#elvis's time buddies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The KCSC sent more than 20K requests to delete posts related to prostitution and porn to Tumblr from January to June 2017.

#elvis's time buddies

cuntyqueerleondraisaitl · 8 months

Text

Loki: If I don't make it back I--

*disappears*

Mobius: he'll make it back

THATS GAY. THATS GAY. I'M SORRY THERE'S NO DENYING IT.

AND THE RAINBOW GLARE IN THE CORNER. THERE WAS A RAINBOW GLARE IN THE CORNER

ME HAVING STERK?

#lokius #loki season 2 #shit i need a liveblogging tag #urm #elvis's time buddies?#elvis's time buddies #that works #elvis talks #loki

4K notes · View notes

bcofl0ve · 1 year

Text

one my favorite baz-isms is him talking about when he was at the graceland mansion with the cast earlier in the day before the memphis premiere austin stopped at the staircase and was like "i broke up with my wife on these stairs" and baz said "austin it's acting, okay??"

#baz was like nah buddy no identity crisis today no sir!!!#oliva:#austin butler #gossip time with mollie #elvis #elvis movie

54 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 3 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 10: Love is... Missing each other (Prompt by @lihhelsing)

wc: 723 | Rated: T for suggestive language & flirtacious banter | cw: None

Tags: Phone Calls, Rockstar!Eddie, Homesick, Eddie Misses Steve

Stevie, what are you wearing?

Eddie flips onto his stomach once he finally hears a dial tone. He didn’t think it would take this long, calling the concierge to transfer him to an international call, confirming his credit card and then waiting eons for a connection.

But fuck it, he misses his not-legally-binding husband.

It’s only been a week and the band has been killing it so far but…

Call him selfish, but Eddie misses the hell out of Steve, he is desperately resiting the urge to flee back to the airport and fly home. And he feels like a pathetic sap about it.

Maybe next time he should force the boys, their management and basically everyone around Corroded Coffin to set their touring to fit in with Steve’s school schedule. Yes, that could work – certainly much better than admitting how much he wants to be snuggled up in his comfy bed with Steve, drifting off to sleep together, hopefully without their cats bothering them too much.

The ringing continues and he worries that it is going to run out entirely. He bites at his thumb nail in anticipation – it’s not like he pre-organised this phone call and god knows what time it is in Hawkins.

“Hello?” Steve grumbles on the other end.

He sounds groggy with sleep, his voice a little far away as he likely fumbles for his glasses. Eddie grins and crosses his ankles, giddy like a goddamn schoolgirl calling her crush.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he beams, earning a whine at his equitable lack of volume control.

“S’early,” Steve mumbles, “Miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Eddie coos down the line.

Steve huffs a laugh and echoes, “Miss you so much…”

There’s a rustling sound that follows and Steve hums.

“What are you doing?” Eddie wonders aloud.

“Getting comfy again,” Steve replies, “Closin’ my eyes and pretending you are next to me.”

“That so?”

Steve hums in the affirmative.

“Stevie…” Eddie purrs as he flips onto his back, “What are you wearing?”

“Sweatpants,” Steve replies, a smile evident in his voice.

“Nothing else...” he wonders.

“Nope!” Steve sounds a little more awake now.

“The barest chest,” Eddie continues, squirming around, feeling a teasing tingle at the thought –

– Until the phone cord almost cuts off his air supply.

He palms around (though if anyone were to see him, it would probably be better described as a full-bodied flail) and tugs at the cord enough that something topples off the nightstand.

Whatever. As long as he can still hear Steve’s quiet and even breathing on the other end.

“What about you, Elvis?” Steve soon teases.

Eddie grimaces but responds nonetheless.

“I’m in my jeans,” he supplies, trying to remain at least a little coy, “And a t-shirt.”

“So, you aren’t ready for bed?” Steve teases, giggling out a little tee-hee that makes Eddie’s heart flutter – god he loves this silly man.

“Not until after I speak to you, precious,” he deadpans.

There’s another sound – like Steve is moving around amongst the bedsheets again. Eddie wiggles his brows and hastily hooks a finger under his waistband. But he soon scrunches his nose. He probably should have removed his belt and unzipped his fly during the never-ending dial tone.

“Shit,” Steve curses before groaning in a very unfun manner, “Oh no, buddy, c’mon!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Go on, scram!” Steve commands, ignoring the question before whining again – one that sounds like whatever he is doing is an exercise in futility, “The cat won’t get off the bed.”

Eddie sinks back down.

Goddamn it.

“Which menace is bothering you, my darling?” he sighs, scrubbing his free hand over his face.

“Freddy.”

Eddie stifles a whimper as his heart swells. Of course, it’s the most adorable, scruffiest, wide-eyed and mischievous cat that’s annoying the heck out of Steve. A cat Steve himself only barely tolerates. Eddie can only imagine what Freddy must get up to when he touring.

“Fredrick?” he can’t help but beam, “Put him on the phone!”

“Eddie!”

“Please?” he begs, “I want to talk to him.”

“But what about…” Steve says, “Well, y’know?”

Eddie waves Steve’s worry away (even if he can’t see him).

“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy. We’ll get to that. Now put my son on the phone this instant!”

#this is only a suggestive little ficlet but it's under a 'read more' just in case #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #rockstar!eddie munson #steddielovemonth

322 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 22 days

Text

Hey @mysteriouslymagicalwolf! I definitely got carried away with this one and wrote a whole ass fic. I hope you enjoy it!

Birthday Girl

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (m), ejaculation

------------------------------------------------------

You're late.

You hate being late, but since you've become a mom, it seems like it gets harder and harder to get anywhere on time. And now with the divorce, it's even worse than before. Not only do you have to get Jeffrey ready to go, you have to try to convince him to stay with his dad.

Tonight was particularly difficult for some reason and it couldn't have been a worse night for Jeffrey to have a complete meltdown. It's your birthday, your 30th birthday, and you saved up for months for these tickets to Elvis's show in Houston. You don't really have any friends left, since most of them were wives of your husband's army buddies, so you decided to go alone.

It would've been fine. But you're late. And it's dark and he's half way through Bridge Over Troubled Water already and you cannot find your seat. The ushers have disappeared, so it's on you to find it but you just can't. The reality of everything in your life comes crashing down on you all at once and you just fall to your knees in the aisle and cry. You cry because you're alone, your husband doesn't love you anymore, your kid is melting down at every little thing, you've been looking forward to this concert for months and now you've missed half of it, you can't find your seat, and it's your goddamn birthday.

You're sitting in the aisle sobbing when the house lights come up. You look up suddenly, eyes red with tears, and somehow he sees you from the stage. The last thing you needed was to be noticed, much less by him, so you bury your face in your hands in shame and your shoulders quake with sobs.

"Honey, c'mere." Surely he isn't talking to you. "In the aisle, come up here. Y'all go get her."

He gestures for the security guards to go get you and bring you to him. When you realize what's going on, you're paralyzed and they have to half-carry you up to the stage.

"Bring her up." The security guards lift you so that he can reach you to talk to you from the stage. When he realizes how upset you are, he puts the mic on the ground and kneels down to be as close to your level as he can be.

"Honey, what's goin' on? Are you alright?" He speaks to you as softly as possible with the crowd noise. His voice is gentle and smooth. Elvis is used to fans falling apart when they see him, but he senses that this is different. You look up at him in shock.

"I-I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, sweetheart. What's got you so upset?" You take a deep breath and try to decide how much you should tell him. But then it all comes pouring out of you.

"It's my birthday. And I was late because my kid had a meltdown because he didn't want to stay with my ex and now I can't find my seat and I'm sorry I was just so excited to finally see you and I spent so much money and now I missed half the concert and I'm alone and it's my birthday and I'm so sorry to bother you."

He listens attentively and then reaches out to put his hand on your cheek, wiping away some of the tears with his thumb.

"You're not botherin' me, honey. Don't you worry about that. Here." He grabs the mic and turns to the wings of the stage. "Joe, get this girl a chair and put it on the front row."

"You really don't have to-" He puts the mic down to talk to you again while Joe fetches a chair and adds it to the front row for you.

"Yes, I do. You can sit in that seat. And also..." He reaches into his boot and pulls out a key, pressing it into your palm. "This is my hotel room key. I'm at the Hilton, room 1614. You come to me tonight and we'll celebrate. You deserve a real birthday."

"I can't take up your time like that-"

"You're not taking anything, honey, I'm offering it." He pulls the scarf from his neck, throws it around you and uses it to pull you into a kiss, pressing his lips against yours gently. "I have to get back to the show. I'll see you later."

He nods to the security guards, who lower you back to the ground and guide you to the chair Joe added for you. Elvis picks up the mic and goes right back into his concert. He makes eye contact with you throughout the rest of the show, like he's doing this just for you, even winking a couple of times. You blush every time, but your resolve gets stronger to go to his hotel and see him after the show. If nothing else, you have to thank him for taking the time to be kind to you.

******

After the show, you sit in your car in the parking lot of the Hilton trying to decide if this is crazy or amazing. Eventually, you come to the conclusion that it's a little of both, but you'd be stupid not to at least see what happens. Besides, it's your birthday. What do you really have to lose?

When you find yourself at the door, you're not sure what to do. You have a key, but just walking in seems rude. You settle for knocking and wait to see if he's there. After a few seconds, he opens the door still in his jumpsuit, but without the belt.

"Oh! It's you!" He closes the door quickly, leaving you outside. You stand there shocked, not sure if you should leave or stay. When you're just about to turn around and leave, he opens the door again. In his hand, he's holding a small plate with a cupcake on it, a single candle burning on top. He ushers you into the room and begins to sing Happy Birthday. You absolutely melt at his excitement. He gets to the part where he's supposed to say your name and stops, looking at you expectantly.

"Oh! Y/n."

"Happy birthday dear y/n. Happy birthday to you!" He finishes the song with a flourish and then holds the cupcake up for you to make a wish. You close your eyes and smile and then blow the candle out. He cheers and laughs and then sets the cupcake on the table.

"Happy birthday, baby." He puts his arm around your waist and kisses your cheek.

"Thank you. That was great." You turn and look up into his face and there's some kind of electricity building between you. You look down at the cupcake to break the tension, picking it up and pulling the candle out. He watches you with an amused look on his face as you take a bite. The icing gets all over your lips, so you run your tongue over the top and giggle. Something inside him flip flops when you do. For some reason, he finds you unbearably endearing. You miss a spot of icing on the side of your mouth, though.

"Oh, honey, you got..." He uses his thumb to wipe the side of your mouth and then licks the icing off. "That's pretty good."

You dip your finger in the icing and put it in your mouth. The icing is sweet and decadent and it's your favorite part of a cupcake anyway.

"Lemme get some more of that." You dip your finger in the icing again and offer it to him. He holds your hand and puts your finger in his mouth, sucking gently and sending a shiver down your spine. You feel your center get a little wetter with the sensation of his mouth around your finger. He backs off of you, but keeps holding your hand, opening your palm and pressing his lips there. Turning you towards him, he slips a hand around your back and pulls you in close to him. He speaks softly.

"I'd like to give you something else for your birthday, if you want it." He leans forward and kisses you deeply, parting your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You sink into the kiss, letting your arms find their way around his neck. He pulls back a little, hovering with his lips just above yours, and whispers.

"I will go as far as you want me to. You can tell me to stop at any time. Otherwise, I'll just keep on going."

"Elvis?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't stop." You don't have to tell him twice. He dives back into kissing you passionately, his tongue dancing against yours. His hands roam over your body, touching your hips and your sides and your ass and your breasts. He reaches back behind your thighs and lifts you so that your legs are around his waist, carrying you over to the bed. He crawls onto the bed and lays you down, kissing your neck down to your cleavage. Moving down your body, he slides his hands up your thighs under your mini dress.

"Can I take this off?" You nod fervently.

"Yes, please." He slides his hands up your body and pulls your dress off, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. He kisses back down to the place where your bra meets the skin of your breast. Pulling it down a little, he exposes your nipple, dragging his tongue around it. His hand goes around behind your back to undo your bra and he removes that quickly too. He continues to explore and worship your body with his mouth and hands.

"You're so beautiful, honey." He kisses down your stomach to the top of your panties and whispers into your skin. "I wanna taste you."

You whimper and lift your hips as he hooks his fingers under the sides of your panties and drags them down your legs and off. Then, he unzips his jumpsuit all the way down, pulling out his rock hard cock. He lays with his head on the pillows and grabs your hips.

"C'mere, honey." You scoot over to him and he situates your hips over his face so that he has easy access to you. He uses one hand to guide your pussy down to his mouth and the other to stroke himself. Then, he pushes his tongue into you a few times before licking up to your clit and settling there. He drags his tongue over and around you eagerly, like your pussy is his last meal. He lets his tongue flick your clit softly for a bit before you groan and grind into his face. Then, he puts his whole tongue on you again, licking you hard. You feel the rush of your orgasm gathering in your hips as he stops stroking himself and uses two fingers to slide inside you and pump in and out quickly. He tickles your g-spot and continues to move his mouth on you.

"Oh, fuck, Elvis!" You moan loudly and slam your hand on the hotel room wall as you cum hard in his mouth. The vibrating ecstasy reverberates through you like bolts of electricity. But he doesn't stop. No, he just keeps on licking you and finger fucking you until you cum again a second time. When you try to pull off of him, he holds your thighs.

"No, honey, you got one more in ya. I'm gonna get you there." You whimper, sweat running down your chest. His hair is wet with sweat too, since he's still in his jumpsuit. You look down at him with his face buried in your pussy and he's beautiful with his eyes closed. He moves his hand back to his cock, where he pumps himself as he licks you. Your third orgasm slams into you, exploding in your veins like firecrackers and making your legs shake, knocking out the hearing in your left ear. You feel him shudder underneath you and realize that he's cumming too, shooting his release out onto his hand. Finally, his body relaxes with yours.

He can tell you're exhausted, so he releases your thighs, letting you fall sideways off of him to lay on the bed.

"Happy birthday, honey." His words slur a little from the use of his tongue. You look down at him where he's made a mess on his hand and the crotch of his jumpsuit.

"You didn't have to do that. I could've-"

"No, honey, tonight was about you. I didn't want you worryin' about me." You turn to look at him and he kisses your forehead. "Was that a good birthday?"

"I think that was the best birthday I've ever had."

"You wanna stay? I can give you more in the morning." You smile and nod.

"Under one condition, though."

"What is that?"

"Let me take care of you tomorrow." He smiles.

"I think I can make that happen."

"Good." You roll out of bed and get him a towel from the bathroom to clean himself up. He stands up to strip off the suit and you hear him groan.

"What?"

"I was supposed to wear this tomorrow night. And I made a mess of it." You laugh and lay down on the bed. He finishes taking the suit off and climbs into bed with you, pulling you in close to him and pressing his naked body against yours. "Worth it for my birthday girl."

He kisses your cheek and holds you as you both drift off to sleep.

Looks like wishes made on birthday candles do come true.

******

The End

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x you

162 notes · View notes

tyrantisterror · 1 year

Note

i had an elvis impersonator who came into my old branch all the time. like dude dressed liked elvis outside of his job as a dude who professionally portrayed elvis. with the hair and the big goofy glasses to the ascot he wore. and the first time there was a holy shit that's an elvis impersonator... but after that initial moment, we all sort of accepted it. like... yeah, elvis is in the building and he needs to do a deposit.

That was the real Elvis. There are no Elvis impersonators, the real Elvis was split into many sub-Elvises when the death of Buddy Holly shattered the Immortal Rhinestone of Rock and Roll. When a Facet Elvis dies, the Rhinestone regains a shard, and only when all are restored will the true king of Rock and Roll return to usher in the final jam session and end this world in the concert known as Ragnorock.

1K notes · View notes

jhoneybees · 1 month

Text

Desire

Hi!! Here's a sweet but also savoury fic that I might write a part 2 for🤭

Tagging: @elvisalltheway101 my doll🫶

Characters:50s!Elvis X Older!reader

Warnings/triggers: 5 year age gap (A/n: The fic is set in 1955 so Elvis is 20 years old and reader is 25)

_____________________________________________

Elvis has always had a taste for younger girls and their chatty personalities but when his head did a whole 180 after laying eyes on a matured gal like you that is more quiet and not as chatty, he learnt what his real taste is.

His family knows you from living in the apartment next door and they adore how friendly of a person you are. His mama would often praise you during family dinners to his daddy and him which usually he would get embarrassed about her rambling on about girls that could be a potential partner for him but now getting to hear about what you said during a conversation you had with his mama, he didn’t say a thing.

Even though he sees you with his mama quite often, he doesn’t know a lot about you. He knows you came from a privileged family in Texas and when you graduated highschool, you moved to Memphis when you were 22 to have a fresh start into adulthood but that’s all he really knows from what his mama told him.

He finds you very pretty and your laugh and smile are so contagious but the thing that gets him almost trembling is how mature you look in those dresses you wear, it does…something to him.

Especially when he saw you from across the road as you were walking into the building complex you two live in, wearing that red halterneck dress with cherries on it.

His bottom lip just couldn’t help but fly in between his teeth, those damn curves are something else.

He’s had quite a big crush on you ever since you moved into Lauderdale Courts and for a long time he thinks he wouldn’t have the courage to confess to you because he’s scared that you might get disgusted and shut him down or go off telling his parents to scold him for having such feelings for someone that they look so dearly as a close family member so to save himself from that humility, he’ll just watch you from afar.

_____________________________________________

“Nah, you guys can go on without me” his friends groan in disappointment, they asked him if he wants to go to a party with him but he’s already been to 5 in the past 2 weeks, he wants a break so with another shake of the head, he bids them a farewell and turns on his heel.

He hums quietly, he thought he would be running around Memphis for the night with his buddies for a bit of a laugh but he’s a bit disappointed to find out they want to go ogling at girls at a party over at someone’s parents’ house, knowing that the adults don’t know about what their kids are doing because of them being out of town.

It just leaves him the option of just walking back home and finding something interesting to do there.

As he walks along the footpath with his hands in his pockets and head lowered down, he watches as his shoes lazily scrape along the concrete. He sighs out of boredom, he’s bored so what could he do when he gets home?

Just then when that question pops into his head, his ears perk up to the sound of a piano. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he lifts his head towards the neon lit sign noticing he’s outside of a night club. Maybe he could go and have a bit of a listen to the music? he shrugs his shoulders.

Why not?

Quietly, Elvis scans his eyes around the dimly lit bar room, seeing only a few black middle aged ladies in their best attire, smiling and laughing with each other with dainty little glasses in their hands. It’s not as busy as he thought it would be.

