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sissylittlefeather · 9 months

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Hi friends! I wrote another fic. I'm just churning these out right now because I'm obsessed 😂

You really have to suspend reality for this one. Like, just let your imagination have at it and try not to think about how it would actually work out. Also, it's based on a scene from the movie, so it's probably more Austin!Elvis, but you could pretend it really happened with EP if you wanted to. The world is your oyster. Dream on.

This is a continuation of Baby What's Your Name?, but you don't necessarily have to read that one first. Basically, all my fics exist in the same timeline with the same Elvis & reader characters.

Warnings: F/m p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, cops?, smut, cussing, MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: this takes place after the riot at the Russwood Park show in the Elvis (2022) movie. Austin!Elvis x reader (y/n). You've come to comfort Elvis after they shove him in the cop car.

Always, Honey

You sit and watch in horror as the police officers drag Elvis from the stage. He's finally done it. He's gone too far and the people in charge stepped in. For a minute or two, you sit there in shock at what's happening with your hand covering your open mouth.

You need to get to him, but you know it won't be easy. You're not there in any official capacity. His parents don't know about you. The Colonel has suspicions that Elvis has been seeing someone, but he doesn't know who you are. No one knows that you've been with Elvis every time you could since that first night together when you threw your panties on the stage. What started with lust has turned into a relationship and you realize right now in this moment that you love him. Your worry for him makes that clear. You have to find a way to get to him.

You shake off the shock of the moment and stand up. You were sitting toward the back of the concert, so you can see the squad car at the back of the ballpark. That's where they will be headed. You take off in that direction, away from all the other fans who are running toward him. You make it to the car. As you stand there trying to decide what to do next, you see the crowd coming through the gates, and the officers dragging Elvis are at the center. He's yelling to his parents to get in the car they're being taken to, trying to keep himself clear of policemen and fans alike. You pretend to be just another fan as they shove him in the backseat and close the door. You're standing on the other side of the car when actual fans press in around you, screaming and grabbing at the car. You manage to get your face down to the window and knock on it, just praying that he'll look over in your direction. You pull on the door, but it's locked. You knock again on the window and yell as loud as you can, "E!"

He hears your voice amidst the chaos and turns, seeing you in the window. There's no one in the front seat yet, so he's able to unlock the door and open it just enough for you to slip into the backseat with him. He pulls you close to him and grabs your face with both hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, E, I'm fine. Are you okay?" He relaxes a little, knowing that you aren't hurt.

"Man, that was... I'm pissed, but yeah, I'm not hurt or anything." He pulls you in for a kiss. He's dripping in sweat, but you don't care. This isn't the first time he's kissed you after a show. Usually you're squeezed somewhere backstage together for a quick moment before he's whisked away to wherever he's supposed to be post-performance.

Just then, though, the front doors of the car open and the cops slide into their positions on the front seat. The one in the passenger seat turns to look back at Elvis, glaring with a hatred you've never seen before. Elvis glares back with the same intensity. It takes a minute for the cop to even realize you're back there.

"What the hell is she doing in here? Get her out! You can't have a damn fan girl in the backseat when you're getting arrested!"

"IF SHE GETS OUT, I GET OUT." Elvis yells. You can see his hands shaking with rage. "SHE IS NOT A FAN. SHE IS MY GIRL." Your head whips around and your eyes lock on him. That's the first time he's acknowledged what you might be to each other.

The cop opens his mouth to yell back, but the other officer cuts in.

"-- you can't open the door right now. There's too many people out there and we need to go. She's going to have to stay where she is." He drives off slowly, careful to not run over any of the fans who are mobbing the car.

"Well... just... don't touch her." The passenger seat cop growls at Elvis, who defiantly throws his arm around you.

"I'll do what I damn well please. What are you gonna do? Arrest me?"

The cop's face goes beet red and he turns around in his seat to face front. Elvis plants a kiss on the side of your head and apologizes quietly.

"I'm sorry about all this, honey." He's got one hand around your shoulder and the other on your thigh. You look up into his eyes.

"Your girl, huh?" You try to keep your smile from giving away the elation you feel in your heart. Yep. You absolutely are in love with him. He gives you a soft smile.

"Yeah, baby, that alright with you?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

"If it means you're all mine, then it's what I want, kid." Your heart flip flops in your chest.

"And are you all mine?" You shouldn't have asked that. You know he belongs to his fans. You prepare yourself for him to say no without saying no.

"Always, honey." He leans in to kiss you again, this time with his lips parted. You let your tongue explore his as you turn toward him and move your legs across his lap. The hand that was on your thigh moves back to your hip as he pulls you in to him as close as you can get without straight up straddling him. He leans you back in the seat until he's on top of you.

"E. There are COPS in the front seat." You whisper with your teeth gritted. You feel the desire starting to build up between your legs, but you know this cannot happen here.

"I know, honey, I just want to make my girl feel good. Can I do that?" Your resolve melts. Let the cops watch, for all you care in this moment.

He sits up and slides his hands up under your dress, pulling your panties down your legs and over your shoes. You feel his hand crawl back up your thigh to your center. He uses his thumb to make circles on the spot that drives you so crazy. Then, he dips his fingers into you, where you're already wet and waiting for him. He uses some of your wetness to lubricate what his thumb is doing. It gets harder and harder to stay quiet as he works, so you bite your bottom lip and close your eyes.

"Damn, baby. You look so good right now." He whispers, not stopping what his hand is doing. Your heart is beating so fast and your breathing is heavy. You know your climax is coming and you're just praying that you'll stay quiet and the cops won't turn around until after you finish. He moves his thumb faster and faster, his fingers rubbing against your inside spot. You let out a small whine as the waves of ecstasy ripple through you. You look at Elvis and he smiles as he feels the throbbing and wetness on his fingers.

Almost on cue, the cop in the passenger side turns back to the backseat as you arrive at your destination. You shoot up in your seat and Elvis clears his throat, pulling his hand from under your skirt. You can't tell if the cop is clueless, or if he's just ignoring what happened so he doesn't have to talk about it. The driver pulls around to the back of the police station to avoid any press that might be gathered at the front.

"We have to go inside and get things arranged to bring you inside quietly. Arresting a movie star is harder than you think. Young lady, come with us." You start to move toward the door, but Elvis grabs your hand.

"I told you, officer, if she gets out, I get out. She's staying with me." He says it with so much authority that even the cop relents. He closes the door and both officers walk up to the back of the building. The second they're out of view, you turn back to Elvis and undo his pants, freeing his erection.

"Honey, what..?" He looks at you puzzled until he figures out what you're doing. He whips his head from side to side looking out both windows for paparazzi or cops or anyone at all while you hike up your skirt and straddle him. As you slide down onto him, your eyes meet and you moan in unison. You know you probably only have a few minutes, so you work fast, bouncing on him vigorously.

"Oh shit, baby." Elvis groans into your ear as his pleasure is released. Between the build up, watching you orgasm, and the thrill of maybe getting caught, he didn't last long at all. You push his wet hair back off of his sweaty forehead and kiss him. He's about to apologize for coming so quickly when you notice the cops coming back out. You jump off of him and sit back in your seat while he puts himself away and wipes off as much evidence as possible.

"I hope it's kinda dark in there." He laughs and holds your hand as the cops open his door. He turns back to you and gives you one last kiss.

"I'll see you soon, baby." They take him out of the car and cuff him as the other officer helps you out of the car. When you get inside, they let you use the phone to call Margie to come get you. It's not until you're in her car that you realize you've left your panties in the cop car. You giggle. Another pair of panties lost because of Elvis Presley...

#elvis movie #elvis 2022 #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin butler #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvis x reader

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elvisabutler · 11 months

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fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: biker austin butler x female reader word count: 2,401 warnings: marking. a touch of blood kink. possessive behavior. unwanted advances from someone who isn't austin. a lot of talk about bruising. biting. p in v sex ( unprotected ). biker austin. austin has facial hair. public sex. sex on interesting surfaces. author’s note: welcome to day 2 of ally's wet hot smut summer, marking with biker austin butler. special thanks to @butlersxbirdy for brainstorming with me for it's been a long time since i consumed biker media as well as @blurredcolour and @eliseinmemphis for their read throughs to make sure i wasn't completely messing this up. to the anon who requested wil for this day, i am not forgetting you, i promise. like i said, i was gonna move you down a bit because i want to make sure you get a good wil fic. as much as i'm critical of my writing with austin and elvis, i am way worse with other media/things. consider this Sons of Anarchy inspired, austin a bit of a jax stand in with the reader as a tara one to be honest. i live for everyone's excitement about this little thing i'm doing over the summer and adore reading everyone's tags/comments/hearing the screams of delight. they truly are my lifeblood for writing a lot of the time.

Dating a biker is, in a word, complicated. Dating a biker when you are not the normal or stereotypical old lady is complicated and a pain that you wouldn't wish on your worst of enemies. As they say though, the heart wants what it wants and for both you and Austin that's no different. All it took was seeing him at a restaurant while you ate lunch with some colleagues and you were sold. Of course, with the way his club is set up, with how they do things that are most definitely not legal, you and him know better than to show off his lawyer of an old lady. It doesn't mean you don't show up at the club from time to time, but it does mean that beyond a very select few no one knows who you are to Austin. The shining light to a darkness that sometimes threatens to overwhelm him when he realizes he wants out of this life. You'll help him eventually even if he has to do his time for his crimes. The problem the two of you never thought about was that in not knowing who you were to Austin- you just looked like another run of the mill patch whore.

"I keep seeing you around here," a guy whose name you haven't bothered to learn murmurs from behind you. He isn't important, and you know this because important people know not to touch you in the club. Important people know that even if you weren't Austin's girl- you value your personal space to a degree that borders on antisocial.

Your eyes drift to the other side of the room where Austin is talking with some other members of the club and being sweet enough with the girl trying to hang on his arm. Another person might be worried, might see the woman as a threat but you know better, you know that there's a sting when you sit down from Austin's handprint on your ass and there's a hickey or five on his chest from your greedy lips and teeth. Still, you have to be pleasant, don't you? "You do. Thinking of joining and everyone's been really nice. I think I might fit right in."

The man hums and moves to step in front of you, blocking your view of Austin. His hand moves to cup your chin, tilting it to face him. "I'm sure they have been nice. You look nice too, you know. Could be a good girl on someone's arm."

Bile starts to rise in your throat as you grab at his wrist, attempting to pull his hand away from your chin. "I'm not- You're really barking up the wrong tree."

"Am I?" He laughs as if he's told the funniest joke in the room and not as if he's disagreeing with you over your desire to talk to him. To play along with his silly game. "You keep coming here and I don't see you leaving on anyone's arm. Kind of failing at your patch whore dreams when that happens."

You can't help the way a startled laugh leaves your body at the implication. He thinks you're a patch whore, a woman who wants to fuck her way through the club until someone decides that they want her as an old lady. You like to think you don't give off that vibe and yet apparently you do. "I have a job outside of here. One that doesn't really go well with being a patch whore."

"Really," he starts to move a little closer and you swear you hear a kerfuffle in the direction of Austin. Oh this was going to be bad. "I think you're just playing hard to get. What? I'm not good enough for the new little whore? Not high enough for your tastes? You want Butler? Or one of his little boys? Come on baby, that's not how this works— what the hell man?"

You look up to see Austin yanking away the would be suitor and pinning him to the wall beside you. "That's exactly how it works for her," he looks over at you and his face softens just a little. "He giving you trouble?"

You shrug, your thighs rubbing together through your jeans. "I had it handled."

Austin's eyes zero in on the way you're rubbing your thighs together and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Which is why if I waited for another minute I'd be seeing his hickeys on my old lady's neck."

The man realizes in that exact moment his mistake. You were already taken and not just by anyone, you were taken by one of the highest ranking members of the club. A man who could very easily kick him out right now if not just murder him for thinking his old lady was a patch whore. "Listen I didn't—"

"You did. You were gonna," Austin snarls, moving his hand to the man's neck. "You thought she was fair game. Thought because she isn't hanging onto me that she was your for the taking. You— No offense, but even if she wasn't my old lady, you're punching a bit above your weight class."

As if to belabor the point Austin sends a punch to the man's gut before letting him down off the wall. You can't help but lick your lips at the sight, moving close enough to Austin for him to nip at your neck, marveling in how he sees your skin darkening, a bruise starting to form. "What's a King gotta do to make it obvious she's taken?"

The question is rhetorical but the man and you answer nonetheless with the same answer. "Marks."

Austin's lips curl into a smile that reminds you of a shark— or at the very least some vicious predator and you're reminded of just how attractive and in love with him you are. "Marks," his lips move to your slightly exposed chest, biting harsh enough that you cry out, startled even as your arousal curls inside of you. "You want to look mauled by me, don't you? Debauched by the King? Was the hand print not enough? Was those few hickies not enough? Thought we were trying subtlety, babe."

Your breath quickens under his gaze, as he moves closer to you, causing you to back up against a pool table. The man has barely moved, too concerned the wrong move will get him killed until Austin looks back at him and growls. "Get everyone out of here. Or do something stupid to get their attention. You don't deserve to see this."

A shiver runs through your body at the implication that Austin plans on taking you against the pool table as you look at him. "Aust—"

His hands move to pull off your jacket, a leather number he had bought you after your second date. It's a bit oversized but you preferred it that way, told Austin it meant if your body changed for whatever reason it could still fit. You still remember the night after you told him that, the burn of his beard between your thighs a phantom whisper of a memory among the filth he had spewed from his mouth involving you and him.

"Austin," you utter his name as a warning that has him smirking down at you, doing away with the buttons of your shirt with such ease it's unfair. Your breasts are exposed to him, heaving in your bra and earning a growl as his hands grab at them, squeezing hard enough for you to know they'll be covered in fingertip sized bruises later on. "You going to at least kiss me?"

His face softens just for a moment at the request before he dives in, his teeth pulling at your lip and threatening to make you look every bit of that debauched woman when he was through with you. A moan is ripped from your chest as he takes a hand and busies himself with undoing the front clasp of your bra. You feel the second he manages to undo it, your breasts spilling from their confines and your nipples brushing against the fabric before pebbling at the cold air of the fan above you. Your nipples need attention, he thinks as he pulls away and sucks little marks all the way down your neck and clavicle till he reaches your breast and that little nipple. You get no warning before he bites at it, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to cause that angry rush of blood beneath the surface. You don't normally bruise easily but in this moment you swear your body has forgotten how to control itself. Austin's jacket is pulled off by you as he tries to help shuck off his shirt, noting how you're joining him in marking your territory, your nails dragging red painful lines across his chest and back.

