting yours.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked, his fingers gently brushing strands of hair away from your face.
"So good," you replied sitting up propped up on his chest to look at him better, "especially in your arms."
His smile widened at your words, "Me too, sweetheart," he whispered, his thumb rubbing your cheek, "Me too."
You laid back down beside him as Elvis stretched once more, and the sheet slid down slightly, revealing more of your bare bodies entwined together. He groaned softly, the sensation of the fabric pulling away from your skin making him more aware of his morning arousal. Glancing down at the tented bedsheet, he chuckled softly.
Before he could utter a word, you silenced him with a kiss, your lips melding together in a rush of desire as you rolled your body against his. He responded with a soft moan against your mouth, as he deepened the kiss.
Elvis's hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his lips moved hungrily against yours. With a low growl, Elvis rolled you onto your back, his body now pressing against yours.
Your nails dug into his back, urging him closer as you surrendered to the intoxicating passion between you. His kisses became more fervent, his hands tracing every curve as he teased you making sure his erection was pressed against your thigh.
"Mmm," you hummed against his lips. Feeling your response to his touch, Elvis nips at your bottom lip before moving along your jawline and down your neck, eliciting soft moans from you.
With a teasing touch his hand trails down your body. Caressing your inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your core. Your breath hitches as his thumb begins to stroke your clit before he slips a finger inside you. He's met with your wetness, eliciting a low groan of satisfaction from him. Encouraged by your response, he adds another finger, stretching you gently as he continues to pump them in and out, his thumb still circling your clit.
Unable to resist the taste of you, he withdrew his fingers and shifted down between your legs, practically lying between them. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leans in, his tongue darting out. He starts by flicking his tongue against you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you before he envelops your pussy in his mouth, gently sucking on your clit. The sensation makes you arch your back in pleasure, your fingers tangling in his hair.
He continues his ministrations, alternating between delicate flicks and a gentle suction. He adds his two fingers again, exploring every inch of your velvety walls, driving you to the brink of your release with each stroke. The combination of his tongue and fingers sends you spiraling into a realm of pure bliss, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.
You moan out Elvis's name, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. Despite your release, Elvis doesn't let up, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure from your quivering body.
As you catch your breath, Elvis shifts you onto all fours, positioning you just how he wants you. His hands roam over your back as he positions himself behind you rubbing his cock through your folds. He strokes himself a couple of times before he lines himself up to your entrance.
Your breath catches in your throat as the head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you both moan in unison as he slowly pushes himself in, inch by inch. He begins with long, slow, thrusts, gradually increasing the pace.
With his hands on your hips, he guides your movements, driving himself into you with each powerful thrust. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass in a delicious rhythm echoes through the room, blending with your moans as you both lose yourselves in the moment. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can't remember ever feeling so good in your life.
As he's pounding you from behind, a frantic knock interrupts the passionate moment. Reacting quickly, you disengage from each other, slipping under the covers just as Elvis remains on his knees, his arousal still at full attention. "Shit, sweetheart, never seen someone move so fast in all my life," he chuckles, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of disappointment. However, the urgency of the situation becomes evident as Joe's voice from the other side of the door grows louder, urgently calling for you to wake up.
"Time to get up, folks! We've got a flight in thirty-ish minutes, and we're already late!" Joe's voice booms through the door, prompting a sigh from Elvis as he sits back on his heels running a hand through his hair.
"Okay, okay, we're up," he calls out, before muttering to himself, "Yeah, we're up alright, shit," he said with a groan looking down, feeling the ache of his erection.
Elvis playfully ripped the covers off you, eliciting a giggle from you before you reminded him, "Elvis, we have to get up!"
"Come on, baby, nooo," he pleaded with a playful pout, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "We can be quick we were almost there, come on I can’t just stop right now with this it hurtsss." He emphasized his point with a mock pained expression. You laugh as you nod, spreading your legs for him.
He chuckled at your eagerness, his smirk widening as he teased, "Well, that was easy." Elvis slowly slid back into you, seamlessly resuming the rhythm from before the interruption. His hips moved with renewed vigor, driving into you with purpose, while his thumb found your clit, to help speed up the process. The headboard thudded against the wall, but neither of you cared at that moment, both focused on reaching your peaks as quickly as possible.
As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, your orgasm washed over you, causing you to squirt, the warm liquid landing on Elvis. Each thrust of his hips elicited another gush from you, the sensation driving you wild.
Feeling your release, Elvis couldn't hold off any longer. With a desperate groan, he quickly pulled out, his hand moving rapidly along his length as he pumped himself, his release landing on your stomach.
Exhausted but exhilarated, he collapses beside you, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. "Damn, that was intense," Elvis pants, his voice husky with satisfaction. He lays there a few moments then rises from the bed and extends his hand to help you up, pulling you gently to your feet before drawing you into a tender kiss.
You both quickly head to the shower, you hurriedly scrub off the remnants of your lovemaking session and step out, wrapping towels around yourselves.
Rushing back to the bedroom, you and Elvis hastily gather your belongings, tossing them into your suitcases. As you prepare to leave, you drop your towels, exchanging glances with one another as you both hurry to dress and make your way out the door.
As you and Elvis finally make it to the parking lot, you're met with amused glances from the rest of the group, who are standing by the cars, waiting impatiently.
