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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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If Only...

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Reader, OR Elvis x Reader

Summary - When Elvis runs into you at a charity benefit, he can't control his resurgence of feelings, and he begins to wonder where it all went wrong? Why were you the one that got away?

Warnings - Mentioned nudity imagination in Elvis' memory, arguments, yelling, throwing things, swearing, written with you/your point of view but a name is assigned to "you" as June (I don't like using y/n, it makes more sense to me to put an actual name)

WC - 2.2K

Author's Note: This is a requested piece that I had an awfully good time writing, enjoyed it so much. Feel free to send in more requests!

"Elvis?"

The sound of your voice was a strangely familiar one. It had a bit of an unknown aspect to it, but he could hear the familiarity. Normally he might think it was a fan, but the way you said his name had been with such comfortability. Most fans can hardly keep their words together due to their tongue practically falling out of their mouth.

He turned his head away from the group of men gathered around the little bar at the event.

And there you were, June. Little Junie. His little Junebug. Well, not so little anymore as your baby fat dissipated from your sweet cheeks, though they were still supple and apple-like.

"Junebug?"

You smiled and put your arms out to hug him, and strangely enough, he, the man who always reeked of a suave and smooth nature, felt starstruck. No, you weren't some superstar to the world, but there was a time when you were the brightest star in his. You were his girl-next-door, well to be more realistic you were his girl-in-the-next-neighborhood. His suburban sweetheart.

His arms were hesitant at first to wrap around you, but as he smelled the familiar scent of the shampoo you often used, he relaxed into the hug. Pulling back to just stare at you incredulously, like you were a ghost.

Yes, many years had passed, and you both had your respective lives to live and dreams to chase, but as he looked you up and down as if he were measuring up how much taller you'd grown in the way he used to do every summer, he remembered those warm summer nights. He envisioned the mornings that followed and went without breath as he did so.

The way the morning summer sun filtered in through the window of your bedroom, sunlight dancing along your bare arms. Its warmth caressed your body with a softness that he had been using the night before. And when the summer breeze would drift into the room, and the covers didn't quite cover your chest, he noticed the way your nipples arose sensitively, just as they had the night before when it was he who sent chills up your spine.

You always were a looker, but on those summer mornings, he felt you were at your most beautiful. Sure your hair fell messily like hay due to the actions that took place the night before, but even that was beautiful.

At least to him.

"Elvis?"

Elvis focused back in on the sight of you, the you now. The you who looked up at him with calm eyes, much unlike those wide bright ones of the past that stared in admiration at the older boy who showed you attention. As strange as it was to say, although he had gone on to be one of the world's stars, the way you looked at him now was as if you two were on the same playing field. Even though you had to physically look up to him, he could tell that you no longer mentally looked up to him.

Your voice cut in again,

"It's nice seeing you"

He gave you one last up and down before sighing with a smile,

"It's good to see you too Junebug, you've really…"

He was at a loss for words on how to describe you, but you cut him off, referencing the obvious,

"Filled out? Yep, no more 'droopy drawers',"

Elvis couldn't help his smile at the nickname he used to call you when you two were kids and all the other girls were beginning to blossom, being the jerk of a boy he was, he would tease you for being a late bloomer, you'd gotten to an age where you were to start wearing a bra, it was poorly fitted and would droop because it had nothing to hold.

Elvis's smile remained small as he shook his head, his voice then came out soft and genuine,

"No, Junebug, I meant, you've grown to be a beautiful woman"

You returned his statement with a bit of a surprised smile. Elvis had always been playful and teasing, it was very rare you heard a genuine heartfelt compliment. It was sweet to hear, and it showed you that you had both grown in your own ways.

"Well thank you Elvis, and please, call me June," you laughed the last part, "We're not kids anymore, so I feel silly hearing that…"

Elvis' smile looked a little crestfallen at your words, but it remained. His next words fell from his mouth with a tenderness to them,

"But you'll always be my little Junebug"

After those words Elvis got a sense of deja vu, the tender tone of his words, his wording, it brought him back to the last time the two of you had seen each other.

It was a little after your graduation, at the time he'd been 19 years old, still a truck driver. To him, you had this nonsensical idea that you'd go off to college and keep in touch. He never wanted to leave Memphis, and he didn't want to leave his Mama and Daddy behind either, but he also couldn't do long-distance. So it came down to a matter of him making a choice.

That was an awful argument…

He remembered the ending, the two of you had been arguing for over an hour, it was right before you were about to go on a trip to tour a few colleges with your Daddy. He'd slammed his hand onto your dresser and yelled,

"Now Honey, I-I don't know why you're so insistent on this whole college thing, it-it's ridiculous!"

You stared at him with fury, and walked closer to him, saying as quietly as you could,

"Elvis Aaron Presley, I know you did not slam your fist on my dresser while my little brother is sleeping in the other room."

Elvis had practically grown up with you, and your mom was a woman he respected so he'd never usually do something so rude and disruptive in her house. But as you were packing your things to go tour colleges, the betrayal he felt made him think "To hell with it all".

"I did, and I'll do it again if I have to. You're not goin'."

"Yes I am! We can still send mail and telegrams, and have telephone calls-"

Elvis interrupted viciously,

"It's not about that!"

You sent him a glare and put your hands on your hips, questioning with thunder in your voice, "Oh really what is it about? You don't want me to get an education? Don't want me to be able to take care of myself?"