He is yours as much as you are his and you want the world to know it after this. You've always wanted the world to know, despite the consequences you know are likely to follow the pair of you. He groans and whimpers a bit above you as a hand moves down to undo your jeans, mirroring one of your own. "Gonna maul me too, babe? Make everyone see I've got this old lady on my arm who's so powerful that everyone wants her?"

The whine that leaves your lips is embarrassingly loud and you are entirely aware that multiple people likely heard it but Austin's right, you want to maul him. You want both of you to be so covered in marks from each other that there's no question of who either one of you belong to.

"That's not an answer, babe. Come on, tell me what you want," Austin coos, as he allows himself the pleasure of pulling your pants and panties down just enough to expose your vagina to the cool air.

Your hands move to try and pull down his pants, frustration finally getting to you as you wrap your legs around his middle and force them down that way, his cock springing from his boxers as you tried to move against him. "I want everyone to see I'm your old lady, Austin. I don't want the women on you and I don't want to deal with any more guys like that who think I'm just a whore."

A snarl of aggravation rips through Austin at the word whore and his hands grip almost painfully at your hips. "If you're anyone's whore, it's mine. My pretty and smart little whore."

His fingers move down to between your legs, his fingers sliding easily through your folds and brushing against your clit when he pulls them out, he thinks he ought to taste you on his lips but settles for rubbing your arousal on his neck. A scent marker as primal and animalistic as it was. You swear you clench around nothing at the sight and grind against him once more, aching and begging for his cock. Smiling, he grips the base of his cock and guides it in, a low groan leaving his lips as he feels the tight grip of your vagina around him. This was his pussy to fuck. Your body was his to mark in whatever way he saw fit with your permission. The power he felt from it and the power you had over him because of it was unmatched.

The pool table's fabric felt strange against your back and you know you're likely to have some form of a burn to go with the burn of Austin's facial hair against your skin and the bruises he's sucking on your chest as he thrusts into you. Your nails dig harder into Austin's back, wanting to draw blood, to watch it drip from him as some form of sick claim. Marks only mean so much when they're not permanent but there's something about the idea of drawing blood from him that offers the chance to tie him fully to you. His thrusts are starting to speed up as you try to clench around him, using your internal muscles and a trick you know he enjoys.

"Babe. Not— I know we gotta be quick but kegels?" He whines pulling away from your skin and grabbing both sides of your face to pull you in for a harsh kiss, his beard scratching against your chin. "Wanted to take a little time."

"Tonight," you whisper, crying out as one of his hands somehow snuck down between your legs to pinch your clit. "Right now I just want to look like yours."

At your words Austin's eyes narrow and he thrusts even faster, keeping up with the way your hips chase his cock as he pulls back only to slam in over and over again. Things become a flurry of hands gripping and teeth and lips biting and sucking to the point where you're unsure of where he begins and you end. Your orgasm comes expectedly, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you almost fold in half from the pleasure your body feels, the aftershocks hitting you in the form of mild shakes even as you feel his come inside of you. Austin collapses on top of you, his entire front pressing against you as he catches his breath, seemingly trying to bite yet another mark on you.

Outside of the room you hear noises of people wanting to get back inside, whining about how it's hot outside and you roll your eyes. For a bunch of bikers, they could be so delicate about some things. "Austin, come on, we gotta get up."

The man in question whines against your skin, his lips curling into a pout you can feel before pulling away. "Don't wanna. I'm the King, they can wait."

You watch as Austin's head moves as your body jiggles when you laugh. A part of you wants to agree with him, but the part of you that's always mildly more mature knows better. "You are, but if you get up, you can show 'em off."

His eyes blink for a moment as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, his brain trying to piece together what you said before a hopeful grin flashes across his face. "Does that mean I can show you off too?"

"What's a king without his queen?"

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @slowsweetlove, @kxnnxy, @meetmeatyourworst, @purejasmine, @stylespresleyhearted, @powerofelvis, @amydarcimarie, @thegettingbyp2, @austinswhitewolf, @richardslady121 and @mrs-butler if i have not included you know it's not meant to be a slight, it's literally i don't know if you want to be tagged as far as austin fics or elvis fics, drop me a comment or a message and i'll add away tbh.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #biker austin butler #ally's wet hot smut summer #ally writes

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she-is-juniper · 2 years

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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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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

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K-Rations: make me know it, go ahead and show it

a Sarge and lil Mama fic, the long anticipated sequel to D-Rations

The sequel to D-Rations: or the one where Elaine realizes she’s in love with her husband and takes measures to make certain no such silliness as the miscommunication in the last chapter will ever come between them again

Warnings: 18+ smut, free use, adoring objectification of a husband??, overstimulation, lactation kink, slight sub space (male), angry makeup sex, cum feeding, communication issues and LOVE

Coauthored with the inimitable @prompted-wordsmith who’s initial prompt for this months ago launched a thousand ships 💋

Elvis had a very clear memory of being fifteen years old and dragging his heels every inch of the mile and a quarter from school to home one overcast day. Scuffing and meandering his way back to his family’s apartment in the Courts and dawdling on the steps outside, flirtin’ with the girls and begging his cousin Gene to get him a glass of water from inside.

“Get it yourself.” Gene had grumbled, till he caught sight of the shiner underscoring the swelling below one of Elvis’ blazing azure eyes.

Gene was a good fella and got that glass of water for him and brought it to him from the Smithe’s upstairs apartment and thusly Elvis had bought about forty five minutes of extra time before Gladys came out and caught sight of the damage done to her son’s face.

It was hard, Elvis thought then, balancing his understanding of his mama’s dread of any harm coming to him with the very dire need to exert himself or else get run over entirely in the harsh crucible of high school.

He’d been punched, and so he punched right back. And tomorrow would be better for it, ugly bruise marring his face, nonetheless. It was the sort of taking care of business womenfolk just couldn’t quite grasp, and he had felt some fiery exasperation that any reasoning was owed them at all for how a man conducted himself outside the female domain. It wasn’t them getting punched, was it? So why should they object if he punched and got punched? Just a fella taking care of business, best he knew how.

Elvis chafed under the nagging familiarity that trudging home to Elaine this fine European evening brought to mind. He thought of trudging home to mama. No shiner this time, just an arm still warm from being hung on by other women and half-baked good intentions he had no idea how to make her understand.

The cobblestone blocks home from the corner diner had never seemed so short and the crowd of fans to impede him so thin. He oughta be rushing home and assuring Elaine that he missed her and that he was just bein’ gentlemanly and givin’ her a lil breather after all the use he put her to since she got over here. But none of that explained the reason she fled as soon as she caught sight of him—or so Rex had told him. Told him she bolted right away. Elvis had never seen Elaine bolt, and just last week he’d seen her hold her ground like never before with those two harlots, Susan and Doris.

It gave Elvis a horrid, queer sorta feeling it had to do with the waitresses that he’d gotten a lil friendly with. Elaine had never minded before but now felt different and like he was in the wrong somehow. He just didn’t know how and before long he’d be at the front gates and he oughta be delighted he was almost home after such a long day. It’s all he wanted, to go home and be with his little family.

Really, he swore it was, so much so he was heartsick with it. And yet he dawdled like a naughty child outside the perimeter of his own fence, half expecting Elaine to embody Mama, to come out from their Bavarian style home wielding a broom handle and switch his backside for bad behavior, crowd of fans be damned.

He really got a little sick at the way his pulse thumped at that thought and his blood ran south in hardening interest. Wasn’t that the reason for this whole little snafu? The fact he couldn’t think of Elaine in any capacity without wanting her and taking her and wanting and taking and over and over again it went.

Bruised petals and dusty window sills.

What if she’s done with me?—he thought suddenly in a panic—what if she’s done and I blew my last chance to make her love me? They’d gotten into such a nice little patch of domesticity since she’d been here, withdrawals and torrid sex and diaper laden trash cans not withstanding… or maybe that was all crucial to it. He’d felt at home and he felt like she had begun to really feel that way with him and just last week he’d finally heard her lay claim to him. It made him want to dance around like a child and wring his cock out like a teenager. He’d done the latter, then fled from her for days, afraid of how much he was feeling, afraid to ask if she was finally feeling it too.

He’d started leaving a bit early, mumbled excuses of “Don’wanna be late, Laney baby, y’know how rowdy them German girls can get outside,'' hopping into the car quickly so she might not notice how he’d gotten a little wide-eyed and weepy down below at watching her in her apron and heels swish around the kitchen. Elvis had taken up invitations to dinner he’d normally scoff at with the boys, he’d started doing more PT to “get back in shape, gotta make sure I’m right fit to run after the new babes, reckon they’re gonna be trouble wit’ a capital T, Tink,” to explain away the bags under his eyes. Didn’t matter that none of their babies were running much of anywhere. Elvis was certain she didn’t deserve the truth, the truth that he was wringing himself dry in the empty showers on base after sweating and huffing out all the energy he couldn’t put to use on her. That was just it, wasn’t it: he had used her, for his own selfish problems he’d gotten into himself, and now he had to rectify that.

Only now, now he was sure that had been the worst thing he could’ve done. That there was yet another mistake somewhere in there he needed to fix. He imagined her coming and and whooping him, but as the door remained shut and the fans dispersed his stomach felt like lead as he imagined her giving him a haughty silent treatment, one he’d never experienced from her but imagined she’d be damned good at from the way she handled their daddies’ bickering. He wouldn’t be able to handle her mask of politeness towards him, all the while she was probably packing a bag and deciding she was finished with him. And oh, God above!

The very notion of that scenario set him ablaze with ferocity and actually quickened his steps as if he was jogging headlong into the house to dissuade his wife from up and leaving him after their first arguem—no. They hadn’t even had an argument or anything, he realized numbly. They actually hadn’t been talking much. Not this last week. Not with all his early mornings and extra time on base and piddling around town—

He wrenched his key into the lock, already angry at her for something she hadn’t done (it was easier than being angry at himself and more commanding than turning into a blubbering idiot begging her to stay) and threw open the door of his house, ready to have it out. Put her over his knee, remind her she could never take his babies away from him, threaten her with the law. Maybe manage to say he was sorry somewhere in there, too.

Fried chicken. That’s what struck him first, the smell of genuine lard baptized breading wrapped around tender white meat. His knees knocked together at the sentimental potency of it. Every surface in sight was damn near sparkling, and he almost felt guilty for putting his shoes on the doormat.

Silence. That hit next. No babble of babies or the radio, no laughter from Dodger and Elaine gossiping to the staccato chop chop chop of something fresh they were gonna force him to eat. Quiet, except for the click of the stove element coming on and off. It was a clear shot from the front door through to the sitting area and onto the long kitchen and dining room that ran along the back of the house, he could see the whole empty space of it and yet through that panic inducing emptiness he noticed the steam rising from one of the pans. She’d never be so foolish as to leave the stove on while leaving the house. Not unless she was madder than he anticipated and wanted to burn their home down.

He shook his shoulders out at the admiring terror that zapped through him with that thought and gingerly undid his uniform coat. Pegs, his little wife had pegs by the door and there, hung in a row, was the mink coat he’d bought her from a magazine while separated, then there was Jesse’s little coat and Ella’s white one with the pink trim. He turned towards them and hung up his military jacket beside her mink. Mommy and daddy and baby and baby number two’s, all in a row.

There’d be two more before next Christmas, god help them.

Elaine’s voice ringing bright and clear right behind him and just at his ear level, spooked him terribly bad outta his domestic reverie,

“Oh excellent,” she drawled as she observed with cool detachment as he clutched the back of his head that had knocked against a peg in his flail, “Perfect timing, dinner’ll be ready in about an hour or so,”

She informed him of this cheerily. As if he hadn’t been coming home too late for dinner or ought else this past week and hope flared in his heart till she reached out and gripped his army green tie, untucking it from between the buttons, and Elvis would deny the little shudder that went through him at the way the fabric slid past his chest. He didn’t have much time to think on it, anyway, as Elaine started to haul him bodily forward towards the sitting area, using all the strength she had amassed by carrying their children and their carriers and their luggage and their hampers about, using it all against him. “In the meantime,” she went on and he found himself tripping over his boots to keep up and watching the curls at the back of her head bounce, “I find myself in need of my husband’s services.”

Services? His brain doesn't reckon much more than the wonderful happening of being hauled around by his tie like a hound on a leash and the smell of that southern cookin’ in the kitchen. There’s a chaise lounge under the front window in the sitting area to the right of the door and it looks like she’s towing him there and while his brain tries to reconcile her kind tone with her rough hands, his cock certainly picks up on the subtext undergirding the notion of services. He’s afraid he hears himself whine at the tug on his neck and when she throttles him and spins him and drags him to sit down on the chaise his mind has gone fuzzy, he’s so utterly knocked off his moorings. Knocked off his feet, too, in a turn of events—only it’s not a turn, is it, really? When he’d first begged to make her his wife he’d gotten on his knees then, too, and suddenly that whole scene is put into a more lecherous context that only makes his head spin more, makes him slump, limp-limbed, onto the cushions. Services.

“Dinner smells great, Laney,” he began to defend himself, pacify her or just blurt out any ole thing that’ll get him off the hook, out of the cloud in his head. But she gripped his face instead, fingers digging into his cheeks and with a rush of relief he understood that this face looking down on him wasn’t the face of a woman done with him—she was furious, rather.

Furious meant she cared. Furious resembled mama. Mama had cared so damn much, no one had come close until this blazing eyed goddess slapped his face and shook him by his jaw while seething,

“You’re my goddamn husband, Elvis!” shake shake shake, his head knocked back with the vehemence of her passion, cover falling to the cushions and then the floor as he was forced to lay back into his seat with her vehemence, cheek smarting. His heart was soothed by it even as his hair fell into his eyes and his jaw ached, “You aren’t some hunk of meat that other gals get to paw at and lay claim to while you leave me without so much as a word in the mornings or a prayer at night! You hear me?”

She still hadn’t let go of his tie with her other hand. It was strangling him most pleasantly, starched collar chafing, and his voice was wrecked when he tried to agree, “Yes, yes’m I-I-I know…” through the squish of his forcefully pouted lips. He knew and he was aware now where he had gone wrong, though he wondered at her missing him at all, wasn’t everyone eager to get a breather from his presence?