Then as he hears a piano play again, he looks towards the sound and his breathing comes to a halt. You’re on stage with a microphone in your hand, he didn’t know you worked as a bar singer. He gulps as he sees you in that black sparkly cocktail dress and your hair flowing down your back. Good Lord.

Elvis shakes his head and realises he might be staring too much so clearing his throat, he glances around to find a seat.

He sits at a two person table and decides to keep his head lowered, he might embarrass himself somehow, he doesn’t know how but it’s better being safe than sorry but as Elvis presses his lips together, the gravity pull of your voice through the speakers just demands him to look at you.

Is he gonna be able to look away?

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.. The song I’ll be singing for you tonight is a song that I have always called a favourite when I was little…and it goes something like this” you chime with a soft smile.

Oh that smile.

The piano starts the song off and as the bass soon follows after, the cheerful sounds of the song fills out the room. The first word you sing makes Elvis physically melt.

“I don’t want to set the world on fire”

You smile sweetly and the older ladies there cheer you on with “That’s my girl!” and “That’s right!”

“In my heart I have but one desire”

His eyes soften.

“I’ve lost all ambition, for worldly acclaim”

Elvis brings his arms up to rest on the table, grasping his hands together and looking at his hands to try to just listen to your voice.

“I just want to be the one you love…”

Oh your sweet fluttery voice

He really can’t look away.

As you sway your hips subtly and bring your hand up to rest on the pianist's shoulder, Elvis bites down on his tongue. Gliding across the stage you walk down the steps and onto the bar floor, Elvis’ eyes darting all over you from your jaw to your hips and down to your ankles.

He lets out a stiff sigh and leans back in his chair.

“I don’t wanna set the world on fire, honey”

You sing with a giggle, taking slow and elegant steps towards the bar where the other women are, yelling and giggling at your cheeky little smile.

Elvis’ hand twitching, he sighs again while he lifts his hand to drag down the bottom half of his face.

“I love you too much” you add, making the ladies whistle playfully.

Elvis doesn’t even notice how his leg is bouncing nervously under the table, all he can think about is his heart floating across the room to the palm of your hand for you to squeeze, break, just do anything with it.

“You see…way down inside of me”

His heart pumps loudly in his ears as you turn your head and look into his eyes, walking slowly towards him.

“Darlin’ I have only one desire….and that desire is you” His heart clenching in the softest way as you give him a happy smile, realising who he is.

The small thumps from your heels make him hold his breath, sensing you walking behind his chair, a shiver drips down his spine as you place your hand on his shoulder.

Feeling you bend down over his shoulder, he lets out a small breath through his slightly parted lips.

“And I know…nobody else ain’t gonna do”

His chest almost stutters as he breathes in, your soft, sultry voice sending ticklish waves into his ears and into his brain. Feeling your warm breath lingering below his ear onto his neck, his hands adjust over the center of his pants.

“Did you like that, Presley?”

#elvis presley #Hope you like it lovelies!💕#elvis #elvis fans #i love him #elvis imagine #50s elvis #elvis fandom #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #Spotify

101 notes · View notes

precious-little-scoundrel · 7 months

Text

Let’s Fall Out of Love

Divorce Part 1

Fully co-authored with @elvisabutler 💋

Thanks: are due to so many friends on here who helped craft this timeline and concept and helped me hone the motivations into something I trust our readers will find evocative and sympathetic. Y’all know who you are, thanks for being my buddies

Warnings: 18+ for thematic and sexual material. Strong language and bitter accusations between spouses, mentions of drugs, divorce proceedings, lying to spouses (for their eventual good???) mentions of past infidelity, Colonel Parker being the worst, poor Elvis being in a bad place with his health and mentally -and dub con smut. It is in no way non con but the context, the lack of voiced or implied consent and the aggression make it dubious. It is fairly clear both parties are engaging in hysterical bonding, still the scene is dubious as is the language used by the man regarding a wife having no say in it. So please heed that.

Note: it was the attempt of the writers to craft a rather cinematic experience with this fic, one aim was to skip times and have plenty of fade to black moments. Please note the time stamps above each scene to keep track of progression. Anything that is not clarified in this chapter will either be clarified in the next part or else in others. You’re of course welcome to ask questions.

|| 10th, APRIL 1977 ||

Divorce. Lil Tink is divorcin' him. Lil Laney is gonna be his ex-wife.

The thought rattles around in his aching brain as he chases her up Graceland’s stairway, past the portraits of their children and the plaques celebrating their successes and haunting likenesses of younger selves. Both of them home for a brief stint after Vegas Showrooms and California Courtrooms.

Home -it won’t be his home much longer, she’s gonna see to that.

Divorce.

It had taken up half his year already but he was so sure, so damn sure all she needed was to make a fuss and threaten like she does and then it would cool down, smooth over. He was ready to humor all sorts of shit and then she went and pushed for more. More money, more assets, took out a damn lien. His Tink who happily chucked half of custody at him without a fight has now drug this little show on for months, all for a couple more bucks.

She’s takin' everythin' he's worked so hard for, takin’ it all, going back for more even, just to make sure she can still be taken care of in the conditions and standards he had raised her to.

Spoiled lil middle class girl grown into a spoiled, hardened rich woman.

“Till death do you part”, he hurled the promises at her over the phone, as soon as that court order had landed in his hands -but if ya ask Elaine, he's been dead more times than she can count. Maybe he's dead to her in everythin' but body. Ain't that the other joke, he feels half dead even in body.

"Elaine Presley! Turn 'round when I'm talkin' t'ya! Ya know I hate it when people do that” As if she’s required to listen to him or required to pay attention after two decades of focusing so much of her attention and time and energy on a man who has forgotten all of that. On a man who’s forgotten that he’s married to her. That’s forgotten he has children with her, a life he promised her, and not to his manager who's twisted so much of what was between them into this. Whatever this is.

"Why?" She spits still climbing stairs she's climbed a thousand times before. Faintly she hears Marie playing in her room and a surprising amount of silence from Jack's and her heart twists. They don't need to hear this. None of her children do but her youngest- oh her youngest deserve to think their father is still something resembling a good man.

"Why?" As if Elvis is some sort of parrot, he repeats the question back at her. His confusion colors his face, warring for control with his anger and frustration as he follows her through the padded master doors. "Why? The hell kinda question is that?”

“I told you come by and grab those things you said you needed so badly.” she hauls open one of his drawers and the thing squeals on its track from her violent tug. “So do that. If you wanted to chat then we coulda chatted somewhere else. Or, you know -a year ago? Ten?”

“I’m just askin’ why.“ He embraces her own wording and tries to get nearer her, hem her in against the dresser like he’s done countless times before in this very room with dazzling success.

Elaine slips away between them like water and he’s left bracing himself on the smooth wooden top.

“I’m not actively trying to be a shrew.” she murmurs as she turns away and goes to the other side of the room, opening the wardrobe, “No matter what you believe. I told you that you’ll be welcome in this house no matter what, so that’s why.’I’m not allowing you to come around -you just can, it’s your mama’s house still, for all I’m concerned.”

“No, no I mean- why’re you throwin’ this away?” He emphasizes it with his hands, a pleading gesture that sweeps the whole room and its host of sacred memories. He’s used this before but that was back when he figured it was all one big tantrum. Signing custody papers has rather shaken that hope, delusion, comfort.

Tink purses her lips and he notices her face has gone so white this summer, rarely in the sun and addicted to wearing black like some melodramatic Prima Donna. She does look stunning in the papers all decked out in veils and heels, he’ll give her that. He doesn’t know when she turned from being the heart of the operation to the glamor of it all -and he the opposite.

“What’s my favorite color these days?” she asks him instead.

He stares at the sable color he’s seen her wearing for months now and sighs in exasperation, “Shit I dunno -black?” he swings, knowing it’s a miss the second he says it.

“I can’t do this anymore.” she informs him, like color has broken up a twenty year long marriage and he grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he cracks a filling. The pain adds to his headache that matches the pounding in his chest and the roaring in his ears builds to such a degree he’s honestly terrified for them both.

“Stop this.” he warns her, quite sure she knows the red hot fit she’s stoking with her callousness and hurt that she won’t help him out of it like she used to, that she’ll let him go into a blind rage and then blame him for it, no doubt. “I know when you’re lyin’, woman, and I ain’t ever seen a more lilly livered liar than you right now.” he snarls and tries a last appeal that comes out as a barb anyways, “You wouldn’t be goin’ on so rash if your daddy were still alive,” he jabs a finger at her, “guess I can be grateful he ain’t, so he’s not breakin’ down my door for explanations ‘bout a offense you won’t admit to me!“

Elaine absorbs this blow with a wavering face before the nonchalance cloaks her features once more and Elvis would resort to smacking it off her if he were a different sorta man. “Black is practical, that’s why I wear it. It’s not my favorite though.” she simpers, clutching at the shoe she’s picked up from the floor, something for her hands to worry, to hide her own anguish at having to keep him in the dark. To lie repeatedly to him as he breaks apart, she didn’t know it would cut him up so much.

It’s a mess, this web of connections that used to prop them up, used to be a community. Now it’s a den of tattle tales and if one of them suspects she’s anything but angry at Elvis, that this this divorce and seizing of assets isn’t a scorned wife gone nuts, but rather a calculated endeavor to get at his manager once and for all -well Charlie will spill to Vernon and Vernon will spill to Elvis and Elvis will have all the fuel he needs to plead her right back into complacent heartbreak in his arms -before he goes on tour again and murders himself from the workload.

“I’m on orange kick, actually.” her voice is hoarse.

“Then I’ll buy ya some fuckin’ orange curtains and you’ll stop divorcin’ me.” he jabs a tinged finger at her and he looks like he might fall over, his face is so flushed and sweaty, from pills and passion. Elaine readies to catch him, break his fall if he tips. At least here there’s carpet, unlike the hotel hallway that busted his head last year.

“I’m rather in the mood to buy my own from now on.” she lies and sweeps past him to get to the closet.

She never gets past him. His hand darts out and engulfs her dainty wrist, tugging her back and in a spin like he practiced in his movies so many times, a romantic, gallant, possessive gesture that lands her smack against his broad chest, locked in with an arm around her shoulders.

"Buy your own, hm? Gonna sell my mama's house to do that? Gonna sell ya children's home to do that?"

“Elvis, you get your damn hands off me.” she bites back, throwing her weight on his forearm that might as well be made of steel, so little room does she gain from her effort.

"Never minded my hands on ya before. Even 'fore I married ya, it was fine for me to touch ya. To inspect that lil house of yours to make sure it could have all those lil babies ya wanted. Gave 'em to ya didn't I? Gave ya every last one and two've ‘em are even still with ya till they leave." Never mind that Jack's been bouncing between here and California in an effort to do what he's wanted to do since Elvis would play sharks in the bed with him. "But now you're wantin' my hands off. Goin' on 'bout gettin' new curtains yourself."

His words are punctuated with spit and a hissing anger Elvis doesn't normally indulge in. The bitter anger she used on the road with champagne making her head float in a sea of lies and wants and needs and a twisted sort of love till she had to call it. She can feel her jaw tensing up at his calloused fingers finding their way under her chin, tapping at first to try and have her look up at him before clenching around it and tilting it upward instead.

"Who is it, Laney? Who's the person who's gonna take care of ya? Gonna help ya buy those curtains? Get Marie those cameras? Help Jack and Rosie pay for those commie schools of theirs?" With each passing word Elvis’s voice drops lower and lower in octave until he's reaching levels Elaine's never heard. Against her will, her body shivers in his arms. A sneer crosses his lips- a twisted version of his raised lip that everyone knows and loves. That raised lip she's kissed before with laughter and jokes on how "if you keep doing that your face'll stay that way, Naughty." It shouldn't be there like this and yet it is. "That why ya dragged me to our lil Ella Bella's weddin'? Figured the Martins could spoil our daughter rotten away from you and your new caretaker? Your new piggybank? Don't get shy on me now, Laney! Who's the lucky sonuvabitch who gets to have my wife?"

Elaine's learned how to be composed in every situation with Elvis. She'll shoot at the Colonel over love handles and movies that killed her Elvis's spirit. She'll titter at army wives mocking her house and implying she couldn't keep up with being Mrs. Presley and growing a second set of twins in two years. She'll handle losing little Joesphine with a body that betrayed them all and with a smile on her face because Mrs Kennedy had just lost hers and then John died and the US can't handle their Irish Catholic and their Southern Baptist Camelots falling to pieces all at once. But this, this is too much. This is her soon to be ex husband mocking her. Like she'd have had time to find someone else who would take care of her, like taking care of Elvis and their children allowed her to seek any other comfort than in the aging movie star her husband sought to emulate once upon a time before realizing he's just a man too. The aging movie star she considers one of her nearest and dearest friends and who'd- who would be her caretaker if she let him.

Knowing her luck it'd end up worse than this.

No, this is Elvis throwing out an insult to her character, the one he'd have defended till his dying breath except for when she turns on him like Red and Sonny did. Their book's gonna be coming out sooner rather than later and- she's made it obvious he can't trust a soul any more.

It won't do either one of them any good to react. It's not going to help her escape from his grip that's a vice around her. It won't help him see what she's doing and how she’s doing it for him. But she is only human just as he's only human and her lipstick covered mouth opens in defense of her own honor.

"What makes you think you deserve to know?" He can't see through everything to see why shes doing this, so why should he get an answer. "You won't have to worry, we'll all be taken care of. And you can be rebranded! A seasoned entertainer who's free as a bird to do whoever and whatever he wants. Or oooh -maybe the colonel will pick you out a new wife. Pretty little fool to take my place, without trappings like children -or brains."

“I chose my wife.” it sounds like a beg, anger and hurt battling for the upper hand in Elvis’ heart, his hand squeezes her chin stronger, watching her lips pucker just that little bit. Such a soft mouth has no right being so stern and derisive as it’s been these past months, once upon a time he knew how to make it gasp and smile with a word, a kiss, a mere glance. “I chose you, and you promised. It ain’t me breakin’ that promise, ain’t me sayin’ I can’t do this no more -I-I-I’ve spent my goddamn career givin’ you all this, I gave up w-women for you, I gave up movies for you, when you come to me with what’s wrong I do my damndest to fix it. Now you won’t tell me nothin’ but orange curtains, and if I thought those’d fix us I’d be out the damn door right now, headed to find you the best in the country. I would, Laney, you know I would. I’ve given-“ he stops to gasp in a ragged breath, unsure of what part of himself he hasn’t poured into his Tink, entrusted to her once caring little hands, vulnerability poured like so much oil into her heart for safe keeping, his flaws and secrets tucked safely in the little nooks and crannies of her generous mind. “I’ve given-“

-So Damn Much.

“I’ve given you my life.” His Laney stares back at him entirely unmoved, her eyes hard and sharp with their ebony liner, the squish of her lips beneath his fingers barely dismantling her disdain for him, “And seven children from my body. I never said you weren’t a good man,Elvis, or that you're not generous, but we both know we don’t want to go toe to toe in measuring costs for twenty years in heaven. And I’m saying, -I can’t do it anymore.”

“Anymore?” it’s bothered him all these months, that word and he wonders what she thinks she’ll have after this, like they’re not so intertwined and connected that, like twins, they will forever feel what the other feels, want what the other wants, a string tied between them from countless, immeasurable amounts of time spent merged as one, “I ain’t ever not gonna be in you, woman, once mine -always mine. What’s there for ya after this, huh? Seven children -twenty years! -Goddamn I’m in you!” he shakes her at that and sees a spark of something he knows light up her eyes.

Elvis slides a hand from her shoulders, down over her sternum and feels her heaving intake of breath at the missed feeling of his hands on her, down past the tie at her waist, down to the planes of her firm belly, just a little swell and some soft skin that speaks of the souls they once made with their love. He presses his hand, large and warm and cupped to that precious sanctuary, kneading it, lifting it, weighing it just that little bit in his palm.

The little house is empty.

Elvis outright laughs at his mistake then, a booming, jarring laugh at having forgotten just who he’s got in his arms. He can feel Elaine’s violent shuddering along the entire length of him at the strange sound in their gloomy bedroom. Or maybe it’s from the dig of his fingertips at her womb, like he’ll claw inside it from the outside if he’s barred from plundering her the natural way.

Sweet Miss Phipps, Elvis thinks, with her hungry mind and starved body, so damn eager to be possessed, to be made good use of, to be pumped full and burdened with child again and again. He shoulda kept her swollen this past decade, prioritized her hunger over the tours and then, maybe then, she’d not have gotten notions like this.

“God gave me a remarkable woman.” he murmurs to himself in realization, his hands loosening their grip on her jaw to run the backs of his fingers against against the soft swells of her cheeks and Elaine’s heart speeds up in recognition of the shift in his demeanor, that thrumming resolution taking over his body behind her and helplessly her own responds to it.

As if she's another person, someone she would counsel to resist, to stay strong, Elaine feels her face turn towards the caress of his ringed fingers, towards the admiring touch that’s been her joy to wake to a million times, a touch that’s brought her purpose and comfort for twenty years. Her mouth falls open with a surrendering quiver and she makes no move to avert her mouth when his fingers sweep over her face and across her lips in a revenant mapping of his wife’s well known features. Her tongue darts out to taste even a sliver of his salt, she tastes metal instead as his ring glides by. It’s a heady feeling for anyone to realize Elvis Presley intends to fuck them, it’s entirely heightened by a familiar knowledge of his capabilities and a divinely witnessed right to his person.

It’s no villain staring down at Elaine, pressing himself to her -the distance has been necessary all these months to keep her anger and fear prominent, to remind her of the need for such dire action as divorce, the slightest, kindest of touches from him would dismantle that resolve, that garish image in her imagination. Now she’s close to the finish line, so close he’s fully panicking and she can feel the lightness of soon being free of her deceit. He’s no villain, he’s just a good man who has hurt her, who hurts himself more often and worse than how she’s hurting him. And soon they’ll be able to save each other. Just not today.

His hand slips to her throat and he kneads it, contemplating the give and delicacy of her pale flesh, and her responses, the languid subjugation of her body to his touches, just like he’d taught her in this very bed across from them.

She sees when his eyes flick up from her throat to their marriage bed and it’s like a million hummingbirds erupt in her belly in disbelief, in panic, in a frantic sort of hopeful missing.

“Elvis-“ she doesn’t know if she’s trying to warn him, trying to remind him of the wrongness of what he’s thinking, or if it’s a beg for him to ignore her sensibilities, to take her and make her that new little wifey with the carefree face and the mindless little head.

His face is dark and flushed like he gets when he’s aroused, his features seeming to get richer with the heightened intensity of his feelings and she can feel the sweat break out behind her through his silk shirt, slicking up her own back through the gauze of her dress. Elvis’ eyes drop back to her face, remaining there with a million intentions painted therein but not a single flicker of wavering shows.

