#elvis x black!reader

[mamasturn]

austin butler masterlist.

intro; hiya! below are links to all ab related pieces. those with steamier parts have a 18+ warning.

series’

dirty dancing, ep. elvis presley (2022) finds interest in a young woman he meets at club handy. 18+ steam

la douleur exquise, original. a toxic relationship between childhood frenemies. 18+, complete.

is it a crime?, original. sequel to la douleur exquise.

one-shots

suspicious minds, ab. his marriage is on the rocks, and he is determined to make it right before it’s too late.

attention, ab. flirtatious banter between two old flames.

philia, ab. he and his wife hit the red carpet for the first time and are met with scrutiny.

discussions, ab. he shares how having discussions with his wife helped him prepare for his role.

want this, want you, ab. friends to lovers trope.

henny talk, ab. two ex’s reunite over drinks and let the hennessy do the talking for them. 18+ for language.

cry, ab. the aftermath of heartache. triggering scenario.

ruby, ab. how his mind processes the thought of an intense connection with his lover.

let me, sk. she’s new to the school. he’s the cute boy.

nothing without you, sk. two lovesick teenagers are head over heels with one another. II. III.

like a prayer, sk. in which an inexperienced individual gets the test the waters with his lover. 18+ steam

pretty browns in gowns, ep. ep becomes infatuated with a seamstress on beale street.

kisses through the phone, ep. ep falls asleep to the voice of his girl.

crown, ep. she’s insecure about her natural hair, but he’s always there to reassure her of her beauty.

[ranaissingle]

Right Here

Masterlist

Summary: The reader and Austin spend a day at home when the Oscar nominations come out and the reader comforts an insecure Austin the day before. Rating: T (it is straight fluff and I eat that shit up) Pairings: Austin x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.8k A/N: I haven't posted in like a week bc I couldn't find inspiration but I need more soft Austin content to think about so this is what you guys get instead of Coffee or Tea Pt. 5 lol (Which is the last part by the way and I am currently suffering from writer's block so I'm doing this to distract myself. ) Reader has almost no body descriptors like race, body parts, weight, etc.

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Austin had been counting the days until the Oscar nominations and had run himself ragged in the process. He googled when they would be released at least 4 times a day and consulted his manager about the likelihood of his nomination in the time between. As much as Austin tried to convince himself he didn't care, he hadn't fooled anyone; not even himself.

You were content to watch him at first and assumed it was a natural part of being an actor; you weren't sure what you could do to ease his stress, to begin with. But after the dreaded day drew nearer, Austin's anxiety had shot through the roof and multiplied tenfold. You couldn't bare to watch him wallow in his own misery or stress himself out any longer. So the afternoon before the Oscar nominations were to come out and Austin's anxiety was at an all-time high, you would make your move.

You had planned a delicious at-home dinner followed by a movie and a relaxing day in bed. You had prepared a delicious bolognese sauce with mini bowtie pasta (Austin's favorite) accompanied by a tasty fruit cake for dessert.

You had really outdone yourself.

Austin was due to come back from the day's interview at 6:45 which was perfect for dinner at 7.

You had just finished lighting the dinner candles and switching off the lights when Austin tumbled into the door looking worn out and stressed to high heaven.

You walked up to the door to take his coat and kiss his cheek.

"Welcome home love, how was work?" This had become a routine; Austin would tumble in, you would take his coat, kiss his cheek, and then ask how his day was. That routine was one of Austin's few consistencies in his hectic life and he looked forward to your soft smile and breathy voice during his entire commute home.

"It was alright darlin' how was yours?", he placed his hand on your waist and drew you closer.Just as Austin finished his question to you, it seemed he noticed the lack of fluorescent lighting in the apartment.

"What's up with all the lights not being o-" He set his eyes on the dinner table set with the best dishware and china, the long thin candles lit in the middle, and the unopened bottle of red wine occupying the end of the table.

"You've been so stressed lately and it's taking a toll on your health," you reached up to place your hand on his cheek and swiped your thumb over the discolored skin under his eyes.

"I'm worried about you is all, so I made us dinner and I have a movie qued for us to watch after." Austin gradually wrapped his arms tighter and tighter as you spoke. Eventually, his head landed in your neck and you felt his breaths tickling your clavicle.

"Thank ya darlin' I love ya so much, ya know that?" His voice was ragged. Austin loved being taken care of, but he wouldn't tell anyone that and you loved taking care of him. It was a win-win situation.

You pulled your face away from him to grasp his hands in yours and lead him to the table.

"Darlin this smells delicious, did ya make pasta?"

"Just how you like it, my love." Austin's smile was breathtaking and he looked more alive in that moment than he had in the 2 weeks before.

Austin pulled out your chair before walking around to the table to pull out his own. He tried the pasta and all but moaned in approval.

"Darlin' this is amazing! I swear you cook this better each time." You were glad the hours spent over the stove reducing the sauce with spices and herbs had the desired effect.

"I'm glad you like it Austin! I called up my mom to get some better tips for making a meat sauce. I'm glad the work paid off." You giggled as Austin continued to shovel spoon after spoon of the delicious pasta into his mouth.

Dinner went by pleasantly with both of you conversing about whatever came to mind. Both your legs were intertwined under the table and Austin fidgeted with your hand where it rested on the table.

You both made it through the main course accompanied by the wine and when it came time for dessert, Austin decided he wanted to spoon-feed you the fruit cake as a 'thank you' for all the hard work you had put in to prepare a delicious meal for him.

Austin had been drained and tired for what felt like an eternity but it seems an afternoon with you and a home-cooked meal was all he needed to recover.

Austin had asked you three times to let him help you with the dishes but you had profusely refused and all but shoved him into your bedroom as you told him to relax and kissed his forehead.

"I can take care of the dishes myself and I'll just be putting them in the dishwasher anyway." You waved your hand to emphasize how light the work would be.

Austin frowned but eventually let out an "Alright darling whatever you say." accompanied by a heavy sigh and a 'thank you' kiss on your temple.

You did the dishes in record time because you wanted to spend some time with Austin before his eventual crash. He wasn't going to last through the whole movie as was evident by his eye bags and already drooping eyelids.

You crossed the living room and opened the door to your shared bedroom. Austin had changed into his pajamas and was tucked under the covers while he read one of his mystery novels.

"Hey, baby," you spoke as you entered the room and Austin perked up, "I was thinking, we can still watch the movie if you want but you're looking a little tired and I don't want to keep you up, especially when you need all the rest you can get. So, what do you choose?"

"Could we just cuddle and go to sleep? I am feelin' pretty tired." He tilted his head in the most endearing way as he asked and you were happy to satisfy his request.

You crawled into the bed and opened the blanket and your arms to invite Austin into a hug. His smile was breathtaking as he practically threw his book onto the nightstand and shimmied under the sheets to get closer to you.

His head found purchase in your neck yet again and his arms wrapped around you to hold your hips in his embrace. You settled one hand on his back to rub circled on his spine while the other raked its way through his soft locks. You knelt your head down to whisper how proud you were of him, how much you loved him, and how he had nothing to worry about because he was guaranteed an oscar nomination tomorrow. He kissed your necks over and over as you spoke and only buried himself further into your form when you finished speaking.

The dim street lights reflecting into the room and the lavender diffuser you had on at all times calmed Austin. He eventually relaxed in your embrace and spoke a mumbled "I love you" before finally nodding off.

"I love you more."

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

The sunlight streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and illuminated the room with a soft and warm light. The both of you were still fast asleep in the position you had slept in the night before; although Austin seemed to be nestled impossibly closer to you. He had fallen asleep in record time and had not woken up in a cold sweat once during the entire night. His dreams were filled with mundane days spent at home and your smile took center stage in his every thought.

Alas, although you and Austin had both forgotten what day today was, his manager had not been so lucky. The Oscar nominations had been released in the early morning and you both had slept ever soundly through it. Taylor, Austin's manager, had been awake at the crack of dawn refreshing her inbox and the official oscar website. As soon as the nominations dropped, she picked up her cell to call Austin. It took her 4 attempts before your sleep-ridden voice made its way into her receiver.

You picked the phone up to your ear and mumbled a broken

"Hello?"

" OH MY GOD THANK GOODNESS SOMEONE ANSWERED. AUSTIN GOT THE NOMINATION!" Her voice blared into your ear making you wince and pull the phone away from your face.

"What??? Are you serious Taylor??!!" You tried to keep your voice soft so as to not wake Austin before you confirmed the news.

"YES, THE NOMINATIONS WERE RELEASED A FEW MINUTES AGO!"

"Okay, I'll tell Austin! He is still asleep so I'll have to wake him up." Said man was still tucked into your neck but had begun to stir.

"Pleeeeeease do, he has been waiting for this nomination for so long and you and I both know he deserves it."

"I know Taylor, thank you for calling so many times it would have been a shame if we missed this."

After ending the phone call, you put the phone down and wrapped your arms back around Austin while leaning your mouth into his ear and running your hand down his back.

"Austin baby, you have to wake up love. We can't sleep in any longer." Austin stirred but did not fully wake up. You stroked his back again before using your words to coax him up into the world of the awake.

Austin's facelifted slowly out of your neck to turn to where the light was streaming into the room and he placed his head over your heart while he slowly woke up.

"Austin, Taylor just called." You felt him tense his arms around you as he braced himself for the bad news. You just wrapped your arms tighter around him and whispered, so softly he barely heard you at all

"You did it, my love, you got nominated for best actor by the Oscars. Out of so many actors, they chose you! I'm so proud of you Austin, you worked so hard and you did it, baby. You did it, my love."

Austin's choked sobs were palpable in the room.

"I did it? A-are you serious? I actually got nominated?" He had picked his head up from your chest and sat up to look at you.

Taking his face in between both your hands you gazed into his eyes.

"Yes, you did Austin. Believe it and live it because you deserve it. All your hard work has paid off and I will always be right here for you, for as long as you'll have me."

Austin's teary eyes and blissful smile made your heart flutter in a way you never knew was possible.

Never in your life had you loved someone like you loved Austin.

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This got very sappy very fast but I can't say that I'm mad at it. I also think that Austin probably needs a lot of assurance right now just like the rest of us. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Bloody Sacrifices

Summary: Reader reminisces about how she ended up with Elvis

TW: Cheating, angst, I think that’s it!

A/N: I know I know, where tf has bee been? Under a rock, sorry for leaving so suddenly but that’s just the way things go, I really did try to get back into my groove, with little success. But between school, and getting married and work, I had no time or really the patience to let myself be creative. And then, Eureka! An idea struck and my drafted papers that had been waiting on me finally started to get finished. Again, really sorry for the cliffhangers and such!

-Signed, Bee💕

Mrs. Presley,

What a title. Sometimes, it’s hard to think of life without him. He’s not perfect, no man is, but he’s pretty damn close.

Often time, you find yourself thinking about how you got this far. Married, comfortable, committed, with a beautiful child and very little worries.

The day had been heavy, you hadn’t had the greatest time. The boy you swore your heart to decided that for your third anniversary, he would treat another beauty to the dinner you reserved. Under his name, like some fool.

When the attendants opened the doors, you passed under the threshold, heart swelling. Something made you so certain it would be the day; the day he’d get down on one knee with glassy eyes and a nervous tongue and fumble over those four little words that would change your life forever.

When you asked the hostess about your table, she was quick to inform you that, the table had already been sat. You thought, for a moment, that he had beat you here. This made you excited, thinking he was really taking the initiative. So you thanked the woman and made your way around the restaurant, searching for your dream boat.

It didn’t take you long to spot him, knowing that haircut just about anywhere. Actually, every minute detail, down to how his collar hugged his neck was logged in your brain. Up until this point, you had spent an unhealthy amount of time…studying, perfecting.

So you approached the table, carefully as to not give away how excited you really were. As you got closer, hoping to see him fidgeting with his tie in front of an empty seat, you could feel the butterflies churn in your stomach. As fate would have it, things don’t always go as planned. Not at all actually.

Instead, you found a pretty blonde woman with tears in her eyes adoring an exceptional rock, and that boy with his head held high, with a beaming smile, and chest puffed out. Made you sick.

To this day, you aren’t sure what really drove you to do what you did that night.

Maybe, it was the way you cleaned after him like a mother would a toddler, or the way he expected dinner on the table before he returned at five thirty or all hell broke loose. It might’ve even been having to keep everything spectacularly clean. Down to his damn underwear.

Whatever it was, the camels back was broken and there was no reason for you to hold face now. You kept the tears at bay, gracefully walking over, stopping in front of the lovely couple.

Wouldn’t you know. As soon as the man saw you he did start to fidget with that tie. That same damned tie you bought for his birthday. You’d never seen him wear it but you’d guessed that day was as good a time as any.

And her. When you really looked at her, you picked her apart in less than 20 seconds. Bottle blonde, not natural, lipstick that wasn’t her color, makeup that didn’t compliment her, the dress she wore did nothing for her figure. All the things he swore not to like, sat right in front of you. You couldn’t believe it.