He bellowed,

"You shouldn't have to take care of yourself!! That's what the fuck I'm here for Baby! That's what these-"

He roughly grabbed your hand placing a finger on the promise ring he gave you and holding up his hand with his promise ring.

"-are for"

You stared at him with a foreign gaze for a moment, your voice was a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear, "But, I don't want that… I want to be part of making our future together, I don't want you to be the only one putting in the work… I don't want that at all" You closed your little suitcase as you spoke.

He licked his inner lip in unspoken anger and hummed lowly with a nod, coming to his own conclusions as he paced backward. He went from a whisper to a yell as he asked,

"Ya don't want that… Or do ya not want me?!!"

Your eyes went wide as he paced back over and picked your suitcase back up, throwing it somewhere behind him, but you hadn't locked the latch so as he did clothes flew out this way and that. As the suitcase crashed into your dresser, it caused the dresser to shake and a few little bits of glass decor to topple over, one falling off the dresser and shattering onto the floor.

With the shattering of that glass, you felt the shattering of your heart as you realized this wasn't the life you wanted.

You walked over to the glass that was sprawled along the wood floor, then you kneeled carefully in your little blue dress to caress your clothing that was now carelessly spread along the floor. As you felt tears build in your eyes and let out a sniffle you could hear his angry huffing begin to calm down.

As you assessed the damaged glass and the mess of clothes you began to hear his shoes click against the wood flooring, but before he got to you, likely to apologize, you dismissed him with a croaky voice,

"Leave Elvis."

"Junie, now, I'm-"

You turned your head only slightly, not wanting him to see the sad contortions of your face, just enough for him to see the corner of your cheek, you then repeated,

"Leave Elvis… Please…"

He stopped and stared at your form on the floor, you looked so small and crumpled, just as your clothes were. He sighed and shook his head, he felt himself get mad again from you not accepting his comfort, so before he stormed out, he grumbled,

"When ya come to your senses you know where to find me, and when ya finally do, I don't want to hear a word about this college nonsense."

Before he could leave he heard a clink-clink, and as he turned around he realized it was the sound of your promise ring hitting the door and landing on the floor. Your voice was eerily calm, much unlike the shrill screaming matches you had with him, ones that you often would kiss and make up for not even a day later.

"You don't have to worry about it, 'cause I'm not coming to find you, Elvis, not anymore. You can have your ring. I'm done."

He felt a pang of hurt in his chest at the sight of the ring and the sound of your words. He didn't fully believe you truthfully, but he humored your words, picking up the ring and rubbing it between his fingers.

"Fine, this is it then, but it's your fucking ring. I didn't buy it for myself."

He waited for you to turn around, and give him a rebuttal because you always had to have the last word. But you didn't. And that made him nervous. So in a final attempt to ease you, he spoke in a quiet tone,

"And if this is w-what you're really gonna choose, college over me, then maybe we're better off. But, you'll always be my Junebug…"

With those words he left, you were out of each other's lives. Until now.

"Elvis?"

This time it wasn't your voice that brought him back to reality, instead, it was the warmth of your palm on his cheek and the concern in your eyes.

"Honey, is something wrong? You keep losing focus"

He swallowed thickly at the nickname, and at the concern and care you've shown in that small gesture, it was as if you were the older one now.

You took your hand back with a laugh, "Ah, sorry, it's instinct these days" He quirked his head to the side, "These days?" You smiled, "Ah yes, I forgot, Tommy! Michael!"

Elvis followed where your eyes were as you called out the names and two kids appeared to be running toward the two of you from the desert table, one had chocolate smears all over his face, and you tsked at the sight, bending down slightly to lick your thumb and wipe it off.

Elvis stared blankly at the two kids who looked completely alike and looked to be no older than 5-years-old. He heard you mumble fondly as you cleaned one of the boys' faces, "Oh Tommy dear…"

After cleaning the boy up you put your left hand on Tommy's head and your right hand on Michael's head, then introduced,

"These are my boys, Tommy and Michael, they're twins. I've got a little girl too, Mary-Ann, she's only a few months old so I left her with the sitter tonight. Boys, this is Elvis, I knew him in high school"

'Knew', was enough to make Elvis' stomach churn. And the whole idea of you having kids, kids with another man, that had sent his stomach on a rollercoaster. But before you could go into further conversation, before Elvis could properly introduce himself, a man called your name, and as you heard it your head turned away from Elvis to the direction.

You clarified, "Ah, that's my husband, Richard…", you then looked down to the kids, "Boys, go tell Daddy I'll be there in a moment", and obediently the boys skipped off to wherever that voice was coming from.

Elvis was too busy processing it all to comment. Here you were with a husband and kids, seemingly happy, whereas Elvis had a couple of girlfriends on call and a group of guys who only had their best interests in mind.

Even though he was older, he felt as though you had outgrown him. He wanted to say so much, he wanted to catch up with you. But he knew if he did, he would just let all his feelings spill out. And you didn't need that, not when you're happy with the life you chose.

You smiled an almost bittersweet smile, your hands gestured behind you as you spoke, "Well, I gotta go now, Richard needs me, but, it was great seeing you, Elvis. I mean it."

You held his hand gently and as he held yours he could only mumble quietly, "Yeah, same to you Junebu-"

He corrected himself, but he didn't like the unfamiliarity and almost formality of the name,

"June."

With that, you smiled one last smile, and your hands slowly drifted out of his, and then you disappeared into the crowd.

