#Austin butler!elvis

[angelinajoulie]

At his mercy.

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: dom!Austin Butler x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary: Austin fucks you in his ‘The late late show’ suit.

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT. this is PURE FILTH; age gap; austin is definitely a DOM in this (you can't tell me otherwise); swearing; pet names; fingers sucking; oral (m receiving); size kink; praise kink; austin referring to himself as daddy (just twice); unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it); creampie; cockwarming (sorta??).

a/n: English is not my first language, this is the first time I’ve written from Italian to English and after two months of writing and translating this work I really don't know what came out, so please forgive any mistake✨ leave a comment down here and let me know what you think✨

Enjoy!

It's late at night, the lights outside are already out, and the street lamps are the only ones left to light the wet road while everything around is sleeping and waiting for a new day to come. Not a sound, not a noise is bothering the atmosphere outside except for the sweet rustles of trees on the street as a black Range Rover nears the driveway.

Shortly after, the sudden noise of a door opening makes you skip a beat, taking you off-guard and waking you from your sleep. He is back.

Your eyelids open slowly and you instinctively look at the alarm on the nightstand. 1:30 am.

"As usual," you think.

It takes you a little to realize that you fell asleep too early and didn't wait awake for him— as you always do, but you had a very stressful day at college and you couldn't help yourself to give in to the comfy bed beneath you.

So you decide to wait for him to make his way into the bedroom before you can close your eyes again.

You hear him from upstairs while he tosses the keys on the side table at the entrance, then a series of muffled noises follow.

And then, again, silence.

You feel your eyes getting heavy and you know that you'll fall asleep soon. But not without him.

And noticing he's still not gone upstairs yet you decide to get down to him.

You rise from the bed and a breath of wind wraps around your shoulders as soon as the blanket leaves your body, leading you to wear your white satin robe before going downstairs.

Your bare feet meet every cold step unnoticeably, the high temperature difference between the two floors causing you to shrug.

You're searching for him, your eyes are looking at every corner of the living room while waiting to catch his figure until your feet finally touch the ground.

You see him.

Standing in front of the cupboard against the wall, bottle in his hand as he pours himself a large glass of whiskey.

Austin.

He is wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit from Prada that perfectly matches his blue eyes, the jacket left open to reveal a black mesh shirt, half undone and barely covering his toned, tanned chest.

It suits him heavenly.

His eyes look up to meet yours as soon as he feels your presence.

“Hey” he murmurs in a low and raspy voice.

“Hi” you respond and get closer to him, trying to greet him properly.

Seeing you lean in he puts the bottle back in its place and in no time you feel his arm around your waist. Austin lowers his head for his lips to meet yours in a chaste and tender kiss, the first one after an entire day away from each other.

Your hand travels up his spine, reaching the nape of his neck and starting caressing it, your fingers sneaking between his hair gently as you hold yourself closer to his chest. His body is so warm against yours, his warmth filling your heart completely and making you feel safe in the tight grip of his strong arms.

You’ve missed him so much.

The last period has been very exhausting for him, every day passes between interviews, photoshoots and premieres and he's terribly busy, and considering that you too have your things to do with college and all, you're both forced to be apart from each other. But despite all of this, you always try to do your best to support him, following him at the events when possible or watching him on TV, waiting for him until he gets home— like you should've done today too.

Soon your lips move away with a tiny 'pop' and your eyes meet, a shy smile appearing on both of your faces.

“How was your day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Great, just a lil tiring” he sighs, caressing your hip gently “have you seen the show?”

You nod without hesitation.

“Of course I did,” a sense of pride overwhelms you seeing him smile slightly at your obviousness “just for you.”

“Really?” he grins, pretending to be surprised as his eyes look down at yours and you nod again.

“Yeah”

“Good girl” he places two of his fingers under your chin, lifting it up for your lips to meet his again in a quick kiss before he pulls away from you and takes the full glass of whiskey in his hand.

You shudder thinking about the pet name.

Good girl...

“And what about you? How was college today?”

Your gaze never leaves him, following each one of his movements while he reaches the couch and takes a seat between the black leather cushions. A shiver runs down your spine, stopping right on your lower stomach. Your mind gets fuzzy, distracting you from his question.

Legs wide apart, broad shoulders resting on the back of the sofa, his right hand on his knee and thigh as the left one brings the edge of the glass towards his mouth, needing a sip. The bitter and yellowish liquid runs down his throat, and his eyes shut just for a second until he swallows it, licking his plump lips after.

You feel yourself throb around nothing at the sight of him manspreading, and your thighs instantly rub together at the thought of every single time you've seen him doing that same thing: eyes closed, lips and tongue wet— not from whiskey.

You don't know why, you don't even know how to explain it to yourself, but seeing him like this sparked something inside you since you saw him on ‘The Late Late Show’ tonight. Something able to keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to him.

He looks so confident. So dominant. So powerful. Right now, he could move mountains at his pleasure just by lifting a finger if he only wanted to.

And that damn suit... God, you want to sit on his lap so bad.

You'd do it immediately if only you weren't so shy to stand still at your place, merely biting at your lower lip while fantasizing about the mighty man in front of you, a gesture so simple but not enough to go unnoticed— not to him. Not to Austin.

His icy eyes linger on you again and this is the exact moment where you come back to reality and blush.

“What's up?” your awkwardness leads you to open your mouth and talk before you can remember a very important detail.

You still haven't answered his question.

“I asked you” he emphasizes, his tone sharp and deep as he takes in another sip and his tongue runs over his lips to wipe them more slowly and languidly than before, never taking his eyes off of yours “how was college today, angel?”

A mischievous grin appears on his face, the name that always knew how to make your stomach twirl makes you understand everything.

You got caught.

“G-good...” you stutter, coughing slightly as your cheeks are on fire for both arousal and embarrassment in front of that one clear consciousness.

You have a lot on your mind at the moment, a thousand thoughts are running through your head and Austin can read every single one of them.

And you know that he can, you know that he knows what you're thinking about.

Austin knows everything about you.

Because he knows you too well.

He can see from a mile away that something inside you snapped. Your body language is enough to let him know what you want and what you need.

He's tired, the only thing he needs at the moment is to finish his drink, take his clothes off and go to sleep with you, but seeing you wearing nothing but that white silk robe that barely covers your thighs as you bashfully bite your lip, thinking about all the shameless things you want him to do to you, is enough to drive him crazy too.

Because he'll never get enough of you.

He lifts his right hand and two of his fingers gesture you to get close.

“C'mere” his order is like liquid gold for you. You walk towards him without blinking, reaching the couch, stepping in front of him as if you've been waiting to all day.

Austin quickly swallows the last drop of whiskey, leaving the now empty glass on the table before grabbing your wrist and putting you between his spread legs.

His fingers manage to undo the tight bow of your robe, taking it off of you to reveal a lovely black satin nightie under it, one of the many he bought you to make up for the many others he ripped off of your body: soft to the touch, lightweight, with thin stripes and lace hems, short enough to leave your ass exposed.

No doubt that it's his favorite one. You're a goddess in it.

His forefinger traces a line up your thigh and reaches the hem of your nightie, your cheeks reddening as soon as he lifts it up, giving you goosebumps.

Austin feels his cock throb in his pants at the sight.

You aren't wearing panties. As he wished.

“No panties, mh?” you shook your head no, feeling the heat starting to pool right on your bare center and your heart pounding in your chest.

You feel so exposed under his touch, so weak, so small, so vulnerable at the feeling of your skin burning under his lingering hot gaze. Your body is completely at his mercy, poorly covered by that tiny piece of fabric while Austin still has his suit on, fully clothed from head to toe, looking at you like an uncompromising master who's thinking about the right treat for his good submissive. And in the darkest and deepest part of yourself, you're loving it.

You love that he always wants to be in control. You love being controlled by him.

At the moment you just want to follow his rules, please him, worship him, be punished if needed, because you want to be a good girl for him and him only.

“Get on your knees, angel.” and when his order comes, you can do nothing more than obey.

Your knees fall to the floor with a soft thud, hands anchored on his thick thighs as you're face to face with his crotch.

Austin's fingers are under your chin again, a gentle reminder for you to pull your gaze up to his face, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

His baby blues are darkened, filled with craving and lust as they meet your shy and innocent ones waiting for mercy, for him to choose their fate and what is better for them.

Like an angel at God's feet.

“You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?” his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“So submissive” he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive” the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth. You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

“So greedy...”

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

“Bet your pretty little head's just thinking about one thing since I came home, doesn't it?” you nod frantically, his wet digits still in your mouth before he retracts them.

“Use your words.” authority drips from his tone and you sigh.

“Y-yes...” not enough.

“Yes what, angel?” your head lowers again in front of his request but he holds you still in place, grabbing your jaw “Look at me”

“I...” words get stuck in your throat, too shy to let them slip out easily.

“C'mon, don't be shy. Wanna hear you say it” he spurs “what's on your mind?”

Your heart keeps pounding as never before, and at this point, you don't even know how but you say it.

“I want your cock.”

“And where do you want it, angel?” he smirks as he adjusts himself between the cushions, your thighs clenching together to hide the wetness between them.

You love everything about him and the thing you love most is that he's able to read your mind without talking, but right now it seems like he has forgotten about this ability of his own. And you're hating him for this.

Because you know he's doing it on purpose.

He wants to hear your voice.

He wants to hear you beg.

He wants to hear your innocent mouth tell him the dirty things you want from him, the things he knows that make you feel all small and weak.

For this reason you swallow thickly, and gasping with your heart on your sleeve, you answer.

“In m-my mouth.”

“Then take it.” his words are the only green light you needed to put your shyness aside and leave room for the actions you're going to do in silence.

You reach the fly of his trousers with both hands, unzipping it and slipping between the black fabric of his briefs, freeing his cock.

You take it in your hand, he's already hard as it springs free against his stomach, the contact of your fingers against his weak flesh making him gasp.

You feel him. Long, warm and veiny, the tip already reddened and leaking with precum.

Your mouth waters at the sight. You need to make him feel good so bad.

You sit better on your own thighs, adjusting yourself to avoid the feeling of your knees pressing against the carpet before running your hand along his shaft.

Your strokes are slow and gentle, your fingers applying a small amount of pressure, making him breathe heavily.

“Angel...” he's so eager to feel you, the way his hips are bucking up to meet your strokes is silently proving it. So you decide to indulge him.

You lean forward and your lips start kissing his length from the base to the tip. You tease his slit with your thumb before starting to leave kitten licks on his head, feeling his salty taste exploding on your taste buds.

“Mmm, little one...” a deep groan falls from his lips and goes straight to your soaked center, making you shudder in your place “I love feeling your mouth on my cock...”

He seems so much weaker than before, and a strong sense of power washes over you.

“Fuck...” he swears, adjusting the blonde locks falling on his forehead.

The sensation of your warm mouth around his girth already sending him into a state of pure bliss “I'm not going to last long”.

You take a deep breath through your nose and start sucking, slowly moving your head up and down his cock as far as you can, trying your best to please him. His hand ends behind your head, his fingers holding you close to him as he'd never let you go.

“Yes, baby” he grunts “you feel so good”

Arousal is growing more and more inside of you, your pussy getting wetter as juices start flowing out of you because of hearing him moan.

You feel so bold right now, a sense of euphoria takes over you all of a sudden and makes you grind uncontrollably, searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs while your head bobs faster around him.

“Yes, just like that, keep going baby...” you do as you're told. You keep sucking, and Austin's grip between your hair tightens.

The cool metal of his rings presses against the nape of your neck, his knuckles turning white and his protruding veins popping out as he applies more pressure to guide your hips at his own pace, making you feel trapped under his grip— under his control.

Right now you're the one giving him pleasure but it doesn't matter. He'll always know how to control you and be in charge.

Your throat is becoming sore and dry, some locks are covering your sweaty forehead and falling on his pubic bone as little tears are forming at the corners of your eyes.

You're a complete mess.

“My pretty little angel- shit, I'm going to fuck your pussy so good” his promise hits you right at your core and a choked moan escapes from your lips, the vibration is so intense against the head of his cock that he jerks frantically.

“Oh god!” his eyebrows furrow, his tight grip around your neck forces you to swallow more of him until he's hitting the back of your throat.

You can't take it anymore. You pull away from him, your fingers never stopping to rub his cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you breathe feverishly, searching for air to fill your lungs but Austin is quicker than any move you can make and leans toward your lips.

“Wanna cum inside you.” he tugs you into his mouth hungrily and you moan in both surprise and excitement. You are both panting at the same pace, his tongue slides into your wide-open mouth starting a steamy make-out session where your lips crash between grunts and bite each other without mercy.

Austin moves both his hands on your covered back and you sit up to climb on top of him. Your legs surround his thick thighs and your hands run everywhere on his sweaty chest and around his neck.

“I love you” he breathes on your lips, between heated kisses “so much”

“I love you too, Aus- ah!” his throbbing cock pushes against your soaked folds, making you gasp and jolt. The thrill is too much, you're so desperate that you start grinding against him, searching for friction to stop the hundreds of shocks running down your spine and hitting your womanhood repeatedly.

Your skin burns under his touch. You want him. You need him. You crave him.

And he knows it.

His hand stops on your asscheek, underneath the fabric of your nightie as his teeth keep biting your bottom lip voraciously, his fingers squeezing your flesh before grasping the hem of your nightie.

Austin takes it off of you and tosses it to the side.

Now you're fully naked on his lap, your breasts are pressed against his half-covered chest and your stomach shakes at the sensation of being so exposed while he's overdressed.

He leans forward a bit enough to bring his hands behind his back and take off his jacket.

“No!” your voice leaves your throat in a worried shriek, bringing out a primal emotion hidden in the deepest part of you.

Austin halts and looks you in the eyes, urging you to give him reasons. You blush.

You can't run away.

“L-leave it on...” you swallow thickly, hair falling on your face, hiding your awkwardness from him. Right now you're ashamed to death for this implied confession and his silence is not helping to ease your feeling.

He simply keeps staring at you, with those damned eyes that know how to make you melt, and without saying a word he kisses you again.

His tongue hungrily pushes itself into your mouth, giving you goosebumps as his fingers slide down straight between your folds, coating in your juices.

Now he can feel it.

“Fuck, you're dripping” his touch is so slight and lasts only for a moment, making you moan against his lips "all this wet just for sucking daddy's cock and seeing him in this suit, mh?"

“Please, Aus...”

“Who knew a stupid suit would make my little girl so eager?”

You don't answer and your shyness seems to no longer exist.

You just keep grinding against him, more desperate than ever while his tip rubs against your throbbing clit; he grasps his cock with his hand, adjusting himself on the couch and lining up with your slit, teasing it as your heart aches in eagerness and you can do nothing more than keep begging him shamelessly.

Hearing you beg is making him crazy, he swears he could stand still for hours only to hear you beg with your tear-filled eyes, but right now he just wants you too much to do it.

“Please, I need you”

You don't need to say anything else. His tip pushes inside your cunt and right after he grips your waist forcefully. His entire length slides inside you slowly, your mouth curving in a perfect 'o' from which nothing comes out as you pull away from his lips. Your breath hitches as he makes you sink onto him until you feel his pubic bone hitting against your swollen clit.

You're stuck, unable to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shout and cry out.

“Oh!” you feel so full. Full of him.

He gives you a few seconds to get used to his presence inside you and a heavy breath releases from his chest.

“Shit, you're so tight” he curses under his breath, bottom lip between his sparkling teeth and eyes closed for pleasure.

And then he starts guiding you onto him and you let yourself get carried by his hands, feeble like jelly as you meet his thrusts, moving slowly, moaning weakly.

“Aus” you whimper, each one of your moves against him only stretching you open more.

“Shh angel, you can handle it” he coos softly in your ear, leaving sweet kisses behind your lobe, helping you to ease the pain.

Your thighs are trembling as they wrap around his and your fingers slide between his blonde locks, trying to hold him closer than ever.

From this position, you can feel him completely. Every inch, curve, vein, and single part of him is inside you to the brim and is filling you perfectly with a combination of pain and pleasure that only Austin can give you.

You open your eyes and look at him. He's already staring at you and now your gazes lock together, making you both feel more connected with your soul than just your bodies and skin.

Your breaths mingle, your lips only a few inches distant from each other and ready to touch again with each thrust.

“You're taking me so well” he murmurs.

His forehead is sweaty, his lips are plump and red like yours, his jaw clenching as he watches you fall apart on his cock and babble something in response before moaning, struggling to take him.

You feel that familiar coil growing in you, your walls clench around his girth and you feel the base of your stomach burn every time his tip caresses your cervix.

It's too much for you. You stop, ready to surrender to his touch, but Austin holds you in place.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, pretty girl.” his fingers force you to sit straight, impaling you more and more on his cock.

“I-i can't...”

“C'mon little one, don't be a brat” he warns you as he starts guiding your hips again, with slow but intense strokes, the stimulation leading a whine to escape your lips before you stop again.

“Hmmph... t-too much...” you babble, it's the only thing you're barely able to say. You can't even talk.

It's so good, you just wish you had the strength to ride him faster but his cock's hitting you so deep you swear you could die in his arms.

Suddenly something draws his attention and forces him to look down.

You feel his hand press on your belly and you gasp in surprise. So you lower your head as well and see the outline of his cock poking out of your stomach.

The vision makes his cock twitch and your walls squeeze around him. He's in your guts.

“God, you look so hot like this” his gaze is burning on your skin, and you can say he definitely loves the sight in front of him. His pupils are dilated, and his breath is getting heavier. He's addicted “Small, desperate, and full of my cock”

You moan hard, turned on by his words and seeing how much he's going deep inside you with every stroke.

“‘s so deep inside you, uh?” he mocks you, his thumb rubbing your tummy as your eyes meet each other again.

“Y-yes! S-so deep” hearing your voice cracked and desperate leads him to one conclusion.

“Think you need daddy's help” suddenly his grip on your flesh tightens and with no warning he pushes you down onto him brutally, slamming his cock into you, bucking his hips upwards to start thrusting deeper, harder.

In a matter of seconds, your nails dig into the back of his hands and you scream, tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Aus- oh, god!” you moan louder, your mouth wide open as ecstasy takes over you, leading you to shake uncontrollably against his hips, making him grunt and moan.

“Keep moving, angel, don't stop...” he whispers as you try to follow his orders as far as your body permits you.

His cock is buried in you, he is fucking you so good you're barely able to move properly.

“Yes, just like that, baby, you're so good” his words keep hitting at your core, only spurring you to push yourself to your own limits as he starts leaving wet kisses on your throat “My good girl...”

"Please, please, please!" the fire inside you is ready to burst, your peak is getting closer and you want more.

“You wanna cum, angel?”

“Yes, yes please, n-need to cum!” hot tears start streaming down your cheeks and you moan again, again and again, scratching his hands and leaving bruises on his knuckles.

Everything seems to be so intense. Sweat is soaking your bodies, immersing you both in a hot-as-hell shower. The wet sound of bones and skins slapping floods your ears, your juices flowing down your thighs ruining the fine fabric of his expensive trousers.

You're so close and so is he. You feel in heaven.

“Then cum baby, cum around my cock” his voice shakes you inside, his tip hits that sweet spot in you and your vision goes blurry.

“Austin!” you cry out, your throat rips apart for the strength of your climax. Your orgasm washes over you and you convulse, the shocks running through your body are too strong and leave you powerless as you collapse on his chest.

“Fucking god” soon a growl of satisfaction slips from his throat, and his abdomen tightens underneath you. His grip loosens, thick ropes of his white cum spill inside you and paint your walls, making you shiver.

The room is now filled with silence, interrupted every now and then by the racing breaths escaping from both of your lungs.

You're exhausted.

“You did so good, angel, so good” he starts caressing your head gently, his praises warming your heart as you try to recover from the passionate fuck you two just had, but before you can say anything he picks you up and gets off the couch.

You whimper in surprise, finding the strenght to tie your legs and arms around the soft fabric of his suit as Austin's cock is still hard inside you.

“Let's go t' bed, baby” he announces, a wicked grin crossing his face “Wanna see how deep I can fill this pussy if I let you ride me on the mattress”

a/n: okay sooo… what do you think? would you like to read anything else? i got five or six ideas to write in my drafts already 👀

Tag-list: @pennyroyalcreep @bcofl0ve @houndogsblog @gigisworldsstuff @emmaolsen @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @fuckhoes1123 @cchl @auranightangle @spirited-away-to-mandalore @donnamarie23 @ab4eva @dancer4j @kibumslatina @denised916 @faeolwen @alqvarde @lilmisswoo93 @oldermenluverrr @eliseinmemphis @purejasmine @lillypink @sournatromanoff @lukedorkyhemmings @claudia-barnes @bo-burnhxm @lilac-presley @onlyangelssing @amorx

(the tag list is OPEN, comment down here if you wanna be added!)

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler ff #austin butler imagine #austin elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler!elvis #austin x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fluff #austin butler one shot #austin butler headcanons #elvis x reader #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis fluff #elvis imagine #elvis film #elvis presley #elvis movie #elvis!austin #smut #angst

[she-is-juniper]

Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader series (chapter one)

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Reader

Type: series (chapter 1 / ?)

Warnings: fluff, some angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn

Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work...and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are?

Word Count (by chapter): 5K 

Rating (by chapter): M (mature)

A/N: This is the first chapter of my new series, Only Ones Who Know! ♡ It’ll be a slow burn but I hope you’ll stick around for the payoff!

I wrote this fic visualizing Austin!Elvis, but you could also read it with real!Elvis as well if you prefer. The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956 (sources are here).

I’m really excited for this one! So please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance!

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

July 4th, 1956 

On a sleepy, sweltering hot July afternoon on the east side of Memphis, the newly-crowned King of Rock and Roll sauntered in the doors of the diner where I was working.

I was refilling a customer’s mug of coffee when I saw him walk in, and I didn’t realize I had overfilled it until the man exclaimed and jumped up from the table.

“Sorry, sir,” I said, frazzled, and hurried to soak up the overflow of coffee from the table with a handful of napkins. My knees threatened to give out as I snuck another glance at the newcomer at the door. It was him. It was really him. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Arguably the most famous—and most controversial—musician in the world right then.