With a painfully fake smile you looked between the two. You had let out a quick breath in preparation for what you were about to say. It was quick, and sweet, no malice detected.

“Engaged?”

That was it. That was all you had asked.

Withought missing a beat she nodded her head

“After two years, I wasn’t even expecting this! At a place this nice, on our anniversary too. He really is so thoughtful. And the ring, ugh—”

She continued to ramble, but all you could hear was “Two years” and “our anniversary”

She had no clue about you. None.

And, for two of the three years, this man had the wool pulled over your eyes. Fresh out of high school, You had been walking blindly behind him and never noticed.

At least that’s what you told yourself in the moment.

But, you did know. You just wanted to deny your ignorance in that moment. You couldn’t deny the late nights, foreign perfume, and lack of affection though. Not even if you wanted to.

Till the very end though, you kept face.

“How lovely, I hope… I—, wish you both the very best.”

The woman gave a quick false smile and said “thank you, but we are trying to celebrate.”

You nodded your head and returned the same smile. You timber spinning on your feet and gearing up to make a beeline for the door. You really couldn’t help yourself though. You threw your head over your shoulder,

“Just remember, he doesn’t like it when you leave the stains in his underwear. You’ll never get them out though, just burn them and buy a new pair!”

And with that, you were through the door. Though it was a small power move, the tears still flooded your vision. It hurt bad. There was a slight downpour, mimicking the feelings you harbored. With no car you had no choice but to keep walking.

The back of your feet were rubbed raw, skin broken and bleeding. The hairstyle you had chosen for that night and no doubt frizzy beyond repair through slight adjustments.

In your emotional haze, the grate on the sidewalk went unnoticed, the back of your heel payed the price. You stopped and removed the shoe, assessing the damage. This small inconvenience on any other day would’ve made you roll your eyes and let out a curse or two. This wasn’t a normal day.

You had broken character. An almost primal shriek left your chest. Something akin to that of a hurt animal. It wasn’t pretty, or poised. It was raw and unfiltered. The scream felt good, exhilarating.

Even with that nice release of emotion, you wanted to go home. You removed both shoes and chucked them as far as you could, sacrificing their beauty, and continuing on your journey back to your very warm and dry house.

A few minutes passed, you were about five minutes away when those headlights creeped up behind you.

You looked back, part of you hoping it was the fool you’d banked on. What he did was unforgivable, yes, but you had nothing else. As the car started to progress a little was past you, you tossed that hope through the window.

“Scuse’ me honey. Why’d ya throw your heels at me?”

You stopped, glaring over at the unidentified stranger,

A simple, “I didn’t,” was all he got out of you.

The car stopped all together. The sound of the door opening put you on edge. A man stopping at this time of night, to return a broken pair of heels? Yea, right. When he rounded his car with your shoes in hand and a smug look on his pretty…face. He looked you up and down and you did the same, wondering who-

Holy shit. Was all you could think. You had thrown your heels, your very broken heels at Elvis Presley.

“Now honey, I’m no shoe salesman, but I’d bet my bottom dollar, that these here fit those pretty little puppies just right. Save for your ankles of course—”

Your shoulders dropped and you held your hand out.

“Please, just give em’ here. Night’s been bad enough, Mr. Presley. I don’t need to be humiliated any further.”

The brunet let out a light chuckle,

“Wanna tell me your name?”

You let out a sigh,

“Y/n.”

“Call me Elvis. And I can see that it’s been a little rough. What happened, honey, date stood ya up?”

You shook your head and decided to humor him,

“No, I found my beau with a different beauty,”

His smile faltered and he parted his lips, no doubt to issue an apology. You continued before he got the chance,

“Which he proposed to…”

His mouth closed, face showing pity. The last part of your confessional came out barley above a whisper,

“On our anniversary.”

Elvis was too stunned to speak, he looked around as if to see if anyone else had heard what you just said. He was in utter disbelief, that someone could wilt a beautiful flower such as yourself.

“I’m sorry honey, I didn’t meant to poke fun at you, just wanted a chance to ask you on a date.”

You could’ve sworn your ears were malfunctioning.

“I’m flattered, but no less than twenty minutes ago, I thought I was getting married. I don’t think it’s a good time—”

Elvis was quick to shake his head,

“No , no I meant to say it wasn’t appropriate. But at least let me drive you home.”

With nothing but tears to lose, you nodded your head and shuffled to the passenger side door, which he kindly opened for you.

The two-minute ride i was silent but not uncomfortable, the radio was at a low volume and the only time you spoke was to give directions.

When you arrived at your small home, you thanked Elvis for the ride. Before you could part, he handed you a slip with his number on it,

“Call when you’re ready for that date, honey.”

Hesitantly, you took the slip and made your way inside.

It was stuffed in a drawer somewhere as you fell into your stupor. For two weeks, you wallowed in self-pity. Fourteen days before you grew a pair. You rummaged though all your kitchen drawers looking for that slip.

It might have been foolish to assume Elvis would still be thinking about you after two weeks, but you still gave it a try.

Your hands trembled as you spun the rotary dial, carefully choosing every number that was on the paper. Receiver against your ear, chewing on your lip.

It rang three times before you’d slammed the phone back on its hook. It was a fruitless idea, there was just no way—

A ring stopped your negative thoughts, it rang twice before you picked it back up. Saying hello and waiting for a response.

“Y/n?” There was a pause. You didn’t know he’d given you his personal number.

“Uh, hello? Honey?…ya there?”

You shook of the surprise,

“Y—yes, uh, yes m’here”

Elvis wouldn’t be Elvis without pointing out the obvious

“So, you’re finally callin’ bout that date?”

You could practically hear the smile in his voice, and with a roll of your eyes, you said yes.

That date turned into ten years of love and a little bit of stress. He got you the prettiest ring, proposed at the prettiest dinner, and gave you the gift of your son.

For once, tears felt good on your face. When you look for reasons to stay with this perfectly imperfect man, you remember,

Those bloody sacrifices.

Taglist: @powerofelvis @rjmartin11 @re3kin

[tpresley]

My favorite Austin pictures <3

Most of these scream bf/husband material

He’s so fucking gorgeous 🫶🏽

[idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy]

Mann black people are so narcissistic 😂😂

not writing for other races is rude like girl please, you only don’t want to write it because your black and you have some hatred towards other races…grow the hell up

also ur stories have so much misspells 🖕🏻

First of all don’t come on to MY page and attack me or my race.

And also if I don’t want to write for other races specifically that’s MY choice.

I’ve said many times before I only write for Black!fem reader specifically because I’m BLACK and I know how to write a black girl.

Now that’s different for other races/ethnicities because I am not apart of that community. I do it out of respect because I don’t want to butcher a culture/group or seem offensive in any way.

I normally just write xfem (no clarified race) reader so other people can enjoy the story.

I HAVE NO HATRED TOWARDS OTHER RACES.

And you need to fkn grow up coming in my acc and bashing me with your rude misinformation shit.

And since you know so much about my page and have been stalking me. You would know if you read my masterlist I have said my grammar could be bad…so if it bothers you that much, maybe dm me???

And come off anon and talk to me like that instead of hiding , your scared😂😂.

[undevidedattentionsblog]

It's Valentine's Day where are the fics at???😒

[isthlsfate]

*ೃ༄ The Girl Who Spit Flowers

warnings: slow burn, angst, mentions of puke, some dialogue taken directly from the movie, time skips, mentions of death, hanahaki disease :’)

pairing: elvis presley/austin!elvis x reader

word count: 4k

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘56

“ellis presley, blue moon boys, you’re up next.” the stage manager calls towards scotty as he rushes backstage, guitar in hand. he pushes the back door open and descends the stairs, where bill is staring at a poster with their name on it.

the latter lets out a scoff, “ellis presley…got a nice ring to it.”

scotty chuckles and motions for bill to follow him back towards elvis, dixie, gladys, and vernon. gladys gives the boys a kind smile before returning her attention back to her son.

“w-what if i forget the words on live radio? i ain’t no jimmy rogers snow.” elvis panics, sipping on the cola dixie had grabbed for him, “a-and where the hell is (y/n)?! ian’ going on without her!”

dixie looks up at him dejectedly as he hands the bottle of cola back to her, it suddenly feeling like a bag of bricks.

she always felt like she was competing with you. elvis would tell her that you were no more than a friend, but she wasn’t blind. the way you looked at him spoke stories.

“no one expects you to be jimmie rogers snow.” his father speaks, avoiding answering his question.

bill nods, “it’s just a bit of clowning around.

“that’s how we got this thing started in the first place.” scotty joins.

gladys rubs her son’s arm reassuringly, “scotty and bill are right, elvis. you’re not out there on your own. you boys are a band. the lord gave us music to bring people together. we’re like a family, and family’s the most important thing of all.”

“the family ain’t complete without (y/n).” elvis snaps, his nerves getting the best of him. as if on cue, you come through the door and trudge down the steps. your hands are visibly shaking as you wipe the corners of your mouth and force a smile. everyone but elvis seems to notice your unusual demeanor.

you force an awkward laugh, “sorry, i got caught up watching that snow boy on stage.”

elvis frowns at that and immediately opens his mouth to complain. his mother, however, rubs the back of his neck and cuts him off.

“if the good lord wants to speak through song here tonight, we are but vessels of His will. come on now, booby.” she motions for everyone to come in closer, “jesse is shining bright tonight.”

the elder woman looks up into the sky, the rest of the group following suit. she leads in song as one-by-one, they all join.

♪ some glad morning…

when this life is over…

i’ll fly away…

i’ll fly away, oh glory…

i’ll fly away, i’ll fly away…

i’ll fly away, i’ll fly away… ♪

as the song comes to a finish, sam walks through the door followed by marion.

“better get on up! they’ve just made a big announcement about you on the radio.” he says, his face seemingly just as pale as elvis’.

“folks are real excited!” marions quips before nudging him, “sam, don’t look so worried.”

elvis and his family make their way up the stairs, him and the band heading backstage while the rest go find some seats. before you can part with the others, the raven haired boy grabs you by the arm.

“why’d ya disappear like that?” he glares, his blue eyes dark.

you look back at the others nervously, but elvis is quick to grab your chin and make you face him.

“don’t look at them, look at me. what’s going on with you lately?”

“i-”

“elvis come on, we’re on!” scotty calls, saving you from a conversation you weren’t ready to have.

as he walks away, he mouths, “we ain’t done.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊

that night after the show, you, dixie, vernon, and elvis sat at the table awaiting supper. the show was exhilarating, and while you wanted so badly to talk to elvis about it, you didn’t want him asking any more questions about where you’d ran off to. you watch with a bitter taste in your mouth as he and dixie sit close to one another, whispering about something.

you can only sit and watch for so long before you abruptly stand up and head towards the kitchen where gladys is.

“need help with anything?” you speak softly so as to not startle her. she looks up at you and notices the wetness in your eyes. before you can react, she’s pulling you into a loving hug.

“oh, honey. he’ll come to his senses soon.”

you sigh. at times, you wished you had been better at hiding it. gladys promised to keep your secret, but having someone know meant you were being watched. any time you had to step away, any time you randomly skipped supper, she knew. that somehow made what you were going through ten times more painful.

later on, as you all sat at the table eating, elvis cleared his throat.

“i’m gonna be joinin’ hank snow on his tour.”

you choke on your soup, gaining the attention of everyone. feeling the thickness in your throat, you run to the bathroom and lock the door.

“so, without so much as a word to your daddy and me, you quit your job to run around in that rickety jalopy, speeding down dangerous road, getting girls all hopped up.” you can hear the anger in gladys voice as you sit on the tiled floor, head against the toilet. you blink slowly, trying to gain the energy to walk out and put a smile on your face.

“...soon, you’ll be drinking, going off to them slut parties–”

“mama!” elvis cuts her off. you can’t help but feel another painful wave of nausea at the thought.

a knock at the door startles you. you quickly flush the toilet, rinse your mouth, and unlock the door.

“dixie?”

she pushes herself in and locks the door behind her. you stand uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, having never been left alone with her. you knew she didn’t really like you; you had the luxury of knowing elvis since he was a young boy. you were special to him, and she didn’t like that.

“what is going on between you and elvis?” she leans against the door with her arms crossed. you can still hear the commotion going on at the table.

“what do you mean? i–we grew up together, he’s my best friend.”

she scoffs, her face turning a nasty shade of pink.

“are you pregnant with his child or somethin’?”

you can’t help but let out an exasperated laugh. you quickly cover your mouth as you notice the serious look on her face.

“i’m not pregnant, dixie.”

“then what’s with all the runnin’ away, throwin’ up, whisperin’ to gladys?”

your blood runs cold. you should’ve been more careful. you watch as her eye seemingly catches onto something near the toilet.