And once again the two of you were out of each other's lives.

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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I have so much writing within me that only needs inspiration, if any of you have a request for Elvis, Austin Butler, Austin Butler’s Elvis, Jacob Elordi, or Jacob Elordi’s Elvis feel free to send them into my inbox. Otherwise all the writing inside of me will fester into waste

#this is not an invitation to express hatred to #any of the men mentioned #elvis presley #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #Austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fandom #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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you lost me to a life of my own ✰ priscilla (2023) dir. by sofia coppola

#visuals #reference

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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Hollywood History

Made with the pairing intent of Reader x Elvis Presley, and Reader x Marlon Brando

Summary - As a new actor from the South steps onto Hollywood's acting scene, his presence sends the Hollywood veterans into a bit of a stir.

Warnings - Smoking, swearing, drinking, some undermining of Elvis' acting ability by certain characters. Not many warnings truthfully, just a little blurb that I never got around to finishing the ending of.

Author's Note: Oh this little piece, and its other bits stashed away, I've held dear to me, but it will only ever be an idea that I can't quite articulate at the moment, so here's a short bit from it. As I dusted this off I feel all those fuzzy feelings coming back, so for now I'll call it the intro piece to this little two-parter.

The party was going great. Though it wasn't quite all that much like a party. Many studio heads had come together to have a giant dinner, bringing their best actors along with them to showcase the worth of their studio to make an appearance of themselves.

You sat at one of the many round tables with actor friends, some of whom were from your studio. There was Marilyn Monroe, Dean Martin, Marlon Brando, Rita Hayworth, Gregory Peck, and now and then Judy Garland popped by the table to talk to you and Marlon about the minutiae of how a few of the big wigs were getting along.

Sometime in the conversation, greased-up black hair that belonged to a very nervous man across the room caught Rita's eye, making her smile mischievously as she brought up a rather controversial topic to the table.

"Say, what do you think of the new guy, Y'know the one from the South, Eric Presley something or other…"

You corrected in good spirits over the rim of your champagne glass before taking a sip,

"Elvis Presley, dear"

"Ah yes, that Elvis Presley"

A few friends at the round table grimaced and made faces of an unsure, disapproving nature. The man was a hot topic among you and your Hollywood friends, after all, it seemed he was trying to take the movie business by storm after having conquered the music business, along with dozens of hearts of silly school girls who'd be better off focusing on their studies.

Your date, Marlon, blew out the corner of his mouth after taking a long thoughtful huff, keeping the smoke from going into your vicinity as a gentleman should. Then after staring at an empty corner of the table for a while, he shrugged as he leaned forward to put the cigarette out in the ashtray. After sitting back on his chair his hand that rested atop your thigh slid back a little with his movement, not that you'd complain too much.

"Frankly, uh" he started, "The guy's a phony, I-I mean he's riding on the tail of his music, it's a fucking mockery of actors. When he makes a movie where he doesn't sing, then, eh, maybe I'll think differently. But that's another ten years coming at least."

"Well," Marilyn's breathy voice made itself known, leading all eyes to land on her as she tilted her head to Dean, who seemed a tad uncomfortable at the statement. Dean had started with music just like the Presley kid, and eventually branched out to acting as well.

Marlon laughed incredulously at how his words had been taken into offense by his longtime friend. He brought his hands up to gesture his well-meaning as he explained, "It's different with people like you Dean, Sinatra too, there's a big difference. Elvis Presley is, well uh, let me not spoil our mood eh?"

His voice had risen in pitch as it always did whenever he was about to break into a laugh. Everyone laughed a small laugh at what he was implying and continued with their smoking and drinking. But being the devil's advocate, you said something just to stir the pot.

"He seems to be a good fit for dramatic roles, those last two films were-"

Marlon cut you off,

"-were his last two movies if there's a God."

As everyone laughed including yourself at the jest, Marilyn leaned forward and lightly swatted at Marlon's chest before ordering with a commanding yet soft voice,

"Oh you dog, let her finish, let her finish"

You sent her an appreciative smile as she sent you a wink. After the laughs subsided all eyes were on you as you finished your statement, "All I'm saying is his last two films show promise as a dramatic actor"

Everyone took what you said with a grain of salt, even Marlon nodded with thought. His hand slid along your thigh as he turned his body entirely to you while in his chair.

"Well Honey, uh you see the thing is, anyone can act. I mean everyone's an actor, every day, so I don't doubt his skills as an actor, he could be a great actor I don't know, but he's got no essence. He's got uh, too many idiosyncrasies that pull away from the actual film, the actual character. I mean, really he could never pull off sending an adage through his films, or-"

"And you think you could?"

You stared at Marlon stone-faced after cutting him off. Everyone's faces fell flat, including Marlon's as he was taken aback by the uncharacteristic action, but after a few moments, he smiled and let out a noise of amusement as he realized what you were doing, "Honey, I already have"

You smiled as it seemed he caught on to your little devil's advocate act, following your smile the rest of your friends around the table also caught on and began to laugh while internally letting out a breath.

You often were placating and adaptable, but when it came to someone who you shared a connection with, someone like Marlon, you often let a bit of internal venom slip through the cracks. And with Marlon being the way he is, the combination of you and him led to a tumultuous on-and-off relationship often covered by magazine tabloids. For a moment everyone worried that the next coverage of your relationship would be from an argument over something as silly as a boy from the South, trying to make a name for himself in the film industry.