Elaine had no reason to be as startled as she was when she felt his hands drop to her waist and spin her around, picking her up beneath the ribs with his astounding strength and tossing her like he would rag doll on his karate mats. She landed with a silly bounce amongst the bedding. It could have been romantic if he had any blue left to his irises as he looked down at her, sauntering to the foot of the bed himself and surveying her where she lay.

“Wife.” he greeted before taking hold of a footsie in each hand and spreading them apart for him to step between her legs.

"Elvis." A whisper as if saying his name any louder would unleash something they might both come to regret. As if it'd cause the dam she's locked her emotions in this entire ordeal will finally break. If she calls him husband it's over. He knows her inside and out, every crevice and dip in her body and soul has been mapped by him. The lie will come apart with a simple utterance of his title that he still has in this moment. The title he still has for three more weeks.

"Elaine." Her name comes out in a shaky breath that she can tell he's attempting to control, to rein in. Those blue eyes she's fallen in love with more and more as years had gone by are an inky void, pupils covering every inch they can and not just because of some pill he had to take or because she had watched him die right in front of her. Both their tongues dart out to wet lips and catch errant drops of sweat before she hears the *clink* of his belt.

That noise isn't new to her, the jangle and clanging of the metal a familiar sound. In the quiet of the room, in the quiet of the house? Of their home? It steals a breath from her lungs as sure as his body pressing down on her would have. The belt sounds like one of the heaviest ones he owns and a shiver unbidden rolls through her body as the cacophony of that gaudy belt gets louder and louder in her ears. Each breath takes effort, forcing air between the two of them that threatens to stifle any calming thought or action. A final puff of air- of his breath- warm and humid runs across her hair, forcing a loose strand of it to move.

Elaine doesn't. Elaine doesn't move an inch even as his belt finally comes off in a subdued flourish and a minor curse. Her eyes focus on the gaudy little harem lamp above them even as Elvis drops the belt ever so gently next to her body. It still clangs against the rings of his hand and its own golden links.

Sweaty and warm, his bejeweled hand moves to cup her cheek. "Mrs. Presley." he breathes her title into her lax mouth like it’s Holy Spirit anointed before slotting his mouth against hers with firm conviction in the rightness of his claim to her.

"Elvis."

It's not fair that all this force, all this passion, all this wanting that has -if she’s being honest- waned for her at times over the years is coming out of him only now, now when he thinks he’s lost her. Now that he’s more fool than he’s ever been. They’ve been alone too often in their marriage, if not separated by miles and oceans, separated by intent and interpretations of it.

“Still mine, for a few more months you’re still mine. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it. You jus’ take it, jus’ take me, Laney”

And if she weren’t blinded herself by a heartache the proportions of which were only matched by losing a child, she might think every grip and clash of their bodies tells her he wants her every bit as bad as she wants him.

Still.

Mindless and hazy she waits for him to notice how every give and shudder of her own frame declares her want for him. He thinks he’s forcing the matter -but all he’s doing is giving her some false hope to curl around and cry over when the fissure finally splits apart.

I wanted you. But I thought I was alone in it, she thinks she hears them both saying it with every lewd squelch and pant.

It’s cruel confirmation of how entwined they’ve become, how much knowledge of the other they’ve collected over the years that he can make her writhe even under these circumstances, have her shattering beneath him effortlessly like older, kinder, gentler times. It’s made worse when she can feel him slow, stopping partway in that familiar way when he’s edging himself, intending to make her go round the loop once more, the familiarity of it makes her want sob, not from any hurt of the present, but at the notion this may be the last time she feels it -they both want this to last. And that unity is a mocking thing, all context considered.

He’s sweaty and she’s trembling, there’s so much warmth coming off his angry frame that she feels like curling inside the furnace and letting him make her forget anything beyond this physical connection that was never in doubt, the sheets are cold and dry and foreign against her back by comparison and she thinks of sleeping alone amongst them for the rest of her life. Elvis seems to sense this weakness of hers, one he wished he supported sooner, taken advantage of back when she looked so indestructible but was privately fraying at the seams, trying to hold the whole fairytale together. He shoulda done this sooner.

Old dog, new tricks, maybe, but Elvis has always been clever, opportunistic even, and he keeps his thrusts shallow and tantalizing as his wife gasps back to life beneath him and he keeps her close, his hands wound into her hair, hairy forearms beneath her shoulders, her ankle caught somewhere near his ear and his sweaty nose dripping onto her cheek.

“C’mon now Tink, you’ve thrown your fit,” he reasons to her in a coo that is underscored by the cajoling gait of his hips rocking into her, it has her clenching around those first few inches of him again, “ya made your point. Don’t -don’t do this to us baby. You c’mon back now. Ain’t anythin’ out there that’d satisfy you like us. Ain’t nobody else needs ya more dan hims does, satnin, don’t leave hims, baby.”

A good fuck, that’s all she needed, he’s sure of it. Or a couple of ‘em. He shoulda started dishing them out in Palm Springs but he’d been so angry when she filed and she’d been so cold. A couple of good fucks, that’ll solve it.

And to be heard. Which -she’s gotten that, all of America’s been hearing how he can’t keep his own wife.

Whatever bit of sentimentality he’s feeling right now, the sort that makes him wanna spill over how pretty she looks, vanishes in the angry tumult of his recalled humiliation. It fires him up instead and he snorts in his breath above her like an angry bull, perfectly capable of making her pay, making her see some sense, too. The longer she doesn’t reply the more this feeling surmounts the gentler ones and if Elvis were being honest, he knows denial had given way to rage and now bargaining and he’s full on panicking, trying to keep a woman who he shouldn’t have to chase.

She’s his wife.

“Elaine?” even to his own ears he sounds frantic and rough.

She is crying beneath him now, he thinks, that’s not all sweat making her face shine and her lips are taut like when she’s trying to hold it in and he wonders why the hell she’s the one crying. He feels like crying, he’s being left without an explanation or a pot to piss in. And all that while he’s still perfectly capable of proving he’s the best she’ll ever get. It’s like she’s agreeing with him when her hips start to move on their own accord, disagreeing with his teasing thrusts and instead she impales herself up on him, rough and sloppy to the rhythm of her fits of crying.

“I loved you.” Elaine sobs into his neck and he could wring hers for the confusion of it, for the way he just doesn’t get her after a lifetime of trying and how only this, this communion, this passion, this fucking is the only thing they make great sense at. Back when it had a purpose, back when it was to bring joy, to make a baby or five, and even now -to tie her to him somehow.

He folds her body viciously and plants his foot on the bed, thrusting so hard into her with all that wild abandon he knows she’d been jealous of him expending on his audience and not his family. “You greedy lil bitch, you love me,” he growls, “-what a revelation.”

‘Just an ounce of all that passion would go a long way, Elvis’ -he can hear the echo of her stupid little voice even now.

Passion? You want passion, Tink? He doesn’t think he’s ever been so passionately furious when he’s climaxed before ever in his life. For once it’s quite obvious he’s not ‘made love’, war maybe, but not love -and ain’t that another joke, he’d meant to make her love him again.

Elaine tears at his back with her fingernails and hears him snarling at her that he won’t stop, can’t stop, why can’t she stop this nonsense? She grips him harder, she seizes herself as he starts to slow, claws at his back with each vicious pump -seems they’ll both be shifting in their seats next time in the courtroom.

“Elaine?” he sounds so broken, like he does those times when they bring him back from heaven’s gates, it’s mumbled into her neck again like always but this time there’s no drugs to blame, not directly, not if she’s honest. She’s the one killing him. This little plan of hers to save him, just might finish him.

She prays God will be kind, prays he’ll keep her man alive long enough for her to finish this ugly business and restore his freedom, prays that maybe the hot slosh of spend coating her womb won’t be a waste. That she’ll have something of him left, just once more, please just one more. Something left of the man she married. Something to remind her of why they married and of what it was like to be happily married. Maybe just once more she wants to carry his entire world inside her.

“No, Elvis. I-I’m sorry, no.”

When he pulls away, it's not just sweat coating his lashes and his face. This plan of hers might just finish them both.

_______________________________

Every day in that courtroom is another layer of pride and image stripped away from Elvis and her and their perfect Southern Camelot. Every day is another headline for the papers with pictures of Elvis making a fool of himself in a way that can’t be smoothed over by anyone. Every day has cameras being shoved in Elaine’s face as she leaves with another hickey on her neck, bruising and blossoming in a way that looks grotesque when she sees it on the news later that night. The black outfits don’t help the contrast.

Every other day is being thrust against a bathroom stall’s wall with heels digging into Elvis’s back.

“E-Elaine-" He’ll stutter out, the feel of her clenching around his cock making it hard to focus or maybe it was the bite of her nails through his dress shirt. "You stop this. Been grovelin' 'n I deserve to have my wife listen."

"Ex. Wife." Elaine will huff out, words slurring into a quiet mewl as his cock brushes that one spot.

"Wife." An argument and a fact that he'll hammer home until the very last second he can. She never corrects him after the first time, too worried the knowledge would crush him to the point of everything finally giving out.

Jesse has taken to looking askance at her, worried and haunted little looks with fluttery hands at shoulder level that remind her of Elvis before he married her. If she had Elvis’ grit she’d ask her son if he had something to say and tell him to say it.

As it is she just pats his elegant hands, a man’s hands, she realizes, and thanks him profusely for his support, for being there at court with her day after day, missing practice and missing dates, letting a youthful spring and summer slip on by. They’ve been at this for close to a year.

“It’s nothin mama.” Jesse insists, almost offended at the idea he’d be anywhere but by her side.

________________________________

|| 5th, JUNE 1977 ||

When Ann makes her call, Elaine’s heart fills with all the old butterflies and girlish excitement of a past decade. They’ve kept in touch, of course they have, but between the touring, the marriages, and the unspoken acknowledgment of life falling apart from one and coming together for another, there’s less common ground to chat about compared to the days when Elaine used to share her husband and two little vixens named Thumper and Tink got to pick him apart in gleeful adoration like girls with their crush.

“Can I come by?” Thumper asks her, soft and kind but without the playful undercurrent that precipitated all her other visits.

“Well of course you can, you know you can.“ Elaine puzzles, finger worrying the wire in a nervous tick that has nothing to do with anticipation, dread pools in her belly instead.

There’s no children to greet Ann when she comes to the door, Marie at school and Jack away at his apprenticeship in California, Jesse has taken to spending his days in the studio when he’s not needed elsewhere, Daisy on the road and Rosalee in College, Ella married and attempting to assimilate with her in-laws. It feels like a ghost house compared to what Ann recalls. Maybe it’s just the passage of time but something terribly wrong and lonely strikes her at the lifelessness of the grand house, like it’s become haunted without a single death.

Unless it’s the death of the Presley’s as a whole. That would do it.

Elaine stands at the top of the stairs like old times, but there’s no gambit of children to wait for and so she speeds down the stairs at a breezy gait, smiling soft and subdued even as she refuses to be coy with her hug. She wraps Thumper up in a deep embrace and Ann squeezes her back, saying a million things at once by their clutching hold, murmuring little half sentences of condolences and “missed you’s”.

“What’d you come for?” Elaine asks her at the dining table after having supplied ice water and coasters for her guest. Ann turned down the saltines Elaine devoured with peculiar relish.

Always a straight shooter, Elaine. It makes Ann sigh and smooth out her skirt, clearing her voice to repay her candor with like. “I came to see what on earth was going on. To see if you were ok. And, I guess I came to see if it’s really happening. Nobody really thinks it’s happening. Or -I don’t know.”

“It’s happening.” Elaine replies with grim resignation.

“I don’t understand because Elvis says you’re the one divorcing and I always thought if one-“ Ann stops herself to scoff, “-I actually never thought either of you would ever divorce. You’re sincere?”

“It’s happening.” Elaine repeats, shielding her saltine chewing with a manicured hand. The action also flashes her still worn wedding band.

“So it’s not a threat?” Ann marvels, “When Roger insisted it was true, I thought it must be some drastic measure, something to get Elvis’ attention. His cooperation, you know, something to just-“

“-I’ve tried many drastic measures to gain that.” Elaine responds, “ all of them failed. I’d never ‘threaten’ something as horrible as this.“

“But…you’d do something…this horrible.” Ann murmurs, scared to play devil's advocate but utterly confused.

“You don’t know what I’ve been dealing with and, what you saw in the early days of residency, even the stuff on the film sets, it’s like aspirins compared to what he’s on now.”

“So it’s the drugs?” she whispers, heartsick, “You can’t handle being…around them? Around him?” she asks, then adds after careful consideration, “I have noticed you seem, seem still very tactile with him. I see the-“ she waves her finger at Elaine’s collarbones, “-I see the marks. Are you scared of him?”

It is unthinkable of Elvis. It really is, and Ann knows her face must show disbelief even when presented with her friend's mottled skin, and she hates herself for doubting a woman’s account, but if Elaine were to say she’s scared, Ann isn’t sure she’d be able to buy that. Not of Elvis. Even under the influence.

“Gosh no.” Elaine scoffs, a beat too late. “I just can’t do it anymore. All of it. Just the typical little things that build up in a marriage, I suppose.”

She tries to grin and Thumper thinks it’s the weakest acting she’s ever seen. Elaine more convincingly played a virgin in their home movies when deepthroating cucumbers for Elvis’ enjoyment.

“How’s Roger? Elaine asks, through with defending herself and Ann feels lost, adrift and unable to get near like she once did.

“Roger is fine.” Ann replies, “He sends his best. How is Ella?”

“Tell him I’m sorry they brought your name up, last week.” Elaine sighs, no apology offered to Thumper. They both know she’d be offended at an apology for being associated with them. “Ella is decidedly pregnant, that’s what she is.”

“Is she?” Thumper coos, followed by an alarmed quavering of hope and concern on her face. “Elaine, that’s-“ it is wonderful despite the circumstances but Elaine’s brittle posture suggests a to-do about it might sink her. “Congratulations, Grandma Tink.” Thumper settles for, daring to reach across the table top, seizing Elaine’s hand and squeezing its saltine dusted elegance.

“Thank you.” she whispers hoarsely, “She calls me everyday. Reminds me of you and me back when … her man he -he sounds sweet. Of course he’ll be gone awhile and so I’m all she has got to talk to about throwing up each morning and watching things swell.” None of this is how they expected or intended, Elvis and Elaine should both be hovering about and annoying their first grandchild before they’re even out in the world. Instead Ella’s perched down in Texas, no doubt terribly homesick, and Elaine’s talking about grandbabies like it’s another addition to the carport. “Tell Roger we’re sorry they brought your name up. Please tell him.”

“We don’t care.” Thumper insists and Elaine hopes that’s an accurate representation of Roger’s feelings. “He only asked-“ Ann stares out the front windows and down the drive towards the gates, summer colors brilliantly lush outside the house, she’s seen this view so many times it hurts, “-he asked that I make sure that…any…videos, and such, were disposed of.” she winces as she gets it out, once her manager, always her manager that man. “I wasn’t sure which of you to ask about them.”

Elaine stares at her intensely as if trying to read her soul. “I’ve most of them upstairs. Ruined by pregame juice mainly but the labels are sentimental so I’ve kept them.” Ann wonders if they’re ruined at all, and if they are she wonders if it’s by orange juice or by something far more lewd. Elvis never had great aim, “I’m sure Elvis has the ones we sent him under lock and key. Either way, you know neither of us would endanger you. You know that, Thumper.”

“Yes, yes I do.” Ann breathes, resting her chin in her hand, mournful at having insinuated otherwise.

“So you can tell Roger they’re not a worry.” Elaine prods with the shadow of an old smirk, “And you never know, in future it might not be so hard to track Naughty and I down at once.”

“Oh?” Ann squints at her in confusion.

“Mhmm.” Elaine just hums and shrugs her shoulders, the purple little mark on her clavicle shadowing with the movement. “Are you saying the night, Thumper?”

Ann leaves that evening more bewildered than when she arrived. “You were right, Roger,” she tells her husband as she settles beside him late that night, “she didn’t tell me a thing. Not really.”

___________________________

|| 9th, JUNE 1977 ||

“They’re gonna stop pressin’ ‘bout Thumper,” the murmur of his voice registering before the hand on her arm does as they both find themselves heading to the bathroom. It’s a flimsy sort of an excuse and one she’s beginning to think the papers and the news cameras see through.

“That’s good.” Her voice is a little too airy but today’s been a back and forth of yelling and excuses and all Elaine’s thinking about is how one of Daisy’s bandmates called her up from a payphone telling her that they almost couldn’t wake her for the show. The show she shouldn’t be doing but the show that Elaine let her do because she’s been playing being an adult for so long that who was she to argue against it?

“Told her we’d make sure it was- nothing came out. Roger was worried about it. For her image and for his, maybe.”

After all, it’s one thing to just be married to Ann-Margret, another thing entirely to be married to Thumper who’d rolled in the hay literally and figuratively with the Presleys at their lowest point. He’s never minded her continued friendship with them but that was before whispers of infidelity turned into whispers of sexual romps that were taped and stored or pictures that were taken and used as masturbatory material. He's never minded until Joe E, bless his soul, implied he might've seen copper locks in a video from Circle K that Elvis had shown a few of the members of the Mafia. Not that the court or anyone could find such a video.

The lock to the bathroom clicks behind Elvis and he turns around, raising an eyebrow. “Now hold on a minute, she- Thumper thought we’d- I’d never-”

“She didn’t. Roger was concerned. She knows us well enough, Elvis.” Still reassuring him as if they’re not going through what is turning out to be the messiest divorce the world has ever seen and likely will ever see. “I told her as much and she felt bad about asking.”

About the tapes and the photos, not so much about their divorce, Elaine reasons. As much as she wants to fault one of her oldest friends -it’s understandable. That was the purpose of the divorce. To come out of left field and appear to all concerned as if the faithful wife has finally grown unable to force herself to put up with Elvis Presley any more. The Colonel wouldn’t question that and had wanted it for years, if anyone were to ask him. Ann- their lil Thumper wouldn’t have been able to keep her plan a secret, her loyalty to Elvis and Elaine would have put her in a spot that Elaine didn’t dare want to shove her into. No, it was better for her to question the same as everyone else. Maybe if this went well they could all have a laugh about it in Hawaii. Or at the very least, Ann could forgive her.

“Don’t know why she didn’t jus’ ask me, ‘m the one who-'' Elvis's voice trails off when it hits him. Why would she ask the person who likely doesn’t hold most of them. Who’s fixin’ to lose everything in a divorce he desperately doesn’t want. “Least she knows now."

