#annie's bridal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wexhappyxfew · 3 months

Note

hi shannon! i saw you were taking prompts and i knew i HAD to ask for bessie! can i ask for "i wouldn't miss it for anything" from the random dialouge prompts for her? excited to see what you come up with!

HEY BLU!!!! thanks so much for stopping by! :) let's just say i had a LOT of fun with this prompt and got to play with a few OCs i haven't introduced in writing yet - so, please enjoy our resident navigator of Silver Bullets, bessie carlisle, with judy rybinski and a guest appearance from marianne salinger! please enjoy and thank you again!

______________________________________________________________

"Has Tommy written you?" Judy asked quietly from beside her against one of the walls inside the flying club, nudging her shoulder with that small smile of hers, "Any news from the Pacific?" Bessie grinned and pulled the letter from her pocket.

"That and some newspaper cutouts of the 100th that he's been seeing," Bessie said pushing some hair behind her ears, "a real sweetheart, truly, my Tommy." Judy giggled and looked through the cutouts and glanced at Bessie.

"He popped the question yet?" Bessie glanced at Judy before smiling slightly and crossing her arms.

"He's hinted….through his letters. When I see you again…..my Ma's house….back porch looks beautiful in the summer….I'll get you flowers the second we're home and a nice dinner….Mr. Thomas McKenzie isn't smooth when it comes to covering up his intentions in the sweetest way possible." Bessie said with a chuckle and Judy giggled again.

"Please tell me I can attend the wedding." Judy said, gripping Bessie's arm gently with a soft squeeze, "I'll make my Mom's lemon and blueberry scones for the bridal shower."

"Awe, Judy," Bessie said with a grin, "of course you'd be there, dressed in a beautiful blue dress no doubt. One that matches your eyes. All the girls." Judy grinned - she always looked happiest with the women of Silver Bullets. Her smile looked best glazed on her face with joy.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, you know that." Judy said, looping an arm through Bessie's, "And you two are going to have a wonderful family, and a cute little home, and you'll be the best geography teacher Queens has ever seen."

"Thanks, Judy." Bessie whispered and Judy watched her, genuinely and deeply, her eyes peaking out from behind her long eyelashes and bright, blue eyes.

Judy, young as she was, was by far one of the most genuine people one would ever meet. Attentive, kind, considerate, as well as someone with incredibly good aim (but you wouldn't guess that about her from first meeting), Judy was like Bessie's little sister in some ways. An incredibly good friend, listener, and tagged along with every opportunity - beers, darts, dancing - she was there.

"Good evening, ladies," both Bessie and Judy looked up and over and found the newest replacement pilot - Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal - stood there, perfectly gelled and curled hair, a soft look in his eyes, a slight smile on his face, and his peak cap tucked under his arm, "I don't mean to interrupt." Bessie watched the Lieutenant; she'd never spoken to him, but Annie had come back from a meeting with Operations, mentioning that she'd had a run-in with a new Lieutenant, Robert Rosenthal, and that he'd been real sweet, a calm presence, and had flown B-17s in Texas in his skivvies. Bessie smiled. Quite the combination.

"Not at all," Bessie said, with a wide smile growing on her face, "what can we do for you?" Lieutenant Rosenthal smiled and nodded and stuck out a hand.

"Robert Rosenthal, I just wanted to introduce myself to all the women a part of Silver Bullets," he said, and Bessie shook his hand firmly, "I met Lieutenant Bradshaw and she advised for it and said you'd all be here, and I wanted to follow through with that."

"Bessie Carlisle, I'm the navigator." she said, before glancing at Judy and almost chuckling at her face. Judy - sweet, innocent, Judy Rybinski, was stood, bright-red in the face, a nervous smile on her lips, watching Lieutenant Rosenthal, staring up at him like she suddenly didn't know how to speak. Bessie nudged her ribs.

"Judy Rybinski, sir," Judy said, sticking out a hand, "turret-ball gunner. Pleasure to meet you." Bessie watched Lieutenant Rosenthal shake her hand, a small smile on his face as he nodded, before readjusting his gaze to the two of them.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both," he said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw discussed with me the previous happenings of Silver Bullets and her position as well….I'm sorry about Captain Faulkner." Bessie watched Lieutenant Rosenthal, feeling Judy's tightening grip on her arm an evident signal that Judy's emotions about Captain Faulkner were still as prominent as the day it had happened.

The day Francis had called over the comms that Birdie had died on impact, that she, Francis herself, was taking control of the fort, that she was going to make sure they'd make it all back, safely. Bessie remembered Judy coming up and out of the ball turret, eyes red, stumbling as she tried to control herself, curled up in her cot thereafter, struggling to get out of bed. It was their first real loss and ultimately the most devastating. It wasn't like they'd gone down and she was MIA; she was gone, she was dead.

"She was one of the best pilots I'd ever met," Bessie said, "thank you though, Lieutenant Rosenthal." Lieutenant Rosenthal nodded and then looked towards Judy. Bessie took a willing glance at Judy and saw her, a few drips of tears in her eyes being fought back in her vision and she nodded.

"Yes, sir, one of the best," Judy offered.

"I'm sorry," Lieutenant Rosenthal said quickly, "I didn't mean to upset you both, just that I recognize how important she was to the 100th-"

"No, no," Bessie said quickly, placing a hand on his arm and shaking her head, "not at all, she was the best, but really, don't worry, it's okay." Lieutenant Rosenthal smiled and nodded and then glanced towards Judy again.

"Can I buy you both something?" he asked them. Bessie knew Judy had a nearly entirely filled beer in her hand and that Bessie's was almost out, so she cleared her throat and nodded.

"Yeah, Judy here could use a refill, I'm pretty filled though still with my beer, thank you though, Lieutenant." she said with a nod and glanced at Judy who was staring at Bessie with wide eyes.

"Let me get you something," Lieutenant Rosenthal said to Judy and Bessie watched as Judy swallowed and stood up a bit straighter and nodded.

"Thank you, sir, I'd appreciate it." Judy said, nervously tucking her dark brown strands of hair behind her ears that had fallen from her curls, "You really don't have to though, sir, I was thinking of taking the rest of the night in." Lieutenant Rosenthal smiled - he had an incredibly nice smile - and glanced back at the bar and then back towards Judy.

"You sure?" he asked her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Judy watched him for a moment before a nervous smile grew on her face.

"Maybe just one drink then, sir," she said, her cheeks glowing red, before glancing towards Bessie, "I'll be back in a bit, Bes, don't wait up for me." Bessie grinned and watched as Judy stepped forward and waded beside Lieutenant Rosenthal towards the other part of the bar, a smile riding on her face, far and wide. Bessie couldn't remember the last time Judy had let herself as loose as she seemed to be tonight. She deserved to relax a bit, especially with how the last few months had been for her.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Carlisle," Lieutenant Rosenthal said with a wave over his shoulder and Judy shot her a grin. Bessie nodded with a smile.