"About time, lovebirds!" one of them teases with a smirk, causing a round of chuckles among the group. "We heard the headboard banging against the wall from the other end of the hotel!"
Elvis chuckles, his arm wrapped around your waist, "Hey, just taking care of business," he quips, earning a round of laughter from the group as your cheeks go red. Elvis pulls you close and winks before he helps you into the car.
*******
As the final show of the tour reached its end on April 19th, a bittersweet feeling settled over you. While the journey had been exhilarating, it was the moments spent with Elvis that truly made it unforgettable. With the filming wrapped up, you found yourself at a crossroads, the end of a chapter but the beginning of something new.
Elvis's invitation to stay at Graceland with him came as no surprise, the unspoken bond between you both stronger than ever. The prospect of being apart was unfathomable, and so you embraced the opportunity to extend your time together, relishing in the simple joys of companionship and love.
Nestled within the walls of Graceland, the outside world faded into insignificance as you and Elvis reveled in each other's presence. The days blurred into one another, filled with laughter, tender moments, and shared dreams. In the haven of his bedroom, you played house, finding solace in the familiarity of each other's arms.
You went on tour with him again, starting with three shows at Madison Square Garden and then some shows in random cities. That tour wrapped on June 20th and you both returned to Graceland, slipping seamlessly back into the comforting embrace of its walls and Elvis's loving arms as if the two of you never left.
Before you knew it, July 4th came around. Elvis was so excited for you to be a part of his annual 4th of July Party at Graceland, which he loved to throw every year. As the sun began to set, friends, family, as well as some people he seemed to know but you had never seen before, started to arrive. You enjoyed watching Elvis act like a little kid getting so excited to see everyone arrive and games beginning to be played. You particularly loved to see him get so worked up playing a meaningless game of football with the guys.
Taking a break from the swelting Memphis summer, the party naturally migrated indoors as a welcome chance to cool off before having to go back outside later for fireworks.
Elvis was in his element, talking amongst his friends, while you, by his side did your best to keep up appearances. You smiled and engaged in various conversations, but suddenly inside, you felt like you were drowning. The noise, the crowd of everyone now inside, the pressure to be sociable—it was all too much. It hit you out of nowhere, making it hard to breathe, the facade becoming harder to maintain.
You didn't want Elvis to see you like this, not tonight when he was having so much fun with his friends. You couldn't bear the thought of burdening him with your struggles, especially on a day he has been talking nonstop about since you got back from tour.
So you quietly withdrew from the crowd, slipping away before Elvis could sense that something was wrong. You made your way upstairs to the quiet bedroom. As the door latched behind you the floodgates opened, and the overwhelming emotions you had been holding back came crashing down around you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts and racing heart.
Surrounded by the quiet emptiness of the room, you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions, unable to pinpoint the source of your overwhelming anxiety. It felt as though the walls were closing in around you, pressing in with a suffocating grip that left you gasping for air.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Elvis scanned the crowded room, his eyes searching for the one person who mattered most to him. Sensing your absence, a flicker of concern creased his brow, prompting him to ask Jerry if he had seen you.
"Hey, Jerry," Elvis called out, his voice carrying over the chatter of the party. "Have you seen y/n around? I haven't seen her for a while."
"Yeah, man, I saw her head upstairs a little while ago," he replied, nodding towards the staircase.
With that, Elvis made his way to the staircase, making his way up to check on you. He reached the door to the bedroom and gently pushed it open, finding you nestled on the bed, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Darlin', are you alright?" Elvis's voice was gentle, filled with concern as he approached you. He sat beside you, his hand reaching out to gently brush away the tears staining your cheeks.
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes mirroring his own concern. "I… I don't know," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Everything just… feels like it's closing in on me. I don't know why. I thought I was over all this, I'm sorry."
Elvis's heart ached at the sight of your pain, his instinct to protect you kicking into overdrive. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered soothingly, pulling you into his arms.
"I'm ruining your party," you murmured, your voice barely audible, filled with self-doubt. "You probably don't even love or want me anymore if I can't even make it through a simple party."
Elvis gently lifted your chin, his eyes locking with yours, "I don't give a damn about all that, darlin'," he declared, his voice soft but firm. "I just want you. Even if it means we hide out in bedrooms at parties forever it's okay to need a break from it all sweetheart, there's nothin' wrong with that."
"You're just saying that," you whispered, your voice tinged with doubt as you pulled away slightly, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity.
"Y/n, you know better than that'," Elvis said, his grip firm yet gentle as he held your hands in his. "I mean every word I say to you."
"In fact, you know how much I want you… um, I had a whole plan for tonight during the fireworks, but I can't wait. I need you to know how much I need and want you in my life, y/n," he said as he got up and went to the nightstand before walking back over to you, getting down on one knee.
You brought a hand up to your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as tears filled them, but this time for a different reason. "Elvis," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.
Elvis took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he looked into your eyes, his heart laid bare before you. "Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special and every day you have proven me right. You brought light into my life in ways I never thought possible."
He paused, his gaze locking with yours as he continued tears now in his eyes, "You've shown me what it truly means to love and be loved. You mean everything to me, y/n. I can't imagine my life without you by my side," Elvis continued, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. "So, I want to spend the rest of my days making you as happy as you've made me. Will you marry me, sweetheart?" he asked as he opened a small black velvet box revealing the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen in all your life.
Overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down your cheeks, you nod vigorously, unable to find your voice amidst the flood of happiness and love swelling in your heart. "Yes," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion. "Yes, Elvis, a thousand times yes."
A smile breaks across Elvis's face as he slips the ring onto your finger, sealing your promise to each other with a tender kiss. Just as your lips touched, the distant sound of fireworks echoed outside. You both smile against each other's lips, sharing a moment before deepening the kiss with passion and love as Elvis gently eases you back against the bed, his lips still on yours.
His tongue slips into your mouth, as he subtly grinds his hips against your body, the rhythm slow and tantalizing. Your moans mix with his, lost in the heat of the moment as you both surrender to the pleasure coursing through your veins.
As he kisses you, his skilled hands, trace the buttons of your red dress, undoing them one by one until they're all undone. He helps you sit up, slipping the dress off your arms as he undoes your bra, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze.
His lips find purchase on your right nipple, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core as he suckles it gently. His other hand explores the curves of your left breast, kneading and caressing, his fingers teasing your sensitive flesh. A soft gasp escapes your lips as he bites down gently before releasing it with a pop and switches sides lavishing equal attention on your left breast, his touch leaving you breathless.
You feel his erection against your thigh, so with a slow, deliberate movement, you begin to shift your leg, pressing it against his hardened length and teasing his balls with each sensual stroke. A low, guttural groan escapes him as he buries his face against your breast, sucking a little more strongly before pulling away.
As he sits up your hands move to the buttons of his shirt slowly undoing them, your fingers brushing against his chest hair and the necklace he has around his neck before you push his shirt off his shoulders. Your hands waste no time in exploring further, moving to palm him through his pants, feeling his cock straining against the fabric. He responds with a deep, throaty moan, his hips instinctively bucking against your touch.
With deliberate slowness, you pull down his zipper, your knuckles grazing against his throbbing length as you free him from his confines. His breath hitches in his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you continue to stroke him, your movements driving him wild as he moans your name.
You slide his pants down, his arousal springing free before he gently guides you to lay back onto the bed. His hand trails up your thigh and his lips find your hip bone as he hooks his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs. He peppers kisses along your ankles before trailing his lips back up your legs, murmuring sweet declarations of love with each tender touch of his lips against your skin.
Anticipation builds within you as you feel his lips moving up your body, but instead of stopping where you ache for him most, he continues his ascent, planting soft kisses between your breasts, along the side of your neck, until his lips meet yours once more.
He pulls back slightly as his hand slips between your bodies to wrap around his throbbing length, he pumps it a couple of times before sliding himself through your wet folds. You both moan at the feeling. His tip rubs over your clit over and over as he coats himself in your slick. Your back arches off the bed, a silent plea for him to take you, to be closer to him in every way possible, as your hands clutch at his back, pulling him closer.
"Please…" The word escaped your lips in a breathy whisper as he continued to tease his cock against your clit. With a tender touch, he lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. You clenched around him as he withdrew, then melted around him as he sensually pushed back in, setting a pace that was both slow and passionate.
His lips found their way to your neck, as his hips rocked back and forth in a sensual rhythm. With each thrust, he delved deeper into you, hitting that sweet spot that made your hands grip the sheets.
“Mmm y/n I love you so much,” he said against your neck, his words unintentionally coming out in sync with how he was rolling his hips into you.
"Mmm, Elvis, I…love…mmm," you moaned in response, your voice breathless, unable to even finish your sentence as he continued to circle his hips, sliding in and out of you with a steady rhythm. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper, to fill you completely with every thrust.
Feeling your walls clench around him, Elvis picked up the pace slightly, eliciting a louder moan from you as he grunted in your ear with each thrust of his hips.
"Mmm… I'm close," you moaned, as Elvis continued to drive into you, his movements becoming more urgent, pushing you closer to the edge. With each thrust, the pleasure built inside you until it reached its peak, and you cried out his name as your climax washed over you, pulsing through your body.
Elvis slowed his pace, savoring the sensation of your climax. His head fell back as he felt your pussy pulse around him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.
With a deep groan, he thrust into you one final time, unable to hold back any longer. His body tensed as he reached his climax, his orgasm consuming him completely. He cursed under his breath, realizing he couldn't pull out in time, his release pouring into you for the first time as he weakly moved his hips a couple more times through his release before he pulled out.
"Y/n, I'm sorry," he gasped, his voice filled with regret as he collapsed against you, spent and breathless from the intensity of his orgasm. "I didn't mean to… I couldn't stop it."
You brushed your fingers through his tousled hair, as he caught his breath. "Good thing we're getting married, huh?" you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Elvis's expression softened at your words, a mix of relief and adoration flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I just got carried away," he murmured, still catching his breath, still a hint of regret in his eyes.
"No, hey Elvis, it's okay," you reassured him. "I love you more than you'll ever know, and I would love to have your baby." You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips, reaffirming your unwavering affection for him.
"I love you too, y/n," Elvis murmured, his voice filled with emotion as he returned your kiss. His lips lingered against yours for a moment before he rolled beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. You admired the sparkling engagement ring on your finger, a symbol of your commitment to each other, as the distant sounds of fireworks filled the air.