In the end, you two always found each other again. But there was often a bit of straying here and there…

And who knew that the amateur actor, the boy from the South, would be the one to lead you astray?

#elvis presley fic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x reader #elvis x oc #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #marlon brando #marlon brando x reader #marlon brando x oc #marlon brando x y/n #elvis fic #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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Liar Liar

Just a little Protective!Austin Butler x Wife!Reader blurb

Summary - After a rather unpleasant encounter with a familiar neighbor at your local supermarket, you come home to your husband, Austin, teary-eyed and shaken up. He handles it, and afterward, he handles you.

Warnings - Mid-Late 60s AU, vague mention of unspecified sexual harassment/assault, swearing, hinted at violence, protective Austin crying, angst, Austin is a bit insensitive here, Austin is set to be a morally grey person outside of his love for you

WC - 2k

Author's Note - So I haven't used this account in forever mostly because I haven't felt like writing much lately, I've been lacking inspiration, but I was scrolling through pinterest and saw that picture of Austin, and good god. Anyways now we're here, enjoy. This was also supposed to have a very smutty ending but it felt too random the way I was formatting it so I tossed it, so this ending is random and abrupt, but again it's just a blurb

The sound of Austin's tongue clicking at the two orange cats that wormed their way through his legs and around his feet was cut off by a wince as he knicked his thumb on the ridged edge of the cat food can.

Normally you'd feed the cats just before starting dinner, but you'd gone to the grocery store over half an hour before to grab a few ingredients. Austin didn't mind feeding the cats. Although he pretended to think they were a menace to the home, truth be told he didn't mind the cats as long as you weren't around, when you were around he'd get jealous of the love you showed the cats, almost like a child.

"Damnit…"

He mumbled softly before bringing the knick up to his mouth to suck the blood up. He could hear you already nagging him about using soap and water, you were very passionate about hygiene and health. He could also hear you nagging him about using a knife to open the can instead of the state-of-the-art electric can opener you bought at a Home Show. He hated when you went to those things, he feared you would realize the poor quality of life that his job provided the two of you with, seeing all that gorgeous furniture while your own was hand-me-down from his parents and going on 13 years old this June.

The cats let out a choir of meows that were beginning to overpower the tune that Austin had playing on the record player, Bring It On Home to Me, Sam Cooke. Austin still wasn't quite over his death, so Cooke had kept the both of you company many mornings and nights as Austin's way to honor him. Austin sighed softly,

"Alright alright, it's coming you glutinous bastards"

He used his uncut hand to peel back the rest of the can's top, then after walking to the cat bowls, he, in a very unceremonious manner began beating and battering the open end of the can into the poor plastic bowls. After a dozen or so pounds (one of which may have been from the angry neighbors in the apartment below), the food was dished out and the cats were happy as clams.

He tossed the can into the sink, confident you would sort through it later as you'd been getting quite involved in some sort of environmental shenanigans with those hippies which involved reusing cans for art or other projects. Austin didn't like you around them truthfully.

As Austin took a quick swig of a bottle of brandy he heard the front door open and close. Not an unusual occurrence. If you went out the door, of course, you'd come back in the door. What was unusual was the lack of that sing-song voice of yours. There was no, "I'm home!!", no "Baby guess what?!", no "Where are my pretty kitties?" in reference to both Austin and the actual cats, there was nothing. And it was eerie, making Austin for a moment furrow his brows and crane his neck to see if it was you.

He smiled softly at the sight of your figure, you were turned away from him, a bag in each arm, trying to lock the door, it's something you'd done many times before, but this time your arms were too shaky to keep it all together, and with a clatter and crash of glass one of the bags fell from your arms, landing on the floor, making you jump back in shock.

The noise had surprised Austin as he flinched at the sudden ruckus, quickly rounding the counter, letting your pet name "Babydoll", slip through his lips in worry as he did so. Thankfully he noticed whatever glass jar or bottle you'd bought at the market had broken in the bag so there weren't shards strewn about, his rough hand landed on your wrist to turn you around, but you'd jumped and turned at the sensation, not expecting him to touch you, or be so close to you.

"Woah, woah, babydoll what's the matter?"

At his concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows of confusion your face had crumpled and you let out a child-like cry, ugly in all its manner, but as raw as can be. Your arms stretched out to him as your face continued to contort in a way Austin had not yet seen. Now it wasn't unusual for you to cry, you had always been a bit of a crybaby truthfully, but you hadn't cried so helplessly for as long as Austin could remember.

"Baby? Honey, what's wrong?"

He kept trying to push you away far enough to make eye contact with you, but before he could you kept curling your head back into his chest or shoulder. "What happened?" His voice was stern but there were hints of sympathy that only you could detect as you continued to cry into his chest.

"T-thomas…"

Austin's forehead wrinkled at the name in confusion. Thomas was a tenant in the same apartment building, you and Austin had met him a few times before and he had confided in Austin about his issues regarding how unsteady his job was, how much he'd been spending on alcohol, and the kind of dark conflicting thoughts he'd had. All those things combined and the fact that Thomas' wife often sported a bruise after the entire apartment building was subjected to listening to their arguments had given Austin enough reason to tell you to stay away from him.

"What's he got to do with this Baby?"

