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dre6ming · 8 months

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Kissing in the rain

The delicate beginning rush-imagine

More of my work: Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem singer/actress reader

Warning: sexual content, sex (piv) fingering, kissing, mentions of bodily fluids, fluff

Plot: Austin wakes you up in the middle of the night to take you on a rainy adventure that ends in a steamy way

Word count: 2700

"Wake up!" I feel the soft touch of a warm hand on my back and then a little tug and shake as Austin gently tries to wake me up. It's pitch black in the room and I was sleeping so soundly I can't come up with a reason for him waking me up, so my brain goes straight to fight or flight. ,my eyes are not used to the dark just yet, so I blink fast trying to shed any trace of sleep. "Shh it's ok, nothing's wrong, Y/n baby!" He assures me, stroking my hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.

As my heart calms from the sudden panic I had felt, I turn around to better see him. "Are you ok?" My voice sounds hoarse and my lips are dry. I make the shape of Austin in the moonlight and see him faintly smile, shaking his head. "I'm ok darling, but look!" His right hand cups my cheek and he slowly turns my head to look at the windows. The first thing I notice are the ever shining lights of New York City, but then my eyes focus on the small droplets of rain and then my ears pick up the soft taping of water against the glass. I smile brightly, I love rain, it's my favorite thing, this must be the reason why I was having such a good sleep. "Get dressed!" Austin tells me, putting a pile of clothes in my lap and getting up without another word. He leaves the room before I can ask anything.

I put on the simple miss matched sweat pieces, I can literally see him in my head, fumbling around my closet trying to pick the perfect combination of a sweater and sweatpants, but ultimately failing badly. I brush my hair out and take a look in the body length mirror, laughing one more time at the dark pink pants with the light blue sweater. Before I go find him, I add some of my favorite lip balm in hopes of maybe getting rid of the dry lips.

"Austin?" I call out to him, immediately being met with the small kitten he got for me a few weeks ago after our first big fight. "Hi dandy" I pick up dandelion and stroke her soft white fur, she really looks like a dandelion. "Here, put on the rain coat." Austin tells me, handing it to me, a boyish smile on his lips. "What's happening?" I ask putting the cat down and dressing. "Shoes!" He's not telling me anything and the mystery makes my blood pump faster.

"Come on!" Austin puts his hand out and I take it. Now as I walk hand in hand with him to the elevator I take a look at him, he's wearing those ungodly grey sweatpants and his favorite long sleeve cotton shirt under his dark blue rain coat. "Phone!" I say as the elevator doors close and he pulls me back. "You won't need it." He says hugging me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder for the time it takes to get to the garage level. "I love you!" I say as we step out and he stops mid-step to look at me. "I love you too, my darling!" He leans down and touches his lips to mine, just a ghost of a kiss that leaves me wanting more.

"Come on!" Austin walks to my Jeep. "My car?" He giggles. "As much as I hate to admit, it's best for this weather." He clarifies, opening the passenger door for me. "So no Russian roulette tonight?" I ask quirking a brow at him referring to that time Timmy told Austin, riding shotgun with me was like Russian roulette, you never know how my driving could go. "I'd rather not tonight." He laughs at my joke, leaning over me to buckle my seat belt. His hand rests on my thigh, squeezing softly, as his blue eyes look into mine. "I trust you, but I don't want to ruin the surprise!" He says honestly, brushing some of my hair back with the hand that's not on my leg. "I know!" I say touching his face.

Austin then gets in the drivers seat, turning on the car and the heating at the same time. My eyes almost bulge out as I see the time 2:30 am. He rests his right hand on my thigh as he drives and the slow stroke of his hand, up and down my leg is all I can think about and suddenly when his hand goes so high it almost touches my core, the car feels to hot and I jump up, turning the heating down. Austin takes his hand off to switch gears and I curse the fact that I drive stick. The little whine that goes past my lips, is noticed by him and I see the corner of his mouth turn up right as his eyes watch me briefly. "Something wrong?" Oh he thinks he's so smug. "N-no." I say and wish that it sounded a bit more confident. "Ok" is all his says and I wait for his hand back on my leg, but it doesn't come and I try to not seem so bothered by looking out the window.

The rain started thickening, bigger and faster droplets of water fall from the sky and as much as I love him I kinda wish I was in my bed right now. Somehow I must of dozed off, because I try to wake up as I feel the car come to a stop. Looking at the clock it's 3:15 am so we drove for some time. I look out and I don't recognize anything. It looks like we are at the edge of a forest so we are clearly outside of the city. Did Austin finally go crazy and decided to kill me in the forest? I mean it's not unheard of. "I'm not going to kill you!" His voice startles me.

"How-?" I ask blushing. "I just know you and your weird little brain." Austin tells me, taking one of my hands in his. "Remember when we watched the notebook?" I nod, remembering the crying mess I was during the entire movie. "Well you said "kissing in the rain looks so hot" and I thought, when is it gonna rain next, cause I'm definitely kissing my girl in the rain." I'm shocked that he paid attention to my ranting during the movie and that he actually took me seriously. I shouldn't be tho, cause this is Austin and this is exactly who he is, the sweet loving boyfriend that listens and plans ahead.

"Come on. Take the rain coat off, we are going for the full effect." He says, starting to undress and I do the same, coming out of the car at the same time as him, impatient. "Let's dance." He extendes his hand out and I take it. I feel the rain soak through my clothes and turning my hair to a mushy mess. Austin let the headlights on so we could see, which makes the rain look like sparkling gems falling around us. I follow his lead, looking up at the sky, seeing the water shine in the light.

"I I loved you in secret

First sight yeah we love without reason

Ohh 29 years old, how was I to know"

He sings softly, spinning me in the falling rain. I move my body with his and hold tight onto him, placing my chin on his shoulder as he sings, his voice so soothing. His hands hold my waist tightly and carefully roam down my figure, sneaking under my sweater, cold fingers touching my flaming skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shudder in his hold and turn my head to catch his lips in a kiss. It's sloppy and wet and hot and cold and divine and everything, it's life. My hands move to his wet hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp, pulling moan after moan from his lips.

Suddenly he pulls away, looking at me with his eyes on fire, pupils blown with lust. "Baby, I-" he licks his lips, pausing. "I can't-" he starts again but he stops. His hands squeeze me harder and I push my body against his, feeling through the wet clothes the bulge in his pants. "I want you! I love you!" I say, wiping away drops of water from his rosy cheeks. "Ok. Are you sure?" He asks again and I answer by kissing him and pushing my hips against his. "Ok, car now!" He growls and we rush to get in the back seat. Thank god we took the Jeep, we wouldn't have had the space in his Audi.

Austin gets in first, reaching between the seats and turning off the headlights. "We wouldn't want anyone to see, would we?" He winks at me and I giggle blushing. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I straddle him. Austin waists no time taking off my wet sweatshirt, his following close behind. My naked nipples sit hard against his warm chest and his hands find purchase around my breasts. He looks down at the way they fit so perfectly in his hands. "I love you, so much!" He whispers, giving my breasts a good squeeze, making me unconsciously press my clothed core onto him and grind on him, throwing my head back to moan. "Austin!" I sigh as his mouth takes a hardened peak in, swirling his hot tongue over my tender flesh.

He takes his time kissing up my torso and my neck, then my lips. I sigh against his plush lips and feel him lift his hips up, taking off his sweatpants and underwear at once. I feel his erection against my tummy and suddenly the burn between my legs gets so bad I can't take it anymore. I jump off of him, working my sweats off as he takes himself in his right hand, stroking himself. His Addam's apple bops up and down, his pleasure filled eyes watch me undress. "I don't have a condom so I have to pull out, ok?" Austin tells me as I climb back onto him.

I just got my first birth control shot a week ago and I haven't told him yet, but I'll just keep it a secret for just the right time. "Sure" I say breathless, drunk on pleasure. My wet pussy makes context with his throbbing cock and I'm lost completely. One of his hands stays on my hip as the other goes between us and between my legs. Austin groans feeling how wet I am and his fingers venture further, circling my hole. "I'll just open you up a bit, ok?" He tells me and I nod, moaning as two fingers enter me at once, scissoring inside me and stroking the place that makes me go livid. I move against his fingers, fucking myself on his hand as he watches through hooded eyes the way his fingers get lost inside me.

"Such a good girl, fucking your self on my fingers, just how you like it. Hmmm so wet for me, so tight, so warm." He praises me, and I feel the bubble of my orgasm building up. Austin knows me so well, that he feels the change in me and stills me using the hand resting on my hip. I whine and show displeasure as he pulls his fingers out before I can cum. "I know honey, I know." Austin soothes me. "Please!" I sound pathetic, but I don't care.

Austin let's out a breathy laugh that ends in a moan, when his swollen head touches my warm wet pussy. Using one hand he placed himself at my entrance, holding my hip to stop me from sinking down onto him. "Slow, ok? I don't want to hurt you." He tells me, helping me down on him, slowly, inch my inch. When my bum touches his thighs and I'm all the way down, it feels like he's in my stomach. It feels so full. "Oh god, so tight all the time, fuuuck!" He swears throwing his head back.

Both of his hands go to my hips and he starts moving me up and down, it's devine, each time I come down his head nudges just the right spot making me shake. "Faster!" I say breathless needing more. "Fuck" Austin let's out, before his hips start moving up to meet mine. I brace myself on his shoulders and catch his lips in a kiss, grunting and moaning in his mouth. One of his hands let's go of my hips and goes to my clit, circling it teasingly.

I feel the knot in my belly about to burst. "Cum inside me!" I breathe, biting his ear as I start contracting around him, my orgasm building up fast. "N-no condom honey.." Austin reminds me and I intentionally squeeze around him, causing his thrusts to lose pace for a moment. "I'm on birth control, started this week, I get the shot." His blue eyes look at me begging, searching to see if I'm joking or if I'm serious. I nod and shut my eyes tightly as I feel myself so close to coming. "Cum for me Austin, come inside me." His hand goes from my hip to the seat in front of us and his movements get faster and sloppier as he teases my clit. "Fuuck!" We both sigh as we cum at the same time. My vision darkens at the edges and I feel euphoric, like I never have before.

"Y/n? Baby? Are you ok?" Austin sounds concerned, but I'm so comfortable here in his arms, with my eyes closed. His fingertips touch my spine traveling up to stroke the back of my neck and then massage my wet scalp. The feeling of my cold wet hair against my hot skin wakes me up. I lift my head from his chest, and look at him, with hooded eyes. "You're so beautiful like this!" He tells me cupping my face, kissing the tip of my nose. "Thank you, you're beautiful too!" I say sleepy, yawning half way through. Austin laughs, shaking us both and I feel him soften inside me. "Can we stay like this forever?" I ask, hoping he'd say 'yes'.

He chuckles, gathering my wet hair in a ponytail at the back my head. "I wish, but we'd probably get pneumonia if we don't get dressed soon." I whine and cuddle further into him, enjoying his warmth. "I know baby, I love being this close to you too, but I think we should get home now." I nod defeated and he helps me up and off of him. The loss of him, leaves me empty and I look down to see our juices combined. Following my eyes, Austin curses looking at the mess we made, so he leans forward to grab the tissue box that I keep in my car, first taking his time to clean me as he peppers kisses over my chest and abdomen while I giggle from the ticklish feeling, drops of water falling from his damp hair. I tangle my hand in the mess of blonde locks and shake, making more water fall on my skin. "We won't get home soon if you keep like this." He warns, a taint of amusement in his voice.

"I wouldn't mind." I tease and Austin simply shakes his head, cleaning himself next. I start dressing so I keep my eyes away from the sweet temptation that is his body. And let me tell you, putting on wet, cold clothes is horrible, simply horrible.

After we make sure we are both decent and ok, we get out of the car, the rain has stopped by now. We get back in the front seats. I look out the window as we drive through the loud city, my fingers interlocking with his. I give his hand a squeeze 3 times and he responds by doing the same, our way of saying "I love you!"

"Thank you Austin!" I say to him, later when we are in the shower. His face softens and his eyes get watery. "Anything for you, my girl, my soul, my Y/n!" Austin confesses, hugging me tight and I close my eyes feeling at home. "My home!"

A/n: I know lately my blog has been lacking but this summer I really took the time to relax and work on myself, seeing as next year of college will be way harder than the last, this theme might last and post might come very inconsistently. So I want to thank you all for sticking around and reading, I love you!

Tags: @galaxygirl453

@rainydayz101

@samaraannhan20

@marlowmode

@myradiaz

@areuirish

@micaelainthe60s

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@formulapierre

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imwithstupid7 · 3 months

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Ik greasers are like “hell nawww Elvis that’s for socs”

BUT IK DAMN WELL DARRYS POPPING HIS PUSS TO THIS SONG

nvm greasers fw Elvis 😒

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #darry curtis #darry curtis head canons #elvis presley #SoundCloud

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burninlovebutler · 1 year

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Talkshow Host!Austin

talkshow host!austin who instantly makes you feel comfortable

talkshow host!austin gushing about you to the camera and hanging on every word you say

talkshow host!austin who leans over and holds your hand if you cry

talkshow host!austin joking & giggling with you during breaks

talkshow host!austin who gives you a big hug on camera while credits start rolling

talkshow host!austin giving you his number in case you need someone to talk to

talkshow host!austin that texts you while you’re sitting at the airport waiting for your flight home

talkshow host!austin who tells you to have a safe flight then asks if you got plane peanuts when you land

talkshow host!austin who stays up all night texting you

talkshow host!austin inviting you to a season wrap party by sending you a pretty dress and a plane ticket

talkshow host!austin who shows you off all night and can’t keep his hands off you

talkshow host!austin who pulls you into the bathroom and can’t help his lips from leaving marks all over you

talkshow host!austin that drunkenly stumbles into the uber with you

talkshow host!austin who insists on not coming up to your hotel drunk because he's a gentleman

talkshow host!austin who kisses you on the lips like how they do in movies, nervous front porch step type of kiss

talkshow host!austin who feels like you’ve known him your whole life

#talkshow host!austin #head canons ?????????#idk i couldn't stop thinking about it #i put my whole heart into this #the majority of these ended up unintentionally all joey & ash and i love it #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler head canons #austin butler elvis #head canons #austin butler #these r my first headcanons ?? so idk idk

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asmuchasidliketo · 1 year

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Tagged by @cantteachanoldguardnewquotes, thank you! 💕😘

Five songs I can't get enough of

Five songs? Seriously? Only five? You want me to cite only five songs???

● Ensemble (Jean-Jacques Goldman)

● Breakthru (Queen)

*groan of agony*

● Schubert's Impromptu Op.90, D899

What? It's not a song? OK...

● Non più andrai, Nozze di Figaro Act1 (Mozart) (happy now?)

● High Hopes (Pink Floyd)

*muffled sobbing*

● Ne pleure pas Jeannette (traditional)

Five favorite characters at the moment

(in addition to my OCs)

After making the list I realized I can separate them in three categories:

🖊️ I elaborate headcanons for them

● Helmut Zemo

source

● Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes)

● Paul (in the French novel Vous prendrez bien un dessert by Sophie Henrionnet)

♥️ This is one of my favorite fandoms and this character is the one who reminds me the most of myself

● Elvis (in Breaking Cat News by Georgia Dunn)

🧠 This bastard is just stuck in my brain

● Steve McGarrett

#About me #Blorbos from my head #The characters list was actually more difficult to make than the songs one *facepalm*#I went through all five stages of grief for it #At some point I forgot all memory of characters I might have liked at some point #I guess I *could* have used a pic of Zemo but this illustration is so much better #Paul comes from a novel about an extended family getting together for X-Mas #I discovered it on pure luck browsing through my library's shelves #It's not illustrated so I made a moodboard for the little guy #Elvis' edit comes from Georgia Dunn's Facebook #This comic is so lovely and wholesome and funny I can't recommend it enough #Steve's pics come from uh several sources #About half are from the wiki and the others are from where I could find the ones I wanted dammit #They're arranged in chronological order and I love how it turned out #The guy could be in the headcanons group but there are so many fanfics out there I don't need to invent what I need #Same thing for Elvis actually but everything is canon #(maybe it's different too because he doesn't come from Tumblr)#(Paul NEEDS the headcanons poor kid)

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aerkame · 1 year

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Alright I read your request rules and I’m ready to request!

Wally Darling x Curious Reader

You know that little fic you made where you wrote the puppets coming into the real world? (I commented on it!)——I hope you wouldn’t mind me trying to branch off it! Imaging it happening to me, I would actually like to inspect Wally since he’s clearly not human. Of course, with consent. I would open his mouth- see what’s inside, touch his felt, his hair, all of it.

And I’d imagine he’d be curious about us too.

Sorry for this being a bit late, I wanted a short break from writing and drawing all day. Also I'm perfectly fine with that being branched off of! Most of my previous posts are kind of like foundations for future fics and requests to go off of.

Also for the sake of simplicity I will just call this an AU(Alternate Universe). The Alive AU. It's exactly what it sounds like, the puppets come to life but as their cartoon selves in the real world and are capable of going back to their own world at any time. (Wally needs to do that though or they're stuck, he knows what he's doing). I'm also doing this so that in the future when we do have answers to Welcome Home, it won't interfere with theories or what is considered "canon". This request is based on a previous post (linked below this), for context.

Just a Little Look

___________________________________________________________

Out of all the other 'puppets', Wally was the one you were most curious and cautious about. It wasn't that he ate differently, it wasn't because his eyes looked different from the rest, and it wasn't because he was always staring at you. No, it was the way he acted. He acted like he's done this before. The whole going into this world and not being a normal puppet bit. You decided that you might as well ask Wally if you could feel him or look inside his mouth...maybe not that first one though, that might come out as weird to him and the others. It's not like he had a reason to say no really, you were just curious.

The 'puppet' with an Elvis cut was sitting down on your couch one leg crossed over the other like the distinguished dude that he was, face buried in a newspaper from this morning. You don't remember teaching him how to read the newspaper, where did he even get that? "Hey Wally..." You shuffled your foot a bit, getting somewhat anxious. "Can I look in your mouth?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from reading the paper with an almost dreamy look to him. "Can I look in your mouth?" You repeated the question, this time he heard you as his head tilted to the side. "Now what would you want to look in my mouth for?" His voice was as calm as usual, though he did have a bit of a smirk today.

"I'm just curious is all, you're not like the others and I've never seen what you guys look like on the inside." You gestured to the inside of your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Wally slowly got up from the couch and leaned over you, smirk still lingering on his face. "Well, I don't see why not, but I'll only let you look inside me if you let me look inside you." You nodded, excited to finally get a look. "Alright, sounds fair." You responded as Wally folded up the newspaper and neatly placed it on the coffee table.

Bending down, Wally opened his mouth quite a bit to let you look, making a small "Ahhh~" like a child would when letting a doctor look at their throat. You peered over to see inside. It was what a normal puppet mouth would look like save for the small black void at the back of the 'throat'. You're not even going to question how Wally speaks or eats, nothing surprises you anymore at this point. Kind of weird to see what is basically a tiny void though.

He closed his mouth once you were done looking before leaning closer to softly grab your face in his hands. It wasn't what you'd thought it'd feel like. You were expecting something like felt, but that wasn't it. It was some other material you've never felt before, it was soft and smooth like silk, but not in a sense that it was fabric. "I believe it's my turn to see the inside of your mouth now." You nodded quietly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, showing off your canines and molars.

It was awkwardly quiet in the living room for a while and you slowly found yourself leaning further and further into the soft hands that held your head up earning a small chuckle from Wally. "Tired?" You nodded. It's been a rough week both from your job getting busy and you being busy at the house trying to keep your new guests out of trouble. "It's like I'm taking care of a bunch of kids.." You mumbled into his hands.

"How about you take a good nap then, you'll be up and full of that energy you need." There it was again. You could feel him staring at you with those eyes. You were too tired to say anything this time though and opted for just getting up and heading to your room. Leaving behind a still smirking Wally.

____________________________________________________________

I told you guys, I write medium to long posts even if they take a while.

Next up? Barnaby and Wally teach the dear reader how to slow dance. :)

#Alive AU #Welcome Home Alive #welcome home #wh #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home wally darling x reader #welcome home wally darling #wally x reader #fanfiction #requests open #fanfic #welcome home arg #welcome home fanfic #welcome home AU #AU

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incorrectbatfam · 10 months

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I h3ad cannon athat all the batfam members have had/are still in their emo/goth phases.

Example:

Bruce dressed as a bat and punches criminals at night (I also head cannon that he listens to the rolling stones and MCR)

Anyways thoughts?

Also what were the other batfam members emo/goth phases like?

Dick: He was hella neurotic in his late Robin/early Nightwing days. That plus his mullet and guitar tells me he probably tried to live out of a used van he bought for $700 after a fight with Bruce only to come home a week later when someone knocked on his window.

Jason: He's the theater/classic lit goth. When he was younger he would read by the glow of a candelabra even though the lights work perfectly fine. Post-resurrection, he graduates to the biker anarchist who has no problem launching a molotov at a CEO's mansion.

Tim: He's from the 90s. He's sitting in that Y2K grunge-emo-punk gray area where his playlist is a mix of the Clash, Nirvana, and Green Day. He's coloring his hair with Kool-Aid, playing with makeup, ripping his own clothes, and talking about new songs on AOL.

Damian: He's aiming for dark academia, but that's hard to pull off if you know what American schools look like. He annotates the margins of his books with notes he thinks are insightful but are actually just basic observations. Also he listens to Imagine Dragons.