“shit, (y/n).” is all she says, her angry expression softening. there on the creme colored tiles lays a lone flower petal.

“please don’t tell him.” is all you can get out, tears already threatening to leave your sullen eyes.

“oh, i won’t.” dixie scoffs, “it’s not like there’s anything you can do anyway. elvis is mine.”

the sound of a door slamming causes the both of you to jump. dixie gives you one last glare before leaving you alone. you topple over and choke out some more petals.

as elvis’ career began to skyrocket, your friendship pummeled. you heard from gladys that elvis had broken things off with dixie right before the school formal. she sounded hopeful, but you knew better.

time flew, and the pain refused to suffice.

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘57

gladys ended up asking you to move in with her and vernon permanently. you had stayed in and out of the presley residence since you were thirteen, but by age eighteen you felt you were burdening them and slept on a cot on the upper level of club handy, it was yours in exchange for some labor.

you accepted her offer only because you knew how lonely she was while her son was out and about. you were lonely too.

one morning, elvis came barging in, his pearly whites on show. you were sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal, startled by the loud noise.

“how ya been, darlin’?” he asks, pulling you up from your chair into a warm embrace.

“good. your mama’s missed you.”

he pulls away with a chuckle, “you say that as if ya didn’t.”

before you can argue, gladys emerges from her room and gives her son a big hug. vernon comes soon after and pats the boy on the back.

“i’ve got a surprise for y’all.”

that day, elvis showed you all your new home. graceland.

𓍊����𓍊

“i see you’ve been gettin’ in a bit of trouble.” you chuckle, handing the raven haired boy a newspaper you had collected. he stands up from his spot on your room floor and joins you on your bed. it’d been a while since you two had spent time together.

elvis doesn’t speak for a while, causing you to look over at him with furrowed brows. you nudge his arm gently.

“you alright satnin?” the nickname slips, but elvis doesn’t seem to mind. he turns onto his side and sighs.

“the colonel says i might be gettin’ drafted.”

the air in your room seems to fall still, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“t-that’s insane! you ain’t did nothin’ wrong but express yourself. your own mama thinks it’s okay!” you sit up from the bed and begin pacing, chewing on your lip, “i oughta give that man a piece of my mind!”

you make a move to leave the room, but elvis grabs your arm.

“it’s no use, darlin’. i followed my heart and i gotta pay the price.” he runs a hand through his hair, a sign that his nerves were getting the best of him. you grab his hand and smile reassuringly albeit the pain you felt in your chest.

“how long will you be gone for?”

“two years.”

“two years?!” you shout back, causing the boy to cover your mouth with his hand.

“goddamn (y/n), you want the whole world to hear? i haven’t even told mama yet.”

you look up at the blue eyed boy with sad eyes, your body noticeably relaxing as you realize how badly he needs a friend right now.

elvis drops his hand from your mouth and allows you to fall into his arms, your arms wrapping tightly around him so as to not let him go.

he sniffles, resting his chin in your hair.

“i’ll look after her, e. i promise.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊

not even six months after elvis was gone, you had found gladys unconscious at the top of the steps. your heart shattered as you fell to your knees, trying to wake the elder woman up.

you couldn’t help the sobs that ripped painfully through your soul. not only had you lost someone who was like a mother figure to you, you had broken your promise to elvis”

vernon came running up the stairs at the sound of your cries, his shaky hands pulling you away from her as he too tried to wake her.

it was no use.

on august 14th, 1958, you had lost the one person who knew of your condition and loved you through it.

elvis came back home for a brief period of time, but it was like seeing a ghost. you stayed to yourself, not having the strength to face him. you knew you should’ve been there for him, but every time you convinced yourself to go, you’d find yourself not able to leave the threshold of your door.

not too long after gladys’ passing, grandma dodger was gone too.

graceland had become the shell of a home. it was typically only you and vernon in the home, cousin billy occasionally making an appearance.

a year passed. you busied yourself with work, going back to bussing tables at club handy.

you hadn’t been sick as much, which seemed to be the only plus to elvis being gone. there were some nights, however, when you would think too hard about what he was probably doing in germany and found yourself coughing up petals.

by the time he had returned, seeing elvis was like seeing a stranger.

you all would eat supper together, but the table was silent.

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘63

today was a day like any other, the three of you sitting at the table, listening to the cheerful sounds from cousin billy and his friends outside.

“‘cilla is movin’ in pretty soon.” elvis speaks after he swallows a bite of his food.

you keep your eyes focused on your food, your throat starting to feel thick.

“that’s great, son! when’s the wedding?”

at the sound of those words, you can’t bear to hear anymore. you excuse yourself from the table and walk to your room.

your stomach churns at the thought of living here, hopelessly in love with your childhood best friend as he married another. it didn’t help that your room was right below his.

your thoughts run wild, tears wetting your eyes as you look around the room and begin frantically throwing stuff into a suitcase.

you can’t stay. it’ll kill you.

with tears still running down your face you make your way into the hall bathroom, grabbing a couple of toiletries to bring along with you.

what you don’t expect is to turn around and walk straight into a strong chest.

“just where do ya think you’re goin’?” his thick southern accept sends a chill down your spine.

you muster enough strength to look him in the eye despite the tears still visibly falling.

“i think it’s about time i go out on my own.” you quickly brush past him and head back to your room, but elvis is hot on your tail.

“no one said you had t’do that.”

“i did.” you continue packing your stuff, more furiously than before, “you haven’t even paid me any mind since mama died. i’m not stayin’ here feelin’ like a burden any longer.”

elvis snatches your suitcase from you, not paying any mind to the contents that spray all over. his usually lively blue eyes are dark, storms thundering in them.

“you were the one who stopped payin’ me any mind.”

you ignore him, bending down to pick up your items. you continue to walk around him, packing more things as he stands there, discontent radiating from his body.

the taller male grabs you by the arm, keeping you in place right in front of him.

“look at me, darlin’.”

you obey almost immediately, your lip quivering.

elvis’ eyes seem to look at you, really look at you for the first time in years. he hadn’t noticed how frail you’d gotten, how your (e/c) eyes were sunken and dull, how your seemed like you were struggling just to stand. he frowns, wiping a few tears from your cheeks.

“why’re you leavin’ me, (y/n)?”

“i—“

but its cut off by a gag, and the sudden urge to run. he follows you, but youre too fast, slamming the bathroom door in his face and locking it tight.

his head rests against the door as he listens to you retch, his chest constricting in pain at the sound of your cries.

“satnin, you’ve gotta tell me what’s goin’ on.” he calls, but you don’t respond. he stands there for a solid thirty minutes before getting impatient and going to the kitchen to find something to pick the lock with.

the sight before him makes him immediately fall to his knees beside you.

it seemed like you had no energy to even open your eyes, your head laid against the toilet, the contents of your stomach still threatening to escape.

“i’m sorry.” your voice is barely above a whisper, cracky and pained.

the raven haired male brings you to his lap, holding your head against his chest as he reassures you it’ll all be okay.

he couldn’t help but look into the toilet in fear.

no longer were there tiny petals, but full on flowers.

𓍊𓋼𓍊

“how’s (y/n) doing?” priscilla asks her boyfriend, the two of them sat at the table for breakfast.

despite your protests, he had told you to stay. you were too weak to do anything, your condition worsening once priscilla officially moved in.

elvis hadn’t said anything to you about that night, only making sure that the maids brought you food and checked on you hourly.

“she says she’s alright, but she looks worse then ever.”

“do you know who it is?”

elvis only shakes his head, oblivious to the obvious.

“i’m gonna go check on her.” the brunette says softly, leaving a long kiss on elvis’ cheek before heading down the hall.

she knocks gently, hearing a soft and raspy come in from the other side of the door.

you smile at her, sitting up in bed to let her sit next to you. despite the pain it caused you, you could tell that priscilla was good for elvis.

unlike dixie, she cherished the fact that he had grown up with you, always including you and even taking the time to get to know you.

“you doing alright, (n/n)?” she rests her hand on yours, holding it gently.

“i know you know, ‘cilla.” you sigh, a sad expression on your face, “and i’m so sorry. i wish i could change it. i wish it was anyone but him.”

priscilla tuts, “don’t say that, love. we can’t control who we fall for.”

“did you tell him? he seems distant.”

“he’s just really worried for you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. i know you guys had a rough patch but you’ve always had a special place in his heart. he used to tell me stories about your childhood all the time in germany.” the brunette hands you the glass of water on your nightstand as she notices you struggling to clear your throat, “you should tell him now, (y/n).”

you quickly shake your head, “it won’t change anything. he loves you.”

“quite frankly i think he’s just settling for me.” the girl chuckles solemnly, “i wont let you die without having tried. i’ll tell him to come to you now.”

priscilla doesn’t give you a chance to turn her down, leaving a small peck on your forehead and rushing out the room.

minutes later, elvis comes in with a concerned look.

“‘cilla said you needed me. you alright, doll?”

you nod, motioning for him to join you on your bed. he obeys, sliding his shoes off and sitting criss cross applesauce beside you. you can’t help but giggle at the sight, his long limbs looking uncomfortable.

you grab his hand once he’s situated, not able to ignore the wince as he notices your frail hand.

“there’s something i need to tell you.”

“what is it, (y/n)?”

“i’m sure you’ve been rackin’ your brain tryna figure out why i have this disease.” you sigh, acknowledging the small nod he gives you, “a-and i’m sorry i kept it hidden from you for so long. i first found out about it when i turned eighteen. it was little petals here and there, and i would only cough. b-but as time passed, it progressed. it didn’t take long for me to connect the dots. for me to realize that it was happening because i…”

elvis looks at you expectantly, having craved this moment since he held you on that bathroom floor.

“you can tell me, baby. i want to help you anyway i can.” he brushes a lone tear off your cheek.

“it was happening because i fell in love with you.”

you close yours, not strong enough to look in your best friend’s eyes and see nothing but rejection. you’re surprised when you feel his hand caress your cheek.

“open your eyes, darlin’.”

and you do. and your pounds at how close he is to you, how his eyes search your face desperately for signs of a lie. you furrow your brows.

“why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

elvis laughs, a few tears springing to his eyes. “cause it’s always been you.”

“don’t do that.” you beg, “i’ve known you for forever elvis. i watched you go after women day and night.”

“because i thought i couldn’t have you, (y/n). like you said, you’ve known me for forever. i didn’t think you could see me as anything more than family.”

you laugh at that, bewildered at the secrets suddenly coming to light. had you really been so blind?

“‘member when we were kids, livin’ at the home on audubon? mama had set up a lil makeshift tent for us in the backyard and we would spend every weekend in it?”

you nod, “what about it?”

“th-there was one weekend when we decided to stay the night out there, and we were watching the stars. i looked over at you a-and i just knew. i even told mama that morning i was gon’ marry you one day.”

you giggle through your tears, searching his eyes for truth and finding all of the above.

“why’d it take so long, e?” you whimper, the memories of all those lonely nights of pain and puking resurfacing.

“i lost who i was, baby. at first i was just scared, and then all of a sudden my career took off, then mama died, and i…i’m so sorry.”

he rests his forehead against yours, pulling your weak body into him.

you want to kiss him. you want to seal the deal now. you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with him, not wanting to waste another second.

but, “what about priscilla?”

elvis sighs, about to open his mouth to speak but the girl herself cuts him off.

“priscilla will be okay.” she says from the doorway, her own set of tears collecting in her eyes, “i’m just glad you’ll live, (n/n).”

you force yourself to get up, legs shaky as you make your way to the brunette and engulf her in a hug.

“thank you so much.” you sniffle.

“i’m going to go pack.” she smiles grievously, “i’d better get going.”

you nod, making your way back to your bed. elvis gives you a look and you nod, watching as he quickly follows after her.

“‘cilla.” he calls, stopping her on the steps.

“it’s okay, elvis. i knew the moment you started talking about her that it wasn’t meant to be.”

“can i at least have one of my men drive you?” he asks.

priscilla doesn’t see a point in opposing, so she nods. the taller of the two nods as well, before taking her into a gentle hug.

“you’re always welcome here, okay?”

“okay.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘67

“hold on, let me get a picture of the newlyweds!” vernon smiles, snapping a quick shot of you and elvis.

despite his career, elvis wasted no time in taking the next steps with you. fifteen years was too long to have missed with you, so he made time for you everyday.

you look over at the man before you, amazed at how much more handsome he’d gotten throughout the years. your heart was pounding happily in your chest, still half expecting this to be a dream.

your wedding was small, held in the meditation garden at graceland.

as your reception came to a close and guests began to leave, you and elvis held one another, swaying to the soft music playing from the record player.

the raven haired man kisses the top of your head, your nose, your cheek, and then your lips.

you hum in content, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i love you, sugar.” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“i love you t-“ you run down the hall to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you fall to the ground and let out a heave.

elvis, as usual, is on your tail. he rubs your back soothingly, whilst pinching his nose at the smell.

you flush the toilet and brush your teeth, heart fluttering as you look in the mirror and catch elvis eyeing you adoringly.