My childhood best friend. The boy I hadn’t seen in eight years. My first kiss. 

Elvis surveyed the room full of open diner seats with curious eyes, finally settling on a booth by the windows. He slid into the seat, continuing to scan the restaurant, until he met my gaze, and the world stopped—for me, at least. For him, though…there was no change to his face, no spark of recognition in his blue eyes. Simply a raise of the chin: an acknowledgement for waitressing service.

And it was in that moment that I realized that Elvis Presley had no idea who I was. 

I rushed to finish cleaning the customer’s table. I felt Elvis’ eyes boring into the back of my head, waiting for me to come over there to take his order, and I cursed inwardly when I realized no one else was working today who could take his order instead. It was only me. 

I could hide in the kitchen, I thought. But the route to the kitchen was right in his line of sight. There was a table toward the back that I hadn’t wiped down yet, I realized, so I avoided the musician’s gaze and took my sweet time spraying and wiping down the table.

A whistle got my attention. Elvis Presley was flagging me down. “What’s a man gotta do for a hot meal at this restaurant?” he said, flashing his white teeth at me.

My heart leapt into my throat. There was simply no way around it. I would have to go over there.

I took a steadying breath and pretended to busy myself in my order pad as I made my way over to the singer. Would he remember me at last once I was closer? 

“Sorry for the wait, sir,” I quavered once I reached his booth. It took everything in my might for me to pry my eyes from my order pad and meet his eyes again. But I finally did.

Elvis Presley, there, in the flesh. With his clean suit and styled black hair, he looked like a movie star and exuded a larger-than-life aura. My cheeks felt hot as he gazed up at me with his familiar icy eyes and smiled warmly.

But not a glimmer of recognition. 

“Was starting to think you folks might be closed here on the Fourth of July,” he drawled, “‘til I saw that other man sitting over there, the one you spilled coffee all over.”

His voice—his genuine voice, not distorted through my car radio, or through the tiny speakers of my television set—was exactly as I remembered it, albeit much lower in pitch. He was a man, now, after all. God, was he a man.

He leaned forward toward me expectantly, and I realized I had just been staring at him for far too long. I scrambled for any kind of intelligent response.

“We may be slow today, but we’re open,” I said as casually as possible while I handed him a menu.

“And that man’s coffee?” Elvis asked, smirking. 

“Oh, you know. It’s our Fourth of July special. Everyone gets, uh, a little extra coffee today.”

The singer laughed, and I chewed on my cheek, mentally praising myself for being able to come up with a joke like that while serving Elvis Presley. I was still reeling at the fact that he didn’t remember me. Beneath the overwhelming feeling of surprise that he’d serendipitously come into the diner where I worked, I felt a twinge of hurt. 

Who am I kidding? Of course he doesn’t remember me. 

But I remembered him, vividly. Not the Elvis Presley whose crooning voice was currently sweeping the world’s radio stations with his latest single ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. Not the Elvis Presley who had just premiered on the Steve Allen Show a few days prior, wearing a ridiculous tuxedo and singing to a basset hound. 

I remembered the Elvis Presley who lived in Tulepo, Mississippi. The boy next door. 

The Presley family lived in the run-down house next to my family’s, almost a decade ago. Their only son Elvis and I essentially grew up together; he was like the brother I never had. A flash of memories came back to me…memories of running around the neighborhood with Elvis—all skin and bones back then—holding hands while we explored, because that was just what you did when you were kids. Our worn shoes perpetually dusty from the dirt roads. Our lives immersed in the sounds of rhythm and blues. For twelve years, long before he’d found fame as a musician, Elvis Presley was my best friend. 

And now, he didn’t remember me. 

If my face had contorted with the sudden onslaught of the memories, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Well, hon, forgive me if I order something other than the coffee, then,” he jested. Good natured as ever. 

“What’ll you have?” I asked.

“A Coke, for now,” he replied. He was…staring at me, now. An inquisitive smile spread across his face. “Do you…?”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked.

“...Do you know who I am?” Elvis asked.

I gaped. Was he asking if I knew him?

Oh, that arrogant braggart.

“Do I know you?” I repeated with mock naivety. My initial shock reaction was burning into acerbity. “Hmm. Can’t say that I do.”

“That’s too bad,” Elvis remarked. He suddenly seemed as though he was infinitely more interested in me than before.

“Well?” I said haltingly. “Don’t you know me?”

Elvis’ flashed that irresistible grin. “Well, of course I do,” he said with complete seriousness. My heart stopped beating until he said, “You’re my waitress. And a pretty one, at that.”

My blood boiled—either with aggravation or with flattery, I wasn’t sure. It was at that moment that I recognized the unmistakable tension between our bodies, fueled by the flirtatious sparkle in his eyes. I hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time. Not since the last time I’d seen Elvis Presley, eight years ago.

“I’ll be back with your drink, then,” I bit out, but before I could turn away, he speaks again.

“What’s your name, darlin’? I don’t see a nametag on you.”

I touched my uniform where I usually pinned my nametag—the nametag I just so happened to have forgotten on my bathroom counter this morning of all mornings. My name.

This would be it…the moment he realized who I was.

“My name?” I repeated.

He just looked at me expectantly. 

I gazed back for too long, praying for him to realize. I wanted to tell him, so badly. But even more, I wanted him to remember. I didn’t know what to do. But before I could decide, a voice thundered from the kitchen.

“Order up! Missy, where you at?” Ray, the diner’s grumpy head cook, tapped the order bell three times and scowled at me through the kitchen window. “Cut the gas and get back to work,” he barked. 

“So, ‘Missy’?” Elvis asked. 

I blinked. “Missy” was Ray’s nickname for every waitress at the diner, and not exactly a term of endearment seeing as he only said it when he was impatient with us. But Elvis didn’t need to know that.

“You can call me ‘Missy’ if you want,” I responded at last, the coyness in my voice easily mistaken for coquetry. Sure enough, Elvis’ face lit up like a light. 

“Missy,” he repeated. “I won’t keep you.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said and smiled tightly as I skirted off to the kitchen. 

I still couldn't believe my eyes. Elvis was here, really here. I shouldn’t have been surprised, seeing as he spent his teenage years in this city, and his parents still lived here. I had just moved to Memphis this year when I enrolled for the local women’s college, but I had yet to run into the newly-famous Elvis or his family. Until now.

He was so…different. So sure of himself, no longer the humble, awkward, shy, scrawny boy I’d once known. Perhaps that Elvis no longer existed. It had been almost eight years, I realized, since the last time I’d seen him in the flesh. Eight years since the Presleys loaded up their belongings in their 1939 Plymouth and left for Memphis.

I remembered that day like it was yesterday, although I’d spent the past eight years trying with all of my might to forget it. Trying to wish I could take back what I’d said on that day.

I had to remind myself that I, too, had changed. I had grown up, too. I probably looked completely different from the girl he knew from our modest Tulepo upbringing.

“How many times will I have to tell you to stop flirting with the customers?” Ray, the cook, grumbled as I grabbed a plate of food from the counter. 

“I’m not flirting with nobody, Ray,” I said lightly, checking the burger on the plate. “You forgot the mustard.”

Ray snatched the plate back to fix the order. “Who is that kid anyhow? He ain’t from around these parts, is he?” Ray huffed. 

“Not anymore,” I grumbled under my breath. But Ray was looking harder through the kitchen window toward where Elvis was seated. His eyes narrowed.

“That can’t be that clown from the Milton Berle show, can it? Vernon and Gladys’ son?” 

I said nothing, just took the plate from Ray and poured a glass of Coca-Cola from the fountain. Ray was huffing to himself as I exited the kitchen; I made out the words “those obscene hips” and “corrupting the youth.” Like most of the country, the citizens of Memphis were split between lauding the King of Rock and despising him; Ray, I understood then, was among those who thought the latter. It was as much of a shock to see “The New Elvis Presley” on Steve Allen wearing a tuxedo as it had been to see him thrusting his hips on Milton Berle a few months ago. Maybe his management was pushing for a new image in response to the public backlash. 

After delivering the hamburger to the man on whom I’d spilled coffee earlier, I returned to Elvis’ table with a pounding heart and gave him his drink.

“So, Missy,” Elvis drawled and took a drink. “You from around here?”

Hearing the strange nickname from his lips, directed at me, was like the nail on the coffin. I felt all at once hopeless and…well, curious. If he didn’t remember me, and yet he was flirting with me, how would this play out?

“I live here, in Memphis,” I told him.

“Truly?” Elvis toyed with the straw of his Coke between his teeth. “Never seen you around. I would have remembered a face like yours. You always lived here?”

This was becoming just unbearable. 

“No, I moved here for the women’s college, about a year ago.”

“Ah. A college girl,” he remarked. “Must be as smart as you are pretty.”

“What about you?” I asked, playing dumb. “Where are you from?”

“Where am I from, or where’d I come from?”

“Well, you seem like you wanna talk about both, so I guess both.”

Elvis tilted his head to the side and continued looking directly into my eyes. “Where I’m from, you’ve probably never heard of it,” he said. You’d be surprised, I thought sullenly. “But where I’ve just come from, you’ve definitely heard of it.” He leaned closer to me, gazing at me through his thick lashes, a playful glint in his eyes. “The Big Apple”.

“New York City?” I gasped. “How do you get here?”

“By train. Twenty-seven hours. Just got off.”

“Well, you must be starving then.” 

“Famished.”

I realized, despite how miffed I was about the whole situation, that I couldn’t resist from mirroring his smile and the way he leaned toward me while we talked. 

“What’ll you have?” I asked. Elvis ordered the special of the day—country fried steak with cream gravy.

“So, New York City, then? Must be some kind of big hot shot then, huh?” I mused while I took down his order. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging I knew who he was.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Elvis replied. “Just a boy come home to visit his mama.”

I thought about his mama. Back in Mississippi, Mrs. Presley used to always thump my head with a rolled-up newspaper for tracking my muddy feet through her kitchen. But she had a warmth about her, and she always cooked the best meals. I wondered if she would remember me, if she saw me now, or if—like her son—she wouldn’t recognize me at all anymore. When I first moved to Memphis, I used to think about going to visit her, but I never did. Never felt like it was my place to do so. The Presleys were the talk of the town now that their son was riding into stardom, and I was certain the last thing Mrs. Presley needed was another girl knocking on her door asking about her son.

“Actually, there’s another reason I’m here,” Elvis went on. 

“Oh?” I said. “Got a girl back at home for you, then?” I watched him carefully, curious to see his reaction. It did not disappoint; Elvis’ back stiffened ever so slightly.

“Naw,” he responded. “Well, not anymore.” He flashed his teeth at me again. “That’s not the reason, anyway.” 

“Pray tell, then.”

“Do you like rock n’ roll, Missy?”

I did. Like Elvis, I grew up immersed in rock n’ roll’s roots. Like him, the soul of the South’s music had been etched into my bones as I grew up.

When I nodded, Elvis reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a canary-colored ticket. He slid it across the table, and I picked it up to examine it. His name was printed elegantly across the top of the ticket—“Elvis Presley”. 

“There’s a concert going on at Russwood Park this evening,” Elvis said.

“You came twenty-seven hours on a train from New York just for a concert?”

“And to visit my mama, of course.” He smiled again. “It’s a benefit concert. Last I’d heard, there’s gonna be ten thousand people in the stadium. And thousands are already waiting in line.”

“Wow,” I said, and bit back a smirk as I traced his name in bold letters. “Must be some big name headliner, then, this ‘Elvis’ guy.”

I couldn’t tell if he knew or not that I was joshing him. “Some people seem to think so,” he said. But his eyes grew hardened. “Other people seem to think he’d be better off in jail.”

“Jail?”

“Jail.” Elvis sighed deeply. “He’s expected to put on a ‘family-friendly’ show tonight,” he said, “but he’s torn. I would imagine,” he added, still putting up a front. 

“Torn between what?”

“Between doing what he’s told, and doing what his heart says.”

“Well…” I made a bold move; I slid into the seat across from him and rested my chin on my hand. “You know what I say?“

He looked enraptured. “What say you, Missy?”

“When it comes to matters like this, this guy Elvis…I say, he’s gotta listen to his heart.”

Elvis’ smile grew like a flower blooming across his face. “That’s good advice,” he said. “Maybe you should tell him that some day.”

“Maybe you’ll tell him yourself, since you said you’d be there tonight,” I replied and batted my eyelashes, the pinnacle of naivety. 

“Maybe I will,” he affirmed with a laugh.

“Well, you better take your ticket back, then, sir,” I said, handing him back the ticket. “Wouldn’t wanna lose this.”

But Elvis didn’t reach for it. “That’s for you,” he said. “If you want it.”

“For me?”

“You said you like rock n’ roll, didn’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll like it,” he promises.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Oh, you’ll find me there.”

“I don’t get off work until 8,” I realized.

“That’s alright.” He smirked. “The last band probably won’t start until 8:30. That’s the one you’ll wanna see.”

I didn’t know what to say. “What if I can’t get in?” I asked at last. “You said there were already thousands of people in line.”

Elvis cocked an eyebrow and reached for the ticket in my hands. His hand brushed conspicuously against mine as he flipped it over. There was an official looking stamp on the other side that read, “V.I.P. Backstage”. 

“You’ll just show this to the usher,” Elvis said, his voice husky, his hand still touching mine. “And they’ll show you where to go. And if you run into any trouble, you just ask for a Colonel Tom Parker. Got it, darlin’?”

I was, for lack of a better word, dazzled. “Okay,” I quavered.

Elvis seemed enraptured by my sudden befuddlement. He took my hand and folded my fingers around the ticket. And he smiled—that same smile I knew from before, that smile I could never forget. 

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Attending an outdoor concert with ten thousand other people in the heat of the Tennessee summer was not exactly my idea of a good time.

But there I was, walking up to the entrance of Russwood Park, clutching the V.I.P. ticket Elvis Presley had gifted me as if it contained my very soul. I could still scarcely believe I had run into him at the diner, and I still had yet to process everything that had happened. It felt as though I were existing in a dream, or some other state of unreality. I had taken the bus from the east side to downtown Memphis, in a daze the whole time. 

When I finally reached the gates, the stadium ushers gawked at my ticket. After much debate amongst each other and after calling a manager, they were able to authenticate the stamp on the back of my ticket. As I was led through the crowd, surpassing the long line of disappointed-looking girls who would be inevitably sitting in the very back of the stadium at this point, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. 

The other performers had already finished their sets. The only group left to perform was Elvis Presley’s.

Once we descended the stadium stairs and reached the floor level, the stadium usher traded me off with my own personal security guard. I raced to keep up with his huge strides. We shuffled through the crowd, which only grew denser as we neared the stage. There was a buzzing tension reverberating through the audience; it was almost time for the concert to start. Each concertgoer on the floor level had their own seat, but I knew from the rumors about Elvis Presley’s other shows that these seats would become all but obsolete the second he emerged on the stage.

All eyes seemed to be on me with envy as soon as the guard and I reached the stage, which was massive and must have taken hours if not days to construct in the center of the baseball field. He led me around to the side of it, where a small set of stairs led up to the grassy area behind the towering stage set. The security guard instructed me where to stand and left me there to my own devices. 

It was a zoo. Stagehands and roadies, sweat dripping down their faces, scuttled about the backstage area, making last-minute adjustments to all kinds of cords and props. I spotted a group of musicians tuning their instruments, wearing suits and bowties—his backing band.

And then I saw him.

He stood with his back to me at the very back edge of the stage. He had changed into all-black attire that suited the color of his greased hair. that fit his body perfectly. His hands, I noticed, were clasped in front of him. He wasn’t moving, save for a nervous bounce of his left leg. I knew exactly why he was nervous tonight.

I moved a bit closer, circling so I could see his profile better. And I saw that his eyes were closed and his lips were moving ever so slightly. 

He was praying. 

Just as soon as I had caught him in the midst of this reverent moment, he had finished. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the orange evening sky. 

Everything happened fast after that. He sauntered to his bandmates and clapped their backs with a nervous smile. I slinked back into the shadows, suddenly anxious about him spotting me. And then the stagehands were leading the boys to the side of the stage, where the stage lights had been dimmed down and thousands of people were already cheering. I trailed behind the line of musicians, shocked beyond belief when I saw the vantage point I would have for this concert. The sea of people looked unreal from up on the stage. 

A blinding spotlight shone down on Elvis as he emerged from the stage. The sound that erupted from the audience was deafening.  

He hadn’t even played yet, and already it was pandemonium among the crowd. I watched helplessly—and with gratitude for my V.I.P. access—as dozens and then hundreds of fans broke from their seats. In a tidal wave, they swept to the stage, screaming and crying. Security manning the barricades struggled to keep the girls from climbing over. 

Elvis reached the microphone. He looked incredible—and I noticed for the first time, under the stage lights, that he was wearing splashes of red with his black suit. A red tie and red socks. Elvis’ voice boomed through the microphone as he greeted the crowd and asked them politely to return to their seats. I wouldn’t have been able to tell he was nervous if not for the tell of his bouncing leg.

But that leg did not stop bouncing. It only intensified.

“You know those people in New York aren’t going to change me none,” Elvis crooned to the screaming crowd. He regarded them heartily, his blue eyes sweeping through each and every person. And then his voice became powerful, wrought with passion. “I'm going to show you what the real Elvis is like tonight.”

He lifted a single finger and wiggled it. The crowd went beserk.

He launched into ‘Heartbreak Hotel.’ The bounce of his leg spread through his body as though he were possessed, but that was what everyone was here to see. I saw girls crying, raking their hands down their faces, trying to fling their bodies over the stage barricades. And he was a fireball of energy. I’d never seen anything like him, and I couldn’t believe this was the same Elvis I’d played street games with as kids.

The concert was a whirlwind. Song after song, Elvis’ hips swiveled dangerously with the rhythm. It was directly in contrast to the squareness of his television debut of “The New Elvis” that had premiered only a few days earlier on the Steve Allen show. No more white tail, no more singing to basset hounds. This was something different entirely, and he knew it. He wielded a strange power over his audience, like a magician casting a trance. 

I wanted to see more. The stage view was phenomenal in its own rite, but I couldn’t see his face. I wanted to—needed to—see his face. And part of me longed for him to see mine. 

My eyes caught a small space in the crowd right next to the stairs I’d come up to come backstage. The rush of the crowd in the initial excitement left a hole in the sea of people that hadn’t yet been filled again. I decided to go for it. I stepped down the sidestage stairs and was immediately enveloped by the crowd. No one seemed to notice; all eyes were locked on the King. 

As Elvis belted out hit after hit— 'I Want You, I Need You, I Love You', 'Blue Suede Shoes', 'Long Tall Sally'—I worked myself closer and closer to the front of the stage I felt, yet again, as though I were in a dream. A part of me knew how absolutely foolish—and dangerous—it was to leave the comfort of my backstage access. A bigger part of me didn’t care. The energy of the crowd seemed to permeate Elvis’ very bones. He was a firestorm, and I was enraptured by him. I was a fish on a line, tethered to him, and he reeled me in closer and closer. 

By the time they’d reached their last song, ‘Hound Dog’, I was right in front of the stage.

Elvis towered over me as he sang. I could see the sweat glisten off his handsome face, dripping off his unruly greased hair. People slammed into me from behind, but I couldn’t care less. I felt drunk with the sight of him, a god amongst men. A god who used to be my friend.

Elvis fell to his knees on the stage. Hands reached out to touch him. He leaned into the crowd—suddenly grasping the face of a girl standing a few people away from me. Her mouth was open in astonishment as he leaned in and smiled, just almost brushing his lips against hers but not quite. And then it was the next girl. And the next.

And then it was me. 

Still singing in that sultry voice, Elvis’ gripped my chin with his hand like he’d done the others and his eyes locked on mine. And he froze, recognizing me all at once. It was only for half a second, but he’d stopped singing. His expression completely changed. He blinked, hesitating. 

I just smiled up at him.

He tightened his grip on my face and kissed me.

His mouth tasted like sweat and an unmistakable sweetness. My knees threatened to give out; he could have held me up with just his hand on my chin. This was not just a light brush of his lips on mine, like it was for the other girls. This was a kiss, several seconds long, in front of the whole world. I melted into him. And as he pulled away, his prolonged gaze indicated clearly to me that if he had his way, he’d want to do much, much more than that. 

It was our second kiss.

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

I don’t know how, but I somehow made it backstage again as soon as the concert was over. I was still reeling from the kiss when I spotted him. He was being escorted by men in security uniforms through the bustle of stagehands. “You were warned, boy,” one of them growled at Elvis, but he was grinning like a naughty child. 

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” he said.

“Get in the car, Mr. Presley.”

But then Elvis spotted me. “Hold on just one second, boys,” Elvis said. He broke away and ran up to me. My heart hammered. 

“Hey, Missy,” he said, calling me that stupid nickname again. “You made it.” He was absolutely drenched in sweat like he’d jumped in the Mississippi River. He was a mess, but he never looked better. 

“Looks like that Elvis Presley really followed his heart tonight,” I grinned.

He smiled so big. “He got some advice from a real smart girl.”

We didn’t speak for a few moments, just gazing at each other and smiling, soaking each other in. I thought about our kiss in the crowd, thought about how much trouble he was about to be in for that performance. Thought about how his features still resembled the Elvis I used to know.

“Why were you in the crowd instead of up here?” he asked.

“I wanted to see your face while you sang,” I admitted in a rush.

He laughed, perplexed, still panting with the exertion of his performance. “I'm so glad you made it.” I thought he would be absolutely exhausted immediately after the show, but his eyes were slight with an infectious fire. He couldn’t take them off of me, and I couldn’t rip mine away. The connection between us was so intense it almost hurt. 

“Elvis,” I said.

“Now you know who I am.”

“I always knew who you were.”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said, transfixed. 

His words shook me to my core. These were words I could have only dreamed about him saying to me eight years ago. And now that he was saying them, here, after what he’d accomplished… 

I wanted to tell him who I was. I wanted to, so badly. But the way he was looking at me now…he was looking at Missy, not Y/N. And I was scared of losing that.