Duke: This kid isn't emo or goth, he is a punk through and through. Sassing the cops? Jumping off a bridge? Leading a ragtag vigilante team? If he wanted to, I bet he can pull off a leather jacket with some homemade spikes while blasting Bad Brains and Death.

Cullen: Canonically, he watches anime and Supernatural, and I've made a lot of Tumblr references with him. He's definitely your quintessential 2010s emo nerd—Black Parade, fandoms, the whole shabang. He also definitely followed Dan and Phil.

Stephanie: She strikes me as the early 2000s pop-punker—think MySpace and Avril Lavigne. She probably had a Not Like Other Girls phase that she quickly grew out of. I can see her cutting posters out of magazines and sneaking her MP3 under an oversized hoodie.

Cassandra: She canonically listens to Killswitch Engage, so I like to imagine what she was like as a baby metalhead. Maybe she thrifted a Pantera shirt and chopped her hair with safety scissors. And at concerts she's absolutely up front when the wall of death happens.

Barbara: I think she dabbled in a little bit of everything without ever outwardly expressing it. Her playlist is all over the board, from softer rock to screamo. She also experimented with makeup a little, like black lipstick, and is more involved in the activism side of things.

Harper: She's definitely industrial punk with a huge emphasis on the DIY aspect of the subculture. She strings soda tabs into chains, turns old screws into boot spikes, and even learned to give herself tattoos. She also absolutely has a drawer full of patch pants.

Carrie: She's a TikTok e-girl, leaning into the pinks and purples along with black and white. She turns fishnet leggings into gloves and has a bunch of animal ear headbands. She also listens to Melanie Martinez and Tame Impala regardless of if they count as alternative.

Kate: Queer people play a huge role in the punk scene and vice versa. I can absolutely see Kate jamming out to an early Pansy Division track or searching places like Bandcamp to support smaller indie artists. Also she has a jacket that says "Nazi punks fuck off."

Alfred: Before punk and its subgenres, Alfred was canonically a delinquent and in that day, delinquency meant gelled-up hair and moving like Elvis. The hair didn't work out for him, but he was able to catch one of the first shows Buddy Holly played in London.

Selina: Alt cultures are based on not having much and working with what you got. Selina would use the five-finger discount at big-box stores and save her money to support small businesses. She also went around listening to free local rock shows on Fridays.

Bruce: He listened to the Rolling Stones before, but his first real intro to the scene was a handmade zine he found on the floor at school. From there, he explored more underground artists and took up journaling as a way to vent his feelings. And then: Batman.

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rentsturner · 10 months

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Alex Turner boyfriend headcanons

an: I haven’t written in a really fucking long time (if head canons count as writing idk?) so apologies if these are shit or there's typos and whatnot. Many thanks to @dropofdrool for helping me proof read and organise these, it’s much appreciated <3. finally, I know Alex is a real person but this is a work of FICTION and I have approached this as if writing for a fictional character - I am making no assumptions about Alex as a real person, just in case anyone wants to come at me. thanks for reading

AT HOME

He smells like cigarettes and clean laundry

You call him Elvis to annoy him - he will sulk about it for at least an hour (or at least pretend to) until you relent and apologise

He secretly quite likes it though

Making him watch Love Island and him being so confused and slightly scared

‘Are they allowed guitars in the villa?’ ‘I would get so bored in there’

Eventually gets invested in all the drama and is hooked

Will watch it every night even if you’re not there (traitor)

You definitely get handwritten love letters left round the house (come on we’ve all seen the evidence)

eg when he goes on tour, you’ll find little notes hidden in the pocket of your jeans or in the back of your phone case

He knows so many obscure and random words that you’ve never heard of and he’ll just throw them into a conversation sometimes to annoy you

He’s always jotting lyrics in his notebook and you have to wonder if he’s writing about you

When you argue you proper argue cos neither of you likes to admit you’re wrong

You always end up sorting it out though (usually with alex buying you flowers and a good dose of make up sex)

Alex is a pro napper - he falls asleep so easy and anywhere, it’s a habit from all the time he’s spent on tour

One of his favourite things is to have a nap with you, legs tangled together, him softly snoring into your shoulder

When he wakes up his hair is all ruffled and his eyes bleary, but he’s never looked better

Both reading your books together before bed <3 (he defo has reading glasses)

Alex has tried to teach you to play guitar so many times, but it always ends in sex

Cos he thinks the best way to teach you is to put his hands over yours, and press himself right up against your back, and whisper soft praises in your ear when you don’t fumble a chord, and then he sees your soft skin just where your neck joins your shoulder and he can’t help but press open mouthed kisses there and then you’re distracted and then…

It’s obviously never going to end well

ON TOUR

Obviously he tours a lot and most of the time you will travel with him, if he’s not busy

When he comes off stage he has two moods

He will either be so hyped and take hours to calm down, like will be constantly making some form of physical contact with you (holding your hand, pressing himself against your back, forehead kisses, normal kisses, randomly grabbing your hands and dancing with you)

Or he will be really quiet and tired, you can see it in his face that the concert has just taken it out of him

Usually when he’s like this, you just sit with him backstage for a while, just the two of you, sometimes in comfortable silence or sometimes just whispering sweet nothings to him and playing with his hair

You try not to let him speak too much cos if he’s in that mood then his throat is probably feeling rough

He usually just needs an hour or two to decompress, then he’s back to his usual self, he always apologises to you after for being like that, but you don’t mind looking after him, he would do the same for you

It's sometimes hard being away for him for so long when he’s on tour

like when he’s touring the day of your anniversary

He thinks you’re at home, he facetimed you that morning and had sent your present in the post to be delivered.

However, the rest of the boys secretly fly you (along with a few of your best mates) out to the show and manage to get a place in the front pit

You bring a massive poster sign saying ‘SHEFF WEDS R SHITE’ which easily gets his attention after a few songs

He goes to shout something rude but then he sees your beaming face under the poster, he can’t believe his eyes

He goes on to play all of your favourite songs with the biggest smile on his face and literally can’t take his eyes off you the entire show

After the show you manage to get backstage to see him and he’s so happy to see you

‘You didn’t really mean what you said on the poster though, did you?’

ON HOLIDAY

Holidays all the time, Alex loves taking you away

Like when he’s touring, if you aren’t working or busy, he’ll fly you out to join him in whatever city he’s in

You’ll usually go out for lunch during the day and sit by the pool in the hotel they’re holed up in, then go and watch the concert in the evening

You see so many cities that you’d never usually go to thanks to him

When he’s not touring he loves going on adventure holidays - biking, hiking, horse riding, skiing, bungee jumping - if it involves thrills or good views, he’s down.

even if you refuse to do some of the scarier stuff, he doesn’t mind - he loves just having you there, and he needs someone to take the photos of course!

basically it would just be the dream life icl

#Alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner headcanons #Arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys headcanons #alex turner fic #alex turner fics #My writing

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missmaywemeetagain · 3 months

Text

Got a Lotta Lovin' to Do (A Scarf Universe Story) ❤️‍🔥

Okay, sooooo...this just came to me in a strange fit of inspiration this week. It's naughty but also a little sweet in concept. It may not be for everyone, so let's say it's currently canon adjacent for the Pink Scarf Universe...

This takes place a few months post A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving, in February of 1978. Yes, I know, we make it to '78 and there is something both heart wrenching but also wonderful in that, isn't there?

I wanted something that felt real but also a bit indulgent, and also wanted to bring our spitfire Sandy back into play. In fact, I made it from Sandy's perspective, which was a bit challenging considering the use of second person, but hopefully it makes sense!!

Premise is that Reader is in a fix, desperate to coax a very nervous Elvis back into her bed, and enlists her best friend Sandy to help in an unorthodox way.

Anyway, I'm a bit nervous about this one 😬 and am just sort of testing the waters as a preview, so let me know if you like it and want me to continue it! (Also, the turnaround was fast, so please excuse the semi-rough edit/revision! 🙏🏼)

xoxoxox, Madi 💗

(listen, I know this pic is much earlier than '78, but the vibe is right and the hint of silver at his roots seems applicable and has me in a chokehold, so bear with me here...)

TW: sexy smutty stuff, heading towards a threesome (mff/fmf), mention of medical issues/trauma, sassy Sandy, silver fox Elvis!!🦊

Got a Lotta Lovin’ to Do

February 1978

“Darlin’, you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” he asks you. Elvis’ eyebrow is halfway to his hairline and he sounds more incredulous than hopeful, but Sandy can see the twinkle in his eyes when they slide over to her. It’s more than a cursory glance, one filled with questions and a latent heat. She wrestles with the urge to fidget under his gaze, clenching and unclenching her fists instead of looking away from his scrutiny.

She’s certainly never been one to back down from a fight, not even with the enigma that is Elvis Presley.

Especially not with him, she thinks.

But Elvis has never looked at her like this before and even knowing him as long as she has, she isn’t unaffected. Despite everything he’s been through this past year, he still has the ability to level a woman with a look, she’ll give him that.

His eyes slide back over to you, and Sandy can breathe again. It’s gonna be a long night, she thinks, if a mere glance has her feeling so exposed.

You nod, biting your lip, and she knows how nervous you are, how desperate you are for this to work. She grabs your hand in solidarity and you squeeze it in return.

If it were anyone but you, she wouldn’t have agreed to this. It is much too messy, but extraordinary people and circumstances call for extraordinary measures, and being in Elvis’ world has always meant living in shades of gray.

Sandy knows she’s the only one you’ll trust with this. For as much shit as she gives Elvis, she loves and cares about you both deeply, more than she might voice in mixed company. And you know she understands why this is so important.

Now the two of you just need to convince Elvis of it, too. Though by the increasing level of tension in the room and the way he adjusts himself in his seat, Sandy doesn’t think it’ll take much persuading.

He cuts quite the figure, sitting there in the plush, golden, velvet chair with his bejeweled fingers tapping a slow and steady rhythm out on the arms. After what happened last summer, he’d finally let his hair grow out to its natural color, the salt-and-pepper combined with glinting silvery streaks. It’s incredibly striking, giving him an even more handsome and regal air than before, if that’s possible. With his new post-recovery regime, he is looking good and, according to you, feeling healthier than he had in years. The result is attractive, to say the least.

But while that side of things improved, the sexual piece apparently has not.

Sandy and you perch on the edge of the bed, sitting so close you are pressed against each other, facing him, waiting for his verdict. Elvis takes in the two of you closely before sliding his eyes back over to her.

“And you, Sandra? You agreed to this?” His voice is laden with curiosity and surprise. She doesn’t blame him.

“Yes, with conditions,” she says, willing her voice to stay steady and calm when she’s feeling anything but.

He chuckles darkly. “Of course. I’d expect nothin’ less from you, honey.”

The endearment, one he’s used with her a million times over the years, now comes out laden and warm, sliding through her veins like liquid heat. She’s not sure how she feels about it, to be honest, but it’s a little late to turn back now.

Sandy looks at you for permission to continue. You nod.

“Okay, first, this is a one-time deal,” she begins, forcing herself to look him straight in those endlessly blue eyes.

His lips curve up with the beginning of a smirk and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking. She thinks it’s funny how he’s posturing, considering the whole reason she is here is to help bolster his confidence, but she supposes over twenty years of adoration from females makes his response a habit.

Honestly, it’s the stipulation she’s the least worried about, it being there more for your sake than hers, and it gives you all an out if this goes south. But boundaries are good for Elvis. So she quirks a brow back at him until he nods.

“Second, no one hears about this. It’s a nonstarter. No bragging to the guys, ever. No one outside this room can ever know…especially not Jerry.”

This is the one she is most worried about. While her marriage to Jerry ended over half a decade ago, on relatively decent terms considering the circumstances, she knows this would cut Jer to the core, and that is not why she’s here. Jerry isn’t in Elvis’ employ anymore, but they are still good friends, brothers even, and she doesn’t want to ruin their relationship.

A cloud of seriousness falls over Elvis’ face, banishing his earlier mirth, and that lets her know they are on the same page with this one, despite his terrible track record of secret keeping. “Done,” he says with finality.

“Good. Third, I reserve the right to bow out at any time,” she adds.

“Honey, I’d never force you to do somethin’ you din’t want to do. Ain’t never been like that and ain’t startin’ now,” he says with surprising gentleness.

She nods, expecting as much. Taking a deep breath, she pauses before the last request, mainly because she can’t believe she’s actually saying it out loud. Might as well just get it done.

“Finally, your dick stays out of my pussy.”

He chuckles at your frankness while you choke, coughing wildly—she hadn’t warned you about this one. It’s more the principle of the thing, really. She is along for the ride, sure, but in the end, she’s mostly here for your wellbeing. And by the way he looks at Sandy with something akin to respect and nods as she rubs his wife’s back, she knows he understands.

You eventually recover from Sandy’s bluntness, turning your attention back to your husband with a hopeful look in your eyes. “So, is this…I mean…do you want to do this, baby?”

For the first time, you see his trepidation, his overwhelm of the situation only barely covered by his mask of humor. This is what you’d been talking about, this reluctance and lack of self-assurance. When you’d come to her about the fact that Elvis hadn’t been intimate with you since the medical crisis that nearly killed him, it made perfect sense. Not only had he gone through something terrifying, but his surgeries also changed his body in ways that must have been uncomfortable. Coupled with extensive recovery and weaning off old medications and starting new ones, it was a recipe for disaster in the bedroom.

Sandy knew you had to be desperate for you to ask her for this kind of help. You knew it wasn’t because Elvis found you unattractive or didn’t love you anymore—he was afraid he couldn’t perform, afraid he couldn’t satisfy you, and you were afraid you’d hurt him somehow. It was obvious your sex life had been amazing in the past, though according to you, it had dwindled the sicker and more in denial about things he’d gotten. But for you to invite her into the bedroom to put the spark back in their marriage wasn’t something Sandy had expected.

Apparently, Elvis loved some girl-on-girl threesome action and had indulged in such things back before you and he had finally gotten together. You were never entirely comfortable with the idea when Elvis brought it up in the past—the idea of sharing him didn’t sit well and knowing Elvis, he’d make some poor woman fall in love with him or someone would talk and you’d be in a fix, so the idea had been nixed before it could take root.

But now you were frantic and willing to try almost anything, which apparently included asking your best friend to fool around with you and your husband.

It’s a matter of trust, you’d said, twiddling your fingers uncomfortably in Sandy’s kitchen, tears pooled in your eyes. You knew she’d never talk, knew she’d never betray you, and most importantly, knew she could separate sex from emotion and would never fall in love with your husband.

It was all true. How could she say no to you when you needed her help so badly? So, here she was, apprehensive but intrigued, waiting for Elvis to decide all of your fates.

“You can just watch, baby, if you want to, or whatever, it’s fine,” you encourage him when he seems frozen and unable to respond. Sandy can see you both floundering in indecision and fear and can’t stand it anymore. She’s never been one for patience or inaction, after all, so without further ado, she silences your pleas for your husband’s attention with her lips.

“Oh!” you exclaim in quiet surprise against her mouth, your hands flailing a bit in resistance.

Talking about something like this and doing it are two different things, Sandy knows, but she persists, kissing you gently, hands cupping your cheeks, until you relax enough to kiss her back. She can’t help but feel a little gratification when you sigh softly and yield to her, your hands flitting to the curve of her hips.

It would be stupid to say she didn’t find both you and Elvis attractive, but never in her wildest dreams had it been in the cards to have either of you, so she’d never dwelled much on it. But now, feeling the weight of his gaze as she laps her tongue between your lips, testing your willingness to do this, her body lights on fire.

She pushes through the foreign feeling of being watched so intimately, knowing this is just as much about putting on a good show than anything else, but she didn’t expect it to be quite so tantalizing. Something about being the one to take charge sends a thrill down her spine. Dragging her lips down your neck to your collarbone, she knows she’s not imagining the rapid fluttering of your pulse under her lips or the way you lean back to give her more access.

You’ve never been with a woman, but she knows it’s been a long time since you’ve had attention of this sort from your man, either so when Sandy trails her fingers down over your breast, she feels the jolt go through you. Her moves are deliberate but slow, allowing you to acclimate, allowing Elvis to take in every movement.

She can’t help the warmth pooling in her belly when she palms the heaviness of your breast, pinching your clothed nipple and you gasp, arching into her with genuine willingness.

“Lord have mercy,” Elvis huffs quietly, and you both know you have him.

It’s much too easy, then, to unbutton your blouse, exposing the white lace bra underneath before pulling hers up over her head to reveal her own. You’d been clear about the white—apparently he gets all kinds of excited about little white underthings—and far be it for her to ignore such a titillating detail.

Sandy takes it upon herself to continue the play, pressing her lips to the soft skin of your décolletage, following the soft rise of your breasts before nuzzling and nipping at the dusky areola peek-a-booing through the lace. Mewling and pawing at her head, you are strung so tight Sandy thinks you’re not acting in the least.

It’s a little strange, this softness of your curves against her own, but pleasant. Moreover is the deep satisfaction in her belly at drawing little whimpers out of you as she kisses and reveals more of your skin. Even more surprising is the gratification of bringing something out of both you and your husband that has been out of reach for much too long.

Your fingers cart through her hair, manicured nails tickling her scalp in a way that makes her vibrate. She arches at the contact and looks up at you with a coy smile, sliding a hand up your smooth leg and under the hem of your skirt.

Elvis clears his throat, interrupting them. “Be good lil’ girls f’me and s-strip down to your panties,” he says in a gravelly voice Sandy has never been privy to hearing. A shiver runs down her spine, melting and churning with all the new feelings the evening is bringing. His tone is halfway between a need and a command and neither of you need to be asked twice.

Her inhibitions fall to the floor in a heap along with pants and skirts and bras. Never once in her life did she expect to feel Elvis’ heavy, heated gaze turned on her nearly naked form but now that it’s happening, she can’t help but squirm a little. She has nothing to prove and is usually confident in her skin, but she’s certainly not a young woman anymore, her body soft and curvy with the changes age brings. Her only consolation is at least the three of you are in relatively the same boat in that regard.

Sneaking a glance at Elvis, she is bit relieved to find his examination admiring rather than turned off. Though, considering he has two naked women ready to do his bidding, it seems the natural response.

“Don’t be shy, Satnin. I’m sure Sandra won’t bite toohard if you touch her,” he muses, those bedroom eyes of his flickering with lust. You giggle nervously and then look to Sandy for permission, which she gives with a nod and a reassuring smile.

Your caress is timid at first, then more exploratory of her body than she expects. Maybe it’s the resounding hum of encouragement from your husband giving you more confidence or just pure sexual energy and curiosity, but whatever it is has Sandy feeling delightful. A tweak of a nipple here. A soft tongue there. Hands and mouths finding a rhythm of pleasure.

Sandy palms your bottom, running her fingertips down along the seam of your white underwear, when Elvis cuts in, his voice thick with desire:

“Play with her an’ make her feel good, Sandra.”

Tingles erupt over her skin. She follows orders, sliding her hand down into your panties and through your soft curls until she reaches your hooded clit. She rubs gently, like she would do to herself, and you gasp in her mouth, body bowing to get more friction.

After a few moments, the unmistakable sound of a zipper clicks through the air. Her body suddenly burns with the scandalous nature of it all, and her excitement surprises her.

“Is she wet?” he asks Sandy.

Sliding her fingers down, she can feel the slick of your arousal on her fingertips.

“Yes,” she says unabashedly.

A pause.

“Are you?” His voice is low and dripping with honey.

A pulse of heat starts throbbing in her core, and for the first time tonight, she stumbles over her words, suddenly breathless. “I…I think so?”

“Honey, see if you’re makin’ Sandra excited,” he commands you, then with humor adds, “She apparently doesn’t know.”

Sandy throws a glare Elvis’ way but then your fingers are cold against the blazing heat of her muff, a sensation which makes her jump as you glide your fingers over sensitive, slick skin.

“She’s soaked,” you relay demurely, and all at once Sandy feels like the tables have turned in this little tableau.

“Show me. Both of you.”

His demand makes her stomach drop, like she’s on a roller coaster.

She feels disappointed when you pull your hand away, and the sentiment feels mutual. Both of you display your shining fingers in the dim light.

Elvis crooks his finger and beckons you both closer.

There’s no helping the curious way her eyes drift down and land on his dusky pink cock, the head peeking out from his foreskin, dripping and standing at full attention now he’s been released from the confines of his black pants. Sandy’s mouth goes dry when she realizes just how much nature has blessed him in ways other than his talent.

Is it wrong that she wants to touch it, to feel the heavy heat of him in her palm? To make him shudder underneath her touch? Perhaps so. The itch to torture him with her body just a little for every cunning remark and every dumbass selfish move he’s made in the last 15 years is strong and it makes her tingle just to think of.

He must read the look on her face because his eyes go a bit wide with something unreadable before narrowing with laser focus.

Her heart starts thudding against her ribcage, all the blood rushing out of her head when he wraps his large hand around her wrist, dwarfing it, and pulls her between his spread muscular thighs. Then he draws those glistening fingers of hers right into his mouth.

She gasps. Every nerve in her body is set alight with fireworks as he sucks her fingers clean of his wife’s arousal, his tongue warm and soft and oh-so thorough.

It’s her whimpering now as he pins her with his flaming eyes. Her breath catches. His mouth pops off her digits.

“Mmm…sweet as a sundae. You’ll see, Sandra Dee.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his handsome face as he releases her wrist.

Being on the other end of that devastating smile, especially in a situation like this, has her trembling. It pisses her off a little, actually, that he’s having this effect, and by the glint in his eye, he knows it.