“Haven't I been accommodatin’?” she begged instead and sounded so very hurt even as she drew him out of his pressed slacks with a stern hand, slacks she’d ironed patiently the night before—hard as rock and gushing appreciatively already. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, fumbling for some sort of grip on the edge of the chaise. It seemed almost blasphemous to touch her right now. She’s all a mix of vulnerable and ruthless this evening and his heart pounds in his ears at the sight of this side of her again, a righteous goddess. Unleashed on him, this time. Just as he’d fantasized about a week ago while helping himself with his own fist.

“Yes yes always, baby, always so damn selfless, I had to get away. Had to pace myself.” he swore in a rush, suddenly needing her to understand the devotion welling up in his chest as she paused for the briefest moment in shuffling her crinoline aside.

He watched as Elaine’s eyebrow quirked in comprehension, the angry set of her mouth gentling before her body sprang back into action and she dropped down on him with groan-inducing entitlement. He wheezed, realizing there was no cotton chafing at little Elvis—Elaine wasn’t wearing panties.

“That’s why you're bein’ so cold?” she beat on his chest as she began to rock on him and all too late he really believed that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “You got time for buddies and waitresses but you won’t so much as touch me these last few days. Why? Why?” Her pretty face was twisted into a snarl.

The grip on his tie got mortally tight with each demand as did her pussy around him and he found he was going very fuzzy and he’d like to explain, tried to through a series of whimpers comprising her name and apologies of various coherence. She began to ride him with all the ferocity of a woman, a wife scorned, her own eyes boring into his. It’s all too much, too quick, the furniture creaking below them as he thrusts his hips up into her, meeting her every swivel and grind. Home, he’s home, and his body melts at that comfort, he was already leaking, can hear the squelching as he’s fucked on this proper chaise, her skirts still pressed and curls perfectly pinned, her chest constrained in her bodice. There’s nothing visual for him to latch onto, aside from that fiery stare. It’s as if he’s just there for her, and a whine escapes him as he realizes he’s being used. A whimpering apology of, “‘M sorry baby, ‘m sorry Laney!” falling from his lips, still held captive in her hands.

“Sorry?” Elaine hisses, all flashing teeth and taunting sneer, “I don’t want you just sorry, I want what’s mine, I want you to want me again! I don’t reckon you’re sorry enough, not with the way you seem too distracted by passing floozies in waitress uniforms to come home to us.”

“I am home!” And his own verbal dam breaks since that first time he saw that side of her, right on this very chaise, “Jesus, lil mama, only you get me, only you—’m yours, darlin’, I love you, love ya, won’t let them get handsy no more—Satnin’, my Satnin!”

And that last endearment is what gives Elaine pause, makes her realize that Elvis… her husband…really does love her. This is the first time he’s used that sacred name for anyone else since Lovie—Miss Gladys—died, God rest her soul. She’s in a league of her own in his mind, up there with the angels and the heavenly host. Now Elaine’s numbered among them. She can’t help the clench of her little house, the gasp she lets out, squeezing at Elvis’, her husband’s, her husband who loves her’s, key. She attacks him with little kisses, all over his dreamy, pretty, infuriating face. She leaves little smudges of her lipstick that make something in her chest, that had been wound tight over this whole neglectful business, unwind ever so slightly.

Elvis gasps out as she flutters over his face, dotting him with her adoration and he—he jus’—he can’t hold it in no more. His relief started in the eyes and sizzled down his spine, he started to cum, head tilting back, tears languishing his lash line as he was wrung dry by her yittle cunt.

“No more, no more, I swear!” he promised good behavior and begged for a reprieve from the bouncing clench of her all at once. He reached out with grabby hands, trying to maybe pull her off, pull her up his chest so he might use his mouth—but he was unceremoniously slapped away. She didn’t stop her bouncing, caring not a whit as he whimpered and gasped and twisted his hands into the poor chaise cushions, the same cushions he’d seen her be just as mean to those nasty women on.

“No,” Elaine said, staring down at him with stern good humor as if he was a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, “No, Naughty, you’re gonna sit there all nice and pretty, my own pretty soldier boy, for me, baby. And you’re gonna let me use you, this time.”

Oh, oh Lordy she was a vision as she clenched around his soft cock, lil hole hungry as she worked those thighs he knew were under her dress. Only he couldn’t see, and that extra layer of, of decency when he was being so thoroughly disregarded as anything other than a part of the furniture made something in him drift away. He felt hazy all over, breaths shallow little pants through his mouth, tiny whimpers the only thing he could manage through the tie, the hand on his face, and the feeling of—

“‘M sorry, s’sor-ry, ah! ‘M yours, ‘m yours!” As he felt himself starting to chub up within her. It was agonizing, made him writhe, turn his head away and sob because she wasn’t stopping.

“We share everythin’, Elvis!” she insisted, some portion of this hurt forming in her conciseness, punctuated by her loneliness and isolation, the amount of friendship and companionship she had given up for him.

A faint sheen of sweat painted Elaine’s temples as she did all the work, using the hand on his face to plant on his shoulder for leverage, just as he taught her that first night. Just thinking about it, thinking of how she’d babbled praises at him then—he became fully hard again soon enough, body betraying him, responding to the wet softness surrounding his cock. Even that least clever part of him knew when he was home. He was jerked like a stallion by his reins to look at her again, look at how she’d used the other hand, now, to bury under her dress and play with her lil button. She clenched like a fury around him, staring right into Elvis’ eyes as she ground down, hard, and came herself all over his dress pants and cock, squeezing him raw.

He couldn’t help the extra babble of, “p’ease, mama, p’ease, n’more!”

“You sit there like a good boy, E, you sit there and be good,” Elaine was panting to him, only he was sure that he couldn’t, he wasn’t good, was he? Not after the way she’d slapped him, didn’t deserve her soft praise, he had been bad, so bad—

“‘M not good! S’s-sorry, ‘m not…!” He bucked his hips up into her, wiggling, trying to get her off of him, only Elaine was an experienced rider and remained unphased by his squirming. She was used to wiggly little boys, Jesse being much the same as his father.

“You can be a good boy, baby, you can,” and she was being so mean, so mean, even as she pet at his cheek and neck, smearing slick onto his pulse, using one curled finger to tip his head back and admire the long line of his shining throat and cooed at him. “You jus’ gotta take it, baby.”

“No! No-no-n-no!” Elvis whined, trying again to arrest her movement, stop her working thighs as he felt himself teeter close to that edge again, the sloppy slick-slap as she resumed her pace and slammed down onto his hips, circling her own, driving him into full on crying. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the repetitive swallows as he tried to stop himself from drooling. Tears glittered on his cheeks but all Elaine did was kiss them away, kiss at his slack mouth as he wailed.

“You can yowl like a feral tomcat all ya want, Naughty, you’re not goin’ nowhere,” Elaine panted, picking up her pace again, using one hand to wrench into his hair, sweat-damp and mussed. Elvis came again just as she ground against him harshly, the pain in his scalp triggering his pleasure.

He lost a little time, coming to only to sniffle as he was fed her fingers, sticky with her cum, with his cum that had leaked out around where they were joined, the sharp-salty tang, still trapped under her in the best and worst way.

“You’re mine, Elvis,” Elaine stated then, sitting primly still on his lap, “Before God almighty above, you’re mine first and foremost.”

He nodded, cried out, “Yes, yes’m, yes m-mama, thank you,” like he was taught, the polite little gentleman, grateful for the respite even if she was still keeping him inside her. He could feel the wet stickiness on his trousers, getting a little uncomfortable but not daring to squirm, lest her mercy not last. “I don’t want any more of this abstinence nonsense. I don’t want you running off with some German trollops while you neglect your wife, ya hearin’ me, husband?” Elaine decreed.

“‘M sorry,” Elvis breathed out, reaching for her waist again cautiously. She allowed his hands to settle on her tummy, to palm the growing bump there. She pulled him up by the tie, cradling his head to her bosom, and he nosed at her pretty tits within her dress subconsciously. He—he didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted, not when he felt so small. Was it allowed? Did he do good enough?

“You want somethin’, daddy?” Elaine hummed, and he shuddered at the gentle tone and the scritch of her perfectly manicured nails through his hair and down the back of his neck. They dipped beneath his shirt collar, teased at the knob of his spine.

“I don’—don’ deserve it,” he confessed, coming out of his hiding spot under her chin to look up at her through his lashes, tear-spiked and trembling. “I’ve—been bad.”

“Shh,” Elaine simpered, unbuttoning her house dress and letting the front placard fall, her breasts already leaking from her exertions as she then drew him in, one hand on the back of his head and the other still ever-present on his tie. “You’ve been good to me now, haven’t you, Elvie-baby? We understandin’ each other thorough, now?” She tilted his chin up, tone becoming uncompromising at the last question. He was quick to nod, panting again, sticky trousers forgotten in the face of lip-licking longing.

“I need your words, honey,” Elaine called, drawing his attention back to her pretty face.

“Yes’m, mama, been good, I’ll—I’ll be s’good, for you,” Elvis said, chin quivering, looking bout ready to burst back into tears, face smeared with Elaine’s lipstick and the subtle shine of salt—the evidence of this long-winded kiss and make up.

“Perfect, perfect man.” Elaine murmured, pulling him back, and Elvis immediately latched on, moaning into her nipple as milk gushed into his mouth, dribbled down his chin, getting caught on his tight shirt collar. His lashes tickled her, a little “Hoo—ah!” from the voracious suction of his mouth, so much stronger than her babies’.

“There you go, there’s my pretty husband. My husband, my messy boy,” she crooned into his hair, biting her lip as she clenched around his still-soft member within her. She was sore, hadn’t taken her husband in days because of his own self-sacrificing tendencies, as she understood it, and was revelling now in the openness, the squelch of his seed spilling out of her. She pulled at Elvis’ hair, guiding him to the other nipple, him seemingly not noticing her start to rock gently on him yet again, feeling the slow-building heat come back to her belly. It was nice, this soft, squishy thing inside her—a chastened lil Elvis that soothed the ache while bringing her closer to the edge.

“Shh, baby,” she panted, starting to rock in earnest as she felt him come to life under her, jerking up, wringing at the pooling fabric of her skirt around her hips. He mewled against her breast, no longer really suckling, just open-mouthed smears of what might be kisses as he was so cruelly put to service yet again. Only this time it was better, because the milk smearing his face was hers, the shade of red she wore smudged down his cheekbones, paving the way for the two new twin tracks of tears as she started bouncing in earnest. He made only small little sounds, nuzzling into her like a kitten, bucking up as if he couldn’t help the movement despite the way it made his pretty face twist into pleasure-pain agony.

“One more,” Elaine decided, allowing herself to be greedy as she looked at the clock on the mantlepiece, “You give me one more now, my good boy, my husband, you give me one more spurt from that pretty cock and then I’ll feed ya, feed you up with a good m-meal, hmm? How does that s—ah!—sound?”

“Ma…ma,” was the only response she got, slurred from plump, shiny red lips, like the sweet cherries she might find in the summertime back in Memphis. His head lolled back, the only thing keeping him semi-upright the ironclad grip she had on his tie still. Couldn’t stop herself from kissing him, then, licking into his mouth and tasting her own milk. It was a heady feeling, made her thrust down harder, wanting to leave bruises on his pelvis like he did with her hips. It made all her worries disappear, seeing Elvis like this, so relaxed and accommodating, letting her use him up until he was dry and weeping, looking for all the world like a little boy—her little boy.

“Downright angelic,” Elaine gasped, admiring the cut of his cheekbones, the deepening of his flush, if that was possible, as he arched his back and met her downward bounce with a buck up. Wiggly as always. She unbuttoned the bottom of his own shirt, rucking up his undershirt, too, until she could see his own nipples—and she pinched them like he did hers, which made him let loose a whimpering cry and finally jerk hard enough to get her to release his tie for fear of truly choking him. He pulsed within her, hands clenching in a grip round her swollen waist as he gracelessly shoved up into her, once, twice, and she tipped over the edge from his vigor and the picture he made—

His jaw sharp as glass, smeared with her own slick and the white of his cum from when she’d fed him their combined releases, along with the milky cream of her breastmilk. Her lipstick prints nigh on disappeared into the decadently red blush that painted him all the way down to his heaving belly, interrupted by the scrunch of his undershirt at his collarbones and the still-buttoned dress shirt collar, the tie that was so useful flipped up and over his shoulder. His chest, his pecs so nicely defined, topped by frankly temptingly perked nipples. Those pretty blue eyes were neon-bright against the contrast of his flushed face, slack lipped and drooling. He stared at her as if she was something to be worshiped. This—this was hers, her Elvis. Only she would ever get to see this pretty picture, Elaine swore to herself, petting at his chest, flicking at one berry-bright areola. He barely twitched under her, gone quiet and pliant in a way that would worry her if he didn’t look so utterly blissed out. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was on some of them pharmaceuticals, by the glaze in his blown-pupiled eyes.

“Elvis, you with me, baby?” Elaine called, taking his chin in hand. His neck was limp, and all she got at first was an utterly drunken smile up at her, open-mouthed and guileless. It made her want to cradle him back to her chest, protect the utter innocence he exuded as he asked,

“Y’s’m?”

“Hey there, pretty boy.” She wasn’t quite sure where this all had come from, maybe some part of her recognizing the way he’d shuddered on their wedding night at her gentle attentions. Watching him fight and fight and fight his impulse to let himself be taken care of -the forcefully surrendering way he took care of her- took care of her babies, their friends, his fans, the whole goddamn world seemingly needing a piece or a part of him.

Well, he was wrung dry here and now on her chaise lounge, nothing more to give and she petted the tear wet cheek she had so vehemently slapped. This is what she could give him, she could give him a moment of weakness, everyone needs it from time to time. But, still—this had been a lot, and while she was doing mighty fine herself, Elvis was barely coherent and it worried her.

“You ready for some chicken, baby? I made some good, country fried chicken, jus’ for you, been so good for me,” Elaine let herself babble a soft stream of praises and thoughts, gently prying Elvis’ hands off her hips, holding them in one hand to kiss them before she used the other to leverage herself up and off of his soft cock, a wet gush of their combined fluids absolutely soaking him as she did. Another set of words welled up in her throat, three words that she wanted to say to him. But not right now. Not now, but soon.

“Yes’m,” he said, demurely staring up at her as she stood on wobbly feet, crinoline crinkling as she smoothed it out. Elaine was careful to keep one of her hands in his, because she had the feeling that this was not the time to deprive him of contact. Not the time to do anything but be gentle, to assure and coddle.