Elaine should agree with him, she should agree with him that at least Ann knows now, but she only knows part of the story. She only knows that the man she fell in love with on a movie set and his wife she maybe sometimes loves as more than a friend won’t damage her the way they’re damaging each other. How even Elaine had to joke that maybe it would be easy to run into them together in the future. Even during these hellish days in court they can’t escape each other’s orbits.

Pretending to not love and care for Elvis is an impossible task when what she’s doing is because her love and her care for a man who is sometimes brutish and stupid and selfish is so overwhelming it threatens to choke her.

At her silence, Elvis allows himself to crowd into her space, hands grasping at her hips ever so gently. "How's Rosalee?"

They're both too tired to fight in this bathroom, their energy having been spent outside of it for everything else. Asking about his favorite daughter, the one who's lived and breathed for her daddy for years feels safe.

"Not- she's not very good, Elvis. It's been- she hasn't really been the same." Since what happened. If things were different maybe she'd be taking the time to relax at home and maybe Daisy wouldn't have run off from guilt and - no. Elaine can't dwell on that even as her eyes start to water.

"It's hard on them." His tone isn't accusing, instead managing to just state a fact. This whole divorce has been hard on all of them. Even if Elaine's the one instigating everything he sees how unhealthy she looks. Feels how her body seems to be breaking down in ways that aren't as flashy as his body but the signs are there.

God knows he's not always been the most pious of men in action, that somehow all his good intentions and gospel songs haven’t managed to pull him back as he skidded down the road to hell, yet he’s got such a hankering to hide in the cleft of the rock once again. Acknowledge he’s a man, a failing man, a wayward husband, a prodigal son.

He finds himself reaching for Laney’s hand, palm up in a way she recognizes without a word. She clasps it without hesitation, in a time worn manner they’ve used before marriages, births, trips, shows, bedsides of sick and dying friends and here in this tiled little haven of the courthouse where they’re allowed to be as vulnerable and broken as their Heavenly Father knows them to be.

They bow their heads and Elvis finds himself begging his Almighty not for a return of fortunes but merely a cessation of tragedies. Elvis’ hand twitches, a pinky disentangling from Tink’s clasp and tickling her belly, like a presentment, like a benediction of nothing more than a heartbroken hunch on his part.

_____________________________

|| 29th, JULY 1977 ||

Elvis regrets answering the door to his penthouse the moment it swings open to reveal Johnny Cash with that sort of frantic and half crazed look in his eyes that Elvis thought he'd given up at the beginning of the decade. Wasn't that a hoot, the two of them swore up and down they had gotten clean for their women, the loves of their lives- the ones that God blessed them with to live out their present and future everlasting lives with- only to fall back into those old habits. What a cosmic joke.

"You're a fool, Presley." Short and to the point in a way that only Johnny can manage. Elvis exhales, wondering what exactly he's done to God to earn one of his oldest friends calling him a goddamn fool at the closest thing he's got to a home nowadays. His lil Schnucki comes to visit him, and Jesse's called once or twice but ever since that- ever since he realized how serious his Laney was about leaving him- Graceland ain't his home anymore.

"Ain't gonna say anythin'? No fight left in you?" The door to the penthouse is kicked in and if Elvis was any other person, or Johnny was any other person Elvis might've jumped. As it is, all he manages is a shrug as he pinches his nose. His head's achin' and his eyes hurt and all he wants to do is sleep. Take something to make every whisper floating in his head die down. An older brother telling him how he's ruined his life isn't remotely something he's got the patience for. Not after today's courtroom.

"Whatcha want me to say, John? Ya know everythin', so whatcha want me t'say, hm? Laney's leavin' me, takin' what she wants and leavin' me poorer than I met her."

Not monetarily, no, Elvis figures he could handle that better than the reality of his Laney, his Tink, the bjggest part of his soul other than his mama leaving him. Elaine's leaving him a man with barely any soul left in him to fight and go on. And he swears- lord he swears he felt something different about her recently. Something swelling that shouldn't.

"What I want'ya to say is that I'm gonna go back to my hotel and me and June are gonna tell each'otha that this whole thing's jus' you all been stubborn as a pair o'mules. Cause if it ain't, I gotta be real concerned June's gonna up and do the same thing on me." Johnny's always been someone who doesn't let Elvis get away with half the things everyone else does. Maybe it's because of how they started things together or how Johnny knows that half the reason he's got June is because of Elvis. Or maybe it was some misplaced need to be a brother to Elvis- to fill in a spot he figures his twin would've.

"June ain't gonna-" Elvis starts before Johnny uses the two inches he's got on Elvis to his advantage, staring the other man down as he cuts him off.

"Lane wouldn't've. Shouldn't've. Yet she is. This ain't- this ain't 'bout whatever damn excuse she's got. Can't be. There's somethin' you ain't tellin' everyone."

More and more Elvis has to laugh at his life and how everyone seems to think he's got some power over his Laney. That this whole divorce and the way he's embarrassing the both of them day after day is just another show. A snow job as the colonel would put it. This would be so much easier if that was the case. It isn't the case though, it isn't the case and Elvis feels his laughter escape him like the boom of a cannon.

"If there's anythin'- The whole damn country thinks I'm an idiot who can't keep his wife and here- I don't need you to be thinkin' 'm an idiot who don't know some grand plan his wife's cooked up. Ain't no plan. Ain't nothin' I ain't already groveled about and cried about in those hallowed halls. Laney jus' don't want me any more."

A silence settles between the two men at that revelation with Elvis breathing sounding so labored that even through the haze of his own drugs Johnny levels a look at his friend. It’s only after he’s sure that the other man won’t pass out and die on him that he actually speaks.

"You- You ain't me. She ain't Vivian. She- Elvis there ain't no way she's- that ain't it. You're both- you two can't keep your hands off each other even divorcin'. She- she still wants ya.”

“She wants my cock, John. Wants my money. Wants my house. My mama’s house. Know I said it was hers the moment we got hitched but- it wasn’t ever supposed to be hers. It’s- It’s ours.” Elvis isn’t one to break down, not in front of certain people and Johnny might be one of his friends that are near and dear to him but he doesn’t want to lose it in front of him. Doesn’t want to cry and blubber like he has been in the courtroom, pleading and begging for Elaine to just see sense. “We don’t- She don’t love me any more. T-That’s all there is to it. No grand con-spear-ah-see. Jus’ my wife wantin’ to be my ex-wife. Don’t know if I blame her. I ain’t-”

“You been a better husband than I was. Better husband than a lotta men. If- if 'Lane wanted to leave ya? She'd have done it back in the 60s. When you were carryin' on wit' what's her name- Swedish girl- fire hair. But she went 'n made friends wit' her. That woman's supposed to be yours till Kingdom Come 'n beyond. This doesn't make a single lick of sense and ya know it!"

One would think that nothing could echo in this penthouse and yet somehow Johnny's booming yell, filled with bass that Elvis is sure have made men greater than him bend and cower, echoes and reverberates in his ears. A stark reminder that Elaine and him seem to affect everyone around them for better or worse. Elvis's heart pumps a little harder as he tries to wrap his aching head around everything for what feels like the millionth time.

"I-I know it don't. This- you know these things don't take this long, John. I've-I been draggin' this out. Stickin' my damn heels in the mud. Anythin' to get her to come back, to see what- anythin' to not lose her. And she's jus'- ain't none of it workin'. Daisy up'n'ran off, Rosalee jus' wants me to be near her mama or her mama near me. Jesse's lookin'-"

"That what it is? Her doing it for the kids?” Johnny’s question has him tilting his head, not entirely unlike the millions of dogs Elvis’s children have had over the years. He ought to be offended Johnny cut him off so easily and without a care in the world and yet Johnny’s one of the few people he’d let do that. “She’s doin’ this for your kids.”

For once, Elvis has to look at Johnny and guess at what he means whether it’s because the man is too stunned to put it into words or because he doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, Elvis doesn’t know. He can hear his heartbeat going a bit too and a bit too hard in his ears as he answers.

“Ya mean- have i been failin’ them too? Have a been as bad of a father to ‘em as ‘ve been a bad husband?” The laugh that leaves Elvis sounds more like a sob than anything else. Johnny purses his lips even as he listens. "Ya mean how I found out I'm havin' a grandbaby through Laney? Or how Daisy's worse than you’n’I together on whatever she's takin'? Or how my boys acted like superheroes for their sister? How my lil Schnucki had- how I had to find that out from the Harrisons and my boys? ‘N I wasn’t there to blow those fools’ heads clean off their necks?”

Johnny realizes right then he’s made a mistake coming here. Or maybe just made a mistake pressing this point like it’s honestly any of his damn business. “You haven’t-”

Elvis cuts him off with a wave of his hand as he steps away, trying to feel less like a caged animal. “That’s right, I haven’t. I haven’t, John. Haven’t been there, haven’t given ‘em what they need. I had one job. Take care of all of ‘em and love ‘em. Failed so- I don’t blame her, John. I- I love her. Ya know I do. You know this sorta love but I can’t, I can’t make her love me again. S-she ain’t gonna love me again. Not the way she has.” His breath comes in short pants as his hand shakes and his leg jitters like he’s a man twenty years and nearly ten children younger. “I tried fixin’ this. The kids- the kids tried fixin’ this. But they can’t- can’t get through to her, these days! They’re all beggin’ and cryin’ and torn up and the Tink I know wouldn’t’ve lasted a week after causin’ such hurt to our babies. Well this new edition of her’s done made it close to a year.”

Johnny opens his mouth to speak only for Elvis to hold up a finger and force himself to take a deep breath, like Laney told him to those times after she thumped his heart back to life for him. Laney’d get what she wants if he died but he’s got a grandbaby he’s gotta see. Wants to try and see. “A year. Been nearly a year and it ain’t workin’. Nothin’- been tryin’ to remind her’ve what we had. What I give t’her. It-” Elvis starts to trail off, the fight that Johnny had put inside him slowly deflating till all he’s left with is the shell of a man who’s bone tired. Bone tired and losing everything no matter what fight he puts up. His shoulders slump.

Watching someone who’s as larger than life as Elvis Presley seemingly fold in on himself feels wrong in Johnny’s mind, but it gives him the answer he needs. It gives him the answer he’s looking for when it comes to just what’s going on with this whole divorce and what’s going on with Elaine and Elvis. His legs cross over to where Elvis is in only a few steps and without missing a beat, his arm wraps around Elvis’s shoulder. Elvis might not be his brother in blood but they’ve gone through enough that- that he wouldn’t leave him out in the cold without a hint of comfort.

“You gotta make peace wit’ it, then. Gotta- The Lord ain’t gonna want to see the two of ya fightin’ till ya keel over and die. Gotta give- If what she wants is to not be your wife any more, ya gotta give it to her. Just to make peace.” His voice isn’t much louder than a low rumble and yet Elvis can hear him clear as day.

“She won’t be my Laney any more. Won’t be my Tink.” A response as if he's a child being denied his favorite toy. Johnny doesn't stop himself from huffing out a laugh.

"But she'll still be Elaine, your children's mama. It ain't like you won't ever see her, EP." But that’s not the problem, that’s never been the problem and from the way Johnny’s looking at him, he knows that. “But ya gotta- it’s not doin’ either of ya a bit o’good to be draggin’ it on and on. Not after everythin’. Been livin’ ‘part for so long-” Johnny trails off, hand moving to rub at his eyes as he shakes his head. “Nothin’ you’ve done’s fixed it. Might not be meant to be fixed in those ways.”

“I-I- I don’t have anythin’ to fall on, John. I leave her it’s jus’ me and-” The medicine I got coursin’ through me, is what he should say. “I don’t know how to not be her husband.”

A silence settles over the two of them, punctuated only by Elvis’s heavy breaths and Johnny’s sharp and quick ones until Johnny settles himself against the wall, crossing his arms and raising his leg to press against it.

“Never said ya had to stop actin’ like you were.”

__________________________________

|| 6th, AUGUST 1977 ||

It’s a supreme irony that after a year of wishing for a cessation of that old stubbornness, that bitter pride of his, when such submission comes in the form of a mute and sullen husband opposite in the courtroom, Elaine feels her heart hammer in her chest, bewildered and terrified as he concedes one settlement after another in quick session.

Jesse gasps beside her at the change, even looks ready to beg her to reconsider her greediness as 90% gets handed over without a hint of the raging qualms her opposition has been voicing for five months.

Only Colonel Parker appears scared as shit, angrily grabbing at Elvis’ limp arm and trying to interrupt his directions with the lawyers. Each new verdict gets waved through by a lazy flick of a bejeweled hand and Elaine thinks the repetition of the gavel granting her all she wants could make for a decent backbeat in the studio.

After an agreement to give up 90% of his catalog, Elaine and Jesse both share a look, heartbroken and relieved that he’s really, truly, finally given up.

It’s obvious to all that it’s a bodily wearing out, Elvis looks awful and no amount of jewelry or eyeliner or Snow Job paraphernalia can hide the fact Elaine’s husband is a sick man. Even the papers who’ve found him easy pickings for ridicule and blame suddenly find some heart for his obvious suffering, even if the compassion is wedged between headlines about his expanding waistline and her latest money grab.

“What’s with you?” she demands and this time it’s her hand around his wrist, the unsteady clop of his boots following her heels after the click of the bathroom latch. When she drops his wrist his gold studded hand lands heavily by his thigh, he makes no move to crowd her, to grip her hair and kiss her like old times. “What was all that about?” she finds herself angry instead of relieved, mimics his lazy hand waves and scoffs in his face. She knew and planned on this day coming, but it doesn’t make it less unsettling as she takes in the victory of her spirit over his. He’s her man after all, her daddy and her provider, tough and proud and one of a kind and she’s beat him at the game of wills. She can feel her eyes pooling and angrily runs a hand under her nose as he stares at her with a blank, droopy expression.

“M’tryin’ to make peace.” Elvis shrugs, it was Johnny’s advice. Whatever it took, even if it meant giving in, he’s the man of their house and he’s here to make peace. Maybe if they end on a kind note he’ll be thought of, invited into the inner circle even even, by the time Ella pops out their grandbaby. “Never cared about the fuckin’ catalogue Tink, was only ever about buyin’ time to convince you to stay.”

The colonel’s panic at this latest settlement, one that finished the final prying open of his carefully constructed facade, one that’s exposed him to years of investigations, jail time maybe -though few outside of Elaine, Mr. Corleone and the FBI know that yet- is like sipping a mojito after a long day baking in the sun for Elaine.

Two decades of her saying he wasn’t right and Vernon telling her to go mind the carpet bill, change a diaper, redo a curl.

It should be refreshing, it should be a tonic to the way she feels shaky most mornings and ravenous in the evenings. Instead she finds herself trembling and laying an icy hand to Elvis’ burning forehead, registering the unnatural heat even in this chilled bathroom. It’s not just the stupid velvet coat, one blue eye is far more dilated than the other now she’s pulled his glasses down. He flinches from it, whether from the brightness of the bare bulbs or her touch, she isn’t sure.

“What’ve they got you on?” she sounds like a frog, throat all constricted and voice thin. She cares, she still cares so much and it could’ve been just yesterday she folded her handsome young groom into that bathtub in Germany and held him through the shakes. She wishes she could ask him ‘why do you always waste my love?’ But somehow, even after all her cruelty, that feels a little mean. “Baby, talk to me, what’s -“

Elvis grabs her hand, gently this time and he folds it with her other in both of his, a tan, sparkly little cage, she wonders how long it’ll take him before he pulls his wedding band off. Will he discard it before they make it out of the courthouse today? “Don’t you fret yourself, lil mama, those days are over.” he rumbles as he squeezes her hands and she wonders if he means days of fretting or drugs, they coincide often enough, “You jus’ take care of y’self, ok?” he sucks in a trembling breath and his glasses pinch between her fingers in his squeeze, “Without me there to nag ya bout it I-I -you take care of y’self.”

“Oh Elvis-'' she whimpers, moving closer, wanting to beg for some forgiveness, all clever plans and well timed revelations beginning to fray as she watches him rally his old magnanimity despite his grief.

_____________________________

|| 28th, SEPTEMBER 1977 || >>

He’s not alone in this concern, Elaine doesn’t know if she has Jesse or Daisy to blame for the way Marlon shows up in Memphis like that Yankee son of a bitch belongs that land bound. There’s never been a reason to see Brando except on one coast or another and it’s jarring for Elaine, seeing him take up space that’s so uniquely Elvis’ property, even if it’s under her name.

To see him in her home. Her true home.

She’s no good at hiding her nerves or the exhausted paranoia of wondering how Elvis will react when he hears of this visit. Marlon reads her like a book and leans against her kitchen counter, acting like Mary isn’t throwing them a million side eyes over the biscuit batter, and asks after her well being.

“Pretty terrible, thanks. And you?” she shrugs, wringing out a dish towel over and over. She doesn’t know when she became so fidgety, nowadays it seems she’s always betraying her nerves with restless hands and she never had that trouble before. Always a baby to hold if she needed the excuse, she guesses.

Her last baby is nine years old. And so she wrings out her dish towels and stares back at an old lover with the weary openness of a woman who doesn’t really care anymore. Elvis has been her one goal, and saving him is killing her as effectively as it is him. Those last days she wasn’t sure he was going to keep making it into the courtroom, shifting in his chair not from her nails furrows but from the repeated shots in his rump. The ones that have killed him a few times over.

Jesse made a visit to him in Vegas. Elaine doesn’t know what he said but her boy has barely spoken since. She asked her son how his father was, quite aware she doesn’t know the particulars from his fevered attentions in the handicapped bathroom of the Santa Monica courthouse. Her man would crawl out of his grave for the chance to make love one last time, it’s not a good gauge. Jesse said he keeps the curtains closed constantly. That he’s not letting anyone up. Charlie barely let Jesse up. His eyes are bad, so bad the curtains stay closed, otherwise Jesse couldn’t tell, couldn’t get a good look at him. He didn’t stay for the concert. Cissy says his voice has held up this time, at least.

“Pretty terrible.” She tells Marlon, because he’s always been more friend than lover, and that’s why he’s in Memphis when it’s a fool's errand anyway.

For all Marlon will speak his mind about this that and the other on things he cares about- yet God does he *care* about Elaine and so he bites his tongue at the first thought that pops into his head. *You've been pretty terrible for years and now you decided to care and do something about it*.

Instead: "You look terrible."

Which is a gross oversimplification of his feelings, but Elaine doesn't watch as his eyes slide over her pale and wan cheeks that look thinner than he's ever seen them. She doesn't watch how his eyes drift downward to breasts that are pressing against the dress she's wearing.

