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pxnsneverland · 25 days ago

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Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 9)

(gif source: austinbutlermischief)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2369

warnings/notes:

Chapter 9: Caught in the Snare

A month later, Angel woke to an empty bed.

The sheets on Elvis's side were cold, indicating he'd been gone for hours. She glanced at the clock – 3:17 AM – and sighed, wrapping herself in a silk robe before padding barefoot through their suite at the International Hotel. The sound of the television led her to the living room where she found Elvis, still in his stage clothes from the night's second show, slumped in an armchair. An empty whiskey bottle lay on its side on the coffee table alongside an open pill bottle, several white tablets scattered across the polished surface.

"Elvis?" she called softly.

He turned to her with glassy eyes, his movements sluggish. "Hey, darlin'," he slurred, attempting a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Angel replied, carefully moving the pill bottle away as she sat on the arm of his chair. "What are you doing up? It's after three."

"Couldn't sleep." He gestured vaguely at the television where a late-night talk show played at low volume. "Mind's racin'."

Angel gently brushed back his hair, damp with sweat despite the room's chill. His skin felt clammy beneath her touch. "The doctor said you need to cut back on the pills, Elvis. They're making it worse, not better."

Elvis's expression hardened. "Doctor doesn't know what it takes to do what I do." He reached for another pill from the scattered few on the table, but Angel caught his wrist.

"Please," she whispered. "You've had enough."

For a moment, she thought he might argue, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm just so tired, Angel," he confessed, his voice breaking. "Tired of the shows, tired of the Colonel's demands, tired of not being able to sleep without these damn pills."

"I know, baby." Angel helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as they walked unsteadily toward the bedroom. She helped him undress. The buttons of his stage shirt were slick with perspiration, and his hands shook as she worked to free him from the elaborate costume.

"The Colonel wants me to add a third show on weekends," Elvis mumbled as Angel helped him into pajamas. "Says the demand is there, the money's too good to pass up."

Angel's jaw tightened, but she kept her voice gentle. "You can barely handle two shows a night. Three would kill you."

"That's what I told him." Elvis sat heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "But—”

“I don’t want a dead husband, Elvis,” Angel said firmly.

Elvis looked up at her, his eyes clearing slightly at the steel in her voice. "Angel—"

"No," she interrupted, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands in hers. "I won't watch you destroy yourself for his greed. I’ll do something about this.”

Elvis squeezed her hands. He pulled her up onto the bed until they were both laying down, their hands still intertwined. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Elvis was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

"I want to go home," he finally whispered still not looking at her, “I want to wake up in our own bed without having to perform for anyone."

Angel's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. "Then let's go home," she said softly.

"The Colonel won't let me," Elvis murmured, his eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion finally began to claim him. “Gotta…protect you. Won’t let him…take you…away.”

“What are you talking about, Elvis?” Angel asked with a furrowed brow.

But Elvis was already sleep. She sighed heavily stroking his hair. She lay beside him for a long while, watching the rise and fall of his chest, noticing how even in sleep, tension lingered in the lines of his face.

***

The bright morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming Angel's face as she sat at the desk in their suite. She'd barely slept after Elvis had finally drifted off, her mind racing.

Jerry knocked softly before entering with a tray of coffee. "Morning, Angel. You look like you've been up all night."

"Almost," she admitted, accepting the steaming cup gratefully. "Is he still asleep?"

Jerry nodded. "Dead to the world. Those pills..." He trailed off, his expression troubled.

“I’m worried about him, Jerry.”

"I'm worried too," Jerry admitted, setting down the tray. "He's pushing himself too hard. The Colonel's got him scheduled for interviews this afternoon, then two shows tonight."

Angel sipped her coffee, her jaw set with determination. "Something's not right. Last night, Elvis said something about protecting me, about not letting the Colonel take me away. It was like he was afraid."

“It’s probably nothing. Just ramblings,” Jerry said softly, “I mean what could the Colonel do now? Ya’ll are married.”

“You know Elvis, Jerry. He’ll kill himself to take care of everybody else,” Angel murmured, knowing she was at the top of that list. “If the Colonel said something to him—”

“Calm down, Angel,” Jerry interrupted before she could spiral. “Now I agree Elvis is being pushed too hard, but don’t go jumping to conclusions.”

Angel considered Jerry's words, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. "I need to speak to the Colonel," she said decisively, setting down her coffee cup.

"That might not be the best idea," Jerry cautioned, lowering his voice and glancing toward the bedroom where Elvis still slept. "The Colonel isn’t your biggest fan.”

"I don’t care what that man thinks of me," Angel replied, standing and smoothing down her dress. "I'm his wife. And I won't stand by while he works himself to death."

Jerry sighed. "At least wait until Elvis wakes up. Talk to him first."

Angel shook her head. "If I do that, he'll just tell me not to worry. He always does. Jerry, I need you to keep Elvis in the room when he wakes up. Tell him I went shopping or something. I'll be back before his first interview."

Jerry looked uncomfortable but nodded reluctantly. "Just... be careful, Angel. The Colonel plays dirty."

Angel kissed his cheek gratefully. "I know.”

***

Colonel Parker's suite at the International Hotel was a stark contrast to the one she shared with Elvis. Where their rooms were filled with personal touches—Elvis's records, Angel's sketches, family photographs—the Colonel's space was impersonal and coldly efficient. A makeshift office had been set up in the living area, files and contracts stacked in neat piles on a large desk.

The Colonel himself sat behind this desk, phone pressed to his ear, when his assistant showed Angel in. His eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of her, but he gave no other indication of surprise.

"I'll have to call you back," he said into the receiver before hanging up. "Mrs. Presley. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Angel remained standing, refusing his gestured invitation to sit. "We need to talk.”

The Colonel leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “About what?”

“About Elvis. About what you’re doing to him.”

"Doing to him? My dear, I'm making him more money than he's ever seen. The Vegas run is breaking records."

"He's killing himself," Angel said bluntly. "The pills, the exhaustion, three shows a night—"

"Two shows," the Colonel corrected smoothly. "Though the demand for a third is certainly there."

"You're considering it?" Angel's voice rose in disbelief. "He can barely function as it is."

The Colonel's smile never wavered, but his eyes hardened. "Mrs. Presley, I understand your wifely concerns, but Elvis is a professional. He knows what's required of him."