With your silence and sniffles being his only current answer, Austin's imagination goes wild, and those soft pillowy lips thin into a line of concentration. His rough hands which have only handled your body carefully, begin to forcefully latch onto the sides of your head, pulling your head back to finally look him in the eye. It felt like your skull might soon cave in and you weren't sure if it was the overwhelming feelings of the moment or if he was just using that much force. You knew very well it could've been the latter.

Your lip quivers as you look up at his blank face. He let out a shudder of a breath and asked with a jittery, almost sinisterly excitable look in his eye, "Did Tommy touch you? Did he lay a hand on you like he does his wife? He hit you?"

You attempted to shake your head only to feel his hold on your head grow tighter as he edged his face closer to yours. As he stared at you through those blank glassy eyes, like he didn't have a clear, coherent thought behind them, he asked another question.

"What did he do?"

The eye contact was getting to be too much, you felt like too much of a wreck to answer, so you closed your eyes, and with the closing of your lids, tears slid down your cheeks simultaneously. And that was enough of an answer for Austin. His voice was gravelly, as he mumbled, "That fucking-"

Before he could finish his statement, he'd paced back into the kitchen, pulling a drawer open roughly, you could hear by the clatter it made that it was either the silverware drawer or the knife drawer. It didn't matter which, in Austin's state he could do a decent amount of damage with either.

Finally, you regained your voice, "Austin…" but it was too late, he was already about to pace right by you. But you grabbed his wrist with both hands, "Austin..!" He turned to look at you and had easily released himself from your grip, instead now he held your wrist and pulled you over to the couch.

By now your tears were from both your experience with Thomas but also your worry for Austin. You didn't want him doing something that would land him in jail. You knew that he had been the kind of man in the past to run with the wrong crowd and he already did have a criminal record, which is part of the reason his job has such shitty pay. They say old habits die hard but you didn't want another man to die with it.

Your voice was quivery and weeping as you put two shaky hands on his free hand, pleading rather than asking, "Y-you're not gonna kill him, are you? You're not gonna touch him right? Oh please Austin it's not a big deal, I don't want you to-"

"Stay here. I don't want you to go off and get yourself into more fucking trouble"

Austin paced to the hook holding his brown jacket and quickly shrugged it over his white tank, zipping it before making his way out the door. He didn't even spare you a look before slamming the door to the apartment shut.

You felt hurt by the statement, it wasn't something he'd normally say, and he didn't tend to speak to you like that. But you could reassure yourself that it's just because he's so worried about you. Austin tended to be a little mean when he was overwhelmed, angry, sad, or worried. But you knew to listen to his command in this state.

For the next hour or so you had calmed yourself down and had tucked yourself into the corner of the worn, plush sofa. Your cats Marlon and Kick were cuddled up to you with Marlon by your feet and Kick on your lap. And just as you were beginning to nod off you heard the lock click and door open. The apartment was quite small so your living room and kitchen happened to also be your apartment entry. You turned your head and saw Austin looking cautious as he entered the apartment.

Whenever he yelled at you he had that cautious look before approaching you, it was cute and boyish. It made you forget he ever yelled. As he walked closer the dim, yellow lighting of the living room lamp gave you a sight of a reddish, brownish color stained onto the fabric of his brown jacket, it wasn't in large splashes, it was more so a little spatter on the two the sleeves and over the front center. Your stomach dropped as you questioned, "Aus, is that.."

"It's my own Honey, it was a fair fight, fists only"

He said that as if it would make you feel better, well it did a little, knowing it was less likely for him to have killed the guy and get put away for life. Austin shrugged off the jacket and tossed it into the laundry room which was more of a closet really, before walking over to sit on the sofa next to you. His white tank was completely unharmed, still a pristine white.

You looked him over with a bit of worry, he spoke lowly, "Thomas isn't gonna bother you again, it- It's all handled, Baby". You hummed appreciatively and maneuvered your body to cuddle into his side. "Thank you, Honey…" He hummed in response while staring at the pictures on the wall in front of the two of you, he leaned his head onto yours which rested on his shoulder.

You then asked,

"What happened to the knife?"

He answered while continuing to look straight ahead,

"Ah, I dropped it, don't know why I took it. I think I lost it somewhere in the stairwell, I'll go looking for it tomorrow."

Your eyes fell to his lap, the way his calloused hands lay so limply. You didn't believe him. You knew when your husband was lying. And you knew when he said that the blood was his that he was lying, after all his face looked clean and smooth aside from his 5-o'clock shadow. Didn't have a bruise, some sort of swelling, or a scratch on him.

His voice had pulled you out of the storm that your thoughts were developing as he mumbled, "I love you."

You grabbed his hand and smiled, "I love you."

As you held it you noticed a little itty bitty cut on his thumb, not any sort of cut from a fight.

"What happened to your thumb?"

Austin peered down at it and shrugged, "Cut it opening a can"

Your eyebrow quirked as you looked up at him, shoulders going limp in defeat as you nagged, "I told you to stop using knives to open the cat food, why do you think I bought that electric can opener-"

"Why can't we just have a hand-held can opener??"

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 4 months

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Veils & Vows

Summary - You partake in wedding reception pleasantries while your groom, Elvis takes care of a few business matters. Only when the two of you are back in your hotel room do you get him all to yourself.

Warnings - wedding night sex, oral (f. receiving), p in v, fingering, no protection, smut, missionary sex, mentions of crime/crime family dealings, swearing

WC - 4.4k

Author's Note - I found this photo as I haven't been able to get Elvis off my mind as of late and I had watched Goodfellas last night so the thought came to mind, what if I wrote Elvis in a Goodfellas-esque au, aka a mobster au. That's how this came about. I've got almost 20k of this written already so I figure I post it in a few parts, and make it into a short series.