"Who's that?" a voice asked, appearing beside Bessie in record fashion - she glanced over and found Marianne Salinger, resident tail gunner of Silver Bullets, with her orange cat, Frank, curled in her arms, a slight smile dancing on her face as she watched Judy stand at the bar next to Lieutenant Rosenthal, the widest smile spread on her cheeks.

"Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal, you heard anything about him?" Bessie asked her. Marianne shrugged her shoulders and glanced towards Bessie.

"Flew planes in skivvies, that's about it. Likes Artie Shaw, taps his fingers a lot." Marianne said quietly, ever-observant as she was, "Seems like a nice crew, don't know much else though." Bessie smirked and glanced over back towards Judy and found her rather excitedly talking to Lieutenant Rosenthal - Judy was very enthusiastic about a select few things and that usually involved intense hand-waving and apt descriptions and Bessie could tell the girl was in her element. And Lieutenant Rosenthal, ever the enthralled and attentive person he appeared to be, was listening intently and deeply, his eyes seemingly refusing to leave her face.

"Judy looks happy and I think that's all that matters," Marianne said with a smile, lifting up the fat, orange cat, "and we'll let Frank here get the final word, but at the minute, if she's happy, I'm happy." Bessie reached forward and scratched behind Frank's ears, the cat purring slightly and the touch before she noticed the slight tear in his ear.

"What happened to Frank here?" Bessie asked and Marianne rolled her eyes and glanced towards where DeMarco was with Meatball.

"Meatball was bothering Frank, and so Frank, as he should, not putting up with his bullshit, fought back and well, his poor little ear got the brunt of it," Marianne said, "I was up Benny's ass about letting Meatball all about - you know it killed one of the neighbors' chickens? I told Benny to get a grip on his dog or else there'd be issues." Bessie let out a laugh and shook her head and Marianne sighed.

"Major Cleven had to go pay the poor son-of-a-bitch because Meatball killed the thing," Marianne grumbled, "I mean, Frank's one of the most chaotic cats I've ever gotten the pleasure of holding, but he's not going around doing that. He's just crazy when he wants, but I control him."

"You're too funny, Mar," Bessie said and watched as Marianne smirked and shook her head, "so, you want to introduce yourself to Lieutenant Rosenthal, get the pleasantries out of the way with Frank?" Marianne smirked and glanced towards the Lieutenant and Judy, before glancing at Bessie.

"Let's wait until Judy has come down for air first," Marianne said, "she's having fun. Frank can sniff him out later."

"Sounds like a plan," Bessie said.

And to top off the night - Frank really loved Lieutenant Rosenthal.

#bessie really is one of my most beloved #comfort OC fr #there for all the girls and we love her for it #AND FRANK #my fav orange cat frank #bessie carlisle #judy rybinski #marianne salinger #robert rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #ABSOLUTELY enjoyed every bit of this blu so thank you!!!#this is making me so hyped to continue to write more so truly i can't thank you enough :)

27 notes · View notes

sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

Text

Polk Salad Annie

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No, but ty to @floralcyanide for suggesting i do this because apparently it was meant to be ♥️

Prompt: A mean, vicious, straight razor-totin woman. Lawd have merthy. You're Annie from Polk Salad Annie and you're shocked to hear that Elvis is singing a song all about you. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Mentions of death + prison but as always, lmk if i missed any 💕

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 8980 OOPS

A/N: (1) This is more of an OC character than a reader insert just FYI cause, you know, you have to be Annie for this one. (2) It flips between past and present, so watch out for the ~ ~ ~ dividers. (3) I'm also aware that Elvis didn't originally write the song but for the sake of this fic, he did lmao (4) I do, in fact, know how to spell Louisiana but for the voice of the character it's spelled wrong.

i am officially changing my name to Polk Salad Annie. the transformation is complete. i am annie and i am this song's #1 biggest fan. the gif at the bottom is the sexiest thing on the planet. change my mind.

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Annie, come on let’s go!” her friend shouts, tugging at her arm.

Annie laughs, readjusting the white silk sash which cuts across her breast and torso in a diagonal. In cheap plastic diamond-lookalike beads, a five-letter word stretched across the sash. BRIDE. While the observers at the poker and blackjack tables might understandably think Annie to be the bride, she isn’t the one getting married. Annie doesn’t even have a partner let alone a fiancé. No, it’s been upwards of five years since Annie last had a romantic relationship. Not that she's much minded being alone, considering the past five years have been the first time she was able to escape the boondocks of Louisiana to live a life that is solely her own.

But Annie couldn’t help but appreciate the attention and satisfaction of knowing how jealous of her the single middle-aged women blowing their life savings on the casino floor probably are. Although those women will be hoping to land some kind of man in their beds that night, Annie will be more than content to sleep alone. She’s even more glad for her solitude when she catches the eye of a disgustingly round man, eyeing her up and down as he wipes sweat from his brow. Unafraid and, frankly, pissed off, Annie stares back for a moment as her friend continues to stumble drunkenly through the casino floor, dragging Annie along behind her. Annie suddenly yanks her friend’s shoulder away just in time to avoid crashing into a casino worker laden down with poker chips.

“Woah there, Jessie. Slow down, hunny,” Annie says with a chuckle as the girl giggles and hiccups beside her.

Jessie, Annie’s best friend and the actual bride, has certainly been making the most of her bachelorette weekend. Although Annie isn’t sure how much of it Jessie will remember considering she’s been drunk off her ass for the vast majority of it. As the eldest of the group and the maid of honor, Annie isn’t drinking. And even if she was, she could hold her liquor better than any of the other bridesmaids in attendance. Annie has always been a tough nut to crack, even more impossible if you’re a man.

Annie is used to being the caregiver anyway, and it isn’t something that she finds inconvenient or irritating in any way. It's just part of who she is and she doesn’t mind that so much. For example, when drunken Jessie decided that the bridal sash was too much of a nuisance, she handed it off to a willing Annie, who accepted it without question. According to Jessie, Annie isn’t allowed to remove it under any circumstances. Although the sash isn’t really Annie’s style and maybe doesn’t match so well with her worn brown cowboy boots and light-wash flared jeans, she’ll wear it as long as Jessie requests it. Anything on the bride's special day.

Jessie leans heavily on Annie’s strong arm as they approach the theater inside the International Hotel, where the girls have been spending their weekend. A few more of the bridesmaids saunter up behind them, most tipsy at the least. Annie pulls out their tickets and hands the long strand of blueish paper over to the ticket taker who rips them off and hands back the stubs.

“Enjoy the show, ladies! Should be a good one for you tonight!” he says with a wink.

Annie holds on tighter to Jessie and shoots the man a displeased look. Annie’s never had the best track record with men and tends not to trust them, in general. On top of that, she was born and raised to be protective over the ones she loves, no matter the cost. And that's another thing she would never change about herself. Ever.