Angel stepped closer to the desk, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "He's afraid of you," Angel said, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. "Last night he was mumbling about protecting me from you. What did you threaten him with?"

The Colonel's smile faltered for just a moment before returning, tighter than before. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me," Angel hissed, planting her palms on his desk and leaning forward.

The Colonel's expression darkened, all pretense of civility vanishing. He reached for the intercom on his desk and pressed a button. "Andrews, come in here please."

The door opened almost immediately, and a large man in a dark suit entered. Andrews was at least six-foot-four with shoulders like a linebacker, his face impassive as he assessed the situation. The Colonel gave him a nod and he locked the door. The bodyguard moved with surprising speed for a man his size. Before Angel could react, his massive hand closed around her throat, not quite squeezing but applying enough pressure to make her gasp.

"Easy now, Mrs. Presley," the Colonel said, his voice sickeningly calm as he watched Andrews hold Angel in place. "No need for dramatics."

Angel's eyes blazed with fury even as she struggled to breathe properly. "Let me go," she managed.

The Colonel stood from his desk using his cane to walk over to them. "You see, my dear, you've misunderstood the nature of our arrangement. Elvis may think he's gained some measure of independence by marrying you, but the reality is quite different."

Angel's mind raced, searching for an escape route, but Andrews blocked the only exit. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted—complete control over Elvis Presley's career. And that includes controlling the influences around him." The Colonel leaned in closer to his mouth was right by Angel’s ear. “Sometimes I must remind him of this. After all, getting rid of you is quite easy.”

Angel's blood ran cold as the Colonel's words sank in. "You're threatening me."

"I prefer to think of it as clarifying the situation," the Colonel replied, straightening up. He gestured to Andrews, who released his grip on Angel's throat but remained close enough to grab her again if needed. "You see, Mrs. Presley, Elvis believes he's protecting you by continuing to work himself to death. He thinks that as long as he performs exactly as I demand, I'll leave you alone."

Angel rubbed her throat where Andrews had gripped it, her mind racing. "What did you tell him?"

The Colonel returned to his desk, settling into his chair with a satisfied expression. "Nothing too dramatic. Just that accidents happen in Las Vegas. Beautiful young women can disappear so easily in a city like this. The desert is vast, after all."

"You sick bastard," Angel whispered, horror and disgust churning in her stomach. The Colonel was worse than she'd imagined—not just manipulative, but truly dangerous.

"Crude, perhaps," the Colonel conceded with a shrug. "But effective. Elvis is quite devoted to you, after all. The mere suggestion that harm might come to you was enough to ensure his complete cooperation."

Angel's mind flashed back to Elvis's increasing dependency on pills, his exhaustion, his paranoia, his desperate attempts to please the Colonel despite his deteriorating health. It all made terrible sense now.

"You won't get away with this," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I could go to the police—"

"With what evidence?" the Colonel interrupted, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Your word against mine? The word of a costume designer who managed to marry one of the most famous men in America? They'll think you're after publicity or money."

Angel swallowed hard, her mind racing. The Colonel was right. Without evidence, who would believe her accusations against a man with his connections? But she couldn't let this continue. Elvis was slowly killing himself trying to protect her from a threat she hadn't even known existed.

"What happens now?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

The Colonel regarded her with cold calculation. "Now, Mrs. Presley, you have a choice to make. You can continue this ill-advised crusade against me, in which case I cannot guarantee your safety... or Elvis's continued career." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. "Or you can be the supportive wife Elvis needs. Encourage him to fulfill his commitments, help him manage his... habits, and stay out of business matters."

"You're asking me to help you destroy him," Angel said, disgust evident in her voice.

"I'm asking you to help him succeed," the Colonel corrected smoothly. "Elvis is making more money than he ever has. His career has never been stronger. All I require is that he honor his commitments without... interference."

Angel felt sick to her stomach. "And if I refuse?"

The Colonel's smile turned predatory. "Then Andrews here will escort you on a little trip to the desert. Elvis will be told you simply... left. Couldn't handle the pressure of being married to a star. He'll be heartbroken, of course, but heartbreak can be quite motivating for an artist."

Angel's jaw tightened. "You're insane."

"I'm practical," the Colonel replied. He motioned to Andrew who unlocked the door and opened it. “Good day, Mrs. Presley.”

Angel stepped into the hallway, her legs trembling beneath her as the door closed behind her. She walked back to the suite. She looked into the bedroom. Elvis was still sound asleep. She could hear the shower going and supposed that’s where Jerry had disappeared to. She closed the door to the bedroom again and finally let her legs buckle falling to the floor.

She had underestimated the Colonel, terribly. She had underestimated the entire situation, terribly.Angel sat on the floor of their suite, her back against the bedroom door, trembling as the full weight of her situation crashed down upon her. The Colonel wasn't just manipulating Elvis's career. He was holding both their lives hostage. Every pill Elvis swallowed, every exhausted performance, every sleepless night was the result of his desperate attempt to keep her safe from a monster she hadn't even known was stalking them. What was she going to do? She was only a small town girl. A costume designer. She had no leverage, no nothing. Nothing but her love for Elvis and she couldn’t just watch him suffer. If he kept on like this, he was going to die right on that stage. There had to be a way out of this nightmare.

Stay tuned for part 10!! Click HERE to view!

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presleyslilbaby · 6 months ago

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~Masterlist~

~Feel Free To Request~

Read me before requesting!

Hello! I’m just a writer and an artist hoping to put my work out there and to stop being so shy. If you couldn’t tell already, I really love Elvis, and I like sharing my passions with other people. 💜

!Page Rules!

Bullying will not be tolerated, nor will any kind of hate or harassment, as well as racism/transphobia! If I am not comfortable doing certain types of stories, please do not send hate towards me. We all have limits. Another important rule is that I am only human, and cannot mass-produce stories. So please treat me, and other writers with respect and patience.

Thank you!

(Thanks to @atleastpleasetelephone for giving me a bit of advice on how to fix the problems with my links!)

———————————-

Red colouring means smut! Blue colouring means Agere!