"And don't get me wrong, I want you to," Elvis continued, his tone gentle yet hesitant. "It's just… I really didn't think we were planning on it being so soon, sweetheart."
"We don't know that, Elvis," you reassured him, your voice soft and comforting. "Everything happens for a reason, and if now is the time, then now is the time. We can't change that, but we'll figure it out together."
Elvis smiled softly, his gaze locked with yours. "Yeah, we will," he replied, his voice tender. "As long as I've got you by my side, sweetheart, I know we can handle anything that comes our way." With a content sigh, you snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.
As the two of you lay naked in bed, watching the flashes of light from the fireworks through the window, the world outside seemed distant and irrelevant compared to the intimacy you shared. Lost in each other's embrace, you shared a quiet laugh at the thought of everyone downstairs, unaware of the significant moments the two of you just shared.
Eventually, Elvis stirred, slipping his pants back on. You watched him with a fond smile as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before helping you up to get dressed again.
Hand in hand, you made your way downstairs and outside to join the others just in time for the grand finale. As the fireworks boomed around you, you stood hugging one another, your head against his chest, your arms wrapped around each other as he held you close.
As the final fireworks illuminated the night, Elvis leaned down, his voice a gentle murmur in your ear, "I told you before sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned up from his chest. He cupped your face in his hands, pressing a lingering kiss against your lips, sealing the promise of a lifetime together.
"I love you," he whispered softly.
"I love you too," you replied, as you held each other a little tighter, ready to face whatever life had in store for you together…
*******
January 1973
You found yourself in Hawaii, in the front row of the audience for Elvis's "Aloha from Hawaii" concert where once again you had a camera to help capture every moment just as you did at every one of his shows, while the photos you took were often just for your personal collection nowadays, you cherished each snapshot as a cherished memory.
Elvis's gaze swept over the sea of faces in the audience until his eyes found you, standing out amidst the crowd with your camera in hand and a noticeable baby bump. A smile lit up his face as he locked eyes with you, a wave of warmth and affection washing over him at the sight of you, carrying his child. You were six months pregnant now, eagerly awaiting the arrival of your baby girl, a precious blessing that only deepened the bond between you and Elvis.
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Epilogue to follow
Taglist:
@msamarican @elvisalltheway101 @deniseinmn @mrsbutler99 @vintagepresley @elvisfatass @doll-elvis @elvisrealgf @sissylittlefeather @claire-elvisgirl @livcst @everythingelvispresley @kissforvoid @peskybedtime @ashtag6887 @velvetelvis @powerofelvis @delulubutidontcare @raginginkedslut @littlehoneyposts @lookingforrainbows @kaitly-n @epthedream69 @arrolyn1114 @likeits2002 @that-hotdog @jaqueline19997 @obsessedwithurlove @presleysweetheart @briannaisanxious @pebbles403 @pxpresley
(if you would like to be added or removed from taglist please just let me know) 💕
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loss-throw · 10 hours
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hooked-on-elvis · 14 hours
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The Black Brocade Suit (1970) featured UNICORNSSSSSS! Oh my god. The sad thing about is: there aren't pictures of Elvis wearing it (that had surfaced so far). It's a shame Elvis' early seasons at the International Hotel weren't fully documented. Apparently this suit was very close to be featured in an Elvis film.
First worn during his 1970 January/February Las Vegas engagement (Elvis' second season at the International Hotel) then *possibly* again during the August/September engagement — the moment "Elvis That's The Way It Is" was filmed, his third season at the International Hotel. I mean... imagine if this suit has made it to the documentary! 🥹✨
Further info: There is another version of the Black Brocade suit which features a gold trim instead of redish tone.
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Credits/Source: elvisconcerts.com [Jumpsuit Index]
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jhoneybees · 2 days
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This picture gives me chills, the past looking at the future😓
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sissylittlefeather · 2 days
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Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming: Chapter 1
A/N: Ahhhhh a new series!!! This is the one that won the poll, so I hope y'all love it! Also, I decided to play with POV on this one, so I'm telling it from Elvis's perspective. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!!
ICYMI, this is the Elvis x OC Vivian Choquette series. Want to learn more about her? Here.
PS- I love you @ccab for loving Vivian as much as I do before I even write the story!
Warnings: Not much, this is gonna start slow, but trust me, it'll heat up. Kissing, cussing, alcohol use, smoking
Word count: ~2.4k
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By September of '59, Elvis was used to the army. He was used to the routine, used to the work, used to the people, used to the fans, and used to looking for a good time wherever he could find it. On this particular night, he found it at a party at his own house in Bad Nauheim. All his friends were there, along with a plethora of girls to keep everyone interested. Elvis moved through the party easily, making small talk and keeping everyone stocked on drinks, despite the fact that he didn't have any himself. Sometimes he imbibed, but usually he didn't. Although his beloved mama was gone, what he learned from her still lived in the forefront of his memory. That is, unless he found himself at the Moulin Rouge. But that was different. Here at his own house, he preferred to remain in control.