The troupe of young women walk into the theater and Annie’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. It’s certainly a different type of theater than the ones she’s used to. Louisiana has arts culture, sure, but the honky tonks and hayrides she’s been to in the past are vastly different than the big city feel of this coliseum. She can’t help but let her eyes circle around the ceiling, taking in all the ornate golds, blues, and reds which sparkle on the walls. The girls take their seats in a booth and a waiter approaches the table almost immediately. Jessie reaches for a drink menu, holding it upside down as she tries to slur out the name of an alcoholic beverage. Annie gently takes the menu from her grasp and turns to the waiter.

“Just waters, all round, please ‘en thank ya,” she says with a curt smile. The waiter nods before trotting off to fulfill the order. “So who’s even performin here tonight?”

Annie turns back to face her friends, her eyes flicking between the five of them. Sarah, Dottie, and Clarabelle are far too drunk to answer and Lenora just shrugs. Luckily, Leigh Anne smiles widely and nods.

“Last I heard, it was Elvis!” Leigh Anne replies, clapping her hands together excitedly. Annie had been shoving a piece of bread into her mouth but now she stops short, glancinng over at her friend with wide eyes.

“E-Elvis?” she repeats. “Elvis Presley?”

“I’m sorry, do you know another Elvis? Yes, of course, Elvis Presley! What’s wrong, sugar? Your face is whiter than a sheet all of a sudden.”

“I…it’s nothin,” Annie responds, dropping her eyes down and placing the bread back on her plate. The waiter returns with their drinks but as he moves to walk back to the kitchen, Annie grabs hold of his arm. “On second thought, whiskey on the rocks.”

In the next fifteen or so minutes that follow, the conversation flows freely and somewhat coherently between the bridesmaids. Jessie is beginning to sober up, slowly but surely. Annie remains silent, retracted into herself while she relives a life long passed and memories lost.

“You sure you’re alright, Annie?”

Annie’s head snaps up to see Leigh Anne staring over at her with furrowed eyebrows, her hand resting on Annie’s bicep reassuringly. Before Annie has a chance to respond, with a lie, loud music strikes up onstage and their attention is pulled to the shining gold curtains. They are extremely gaudy, shimmering incessantly in the lights as they pull apart to reveal a man in a striking white jumpsuit prancing onstage. The room erupts into screams, hoots, and cheers as Elvis Presley himself emerges and takes his position at center stage. Annie’s eyes immediately click onto his frame. It’s so unfamiliar now…

The last time she’d seen him, he was a scrawny little young man who wore pink silk suits from second-hand stores on Beale Street and dusty old shoes worth a whole ten cents. The man that stands before her now is decked out in a custom-made jumpsuit, fitted perfectly to his frame, which is also different. He seems taller somehow, more filled out, and beefier. He moves easier, with more elegance and more command. Her eyes travel up his frame, admiring the way the pants hug his legs tightly and how much his hair has grown out since she’d last seen him. It’s shaggy now, very stylish for the day, and so wild. She smiles at the chest hair poking out from between the open flaps of his jumpsuit. His face is fully-formed, masculine and classic with a long thin nose and plump shapely lips.

He’s a man now and Annie suddenly feels like a little girl on her parent’s farm back in Louisiana.

The band strikes up a chord and Elvis begins to sing. The room grows even louder with the rhythm of the music in conjunction with the fans singing along and screaming with joy. Annie winces as Jessie’s piercing shrieks fill her eardrums. Jessie flies to her feet and starts dancing, bouncing from foot to foot as she sings along with the music.

Annie has heard some of his songs, of course. Most of them, probably. But she can never bring herself to listen too closely to the lyrics. She always worries that the memories she’s buried will return with a vengeance to attack her heart all over again. Sometimes she still feels a dulled pain when she hears that deep, angelically southern voice. She notices now that it escapes raspier, deeper than it had been when she’d heard him sing so many years ago. She understands fully why the room has erupted into cheers and screams. It’s sexy, but she always knew that.

She’s kept up with his career. Loosely. She owns an album or two, she’d watched the ‘68 special on NBC on the miniature television at the diner. She's strangely proud to see how far he’s come but also jealous when she realizes that she’s barely moved at all.

“Isn’t he amazing!” Leigh Anne yells as she claps along to the music, a massive smile plastered on her face. Annie returns with a tight-lipped grin and nods.

“He’s much different than when I knew him,” Annie responds without thinking. Almost immediately, she feels the eyes of the entire bridal party on her.

“Excuse me?” Lenora shouted. “Knew him? How do you know Elvis Presley?”

Annie shakes her head dismissively.

“Okay, I barely knew ‘im. I saw him perform at the Lousiana Hayride and we…we spent a day together. That was all.”

“Spent a day together? Sugar!” Leigh Anne shouts, slapping Annie gently on the arm. Annie pulls back, throwing an incredulous expression at her friend. “Oh my god, you should totally try to go backstage to see him. I bet he’d let you back into his dressing room if he remembers you. Then, maybe, we can see it too!”

The girls erupt into giggles and fits of joy, but Annie shakes her head firmly.

“Absolutely not. It wadn’t anything special! We were jus…acquaintances. There ain’t no way he’d possibly remember me. And even if he somehow miraculously did, I wouldn’t want my reunion with ‘im to involve me beggin to let my friends backstage to see his underwear.”

As Annie snaps back to the present moment, she finds that the song has changed into an upbeat rhythm with a guitar riff continuing in the background. Annie can’t help but tap her foot to the beat as she watches Elvis’ leg bounce up and down anxiously. She smiles. He’s always had a jittery leg and she’d noticed it from the first time she saw him sing at the hayride.

“Some of y’all never been down south too much. Imma tell you a lil story so’s you’ll understand what I’m talkin bout,” Elvis’ deep voice reverberates throughout the room. “Down ‘ere we have a plant that grows out in the woods and the fields. And it looks somethin like a turnip green. Errebody calls it polk salad.”

Annie cocks her head at the mention of the familiar plant. She wracks her brain frantically, suddenly trying to recall whether the plan grows anywhere other than Louisiana. Before she can come up with the answer, he provides it.

“Used to know a girl lived down ‘ere. She’d go out in the evenings and pick her a mess of it, carry it home and cook it for supper. Just about all they had to eat, but they did alright.”

~ ~ ~

Annie’s breath stops and her eyes widen. Suddenly, she’s flashed all the way back to 1956. She was only eighteen at the time, freshly graduated from the little high school down the dirty country road. She’d just gone to the hayride for fun, not expecting much. But he’d been there and she’d witnessed the effect he had on women firsthand. Even back then, he had them screaming like there was no tomorrow. She’d never felt so alive in her life, everything in her screaming to touch him, to understand what all the fuss was about. As she and Jessie left the hayride that day, she’d accepted that she would never see him again. That Elvis Presley was out of her life, just a blink of a memory.