————————————

~1950’s~

~A Little Picky~

~Dig Into Me~

~Telephone, Part 1~

~Cosmetics~

~You Don't Tease Me~

~Lunch Time~

————————————

~1960’s~

~Sweet Sugar~

~Emotional Soup~

~If You Talk In Your Sleep~

~Sleek Leather~

~His Wife~

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~1970’s~

~Take It All Night~

~Birthday Ribbons~

~A Little Gift~

~Mockery~

~Nervous Jams~

~No Playtime~

~Giddy Up~

————————————

~Movies~

Vince Everett

~Did You Take My Advice?~

————————————

Art

~First drawing posted/1976 Elvis~

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mahg-stuff · 1 year ago

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

⸻

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

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

Now enjoy! & pls excuse any errors! 🫶🏻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"El." Mumbled this time.

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

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

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

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

You moved around the bedsheet's to get closer.

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

You replied with furrowed brows, sounding like a child.

He takes notice of your contorted face.

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

He nudges you, and you relax your face quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• Master List

₊ ⊹ Taglist: @fallinlovewithurlove @presleyenterprise @doll-elvis @j-v-9-2 @myradiaz @codalysssssworld @caitskywalker14 @claire-elvisgirl @jaqueline19997 @ash-omalley @spooky-hazex @presleysweetheart @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates

₊ ⊹ Get added to Taglist for future stories here. ♡

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presleyheart · 1 year ago

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Yall ain't ready for this.

#elvis x oc #elvis the pelvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis fans #elvis the king #elvis fandom #elvisaaronpresley #fanfic #angst #angst with a happy ending #light angst #drabble #fluff

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stvolanis · 5 months ago

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sooooo apparently Elvis’ stillborn twin brother, Jesse, is actually alive and claiming to be Elvis? what’s happening

#stvolanis #drabble #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #70s elvis #60s elvis #elvis music #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvis history #wtf is going on #I need answers #Is this true or false 😭#craaazy work

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melancholicbutterflies · 2 years ago

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Taglist

If you'd like to be added to my taglist so that you can be notified first hand for future stories of mine, please reply to this post with your addy and I shall be more than glad to include you :)

If there is a specific ongoing story you'd like to be added to ONLY, please specify i.e. "your name - story". Otherwise, I will tag you in all story posts.

#taglist #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis #elvis presley #melancholicbutterflies #elvis fans #elvis fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #elvis one shot #elvis mini series #elvis drabble

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bunnydexterloveselvis · 1 year ago

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WAIT

I FOUND A FIC THAT WAS LIKE

AN ECU CHARACTER (i forgot who) X JESS WADE (another ecu character)

I WASN'T AWARE WE WERE SHIPPING HIS MOVIE CHARACTERS TOGETHER NOW?????????

whatever im gonna go make ship charts and fanart

#elvis presley #elvis #dexter.txt #dexter posts #no i fr wasn't aware of this #and the little drabble was so cute too #oh boy #tbh i've always seen a weird possible combo with vince and clint #idk they are just so baby #i was joking the other day about the elvis fandom almost “onceler-ing it” and shipping the same character together #but even though they are played by the same person i don't think it counts??? they *are* different people who just have the same actor so #they aren't really the same character i guess #oh and i see mooodyblue shipping e and aus together #that is soooo cute #<3 #love em love em love emmmm #love them so much #the babies #ADORBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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youaintnothinbuta · 1 year ago

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“Do you have to show off?” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: Drabble where you and Elvis are hanging out when a tickle fight breaks out and the only thing you can think of to stop him is to kiss him and so your first kiss happens

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 405

Warnings: none!! Drabble fluff <3

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Elvis had come over to your house for dinner, and you were now in your bedroom, chatting away. You lounged on your bed, flipping through a magazine. Across the room, Elvis sat on the floor, surrounded by stacks of vinyl records, his fingers skimming over the worn covers as he searched for the perfect one to play.

You watched him from your spot on the bed, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as he meticulously sorted through your collection. Finally, he plucked a record from the pile, carefully placing it on the turntable before lowering the needle onto the spinning vinyl. He soon started singing along with the record, his smooth croon making your heart beat faster. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Do you have to show off?” You feigned irritation, rolling your eyes. Though secretly you loved whenever he’d start singing (who didn’t?).

"You know, you're lucky to have me here to serenade you," he quipped, his playful tone bringing a laugh to your lips.

You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation, reaching for the nearest teddy bear and hurling it in his direction. It hit him square in the face, eliciting a fake yelp. Elvis sprang to his feet, his eyes dancing with mischief as he ran toward you. You scrambled to get up from the bed, attempting to flee from his grasp, but he was too quick. With a swift motion, he captured you around the waist, pulling you into his embrace.

“Gotcha,” he declared triumphantly, his fingers finding the most ticklish spots on your sides. You erupted into a chorus of giggles and laughter, squirming in his arms as he mercilessly tickled you. “Elvis, Elvis, E, I can't—“ You gasped between breathless laughter, your protests falling on deaf ears as his fingertips continued to roam your skin. In an attempt to get him to let you go, your hands found their way to either side of his face, and before you could overthink it, you pressed your lips to his. He stopped, sinking into your kiss. His hands found the small of your back, pulling you into him. You broke the kiss, looking into his bright blue eyes, finding nothing but warmth and affection.

“You're perfect,” Elvis mumbled, his voice soft and sincere. You sat tangled together on the bedroom floor, he kissed you on the cheek, and you just allowed him to hold you.

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dreamingofep · 2 years ago

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Your vampire Elvis series gives me life. Thank you for writing it. Seriously, it's my favorite. You write so well!

And vampire!E makes my knees weak 🥵🫠🤤

Anon you made my whole day! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

I’m so glad you’re loving this series! It’s also one of my favorites I’ve written so far and am having so much fun seeing everyone’s reactions.

I completely get you, vampire!Elvis makes me so weak and desperate for him😝 I need him to suck on my neck and drive me insane too.

I can’t wait to put the next part out!

I must leave you with some of my favorite vampire!Elvis pictures that make me have quite the ✨thoughts✨😏 Him in velvet GOD TAKE ME NOW🥴🫠😈😈😈🩸🩸🩸

If any of you wanna read from the beginning, you can read it here.

#I love you nonnie #seriously love you all #thank you for reading my little drabbles #vampire elvis has me in a chokehold #I don’t want him to let me go #elvis presley #elvis fans #sinned awakening #flood my inbox

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pxnsneverland · 8 days ago

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Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 10)

(gif source: feralgodmothers)

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 3365

warnings/notes: Writing this chapter made me break my OWN heart!! TW: drugs, overdose

Chapter 10: Held Hostage

A week later, Angel stood in the wings of the showroom, watching Elvis perform his second show of the night. The audience was enthralled, but Angel could see the slight tremor in his hands when he wasn't gripping the microphone or the occasional moment when his eyes lost focus before snapping back to the present.