Like he’s saying, Game on.

Then, he looks to you, pulling you close. His mischievousness softens slightly. Sandy is glad to see under the red flush of pleasure on your cheeks there is also a look of relief on your face, as if you are thinking, “Oh, thank heavens, it’s working.”

Sandy steps back, happy to give the couple space, but Elvis’ hand shoots out, latching onto her arm.

“Nuh uh, now where d’ya think you’re goin’?” It’s husky and playful but also fraught with an undercurrent of tension, as though he’s not quite ready and maybe a little nervous about being alone with his wife. He keeps his hand on her arm but turns his attention to you.

“Haven’t sampled another pussy in a loooong time, lil’ mama,” he drawls up at you, “Ya sure you wanna give daddy a taste?” His brow quirks, asking for permission, making sure you’re still comfortable with this arrangement you’ve surprised him with. The words are confident, but Sandy can hear the gravity behind them.

You nod encouragingly. “Yes.”

“Mm’kay then,” and then he sucks your fingers right into his mouth.

Sandy can’t help but blush wildly as she watches him savor her off his wife’s hand. And it’s positively obscene the way he opens his eyes and stares into hers brazenly as he does it.

Never has she felt quite so exposed. Arousal swirls in her core, betraying all her sensibilities.

Elvis runs his tongue under his upper lip after he’s done, where he lets it peek out at the corner of his mouth with a smirk. “Now ain’t that jus’ the cherry on top,” he purrs, eyes sparkling.

Sandy hates how she goes a bit weak in the knees at that. God, this man infuriates her, always has in that loving way of his, but this is a whole different level of understanding and intimacy she’s not accustomed to with him.

But whether she likes it or not, her body is absolutely buzzing with anticipation for the both of you, as evidenced by the way she clenches her thighs and the way her panties get just a little bit more ruined.

The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Elvis, and his gaze darkens.

Oh, it’s gonna be a long night, alright.

A long night, indeed.

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance!

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#got a lotta lovin' to do #a scarf universe story #pink scarf #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut

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chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

vandalism in the closet

Rushing off to Atlantic City to elope with Eddie might be a stupid idea, it might be the best idea you've ever had. But if there's one thing you do know, it's that rockstars know how to trash hotel rooms.

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, established relationship, elopement, dom!eddie, also soft!eddie, fluff, post-canon, like circa 1989 or something word count: 4k+ a/n: if you listen to She Rides by Danzig right as you start reading, by the time Eddie starts singing lyrics the song should also be around the same lyrics. fun thing i noticed lol but uhh yeah this one is minimally edited so feedback and comments are appreciated as always. likes are great, reblogs are better.

When you and Eddie came up with the idea in the middle of the night, you thought you’d change your minds somewhere along the way.

Hopped up on the adrenaline of his cock buried inside you, his hair dripping sweat onto your shoulders, you thought the cold swipe of a wet washcloth on your stomach would change things.

You thought when your heart rate slowed you’d change your answer, he’d tell you nevermind, you’d both just give up the idea.

When he slipped one of his rings on your finger—the corroded steel band and webbed howlite crystal just a tad too big for your ring finger—you still didn’t think it was real.

When you hopped in the van, when you loaded up with snacks at the corner store, every pit stop and refuel, every passing state line—commemorated with grainy photos from your polaroid.

Every memory you’d made in the eleven hours it took to get to Atlantic City, none of it felt real.

Sure, you could’ve gone down to the courthouse, could’ve celebrated at the Hawkins motel, but Eddie wouldn’t stand for it.

“Only the best of the worst for my girl,” He’d said with a wink, with your hand pressed against his lips.

And though the Elvis impersonator was booked, Cher ended up being a better stand in. Good enough for you. Good enough for two idiots who found themselves wearing makeshift rings and rushing off to the nearest high rise hotel.

You were against the wall before the door closed, Eddie’s mouth on your neck, towering over you, his hand on the wall above your head.

“Why don’t you go get all pretty on the bed for me?” His voice had you shuddering, and you pulled him in by the back of the neck for a filthy kiss. Your tongue pushed into his mouth, the slick of his lips sliding against yours, a faint growl sitting in his throat.

You ducked under his arm, and his hand caught you with a firm smack on the ass before you rushed over to the bed, slipping out of the flowing white dress you’d pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on.

Shucking off his jacket, he followed you into the suite, diverting to turn on the radio. He turned the dial, finding Danzig somewhere between poppy Madonna and the immortal Sinatra. Cranking the volume up as loud as it would go, he pointed at you and mouthed the lyrics, shaking his head as he stepped towards you.

You leaned back on your elbows, melting into the mattress as his figure covered you. The giddiness in your chest had you laughing, but as he whispered the lyrics, one of his large, calloused hands dragging down your body, you choked on your laughter.

She slides, Down inside your skin

Falling to his knees on the carpet, he put a hand on either thigh, spreading you slowly, letting his head fall back, shaking his hair with the words.

In time, She will make you scream

He buried his head between your legs, sucking a wet patch into your underwear, hands on the insides of your thighs stretching you open as wide as you could stretch. Wider, still.

You lost all sense in that moment, before his tongue had even touched your cunt, before he’d snapped your underwear away from you with his teeth, sticking them in his back pocket before diving back into your folds. The music was deafening, thrumming in your chest, making you ache for him.

Without asking, you knotted your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper against you, burying his face between your legs.

Eddie was too amped up to care, the coarse black denim of his jeans straining his hard cock. He brought a hand down to his bulge, groaning into your pussy as he palmed himself, as he unzipped, tugging on his cock until he was starting to lose focus on making you scream.

Letting go of his cock, he resituated his hand on your body, sliding over your bare tits, his thumb smoothing over the hard nipple, squeezing nail marks into your skin.

His tongue swiped up your slit, flat against the wall of nerves, head tilting left and right, coating your cunt with his slick spit.

You slammed your head back into the bed, over and over as his tongue worked your clit, fuckfuckfuckfuck and please, fuck right there, pleasepleaseplease and all manner of noises almost completely silenced by the thrashing music from the radio.

Eddie could hear you, though, could feel your voice from your chest, from the way your tits bounced with each jerk of your body, each spasm of nerves, from your head smashing into the mattress, desperate for release. Hot air hit your cunt as Eddie laughed, his lips pressing into your inner thighs, licking away the beads of sweat, skin flushed from the way his hair smothered your skin.

You combed your fingers through his hair, waiting for his tongue to come back, waiting for his face in your pussy, waiting for the release you thought you were promised. You whined and lifted your head up, watching as he stared at you from beneath furrowed brows, tongue skating up your abdomen, between your tits.

Whining again, your hands sliding over your thighs, just grazing the slick skin of your cunt before Eddie shook his head at you, and you snapped them back, curling them up between your bodies.

He brought his lips close to your ear, almost a whisper with the music blaring, and you felt the tip of his cock prod at your hole.

“What’re you whining for, huh?” He teased his tongue on the outer cup of your ear, “You don’t think I’d take care of my wife.”

Not stated with fondness, but with possession, he slammed his dick into you, and you inhaled a sharp gasp of air.

“Cause that’s what you are now, isn’t that right?” Fucking his cock into you, he slid a hand behind your head, nails against your scalp, tearing at your hair, tugging until it hurt.

“You gonna be my good little housewife? Let me fuck you against the stove? Suck me off when I come home from work?” He threw his head back and cackled, closing his eyes and ramming into you harsher and faster until you were losing your breath.

The rough hilt of his pelvis against your clit, the bursting pressure of his cock in your cunt, he had already worked you enough with his mouth and before you could stop it you were spasming and crying, clawing at the comforter on the bed, framing your bodies with the plush linen.

Eddie came not long after, hot bursts of cum seeping from the seams of your cunt, his cock pumping the orgasm out from your body, belt buckle clinking with every thrust. He kept fucking you without letting you cool down, but you were high on the night, high on Eddie, and the blunt you’d smoked on the way to the hotel room helped too.

Tugging his shirt off, he ducked back down to your mouth, squeezing your jaw with his hand and sticking his tongue between your lips.

“If you think I’m gonna give you a break, you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Except, he eventually did.

You both thanked the universe for all-night room service, a white rolling cart of fries and crab and whatever your blissed out minds could think of was there twenty minutes from the moment Eddie put the phone down.

White robes adorning your slicked up bodies, you sat on the floor of the suite’s living space, shoveling food into your mouths.

He threw a fry at you, and you caught it between your teeth, beaming at the applause he gave you.

You took a swig of the champagne he’d ordered, cringing at the taste. Eddie smiled, exhaling a laugh from his nostrils.

“Hey you uh,” He started, reaching over to play with the cuff of your robe, “You think we made the right decision?”

Shrugging, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing the knuckles, “I dunno, but like, do we ever know?”

He looked down and nodded, swallowing hard, shaking himself out of his worry, “Guess not.”

You squeezed his hand, interlacing your fingers and swinging them in an arc, back and forth in the air, staring at the ring on your hand, the rings on his. The way they slid together, scratched up over years of use.

You sang the words, plucky and brief, “I. just. know. I. love. you!” Bouncing your hands in the air with each word, you smiled at him and cocked your head, “Eddie, I drove eleven hours in the car with you and we didn’t like, die or kill each other. You ask me, we’re battle tested, baby.”

There was a moment of pause when he looked at you, the amused smile on his lips teetering between keeping the moment sweet and turning you into a slobbering mess again. The way you rested his hand on your thigh with a gentle pat, the way you went back to the pile of fries, a sip of champagne, a grimace. You did a double-take when you realized his eyes hadn’t left you once, those cavernous brown eyes that wrapped you in warmth, brought you home.

“What?” You asked, physically unable to wipe the smile from your lips.

He propped his elbow up on the table, sitting his cheek in his palm, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his nose, “No, you.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Babydoll, how are you still this blitzed?”

Shrugging again, you teetered over to his lips, and he slid his hands into your hair, his palms pressed against your cheek.

“You know how much I love you?” He asked, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, the tips of your noses brushing against each other with every deep inhale he took.

“Nope.” You grinned, letting your head fall into your shoulders, staring up at him.

He kissed you, a deep, smothering kiss that lit up your brain, had you melting against him. The kind of kiss that forces your eyes shut, forces the world away until it’s just the blackness behind your eyes and his lips on yours. Not rough, nor desperate, just full. Like every step you took was made with this kiss in mind, getting you to this moment, something of a crux, a certainty, an answer to all the times you’d looked up at the sky and asked why?

Eddie pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide as though he’d just had the same revelation as you, “Me neither.”

Then there was that tongue in cheek smile you knew, the one that saved him from the kind of vulnerability you both shied away from when you could help it.

With your heart bursting in your chest, you could no longer help it.

“Eddie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, “Yeah, doll?”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists, holding his grip on you.

“If someone told me that, y’know, waiting, at the end of—of all the bullshit and—and bad things and whatever, I went through,” You looked down for a moment, blinking fast and shaking the thoughts away, “If they said I had to go through it to get to you…there’s no doubt in my mind that I—I would.” You loosened your grip on his wrist, running your thumbs in a pattern over and over the same spot of his skin.

“Ohh, baby.” His voice was soft as he pulled you into his lap, hands wrapping around your shoulders, rubbing your back.

“No more bad things,” He said, holding you as close as he could, “Not long as I have anything to say about it.”

You breathed against the soft fluff of the robe, allowing the silence between you to settle, the faintest hum of the radio over in the bedroom carrying the moment, the comforting thrum of an electric guitar.

Neither of you wanted to break the comfort you’d fallen into, Eddie’s hand petting the back of your head, your fingers sliding underneath the lapel of his robe, grazing the tattoo on his pec. There was no doubt in your mind you’d made the right decision today. In five years, ten, twenty, maybe that would change.

But right now?

Right now, nothing felt better than his ring on your finger.

You pulled your head away from his chest, looking up at him, into those brown eyes. Always sparkling, always home, and they fluttered closed as you leaned up to kiss his cheek, spattering pecks down to his jaw, covering his face until he was smiling and you could press your lips to his dimples, too.

He shook his head at you, combing a hand through your hair, stilling when you finally made it to his lips.

Eddie melted easily when you were sweet to him, cheeks flushing pink, posture sinking into a bashful curve that was entirely incompatible with the daunting tower of his frame when you weren’t being so sweet.

He pushed against your kiss, guiding you down to the floor, keeping rhythm with his lips as he balanced himself over you.

You linked your hands behind his neck, your ankles around the backs of his knees, bringing his body in, his weight firm and comforting on top of you, but he pulled back.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He flicked a few strands of hair out of your face, smoothing a thumb over one of your eyebrows.

You wiggled your left hand in front of his face, “Believe it, babes, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He licked the back of your hand, and you jerked it away with a hey! and a laugh, Eddie ducking into your neck to press kisses that tickled you more than anything else, and you kept giggling until he pulled away.

“Hey, excuse me, I’m trynna kiss my wife here.”

You feigned surprise with a gasp, “You’re married?”

Eddie cocked his head back, “Well, ‘married’ is kind of a loose term.” He rolled his eyes as he talked, that shiteating smirk on his face, “Don’t you have a hubby waiting at home for you? I thought we were both stepping out here!”

Sitting up on your elbows, you forced Eddie to back away from you, hovering in wait, “Ugh, I do.” You scoffed, shaking your head, “He’s a total burnout, though, and he’s got a tiiiiiny—”

He covered your mouth with his hand, laughing, “Don’t you dare.”

You licked the palm of his hand, but he just stared at you, lips stretched into a smile, tilting his head in amusement. You squinted your eyes at him, waiting patiently until he slid his hand away.

“Tiny dick.” You sputtered out, tucking your lips into your mouth, trying to hold back a smile.

“Oh how dare you!” He laughed, ducking into your neck, tickling you again, his hands unfastening the tie on the robe so he could get at your hips, fingers coasting across the skin until you were slapping him on the shoulder, pushing on his chest, trying to get him away.

Eddie held strong on top of you though, kept you there until he’d decided to bring his lips to yours, laughing as you tried to regain your breath, efforts ruined by your own laughter.

The kisses deepened as the laughter died off, Eddie moaning into your mouth, reaching between you two to tug free the rope of his own robe, bare bodies squishing together. His cock hardened against you as you made out, but he made no move to fuck you yet, both of you content with his skin on yours, lips gliding together.

There was no telling how long you stayed like that. With the city lights outside, the night was livelier than the day and the only sign of passing time was the change in tempo from the live music down the street.

When the hard thrashing turned to soft rock, when your lips were swollen and red, bodies slick with sweat, Eddie started shifting down. He dragged his mouth down the column of your throat, over your tits, tongue swirling over each nipple, sucking until you were nice and firm. Slower down your stomach, his fingers finding their way to yours, grounding you in the moment, keeping you from getting overwhelmed with the excitement of what comes next.

Lips on your pelvis, your thighs. He paused to look up at you, and you brushed his hair out of his face, grazing his cheek, thumb at the corner of his open mouth. A warm wash of exhilaration lit up your skin when he tilted his head, tongue sliding under your thumb, lips closing over the dewy skin.

Eddie swirled his tongue around, eyes burning into yours, before he pulled back and closed in between your legs, that first graze forcing your head back into the ground. You squeezed his hand, languishing in his slow laps of his tongue, just nicking the nerves of your clit.

He moaned into your pussy as he sped up, never hitting the speed he’d hit earlier, just driving you deeper and deeper into the feeling of his mouth. You kept yourself disciplined, quieting your moans, holding your body down best you could. It wasn’t that kind of moment, but you knew he’d be proud anyway.

And proud he was. Spurred by the restraint, he worked harder to break you, sliding two fingers into your pussy, curving them against your walls, coupling the pressure in your cunt with the sharp pleasure from your clit. He never turned rough, only sped up as your breathing did, hand still tightly laced with yours, slowing down every time it seemed you might break.

You relished the hot moisture of his mouth, stirred with giddiness every time he pulled you back from the edge.

“Oh,” You breathed, mind fuzzing with television static, his tongue making you dizzy, “Eddie, I love you. I love you so much.”

You combed a hand through your hair, and he lifted his head, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “I love you too, doll.” And ducked right back in, driving you closer this time.

It seemed you had cracked the code, because Eddie didn’t slow down this time. He took you to the edge and over it, squeezing your hand and encouraging you with soft hums. The wet laps of his tongue faster and faster until you were paralyzed on the floor with bliss, a velvety pink warmth spilling from your legs, coating your body in pillowy elation.

Eddie wiped his mouth as he made his way back to your lips, kissing you with the same sweetness as earlier, slow and quieting. He whispered between you, “You wanna ride me, babydoll?”

You leaned up to kiss him again, nodding against his lips, and he slid a hand around your back, guiding you as he flipped onto his back. You threw a leg over his lap, straddling him, still slick pussy enveloping him between your folds.

He breathed a sigh of relief, smushing his bangs up off his forehead with his hand, exasperated and wanting.

“God, I fucking love you.” He exhaled, his fingertips running down your torso, “You’re so hot.”

“Mmm,” You smiled, sliding forward, lining his cock with your entrance, “Speak for yourself.”

He slid into you with impossible ease, breath leaving his lungs, eyes screwing shut, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Grinding against him, you smiled, “Wonder why that is?”

“Shh, don’t tease,” He groaned, setting his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth over his dick, his hips bucking up, locking your hips together.

You leaned down to kiss him, “Sorry, babes.”

Eddie pawed at you until you leaned down to him, burying your head into his neck, kissing harsh marks into the skin. He slid his hands down your back, lifting his hips, “Make me cum and all will be forgiven.”

You rolled your hips against him, leaning back up, hands on his shoulders, “Deal.”

You found yourself struggling to maintain rhythm, already drained from the torture of his tongue on you, the delayed gratification of your orgasm wearing you out now as you tried to maintain your composure.

Eddie slid his knees up, sensing your fatigue, fucking into you, taking control as he was wont to do. His hands held you down, fingers sliding up your back to bring you down to his lips, letting you rest in his neck, overwhelmed and panting against his skin.

It didn’t take long before Eddie himself was speeding up, fucking you faster, harder, but with the same delicacy, the same flattery, I love you’s and fuck, you feel so good and the prettiest moans you’d ever heard.

You pulled away from his neck to see his face as he came, features painted with agony, eyebrows knit together, crinkles under his eyelids, pink lips open and gasping, the shudder of his pelvis with every moment of undoing. It was a beautiful fucking sight, and you pushed your lips hard against his, grinding against him, heightening the orgasm. You loved him like this, loved the way he could lose himself under you, when he couldn’t help but surrender to you.

With a few last thrusts, Eddie came down from his peak, wrapping you in his arms, his cock still buried inside you, cum seeping onto his thighs. Your breathing synced over the minutes that passed, hands in each other’s hair, stroking through the knots.

“I love you,” Eddie sighed.

You lifted your head up, resting your chin on his chest, letting out a pleased hum, “I love you too.”

He tilted his head up, straining to kiss the top of your head, and fell back against the carpet.

The two of you stayed there until you were sure it would hurt to stand up, your legs still straddling him, just listening to the muffled music from outside, the faint radio in the bedroom.

“How cold you think those fries are?” He asked, and you painstakingly rolled off of him, groaning from the dull pain in your legs, the effort it took to unstick them from their splayed position.

“Ow, fuck,” You whispered, reaching over to grab a fry and pop it into your mouth, stretching each leg out at a time as you munched on several more fries, “Not so cold that I wouldn’t eat the rest of them.”

Eddie shot up, wiping away the cum on his legs with the bottom of his robe and bringing his hand down onto the fries like a claw, taking a chunk of them off the plate to shove in his mouth.

You smacked him on the arm, “Hey, manners, buddy.”

He spoke with his mouth full, reaching over to take a swig of your champagne,

“Manners? Never heard of ‘em.”

And that was how the weekend continued. Holed up in the hotel room, throwing away money on expensive room service, hands on each other’s bodies, lips covering every inch they could reach, sweat and champagne and blankets on the floor.

The room was trashed by Monday morning, bathroom towels flung about, picture frames crooked on the walls, a side table turned over. It wasn’t irreversible damage, but it was incriminating enough that you spent a few minutes fixing what you could to save face with housekeeping.

With your duffle bag in hand, you waited by the door for Eddie to join you.

“Hurry it up, babes, we got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m comin’!” He yelled from the bedroom, and you dropped the bag to go see what was keeping him.

He had his back to you as he leaned into the closet, scrawling something on the underside of the shelf.

“There.” He stood back and gestured toward it, “Check it out.”

Scrawled in fading Sharpie were your initials and the date.

You laughed and grabbed his hand, “Real juvenile of you, Eddie.”

He winked and dragged you back to the door, reaching down to grab your bag, “Like I said,” He kissed you, smiling against your lips, “Only the best of the worst for my girl, and I’m the best.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #mine #i dont looooove the writing on this one but i like it #its fine #but like. red light at the bowling alley fucking sends #so comparatively ofc im not gonna be screaming about this one lmfaoo

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

Note

Hey, I sent in this ask and Tumblr ate it, so here it is:

You know how Yuu getting turned into a child because of a potion accident or a spell mishap is a pretty popular trend in twst headcanons and imagines. I'm thinking about the same scenario with Yuu while she's on her shift in the club. It either happened because of one of Von Drake's inventions accidentally zapping Yuu or someone was messing with Fairy Godmother's wand again.

I mean the chaos and panic that would ensue in the club when Yuu gets hit by a spell gone wrong, and she straight up disintegrates except for her clothes. Everyone's like "OH NO, WE KILLED OUR KID!" And Donald's reaction is like this. But then the clothes start shuffling, and they all find a cute baby Yuu.