Of course, she was wrong. She saw him not even an hour later at the carnival which had come into town at the same time. He was leaning against a wall near the cotton candy stand. She’d become frozen, utterly enamored with him. She’d stared at him with wide eyes across the busy carnival grounds and he’d stared back. Then he’d approached her, against all odds. Little old Annie in her hand-me-down green dress with mud stains, holes ripped through the ends, and a little yellow patch sewn onto the back over a hole too big to patch up. Her little brown saddle shoes were a size too big and scuffed with irreversible grass stains.

But from the moment his stupid southern drawl reached her ears, Annie knew she was a goner. He swooped her up, carted her around the carnival to do all the activities. They’d played some games, he won her a tiny stuffed bear, they rode the ferris wheel together and sat side by side as the wind whipped through their hair. He’d drawn her into the house of mirrors where he pushed her against the cold glass and kissed her neck, something a boy had never done to her before. Her unbrushed hair was stuck into braids and his fingers trailed down the plaits as he gently ran his thumb across the texture of it. They shared a Pepsi and cotton candy. He paid. He’d wanted to walk her home but she refused. She couldn’t bear to have him see where she came from, where she lived. He couldn’t know.

Of course, he insisted and she denied, running off into the dark night through a path she knew he couldn’t follow.

But it hadn’t mattered what she’d done because he found her anyway. Somehow. She never did understand where he got the information from, but it was a small town and everyone knew where everyone else lived. And so the next morning, she was utterly shocked when she opened the front door to see Elvis standing right there in front of her with a bouquet of bright purple and pink flowers. She’d quickly taken the bouquet, stepped outside, and slammed the door behind her. Anger flowed through her veins.

“What the hell are you doin here?” she’d hissed, pushing him away from the windows.

“Well, damn honey, I just came to see ya since you ran off last night,” he said with a shrug. Annie’s face grew hot with embarrassment. She wasn’t playing a very good host.

“No, you can’t be here,” she replied, trying to push him down the steps and back the way he’d come. “Didja ever think maybe there’s a reason I didn’t invite ya here. Why I didn’t want ya to walk me home?”

“I did think bout that. Then I decided not to care,” he responded with a grin.

Annie wanted so badly in that moment to come up with a sassy answer matching his attitude, but nothing came to her mind except for a laugh. Glancing up into his shining blue eyes, she let one escape her lips before shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

“Fine. Thank ya. But you need to leave. If my brothers see ya here, I-”

“You’ll what?”

Both Annie and Elvis’ heads jerked to the side to see one of Annie’s brothers, Blake Landry, staring them down with his arms folded tightly over his chest. Annie’s heart began to ache with embarrassment. Her other three brothers were standing behind Blake. Wyatt, Cash, and John. All four of them were tall and strong, quite intimidating with their rippling muscles and white wife beater tank tops stained with mud, dirt, sweat, and probably beer. They all had their hair cropped tightly against their skulls, uneven in the back courtesy of the $2 haircuts from their neighbor down the street.

It was silly, really, but Annie had a dream that one day she’d be able to afford a real haircut. One like all those pretty ladies wore, the ones she saw when she went into town to sell her crocheted socks and scarves for extra cash.

“You datin our sister?” questioned Blake before he spat a loogie onto the ground. Blake was the oldest and he certainly acted like it.

“It ain’t nunna your business, Blake. It ain’t none of y’alls business neither,” she spat back, gesturing to her other brothers. “Don’t y’all got farm work to do or somethin?”

“Shut up Annie,” Wyatt, her youngest brother, spoke up. “We ain’t talkin to you.”

“Excuse me boy? I outta kick your good-for-nothin a-” Annie had taken a step forward, her fingers curling into fists, but Elvis grabbed onto her bicep to hold her back.

“I’m just visitin. I’m a friend and thought ya sister’d enjoy some flowers to brighten up the place. I’m Elvis. Nice to meet y’all,” he said, sticking his hand out toward Blake.

To Annie’s surprise, Blake had taken Elvis’ hand and shaken it. She could only watch in shock as Elvis hit it off with her brothers, having a full-on conversation with all four of them. Even Cash, the most difficult to please middle brother, seemed interested in what Elvis had to say. After a few moments of male bonding time, Annie knocked her fists on the wooden sideboard of the house.

“Still here, fellas. If y’all're gonna stand here in this heat all day and chit chat like you’re at a momma’s book club, I’ll just be on my way.”

She turned to go inside, but Blake’s voice stopped her.

“Hold on a damn minute, Annie. You ain’t gettin outta your work that easy. Cash went to the store but we can’t afford no meat. So ya gonna hafta get us more polk salad. I guess your fella here, nice as he is, is gonna hafta get lost.”

Before Annie had the chance to agree, Elvis spoke again.

“I can help. I ain’t afraid uh hard work,” Elvis says with a smile and a shrug.

None of the Landrys seemed to know what to do for a moment. The way Elvis was dressed, the way he smelled, the way he wore his hair. None of it suggested that he was familiar with the boondocks of southern Louisiana nor farm work. But there he stood, offering his services freely. He threw a wink at Annie when her brothers agreed to let him stay and help her harvest their dinner.

~ ~ ~

As snapshots of memory flash through Annie’s brain, she feels a small smile creeping into her cheeks. He’d looked such a fool, standing there so enthusiastically ready to help. It was endearing and Annie has never forgotten it. She’s suddenly overcome with a feeling of longing, yearning to know him better. It punctures her heart and soul.

“Down in Louisiana, lived a girl that I swear to the world, made the alligators look tame. Polk salad Annie. Gators got ya granny. Errebody said it was a shame cause her momma was a-workin’ on the chain gang.”

When the words “polk salad Annie” leave Elvis’ lips, Annie begins to feel hot and sick to her stomach. She could have pretended that it was another Annie, some other poor girl he’d picked up and put down just as quickly on his trips around the country. But everything he’s said…about her family. It's her, without a doubt. She is polk salad Annie.

She feels the blood draining from her face and has the intense urge to get up and leave as quickly as possible. Food poisoning…she could tell the girls she’s not feeling well, that it’s probably food poisoning from the hotel catering. As much as she doesn’t want to put a damper on Jessie’s bachelorette party, when the words fly out of Elvis’ mouth again, she feels physically ill to her stomach. The sensation is so sickeningly strong that it moves her to lean toward Leigh Anne.

“I hafta go. I’m sorry, tell Jessie I’m really sorry. I-I don’t know what’s happenin but I think Imma be sick,” Annie stammers.

Annie stands up, lightheaded immediately. She wavers back and forth for a moment, curling her fingers around the back of the booth for stability before regaining her balance. She hears Leigh Anne’s blurred voice as she asks if Annie needs help. She ignores Leigh Anne but makes the mistake of glancing back up at the stage as she turns toward the pathway to the exit.