"He's pushing through on sheer willpower," Jerry murmured beside her.

“And those shots The Colonel’s doctor friend gives him,” she almost hissed, “Plus the pills.”

Jerry's expression darkened. "Dr. Nichols isn't even a real doctor. He's some quack the Colonel keeps on payroll. Those shots he gives Elvis... nobody knows what's in them."

Angel's stomach churned as she watched Elvis stumble slightly during "Love Me Tender," catching himself just in time to make it look like part of the choreography. She hadn't told Elvis about her confrontation with the Colonel. How could she? The knowledge would only add to his burden or it might push him to do something reckless.

"We have to do something," she whispered.

"Like what?" Jerry asked helplessly. "The Colonel's got him locked up tighter than Fort Knox. And after what happened to Scotty..."

Angel turned sharply. "What happened to Scotty?"

Jerry's face went pale. "I thought you knew. Scotty Moore—Elvis's old guitar player from the Sun Records days. He tried to convince Elvis to leave the Colonel a few years back, said he'd help him break free." Jerry's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "They found him beaten half to death in a Memphis alley. Doctors said he'd never play guitar the same way again."

The blood drained from Angel's face. “The Colonel.”

Jerry nodded. “Can’t prove it, but I know he paid someone to do it. Scotty never said anything. He just up and disappeared from Elvis’s life completely. It really hurt him.”

On stage, Elvis was transitioning into "Can't Help Falling in Love," his voice breaking slightly on the high notes. Angel watched him scan the audience, and when his eyes found hers in the wings, he smiled. It was broken and tired. Yet he still looked at her like she was his entire world even if only for a brief moment before he looked back at the audience. Angel felt her heart shatter at that tender look. He was killing himself for her, and she had to find a way to save him. As Elvis finished his final number, the crowd roared to their feet, but Angel could see the way he swayed slightly, how his smile became fixed and mechanical as he took his bows.

When he finally staggered off stage, she was there to catch him, slipping her arm around his waist. "I've got you," she whispered, helping him navigate the backstage hallways.

"Just need to sit down a minute," Elvis mumbled, his speech slightly slurred. "Then we can meet those casino folks the Colonel wants us to schmooze."

"No more meetings tonight," Angel said firmly, guiding him toward their suite. "You're done."

Elvis started to protest but seemed to lack the energy. By the time they reached the elevator, he was leaning heavily against her, his breathing labored. Jerry followed close behind.

Once inside their suite, Angel helped Elvis to the bed. His hands trembled as she removed his sweat-soaked jumpsuit, replacing it with soft pajamas. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he murmured, his eyes struggling to focus on her face. "Don't know what's wrong with me lately."

Angel bit back tears as she stroked his damp hair. "It's not your fault, baby. You just need rest."

"Colonel won't like it," Elvis said, his voice taking on a childlike worry that broke her heart. "Said I gotta meet those people. Important for business."

"I'll handle the Colonel," Angel promised, though she had no idea how. "You just sleep now."

Elvis's eyes were already closing, exhaustion claiming him before he could respond. Angel waited until his breathing evened out before slipping from the bedroom. Jerry waited in the living room, pacing anxiously.

"He's getting worse," Angel said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “That man is killing him and he doesn’t even care.”

Angel stood in the dimly lit living room, watching Elvis's chest rise and fall in the bedroom beyond. His breathing was labored even in sleep, and she could see the faint tremor that never quite left his hands anymore.

Jerry poured himself a whiskey from the bar, his movements sharp with frustration. "We can't keep pretending this is sustainable, Angel. He's always five minutes away from collapsing. And the Colonel just has his pet doctor pump him full of that stuff and pushes him back on stage."

"I know," Angel whispered, her voice breaking. She moved to the window, staring out at the neon wasteland of the Strip. "Jerry, I need to tell you something. About my meeting with the Colonel."

Jerry set down his glass. "What meeting?"

Angel turned to face him. "Last week, when I went to confront him about the schedule. He threatened me."

Jerry's face went pale. "What kind of threat?"

"The permanent kind," Angel said grimly. "He has a bodyguard—Andrews. Made it very clear that I could disappear into the desert if I didn't stay in line." She rubbed her throat unconsciously, remembering the pressure of the man's grip. "That's why Elvis is pushing himself so hard. The Colonel told him that as long as he performs exactly as demanded, I'll be safe."

Jerry sank into a chair, running his hands through his hair. "Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not just controlling Elvis’s career anymore. He’s holding him hostage. Maybe me too,” Angel continued, “And Elvis doesn't even know I found out. He's killing himself trying to protect me.”

"We have to tell him," Jerry said immediately.

Angel shook her head. “We can’t, Jerry. In his current state, he can’t handle it. It would break what little control he still has over himself and push him to do something that may get us both killed. The Colonel is just crazy enough to do it. Elvis Presley is probably worth more dead than alive.”

Jerry stared at her, the implication sinking in. "You think the Colonel would actually—"

"I think he's a desperate man watching his golden goose slip away," Angel interrupted. "And desperate men do desperate things. The Colonel has all these gambling debts he thinks no one knows about. Odds are he was threatened with the same plan he has for me. As long as Elvis keeps making money, Colonel Parker doesn’t end up ‘disappearing’ in the desert himself.” She moved to the bar, pouring herself a small whiskey with shaking hands.

Jerry's eyes lit up with understanding. "We could get the real authorities involved. Medical board, maybe even the FBI if we can prove everything the Colonel is doing.”

“Medical board,” Angel said slowly, her mind working, “If we could prove Elvis’s health is in danger and get him to a real doctor for evaluation, they would put him in rehab. It would keep Elvis away from The Colonel long enough for us to dig up the proof we need for the authorities.” Angel set down her glass, feeling the first spark of hope she'd had in weeks. “With all that evidence, the judge will have no choice but to rule in favor of Elvis. He would get his estate, all his own assets and The Colonel would be left with no control over anything having to do with Elvis Presley. And he wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

"That's not going to be easy. The Colonel keeps that stuff locked up tighter than—"

A soft groan from the bedroom interrupted him. Angel hurried to Elvis's side, finding him thrashing restlessly, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool room.