“You and I are gonna go clean up,” she said, taking another glance at the clock to make sure that yes, she could leave the chicken on its lonesome for a good thirty minutes so she and him could wash up. “C’mon, we made ya so messy, you’re real messy right now, honey.”

“‘M a messy boy,” Elvis giggled, beaming up at her, following her tug like a fawn—all too-long, elegant limbs, and big, shiny eyes. She led him up the stairs, his trousers undone and smeared all down the crotch to his knees with their mess, their hands clutched together as if they’d get lost without some sort of tether. And, as she guided him into the bathroom, gently tugging off his boots and then his pants, his dress shirt and then his undershirt, she had the sneaking suspicion he might just manage to wander somewhere if she wasn’t careful.

She briefly thought of the bath, but no, a washcloth would have to do—the chicken wouldn’t last much longer without her attentions, and she wanted her hard work to go into her man’s belly rather than to the stray dogs outside.

So she ran warm water and wiped him down, leaving his rumpled, stained clothes in the bathroom in favor of guiding him into their bedroom and to the clothes she habitually laid out on the counterpane. Elvis still wore a childish, empty-headed expression, all pretty face and guileless baby blues that made her heart flip. But the chicken—so she asked, carefully, “Baby, can you dress yourself? I gotta check on dinner.”

That was a mistake, a misstep, judging by the way his glistening chest started to heave in a panic and his eyes started to water afresh. “Y’yer leavin’ me?” he slurred out of puffy, shiny lips.

“No, no!” she rushed to get it out, holding onto him again and gently guiding him to sit down on the bed -the bed she’d watched him wring himself out on a week ago- “I’ll stay, I’ll stay.” she repeated, at a loss as to how to comfort him beyond touch and all her ire gone out of her at the sight of his limb shaking terror. She was still new to this, they both were. New and a little lost and they had to keep ahold of each other or they’d float away. Damn the chicken.

That was the problem wasn’t it? They needed to share everything. Solitary children, the both of them, and now they had each other. It made each separation or fissure in their shared experience a doubly worse betrayal because of it. That was Elaine’s chief complaint against him this week, it never was about other women, it was about the separation, the estrangement, the uncoupling.

Helpless, she acted on impulse and sat herself down in his naked lap, curling around him and feeling with heart melting relief his arms encircle her, squeezing her to his chest fiercely.

“T-t-the house was empty.” he stuttered out his explanation, trying to get her to understand what that was like for him -rushing home to make her stay, flinging open the door and not a bit of life to be found in his home.

His version of hell.

“You thought,” she soothed, kissing at his cheek, “but I’ve got chicken on the stove and our babies are with Betsy. I’m here. I’m right here. All that was missin’ was you. And now you’re here, too.”

His shakes subsided a little and he nods, rearing his head back to really look at her and on seeing her clearly, Elvis beams at her, wide and carefree, and it made her heart clench with… with love, to see him like this. To see the sheer trust behind this mindset he’d slipped into, it made her feel like the most special girl in the world. It made her forget any and all Susans and waitresses and other such floozies. They could have the tiny crumbs they snatched from the floor like rats—Elaine was the one with his ring on her finger, who got this. Her husband buries his face in her neck and flutters kisses over her wildly thumping pulse.

She feels like she’s keeping a secret, all of the sudden.

This, this has been coming for a long time. Building slow and steady in Elaine’s heart like the consciousness of a babe growing, first just a suspicion, and then excitement, then visible proof, and then the testing pain of it.

Till at last, a babe she loved ferociously without having ever even met it. This, somewhere along the way, this affection for him had become love, her head left behind and her heart in a full gallop, unrestrained, unreasoned with, undendiable.

“You could crush me with the tiniest word, ya know that?” she realizes it as she says it.

Realizes that’s what love is, giving power over yourself to someone else. It’s why she was so angry, so suddenly lonely, so fiercely protective of her portion of him.

It’s love.

He must’ve felt so lonely, so scared, loving her without a promise of return, there’s no way she could have managed that. He’s brave, her boy, he’s so brave. “I didn’t, I didn’t realize how strong a feelin’ it is.” she whispers, her own voice choked up with tears and Elvis raises his face from her neck abruptly, surfacing quite suddenly from his submissive stupor and looking almost wary in his hopefulness.

“What feelin’?” His voice dipps impossibly lower and it contrasts thrillingly with that boyish face.

“Ya shoulda warned me, you fool.” she blushes and smacks at his neck in embarrassed dallying, “How was I to know? Never been…never been before…”

“What feelin’!” he demands, grabbing her chin and his hand spanned the width of her jaw, one side to the other, paying her back in her own vehement coin.

Her smile grows even under the vice grip of his fingers and red lips part to flash gleaming white teeth and with a little sniffle and a roll of her chocolate drop eyes she huffs, “Love, Elvis, I’ve loved badly ya for a long time now, just didn’t realize it.”

He coulda told her that, coulda told her every little thing she did for him was loving, but she had to know it herself, so he’d let her be. The hand on her jaw spasms as he sucks in a little sob, his lip wobbling before his breath heaves back out in a:

“Oh thank god, oh baby, fuck, I don’t mean tthat I-I-I oh thank Jesus-“ his head thuds back onto her chest and she realizes he’s weeping then, tears and whatnot adding to their previous mess on her undone placard.

“Oh, shh, shh, it’s ok.” she mutters helplessly, holding onto his shoulders and trying to hug the truth deeper into him,

“Say it again.” he near wails into her breasts.

“I. Love. You.” she thumps his back with each statement like she’s burping a baby.

He pulls his head back and looks at her again, double takes, like he’s gonna glare the veracity of her truth outta her. “You’re jus’ sayin’ that casue you’re mad I ain’t no goody two shoes husband. ” he tests, moody and sullen.

Elaine knows this game, she smirks at his transparency, “These ain’t the first girls I’ve caught hangin’ on ya, E,” she reminds him, recalling as she does that Betsy, who she found him sharing an actual bed with while away from her, will be bringing the kids back any minute now, and here they are undressed, “and like I said, I’ve been obligin’ haven’t I?”

“Yeah. Don’t mean ya love me.” he points out.

“I thought we got this point into that fool head of yours while downstairs but I guess you weren’t paying attention.” she tsks, rising from his lap and stripping out of her soaked house dress -much to his confusion and distraction- while going on merrily, “I’m angry this time cause you left me out!” she dictates her point with an elegant finger to his sternum and his eyebrows raise in semi-enlightenment, “I don’t wanna be left out! I’m jealous of you, cause I love you and I’m damn proud that your mine, and you make me happier than I thought I could ever be and ya make me angrier than I-I thought either. Lord I’d do obscene things to keep you lovin me, E, I would. And I’d kill ya ‘fore I let you tire of me. If you’ve got lady friends,” she continues in the face of his growing smile, the death threat really warming his southern heart, as she pulls on another dress, “you’ll tell me about them. I’m your wife, you owe me your time and you owe me your vigor and if you’ve got scraps left to give elsewhere, well,” she flips her hair out of the collar and presses her hands primly to her sides, “then I’ll be kept informed of them. They’ll be our little secret, not yours. There ain’t a you and a me, there’s just us. You swore it, Naughty, ya swore it before God.”

“I ‘member.” he nods solemnly from his place on the side of the bed, “But there ain’t anyone else, lil Mama,” his tone is unbearably earnest, “there’s jus’ you.”

Elaine’s heart twinges at that. It’s a truth, she knows, but for how long? She’s been so scared to care about him too much, so sure he’s gonna hurt her eventually. He’d managed to wiggle his way into her heart anyway, and she’s tired of being unconscious of it, this fierce devotion dying to be let out at last.

She lets the statement be, takes it for the promise it is. She’s his wife. “I know.” She assured him.

“If ya love me,” he challenges once more, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little tired from the emotion and the exertion and the contention, “-get over her and show it.” he taunts as he leans back on the bed, his arms wide open and his body inviting and she knows he knows, knows he gets it.

She tackles him anyway. Knocking the air out of him and tossing him back into the counterpane, letting him roll her under him and thrash atop the outfit she laid out for him. Let’s him kiss her greedily and wantingly and sure, thinks she can feel the difference in him.

This is Elvis knowing he’s loved. He’s magical and sure of himself and confident in a way that boosts her own surety, like they’re feeding each other in a never ending replenishing cycle.

“My yittle baby, my perfect baby, my wifey, silly widdle thang don’t know her own mind.” he mumbles into her hairline as he peppers her face with smooches and she allows it; soaks up the dynamic change as suddenly he’s patronizing and sure of himself even as he’s talking all little and vulnerable.

He’s Elvis.

And he’s kissing her ravenously as if he can persuade her to love him more with each press of his plush lips and each nip of his teeth and lick of his tongue.

“You’ve been cryin’.” he comments as he licks at her cheeks, tasting tears, and his voice sounds surprised as if he himself wasn’t weeping a few minutes ago.

“So were you.” she laughs.

“Nuh uh.” he denies with a shake of his head and she rolls her eyes while his tongue plunges into her mouth once more. Foolish man, stubborn, bashful man that she loves, God help her-

“Yooo hooo!” comes from right outside their door, right in the upstairs hallway and Elvis dives off her onto the other side of their bed before she can even think to suggest it. His naked form lying full prone to the ground, tactically perfect -turns out the army taught him a thing or two, though that butt of his is still sticking up higher than would be preferred in a tactical setting. Elaine stifles the sound of her snicker but he sees her nose wrinkle from it and swears softly at her.

“Betsy, darlin’ just a minute.” Elaine hollers, while patting herself down to make sure she’s not misplaced some important part of herself during all this wrassling. She grabs his clothes from the bed and tosses them down at him, watching bemused as he tries to get them on in his prone position before stepping over to him to bend down and kiss him once more. “I love you.” she reminds.

He turns scarlet under the plunging neckline of his white sweater, “thank ya.” he preens sweetly and she takes a second to admire that, her hand still stroking his soft cheek, before straightening up and going to the door.

Cracking open the door the rest of the way reveals Betsy in her pretty gingham, arms straining to hold up one baby while the other strains her arm to be released for a crawl. “How do ya do it?” she gasps, talking about the children who immediately break lose of her nannying arms, Ella diving straight for her mother’s embraces while Jesse books it on the floor between Elaine’s legs, headed towards Elvis hiding place like he can sniff him out.

Elvis pops up just in time, a little rumpled and askew but thoroughly covered, though his attempt to pick up his son is aborted by the way his legs are still shaking and he wobbles onto the bed with a noisy flail. He feels Jesse pawing at his shin as Elizabeth’s eyes rake over him and he wonders if this is how Elaine felt sitting at lunch with Daddy and Dodger after their wedding night, or at each train stop on the way down fo Fort Hood when he paraded her in front of his adoring fans in between feverish bouts of love making that left her near catatonically used.

He recalls how she looked very well. He remembers his savage smugness at touching up her smudged makeup and displaying her again and again all primped after he wrecked her, wondering if the world could see how claimed she was by the wobble of her painted lip and the wide shock of her perfectly lined eyes.

Look, he’d been saying at each station stop, look at the perfect little thing that lets me love her.

He sees that smugness on Elaine’s face as she waits for Elizabeth to get her breath back as she just stares and stares at Elvis spread out in the bed like he’s grown another head. Betsy looks so shocked by the sight of him he actually looks down to make sure he’s put on pants but all's in order, he must just have “Elaine’s stud” written on his forehead and he blushes at that. He wouldn’t allow it if she didn’t love him. He’s afraid he’s gonna be allowing a lotta shit for the reason. Looking down for his pants reminds him of his baby boy, still clutching his pant leg and he grunts with the effort of heaving himself upright and pulling his little buddy into his lap.

“Hey bubs, how ya been?” he babbles as he tips backwards again, his spin worn out and he realizes he’s terribly weak and very, very hungry. He thinks he can smell buttery soft breading burning downstairs and it makes his mouth water.

“I manage it with help like yours.” Elaine replies, honest and bemused a few seconds late and she almost snaps her fingers in front of Elizabeth’s glazed eyes before the girl finally drags them back from the sight of her languid husband to her own face.

“Oh, n-no problem. Anytime.” Betsy assures again, sweet gal that she is. “Do I need to stay and work on the letters?” she asks it a little hopefully, wringing her now empty hands, and Elaine knows that she’s missed being in this house and around him, around them even, what with Elaine kicking her out for privacy during his withdrawals.

Not many families have a pretty, live-in secretary that the wife tolerates but the Presley’s aren’t most families, and Elaine is accommodating as they’ve just established, and she likes collecting people around her man that she’s certain love him the right sort of way. And if he loves them back, well, it’s a curious thing to her that she doesn’t for once doubt he’s got enough to go around. Her love cup will be overflowing from now on, she has no need to begrudge the droplets that others quench themselves with. She realizes what was missing was her own contribution.

It all settles into place, belonging and longing and having. She loves him.

“No, no need for the letters tonight.” She replies and watches Betsy’s pretty face fall for a brief moment before the girl catches herself, then Elaine adds what she always intended to add- “But stay for dinner, Betsy, so long as it hasn’t burned.”

We hope y’all enjoyed and can’t wait to hear your thoughts, screams and prompts 🌹💋

Taglist (comment if you’d like to be added, dears)

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@whatstruthgottodowithit

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

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youaintnothinbuta · 1 year

Text

austin - missin’ her daddy

Summary: your daughter has had a bad day and just misses her daddy.

Pairing: dad!austin x mama!reader

Word count: 430

Warnings: dad!austin, fluff, sliiight suggestion of sex

MASTERLIST

A/N: just pretend the gif isn’t Austin!Elvis and it’s just Austin and that she’s like 5 instead of a toddler thank you 😩

______________________

You had just got your son and daughter from school, buckling your daughters car seat for her as your son did his own. Before you could even ask how their days went, your daughter absolutely exploded into a mess of screaming and crying and yelling for her daddy. She’d always been a daddy’s girl, from the day she was born. You didn’t mind, your son was more of a mama’s boy so it evened out.

“Where’s daddy? I want daddy! I want daddy, mama!” Along with many other screams containing similar wording left your daughters mouth. You felt terrible, her teacher had informed you she’d had a pretty exhausting day and did incredibly well not have a tantrum in class at all, despite it being obvious she really needed to.

“Daddy’s at home, cooking dinner, okay baby? You’ll see him soon.” You cooed, your son also trying his best to calm his little sister, very much taking after his dad.