The Prologue

As a pair of familiar rough hands cupped your cheeks in a warm enveloping kiss, the rowdy applause of your family and friends filled the huge rented ballroom. The reception had started off on a sweet little note as Elvis' toast was made primarily to honor you, but also to honor some of the bigshots and higher-ups in the family who had been gracious enough to attend.

You knew the claps were primarily pointed toward the important men in your family and in Elvis' entourage but that didn't bother you too much. Your crowd was a close one, so close that even a day that was supposed to be yours, had to be divided up nicely to keep everyone happy. That's how it had always been.

Elvis' hand on your hip pulled your body closer to his as he pressed a few nibble-like kisses along your cheek. As he pulled back he stared at you with a small smile, his eyebrows lifted a tinge as his eyes were widened enough to get a real good look at his bride.

"Baby, I gotta go talk with some of the guys, so wait here f'me?"

Just as you had to share the attention on your wedding day, you had to share Elvis as well. But you didn't mind, you couldn't. Whatever Elvis did, it was what made him the man he was, the man you loved.

Your answer was short but soft as your eyes fell onto the way his hand grasped one of yours, "Oh, yeah, sure"

His eyes crinkled in a smile as he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the finger with your rock of a diamond ring gently, mumbling into the skin, "Thank you Baby."

So for the next 20 minutes you sat quietly at the table, your husband's empty seat keeping you company as you watched Elvis be approached by one crowd of men and then the next. Just about all of the men you had been introduced to.

There was Jerry "Hairy" Schilling, the man got his name because he was always greasing up his hair, so much so that he got 5 years in the can because he left greasy handprints on the window of a car that he'd kept some stolen goods in, he managed to dodge the charges of posession of stolen goods but the car happened to be stolen. What a dumbass.

Then the West brothers who maintained a perfect record at the races, they were raking in more money in the South from betting with those damned bookies than the Texas oil aristocrats. And that's saying something.

There's also Joe 'Diamond Joe' Esposito. He got his name from being part of the notorious group who fixed the 1962 World Series, Yankees win all the way. For those who aren't baseball fans, a baseball field is referred to as a baseball diamond. You only knew because your house was always full of Yankees fans who spat at the tv if an ump so much as called a strike on Mickey Mantle.

Speaking of the Yankees, though Joe DiMaggio couldn't make an appearance he sent over a nice bottle of champagne with his compliments to the both of you.

And that was just the start of it. On your side there were a lot of close family friends who also attended, a bunch of Italian goons, and a few mixed mutts thrown in as well. And that was the family.

"For the family"

You looked up to see Esposito's wife holding out an envelope of cash to you with the biggest smile. You nodded and beckoned her down to you with a finger, hugging her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek as she returned on to yours. She whispered in your ear, "You make a gorgeous bride", before pulling back and pushing the envelope closer to you.

You mumbled a thank you and as you took the envelope you saw the rest of the women beginning to line up with their husbands and their envelopes. Before you had gotten through your third round of thank you's and pleasantries with the wedding guests Elvis was sitting by you once more.

His hand rested on your thigh while his other reached out to help you grab the envelopes and shake the hands of the men after they pressed a kiss to your cheek.

The extravagant wedding was practically paid for by the guests and you even got more money on the side, enough for a few months rent for an apartment, just what newlyweds needed. After all, you couldn't celebrate your union living in your mother's house. And you had told Elvis you refuse to live in a house with men going in and out, you wouldn't do it.

While you were his girlfriend and spent plenty of time in his townhouse you watched with a look of disapproval as his friends and aquantances walked in and out like it were a hotel, ordering food from the cook as if it were a restaraunt.

You refused to make a home out of that, and Elvis had promised your godfather, a very important and influential man in the crowds that Elvis roamed about, that you would have a proper home to be the lady of.

By the time all the crowd had come through with their envelopes of cash you found that you’d made a small fortune from this night alone, and that wasn’t even accounting for the huge pile of gifts that were yet to be open.

As the night carried on, you and Elvis had finally taken part in your first dance, it had taken so long since Elvis didn’t like to dance. And as Dean Martin’s song, “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You”, filled the room he mumbled softly for only you to hear, “Ya know I wouldn’t dance for nobody but you.”

You smiled, “I know”

He beamed a prideful smile as you continued to carry your way through the dance gracefully.

When it had ended Elvis kissed your cheek and passed you over to your late-father’s dear friend, your godfather, Marco, who wanted to take his turn with his dearest goddaughter. Marco pressed a kiss to your cheek and pulled you close to take his turn.

Your eyes drifted to the side of the room, Elvis was conglomerating with a couple of men, one of the men, Frankie Albero, began to gesture wildly and you could hear his voice raise just barely above the music. Elvis sent Jerry a look and Jerry pulled him elsewhere, he had that placating look on his face. Whenever Elvis wasn’t in the mood to deal with someone he had Jerry deal with it like such.

You watched as Jerry led the guy to one of the exits, whispering some assurances likely. You bit your lower lip, whenever Jerry pulled that move, the guy with him usually didn’t return without a busted lip or a bruised eye. But Albero was an important man, he was a made man, something Elvis could never be, so it was more than likely that Jerry was just tasked with getting the guy out of the ballroom rather than roughing him up.