“mama would be proud.” he smiles, hands snaking around your wakes and resting on your tough stomach.

you can’t help but smile back, your stomach fluttering. only this time, it was the result of your love and not the lack thereof.

[dulcewrites]

could you do some austin angst where he cheats on the reader with olivia while filming and they have a baby together and a little later on they are co parenting austin’s single but when the reader drops their son off at austin’s house she tells him she’s going on a date and he gets jealous and then whatever ending u want

Strangers by Nature

Pairings: austin butler x reader (wc: 1.4k)

Warnings: mentions of cheating, austin being messy and possessive

Requested: yes (thank you I like this idea) . This lowkey took a different turn than I thought I would but I think it’s pretty good so I hope you enjoy it as well

A/N: I don’t know why some my personal ideas about what to write make austin a little… toxic? It could be me projecting to find something wrong with him lol. I want to write more about him but I am someone who normally stays away from reading/writing about real people myself. Anyway [insert disclaimer about me not knowing austin, this being fiction, and people needing to be respectful and understand boundaries when writing about real folks]. Also I was slightly inspired by the “when you’re 40, and I’m 50 we’ll be back together” scene from Elvis (2022).

timeline clear up: austin is 31, you’re 29 in 2022. You guys were together for around 9 years in 2020 (when he cheated). You had your son in 2016 (so he is 6 in 2022, he’s a cancer sun with a leo moon lol)

You keep going over how the conversation will go in your head. What he is going to say, and what you’re going to say in rebuttal. Maybe you shouldn’t even tell him about the date? The car ride over to Austin’s place is filled with thoughts being so loud you feel a headache coming on. The only thing competing with your loud thoughts is Mateo’s loud singing.

Well, at least you can say the private school music classes are paying off.

Once you get in the driveway. You for a moment, leaning your head against the steering wheel to take a moment to breathe. You and Austin have been coparenting for two years now, and the drop offs are still not easy.

“Mommyyyyyy, go in,” Mateo starts to whine.

You sigh and give him a smile in the review mirror before getting out. As you take him out of his booster seat, he whispers in your ear.

“Daddy said he’s gonna teach me guitar.”

You raise an eyebrow. Sometimes you resent it; how Austin gets to be the fun, artistic parent that connects with Mateo on that level. You don’t have an artistic or creative bone in your body, it’s the reason why you work in software development. Mateo is fascinated with what his dad does. Hell, you were fascinated too when Austin and you met.

“Sounds fun baby.”

You grab his bag and walk him up to the door. You watch as he happily bounces on his feet to the tune of the doorbell, waiting for Austin to come to the door. The door swings open; Austin’s attention instantly go down to Mateo, and he picks him up into a big hug. There is something special about watching them interact; two peas in a pod.

Austin and you share a less than graceful side hug. It’s more him putting his arm around you, and you trying not to be awkward about it.

“We need to talk,” he whispers in your ear. Well, that’s cryptic.

You and Austin often don’t have long unmediated conversations about things outside of Mateo because it always ends in someone getting their feelings getting hurt. It’s hard to swallow that there was a time where he was your best friend. The person you told everything to.

Despite the confusion, you followed him into the house towards the kitchen.

“Buddy, why don’t you go put your stuff away and we’ll call you down when mom is about to go.”

Mateo takes off to his room. There’s a beat of silence before Austin starts.

“So, how are you?” his smile is breezy, and his tone is light. Too light.

“I’m fine,” you reply slowly. Did you really need to come in for this? He could’ve texted.

“The funniest thing happened last week,” he says, leaning against the kitchen island. “Matty came up to me and was like ‘daddy, I have a secret’.”

Mateo is in this phase where he thinks everything is a secret. If he must use the restroom, it’s a secret. If he wants to wear blue instead of red, it’s a secret. He saw a lizard at recess. A secret.

“And he then he says, ‘mommy is doing something special on Saturday’,”

Your stomach drops into your ass. Not your baby being the person who rats you out. How did he even know? Oh god, do you talk that loud on the phone? This is not how you wanted this to come out. Then you remember, you’re an adult. Who cares what Austin thinks?

“Well, now that you mention it,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I do have a date tomorrow.”

The last first date you went on was with Austin… in 2011. You haven’t been “on the market” since your late teens. To say you’re nervous about the whole thing is putting it lightly. The last thing you need is Austin browbeating you about it.

“Now that I’ve mentioned it. You’re joking right?”

“I was going to tell you,” You quickly reply.

And you were… sometime soon. If it wasn’t today or tomorrow, it would’ve been sometime next week. He doesn’t have a right to be mad or to be giving you the look he is right now. As if he’s betrayed by the fact you would want to date. You should’ve been expecting this. Dr. Shula, your family therapist, said dating was going to be a tricky thing for you two to navigate.

You honestly thought he would be the first one to take the plunge. But maybe that’s your resentment talking.

“Are you doing this to punish me,” he huffs. “I say I want to make us work, and you go and do this.”

You always knew Austin regretted what he did, and that all he wants is for things to go back to how they were. It’s just something you’ve always shot down. Sometimes you wondered if he says it because that’s the “right” thing to say after you cheat.

“Because I got the hint when you didn’t come to any premieres.”

And there it is. He said he didn’t mind, but you knew better. The biggest moment in his career, and he was alone. A part of you did feel bad every time you declined. Or when you offered sending Matty there, and making it clear you wouldn’t join. But now having it thrown back in your face made your blood boil a bit.

Why would you want to go and pretend to be happy about a movie that basically ruined your relationship? Be around the person who helped him fuck it all up.

You were ready to be there for every premiere, talk to him about every interview, cheer him on about this role that meant so much to him. He’s the one that changed that.

“You really don’t get it do you?” you ask with a cynical chuckle; you can’t help but laugh. He’s never going to get it because despite the ups and downs you had over your relationship, you never broke his trust the way he broke yours.

“I thought… I thought things were turning around after I came back,” he says, sounding defeated.

Your shoulders drop and let out a sigh. He’s talking about when he was sick after filming. When you came and stayed with him. It was the first time the three of you were in that house together since early 2020.

“Austin, you know me better than that. If you need help, I’m not going to turn my back on you,” you try to sound sympathetic. You hadn’t seen Austin like that in long time. That low. “You’re the father of my child. You’re wellbeing matters to me.”

“So, that’s all it was. You 'taking care of the father of your child'.”

You can’t look him in eye for too long. He knows it’s more than that. You know it’s more than that. But you don’t know if you’re ready to say that again. Ready to put that much faith in him again.

“Look, I know this isn’t want you want,” you lean over and grab his hand. “But you need to let me do this.”

The next part is implied. Let you do this and then you can make up your mind. Maybe you’ll be ready to try again. Maybe it will be the risk you you need to take to get over him.

“You know you’re it for me right,” he squeezes your hand. “We’re gonna come back together after we figure this out.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. That’s the scary part; he might be it for you too, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You wipe your face, and try to pull yourself together before calling out Mateo’s name.

You say your goodbyes to him before sending him back to play then turn to Austin.

“Stay safe. If anything happens tomorrow, you call me immediately,” Austin’s voice reminds you of how he talks Mateo when he really needs him to listen.

“Ok dad,” you joke before surprising both yourself and him by pulling him into a hug. Despite how you two go at each other, you don’t enjoy seeing him upset. It doesn’t give you the satisfaction you hope it would.

“I love you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He loves you. You simply hum in response. Is love always enough?

[pumpkinspiie]

Your Polaroid collection dating Elvis !

[powerofelvis]

No Longer The Housewife

Pairing: Elvis Presley x f!reader, Austin!Elvis x f!reader

Word Count: 6000

Summary: You arrived in Vegas to sleep with another man after enduring an unhappy marriage. You didn’t realize that the man that you would encounter would bring out your long missed youth. 

Warning(s): Angst, Infidelity, Fluff, SMUT (in this part, there’s spitting, choking, degradation, edging, and overstimulation), Different Types of Kinks (and I mean that wholeheartedly), The Vegas Era

A/N: I���m sorry for the stupid summary, I’m not good at summarizing my stories yet. However, it is finally here. This fic will be three parts, so it is a short series because I love to torture myself. I also did not add any adjectives, so the reader could be any ethnicity, so to my fellow sistas, have fun! This fic is based off of this song, so I recommend you listen to it before or while you are reading it ;)

masterlist. 

Your husband was gone once again. You and your husband had been married for five years, yet you’ve only spent three of those years with him. You had tried to keep yourself busy—the burden of feeling lonely weighing in your mind. You didn’t want to tell your husband that you were lonely, but it was beginning to get harder to stay quiet as your husband was off doing god knows what. You knew that your husband had a wandering eye and at first, you didn’t let it bother you. You figured that as time went on, his wandering eye would shrink and he would only see you. You couldn’t be more wrong. Your husband didn’t only have wandering eyes, but a wandering cock as well. He thought that you wouldn’t have known—but you knew. The phone calls during the night, the lipstick stains on his collar, the perfume smells on his clothes that weren’t yours. You weren’t sure when you had begun to feel lonely, but you were lonely and very bitter. How could he do this to you after you had given him ten years of your life and five of those being married. You were young, while he was nearing his forties. Your family and friends warned you that marrying someone who was ten years your senior could come with consequences, but you loved him. How could you have not?

Your husband wooed you with flowers, gifts, and vacations but you didn’t want anything but his love. However, love apparently wasn’t enough for him. So it was at this moment that you decided that you would find someone who would love you. Someone who wouldn’t spend their money on you just to keep you in the shadows while they indulge in forbidden pleasures. You knew that there was a man who would treat you better than your husband—what you didn’t know was the man who would treat you better than your husband was Elvis Presley. 

Your friend wanted you to come along with her to see Elvis perform at the new International Hotel. You did listen to his music, but you were only a casual listener. The idea of meeting another man at this show was the only reason that you decided to go, along with the fact that you didn’t know if you could stomach another night in, seeing your husband come home with evidence of him sleeping with another woman. As you packed your bags for this small getaway, you decided that you wouldn’t leave Vegas without sleeping with another man. In the back of your mind, you were telling yourself that it was a bad idea—that stepping out on your marriage just to get back at your cheating husband meant that you were no better than him. However, you didn’t care what your conscience was saying, because hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. 

You had been so good to your husband, moving away from your family when he had gotten the career of his dreams, leaving your dreams behind in the process. Your husband didn’t like the idea of you working, so you bite your tongue and stay at home being a homemaker. You were not meant to be a homemaker. You had dreams and ambitions, yet you blindly followed your husband into the life that you were miserable in. After this weekend, you were going to change from the miserable wife, to the woman that you had always dreamed of being. So as you packed your bags for the weekend trip in Vegas, you slid your wedding band off of your finger and left it on the nightstand, knowing that your husband wouldn’t be home anyway to see. You grabbed your bag, leaving your house and your homemaker status behind. 

***

You arrived in Vegas before your friend, deciding to sightsee while you waited for her flight to arrive. You had a few hours to spare, deciding to meet with her at the hotel. Vegas was more beautiful than you could have imagined. The more than you looked around the city, the more your hatred for your husband grew. You would have thought that you weren’t even married because you threw the thought out of reconciling with him once you returned home. You were walking through one of the casinos that Vegas had, the Stardust. It was very vibrant, so you made a note to return tomorrow so that you could gamble a bit. Your time here was going to be spent having fun and enjoying being free from your husband, so that’s what you were going to do. You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t notice that there were a pair of blue eyes watching you. “Are you lost, darlin’?” A southern accent brought you out of your thoughts. 

You turned, eyes widening and jaw dropping as you saw Elvis Presley in all of his glory. He was better looking than he was on the television, his olive skin glistening from the warmness of the casino—cigar in hand. He tilted his head, tongue in cheek as he waited for your reply. You coughed, placing your hands behind your back as you rocked on your heels. “Oh uh—yes, I’m lost actually. I’m looking for my way out of here, but I was intrigued by the vibrant feeling of this place.” You stumbled over your words, mentally hating yourself that you were rambling in front of him. Elvis chuckled, taking in your body language as he stepped closer to you. You gasped, stepping back a bit in fear that you would embarrass yourself more than you already had. 

“Don’t be shy, mama. I’m not gon’ bite, unless you’re into that.” He chuckled, extending his hand. “Elvis Presley. My pleasure to meet such a beauty.” He smirked, blues burning into your eyes as he stared down at you as if you were his next prey. Your hand shakingly raised as you shook his hand, not once looking away from his gaze. “Y/N, pleased to meet you.” Your face dropped as you watched him pull your hand up to his lips, pressing a longing kiss to the back of it. He was laying it on thick, you thought. As you stood there indulging in his presence, you suddenly remembered that you were supposed to meet with your friend ten minutes ago. You pulled your hand out of his, feeling the empty feeling that you had never felt before. “My apologies, Mr. Presley. I have to meet with my friend, so I must take my leave. It was a pleasure to meet the person that has the whole world at his feet.” You shot him a smile, before running off before another word could have been spoken. 