If you thought they clubgoers were bad before when it came to competing for the custody over Yuu, it's worse now. Hell, even Mickey is twitching to grab his sorcerer hat and keyblade. Any disney character who's a parent are fighting over on who gets to hold Yuu next. Pepa Madrigal is summoning a biblical storm outside because Triton was taking too long holding Yuu, and it's supposed to be her turn. The parent characters all miss holding a baby.

"Your five minutes are up! Let me hold her!"

The couples are all high on baby fever when they get to hold Yuu. I can see Ariel really missing when Melody was a baby and turning to Eric to say that they should have another kid.

The villains to Yuu: Come to the dark side we have cookies.

I can see just cuddling with the Winnie-the-Pooh characters since they're technically anthropomorphic stuffed animals and soft enough to sleep on.

Even characters who I don't see as parent types take to Yuu so well. Gaston finally gets a turn, and he gets quiet. For the next five minutes, his hubris goes away, and he's so gentle with Yuu. Belle and Adam are in awe because that's what got him to shut up? I mean they get it. Yuu is adorable but still.

Lol. I think went too far with this ask.

"Oh no, we killed our kid!" *Side eyes the villains* it's not like any of you have ever attempted child murder before

That Donald link is everything and it is now canon that that is exactly his reaction when Yuu, his nephews and Max are in danger (I've never watched Ducktales so I don't know if there are any other kids Donald hangs out with)

I absolutely love de-aging fics. It's been one of my favourite tropes in practically every fandom I've been in. I actually did have this one story line I was brainstorming in my head during this very long car ride where some magic caused Yuu, Ace, Deuce, Leona, Azul and Epel to de-age to around 6-7-8 and the NRC students had to deal with that (it kind of played along the lines how the day before the magic accident Yuu said that if she met the NRC gang when she was younger, her younger self definitely would've wanted to be friends with them - there was even this scene where smol Yuu 'meets' baby octopus Azul and he gets all teary-eyed that this pretty 'stranger' thinks that he's nice - and there was another one with little Yuu and cub Leona where they take a nap together) but I digress.

So I'm not going to go for baby since there's not much a baby can do so I'm going to say she's reverted back to a 5/6 year old.

Lilo, Alice and Wendy insist that she spends most of her time with them. They see Yuu as a big sister and now that she's younger, they are much more protective of her. Christopher Robin is included in that group not because he's part of the Yuu Protection Squad but because he's close friends with Alice and Wendy so he's dragged along for the ride. Lilo doesn't want Yuu to hang around with the villains or the NRC boys - she's made badness charts of both Yuu and the villains to show her friend how dangerous they are. Lilo and Yuu definitely get Horace to play Elvis songs because Elvis is amazing.

It doesn't matter how old Yuu is, if she sees our favourite tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff she is hugging that silly old bear for as long as she can (lucky, lucky her). The tv show called 'My Friends Tigger and Pooh' and one special episode of 'Doc McStuffins' show that the Hundred Acre Woods gang love hanging around children even if they aren't Christopher Robin - let's just hope, Tigger doesn't get too boisterous with his bouncing. Speaking of which, Roo is very happy to have another kid to hang out with (he excitedly asks his mother if they can bring Lumpy with them the next day) and Kanga finds herself doting on Yuu even more with the other animal mothers (etc: Perdita, Mrs Jumbo, Bambi's mother, Duchess etc)

Since Simba (canonically in the first movie) and Ariel (in the non-canon sequel) are the only prince and princess to have children, I think that they would argue that they are the best suited to looking after Yuu - only for Baloo to pipe in that he and Bagheera have plenty of experience in caring for mancubs (the fact that Mowgli was raised by wolves who are still very much alive seems to be completely forgotten by the bear)

Tiana has to literally restrain Naveen and Charlotte from either kidnapping Yuu on the spot to go gallivanting to every toy and dress shop they know or just going to said shops anyway and buying everything they see.

Aladdin and Robin Hood are really good with kids in their movie (and Aladdin's TV series) so they would be having a blast regaling Yuu with tales of their adventures.

Wait, wait Jack Skellington and Sally canonically have kids in the epilogue of their movie so they would have some experience to boast about (in the movie's soudtrack with Sir Patrick Stewart at least)

Unfortunately, none of the heroes trust the villains to go within five feet of child!Yuu for completely logical and justifiable reasons so Yuu the villainous sidekicks usually end up sneaking around nearby

(At some point, Yuu ends up giving Ed the hyena a hug, headpats and a forehead kiss and he never lets anyone forget that)

All the Disney parents are living their best life with Yuu around. I think King Stefan and Queen Leah are especially happy because they never got to see their daughter, Aurora, at that age and they kind of feel like they get a chance at seeing what could have been.

Someone should also probably keep an eye on Fauna incase she pulls a Lilia and straight up kidnaps Yuu

#house of mouse au #twst #twst yuu #fem yuu #twisted wonderland #asks

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dre6ming · 10 months

Text

The delicate beginning rush

Epilogue- Timeless

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x singer/actress fem reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol, crying, pregnancy

Plot: finally after a long love story we get to see Y/n and Austin take their next step in their relationship and we have a few glimpses at what they’ve been through in the past 14 years

Word count: ~ 8400

Disclaimer: i didn’t have the patience in me to go and proof read this chapter, so just ignore the mistakes. I hope you can understand all the time jumps I did and I hope I was coherent enough

Timothee Chalamet

"I propose a toast for the lovely couple and I may be offered as much as a minute of your time I'd like to tell you what a great timeless love story we have before us... "

Taylor Swift *whispering*

"Hi I'm Taylor and we are now going to sneak up on the bride and see how she's doing. We're in this beautiful place, just south of Barcelona in Spain. It's currently

*looks down at the watch*

"10:34 am August 13th 2032..."

Timothee runs from the back and grabs the camera from Taylor laughing as he does so, taking a moment to look at himself in the small screen and fix his curly hair. "Hey, it was my turn with the camera.." Taylor jokingly says trying to grab the device back. "Well now it's mine... get in here Swift!" Timmy says turning around and catching Taylor in the picture. "As I was saying before, we are here to celebrate the wedding." Taylor says, glancing at Timmy with her best and most playful side eye. "And we were asked to film the most chaotic wedding video and I repeat chaos is mandatory." They both giggle as Timmy finishes up his sentence, before turning the camera back around to film the enchanting decorations, witch his friend has picked with most care and thought. The floral arrangements composed of daisies, purple star flowers and yellow dandelions formed a pathway to the small wooden house where all the magic was taking place now.

"Got cold feet yet sœur?" Timothee asks, making his way through the white curtains hanging form the door frame. He can see the back of her head, still that same 5.6' figure he saw 18 years ago, but yet different, her shoulders carrying a different cadence to them, the lines of her body talking about the yeast that passed. Her red hair friend was just in the middle of fixing the veil up in the intricate braid number she has going on. At the sound of her best friend's voice she turns around swiftly almost knocking to the ground Roxanne. "Timmy!" Y/n squeals hugging the one who's been like a brother to her, her face momentarily hitting the camera, the perfect moment for Taylor to steal it back. "Smile for the camera!" Taylor says as all 3 friends hug and smile to the lens. "I can't believe this is happening...fells so strange." Y/n sighs

Just then her mom makes her way into the room, looking at the watch in her wrist, very obviously annoyed with the small delays that showed up through out the day. "The cake will be here an hour later than it should, so I hope you have a good speech Tim." Her mom warns the curly haired boy, who suddenly feels slightly terrified. "I do ma'am." He nodded.

Taylor turns the camera filming the room, the mess on the make up vanity, the clothes thrown around, the pile of tissue clearly used to wipe away tears, everything looking out of a 2000 romance movie.

Billie Eilish

"Ey yo, I have the camera for the next few minutes and I thought it be a great moment to see this very wedding scene." Billie says making her way into the bathroom, where in one of the small stalls, Roxanne and y/n's mom hold up the puffy dress as the bride relieves herself. "Tell me this isn't the mort wedding scene ever. Hey there bride queen!" Billie waves to the clearly flustered girl, who tries to hide her face in the palm of her hands as the women around her laugh. "Enough with the embarrassment for the bride, I'm going find the groom, I've got my suspicions he's doing something ridiculous right now, bye ladies!" She exits the bathroom of the venue, her eyes searching for the blonde mess of hair that belongs to the groom.

After walking around for a minute she finds him hiding in the bushes, guitar in hand, sweating and shaking, as he snacks on some M&M he stole from the candy bar. "Hey there big guy!" Billie scares him, Austin taking a hand to his heart making sure it still beats. "Billie, Christ you scared me" the man laughed, loosing his bow tie the slightest bit. "Say hi to the camera, handsome boy!" Billie encourages pointing to the camera, as Austin awkwardly waves, a quivering smile ghosting his face. "What are you doing hiding in the bushes?" She asks, thinking if she should turn the camera off. "Talking myself up, I sang for her countless times, but it was never..." he breathes deep, before speaking again. "She was never my wife before, it's strange." Billie actually felt her heart heavy with joy for her dear friend, thinking that this is the one y/n chose to call forever. "Well she's still the same person she was 24 hours ago" she tries to calm his nerves, but the chuckle that leaves Austin's lips is mocking. "She's not, she's now my forever and I got to do right by her!" The blue eyed boy looks straight into the camera, the lens capturing the glimmer of true love in his orbs.

"Ok so play for the camera, she'll see it later!" Billie encourages him, as he picks up the guitar pick with shaky hands, clearing his voice once before hitting the cords of the instrument to form the most beautiful of sounds.

"Is it romantic how all my elegies, eulogies me..

I'm not cut out for all these clinical clones

These hunters with cellphones...

Take me to the lake where all the poets went to die, I don't belong and my beloved neither do you.

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse..."

Austin proceeds to sing the whole song which he knew Y/n loved so much, but he couldn't help but add a small personal touch to it.

" I want auroras and sad prose

I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

'Cause I haven't moved in years

And I want you right here

A dandelion grew up out of ice frozen ground

With no one around to tweet it

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief"

He changes the lyric, instead of the red rose Taylor originally mentioned, he sang their flower. The dandelions have become a symbol of their love and it all started with Y/n 10 years ago when she wrote the beautiful love song that he was now referencing. It wasn't rare that Austin went back to the things he knew she loved, mainly because he also loved them.

"Very well done Austin, think you can do that again in a few minutes?" Billie raises her brow at him, showing him that devilish smile of hers. Austin once again blushes a deep shade of maroon, licking his lips before laughing lightly. "How my darling wife Billie? Is she happy?" He asks, his eyes shining with wonder and excitement. "She was perfectly fine, peeing gracefully as ever.." Billie laughs biting her lip, before sitting down next to Austin, carefully trying not to her her dress covered in dirt. "She's perfectly happy Austin, trust me-" before Billie could say any more light footing was heard form a far, and then the thin figure o Timothee makes it's way out of the dark. "My turn!" He says to Billie, stretching his arm out for the camera in her hand.

Sighing she complies, giving his the recording device and leaving the two men peacefully. The silence grows thick, it was not so long ago that Timmy and Austin weren't the best of friends and Timmy had it out for Austin, but all that was a decade old and now the two were friends.

Timothee smiles at Austin turning the camera on, with out letting the blond man strumming the guitar know. He sits down in Billie's place, putting the camera down in the grass so that the angle might catch the two of them. Austin is to troubled by his own thoughts to notice that tho. "So man, you did it, you married her." Timmy says patting Austin on the back. Austin puts the guitar down next to him and rests his elbows on his knees, fidgeting with his long sleek fingers. "Feels unreal, to be fair I never thought she'd be ready for this, but then again I know I wouldn't have loved her any less if she hadn't." Looking up at the starry sky Austin remembered very clearly the night he first talked to Timmy about marrying Y/n.

...5 years ago...

Coming back from a short trip of visiting his sister and her family, Austin's pocket felt so heavy as he drove all the way to Timothee's apartment. In the pocket he had the ring his sister gave to him, he hadn't asked for it, but she gave it to him. It was their mom's ring and back when his mom was alive she gave it to Ashley so that she would give it to Austin.

Back then he asked her: why now? And why never back when he was in a decade long relationship with Vanessa? His sister had answered simple, looking out the window at Y/n who was playing in the pool with her kids, chatting with her husband and her and Austin's dad. She had said "I look at her and I see something I never thought I would see in any girl you would ever date, she completes you and you complete her. You both can work independently but together you thrive, she loves you honestly and you love he so. I don't know when you'll ask the question, but I know if you're ever going to ask it, it's her who's going to be asked, it has to be."

Driving now though New York, he could see his sister's eyes in the back of his mind, looking exactly like his moms, telling him with such truth that she believed Y/n was the one. Austin would lie if he said he was surprised, because he had known Y/n was the one, since he herd her voice filling the theater at the premiere of the movie that changed his life forever, just like she had.

He arrives at Timothee's place and lets himself inside, calling out for his friend. "Tim, hey man, I gotta talk to you about something.." Timmy appears in front of him in seconds, eyes curious about why Austin was here hours after returning from his and Y/n's trip to visit his sister. "Is y/n?!" Of course Timmy's first thought would be that Y/n was hurt or something, but Austin calms him down quickly. "She's fine, I just need to tell you something." Austin then pulls out the velvet box that was nicely sitting in his pocket and shows Timothee the gold ring. Timmy gasps, his eyes ready to fall out of their sockets. "Ok." Was all Tim could muster.

Sitting down at Timothee's kitchen table, Austin drinks his water slowly, looking at Timmy who's analyzing the ring, with his bows drawn together in concentration. Austin wishes now more than ever that he could read thoughts. "So you're going to ask her to marry you?" Timmy finally speaks, looking at Austin with a unreadable expression. Austin can feel himself breaking a sweat and taking a big gulp of water from his glass, he licks his lips, getting ready to speak. "Well.. actually.."

...present time...

"I remember the day you came to me with that ring, I saw it in your face, that you knew it was her ring, but you also knew that she wasn't ready to have it. Austin I believe there is a lot of things that need to go into a relationship for it to succeed, but watching you two I realized that when it's the right person it doesn't feel like an obligation or a dreadful effort. I know I have only seen the outside and I know there was great effort that the both of you put in, but you both seemed happy doing it." Timmy tells Austin, who fiddles with his wedding ring, as he remembers that day as well and how he explained why he knew that wasn't the time to propose, but that he would know when that time would be. Surprisingly to him, Timmy trusted him and kept the secret of the ring for 4 years, not once letting Y/n know that Austin had it. "There was a lot of effort, I was almost 30 when I met her, but I felt like I was 15, something in me didn't feel quite grown up yet and she was almost 20, but the things she had been through made her feel much older. I think we met perfectly in the middle and even on those nights that we went to bed mad at each other for some stupid thing, we still knew that when the first ray of light hit the ground we would make amends to each other." Austin speaks from the heart and he does it thinking of those times he saw tears in her eyes because he was less the respectable towards her, he can count those times on the fingers from both his hands, which in a decade long commitment doesn't seem like too much but to Austin it feels like a lot.

"People fight, my parents fought and so did hers, but they didn't love each other, so the best thing they could do was let it all fall apart, it's not the case with you two, you know it, she does as well, you'll be just fine and you'll be an awesome husband and maybe some day dad." Hearing those words Austin thinks back to his proposal and how much they both cried that night.

...1 year ago...

4 years, that's how long Austin held onto the ring his sister gave to him. Tonight however, it's finally time, he knows, he feels it deep inside his soul that she's finally ready to say yes to him. He feels the sweat gathering at the back of his neck, as his heart beats faster with each passing moment. Y/n is in the shower, getting ready for bed and he can hear her humming softly. The clock on her nightstand shows 1:34 am. He is sitting down on her bed, still dressed in his pants and shirt, the light smell of smoke and liquor hanging around him form the party, her birthday party, her 28th birthday party. He remembers being 28 and he remembers how lost he felt back then, how uncertain everything felt, beck then he was scared for his career, he was unhappy in his relationship and he felt like he had lost all control of his life, little did known that only a year later he would meet her. She brought him so much happiness and light and he can't see himself ever being without her again, he has already lived 29 long years without her.

As soon as he hears the door of the bathroom opening he springs up, hiding the small velvet box in his pant pocket, walking to the bathroom to take a shower himself. "Hi baby, did ya have a good shower?" He asks leaning down to touch his lips to hers, that funny feeling of bones turning to mush enveloping him whole in an instant. Y/n hums against his lips, holding tight onto the towel covering her. "I did, I'll wait for you in bed." She says to him, jokingly grabbing his ass and giving it a firm squeeze, making Austin jump a little, as she walks away giggling. He looks at her and her elegant walk, he loves her laugh and he loves the way the hair at the back of her neck sticks to her skin, he loves the way the small droplets of water that she missed when drying herself, shine in the light, making her look shimmery.

Austin tries to be as quick in the shower as he can, wanting to catch Y/n still awake. He had this proposal planned in his mind for months now and even though he rethought over and over again, afraid it would be too little, he always ended with the same conclusion, it was Y/n and he knew her, really knew her.

After drying his hair quickly with a towel and putting on his soft pajama shorts, taking the ring out of the pocket of his pants, he tiptoes his way to the living room. He takes a moment to admire the New York light from up here, he remembers the first time he saw those lights and he remembers how stupid he felt for having his heart set on someone so much younger than himself. He doesn't however remember ever thinking, back then, that he'd end up here, still with her, 9 years later.

Shaking himself awake for the daydreaming, he sits down at the large black piano, lifting the cover up and walking his long fingers along the cold keys. Taking a deep breath he starts playing, not wanting to be cheesy he spent days thinking about what song to sing to her, but he always came back to the same one, not being able to understand why, maybe it was because when Y/n wrote it with Joshua, she confessed to thinking about him.

Y/n Wrap me up in all your—,

I want ya

In my arms, oh, let me hold ya

I'll never let you go again like I did

Oh, I used to say

As his voice fills the room he hears her calling out his name, but he doesn't stop singing.

I would never fall in love again until I found her"

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

He hears the tiptoe of her bare feet against the marble floors in her apartment and he can already feel the tears stinging his eyes, as his emotions grow, forming a knot in his throat. "Austin?" Y/n questions coming into the room, but he doesn't turn his head to her no matter how much he wants to, he tells himself this is his challenge to get his Eurydice just like Orpheus did, so his shuts his eyes closed, forming the picture of Y/n in his mind as he keeps singing.

Heaven

When I held you again

How could

We ever just be friends?

I would rather die than let you go

Juliet to your Romeo

How I heard you say

Her voice accompanies his and he feels the salt streams travel down his cheeks and chin. Then he feels her hand on his shoulder and it's only now that he dares open his eyes and look at her.

"I would never fall in love again until I found her"

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

I was lost within thе darkness, but then I found her

I found you

The sing to each other, him with tears in his eyes and her with a compassionate, somewhat confused look. She takes his eyes off of his, when something in the corner of her eye, catches her attention. When she sees the gold dainty ring, she gasps loudly, taking a few steps back, covering her mouth with her hands in surprise. Over the years Austin had given her jewelry as gifts, even rings, but this ring, this one she knew. She had seen it in old pictures of Austin's mom. The ring was a meticulously designed gold band with a small ruby attached to it, it was even more beautiful in person.

Austin stops playing as soon as he sees her reaction, a million bad thoughts pass through his mind as he thinks that this was wrong. He wipes the tears away with the back of his hands, taking the velvet box in his hands and coming down form the piano bench to sit down on one knee in front of her. He clears his throat before speaking.

"I imagined this a thousand times, I never knew what I wanted to say exactly. I've been holding onto this ring for 4 years now and I couldn't tell you what made me believe that now is the time. Maybe something changed in you, maybe something changed in me, or maybe it was both of us that changed. I love you and I would be the happiest man to call you my wife and my partner in crime forever, however I want you to know baby, it's ok if this is not what you want, I love you regardless of a paper the legally binds us. I want you to understand that I will always be here, always. I am part of the family that you made, the family that will always show you love. So Y/n will you do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me?"

Y/n was speechless, she had not seen this coming. She remembers know, how she used to think about marriage and being a wife, all the bad thoughts about the subject coming from her dysfunctional family. But now, after 9 years of being loved by Austin her mind had changed.

"Yes, yes I will marry you Austin! With all my heart, it's always going to be 'yes' for you!" She says, crying and laughing at the same time.

With trembling hands Austin takes her left hand in his and put the ring on her finger. It's a perfect fit! So maybe it was fate all along. He jumps up to his feet and wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. Holding her so tight, he could feel her heart beating against his. They were two pieces of puzzle, being put together in a perfect connection.

...present time a few hours before...

"Hi Y/n and Austin, this is Roxanne, and I am your bridesmaid-" "One of them" Taylor and Billie correct Roxanne, causing the ginger girl to huff jokingly. "Ok one of your bridesmaids. We are now on our way to find the bride and get her ready to go for her man." Roxy says to the camera, walking along the other three women, in the direction of the room where Y/n was patiently waiting for them. When they open the door the expect to find a stressed bride, but not a crying one. Roxanne cuts the video and puts the camera down, as they all rush to see what's happened.