Out of all the people in the audience, somehow Elvis’ eyes land directly on hers. She feels crazy for thinking it, but she swears he recognizes her. All of her remaining doubt dissolves as she watches what he does next. He smirks, winks, and sings the next lines of the song without tearing his eyes away from hers.

“A mean, vicious, straight razor-totin woman,” he growls into the microphone and Annie freezes in her tracks. “Lord have mercy.”

As he sings the words, Annie feels her eyebrows unwillingly quirk up in agreement. She notes how sweaty he is, how dark his hair looks as it shines with the sweat droplets, how bright blue his shining eyes are. It all comes together to make him utterly irresistible. One half of her brain encourages her to move forward. Go upstairs, escape this trap that he’s holding her in. But the other half is too commanding. It easily overpowers her mind and she plops back into her seat. Leigh Anne leans over to check on her but Annie doesn’t hear a thing. Annie is completely unable to tear her eyes from the stage and just nods with an open mouth as she tracks Elvis’ every movement onstage.

He remembers her. He actually remembers her so well that he’s written an entire song about her. She wonders momentarily if the other girls realize he’s singing about her but then remembers that she usually refuses to reveal her past unless it’s absolutely necessary. And it rarely is. Her family's past isn’t something she particularly enjoys talking about.

Everybody said it was a shame cause her momma was a-workin on the chain gang.

~ ~ ~

It was just after they’d left the house to go hunting for polk salad. They were walking through the woods behind the house to a spot a few miles away. The truck patch, where Annie knew there was always polk salad enough to pick. Their walk was silent at first, Annie too enraged and embarrassed to say anything. At the time, Annie had thought that Elvis probably didn’t know how to talk to a girl like her, a rough and tough farm girl from the deep south. But he finally spoke.

“You didn’t want me to come here cause you were embarrassed, weren’t ya?” he’d asked in that charming southern drawl.

Annie hadn’t responded at first, keeping her gaze firmly on the ground below her as she walked, trampling over sticks and stepping over stocks of grass and weeds. She’d never minded getting dirty and lived in a pretty consistent state of dirtiness since most of her life required her to do chores outside of the house.

“Ya know I grew up in Tupelo, Mississippi when I’s younger," he said. Annie’s head snapped up and she tilted it to get a better look at him. She let out a little chuckle. “That surprise ya?”

“Well…you just don’t look like nobody who grew up down here. In the slums, y’know.”

Annie suddenly felt very guilty for judging him. She hadn’t meant to make him feel alienated. She decided to keep her mouth closed but he continued anyway.

“Yeah we was poorer ‘en dirt back then. My daddy got sent to jail, so momma and I were on our own. We had to move out to a housin project. Momma didn’t always like it there but we did aright.”

Annie felt a pang of pain. If anyone could understand living in poverty it was her, but her ears locked onto something specific he’d said.

“Ya daddy went to jail?” she asked, speaking before she allowed herself to think through her actions.

“Yep. Cashed a bad check is all. He didn’t even do nothin bad. He was just tryna provide for us, ya know. Do his best,” Elvis said and cleared his throat.

A few moments of silence passed as Annie gathered the courage to say what she needed to share.

“My momma went to jail, too. She’s in there now, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elvis tilt his head to glance at her. She nodded.

“Yeah. Stole bread from a grocery store. She was just…tryna provide for us, too, I guess,” Annie responded with a gulp.

She hadn’t told anyone about that. Everyone in town pretty much already knew but she didn’t care to educate anyone else about her family history. Annie’s mother had been in prison for several years now and Annie visited every once in while but she didn’t like it there. The prison was dank and scary. She was uncomfortable seeing her mother there, skinny and pale, like a ghost of her former self. It broke Annie’s heart.

~ ~ ~

Annie feels tears gathering in her eyes but angrily refuses to let them fall, sucking a breath in through her teeth. Her mother had died in that prison, a few years ago. And it was all for stealing a loaf of bread and some milk to feed her starving children. Annie’s jaw clenches as she pushes her emotions deeper down into her stomach. Her eyes fall onto the tablecloth as she listens to Elvis sing.

“Erryday before supper time, she’d go down by the truck patch and pick her a mess uh polk salad, carry it home in a tow sack.”

~ ~ ~

The tow sack had been the closest thing to a purse Annie owned. While all the pretty ladies in town had blue purses or black ones or red ones made of leather and denim and reptile skin, Annie had a burlap sack. Sometimes those old sacks became a part of the dresses she wore to school, matching all the other little girls who wore old pillowcases and chicken feed bags as clothes.

“But ya know it wadn’t all that bad,” Elvis had continued cheerily. “Ya know my favorite thing bout livin down there in Tupelo?”

Annie shook her head as they finally reached the truck patch. She fluffed open the tow sack and laid it on the ground, dropping to her knees on the soft soil. Elvis followed her lead as he explained.

“I discovered gospel music. Y’ever heard gospel?”

“Course I have. Momma was a Baptist,” Annie replied with a small smirk which Elvis returned. “I heard plenty of gospel as a child. I seen it touch the soul of the singers.”

“Yeah!” Elvis replied enthusiastically, a wide grin creasing his cheeks into dimples.

Annie felt heat creeping into her neck and ears, adding to the already stifling temperature of the southern summer day. Annie reached toward the patch, wrapping her fingers around the stem of the polk salad plant and yanking it harshly out of the soil. It didn’t take much effort from her since she’d been practicing for so long. Annie was strong. She’d always been strong. Elvis joined her, ripping the roots out as he talked about his love for gospel music. Annie smiled. It had been a long time since she’d heard someone talk so sweetly about something they love. All her brothers talked about was beer, trucks, and guns. They probably couldn’t tell gospel music from classical.

She could see the sparkle in his eyes as he talked. At one point while they were pulling plants, their fingers reached for the same stalk. They both froze, their fingers overlapping on the stem. Just as Annie was about to jerk her hand back, Elvis wrapped his calloused fingers around hers and squeezed her fingers. She glanced up at him and he smiled. His eyes flicked down to her lips and she felt her breath hitch in her chest. He leaned forward ever so slightly but her hands flew to his chest to push him away. Her heart was slamming against her chest, pounding in her ears.

“Quit that,” she said. “I ain’t got time for no foolin round. I gotta family to feed.”

Even though she snapped at him, she didn’t mean a word of it. She felt a smile threatening to curl her lips up into a big grin and she was powerless to stop it. They picked a few more stalks of polk salad and then started back on the long trek to the house.

Her daddy was a lazy and no-count. Claimed he had a bad back. All her brothers were fit for was stealin watermelons out of my truck patch.

“What bout the rest of ya family?” Elvis asked. “You got a helluva lotta brothers.”

“Yeah,” Annie laughed. “Blake, Cash, and Wyatt. In that order. I’m the youngest so they always been extra protective of me. I don’t mind it none. They’ve protected me more than once against men in bars or diners.”