You met up with your friend a few minutes later, choosing not to tell her about your meeting with Elvis. “Where have you been, girl? I’ve been standing here like a fool waiting on you.” She chuckled, pulling you into a hug. Your friend, Lindsay hasn’t seen you since your wedding day. She was also the President of the “I hate your husband” club. When she had first met your husband, she made it known that she didn’t like him and that she didn’t even want you to marry him. She conceded after she saw how much you loved him, but it didn’t stop her from letting it be known that you could do much better than him. She would always tell you, “What kind of man buys you things and asks you to be his wife, just to step out?” She also made it known that if she had ever seen your husband out with one of his whores, she would castrate him and throw his dick into the Mississippi River. You used to think that she was being unreasonable, but as time went on, you started to think that maybe she could see right through him. 

The thought of your best friend being right about your husband had broken your heart right down the middle. You didn’t want to tell her about the cheating, but one night you didn’t have anyone to talk to. You broke down on the phone to her, telling her about the lipstick stains that you found on your husband’s shirts and the purple marks that you could see on his body. You were thinking that she would have said “I told you so,” but yet she sat on the phone with you, telling you that he would soon be sorry for hurting you the way that he has. The show at the International wouldn’t happen until later on that night, so you would have to deal with your best friend dressing you up so that you could have the attention of everyone. You didn’t really want all of the attention, but you wanted to at least have the attention of the man who would be yours for the weekend. 

***

As time started to wind down, your best friend had convinced you to dress into a two-piece pink getty-up, the sheer top had lace that barely covered your stomach and a matching skirt that stopped at your thighs. She had curled your hair, letting it sit on your shoulders, while doing your make-up to perfection. You stood in the mirror, not knowing who this new you was, not being able to dress this way before. Your husband would have had a fit seeing you dress this way, but you could care less about what he had thought. He had spent five years trying to mold you into his ideal woman, but would sleep around with women who weren’t his wife. You were ready to stop some hearts tonight and you didn’t care how you had to do it. As you and your friend walked into the showroom, you could feel multiple eyes on you. You had to admit that you were uncomfortable at first, but your best friend told you to relax and remember that it was time for payback. Your husband wouldn’t know what hit him once he realized that things would soon change once you got home. 

A waitress came to the table that you and your friend shared, taking your drink orders before rushing off to retrieve them. You were sitting so close to the stage that you could reach out and touch him, but you decided to stay firmly into your seat. The lights dimmed and the music started to pick up as the crowd went wild. At that time, the waitress came back with your drink before scurrying away from your table. Lindsay clapped her hands, clearly excited that she was finally going to be able to see Elvis perform. You on the other hand were excited that you would see him again. He walked out on stage in his white jumpsuit, oozing confidence and sexuality. Your thighs rubbed together at the sight of the jumpsuit being slightly opened at the top—revealing his chest hair. He looked gorgeous and you couldn’t take your eyes away from him. His eyes scanned the crowd, smiling as he blew his breath out of his mouth. Eventually, his eyes landed on you and his smile turned into a smirk as he looked you over. You melted into your chair, taking a gulp from your drink as your eyes stayed locked on his. You were so entranced by his presence that you didn’t hear Lindsay screaming that Elvis was staring at you. Not that you didn’t know that already. 

His eyes left yours as he began to go into his nostalgic tunes, jerking his hips in multiple directions. At the sight of his hips thrusting, you could imagine his hips thrusting into you. You snapped out of that thought, instantly remembering that there was no way that Elvis Presley would ever think about sleeping with you. You didn’t know that you would be wrong once again. As he started to sing “Love Me Tender”, his eyes found yours once again and it felt as if you two were the only ones in the room. Your body heats up at him walking over to the table that you were sitting at, pulling you up into his arms before pressing a kiss to your lips. You gasped, opening your mouth, which allowed for him to maneuver his tongue past your lips. You could have fainted in his arms, but your lips moved along with his, gripping at his white jumpsuit to keep your body from crumbling to the ground. 

As soon as he appeared in front of you, he was gone in the crowd as he continued seeking out his fans. Lindsay grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back into your seat as she began to ask you about what had just happened. You couldn’t form a single word, only looking over at your friend with wide eyes. Your fingers landed on your lips as you smirked at the memory of Elvis Presley’s lips on yours. He was going to be the man who you slept with, he had to be. Shortly after that awakening experience, Elvis appeared back on stage where he ended the show with ‘Can’t help falling in love’. His eyes lingered at your table as if he was performing that song just for you. At that moment, a man appeared behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. You turned, seeing a blond haired man who was wearing sunglasses. He leaned into your ear, whispering “Elvis wants to see you tonight in his suite.” 

***

Lindsay freaked out, hearing that Elvis wanted to see you privately. You had thought about not meeting with him, the thought of sleeping around on your husband still lingering in your mind. You didn’t want to ruin your marriage, you kept telling yourself. However, the pictures that were seared in your mind of your husband coming home with lipstick stains and hickies on his body as he looked over you with pure disgust on his face pushed you forward. “You deserve this, Y/N. Go show your husband what he missed out on.” She giggled, leaving the elevator that you both were on, heading off to your shared hotel suite. Elvis had the penthouse suite, which meant you had a while to go before you got there. The blonde-haired man who you learned was Jerry Schilling, his bodyguard, had told you that he was expecting you. He got off on his floor shortly after, giving you a smile as the elevator doors shut. You were suddenly nervous, being in the elevator alone.

The elevator moved up until it finally dinged at the penthouse floor. Your heart pounded into your ears and sweat pooled in your hands, but you were confident that you were called up to his room because of the two instances that you had met with him earlier on that day. The voices fighting in the back of your head seemingly stopped as you exited the elevator, walking up towards the door of the room. You couldn’t believe your luck, seeing Elvis Presley take interest in you. Your husband couldn’t even do that and he was your husband. Your husband, you thought. That no-good piece of trash was the reason why you were here in Vegas, about to meet with Elvis Presley. Why were you thinking about him and his feelings so much? He was the cause of all of this, yet you couldn’t take your mind off of him. You stood outside of the room for a second, pondering whether or not you should knock. Eventually, you do, rocking on your heels again as you wait for the door to open. Elvis appeared as the door opened, smiling as he stood in front of you—wearing a satin purple dressing robe with his initials on them. You gasped, seeing that his chest was revealed, glistening in the light. “Well, come on in, darlin’”. He stepped aside, allowing you to come in. 

You entered the room, in awe at how big it was. It was much bigger than the normal room that you and Lindsay were sharing for the weekend. You walked over to the huge glass windows that showed the beautiful Vegas lights that burned brightly at night. It was truly a beautiful sight, which made you once again appreciate that your friend talked you into coming to Vegas with her. This was the life that you wanted, not being a homemaker for your husband. Not being cooped up at home, enduring his cheating ways and the glares that he sent your way because of it. “Beautiful..” you forced yourself to say before turning back to look at Elvis. He had sat down at the piano that was in the corner of the room, watching you with a smile. You didn’t know what it was about you that had him enamored, but you wouldn’t complain about it. You walked over to him slowly, taking in the sight of him manspread at the piano. He was gorgeous, more gorgeous than any man you have ever laid eyes upon. You sat down next to him, playing a little tune on the piano. Elvis curled his eyebrow, looking over at you. 

“You know how to play, mama?” He smirked at you, his icy blue eyes staring into your soul once again. You could have melted on the spot, but you sat there, taking in a deep breath before opening your mouth. “Yeah, I can play a little. My mama used to be my piano teacher when I was younger, but that was before I had to stop playing for personal reasons.” You shrugged your shoulders, playing the same tune that you played a while ago. Your mother was the best piano player in your hometown and she had wanted you to be the same, but you met your husband and things went south fast. You gave up playing because he wanted you to leave him for his new job. If you could go back, you would have told him that he could shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. “Well, if you want baby, I can teach you.” His southern drawl drew you out of your thoughts for the third time today. 

You wanted nothing more than to learn the piano from Elvis. “I would love nothing more than to learn under you.” You giggled, turning to face him. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, he was like an enigma. From his blue eyes that bore into your soul like it was a window to his southern charm, Elvis had your attention from the first meeting. You wanted him and you were determined to have him before the night was over. Your husband would learn that you would not be at his beck and call since he was sleeping around. You were going to become someone else’s girl—and that someone was Elvis Presley. “Are you okay, darlin’?” Elvis took you by the hand, standing up from the piano. He walked you over to his couch, sitting you down. He grabbed two glasses, filling them with whiskey. “Ya’ like whiskey?” He chuckled, handing you one of the glasses. You didn’t like whiskey, but you were feeling free at the moment so you nodded your head as you took a small sip out of the glass. 

Elvis spent the next hour asking you questions about yourself. You answered them as truthfully as you could, smiling as he told you about himself. He was definitely different from the superstar that was all over the radio and you felt yourself falling under his spell. He could sense that you had something on your mind, but you told him that you were just tired. “Do you want me just to let you crash here tonight?” He asked you, eyes seeming hopeful that you would agree. You chuckled, nodding as you pulled your feet up on the couch. “I had planned on staying here, if you didn’t mind?” You crawled over to him, rubbing your hand down his chest, fingertips grazing over his chest hair. Lindsay was right—you needed to be loved and having your body touched correctly. “My friend brought me to Vegas to find someone to touch my body correctly.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you snuggled up to him. “I can do that, mama.” He pulled you up in his arms, walking you back over to the piano.

You smirked, knowing you were going to get exactly what you wanted. Elvis placed you on top of his piano, pulling your skirt off of your body. You shivered, feeling the wet spot on your panties come into contact with the cool air. You didn’t realize that you were wet from staring at him manspread at the piano earlier. Elvis smirked, spreading your legs so he could have a look at your wet panties. You were shy at that moment, wanting to hide your arousal from him, but his magnetic pull on you forced your legs to stay open. His blue eyes not once leaving your face, he leaned in, pressing his lips on your thighs. Your body jerked slightly, the feeling of his kisses becoming unbearable on your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat as he moved his mouth closer to your core, his eyes now moving from your face to in between your legs. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you waited for his next move. 

Elvis finally gave you what you were waiting for—licking up your wet underwear, collecting the little arousal that spilled from your cunt. You shivered, throwing your head back as you moaned out in pleasure. “Don’t run off, mama. I’m gonna take my time with you tonight.” He teased, pulling you down the piano—closer to his face. It seemed as if time had slowed down, but you were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into. Elvis tugged your underwear off of your body, pocketing them in his robe. “You’re not to cum until I tell you that you can, ya hear me?” His now dark blue eyes locked on yours, sending you overboard into pleasure. You nodded, tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Use your big words, baby.” He wanted you to talk back to him and who were you not to oblige? 

“Yes..” You whimpered out, hoping that this answer would suffice. He tsked, shaking his head at your short answer. “Yes, what?” He tilted his head as his fingers rubbed circles on your thighs. He couldn’t have wanted you to call him daddy, right? You watched him in confusion, but decided to test the waters anyway. “Yes, daddy.” You moaned out, thrusting your hips upward against the air, wanting some type of friction. He smirked, leaning back down before pressing a heated kiss to your thighs again. “That’s my good girl.” He licked a stripe from your thigh to your core, slowly pulling your lower lips with his teeth. You hissed, digging your heels into the top of his piano as you watched him. He chuckled, spitting on your cunt before lapping up your juices that were not mixed with his saliva. Elvis watched you from under his long eyelashes as you squirmed from his touch. His arms locked around your legs, holding you still as he lapped at your cunt. He moaned, sending vibrations up your body, and the coil in your stomach began to form. “Daddy, please...I don’t wanna cum yet.” You groaned out, trying to run away from him. “Oh, you’re not, baby.” 

It seemed as if he was eating your cunt for hours because every time you were close to cumming, he would pull away, smacking your pussy. He was edging you. The bastard was teasing you and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. At this point, you were crying at the feeling of not being able to cum. You felt as if you were going to explode, but your body wouldn’t allow you to. He chuckled, jerking his cock in his hand as he watched you try to grind your legs together to gain some friction. “Did Daddy say you could do that? Are you tryin’ to make him upset, naughty girl?” He walked over to you, climbing on the piano as he wrapped his hand around your throat. “Since you ain’t listening like the dumb slut that you are, I’m going to tease you more.” He pulled his hand from around your throat, sliding off of the piano. “Lay right there, baby. I’ll be right back.” He chuckled, walking over to his closet. Seeing him pull out a vibrating dildo, your eyebrow raised. Your husband had never introduced toys with you as your sex was very bland, but with Elvis, it seemed as if he wanted to try different things out. You loved it. You loved the rush of feeling as if your sex life with him would be spontaneous as his lifestyle. 