"Mama," he mumbled, his voice filled with distress. "Don't let them take her away."

"Shh," Angel soothed, stroking his hair. "I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

Elvis's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. "Angel? That really you?"

"Yes, it's me." She leaned down to kiss his forehead, tasting salt. "You were having a bad dream."

"Felt so real," he whispered, his hand searching for hers. "The Colonel... he said he was gonna hurt you if I didn't..." His voice trailed off as confusion clouded his features.

Angel's heart clenched. Even in his drugged state, the fear was eating at him. "Nobody's going to hurt me, Elvis. I promise."

"Can't let anything happen to you," he said, gripping her hand with surprising strength. "You're all I got left that's real."

"I'm not going anywhere," Angel repeated, but she could see he was already drifting back into sleep.

When Elvis's breathing evened out again, Angel returned to Jerry in the living room. "We need to move fast," she said quietly. "Tomorrow, while Elvis is sleeping off tonight's show, I want you to call Dr. Preston in Memphis. The one who treated Elvis before the Colonel brought in his pet quack."

Jerry nodded. "Dr. Preston's a good man. He'll tell us the truth about what those shots are doing to him."

Jerry hesitated, his expression troubled. "What if the Colonel finds out?"

"He won't," Angel said with determination. "We'll be careful. This might be our only chance to save Elvis."

***

Three days later, Angel sat in a small diner off the Strip, far from the International Hotel's watchful eyes. She'd chosen this location carefully. Somewhere the Colonel or his network of informants would be unlikely to spot her. The vinyl booth squeaked as she shifted nervously, checking her watch for the third time in five minutes.

The bell above the door jingled, and Dr. George Preston entered. He was a distinguished man in his early sixties, with silver hair and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Angel recognized him immediately from the photos Elvis had shown her from his early career.

"Mrs. Presley," he said quietly, sliding into the booth across from her. "I came as soon as I could."

"Thank you for meeting me," Angel replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know who else to turn to."

The waitress approached, and they ordered coffee, waiting until she was out of earshot before continuing their conversation.

"Jerry explained the situation," Dr. Preston said, his expression grave. "Based on what you've described, I'm deeply concerned about Elvis's condition."

Angel leaned forward, her hands wrapped tightly around her coffee cup. “This Dr. Nichols that the Colonel brought in—Elvis trusts him because the Colonel says he’s helping. But he shoots Elvis up with this special cocktail of drugs just so he can function during the day and gives him pills so he can sleep at night. It happens so often Elvis has become dependent on them now—addicted.”

Dr. Preston's jaw tightened. "I've heard of Nichols. He lost his license in California three years ago for over-prescribing controlled substances. The fact that he's treating Elvis..." He shook his head grimly.

"What can we do?" Angel asked desperately. "Elvis is deteriorating right before my eyes, and the Colonel has him so terrified of what might happen to me that he won't even consider getting help."

Dr. Preston leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "There's a procedure called an involuntary psychiatric hold. If I can examine Elvis and determine that he's a danger to himself due to substance abuse, I can have him committed to a treatment facility for seventy-two hours minimum."

Angel's eyes widened. "But Elvis would never agree to be examined. The Colonel would never allow it."

"He doesn't have to agree," Dr. Preston said quietly. "If I witness his condition firsthand and can document the severity of his impairment, I can petition the court for an emergency intervention. The key is getting me close enough to observe him during one of his episodes."

Angel's mind raced. "Tonight. He has two shows tonight, and by the second one..." She trailed off, the reality of what she was suggesting hitting her. "But if the Colonel finds out I brought you there..."

"Mrs. Presley," Dr. Preston said gently, "from what you've told me, your husband is dying. Slowly, perhaps, but dying nonetheless. Sometimes we have to take risks to save the people we love."

Angel nodded. "What do you need from me?"

"Get me backstage during his second show. I need to see him when he's at his worst, document his condition, maybe get a blood sample if possible." Dr. Preston's expression was grave. "And Angel... once I start this process, there's no going back. The Colonel will know you were involved."

Angel thought of Elvis's trembling hands, his glazed eyes, the way he could barely stand after performances. "I don't care what happens to me. I just want my husband back."

Dr. Preston reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Then we do this tonight."

***

The showroom was packed as usual for Elvis's 11 PM show. Angel stood in her customary spot in the wings. Elvis was struggling. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, his banter between songs rambling and occasionally incoherent. Halfway through "Suspicious Minds," he forgot the lyrics, covering by turning the microphone to the audience. Angel put a hand over her mouth trying to remain patient. Jerry was working on getting Dr. Preston backstage this very moment. All she had to do was hold out until the end of the show. Once the show ended, Dr. Preston would see Elvis, would see how terrible he looked, and everything would be fine. She just had to be patient.

As Elvis launched into his final number, Angel noticed the Colonel watching from the opposite wing, his expression impassive as he observed his star's struggle. When their eyes met across the stage, Angel felt a chill run down her spine. The moment Elvis finished his closing bow, Angel moved quickly through the backstage corridors toward his dressing room. She had to reach him before Dr. Nichols arrived and she only had about 15 minutes.

Angel pushed through the crowd of stagehands and musicians, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally walked into the dressing room, she found Elvis slumped in a chair before the mirror, his jumpsuit soaked with sweat, makeup running down his face.

"Elvis," she said softly, closing the door behind her.

He turned to her with unfocused eyes. "Angel... that you, baby?"

"It's me." She knelt before him, taking his trembling hands in hers. Up close, his condition was even worse than she'd feared. His pupils were pinpoints, his breathing shallow and irregular. "Elvis, I need to talk to you about something important."

"Gotta... gotta rest first," he slurred, reaching for a small silver pill box on the dressing table. "Just need somethin' to take the edge off."

Angel caught his wrist. "No more pills, Elvis. Please."

"Don't understand," he muttered, pulling away from her grip with surprising strength. "Need 'em to keep goin'. For you."

"For me?" Angel's voice broke. "Elvis, you're killing yourself."

"Doesn't matter." He fumbled with the pill box, spilling several white tablets onto the table. "Colonel says... says I gotta keep performin' or..." His words trailed off as he scooped up the pills with shaking hands.

"Elvis, listen to me," Angel pleaded, trying again to take the pills from his hand. "You don't need these. You need real help."