The drive home was tense to put it lightly, you silently admired your son for trying his best to help his sister instead of joining her with the screaming and carrying on. You pulled into the driveway, your son unbuckled himself and ran to the front door, waiting for you to unlock it. You picked your daughter up to get her out of the car and held her hand as you closed the car door, walking her to the front door. The second the lock clicked open, your daughter dropped your hand and sprinted as fast as her little legs would carry her to her daddy, screaming as tears ran down her burning cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” He cooed, instantly he put down the knife he was holding to cut veggies and picked her up, holding her on his hip as she cried against him. ‘That’s gotta hurt the throat’ he thought as her held his daughter, who was in total hysterics in his arms. You soon emerged into the kitchen, placing the kids school bags down, looking somewhat defeated.

He gave you a concerned look as if to say what happened?

“She’s just had an exhausting day, her teacher said she’s been asking for you all day. But she was an angel and didn’t even have a tantrum in class.” You replied, praising her for being so well behaved.

“Is that right, princess?” He asked her, gently moving her blonde locks out the way of her eyes with a finger. She nodded against his face.

“I’m sorry. Daddy’s got you now, it’s okay. Do you want to eat dinner in your pyjamas? Would that make you feel a bit better?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, wiping her own tears messily.

“Okay, let’s go get you changed. Tell mama you love her first, for me.”

“I love you, mama.” She reached out to you for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Austin still holding onto her bottom half, making you both chuckle.

“Daddy loves you, too, mama.” He smiled and kissed you rather passionately before taking her upstairs to her bedroom to get her into some warmer, comfier clothes. He turned to shoot you a quick glance as he took your daughter out of the kitchen, a glance that said ‘I’m gonna rid you of all that stress the second these kids are asleep tonight.’ making you chuckle at him as he raised an eyebrow at you, confirming you knew what he meant and then exiting out of sight.

You sighed as he wandered upstairs, so grateful for how much of an amazing dad he was, so much so you even heard a giggle come from her, wondering how he’d managed to do that, as she was screaming at the top of her lungs just 5 minutes earlier.

#austin butler #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis x y/n #austinbutler #austin x reader #drabble

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bcofl0ve · 2 years

Text

Invisible String (Part 1)

(part 1/9)

ship: austin butler x fem!reader

summary: a summer fling when you were working on the set of the shannara chronicles turned your life upside down with a positive pregnancy test after austin returned to the united states. a pregnancy test, and a daughter that you never told him about. until the elvis biopic found him back in your orbit and forced you to face the music.

word count: 2,600

authors note: yes i know the shannara chronicles was filmed in new zealand but this is my au and i can do what i want so we’re pretending it was filmed in queensland. covid also doesn’t exist in this story, because i said so, hence the filming schedule being one of my own making.

i live for comments and love talking about my writing, pls feel free to pop me an anon anytime!

xxx

April 23rd, 2020

"You interested in working in film again?"

You raised an eyebrow at your best friend sitting opposite you on the couch, pausing short of tossing more popcorn into your mouth from the bowl between you.

"Is there a reason you're asking?"

She chuckled, lowering her voice and leaning over to you, a playful smile on her face.

"A little birdie told me that one of the lighting assistants at Elvis had to resign because of a family emergency and they’re desperate for a replacement.”

Leah was clearly getting a kick out of this, and you wanted to kick her for it. Knowing Elvis was filming in your area and that there was a non zero chance you'd run into Austin on the street was enough of a headache, let alone having to skirt around him on a daily basis.

"I can't work there, you know that." You said flatly, and Leah only shrugged, cocking her head.

"Do I? It's just tech work, not like you'll have to interact with Austin that much anyways."

"That," You started, nudging your head towards a framed photo of you and Cora on the coffee table. It was taken on her fourth birthday, the blue eyed little girl sitting on your knees, head of blonde hair tucked into your shoulder. "happened when I was just doing tech work. I can't Leah,"

It wasn’t that you’d take any of what happened that 2015 summer back, you were quick to tell anyone that your daughter was the best thing that ever happened to you. But some things, her father in particular, were better left in the past.

"How much are you making right now?" Leah asked, pulling out her phone as she talked. "Because this is what Elvis is paying."

Your eyes widened when you saw the salary listed on the email she’d pulled up, nearly triple what you were making at your current gig running lighting for a local news station.

"You go, you do your lighting thing, you come home. If you wear a hat and your bluelight glasses Austin doesn't even have to know you're there."

---

April 30th, 2020

Against your better judgment you inquired about the position, and Leah must’ve been right about how depeserate they were for a replacement because you got a call within a few hours asking for the earliest date you could start.

You followed Leah’s advice of trying to alter your appearance just enough to maybe pass as someone else to Austin, your hair tied up and pushed through a baseball cap, tan rimmed bluelight glasses that you typically saved for long hours on your laptop perched on your nose.

And the get up wasn’t even necessary. You’d spent your first day helping with lights for scenes with Tom Hanks in a conference room setup, overhearing that it was a dance rehearsal day for most everyone else. By the time the day was over ditched the glasses and cap, assuming you were safe from running into Austin at least for the time being as you put equipment away.

"Hey there.”

You could've screamed when you heard his voice from right behind you, flinching and dropping the cords you were wrapping.

Austin was apologizing as you turned around, and you swallowed as you got a good look at him. He looked drastically different than he did four summers ago, his hair short and black as opposed to the blonde waves that used to fall at his shoulders. His face hadn't changed much though.

The blue eyes that matched the photo of your daughter on your lockscreen made you want to bolt, but the window of opportunity for that quickly shut as he kept talking.

"I just," He started nervously, pushing a hand through his hair. "Y/N, right?"

"Yeah, that’s me." You said and forced a smile. Austin laughed.

"Okay good, this would be so weird if it wasn't you. It's been, what, four- five years? Wow,"

He gave you a one over and you hoped the flush you felt wasn’t showing up too obviously on your face.

"And look at you, Mr. Presley himself." You tried, leaning back against the table as Austin let out a breath. "I'm still wrapping my head around it all. But how you've been?"

"Not too bad,”

Your phone buzzing saved you from thinking of what else to say, except the voice of Cora's day care coordinator on the other end was the last thing you wanted to hear right now. Austin was still standing there when you hung up, something you hated because now you were close to tears and could think of about twenty ways this whole debacle could go from bad to worse.

"Everything okay?"

Austin’s voice cut through your panic, and exacerbated it.

"That was my daugher's daycare.”

The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them, heart hammering in your chest as you kept talking, snatching the cords you'd dropped off the floor and putting them back on the table in a frenzy. "She said something about stitches, St. Vincent’s Hospital. My car's in the shop, I need to get a Lyft,"

There wasn't one rational reason you were telling Austin any of this, just that you were a panic talker. You recognized somewhere in the haze of worry that you needed to stop talking before it bit you in the ass, though you recognized it a little too late.

"I'll drive you."

Those three words snapped you back to reality like a rubberband, and you shook your head as you brushed past Austin to walk away.

"You can't do that, you'll get recognized,"

You were already past him, but heard him rustling through his bag and before you could protest anymore there was quiet "No, come on," and he was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, a hand on your back as he ushered you in the direction of the parking lot.

---

The car was quiet as he started driving save for the heavy breathing you were barley managing to get under control. Austin pulled to a stop at a redlight, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he spoke lightly.

"So you have a daughter now?"

"Yeah who apparently cracked her chin open on the playground.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out so bluntly, mumbling an apology that he told you not to worry about. The rest of the drive was silent.

When he pulled up to the hospital you jumped out the second the car slowed enough for you to do so, spotting Cora’s daycare director in the lobby and making a beeline for her. Assuring you she'd only left Cora alone long enough to meet you, she took you down the hall to her room.

And you didn’t notice Austin had followed you in until you saw the other woman’s eyes widen when she brushed past you to leave.

"Hiya," He said, southern accent intact and you'd find it funny if you weren't all standing in the hospital for his daughter that he didn't know existed.

Leaving them both in the hallway, you rushed into the hospital room so fast you didn't bother to shut the door behind you. Cora was groggy from sedatives but reached out when she saw you, tear stains still on her cheeks.

“Mommy, ouchie,”

"I'm here baby.” You said as you scooped her up, kissing her head and pulling back to look at the line of stitches in her chin. "I'm sorry you got hurt,”

"Who's that?"

She interrupted you, pointing a finger towards the open doorway. Austin was still in the hallway, except the coolness he'd had with the daycare director was gone and replaced with a look that you’d spent the last four years terrified of. His pupils were enlarged, hand over the bottom of his mouth. He dropped it when he realized you were looking, but his expression didn't change.

"That's just a friend from work who drove me here," You said through the growing lump in your throat, unable to look back at him. "I'll be right back, okay?"

After setting her back on the hospital cot and covering her back up with the provided blanket you walked out of the room, remembering to close the door behind you this time.

“You don’t have to stay, I have to call someone to pick us up anyways because she needs a carseat,”

You tried to steer away from the inevitable, but Austin didn’t waste any time.

"Y/N, how old is she?"

His voice was tight and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, staring at the floor like you could will it to open up and swallow you.

“Austin,” You managed to croak out, and the indignation you could feel radiating off of him made your eyes sting.

"You know not answering is an answer in itself, right?"

Forcing yourself to look up, you squeezed your eyes shut and back open, hoping it was enough to keep yourself from crying in front of him. "I can't do this here." You started. "I need- I need to get her home. If your number hasn't changed l'll call you when she's in bed,"

He nodded, giving you a terse “Alright then.” before turning to walk away. When he disappeared around the corner you let a few tears fall, wiping them away and feeling nauseous as you pushed open the door to go back to Cora.

---

Your head was still spinning by the time the doorbell rang at eight o’clock that night. And when you opened it to Austin you cleared your throat, bringing a hand to grasp the doorframe.

"If you're going to yell at me we need to take this outside, Cora's asleep." You said and his eyes widened a little.

"I'm not gonna yell at you."

Your back was to Austin after you let him in, but you could sense him looking around. There was evidence of your daughter everywhere, photos on the wall and toys you hadn't had the energy to pick up given recent events scattered around the floor. When you reached the kitchen and did turn to look at him he was popping his knuckles.

Taking the bar stool you pulled out for him, he sat as you walked to the other side of the counter.

"So she's gotta be four, right?" He started before you could say anything, eyes falling away from you and to a photo on the wall. "And she's-"

"She's yours."

You cut him off, biting the inside of your cheek. "If you want a paternity test we can do one, but that summer, there was no one else."

"Workin' on Elvis, were you just hoping we never ran into each other? I don't get it." He stated, gesturing aimlessly.

"The friend who sent me the application practically had to force my hand, I didn't want to. But the money, this is more than I'm making anywhere else, being able to send Cora to a good pre-school in the fall,"

You hated that your voice was shaking, along with your hands, where you’d clenched a fist without realizing it.

“I decided it was worth taking my chances."

"And when you found out you were pregnant- you didn't think to call?"

The truth was that you had thought to call, briefly. But a tabloid hard launch of Austin getting back together with his ex girlfriend came before you bring yourself to dial his number.

"When I found out I was pregnant you were back in the states and back with Vanessa. What was I supposed to do?" You said, and you would’ve been a lot louder if you didn’t have to worry about waking Cora up. "Hey I know you just left, but you need to leave your girlfriend and fly back across the globe because the techie you had a fling with is pregnant."

"I would've."

You shook your head, shooting back bluntly.

"You wouldn't have."

If he truly did feel differently he didn't argue, chewing on his bottom lip for a beat before he spoke, his voice a degree softer. "You said her name is Cora?"

"Cora Jean. Thought she might go by CJ but she corrects anyone that tries, "I'm not Cee-Jay, I'm Cora.””

You couldn’t help a little smile as you imitated her, and felt your shoulders relax when you saw the hint of a smile on his face too.

"Who's there mommy?"

You turned when you heard the familiar pipsqueak voice of your daughter, your eyes finding her standing in the mouth of the hallway rubbing her eyes.

"Remember my friend from the doctor's? It's just him Cor, you can go back to bed."

Cora squinted for a second to verify that herself, walking a little further into the light. Satisfied with the confirmation, she rubbed her eyes with the hand not clinging to her stuffed koala.

“Night night mommy’s friend,” She said sleepily, giving a small wave.

Austin waved back, and you didn’t know if he’d wanted you to hear the quiet “Goodnight baby,” he said in response but it made your chest tighten either way.

"I don't want to keep you from her," You said when she’d disappeared back down the hallway, looking at your hands folded together on the table. "But having her splashed on the cover of People in some scandal story, paparazzi outside our house, that's a part of why I never told you."

A “part” was underselling the amount of nightmares you’d had from the time Cora was still in-utero about waking up to the fallout of one wrong person finding out about her parentage. You were sure there were people who drew their own silent conclusions , but you’d only told your mother and Leah yourself. The two people who you trusted wouldn't tell a soul.

How careful you’d been didn't stop your heart from stuttering when a stranger's eyes in the grocery store lingered a little too long though.

"I don't want that for her either. We're," Austin said gently, reaching a hand across the counter and laying it over yours. "We're gonna figure this out. You and me."

You nodded, wanting more than anything to believe that that was still possible after all this time.

----

Sleep didn't come easy for you that night, your mind racing as you laid awake staring at the ceiling. Just when you started to feel too tired to physically stay awake much longer, your phone buzzed.

Apparently Austin couldn't sleep either.

If it's not too much could you send me some photos?

You sat up a little, eyes heavy as you swiped open your phone, going to your camera roll and thumbing through the album labeled Cora Jean. The photos you chose ranged from across the years. Cora sitting in her high chair at only a few months old, grinning at the camera through the food covering her face, the two of you in your mom's backyard at her second birthday, a little video of her first dance recital, a photo her daycare had sent you her during art time, paint smeared across her nose.

When you texted the final selections, an ache bloomed in your chest as the gravity of it all finally started to sink in. Tugging the covers over your head, you willed yourself to crash and forget about everything for just a few hours.

xxx

#invisible string by bcofl0ve #future chapters will have some flashbacks to 2015 so worry not if you were wanting to see bits of that #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler headcanons #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler

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asshlyyyy · 8 months

Text

A Night To Forget

Fic Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ Only! Swearing, murder, killing, gun use, blood, the colonel. Reader gets injured, and attacked. Yelling, fighting, violence. Glass breaking and ending up cutting reader. Elvis covering up a murder. A/N: Reader is Steve Binder's sister, Priscilla doesn't exist.

Masterlist

The room was dark and silent. The lights of Las Vegas glowed behind the windows. Your body shook as beads of sweat fell off your face. Your chest heeded as you breathed heavily. Your hand went limp and the piece of metal fell onto the floor with a clank! You took a step back and watched as blood poured onto the floor. You felt as if you were in a movie, and this was all fake.