Despite having a girlfriend back at home, he moves through the house looking for a girl to talk to. That's when he notices her in a corner, her dark hair swept into a low ponytail and blue eyes glancing lazily around the room. She almost seems bored. So much so that she turns to the bookshelf that came with the house and pulls a book down. She opens it and begins to read. Elvis is intrigued by the kind of woman who reads at a party. He begins to walk over to her and realizes that the book is in French. He panics for a second and then remembers that the guys taught him a phrase in French. Surely he can figure out how to communicate with her. Besides, most of these French girls speak a little English.
He swaggers up to her, ready to try out his French. He stands there in front of her for a minute before she looks up at him.
"Bonjour."
"Mhmm." She looks down at her book, but he doesn't leave. He's suddenly nervous, but he decides to risk it. She's pretty enough that it might be worth it.
"Uhh, est-ce que tu aimes le sexe?"
She looks up at him suddenly and laughs.
"What? Did I pronounce it wrong?" She laughs even harder. When she finally catches her breath, she holds up a hand.
"First of all, I speak English. Second of all, please don't ever say that to anyone ever again."
"Oh. Why?"
"You just asked me if I like sex."
"What?! Those motherfu- I mean, those jerks. They told me it meant 'how are you'."
"And you believed them? It literally has the word 'sex' in it."
"Well, I don't know! I don't speak French!"
"Obviously." She looks back down at her book. He's not ready to give up, though.
"Hey, if you speak English, why are you reading in French?"
"My mother was French. I speak and read it because of her." She answers without looking up from the page.
"Was?"
"She's been gone for a while now. I live with my stepdad. He's an officer in the army." He feels the pain of having lost his mother too soon and looks at her with even more softness and affection than he did before.
"I'm Elvis." She looks up at him.
"I know." He nods and she notices the look he's giving her. "You know, I'm actually here with someone."
"Oh?"
"Mhmm." She points across the party to Charlie, who's making his way to her with drinks.
"Charlie?!"
"Yes."
"Well, goddamn." Charlie makes it over to them and hands her one of the drinks. He throws his arm around her casually and looks up at Elvis.
"Hey buddy. I see you met my lady."
"Well, not officially..." She holds her hand out to him.
"Vivian Choquette. Nice to meet you, Elvis Presley." He takes her hand and has the strangest urge to kiss it, but he'd never do such a thing with Charlie right there. He's been a good friend to Elvis, so no matter how much he likes her, he won't risk their friendship. Instead, he shakes her hand like he would if she was a man.
"Yeah, likewise." Elvis nods awkwardly and then turns to go back to the party. It's too bad that she's there with Charlie. He wanders around a little more, before he sees a girl that will change the trajectory of his whole life. Still, he never forgets the girl he met first.
******
The next day, Elvis sits at lunch with Charlie.
"So what did you think of my girl?" Elvis chokes a little on his food and tries to think of how he can answer without letting on that he hasn't stopped thinking about her.
"Oh, she's... she's somethin' else."
"Ain't she? I saw you talking to that cute little thing though. She seemed like somethin' else too."
"Priscilla? Oh, yeah."
"Little young, though."
"Yeah..." Elvis tries to focus on Priscilla, but all he can think about is Vivian. If she wasn't with Charlie, she'd be exactly what he's looking for. He's not sure how he knows that based on the half of a conversation they had, but something about her just draws him to her. Maybe it's the fact that she seems deeper than most of the girls he's encountered. Maybe it's because she didn't fall all over herself to talk to him. Maybe it's because she understands the pain of losing a parent. Whatever the reason, he can't stop wishing that she hadn't met Charlie first.
******
About three weeks later, Elvis is walking around town and he passes a cafe. He doesn't think much of it until he sees someone he recognizes sitting at one of the little tables. His heart jumps a bit at the thought of talking to her again. Then, he remembers Charlie with his arm around her. He decides to keep walking, but as he gets a little closer, he notices her shoulders are shaking. She's got her long, dark hair in her face, so he can't see her eyes, but it looks like she might be crying. He can't let her sit there alone if that's the case.
He cautiously approaches the table and realizes he was right. Her sniffling is quiet, but he can hear it. She's got a lit cigarette in one hand, and it looks like she's forgotten it's there. Her other hand fiddles with her coffee cup on its saucer. When he gets to her, he's not exactly sure what to do. He didn't have much of a plan beyond walking to the table. After hesitating for a second, he pulls the chair across from her out to sit in, but it makes a horrible screeching sound and she looks up startled.
"What the f-"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. It's just me."
"God, Elvis, you scared me."
"I'm sorry, honey, can I sit down?" She wipes her face and nods.
"Yeah, sure, I guess so." He sits down across from her and watches as she puts out her cigarette and continues trying to wipe her face clean.
"Are you... are you alright?"
"Ha! Yeah, I'm just fine." She pulls out another cigarette and lights it. They sit in silence for a bit while Elvis tries to think of what to say.
"You sure?" Vivian takes a puff of her cigarette and blows it straight up into the air.
"Do I look alright?" Elvis hesitates. He wants to say that she looks beautiful, but it doesn't feel appropriate.
"You seem upset."
"You're very observant." She responds spitefully. He looks down at his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry; that was rude. You're not the one that cheated on me and abandoned me."
"No... Charlie?" She takes a drag and holds her breath, nodding. Finally, she has to exhale, so she does and then starts to cry again. It's killing Elvis to sit there and watch her cry without doing something about it. He stands up and offers her his hand. "Come on."