"Y/n, my sweet girl what's wrong?" Y/n mom asks, hugging her daughter tightly, as the small framed girl shakes with cries. Y/n finds herself speechless less only shaking her head. Taylor hands her a glass of cold water, which she happily takes, drinking it all. "Can I talk with Roxy?" All women exchange a few questioning looks, before exiting the room and leaving the two best friends to talk. Roxanne gets up from her seat and immediately gets on her phone. "Ok so where are we running away to? We're in Spain, so anything in Europe should be easy, but if you want to go home or somewhere else that's fine too, I got the car up front, we don't need any bags we'll just buy new everything." Y/n breaks out laughing, which further confuses Roxanne, who really believed her best friend got cold feet and the secret escape plan they had only discussed once was afoot.

"Rox I'm not crying because I want to run away, I'm crying because I am so grateful, growing up I never thought you could be happy and in love, I thought that was fiction. I never thought a boy would make me blush, would make my heart skip a beat, I never thought I'd fall for a guy. I'm just a bit overwhelmed and..." saying the last part y/n got a big lump in her throat and wiping away a few more tears she took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell you something and I need you to never say it to anyone." Y/n says being as serious as ever, looking straight at her best friend. "I swear, I won't, you know you can tell me everything." Roxanne assures her, sitting down next to Y/n. "Matt just called, they needed to kick my dad out, because he was already drunk out of his mind." Roxanne feels herself get worried, she knows this was Y/n biggest fear, because even with all the rehab work that she payed for, her dad did not seem able to drop the alcohol, he had promised her that how would for this day only so that he could walk her down the aisle, but that seems to be long gone now. "I'm so sorry" Y/n shakes her head not letting her friend get all sad and weepy about this.

"Don't be, I did my best, I really did, some people just don't want an out or they just can't, I don't think I care to know anymore. I just don't want mom to know about this, Matt is going to walk me down the aisle and we'll say dad's flight got cancelled." Y/n says before putting some eye drops in her eyes to help with the redness form crying. The two of them settled on this agreement and after hugging it out, Roxy let everyone back in the room, so that they could get the blushing bride ready.

Standing now at the other end of the aisle, where no one could yet see her, she feels the cold feet everyone has been talking about, but it was a different kind. Y/n knows she loves Austin, she knows he's the one, but the ever present question still stands: "Will marriage ruin them?". She remembers being young and just like any curious kid asking her mom about how she met her dad, it was before the fighting between them was an everyday occurrence. Her mom described someone so different from the man Y/n knew as her dad, so in her little mind she made the connection that marriage was what ruined them, then as she grew up when her parents would fight, her dad had this thing he always said: "it's been 9 torturous years" (y/n was 9) "it's been 10 horror years" (y/n was 10) "it's been 16 fucking ruined years of my life" (y/n was 16), her parents had her 7 years after getting married. At first she thought the years were just a weird coincidence, but they matched with every passing year, so she made the second obvious connection, SHE had ruined them.

Someone touching her arm gets her out of her trance, it's Matt, smiling down at her, looking so happy and proud. "I am so proud of you Y/n I've watched you grow up since you were 8 years old and I admire the woman you are now." She opens her mouth to respond but she doesn't get to, as the music started playing. "I won't let you fall, I promise" Matt whispers as they start walking in the direction of her future husband.

As they round the corner and she can finally see him, in his black suit with his caramel hair sticking in place, with his ocean blue eyes staring at her like she's the most precious thing on earth, all the doubt in her mind goes away and she knows, she knows she'll be fine.

Looking into his eyes, she can't even tell how or when she got face to face with him and it's not until Matt puts her hand in Austin's that she feels two things at the same time. She feels extremely happy and ready to make this man hers forever, but she feels the absence of her father now more than ever. "I got you, my darling!" Austin mouths to her, bringing her heart to life inside her chest, making her forget everything. Y/n nods her head at him and stepping face to face with him she smiles.

"I was blind, walking through life with tunnel vision, wanting to see only what's straight ahead of me, always focused on the next thing, never alive in the moment, then I saw you, standing in a crowded room, looking so perfect and beautiful. I bumped into you on purpose and after a few words you made my tunnel vision extend, day by day, moment by moment you made me see more, you took away my blindness and showed me the world, showed me what the quiet things in life give you, showed me what balanced is and you kept me up. I love you and I can't imagine a more perfect someone for me than you, my darling." Austin says his vows with tears in his eyes, looking at her and she feels herself wanting to start sobbing, but refrains from that, knowing it's soon to be her time, for her vows.

Clearing her throat before speaking Y/n gives the vows a quick assessment in her head. "Never blush just because a guy smiles at you, never think about a boy, never have a crush, never make the first move, never fall in love - are all affirmations I wrote in my diary as a girl thinking love was just fiction and every guy out there just wanted me for some ulterior motive, not because I was worthy of love. But then, then came Austin, with his Prince Charming smile and his perfect hair... with his soul and humor, with his heart. His heart that has been laid out to me, for me to love and take care of and for that I am so honored. I can't express how relieved I am that all I was afraid of, never came true and that all I wished to never happen, like falling in love, did happen. People find each other in the most wonderful of ways, Austin has 80% of the credit, I get 20% for looking beautiful in a crowded room."

After the vows are said, the officiant reads a few more things, before finally saying. "You may now kiss the bride." And Austin does. Leaning in, pulling Y/n flush to his chest, trying his best not to comb his hands through her neatly styled hair. It's weird how in the time they've known each other, they have kissed multiple times a day, but yet this kiss right now? This feels like the first kiss, like the best kiss, like a kiss that sealed it forever.

A few hours later everyone is sitting down at the tables, watching Timmy give his speech, one of the many speeches that were expected tonight.

"To be honest I never thought I'd be making this speech. Of course somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that the possibility was there, but I preferred to stick to that little 11 year old girl who had problems producing her "R-s"" everyone giggles at Timmy's comment about your past speech problems and you wish to be mad at him for ever disclosing such a big secret, but looking at him, fiddling with his mic, you can't. "She was always so down to earth and focused, she did have a habit of getting stuck in her head, still does, then one spring it all changed. My best friend and sister, was blushing at her phone, writing love songs, daydreaming even in the middle of conversations." Thinking back at her self, Y/n does now realize that's exactly how she acted. "I didn't give it to much thought, thinking it was just a passing thing, but it obviously wasn't, since we're all here." Austin leans in to whisper a sweet 'I love you' his hot breath brushing her neck, making shivers travel down her spine as Timmy went on with his speech. "I still remember the day I found out about that prick over there." He says pointing at Austin, who tries to playfully hide his face with the palm of his hand as Taylor turns the camera to them for a second.

Timothee giggles brushing a hand through his hair. "I never wanted to kill somebody like I did that day. I mean you have to give it to me, she was my girl, my little sister. But I'm happy to say that Austin proved himself to be quite the catch, nice looking guy, tall, sweet, funny.." "I love you too Timothee!" Austin shouts, making everyone erupt with laughter. "Yeah yeah, Y/n actually slipped me a 20 asking that I say all this, you know, keep that in mind before your head explodes." Timmy jokes and Y/n smiles knowing she didn't give him any money and all he was saying was in fact coming from the heart. "I was lucky enough to witness this love story, see it evolve and I was always so captivated by this 6th sense they seem to have about each other. Y/n doesn't actually know this, and with Austin's blessing I'm telling you, that he actually had the ring he proposed with for 4 years before he finally popped the question." Y/n was somehow not surprised to find this out, she had the feeling that Austin had been ready for all this way sooner than she was, but that he had waited for her. She looks at her now husband, taking him his features and noticing every new wrinkle that decorates his face, his smile lines had gotten a lot more pronounced, a sign that the two shared many laughs together.

"And he came to me, walked into my apartment and showed me the ring. I was taken back, I didn't know what he wanted from me. Was he looking for my blessing? Did he want to know if I thought you were ready for marriage? Imma be honest with you Y/n nothing had actually prepared me for what came out of his mouth and the only person who anticipated it was you actually, just a few weeks prior." Both y/n and Austin are confused, they don't know this part of the story and are now eager to find out what Tim means .

"See 5 years ago, a few weeks before Austin came to me with the ring, Y/n and I were in Vegas, Austin was also with us, we were there to celebrate the wedding of our dear friends Taylor and Joe, but that specific moment I'm thinking about Austin wasn't with us, he was back at the hotel." Timmy looks at Y/n as if to say 'do you remember?' And she nods, remembering exactly the talk they had.

...5 years ago Las Vegas...

Walking in the summer heat in Vegas was definitely an experience, only very few places are open at this time of the day so it's pretty quiet, no need for security, just a nice walk with her best friend, before the wedding of her friend and mentor Taylor. All the wedding fuss has made Y/n think about the whole situation again, she hasn't done it in a long time, since that night at the Oscar's, when Vanessa brought the subject up. Now 5 years passed and she can admit to loving Austin just as much, if not more, of that were even possible.

Passing the stores she looks into the window displays as Timmy tells her about something, she can't remember what, because she stopped paying attention to him long ago, getting stuck in her own head. One window shop in particular makes her stop in her way, it's a small wedding boutique, the dresses displayed aren't necessarily anything she would wear, but the sight of them makes her stop mid step . Timothee notices she's stopped so he does the same, following her eyes to the dresses. A million questions get assembled in his brain as the two stare at the white fluffy dresses.

"Would you marry him?" Timmy asks in a low voice. Y/n takes a deep breath. "Some day, yes! If he'd ask me today I'd probably say 'no', but if he asks me in 3-4 years, I'll say 'yes' with all my heart" she was being very serious and Timmy had to ask. "Why 3 or 4 years? What's that number?" Y/n shrugs her shoulders and returns to walking, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I couldn't tell you, I'm just not ready yet, I feel like he is though, I've seen him looking at the rings in jewelry shops every time we pass one and I can somehow feel it in him, I can't explain." She is rendered speechless as she tries to put words together. "And do you think he knows? That you're not ready?" Timmy asks.

Just as on cue Austin walks out of their hotel, noticing the two friends walking and waving at them before walking their way. She looks at him with bright eyes, her whole face lighting up at the sight of him. "He does."

...present time...

"'He does!' Was all she said, before he reached us and we never spoke about it again. I saw back then that she could see herself dressed into one of those gowns shaped like a pastry and I saw it hurt to admit that she was not ready for it, but I also saw how much comfort it gave her, that she knew Austin understood. Now why I say she's the only person to anticipate Austin is because of the talk he and I had when he showed up with the ring also 5 years ago, but weeks after my talk with Y/n."

...5 years ago...

"So you're going to ask her to marry you?" Timmy finally speaks, looking at Austin with a unreadable expression. Austin can feel himself breaking a sweat and taking a big gulp of water from his glass, he licks his lips, getting ready to speak. "Well.. actually.. I know she's not ready." Timmy let's out a relieved breath, because he was only thinking back to his talk with Y/n and he knew that if Austin were to answer differently, he would have had to be the one to tell him, what Y/n said to him back in Vegas. "She not ready, but I am, I think I've been for a while now." Timmy remembers her saying exactly that, that Austin is ready, so now Timmy's only fear is that Y/n was wrong and Austin wasn't going to wait for her, that he was going to leave her over this. "I'm going to wait, I'll see it in her eyes when she's ready, I can't say when that will be? Maybe 3 or 4 years."

...present time...

"'Maybe 3 or 4 years.' The fucker knew, how he knew I couldn't tell you. But that's why I told you all of this, because they've always known and they've been one step ahead of each other. There is no logical explanation other than the fact that they were meant for each other. I love you sœur and I'm happy that you found your person." Tears bream Timmy's eyes as he gives the microphone to Taylor, going straight to Y/n to hug both her and Austin.

Taylor waits for the moment to calm and then she smiles brightly at the couple. "I met Y/n when she was 16, a very difficult age, when you go through a lot of challenges and changes. I think part of why I was so attracted to her as a human being was because I saw myself in her. After meeting her I had promised myself to keep in touch, to guide her as much as I could, maybe this way she would not make my mistakes. So imagine my surprise when she walked into one of my studio sessions and she wrote an entire Love verse, only to later admit to me in the car, teary eyed, that it was about Austin. I was happy for her, but I was also terrified, he was her first love and that is a very important title, because you never forget it. Somehow all the stars aligned and she met the one who seems to be forever. A few months into her relationship with Austin, she and I found ourselves back into the studio and we were re-recording my version of Speak Now, on there I have this vault song, called "timeless" . After I played her that song she started crying and she said to me 'Sing this when I get married!' So I'd be a bad friend to not do it."

Taylor gets down at the piano that the band used and starts playing the cords of the song Y/n loves so much. Austin grabs her hand and guides Y/n to the center of the dancing ring, pulling her into his chest and swaying away to the sound of the song. Eyes locked into hers, he smiles at Y/n and both of them know that they really were timeless and that soon years would've passed and they would looks back at the pictures smiling, because even in a different life she would've turned his head in a crowded room.

...4 years after the wedding...

Life takes us on mysterious roads, some bumpy, some slippery and some easy going, but never boring. She was 19 and he was 29 when the met, it all seemed so forbidden and wrong, neither of them had the courage to dream to a future so unbelievable as the one they are living in.

"Austin don't get her wet, I didn't bring a change of clothes!" Y/n shouts at her husband, as he walks hand in hand with their 2 year old straight to the water. "Don't worry, I won't!" Austin shouts back laughing and Y/n closes her eyes, knowing full well that he definitely will. She enjoys the warm weather of September in L.A., angling her face towards the shy sun, as she pats her stomach, that has yet to start showing her pregnancy, event though she can swear that she feels the tiniest bit of a baby bump. She hasn't told Austin yet, but she's thinking of doing it soon, maybe today. She still remembers the day she told him about Manon.

... 3 years ago...

For the past week Y/n has been feeling like something was off, like she was just waiting for a cold to catch up to her and put her in bed for a few days. So she thought it's better to get ahead of it, that's why she's now in the waiting room at the doctor with Matt, Austin was away filming and she didn't feel like driving.

When her name gets called in she gets up and goes to talk with the doctor. After a short talk her doctor hands her a pink box and instructs her to go into the bathroom. Y/n has missed periods before, because of stress and just because periods are sometimes irregular. Her and Austin were using condoms and she doesn't remember it ever breaking or them forgetting to use one. Her anxiety is through the roof as the nurse draws her blood while she and the doctor wait for the test to come with an answer. "Here you go mrs Butler!" The doctor says when the timer beeps, but Y/n doesn't have the courage to look, asking the doctor to do it. "Well this one seems to be a positive, we will also do the blood test to confirm, but if you are comfortable I have an ultrasound and we could have a look." Y/n agrees and after getting her blood drawn, she lays down on the table with her shirt up, as the doctor puts the gel on her lower abdomen.

The doctor turns the screen to her and she doesn't really understand what she's looking at, until the doctor points to a white dot in the sea of black. "That I would say is a healthy pregnancy at about 5-6 weeks."

She leaves the doctor's office white in the face, which concerns Matt a bit, but he doesn't ask more than 'are you ok?' Knowing that she'll tell him when it's time for him to know.

Y/n lived the next 3 days until the last test came back as a zombie, not really talking or eating. Even Austin noticed the difference through the phone, but he could leave the set of the movie he was directing so he was counting on Timmy to tell him what's happening, only no one knew.

Straight after the blood work confirmed that she was in fact pregnant she drove herself that day to her gynecologist and she did all the tests possible, there was no doubt, she was going to be a mom. She cried in her car all the way back to her place and then cried for another few hours in her bed, clutching to her chest the tiny black and white pictures the doctor had given her. She was scared, scared of not being a good enough mom.

When she calmed down, Y/n picked up the phone and called Austin's phone, not caring that with the time difference he was sleeping. "Y/n?!" Austin responded in his sleepy voice and she broke down crying just hearing his voice. "Come home!" Was all she said before closing the phone on him and crying again.

Austin jumped up in bed, took his phone and documents in a small backpack, called his manager James and had him book the first flight back to New York City. He drove like a mad man, making it to the gate of the plane last. The 5 hour long flight felt like forever and the 50 minute drive from the airport back to Y/n's place felt like torture. When he walked in he was greeted by their pets, 4 cats and 2 dogs, but no sight in Y/n. His heart was racing and going to their bedroom he found her asleep, for a second he feared that she was dead, but then he saw her chest move with each breath and calmed down. "Y/n!" Austin said desperately, kneeling next to her bed and caressing her face. She opened her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, handing him the crinkled up picture that she was holding to her chest. Austin knew what it was, he had seen this type of picture at his sister, at his friends and even at Roxanne 2 years ago when she and Joshua had their son.

His blue eyes looked at her, scared to ask, but hopeful. "I'm pregnant!"

... present ...

Her calm is disturbed by the squeaking of her daughter, Manon and the laughter of her husband. Y/n opens her eyes, just in time to see Manon escape her father's arms and runs straight into the water. Austin is quick to catch her but not before she gets all wet, so he's now bringing a very upset, drenched little lady, to her mama. Y/n pull up the big beach towel and taking of her daughter's wet clothes, she wraps her up in the fluffy towel, holding her close. Austin sits next to them cuddling close, the two parents squishing their kid into a sandwich of love.

"Told you!" Y/n tells him giggling and he smiles in disbelief, shaking his head, leaning in to touch his lips to hers. Even now 13 years later the meet of their lips makes the two of them melt from the inside like it was the first time. "I love you!" He says, peppering kisses all over her face, to the shell of her ear, making her shiver, a soft whimper leaving her lips. Austin pulls back and looks at the blonde girl wrapped up in the beach towel, sleeping soundlessly. These two girls right here, are his whole world and his heart actually aches with how much love his has for them. He sees Y/n in every feature of their daughter and he's so happy to be a dad. Just then like struck by lightning Austin looks up at Y/n, who just like him, was looking at the small child sleeping. He could look at Y/n forever, she always looked so beautiful. Now that he was 44 he could see the age catching up to him when he looked in the mirror, but she, she looked like she did all those years ago when she stole his heart without even knowing. "Can we have another?" Austin finds himself saying before he can stop the words from leaving his mouth.

Y/n looks up at him in surprise and smiles. "Already beat you to it!" She laughs taking his big hand in hers and guiding it over her stomach. "Really? But we?" "We weren't trying" was what he wanted to say and Y/n nods knowingly. "We didn't the first time, maybe we should sue the condom company." She jokes and they both laugh.

Watching the sunset together all felt right, everything felt like it was supposed to. Austin and Y/n have everything they dreamed and more, life always finding ways of surprising them in the most beautiful of ways. And the both reminisce over the past 14 years, thinking back to the Delicate beginning rush, that started it all and being thankful for all the stars that aligned in their advantage.

"I love you my darlings!" Austin says, kissing Y/n’s temple.

The end!

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elvisabutler · 1 year

Note

OK, I'll bite: since your requests are open, may we please, with all the cherries on top, get a Dove pregnancy fic? If you have the time and energy, of course - I know your WIP list is crazy, and I'm sure you have all kinds of things going on irl too, as we all do! 😘

if your child needs a daddy, i can help

summary: you find yourself pregnant with your first kid and you and austin make room for them in your lives despite how sometimes the whole pregnancy makes you feel emotionally and physically. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m, i suppose. he does get his finger inside of her. pairing: austin butler x priscilla actress reader ( little dove verse ) word count: 2261 warnings: the normal warnings apply for this verse. daddy kink. dom/sub dynamics. brief mentions of past relationships that were not at all pleasant. anxiety. negative self talk. pregnancy kink. breeding kink. THESE WARNINGS MAKE IT SOUND MORE SMUTTY THAN IT IS. but it's actually quite fluffy. austin's just horny for his wife. referenced/implied fingering. future and past p in v sex referenced. author’s note: consider this canon for the main verse? obviously set in the future so- god maybe 2024/2025? generally speaking i loved this prompt and technically meant to keep it short or at the very least fluffy but uh- well austin's a horndog is really what happened. thank you anon for this prompt, truly, i'm really trying to get up the courage/gumption to restart actually actively writing for dove and austin and stuff like this and the asks really help more than you know. also thank you for acknowledging my crazy wip list. didn't actually think i'd write this as quick as i did, and truly i meant to have it up on mother's day when i realized how quick i was writing it but this past weekend. lord she was a doozy in my work real life. anyway i hope you like it and anyone who actually wants to be tagged for this verse, either hit me up in my ask box or my dms or someway. i didn't do my normal austin tag list for this because i know this verse has been known to occasionally bother some people and i don't want to put it in your face if you don't want to read it, you know?

It happens- as all things do with you and Austin- quickly. It comes within the two months of you telling Austin you want to make Austin a real Daddy. A daddy who can hold his child and rock it and sing it little lullabies until it grows up to be and strong like their parents. You'd think since you're a grown woman and a surprising amount of your life has become regimented in ways it wasn't after dating and then marrying Austin that you wouldn't miss your period and not notice. You wouldn't miss it one month, two months and only realize something's strange when you go to visit Austin to see his show and hiss and practically yelp in pain when he presses up against your chest. They were bigger but they always got a little bigger around your period, it was fine. But then Austin is murmuring in your ear and pressing his hand against your stomach where he can feel a firmness where there wasn't one before.

"Are you pregnant?"

That's a weird question to ask, you're due for your period any day now, you think, thinking that you're close enough to the beginning of the next month that you're due for one soon. Not that it'll be your third missed period in a row. You shake your head, "no, I'm due for it next week, I think."

Austin raises an eyebrow and presses against the firm spot, waiting for it to give only to realize it's staying firm, there's something there. "When was your last one, Dove?"

You open your mouth to answer once, twice, three times before you look down at his hand against your stomach and see how your breasts are practically spilling out of your bra and you let out a noise of delight and shock rolled into one. Your voice is soft when you answer him finally. "I don't remember."