Whatever old emotions about the past he’d inflicted upon me, I stifled away. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember me. It didn’t matter who I was, or who he was, or who we used to be. 

The only thing that mattered was right now. 

“If that’s what you think,” I whispered, smirking shyly. “Kiss me again.”

Elvis didn’t waste a single second. He grabbed my face again, gently this time, cupping my cheeks in his hands like I was a fragile work of art, and he kissed me. I didn’t care that, to him, this was just a kiss for some random fan who he’d just met that day. Or that, if it wasn’t me, he’d have no problem finding someone else to kiss instead.

Because to me, it was everything. 

Compared to his gentle hands, his mouth was rough, desperate. He pried my lips open with his, and I let him, just as eager. A voice came from behind him, one of the security guards: “Mr. Presley, it’s time to go.” He pulled away, eyes wide, and kissed me once more before breaking apart. “I have to go.”

“Alright,” I trembled.

“Beale Street,” he said as he backed away. “Meet me at Beale Street, tonight.”

“Where on Beale Street?” 

Behind me, fireworks went off in the sky. His eyes were alighted with orange and red. “Club Handy,” was the last thing he said to me before the security guards dragged him off the stage into a cruiser and drove him away through the crowds.

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A/N: This is the end of Chapter 1 but I’ll be writing more!!! Any predictions?!? I apologize for any typos!! I’m really drunk as I type this so if thre are typos just lmk and I’ll fix it tomorrow! Also here’s my schpiel I copy and paste on the end of every fic haha please read it:

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Please send me asks because they make me smile so hard omg!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

Also I do have a taglist but I’m too drunk to tag anyone tonight so i’ll do it tomorrow but ya lmk via my ask box if you want me to ad d you to it@ !!

#Austin butler!elvis #elvis 2022 #Elvis x reader #Elvis Presley x Reader #austin butler #Elvis Presley fanfiction #elvis presley imagine #austin butler imagine

[bcofl0ve]

4 or 13 with Austin!Elvis bc protective 😩

did both bc why not 😅

You Got Me

ship: austin!50s elvis x reader

prompt: “breathe darling”/“you’re safe with me”

summary: some guys at a tour stop get too close for comfort while elvis is off talking to a reporter. a lil angst + hurt comfort.

content warning: sexual harassment and attempted assault, but it’s not graphic and over pretty quickly. smidgen of homophobia (a ~fairy~ insult).

Elvis made a beeline for you the second he got off the stage, hugging so you tight he lifted your feet off the ground. Kissing the sides of your face as he set you back down, he looked over his shoulder.

“Colonel wants me to talk to some reporter he found,” He started, hand still caressing your hip.

He shouted for Jimmie next, who whipped his head around from where he was distracted talking to a girl. “Keep an eye on Y/N for a second, I’ll be right back.”

And with one last kiss he was running off to where Colonel Parker was standing in front of the Ferris Wheel, leaving you standing alone against the back of the stage. Jimmie gave you a little wave and scanned the area for any immediate danger before turning back around to continue socializing, running a hand through his hair that he’d recently started styling like Elvis.

But you didn’t mind being left to your own devices, you were always one for people watching and this was the perfect place for it. Little kids scarfing down cotton candy the size of their heads, herds of high school girls giggling and stumbling around like packs of sardines. You were starting to see the appeal others did in carnie life.

Then, a voice uncomfortably close to your face pulled you out of your head.

“Hey, you’re Elvis’ girl, aren’t you?”

You could smell the alcohol on the boy’s breath, mostly because he was so close he was practically standing on top of you, one hand braced on the wooden stage fencing you were leaning on.

“Imma be real honest, I was thinkin’ he was one of those fairy freaks.” He continued before you could respond, waving his free hand around meaninglessly. ”But you’re pretty,”

Who you assumed was a friend of his popped up next to him, bumping his shoulder with a laugh as he spoke.

“If the way he moves aroun’ when he’s singing is any implication, he’s gotta be great under the sheets,” He slurred, the first boy moving his hand from where it was braced on the wall to the side of your face. His fingers brushed against your hair and he stepped even closer than he already was. You wanted to scream, but your throat was going so dry you could barley tell him to go away.

“He sing in bed too? You know if you want something more low key,”

He was leaning in then, but just when you thought you’d feel his mouth on yours there was a sharp crack and he was stumbling backwards into his friend. You blinked and saw Elvis standing there, shaking out his hand that you assumed was the reason the boy who had tried to kiss you was holding his nose.

“Either of you so much as look at her again I will kill you.” Elvis practically growled in a low voice, giving both of them another hard shove. “Get the hell outta here, now!”

Turning to Jimmie, who to his credit looked a little guilty, he raised his voice to a yell. “What happened to watching her?” He shouted, waving his hands around as he spoke. “Too busy talking to girls while mine’s about to get her damn head done in,”

He didn’t wait for an apology before ushering you into an empty staging tent, pulling you closer to him when you were alone, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. You were hyperventilating against him, hands gripping the fabric of his black shirt like it was the only thing keeping you on the ground.

“You gotta breathe darlin’, I’m right here.” He whispered and you tried, but your mind was racing.

“I thought,” You started and lifted your head, the rest of that thought not something you really wanted to put words to.

“I know, but you’re safe with me now.” He said gently, rubbing your shoulder. “Gonna talk to the Colonel about getting you security and nothin’ like that is ever gonna happen again.”

A part of wanted to tell him you knew that wasn’t a promise he could make. Guys were always going to be creeps, and it was only going to get worse as he, and you, got more and more attention.

But there was comfort in knowing he’d crawl over broken glass, and punch some strangers in the nose, to protect you. You could make do with that.

xxx

#austin butler #elvis movie #elvis fanfic #austin butler!elvis #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #austin butler x reader

[blurredcolour]

Stuck

Summary: After the physically demanding performance of the Russwood Park scene, Austin calls upon you, a wardrobe technician, to help resolve an issue with his costume. With your skills, you are able to fix the problem with his clothes and much more…

Part One of Production.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Language, Mature/Explicit Themes – 18+ only

Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. This story is in no way based in fact, aside from a brief skimming of costume design articles and the Queensland COVID-19 film production protocols. It is simply the product of my fevered brain.

Word Count: 3514

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Working for Catherine Martin, Academy Award winning costume designer, had long been a dream of yours. When you got the call in the middle of 2019 offering you a position in the costume design department on the Elvis movie, you signed on without hesitation. The costumes were incredible, and once shooting began, you were assigned the responsibility for cleaning and repairing them after they were worn by the actors on set. You had a knack for solving issues - removing stains without damaging the fabrics, performing invisible repairs, and an impressive attention to detail. You had taken it upon yourself to add extra stitching to the hips of the leather pants worn by Austin Butler during the ’68 special as the stress on the seams was very apparent to your trained eye. Your skill had not gone unnoticed.

When production had shut down in March of 2020, not only were you dealing with the shock of the pandemic but the possibility of losing a job you were genuinely loving. To your relief, you were invited back in September 2020, though things were different now with COVID-19 protocols. Catherine was pleased to inform you that she would be entrusting the care of Austin’s costumes entirely to you. She would of course be inspecting your work regularly, but you had impressed her with your work and dedication.

Your shift began at the end of each shooting day when you would don your mask and gloves before going to his trailer to collect the laundry bag holding that day’s costume. It was awkward at first, you had never had much interaction with him prior to that…but you made a point of asking him if there were any issues with the costume each time you retrieved it from him. Your friendship blossomed over discussions of the costumes, and his gratitude for some of the subtle adjustments you made for him.

Because the costume was delivered to him in the morning by another member of the department tasked with dressing, you two ended up sharing work phone numbers so you could let him know of any changes you had made. He also sent you photos of places where fabric was wearing thin, strained seams, marks from his consistent interactions with the floor…and sometimes just pictures of the beach outside his rental home, an interesting bird…and other things that he felt compelled to share with you. You returned the favour, though the view outside your apartment paled in comparison.

After a particularly lonely holiday season for the both of you, in your working bubbles and isolation, he asked if you would be comfortable taking off the mask…letting him put a face to his friend. You hesitated but, feeling the same desire for connection, you had stepped into his trailer and closed the door. You had slid the mask off, suddenly feeling shy, but seeing his warm smile you had relaxed. It became a ritual for the two of you, him at the end of his day and you at the beginning of yours, to spend 20- or 30-minutes chatting face to face in his trailer. He would be unwinding from the shoot, and you would be absorbing his stories, noting any issues with the costume but also just getting to know one another.

You had a sneaking suspicion that it was thanks to Austin that you were offered an opportunity to appear as a part of the crowd in the Russwood Park scene. After working so long with the costumes, you had jumped at the opportunity to wear one yourself. But, more than anything, you were thrilled at the chance to watch Austin perform. The buzz on set every day was palpable…he and Baz were making pure magic and you would get a chance to see it with your own eyes.

It is odd to be at work, but not working yourself. You submit yourself to hair, makeup, and wardrobe, wondering if you were even recognizable…You are positioned near the back, not being a trained actor, you are not slated for any of the close-up shots. Baz himself provides direction to the crowd, setting the scene and the level of excitement he is looking for. And then, he is walking on stage.

You’d seen sketches…you’d seen photos…but the full effect…it is not difficult to cheer excitedly as you feel the rush of desire, your cheeks reddening slightly. The experience on set is very different from the world you usually inhabited, but it is thrilling despite the repetition. When, finally, they start the performance of Trouble, however, Baz allows them to play the full way through. You are mesmerized by his hands…his hips…his eyes…his lips. You find it terribly difficult to breathe and you hope that awe is something Baz is looking for because it is written all over your face.

There is a fleeting moment where you think, maybe just maybe, his eyes have found you in the crowd. Your heart skips a beat, but your head is actively trying to rationalize your way out of it until his eyes are locked on yours through the sea of people. He’s growling out the lyrics and your costume is feeling very warm. As he thrusts his entire body into the air in your general direction, before sinking to his knees, your own knees are feeling rather weak.

Twinges of jealousy tug at you as you watch him lean forward, grabbing the faces of lucky actresses, inches from his writhing body. You are even jealous of the damn microphone, the way his fingers wrap around it. As if to prove to you it was not a fluke, however, his eyes find yours every time he runs through the song until you’re breathless and filled with tension. Baz finally wraps for the night, and you can’t help but be a little sad that it is over…that someone else gets to collect his costume and tend to it tonight.

You pick up your stuff from the storage locker and wait your turn to hand in your wardrobe. The vibration of a phone catches your attention and you notice it is your department assigned phone. You unlock the screen, and your eyes widen as they skim the message from Austin.

- I need your help with the costume, are you still here? -

Looking up, you see that there are still quite a few extras in front of you. You step out of line, mumbling something about needing the washroom, before heading back out towards the trailers. You slide on a mask, always carrying one just in case, and show your security pass to the guard. Making a quick stop to grab your repair kit, you then wind your way to his trailer. You knock on the door, mind buzzing with speculations about what he needs help with. You can hear pacing inside…frustration in his voice as he mutters angrily.

“Austin?” You call and the door swings open.

He is standing behind it, hidden behind the door as he motions you inside. You step in, still in your costume, which he notes with a smirk.

“Looking good.” He drawls, still thickly accented and you chuckle a little despite the flame of desire that licks at your stomach.

“How can I help?” You ask.

He closes the door behind you as you pull off your mask, eyes roaming across the costume…forcing yourself to focus on the fabric, though the clear outline of his erection is eye catching.

“It’s the zipper…I’m stuck…it’s stuck…shit, I’m gonna break it if I pull any harder.” His voice is edged with desperation.

You swallow thickly, immediately aware of exactly where you will be working to help him out of this.

“Are you comfortable with me working on your fly? We can cut the pants if we have to”

“No! No, no that will just make a ton of work for y’all, please…”

You nod and take a deep breath to focus.

“Ok I’m going to take a look now…Please tell me to stop if you need, ok?” Your cheeks are a faint pink as you sink to your knees in front of him, setting you repair kit down on the floor beside you. Tentatively, your fingers reach for the fly, and you can see he has the top clasp undone but the zipper is still fully closed. You lean in closer to see if there are any snags or threads that could easily explain the situation. Nothing is evident at first glance.

“I’m going to try pulling it down…can you maybe brace against something?” You could see his chest heaving as your eyes worked their way up to his as you spoke.

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes meet his makeup rimmed eyes, your tongue trying to wet your lips…You barely register that he is nodding before you yank your eyes away from his. He steps back to the doorway leading into the bedroom of his trailer, bracing his forearms against the top of the doorframe and looking down at you expectantly.

You shuffle after him on your knees, missing the dart of his tongue along his lower lip as you are reaching for the repair kit.

“Ok, here I go…” The breathiness in your voice is betraying the effect he’s having on you, but you soldier on. Gripping the bottom of his fly with the index finger and thumb of one hand, you pull the fly straight before your other hand pulls on the zipper with some force. He groans. You bite your lip viciously as you yank again and again. You’re all but holding your breath, clinging onto your professionalism with a vice grip. It’s not working.

You try the same technique, but gripping at the top of the zipper, knuckles accidentally brushing his stiff cock…he moans again, shuddering. The zipper does not budge, your fingertips are tender against the metal of the zipper pull.

“I’m going to try some grease…” Your voice thicker than the last time you’d managed to speak, fingers fumbling as you open your kit and pull out the tube of zipper grease…it looks remarkably like a tube of Chapstick…You pull the cap and twist up an inch or so of it, holding the fly still to spread the grease across the teeth of the zipper. You risk a glance up at him as you work, flush deepening on your cheeks as he is still staring down at you heatedly. You shiver and look back to your work quickly, pulling the fly tight…tensing as another desperate moan slips past his lips.

You taste the copper tang of blood. Your lower lip is bleeding a little from the rough treatment you’re dealing it as you grasp for focus. You both gasp as the zipper slides a third of the way down before it is impossibly stuck again. You grab the waistband of his pants, testing how much give they have now.

His moan is ragged and thrums right through your body. You are stunned for a moment before forcing yourself back to the task at hand, applying more grease. Pulling at the zipper, you make it halfway before you try the waistband again. The pants begin to slide down but catch on his cock. An anguished moan. You have become aware he is not wearing anything underneath.

You look up at him again and he’s working his jaw in restraint, but never once looking away from you…The air is thick with arousal, his musky scent enveloping you. You exhaled deeply trying to regain your focus and see him shudder as he can feel your breath through the thin material.

“Can I kiss you…” The words tumble from your lips before you even have a chance to stop them. You tense, eyes shooting wide at your own impertinence, but he’s already hauling you up against him, kissing you with a hungry desperation. He spins you to put your back against the door the washroom, pressing his full frame along yours. You hold on to him for dear life, helpless against the onslaught but happy to be the recipient.

His lips pull back to allow you both to breathe, but his mouth quickly moves on to other targets, your jaw, your throat. He’s pulling down the shoulder of your shirt so he can ravage the tender flesh beneath. You whimper and moan at the ferocity, but the feel of the tube of zipper grease in your hand brings back your focus. If you could just the waistband over his cock, he could be free…

You toss the tube away and slide your hand down his side to pull his shirt up, he had long untucked it, and lay your hand on the skin of his waist. His whole body jerks towards your touch in response.

“I think…” you panted. “I think I’ve got it; I just need to…” It was nearly impossible to focus and speaking reminded him of your lips, which were quickly under the onslaught of his mouth again. You slide your hand down under his waistband…there was just enough room now …and cup the weeping tip of his cock.

His lips brush against yours as he curses thickly, his teeth nibbling the soft flesh in appreciation as he presses tighter to you. Your other hand begins to tug at various parts of his waistband, slowly exposing his skin inch by inch until your hand, and his cock, are free. The pants slide down to his knees then, and so do you. You reach down and pull off his shoes before working his pants off, giving him the freedom he so desperately craved.

You look up to him in triumph and watch his tongue drag across his lower lip. You realize your hand is covered in precum and maintain eye contact while you boldly lick it clean. He can barely keep his eyes open as he growls at the sight. Your gaze shifts to his cock, standing proudly against his lower abdomen, twitching as it begs you for attention. You raise up a little higher on your knees and wrap your fingers around him. You’d tasted a little and now you wanted more…His ragged breath and whine of delight keep your eyes glued to his as you lean forward and greedily swirl your tongue along his cock to collect the droplets of precum.

He is moaning your name and you squirm a little as he is the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. It’s addictive and makes you bold. You part your lips and slide the length of him into your mouth, feeling his fingers grip your hair.

“Ahn, stop stop…If you do that it’ll all be over before I get to have any fun with you.” You’re honestly not certain who is speaking at that point, he is so lost in the drawl he had been honing to perfection over the last two years. He guides your greedy lips off his cock and back up to his, kissing you fiercely as he walks you back into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

He pauses at the side of the bed to look you over…really looking at you…allowing you a chance to look at him, drinking in the sheen of sweat…the blown pupils of his eyes that have practically devoured his brilliant blue irises. His lips twitch into a smile, his eyes tender, before he’s kissing you again, pulling at your clothing. You return the favour, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt carefully…property of the film and all…his jacket is long discarded in the earlier struggle.

His hands have been quick, your own costume is in a pile on the floor, allowing him to explore the planes of your body. His hands come around to take two handfuls of your buttocks, pulling you flush against him, skin to skin. The sensation is electric, and you arch up against him, feeling his cock pressed against your stomach, painting patterns of precum along your skin. You feel yourself turning under his guidance, the backs of your thighs hitting the mattress and his hands slide to your hips, guiding you to sit. He sinks low between your thighs and groans to find the evidence of your own desire.

“Well, aren’t you a desperate thing…” He purrs up at you through those eyelashes…truly that look should be a crime…You part your lips to counter but then his mouth is on the source of your pleasure, and you fall back on your elbows with a cry. Your hips are bucking of their own accord as his wickedly talented tongue is stealing the very breath from your lungs. He is a conscious lover, aware of his generous size, and has retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table, coating his fingers. Your fists wrench at the bed linens as his fingers are slowly massaging up your inner thigh before they find your entrance, teasing in time with his tongue.

“Fuck…” You grit out, essentially rutting against his face at this point. The chuckle that rumbles through his chest and against you makes your thighs spread wider in unspoken invitation. By the time he feels you’re ready for him, he has three of his long and graceful fingers inside you, working you open and closer to climax. When you are practically begging for him, he finally rises to kiss your battered lips. He reaches into the bed side table and retrieves a condom. Your fingers take it from him, opening it carefully and rolling it down his throbbing cock, delighted to be teasing him again as he groans and sucks on your ear lobe.

Your fingers wrap around his cock and give a squeeze when your work is done. He pulls your hips forward on the bed, looking down at you…drinking in your debauched form as he ensures you’re slick and prepared. His cock twitches again, and he takes it in hand, slowly easing into you. His eyes clamp shut, and you can see the muscles of his jaw flex as he clings to his self control, sinking further into the warmth of you.

You fall back fully on the bed, back arching as his cock drags a nearly depraved moan from deep inside you…truly the foreplay had begun hours ago during filming as he made eye contact with you through the crowd. He pauses, chest heaving, eyes opening to look you over. You are grateful for the moment to catch your breath rather than simply falling apart at the feeling of being completely filled by him. You take another ragged breath before nodding. He rocks up against your hips once, your moans mingling at the sensation, before he pulls out.

Loathe to part from him, your legs twine around his hips and only allow him to go so far. His lips twitch into a smirk before parting in awe as he sinks back into your softness. With each thrust of his hips, the pleasure burns hotter, brighter. He leans forward onto one hand, causing a swear to slip past his lips at the change in angle…all you could do at this point is thrash a little and grip his forearm as you rasp out his name like a prayer. His other hand is far from idle; his thumb rubbing along your lower lip until you suck it into your mouth, speeding up his pace; sliding down the column of your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his fingertips; caressing the flesh of your chest and lower abdomen.

It came to rest once again between your thighs, fingers as relentless as his hips. You shudder, toes curling.

“So…close…” You manage to vocalize, the edge of desperation that had been so audible in his voice has now infected yours.

He grunts in reply, hips snapping to yours almost commanding your climax. It is not a command your body is inclined to deny, and you go rigid against him as the orgasm rips through you. He watches, enraptured, as his thrusts become erratic and his own release overtakes him, roaring hungrily against your lips in a hasty kiss as he tries to dampen the volume of his cry.

You slide your fingers into his hair, kissing him warmly, appreciatively, as all the tension of the day is ebbing from his body…he is quite literally melting onto the bed beside you.

The room is silent save the sound of the two of you trying to catch your breath after the intensity. You regain your wits a little sooner than him and roll over to divest him of the condom, disposing it in the garbage beside the bed.

An incoherent mumble, possibly expressing gratitude, is all you receive in reply. You kiss his lips softly and pull a blanket up from the bottom of the bed. His arms snake around you, pulling you tight to him. You hold him as he quickly drifts to sleep. You are not far behind him. As you fall asleep your last thoughts are of replacing the zipper on his costume to better withstand the physical demands of the role.

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Read Caught (Part Two)

#austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler x you #gn!reader #elvis2022 #elvis 2022 #austin butler!elvis #blurredcolour #productionfic #austin butler smut #austin butler x gn reader #Austin Butler

[multifandomworldsposts]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a Austin Butler x virgin reader like she's a young French student in LA and she runs into 31 year old Austin late at night so he asks her what she's doing so late alone in the street and he walks her home then she asks if he wants to drink smth they talk a bit and then it gets hot...

(I love your writing btw)

fais moi l’amour

A/N: first off, thank you 🫶🏻 & hope everyone enjoys this story!

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem!reader

Warning: making out, him being a hot ass, oral sex, protected sex (PLS be safe), a lot of french.

Y/N’s POV

I got accepted to UCLA for my photography majors, so I have to go to Los Angeles to finish up my degree. I leave my friends from France and I’m obviously going to miss them because I don’t know anyone from America. I bought an apartment and I’m so excited to see it in real life, I did a digital tour of the apartment.

I fly out to LAX and everything looks beautiful! I get to my apartment and it looks amazing with a cool view of Downtown Los Angeles. I get unpacking and I take a little nap so I can go walk around and get groceries for myself.

I go to Whole Foods Market to get some things I need to make something for myself for a while. The staff were really nice, some people could understand my french accent and they understood on what I was coming from.