Elvis walked back over to you, rubbing the vibrating toy along your clit. You gasped loudly, throwing your head back on the piano. Your orgasm was starting to build back up, but you were afraid that he was going to edge you again so you tried your hardest to hold back. It was useless because the way the toy was hitting your clit, sent jolts up your body. He smirked, sliding two of his ring-covered fingers into you, pumping into you at a fast pace. You screamed, shaking along the piano, shaking your head wildly. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, please! I can’t take it anymore! Please!” You begged as he moved the vibrator along your clit in a circular motion—his fingers still fucking inside of you. Your back arched off of the piano, toes digging in. “I guess I can allow my slut to cum, huh?” He tilted his head, shaking his fingers into your pussy wildly, hitting your spot again and again. “Please, Daddy, I’ll listen... I swear!” You begged, holding on tightly as your orgasm rose higher and higher. “Cum for Daddy, slut.” He moved his fingers faster, and the vibrator moved in long strokes along your clit. 

This was it, you were finally able to chase after your orgasm, and you did. However, it felt as if you were going to pee, which caught you off guard. “Daddy, I have to pee. Please stop.” You moaned out, trying to pull your hips away from his fingers and the vibrating toy that he was currently torturing you with. He laughed, still continuing with his motions. “That’s okay, baby; I will catch it all.” He leaned down, replacing the vibrator with his tongue. You squealed as warm liquid shot out of your pussy, covering Elvis. He moaned, lapping up all of it—not letting one drop hit the piano. He pulled away, sliding his fingers out of you before licking your juices from his fingers. You had never seen something so hot before in your life. This was photo-worthy, but you decided to keep it etched into your memory. He picked up the vibrator, placing it against your lips. “Clean it.” He demanded. You didn’t have to be asked twice as you wrapped your lips around the toy, tasting yourself. 

***

This alone turned both you and Elvis on. Elvis pulled the toy from your lips, throwing it over his shoulders as he climbed up on the piano. He needed to be inside you at this very moment. He pulled his robe open, grabbed his hardened cock, rubbing the tip along your entrance. “Ya’ ready for me, baby?” He groaned in your ear as he aligned with your entrance. You groaned, pushing the robe down off of his shoulders just a bit, leaving the material hanging off of his shoulders. He looked sexy—bedroom eyes watching you with amusement. “I’m ready, Daddy, fuck me.” You begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. Elvis pushed inside of you slowly, his head laying on his chest as he groaned at how you were squeezing him. You mewled, tugging him close to your body—your breasts pressed against his chest as he thrust into you. 

Elvis had been with plenty of women before; some were even famous in their own right. However, he felt differently about you. You were all he thought about that day, leading into when he saw you again at the dinner show. He could remember how you smelled—the shampoo that you used seared into his brain. He thought about how your skin felt under his touch and how you tasted. He had bet that you tasted sweet like peaches, and he was definitely right. He wouldn’t have thought that he would have you writhing underneath him as he thrusted mindlessly into you. He wanted you as many times as he could have you before he would have to let you go, but he didn’t know if he could let you go. Elvis always got what he wanted and he didn’t care what he had to do to get it. At this moment, he wanted you and he would go through any and every one to get you. What he didn’t know however was that someone else already had you. 

Elvis thrusted slowly into you, his hand wrapped around your throat softly. He could have the sight in front him painted—you moaning, head tilted back in ecstasy. You had tears forming in your eyes, gripping the piano as if you would fall off if you didn’t. His robe hung off his shoulders as his thrusts picked up speed, his hand gripping a little tighter along your throat. Your moans caught under his hand, eyes crossing as he hit the right spot inside of you. The tears fell down your cheeks as you begged for him to go faster, harder, anything. Elvis obliged, pounding his hips into you harder, his feet hitting keys on the piano that sounded beautiful along with your moans. His black locks flopped against his forehead, sweat dripping on your body as he continued ravishing your sweet cunt. His hand moved from your throat, gripping your cheeks. Your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to pull. 

“Open your mouth wider, lil’ mama. Let Daddy see your tonsils.” He groaned, watching as you opened your mouth wider for him. You weren’t sure what he would do with your mouth, but you were too fucked out to care. Elvis spit into your mouth, hips continuing to thrust into you at a rapid pace at this point, demanding you to swallow what he gave you. You closed your mouth, swallowing his saliva down quickly as he returned to choking you. “I can’t-..” You whimpered out as your coil finally snapped inside of you, sending you headfirst into the longest and hardest orgasm you've ever had. You gripped your hands on his biceps, digging your nails into his skin as he fucked you through your second orgasm of the night. However, Elvis was not done with you. His hand let go of your throat once again, moving down to your bundle of nerves, rubbing your clit wildly. You gasped at the overstimulated feeling, blood pumping in your ears. You could feel your spirit leave your body at the overwhelming pleasure that he was making you feel. Your husband definitely didn’t hold a candle to Elvis—both physically and sexually. 

The warm feeling in your stomach returned as he continued pounding into you, playing with your cunt. “I can’t take it, Daddy. I can’t take it.” You truly didn’t know if you could handle another orgasm. “You can and you will, slut.” He grunted out, his other hand slapping across your face. Your eyes widened as your lips parted once again. “Again..” You moaned out, wrapping your legs tighter around him. Part of you was appalled that you wanted to be slapped again, but the other half wanted him to be rough with you. You were free, flying on a high that you didn’t need drugs for. He smacked you across the face again, groaning as his hips started to lose the pace he had set. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, so you pulled him down to his—licking and biting at his earlobe. He shivered, continuing to push into you. “W-where d-do you want it baby? Inside you or?” He spoke quickly, feeling his orgasm build faster and faster. “Inside me, I don’t care.” You moaned, your own orgasm crashing over you—spurts of your own juices squirting out again against his pelvis. He nodded, grinding his hips into you as he soon came after you. His moans were so hot, causing a shiver to go up your body. You had never had such mind-blowing sex like this before, especially with someone who was not your husband. 

That night, Elvis took you again and again all over his room. You would have lied if you said you didn’t enjoy being used and fucked by him because you begged and pleaded for him. He itched the scratch that you never knew you had, awakening the youth that was long ago locked away when you married your husband. After hours of love-making, Elvis had fallen asleep in his bed, holding you close to him as snores left his lips. You laid there, staring at the ceiling, overwhelmed with feelings that you couldn’t sort out. You had to get out of your marriage, you had to tell Elvis that you were married, and you had to tell your husband that you refused to continue being trapped in a loveless marriage while he was out fucking another women. However, you weren’t any better. You were laying in a bed with Elvis fuckin’ Presley after spending the entire night getting your brains fucked out by him. You had to do something and it had to be soon. You sat up in the bed, sliding out of his embrace. Your heart broke as each step you took out of the bed, into your clothes, and out of his room took its toll on you. 

As you returned to your room that you shared with Lindsay, tears had already begun to fall out of your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to return back to Elvis to make love once more, but you were married. You couldn’t continue doing this to your husband, even if he was already doing it to you. You slid out of your clothes, walking into the bathroom to shower. While you were in the shower, you had thoughts of how you were gonna tell your husband that you didn’t want to be married anymore. Would he let you go? Probably not. He was very much possessive of you, but you didn’t see a problem with it until now. How could you have been so blind that your relationship with him was toxic? How would you tell Elvis that you were a married woman, but you wanted to be with him? You had decided while he had made love to you countless times that you wanted out of your husband’s world and wanted in Elvis’s world. 

After your shower, you slid in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You knew what you had to do, but you didn’t know how you would do it. As you finally drifted off to sleep, you were content of finally becoming free. You were content that everything would be alright. You would soon leave your husband and if Elvis still wanted you, you would be his. You wanted to live your own life, a life that you felt comfortable in. A life where you would live the remaining of your life free. However, what you didn’t know was that there was a price to pay for this freedom. Because as you slept soundly, dreaming of the life you could have with Elvis. Your husband was on the other side of the country, packing his bags to find where his wife had gone. 

taglist: @headfullofpresley @lindszeppelin @aconflagrationofmyown @venus-haze @ash-omalley @loving-elvis @babylovepresley @cchl @rainydayz101 @oh-my-front-door @woundmetender @oh-kurva @troubleinapinksuit @arianatheangel-girl @sournatromanoff @ep-supremacy @lovininapinkcadillac @foreverdolly

[mamasturn]

dirty dancing, pt 5

pairing: ep (2022) x black!fem!oc (cynthia)

content: a highlight of cynthia’s weekend in graceland. (i was gonna continue, but im gonna make her visit two parts instead of one long part)

warnings: fluff. suggestive content. brief 18+ steam.

wc: ?

The Memphis sun was bright. Its devious rays snuck past the thick blinds and dark curtains. Over and over they tickled at her eyelids. She groaned softly at the intrusion and threw the sheets of over her head.

Her actions pulled a deep chuckle from the man beside her. Her body jumped and her eyes popped open at the sound. She wasn’t in her quaint room with peeling wallpaper and a creaking bed with a busted headboard. No, she was in a large room, filled with luxurious knickknacks and a comfortable bed, entangled in the arms of her lover.

“Mornin’,” his voice was low and full of sleep. The thick accent that carried his words was even heavier. It sent a warmth through her body. “Sleep well?”

She sure did. Lulled to sleep by soft serenades and loving touches. They woke up shortly after they laid down, still desperate for moments together. Cynthia asked him to sing to her. So, he swiped he led her to the jungle room where he swept her off her feet with his angelic voice and beautiful chords. “I can’t help falling in love with you.”

He even taught her to play bit, sighting that she was a natural. He moved her into his lap. “Okay, you’re left handed, so put the neck in your right hand—okay angle it just like that…”

“What’s the cork lookin’ thing for?” she’d ask.

“Tunes the guitar, baby. Make it sound high or low ‘cause it tightens the strings. Use your thumb to swipe the string—dare I say, you’re a natural, darlin’.”

Shortly after, they made their way to the kitchen for the dessert they missed out on in a rush to be alone. A famous peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. They fed each other like couples in the movie. Until Elvis purposefully missed her mouth and allowed the ice cream to fall down the valley of her breasts. Cynthia gave him a stern look but it melted away when his hot tongue ran across her skin.

At that point, all thoughts of finishing that dessert were over, and he had the opportunity to taste something much better. Cynthia was loud, as he discovered.

“Shh, baby. Gotta stay quiet for me. You’re doin’ so good, darlin’.”

She could only answer with whimpers of praise, moans of his name, and pulls of his raven locks.

“Yes,” Cynthia replied with a smile after some time. She turned underneath the covers to face him. She was still bare and Elvis took the opportunity to caress her body in the way she enjoyed—gentle rubs of her hips and backside. He hooked his hand beneath her thigh and brought it across his hip, fingertips tickling the skin.

“I had a plan for today unless there was somethin’ else you wanted to do,” Elvis stated. He kissed her cheek then moved to her neck and collarbone. She bit her lip.

“Like what?”

He hummed against her skin. “Let’s go for a drive. There’s a lil’ park I know, has some water and lots of trees. Private and out the way. How’s that sound?” Sneakily, his fingers slid between her thighs, toying around her most sacred parts. Cynthia draped an arm around his shoulder and nodded.

“Sounds good,” she breathed out as he continued to work her. “Please…”

Elvis nipped and sucked along her neck and muttered into her skin, “I got you, baby.”

Cynthia finished getting ready before Elvis did. When he stomped down the steps, he found her laughing with his mother as they moved around the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

A bright smile was on her face as she allowed Gladys to instruct her on making pancakes. “Okay, now, you only wanna let a little bit go into the pan at a time ‘cause it’s gon’ fill out. Jus’ like that! Perfect! I’ll get the coffee started while you work on that, honey.”

“Okay,” Cynthia whispered with a smile. She looked very content, like she belonged. She and his mother worked in harmony together with smiles on their faces.

For moments more, he found himself admiring her. Her hair had been pinned up and out of her face. And she traded her pants for a simple blue dress and flats. Not without her sweater of course. A precious woman, she was.

“It smells good down here!” Elvis exclaimed, finally making his presence known. Both ladies greeted him with a wave. He welcomed the gesture gratefully, pressing two kisses on each cheek of the women.

“Bewbie, set the table please. Your daddy should be down in a minute.”

There was a comfortable silence amongst them. Soon, Vernon came to the dining area and they prepared plates. Cynthia stood next to Elvis by the counter, but he ushered her back to the seat, pulling it out then pushing her in. “I got it.”

“So, what do y’all have planned for the day?” Vernon said from behind his cup of coffee. Cynthia glanced at Elvis as she shoved a pancake in her mouth.

“Goin’ for a drive. Stop by a park. We should prolly pack some stuff for the road, huh?”

Cynthia nodded. “That’s the best bet. There’s no integrated places ‘round here. Save for Beale Street but that’s the opposite direction.”