"Can't stop now," Elvis mumbled, jerking his hand away. Before she could stop him, he tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. "Colonel's waitin'.”

Elvis pushed himself up from the chair, his eyes suddenly wide and unfocused. "I just need to—" His words cut off as his legs buckled beneath him. He crashed to the floor with a sickening thud, his body going rigid before beginning to convulse violently.

"Elvis!" Angel screamed, crawling over to him. His eyes had rolled back in his head, foam forming at the corners of his mouth as his limbs jerked uncontrollably. “No! Elvis! Help! Somebody help us!"

The door burst open as Jerry rushed in, followed closely by Dr. Preston. The doctor immediately knelt beside Elvis, placing his medical bag on the floor.

"What happened?" Dr. Preston demanded, checking Elvis's pulse.

"He took pills—I don't know how many," Angel sobbed, clutching Elvis's hand. "He was already drugged from something Dr. Nichols gave him before the show."

Dr. Preston worked with practiced efficiency, rolling Elvis onto his side to prevent him from choking. "His pulse is erratic, breathing shallow. Classic signs of an overdose." He reached into his bag and pulled out a syringe. "This is naloxone. It might counteract whatever opioids are in his system, but we need to get him to a hospital immediately."

"What the hell is going on here?" the Colonel bellowed from the open door. Andrews’s massive form was looming behind him like a shadow.

"He's overdosing," Dr. Preston said without looking up, his focus entirely on his patient. "We need to get him to a hospital immediately."

The Colonel stepped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. "That won't be necessary. Dr. Nichols is on his way."

"This man needs emergency medical attention," Dr. Preston insisted, checking Elvis's pulse again. "Whatever cocktail of drugs he's been given has pushed his system to the breaking point."

The Colonel's eyes narrowed as he studied Dr. Preston. "And who might you be?"

"This is Dr. George Preston," Angel said, rising to her feet to face the Colonel. Her voice shook but her stance was firm. "Elvis's doctor from Memphis. A real doctor."

Understanding dawned on the Colonel's face, followed by cold fury. "I see," he said softly, his quiet tone more terrifying than his earlier shout. "Mrs. Presley, it seems you've made a very serious mistake."

"The only mistake I made was letting you continue killing my husband!"

"Security!" the Colonel barked, his face reddening. "Get this man out of here!"

Andrews stepped forward, reaching for Dr. Preston, but the doctor held his ground. "Touch me, and I'll have you arrested for interfering with emergency medical care," he warned, "This man is experiencing a life-threatening overdose."

The sound of Elvis's labored breathing filled the momentary silence. His convulsions had subsided, but his skin had taken on a bluish tinge that made Angel's heart stutter with fear. She grabbed scissors off of Elvis’s vanity table holding tight and pointing them at Andrews who continued to inch closer. “Don’t you come near my husband.”

For a brief moment, something like uncertainty flickered across Andrews's face. The Colonel caught it and turned on him with a snarl. "I said get him out!"

Before Andrews could move, the door burst open again. Jerry entered, followed by two uniformed paramedics wheeling a stretcher.

"Thank God," Dr. Preston breathed, immediately directing the paramedics. "Suspected polydrug overdose. I've administered naloxone but his response is minimal. Respiration is shallow, pulse irregular."

The Colonel stepped between the paramedics and Elvis. "This is a private matter. Elvis Presley is under contract to perform tomorrow night, and I cannot allow—"

“I’m his wife. I have the power to make his medical decisions. Take him now.” Angel kept her eyes on the Colonel dropping the scissors from her hand.

"Out of my way," the first paramedic said, his voice firm as he pushed past the Colonel.

Andrews moved forward, but the Colonel held up his hand, stopping him. A cold calculation had replaced the fury in his eyes.

"Very well," he said, his voice suddenly reasonable. "Elvis's health must come first, of course."

Angel didn't trust the abrupt change, but she had no time to dwell on it as the paramedics worked quickly to stabilize Elvis and transfer him to the stretcher. His body looked unnaturally still now, the vibrant performer reduced to a pale, unconscious shell.

"I'm coming with him," she insisted.

Dr. Preston nodded. "I'll follow in my car."

As they wheeled Elvis from the dressing room, the Colonel stepped close to Angel, his voice pitched low enough that only she could hear.

"You've made your move, Mrs. Presley. Now I'll make mine."

Angel felt ice spread through her veins, but she refused to show fear. "Do your worst," she whispered back. "But you won't hurt him anymore."

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

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thefeverburningalive · 2 months ago

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hi love!!

would you be willing to do a billie x fem!best friend!reader? just something sweet - it could either be platonic or them like being two clueless idiots in love, whatever you’d like!!

𝖲𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖣𝖩

billie eilish x fem! reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request! here’s a short and cute little drabble, i hope you enjoy my love <3

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

my requests are open <3

⋆.˚ ⋆.˚✮˚.⋆ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ⋆.˚✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚

singing, dancing, laughter, music. this was a typical thursday night for you and billie. it was routine, every thursday night billie comes to your apartment and spends the night. it was a totally normal best friend activity. “sooo what do you wanna listen to? i just started listening to this amazing album, have you ever heard of this singer billy eyelash?” you giggled while billie rolled her eyes playfully at your comments. “you’re sooo funny oh em gee!!” she spoke in a fake valley girl accent which made your stomach erupt with laughter. after the laughing died down you returned to the topic. “okay but actually what do you wanna listen to?” billie gave your question some thought before shrugging her shoulders. “just pick whatever.” you nodded at her response while connecting your phone to the speaker you kept in your living room. “welp i can’t decide either so we’re leaving it up to the dj.”

‘what’s up y/n, this is your dj x…’

upbeat music started to play through the speakers, and for the first few songs, you and billie just sat comfortably on your couch and talked. conversations where never awkward or uncomfortable with billie, she’s always been your person. it’d be hard to deny the fact that as your friendship progressed over the years- you found yourself becoming a bit smitten with your best friend. falling for your best friend was such a cliche, and you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. billie’s always had a flirtatious personality, so you could just never be certain how she felt about you. in turn you pushed those feelings deep down and reminded yourself that she’s too important in your life to lose over some silly crush.

about four songs in, pink pony club by chappell roan started playing, which billie immediately stood up and grabbed your arm. “dude dance with me right fucking now i LOVE this song.” she pulled you up before she even finished her sentance, making more laughs escape from your lips. the two of you jumped up and down and sang at the top of your lungs, using tv remotes as microphones and putting on the best worst performance ever. when one banger ended, another one began, which turned into fifteen minutes of chaotic dance karaoke. after the last song finished out, both of you where out of breath, but wore the biggest smile anyway.