I get back home and organized my food and my alcohol, I’m 22 okay and I can handle my liquor. I put my alcohol at the bar I have in my apartment. My apartment looks good so far! I get ready to go out to see what LA is really about.

8:09 PM

I walk around to find a bar somewhere and I find Catch One, it looks interesting so I get in the line and immediately I hear whistling when I walking to the back of the line. God, american men, they’re fucking gross!

I finally get in and try to find the bar, I find it. I got sit down and a bartender comes up to me.

“What do you want princess?”

“Vodka please.”

“Alright.” He makes my drink.

I look around to see what’s going on until I hear my drink behind me, I turn around and I thanked the guy.

“That accent, you’re not from here.” The bartender asks.

“Yeah I transferred here from Paris.”

“You sound beautiful.”

“Je vous remercie.”

10:30 PM

I leave the club. I had a fun time, met wonderful people, I already have friends from Los Angeles and they are so nice!

I decided to walk, I drank one vodka, it doesn’t affect me. I look around on how beautiful LA is until I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder. I turn around and see the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Austin and I just wanted to say how beautiful you are.” He smiles. The most sweetest smile I’ve seen a long time.

“Thank you Austin.” I blush.

“I know this will sound creepy but, why are you walking all alone at this time at night?” He itches his head.

“Well, Austin, my apartment is close on where we’re at right now.” I look at him.

“Do you want me to walk with you if something happens?”

I trust him. “Yeah sure.”

We began to walk and we started to talk about ourselves.

“Y/N, that accent? Where are you from?”

“You like the 9th person who asked me that.” I look at him while walking.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m from France.”

“France really! I visited there a couple times, it’s so beautiful.”

“I mean I feel like a lot of french girls would love you.” I said smiling.

I can tell he loved the comment.

MY APARTMENT

“Do you want to come inside?” I said to him.

“Yeah sure, if that’s okay with you?”

“It’s okay with me.”

I unlock my door and allow Austin to go inside first.

“You just moved here?” He looks at me.

“Yeah, I got groceries, some decorations and some alcohol.” I look at him while getting my jacket off and put my keys on the counter.

“What type of alcohol do you have?” He leans on the island.

“Vodka, Champagne, Whiskey and Wine.” I walked up to him.

“I like the whisky Y/N.” He smirks.

“Go to the couch and I’ll get our drinks.” Austin walks to the couch and I start making the drinks.

I walk up to him with his whisky, he grabs it gently out of my hand. I sit next to him.

“So, why did you travel here?” Austin says. He drinks his whisky and puts it down on my coffee table.

“Well, I’m majoring in Photography and I’m trying to finish my degree and UCLA accepted me. So that’s why I moved here.”

“Are you good at photography?” He looks at me.

“I believe so. Would you like me to take a picture of you?” I drink my vodka at bit.

“I would love you to Y/N.” He leans closer to me.

“Alright.” I go get my camera and come back to see Austin shirtless. I think I can’t handle this.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He smirks again.

I smirk, I take a few pictures. He looks so photogenic.

When I was done taking pictures of him, I showed him the pictures.

“You’re really good at this.” He says.

“Thank you Austin.” I look at him then to my camera.

“Speak a little french to me Y/N.” He whispers in my ear.

“Je suis amoureuse d’un homme qui s’appelle Austin Butler.” I said in french.

“What did you say?” He questions.

“I said ‘I’m in love with a man name Austin Butler.’”

“You’re in love with me?” He makes me look at him by putting his right hand on my chin to make me look at him.

“I am, when I saw you the first time, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

The way he looks at me, he’s in love with me as well. He leans in and kisses me. I kiss him back. I put my camera on my coffee table and get on top of him. I take my shirt off. He puts his hands on my waist. I look down to see his belt and unbuckle his belt and unzips his pants. I can tell he’s ready for me. He flips me down on the couch so he could be on top of me. He unzips my pants as well.

I lean up to his ear and said, “Je veux que tu me baises comme les hommes américains baisent les femmes américaines.”

“What do you say honey?” He questions.

I look at him and say, “I want you to fuck me like you american men fuck american women.”

“Do you have a condom?” He asks.

“In my room, it’s the last door in the hallway next me.”

He gets off of me and goes to my room. He comes back really quick with a condom in his hand.

“You found them quick.” I sit comfortably on the couch.

“They were easy to find babe, just on your nightstand.”

I forgot to put them away somewhere safe.

“By the way, are you a virgin?” He looks at me.

“Yes I am.” I confess.

“Then we have to take this slow Y/N.”

I nod.

“If I were you, give this french girl a kiss and give her the time of her life by fucking her.”

Austin looks at me and straddles my waist, gets his underwear off, he’s huge. He gets the condom on. I try to get my panties off, he helps me out of them. He leans down to kiss me.

The way he goes in and out of me, it’s feels so good. I felt a lot of pain but it went away. He pick me up to take me to my bedroom but he makes us stop on the wall a few feet away from my room. He lifts me up, I wrap my legs around his waist. He kisses my neck, I can feel him bitting me. I moan but screamed.

“What did you just do Aus?” I make him look at me.

“I gave you a hickey.”

I try to give him a hickey as well. The way he moaned.

“I feel like you just gave me a hickey Y/N.”

I giggle.

“Je voulais juste que tu te senates bien Austin.” I whisper in he’s ear.

“What baby?”

“I said, I just wanted to make you feel good Austin.”

“God your french is turning me on.” We did nose to nose.

I giggle again.

“If that’s what turns you on, guess what turns me on Austin.” I touch his hair.

He pretends to think. “Me giving you hickeys.”

“No.”

“Hmm, me touching you.”

“No.” I chuckle.

“Then what Y/N?”

“Your deep voice in my ear while we were on my couch, having sex.” I whisper in his ear.

“It’s puberty baby.” He holds me close.

“Fais moi l’amour.”

He looks at me confused.

“Make love to me Austin.”

He takes me to my bedroom. He lays me down on my bed. I sit up. He crawls up to me, lays me down on my bed. He began to fuck me harder then when we were on couch. I scream.

“You like that huh?” He continues to fuck me.

“Yes! Ah fuck!” I said scratching his back.

Serveral minutes later I flip us over so I can be on top of him. I still have him inside me. I readjust myself so I can feel him in a different position.

“I thought you were a virgin?” He looks at me.

“I am but, you know that porn exists right?”

“You french girls really do know what to do.” He looks at me.

He leans up to get closer to me, we make out, I start to french kiss him. He french kisses me. He sets me on the bed again to give me love bits on my body.

1:30 AM

We’re in my bed, heavy breathing, sweating.

“Y/N.” He looks at me.

“Yeah.” I look at him.

“How did that felt by being your first time?”

“Étonnante.”

He looks confused again.

“Amazing.”

“Let’s be more than just a hookup Y/N/N.” He heavy breathed.

“Please Aus.”

“I’ll show you what I’m really about. You saw a different part of me tonight.” He cuddles up to me.

“Same here Austin and I’ll teach you some french so you can understand on what I’m saying.” I wrap my arms around him.

“When’s your first day at UCLA?”

“Next Wednesday.”

“I’ll show you around LA and maybe drop and pick you up at school.”

“I would love that Austin.”

“Um, Y/N?” He questions.

“How old are you?”

“22, you?”

“31.”

“I feel like I just, baisé un papa de sucre.”

“Did you say something bad?”

“I said, fucked a sugar daddy.”

“Because of me being older than you?”

“Austin I still love you.”

“Do you care that I’m a few years older than you?”

“I don’t care baby. I just know that you treated me so special.”

“I’m glad you think that way.”

“No one made me feel this way in Paris, you’re the only man in America that makes feel that way.”

#fanfic #austin butler #fanfiction #austin butler x y/n #austin butler smut #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x you #austin butler fic #austin butler gif #austin butler imagine #austin butler x fem!reader #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin butler!elvis

[enchantinglyjade]

Milk & Honey Masterlist

Milk & Honey 

[Austin!Elvis x Black!OC] [Completed] -  The year is 1954. Honey James has recently moved her and her mother to Memphis, Tennessee to secretly pursue her passion for music. However, now living in a bustling city, she is quickly met with the harsh realities of what it means to be mixed race during her time. After constant rejection, she finally manages to get employed as a cleaner at one of Beale Street’s most inventive and poppin’ nightclubs, Club Handy, where she hopes to one day perform. Unfortunately for Honey, her road to fame faces even more sinkholes when she reunites with an old friend turned pop star that shows her a whole new world of difficulties and fears regarding the limelight and what it’s like to find love as a black woman in the deep south.

Warning: This story contains consistent race related conversations/issues, sexual topics, and swearing

Prologue  |  Ch. 1  |  Ch. 2  |  Ch. 3  |  Ch. 4  |  Ch. 5  |  Ch. 6  |  Ch. 7  |  Ch. 8  |  Ch. 9 (Part 1)(Part 2)  |  Ch. 10  |  Ch. 11  |  Ch. 12  |  Ch. 13  |  Ch. 14  |  Ch. 15  |  Ch. 16  |  Ch. 17  |  Ch. 18  |  Ch. 19  |  Ch. 20  |  Ch. 21 (Part 1)(Part 2)  |  Ch. 22  |  Ch. 23  |  Ch. 24  |  Ch. 25  |  Ch. 26  |  Ch. 27

Read on Wattpad

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Moodboard

Cast

Playlist

Random Fax

History of Club Handy

Movie Recs

#elvis presley #Elvis #Elvis Movie #Elvis biopic #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis presely imagine #elvis presley x black reader #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #Austin butler!elvis #Black Writers #black reader #black fanfiction #austin butler x black reader #elvis x black reader #POC #OC #oc fanfiction #poc reader #austin butler x oc #Milk & Honey #enchantinglyjade

[mamasturn]

dirty dancing.

pairing: austin!elvis x black!fem!oc (cynthia)

warning: sensuality. talks of segregation. use of the terms “colored” but before anyone flips, i am a black woman. again, this is MY version of elvis cause, i’m not necessarily a fan of him irl and won’t portray that. saw this in the theater again and wrote while sitting there. it was mesmerizing. ps posting on this account to see if it'll show up in the tags lol.

song: that’s all right mama by big boy crudop. meant to be the slow sensual version seen in the movie.

wc: 1,285

masterlist.

pic creds to @enchantinglyjade <3 divider creds to @firefly-graphics

Bodies packed in like sardines. Sweat dripping from foreheads, backs, and forearms onto the slick floor beneath them. Heavy breaths and sighs of pleasure as bodies bumped against one another sensually.

Lustful eyes from the men. Adulterous touches from the women. Sweet whispers of the things they’d love to do behind closed doors.

It was a sight unlike that she’d ever seen before. She was a good girl. She went to church on Sundays and revivals during the weekday, wearing knee length dresses and long-sleeved cardigans, singing praises to the Lord and thanking Him for His goodness. She’d experienced the Holy Spirit in many ways—the shaking of hands, the stomping of feet, the warmth of her body.

However, what she experienced was nothing close. Her mother would be so disappointed. She exchanged her modest clothes for a short red dress that she’d only been caught dead in. Her coarse hair that was typically pinned up rested beneath her chin and framed her face beautifully.

Her back was cold against the wall. Out of the way she stayed. The woman she came with had found herself dancing with another man in the corner. She knew they’d be fornicating real good that night. She fought off a smile.

The song changed. A familiar tune that she’d heard only twice before. Her father forbade the “new-age” music, sighting that it promoted bad behavior and would influence her in the worst way. He was nowhere to be found, however, and she found herself humming along to the smooth guitar of Cordup.

“That’s all right, mama.”

“What’s a pretty lady doin’ huggin’ the wall?” a gasp fell from her lips. Her movement was restricted, as a strong body was in front of hers. Her head encased by a strong arm. The arm of a white boy, the only white boy comfortable enough to be in the presence of dozens of Black people. Elvis Presley, he was called. The white boy with the moves of a Black man. She’d only heard him on the radio and seen pictures on newspapers while passing stores on the way to school. They couldn’t afford televisions. Not that they’d sell one to a colored family, anyway.

“Uh-I—It’s my first time here. Not much into dancin’, sir,” she replied. Her voice trembled and wavered. He oozed sex appeal and it made her nervous. He wore a pink lace shirt tucked into loose fitting blue pants. His greasy black hair was slicked back with a few fallen pieces. Smudged liner and full lips, he was a beautiful man.

“Sir? Makes me sound as old as my daddy. Elvis Presley, darlin’, nice to meet ya. What’s your name?” His voice stirred unknown feelings within her. She found herself releasing a breath she didn’t know she held.

Colored people were expected to address all people, especially white people as “sir” and “ma’am” no matter what. Even a child. It was a haughty condition. “Cynthia. Shouldn’t you be elsewhere, Mr. Presley?” The way his name rolled off her tongue hand his fingers clenching against the wall. “Not talkin’ to a colored girl in a colored club. You could get in trouble. I could get in trouble.”

“Them laws don’t apply here.”

She scoffed. “They don’t apply to you, Mr. Presley. They will always apply to me and my folks. You should be dancin’ an’ prancin’ with one of them pretty white girls.”

A laugh fell from his lips. She was right, and he knew it. The segregation laws in the south were strict, that he understood. More than willing he was, however, to challenge them from a night with the shy, brown girl perched against the wall.

“That’s all right for you.”

“You’re prettier than them. Pretty eyes, pretty lips, pretty little shape.” His left hand cupped her hip gently. Cynthia jumped at his touch. She lifted her eyes and finally met his. A lump forcibly traveled down her throat. He stared her down like a lion at his prey. He was enchanted by her brown eyes, thin eyebrows, plump lips coated in red lipstick, and curvy shape. She was gonna be his by the end of the night. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance, Mr. Presley. Hence why the wall been my best friend all night.”

His lips grazed her ear. “I’ll teach ya. Jus’ move to the music.” He turned her around, pressing her back against his chest. His arm found her waist, his palm resting against her inner thigh. The short dress hiked up at the movement and his fingertips massaged her skin.

All of her mama’s teachings went out the window in the blink of an eye. From shouting praises to smiling at the sweet nothings from a man who was the devil himself. Her knees felt weak as their bodies pressed against each other. Her hand fingered through his dark locks as his lips kissed at her neck.

“That’s all right, mama.”

His grip on her thigh intensified and she felt his name trying to creep from behind her lips. It fumbled from her mouth without her consent. With the newfound pressure against her bottom, she knew he didn’t mind.

“Just like that, baby.”

Cynthia smiled at the pet-name. She never would’ve guess a man, let alone a white boy, would have her feeling warm and fuzzy in the middle of a hot, sweaty night club in the heart of Memphis.

“…just anyway you do.”

“Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the back of the club. They brushed passed waiters, dancers, singers, and fellows with limited self control. They wound up in an empty room in the back.

“Elvis—“ she was silenced by his mouth on hers. She was outdone, she’d never kissed a boy in her life. Their lips moved together messily and the sound of heavy breaths and teeth clashing filled the air.

She was pressed against the wall, her leg hiked against his hip, his body slotted between her lush thighs. There was an unfamiliar pounding between her legs that ached to be soothed. She found herself pressing against him, whimpering as her sensitivity brushed against his belt buckle. A chuckle fell from his lips.

His large hand cupped her neck, turning her head to the side as he nipped along her sweaty skin. Her small hands gripped his shirt as their bodies came as close as they could with their clothes on. Teasing fingers threatened to sneak into her garments. Her warmth was captivating.

“Mr. Presley,” Cynthia whimpered. “this isn’t right. We can’t.”

“We can. A little dirty dancin’ never hurt nobody, mama,” he said lowly, searching for her eyes in the dimly lit room. “Here—I want you to call me.” He let her leg fall as he dug in his pocket for a crinkled sheet of of paper and a pen.

“How many women do you gift your number to?” Cynthia questioned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I may be a colored girl but I’m not a fool like y’all think I am. You not gon’ fool me, Mr. Presley. I’m already risking a lot being in this damn closet, let alone lookin’ like a fool waiting for you to pick up the phone while you live like a rollin’ stone. Don’t give me this paper if you’re not gon’ pick up.”

She was shy, reserved, but she was smart. She’d never let someone make a fool of her, and that he could tell. He couldn’t do it if he tried, there was something about her that wouldn’t let him be the typical playboy he was.

“I won’t, darlin’, hand to God,” he raised his right hand, which he used to tilt her chin up. He kissed her gently. “then maybe we can have another night of dirty dancin’.”

i’m posting this on this acc cus it won’t come up in the tags on my other acc (saturnville). i usually do poetry on this acc but hey, gotta switch it up sometimes lol

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black!reader #austin butler!elvis #black reader

[neonlight2]

Trouble | austinbutler!elvis x reader

Warning: mature language/ mentions of misogyny because it’s the 40’s and men can be pigs/ mentions of racism/ homophobic comments

A/n: I know it sounds super irritating, but I swear the main character pops off. This is also my first time writing on tumblr. So please be kind. I’m thinking about writing more parts connected to this storyline so if you do like this… don’t worry there will be more. (Also if enough people see this and care enough to, I absolutely love requests so go ahead.) part 2

Summary: Elvis is so tired. Everyone is at his throat. The politicians want to lock him up, the Colonel has him performing in tail coats, and he can never seem to make his momma happy. He needs an escape, an he knows just the place: Club handy. Luckily for him, his good friend BB King knows just the person he should talk too. Loved, hated, and everything in between.

She was it.

_

Elvis couldn’t take it anymore. No matter how hard he tried— no matter how hard he worked— it was never enough to please everyone. The Colonel wanted him to be the perfect ‘all American boy’. One that did what he was told without care and idolized the government like the Bible. Someone that thought it was queer to put gel in your hair and too girly to put makeup on your face. Not to mention he had to stop dancing— feeling the music he sang. How was he supposed to carry on when this was going against everything he believes?

Oh and don’t forget his poor momma. God she tore his heart to shreds drinking so much, and her yapping about his performance with the literal hound dog made his ears ache— and not in the way he loved. He had already felt bad as it was, even with his daddy trying to console him by saying ‘the bit with the dog was good, funny’; as if that would make him feel better. It only made his humiliation fester more. He had to get out and fast. Just for a while. Just for a little.

So he rushed out to his car, taking off without care for what his rowdy cousins had to say as they chased after him. He ignored the shouting voices as he drove off, opting to shun them out by blaring the radio. However, that blasted thing seemed to hate him too. Driving passed adoring fans, trying to skid through without running one over, Elvis almost broke the damn thing by pressing it so many times. Channel after channel he was met with himself.

“You ain’t nothing but a—,”

“Hound dog-,”

“Cryin’ all the-,”

“Cryin’ all-,”

“The singer Cherry’s outlandish behavior makes the public—,”

“Cryin’—,”

Until finally Elvis was given peace; club handy’s station tuned in like a miracle sent from god. He knew where he would go now. ‘BB would know what do’ he thought. Little did he know that there was someone else that knew exactly what he was going through.

_

BB had noticed him the minute he drove up in his pretty ‘little’ Cadillac. If that’s not what had attracted his eyes to the only white boy walking down Beatle Street, it would have probably been the huge crowd forming around him. Mounds of people, men and women all alike, they all wanted to be close to him; to be acknowledged in some way. A simple head nod would do, a hand shake appreciated, and an autograph celebrated. The sight was almost comical to the older musician, but he had the mercy that most didn’t.

“Elvis!” BB yelled, gesturing for the distressed looking boy to come over to the overzealous club.

This put Elvis more at ease in an instant. Waving back at his dear friend, adrenaline pumped through his whole body as he tried his best to weave through the large crowd, which grew by the second. Elvis tried his best to greet anyone he possible could as he perused the entrance of finely lit club. But in all honesty, he only had one thing on his mind— and his mission was to get rid of it.

When he had finally made his way to the barricaded door, BB practically yanked him in whilst shooing the mounds of people snatching at Elvis’ clothes. Security shut the door in a hurry, not a care for those whose fingers could get caught. Such a horrific sight was a rarity; this is why most artists prefer to use the back entrance with the rest of the staff. Sadly, that hadn’t crossed Elvis’ mind. It was already too clouded to see a damned thing clearly.

As they walked through the hallway leading to blaring music, BB guiding Elvis by the arm like one would a child, while he ranted and raved over his troubled mind and aching heart. His eyes crinkling in in agony and voice cracking in desperation. BB pitied the boy’s despair and pulled him aside before opening the buzzing door.

“Look man, you’re feeling down, you’ve come to the right place. You wanna feel up? You’ve come to the right place. So just enjoy yourself and forget your worries.” BB said, nudging the door open to reveal what Elvis thought to be magnificent.

People dancing, blues and jazz blasting, and everyone smiling. There was no displeasure to be found within these walls. Laughter echoed off the walls from people sitting together in larger groups. Booths and bars overflowing with howling conversation. All while the open floor was left to shaking legs and quick hands. Bodies on top of bodies, sweat beading at their foreheads from the vigorous movements. Thriving with the energetic song booming from the stage. A tall, black man stood loosely with lined eyes and suit. His voice was almost as shell shocking as his performance. The way he oozed charisma was beguiling; a proper showman he was. Elvis felt chills run up his spine and a smile open his mouth wide.

Whistling in admiration, Elvis follows BB as they make their way to their own booth. “He sings the hell out of that song!”

BB smiles at the boy’s enthusiasm, nodding in complete agreement. “A friend of mine introduced him to Sister Rosette a little bit ago. Brought him from the backwaters of Georgia, and she’s been helping him out ever since. Names little Richie.”

Elvis shakes his head enthusiastically as he watches little Richie buckle his knees and twist his heels. His gaze only moving back to his friend after hearing a tap on the table.

“That’s who you should talk to.” BB states with a small smile rising from the idea as he takes a sip of his drink.

Scrunching his brows Elvis asks, “Sister Rosetta?”

Almost choking on the burning liquid running down his throat, BB shakes his head vigorously before laughing audibly. “As much as I’m sure she wouldn’t mind it, no. I meant my friend. Been in the game for a while, gone through what you have, and honestly just the best advice giver there is. You two have a lot in common actually.” He says, watching Elvis’ more intently now as he takes in the similarities.