The squeal of delight you let out and the way Austin laughs and laughs and laughs twirling you around before setting you back down so he can kiss your belly is something the cast talks about for the next week or two.

It's a flurry to try and get things rescheduled, have projects pushed back or dropped all together as your belly starts to curve outward, becoming harder and harder to hide as the weeks go by. You and Austin had made an agreement to not announce a single thing before 12 weeks. It wasn't a guarantee nothing would go wrong but it put you in a safer territory than you would be if you announced earlier. Austin argues every so often that you shouldn't make an announcement, not because he doesn't want people to know but because he's so fiercely protective over your private life with him beyond what the two of you have to show that exposing your child to this nonsense fills him with dread. He worries about the judgment he figures you'll get over having a baby like this. Worries about how if you want to book something short that people may look at your belly and realize that it's not worth it. Maxwell and Simon, your agents and managers and pseudo dads rolled into one promise to get you just one more thing even if you'll have an obvious belly for them because they care about you and your career almost if not more than Austin does.

You tell him- no, you explain to him that you can't do that, you can't go into hiding because you're pregnant. You want to be able to tell the world that you're carrying his baby, that your belly is growing because you told him you wanted a baby. This baby may not be their child, but they're your fans and what would you be without your fans? No, you have to announce it so that you can finally stop hiding in oversized hoodies and dresses tailored to hide your bump. Besides, you've been known to read the gossip blogs and the magazines while waiting for your doctor's appointments. You know very well there's theories as to what's going on and how people find it suspicious you've gone from full body shots on instagram to above the waist shots. There's theories about why you had to drop out of a film that you'd be filming while nine months pregnant and ready to pop if you did. This is the only real way to put them to rest.

"Looking forward to this little one and I having many more mother's days to come. Your daddy and I can't wait to meet you." is the caption you go with on Mother's day with Austin's hands and your hands on your stomach. The comments make you cry though if Austin asks you're only crying because of the hormones. Not because of your little Elvis family bombarding your comments with congratulations or the way any negative comments get overwhelmed by happier comments. Even Kaia and Vanessa say congratulations and you feel something in your chest loosen at the knowledge. You feel the fear that had gripped your heart deep down that whispered how you'd have to hide this pregnancy like you hide your submission to Austin- like you hid your relationships with your other doms- disintegrate and evaporate into thin air.

Austin knows the second he sees your smile and sees your response to a few messages that he's doomed, he's lost the fight of getting you to remain a little more private about the pregnancy. Truthfully he's just thankful you agree with him that the two of you are going to try your absolute hardest to keep the baby themselves out of the limelight. And - as he murmurs, cupping your growing bump one night- their three siblings. Your feed is split between promoting your new project, random other things you'd do and posts about your growing bump, your occasional sickness and how pregnancy isn't really all it's cracked up to be even when you want a baby.

It comes to a head one day when you're seven months pregnant with your big long baby that Austin felt the need to gift you with all his height genes and you're posting something about how this week has just been rough.

"I'm not speaking for everyone, obviously, and all you infertility moms can tell me I'm wrong, but for me- I'm- society gives us all some rose tinted glasses when it comes to pregnancy and from what some of you guys have told me, motherhood." You sigh, wincing as your daughter kicks your rib cage and does this somersault that has your stomach rolling and twisting. "I want more kids but- this hurts. This hurts and I feel huge and I can't breathe sometimes because they're pressing on everything and I know you guys have seen the pap photos, I can't even really hug Austin right any more."

Austin for his part knows better than to interrupt when he hears you talking to yourself and despite his better judgment waits outside your shared bedroom door until he hears words that stop his heart.

"It's selfish, I guess, but I worry sometimes that he doesn't- he isn't going to like me nearly as much when the baby comes out. We've all heard about how guys do that and Austin's but- I don't know. I'm being melancholy and that's not what you signed up for today." You lift up your shirt to show your bump as your daughter does another roll that you manage to catch on camera. "I guess they wanted to show off at the expense of mommy. You are definitely your father's kid."

When it's been silent for a few minutes and he hears you grunt in pain he finally walks inside the room to see you standing in front of the mirror, cupping your bump before running your hands over your chest. There's a part of him in the back of his head that finds the action arousing beyond belief but he sees the look on your face and sees how you're playing with your necklace as the hand that was on your breast moves up. You're so engrossed in looking at your body and allowing your mind to whisper things to you that you don't notice Austin until he's up behind you and his hands are lifting up your belly just so.

"Oh, Aus- Fuck, Daddy, keep your hands there." You moan, the relief palpable in your tone. "That feels so good, she's been-"

"Growing too fast and too big for my little Dove?" Austin's tone is light and playful has he kisses your neck, watching the two of you in the mirror. "The joys of having me as the other half of the genes. Two more months and then she's out of you and you're free until the next one."

Your jaw tenses just a little at the words. It's not that you don't want another baby but who's truly to say he's going to want you enough to make one. The silence after his joke is what makes Austin pause and has him kissing at your jaw. "What's wrong?"

Because something is wrong and you have to communicate with him, if you need something you need to tell him, that's always been the rule in your relationship. A sigh leaves your lips. "There's- you're not going to find me attractive-" you pause and try to take a breath before the first thought that comes to your mind leaves your mouth in a rush. "Elvis didn't like Priscilla after she had Lisa."

Austin drops your belly gently against your protests and turns you to face him while shaking his head, taking your head in his hands. "Dove. Don't- we're not them, remember?"

"I know that!" You practically whine before rubbing at your eyes that are quickly filling with tears. "I know we're not! I know you're Austin and I'm me but I look and feel like a beached whale and my boobs are huge and will probably sag everywhere-"

Austin places his finger on your lips before shaking his head. "I'm going to stop you right there and tell you to look down." He watches you as your eyes slide down his torso and stop between his legs. He's- he's hard just from looking at you and touching you. There's his arousal staring you in the face in his grey sweatpants and you can't help but bite your lip. It twitches a little.

"You're- Daddy."

"I'm hard. You know how I've been the bigger you get. I thought you were attractive before but carrying my baby? Watching your belly swell and seeing your boobs escape every bra you put them in? Dove, if my dick had it's way you'd be pregnant every second you could be." He murmurs, allowing his hands to slide down your neck to your chest where he gives your breasts and nipples a squeeze before sliding down to your stomach. "And when this belly is gone? When our daughter is suckling at your chest? I'm going to remember that you did this. Going to remember how my wife grew our daughter and is feeding her from her own body still. I'm going to know that you're strong and perfect. And I'm going to remind myself we have a baby schedule to stick to. That I can't just immediately put another one inside of you."

His words cause a shudder to ripple through you and Austin smirks just a little, moving his hands down lower and lower, "Dove, if I put my hand between your legs how wet is it going to get?"

You feel your breath shakily leave your mouth. "Soaked. Please, Austin-"

A kiss cuts off your words as Austin's hand slides in between your leggings and your skin, inching ever so closer to where he's ignited a fire. He pulls away just a hair and shakes his head. "Try again, lil Dove. Please who?"

The eyeroll you give him holds no malice but you can't help it even as your arousal threatens to overwhelm you. "Daddy, please."

"I'll always give my Dove what she needs," he murmurs, finally sliding his fingers inside of you with a low groan from both of you.

It's funny how after that night your sex life with Austin up until the end of your pregnancy became a little more intense. More frequent as if to reassure you any time the voice inside your head got too loud and any time every trick your therapists taught you failed. Austin loved you and there wasn't a single doubt about that. Even if there was, the way he was by your side throughout your labor with your daughter would have done away with any doubts. There wasn't much more you could ask for in a partner than what he did for you that day and what he does for you as you recover.

It's a week before any of you are ready to take a picture but you're thankful for Ashley recommending a good photographer for the newborn pictures despite Austin's protests that he could take his own. After all, you wanted him in some of them, and you didn't trust an autotaken picture for this. When it comes time for Austin to post that your daughter's been born he goes for a simple picture that shows your hand on top of Austin's and Loretta's on yours with a simple caption: isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful.

He saves the other photos for you to post.

#austin butler #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfiction #little dove series #dove series #you read your lines so cleverly and never missed a cue #ally writes #also surprise me posting two fics in one day!!

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she-is-juniper · 2 years

Note

This is my first time requesting anything! But I would love if we could we get some after the show type scenarios (or head-canons or blurbs) , I feel like Elvis would shower us with compliments and affection as his “one and only girl” 💥💥💳

[SCREAMING AND CRYING AT THIS REQUEST…COMING RIGHT UP]

Your ears may be ringing from the cacophony of the night’s concert, but you couldn’t care less. The applause of the crowd around you has heightened to a full-on roar as the love of your life ends his encore performance with a final chord. But he’s not through yet; he leans down to the front of the stage and grabs the jaw of the nearest girl, planting a kiss against her mouth. And the next girl, and the next. Until he’s sauntering through the crowd, sweat dripping down his hair, giving kiss after sloppy kiss to each and every girl in his path.

But again, you couldnt care less. You’ve made it clear to Elvis you don’t care what he does onstage. You don’t care who he kisses, or how many. Because you know—and he knows—you’ve got him whipped for you, and for you only.

At long last, Elvis has made his way back to the front of the stage. The crowd roars. You peer at him from around the side of the stage, smirking, waiting. The curtain falls as he bids farewell to the city for tonight. And as if he can feel your eyes, he turns, breathing hard, and meets your gaze as if nothing else matters.

He swims through the crowd of musicians and stagehands as they pat him on the back in congratulations. He’s only got one thing on his mind—you.

He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls your body against him and hoists you up. And at last, he concludes his torrent of kisses around the world with a final kiss just for you.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice husky and raw. “My one and only girl.”

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you whisper.

Elvis grins and pays no heed to the others as he sways with you in his arms over to a dimly lit walkway just off the side of the stage. Pressing you against the brick wall, he brings his mouth to yours, kissing you as if his life depends on it. As if you were suddenly, despite every girl in the crowd, the only one that mattered. Where his skin touches you, sparks explode.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Elvis rasps as his mouth moves to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the space between your collarbones.

You’re rendered silent by the onslaught of his mouth, the press of his leather-clad body against yours.

“My girl, back there behind the stage. Waiting for me, all mine.” He cups your face in both of his hands, somehow simultaneously delicate and rough. His ice blue eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes makes your knees buckle; you would have crumbled to the floor if it weren’t for the press of his body on yours against the wall. “You hear that?” he croons. “You’re my one and only girl. You hear me?”

You nod, and Elvis kisses your lips again, smiling against your mouth.

“Say it for me, baby,” he commands in a whisper.

“I’m you’re one and only girl,” you whisper back.

“Damn right you are.”

[[ASK BOX IS OPEN FOR BLURB/HEADCANON REQUESTS ❤️‍🔥]]

#elvis 2022 #Elvis x reader #Elvis Presley #Elvis Presley x Reader #Austin Butler #Austin butler x reader #Austin butler!Elvis Presley #Austin butler!elvis Presley x reader #elvis movie #Elvis Presley blurb #Elvis Presley imagine #Austin butler imagine #Elvis Presley fanfiction

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be-my-ally · 11 months

Text

The Lisa-Marie

Big Bunny + The Return Flight (in case you want to catch up!)

Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism (public rehearsal, but no-one else is watching/or sees), elvis is a panty thief for no reason other than it’s now totally canon in my head that he continually stole knickers, fingering, mentions of drug use + abuse, oral (v receiving, p mentioned), jealousy, p in v sex, the briefest mention of a gun threat, references to elvis’ ill health. this is somehow the least-bunny fun + plottiest, while also the smuttiest so uhhh enjoy the angst at the end?

Director Elvis is linked where the scene goes in the middle of this, however there have been some minor adjustments to the opening + closing paragraphs to make it fit *just right* and so they’ve been inserted here.

wc: 12k

Pls forgive me for the longest author note ever:

I went waaaay too far into attempting to make the timeline totally accurate; to the extent that I was noting down what city each night when i wasn’t even referencing them but honestly it was stressing me out so much that I gave up and removed a lot of the references - so this is *mostly* accurate in the general tour dates and vibes but not entirely because … this isn’t a biography, it’s smut with a lil teeny weeny bit of plot.

Confession time! I was and am super unhappy with The Return Flight, there was so much in it that I was excited to share but I think my writing is off and I’m not super sure why, which affected my motivation for this A LOT so apologies for the fact this took a literal months. But hopefully you’ll all think it was worth it! And hopefully a lesser wait for the fourth and final part.

Anyway, I might return Elvis onto the Big Bunny plane for a little spin-off fun but for now, enjoy bunny still being referred to as Bunny even though, by half-way through this, she is no longer a bunny.

October 1974.

You’re awake before him, gently shaking his shoulder as he groaned into the fur comforter that he didn’t want to wake up yet. He eventually shoves you hard enough that you decide it’s probably safer just to leave him as he is, pulling yourself together and redressing instead - he’s still got his eyes closed when you slip out. Ten minutes later you get a note passed to you with details about where to meet them for the pre-show rehearsal but you don’t actually get the chance to see him again, too distracted with dealing with all the matters of the disembarkation and cleaning. After you’re done you change as quickly as you possibly can, ignoring the questions from the other girls about where you’re going - practically sprinting to catch a cab.

He’s already on the stage when you walk in, pacing about - blocking the show as best they can in preparation to allow for the lights crew to have some idea of where he might be at any moment. He looks marvellous - absolutely gorgeous, his hair back but essentially left to do what it likes, all fluffy and soft looking. Eyes bright underneath his tinted glasses. He’s dressed in a white shirt, cuffs like a pirate, damp see-through sweat patches evident when he raises his arms, filigree studded belt, huge against his stomach, blue stones glinting in the lights. You feel your mouth water and tummy start to flip just at the sight of him. He smiles when he sees you, with your tiny little halter dress on, chilly in the cold air of the auditorium at the venue. The breeze causes you to wrap an arm around yourself a little self-consciously as he waves you closer to the stage. You're practically leaning on the edge when he kneels down in front of you and you get a sudden flash of what it must feel like to be a girl at his concert. Someone who hadn't had the luxury of falling asleep beside him, or the feel of his palms against theirs. The feeling of being forced to look up at him, his head backlit by the lights, a halo like he's the goddamn messiah. That feeling of desperately pining for a single moment of his attention.

“Ah-ha! lil Bun-Bun! C’mon up here,” He puts an arm down before retracting it, looking you over more carefully, a note of stern shock in his tone,

“Good lord! That might be more r’vealing than your lil bunny get-up. Uh - here!” He gropes around the floor for his jacket before he thrusts it at you, and you look at it with amusement, it’s a rainbow. Rainbow fringe. It’s truly one of the most preposterous things you’ve ever seen in your life. He grumbles as he holds it out,

“Don’t need every man in here to be starin’ at you. Got work to do - don’t need ‘em bein’ distracted.” You don’t think you’re particularly scantily clad, you’re certainly showing a fair amount of leg but you’re far more covered up than Playboy enterprises would like you to be had you been on shift. But still, it was chilly, so you shrug it on gratefully. The soft leather caresses your arms, encasing you in his thick scent, it’s heavy on your shoulders and big enough that the fringe tassel tickles your thigh.

“Uh Hi, Where-“ You wonder if you should even ask, “Where’d this come from?” You shake your arms out, making the fringe dance.

“Oh - it was a gift,” He grins at you, lips all crooked in his sheer delight, “You like it?” He clearly loves it. So you lean into the absurdity and realise that what you’re about to say wasn’t even really a lie.

“Uh. You know what, yeah I do,” You giggle as you shimmy a little making the strands swing. “I love it.” He looks at you fondly before he leans over the edge of the stage, tugging you up with a grunt.

“Glad you could make it doll, been waiting for you.” You smile back at him, pleased as anything that he’s laying on the charm but that underneath you can still sense the sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He pulls you close to him and you brace yourself with a hand on his belt, feeling the weight of the buckle against your fingertips. He reaches down to grasp your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss against it. It’s intimate and gentlemanly and you feel like you’re in a period drama, feeling your chest heave as your breath catches in your throat at the movement, and you’re helpless to do anything but gaze into his eyes. You glance down, eyes catching on the wide white band on his wrist, just above his diamond encrusted ‘Elvis’ bracelet.

You stroke his wrist gently before looking up at him with a questioning brow raised. He kicks his foot out to show you that beneath his gently flaring trousers there’s a matching white band on each of his ankles.

“It, uh, it mimics the weight of the ‘suit, gets me used to it for the performing.” He flicks a wrist, “And, uh, gotta try and get some of this weight off.” He pats his stomach, gripping the side harshly, “No-one wants to see a big doughy ol’ Elvis.” He shakes his wrists at you, and you’re mortified at the fact that it makes you squeeze your thighs, drool pooling in your mouth forcing you to swallow hard. Something about the way the rings on his fingers glint under the stage lights, the way the buckle makes the tiniest little metallic clang, feels akin to being shown a hidden sliver of skin. Makes you think all sorts of things. Of the weight of them around his wrists, of the possibility of them around yours, weighing you down, wrapped around your ankles too, making you heavy and pliable. Or his belt around your middle, the huge buckle pinning you in whatever position he chose. You don’t realise how low your eyelids have slid at this line of thinking until he laughs,

“God - you got them dirty thoughts written all over your face Bunny, this is a respectable r’hearsal, don’t you go getting any ideas now.” He wags a finger at you, you feel like you’re being hypnotised watching it.

“Go on now - hop over there for me, sit yourself down, just watch the show baby.” He slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as he catches your bare thigh, while he grips your upper arm and ‘helps’ to lower you down gently, almost missing his huff of laughter in response. You have to take a second after you're on the ground forcing a deep breath feeling your heartbeat between your thighs.

You take a seat where he’d pointed, content to try and settle down and watch him practice. It’s gorgeous to watch, he struts about the stage, breaking into gospel every now and again, making you smile at the clear little flashes of joy on his face. You’d considered if it was going to be boring, contemplated even bringing a magazine with you but now you were here you can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything but him. Every now and again he cracks a joke, changing the lyrics to something dirty and tossing you a wink, laughing back at the boys who all join in like a pack of wild hyenas. It’s different to how he is in private, yet shockingly the same - there’s flashes of the insecurity you caught on the last flight, a quietness to him while he waits for a song to be set up or a wire to be fixed. But also an exaggerated boyishness to him, playing the jester for men who don’t seem to be aware he’s putting it on.

He calls a break after you’ve been there about an hour, and he slides himself off the stage to walk over to you. You were going to try and play it cool but you can’t stop yourself from gushing at him;

“You sound wonderful. I can’t wait to see the show tonight.” He smiles, a little bashfully,

“Yeah? I can see you wigglin’ your yittle hips from all the way over there,” He narrows his eyes at you, crinkles forming as his high cheekbones move, “ ‘just wonderful’, ‘s that all I am?”

“Well you’re not - ” You squirm a little under his line of questioning and consistent stare, suddenly feeling a bit too hot in his jacket, “- not bad to look at. You’re so different out here than on the plane.”

“In a good way?” You hum back a non-committal noise and though his brow wrinkles a little he lets it go. Instead leaning back on the chair in front of you, feet crossing between your legs. He folds his arms across his chest, your eyes track the bands on his wrists again and when you look up he’s smirking at you watching him. You can’t take it any longer and his smile grows wider watching you shrug his jacket back off, letting it hang over the back of the chair, fringe tickling your arms as it falls,

“Let’s make this more interesting for you huh, must be boring having to wait for all this - ‘n I can see you’re all fired up for me doll.” You look around, but he’s blocking your view forcing you to focus on him even more, as if he wasn’t already the only thing you could see.

“Oh no, it’s plenty fascinating enough El honestly,” He shakes his head, magnanimously as if he’s doing you a favour,

“No, no, must be boring for an exciting lil girl like you.” He taps his chin almost pantomime-esque in its overdramatic nature.

“Hmm… what shall we do to keep it entertaining.” You squirm silently begging him to stop drawing your attention to his wrists. He bends down, unstrapping the weights from his ankles,

“They’re gonna be a bit big on you. But still,” He kneels down, like he’s the prince and you’re Cinderella, tapping your foot to make you lift it up for him. He slips it onto your ankle, letting it fall down over the top of your foot as the weight drags it down. You wiggle your foot - it’s not particularly heavy, you could definitely still walk and run in them - as was probably their intended use. But they made you feel very … aware, made you notice whenever you wanted to move your leg. He grabs your right leg now, doing the same, placing it back down when he was finished, your legs wide. You glance down at him, realising that your dress was certainly too short for this. You try to close your legs but he stops you with a hand to your knee.

“No, no, darlin’, leave ‘em where they are. That’s gonna be your job ok baby? You’re gonna keep these yittle legs spread, and when you try to wiggle around again these-“ He taps one of the weights “ ‘ll remind you to keep still.” You hiss back at him,

“Elvis - someone’s gonna, you gotta get up - they’re all gonna think we’re up to no good, don’t want - I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He grins up from between your legs, spreading them further. You cringe a little, feeling the air now brush against your uncovered underwear, feel your wetness start to drool onto the fabric despite the embarrassment.

“Ain’t gonna be no trouble ‘round here little one. ‘Member I’m in charge.” He takes a second to leer at you, and your thighs twitch at him staring straight up your skirt. Finally, he stands up, using your thighs for balance, clutching at them on his way up, you gasp at the firm grip. He leans down over you, one arm bracketed on the back of your chair, and the sudden scent of him, stronger than what was lingering on his jacket almost overpowers you - his cologne almost too much, like walking past a men’s locker room. He leans down to murmur in your ear, his other hand going down to brush against your hip, feeling through your dress for the waistband of your panties.