"What? Where are we going?"
"My house is only a block from here. You can cry in private." She looks up at him and he can tell she's thinking about saying no. "I won't hurt you. Come on."
She puts her cigarette out and grabs her purse, taking the hand he offered her. They walk in silence to his house, but they continue to hold hands. When he finally gets her settled on the sofa, he sits next to her and leans back, spreading his legs wide. He's trying to indicate that she can relax and sit comfortably too. To his utter shock, she slips her shoes off and tucks her feet up under herself, also getting comfortable.
"So, he cheated on you?"
"Well, I guess that's not exactly fair."
"What do you mean?"
"I was the one he cheated with. Turns out he's been writing letters to another girl for a while."
"Ohhhh... and you found out about it." He thinks about the girl he writes letters to at home. What would she think of him here on the couch with this girl.
"Yes. I didn't want to be the other woman. Besides I thought he... well... it's stupid."
"What did you think?"
"I thought he wanted to marry me." Elvis's eyebrows shoot straight up before he can stop them. He never thought of Charlie as the marrying kind. Then again, he can understand not wanting to let Vivian go. "See, even you think I'm stupid."
"No, I don't. I think you just had hope. There's nothing wrong with that."
"There is if you're me." He sits up and looks into her eyes. The sadness rolling off of her is about to kill him.
"Why do you say that?" She looks up trying to keep herself from crying, but it doesn't work and fat teardrops slide down her cheeks.
"Everybody leaves me. My father left me. Then my mother left me. The first boy I loved. And now Charlie. Why does everyone leave? What's wrong with me?"
He scoots close to her and pulls her into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. She doesn't object. Instead she lets herself be comforted as she continues to cry. He strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head. The pain of loss is something he's all too familiar with. He takes her face in the palm of his hand and looks into her eyes.
"Viv, this is not your fault. There's nothing wrong with you. I know what it's like to lose people too soon and it hurts. But it's not because of you."
"Why does it feel like no one wants me?" This smashes his heart into a thousand pieces. He wants her so badly it hurts.
"That can't possibly be true." Just tell her. Say it. Say 'I want you.' He wills himself to tell her the truth, but he just can't.
"You're sweet, Elvis." He smiles awkwardly and tries to ignore the fact that she pats his thigh. She leans her head on his shoulder again and snuggles into the side of his body. He knows she's just seeking comfort, so he tries to stay focused on being that. But he is a young man and she is a girl with her hand on his thigh and his imagination is running wild with what would happen if he carried her to his bedroom. He swallows deeply and begs his body not to respond physically to what's in his mind.
Still, there's an electric charge in the air that she has to notice too. Almost at the same time, they pull back and look into each other's eyes. He puts his knuckle under her chin and looks down at her lips. When she closes her eyes, he knows he has the green light, so he leans in and softly presses his lips to hers. Something bubbles up inside him and his hands begin to tremble. He backs up slightly and hovers just above her lips. They both smile and he dives back in for a deeper kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth to slide against hers. She nibbles on his bottom lip a little and he groans. His hands rest on her hips in an attempt to get them to stop shaking and he eventually lifts her into his lap to straddle him. The intensity of their kissing increases as his hands roam over her body.
Suddenly, she pulls back breathlessly.
"Wait. Elvis, do you have a girlfriend back home?" His mouth pops open. He's not sure how to answer. Yes, he has Anita at home, but for the right girl, for her, he'd end that in a heartbeat. "Answer the question."
"Well... I-I-I..."
"That's all I need to hear." She peels herself off of him and stands up, smoothing her hair.
"No, honey, wait-"
"No. You're basically doing the same thing that Charlie just did. All you G.I.s are the same."
"Hon, please-"
"My name is Vivian!"
"Viv, just, don't leave..." she tries to put her heels back on and stumbles to get the second one on. He uses both hands to steady her as she does.
"Elvis, no. Good luck with Priscilla."
"Wait-?"
"You know she's 14."
"She's 14?!"
"So, you know, have fun with that." Vivian stomps towards the door with him close on her heels. He doesn't know how to make her understand that she's all he wants. Priscilla, Anita, none of them compare to her. But he doesn't know how to say that, so instead he watches as she walks out his front door, catches a cab, and disappears from his life.
******
Or so he thinks. In 1961, Elvis is home from the army and back to his film career. In March, he leaves the continental US to get ready to film Blue Hawaii. He arrives and goes to a cast meeting on set where the director is excited to introduce his costar. His first view of her is from behind and his heart skips. Surely it can't be?
"This is Vivian Choquette. She'll be playing your girlfriend, Maile Duval." She turns to face him and smiles awkwardly. Elvis tries to hide his excitement, hoping his trembling hands won't give him away.
"Hello again..."
******
Until chapter 2. Thoughts so far?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):
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Songbird
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Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.
Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969
*
Valerie Pedretti was not at all prepared to meet Elvis Presley. 
If you had told her she would soon come face to face with the biggest star on the planet, she would have probably laughed in your face. Then, if she realized you were actually serious, she would have at least wanted to look nice. Without question, she’d have spent hours in the front of her tiny, chipped, robin’s egg blue vanity primping and preening and making sure her nails were a beautiful crimson red.