She tried to readjust her grip on the tow sack but it suddenly slipped from her grasp. Elvis had taken hold of it and he carried it with ease as they walked. Annie’s eyes traced down his flexed biceps and she noticed a thin line of sweat glistening along his hairline. She reached up with the sleeve of her dress to wipe her own sweat away. His cheeks were flushed red with the heat.

To her surprise, her free hands didn’t stay that way for long. Within a matter of moments, Elvis had intertwined his fingers into hers. At first, her instinct was to pull away, but his grip was too tight and she was glad it had stopped her. She settled into his hand. His palm was hot and sticky with sweat but she didn’t much care.

“I had a brother, too. He died when he was just a baby.

“Are you tellin me that we coulda had two Presleys runnin round down here?” Annie joked, raising an eyebrow. Elvis chuckled and nodded.

“Jesse was his name, after my grandfather.”

Annie glanced over at Elvis to see his eyes glimmering in the orange light of the setting sun. He was tearing up. Annie squeezed his fingers tightly.

“Ya know my best friend’s name is Jessie. Maybe God thought it’d be too powerful for the world to have two Presleys. So he put Jesse’s soul into my friend.”

Annie saw the corner of Elvis’ mouth twitch up into a small grin and she took a side step to be closer to him.

“Tell me bout ya brothers. What’re they like?”

Annie sighed, preparing herself to elaborate on the complicated relationships she shared with her brothers.

“Well Blake, the oldest, is a hothead. And an ass. He’s always been a troublemaker. He’s always lookin for a fight and finds em just bout every weekend at the bars. He’s been in and outta jail all his life. Cash, the middle one, is real smart. He likes to read and do all that stuff. We can’t afford those books at the store with the hard covers, so he pretty much just reads the same three books over and over again. Wyatt don’t do much other than follow at the heels of my older brothers. He can run real fast, though, and he almost joined the track team at school, but daddy won’t let ‘im. Said it wadn’t a real sport, that anybody can run. They get into trouble a lot. Just last week they got their asses handed to em by the police after they stole a buncha watermelons from our neighbor’s truck patch. I keep on tellin em to behave but they never listen. Dumbasses. They ain’t good for shit. They could do so much more but…Blake dropped out to work, Cash can’t get enough time to do his studies right, and Wyatt’s just lost. He didn’t really know momma none before she went to prison.”

“Well what about ya daddy?” Elvis asked as they approached the back steps of the porch.

Annie shot him a look as she swung the door open. She led him into the small ranch toward the minuscule living room. She folded her arms over her chest and nodded her head at her father.

“That’s my daddy.”

Elvis just nodded, saying nothing. Bertie Landry was an alcoholic, had been for years, ever since Annie’s mother went to prison. Bertie used to work at the oil plant and Annie had barely seen him then. But ever since his alcohol problem, he had gotten fired and didn’t do much of anything those days. In that moment, Annie stared at him in utter contempt. He was disgusting. He had become fat and round. His five o clock shadow was clocking in at more like eight o clock. His wife beater tank top was stained with beer, sweat, vomit, and Annie honestly didn’t want to know what else. He was asleep in a chair, his mouth open with drool leaking down his chin.

At that time, Bertie was a janitor at some motel in town but he hardly worked, claiming he had a bad back which made standing for long hours difficult. Since he didn’t have any education, manual labor was Bertie’s only option. But Annie knew he was full of shit, lazy, and pathetic. If he was capable of getting drunk off his ass every weekend, he could stand for a few hours a day to mop some floors. Annie shook herself back to reality.

“Come on into the kitchen. We’ll get the polk salad started. And you,” Annie poked her pointed finger into Elvis’ chest. “get to help.”

She pulled on his fingers, dragging him into the kitchen.

~ ~ ~

Annie clenches her jaw, the anger associated with those memories flooding through her body. Her eyes track Elvis’ figure as he moves around onstage like a beautiful maniac. Annie lets out a laugh when Elvis utters his next lines.

Gators got your granny.

~ ~ ~

While it sounded like a line out of a comedy show, it was true. They were in the kitchen, cooking the polk salad when she’d told him.

Annie was explaining the process for cooking the plant as she and Elvis chopped the shoots and dropped them into the boiling water on the stove.

“And then we boil it, cuz if we don’t it’ll kill ya.”

“What?”

“Polk salad is toxic if it ain’t cooked right.”

“Why the hell would ya eat it if it’s poisonous?” Elvis asked, shaking his head with wide eyes. Annie laughed out loud.

“We got a lotta dangerous stuff down here in Lousiana,” Annie responded, placing the lids over the bubbling pots. “Just last week we had a gator runnin loose over by the pond. He ate a few of the neighbors chickens fore they could stop 'im.”

“Jesus. You ever seen a gator?”

“Nah. But my granny had. She actually…well, she were killed by a gator.”

“She was what?” Elvis’ hand slipped off the edge of the table and Annie looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Suddenly, Elvis burst into laughter, a deep hearty laugh that shook his shoulders and chest violently. Despite herself, Annie couldn’t help but smile and release a few quiet chuckles herself.

“Elvis Presley, that ain't very kind to laugh at somebody’s granny dyin. It was very traumatic you know! She was down by the lake pickin some flowers and it just shot right outta the water and snatched her. They found her a few days later or…what was left of her, anyway.”

Elvis’ laughs had died down to just a twinkling smile. Annie shook her head and reached out to playfully punch his arm. His fingers grabbed hold of Annie’s wrists, curling around them gently. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against her soft skin.

"Eh, I'm givin ya a hard time," Annie said between heaved breaths. Her heart was thudding. "I didn't even know her. Met her once I think before she got eaten."

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh like that I just…it just sounds made up,” he responded, tilting his head to look at her sweetly.

Their eyes met and, for a moment, it seemed like the world had stopped. Annie looked at Elvis and Elvis looked at Annie. Annie felt heat crawling up into her neck and ears and averted her eyes, biting her lip to prevent her coy smile from spreading. Elvis’ fingers trailed along the skin on her jaw, gently turning her face so that she was forced to look at him. She gazed up at him through her doe eyes, waiting with bated breath to see what he would do next. His eyes flicked down to her lips for a quick second and the next thing Annie knew, he was pressing his soft pink lips down onto hers.

She kissed him back immediately, her hands gently resting on his chest as his lips moved against hers slowly and deeply. His other hand slid around her waist and onto the small of her back, pulling her body closer to his. As she stepped forward, her hands slid up onto his shoulders and then wound around his neck. Their bodies were pressed tightly together and Elvis walked Annie backward until she gently hit the wall in the kitchen. Elvis tilted his head to access Annie’s mouth better and she accidentally sighed happily into the kiss as she tangled her fingers into his greasy black hair. Elvis’ weight leaned against Annie and she giggled into the kiss before placing her hands back on his chest and pushing him backward.