They remind him of when she was pregnant with Marie. They remind him of her breasts when she cried out beneath him against her tiki bar. If he closes his eyes he can picture them bouncing in front of his face, begging for him to bury his face in them. The boy- her oldest boy was right. Marlon doesn't even need to look at her stomach and yet some sick twisted masochistic tendency compels him to as if that'll change things.

It's small. Smaller than he figures any of her bumps have been and yet it's there. Mocking and growing at its own pace.

Proof that Elaine Phipps wants to remain Elaine Presley till one of them dies and maybe even beyond. Marlon can't help the way he exhales through his nose, unable to look away even as Elaine talks,

"Marlon, are you even listening?"

No. But he needs to.

"Mind wandered off, you know how I get, Elaine." He straightens up and tries to stay alert, “So, all this really fixed things for ya, eh?” he quips sardonically and she smiles, rolls her eyes, fully aware he’s not mocking her, he’s mocking the hopelessness of it ever working.

“Yeah. It’s all coming up roses.” she snarks.

“I uh-“ he stipples his fingers on the counter and weighs his next move, “-I heard that Colonel Parker’s recently landed in some seriously hot water. Something about the audits during the divorce and how certain things don’t match up. Got it from the papers, you know how long they stretch a few vague facts. I had to read two whole pages to get ‘fraud’ and ‘debts’ out of them. Anyways, I thought you’d find that nice -hot water, all that.”

“So hot it’ll boil his coat of lies right off with any luck.” Elaine seethes and her sudden passion takes Marlon by surprise. Stirs an old appreciation for just how much verve is always bubbling beneath her doll-like exterior. His fingers itch to let out the excess in a gush around his fingers. “Illegal alien.” She expounds, warming to her argument in the way of someone long overdue a listen, “Would you believe it? All those endless homebound tours -runing Elvis into the ground on the same circuit simply because that greedy fool couldn’t tag along. Couldn’t step outside the country. Always wondered why he never crashed our time in Germany, knew he would if could. Fake, heartless, toad.”

“Fuck him.” Marlon agrees vehemently and Elaine looks up with the same appreciative eyes of a decade past when she got no arguments from him, unlike all the menfolk surrounding her most days. Marlon abides by a simple rule: if it pisses Elaine Presley off, he needs no further research to say it ain’t shit.

“Yes, well, I’ll leave that to the Justice Department, I’ve done my bit.” Elaine sighs, her little victory crow short lived and even with his bias for the unattached Miss Phipps, Marlon can see how hollow her achievements are without Elvis to pat her pretty head for them. “It’s been weeks and I- I’m afraid he’s angry Marlon.” they’re not talking of the Colonel now, Marlon can tell by her love-sick face, “I knew he would be, with the divorce and probably with framing Parker but -he was so kind that day. So kind I thought he might’ve forgiven or just, I don’t know but now, now he won’t even answer my calls. Marie hasn’t gotten through either and -it’s not like him, Marlon, it’s not.”

“You got something pressing to tell him?” Brando asks and doesn’t even bother to hide the way his eyes flick back over her ripening form, pondering if her boy hadn’t been silly after all, going on about her not noticing. If he were a woman, a pretty woman like Elaine still is, Marlon would be weighing those growing tits each day with pride and mesmerization -but then again, Elaine’s had more on her mind than appreciating her own assets like a horny old star who never learned to aim for his own league.

“No I only wanted to-” she bites her lip as if unsure or else what she wants is unspeakably optimistic for a woman who just threw it all away. “I missed his voice.”

_______________________________

<<< || 16th, AUGUST 1977 ||

The knock at the door startled them both. Elvis pulled his back from it and faced it like he was gonna defend his wife from the mob he suspected was outside. Old habits die hard.

“Y’all?” Jesse yelled through the thick wood, “There’s half the city crowdin’ outside, there’s not gonna be a path to squeeze through soon.”

“Yeah alright son, thank you.” Elvis cleared his throat as he dropped her hands, straightening his posture fully. “You ready?” he asked dully, eager to get the worst moment of his life over.

“I gue- I- yes.” she stumbled over her meaning and smoothed out her black jacket.

"Daddy?" Jesse's voice was heard over the wood once more and both Elaine and Elvis took matching deep breaths, sweat droplets falling on Elvis’s eyes with a wince.

It's not pity that had Elaine putting the glasses back on Elvis’s eyes, her fingertips brushing against his temples in a simple gesture she's done a million times before. No, it's her last hurrah as his wife, her last action as his wife. They may have signed the papers within the past hour and legally she may be Elaine Phipps once more but until they walk out of this bathroom and this courthouse she was Elaine Presley, wife of Elvis Presley. A low hum reverbated against her chest before she pulled away, a soft smile across her lips.

"There there, Mopey, all better," she whispered in the sort of tone she only uses for the children when bandaging a hurt. "Let's- let's go face the music."

“Got me more nervous than any curtain I’ve been behind,” he joked even as it falls flat and his breath comes quicker and quicker. This was the beginning of their new life as separate entities. As an ex-husband and an ex-wife.

The door wasn’t that heavy when he shut it earlier and yet it felt as if someone had remade it out of concrete as Elvis tried to push it open once the lock clicked open. He could already see the flashing bulbs from the cameras and the press of the mass of people outside waiting for them. They were no stranger to crowds but this one was one none of them wanted to face. A look was exchanged between the three of them as their shoes clicked against the floor of the courthouse, a silent acknowledgement to try and get to their waiting cars as soon as possible.

"Jess! Mama!" Elvis and Elaine looked up through the mob of people as they pushed and pulled at each other trying to catch a glimpse of the former couple with their oldest son. They found themselves half blinded by flashes of cameras and the sun's own light, trying to find the source of the bellowed words. "We're over heyer!"

Jack then. Jack who was growing more and more into Elvis’s twin if not in bulk but in charm and whose shout sounds something like Sargent Presley’s in the army. Elaine looked at Elvis, biting her lip as she did.

"Soundin’ more like me everyday." Elvis commented as if he was commenting on the weather. It had never been hard to talk to Elaine. Yet in this moment, Elvis found himself at a loss for words. And from the way Elaine was looking at him, the feeling was mutual. Matching pink tongues darted out to wet dry lips and Elvis opened his mouth, his arm outstretched as if he was going to grab at Elaine's only for his oldest son to pop up between them, taking Elaine's arm without a second thought.

"I've got you mama. I gotcha, let's go."

The look he leveled at Elvis made every single moment in this courtroom for the past five months seem like child's play. To have his oldest son look at him like he did with any suitor that tried to come Elaine’s way, hurt. But that was his life now wasn't it? That's Elvis Presley’s life without Elaine Phipps. That's Elaine Phipps's life without Elvis Presley, protected only by her sons and her daughters from a man she once called husband. The man she once loved with every fiber of her being or so Elvis thought. Make peace with it, Johnny said. Make peace with her, Johnny said. Elvis didn't think that it would feel like this.

“I know you do, Jesse. Let me say goodbye to your father.” Elaine said as softly as she could in order to avoid the prying ears of every journalist between here and her car. “Jack and your siblings aren’t going anywhere. Not in this crowd. Even if Jack’d run them over to protect me.”

A smile unbidden crossed Elvis’s lips at the joke between their eldest and Elaine. She wasn’t wrong, but that was his boys and their love for their mother in a nutshell, wasn’t it? Capable of murder to protect her the same as him. She- she would be alright even if- even if what he suspected to be true was.

“Jack drove us here, all of us.” She explained as her eyes flitted across his form one last time to check for imperfections and for signs he might be needing anything. “I’ll make sure Ella calls you about-”

“It’s fine, Elaine. Made my bed, gotta lie in it now.” His eyes scanned across the crowd, even as he winced from the light of the sun and the flashes even through his sunglasses, finally settling on his car with Colonel Parker in the passenger seat, waiting for Elvis with a look of pure displeasure and mild panic on his face. “Gotta get him and I outta here ‘fore I give him a heart attack.”

Elaine’s face hardened at the words, and Elvis, in a fit of nostalgic responsibility for her happiness, moved to place a soft kiss against her cheek, squeezing at her hands as he did.

“S’been the joy of my life knowin’ you, Miss Phipps.”

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. 🌹

@eliseinmemphis

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

226 notes · View notes

ohblahdo · 2 months

Text

Coming Up/Starting Over

Thinking about the dialogue between Paul and John in McCartney II and Double Fantasy: 'Coming Up' is a song addressed to a friend who wants "a love to last forever" (a reference to Don't Let Me Down) as well as "peace and understanding" (Give Peace a Chance, etc.), in which the speaker is offering reassurance: I am that friend, I want to help, hang in there and things will get better. "Never fade away" could be construed as a Buddy Holly reference (to "Not Fade Away"), and while 'searching' is a common verb, it's also the name of the song Paul always refers to when talking about the Cavern days. There might be other references I'm missing, but it's very much a song about music, which is underlined by the video, in which Paul plays different musicians (including himself as a Beatle), as well as by the extra lyrics in the live version ("I know if we could get together, we'd make music endlessly"), and the fact that Paul talks about 'coming up' as a radio reference ("coming up on the hour" - also in the live version).

Put that together, and I think it's both a friendly message to John - hi, I'm still your friend - and an invitation to make music together again. If you see it as a more romantic relationship, then obviously there could be other subtext there, but the basic idea is the same either way. (Invoking "Don't Let Me Down" to say "actually, ours is the love that lasts forever" ten years later can be seen as both bitchy and wildly romantic in a way I find kind of charming.)

This isn't a new idea, but it's interesting to think about John's songs as a response to that. First, there's "I Don't Wanna Face It", which the Beatles Bible says he started in 1977, but which clearly had a pretty overt musical reference to Coming Up incorporated into it when he reworked it in the summer of 1980. It was apparently the first song he recorded for Double Fantasy, and no matter which way you read it, if Coming Up is a question, I Don't Wanna Face it answers it with either "no" or "no, and fuck you".

But that isn't actually where the conversation ends, because John decided not to put that song on the album. Instead, one of the last songs he wrote for Double Fantasy was "(Just Like) Starting Over". I don't discount the idea that the song reflects his feelings for Yoko, or that he wrote it to better fit the narrative of the album, but I'm always a fan of the idea that a song or a work of art can say more than one thing at a time. I do not think that John, in the late 70s or 1980, would accidentally reference Paul's band and two of his singles in his lyrics without realizing it ("it's time to spread our wings and fly, don't let another day go by, my love"). Also, just as Coming Up is a meta song, so is Starting Over: I see your Buddy Holly, and I raise you an Elvis. And where I Don't Wanna Face It is a 'no', Starting Over feels like a 'yes' - the whole song is him asserting that he doesn't want to give up on a relationship. And maybe the yes has nothing to do with romantic love and everything to do with music - that would certainly make sense, both in relation to the songs themselves and to where John and Paul were musically and personally (both making albums that were, on some level, about recapturing their love of music, and allegedly considering working together on Ringo's album). Or maybe they were having wild sex in motels all over Long Island, idk. But the existence of the dialogue itself interests me, and it's nice to think of it ending on a positive note given what came next.

#mccartney ii #double fantasy #beatles meta

53 notes · View notes

cuntyqueerleondraisaitl · 8 months

Text

Loki and Mobius: rolling around on the floor after Mobius was literally screaming dean winchester for him to come back Loki, immediately: We need to find Sylvie Mobius:

#lokius #loki #elvis's time buddies

2K notes · View notes

bibiwrld · 7 months

Text

Modern Anakin Skywalker!— Halloween Party!

Pairing: Possessive/Jealous best friend Anakin! x Black fem oc!

Author’s note: Sydnee from Nerdy loser Anakin!will be used for this fic. A totally different Anakin, not nerdy loser Anakin. Saw @queenie-official’s post about this idea.

Content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI. Jealousy, possessiveness, confessions, smut.

“He’s never on time.” Sydnee mumbled to herself as she looked into the bathroom mirror, applying lipgloss to her plump, two toned lips.

Anakin was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago. He was the one who wanted to go to this party and literally begged Sydnee to come along. She would rather stay in her dorm and watch horror movies with him that night. But no, he wanted to go to a Halloween costume party that had a couples costume contest, and Anakin was so damn competitive, he not only wanted to just party, but also win this contest. He brainstormed costume ideas for him and Sydnee for days until they decided on Hugh Hefner and a Playboy bunny.

There was a knock at her door, she knew it was Anakin.

“Come in, Ani!” She wiped the corners of her mouth from any extra gloss.

“Are you ready?!” He walked into her dorm with a fake pipe in his mouth and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his red and black velvet robe. “I already put our names down for this contest, we have to go.”

She rolled her eyes and fluffed her hair, turning around to walk out the bathroom, her heels clicking with every step.

“You’re the one who’s late and you’re rushing me?” She stood behind Anakin, whose back was turned to her.

He turned around and his eyes went wide. “It’s just 15 minu— wow.”

“Do I look weird?” She put her hands behind her back shyly.

He blinked, shaking his head. “N-no, you look amazing, Syd, very beautiful.”

His jaw clenched as he thought about all the guys who were gonna see her like this. It was so unfair, he should be the only one to see her like this.

She smiled brightly at his compliment. “Thanks Ani, you look cute.” She laughed, looking at his costume.

His captain hat slightly tilted on his head, a fake pipe in his hand, a red and black velvet robe with nothing underneath, his bare chest peaking out, black pants and shiny, black dress shoes to finish.

“Thank you, I feel very pimpish.” He smirked.

She chuckled at him. Anakin has always been goofy since they were kids, she doesn’t know how she’d get through elementary school, middle school, high school and now college without him putting a smile on her face.

“Are you ready, my lady?” He put his arm out for her.

She giggled, linking arms with him. “Ready I am, kind sir.”

💋

The place was packed. Sydnee wondered which spoiled rich kid is using their Daddy’s mansion to throw this party.

Everyone wore costumes—dancing, smoking, playing weird frat party games, doing some hard drugs, and others doing God knows what.

The music wasn’t too loud, making it easier for everyone to hear each other.

“Woah, Syd, you look fucking h—” One of Anakin’s buddies, dressed as Elvis, walked to the pair who were linked to each other ther by their arms.

Anakin stepped in front of Sydnee, unlinking their arms. “Move around.” His glare was enough for his friend to get the message and quickly shuffle away.

“Anakin.” She angrily pouted, being hidden behind his broad frame. “Stop scaring people, it’s a party.”

He turned around to her. “Yeah, well everyone is looking at you.” He placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her to a wall where some girls were dancing.

“Everyone’s looking at everyone, it’s a costume party.” She put a hand on her hip as she looked up at him.

She looked too cute, he couldn’t take her seriously when she was angry.

“No, everyone’s looking at you because they want to fu—” He bit his tongue, stopping himself from speaking any further. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, don’t move.”

“Yeah, Dad.” She rolled her eyes playfully.

He shook his head and smiled, walking into the swarm of people, the music getting louder with each step he took.

It wasn’t really a surprise that there was an actual bartender at this party, the guy who’s throwing the party is fucking loaded.

Making eye contact with the bartender, Anakin told him his order. “Two green apple vodkas.”

As Anakin waited for the drinks, where Sydnee was, the music was loud and she couldn’t help but to dance.

“Walk in that bih with that Louis V, she said she wish there two of me.” Blared loudly through speakers as Sydnee’s hips rocked side to side.

There must’ve been a professional DJ at the party, because they were playing hit after hit.

The girls that Sydnee stood by, hyped her up as she danced erotically, feeling all on herself, whipping her hair all over.

“H-Hey!” A guy dressed as Wybie from Coraline said over the music.

Sydnee stopped dancing, turning around to the guy. She smiled. “Uh hi, nice costume.” She backed up, looking at this costume. “Wybie?”

He smirked. “Yeah, Playboy bunny?”

Nodding with a smile she answered. “Yeah.”

“It looks really nice on you.” He took a sip from his cup, eyeing her down.

Anakin finally got 2 cans of green apple vodka. It felt like he spent forever at the bar.

“Anakin, my guy!” Another one of his friends, dressed up as Western Ken.

Anakin groaned, facing his friend. He wanted to hurry up and get back to Sydnee, he didn’t like leaving her alone for too long. “Hey, Tristan.”

“Sick costume, Sydnee’s the bunny right?”

“Yeah.” He replied dryly.

‘Dammit, has everyone seen her?!’

“Oh, I figured that was her, I just saw her talking to some guy dres—”

All Anakin heard was ‘talking to some guy’ and he was gone.

He spotted the pair by the wall where he left her, conversing. The guy was way too close and Sydnee was grinning from ear to ear at whatever he was saying to her.

“Oh, I’m Liam by the—”

Anakin grabbed Sydnee’s arm, switching places with her. “She doesn’t care.” He handed her the canned vodkas.

“Anakin.” She quietly warned him, looking at the cans, then back up at him.

“Oh..hi?” Liam greeted awkwardly. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.” Sydnee answered. “He’s my best friend.”

Anakin’s glare was enough to make the earth open up beneath them. But she was right, he was her best friend, always has been.

“Oh, nice to meet you, I’m Li—”

“I don’t care.” Anakin gritted harshly.

Liam was rather uncomfortable. “I think I’m gonna go now.”

“Anakin, why did you do that?” Sydnee watched Liam walk away, then turned back to Anakin with a look of disbelief.

“You didn’t have to smile so much in his face.” He spat, towering over her. “It looked like you almost enjoyed talking to him.”

Her brows furrowed. “I kinda did, he seemed nice.”

His jaw clenched, then unclenched as he opened his mouth. “You weren’t planning to hook up with him, right?”

Shocked at his question, she replied quickly. “Oh my God, no, no, no.”

He sighed in relief. She was better than that, he knew that, but jealousy made him such a nasty person.

“I should go apologize to him.”

He grabbed her arm. “No.”

She looked at where his arm held her, then averted her gaze up to his face. “What do you mean ‘no’ ?”

“Sydnee.” He breathed out, clearly frustrated.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this, like I really don’t get it!” Her hair bounced as she argued.

His nose flared, getting closer to her. “You wanna know why I’m acting like this?! It’s because I’m fucking in love with you, Sydnee!”

The music suddenly stopped, everyone stopped dancing, trying to figure out what happened to the music.

Her lips parted, looking at Anakin with wide eyes. “What?” Her voice was soft.

He released her arm and his body stiffened and his plump lips formed into a straight line as he realized what he just admitted. “I-I–didn’t—”

A bright, white light shone from the top of staircase, landing on Anakin and Sydnee, blinding them as they put their hands over their faces. Everyone looked at the pair.

“Anakin and Sydnee!” The guy who threw party said over a mic, standing at the top of the stairs. “Come on up!”

They both stayed silent, walking up the stairs side by side.