‘next up, we’re gonna change the vibe to something slower..’

the sound of thrill of your love by elvis presley soon echoed throughout your apartment. being that this was a slow and romantic song, you go to sit down with a sigh- slightly sad the moment with billie was over. before your body could reach the couch, you feel soft fingers intertwine with yours. your eyes meet billie’s as you turn around. “what you don’t wanna slow dance with meeee?” billie spoke in a slightly joking tone, but it was mixed with something you couldn’t put your finger on. a smile spread across your lips as she pulled you back to the center of the room where you’d been before. “i guess you may have this dance eilish.” billie grins at your response. she takes a step closer, allowing you to be engulfed by the smell of her rich musky perfume. she gently places her hands on your hips, holding them as if she’d done it a million times before. “is this okay?” she spoke in a soft voice, barley above a whisper. the intimacy of the moment sent butterflies through your stomach. not trusting the stability of your voice, you simply nodded yes.

trying to casually go with the flow, you put your hands on her shoulders. the lack of space between you and the best friend you may or may not be in love with was making your heart rate spike. she smiled and hummed along with the song, slowly swaying the two of you back and fourth. you eventually eased into the moment, allowing yourself to relax and just go about naturally. billie noticed you start to relax which made her smile grow. she removed her hands and proceeded to twirl you, which caused you to chuckle. after your spin she placed her hands back onto your hips, pulling you even closer. heat started to spread across your cheeks, and you proceeded to look down to avoid her eye contact. her right arm slid up from your hip to cup your cheek- forcing you to hold eye contact. her icy blue eyes captivated yours. “billie..?” it felt like if you spoke any louder than a whisper, the moment would shatter like glass. without a word- billie leaned down and place a soft kiss apon your lips.

after the realization hit you, you closed your eyes and melted into the kiss. it was soft and gentle. you moved your arms to hang around her neck instead of her shoulders, and she once again pulled you impossibly closer. the kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like eons. the loss of her lips on yours caused you to open your eyes. it felt like your entire body was on fire from the amount of nervousness you felt. billie had a soft smile on her face as her thumb rubbed up and down on your cheek. “i’m glad i got this dance.” billie’s words pulled more giggles from your lips. “i’m glad i put on my dj.”

#billie eilish #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish angst #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x female reader #fluff #wlw fanfic #x reader #spotify

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presleyvinyl · 3 months ago

Text

ELVIS PRESLEY MASTERLIST

PROMPTS - OPEN

About prompts: I can and will deny prompts if I don't feel comfortable writing them!

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄: ˢᶜᵃᵗ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵖˡᵃʸ ʳᵃᵖᵉ/ⁿᵒⁿ-ᶜᵒⁿ

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: some of my fics (the ones I first posted) will be getting deleted and others too. I've also decided to take a break with a lot of smut and posts more fluff (smut once or twice and then fluff most of the time, so still writing it just not always) because I'm getting a bit tired of writing NSFW. For the one-shots I've decided to remove that category and put those fics with BD!EP category, I think it'll make it a lot more easier. M̳o̳s̳t̳ o̳f̳ m̳y̳ f̳i̳c̳s̳ d̳o̳ c̳o̳n̳t̳a̳i̳n̳ h̳e̳a̳v̳y̳ s̳m̳u̳t̳, i̳f̳ y̳o̳u̳'r̳e̳ n̳o̳t̳ a̳ f̳a̳n̳ o̳f̳ t̳h̳a̳g̳, p̳l̳e̳a̳s̳e̳, j̳u̳s̳t̳ i̳g̳n̳o̳r̳e̳ i̳t̳ a̳n̳d̳ d̳o̳n̳'t̳ o̳p̳e̳n̳ t̳h̳e̳ c̳u̳t̳. T̳h̳a̳t̳'s̳ w̳h̳y̳ t̳h̳e̳r̳e̳'s̳ a̳ c̳u̳t̳ t̳h̳e̳r̳e̳ a̳n̳d̳ t̳a̳g̳s̳/w̳a̳r̳n̳i̳n̳g̳s̳. Please, don't be upset, just something I want to do and will be trying out.

Welcome to my Elvis Presley master list! Here, you'll find all my writings related to the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. This list will be updated regularly, so be sure to check back for new content!

✦ Series ✦

Caring For Presley | Part 1 | Part 2| 1973 Elvis | UNFINISHED

✦60s!Elvis✦

Aloha, Love - early 60s Hawaii Elvis | SMUT | 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 | one shot

Pretty Mess | 1960 EP | SMUT |

Messy & Wrecked | 1969 EP | SMUT | Subby!EP | unnamed!man x Elvis x reader

✦ Big Daddy!Elvis✦

Jetstream Hearts - 1974!Elvis | ANGST | Part 1 | Part 2 | ℂ𝕆𝕄ℙ𝕃𝔼𝕋𝔼𝔻

Lil' Lamb | Vampire!E.P | Part 1 |

Hush Now | 1975!E.P | DD/LG | Fluff

Backseat Riding | Any timeline of BD!EP | SMUT

After concert hours - early 70s EP | SMUT

A Sight To See - early 70s EP | Fluff

An Angry Presley Is A Rough Presley | early 70s EP | SMUT

Branding The Brat | early 70s EP | SMUT

Little Trouble | 1972!EP | Fluff

✦drabbles✦

Left Behind - 1975! Elvis | double drabble

All My Love - early 1970s!Elvis | double drabble

Oh, My Angel - early 1972!Elvis | double drabble

Marked Up - 1970!Elvis | double drabble

Ocean Dream - early 70s Elvis | Triple Drabble

✦protective!dom!husband!Elvis (p!dom!h!EP) - collection of fics (some may/may not be connected and none are/will be in order)✦

Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere, Baby - 1973!Elvis | SMUT (spanking)

Hands Off My Baby - 1973!Elvis | SMUT

✦Jess Wade✦

None yet

✦Dr. John Carpenter✦

Unorthodox Treatment | SMUT

✦Walter Hale✦

None yet

✦Stepdaddy!EP - collection of fics (some may/may not be connected and none are/will be in order)✦

Under The Table | SMUT

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis the pelvis #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley x you #elvis presley smut

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atleastpleasetelephone · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

Hello! I write for Elvis Presley and his film characters. You can see my series and oneshots below.