“Packing from home it is then,” Gladys spoke up. “I’ll handle that while y’all gather your hearings. When do y’all plan to leave?”

“Hour or two,” Elvis gulped down some orange juice. “Shouldn’t take more than 45 minutes to get there.”

“Alrighty, then.”

“Baby, you ready?” Elvis called from the bottom of the steps. He flicked his wrist to check the time on his watch. If they wanted to get there and have plenty of time before the sun set, she’d have to stop examining herself in the mirror. “Cynthia, you look fine, darlin’, we gotta go!”

“Okay, okay!”

Elvis chuckled lowly and migrated toward the kitchen where his mother was, shoving snacks into a cooler bag. Sandwiches, fruit, colas, water, and his favorite candy all complied into the cooler. He smiled. “Thank you, mama.”

“Anything for you honey,” she replied to him with a pat on his cheek. “So, Cynthia, huh? She’s a sweet girl. She’s good for you, son. I like her. Wish things was different and she didn’t have to be cooped up in here. She seems to enjoy it, though.”

Elvis nodded. He did feel guilty, very guilty. He pursued her knowing the situation and as a result, they had to sneak around; dates at night, weekends at Graceland where she couldn’t really come out of the house, and phone calls when her family wasn’t around. It was hard, yes, but if she still wanted it, he would do anything in his power to make their relationship feel as normal as possible.

“Me too.”

Before he had the chance to expand, Cynthia skipped down the spiral steps with a smile. “I’m ready.”

Elvis swiped the cooler from his mother and pecked her cheek. “Thank you. We’ll be back sometime tonight. Don’t wait up!”

“Bye, Mrs. Presley!” Cynthia waved as she was dragged by the hand. “Thank you!”

“Y’all have fun, now!”

“C’mon, baby, it feels good.”

He was right when he said there was a park not too far away. It was beautiful, too. Trees larger than life. Botanical plants and vines wrapped around trunks and branches. There was a small garden with colorful flowers. Elvis plucked off a sunflower and tucked it behind her ear. “Wish I had a camera to capture how pretty you are.”

He mentioned water, too. She assumed a small pond that housed frogs, fish, and ducks. She thought to minuscule. It was a lake, one permitted for swimming. She eyed Elvis like he was crazy when he peeled off his clothes and jumped into the water like a madman.

“I don’t have the right clothes, baby,” she said lowly, glancing down at her dress. Was that the first time she called him aside his name, she thought. That’s not the point, she told herself. “I can’t wear in this.”

“So, take it off,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world. Cynthia sighed and broke eye contact.

“I can’t swim, Elvis. Last time I tried, my cousins were drowned for hopping in the pool. So, we stay away from the water.”

The mood shifted. Elvis, once again, felt guilty. The difference in their life experiences was astronomical. He just couldn’t understand; she was a human just like him. Sure, she was of a different race, but what did that matter? Drowned for wanting to swim? The stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

“Okay, honey, I’m sorry. But, no one is out here, it’s just you and me. There’s nothing to be afraid of, just wade wimme. Feels great.”

Cynthia’s jaw shifted as she thought long and hard. It didn’t help that his eyes were on her as she debated the scenario. He was right—it was just them and no one would hurt her. Right?

Slowly, she shimmied out of her clothing. One by one, her dress, sweater, and leggings fell at her feet. She stepped out of her flats and let the grass caress her feet. She wiggled her red painted toes amongst the blades.

“I got you,” Elvis reassured. He held his hand out and she accepted it. She dipped a toe into the water and yelped at the temperature. It was cold. She inched further into the water until she was in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support.

“Not so bad, is it?” Elvis spoke against her neck. Cynthia shook her head. He cupped her thighs in his hands and tugged them around his waist for extra security. Soon, she was comfortable. One hand dropped from his shoulder to play with the surface of the water.

“It’s relaxing. Do you come here often?” Cynthia craned her neck to look in his eyes. They were bright and full of zeal. Hell, they almost matched the color of the sky. And his dark hair was dripping against his skin. She brushed some of it back to get the best look of him.

“I used to. Every weekend, then music took over and I didn’t have much time to come down here, but now I do.” He kissed her lips quickly. “I hope you like it.”

“I do,” she said sincerely. “Thank you for sharing some of you with me. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, darlin’.”

[hearts4court]

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Courtney |17| |17+ blog| minors DNI with 90% of my content! Proud Slytherin 🐍Marauders Fan, and Horror fan. Current works!

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[ranaissingle]

In My Mind

Masterlist Summary: Reader exists in the same circle as Austin and has been head over heels in love with him for years but she never speaks up over the course of their friendship until a new years party. Rating: T Word Count: 2.1 k ( I swear this was meant to be a short whip I have no idea what happened)

Warnings: Unrequited love lol (can you tell I'm feeling angsty?) A/N: Hey girlies, it's been a hot minute haha. School kinda got in the way and then I had to learn (for the zillionth time) that men ain't shit (besides our lord and savior Austin Butler of course). I quite literally have no inspiration so please do send me some requests. I'm thinking of doing another angst fic about Hanahaki disease... How do we feel?

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When Austin told you he had started dating Vanessa Hudgens you felt like you wanted to die. Yes. Die. The world seemed to close in on you as he continued explaining how they had met and how he had asked her out. Each word was another knife in your throat and every admission of his love for her tore your heart into smaller and smaller pieces.

But you sat there and listened. You listened as he detailed their first kiss, their first date, his confession, and hers to him. It took each ounce of self-control to not get up and scream. Scream at him for not knowing how you felt and scream for the heart that had broken.

But you kept your mouth shut. You helped Austin plan all the valentines day dates, the birthday trips, and each anniversary date. Every single thing he had done for her and every girl he had been with since had been painstakingly vetted by you. You were happy to help him, but the fact that all your preparations were for another girl was a hard pill to swallow.

Everything came to a head when he started dating Kaia Gerber. She was beautiful. in every way imaginable she was conventionally attractive. Her skinny legs, straight waist, and small hips made you want to collapse in on yourself. She was perfect in every way. She was everything you were not. Tall, skinny, and beautiful.

Austin was smitten. He had developed a habit of dating skinny models and he had yet to break it. You were anything but surprised when she caught his eye when he asked you if you had her number, when he took her out for the first date, and then eventually when they started dating. It was routine for you now.

He would meet a girl, become infatuated, date her, dump her, then move on to the next one.

But at least you stayed constant. You had been constant for well over a decade at this point. That was more than any of the other girls could say. So you were content, until the New Year's of 2022. It was December 31st, 2022 and Austin had just broken up with his latest fling and had elected to spend New Year's as a free agent. You had never really had a date on new years because your previous relationships always ended before the fateful day or started after. You had grown accustomed to accompanying the same leather chair in the corner of your living room while you watched your friends with their respective partners mingle about your house. You sipped champagne as you watched couples drunkenly sway together as the countdown began to draw dangerously close to midnight.

1 hour to midnight

You spotted Austin out of the corner of your eye and you felt the iciness in your heart melt when he smiled at the people he spoke to. He was in the middle of a group of 4 other people yet still looked ethereal. His hair shone under the kitchen light and the crinkles around his eyes made you want to run your fingers over them.

You watched him. You watched how his lips moved. You traced his figure with your eyes until you reached his hands. His fingers picked at the cuticles of his nails. It was his nervous habit. He always resorted to picking at his cuticles whenever he was around people he didn't know well. It had led to many last-minute manicures before photoshoots to help deal with the redness it left.

30 minutes to midnight

You slowly pushed yourself off the comfortable chaise and made your way over to him. Maybe if you were with him he would feel so nervous, and it could save you from a last-minute call to the nail salon where you had to beg for an opening. You slid in next to him and smiled at the people around him. They barely looked away from Austin to greet you, but you were fine with that. Austin was the star, not you. You slipped your hands in his hand and tugged it behind your back to keep it out of view from those around you.

Austin thrived off of physical touch. He needed it like the air he breathed. Whenever he was feeling nervous or overwhelmed being enveloped in a hug from you or even just having your hand in his was enough to calm the nerves and allow him to breathe. Austin looked down to where you were pressed into his side.

You knew him so well that even from across the room you knew he needed grounding. His chest swelled with pride for a reason he couldn't quite pinpoint. His conversation with those around him continued without a hitch and when the countdown started to broadcast on the TV, they all made their way to their respective partners leaving you and Austin alone at the kitchen island.

15 minutes to midnight

You kept Austin's hand clasped in yours as the countdown numbers descended. Neither of you planned on moving or letting go. The warmth of his hand reached places all over your body and practically heated you up from the inside.

7 minutes to midnight

Austin leaned his head down to whisper into your ear, "If I didn't know you better I'd say that you end up single on New Year's on purpose." You heard the smile in his voice.

"Do you?"

His brown furrowed together, "Do I what?"

You matched him with a grin of your own.

"Know me better." The half tilt of your head made his stomach churn.

His laugh was smooth and boisterous. He brought his other arm around your shoulder to bring you closer to his side. Your heart slowed as you relaxed into him and abandoned your unnecessarily alcoholic drink on the kitchen counter.

5 minutes to midnight

"Hey." Austin's voice cut into the still air of the room. His eyes were trained on the TV and you looked up at his jaw as you waited for him to finish his sentence.

"Do you… do you wish you had a date? For New Year that is." The question caught you off guard and you twitched as you pressed into his side.

"uhm, I-I. I gues-" You stuttered when you couldn't seem to form a cohesive response. Your heart started to accelerate again and your breaths came out in short pants.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself once more to better be able to form a cohesive sentence.

"Well, I guess no one wants to be alone on New years. But that is just how it always seems to happen." You paused a sudden feeling of bravery came over you. The most likely culprit of such a feeling being the alcohol.

"And the person I would like to be with is almost always in a relationship during the New Year." You focused your gaze on the suddenly very interesting kitchen tiles. You had previously told Austin about someone that you had a crush on for years. You had tried to keep it yourself but Austin tended to pry when it came to matters of love but as much as he tried to wrangle the information out of you about who it was, you had kept tight-lipped and unwavering in your resistance to respond.

"Oh?" His eyebrow quirked up as he looked away. It seems he had also taken a sudden interest in the wall decor you had across the room.

"Is this the same guy you've told me about before?" His voice was deep and his throat bobbed as he spoke.

"Yes, it is actually. The very same."

"Haven't you been into this guy for years Y/N?"

"Yes, I have."

"And you are still into him? Why? He is the stupidest man in the world if he hasn't noticed by now." His chuckle was low but you could tell he didn't actually find it remotely funny.

You looked up at him and wished that he would understand from your eyes that you were talking about him, that you were in love with him.

But you had been in love with him for nigh over 10 years and the dolt had yet to come to any significant realization regarding your feelings so there was no use hoping for something like that now.

"Well, I would stop loving him if I could, but as soon as I feel like I can get over him, he does something that has been crawling back." You shrugged lightly and took another sip of your drink before placing it back on the counter.

3 minutes to midnight

"And it doesn't help that he is my best friend." You were skirting around the dangerous territory with that statement. You knew you were. But you were so tired that all the previous reservations and rules you had so painstakingly followed, disappeared.

Austin's eyes widened in confusion.

"Best friend? You have another best friend?" Austin was too slow for his own good.

You shrugged before replying, "Nope, I only have one best friend."

He let out an exasperated sigh

"So I'm not your best friend?!" Your eye twitched.

"No Austin. You are my only best friend."

"So who are you in love with?" Your fingers twitched. You were going to strangle him.

"I am in love with my one and only best friend."

Silence

Austin tensed next to you and you awaited the sting of his rejection that you had spent the better part of the last 10 years preparing for.

2 minutes to midnight

The silences echoed in the room despite the growing cheers of those around you. The timer was steadily counting down the seconds and you wanted to vomit.

The bile rose in your throat when the counter reached 30 seconds. Awaiting his rejection was arguably worse than the rejection itself.

10

9

8

You pushed away from him. His previously comforting warmth had twisted something in your gut and now you wanted to vomit.

6

5

His hand traced your back as you slid away before it fell back to his side. He stuttered out a "W-wait."

But you didn't want to

3 Austin yanked you back until your face was back in his chest and his arm was around your waist. He moved his head into your neck and pushed his nose into your hair before taking a deep breath.

2 Your breath caught when he pulled your head away from him to look into your eyes. 1 He kissed you. He kissed so hard you could have sworn you had fireworks behind your eyes. His hands were everywhere. Crossing your neck, cupping your hips, and splaying across your back. He kissed you until neither of you could breathe anymore. You wrenched away from each other and gulped down large breaths of fresh air.

His hand shakily pressed against your cheek and you looked up to meet his eyes. You didn't want this to be something that only happened because it was the heat of the moment. You wanted it to mean something to him. You wanted him to love you the same way you had for years. You didn't want this to be mean nothin-

"I love you." You had the timbre of his voice memorized. You knew it was Austin speaking but you still looked around you dreading the possibility of him not speaking to you.