A few other names were called and they all lined up at the top of the stairs.

Both Anakin and Sydnee’s hearts were racing. What were they both gonna say to each other after this?

“And the winners for the couples costume contest are…ANAKIN AND SYDNEE!”

Everyone cheered, clapping and smiling at the two.

Neither Anakin or Sydnee could crack a smile, as their minds raced.

“Here you go man, 2 thousand.” The guy with the mic put a rolled up paper bag with money in Anakin’s hand and walked off. “The other competitors get nothing, there’s no room for second or third, only winners!”

The crowd made noise, but was soon drowned out by the music that turned back on.

Anakin hurriedly walked down the stairs, still thinking about how he completely embarrassed himself by what he admitted to Sydnee.

Sydnee followed after him, abandoning the canned vodkas on a random table. “Anakin!”

He ignored her calls, walking out the house and to his car.

“Anakin!” She grabbed onto him, making him face her. “Anakin, did you..did you mean it? And don’t lie to me, I know when you’re lying.”

There was a long silence before he could answer. “Yes.”

“When?” She let go of him, wrapping her arms around herself. “When did you start liking me?”

“Sydnee, I don’t want to do this—”

“Please.”

He released a breath. “8th grade.” He leaned back on his car and took off his captain hat and rested the bag of money on top of his car. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, you get that, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah.” Her voice softly replied. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship either.”

“What?” He perked up, lifting his head to look at her.

“I loved you since 9th grade.” Her voice trembled. “I-I was so scared.”

His arms wrapped around her as she sniffled. “Oh, Syd.” His voice softened.

“I just suppressed my feelings, all because I was scared.” She balled up his robe in her fists. “I–”

Anakin leaned down and closed to gap between them. That caught Sydnee off guard, but it didn’t take long for her to kiss back, her hands tangling in his hair.

“An-Anakin.” She pulled away. “Not here.”

He pulled her right back in. “Yes here. I’ve wanted…this..so so long.” He mumbled in between kisses, his hands traveling to her waist, holding it firmly.

“Me too.” She agreed breathlessly.

💋

The car windows were all winded up, coated with a thick fog.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart.” Anakin moaned, smacking Sydnee’s ass as she rode him in the driver’s seat. “Keep bouncing on my dick like the slutty little bunny you are.”

His voice sent shivers down her spine, encouraging her to keep moving those hips against him.

“I’m cumming again, Ani.” She held her breasts, hips stuttering as she neared her orgasm.

“Fuck, yes, cum.” He gave her body a quick scan before wrapping a slanted arm across her back to her shoulder, and his hand squeezing her ass, clawing at the already ripped pantyhose that he destroy earlier in missionary. “You’re so fucking wet, shit!”

“Anakin!” She slowed her movements, her body quivering.

“Uh uh, who told you that you could stop?” He snapped his hips up to hers and slammed her ass down, making her swallow his entire dick.

She cried out, flopping onto his chest, making him take control.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself being sucked into her throbbing core. “No one else, this pussy is for no one else.”

She nodded with her buried in the crook of his neck. “Yes, Ani. J-just for you!”

“Who knew you would’ve saved your virgin pussy for me, hm?” He teased with a crooked smile.

“Y-you’re a virgin..t-too.” Her voice trembled.

“Well not anymore, baby, saved mine just for you too.” He pecked her cheek and went right back to abusing her hole. “Do you kn-know– how it feels…w-watch—fuck!— watching you t-talk to other guys, hm?” He whispered directly into her ear, quickening his pace. “It pisses me the fuck off.”

Sydnee only made nosies, clenching around his thickness.

“Say sorry, say sorry for talking to other guys.” He drilled into her, getting closer to his own orgasm.

Sydnee only groaned out, not being able to form words.

He chuckled lowly. “How cute, you’re so cock dumb you can’t even answer. What an idiot, just taking my dick and moaning lik–like a whore, so fucking hot.”

He was right there. “I’m gonna cum!” His thrusts got shorter and harsher, holding onto Sydnee for dear life.

With a few more nasty thrusts, he snapped, emptying his throbbing balls inside of her warm hole.

“Oh fuck!” His nails dug into the sides of her hips, drool running down the corner of his mouth.

“A-Ani, so much.” She felt so full of him. She tried getting up, but his arms stayed securely around her.

“D-don’t move, let’s just st-stay like this for a minute.” He strained out with closed eyes.

She smiled gently and rested her head on his shoulder. “Okay, Ani.”

💋

#my works💌🌷#anakin smut #jealous Anakin #possessive Anakin #anakin skywalker smut #college anakin skywalker #best friend anakin #black fem oc #star wars anakin #sw anakin #college anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #hayden christensen #modern anakin #modern anakin skywalker

133 notes · View notes

scary-ivy · 1 year

Text

I should have yelled "you look like Buddy Holly" at John Flansburgh, I fully had the opportunity too but I was too infatuated to be mean to him

#I did tell “rude John” when he said a swear tho. I was a little high #Did I tell you the time I went to the Elvis Costello concert with a sign that just said Buddy Holly

1 note · View note

mamaspresley · 2 years

Note

austin butler smut! best friends for a long time and he’s been being distant and ignoring ever since elvis came out cause he has new friends. u get sick of it and u stop contacting and talking to him. he shows up to ur house one day and realizes he misses u and fvcks u rough

the apology | austinbutler

note this is the first thing i've written in over a year and a half... so i am so sorry if its terrible. but there will be more fics to come. wc 2,434 tw smut, choking, austin being kind of a meanie but dont worry, he’ll make up for it

it was weird, seeing him look so different. the black hair, the eyeliner, the clothes, the accent. austin had totally stepped out of his comfort zone for this movie and you loved it, how confident he had become and you were incredibly proud of him for landing and executing this role. the shy boy you’d known all through high school had come out of his shell and was literally the king himself not only in his most recent movie, but in his own life. you could tell this role had transformed austin, made him assertive, cocky, sexy. you’d never seen your best friend in this light before but fuck, you didn’t mind.

you texted him after seeing the movie for the first time in theatres, saying nothing more than “knocked it out of the park with this one” but you were a little disappointed when he only responded with a thanks. you’d been best friends with this kid since high school, you didn’t reply to each other’s texts with one word answers.

the next month was a strange one, at that. sure, you and austin had separate lives and he was a busy guy, you could understand that. but the fact that that thanks he had sent you was the last interaction you had — you were starting to get a little butthurt about it. it wasn’t until you saw some rumour going around of austin having a new girlfriend that you cared to reach out.

“no, she’s just a friend. but hey — you mind if i call you later, y/n? i promised a couple of buddies i’d meet ‘em for drinks tonight. talk to you later, yeah?” that was about it, and for three weeks after that you hadn’t heard a single thing from the boy.

you decided to drop it — not only were you hurt that he had found other friends, but you were a bit concerned as to why you were hurt by it. never before had you become jealous over austin’s social life, and why was this any different? he had just released a major motion picture where he played arguably one of the most iconic roles one could play. it was understandable that he was gonna be a little caught up in his own fame afterwards.

so you left it, and weeks passed by before your next interaction with austin. honestly, you hadn’t thought about him as much as you expected yourself to. you were busy with work and you had basically forgotten about him by the time he was knocking on your front door at 1 in the morning.

it had woken you up, and having fallen asleep on the couch hours earlier you were right close to the front when austin decided on banging loudly on your door in the middle of the night. groggily, you stumbled your way to the foyer, throwing open the door. the sight caused you to wake up immediately, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. the boy stood there, sandy coloured hair wet from the pouring rain outside, bright blue eyes piercing as they met yours, and his lips looking as plump as ever as they sat parted slightly. he wore a white wife-beater, the collar a bit damp from his wet hair that had dripped down, and black dress pants that hugged his waist and flowed down. he looked good, a lot better than you expected. you always knew your best friend was a good looking man, but this — this was different.

“austin? what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. “what time is it?”

“i’m sorry for not texting you, i’m sorry for paying you no mind, i’m sorry for being a shitty human being.” his words were swarming around in your brain as you tried to take everything in. “it’s always been you, y/n, and i got so… in my head, with the whole elvis thing and i lost touch with reality and i’m sorry.”

“what are you talking about?”

austin looked up at you, his eyes narrowing as he pursed his lips, and you swore you could have melted from his smouldering gaze. he was intimidating but comforting, sexy but shy, beautiful and so fucking gorgeous, it had your head spinning and your brain buffering at the thought of, how have i not realized i’m in love with this man yet?

“i’m talking about us, y/n,” austin said, pushing himself upright as he stood outside in the rain. “i’ve been terrible to you and you’ve just taken it. you shouldn’t have to do that, i shouldn’t be putting you in that position in the first place.”

“come inside, austin.” you open the door wider for him and the boy steps inside, closer to you and he immediately brings his cold hands to your cheeks, cupping your face as he looks down at you.

you were still half asleep, so everything he was saying you were having trouble wrapping your head around, but it wasn’t until he pushed his cold lips against yours that you truly were taken aback. never in your ten-year long friendship had you or austin hinted at any romantic feelings for one another before now, and to say you were shocked would be an understatement. his lips were cold from being outside but they quickly warmed up once you kissed him back, holding onto his biceps for leverage as he danced his tongue into your mouth. one of austin’s hands left your face to grab ahold of your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you deeper, his lips soft and plump as you grazed your teeth against his lower lip.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do this,” he mumbled, pulling away only an inch to rest his forehead against yours as the two of you took the time to catch your breath. you glanced up at him, his long eyelashes fluttering and his cheeks rosy. his lips were glossy, red and swollen and you swore he’d never looked so pretty.

“kiss me again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough for austin to open his eyes, his smile growing into a boyish smirk as he followed orders and pressed his lips to yours for the second time. this time was different, hungrier and more passionate, his kiss filled with lust as his fingers grasped your hip with such intensity you were sure there would be a bruise in their place tomorrow.

austin led you blindly into your bedroom, already having a sense of direction around your apartment as he’d spent countless nights sleeping on your couch or curled up with you watching a movie. you were shocked, now that you were coming to terms with your feelings for austin, that you hadn’t realized sooner. it had always been him. even when you had flings with other guys, austin always came first. your past boyfriends had always been jealous when it came to him, and you never truly understood why until now. they couldn’t compete — your feelings for austin reached further than romantic intentions. it was adoration, devotion, infatuation, love. you were in love with him all this time and had dumbly mistaken it for a sort of friendship, when in reality it was so much more than that.

“is this okay?” austin asked, the two of you pulling away for air after you had taken comfort on your mattress, sinking into the pillows at the top of your bed as austin leaned over you. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes bearing down into yours. you had never been so quick to reassure him, and following that came more kisses, each one better than the last. his lips trailed down from your lips to your neck, stopping at the crook between your jaw and your throat to leave a faint mark, his tongue working wonders on your skin. your fingers lightly carded through his hair as his hands slipped under your loose tank top, trailing upwards until he cupped your breasts in his hands, his breath hitching as he continued to kiss your neck.

austin slipped your shirt off and began dancing his lips across the valley of your breasts. your breathing became heavy, fingers tugging at his hair as he worked his way down slowly, giving each inch of skin as much attention as he deemed fit, to which you couldn’t complain. he kissed all the way down to your belly button before looking up at you, and then coming back up to kiss you. his tongue slipped past your lips at the same time as his hand slid its way into the front of your pajama shorts, making your back arch as he dipped into your panties as well. his fingers worked his way in and out of you at a slow pace, growing faster and faster with the speed of your breaths.

austin pulled away from the kiss, his eyes watching you now as you came undone underneath him. the moans that left your lips were the equivalent to the sounds of an angel, he thought, and that only made him want you more. his thumb brushed against your clit as his fingers pushed in and out of you, and you lifted your hips to gain more traction, chasing your high.

“you close, baby?” austin hummed, his lips brushing against your neck right under your ear. you moaned in response, arching your back into him as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. suddenly, austin ripped away from you, pulling down your shorts. he sat back, lifting his shirt off his back and you couldn’t help but watch. he chuckled, seeing your eyes admiring him. “like what you see or what?”

“mhm,” you mumbled, your head falling to the side but your eyes stayed trained on him. austin smirked, crawling back over you without his pants or boxers holding him back anymore. he hovered over you, one hand holding him up and the other hand stroking himself up and down your folds. you couldn’t take a good look but you knew, when he pushed himself into you, he was big. your eyes squeezed shut, a breath caught in your throat, a loud moan passing your lips as you felt him stretch you out. “oh my god. austin—” you opened your eyes to see his beautiful lips parted, eyes rolled back as he groaned. the sound of him enjoying himself… fuck, you could cum already.

“holy fuck, y/n.” austin’s voice was deep, aggressive as he stilled inside of you. your eyes met and you’d never seen such an intense shade of blue. “you okay?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

“good.” he kissed your forehead, moving some of your hair out of your face before pulling out of you slightly, pushing back into you even slower. your moans were quiet as he thrusted into you gently, but he wanted to hear more of them. austin grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers and holding it above your head as he quickened his pace, enticing more moans, louder and quicker out of you. “fuck, you feel good,” he grunted, taking one of your legs and lifting it back, fucking into you at a deeper angle.

you cried out, head thrown back as you felt your stomach tighten. austin’s free hand came to wrap around your throat, his hips now pounding into you ferociously. you couldn’t even moan anymore, the feeling euphoric as he brought you closer and closer to your release. his fingers tightened their hold on your throat, cutting off your airways just enough, while his other hand abandoned yours to instead come down and begin toying with your clit.

“want you to cum for me, baby,” he groaned, eyes trained on yours as he fucked into you. your lips parted, head tilted back as you whined, trying to get any sound out that you could with austin’s hand wrapped around your throat. “can you do that for me? be a good girl?”

you choked out something of a ‘yes’, and austin smirked. he loved seeing you like this.

austin pulled out of you, getting down between your legs and before you knew it, his arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling you close and his lips were attached to your heat. his tongue licked a few strips up and down before he began sucking at your clit, and him hearing your reaction from that made him go even harder. he added his fingers to the mix, pumping two in and out of you while his tongue played with your clit. he flicked it up and down in a rapid motion, lifting eyes to meet yours and he drowned in you, completely blissed out. your thighs were spread, back arching as you lifted your hips up, grinding them into him as austin moaned against your clit. he took his right hand, placing it on your hip and pushed you down, pulling away from you to look you directly in the eye. “keep still, baby.” you whined, but as soon as he brought his tongue back to your clit, you were unraveling.

you squeezed your thighs around him, tugging at his hair and the sheets, filthy moans leaving your lips as your orgasm washed over you in an overwhelming state. you laid there, thighs shaking as austin worked you down from your high, his tongue lightly stroking your clit, his lips leaving kisses down your thighs. you moaned all the while, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging every few moments to show your appreciation.

satisfied, austin pulled away from you, sitting back as he licked his lips. “can‘t believe i haven’t tasted you sooner,” he stated, running a hand up your shin and then your thigh. his gaze on you made you feel nervous, yet overly confident at the same time. he had just given you the orgasm of a lifetime, and was still complimenting you over and over. “you’re my new favourite thing.”

“shut up,” you mumbled, and austin smirked before slipping in beside you, pulling you in to his chest, him looking down at you, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“i hope this counts towards my apology,” he said, and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “for being a shitty friend. like i said earlier.” you giggled. “yeah. this can count towards your apology, friend.” austin rolled his eyes, slipping his hand over to cup the side of your face, and dipped down to push his lips against yours.

#austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #elvis #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #austin butler fanfic #austin butler imagine #mamaspresley #jackie writes

1K notes · View notes

dreamingofep · 1 month

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 27🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, SMUT, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Thank you for your patience! This part has a lot to uncover so get ready! Lots of new back story of Alexander and Iris and new discoveries have been made that you're not going to like...🫣Thanks for continuing to be so enthusiastic about this story!

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

The air felt tense like everyone in here was holding their breath as you and Elvis walked in the room. Elvis tells Jerry to wait outside and he gladly obliges. Iris and Alexander sit next to each other on the long couch and you go to take a seat in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Elvis doesn’t sit down, he stands right beside you and places his hand on your shoulder to try to calm you. You couldn’t completely relax though. You were too anxious to see what these people had to say or if they were even telling the truth.

You look at them expectantly, waiting for them to start the conversation. You direct your first question to Elvis instead.

“Where did you go?” You ask in a hushed tone.

He sighs heavily, seeing how much you’re hurt, and kneels next to you to get closer.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was gone for so long…I went all over the country. I was trying to find anyone who might have a clue where I could find older vampires. Ones that would be more well-versed in such matters we are facing. I ran into dead ends everywhere I went. I went to New York, Louisiana, all the way back to California even but had found nothing. I couldn’t give up though.” He explains.

“I then went to Colorado, one of the final places I decided to stop at. I met one of my buddies I know out there, he’s also one of us. I told him what I was looking for and how I wasn’t having any luck. He knew about some old vampires that lived in the mountains, far away from any town, and were essentially recluses.” He chuckles looking at Iris and Alexander snarkily. They throw daggers back at him and stay silent.

“It wasn’t easy finding them. It took me hours to get through the mountains and get past the traps they have set up for wandering hikers,” he quips.

“Yes that’s the whole point of living out of reach of people, so no one can find us,” Alexander grumbles.

Elvis has a smile on his face and continues to speak, “Well, their traps weren’t that effective since I’m in one piece. But they did not like trespassers, they tried to hurt me and get me off their property,” he snickers. You didn’t laugh though. Every hair on your body felt like it stood up and your blood boiled. The very idea of anyone trying to hurt him made you angry beyond comprehension. You hate the idea of anyone hurting Elvis or even laying a finger on him.

You grip the arm of the chair tightly, your anger getting the best of you.

“Did either of you lay a finger on him?” You say through your teeth. They shift uncomfortably in their seats as they look at each other. They clear their throats and take a deep breath before speaking.

“Well, y/n, you have to understand, we don’t like intruders coming near us. We didn’t know who he was-,” Iris starts to explain but you don’t let her finish, your anger getting the best of you.

“What the hell are you even talking about?! He’s Elvis Presley! The most famous man on the planet!” You snap. Elvis puts his hand on yours, squeezing it lightly.

“Honey, they’re telling the truth. They had no idea who I was before telling them. They don’t own a single TV or a radio,” Elvis tells you.

You’re absolutely shocked. You had never heard of anyone before such a recluse they don’t know who Elvis is. Even his name is eye-catching and different, you can’t believe the name doesn’t even ring a bell for them.

You try to relax a bit and focus on Elvis to calm you down.

“What did you do to convince them?” You ask.