Elvis nods with a puckered lower lip; nothing to lose really, he thought. “Where could I meet him?”

Another snicker involuntarily leaves BB lips, truly amused by the boy’s assumption. “Her name is Cherry, and she comes around every now and then. Says she likes to keep us on our toes.”

Taken back slightly, Elvis quirks his head momentarily. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“You’ve probably heard of her.” King remarks, playing with the rim of his cup. He had dipped his head back slightly closing his eyes not to soon after; he was imagining her to perfection. “She’s on the news quite a bit, a scandal that woman is, but because of all this ruckus you’ve caused some of the heat has been off her back. Hell, the only time I’ve been in the line of sight for any politician to acknowledge me was because of her.”

Eyebrows still scrunched Elvis asks, “ ‘ell what would they have a problem with her for?”

Sighing deeply through his nose, BB smile grows enough to display his luminous teeth. “They think she’s trouble. Just like anything else that they don’t like.” Tutting under his breath he shakes his head at the thought. “You’d love her man. Her sound, her moves— if you like what little Richie can do— ha she’d knock your socks off!”

A warm chuckle leaves Elvis at his usually mellowed friends enthusiasm. “Better than me?”

King slaps a hand onto his shoulder, rocking him back and forth with a proud laugh. “Oh she’d give your little hip wiggle a run for its money alright. Man, I wish she was here, this would have been—,”

Cut off with a dozens of screams, both BB and Elvis look over at the building commotion. Their eyes almost popping out of their skulls the moment they see what’s got the crowd so riled up.

It hadn’t been enough for Little Richie to be up there alone, making the crowd go wild with his fluid moves and eccentric voice. No, a great surprise had sent everyone into a frenzy, even the man who had been sporadically wiggling on the stage not two second before.

A woman with a messy bob and an effervescent wardrobe steps on stage; confidence oozing from her like fine honey dripping off the comb. Her olive skin looked gilded in this light, contrasting beautifully with the sheer, corset-like bodice she wore. Fitted tightly to her figure to make her waist indescribable, while holding cup fulls of her breasts as she shimmied and swayed along to the music. Toward the bottom it fanned out into a flowey silk skirt— or rather loose fit pants.

Her red and green painted nails shined vibrantly as she reached out for Little Richies suit tie, reeling him in close to her. Their bodies entangled together, fully letting the music rush through them. A cheeky grin stretched across her red lined lips as she dipped into the boys neck— practically sending the audience into a cardiac arrest as their hearts leaped in their chests. Such excitement, such chaos; all of it made by a simple lipstick mark on the collar of a shirt. And the show didn’t stop there.

No, both laughed joyously at the excitement they had received. Hungry for more, Little Richie rips his tie off and tosses it to the side before taking hold of the woman’s wrists. Spinning her around to face the audience, he dips her to the side. As they both lean closer to the floor, more and more hollers follow after. People start dancing with more energy than before. Twisting, shaking, gyrating, you name it.

The performance only escalated with time. Little Richie’s jacket was shed, flying into the air without care, and not too long his shirt followed. A show like this would give the people Elvis worked with a heart attack. Both little Richie and the woman would have been locked up quicker than a robber caught red handed for their ‘provocative’ display. Shamed for the way her hands trailed down the man’s chiseled torso, she would have been called indecent, among many other things.

But Elvis found it absolutely invigorating. The only time he felt any discomfort at all was when the instruments had stopped, and the two performers movements halted.

Though he found solace in the open laughs they shared. It had seemed that Little Richies stage charisma melted in front of the woman, now instead of heated passion his face expressed deep warmth. Pulling her into a rocking hug, the woman smiles at the display of affection. Her eyes wonder every now and then as she whispers something into his ear, until they finally stop at Elvis’ table. Making him hold his breath for the short duration their gazes connected. BB on the other hand waved at her without hesitation.

“I told you, you’d love her.” He whispered smugly, amused by the dumbfounded expression on Elvis’ face.

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Elvis mutters, still in complete awe.

Patting him on the shoulder again, BB gives a teasing smile. “We’ll pick your jaw off the floor cause she’s coming over here, and she will pick at you for it.”

And he was right.

There she was, sauntering over while kissing any voluntary person’s cheek she passed that applauded her performance. As she got closer Elvis noticed that she was a bit shorter than he imagined. From the stage she looked like a giant, but now, as she grew near, it was as if she had shrunk a whole foot. Not that it mattered, she was just as incredible. Maybe even more so.

When she had made it to their table, BB got up from his seat quickly. Her arms had stretched out high, and she yelled out a playful greeting.

“BB! It’s good to be in the presence of royalty again!”

BB dips slightly to accommodate her height, enveloping her waists with his bigger arms. The color palette of their clothes clashing eloquently. After a few seconds pass, their hold on each other loosens and her arm falls to the man’s lower back. She leans against his taller frame once parted and shifts her intense gaze to Elvis. A spark of intrigue lighting up her chocolate eyes, which happened to be lined in black just like his.

“Elvis this is a good friend of mine—,”

The woman gasps dramatically, mouth agape and brows playful. “Friends? I see how it is. I leave for a few weeks and you go on and move on to the next girl.” She shakes her head with fake disappointment and steps towards the table, a hand held out for Elvis to take.

“Well I sure hope you’re more of a gentleman than he is Mr.Presley.” She says, with a sly grin.

Elvis couldn’t help but smile too; her smile was infectious. Taking her hand in his, he kisses her knuckles lightly. “Nothing but.”

She hums melodically at his answer before poking his nose with her red finger nail. “Yeah he’s nothing but trouble alright.”

“You’re one to talk Cherry.” BB remarks, while pulling out a chair for her.

“I never said there was anything wrong with it.” Cherry retorts back in an innocent tone as she sat. “Besides it’s not like I actually go looking for trouble.”

The claim made BB’s eyebrow arch with suspicion. A look of disbelief crossing over his face. “Sure.”

Scrunching her nose, Cherry glances over at Elvis and stops her hand from flying up to give her friend the bird. Opting it better to stick out her tongue like a child, Cherry huffs through a pout. “It’s not my fault our government is filled with a bunch of prudes.”

The statement made Elvis shift in his seat, sitting a little taller with peaked interest. “Yeah, I’ve heard they’ve been giving you a little bit of trouble to. What have they been saying about you?”

“As much as they say about you I’m guessin’.” She answered, chewing on what Elvis thought to be gum. “And I gotta say, I never thought I’d be outshined in scandal by a famous white boy.”

There was a fresh sliver of silence after her remark; the gaze between the two new acquaintances not helping its intensity.

Coughing to hide a laugh, BB slowly starts to walk backwards away from the table. “I’m going to go see Sister Rosetta for a sec, interrogate her over why she didn’t tell me you were coming and what not. Give you two a chance to… talk.”

That man had never moved faster in his life.

“At least being me back a cherry cocktail!” She screamed back, rolling her eyes after seeing him throw a thumbs up as a response.

“Is that where the nickname comes from?” Elvis asks curiously, totally enraptured by her presence. The way she sat: leaned back with her legs widespread and her hands gliding down the smooth fabric. It was all so enticing to him. He’s never seen a woman act the way she did.

“What nickname?” Cherry asks with a deadpanned expression, snapping him out of the daze he’d been in. Sudden embarrassment flooded the boys body, face heating up and ears going bright red. The sight made Cherry hysterical, and an infinite amount of apologies fly from her mouth. “I’m just messing with you Elvis.”

God his name sounded so nice when she said it. There was something different in her voice that he couldn’t really place, but dear god was it gorgeous.

“Yes, it is. BB started calling me that when he bought a barrel of them, and I ate almost every single one.” She chuckles at the memory. “And I liked the way it sounded, though it was ‘stage worthy’— but I’ll say, the press’s theories are much more entertaining.”

“Mm?” Elvis hums, bringing his own drink to his prodded lips.

Grinning mischievously, she watches him with amusement. “My favorite has to be the one where I ‘popped my Cherry far into my youth’ and that’s how I got the nickname.”

An abrupt spur of coughs escape passed Elvis’ lips from shock. Quick to cover his mouth, as to not spray any of his drink onto her, Elvis’ tries to compose himself.

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen any of them.” Cherry says, bemused overall by his reaction. Almost everyone everywhere knew of her ‘scandalous’ behavior. It had been slapped on every newspaper and tv screen possible. She was supposed to be set as an example of what women weren’t supposed to be.

So how has this boy— this white boy, surrounded by the voices of the American politicians who despise her the most, able to escape from it all?

“But maybe that’s thanks to you.” She realizes, tilting her head to ogle the boy’s infamous figure. “‘Elvis the pelvis.’”

Wincing at the horrid nickname, Elvis shakes his head and hand. “Well I’m glad something good has come from that blasted name.”

Taking pity on the poor boy, Cherry sits up and rests her head on her hands, deciding not to prod further. Although, her closer proximity gave him chills.

He thought he had seen everything when she came up to the table— assumed that being that close was enough to take in all of her. Her beauty, her charisma, her attitude. He was wrong.

Elvis could swear on his grave that he could count every single, individual freckle lining across the woman’s nose and cheeks. Sometimes when she blinked her long eyelashes would even kiss the small dots, seemingly leaving behind a blush mark. Oh and her eyes, god he’d never seen any like hers. Rich and radiant with speckles of gold surrounding her blown out pupils. But what practically screamed for Elvis’ attention was the red staining her lips. At first, on stage, they had looked glossy and a deep scarlet. However, now they looked ravenous. Plump, raw, and wet. Actually, now that he got a closer look— it was as if she hadn’t been wearing any lipstick at all. And that’s when he noticed it.

The cherry seed resting between her teeth.

“Elvis?”

Blinking away the day dream fog beginning to cloud his eyes, Elvis looks back at the woman sheepishly.

“M’sorry, what’d you say?”

Laughing at his childlike gaze, intrigued slightly by the behavior, Cherry repeats herself. “I asked if it was true you and BB met buying suits. King always goes on about it, so I was wondering if the story I’ve heard over and over again is true.”

This made Elvis chuckle; the image of his friend talking continuously about him seeming hilarious. “Uh yeah, we uh met in Lansky’s shop.”

“Oh my god, is Bernie still running it?!” Cherry quickly asks, eyes widened in excitement.

Smiling profusely at her exuberance, Elvis nods. “Sure is.”

Absolutely elated at the news, Cherry bites her lower lips to lessen her smile; it was so wide it became painful. “God it’s been forever— I have to go by and see him later. But his whole inventory while I’m at it.”

Eyebrows raising and mouth agape, Elvis’ shoulders loosen. “And leave us with nothin’?! What are BB and I to do without his suits?”

“Seems like you’ll have to be put on a waiting list Mr. Presley, because if I’m the one offering Bernie never rejects.”

“Oh lord, what are you planning to do to poor Mr. Lansky?” BB asks, appearing out of nowhere with two drinks in hand. One in a half hourglass shape, holding a liquid red as the cherries dangling off its rim. While the other is filled halfway with brown liquid that only some have a taste for.

“Oh just that I might buy out his store again.” She says, patting BB’s arm after kissing her fingers as a thank you.

Scoffing BB says, “You’re menace to my wardrobe woman.”

“It’s not my fault I’m his favorite.” Cherry shrugs innocently, sipping on the fruity drink— earning a delighted hum from her shortly after.

Elvis couldn’t help but fawn over the sight, but soon regretted it after being caught. Cherry’s eyes had met his eyes almost instantly. Luckily, she was in a rather good mood, and simply grinned discreetly to herself instead of teasing his for it.

“Isn’t that what got you into the papers in the first place?” BB asks, scratching his eyebrows as if to rekindle his memory— indirectly grabbing Elvis’ attention.

Shaking her head vigorously, trying to swallow down the gulp she had just taken as quick as possible. “No, no, no.” She replies, waving her finger dramatically. “They first wrote about me coming to America from Europe. You know they always go straight to race and nationality! The ‘suit incident’,” she continues, using her fingers to accentuate the quotations of the so called paper, “was the second piece written about me. That is what sent me into the openly hated category.”

“Over a couple suits?” Elvis questioned, beguiled by the situation.

The rekindled duo stared at the shocked boy with knowing eyes.

“Well what do you expect EP?”

“I mean, have you ever seen a woman openly wearing a suit before? Let alone pants?”

The thought skyrocketed in Elvis’s mind, whirling around a hundred miles an hour. “Well I— no not really, but I just thought it’s c-c-cause they like dresses. I mean they look aw-awfully comfortable and pretty.” He sputters.

They had broke the poor boys mind.

#elvis movie #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #feminist #bossgirl #elvis biopic #elvis imagine #x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler!elvis #elvis fanfic

[flawlessscv]

grocery shoppin w austin <3

note: hope yall enjoy and thanks for the love bbys. i love this gif of him 😻😻 his laugh is just ughh

- you arrive with a list of course . but does anyone stick to the list….because austin definitely does not . he sees something he likes or wants to try and throw it in the cart .

- you guys arent big on PDA but austin loves to keep his hands on you at all times whether that be holding your hand, his hand on the small of your back, around your neck, or in the back of ur pant pocket ;).

- you both like to shop at night time about 30 minutes from where you live . austin loves the drive and seeing you sing to the music and just enjoying yourself and you both like the calmness of being able to grocery shop without the pressure of being noticed the whole time .

- you eat fairly healthy . meeting austin and his healthy ways changed you for the better but you both still love a good junk food night .

- when you can’t reach something on the top shelf he will come up behind you - very close may i add - and grab the item of choice . you thank him with a kiss .

- sometimes when austin walks away to go find something and comes back the isle your in he pretends he doesnt know you and starts hitting on you .

- he is also a pun person when it comes to certain items that have a specific word to them he makes a joke like for example the candy called mamba he picked it up one time and said look its yo mamba . you held a straight face but couldnt hold back your laughter . people started staring .

- when you get to the register and load the belt he helps you and picks up the heavier items for the cashier to scan so you dont hurt yourself . you love the thought but just because ur a female doesnt mean you cant pick up a case of water . love him tho .

- he puts the bags in the cart as you pay - with his card , that he swapped out for yours when you last went shopping and argued about who was gonna pay - you still had no idea .

- yall make your way back to the car and he gives you the keys to start it up while he loads the pack .

#austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler!elvis #austinbutler #elvis movie #elvis 2022

[atombombbibunny]

Imperfect Prologue Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your ex has been haunting your dreams lately, though the two of you had moved on long ago, you couldn't help but let you mind wander about what would happen if you reached out to him.

an: hi, I haven't written anything in so long, but I have been absolutely obsessed with the Elvis movie. (I was a fan since I was in middle school) and now since Austin is so damn beautiful I knew I needed to write something. I hope you like it, this is a series but probably won't run too long. Sorry for any mistakes. (Also I created the header for it, please give credit if you use it, though its not hard to make so....)

Warnings: Smut! Right in the beginning. If you are under 18 DO NOT INTERACTE!! Cheating; I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING!! it just makes the story a bit more juicy.

Words: 913

Your hips were thrusted against the wall as his hand came  up to graze your neck , you clenched your jaw painfully, your teeth grinding shut, trying to hold back the moan fighting to burst out of your chest. “That’s right.” He practically growled against your neck as he thrust into you with no warning. “You have to be quiet, don’t you?” His voice was rough and husky, his breath burning hot against your dripping wet skin. He almost stopped all movement as he waited for your response, your weak nod was all he needed to grip your hip  harder. “But you like this, you want to cry out my name.” He implied as his cock pulsed from inside you, he was right of course, you wanted nothing but to scream out his name. But you couldn’t.

You can’t.

He hummed against the skin of your neck as one of your legs wrapped around him, begging to get as close to him as possible.

“Go ahead baby, say my name.” You could feel the familiar coil in your stomach tighten as your eyes rolled back. “A-Austin.”

With a jolt to your body you woke up in your bed sitting upwards, a slight mist of sweat covered your forehead as you caught your breath. Once you looked around your room you sighed, rubbing your face with your hand. You glanced at your partner in bed sound asleep, you grabbed at your phone to look at the time. 4 in the morning. You flopped back down against your bed; it was slightly damp from your dream.

You felt a pang of guilt course through you as you thought back on this dream, as well as the three others you’ve had over the past month.

Why was this happening?

The first one was so innocent, as innocent as your mind would go at least. It was Austin in front of you, you were unsure of where you were, like most of the dreams that involved him. He had you in a corner, his arm resting behind you on the wall, it felt like you were in conversation but couldn’t remember a thing that was said, he seemed almost enthralled by what you were saying. When he leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips in the middle of your sentence. They felt exactly how you remembered, oh so soft and tantalizing, the background around you faded into static as his lips met yours and you kissed him back, your hands at your sides, you didn’t even touch him, but you still woke up with an almost violent jump.

You looked over at your boyfriend Adam, the two of you have been together for almost 5 years, long after you and Austin had ended things, and though they were all only dreams you couldn’t help but feel like you were doing him wrong. You reached over and gently brushed your fingers against his bicep, he stirred only slightly as you took your hand back and watched him sleep peacefully.

You looked up at your ceiling before tightly closing your eyes, wishing for sleep to overtake you once more but gave up after a few minutes of tossing and turning.

You slid your phone off the nightstand and into your hand.

You had spoken to many friends about these dreams haunting you so often. A few had told you they meant nothing, but your mind couldn’t help but swim, why now was he appearing in your dreams, after so many years of being apart, of seeing him only here and there only for him to either not see you or ignore you all together? After one friend had confirmed your aching thoughts that it must mean something,  you were convinced that was all you needed to divulge yourself in him and these dreams.

You flipped through your phone mindlessly hoping it would make your brain go blank and you could sleep once more. But the more you dug around, the higher your heart rate had gone up. You knew he wasn’t really on most social media. Of course him, himself was everywhere lately with his new movie roll making headlines everywhere, but he barely posted on Instagram, he wasn’t on Facebook as no one really is anymore.

You felt the need to see if you could reach out to him in some way, that would calm your mind and you could let it go. But as you scrolled you felt like your search was in vain. 40 minutes had passed since you originally woke up, it would only be a few more hours till your alarm went off.

Your body was begging for sleep, but your mind stayed abuzz. At one point you were ready to call it quits, you were tired of flipping through empty pages but, as you were going through your archived Facebook messages you finally found something. It was your old conversations, at least some of them. You had long ago lost his number that you used to text often, but sometimes the two of you would converse through messenger and here were the few conversations.

Your eyes glided through the messages, the few I love you’s made your heart feel weighted, the cute talks of him on his way to pick you up. Your brain fought over your heart; still stuck on the dreams you’ve held. Your jaw clenched as your fingers hovered over your keyboard. You typed the smallest message.

Hi

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part One >>

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[butler-on-beale-street]

Guys…I know it’s been a long time..too long. But who would read if I continued Unforgettable?

#unforgettable #Elvis #Austin Butler!elvis #Elvis X plus!reader #Elvis Presley #Elvis Presley Fanfic

[angelinajoulie]

lord have mercy

#austin butler #this man. #the beard #i want him to ruin me #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin butler x you #austin butler fluff #austin butler x reader #austin x reader #austin butler one shot #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #austin!elvis smut #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler!elvis #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x oc #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis presely smut #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #baz luhrmann elvis #austin!elvis presley x reader

[she-is-juniper]

Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader slow burn series (chapter three)

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x f!Reader Type: series (chapter 3 / ?) ~ chapter one ~ chapter two ~ Warnings: so much fluff, a considerable amount of angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn, implied childhood/family trauma (vague), some cursing Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work…and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are? Word Count (by chapter): 7K Rating (by chapter): M (mature) A/N: This chapter was so special for me to write. It's fluffy and angsty but I hope it makes you feel nostalgic and hopeful the way it felt for me when I wrote it. There are some brief allusions to implied childhood/family trauma, but I left it vague. Also, before y’all chew me out for writing this as a reader insert and not as an OC… I know, I know!! But I made the details ambiguous enough that most readers could suspend their imaginations enough to fill in the blanks for your own preferences. So I suppose you could read this as an OC or as a reader insert—either way, I sincerely hope you enjoy it!! I don’t claim that this is historically accurate or factual but simply inspired by the historical context! The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956. Please note that I do not claim that this is historically accurate or factual but simply inspired by the historical context. Please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance! ♡, Juni

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The first thing I had done after I had gotten home from Beale Street was cry over Elvis Presley.

I went to my bedroom, closed the door, threw my bag and clothes on the floor, curled up in a ball on my bed, and cried. Maybe I was just being too sensitive. Or maybe it was the early morning hour that sparked my sudden despair. But I cried until my eyes ran dry of tears and I was simply too exhausted to keep them open any longer.

That night, in my dreams, I was a child again.

I was climbing a tree, the rickety oak tree in the small backyard of my childhood home. As I climbed, the sky above me became dark and angry. It began to rain, and the wind began to howl, and I knew I needed to climb down to return inside. But as I looked down from my perch on the tree, I realized I had climbed much further than I thought, and there was no way back down.

Someone was calling my name. It was Elvis’s voice. He was inside my parents’ house, peering out the window, shouting my name over and over again…

“Y/N…Y/N!”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Y/N! Wake up!”

Reality crashed back as I stirred from my slumber. My roommate, Margaret, was standing over me and tapping my shoulder.

“Someone’s on the line for you,” she was saying.

“Huh?”

“Phone call, for you. She’s already rung three times.”

I heaved myself upright and gripped my throbbing temple. “Who?”

“Someone from your restaurant, I think?” Margaret was already dressed for work herself, in her starched white nurse’s dress. “Were you supposed to go in for work this morning?”

“No, my shift starts at twelve.” Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand; it was only 10:45.

“Well, whoever it is, she’s gabbing so much I can scarcely understand her. She's still on the line, I left the phone off the hook for you.” Margaret gathered herself and headed out the door, but not before glancing at the pile of last night’s clothes I’d thrown on the floor. “...Ginny and I were wondering where you went last night?”

I searched for an oversized sweater in my dresser and threw it over my torso. “Beale Street,” I mumbled.

Margaret feigned a look of disapproval, but I could see the glint of intrigue in her eyes. “Were you being safe?”

“I was there with someone, don’t worry.”