Elvis didn’t want a spectacle to be made at the wedding unless the spectacle was you.

“Princess,”

You turned your head back to Marco who seemed to stare down at you with a knowing smile.

“Ah, yes Marco?”

“Don’t worry about it, the kid’s got it handled.”

You smiled up at him and leaned your head on his shoulder, murmuring softly, “I know Marco”

The two of you danced a few more circles as he asked you how you liked your wedding and if anyone was giving you trouble.

“No, everyone’s been wonderful, don’t worry”

You knew if you said differently your godfather might do something drastic, he was like Elvis in that fashion, things were always a production when it came to concerns of family and loved ones.

Marco told a joke about he couldn’t believe his only goddaughter had married an Irishman. The fact that Elvis had Irish roots had strained your relationship with Marco for a long time. You thought the bind of Catholicism would bring your godfather to like Elvis more but that hadn’t done much.

It was only because Elvis had begun to make a name for himself in the crowds of the city that your godfather warmed up to him. Suddenly there was an Irishman steering his way through groups of made men at the Copa with a charismatic smile and a handshake to every single one of them.

There was suddenly an Irishman looking after the little guy in the guinea neighborhoods, tucking hundred dollar bills into a poor man’s breast pocket just for shining his shoes. That is what had earned Marco’s respect.

Well, that and the fact that Elvis had slipped a couple hundred dollars under the table to a man who roughed up the grocery boy who had catcalled you one time.

Not to mention the fact that Elvis was in with all the supplying men, he had a hand in every jar. He had access to all the best supply runners, their routes, and their loads. It was usually liquor, cigars, cigarettes, and cash. He even liked to keep tabs on meat trucks just for his own enjoyment of the often expensive delicacy.

But it wasn’t for nothing. No. Everybody around him got a piece of the action for supplying him with the information that was deemed invaluable if you were the right man and knew how to run steals and heists. Simply put, if you were Elvis.

But despite all that, Elvis would never be a made man. But he was practically untouchable just as a made man would be. Before he had even married you he was untouchable just from his reputation, and the fact that he was like a fountain of money, he making enough cash to go around.

But now that he was married to you, he truly was untouchable. Your family ran the neighborhood, and the next few blocks after. The way someone would lose a finger for touching you with it, now applied to Elvis as well. He had protection, he had his hand in every cookie jar in the city, and now he had you.

When the reception was over, Elvis had taken you to one of the classiest hotels in the city, he’d telephoned beforehand so that the room was at a temperature you liked, asked that the candy bowls be filled with those caramel hard candy’s that you kept in your clutch every time the two of you had a night out, and had sent your favorite sheets to be placed on the bed, he knew you never liked the sheets hotels provided.

And though it wasn’t the dream honeymoon that many women pictured, like a trip to Hawaii or the Hamptons, you didn’t mind. Being in the crowds that you and Elvis were in, you both tried to remain lowkey with that kind of thing. Your wedding date had been in the papers, so with that information people likely had their eyes and ears on you. The last thing the two of you needed was going to an exotic destination just to get shot in the airport.

Being lowkey was romantic to you, it just made the little things in your relationship much more prominent. And you knew that with Elvis, you didn’t need Hawaii to have a honeymoon with an amount of loving on that would rival an entire whorehouse.

And he proved it as he laid you sprawled along the center of the bed, on the cold, slippery satin sheets. You wore nothing but a robe that was spread open giving Elvis a view of you in all your glory, of course paired with your wedding ring, the edges of the clean cut diamonds were leaving the smallest of tears and rips in the sheets as it glided along the fabric.

He shrugged off his white button-up, and as his hands reached to undo the button and zipper on his slacks, he stopped to stare for a moment and mumble,

“My wife…”

He stared at your body incredulously, leaving you to blush silently and let him. His next words came out a whisper while his hand held your ankle as he stood at the end of the bed half-naked,

“By the graces of God, you’re my wife.”

You smiled softly at his words, “And,” you started before sitting up, now on your knees you crawled toward him to the edge of the bed. With the leverage of the bed your head was at the height of his chest, as you looked up at him he looked down at you, awaiting your words.

“You’re my husband”

Your eyes drifted down to his lips. As you stared at his slightly ajar mouth you absentmindedly shrugged off your robe that was already open, once off you brought your hands up to bury themselves in his hair as you pulled him down to kiss you.

He groaned softly as he leaned into the kiss, you were trying to pull him down onto the bed. You could hear and feel the shuffle of him trying to get his pants and boxers off as fast as he could so that he could fall with you onto the bed.

As he tumbled onto the bed naked, atop you, his touch and scent had tumbled with him. Your senses felt overwhelmed as you could smell the aftershave on his cheek when he pressed kisses along your cheek, a hand in your hair to manuever your head in whatever way he liked.

As his kisses traveled further down to nestle into your collarbone, his free hand roamed to cup the globe of your ass, kneading you like bread as he licked and suckled your skin like candy.

“Oh Elvis,”

He hummed into your skin as his hand on your ass traveled to your middrift. His fingers glided down your body like you were a map, his finger lazily traveling to the destination. And when you let out a surprised squeak and your legs twitched as he grazed your clit, he smiled knowing he found his destination.

You gasped as he rubbed a circle.

“Oh- Oh Elvis…”

His lips murmured lazily against your skin, “Mm what”

Elvis’ hand left your scalp as he needed to tend to himself while his other hand tended to you. You threw your head in a loop as your back arched up with the flicks of his finger on your clit. It wasn’t long till he’d easily dipped a digit into your awaiting core.