“I tried to talk to them at a distance, try to explain our situation. Nothing really convinced them til they saw my eyes. They trusted me a bit more after that. The harder part was getting them to leave with me. They aren’t exactly adventurous…” he says slyly. That earned Elvis another death glare from the both of them. You throw them the same look and they get the message.

“So do you believe us? Are you going to help us or continue to be difficult,” you question. You knew it sounded harsh, but you weren’t going to have these people in your house if they weren’t going to help you two figure out some things about your new vampire lives.

They take a deep breath before speaking and look at you both.

“Yes, we believe you. The way you protect Elvis is a huge indication that you have a bond. We just haven’t met anyone like us in a very long time,” Alexander says gently.

Considering how they are so isolated, you aren’t too surprised they haven’t been in contact with any other vampires. Let alone any other bonded ones.

You relax a bit, trying to give these people a chance and not get too upset.

“How old are you both then? When was the last time you met someone like us?” You ask.

They smile at each other and hold each other’s hands.

Iris speaks first, “I’m meant to look twenty years old but in reality, I’ve been on this earth for seven hundred and fifty years. I’m originally from Spain where my family was royalty and very powerful. I’ve only met another Chosen pair twice in my life. We are extremely rare you see,” she says directing her attention to Alexander to start talking too.

“I’m the same age too. I’m from France though. Our regions had religious tensions in these times and I was a knight fighting for my country. I was a young man then, only nineteen at the time. But I saw her face in the grand throne room and I never was the same after seeing her,” he says sweetly looking at Iris.

“Did you know she was meant to be with you? Did you feel the connection?” You ask him inquisitively.

He chuckles softly at you, “I wouldn’t know. I was just a human then. I just thought she was distractingly beautiful,” he explains.

You look back at Iris with a smug smile on her face. You don’t know why you assumed he was a vampire first but you kind of feel embarrassed for jumping to conclusions.

“Oh, I’m sorry for assuming things. How were you turned then, Iris? Did you feel the connection with him?” You ask.

“I was turned when I was on my death bed, a lot like how Elvis was from how he explained it to us. It was common at that time to catch smallpox and there was no cure. It was brutal and anyone near you would undoubtedly catch it. I didn’t want to die. I begged my mother and father to do anything. Hire someone that could cure me,” she tells you.

“At this time, it was looked down upon to go against the church's beliefs or practices. Dark magic was shunned by anyone in the country but it was still being heavily practiced. I heard from many people that there were people on the outskirts of town that would practice it and they could cure anyone that came to them. I begged my parents to get one of them to help me. I felt death closing in on me with every breath. As much as they hated the idea, they didn’t want me to die. I was engaged to a prince in England and there was too much to be lost if I suddenly passed away. They were willing to risk the chance of someone finding out that dark magic was being practiced in the palace walls.”

You were shocked by her story. She was royalty at one point and no one now knows the true story of what happened to her. All except for you and Elvis now.

Iris continues, “They found a healer and snuck him into the palace late at night. I was getting weaker by the second and barely remembered how it happened… but I remember him asking to save me. I remember how cold he was. He felt like ice to me but I thought it was because I was so weak. He leaned in close and told me he’d give me a gift, one that would let me live forever. I thought he was crazy but I permitted him to do what needed to be done to save me. I wasn’t expecting the bite, I was expecting some sort of magic spell or something. It was excruciating as you are aware of, but after the pain of the bite resided, my body felt stronger than ever.”

“He then took me away from the palace, out of the way from harming any humans, and learned how my new abilities worked with the others that lived outside of town. I learned how to control my thirst and how to feed without hurting anyone. I was gone for a month and everyone was worried sick about me. But I eventually returned to the palace and assured everyone I was fine and better than ever. I compelled most of them that I wasn’t gone as long as they remembered to help me get back into normal life.”

You and Elvis were enthralled by her story. Some of her stories paralleled Elvis’ too. They were both so desperate to live. They didn’t know the ramifications of this choice and how it would alter their entire existence. You had so many questions for them, especially how they have been living like this for so long.

“That’s truly incredible. I’m so glad you had guidance from them. What happened after all of that? Did you marry the prince after all?” You ask.

She laughs amused and shakes her head, “Well, almost. I was a few days away from marrying the prince and then he walked into my life. I knew the moment I saw him,” she blushes.

“So did I,” Elvis says softly. You look up at him in awe. It was the first time he said it to you. It was shocking to hear from his lips but it made your heart feel so happy and overjoyed.

“So you know what I’m talking about then. That instant feeling of happiness and the pull to be closer to them,” she explains to both of you. “I had that with Alexander. The second I saw him, I thought he was the most beautiful man to ever exist.”

Alexander squeezes her hand and smiles at her.

“I thought she was beautiful too. Everyone thought she was beautiful so I didn’t think much of it when I wanted to be closer to her. Thought I was just like everyone else,” he chuckles.

“When did you know it was something more?” Elvis asks.

They both look at each other and have this sly look on their faces.

Oh… you remember that moment it became so much more intense between you two.

“Well I… I invited him to my room to talk to him. His scent lured me even more and I wanted to be extra close to him. It wasn’t until I touched him… and kept touching him that I realized there was so much more here. My body wanted him to please me beyond my wildest dreams…He became my new obsession I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wanted to have him locked in my bedroom at all hours of the day. That was my plan actually, to keep him there til I had my fill and make him forget all of it. But as you know Elvis, you can’t compel them to forget anything,” she says heartily.

They both laugh at the notion and Elvis nods his head in agreement.

“Did you feel similarly with y/n Elvis?” She asks him.

He pauses and looks at you, analyzing your eyes and dragging down to your back and your chest. He takes a slow breath in before speaking.

“Yes, very similar. The pull she had on me from the start… all of that was the same. I tried not to touch her though. I didn’t want to repulse her. I tried to protect her from myself in any way I could. I was so starved I was so afraid I’d hurt her if I tried to take a bite.”

“But what changed…” Alexander asks him.

Elvis shifts uncomfortably and bites the inside of his cheek.

“Well uhh… I got upset at her… for something stupid that was my fault anyway. But something changed in me. The way I needed her…The way I needed her physically… it was so overwhelming,” he admits. He looks over at you longingly but adverts his eyes elsewhere to not be distracted. The more you learn about the first few days with Elvis will never not shock you. You didn’t know what he was feeling or what he wanted. He was smitten by you long before you accepted the truth.

Iris and Alexander exchange looks and nod their head in agreement.

“That’s how it goes. You don’t want to leave their side or anything,” Iris agrees, “I felt the same thing. It only makes it worse if you have them intimately,” she adds. You watch as Elvis squeezes your hand slightly at that comment.

“How did you tell him what you were?” You ask changing the subject.

“Once I realized I couldn’t compel him to forget anything, panic slightly set in. I knew one of our rules was for humans to never find out about our existence. It scared me and I didn’t know what to do. I went to the man who turned me, looking for guidance. I told him the problems I was facing with Alexander. He looked at me like I grew a second head. He knew the second I started to describe the feelings I had for Alexander made him my Chosen. I never heard of what that was. He had met many others like us but for them, it took centuries to meet their Chosen. After wrapping my head around that all, I went to find Alexander and told him the truth, I showed him my fangs and reassured him I wouldn’t hurt him. But I had to explain the bond, the connection we shared was more powerful than anything in this world. He accepted me for who I was and eventually let me feed on him. It seems like we got very lucky that we didn’t need to wait for centuries for each other,” she quips proudly.

Elvis looks at you lovingly, “we are lucky,” he coos.

“How did you tell her Elvis? Were you scared too?” Alexander asks.

Elvis instantly gets uncomfortable, letting go of your hand and standing back up. He fidgets with his rings, not looking at anyone in the eye when he speaks.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell her…” Elvis admits. He looks so uncomfortable telling this to these strangers in his living room.

“She walked in on me feeding off of a girl in my bed,” he admits.

Iris and Alexander exchanged shocked looks. You felt the room grow very quiet and uncomfortable. You didn’t want to relive that moment, it was hard to deal with. Everything changed in that moment. If you had actually listened to him and didn’t go in his bedroom, many things would have turned out differently in this journey… you couldn’t help but wonder the alternatives…

“How could you do that to y/n?” Alexander snaps at Elvis. Elvis shoots him a death glare, it petrifies everyone in the room.

“It’s not like I got any enjoyment out of it, believe me,” he snarls.

“But how could you still do that? You knew that y/n was meant for you and you still fed off of someone like that,” Iris presses.

“I couldn’t admit to her or myself that this sort of thing was real! I thought it was a legend! Something that happened a long time ago but doesn’t happen anymore,” he seethes. He steps away from you, seeing how his emotions are getting the best of him.

“Every time I fed off of someone, all I could think of was how she tasted! How bad I wanted her and only her. So don’t look at me like I'm some kind of ruthless monster. I hated myself for doing it. How I’d have her in my bed only hours ago and try to forget how much I needed her by drowning myself in someone else.”

It felt like your heart stopped. This new confession was shocking, to say the least. Nothing prepared you for the truth of what he might have done when you weren’t with him. His eyes looked sorrowful as he looked at you. It hurt you so much to see him be this way.

“How often would you do that…” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, “Baby please,” he whimpers.

“Just tell me. I can’t go back in the past and change it so it doesn’t matter. I just want to know the truth.” You say firmly.

“One too many times…” he says softly. Not the answer you wanted to hear but it was enough.

“I don’t know if you knew… but you’re not supposed to do that…” Iris says gently.

“Yes I’ve gathered that,” Elvis spats at her coldly.

They were looking at Elvis like he was the most vile creature they’d ever laid eyes upon. You felt your anger bubble up to the surface and snap.

“How about you tell us how to go about feeding instead of sitting there and judging him! He’s not perfect but he’s different now! So much has changed. If you’re going to judge him, you have to judge me too. I was engaged when I met him but didn’t care and let Elvis take me to his bed anyway. You’re in the twentieth century, learn to adapt,” you hiss.

Their faces are shocked by your blunt words. You weren’t going to sit there anymore as they continued to take little jabs at Elvis.

“We’re sorry for saying those things. We apologize for hurting your feelings,” Alexander says somberly.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, “can you tell us how you feed though? There isn’t any guidance in any book for us to follow,” you try to explain calmly.

“Well from what I’ve known and experienced from the different vampires I’ve met, you can feed however suits you but it’s a little different when you’re with your Chosen. As I’m sure you are aware, you only want your partner’s. Nothing is as fulfilling. You still should drink human blood every few weeks to keep your strength up and keep your hunger at bay. It can be from a human you compel but you don’t bite from anywhere but the neck. You don’t feel any need for humans other than their blood. There’s no pull to give them anything else. You make your interaction with them to feed as brief as possible. But the need for each other's blood will never go away, you’ll always be in need of one another. That’s just how your bond works.” She says. She suddenly looks at you inquisitively, analyzing your overall demeanor.

“You haven’t fed in a while. I can tell by the way your heart sounds,” she says matter-of-factly.

You’re annoyed you can’t hide anything from any vampire.

“I know. I couldn’t feed when Elvis was away. I was too nervous and didn’t have an appetite for anything,” you say defeated. She nods her head, understanding how you feel. She then looks over at Elvis too, giving him the same analysis.

“You haven’t fed either. You’re starving for her,” she tells him.

You watch as Elvis swallows harshly when he looks over at you.

“Yes of course. We’ve just been a little busy and haven’t had the time to,” he says uncomfortably. Alexander and Iris exchange panicked looks. You don’t understand why they look shocked. Elvis was saying the truth about it all.

“You haven’t fed from each other… at all?” Alexander asks. “Why aren’t you taking care of your wife?” He says looking at Elvis with disgust.

Oh no. Not good.

You stand up and step in front of Elvis and push at his chest as he looks at them with a deadly look in his eye.

“You do not get to accuse me of not taking care of my wife!” he barks over your head. “You better fucking watch it,” he growls.

“You left her unprotected and starved! Your only job for the rest of your life is to provide for her! You haven’t done that for her in this new life of hers,” he snarls at him.

“Enough! Both of you!” You snap. They both have the same reaction and look down at the floor listening to your command.

“Stop this! Stop accusing him of being a terrible man, Alexander. You know nothing about him. I have drank blood! It’s not like I’m on the brink of death. I’ve just drank from blood bags… why is this a big deal?” You ask growing increasingly anxious and frustrated.

“Well,” Iris begins to say nervously, “That’s the final step of your change, it’s to drink each other's blood, securing the bond for life. What you drank out of him while you were still human wasn’t enough. You have to be fully changed and then drink his blood to secure your bond to him.” She explains.

You feel like you just got punched in the gut. It made you feel sick that you weren’t technically bonded with him. If you hadn’t started fighting with him, you wouldn’t be facing this dilemma. Another bomb hits you in the chest as you're sitting there worried out of your mind…

You can’t feel Elvis’ emotions like you did the first day you were changed. You can hardly feel anything. You go to sit down again, needing to calm down and get a grasp on this information. Elvis grabs onto your hand and you look up at him. You expect to feel the worry roll off of him but you don’t feel much at all. It scared you half to death.

“I can’t feel you… I can’t feel anything you’re feeling like I did before… it’s so faint.” You say scared. You look back at Alexander’s and Iris’ nervous faces.

“Yeah… that’s what can happen…” she says low. “You need to bite each other and it’ll be okay. The longer you wait, the harder it is to restore your bond. You could have easily been able to be compelled by another vampire while Elvis was gone,” she says regretfully.

Alexander nods in agreement, “that’s why we don’t like to be away from each other. You made to protect your other half. It feels physically ailing to be away for long,” he says gently.

It made so much sense why you felt so lost and empty when he left. The other half of you was being ripped out of you.

“When were you turned y/n?” Iris asks.

“May 17th,” you inform. She gives you both another wide-eyed look.

“And that was the last time you drank from each other? That’s so long ago…” she says confused.

“Well, I didn’t wake up for eight days after his bite,” you start to explain.

“Eight days? That shouldn’t be possible…I don’t understand…” Iris says lost in thought. “The only way for the change to be interrupted was if someone else bit you but that can be possible…”

You feel your mouth turn dry at the memory. It feels like so long ago but it wasn’t. The last memory of Raphael biting you was excruciating and the most pain you’ve ever felt. You would always hate him even in death that he did that to you.

“I was bitten by someone else,” you squeak out. They stare motionless on the couch, looking at both you and Elvis in shock.

You hear a growl form deep in Elvis’ chest at the memory.

“Who?” They ask in unison.

“The man that bit me, Raphael, abducted her and fed off of her, multiple times. He almost killed her along with her ex-fiancé,” Elvis seethes.

Iris turns her attention to you to speak, “How many times did he bite you? Where did he bite?” She asks a little frantic.

Your head feels a bit lightheaded and you have to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

“Everywhere. His bite hurt so much. He bit deep and tore my skin so badly. I had ugly scars everywhere,” you tremble at the memory. You instinctively remember where he bit you. You had to look at those marks every day and shield them from Elvis in any way you could for months. You raise your hand up to your chest, feeling the phantom pain of where those bites were.

You freeze.

You had to be delirious with thirst or so in shock with all this new information that you could swear you feel the raised scar of the bite mark. You pull down the collar of your shirt and gasp.

A prominent scar, a bite mark was red on your chest, the exact place where Raphael bit you.

You look at Elvis horrified, you have no idea when this got here but it looks just like it did when you came back from the hospital. Elvis stares angry daggers at the scar as his breathing becomes ragged.

“How long has that been there,” Elvis hisses.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I haven’t noticed it,” you say dazed thinking to remember if you noticed anything weird before. He moves your hair to expose your neck and growls loudly.

“What does this mean!” Elvis snaps at Alexander and Iris. You raise your hand to cover your neck and feel the raised scar there too. You want to cry, this was all too much.

They can’t look him in the eye, his anger was so palpable and coming off of him in heaps. It felt like it was choking you.

“We don’t know exactly. I know for a fact that no one is supposed to feed from another person’s Chosen. That is heresy and that person would be killed for their actions. No one is even supposed to touch her except you,” she explains to Elvis. She cautiously stands up and lowers her gaze.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at your wife’s scars? I won’t touch her I swear,” she says timidly.

“Fine,” he grumbles through his teeth.

Iris makes her way to you and kneels in front of you to get a better look at the marks. You hear her suck in a sharp breath as she inspects them. You pull your shirt down to show her that mark too. She looks at you with sorrow in her eyes.

“These bites… I don’t know how you survived them while you were human. These bites were vicious and cruel. It’s like…” she trails off lost in thought. You knew what she was going to say. You thought the same thing while he was biting you.

“Like he was trying to mark me as his,” you breathe.

She stays silent and nods her head. “This is so strange… I’ve only heard of something like this happening if-,” she says but gets interrupted by Elvis.

“What does this mean? Why is this happening to her? First, she didn’t turn right away and now these bite marks are coming back? I don’t understand,” Elvis says frustratedly.

Iris stands back up and is listening in thought. She paces a bit, collecting her thoughts.

“Forgive me for the lack of clarity but… you killed Raphael for this, didn’t you? For doing all of this to her?” She asks him.

“Yes of course I did. Cut his head right off,” he growls. Iris looks at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to say more.

She swallows harshly, “…and you staked him in the heart right?” She asks gently.

You look up at Elvis expecting to see him nodding in agreement but instead, he turns three shades paler and his knees buckle to the floor. You grab onto his shoulder and try to get him to look at you.

“Honey?” You shake him.

He looks up and for the first time in a while, his eyes look dark.

Deadly.

Vicious.

On the hunt for blood.

His breathing becomes labored and his fangs descend down.

“You’re telling me, Raphael is alive?” He hisses.

“It’s possible… and it looks like it’s true with these scars reforming on her body. He has a tie to her it seems. Only someone so cruel and vile would inflict this kind of harm,” she says lightly.

“No!” Elvis yells, his fist slamming into the wall behind him. Pieces of drywall crumble down and a large hole is left behind.

“I’m not entirely certain though. It is just a theory. It looks like a huge possibility though. He would need a lot of help to be brought back to life, but it’s possible. The only way to truly kill a vampire is to stake them in the heart, with an ash stake in particular. Certain types of wood hold mystical properties that will keep vampires dead. There is no way of resuscitating them after that and since you didn’t do that… he might be out there somewhere,” she says walking back to the couch cautiously, looking at him with his fangs exposed like he was dangerous. You had to agree though, he was dangerous when it came to protecting you. He would do anything for you and should be feared.

“I-I-I didn’t know… no one told me and none of the legends go into that sort of thing…” he says scared. You try to recall the books you had been reading and you don’t remember any specifics of how to kill a vampire. You’re sure Elvis read every book there was and read it multiple times, he wouldn’t miss that crucial piece of information.