"Someone?" She led the way into the living room, grabbing her purse and nurse’s cap. “A man?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

I waved goodbye to Margaret as she departed the apartment for work, and I went to pick up the telephone handset she’d left off the hook on the counter. “Hello, this is Y/N—”

“Y/N! Oh my god, you finally picked up.” It was Lila Mae, undoubtedly, my coworker at the diner. And sure enough, she was talking a mile a minute. “I’ve been callin’ you all morning! Have you heard? Do you know what’s happenin’ here right now? You gotta get to the diner right now! I can’t believe—”

“Slow down, Lila Mae— slow down. What’s going on?” I interrupted her.

“Elvis Presley is what’s going on! Why for the love of all that is holy did you never tell me that you knew him?! Oh my god. Oh my lord. I feel faint—”

“What do you mean?” Elvis…Is he…?

“He’s here! Outside the diner! He’s been waitin’ for you here all morning!”

“Elvis is at the diner again?”

Lila Mae gasped. “'Again'? You mean to tell me he’s been here before? Why didn’t I know?! Oh my god. Elvis Presley’s here—”

“Lila Mae— Lila Mae. What do you mean, he’s been waiting for me?”

“He came in ‘round 10 o’clock. I just about fainted at the sight, he’s such a dreamboat—he’s even more dreamy in person. And he was describin’ you, askin’ when you’d be here. I didn’t know what to do, it’s like my tongue stopped workin’, it was real humiliating. But I finally told him you was comin’ in for your shift ‘round noon, and I offered him a table to sit at, but he just said thank you and went back outside to his car. And he’s been there ever since. I reckon he’s waitin’ for you to show up! Did ya know he drives a yellow Cadillac convertible, with red upholstery? He—”

“Okay— okay— I’m on my way,” I said before hanging up. I was still worn slap out from my restless night, and I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I mentally cursed Elvis for showing up to my place of employment—again. Why couldn’t he just spare me the misery, go on with his life, and let me go on with mine? It was clear that I didn’t belong in his life anymore, and he didn’t belong in mine—regardless of our past.

I quickly got dressed in a pair of trousers, a casual summer blouse, and a chiffon scarf I tied around my neck, and I grabbed my wrinkled waitressing uniform too, since I was due to work at noon. I usually took a bus to work, and today, of all days, it was running late. By the time I arrived at the diner, it was nearly 11:30.

There was a commotion of cars and people by the entrance. A haphazard crowd was formed around the same shiny Cadillac I’d seen park along Beale Street last night—Elvis’s car. As I approached, I saw girls and boys alike clutching albums and other merchandise, eagerly waiting their turn.

And there he was, sitting in the driver’s seat of his convertible surrounded by the crowd of fans. He looked impeccable and unmistakable, wearing a white button-down with the sleeves carefully cuffed, his hair meticulously slicked back as usual. He was smiling graciously to a doting fan, who was all but tossing her skirts onto him.

No—actually tossing her skirts into his car.

“You want me to sign your...petticoat?” he was asking.

“Yes, please, Mr. Presley,” the girl gushed, shoving a pen at him. He chuckled and took off the cap.

“Well, as long as they don’t get angry at you none for havin’ me ruin your pretty skirt,” he said, signing the fabric.

“Elvis,” I called out to him over the small crowd as I approached.

He glanced up. And he smiled like he was a kid and I was his Christmas morning present. Pure unbridled joy. It was ten times more intense than the way he'd looked at me last night when he saw me on Beale Street.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up,” he called back. 

I held my hand up to block the sun as I frowned at him. Seeing him again after last night's escapade brought a rush of feelings, a strange mixture of thrill and anxiety.  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Well, I came to find you,” he said simply, and then he addressed his flock of fans. “Excuse me, will y’all let the pretty lady through?”

The crowd eyed me as they parted to let me through to his vehicle. I didn’t move, though, just stared at him from across the parking lot.

“Hop on in,” he invited me, patting his passenger seat.

“...Why?”

“Figured we’d go for a ride, y’know, talk.”

I glanced furtively at the whispering crowd, feeling warm at the cheeks. But I crossed through them to stand beside his car and spoke lowly. “Elvis, you shouldn’t have come here.”

“Well, I had to,” he replied, matching my lowered speaking volume, and the corner of his lips turned up. “You didn’t leave me with no name, no phone number, no address. But I remembered you worked here, so… I came to see you.”

Something about his casual tone of voice was…off. It was strange. Like he was putting on a guise of some sort. But I couldn’t pinpoint it.

“You shouldn’t have,” I said curtly. “You should go home.”

He leaned over to pop the passenger door open, indicating for me to sit. “Not until we talk,” he said.

“I have to go to work,” I retorted.

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can skip just for today, can't you?”

I glared. “This is my job. I can’t just play hooky like some schoolgirl. I have to pay rent.” Not all of us are blessed with heaps of money.

“I’m sure your friend in there wouldn’t mind covering for you for the day,” he mused. “Why don’t you go and ask her? Tell her I’ll sign any merchandise she wants when we get back.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of my racing thoughts. He smiled at me.

“Please,” he added, and his smile faltered just a bit, revealing the earnestness in his blue eyes. He dropped his voice even lower, ensuring that none of the onlookers would be able to hear. “After how we left things last night…I’d just really, really love to talk, is all.” He eyed his slew of fans. “Alone, ideally.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Could I really blame him for wanting to talk after what happened last night? I had left so abruptly from the club with seemingly no explanation. I could only imagine what he was feeling.

Growing up, Elvis was always inquisitive, sensitive, considerate. He’d always hated conflict, always wanted to make sure he listened to and understood others, always quick to apologize. So after yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he had done something awfully wrong to offend me. Which, even though he didn’t recognize me, his childhood best friend, despite everything… He really hadn’t done anything wrong last night. 

I owed him the opportunity to get closure.

“Let me go talk to Lila Mae,” I said.

He smiled in relief.

Inside the diner, Lila Mae was a hurricane of excitement. “Y/N,” she gasped as she saw me. She ran up to me with huge eyes and gripped my arms. “Spill everything, now. How do you know Elvis Presley? Did he ask for your number? What's he doing here?”

“He—he wants to take me on a drive,” I said.

“When?!”

“Uh…Today. Right now.”

She digs her fingernails into my arms even harder. “Oh my god. You don’t know how lucky you are. What’s he smell like?”

“Lila Mae—will you cover my shift for me today?” I pleaded. “He said he’ll sign any of your merch. And I’ll owe you the next time you want off.”

She nodded so quickly I thought her head might fall off her neck. “Go on your date, girl!! And then I wanna know everything, you hear me?”

I thanked her profusely and ran back outside to hop in Elvis’s passenger seat. He grinned and waved goodbye to the fans before he backed his Cadillac out of the parking spot. He braced his hand on the back of my seat to look behind him, and his close proximity to my skin was intoxicating. 

We didn’t say anything at first as he drove. The warm July air washed over my skin and through my hair. I untied the chiffon scarf around my neck and wrapped it over my hair to protect it from the wind as he drove. I noticed him glancing over at me, but every time I glanced back, he was conveniently looking straight ahead at the road. The way he looked, with his right hand gripping the top of the steering wheel and his left resting casually against the car window frame, brought an ache to my chest.

When he got on the 51, though, and started driving south, I finally spoke up. “So where is it you taking me, exactly?”

His white teeth glimmered with sunshine. “I’m gonna show you a place.”

“ ‘A place?’ ”

“You’ll see.” 

We were quiet again, but it was a comfortable silence. Although…he was humming something, I realized. I could just barely hear it over the sound of the wind and the road. The tune, from what I could make out of it, was somewhat familiar. I wanted to ask him what. But I didn’t say anything. 

The sprawl of urban infrastructure became more and more sparse, gradually becoming replaced with pastoral fields and forests. Finally, he turned off the highway into a narrow road, driving all the way up a circular driveway that surrounded a knoll of grass and trees. 

I gaped up at the building we’d stopped next to. It was a massive mansion, and it was absolutely gorgeous. A series of white, southern colonial-style pillars towered at its front like sentinels, beckoning the eye up the stairs and to the grand front door. Two stories tall and with more shuttered windows than I could immediately count, the mansion was a formidably elegant sight.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“Ain’t it?” Elvis affirmed. “It’s called Graceland.” He looked back and forth between me and the mansion, grinning. “I’m gonna purchase it one day.”

“The mansion?” I gaped.

“The whole estate. I came across it a few months ago on the way to a show in Jackson. It’s not up for sale yet or nothin’. But the minute it is…I’m gonna buy it, for my mama and daddy.” 

He put his convertible in park, then, and opened the door to step out. I gawked as he stepped up the steps leading up to the front door as if he already owned the place. “Elvis, what are you doing? Isn’t this private property—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, laughing. “It’s vacant.”

I noticed, then, the lack of vehicles or other evidence of inhabitants surrounding the building, and decided to join him. The massive front door was bookended by two tall windows decorated with wrought iron. He put his hands up to the glass to peer through one of them, and I peered in next to him. There was a beautiful staircase right by the front foyer, and two beautiful archways leading to rooms to the left and right. It was empty, devoid of furniture, but full of potential.

“Folks are starting to recognize me coming in and out of my parents’ house east of town,” he elaborated, “but I’m worried they’re all gonna start harassing the neighbors. I’m thinking we’re gonna need to move again soon. So I’m keeping my eye out for this place.”

I recalled the Presleys’ tiny shotgun house from the days of our youth. To think they’d one day be living in a grand estate such as this was surreal. But, then again, so was the notion that I would run into Elvis again after all these years, in the diner where I worked of all places

“I got a good feelin’ about it,” he went on. “It’s kinda silly, but…it calls to me, this place. It’s the name, I think. Graceland. Like you can feel the grace of God here, in the walls, in the fields around it.”

I hadn’t heard him say anything overtly spiritual before, but I was reminded of the way he’d tilted his head to the sky in prayer just before his performance at the benefit concert.

“It’s not silly at all,” I reassured him. I understood completely what he meant; there was a reverent sort of quality here, something that felt powerful and bigger than life. I touched the wooden window frame. "I feel it, too."

He held my gaze for a long while, and my heart fluttered so loudly I swore he’d be able to hear it over the rustle of the trees in the wind, like the whir of a hummingbird’s wings. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. I wondered if he felt the same about me.

“Elvis,” I said quietly.

His lips parted ever so slightly, but he said nothing. Just waited.

“I’m sorry I left so quickly last night,” I went on. “I know it wasn’t fair to you. But it’s nothing you did. It’s just—”

He grabbed my arm, effectively ending my apology mid-sentence. “You don’t have nothin’ to apologize for,” he said earnestly. “I understand completely why you left.”

You don’t, I thought. “Please, let me explain—”

 “No hard feelings. Besides, I’m the one who should apologize.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well… I could’ve done some things better.”

I frowned. But he didn’t elaborate. His hand, still on my arm, slid down to my hand, which he held lightly in his own. I felt corny for having the thought that his eyes were the same color as the sky today.

“How come you showed me here, Elvis?” I asked quietly.

He bit his bottom lip as if he were trying not to smile. “Just a pit stop along the way. We’re not quite at our final stop yet. We gotta keep driving a bit.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “We’re going somewhere else?”

“Trust me, darlin’.”

He squeezed my hand and led me back down the steps to his car. He came around to open my door for me before getting in the driver’s seat and departing from the mansion estate. And then it was quiet between us again on the road. 

I usually wouldn’t have minded the lack of conversation—or a good old-fashioned surprise—but my mind was spinning, and I needed answers. I wanted to know why he’d come back, what he’d been meaning to talk about, why he’d decided to come find me again. I wasn't in the mood for this sort of anticipation today.

“Elvis, I don’t understand why you’re taking me halfway to Mississippi just to talk.”

Just as I’d said it, we drove past a sign signaling that the Mississippi state border was a mile ahead. I made a strained noise and gestured to the sign to emphasize my point; he just chuckled, unbothered.

“You’ll see,” he said simply.

As curious as I was to see where we were going, my annoyance flared. “So, what, you couldn’t just spit it out back there at the mansion?"

He said nothing, just smiled to himself as he watched the road.

"Elvis," I prompted again. "We really have to drive out to the boonies to have a simple conversation?”

“Do ya want me to turn around, woman?” he asked, amusedly.

I huffed in irritation. “It depends on how much further we’re going.”

He didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s just a few more miles. I promise.” He saw the way I was glaring at him and added, “Do you need to get back to town for something?”

“No,” I griped.

“Then it sounds like you’re all mine today,” he said definitively.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. He snickered at me.

“Y’know, you’re real cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” I said.

“You are.”

I worked hard to force myself to ignore his attempt at flirting. “I just thought when you said you’d take me on a drive to talk, that we’d actually, y’know, talk.”

“We are talking,” he replied. 

“About last night,” I said petulantly. “About… us.”

“We will talk about that—in ‘bout seven miles or so,” he said.

Seven? “Why not right now?” I pushed. “Can’t you tell me why you came all the way back to the diner to see me?”

“I will,” he laughed. “Besides, ain’t it obvious why I came to see you?”

I gawked. “No! I thought you just wanted closure!” I exclaimed.

Elvis raised his dark brows. “Closure?”

“About why I left last night.”

“I told you, you don’t have to explain anything,” he said. “And I don’t need no closure with you.”

"We weren't meant to see each other again," I groaned.

"What? Why?"

"Because this isn't going to work," I said and gestured between us. "You should have just let me go."

"Well, that's not what you said when you left," Elvis replied calmly. "You just said you had to go." His smile grew. "Did you really never want to see me again?"

I bit back my initial response and considered. "No," I finally admitted.

"That's what I thought," he said smugly.

As we passed the state border into Mississippi, I simmered. Something just wasn’t adding up. Why was he being so easygoing, nonchalant about everything? Moreover, I was beginning to become very nervous about what was happening—and my nerves were further fodder for my irrational anger.

“Don’t you understand how unfair this is?” I snapped. “You come into my life out of the blue not twenty four hours ago, and you uproot me from my work, and now you’re expecting me to just let you take me into the middle of nowhere like some murderer?”

He somehow seemed even more amused. “You think I’m driving you out here to kill you, dear, is that what it is?”

“No,” I huffed.

“You really have such little trust in me?” he laughed.

“I barely know you,” I retorted. Which was, of course, half true. I knew who he used to be. But for all intents and purposes, we were virtually strangers.

He gave me a level look that was indecipherable. 

“I’ll turn around right now,” he offered.

I was silent.

“I mean it,” he said, braking the car ever so slightly. “You say the word, and I’ll take you back. No questions asked.”

My heart pounded. He kept braking, kept staring. Cars passed us in the left lane.

“What’ll it be?” he pressed.

I said nothing. He braked until we were at a snail's pace and he put his blinker on, preparing to make a U-turn and head back north.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered at last.

He smiled triumphantly and accelerated again.

Over time, my temper faded, leaving only a steady anticipatory anxiety. But I had to admit, the drive was beautiful. The summer sky was as endless as the the dense woods that bordered either side of the road. Despite the heat, the air that rushed over us in the convertible felt almost cool on my skin. I tried to focus on that sensation instead of the feeling of trepidation about where he might be taking me. 

A few moments later, though, Elvis seemed to decide he was through with the silent treatment. “Tell me ‘bout what you’re studying at the women’s college,” he said.

I told him. My response set him off with a dozen new questions about myself, my life in Memphis, my summer job, my roommates, my aspirations. I answered them honestly. It felt a bit bizarre to resort to small talk after our prior conversation, but I figured if he didn’t want to talk about the important stuff, then I’d humor him for the rest of the drive. Besides, it beat driving in silence—and it admittedly felt good knowing how much he cared to know about me. He was attentive and engaging, and perfectly polite. My heart began to soften from the intensity of my earlier emotions.

After he seemed satisfied at the answer to his question about my favorite film, I asked him a question of my own. “What happened after the concert last night?” 

Elvis tilted his head. “What d’ya mean?”

“I just meant, you seemed a bit...upset, about the performance when I saw you later at Club Handy. Did something go wrong?”

“Oh,” he frowned. “I…wasn’t supposed to, y'know, move around like that on stage again. Y’know, with the New Elvis and all. The Colonel just about flipped his lid when he saw me after.” 

“So you broke the rules?” I realized.

He nodded, unsmiling. 

“Well, so what?” I remarked. “You can’t make everyone happy. You gotta stay true to yourself, and all, right?”

“It ain’t that easy,” he sighed, tightening his grip on the wheel. “Colonel told me there’s gonna be consequences. Some people seemed real mad about the performance.”

“What about all the people who loved it?” I pointed out. “I saw your fans out there, Elvis. Those are the ones that matter the most, aren’t they?”

Elvis smiled just a bit. “You’re right,” he said, “as usual.” 

“As usual?”

“Well, sure,” he said. “Remember what you told me yesterday? About listenin’ to my heart?”

I recalled the moment, back at the diner when I’d first seen him again, and nodded.

“That whole day, I hadn’t been so sure what I was fixin' to do do at Russwood. I knew I didn’t want any trouble with the Colonel, or with any of the folks who were making a ruckus about the way I sing or move. But after that godforsaken performance on Steve Allen…” He sighed and gritted his teeth. “If I can’t move, I can’t sing.”

Then, he looked over at me. “And the next thing I knew, the prettiest waitress in the world was waltzin’ up to me,” he said with a wink, “and reminded me that I should listen to my heart. And so I did. So I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is…thank you.”

I felt warm to the cheeks, but I didn’t say anything in response. I was vaguely aware of a knot that had formed in my stomach, which was less in response to his blatant compliment and rather felt more like a warning signal that something was wrong.

Before I could pinpoint it, Elvis finally pulled off the highway and onto an intersecting road, where a small sign indicated it was a local park. A small clearing extended beyond the gravel road, beyond which I could barely see an old wooden bridge. 

It was a relatively unassuming park. Certainly not as grand or romantic as many of the local nature parks closer to Memphis. So why exactly Elvis had decided to drive half an hour and across the state border to this particular park, I had not a clue.

But that wasn’t the cause for the warning signals going off in my mind. The cause, I realized, was the realization that Elvis hadn’t once used the name Missy to refer to me today.

Before I could make sense of it, Elvis put the car in park and came around to the passenger side to open my door. He took my hand in his as I got out, saying, “Come with me, I’d like you to see this.” 

I followed his lead in a daze and untied the scarf from my head, tying it around my neck again to combat the sheen of sweat that had developed on my skin from the summer heat. We walked across the gravel road and over to the small trail that had been stamped out in the grassy clearing. Around us, cicadas whirred and the air smelled of pine and sunshine. The trail led us to the wooden bridge—which was battered and moss-covered, yet sturdy-looking. Still holding my hand, Elvis glanced down at me with a smile before he stepped onto the bridge.

We walked to the middle of it, where it was cool and shady under the huge oak trees. Frankly, the sight of the small creek below wasn’t particularly spectacular. Confused, I frowned up at Elvis and searched his eyes for answers. But they gave me none. He gazed down at me, a thousand unspoken words on his expression. And he guided my hand up to the bridge’s guardrail, pressing my fingers into the wood.

Beneath his hand, my fingertips brushed over a series of small ridges. Etchings in the wood.

I pulled my hand back to study it. Carved into the wood, clear as day, were two names, separated by a small symbol.

Elvis ♡ Y/N.

Time stopped.

The world around me blurred. No more trees around us, no more creek below us, no more bridge under our feet. Just the carving in the wood, there beside my hand, glowing up at me like a beacon. 

Elvis’s name. My name. The heart. The slight wear to the carving…as if it had been carved many years ago.

A voice, Elvis’s voice, came through to my consciousness. “Y/N,” he said.

My name. He spoke my name.

Slowly, my mouth agape in astonishment, I inched my gaze to Elvis. I watched as his lips parted again to speak my name. He spoke it like it the passcode into Heaven itself.

“Y/N.”

“Elvis,” I said back, my voice cracking.

I still didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why we were here, what the carving meant, what he’d wanted to say. But nothing else seemed to matter, except that he was saying my name, my real name.

“You recognize me,” I whispered as tears welled in my eyes.

Elvis just nodded. Something in his expression, the way his eyebrows pulled down like he was about to cry himself, it drew me in. I fell into his arms like I was a compass needle and he was my north.

“It’s okay, Y/N, honey,” he murmured into my hair as his arms wrapped around me. “I got you.”

And I started sobbing.

He held me like he would never leave again. 

“I don’t understand,” I choked out in between gasps for air. “When…?”

“This morning,” he revealed, his voice just a low rumble against the side of my head. “I came into your diner to try to find you, but I didn’t know your name, so I got to describing you. And your waitress friend said your name. And that’s when I realized. God, Y/N… I’m so goddamn stupid. I should have realized from the start who you were.”

“No shit,” I laughed a little, sniffling. “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize me right away.” I couldn’t hide the hurt from my voice, but it was mild—I was mostly just relieved.

Elvis pulled me away just enough so he could see my face. He studied it with a wistful smile and wiped my tears off my cheeks with his thumbs.

“Look at you, you’ve changed so much,” he remarked. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“I grew up,” I said. 

He nodded. “You’re a whole woman now.”

“Yeah, well, that happens to a lot of girls when we get to be thirteen or so,” I replied with a sniff. 

He laughed and then brushed his fingers across my cheek again. “But now that I know… I still see the same Y/N in those eyes.”

I gazed up at him until I remembered the wooden railing. “What is this?” I asked, touching the carving in the wood again. “When did you do this?”

“September ’48,” he replied. “The day we moved from Tupelo to Memphis. We stopped in this here park on the way to let Mama stretch her legs for a bit…and I wandered onto the bridge. I had a pocket knife, a gift from my Daddy, and I used that to carve it.” He stared down at the names in the wood with a slight pinkness to his cheeks. “I…couldn’t stop thinking about you that day, Y/N. Your face when I told you that you couldn’t come with us…I couldn’t get it outta my head. I felt terrible.”

I blinked up at him, speechless. The way he spoke of that year brought up memories I hadn’t thought of in a long time. Some good…some bad, really bad. I felt the familiar chill of anxiety settle at the pit of my stomach. 