You heard the jiggle of a doorknob and immediately turned your head towards the sound. You stood like a deer in headlights unable to move. You were about to get caught. This was the end of your life. You were about to get thrown in jail to rot forever.

The door creaked open and the appearance of your boyfriend. You stood in fear as Elvis met your eyes. Confused, he made his way over to you after he closed the door. He came to a pause when he saw the scene in front of him. The body of his manager was lifeless on the floor. He should be sad, but he felt happiness. He felt this weight get lifted off of him.

“Well, it’s ‘bout time,” Elvis claimed as he shut the door behind him. You stood there confused by his reaction. He stepped closer to you and moved around your body. He found his gun on the floor. There was no shot though, he would’ve heard it if so. Then again, all he heard was his band and the sounds of his fans screaming.

He reached down and held the metal piece in his hand. It was warm from your clench and covered with blood. He looked at the Colonel and noticed his disheveled face. You had beaten his face, but there was also a hole in his neck where blood seethed out. Had you actually shot the Colonel?

Elvis turned and looked at your perfect face. Your once-white dress had splatters of blood over it. His innocent good girl just killed someone. Your face was pale, and he knew you were scared. He wouldn’t let his girl get in trouble. No no, Elvis would make sure no one would know.

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathed out. Elvis shook his head. There was no reason why you should be sorry. The colonel was a bad man, and he needed to go. You hadn’t planned for things to happen like that… but they did.

It really all started when Elvis came back from the army. You didn’t know him personally at the time, but when you met him, you knew he wasn’t happy. You sat in your older brother’s office as he walked through the door. He stood tall and had this… handsome appearance to him. He was always handsome though.

It was all funny looking back at it. Your brother didn’t even like Elvis. He was more of an East Coast boy. He liked the sounds of the beach boys. Elvis didn’t even pass his mind, but the sound of meeting Elvis. That was what intrigued him.

“Mr. Elvis Presley,” Steve stood up from his seat. You stood up quickly with a smile.

“Please, just Elvis,” Elvis held his hand out to Steve, who gladly took it. The two shook hands and he looked over at you. He held a smile on his face and reached for your hand. You placed it in his and watched as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. You blushed lightly at the gesture and bit the inside of your cheek.

“Right, Elvis. It’s an honor to meet you.” Steve said as he sat down down. He picked up his pen and situated himself. Elvis sat on the other end and looked at the Binder siblings. He had a good feeling about this.

“Let me ask ya something, Steve. Where do you think my career is right now?” Elvis questioned. You looked over at Steve and nodded. You knew it was risky, to be honest, hell he could fire you both right there.

“Well, I think it’s in the toilet.” The room fell silent and you could only imagine how he felt. Then the sound of laughter came of out Elvis’ mouth. You smiled softly and stifled out a soft sound of laughter also.

“I knew I was gonna like ya. You’re honest with me,” Elvis admitted once his laughs calmed down to a slow. “I haven’ been on television for a long time.”

“It’s no different than filming a movie, sir.” You spoke as you stood up. “We will practice, and if you make a mistake that’s okay. We can start the film over. Delete those takes that don’t make it. This is your special, Elvis.”

“What’s ya name dalrin’?” He asked as his blue orbs stared deep past your own.

“Y/n,” You answered him.

“Well, I like the sound of that, Y/n. My special, no one elses.” He smirked as he tapped his finger against the table.

“We’ll give you what you want. She is right, this is your special.” Elvis smiled and nodded slowly.

The three of you were inseparable. Elvis took trusting to you two like it was nothing else. It was because you two could give him something the Colonel couldn’t. The Colonel didn’t care about anything. All he cared about was the money.

Didn’t allow anyone into Elvis’ dressing room. Yet, your brother and your brother pushed. He really pushed the Colonel’s buttons. Those who met the Colonel all had the same opinions. Sure, he could be sweet and pleasant, but he could also be harsh and rude. Lord knows you also don’t want to be on his bad side.

You guys would start in the afternoon and you would be there till early in the morning. There have been moments when Elvis would offer you to stay in his dressing room. Since, during the time of the comeback special, he slept in his dressing room. At first, you declined since you didn’t leave too far, but Elvis had such a charm to him.

“Come on, doll,” Elvis chuckled lightly, “it’ll be fun.”

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes and laughed gently. “My apartment is just a half-hour walk.”

“Ain’ safe for you to be walking alone at night. Don’t need anything happening to ya now.” You let out a breath and just shook your head. A smile grew on your face and Elvis couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Fine fine, I’ll stay.” You laughed gently and walked with him. Not much happened in that room. You guys mostly just talked and shared a laugh. To you, he wasn’t the king of rock and roll. He… he was Elvis. It felt as if you guys have been friends for years.

If anyone came up to you and asked what Elvis was like… You would tell them he was the sweetest man ever. Sure, he had his outbursts but so did everyone. Elvis was a nice man, and he would do everything in his nature to make sure his friends and family were okay.

You couldn’t understand why the Colonel would treat him like a child. Elvis would be more than happy agreeing with his manager and treating them well. Yet, the Colonel abused him. Sometimes when you just stand in the background. You noticed his body language when he was alone… and when he was with the Colonel.

When he was with the Colonel he had this stiff expression. He was locked up in this gate, trapped under his watchful eye. When he was by himself, he held a depressed example. It was like he was lost in some aspects. Now, when he was with his friends and family… he was so happy. He smiled and he laughed a genuine laugh.

You remember your brother getting called down to the Colonel’s office. It was a sad piece really, one of the broom closets near stage four. The Colonel demanded for at least one Christmas song. Well, it was more he tried to tell Steve that Elvis wanted the Christmas song. Elvis stood next to him with his head down. It was like a young child who had just gotten in trouble with their parents.

“Fuck him,” Elvis spoke to Steve once they got out. Elvis hated the Colonel, but he couldn’t do anything. He was trapped. He was locked behind this wall of gratitude for everything Parker gave him. There was nothing more he could do.

You remember when everything was all finished, and you guys were ready to show the screening. The Binder siblings were pulled into a meeting with the Colonel. It was a room with a large table. The way that room smelled… It smelt like smoke and testosterone.

The Colonel wanted his one Christmas song. He wanted it to be at the end of the Special. Of course, your brother and you went a separate way. You thought you guys were screwed though, because… You could have gotten sued right there and then. Then you two remembered then Elvis did perform a song.

“Blue Christmas,” you said as you looked at Steve.

“That’s right, he did sing Blue Christmas,” Steve held a smirk. You could’ve sworn you saw the Colonel’s eye twitch at the response. That was not what he wanted to hear. The Colonel wanted a whole scene dedicated to Christmas.

The screening was the last day you all pretty much spent together. You remember sitting in the room next to Steve. Elvis’s Memphis Mafia was in the room and it was just silent the whole showing. You helped Elvis during the whole filing. Steve mostly stayed up in the booth, you were down on set.

You were at the stage, and neither you nor Steve knew what he was going to do, or what he was going to sing. You guys just allowed him to do whatever he wanted. He had his friends next to him, and it was just a jam session. You smiled the whole time watching him. Watching it in person, and then watching it on screen. Your smile was wide.

Being in the room watching the whole playback and finished product was scary. You were surrounded by his friends, and sometimes his friends scared you. It was just the look they held on his face. It’s like how when you look at a certain someone they have this type of face. At some moments, Elvis had the softest face, but he also had a very… I will kill you look.

Once his friends left, he turned and looked at us and asked to watch it again. It was a completely different experience when it was just you threw. Elvis laughed, and he smiled. To Steve and yourself, this was music to your ears. It can be painful to watch something you created, but how Elvis positively reacted to it… It showed that he loved it. That he was once again enjoying his life.

Once the recording finished for the special Elvis gave you and Steve his number. He left you with something more though. A simple, yet meaningful necklace. You denied it at first of course, but he kept pushing and pushing. That’s just who he was. He was a giver and he never took no as an answer.

“I uh… I got ya something.” Elvis spoke as he came up to you. You raised your eyebrow in confusion.

“Why did you get me something?” You asked him.

“Well, your brother and you helped me so much.” He admitted. You rolled your eyes playfully and took the navy blue velvet box in your hands.

“You honestly didn't need to do-” You opened up the box and the softest gasp left your mouth. “Oh my god.” You looked at the gold necklace that held both pearls and diamonds. You just started to shake your head. You couldn’t imagine how much money this costed.

“A pretty necklace for a pretty girl,” he commented. You shook just shook your head with an idiotic smile on your face.

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked as you picked the necklace. Elvis nodded and took it out of your hand. You closed up the box and turned your back to him. You grabbed a handful of your hair and moved it out of the way.

The necklace came around your front and Elvis clamped it in the back. His fingers grazed over your exposed skin. It caused a comforting chill to run up your spine. You let your hair fall back into place and turned to look at him.

“How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he answered instantly.

The first night Elvis performed at the International… you never saw a smile so wide. Though It was his first time performing in front of an audience this size. It was like he never left the stage. He jumped right back into the groove. He invited you and your brother, which you two gladly accepted.

When it came time, Elvis made his rounds around the room. Well, he walked through the middle part, and back up to the stage. He grabbed as many women’s faces as he could and kissed them. You didn’t find it disgusting, you found it sweet? In a weird way, it didn’t push you off as Elvis being horny. You saw it as Elvis was saying thank you. He was thanking his fans for sticking by him.

He was back to what he loved doing. He may have at one point wanted to be like James Dean. Now… he just wanted to be Elvis. He wanted to sing, he wanted to dance, he wanted to make music. While he would’ve preferred you and Steve to be at one of the tables with his other guests, you opted for being near the stage.

You were right by the stairs that would lead him back up. Your eyes met and he made his way straight towards you. His hands cupped your face and he pulled you close, crashing his lips into yours. You melted against his perfectly sculpted lips and kissed him back. You felt as if the room around you was spinning, but probably did all the other girls.

Elvis pulled away and ran his finger along the necklace he gave you. He leaned down to your ear, “Meet me in my room after the show,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to the side of your head and heading back on stage. You watched him in disbelief at what had just happened. Unbeknownst to the death glare Steve was giving Elvis.

That’s when your relationship changed with him. You had the most magical night and he asked for you to stay with him. You agreed in a heartbeat, hell anyone would have agreed. After the sex you two had though… There was something more, there was love. As much as you loved Steve and working alongside him, you wanted a break and a change. Why not give this love thing a chance? Oh boy did the Colonel not like that.

He called the influences of you and Steve hillbillies. That you two were trying to steal him away. In all honesty, you two just wanted him to do what he loved. The amount of conversations of fights you shared with the Colonel. The amount of threats you received from him… It was painful, but you just knew deep down in that fat sack of his. He was suffering and was pushing that onto other people.

“You’re dragging him down!” He yelled at you, his spit falling right onto your face. You gagged and shivered as it hit your face. You whipped your face and glared at the man in front of you.

“Funny, because last time anyone checked, you were.” You laugh coldly and shook your head.

“I am making him bigger!” He argued back. You rolled your eyes at him. Every second he got, he picked a fight with you.

“You’re not letting him do what he wants! He wants to tour the world!” You exclaimed to him. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“God, now he’s in your goddamn brain! He will never EVER go on a world tour. I will make sure of that as long as I am living!”

It was like that almost every day. So when it came to Elvis’ fifth week at the Internation, it was no surprise when the Colonel showed up at the suit. You had decided to stay in when Elvis performed his midnight show. You loved watching him perform, but you just wanted to rest up and read your book.

There was no knock, he just walked in. You looked over at him confused. “Colonel?” You stood up from the couch and placed your book on the table. “What are you doing here?” You asked as you made your way over to him.

“Getting rid of you,” he spoke in a harsh voice. You knew the Colonel never really liked you. Hell, he never really liked anyone. He always thought they were out to get him.

“I’m a bit lost,” you looked at him confused.

“Ever since you and your idiotic brother came into Elvis’ life you changed him.” He spoke in a twisted voice.

“He’s just back in his roots. Being happy again, we didn’t change him.” You corrected the Colonel.

“Oh please, you don’t know what makes my boy happy. You’re just here as his little sex toy.” Colonel tried to get under your skin. Get you all rattled up. “I suggest you get the hell out before the truth comes out about you.”

“What truth? I have nothing to hide?” In fact, you don’t even think you have any secrets. You kept honest because honesty is the best medicine. Nothing good came out of lying. Looking at the fat fuck in front of you proved you of that.

“You may think that now, but when word gets out that Elvis’ sweet innocent girlfriend killed one of his fans in anger… things may be different.” You just shook your head at his words. Why was he doing this? What was so fucked up with his brain that led him to be this way?

“Elvis wouldn’t believe that,” you shook your head. The Colonel started to walk closer to you, and you felt uncomfortable. With every step he took, you took one back. His fat cigar stood off his lips as his cane hit hard against the flooring.

“Oh, but he will. He believes everything I tell him-”

“Because you force it down his throat!” You quickly spoke interrupting him. He didn’t like that. He held this look in his eyes. It was like they turned a shade darker, almost black in fact. You were so focused on his eyes that you didn’t notice when he lifted the cane and hit you with it. The top of his cane hit into your hip causing pain to erupt. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“Ow! What the fuck is your problem!?” You grabbed onto the golden alcohol cart as you almost fell from the impact. With a clash, some of the glassware fell to the floor. You looked at him with anger, your chest heaved out. This was no longer a nice conversation. Especially not after he would accuse you of such things.

“You are precisely my problem, Y/n.” He pulled the cart away from you, which caused the rest of the glasses to shake and fall onto the floor. Each and every one broke. Shards of glass accompanied the floor along with split liquor. You were able to balance yourself up, but you soon fell to the ground when he whacked you once again. You really wish you had kept your shoes on.

Your palms landed on the loose pieces of glass. You sucked in a breath and looked up at the Colonel. This fat fuck was about to kill you and for what!? What would he even gain from killing you? Your breath quickened as you watched him lift his cane once more. The tip of his cane hit against your head and scratched along your cheek. Your head snapped to the side from impact.

You felt your vision get blurry. Your head felt like it was spinning in the clouds. You ran your finger along the fresh cut and looked up at him. If you didn’t do anything he would bludgeon you to death right here. You quickly moved out of the way of his flying cane and got up, despite feeling the blood rush through your brain. You rushed over to Elvis’ gun collection and opened up the chest.