“It’s okay Elvis, it's not a widely known thing because we don’t want everyone to know how to annihilate us off this planet. Humans have always been superstitious about us and if they knew the one thing that can kill us, it would be a very hard life to live here,” she explains

Your stomach turned and felt like you could be sick. This was the worst thing you could hear. You had some sort of tie to that wicked, cruel man all because you let him bite you while you were human. You couldn’t believe any of this. It felt like the world was closing in on you and you were drowning.

“We’ll figure out what to do together. It’ll be alright. It’s not like he knows where you live,” Alexander tried to reassure.

“Everyone knows where I live you fucking-,” Elvis starts to yell but you quickly get up and try to stop him.

“Honey stop stop! It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re going to be fine,” you say trying to calm him down, He looks at you like he doesn’t believe a word you just said. Frankly, you don’t believe a word you said either. You had no idea if it was going to be okay.

“What do we do?” Elvis asks them.

“He’s going to come looking for her eventually, so it’s best to be prepared. Keep your guys on watch and keep everyone strong. So that means you two need to feed and complete your bond. That will help you get stronger and not let him have more of a hold on her or risk her getting compelled by him in any way,” Alexander tells you both.

Iris grabs his hand and stands up again.

“We should leave you alone for now. I know you both have a lot to discuss. We’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk more,” she says softly and starts to make her way to the front door with Alexander in tow.

The front door slams and you both are standing there motionless, stuck in complete shock. Elvis looks like he’s about to collapse again. He slowly walks to the staircase and sits down on the third step. His face is in his hands and his long legs are stretched out. He looks defeated like this. Your heart dies to see him like this.

You kneel in between his legs, “Honey, I-I’m so scared,” you whimper. He looks up at you and his fangs are gone and tears fall down his cheeks.

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry for this,” he sighs.

“No honey that’s not true-,” you try to reassure.

“No. It is. I have put you in so much danger since meeting you and even worse, I left you alone for weeks, defenseless and starving. I don’t know why I keep fucking all this up with you. I’m so sorry,” he sighs.

“I understand why you left,” you say gently, “you were desperate for answers. I’m sorry that I started a fight that drove you to leave though. I’m sorry for that. I wish you could have told me how you felt in the beginning. I didn’t know about any of that you said in the living room,” you say sheepishly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between you two and Elvis continues to not look at you. Your heart thumps nervously, waiting for him to say anything to reassure you.

“It was too sickening to admit to you. I couldn’t look at your face when I said it,” he pauses to look at you. “I can’t take any of it back but if it changes anything, I’ve loved you the second I saw you. I was too afraid to admit it, so I did some shallow things, and I’m sorry for that,” he sniffles.

Your heart breaks as you watch him sit there. You reach for his hand and squeeze it lightly.

“We’re not perfect, but I believe you. We can’t change the past… I know your love for me has always been stronger than I can possibly imagine,” you say softly. He lets go of your hand and wipes his face.

“I’m an idiot… I can’t keep doing this to you. You’re in harm's way yet again,” he pauses and looks at you for the first time. His eyes look like he’s looking right through you, “Maybe it would be better if you forgot all of this…compel you. Send you far away until I take care of Raphael once and for all and just start over with us…” he alludes.

Your heart stops. You stare at him blankly and can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. You stumble backward, not being able to be so close to him.

“E-Elvis…NO! What are you thinking! No!” You yell at him.

“I can’t cause you any more pain! And there is bound to be more pain with Raphael around! It’s going to kill me if he hurts you again! I can’t see that again,” he cries, grabbing your arm to still you. “I can send you with Iris and Alexander, I know they’d protect you-,” he continues.

“NO! I won’t let you do that!” You yell, getting up to your feet. “If you do that, I’ll never forgive you, Elvis! I promise you that!” You seethe, tears flowing down your face.

He stands up too, looking at you intensely. You can’t help but hold your breath, too afraid of what he’s going to say next.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to put you out of harm's way,” he trembles.

“This isn’t the solution. I would never agree to that” you cry. “I swear I won’t forgive you if you make me forget a single detail!”

“Then what is the solution?! If he hurts you, or even worse, tries to kill you, I would die too. We’re meant to be together forever, tied together in our bond…the bond that I’ve only weakened being gone so long and not letting you feed…” he says mournfully.

“Stop please, I can’t live without you either. Not even for a second! I would always feel this giant hole inside my heart if you had someone compel me to forget you. It would be the worst pain I could ever feel,” you shudder.

You step closer to him with hurt eyes and an aching heart.

“We need to figure this out together, not pushing each other away. How many times do I need to prove that to you,” you say gently. He looks at you through tear-filled eyes and breathes slowly. You can feel the mood of the room drastically shift with the way he’s looking at you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him but there’s a small part of you that still trembles in his presence.

He takes a small step closer to you, then another and another, just until your chests barely touch.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I felt so hollow without you these last few weeks… I don’t know how I would last another day,” he whispers, his lips so close to yours. You feel your heart flutter again, gasping for breath in his suffocating presence.

“I know,” you breathe, closing your eyes.

He gently caresses your arms, giving you chills down your spine.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for this.” He grumbles.

His touch sparks the dimmed light inside you and you want to touch him too. He moves his face to the side of yours and runs his fingers through your hair. He sighs slowly then takes in a deep breath, taking in your scent. You feel like you could crumble at his feet. The slightest touch makes it harder and harder to breathe. His fingers slowly drag down the length of your hair and his hand snakes down to your waist. Your breath catches in your throat as he does this, not ready for his intimate touch. You feel his teeth graze your earlobe and slowly drag it down.

Lord save me.

“Baby, I ache for you…” he gasps. You pull your head away from his and you try to look in his eyes.

He flashes his golden eyes to you and makes you weak.

“Fix me,” he whimpers.

“Y-you don’t… I don’t unders-,” you tremble as you feel him pull your body flush to his.

“Make me whole again… Please,” he sighs squeezing you tighter. “Forgive me for all of it.”

Your breathing feels ragged and like an involuntary reaction, you pull at his arms to hold you tighter. He places a kiss on your cheek and you feel the heat linger there. His hand tangles in your hair again and you feel him become more desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know, it’s okay,” you say back.

He quickly picks you up by the back of your knees and lifts you off the ground, carrying you up the white carpeted stairs. He looks at you in his arms like you’re a wounded bird he found on the side of the road. His eyes bled so much sorrow and shame. They might appear golden right now, but underneath there was this cold, blustery storm inside of them that he was battling by himself.

He pushes open the bedroom door with his back and shuts it with his foot. He walks over to the bed and places you in the middle of it. You realize this is the first time you’ve laid in this bed since coming here. You didn’t want to get in it with Elvis around. He sits next to you, observing every inch of you as you lay there. He brushes your hair off of your chest and exposes your neck to him. You instantly cover up the scar mark with your hand.

“Forgive me,” he whimpers again, pulling your hand away from your neck.

“It’s okay,” you breathe.

He scoops his hands underneath your back and gets on top of you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his torso, wanting him closer. He grumbles delightfully, relishing in the closeness.

“Feed on me,” he says in a breathy voice, “then let me make love to you. Please,” he begs.

“Honey I-,” you begin to say but he cuts you off with a kiss. This kiss was like no other. It was meaningful, passionate, and intense with fireworks exploding in your mind when you felt his lips. Oh how you missed his lips, those perfect plush lips that have you needing more. Your hands tangle in his hair, wanting him to stay close. You breathe in his scent, realizing how much you missed that too.

“Please,” he begs.

He takes his lips off yours and covers your cheek with kisses. He stops when he reaches your neck and you freeze. You didn’t want him to look there ever again. His thumb glides gently along the scar.

“Honey I’m so sorry,” he begins to say.

“Please don’t look. It’s too much,” you whimper.

He doesn’t listen of course and starts to lift up your shirt to see the other marks. You had to look away from him, you couldn’t watch his reaction yet again to those horrendous scars. You can feel his fingertips trace over the marks in a calculated and precise manner. You sigh and try to get him to touch you anywhere else but he’s much stronger than you and won’t budge. He slowly starts to cover your torso in warm, wet kisses, trailing up to your breasts and you melt away. You feel your heart start to race, getting even weaker the longer his mouth is on your skin.

“Feed on me,” he says low as you feel his hardening length press against your core. You grumble at the sensation and moan softly. You pull his neck closer to your mouth and try to focus. You place a kiss on the spot you want to bite and hear him groan slightly. You try to get your fangs to descend and feel the pull of his scent to beckon you for more. You feel your teeth sharpen and your sensations get overloaded with need for him. You place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him closer to sink your teeth into him. You pierce his skin and he groans heavily. His blood spills into your mouth and it tastes like heaven. It’s better than you remembered and all the blood bags you drank put this to shame. He tasted so sweet yet savory. So satisfying and yet you’ll always need more.

You groan as you swallow mouthfuls, feeling so content and happy. You feel his hand slither down to the button of your pants and undo it, sliding the zipper down too. He feels your heat radiate from your core and puts his hands into your panties. You hold onto him tighter, knowing you’re going to be ultra-sensitive when he touches you. His fingers find your clit and rub it in soft, concentrated circles.

A fire ignites in you and you groan. You weren’t going to stop feeding until he told you to. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this in your entire life. It was strangely erotic, the way you wanted his body and his blood to appease the undying need for him. You hold him tighter, as you feel his finger tease your entrance. You were wetter than expected and he groans softly. You moan into his neck and carefully take your teeth out of him. Your entire body felt like it was tingling, buzzing with an electric wave that flowed between you and him.

He lifts up his head and hovers over you. His eyes drink in your needy body as you gaze at the bite mark you left on him leaking with blood. It made you thirsty again. He pulls your pants down swiftly and uncovers the remaining scars left behind.

He trails kisses up your body until he’s back at your lips.

“Can I make love to you now? Please,” He asks softly. You feel your heart fly out of your chest by the request.

All you can do is nod your head and tear at his shirt, ripping it clean off of him. He would normally make a snarky comment about how that’s his favorite shirt or something but not tonight. The mood is very different in here. He sheds his pants off and climbs back on the bed with you. His hand rubs your tummy lovingly and looks up at you with care.

“I need you,” he whimpers.

He doesn’t have to say much else to drive you crazy. You put your hands on his hips to get him closer. He gently rubs his length through your wet folds, causing both of you to groan. You were more sensitive than you were expecting. Every sense inside you was heightened and you can only imagine this is going to be like the first time he fucked you. So completely overwhelming and needy.

You watch as he teases you, covering his tip in your wetness. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan in agony. You can’t help but ball the comforter in your fist as you anticipate him entering you.

“I’m gonna love you nice and slow, okay?” He says low and sultry.

Please God yes! Please love me! That’s all I want, your brain screams.

You pop your eyes back open and nod your head yes.

That’s all you can do, there aren’t any words that can be said out loud. And with that, he pushes his cock inside you. He felt so good, it had been so long since he got to do this. His bedroom eyes are heavy with lust as he watches you underneath him.

He places a kiss on your lips, groaning as he does so. He pushes in a bit more, your entrance stretching around him as it makes you gasp.

“Oh God,” you groan into his mouth, your fingers scratching down his back.

He places a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck. These touches can send you to heaven and he knows it. He kisses you more and each one leaves you more breathless. His hips move like only he can giving you more of his cock.

There was so much urgency but also tenderness from him. The way he was loving you was like his life depended on it. Maybe it did and he needed you this much.

“I missed you,” he groans into your ear as he moves deeper inside you.

You can’t handle him, he is making you a total puddle underneath him. You continue to hold onto him tight and enjoy every second of this. Elvis places a kiss on your forehead before looking at you with a familiar glint in his eye.

He was starving.

It made your heart gallop uncontrollably and quite frankly, it made you starved too. You could wait though, you wanted to take care of him too.

“Bite me,” you whimper. He responds with a groan and plunges his length fully inside of you making you cry out for him. Your walls squeeze around him momentarily as he moves more inside of you. You need to gasp for breath as each thrust of his makes you immeasurably weak. Looking up at him stunned, he continues to gently swivel his hips into you and makes you moan his name louder. He can’t help but smirk when he watches you get physically pleased by him.

“Honey please,” you beg him, trying to get him to lean back into your neck. He doesn’t listen to your directions right away, there is this restraint to him. You sense that he’s timid and shy throughout all of this.

“I’m starved, honey. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly. You claw at his arms and moan frustratedly.

“Please, just bite me. I can take it,” you groan.

His chest heaves as he looks at you and he grabs a hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head. It was like a switch flipped and the mood of the room shifted dramatically. You can feel how needy he has become and how hungry he is for you.

“Fuck darlin’, I needed to hear that,” he groans. His hips grind into you harder making that coil inside you tighten with every thrust of his cock. He looks at you so intensely and keeps his slow pace that is agonizingly satisfying for you. You bare the side of your neck to him and hope he takes the hint to bite you there.

You close your eyes and feel his teeth gently sink into your neck, making you suck in a sharp breath. You don’t know what to expect but you know it wouldn’t be painful like last time. And you were right. This strange frenzy develops inside you and your pleasure skyrockets. You loved how he felt drinking from you as he buried his cock deep inside of you. You couldn’t get enough of this and you could feel how much he loved this too. Your heart soars knowing your bond together is only strengthening. Elvis groans deeply as he drinks your blood, his grip on you getting tighter.

He pauses and takes his fangs out of you.

“Oh honey, you are so delicious,” he grovels.

“Take more baby,” you tell him breathlessly.

He licks his lips slow and sultry, thrusting into you a bit faster. He concentrates on your pleasure and the faces you make because of it, wanting to see you fall apart.

“You’re mine,” he growls, "fucking mine." He goes back to sink his teeth into the top of your breast. You gasp as he squeezes and sucks on it. He quickly takes his length out of you and you groan in agony, your walls fluttering in need of him once more. He trails kisses down your breasts and moves down to your tummy, biting there and groaning. Every kiss and bite from him was so overwhelming. Pleasure skyrocketed through you and couldn’t help but cuss his name. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to mark you as his in a very apparent way. You believed it, your heart and soul knew it but for anyone else that might glance your way, he wanted them to know too. You moan his name and look down where he’s going to bite next. He examines the scar on your thigh and grumbles displeased. He takes another bite there, squeezing your thigh tightly and groaning when he tastes you.

His bite marks that he made were left leaking and spilling onto the sheets. You had to pray they would heal quickly and everything was going to be alright. Elvis licks up your thigh and looks at you once again. His eyes are much more soft and his demeanor is calmer. Lastly, he takes your wrist and bites there, grumbling to himself pleased at the taste of you.

“Thank you, honey,” he sighs, “I can feel you again. I can feel how much you loved that.” He says relieved.

“Mhmm me too,” you smile at him, feeling his heart soar with happiness and relief. You pull at his arm and make him get closer to you.

“Please, I need you,” you moan.

He gives you a soft smile, “what do you need baby?” He says low, his voice gruff and sultry.

“I need you back inside of me,” you beg.

He nods his head at you and grabs onto your hips tightly, pushing his cock into you with a groan. You cry out for Elvis and writhe under him.

“Jesus mama you feel so damn good,” he groans, continuing to thrust slow and concentrated. “So fucking wet for me.”

With the way he feels and those lust-driven words coming from his mouth, you can’t hold on much longer. You wanted him to make you come apart. He looks so good while he fucks you; his hair tussled against his forehead, the low groans he makes when his cock is deep inside you, the way he lets his head fall back to the ceiling as his eyes roll back in pleasure. His neck was perfectly bared for you to bite him. You wanted him so desperately, that it made it hard to breathe. Your hips match his thrusts, needing him to fuck you harder. You look at him with pleading eyes and it’s like he heard your thoughts when you feel him move a bit faster and rub your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out.

“That’s it, baby, let me feel you come,” he beckons, thrusting deep inside you. He pins your arms down again and nips at your neck.

“Come for me, please,” he growls in your ear. “I need you.”

You gasp at his words and beg him for more. He groans deeply and fucks you harder, making you see stars. Your walls squeeze around his cock and rock into every thrust he gives you. Every limb tingles with pleasure and you moan loudly for him. It felt so different than the last time you were with him. You were so much more sensitive now and craved him like never before. He takes in a sharp breath through his teeth and moves slower in and out of you.

“FUck, sucha good girl. I want to come deep inside you now,” he groans loudly. You need him to do that, the way his body ached for you was overwhelming, and wanted him to feel pleased like never before.

You twist your arms out of his grasp and it surprises him you were able to do so. You grab onto his shoulders and push him to the side, making him lay on his back quickly. You sink down on his cock once again and groan when he fills you again. He looks up at you wide-eyed and needy. His chest heaves and he grabs onto your hips to help you ride him.

“Shit baby yes, nice and slow,” he groans, rocking your hips back and forth on him. You gasp and nod your head at him, grinding slowly on his cock.

You cup your breast in your hands and roll your nipples in between your fingers, sending a zing of pleasure through you. Elvis can’t tear his eyes off of you and you can feel him grow desperate for you. You tease him, touching yourself more and making him watch. You look down at your hardened nipples and see the blood spilling from the bite mark he made. Your finger swipes up the trail of blood and place it to his lips. He opens his mouth gladly and swirls his tongue around your finger, sucking on it to make sure he licks all of your blood clean off. He groans and his eyebrows furrow as he looks up at you. Rocking your hips more, you know he needs to come. Your heart pounds away as you watch him and you feel his cock pulse deep inside you, groaning your name as he comes. You move faster and he holds onto your hips. His hips move off the bed to meet every thrust you give him making you want to come again.

“Fuck baby… so good, so good,” he whimpers. You smile pleased that you have him so weak for you.

You lean down onto his chest and make him bare his neck to you. This incessant thirst you have for him consumes your thoughts and you take a bite from his neck, sucking his blood happily. You hear him growl low and moan your name again.

“Good girl,” he whimpers. You take a few more gulps and take your mouth off of him, needing air. You felt so light and weak and yet, stronger than ever. It was such a strange sensation and you can see Elvis feels the same. He wraps his arms around you tightly and keeps you on his chest.

You both lay like this for a while, not wanting this moment to end.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear.

“I love you too,” you sigh.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he says softly.

“I know,” you say. You didn’t want to think about the future, you just wanted to live in this moment with him forever. You had to have hope that his words were true, everything was going to be alright and you both could have a peaceful and happy life together.

You push yourself off of him to look into those beautiful eyes of his and he smiles when he sees your face.

“The bite marks I made are healed honey,” he says pleased, rubbing his thumb gently along your neck.

“Good,” you smile. You start to get off of him to lay next to him but he stops you and keeps you on top of him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you,” he says devilishly. You feel your heart skip a beat and he pulls you close again, covering you in kisses.

Tagging : @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887@burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997