This was the feeling I was trying to forget, the feeling I’d been running from for eight years. And as far as the last thing I had said to him in September ‘48–in which I had professed my love to him in a last ditch effort to have him take me with him—I regretted it deeply. Partially out of humiliation. Partially out of guilt for ever making him feel guilty about the circumstances, which had been completely out of his control. But it was more than just the humiliation and guilt. 

“It was a long time ago,” I said dismissively. I didn’t like to think about my thirteen-year-old self. 

“It was,” Elvis agreed. “But that don’t change the fact that I could’ve been nicer to you that day. It’s just…I was just a dumb kid, and we were moving, and I didn’t want to, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I wish things could’ve been different.”

“Don’t say that. If your parents had never moved to Memphis, you wouldn’t be who you are today.”

Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Someone whose life I didn’t belong in anymore. 

He gave a melancholy half-smile. “I know, I know… But I hated myself for breaking your heart.”

My stomach twisted. “I got over it,” I said. 

His expression was unreadable. “I thought about you all the time. And I wrote you letters, but they all—”

“You what??” I exclaimed. 

“I told you, darlin’, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he emphasized—and his eyes captured mine. “And about what you said to me before I left.”

I mentally cringed. 

“So I wrote you letters—probably a dozen. But they all returned to sender.”

“We moved across town a month after your family left,” I explained. 

He made a noise of understanding. “No wonder…” And then he smiled to himself. “I thought I’d never, ever be lucky enough to see you again. But here you are.”

He pulled me into him again, enveloping me with his arms, and my anxious thoughts became scattered into a thousand pieces once again. He stroked my head gently, and I clutched at his shirt.

“Y/N,” he murmured. I felt him kiss my head. “I missed you, so much. And I loved you, too. I…”

He trailed off. I knew what he was about to say, and my body stiffened, which must have indicated to him that I wasn’t ready to hear it. 

And I surely wasn’t. Frankly, I was trying not to collapse with how overwhelmed I was. 

“You don’t know me anymore, Elvis,” I whispered. “I’m not the same girl anymore. We’re both different. We don’t know each other anymore.” 

“I’d like to try and change that,” he said, rubbing my upper back as he continued to hold me close. 

My heart jolted. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

I thought about all the times I passed by the shops in Memphis and saw his face on the television screens. I thought about the way every girl had screamed and reached out for him on the stage last night. I thought about the months and months he must spend on the road, touring. I tried to imagine myself inserted into his life, and I couldn’t. 

“I just don’t belong in your life anymore,” I said. 

He didn’t say anything for a while. He just held me, and the leaves rustled and the cicadas hummed around us like a symphony. But when he finally pulled away, his frowning expression seemed…angry. 

Not angry. Determined. 

“No,” he said. “Now, excuse my language, darlin’, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

I sighed. “Have you not seen yourself? You’re Elvis Presley. ” 

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” he said. “Have you not seen yourself?”

His stubbornness fueled my frustration. “What?” I snapped. “A twenty-one year old unmarried girl who works at a diner and still barely scrapes by with enough for rent?”

He wasn’t phased. “You don’t see yourself very clearly,” he said definitively. “You’re more than that.”

“But you don’t know me at all,” I argued. 

He took my hands. “And I wanna try to change that. I wanna get to know you again.”

As his words sunk in, they left one very big question. “But aren’t you leaving for another tour again?” 

“I’m here in Memphis for a whole month, taking care of business, and my Mama and my old man.” He squeezed my hands in his. “I want the chance to get to know you again, Y/N,” he said again. 

And with eyes like those…how could I have possibly turned him down?

“Elvis,” I said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Have you thought about why I didn’t tell you who I was when you came into the diner yesterday?”

He chewed his bottom lip. “I wondered.”

I sighed and faced away, leaning against the guardrail out toward the little creek and the emerald woods. “Before you left, eight years ago… when I told you that I loved you, it wasn’t just that.” I took a deep breath, readying myself for the familiar stinging behind my eyes, the ache in my throat. “I was just a kid, I didn’t even really know what love was. So I guess what I had meant by that—and why it was so hard for me when you left—was because you were one of the only good things in my life in Tupelo.

“You made me so happy, and you made me feel loved the way no one else ever had before,” I went on. “And so when you left…there was nothing left to mask the pain of everything else I was going through.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elvis murmured beside me. 

I sighed again and collected myself. “Like I said before, I got over it. And I moved out of Tupelo as fast as I could, and I eventually got to Memphis. But when I saw you in the diner yesterday after all those years…”

“It brought back the bad memories,” he guessed. 

I nodded. “And I figured…maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that you didn’t recognize me. Because I didn’t have to be that girl anymore.”

I didn’t have to be Y/N from Tupelo who grew up with no money and a bad home life. I could be Missy, the cool college girl living in the city. I could be someone better.

“I was able to get a fresh start with you,” I finished.

Elvis bit his lip again, deep in thought. Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bridge and gazed off into the woods. I joined him, and together our feet dangled over the blue creek. Around us, speckles of sunlight shone through the leaves of the trees above us and danced along the wooden slats of the bridge. A steady breeze brought goosebumps to my arms, and I shivered, despite the summer warmth.

Where would we go from here?

Elvis broke the silence after a long while. “What if we started with a...with a blank slate?” he mused. “Forget Tupelo, and the diner, and everything. Let’s just start over again.”

“It’s not that easy,” I mumbled. 

“Why not?” He grinned suddenly and bumped my shoulder with his. “I’m just a boy who likes a girl. Doesn’t seem all that complicated to me.”

His smile was, unfortunately, infectious. “Well…That part seems simple enough,” I agreed.

He brushed his finger against mine where they rested on the bridge behind us. "I like you, and I'm gonna take you out tonight," he murmured. "I'm gonna take you to dinner, and you're gonna get whatever you want to eat, and we're gonna split some fancy dessert, and I'm gonna give you the last bite, like always."

I laughed, remembering the days of our youth. We used to save up our spare change and run across town to the general store in Tupelo, and we'd have just enough to purchase one chocolate bar. We'd climb up to the top of a tree and sit side-by-side on one of the branches to split the bar. And Elvis would always save the last bite for me, every time, without fail.

"You remembered," I said.

"I always will," he replied.

The memory prompted me to think about my nightmare from last night, about the storm, and climbing the tree, and Elvis's voice sounding from the house. I was beginning to understand what the dream had meant.

"I'm gonna treat you right, Y/N," he continued. "I want to do everything I can to show you that you can trust me. I want to know who you are."

I flipped my hand around, and Elvis interlocked his fingers with mine. Holding hands was just something we’d always done, even before anything turned romantic between us. We used to hold hands everywhere as kids. Now, seeing his hand joined with mine, I felt that familiar burn of nostalgia, but it felt good. He felt good. He was the feeling of home.

But I was scared. So scared. More scared than I was ready to admit right then. And I could tell that he knew it.

“Let’s start over?” he said again, but this time it was a question.

I squeezed his hand and replied softly, “Okay.”

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed chapter 3 ♡ This story has become sort of like my own comfort fic except I'm the one writing it haha! I can only hope I emulated the same sense of comfort and nostalgia and warmth onto you, my readers. Thank you eternally for sticking with me through this slow burn!

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

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#elvis 2022 #Elvis movie #Austin butler!Elvis Presley #Austin butler!elvis #Elvis x reader #elvis presley #Elvis #elvis presley x reader #Austin Butler!elvis presley x reader #Elvis fanfiction #Elvis Presley fanfiction #austin butler #Austin butler x reader

[kennarose1108]

Hey I would love if maybe you could write the reader getting car sick or plane sick while she’s on tour with Elvis!! And she tries to hide it but something happens and she can’t hide it anymore and Elvis has to help her!

Elvis Presley (MOVIE) x Reader !YOU GET CAR SICK WHILE ON TOUR!

You and Elvis hadn't dated long but he was already falling in love with you. He didn't realize how hard he was falling for you until he caught himself imagining your wedding. You walking down the aisle in a gorgeous white dress with your hair and makeup done in the most beautiful ways. And in response to him falling for you he didn't want to be away from you any longer than he had to.

He couldn't stand going through another tour without you. So he invited you to the next one. You were hesitant because Elvis would travel thousands of miles to get to his destinations and you get extremely car sick. Even driving an hour somewhere made you feel horribly nauseous. But Elvis's recent tours hadn't been so big, only a few hours on the road. You can tolerate that. A few hours then getting off. So you agreed.

Elvis was ecstatic, quickly packing your stuff for you not even letting you touch it. When the day came he dragged you on the tour bus, a huge grin on his face. You and Elvis sat together, Tom, Billy, Vernon, and some of Billy's friends sat across from you both. Elvis and Billy were having a conversation when you wondered where you all were going.

"Elvis. Where are we heading too?" You asked. "Washington State." He says while slinging his arm over your shoulder. You froze. Washington State? That's like a thirty four hour drive.. You smiled at him before resting your head on his shoulder. You had been fine for the first hour, talking, laughing, and having a good time. But then the nausea hit you like a truck. You tried your best to put a smile on your face and act like everything was alright but Elvis wasn't stupid, he knew something was wrong. "Are you alright?" Elvis asks. You nodded, "Yeah... Just tired." You say with a smile.

After a few more hours you had to try and distract yourself from not vomiting. You tried looking out the window but that just made your entire world spin which made it a lot worse. But you felt somewhat relieved that it was now night time so you could go to bed and hopefully feel better. You ended up falling asleep on Elvis's chest as he laid on the seats.

You were comfortable and sleeping peacefully until you woke up randomly in the middle of the night to your nausea being worse than before. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You lifted your body off of Elvis's and held onto your mouth, gagging in the process. You hurriedly got up and sprinted to the bus's bathroom, slamming the door behind you and puking as you fell to your knees.

Elvis woke up in a confused and startled state when you shot up from him. He didn't snap out of it until he heard the bathroom door slam shut and the sound of you vomiting. Elvis sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing over at everyone else who hadn't even stirred at the loud noises. He then got up, stumbling a bit since he was still not fully awake, and walked to the bathroom door.

The sound of a knock on the door made you jump. "Y/N? Are you alright in there?" Elvis's voice called through the door. "Yeah... Yeah I'm fine." You yelled out, trying to sound okay but you just didn't. You gagged through your words and you just sounded awful. "Want me to get you some water?" Elvis asks. You thought for a moment, making the decision that a cold glass of water would do you good. "Yeah.. Yeah that'd be nice thank you." You called. You heard him walk off. You then stood up and looked at yourself in the sink. You cringed, seeing vomit around your lips.

You grabbed the hand towel that was hanging up and wiped your lips before throwing it in the hamper. You stepped out of the bathroom to see Elvis standing next to the door, an ice cold water bottle in hand. "Thanks." You say while grabbing the water bottle from his hands.

You walked to the seat, Elvis behind you, and you both sat down. "You're not alright. What's wrong?" Elvis asks. You stare at the ground, taking sips of the water. "Nothing major." You said in between sips. "I don't care if it's the tiniest thing on the planet. If you're not okay I'm not okay. What's going on?" Elvis asks again, hoping he didn't have to repeat himself.

"I get car sick. Bad." You turn your head to him. "Then why did you come?" He asks. "I wanted to make you happy. And I didn't realize it was going to be a thirty four hour trip." You say with a chuckle, leaning back in your seat, Elvis doing the same.

"Well you know what that means now." Elvis says. You give him a confused look. "I'm going to take care of you," He says while wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close, placing a kiss on your neck. "And love you." You giggle. "And make you feel better." He says while placing a kiss on your lips but pulling away quickly and cringing. "Oh god, after you brush your teeth." He says while letting you go. You chuckle as you stand up, him slapping you on the behind as you walked to the bathroom.

Afterwards you and Elvis fell asleep. But when you both woke up you started to feel ill again. Elvis noticed you were looking pale so he grabbed you some water and told you to lie down. "We still have another fifteen to twenty hours left. Get comfortable. I'm going to leave this trash bin here so you don't have to go running to the bathroom next time you feel you have to throw up." He says before placing a kiss on your head and walking off.

You smiled, knowing full well that you were falling for him just as much as he was falling for you.

MASTERLIST

#elvis film #elvis music #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #baz lurhman #elvis history #austin butler #austin butler elvis #elvis gifs #austin butler!elvis

[blurredcolour]

Reunited

Summary: As your project in Germany comes to an end, you are at last reunited with Austin; mind, body, and soul.

Part Five of Production. Read Stuck (Part One), Caught (Part Two), Lost (Part Three), and Found (Part Four).

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral - m/f receiving, penetration, multiple orgasms, soft dom Austin] - 18+ Only

GIF credit: @karamelcoveredolicity

Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. This story is in no way based on fact. It is simply the product of my fevered brain which might let me think of other things soon.

Word Count: 4654

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The plane’s engines roar loudly outside the window as it hurtles down the runway, pushing you further back into the plush business class seat, before taking to the sky. It is carrying you, and 216 other passengers and crew, to Budapest, Hungary. To Austin.

You smile softly as you think back over the past several weeks…weeks of constant texting, exchanges of photos, face time dates where you would cook together or read to one another from your current books or swap stories from that day. It all came so naturally; each notification making your heart flutter. It was in fact too easy to drop whatever you were doing to reply, and you had to impose some discipline during work hours.

Several offers for new projects had arrived recently, but as time passed you became more and more determined to spend time with him. When the wrap date on your current film was confirmed, he had offered to fly you out to stay with him. His current flat had a several bedrooms, so there would be space for you to stay as long as you wanted. You had agreed without hesitation, which is why you found yourself 32,000 feet in the air, Eastern Europe rushing by below you.

He was filming today, of course, so he had made arrangements for his driver to be at the airport with a key for you to access the flat. He’d been sure you knew the floor and suite number, how to access the building and everything. You could tell he felt guilty about not being there to welcome you himself, but you had assured him it was just fine, you would probably need a nap after all the packing and cleaning and flying.

The flight is short – just under two hours. Only enough time for one round of beverage service. After collecting your bags and passing through customs, you step out into the arrivals lounge and smile to see your name on a placard in the hands of a rather serious looking man. He takes your bags, despite your protests, and leads you to the waiting car. He pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, handing it to you before you climb into the backseat.

As he pulls away from the curb, you slide a finger under the flap, tearing the paper. A key on a heavy key ring falls into your lap. You pick it up quickly and grin brightly as it is decorated with a die-cast metal hot air balloon. Tucking the key into your pocket safely, you turn your attention to the note that has accompanied it.

- Welcome to Budapest! I can’t wait to see you tonight. A.B. -

You pull out your phone and send him a text to let him know you’ve landed safely and are on your way to the flat with key in hand. The driver easily navigates traffic before pulling up in front of a gorgeous building that looks like it has been here for at least a hundred years. He insists on accompanying you up the elevator to the suite, setting the bags inside the door once you’ve unlocked it. He shakes your hand warmly and then he’s gone. You close the door behind him and turn to take it in.

You had seen snippets of the space in the background of face time, in photos he sent you, but seeing the flat in its entirety is breathtaking. Soaring ten-foot ceilings, original herringbone floors, dramatically oversized doors crowned with intricate plasterwork of flowers and filigrees. It was like House Hunters International on a grandiose scale. Leaving your luggage behind for a moment, you tour through the space, grinning at the bathtub in the bathroom – it had been a while since you’d stayed somewhere with a tub.

You can see he’s settled into one room, his things covering the bedside table. You look through the others before deciding on one with robin’s egg blue accent walls and a view of the inner courtyard. You go through your things, unpacking some clothes into the closet, putting out a few trinkets, but leaving the rest in your bags as it’s more than you’ll need for your stay with him.

Your phone buzzes with his reply and you smile, opening your message app.

- Fantastic! There’s some food in the fridge if you’re hungry. I’ll bring home dinner from the café I was telling you about. See you in three hours. -

You fire off a reply before walking back into the kitchen, reaching for the handle of the refrigerator when the photo catches your eye. It’s held to the appliance’s metal surface with a simple, undecorated magnet. A blush paints your cheeks as you see the image of yourself, head turned up with a look of awe as you’re watching that flock of birds during your hot air balloon ride. The wind has your hair carelessly floating around your face. It was arguably the best picture of you in existence, and he was displaying it proudly in the heart of his current home.

Swallowing thickly, you pull the door open, finding something to eat. You take your plate to the living room, opening the tall windows onto a busy square. You sit on the couch, arm resting on the window ledge, taking in the sounds of the city below as you eat and read your book. You only make it through a chapter-and-a-half before you sink lower on the couch, falling asleep.

The end of a project is always an exhausting experience…but you hadn’t even paused after the last three. There is a deficit, and you sleep the afternoon away as you finally relax. The sensation of soft lips brushing against your forehead, long fingers with guitar-playing callouses caressing your cheeks, wakes you. You sigh softly, shivering and smiling drowsily as your eyes open.

“Austin…” Your smile widens.

“Hey there.” He grins from a kneeling position on the ground before you. He leans forward to kiss you deeply and you tilt your chin up to meet his lips eagerly.

His palms cup your cheeks as you part from his lips to look him over. To make sure he was really there. You run your fingers through his shorter hair, biting your lip as it was still just as soft.

“Missed you…” You murmur.

“Missed you more” He replies teasingly and kisses you once more, softly, before sliding carefully to his feet. “Are you hungry?”

You nod softly and shift to stand, following him. His fingers have laced with yours; he seems unwilling to break contact now that you’re finally in the same place again. The delicious scent of the food he’s brought home reaches your nose as you enter the kitchen.

“Oh wow, that smells amazing.” You gasp as he opens the containers.

“I told the owner all about you and she said you have to try these.”

Your cheeks burn as he’s even telling other people about you now. He grabs some plates and the two of you split a portion of each of the dishes, catching up on the last few days as you eat. He’s not released your fingers once…eating with his other hand, letting you use your dominant one. Every action he takes has so much thought behind it, you wonder if he ever sleeps…You insist on cleaning up, kissing his forehead.

“You’re the one who worked today, after all.” You carry the dishes to the dishwasher and take care of the containers. “I am currently, quite happily, unemployed.”

He reaches out to snag your hips once you’re back in range but stops, looking to your eyes with a little uncertainty, recalling the rules you’d set out when he’d found you in Germany. You swallow guiltily and take his hands, placing them on your hips for him.

“Please…touch me…never stop touching me again…” Your voice is tight with emotion, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it as he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you fiercely. Carefully, you straddle his hips, settling on his thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. His fingers curl into your clothes as though he intends to never let you go. His lips part from yours to blaze a heated trail along your jaw to suck on your earlobe, nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“Mmm!” Your eager exclamation is accompanied by your hips pushing tighter to his, seeking friction, arousal flooding every corner of your mind.

It’s been too long. Too long since he’s touched you like this, driven you to an earth-shattering climax that leaves every nerve ending scorched by pleasure.

His hands slide to grip your ass, pulling you tighter to him, grinding you along him as his lips shift to nip the tender skin behind your ear before sucking at it soothingly. Your fingers delve into his hair, tugging at the strands as your fingers card through them enthusiastically.

His chest vibrates with a growl that shudders through your chest in turn, urging you to action. Your hands reach down between you to seek the hem of his shirt, pulling it up as far as your can before he’s forced to remove his lips from the tender spot on your skin.

You toss the shirt aside before taking advantage of your newfound freedom to slide your way down his body, lips planting hot, open-mouthed kisses on your journey to the kitchen floor. His eyes are dark, more pupil than iris at this point, his chest heaving as he watches you. Your fingers slowly work the fly of his jeans open, licking your lips unconsciously. He groans above you and obediently lifts his hips as you tug them down and off.

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s not wearing any underwear…but as his cock springs free you can’t help your gasp. Your feelings for him were deep and genuine…his cock was like the perfect garnish…an undeniable delight that happened to be part of him. The jeans are tossed aside once you free his legs fully, hands sliding up his calves, over his knees, the tops of his thighs, to his hips. He would surely deny it, but there was absolutely a soft whimper that fell from his lips as you did not lay your hands where he desperately needed them.

Using his hips as your anchor, you pull yourself closer, sliding across the floor. Your hands travel to his inner thighs, pushing his legs further apart, settling even closer before trailing more wet kisses up his inner thigh. His knuckles are white from their grip on the arms of the chair, breath shuddering in anticipation.

As you press the first open-mouthed kiss to the base of his cock, he whimpers loudly, hips surging upward needily.

“Fuck, s…sorry…” He pants and you just grin. You press your hands into the tops of his thighs, knowing you won’t really be able to hold him down, but maybe it’ll help him remember.

Your tongue begins to paint the overly sensitive flesh before it wraps around the head, pulling him into your mouth. The stretch of your lips around his cock makes you shiver, and his moans are making you feel punch drunk. You hollow your cheeks around him, feeling the rush of blood swelling and hardening his cock. Your head bobs along him encouragingly, moaning around him as the first drop of salty precum hits your tongue.

You shift higher up on your knees to straighten your neck before easing down onto him fully, swallowing around the head of his cock as it reaches your throat. He slides lower in the chair, swearing thickly. The arms creak as he wrenches on them.

He reaches down with one hand, fingers splaying across the front of your throat, moaning raggedly as he can feel the stretch of his cock there. His hand shifts to cup your jaw, guiding your mouth off him and pulling your it up towards his as he leans down to ensnare your lips with his own. He grabs your elbows, guiding you back onto his lap, before he then grips your ass.

He surges to his feet, lifting you up with him, and starts toward the bedrooms. Your startled gasp sounds against his lips. You throw your arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. His teeth are nibbling and tugging on your lower lip as he walks.

The pair of you make it through the living and into the hallway which connects to the bedrooms before he turns to press you into the wall, sucking on your tongue as he grinds his aching cock against the heat between your thighs. Your head falls back, fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders as you cry out his name wantonly.

“Yes…I know…I hear you…” He murmurs sympathetically before devouring your cries in a searing kiss. He shifts you higher on his hips, tightening the grip on your ass, before continuing his progress. You take the lobe of his ear gently between your teeth, flicking at it with the tip of your tongue. He nudges the door to his room open with his feet, kicking it mostly closed behind you, all the while massaging the flesh of your butt with his fingers. You pull back as he stops walking before setting you onto the plush mattress of his bed. It’s so much more comfortable than the mattress in his trailer in Queensland…

“Why are you always wearing so many fucking clothes.” There’s a whiny edge to his voice. It makes your knees weak to think he might need you that much. He is swift and efficient, stripping you bare.