You heard him laugh from behind you, he didn’t believe you were going to shoot him. Your blurred vision gazed over the guns and ended up just picking a random one. It didn’t have to matter, you were just trying to protect yourself at this point. You quickly turned to him and pointed the gun at him.

“Oh, you don’t have the guts in you, girly.” The Colonel commented as he made his way to you. You breathed heavily as your body shook ever so slightly. As the Colonel came closer, his face was just in arms reached. You raised the gun and hit him across the face. He stumbled back in surprise and looked at you.

“Wow,” the Colonel spoke as he brought his hand up to his face. “You just keep fucking surprising me.” He let out a cough and turned his head. Soon he hacked up a ball of spit and mucus together and spit it out. Yet, it wasn’t mucus or spit… it was blood. Your hands shook as you kept the gun pointed at him. There was no way you were going to shoot him. You already knew this, and he knew that.

“I didn’t do anything to you! Why are you trying to kill me!?” You asked in a loud shaky voice.

“You are trying to take my boy away from me!” He matched your volume. No… no, you couldn’t believe that was the answer. There was more, he just wasn’t sharing anything with you.

“All you care about is the money! You don’t give a shit about Elvis!!” You screamed as you took a step closer to him.

“I care de-”

“Bullshit!” You screamed and clicked the safety off.

“I’ve had just enough from you-” Before he could finish you just started to beat his face in. You don’t know what came over you. You just felt this source of anger come over you. The Colonel fell onto his back and you just continued to hit the metal gun against his face.

He tried to push you off him, but you just kept going and kept going and- Bang! You stood up quickly with a shaken expression and looked at him with wide eyes. Blood started to trickle out of his neck and onto the floor. Your body shook as your hand went limp. The metal piece fell out of your hand and onto the floor. You… You just shot him. It was self-defense right? You couldn’t be at fault here, he attacked you first.

The sounds of the doorknob pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood like a deer in headlights as the door pushed open. The door creaked in and the disheveled appearance of your boyfriend appeared. His eyes met yours and he smiled, but it quickly changed once he saw the state of yourself. You held a look of fear and pain in your eyes. He saw the red splatters over your face and purely white dress.

His eyes scanned the room as he noticed the liquor cart thrown on the ground. Glass shattered all over the floor. He walked forward and closed the door behind him. It didn’t take long before he saw the lifeless body of his manager on the floor. He should be sad… depressed even. Yet, he felt a sense of happiness.

“Well, it’s ‘bout time,” he said as he looked at the scene. He tore the scarf off his neck and tossed it onto the couch. He reached down and picked the gun up in his hands. Most of his guns kept cold from the metal, but this one was warm from your touch. He brought it over to his collection and placed it down to the side. He’d have to clean it off later. He came up to you and took your hands in his.

“What happened?” He asked you with a soft voice.

“H-he uh- he-” You tried to speak but you were too shaken up. Hell, you just killed someone! And… and… to be honest, you weren’t exactly bothered by it. You killed a bad person. You killed the villain.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll worry ‘bout this.” He said as he cupped your face. You flinched a bit when his hand came in contact with your cut. Nonetheless, you nodded quickly and looked into his eyes. You felt at ease, you felt safe. Elvis leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You hummed and kissed him back.

The two of you separated and you made your way over to the bathroom. You looked yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight. You had blood all over you. You let out a sigh and turned on the sink. You heard the muffled sounds of Elvis’ voice and tilted your head towards the door. You walked away from the sink and stood closer to the door.

“I need ya to come up here.” You listened in on Elvis. “There’s been an accident.” You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. Well, in terms of evidence, the shot was an accident. The beating his face in with a gun wasn’t. You were only fighting back though, and the Colonel just pushed your hands in a way that triggered the gun.

“You’ll understand once ya get your ass up here.” The sound of the phone clicking indicated that Elvis ended the call. His footsteps came closer to the bathroom and he pushed open the door. He looked over at you and let out a sigh. He couldn’t believe what happened to his girl.

“Come ‘ere.” He said gently as he dragged you over to the sink. He dipped a washcloth under the running water and dabbed it onto your cheek gently. “I just called Jerry. He’ll be up to help assess the situation.”

“I-I’m sorry, Elvis,” you spoke quietly and shamefully.

“Oh please, I always wanted him dead.” He admitted with a straight face. You knew Elvis hated the Colonel but to want him dead? Well… you wanted him dead also. So did your brother, and so did just about anyone he worked with. “But I promise you, nothing bad will happen to ya.”

“How can you be so sure of that Elvis? We’re on the thirtieth floor, and the hotel is flooded with people. You can’t exactly walk out the front door.” You pointed out to him.

“We’ll figure that out once Jerry comes up okay?” Elvis pulled away the washcloth and tended to your hands. Most of the glass didn’t stick when you landed, but there were a few pieces here and there. He pulled them out and then cleaned your hands. Elvis may have never appeared to be one to aid people, but when it came to his girls… He would kill to protect them. If you hadn’t killed the Colonel, well… he would’ve done so himself.

He pulled away once he was done and turned off the sink. “Take a shower, love,” he said as he gave your bum a quick slap and walked out of the bathroom. You let out the slightest sequel and smiled softly. You knew he would take care of you, and you were lucky to have that in a partner. He closed the door behind him and you were left alone.

You peeled the white dress off your body and frowned at the blood splotches. You knew you were going to have to through the dress away. It was easy evidence that pointed you towards the killing. You just… You loved this dress so much. If only it was black instead of white. Maybe then you could salvage it. You brought your hands up to your necklace and took it off. You laid it gently on the sick and looked back towards the shower.

You undressed the rest of your undergarments and made your way over to the shower. You leaned into the shower and turned the water on. You turned the knob towards heat and wait for it to warm up. Only then did you step in and let the water run against your skin. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddered breath. In the main room, Elvis was opening the door.

“What’s the accident man?” Jerry questioned as he walked in. His eyes were mainly on Elvis, but when he looked anywhere but- “Wait-”

Elvis closed the door and nodded, answering Jerry’s unspoken question. “He’s done. Got shot in the neck shortly after having his face beaten in.” Elvis explained what he could only gather.

“How?” Jerry asked, trying to grasp together the parts.

“Y/n,” Elvis responded. Jerry snapped his head in Elvis’ direction and his eyes widened.

“What? No,” Jerry shook his head. You were the sweetest girl Jerry had ever met. You had a hard stick, yes, but to go ahead and kill someone. You would never do that.

“I don’t know what happened, I could only assume he started it. She’s got a cut on her cheek, she had glass in her hands. She grabbed one of my guns and beat his face in. Shot him in the neck.” Elvis shrugged his shoulders. He knew he wouldn’t get the full story until you spoke to him, but for now… he just paced together what he could.

“Damn,” was all Jerry could say. Elvis nodded and rubbed his jaw gently. He was just trying to figure out what to do. They had to get the body out of the building and taken care of. How they were going to do that though… that was the question.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna do this EP,” Jerry admitted. Elvis let out a breath and nodded. He knew it wasn’t an easy task. Not to mention, if news ever got out and you were the suspect… he would take the blame easily. He was more of a suspect than you would be.

No one could know what happened. “What if we take him down to his office? Throw around his office a bit. Make it look like someone came in and killed him.” Elvis suggested.

“Could work, but her blood could be on his cane.” Jerry pointed out.

“We’ll clean it off.” Elvis replied back.

“Okay… Okay, yeah, we can do that.” Jerry nodded slowly as he thought over the idea. It was simple really. They drag him down to the Colonel’s office. It was just below this floor. No one would see them. They sneak the body in and mess up the office. Make it look like it was s struggle.

“I’ll have someone come up and clean this mess. Explain that Y/n had a fall.” Elvis continued to speak out about their plan.

“And bled out that much?” Jerry questioned him. Elvis gave Jerry an all-knowing look and nodded.

“Right… We’ll clean the blood up and then call up the housemaids.” He changed up his wording.

“E…” Your soft voice broke them out of their conversation. Both Elvis and Jerry turned towards you. You had just finished your shower and made your way out of the bathroom. One of Elvis’ robes wrapped around your body. The white from your pearls and the shine from the diamonds stood out from underneath.

“Yeah, darlin’?” Elvis questioned as he gave you his attention.

“What’s going to happen to me?” You asked gently. That’s all you thought about while you were in the shower. What was going to happen to you? You couldn’t exactly keep this to yourself.

“Nothin’ is going to happen to you, love.” Elvis made his way over to you. He placed his hands on your upper arm and rubbed gently in a comforting manner. “We got it all planned, We’re gonna take him down to his office. It’s gonna look like someone broke in and killed him.”

“I- I killed him…”

“No one has to know,” he said in a whispered tone ad he pushed away the loose pieces of hair that stuck to your face. “To them, an enemy killed him. No one will know, and if the truth comes out… I’ll take the blame.”

“Elvis no,” you shook your head, “I can’t let you do that.”

“You saved me, I owe everything to you. I know damn well my sweet girl ain’ gonna go to prison now.” The corner of his lips turned upward. You let out a breath and just shook your head. You knew you weren’t going to win this battle.

“Okay,” you said gently.

“Can you do me a favor, darlin’?” He then asked. You nodded easily not having to think about it. “Clean up some of the blood. Then call housekeeping, and say you fell and had a little bit of an accident. They’ll clean up the rest.”

“Okay,” Elvis leaned down and pulled you in for a long kiss. You closed your eyes and felt your hands grab his top. You pulled him closer to you and deepened the kiss. When the two of you pulled away, you shared this look between the both of yourselves. You two were stuck together now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Elvis let go of you and turned towards Jerry. “Let’s get him out of here.” Your eyes watched as they picked up the Colonel’s limp body. You don’t think you will ever heal from this. You were going to be haunted forever by this memory. They made their way out of the room and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

You went into the bathroom and grabbed one of the towels you just dried off on and went over to the spot. You threw the towel down and looked out the window. You knew no one could see you up here, but you still had that fear that someone saw… That they watched you shoot him.

You let out a sigh and got down on the ground to clean up the blood. Picking up as much as possible. It was okay if there was some blood smeared. The housekeepers will just clean them. You did just have an… accident. Once you finished cleaning up most of the mess you walked over to the front door and dropped the towel down.

You watched your step as you walked over to the phone. You picked it up and called the number to the front desk. You let out a hum and sat down on the couch, your book long forgotten by now. “Mr. Presley, what can we do for you?”

“Hi, I was wondering if we could get housekeeping up here? I tripped and made a bit of a mess with the alcohol cart,” You chuckled lightly but inside you were dying.

“Of course Ms. Binder. We’ll send someone up right away.”

“Thank you,” you hung up shortly after and let out a sigh. You let yourself sink into the black patterned material.

Down in the Colonel’s office, “Goddamn he weighs a fucking ton,” Jerry groaned as he and Elvis dropped the Colonel’s body onto the ground.

“Ya telling me,” Elvis let out a huff and looked around. He leaned down and picked up the cane and looked at the Colonel. Jerry looked at Elvis with a look of intrigued. Before he knew it, Elvis lifted the cane and bashed it onto Parker’s face. Jerry flinched back a bit but continued to watch as he took a few more swings before dropping it on the floor.

“Fuck you,” Elvis muttered and looked around the office. This could be his chance to look around. See what the Colonel was hiding.

“You want to see what he could be hiding huh?” Jerry could read Elvis like no one else. He was his best friend after all, but he wanted to snoop too. Jerry hated the Colonel just as much as Elvis did.

“Oh yeah,” Elvis nodded simply.

“How about, you get back to your girl? I’ll look around and finish up in here.” Jerry suggested. Elvis turned and looked at Jerry.

“Yeah… Yeah,” Elvis nodded and rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, I should get back to her.”

“You want to hit him again don’t you?” Jerry let out a light sigh. He knew he shouldn’t push Elvis to do such things but…

“Ohh yeah,”

“Well, go ahead-” Jerry should’ve never said anything. Elvis picked up that cane once more and just went to town. The Colonel’s face was unrecognized once he was done. He just had so much anger for him, and he finally got it out.

“Okay, Elvis… I think it’s time you go back to, Y/n.” Jerry said as he took the cane out of Elvis’ hand. Elvis let out a loud breath and nodded.

“Yeah… I’ll uh- I’ll see ya tomorrow, Jer,” Elvis said as he headed towards the door.

“See you, EP.” With that, Elvis left the Colonel’s office and headed back up to his suit. Tonight has been… weirdly rough. All he wanted to do was lay in bed with his girl and fall asleep. He knew tomorrow wasn’t going to be any easier. They would find him tomorrow, and everything would be turned into a crime scene.

As Elvis reached the suit and walked in he noticed that the curtains were closed. He blinked a bit to adjust his eyes and made his way over to the bed. He saw you curled up on top of the blankets and smiled. He pressed his knee onto the mattress and pulled himself up. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against your head.

He would do anything for you.

Mutual taglist: @darlinboypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles

For those curious, this is the necklace.

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orpheusdrinkinga40inadeathbasket · 7 months

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The Beatles invigorated the role of the fan because they were the first cultural product to engage holistically with the figure of the teenage girl. They emerged onto ground broken by Elvis and then outpaced their predecessor creatively and commercially. Elvis supplied an avatar for the forbidden promise of sex, but his appeal rested in how easy he was to objectify, his obviousness. Cartoonishly handsome, he was a body onto which the teenage girl could project unspoken and illicit desire. He inspired adoration, but it could not compare to the ferocious awe frothed up among Beatles girls. There is no Elvis equivalent to the term "Beatlemaniac." "To younger teenagers, the Beatles' cheerful, faintly androgynous sexuality was more approachable than Elvis's alpha-male heat," wrote Lynskey. The Beatles offered something more complex than an empty sexual template. They presented an opportunity for identification. A girl could invest her desire in the band, but she could also discover herself there. The gaze cast on the Beatles was a queer one from the start. Before American women looked at the Beatles, they had been seen by Brian Epstein, the closeted gay record clerk who discovered and ferociously advocated for the band when record executives failed to give them a second glance. Watching them play a lunch hour show at a grimy club in Liverpool, Epstein picked up on the magnetic potential of the four young men. In Vivek Tiwary's graphic novel The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story, artist Andrew Robinson closes the frame around the future manager's stunned face as he beholds the Beatles for the first time, as if he could sense his life pivoting around that one rapturous moment. "There was some indefinable charm there," he wrote in his 1964 memoir A Cellarful of Noise. "They were extremely amusing and in a rough 'take it or leave [it] way' very attractive." Upon becoming their manager, Epstein was tasked with convincing the world to see the Beatles the way he saw them: via a gaze that desired its objects without othering them. Heterosexual desire spans a chasm, coveting difference. Queer desire pulls together like elements, finding attraction in affinity. That teen girls could even feel the kind of active, demanding sexual desire evinced by their screams was still a novel concept in the early '60s, which carried vestiges of the prior decade's postwar conservatism. "In a highly sexualized society (one sociologist found that the number of explicitly sexual references in the mass media had doubled between 1950 and 1960), teen and preteen girls were expected to be not only 'good' and 'pure' but to be the enforcers of purity within their teen society—drawing the line for overeager boys and ostracizing girls who failed in this responsibility," wrote Barbara Ehrenreich in a 1986 essay. "To abandon control—to scream, faint, dash about in mobs—was, in form if not in conscious intent, to protest the sexual repressiveness, the rigid double standard of female teen culture. It was the first and most dramatic uprising of women's sexual revolution." Befuddled by the Beatlemaniacs' exuberance, interviewers and critics (who were more often than not men) pinned the scream to a desire, of all things, to mother the band. "It has been said that you appeal to the maternal instinct in these girls," began an interviewer in 1964. John cut him off: "That's a dirty lie." Joking or not, he was right. The dynamic at hand did not correspond to a mother/son model. Beatles girls wanted the way men were expected to want: unabashedly and directly, as active agents in the exchange of desire. There was nothing coy about their hunger.