“C’mon Bunny slip ‘em off, let me have ‘em as a good luck charm. I haven’t got any of yours yet.” Your legs slip a little closer together and while he looks down and smirks he allows it,

“You got a collection?” You ask shocked, tilting your chin up at him, he grins back at you, boyishly and amused ignoring the question.

“C’mon! Hurry up, gotta get back to work in a second baby, want you all bare - so its nice and easy for you to slip a lil hand up there, want you to rub yerself every time you like what ‘m doin, ‘till you’re all silly with it. Okay doll?” He says it like its a totally sane request, and you have to wonder if he’s of completely sound mind. You glance around, double checking that the building is practically empty, and where there are people that they’re all preoccupied with the stage rather than glancing back at you sat in the middle of the row a few lines behind the mafia. You roll your eyes, heart going almost a little too fast, but still obediently lift your hips up to tug your panties down and off, they catch on the weight on the way down,

“No need to be shy doll, I’ve seen it all before.” He winks, as he bends down to pick them up, glancing straight up your skirt as he does. You flinch a little at the sight of them in his hand, if you’d known Elvis was gonna be taking them home you’d have put on something a little sexier, but you can’t imagine that any change could have made his face more gleeful, as he stares down at the wet spot on them before slipping them straight into his pocket.

“You ‘member what you’re meant to be doin’ now.” He whispers in your ear, pressing what would look like an otherwise fairly chaste kiss to your cheek, before sauntering back up to the stage.

You nervously fumble the hem of your dress, delicately sliding a hand up, trying not to noticeably flinch as your fingers brush over yourself. You wonder if it wouldn’t have made more sense to slip your arm down the side of the wide arm-hole of the dress, more subtle perhaps? But all you can hope is that the the way the chairs are placed in front of you obscures your actions should anyone look back. From anyone that wasn’t up high on the stage. You can practically feel his laser focus up your skirt, you’re far enough away that you’re sure he can’t see anything in detail, perhaps not even the way your slickness glistens against your skin, but just the gentle motion of your fingers teasing yourself. There’s a clang as the metal inside the cuff on your ankle knocks against the chair leg and you freeze, anxiously glancing around to check no one had heard. Elvis’ head had whirled around at the noise from where he’s been talking to someone at the side of the stage and you can see the way his face contorts into a knowing smirk.

You didn’t think you’d be into this level of wanton exhibitionism, but the sudden fear that had jumped through you had translated straight into excitement, and you could feel the pulse of arousal swirling with the butterflies in your stomach. You brush your fingers more confidently, rolling your hips with the motion, not even really aware of how much your body was moving, but simply going with it. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you rub a singular finger down your self, trying to build the anticipation, but you can’t resist moving your hand to play with your clit when your vision clears and you witness him moving about the stage - dancing, thrusting. He pauses while they reset something - the mic perhaps, or the lights, and you can feel the thrum of your climax growing; the fear of being spotted, the sheer desire for him, the feel of your feet firmly planted on the floor, weights holding them down, enough to bring you closer and closer.

He starts singing again but if someone had had a gun to your head though you wouldn’t have been able to tell them what, and as you start to move your fingers again you make eye contact with him, swallowing a moan as you watch him attempt to surreptitiously adjust himself. You should feel embarrassed, you think, but instead a sudden boldness creeps over you at the evidence of his undivided attention, and you instead spread your legs wider, your skirt riding into the little roll of your stomach, completely exposing yourself. You run your fingers against yourself, feeling them slip as you gather wetness and drag it up, reducing the friction on your clit when you finally let your finger brush over it again.

Elvis is stood still now, ostensibly staying put so they could manually hold the lights for him to sing a ballad, but in reality in the perfect position to watch you. You watch his face flush as he misses a note, watching you finally dip your finger into your practically dripping entrance. You’re made away of the weight on your feet when your legs try to jerk and your body compensates by crunching in on yourself a little. Making it startlingly obvious to anyone watching, hopefully just Elvis, what you’ve just done.

You let his voice wash over you, and your eyes close as you go to add a second finger, thumb moving to tease your clit with little circling touches. Your climax comes over you suddenly and unexpectedly, a slightly unplanned harder touch directly over your clitoris and the combination of your fingers curling inside yourself sending shockwaves down your spine and belly. You continue to touch yourself through it - dragging it out for a moment. Until you just know that if you push yourself any further you’re going to scream and you have to slow the pace, gently stroking yourself as you slowly come down from the high. Your head had fallen back and with a little effort you manage to bring it back around, shifting yourself upright as you do.

When you make eye contact he winks, mimics licking his fingers, and you look down at your own sticky pair, before following his mimed instruction. You meet his eyes again and watch him trail off mid-sentence as his chest heaves taking you in, squinting under his glasses to try and focus on your fingers leaving your mouth. You make sure for a second that you let your tongue peek out, watching him gulp in response. Before hastily rubbing your hand against your dress, thankful for the colourful pattern that hides all sin. He sets the microphone back onto its stand, slowly, deliberately. Then, he motions you to the stage, and when you make no attempt to move, fear shooting through you that you’re going to be leaving a wet patch behind, he makes the request vocal.

“C’mere Bunny, can’t see you all the way over there.” You rapidly close your legs, weights knocking against each other, and sit stock straight as several of the boy’s heads spin to look at you. Elvis breaks into song, “C’mon and be my little good luck charm.” While pointing to a spot in the front row. You swallow hard, trying to make your limbs cooperate again, but it just looks like pure defiance, and he’s frowning at you when you try to plead with your eyes.

His tone changes, “Ain’t gonna ask again honey,” You flinch as several other heads in front of you turn around to stare. You trip a little as you stand, forgetting about the extra weight on your ankles and when you look up Elvis’ smirking straight at you.

“Can take them off now baby, leave ‘em on the chair, someone’ll clean it up later.” He winks and you suck in a gasp as you do as he directed, the implication of someone having to clean up both the weights and the seat of the chair. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at the complete lack of secrecy, with your mind all muddled you don’t have the capacity to consider that the other people in the room wouldn’t understand the double entendre.

“There we are, right there Bunny,” He points at the same spot again and you gratefully stumble down there, collapsing into it. You can feel your cheeks blazing and you clasp your thighs together, trying to tell yourself to just watch Elvis and not pay any attention to how wet you still are, or the embarrassment of being ordered around in front of everyone.

You sit there primly, for the rest of the rehearsal, ignoring your newfound nakedness under your skirt - unable to draw your eyes off of his wrists, his waist, now you know how those innocuous little white bands feel. Waiting to be dismissed, sent home - although you hope that you might get another invitation. He finishes, stripping off the weights as he’s laughing and thanking the sound guys - although shouting back at them as he stalks across the stage to where you’re sat to the side of the front row.

“That interference needs to be cut by tonight, it’s messin’ with my ears, I don’t care if you have to go out and buy a whole new fucking system - just get it done.” Despite his harsh words by the time he’s kneeling in front of you he’s smiling slightly bashfully. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he mutters to you -

“Don’t know why I keep ‘em around.” He offers you his hand, pulling with his suddenly weightless feeling arms to yank you up with him, clearly overcompensating without the weight, causing you to stumble with the force of it. His arm comes around to steady your waist. He stands there, legs spread and solid, holding you to him, brushing your hair off your neck to whisper in your ear.

“Wanna come back with me, honey? C’mon baby,” He’s pleading with you, entreating you to follow him, babying tone convincing you as if you even needed encouragement. “How - How’d you feel about, I got some things we could watch, we could, could - I sure would love to tape ya, baby.” You lean back, brow furrowing as your mind runs through what he’s suggesting.

(Director Elvis + Model Bunny)

But still, after some consideration you agree, and before long you’re relaxing on the bed with him, taking in the moments of quiet before he’s got to head out into the screaming crowds, performing for the pleasure of the girls and women. He’s magnificent in the flesh, masterful in his ability to command the ultimate attention of the audience. But still, as wonderful as it is to watch him, rhinestones glinting in the stage lights, you have to admit to yourself that you much preferred him in the somewhat faux intimacy of the rehearsal.

By the time you’re all filing up the steps to the plane once more it’s night again, looking forward to a short day-break for you all after the busy past couple of days. Elvis is exhausted, and though he’s gentle with you still you can tell he’s had enough. He wearily waves to the other girls, calling you over to ask for some food before disappearing. You push the cart into where he’s ensconced himself in the bedroom to discover him in the bathroom - door open, and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes catch on the little pill bottles lined up on the side, the man himself shaking seemingly every bottle possible into his palm until there was a little cocktail of medication contained in his hand. He takes them with a swig of water and jumps when he makes eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Jeez honey, make a noise next time.” His tone isn’t harsh, it’s not annoyed - but it is solid, serious. You frown, the floor was carpeted but the rickety wheels of the cart still made some noise.

“Oh, uh, sorry - didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh a little bit in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, I’ve got, there’s hamburgers, and sandwiches and uh-“ He’s wiping his hands on a hand towel when he comes out of the bathroom, throwing it back onto the floor behind him when they’re dry.

“S’ok Bunny, that’s good. Just-just leave it over here.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pointing to a spot within arm’s reach. He’s in the tracksuit again, out of the jumpsuit from the show, out of the the sharp outfits you were now used to seeing him in. But he still looks appealing, if not moreso now. Soft, approachable and above all else - cuddly. He’s evidently exhausted, face pale after removing the stage makeup, and he shuffles back on the bed. He’s starting to slur his words a little as he reaches for a sandwich,

“Come. Come sit here baby… come sit here with me.” He pats the side of the bed next to him as he shuffles further up. You do so and he tucks a hand into the crease of your stomach and thigh, thumb brushing in circles, a gently squeezing grip.

“Here.” He holds out a sandwich for you and you take it gratefully, “Gotta…feed you up while I got the chance.” His head is starting to slip forward as his eyes fall closed. You pat his arm, leaning over to take the parchment out of his hand. He grips your wrist, forcing you to put your sandwich down too as he slides down the bed to lie down, tugging you into him.

“S’ok El, just, just close your eyes. You did so good today.” He hums, a little pleased noise like he’s somehow not used to being praised still. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping under and around you, pulling you tight to him.

“That’s it Bunny, that’s it, just - just gonna rest my eyes for a moment, doll. Be…be ready for action in a mo’ - just, ju-“ You shush him, his eyes were fluttering closed, arm clenching around you and you felt it relax a second later as he drops off into sleep.

There’s a few more flights scheduled, but they’re busy ones - short flights with barely enough time to get the men fed and watered, let alone enjoy any other kind of extracurricular activities - there’s a hasty blowjob and an attempt for the world’s quickest round of intercourse and that’s it.

There’s a break for a little while before he cancels the next flight on Big Bunny so you only see him once more, and that time he barely acknowledges you; exhausted from a show he locks himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until the plane is touching down. You wave goodbye to him, a little melancholy and hating yourself for wishing that he make some grand gesture to prove it had all meant something, instead he winks at you as he leaves down the steps, whispering a

“Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Bunny.” As he went.

That’s the last you hear from him. For little over six months you hear nothing else. You’re almost immediately thrust back into the reality of the normal world and you’re kept busy enough that he doesn’t pass through your mind too often.

Occasionally, when you see a tour announcement pop up in the tabloids, or from a fan-club membership that you totally didn’t take out in a pitiful attempt to keep up-to-date with his life, you wonder about him. About whether you were a bit of fun to flirt with, to tease, to sleep with for a couple of days - a distraction from the real life, like all the bunnies were intended to be, or if he’d meant any of what he’d said. The thing is, even if you were curious, you could never know - despite being so intimate, so close to him; had he lied? Did he help every girl through a panic attack with meditation? There no longer felt like six degrees of separation between you, no longer like you were travelling in similar circles, there now felt more like a hundred degrees; what were you supposed to do; ring the operator in Memphis and ask for Elvis’ number? Pull Hef aside on the next flight and ask him? Don’t be so ridiculous, so clingy you tell yourself, disgusted at your inability to let it go.

Time passes, as it does, and though you somehow feel like you can’t escape him, ultimately you have. Months have passed and you’re busy - being promised a promotion, training a couple of new girls and it means that you don’t get to go home for what feels like weeks.

You finally get back to your apartment, relieved to be there for at least a week, with a stack of mail waiting as tall as your arm. You take your time enjoying the peace and by the evening it feels like you can relax for the first time in a long while, glass of wine poured, comfortable little short pyjama set instead of the bunny-approved corset or dress. You’re just starting to open the first of what looks like several catalogues of clothes you’ll never get a chance to wear when the phone rings.

You glance over at the clock, surprised that anyone would be calling you at half eleven at night, when as far as you’re aware none of your friends or family even know you’re home yet. You consider not answering, too content with your night, but it rings insistently so you drag the handset closer, accepting the call.

“Fuckin’ finally,” You’re immediately taken aback by the annoyed exasperation of the voice on the other end of the line,

“Where’ve you been?” You start to protest, to question who on earth is questioning you and explain that you’ve been working but the voice doesn’t give you the chance.

“Listen, Boss’ got a new plane, he’s uh, calling it the Lisa-Marie,” he shouts to someone on his end, “I don’t know man, thought it would sweeten the deal if she knew he’d already named it! Like - ain’t that what you’re supposed to do if you’re negotiatin’ - let ‘em know you have a name?” Right. So, Elvis. Someone is calling about Elvis’ plane. You’re trying to comprehend that when he continues,

“Sorry. Anyway, he wants you on it. He won’t hear otherwise.” He pauses, “Permanently. On call whenever and wherever he needs to fly,” As if he can sense this isn’t the most attractive prospect, “but you’ll uh, all expenses paid for, apartment in Memphis, the whole shebang, you’ll be well taken care of.” You take a second to process that,

“Uh, I don’t quite know what to say - do, do you need to know right away?” He chuckles down the phone at you,

“Well - uh, no, but, he’s goin’ on tour soon and we need the flights staffed by then so….” He trails off, and you know from your limited experience with Elvis and his methods that this means, actually yes, we do need to know right now, and we’re not actually giving you a choice. You take a deep breath, still confused as to why you’re getting this call out of the blue, thinking that you’re going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don’t.

“Oh, uh, ok fine - look I’ll be at one of the offices tomorrow; I’ll give you a call and you can fax me over the information for the dates and things?”

“No need, we need you by July.” You pause, that’s… barely a month away,

“Ok, I’ve got a three week notice period though, I can’t just -”

“We’ll take care of it with Hugh direct.” You laugh incredulously - is that how they think it works?

“Hugh Hefner isn’t my boss - how high up do you think I am? I’m a jet bunny for god's sake.” There’s silence on the other end of the line as if they'd expected you to feel cowed, or awed by their famous friend. You can hear them whispering before the voice returns, just as confident as before;

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” You frown but you’re not sure what else to do but agree - at least this way of something falls through you can claim you had no clue about any of this.

“Ok, but you’ll have to ask for Ellen at the office and I’ve got a notice of -“ You’re cut off by him,

“We’ll make it happen.” Well, you couldn’t say more than what you’d said - you’ll just have to hope they do enough that it all gets sorted somehow, and without totally burning all your bridges.

“Right, well then, -”

“Tickets for your flight on the 26th June to Memphis will be waiting at the airport. Someone’ll pick you up there.”

“Uh ok, um, well then that’s -”

“Thanks again, you’re a doll, bye!” The phone hangs up and you’re left holding the receiver wondering what on earth you’ve just agreed to.

——

It turns out you’ve agreed to a stewardess job pretty similar to any other. You’ve got a cute new little uniform, and it was indeed little, sleeveless and hem skimming the middle of your thighs but Elvis had indeed fulfilled his promise - it was stretchy. With a scarf around your neck and tall boots it almost didn’t feel much different to your bunny outfits. In fact it all would have felt quite similar if it weren’t for the sudden increase in responsibility you were facing. There was another girl who worked on board here and there, but whether as a cost-saving measure (although you couldn’t fathom the necessity considering the gold sinks on the plane) or simply the knowledge that one stewardess and the pilots were enough for a plane of this size you weren’t often put on the plane together. It meant that you were often working alone and solely responsible for the cabin. It was certainly an adjustment, you’d been safety trained before - of course - but you’d never really had to use it; the focus of your jet bunny role had pretty much been to cater to the whims of the people on board. Like a Barbie doll you’d had too many jobs to count, and the responsibility to look good while doing so. On the plane you’d had to be waitresses, dancers, chefs and bartenders but less so a safety officer.

And it’s so strange, you’d not been expecting much but you had been anticipating at least an acknowledgement, or something? But instead on the first flight Elvis collapses in a seat, clearly out of his mind and ignores you completely, There’s this, somewhat odd, hierarchy evident and you somehow just know that you shouldn’t approach him like this - trusting that his needs are being catered for by his entourage. But you can’t help but glance over at him, inspecting that he looks paler than before - almost sallow-like in comparison to the fit tan of the first time you’d seen him in the flesh. So you do your job, and see them on and off the plane with nary a word exchanged between the two of you.

You fall into this habit pretty quickly, flight after flight. When he’s awake his eyes skim over you, unfocused and never stopping for long. You hate yourself for how upset it makes you, he hadn’t owed you anything and yet you still feel like you’d signed up for something under false pretences. It keeps you up at night, wondering how you could have been so stupid - you’d given up a stable salary, a life and an exciting one at that, for this - for him. With every month that passes you’re more and more aware that you’re creeping towards your next birthday and the chance to return to Playboy in any capacity is dwindling. They aren’t shy about declaring there’s an age limit. You feel like you’re trapped, in a never-ending cycle - flight, sort the plane while they’re at a concert, flight, fitful sleep in a hotel, flight, flight, flight.

But then, like magic, two weeks before your birthday - two weeks before the deadline you’d come up with in your head to quit he notices you. He’d been looking better for a few days, on an upward swing or so it would seem, and seems significantly more aware than he had been. He almost does a double-take, as if seeing you for the first time. It’s then that, suddenly, Georgia - the other girl, starts to come on board with you a lot more frequently - taking care of the other guys while Elvis not so surreptitiously pulls you into his excessively decorated bedroom.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in there, you clean the damn place after all, but it’s the first time that you’re able to look at it with fresh eyes, through the lens of the awe of a girl being invited back there as a guest. You feel the bend of the fibres of the plush carpet underfoot, against the smooth sole of your boot.

He sits down, patting his thigh, “Give me your lil footsie baby, them little footsie sooties, put ‘em up here.” You look at him slightly askance, fondly, but still do as he asks, putting first one foot up on his lap, letting him unzip your boot, tugging it off and then your other one when he taps your ankle. He looks up at you, as he holds onto your foot, and you know you’re both getting flashbacks to that first flight, when he’d tugged your heels off, got caught in your pantyhose, the joy of that first time. He grips your wrist, forcing you to kneel onto and then shuffle across the bed as he tugs you while sliding back himself. Pulling you're both placed far enough to the headboard that he sinks down into a lying position and drags you down with him.

“Elvis - I, I, I don’t know what -“

“Shhh baby, don’t worry about anything, just, just feel it with me - you feel that?” He shifts to hold your hand, “Feel that energy? ‘S right between us darlin’ girl, right there.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, but you had been feeling the thrum of a connection, willing him to pick up on your silent desires, so you can’t deny a strength of feeling there.

“I feel it.” He hums at you, happily, still holding onto your hand, threading his fingers through yours and pressing his nose against your cheek. He nuzzles at you for a moment, starting off gentle and slow, before rolling you into him and catching your mouth with his. He’s sure of himself, pressing himself skilfully against you - you’re more than aware that this is a skill he’s nurtured, learnt - been judged upon, almost as much as his singing and it shows, it feels no different to the first time you’d kissed. A masterclass in the right moves, just the right amount of bite, just the right amount of tongue, and it makes you buck into him. You’re suddenly desperate for him to break out of the cultured practiced mould, feel him lose control and slip. You gasp, trying to provoke it in him, biting down on his lip a fraction too hard. He shifts his grip to your neck, clutching it to pull you back a little,

“Careful, honey, careful.” You can feel his lips move against your skin as he murmurs and it makes you shiver a little at the tickle of his breath. He kisses across your jaw, little sucking presses, before he returns once again to your mouth.

It’s hard not to assign more feeling or meaning to it than what it is, when he seems to do everything with such feeling. Not for the first time you wonder how it would be possible to be kissed at a concert and then have to continue to go about your life, acting as if nothing huge had happened, as if something totally earth-shattering hadn’t taken place. But then, you imagine, it’s probably not that different to what you have to do.

He pulls back a little, pushing himself up to be more on his knees than lying back, before he slips a hand down between you, pushing underneath your dress to pull at your panties, rubbing a finger on the outside. He pushes them against your folds, circling with his finger until a little damp patch is forming where he’s touching. He pulls them to one side, shimmying his hand underneath, a ring knocking against your thigh and catching on the fabric and your hair as he cups your mound. You reach a hand down yourself, brushing it over his trousers, but you’re slightly surprised to feel him still soft inside. He jerks his hand off of you, gripping your leg instead, shoving your hand away with his other.

You pat his face as it peers over the top of you, the creases in the corners of his eyes a little scrunched up in disappointment and his lips in a slight pout; as if he were trying to stop himself being upset.

“‘S ok El, You’ve still gotta perform tonight too -“ You go to tug your dress back down assuming there was no need for you to remain bare but his hand flies out, gripping your forearm and pushing it against your stomach.