Then, she’d have slipped into a knit wrap dress to accentuate her waist or something flirty like that and made sure her chocolate brown locks were curled into place. Her face would be painted to meticulous perfection, having obsessed over every flick of eyeliner, pump of mascara, and swipe of strawberry lip gloss. 
In that alternate reality, Valerie Pedretti would've met Elvis Presley looking every bit the star that he was. But life, with its unpredictable turns, had other plans.
Instead, she found herself dressed for comfort in her oldest and rattiest pair of jeans, her hair a tangled mess, and she’d been schlepping, with great difficulty, what seemed like the two largest suitcases known to man.
As she looked at her reflection in the airport bathroom, Val could see the exhaustion written all over her face. Dark circles sunk in around her eyes and her mascara had smeared from the long flight, leaving streaks down her cheeks. All she wanted was to dart out of the airport, peel off her sweat-slicked clothing, plop into her hotel bed, and start fresh tomorrow. 
It had been a horrendously long day. A simple six-hour flight to Vegas turned into a 19-hour odyssey thanks to inclement weather. On the cab ride to the hotel, she didn’t even care to look at the lights illuminating the strip. Normally, her eyes would have been peeled, taking in all the sights and sounds of Sin City as they flashed by the window and melded into one big neon strobe. Instead, she lay her exhausted head down against the inside of the doorframe and drifted off to sleep.
Before she knew it, she was shaken awoke by the gruff cabby, drool pooling at the side of her mouth. So attractive.“International Hotel,” he grunted, his voice an ice bath. As if on autopilot, Valerie stuffed a few crinkled bills into his hands and spilled out onto the hotel's paved entryway in a crumpled heap. 
An arctic blast of air conditioning jolted her awake. Valerie's legs ached with each step and her shoulders sagged under the weight of her suitcases. The International Hotel engulfed her in its fervor, neon lights winking like overzealous stars against the deep velvet of night. Despite the late hour, the lobby buzzed with life, swarms of people milling about, all dolled up in sequins and slick suits. Elvis memorabilia hawkers were shouting deals, waving glossy photos and gold-lettered albums. Pennants and posters seemed to drape cover every square inch of wall space. And then it hit her, a sinking in her gut—Elvis's debut season. She winced at the oversight.
"Shit," she murmured, shuffling forward.
Suddenly, she felt self-conscious in her t-shirt and Robert Clergerie knock offs. Her mind wandered back to small rooms with peeling wallpaper, where a radio was the gateway to a world beyond. Valerie would press her ear against the cool plastic, letting melodies replace meals she couldn't afford. Singing became her escape, her only luxury. High school years were a blur of odd jobs and makeshift stages, all for that one shot at the spotlight.
When her best friend Deena fell ill, this golden ticket—an audition for Frank Sinatra in Las Vegas—landed in Valerie's hesitant hands, and she was going to take it come hell or high water. Here and now, amidst the glitter and fanfare meant for another.
Someone walking by spilled their drink on her sleeve, bringing her back to reality. Weaving through the crowd, Valerie found her way to the check-in desk. She cleared her throat.
“What’s the name of the reservation?”
“Val—uh, Deena Lovelace.”
The blonde woman with a pixie cut whose nameplate said Brenda thumbed the appointment book and, after what seemed like an agonizing wait, found her tired guest’s name. “I’ve got you! You’re in room 2106. Just a moment, please.” 
In an instant, weighty keys were plunked into her hands. Valerie turned on her heel and hoofed it for her room. The hotel was a dizzying array of turns—this way and that—and in her tired stupor, it reminded her of a twisting maze. Her thudding, ungainly steps were muffled by both the shag carpet and the din of the fans congregating in the reception area. 
However, as she continued her journey, the ambiance gradually shifted. The hum of voices grew fainter, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled she was far from the bustling core of the hotel. Exhaustion tugged at her bones while she navigated the maze of hallways. Her room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but her bed felt worlds away. 
Her steps sunk into the plush carpet as she drifted into a quieter corridor, dimly lit, less traveled. Finally, she found herself in a secluded spot, standing alone in front of an elevator. She pressed the button and waited, arms aching from the weight of her bulging valises. Inner Valerie cursed herself for packing way too much. 
"Must be close now," she told herself, voice barely a whisper.
With no effort at all, she slipped out of her heels and bent her toes backwards and forwards, allowing her feet to relish the plush shag below. It was soft, springy, and just what her aching soles needed. On instinct, she began singing a familiar, yet nameless tune—just a few absentminded bars of sweet little sounds to make the time pass. Notes she’d always turned to when she needed comfort. The thought of washing her face and jumping into bed was the only thing on her mind as the golden doors opened with a tinny ding, only half-startling her out of her exhausted stupor.
The light emanating from the gilt cabin was so intense she hadn’t realized there were people inside. As her eyes adjusted, she quickly shoved her feet back into her shoes, feeling like a complete mess.
"Evening, miss," greeted a man with a shock of red hair and a face peppered with freckles. He held the elevator door with a gesture of gentlemanly politeness, his eyes twinkling with warmth. As she stepped inside, he looked to his companion. The contrast between them was stark.
Beside the redhead in white stood a tall, lean man, exuding an air of effortless elegance. He was dressed head-to-toe in black: sleek trousers, a crisply tailored shirt, and a sharp tuxedo jacket that hung perfectly on his lithe, powerful frame. 