I am not currently putting new work on Tumblr. My old stories are being migrated to Archive Of Our Own, and any new writing will be found there. You can find my page here.

Please do not steal my work. If I find out you are doing that you will be blocked no questions asked.

~~Requests are closed~~

It's unlikely that I will be writing requests again. But in case I choose to do so in the future, I'd appreciate it if you could familiarise yourself with my work before you send a request.

Some general guidelines: 50s E is not my favourite to write, he's just a baby to me! So requests featuring him are less likely to be written. I don't write army!Elvis. I'm unlikely to write domestic fluff and wifey stuff, and pregnancy/fluff about babies is a hard no. Pretty much everything else is fair game, though if I'm not interested I simply won't write it.

☆☆Requests received when my requests are closed will be deleted☆☆

Series

Series Masterlist

All of my series in one place! All of these feature OCs apart from one.

One shots

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

31 kinky prompts and 31 kinky fics!

BDE oneshots masterlist

All of my Big Daddy Elvis oneshots in one place. Nearly all of these are smutty and angsty.

Princess masterlist

A series of oneshots about early 70s Elvis and his kinky girlfriend trying out new toys in the bedroom.

Little Mouse masterlist

A series of oneshots, starting in the late 60s during filing of Charro! and continuing into the 70s. Elvis and his initially innocent girlfriend have some fun in the bedroom.

Dolly masterlist

A series of oneshots featuring Elvis and his blonde didzy girlfriend. Dom/sub themes.

Dominant!Elvis masterlist

All my oneshots where Elvis is dominant. These are all smutty and a lot of them are kinky too.

Submissive!Elvis masterlist

All my oneshots where Elvis is submissive. These are all smutty and all kinky.

Oneshot masterlist - Elvis/men

All of my oneshots where Elvis is paired with a man.

Oneshot masterlist - everything else

These are my oneshots that I couldn't categorise elsewhere! Some fluffy, some smutty, a real mixture.

Drabbles

Drabble Masterlist

All of my stories that are under 1k words. Some fluff, some smut, some a little of both! A few of these are from prompts of touching the other person in some way.

Film characters

Film character masterlist

All of my stories featuring Elvis' film characters. Some fluffy, most smutty.

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @epletsplayhouse @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @presleyhearted @lvrdollep @nebulamorada @iloveelvis2 @18lkpeters @elvisbdoll

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reidfucker · 1 year ago

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two left feet

dr. spencer reid knows how to dance. keyword, knows how to — not that he's any good at actually, physically performing it.

or dr. spencer reid asks you to waltz with him.

an itty bitty reid drabble as i try to familiarize myself with tumblr. no beta or second thoughts at all !!! i typed all of this out experimentally. (update: edited it a tad :–D)

oh, and spencer is a trans man. it's not explicitly stated or dwelt upon, but i hope you know.

once reid gets into something, he gets into it. lately, he's been reading up on dancing: in particular, the waltz.

in his silently agreed on corner of the couch, with his feet in your lap as you sat beside him. you see him reading the waltz book, whatever that entailed.

it wasn't uncommon for spencer to be interested by things he completely hadn't dabbled in the past. he usually accumulated facts on a multitude of topics, storing each trinket of knowledge for later use. though, he hardly ever applied those skills after getting familiar with them.

this time, he closes the book, thinking to himself. you can't help but giggle to yourself and wonder, what is so thought-provoking about the waltz? but reid finds something to ponder on even in the most mundane things, so there's no need to question.

"hm." reid hums, getting your attention.

"spence?" you can visibly see his train of thought derail.

"oh– um– i was just wondering if..." he considers his words, "i was just going to ask if you'd like to dance with me."

you grin, "aw, of course. who am i to decline you?"

"um... i'm no good yet. but hey, what's learning without trying?" he gives a shy smile, getting on his feet pushing up his reading glasses, instead of taking them off. you told him he looked cute in glasses, and he'd look cute nonetheless, but you noticed he wears them more often now.

"what songs go well with the dance you have in mind?" you say, browsing through your cd collection.

"would it be cliché if i said 'cant help falling in love' by elvis presley?" spencer stands slightly behind you, sort of waiting for you.

"yeah... very cliché. but it's okay, i'll play it anyway." you can't help but grin at how anxious he is about nearly everything.

"well, it's because my mother loves that song. well, used to, now she can hardly remember things."

you turn to him once the cd is in place, "you don't need to explain yourself to me, spencer. i like the song." you reassure him, "now... shall we dance?" you hold a hand out.

spencer gladly takes your hand, gladly taking charge. you've never danced before, and it's evident that spencer hasn't either, but strangely, you feel like the ceramic couples spinning together inside a music box.

he closes his eyes, following the rhythm, visualizing the images from the textbook.

what a mind, you think. it would be nice to live inside his brain: to know every thought before it's fully processed, to see what images flash through his mind, to watch the connections between lines from books and quotes an unsub dropped.

on the other hand, you don't know what you're doing. spencer's eyes flutter open and closed every once in a while and he oh-so-softly laughs whenever he commits a mistake. you consider kissing him, but you don't want to interrupt this brilliant mind at work.

once he's comfortable enough with the pace, he leans his forehead on your shoulder, transitioning into slow dancing. you wrap your arms around his waist, and you just melt together.

rocking you back and forth just in time with the rhythm, he whispers in your ear, "you know, waltzing was considered... scandalous back in the day. couples danced in what they called 'closed position,' they were practically, uh, pelvis to pelvis."

you chuckle, giving him a nod. he feels you nod and takes it as a sign he's good to continue.

"yeah, up until the waltzes of strauss, it was deemed inappropriate. i get that, 'the blue danube' is such a beautiful song, it's hard to pass up the opportunity to... y'know..."

reid rambles on, whispering to you all throughout, as if he were professing his love for you. and in his own little way, you knew he was.

he takes a few (many) awkwardly timed steps, and even you can admit your bodies don't flow together seamlessly. but really, it isn't half-bad.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #trans spencer reid #criminal minds #dancing #x reader #gn reader

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