“Take it all the way off,” You look nervously over at the unlocked bedroom door but obediently wiggle down a little, as best you can with his arm still locked over top of you to slither out of the dress. He shifts back down into a horizontal position, sliding himself further down, shirt crumpling with the motion, before gripping you with one hand on an arm and one on a leg, to hint at where he wants you to move to, tugging you until you’re in position, straddling him.

“El - seriously, I don’t think, it’s fine, it happens all the time it’s noth-“ He cuts you off by sharply pulling, with hands gripping right on your hipbones, you closer to him - forcing you to stumble on your knees even further up his body.

“‘Nough of that.” In that wonderful growly voice only he seems able to achieve, he lifts his chin up to press a kiss against your inner thigh. “Can still, still make you feel good Bunny, baby. Still make that pretty yittle cunt o’ yours feel good.” He yanks you so you’re perfectly placed, hands gripping the navy velvet headboard to hold yourself steady. “Just gonna have a lil taste, ok darling? Just needta give me a little more time. Let, let it kick in.” You nod frantically, although you’re not 100% certain what you’ve got to let ‘kick in’.

“Yes, god, yes. Sure.” The kiss, and his brief touches had been enough to turn you on, and you jerk as he holds your thighs to press a kiss against your now bare cunt,

“Oh, fuck.” Elvis laughs against you, and you can feel the vibration up your spine, thetickle sending sparks straight into your stomach. The sheer level of arousal makes you feel almost a little nauseous but you’re distracted by the feel of his tongue moving again, holding you tight to him with his grip on your thigh when the feeling makes you try to thrust out of his hold. You can feel twin bruises form from the thick bands of the ring on each of his hands and the twinge of pain when he lifts the pressure makes you gasp,

“Oh, Christ - Elvis, need, need you to,” You’re not sure if you were planning on asking him to let go, or hold you tighter - but you’re distracted by him shifting to suck down directly on your clit, briefly, just enough to make you choke on your own spit, before he releases, flattening his tongue and moving it down. Every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in and you can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth and against his tongue. He pulls away, and you shift your hips slightly so you can look down at him, and your head tips back with a moan as he quirks a little grin at you. It’s utterly filthy the way his chin and mouth is glisteningly sticky and wet.

“You like that honey?” You nod, and he returns, surging forward to renew his efforts, your hips circling in response.

“Oh god, yes, don’t, oh, holy fuck, - don’t stop,” You can’t stop moving your hips, and part of you is briefly concerned that you might be suffocating him, but the larger part is more concerned with making sure he keeps licking right there until your building climax hits. His tongue is flicks between lapping at your vagina and your inner folds. Your hips are constantly moving and you grip the headboard even harder, feeling the fabric pile shift and flatten under your hold as he finally captures your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard, reaching up to slip a finger inside you as he does.

Your lower back is starting to ache, thighs beginning to cramp but you can’t think about that, reaching down with one hand to comb through his hair, clutching at it as you thrust up and back, finally your climax rocking through you. He licks you through it, holding you open still, feeling you shudder around him, until you finally insistently tug on his hair enough to make him come away.

You dread to think what it must have sounded like on the other side of the door, the wet smacking having been all you could hear past the blood rushing through your own ears and you’re sure you couldn’t possibly have stayed silent. You watch him wipe his mouth with a sleeve, blushing the whole while before he slips out of the shirt. Fully exposing his bare chest and, finally, reaching down to unzip himself.

You’re sticky and soft when he reaches down, running a finger against you, opening you up to bump against you with his now, hard, cock. You’re not quite sure when it had happened, if it was a delayed reaction to a pill he took earlier, or if he simply was that turned on just by licking you to completion, but you’re not about to complain feeling how his head slips against your wetness, nudging at your clit before he angles himself down, bumping against your entrance.

“There he is, Bunny, got Lil’ Elvie here just for you baby, for my sweet lil - ah, bunny bun,”

Elvis pushes into you, a hand straying to stroke your labia on its way up to clutch at your waist, feeling the way you open up around him - for him. You groan at the sensation - it’s been a while, actually it’s been a long while; the last man you’d been with was the one currently pressing inside of you. He takes a moment to allow you to adjust, although you suspect it also allowed him a moment or two, either to calm himself down or encourage himself up.

“That’s it, honey, there we are, there we go, Oh Lord, here we are, I got you, gonna, gonna do such a good job, you just lie back. I got you, got -“

He’s fucking into you now, slowly, sweetly, accompanying each thrust with his mouth joining onto yours, and sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. He’s trying to get the angle right, you can tell, but he’s decidedly less sure than he ever used to be, or least how you remember him. Taking longer to hit the right spot, and then almost immediately slipping away and losing it.

“Ah, that’s - that’s it, right there,” You almost cry out as he moves again, begging him in your mind to return to where he was.

Still, he’s not totally unskilled, and the motion of his body against yours, of the feel of his hand reaching down to play with clit, combined with the growling curses and praises falling from his lips, southern accent coming out harder as he loses himself in it, is enough for you to feel yourself start to shudder your way towards a second orgasm, clenching down onto him. That is, apparently, enough to set him off and he takes some time firmly rocking his hips into you, before, with a hand splayed on your tummy for balance, withdrawing fast to shoot across your stomach. He collapses there for a moment, lips in a pout and eyes closed from the sheer pleasure of the minute before.

He rolls off of where he’s pressed against you, where you’d welcomed being crushed under his weight, tummy pushed against yours, hairs tickling your own bare skin to flop onto his back. You watch his chest heave, eyes drawn to his tight little nipples, as he catches his breath back. You take a moment to swipe the cum off your belly with the edge of the bedspread, noting in your head to send it to the laundry later. You know you should be getting up to pee sooner rather than later but he’s holding out an arm to you, and you can’t bear the thought of refusing his offer. Instead curling into him with a sigh. He smells the same as you remember now, that same heady mix of sweat and sex, woodsy heavy cologne combined with the tint of smoke, and you hate how it sends flutters down your tummy again at how you feel a sense of familiarity from it. He murmurs into the top of your head, lips catching on your hair,

“You been here all along Bunny? Hopping around my plane?” You nod and you feel him grimace, “Didn’t recognise you without your ears, or your yittle tail.” You don’t mention that you very rarely wore ears on Big Bunny, and that he had in fact seen you both on and off the plane without them too. He tips your chin up to look at you and you make eye contact with his pair of guilt tinged blue eyes. Your nose wrinkles and he taps it with a finger, “Twitchy lil thing though still ain’t ya?” He pats your cheek, “Still gonna be my bunny? Ain’t got another bunny, got, got,” He stumbles over his words as he takes a breath in, clearly struggling to stay lucid enough to have the conversation, “got other girls, not got ‘Cilla no more, but got, got Linda … and, and - I got a whole list, baby, but no - you’re my only bunny.”

The thing is though, it’s never for long. You prefer the flights after a show to the ones before, he’s more awake before but he’s panicked like a tiger in a cage. It’s still difficult to tell what kind of Elvis you’ll be dealing with on any given night. There’ll be one flight where he’s perfect, drowsy from a show but awake and alert, flirty and fun, and then another where he sleeps for so long and so deeply that you worry he’ll never wake up. The worst are the ones where him and Dr Nick, his father or one of the other boys with that damned black bag disappear into the bedroom for the flight. He stumbles down the stairs after in a daze, clearly half out of his mind. The alternative - that you have to listen to his whimpering cries, that his body aches, that sleep won’t come to him - why won’t anyone listen to him? That he wants his mama, that everyone leaves him, “even my yittle yisa.” Is worse, it makes you wish for when he’s sedated or so over the top in his exuberance that you know his ‘vitamins’ have a lot to do with it. You don’t know how much longer you can silently pick up the pieces - cleaning up when he’s trashed the room in a rage, or left pill bottles littering the floor. Going in to him when he calls for you, acting as his waitress, nurse and on-call girlfriend all at once.

Linda accompanied him often, and you’re shooed out of the way of her keen eyes as they watch you a little too knowingly. She’s sophisticated and classy though, more than you would be in the situation. More than you are. You take the opportunity to swap with Georgia as often as you possibly can when you know she’s coming with him.

You’d avoided her too at first, often being the only one working on the little plane, not usually that many people on board - maybe ten at most, well within the capabilities of a single girl and the pilots. You hated that you felt the sting of jealousy, of worry that he was fooling around with her too, to the extent that when she, unprompted, had reassured you that she had not slept with him and nor would she ever sleep with him you had laughed it off. Pretending you had no idea what she was suggesting.

Linda though proved difficult to ignore. She was a presence - even when she wasn’t physically there - he was swearing to the boys they were through, broken up, done, and then would spend hours on the phone to her. He’d swear he didn’t give a shit about her anymore; just had to keep his promises to take care of her - but then a week later she’d appear on the plane with him. They’d sit cuddled together half the time, shouting and screaming for the other half. You had no idea how to react when she called you in to the bedroom, Elvis’ head pillowed on her thighs, dead asleep. She doesn’t ask you for much, a coffee and some water to be brought to them. You do so, still slightly surprised to be invited to intrude on what seemed like an overwhelmingly private moment. But then, a large part of your job is being invisible when necessary. You don’t expect to her acknowledge you when you return, but she does - she’s polite and courteous, but quiet, eyes never leaving his relaxed forehead. A cynical part of your brain wonders if it wasn’t intentional, if she didn’t purposefully call you in at that moment to prove she was different, but that line of thinking gets you nowhere. It’s not your place to be jealous.

Occasionally there’s other girls with him, you burn when Sheila comes aboard - you’d given up your cover dreams for this, and it feels like she’s the new kid in town - replacing you in every way. Better than you in every way, she’s pretty and lithe and young; you’re young and pretty too but you’re feeling it less and less. She’s above you - in the privileged position to sit at the side of the King while you have to settle for serving him and her. She had the cover, you had gotten pouring the drinks into branded glasses.

Elvis didn’t help how you felt - the first time she came on board he took it upon himself to personally introduce the two of you. He was sat with his legs spread wide, Sheila’s own legs over the top of his, an arm tucking her tight against his side out in the lounge area, the public display of affection almost too much for you to witness.

“Here she is!” He called out when you came around the corner of the half-dividing wall, and you balk a little before steeling yourself to walk over,

“Here I am.” You respond, flatly. He’d been particularly difficult recently, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Looksies - this here is my Sheila,” He raises her arm, she nods politely, “She’s - she’s a bunny too, she was on the cover.” You smile, what else can you do?

“Oh - wow, congratulations.” You nod at her, she’s silent.

“Two bunnies on the plane! My two bunnies together!” He laughs, and the tone and words immediately make you smart. There’s a cruel edge to it that you don’t quite understand, it’s not like you’ve ever turned him down or refused him, not like you’ve done anything to be treated second best - to have her paraded in front of you.

It makes your skin crawl, furious with every decision that led to this point, cursing those pretty blue eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Makes your skin crawl that he’d sworn you were his only bunny; and as ridiculous as it might seem, the evidence that that wasn’t true at all, that it was an empty promise makes you cry yourself to sleep for too many nights in a row. The first time you’d found a notelet, tucked under the bed having perhaps fallen out of a pocket or book,

“To Sheila,

Love you allways,

E.P.”

You take two weeks off, and debate whether you should even return, if it’s worth how it makes you feel. You don’t have time to see anyone else, and you’re not dating him. But then in some ways it makes sense all your emotions would be put onto him, you weren’t physically seeing anyone else, in general, exclusively cocooned in the Elvis Presley Show bubble. There is, you think after three glasses of red wine at home in your fancy new Memphis apartment, nothing else in your life. There is only Elvis. You wonder if you can use that as the excuse on your notice. You make yourself go back though, determined to get a grip of yourself, of your feelings, give it one last try.

It’s short-lived with Sheila, at least from your perspective up in the air above the reality of the ground below. Ultimately, you feel you somehow won. And although he may, every now and again, bring some pretty young thing up into the air with him or have Linda come on board during some of the tour he’s fundamentally alone again - the same group of men his only constant companions. You form your own opinion of them, watching two of them cringe at the sight of the little black bag of pills and needles and two others writing his signature out on blank cheques.

You’re horrified, making eye contact with Charlie, you think, you know their names now you need to start to use them. You open your mouth to say something, but uncertain about what, but he catches your eye, shaking his head and you wonder if there’s anyone on this plane willing to stick up for him. You’re forced ot consider if it’s something you can do too - turning a blind eye to all of this or if you’re going to be forced to leave because you were unwilling to do so.

But then, there’s a few months where he behaves differently, and he looks different - his face brightens up, and though you don’t dislike how he looked before you can appreciate that he’s slimmed down a little, looking less bloated than he had before. A renewed interest in the happenings of the group. Suddenly, he’s interested in you again - ensconcing you in his bedroom, telling the boys to stop telling you what to do or asking you for things,

“It’s not her job - her job is looking after me.” And you do, distracting him as best you can when that’s what he’s after - reassuring him when it’s not. You have to talk him down from a panic at one point and you’re thankful to have the memory of him calming you down to use as your guideline, even if you find irony in being the one trusted to provide the measured breaths.

The sex though, is still almost non-existent; he apologises constantly, and at one point you try to have a conversation about it, lying with him in the bed, cuddled together.

“I’m not your girlfriend, E, you don’t needta explain yourself to me,” He hushes you,

“You’re my girl as much as any of ‘em.” It’s your turn to stroke his cheek,

“I don’t need to be, you don’t hafta say that to me.” He just hums at you, tucking you further under his arm and cupping your face to his chest. That’s when the gifts start rolling in, before you’d even arrived back at your apartment for a few days off, finding on the doorstep a gift bag filled with lingerie. You smile when you see it, but you’re a little puzzled - he’s not even seen you in your underwear in months. Was this a hint? Were you meant to be the one putting out? You took it as you thought he intended it, picking out and wearing the little white set you found in there, but you were unsurprised when nothing came to fruition on the flight. You tentatively bring it up the next time you’re curled up next to him - the flight not really long enough to justify a nap but happy to be tucked up in his chest. You’re drawing circles with a fingertip through the gaping neckline of his shirt, absentmindedly thinking of how best to bring it up.

“El, what’s -, not that I’m not appreciative but you don’t needta buy me things - especially, especially if you’re not gonna get anything out of it.” You refuse to look at him, anxious for his response.

“Wasn’t that what you told me before? That you don’t dress for me?” You can feel him already grinning at you in anticipation of your reaction and you laugh, surprised he’d even remember that conversation from a year and a half ago.

“Well, You weren’t really my boss then.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you,

“Oh-ho, so I can have my wicked way with you now huh?” He squeezes you hard against his side. You giggle, and he continues - his tone turning more serious; “Honey… - Bunny,” he laughs when you squirm at being called bunny still, “I’m just, I can’t, can’t do more at the moment but I uh, I do still - I like thinking about you all pretty for me unner that tiny little scrap of a dress.” He flicks the hem, leaving his hand grasping the back of your thigh and your respond in playful outrage.

“Scrap! You picked out this dress!” You smile into his chest as you feel his tummy move with his laugh, “Elvis - you don’t owe me anything, I don’t need to be bought things, you don’t need to feel like we have to do anything. I just, just want you to take care of yourself.” He hums at you, as non-committal as one can be.

He shifts a little so he’s lying on his side, brushing his hand down your body, fingers fumbling as they graze over your core, he seems remarkably less sure of himself than the last time he’d touched you, and you have to wonder if, despite all these girlfriends hanging around, he hadn’t actually been doing it with them either. Whether it’s because his fingers are a little thicker than before, or his skills are simply rusty, or maybe this is all some new technique he’d thought he’d try, he seems to take a while to do anything. He slips a finger between your folds, gathering the wetness you’d started to feel drip as a pavlovian response to his fingers anywhere near you, and rubbing it up your pussy but when he reaches the apex he seems to struggle, fingertip roving around, rubbing down but not quite finding your clit. You squirm as he continues to rub around just a bit too low, his finger making you pant simply from the virtue of it being Elvis’ finger, but not because of success with his ministrations. You panic, eyes flying open, wondering if you’re gonna have to fake it with Elvis beforehe pulls his hand away with a grunt.

“Ain’t no good little, my hands are hurtin’ too much tonight, got them, got them shakes again.” You nod even though you know it’s at least partially untrue - his fingers not in the least bit unsteady, if anything they’d been a little too solid.

“Just, it’s fine to just cuddle El.” He’s silent beside you for a few moments,

“One sec doll, lemme just -“ He shakes his arms out, staring at the curvature of the plane ceiling as if he’s trying to talk himself up. “Ok, ok Bunny, lets, lets give this another go.” He captures your mouth in his, sucking gentle little bruises across the bottom of your jaw, and lowering himself down to your neck. He concentrates there for a moment as he dances his hand back down your body, shifting your dress up again. His touch this time is more sure, more similar to how he’d always felt, the confidence appeared to be back.

He circles your clit just right, the two fingers curving inside you hitting just the right spot, and he moans with you,

“C’mon darling that’s it, oh that’s your lil button isn’t it - let me, just relax into me baby, relax, I’ve got you.” He crooks a finger, and your hips jerk, his other hand reaching over to pin you firmly against the bed while he takes the opportunity to brush directly over your clit once again. You squeal, panting, as he whispers into your neck,

“Such a good girl, good little baby Bunny, c’mon now,” He croons into your ear, voice unmistakable, “C’mon - for me.” His words, the sight of his face, the feeling of his fingers, it all combines so that in mere moments your back is arching off the bed, clutching at his arm as you tip over the edge.

When you’re back into the land of the living, and your breathing is starting to ease up a little, you’re able to sit up. You get onto your knees for him, expecting to reciprocate but he shakes his head at you, “Just, just lie with me, mama, let me cuddle, ‘s that alright? No-one lets - everyone wants somethin’ offa me.” You frown, standing up, his words manipulating you into believing you’d even asked him for something,

“Sorry El- there isn’t, there’s no pressure from me, I just thought because -“ You gesture to his still clearly wet and sticky fingers, “Just wanted to give it back to you.” He huffs, lying down again, and looking over his shoulder at you. Betrayal written on his face. It softens when you clamber back under the covers with him, and he tugs you closer.

It goes downhill fast, the tours just keep coming, and the random, sudden desires for trips here and there. You’ll be home for a scheduled three, four week break and get maybe 60 hours before a call comes in - he wants to be taken to Colorado, California, to Vegas. Before you know it you’re careening into 1976. He swings like a pendulum from happy to angry - the emotions impossible to keep up with. He wasn’t ever wholly staid before but everything seems suddenly emphasised and the erratic nature of his personality is making you wonder if you can do this job much longer. It’s worse without a girl on board. Linda and he may have argued but he was almost always easily soothed. But she’s coming on less and less, and he’s telling tales about her more and more with the boys. Expressing how he hates her shopping now, how she deserves it but doesn’t earn it, how he can’t stand her nagging. He seems to have more girls than ever before, one or two picked up for him in every city, but they never seem to make it onto the plane.

Without the settling presence of a girlfriend that role falls to you, and although you’ve now spent countless hours with him it’s different; the fits and starts with which you get to see him is completely different to being a girl who’s able to be with him in his home - you find him almost overwhelmingly difficult to manage. The first time he’s brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot you for attempting to put him to bed, you laugh - not expecting to be essentially thrown off of the plane for weeks for such an indiscretion. It doesn’t get mentioned again - not until a while later; simply brushed over, forgotten about. There’s no apology, just suddenly one day, a bashful joke gets made with Elvis tucking his chin to his chest to look at you shamefacedly but almost immediately he cracks a laugh, and you’re forced to laugh it off with him.

His health swings like his moods, it seems to be entirely dependent on a number of factors that all seem to change within a minute’s notice. It’s a combination of his mental health, the exact cocktail of medication at any given time, the number of shows he was doing, how often he was getting to see Lisa, whether he’d been home recently, the financial situation or whether he’d recently liked how he’d looked in the mirror. As soon as any one of these changed it would either send him crashing into lengthy highs or a period of lucidity.

You didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid - it wasn’t the role you were expecting to fill but as time goes on it seems the only form of relationship you can have with him. You don’t truly mind, although you do wish for more, if he’s going to let you have this part of him - the part of him that’s sad and lonely, the part of him that he’s ashamed of - even if just for a few hours on a plane where he can pretend to be distinct from real life, then you think you deserve the same relationship back on the ground. But you would never broach that with him, not even when he’s alone, or when he brings a girl on board who doesn’t even make it to the next city. All you can do is stay.

The last part of the year is particularly hard. He looks awful, you only really get to see him directly after a show, the schedule doesn't allow for more spare days in each spot, and the sweat pores off of him. You can’t say he doesn’t look appealing in some ways, you wouldn’t mind licking him clean, or crawling onto his sweaty chest. But in other ways, his face growing paler and yellower, it makes you cringe away from him. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him, or that you’re disgusted - a fear he’d mumbled into your stomach one night recently, it’s that it’s so difficult. Difficult to watch a man, so otherwordly virile to succumb to earthly decay. It’s almost painful - and it’s made all the worse by the fact that you’re only given the choice to witness it in fits and starts - over a tour you watch him, keeping a close eye, spending hours alone with him. But then, as you land back in Memphis, or Vegas, or California you lose him again - with no idea of how he’s getting on physically or mentally, no idea of how he’s feeling. He grows distant - and all you want is to make his journey easier, although the destination at this point is unclear.

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TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last two chapters - there’s one last chapter to this ‘verse coming soon(ish) so lmk if you wanted to be added or taken off the list before then :))

@ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1

#elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #be-my-ally #elvis x you #big bunny #big bunny vibes #be my ally

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