He stumbled back, surprised by her force, and their lips broke apart. They were separated only for a moment before Annie wrapped her fingers around his lace shirt and harshly pulled him back to her. His hand moved to caress her head and neck, supporting most of the area with just his fingers. This time, it was Annie who backed him up and they stumbled through the tiny kitchen together until Elvis’ legs bumped loudly against the tiny wooden square table. The table's legs were uneven which meant that it rocked back and forth with the pressure of Elvis’ weight, making a click-clacking sound on the (also uneven) wooden floor. Annie pulled away from Elvis’ lips when she heard her father snort awake in the other room.

“What the hell’s goin on in there?” he shouted brusquely.

“Nothin!" Annie yelled back. "Ain’t nunna ya business, dead beat.”

Annie shook her head and bit her lip, running her hands down Elvis’ chest again. He laughed nervously and tucked a disobedient strand of hair behind Annie’s ear.

~ ~ ~

As the song winds down, Annie finds herself staring across the floor at Elvis with furrowed eyebrows.

He left Louisiana the next day but not before he’d taken Annie for a bite to eat at the diner in town. He promised he would visit and that when he made enough money, he’d come back and help get her out of that shit town. He promised he’d write. He had written for a while and she always answered. But the truth of the matter was that they both knew, when he left that day, they would likely never see each other again. He promised he’d take her out for a night on the town, a dinner at a nice restaurant, and a new dress without rips or tears or patches.

But after he left, Annie took on yet another job at the diner to help support the family and had been too busy with her own life to manage visiting Elvis. Not to mention she never knew where he was since he seemed to be traveling all the time. And Elvis was even busier than Annie.

Annie’s eyes snap up at the sight of something bright white and blue approaching the table. She tracks Elvis’ figure with raised eyebrows as he wades into the crowd, a smirk plastered on his sweaty face. As he makes his way through the walkways, he's swarmed by groups of women, young and old, trying to get his attention. Every once in a while, he grabs a woman by the face and presses his lips to hers. While Annie is surprised and maybe a little jealous, she desperately hopes he won't notice her there. She doesn't want to be chased around by the paparazzi because she was kissed by Elvis Presley one time.

But her hopes are utterly dashed when, after he’d kissed another fan, his eyes shift and land on hers. Directly on hers. Annie's breath catches in her throat as she stares back at the man whom she might have learned to love had they gotten the chance to try all those years ago. He comes straight for her, walking quickly and confidently without breaking eye contact. Annie is incapable of doing anything other than sitting still and watching along with the rest of the audience. While several girls desperately attempt to get Elvis' attention, he ignores them completely, locked in on his target.

Annie raises herself to standing and nervously pulls at her fingers. He smirks as he approaches her, immediately reaching for her face and placing his palms on her cheeks. His hands are sweaty, very hot, and they feel soothing on her nervously frozen skin. Elvis pulls Annie's face to his and presses his lips against her. Her eyes close instinctually and she kisses him back the best that she can while being still frozen with shock.

When she pulls back, she feels his hands slip into hers momentarily before he lifts her fingers up to his lips. Keeping his eyes firmly trained on Annie’s, he gives her knuckles a soft kiss and then releases them. When she pulls her hand back, she feels something in her palm and realizes that he's slipped something into her hand. She waits a moment, just long enough for him to walk back down the stairs toward the stage and draw attention away from her before she reads the contents of the note.

It asks her to come backstage after the show.

As she glances up to see the golden curtains dropping down to shield Elvis’ figure from the crowd, she realizes the end of the show is right now. Annie's friends excitedly ask her how she feels being chosen by the Elvis Presley, how she feels being kissed by Elvis. But Annie barely hears them, too busy trying to decide what to do. It would be all too easy just to ignore it, act like it never happened. Go back to her normal life in Tennessee, where she’s doing just fine now on her own.

But she knows in her heart that she just can't do that. And so she turns to her friends.

“I…I’m really sorry bout this, Jessie, but Elvis gave this to me when he kissed me and I…” Leigh Anne snatches it from Annie's palm. After her eyes have quickly scanned it, her mouth drops open. She playfully shoves Annie with a big toothy grin.

“Oh hell no, you’re going backstage. Nonnegotiable.”

“Honey go!!" Jessie joins in, one eye closed as she gently massages her temple. "Do your thing and don’t worry about us! I have a killer headache already, so I honestly think I’ll just hit the hay anyway,”

Annie laughs and thanks her friends, giving them all a quick hug before jumping up and trying to wade her way through the crowd of people leaving the theater to flood back into the casino. She awkwardly approaches the man guarding the door to the side of the stage. He is absolutely huge, big and buff. He looks incredibly mean, like an Italian mobster or something. She nervously walks up one step and leans over awkwardly to hand the note to the man.

“Hi. Elvis gave this to me,” she says with a shrug. “I don’t really know what I-”

“Go on in,” he responds, pushing the door open with ease and standing to the side so Annie can fit through. “He should be expecting you.”

She nods and walks through the doorway, folding her arms over her chest with nervousness as she steps around the staff and crew toward the dressing room. Another man, very similar in appearance to the first guard, is standing guard outside the door. Annie approaches him with a shrug.

“Name,” he says curtly and gruffly.

“Annie Landry.”

The man reaches behind him to wrap his knuckles on the door. "A muffled 'yeah' sounds from inside the room and the security guard shouts back.

“Annie Landry to see you, Mr. Presley.”

Annie hears a muffled response and, thus, the second door is opened for her. She gulps and steps inside, dropping her eyes until she's found enough courage to raise them and see him. He's already stripped out of his jumpsuit and is wearing an expensive-looking red and black robe with the letters EP sewn in fanciful script onto the lapel. She freezes when he glances at her. He runs his fingers through his sweaty, wet black hair.

“God damn,” he says quietly when he finally sees her.

His eyes trail up and down her body, and he leans on his back foot to observe her. She feels embarrassed and shoots him the most charming smile she can muster.

“I knew it was you," he continues. "I could tell by ya eyes. Damn it’s good to see ya, Annie.”

She laughs breathlessly at the sound of his voice forming the letters of her name. She nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and takes a step further into the room. Elvis throws a pillow onto the ground and gestures at a small red velvet loveseat.

“Here, take a seat. Let’s talk. It’s been what…ten years since I saw ya last,” he says, rummaging around to clean up the place a little.

His efforts aren't very successful considering there are clothes and accessories strewn everywhere, all over the floor and on top of the furniture.

“Close to it,” Annie replies, taking a seat across from Elvis on the loveseat.

They both turn to face each other and Annie can't stop the smile that spreads across her face as his attention lands fully on her. Silence settles between them before she speaks up again.

“So…what’s been goin' on with ya, mister big-shot rockstar?” she jokes, offering a gentle chuckle.

He smiles handsomely, those little dimples forming by the corners of his lips.