Sasha Geffen, Glitter Up the Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary

#sasha geffen #glitter up the dark #the beatles

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lala1267 · 10 months

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Her Property (Part 2)

Summary: She got what she wanted.

Warnings: smut but not too bad, breaking into a hotel room?

Aria was spralled out on her pink satin queen bed. The headboard was decorated with fairy lights and Polaroids of Elvis performing on the grand stage. The pillows were in shapes of love hearts and flowers. Her hair hugged the satin sheets, and her dress hiked up to her thighs. She lay there just staring at the giant diamond chandler that hung above her. Her brain was clouded with thoughts.

"I want Elvis, I need Elvis."

She whispered to herself as she remained stuck in her lustful haze. She was willing to do anything to have her man, anything. The sound of the television echoed around the pink room. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her body jolted as she heard,

"Elvis is in New York."

Coming from the television. She instantly sat up. Her bare feet hit the shiny wooden floor before she ran over to the television at lightning speed. She got on her knees in front of it as her bambi eyes watched the screen like a hawk. Her messy hair and her eerie look only added to her insanity.

"Elvis is in New York City for an interview on 5th Street. He is predicted to be there at 4pm. He is said to be staying at a hotel nearby."

That was all that Aria needed to make her insane thoughts a reality. She looked at the rather large clock that hung on her pink painted wall.

"3.10pm"

She said to herself before getting up and rushing to her closet. She threw all of her clothes on the floor and on her bed until she found the perfect outfit. She picked out a short tight dress that hugged her figure perfectly. It was a cherry red, and it was studded with expensive Ruby's that gleamed and twinkled in the light. She had also picked out a pair of black dolly heels and a black ribbon to sit in her blond luscious curls. Her makeup was perfect. She was perfect. She grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the door.

She walked over to 5th Street. The cold breeze hit her pretty face and pushed her golden hair back. She noticed a big crowd of people and a large black limousine.

"Elvis."

She said to herself before making her way to the crowd. Women screamed like animals and men scoffed as their girlfriends worshipped the godly man that graced their presence. Elvis stepped out of the limo and began to sign autographs and take pictures. He had a smile on his face as always. He was dressed in a silk button-up long-sleeved t-shirt that was colourful. He wore some classic black flares, and of course, he wore his signature gold belt. His dark shades covered his dreamy eyes. His black tarr hair shielded the top part of his shades. He towered over the dozens of women and even the men.

Aria finally got to the crowd, but by the time she arrived, Elvis was already inside. Her heart sunk slightly as she looked at the empty limousine. But she wasn't going to give up that easily. She saw a rather large looking security guard standing near the entrance of the building. She quickly walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder with her acrylic nail that was studded with little diamonds. The man turned around and looked down at her with a frown.

"What?"

He grunted.

"Do you know where the hotel is that Elvis is staying in by any chance?"

She asked politely. She put on her best puppy eyes and stood like a lady. The man looked down at her before pointing to a local hotel that was right across the road. Aria's eyes followed his hand. She nodded before rushing over to the hotel.

She ran across the street as cars honked their horns at her. She stopped in the middle of the street and faced one of the cars.

"Shut up!"

She shouted at the driver before walking off and flicking her hair. She finally got to the hotel. She walked through the entrance as if she owned the place. She saw some of the Memphis Mafia members in the lobby. They were already looking at her up and down. She wasn't surprised. She was a very pretty girl. She swayed her hips and swung her long hair as she walked elegantly over to the vending machine. Her heels were clicking on the marble floor that she graced. She pretended to choose one of the items. It was only a matter of time until she would have the Memphis Mafia at their knees for her.

"3, 2, 1..."

She slowly and quietly counted down.

"Ma'am, don't worry, I can buy ya something from that, I will pay."

Jerry schilling said as he came rushing over to the beauty queen. His blonde hair and smart suit were quite attractive, but Aria was here for Elvis, not Jerry. She turned around to look at the handsome man in his eyes. A sexy grin formed on her pink glossy lips as her long black eyelashes batted.

"Oh, I couldn't accept that."

She said in a high-pitched voice as she wafted her small jeweled out hand. Jerry was quick to respond.

"Oh, no, I can't let a pretty girl like you pay."

He said as he stepped closer to her. Aria smiled slightly as she looked up at him.

"Well in that case, I'll have a cherry cola."

She said as she looked at him with her bambi eyes. Jerry nodded before pressing a few buttons and inserting a few coins into the vending machine. He patiently waited for the cola to come out. He grabbed it and gently handed it over to Aria, who was drowning in her own ego.

"Could I get your name, my lovely?"

"My name is Aria."

She said in a flirtatious tone.

"Well, Aria, that's a pretty name. Tell me what you are doing here."

"I'm just booking a room for the night."

She said.

"I'm also staying here for the night. I don't know if you know already but I work for Elvis and he's staying at this hotel. He's staying in room 222, and I'm in room 234."

He said. He followed his sentence with a flirtatious wink. This was exactly what Aria wanted to hear. Aria smiled and tucked a hair behind her ear before she continued to make small talk with Jerry for what seemed like forever. Once she was finished she walked up to the receptionist and booked her room.

"What room would you like to book ma'am?"

The receptionist lady asked politely.

"Room 221 please, and for one night."

Aria said kindly.

"Ok ma'am."

"Oh, wait. Could you please give me an extra set of keys, I stayed at this hotel before and I lost them, its always better to have a backup."

She said as she fake smiled at the lady. The lady turned around to the key sections. Many different numbers were wrote onto each slot, representing each room.

"Your room 221, so this must be yours?

The receptionist asked.

"Mine is the one that says 222. Another man said that he would have to put my set of keys in the 222 slot since there wasn't any space."

She said as she pointed to the 222 slot. The receptionist furrowed her brows in confusion but she let it slide. Once the receptionist was fully turned around, Aria had to cover her cheeky grin with her hand. The receptionist turned back around and handed her the keys before working again.

"Thankyou ma'am."

She said before walking off with a skip in her step. She walked into the elevator and pressed the button for floor 8. She turned around to look at the mirror that was polished perfectly. She began to rummage through her handbag. She pulled out some lip gloss that was a baby pink. She carefully applied the substance to her plump lips before blowing a kiss to herself. The bell rang to signal that she had reached floor eight. She turned around whilst putting the lip gloss back into her bag. As the doors opened, a large smile cascaded over her face. She walked out of it like a happy child.

She made her way to her room. She fiddled with the keys and turned the handle until it unlocked. She walked in and shut the door behind her. She didn't think twice before throwing her stuff onto the bed and walking straight back out. She checked her watch once she was in the corridor. It's was 4.50pm.

Elvis would be back any minute. She quickly pulled out the silver keys that had the number "222" engraved onto the shiny metal. She sneakily unlocked Elvis's door whilst she looked around suspiciously. She heard a click as she slowly pushed open Elvis's door. She quietly stepped into the dark room. Her doll eyes scanned the room briefly before she shut the door.

She flicked a light switch, and she watched as the luxurious room light up. It was beautiful. A large vanity sat itself next to the bathroom door, and a grand king bed was placed neatly next to a wall. Her heels hit the purple carpet beneath her as she explored the room. She walked up to the nightstand. It seemed that Elvis had already been in here since his wallet and belongings were sitting there. She carefully grabbed the wallet with her small hands and opened it. Her sparkling eyes widened as she saw the hundred dollar bills that were stashed in there like they were nothing. But her eyes were quickly hooded when she saw a small picture in a small pocket within the wallet. Her fingers slid into the pocket and pulled out the thin paper.

It was Elvis doing a funny pose with another woman. The woman had jet black hair, just like Elvis's. She was wearing an expensive looking dress. Her hand was placed on his face. Aria's heart sunk and shattered as she saw the large diamond ring on the woman's finger. It couldn't be. She turned the picture over to reveal Elvis's hand righting. It read,

"My beautiful wife."

Aria seemed to be stuck or even frozen. Her fists bawled, and her cheeks grew red. Her teeth grinded against eachover.

"Wife, my ass."

She said through her teeth to herself as she forcefully shoved the picture back into the wallet. She threw the wallet onto the nightstand before walking over to the vanity. She bent down to look into her reflection. She began to apply some makeup. Her hands were trembling with anger as she did so.

"He is mine, and I'll prove it."

She said as she angrily applied her lip gloss. Once she was done, she stormed over to the king bed and sat herself down. She hid her anger by plastering a mistevious grin on her smug face. Her hands ran through her blonde hair before she brushed out any creases in her sexy dress. She crossed her model legs and waited patiently for Elvis.

Not long after, the door knob moved and jolted until the door pushed open. The light from the hallway shot into the room before Elvis stood tall in the doorway. He closed the door and slipped his shoes off. He placed his stuff onto the small table that stood beside the door. Aria's smile only grew wider. Elvis turned around. He furrowed his brows and froze for a moment. He looked at Aria in horror. Aria played with her hair as she waited for Elvis to speak.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?!"

He said as he raised his voice. His fists clenched as he looked at Aria, who stood up from the bed. She slowly walked over to him.

"Don't worry about that."

She said as she stepped closer to him. Her alluring eyes locked with his icey blues.

"What do you want?"

He asked in a fed up tone as he realised who she was. Aria's brows furrowed, and she stepped closer.

"I just wanted to suprise you. What's wrong with that?"

"You fucking broke into my hotel room goddammit!"

Elvis shouted as his eyes filled with fury. This only feuled Aria's ego. She put her index finger against his plump lips as her other hand rested on his chest.

"Hush baby, no need to get angry."

She whispered seductively as she felt his hot breath on her face. Elvis's chest rose up and down.

"You need to leave."

He said sternly. Aria was only inches away from his handsome face. It was so crazy that she was able to haunt Elvis. She was like his shadow.

"Aww, come on, we can have some fun."

She said as she looked into his dreamy eyes.

"I have a wife."

He said as he broke eyecontact. Aria looked at him with a grin on her face.

"Well, that didn't stop you last time, did it?"

She giggled softly. Elvis rolled his eyes before looking at her.

"I'm not like that anymore, I'm a changed man."

He said.

"Oh shut up, don't bullshit me. You can't be a "changed man" in a month."

Aria looked at him as her eyes hooded. Elvis didn't reply. He just looked to the floor. Aria carresed his cheek with her fingers, she looked up at him.

"I know you want me."

She whispered. No reply.

"I can treat you better then that basic bitch can. I can make you feel real good."

No reply. She was so menacing and alluring, something about her was so magnetic. It was like she had a secret power.

"I'll make ya wish that you put the ring on my finger. Just let me make ya feel -"

Her sentence was suddenly interrupted as Elvis grabbed her head and kissed her aggressively. His hands got trapped on her hair as his tongue danced around hers. Aria's hands trailed his body before he forcefully picked her body up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as her hands latched onto his face as she kissed him. He walked over to the bed and placed her on the satin sheets. She looked up at him as he began to unbutton his trousers. Her menacing grin appeared once again. She bit her lip as she watched him strip. Once he was bare, he hiked Aria's dress up to her waist and pulled her panties off aggressively. He threw them to the floor. He dragged her body towards his and began to thrust into her like it was his last day. He was so aggressive and strong yet so sexy and handsome. Her moans filled the room as her body bounced up and down. Her angelic moans were like music to his ears. Elvis grunted into her ear like an animal. His big hands gripped her waist tightly. He squeezed her to the point where it hurt, but she didn't care. She looked at the sweat that dripped from his head and soaked into the smooth sheets. His hair bounced. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. It was like he was letting his built-up rage out on her. Almost as if she was an object. Her lininen curls were now messy and frizzy.He slowed down once he reached his high. Aria's moans got quieter as she passed her orgasm. Elvis layed on top of her body, his chest heaving and his heart beating.

"Oh, I love you."

Aria said breathlessly into his ear. Elvis got up and began to put his trousers back as he looked down at Aria. Her hair was messy, and her cheeks were red.

"You make me do some crazy things."

He said before chuckling. Aria smiled before sitting up. Elvis walked over to his wardrobe and got changed into some boxers. He grabbed a t-shirt of his and threw it at Aria. Aria looked up at him confused.

"Put it on, you're staying here with me."

Elvis said. A large smile invaded Aria's face as she looked at him. Her heart began to beat faster as her blood coursed through her veins. Her dimpled cheeks and ruby lips enhanced as he looked at her. She quickly put the clothes on like it was her mission. Elvis lay down in the bed as he watched her change. Once she finished, she turned around to look at Elvis.

"C'mere honey."

He said with his southern drawl as he looked at her with a grin. She walked over to him, and she was pulled into his arms. She lay on top of him as he cuddled her like a baby. His hands stroked her body as his breath blew on her. This was all she ever wanted, and she got it. The smell of his cologne and the heat of his body. It was pure bliss. She smelt of white roses and felt as fragile and satiny as her hair. She lifted her head to look into his glittering eyes. She smiled as she looked at him. His long eyelashes and thick brows were so angelic and sexy. He bent his head down towards her and placed a candy sweet kiss onto her forehead, making her eyes flutter shut. She had finally got what she wanted.

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