You were wet enough that he was able to quickly slide another in.

His hand and fingers were gentle as he fondled your entire pussy with one hand, from a finger dragging across your clit to a few others taking deep plunges into your entrance, it was like heaven.

Your cunt contracted as his fingers curled, you mouth gaped open in a silent moan as he continued the erotically slow but steady pace.

“What is it? What do ya need?”

His kisses halted as he crawled down between your legs, spreading your thighs with a hand as his other continued with their touching and teasing. You gasped softly as you felt him blow on the flushed skin down there.

“Ah…”

He turned to press a kiss along your thigh, now one hand of his focused on pumping his fingers in and out while the other hand’s thumb rolled over you clit in steady circles. His kisses continued up your thigh.

He murmured, “Tell me, I know ya can”

You moaned softly. A hand flew down to nestle in his dark hair while your other grasped at the slippery sheets below you.

“You, hah, I need you Elvis..!”

He smiled softly and placed a gentle kiss between your clit and where his fingers pumped inside of you. Said fingers then pulled out as Elvis' tongue dove in, his nose peeking it’s way inside perfectly.

His moistened hand slid across the sheets as a means to wipe off your natural lubricant before he grabbed the back of your knee, lifting it so that he could get better leverage and cover more ground as he continued to eat you out.

“Elvis..! Fuck, E-Elvis you, I need you…”

Your head fell back completely as his thumb worked in unison with his tongue. You felt yourself falling apart so fast, you felt yourself taking such a dive into the deep end that all you could say was his name, like he was your god giving all you could ever want. Like he was your god who depended on your belief that he would take care of you.

He hummed and growled into your cunt as your legs began to kick wildly, as your grip and pull on his hair into your pussy had tightened, and as your hips pumped upward into him in earnest.

“Oh Elvis! Oh I’m so- Elvis!”

Your eyes flew to the back of your head as your body continued to chase that feeling and your sentence was cut off with a moan of his name as you came.

You could hardly process anything as Elvis went right from that position to lining up his cock while mumbling a few swears. He didn’t give you a grace period as he caged you between his arms and pushed into you swiftly. At the intrusion you let out a high pitched moan and reached for the sheets around you for comfort.

“Grab me Baby, h-hold on f’me okay? Alright Baby?”

His eyebrows were furrowed in discomfort as his body stiffened completely, waiting for you to get yourself settled. When he saw the awkwardness of your arms having to reach up so far, he brought himself down into a low plank above you so that you could easily wrap your arms around him while laying down.

As he slid out he mumbled a low, “fuck…” before pushing back in slowly. You moaned into his neck as he continued on with that movement, working himself into a slow rhythm.

You encouraged him gently after releasing a soft gasp at his cock hitting your cervix.

“Ah, yes, keep going”

He hummed in response and leaned his head down against yours as his hips continued to rock in and out of you in deep strokes, it was almost painful to pull out of the warmth of your pussy. With each exposure of his cock to the room he felt the temperature snap at his skin, then be enveloped in a moment’s notice by your warm walls. It was an almost masochistic cycle that he had to follow through with the reach that special peak.

If not for that moment of ecstasy that he was chasing, he’d be content to just stay inside of you, soaking in your warmth and that snug feeling that your cunt provided him with.

He questioned through gritted teeth, thrusting harder with each question,

“Ya like it? Huh? Ya like that?”

As his thrusts grew sharper you gasped with every single one. Nodding your head with a silent moan as he continued on, only with a faster pace.

“Like it when I fuck ya? Yeah?”

He braced his hands on the bed as your nails dug crescents into his back as his muscles flexed with the sudden roughness and speed. He was close.

“My wife likes it when I fuck her huh? She likes it when I lay her down yeah?”

You let out a strangled moan as he began to plunge into you so fast that his rhythm was beginning to get all out of wack. The lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass as he continued with his thrusts, the moans that left your throat in a guttural way, his groans against the skin of your neck, and squelching and air pops as his cock plunged in and out of you made a cacophony of what must be the sounds of good loving.

Suddenly you felt yourself reaching that peak again and as the coil in your stomach snapped and you moaned his name, he growled with a rasp as his hips worked with their own agenda, helping him reach his release as fast as possible.

And when his legs trembled, his body shook, and his groans got drawn out, you knew he’d finished.

He began to slowly grind into you more, as he did so you felt the warmth of his seed spill out of your entrance slightly. He slowly rode out that high, panting, “My wife…” as he did so.

A/N - As I said I plan to make this into a series because I've already written so much and I think there might be someone who might like this, so, if you're that someone just leave any sort of comment and I'll tag you in the next part.

Series Summary: While it was deemed a waste for you to marry an Irishman, completely disregarding your bloodline that led all the way back to the old country, you couldn't help who you fell in love with. Thankfully Elvis had earned the respect of those in your crowd and made a name for himself, he got himself properly inducted into the family business. But just as your life together starts to properly begin, the head of the family would need Elvis to take care of a few things in the casinos of Vegas.

Credits: Photo of Elvis is from the 45 RPM picture sleeve for Wonder Of You/Mama Liked The Roses, the rest is pinterest, and the layout is from canva. This series will also take lots of reference/inspiration from Goodfellas, the Godfather, Casino, and of course a few books I've read on the subject.

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