“Well I, uh, obviously made it in the music business,” he says with a shrug. “I, uh…went to Germany for a while. Did some movies. Did a television special. Now I’m here, performin for a real audience again.”

Annie nods, waiting for him to prompt her with the same question. Instead, he continues.

“Oh I, uh, got married too, actually."

Annie’s heart drops to her feet.

“Oh? Congratulations!” Annie says, nodding through the pain that threatens her entire being.

“Thank ya, but I don’t know that it really applies no more seein as I also got divorced earlier this year."

He chuckles nervously and Annie presses her lips together to prevent the smile from returning. As mean as it sounds, Annie isn't sorry to hear that. At all.

“Oh…god I’m sorry then.”

Silence settles once again and Annie opens her mouth to say something before shutting it. They are both different people, she realizes. Both on their own life trajectories. Finally, thank god, Elvis speaks up again.

“You, uh…getting married yaself I see,” Elvis says, gesturing to the sash that Annie has forgotten she's wearing.

“Oh!” she shouts, perhaps a little too loudly, ripping the sash over her head as she feels heat creeping into her cheeks. She smiles nervously “No! I, uh…just a bridesmaid. The bride was a lil tipsy and somehow I wound up wearin this. But, uh…no. No fiancé here. No partner here, actually.”

“Oh, damn,” Elvis replies with an awkward chuckle as he reached up to itch the back of his neck. "There...really ain't nobody snatched ya up yet?"

Annie shakes her head as another bout of awkward silence descends upon them. Annie takes it as an excuse to look him over, up close this time. Annie’s eyes immediately lock onto his bicep. He still looks pretty strong, maybe a little bigger than he was when she’d known him down in Louisiana. But he's still fit and he obviously still moves well from what she'd seen onstage. Speaking of onstage…

“So you wrote,” she pauses to heave a small whispered laugh, “a whole damn song bout me pickin polk salad?”

Elvis’ eyes meet hers and he bursts out in hearty laughter, his sea blue eyes sparkling under the warm lights of the dressing room. Annie shakes her head and playfully punches him in the arm.

“You do realize that I did other things, right? Like harvestin polk salad wadn't my entire existence back then? And hey, what the hell? Didja really have to include that a gator ate my grandmother?”

Elvis just laughs harder, showing no signs of remorse as his hand grips his knee.

“I’m sorry but it was just too damn funny, Annie. And it rhymed, I couldn't pass that up,” he chokes out between laughs.

Annie shakes her head disapprovingly but stares at him lovingly. Once their laughs have ceased Elvis’ face turns serious and he reaches out to take her hand. His fingers flex and relax, hesitating to take ahold of her fingers. But she stretches them out, intertwining them in his.

“I…can’t believe ya remembered all that,” Annie says, daring to gaze back up into his eyes. “Bout me and my family, I mean. You know as ya were singin I was thinkin bout it all. That day when you visited me. Do you remember?”

“Course I do. You made me eat that god awful polk salad with the carrots. Tasted like some kinda delicacy for a bunch of rabbits,” he responds and feigns a shiver.

“Don’t remind me," Annie huffs jokingly. "I member how much ya hated the taste of that. But it’s green, Elvis. What'd ya expect it to taste like? Chocolate?”

They both chuckle in unison.

“I think bout that all the time,” he responds, squeezing onto her fingers. “Sometimes when I’m lonely, I like to go back to that day. I…”

He falters but Annie squeezes his hands, encouraging him to continue. She has to know what he wants to say. She needs to know. Her eyes are trained on his, holding his gaze.

“I sorta always wished we’d had more time. That we’d made it work or at least tried to cause…I dunno maybe I’m off my rocker here but….I always felt like maybe somethin coulda happened tween us, maybe,” he finishes, glancing up into Annie’s eyes with a hopeful glaze over his own eyes.

“I kinda wish that, too.”

Annie heaves exactly one breath before Elvis leans in to capture her lips. She doesn't move, afraid that she might ruin the moment somehow. When his lips finally connect with hers, she releases a contented sigh and closes her eyes, leaning her head forward into him. His lips are plump, soft, and warm, perfectly capturing her own as he pulls her top lip between his. Her hand gently rests on his thigh as his winds around her neck to pull her face deeper into his own. He pulls back for a moment and she flutters her eyes open to see him smirking at her. She returns the expression but his face turns serious again and he leans back in, pressing his lips firmly against hers.

His fingers grip the back of her neck and she moans quietly in response. As his lips open again for another kiss, she takes hold of his bottom lip between her teeth and pulls it out before releasing it. Elvis' eyes flick down to Annie's lips and back up to her eyes. She stares back mischievously.

“Ya know I meant it when I said you're a mean, straight razor-totin woman,” he says and Annie laughs loudly.

Silence settles as they both return to the reality of the moment.

“Well, it’s gettin late and I got maid of honor duties to get to fore the big day tomorrow,” she moves to get up but Elvis’ hands are firmly attached to her waist. She plops back down on the couch with a giggle. “Elvis, I gotta go. Seriously.”

"What if I just don't letcha?"

Annie laughs and then glares at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“I’ll make ya. And you don’t wanna challenge me. You know that’s a fight you're gonna lose, sir.”

Elvis laughs, leaning over to press one last kiss to the tender spot between Annie's ear and jaw.

“Aright fine. Go do ya maid of honor thing.”

He waves his hand dismissively and Annie giggles. She runs a hand over his soft cheek before ripping herself away from his grasp. As his hands slide off her hips, she catches one palm in her fingers and lets it gracefully drag from her hand. She turns, walking toward the door but pauses with her fingers on the handle.

“You know, I’ll be round for a few days with the weddin and all. So, um…you should come see me. Maybe you can show me round Vegas and all that. We could go for that dinner we never got to.”

Elvis’ eyes light up and he smiles warmly with a nod.

“I’d like that very much, my lil Polk Salad Annie."

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know! :)

taglist: @mrsjna @floralcyanide @austinbutler17 @slutforsomegoodlettuce @cb97slut @datsavageavenger @misspygmypie @yourfriendhenrywinter @queenslandlover-93 @kittenlittle24 @slutforblueeyes @theliterarybeldam @guns-n-queen @x-earthangel @adoreyouusugar @butler-trouble @kaycinema @mamaspresley @dontbesussis @littledanette @yagirlalexx @hangmanswhore @dark-as-love @adoreyouusugar @gemstone9 @austin-butlers-gf @dollfaceyourfear @dances-and-dolly-dresses @coldonexx @austin-butlers-gf @sagesolsticewrites @mommy-maia @atombombbibunny @lexlexl3x @solo-pitstop-vibes @hopefulinlove @lordandmistress @domaniquessidehoe @elvismylove-blog @amiets2 @itsametaphorbriansblog @shelbysbitchh @deitysdream

#elvis #elvis 2022 #austin butler #milasthings #milaselviscontent #milasfics #milaselvisfics

106 notes · View notes