The lone pop of color came from a chic scarf looped around his elegant neck, its pink, black, and white patterns accentuating the perfectly tanned skin. His raven-black hair, styled to perfection, gleamed like quicksilver in the elevator's light. But what really gave him away were the expensive-looking horn-rimmed sunglasses perched atop a flawlessly sculpted nose.
Valerie didn't need a second glance. Even with those sunglasses on, there was no mistaking him. His images, large and in living color, adorned the walls of the hotel's lobby. Everywhere she looked downstairs, his face stared back, and now, she was sharing an elevator with him. 
The redhead caught her gaze and gave a knowing smile. “I see you’ve met my friend Jon Burrows, here.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 
But there was no mistaking it; this was no Jon Burrows. It was him. Elvis fucking Presley. In the flesh. Was she dreaming? Her pulse quickened. Should she say something to him? Would he even acknowledge her? And most importantly, how in the hell did this happen?
Every ounce of self-consciousness about her disheveled appearance vanished instantly, eclipsed by the sheer magnitude of his aura. Her eyes widened to an almost cartoonish extent, and she found herself involuntarily scanning him with exaggerated deliberation—starting from his polished shoes, moving upwards past tailored seams, and culminating at the crown of his meticulously styled hair.
Valerie had never met anyone famous before, let alone a star of his magnitude. 
The man she recognized as Elvis leaned casually against the elevator’s plush wall. His observant eyes, always used to the spotlight, now turned their attention to her. He took in her slumped shoulders and the fatigue etched into her features.
“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, honey?” His voice, usually filled with the charisma of a performer, now carried an undertone of genuine warmth and concern. It startled Valerie. 
She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean, yes. S-something like that." 
Fucking get it together, Valerie. 
"Hey,” he soothed. “I know the feeling.” He flashed a smile that seemed to blind her in the already bright cabin. "My name is Elvis, and this here is Red. And who might you be, honey?" 
As if he needed any introduction. 
A warm blush colored her cheeks. "Val—," she murmured, her eyes darting downwards. “My name is Valerie.” She looked down and breathed a sign of relief. Her shoes were on her feet and not in her hands. 
"Val-e-rie," Elvis repeated, rolling the name over his tongue, savoring every syllable. "That's a beautiful name. Are you in town for a show?"
Valerie shook her head. "Technically, yes. Well, no. Just an audition," she replied, her pulse quickening. Her heart thundered in her ears. She hoped he couldn’t hear it. 
“Who for?”
“Frank Sinatra.”
“Too bad. Could’ve used a pretty little voice like yours in my show. Never hurts to have another one,” he chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief and warmth behind tinted sunglasses. "Well, I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead," Elvis whispered. "You have a lovely voice, I can tell."
Suddenly, Valerie’s cheeks scorched and her stomach rolled. "How d’you mean?"
Elvis laughed again. "Well, darling, I have a sixth sense about these things," he said. He rolled one of his impressive gold rings around his finger. "Plus, I heard you singing a tune just before the doors opened. You're just a li’l songbird, ain’t you?"
Words scattered like startled birds in her mind. Every ounce of air she inhaled seemed charged with energy. First she shares an elevator with Elvis Presley, and now he’s complimenting her? And giving her a nickname? It was almost too much to handle. Deena would just die at having missed this.
Before she could respond, Elvis reached for her hand and clasped it in his own. His icy rings sizzled as they touched her hot, flushed skin. A jolt of electricity coursed through her body. And just as the elevator doors opened, Elvis leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered with genuine sincerity. “Give it your all tomorrow. Knock ‘em dead, songbird.” Valerie shivered, feeling both excited and slightly afraid, and catching a glimpse of what she thought could be a smirk on his full lips. 
Then, wordlessly, smoothly, almost teasingly, he stepped out of the cab alongside Red. All that remained was a cloud of heady, spicy cologne. Shivering, she was left leaning against the cool wall of the elevator, her legs weak.
“What was that?” she muttered to herself in disbelief, frantically pressing the button for her floor. As she ascended, her lungs remembered to breathe again. Her body, coiled like a spring, gradually loosened. Warmth dissipated from between her legs. 
It was the first time that Elvis Presley and Valerie Pedretti would meet, but it would be the last time he would ever forget her. Little did they both know that their paths would cross again, in a way that would change both of their lives forever. 
But for now, Valerie was content to sink into her hotel bed and dream of the handsome stranger she had met in the elevator.
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ladelinee · 17 hours
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I would do anything to get a kiss from Elvis 🤩🤩😍
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vintagepresley · 2 days
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It’s giving model. It’s giving Zoolander’s blue steel.
Lmao, he’s so cute.
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elvisbooty76 · 3 days
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whoever gives out awards in hollywood has the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever
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Elvis and Me (1985) by Priscilla Presley
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hooked-on-elvis · 3 days
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Photo shoot for Love Me Tender (20th Century Fox) and other publicity purposes. September 4-6, 1956. Photographer: Frank Powolny.
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animentality · 1 year
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jhoneybees · 2 days
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Shine bright, handsome❤️
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inthedarktrees · 4 months
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Ruby Hoff lounges on her bed, surrounded by photos of Elvis Presley, listening to Elvis, 1957
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