But your face was still cupped in between his hands and his eyes were on you.

your eyes were wide as you looked at him You felt stinging and then a prick of tears in your eyes. They fell slowly down your cheeks one by one and Austin kissed each of them away.

All at once you need him on you all over again. You had gone years without so much as a kiss on the cheek from him and you would be damned if you continued in that fashion.

So you pulled his lips hard against you and kissed him until your lips were numb and swollen, and even then you didn't want him off of you.

────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────

well, this was probably shitty so forgive me. It has been a while since I posted so figured I needed to back in the groove of things haha. I think I might do a professor x university student Austin fic next so watch out for that lol.

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Drop It!

Warnings: Supernatural elements. Dead!Elvis. Reader’s father is dead. Reader denotes elvis to his face. Dilapidated Graceland.

Summary: It’s move-in day! Reader spends the day fixing up the house. By the end of the night, she just wants to relax but something, or someone, needs to talk to her.

A/N: I am fully aware that graceland is cared for and not at all in ruin but the story calls for it. I put a lot of thought into this series and i really want everyone to enjoy it! The story is inspired by my house and what it’s like living here. though i’ve never come face to face with my goulish friends, i do respect them. A small bit, while comical, is something i actually did experience. Granted, i never spoke to anyone, or at least, never got an audible response. Most of this series includes odd happenings that i’ve dealt with. Isn’t that fun? Non-beliver or not, i hope you enjoy it. Happy reading- Bee💕

September 2023

The keys resting in your palms bring nothing but joy, even after dealing with a snippy mother and grumbling movers on an overcast Thursday afternoon. It should've been alarming, the way that realtor hightailed it off the property, but you were just glad to get your hands on what once was a beautiful home.

Graceland had nearly fallen to ruin; once the previous owner's legacy began to deteriorate, so did respect for the house. Squatters, Drug dealers, vandals, this house has seen it all. Yet, under all that muck and destruction, you saw a chance to restore its beauty.

Your mother was a bit...perturbed by the decision, wondering what she had done in your childhood that could've led to this point. When the idea was first pitched, she laughed it off, assuming it was another one of your odd bouts, like it was some fairytale. So imagine her surprise when you tossed the paperwork onto the breakfast table.

Your mother's concerns only doubled when she actually saw the house. Move-in day is supposed to be exciting, and for you, it is. Pushing past the doors into your new home is something magical. You don't know where to start. The kitchen? The front room? Upstairs? It's all so tempting.

"Mama, this place, it's so beautiful. Doesn't it jus' make you wanna cry?" You exclaim, unable to contain the excitement rushing through your body.

"...That's...well, that's one way to put it." your mother says, watching for possible loose beams as you traverse through the house.

You kiss your teeth at her tone and begin rattling on about your ideas for the space.

"I can fix her up in no time. We can start with the walls; they only need a few patches and a fresh coat a' paint. Oh! And then we can work on the floors. And I'm sure we can find some replicas or have 'em made. I think-"

"Y/n!" your mother interrupts, "Rome wasn't built in a day, baby. Don't get too ahead of yourself. You already broke the bank buyin' this...place and-"

You shake your head "Mama, don't you know who used to live here? Daddy woulda-"

The older woman before you holds up her hand, face dropping into an unamused expression. "Don't compare me to your daddy; we never did have the same tastes. And of course, I know; Elvis was my crush before you were even thought of."

You tilt your head, shifting to move a box. "But you just said you n' daddy didn’t have the same-"

She cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Hush up and listen to your mama." A chuckle leaves your mouth as she scolds you.

"After all this time, daddy still can't catch a break?"

Your mother lets out a saddened sigh, "Well, he may not be here physically, but pokin' fun at him is the only way I know he's still around."

Your shoulders drop, and you set the box down. Your father passed away six years ago; he didn't want his family knowing he was sick. You thought it was a cruel joke, some twisted prank set to traumatize you forever. The wails your mother let out that night on the kitchen floor told you otherwise. She tries to pretend but hasn't been the same since—the idea of remarrying tossed to the wind like a dandelion's pappi.

"Mama, don't you think daddy would've wanted you to let him go?" you lament, hoping your mother would consider it this time. But, alas, the notion is shot down once again.

"You may not believe in ghosts or the afterlife, y/n, but I do. Your daddy is always with me. It wouldn't be right to get hitched in his face."

You shrug and continue unpacking, "If you say so mama, I jus couldn't imagine stickin' it out till the very end." That statement seems to tickle your mama pink. "You ain't never been in love, sugar pie. When you meet your mister right, you'll know what I mean."

You purse your lips. Even while talking about her dead husband, she hints at your sad love life. To you, love is just a feeling, and the dead are just that, dead. So your mother's musings about 'ghosts' and 'true loves' are nothing short of fantasy in your world.

"O...kay. Well, we've got a lot to do, and we've been talkin' bout nothin' for ten whole minutes. Let's hop to it!"

Your mother rolls her eyes, "This ain't my dream house, honey. I ain't GOT to do nothin' but stay black and die."

"Oh, here you go with that mess. You agreed to help your only baby move in so that I wouldn't 'die in my sleep cause some spider decided to munch on me,' so don't give me none of that." You mock.

Your mother pops your arm and grabs a broom. "You yo' daddy's daughter, alright. Couldn't have got that mouth from me." She mutters.

For the next four hours, the two of you dispose of odd findings, scrub, wash, disinfect, and grumble through the house. By the time you finish, the home is as clean as clean gets. The sun has set, and all you want to do is eat and sleep. The last thing to set up is the bedroom.

You feel a little strange sleeping in a room that once belonged to such a legend, but he isn't here, and the house belongs to you. The wall of TVs would be dealt with later. For now, a flatscreen was simply placed in front of them; aside from that, you pre-ordered replicas of the bedroom furniture, not wanting to personalize too much.

After kissing your mother goodbye, you trudge up the stairs, stopping halfway to crack your back. Once you return to the master suite, flopping on the bed only seems fitting. A groan escapes you as you realize you still need to shower. Rolling over, you grab a towel from your suitcase, lay out some pajamas on the center of the bed, and head for the bathroom.

While waiting for the water to warm, perched on the porcelain throne, the lights flicker. You'll need to replace the bulbs later; simple fix.

When the water reaches hell, you waste no time jumping in. It soothes your aching body, and all of the tension from today washes down the drain. You hum a nonsensical tune to keep you entertained while you clean away the dirt and grime. In the middle of the improvised song, a crash steals your attention.

You finish rinsing and shut off the water, quickly making your way to the bedroom door. You aren't going to investigate; too bright (or too experienced in the horror genre) to even give that a thought. No, you lock the door and mind your business; that is a morning problem.

When you turn back to retrieve your nightwear, you find them on a chair in the corner of the room. Odd. You could've sworn you left them in the middle of the bed. Whatever, you think as you throw them on.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, you grab the remote and turn the TV on—finally, a moment of peace. You flick through Netflix, desperate to find good background noise. Landing on your favorite show, 'The Good Place,' is enough for you. It's ironic, don't believe in anything after death, or love, and here you are, watching two dead people fall in love.

Halfway through Episode six, the source of entertainment shuts off. You huff; it was getting good too. The remote is behind you, out of reach, so you aren't exactly sure what could've caused this.

"Probably just a glitch," you mumble, turning the TV back on and resuming your minor addiction. This time, you place the remote on the dresser, ensuring no interruptions.

Despite your effort, it happens again; A guttural noise leaves your body. You're broke in a house that's falling apart with no man, pets, and no energy. TV is the one pleasure you have left, and even that is beginning to frustrate you.

Repeating the process, you hold the remote in your hands, eyebrows raised, daring your peace to try and leave again. After a few moments, you sigh in relief as the halfway point passes and set the remote down. As soon as it comes in contact with the plush, black comforter, the TV again fails you.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." You exclaim.

"Ladies shouldn't swear; ain't attractive." A voice bellows from behind you. A shrill shriek is all that is heard as you scramble off the bed. Your eyes search for the source but find nothing. Slowly, you creep toward the bed and snatch up the remote. "Can't go downstairs till morning, and I'm losin' it in here. What a night." You whisper.

A shiver rolls through your body, and you decide it's better to sit on the floor. Again you try with your tv (which you will be returning in the morning), and of course, that doesn't last long.

"Sugarpie, I don't wanna see that junk. If you're gon' watch somethin' in my bed, I suggest it be somethin' good. Not some trash show that don't know the first thing bout bein' dead." The strange voice booms again.

This time when you jump out of your skin and turn to face the intruder, you see what you can only assume to be the world's most accurate Elvis impersonator.

"What the hell are you doin' in my house?!" You screech, "Get out! Get the hell out."

The man before you is nowhere near ready for the projectiles flying his way. Clothes, shoes, books, and a stuffed bear. You name it; it's flying at his head.

"Hey! I—I said—, goddamn! You got an arm on ya! Put the—,"

Elvis can't even finish his sentence as you continue to fling whatever you can at him.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House!" You grunt, each word punctuated with the throw of an object. The tall, blue-eyed stranger ducks and dodges with precision, but when he sees you getting ready to toss a picture frame, one you no doubt failed to realize the importance of in your defensive state, the fun and games stop.

"Drop it! Drop that damn picture right now! Your mama would tan your hide for days if she saw that you broke that frame." Elvis booms.

Your chest is heaving, and you blink, glancing over at the photo.

"S'your daddy, right? Y'all were talkin' in the kitchen bout how it's the last thing he gave ya. You promised ta take care of it. So drop it."

You nod and gently place the photo on the bed, reaching for a good substitute.

"Jus—Just how long have you been here?" you question, ready to launch the lamp in your hand. Elvis ponders for a moment. "What year is it?" He asks, seeming genuine. You quirk an eyebrow, unamused with the game he's playing. "You can't be serious."

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an actual answer. Your phone is across the room, and the chances of getting past this psycho-wannabe Elvis are slim to none. So, you entertain him. "It's twenty-twenty-three, you should know that." You say, face stoic.

Elvis's eyes widen, "Twenty- Good lord!" He chuckles in disbelief.

"Well, to answer your question lil' mama, if that's true, I've been here for sixty-six years if you're countin' when I bought the house."

You shake your head; there's no way the idiot in front of you is this dedicated. "Yeah, sure, I reckon you want me to believe you're Elvis Presley himself. Is that what this is? Some attempt to scare me?"

Elvis chuckles and shakes his head, "No, ma'am. Ain't no pretendin' round here. I'm the real deal."

You can't help the cackle that slips past your lips.

"My ass!"

Elvis's smirk fades, "I told ya that shit isn't cute. And if ya don't believe me, try to shake my hand." He says, extending the appendage forward.

You scrunch your nose, "Now, why would I do that?"

He shrugs, hand still held out.

"Well, I ain't goin' nowhere for a long time n' you're the first person to see or hear me in ages. Whether ya do or don't, it really ain't too concernin' for me."

You sigh, knowing this is how dumb girls in movies usually meet their end. Can't believe m'doin' this. Shakily, you extend your hand, and when it meets his, it goes right through. You gasp as the limb turns to smoke before materializing again.

"Sweet jesus," you sputter.

"I wouldn't know if he was sweet, I ain't met him yet." Elvis jokes. You back away, very spooked.

"T-This, this isn't possible. Ghosts they—they aren't-"

"Real?" Elvis cuts you off, "Yeah, I heard that part too, jus didn't wanna scare your mama, so I waited till it was jus you n' me."

You scoff, offended, "My mama gets a pass, and I don't?"

He chuckles and sits on the bed, "She believed, you didn't. For someone with a gift this great, ya sure do love ta act like ya don't know what she's talkin' about."

You fold your arms, looking down, "I don't have-"

"Oh, yes ya do. Don't give me none of that. I spent the whole afternoon chit-chattin' with your old man. "

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. "You spoke to my daddy? How is he? Did he ask bout mama? Because she'd be thrilled. I gave up. I knew I shouldn't have. I'd been tryin' to reach him since he died, but he never-" The smug look on Elvis's face shuts you up.

"Well, first off. Why would ya need to call a man who's in the same house as ya? Second, you'd been tryin' so hard to find happiness for a woman who don't need it, that ya pushed your daddy away anytime he tried. A ghost can only do so much without scarin' someone half to death, baby."

This is all too much; Ghosts exist, Elvis Presley is in front of you, and your daddy hasn't moved on. Mama was right. You lift the covers and shimmy under them.

"I need to sleep on this. Jus—I...I don't know where you go, but scram for the night please."

Elvis chuckles, nodding. In a flash, he evaporates, fumes left behind as he finds another room to settle in.

You breathe through your nose as you think. What a night indeed, miss y/n.

Taglist: @prayerstopresley @powerofelvis @re3kin

[tpresley]

Nonono you don’t understand.. I NEED HIM. BAD.

[lustnhim]

young elvis 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