“Much better…” He murmurs as his ravenous eyes drink you in. He grabs the lube from the bedside table and slides onto the bed with you, hauling you up to rest your head on the pillows. Always so considerate.

Any further thoughts are beyond you now as his mouth is sampling the flesh of your torso, painting your skin with his saliva. He’s working lower on your body, nibbling and sucking at the tops of your thighs as he pushes them apart. His hands slide to your knees to push them further open, exposing you fully to his eager eyes. You can feel the heat of his gaze as it caresses you before his plump lips brush against the source of your pleasure.

You buck a little as the sensation is soft, barely there, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings.

“Austin…please…” You keen needily, squirming on the duvet.

His eyes look up to you hungry as he feathers his tongue over your aching desire, making you wrench your hands in the fabric viciously.

He flips open the cap of the lube, tipping the bottle to drizzle over your overheated flesh, making you quiver beneath him. Your whimper turns to a ragged moan as at last his mouth is fully on you. His fingers are circling your entrance teasingly.

“Yes” You praise him eagerly as his fingers sink in, one by one. Considering the state of his arousal, he’s remarkably thoughtful. It’s been a long time since you’ve stretched for him, so he’s working three fingers in and out of you, stroking your sensitive walls, before he moves to slide up your body.

“You ready, my desperate little thing?” He runs his tongue along the shell of your ear.

“Ahn! Uh huh! Please…” You buck in time with his fingers, chest heaving.

His fingers leave you before both his hands slide underneath your back to lift you against him. He turns to sit against the headboard, settling you on his thighs before reaching for a condom. Working together, you sheath his cock in the protective latex before you slide forward and up, sinking down onto him slowly.

That stretch. Your eyes roll back in your head as he feels incredible. So deep. His pubic bone grinding against the source of your pleasure. You’re grateful his hands are pressing into your spine, otherwise you are certain you would fall over backwards, overpowered by the sensation of finally having him inside you again.

You slump forward instead, reaching out to grip the wrought iron of the bed frame behind his head. You both moan at the change in angle before your mouths meet in a clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. You begin a slow rhythm at first, your body relaxing more and more around him before you start moving faster, grinding against him each time your hips meet.

You press your forehead to his neck, licking and sucking at the skin of his collarbone, breath shuddering as the tension builds deep within you. His fingers grip your ass, his knees bending before he digs his heels into the mattress. He holds you at the apex of your movements, with just the tip of his cock inside you, before his hips surge up into you hungrily.

“Fuck!” Your head snaps back, hands pulling at the headboard as he does not let up, hips slamming up into yours demandingly. “Oh yes...yes...” You cry out incoherently, the room filled with the erotic sounds of skin slapping against skin. Each thrust is driving the head of his cock into that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

“I’m…I’m…” You pant.

He reaches between you and pushes you closer to release with his hand, his jaw clenched as he fights his own orgasm, focusing on giving you yours. You’re screaming his name as it slams into you, relentless as a freight train. His voice mingles with yours as he shouts your name, his climax just a breath behind yours. You try to keep yourself from collapsing onto him, arms shaking as you brace weakly against the headboard.

He pulls you down to his heaving chest, holding you tightly to him as he presses lazy kisses to the top of your head. Somehow the two of you find the ability to walk again and he leads you to the shower to get both of you cleaned up. There are soft kisses and loving caresses, but both of you are utterly spent from the day.

He tucks you into bed with him, pulling you close. Sleep comes quickly, pulling each of you into blissful rest.

The sound of rain lashing against the panes of the window drags you into reluctant consciousness. With a jolt of awareness, you remember the windows in the living room. You slide from his arms quickly, not trying to be subtle as you will be right back. Your feet almost hit the ground, but you look back as you feel he’s captured your wrist in a vise-like grasp.

“Don’t go, stay…” He’s unguarded, still somewhat in the grips of sleep.

“Shhh, I’m just going to close the windows, it’s raining”

“No.” He pulls tugs on your wrist, pulling you closer.

You try and protest, to move back towards the edge of the bed, but he’s got a hold of your hip now and is pulling you to face him on your side. He is kissing you hungrily, not willing to let go.

“I’ll buy them a new couch…a new floor…whatever they want. Just stay.” There are shadows of agony haunting his voice, old hurts surfacing in the dark.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You slide closer, pressing your fingers into the taught flesh of his back.

“I’m here, Austin…I’m not going anywhere” You reassure softly.

The hand on your hip slides down to the back of your knee, hooking it over his hip so he can press his throbbing cock between your legs.

“Fuck I need you…more than air…you make me so desperate.” His words rasp against your throat as his lips and teeth are busily marking the tender flesh there. “I can’t think when I’m touching you either…can’t think of anything but you. Being inside you, it’s…it’s all I want…I would happily starve to death if we could stay that way forever.”

He has you trembling like a leaf; his words filling your heart to bursting at the same time as they leave you feeling impossibly empty and aching for him.

“Austin” All you can manage to speak is his name. Bending down to seek his lips, you capture them in a deep kiss. Your grip on his back tightens as you roll your hips along him, whimpering needily into the lush warmth of his mouth.

There’s a salty taste to the kiss as tears have escaped your eyelashes, rolling down your cheeks to slide between your enmeshed lips. His hips are undulating with yours. You are teasing one another in a merciless onslaught until one of you snaps. You tear your lips from his, panting desperately, breathing becoming a struggle as the only thing your body is interested in doing is joining with his.

You barely notice as his long arm reaches back for the bottle of lube, but the snap of the lid sends a thrill of desire through you.

“Please…” You plead with him, your own hand sliding between your bodies to smooth the slick of precum along his length, basking in the noises of hunger he’s making.

As his fingers work you open, you rut your hips against his hand. He seems to want to spend more time getting you ready, such an attentive lover, but you are unwilling to wait any longer. You release his cock to wrap your fingers around his wrist, easing his fingers from inside you.

His eyes seek yours, tongue licking his lips as he complies, slipping on a condom he’d fetched along with the lube. He pulls his hips back to line up with your entrance. You push yourself onto the head of his cock, moaning raggedly as he sinks into you, igniting a swirl of emotions in your chest. His eyes are hooded, nearly closed, eyelashes dusting his cheeks until his pelvis meets yours. His eyes flutter open in a lazy smile of completeness, reverence…and the dam bursts.

“Oh god, I am so in love with you…” You are helpless to stop the words as they spill from your lips, eyes rolling back in your head at the sight of him, the feel of him. He’s not moving…in fact he feels frozen inside and around you. You tense as the weight of your words hits you and you scramble for something to say. “It’s ok if you if…If you don’t…”

He lunges forward, lips seizing yours, forbidding you to finish the statement. His hips begin to work in and out of you fluidly, his mouth devouring your noises of pleasure as if they are nourishment. Your hips are bucking hard against him, trying to speed him up, but he continues to move languidly…frustratingly slow. Your hand shifts to reach for his ass to drive him to move faster.

His own hand cuts it off, sliding under it to lace your fingers together, palm to palm, as his cock slides deep inside you. He uses his hips to roll you onto your back, pinning your entwined hands beside your head as his other captures your free hand before it can make a similar attempt. He pulls back from your lips, looking down at you hungrily, your face framed by his hands gripping yours.

“Don’t misunderstand my silence. I know I don’t deserve it, but I am going to do everything I can to earn your love…because I have been in love with you since you took that fucking mask off…”

Your eyes widen and it feels for a minute like your heart has exploded in your chest. You are certain you must have just died at those words, until he resumes his agonizingly slow pace, and the burn of pleasure reminds you that you are very much alive. Your back arches, fingers gripping his viciously in return, heels digging into the mattress. No matter what you do, you are completely at his mercy, captive to his rhythm.

“Please,” you whimper “Austin, please…” Your lips part in a gasp as you feel your orgasm stalking you…drawing closer.

He presses his cheek to yours, whispering in your ear “Just let go…let it take you…”

You whimper a little in protest, still craving faster…harder…You take a shuddering breath, writhing stubbornly beneath him. He chuckles breathlessly. You curse as you clench your eyes shut, exhaling shakily, trying to surrender.

It flows over you like warm syrup, slow and viscous, setting each nerve ending on fire as it creeps up from your toes to your knees, to your pelvis, to your abdomen. It overtakes your entire body and your head tosses to the side as you let out an anguished cry. He continues to thrust through it, that infuriating pace unbroken. Your muscles are trembling in the prolonged echoes of your orgasm, but his thick, firm cock is still inside you. You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel his lips kissing away the tears.

You roll your head to blink up at him, breath erratic. “Holy shit…” You exhale, back arching of its own volition as he still feels so, so good. “Uhn!”

He murmurs your name reverently. “That was incredible…” He kisses you hungrily, thrusts continuing at the slow but relentless pace. “Think you can give me another one?”

“I…” you pant, finding it very hard to focus as your brain is struggling to process anything in the chaos of pleasure and stimulation. “…need…please…” you manage another two words.

“Mmm what do you need?” He coos, his patience frustrating.

You clench your fingers in his, as though you are gripping his ass to drive him harder, faster. “More!” You gasp out.

He pauses, hips pulled away from yours, barely inside you. You vaguely register the working of his jaw before he obliges your request, his hips snapping forward to meet yours with a delicious slapping of skin. You cry out incomprehensibly, knuckles going white from their grip on his hands. He licks his lips hungrily as he presses your joined hands further into the pillows to get better leverage, thrusts slamming into you with the force and speed needed to drive you closer.

“Like…that?” He grits out through his teeth.

“I’m…” You wail raggedly, knees gripping his hips, your own hips rising to meet each stroke greedily.

“Yes. Good…” He breathes heavily, glistening with a sheen of sweat, the dim light from the window painting patterns of cascading water across his skin. He kisses you hungrily and you can feel him growing thicker inside you…he’s close too…

You lap at the hollow of his throat, tasting the salty tang of his sweat, before latching your lips onto the tender flesh where his shoulder meets his neck. Your body collides up against his with the force of your second orgasm, giving a practically feral cry into his skin. A string of curses sounds above you before his hips thrust once, twice more. He gives a strangled cry of your name, and you feel his release fill the condom inside you.

Your thighs are quivering as you struggle to catch your breath, forcing your eyes open to take him in. His arms are strained but still holding him over you as he drinks you in. There is a hint of disbelief in his gaze, and you lean up to kiss him lovingly, pushing your hips up to roll the two of you onto your sides before he falls down. His hands release yours and cup your cheeks, thumbs stroking along your skin tenderly. You slide your own fingers into his hair, smoothing his disordered locks soothingly.

“I love you.” You repeat softly, voice breathless but earnest.

“I love you, too.” He tucks you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. Two nomads in an industry that frequently flung you to the far corners of the world. But in each others’ arms, you had found home.

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Read Awarded (Part Six/Final Part)

Tag list: @jazmin2211

#austin butler x reader #austin butler x gn reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler x you #gn!reader #elvis2022 #elvis 2022 #austin butler!elvis #blurredcolour #productionfic #Austin Butler

[multifandomworldsposts]

We Met in Tampa PT. 3

A/N: The story is the Elvis movie but Y/N version!

Pairing: Austin!elvis x reader

warning: Smut, Oral (M&F), fluff in the beginning

Y/N’s POV

Elvis was getting TV gigs ALL THE TIME! But we would invite me to some of them like his new movie Love Me Tender. The merchandise, some of it looked good but some looked weird. I sit with Elvis while the Colonel is showing us the merchandise that he has already in the room, a bust, pins, games, etc.

“I hate Elvis.” Elvis and I look at Gladys and she’s holding a pin that says what she said. Why would anyone want that?

“Yes. I hate Elvis. In my way of thinking, “I love Elvis,” that’s an easy sell. Those who hate your son will do so whether we profit from it or not. After all, what is hate worth if it’s free?” The colonel said to Gladys grabbing the pin out of her hand. I can tell she looks uncomfortable.

The colonel came up to Elvis and I and gave Elvis the pin, Elvis looks at it and says, “Snowman strikes again.” The men in the room laugh but I look at Gladys including Elvis’s grandma, I can tell they hate that idea, including myself.

Elvis went to the ‘Lansky Bros.’ and I stayed at Graceland to be with his family. He’s getting a new suit that he told about, I can’t wait to see it! He came home with the suit and I fell in love with it! It suits him so much!

Elvis invited me to go to the network at NBC and I obviously want to go. When we got there I was in shock, I’ve never seen anything like this. The producers gave me a special seat so I can see Elvis better. I look around and see his fans and some of them gave me dirty looks, I didn’t care I was seeing the man I’m in love with preforming ‘Hound Dog’ and I remember the moves he’s doing, he did them when I saw in back home.

The newspapers came and they are brutal like, ‘Elvis The Pelvis Belongs In The Jungle’ or ‘Elvis Presley Must Clean Up His Act — Or Go To Jail’, I get uncomfortable when I see these titles, Some articles are about his ‘mystery girl’, which is me but he wants to talk about me but he’s afraid that I might get death threats by them.

Elvis told me about his ‘Steve Allen’ show, he hated it because he couldn’t dance the way he dance and I felt bad for him, I want him to do what he wants to do because it makes me happy.

“It was the most embarrassing performance of my life, daddy.” Elvis says in a upset voice.

I feel bad for him. I get back to reading until I hear Elvis and Gladys start to yell at each other, “I don’t want all this! You’re unhappy!”

“I am not!” Elvis yelled, which made me flinch. Gladys slams her hands on the table.

I get up to see what’s happening, “You’re losing yourself, Booby!” I walk to Elvis to calm him down but he went to Gladys and she whispers something to him that I couldn’t hear.

I hear his friends coming in yelling Elvis’s nickname. “Tramping mud in my house and doing my damn head in. Come on Y/N/N.” He grabs my arm and says, “Where are we going?” “Anywhere but here.” Elvis takes me to his Cadillac and drives off fast, I don’t say anything I just let him drive.

He takes us to town and I see fans running to the car and Elvis finds a parking spot and opens the door and goes to mine and opens my door so I can get out. I hold on to his arm, there’s a lot of people out here, I just didn’t want to lose him from the crowd. “E.P.!” I hear and I turn my head, B.B. King? One of my friends love his music. Elvis takes me to Club Handy and B.B. King took us in the club.

I hear music inside, Elvis telling B.B. about what’s been going on at Graceland, B.B. looks at me and giving me a face like ‘is he serious’ face, I nod. B.B. talks to Elvis but I can’t hear them. B.B. opens the door to the club and this place looks amazing including the the singer, Little Richard? The same friend listens to him as well. We get to a table and I sat down next to Elvis. “Man, he sings the hell out of that song!” I hear E. say.

“Can I steal your girl for a moment?” A woman says to us.

“Uh, sure.” I get up and says.

“I want to show you something, it’s nothing bad I just want to show you something.” She says.

I look at Elvis and he nods, “Yeah of course.” She drags me to a hallway to a fancy clothing store.

“My name is Y/N what’s yours?” She looks at me and says “Anne.”

“This place looks amazing.”

“This is one of my favorite stores to go to. Hey Susie!” Susie looks at us.

“Ms. Y/N here, let’s give her a makeover.” “Why’s that?” I look at Anne.

“That man with you, Elvis Presley, needs to see someone with something new.”

“Okay fine.” Susie and Anne gives me a lot of clothes and one caught my eye, a lingerie set that I think Elvis would like. I try on the clothes but saved the lingerie for last. Anne and Susie complemented me and when I got on the lingerie, they immediately said, “That’s the one you need to wear!”

“You think so?” I look at myself and look back to them.

“Yes honey! He’ll die, not really.” Anne smiles.

“Can I pay you Susie?”

“It’s on the house Y/N.”

“Are you sure? I can pay you if yo-“

“It’s on the house sweetheart.”

“Thank you! I mean really thank you so much!” I walk up to Anne and she give me my coat and says, “He’ll love it!” I chuckle nervously.

We get back to Club Handy and Anne says, “There he is, go show off Y/N.”

“Thank you so much for this.”

“You’re welcome! Now stop stalling and go to your man!”

I walk up to Elvis but I take my coat off, Elvis looks at me and I can see he wants to do something to me but we’re in public.

“Y/N, can I talk to you in private?” Elvis drags me to a private hallway, I look back at Anne, she gives me a wink.

“What are you wearing Doll?” Elvis says trapping me on a wall but puts his left hand on the wall.

“You like it?” I said nervously.

“I love it but we’re in public Honey.”

“We’re in private E.” He stayed silent.

I lean in to kiss him, he kisses me back until it became a make out. I start to moan. He grabs my left leg to his waist and starts to kiss my neck. I can feel his cock getting hard. I start to moan, he takes me to the nearest room and locks it, I feel a table, I sit on the edge, I’m ready for him, so ready for him to do something to me. He comes back to me and lays me down on table and tries to find the zipper to the lingerie. I help him to get the lingerie off and starts to make out with him again, I don’t want this to stop. He gets between my legs and starts to eat me out, I moan again, I tug on his hair, he sucks on my clit and I start to scream, ‘damn he’s good’ I thought.

Elvis helps me get the lingerie back on my body and whispers, “Wait until we get home Darlin’.” I heavily breathe, I’m so glad I met him.

We get back to people still dancing and I see Anne waving her left hand for me to come over to her table. I go to her table and sit down and Anne just says, “That was a long time what did you two do?”

“Well we, made out.” Anne looks at me looking ecstatic.

“The Elvis Presley did that to you?” One of Anne’s friends says.

“Mm-hmm.” I answered.

“And, he did more then made out with me, he.” I look around and whispers in Anne’s ear “He ate me out.” Anne looks at me she looks at me like she won the lottery.

“He what Anne?” One of her friends questions.

“He ate her out Janet.” She gasps and says, “That man can do more then singing.” She says. I giggle.

“I’m so rude this is Janet, this Briana, and this is Gabriella.” Anne introduced me to her friends. “Hi nice to meet you, my name is Y/N.”

“You look so beautiful by the way.” Briana says. “Thank you! So do you!”

It’s closing time at Club Handy but Elvis and I stayed longer. Thorpe starts to sing and I’m in awe, she’s an amazing singer. “I’m goin’ to heaven to get my reward.” I start to clap, she’s amazing, I think amazing as me.

I go up to Anne and she introduced me to Thorpe.

“Rosetta! Meet Y/N, she’s Elvis Presley’s girl.”

“Oh it’s nice to meet you Y/N.” She smiles.

“You we’re amazing.”

“Why thank you darling, you know a lot white trash come here to terrifies us every day.”

“I’m so sorry! My parents never taught me to do that, they taught me to be kind to everyone.”

“You really sweet to all of us by the way.” Anne says.

“And thank you for this outfit.”

“What outfit? Oh come on I want see the little number.” I show Rosetta the lingerie.

“Now that’s you! I bet you’ll wear it all time.”

“Just around Elvis.” I whisper in her ear, Rosetta laughs.

“Speaking of Elvis where is he?” Anne looks around for him.

“Uh, there he is outside with B.B. King.” I turn and see Elvis outside with B.B. A few minutes later a photographer comes in and asks me to pose so Rosetta, Anne, her friends and I pose but Janet says, “Show off your lingerie Y/N!” I giggle and took off my coat and posed with the women.

The photographer took out a few pictures and I said, “I want a copy.”

He gave one of the pictures and I put it in my pocket and he went to Elvis and B.B. “Hey, Elvis, B.B! Give us a smile.” I heard.

Elvis and I had to leave and said goodbye to everyone. We went to his car and he drove off to Graceland.

“Elvis, I never had that much fun since, since uh-“ I take my coat off “Since you met me?” Elvis chuckles and lays on his bed.

“Maybe, I never had that much fun since I went to homecoming two years ago with my sisters.”

I lay next to him. “Well would your parents get mad if they see you in this baby?” He points out my lingerie.

“They’d die if they see me in this.”

“Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?”

“Of course I do E. I love you so much.”

“Let’s do what we did in that room a couple hours ago.” I lean in towards him and start kissing him again, he makes me straddle him and unzips the lingerie, I take it off and kisses him again.

He lays me down on the bed so he could be on top of me and I help him getting his clothes off, he takes his boxers off and gets a condom out of his nightstand drawer. He rips the rapper and get the condom out and puts it on his dick. He looks at me but I stop him, he looks confused.

“What about your family and friends, what if they can hear us?”

“All their rooms are far away from ours honey, it’s okay to scream my name.” He smirks. I kiss him again, I feel him entering in me and I start to moan. I don’t want this to end. “E-E-Elvis. Oh god.” I moan out. He kept on going in and out. I hear him grunting, I start to scream, God this feels good. “How you feeling baby?” “So good E, keep going.” He keeps going, he starts to kiss my neck, I feel him giving me a hickey. I gasp and scratches his back, “Don’t stop Elvis.” He moans and continues to kiss my neck and continues to fuck me. He stops, I whimper. “Remember what I did to you honey?” I know what exactly what he’s talking about. He goes to my clit and eats me out again. I grip on his hair and gasps “E-“ He stops eating me out and starts to nibble and kiss on my inner thigh, I gasp again, I grip on the sheets and looks down at Elvis. “Elvis.” He looks up at me, “I need you.” He smirks and climbs back to my face and kisses me again, but I stop him, “That’s not what I meant Hon.” He gives me a confused look. “I need you.” I grip on his cock, he knows. He fucks me again, but harder. “Ah Elvis!” “Fuck baby.” We continue to do this for longest time until we both go tired. He takes off the condom and throws it in the trash and lays next me. I heavy breath and look at Elvis who’s also heavy breathing. “How’s that Y/N/N?” “I- Oh Elvis, that was so good.” “I’m glad baby. You know I have that concert tomorrow.” “I forgot about that E. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be Y/N, we get there at 8:30 pm tomorrow, don’t worry.” I lay my head on his chest and felt relieved. “Darlin’?” I look up at him and say, “Yes?” “I’m so glad I met you.” He touched my hair. “I’m glad to Elvis.” I give him a peck. I lay next to him and I fell asleep immediately.

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