10. Elvis helps Innocent!Reader bake some cupcakes for the Mafia
11. Elvis manipulates Innocent!Reader into the ‘little’ lifestyle - part one
12. Innocent!Reader tries to prove to Elvis she's not as innocent as she seems but it backfires
13. ALTERNATIVE ENDING TO #12: Innocent!Reader falls into little headspace after her first orgasm from Elvis
14. Someone tries to take advantage of Innocent!Reader and Elvis doesn't let it slide
15. Shy!Reader meets Elvis at Graceland for the first time and when a storm happens and reader gets scared, there’s only one person awake to comfort her
16. Elvis takes care of Innocent!Reader with PTSD after she gets frightened
17. Little F!Reader gets sick so Elvis takes care of her
18. Elvis overstimulates Innocent!Reader at the movies
19. F!Reader gets mobbed after Elvis’ show and he becomes protective
20. Elvis teaches his naive, nymphomaniac girlfriend how to pleasure herself
21. Someone bullies Little!Reader and Elvis finds out
Elvis Fanfictions
Sparkly Little Thing 🧚✨ | A Yandere!Elvis fic
Chapter One - The Party
Elvis Headcanons
CG!Elvis feeds Little F!Reader
2. CG!Elvis and Little F!Reader's bedtime routine
3. How Elvis treats Innocent F!Reader in public
4. 70s Elvis and his dumb, sweet, girlfriend
5. Elvis and reader who doesn't understand social cues
6. The Memphis Mafia's sinful feelings for Innocent!Reader
7. Elvis and the Memphis Mafia throw's Innocent!Reader a birthday party
wc 4,783
tw smut, oral f receiving, elvis being a cheeky mf
part one here!
Your hand trembled over the page as you held the pencil firmly between your pointer finger and your thumb. You just couldn’t find the courage to sign the end of the letter, your lower lip between your teeth and your leg bouncing up and down below you as you sat at your desk, staring at the page filled top to bottom with your neat handwriting.
That was one of the first things Elvis had brought up when the two of you managed to speak over the phone instead of writing to each other. “Your hand-writing is so neat, doll, mine’s gotta look like chicken scratch to ya. Can you even read it half the time?” he’d said, and you laughed before reassuring the boy that you could read his writing, even if it did take you a few minutes to decipher a couple of the words. The call lasted about five minutes before it got clicked off and you realized you had no money left to call him back. You cried that night, having used all your savings from working at the diner just down the street, a job you picked up for that specific reason — Elvis mentioned in one of his letters that the base he was on had a telephone, one that made transatlantic calls, and you worked day and night for three months straight to be able to afford just a few minutes of hearing his voice. And boy, was it worth it. You never got too sad when Elvis was away, never shed any tears over it up until that point. But hearing his voice, the familiar Southern drawl that you’d only been hearing over his records you played a million times a day — it was all real to you again, and it was like you’d been living in a fantasy the whole time. There he was, talking into your ear like he had been that night you sat on your porch. The way your heart raced when you heard the way his lips mumbled the word darling, as opposed to reading it on a piece of paper. You wished you got more than five minutes with him but unfortunately that wasn’t the case, and you just clutched onto the fact that these last two years would be over in just a few more months, and then he would be back home, and you would be in his arms.
It was no question that Elvis was in love with you. You didn’t know it, but he talked about you nonstop to the boys in his division. When he’d first met you that night that he showed up to your house, it was all so surreal and you had brushed off the fact that he confessed his love for you. It didn’t seem serious, he had just met you for Christ’s sake and knew nothing about you besides your name — which, mind you, he had to dig up from someone else. You’d never even spoken to each other before that night, so the idea that he was in love with you was absurd. Of course, you wanted nothing more than to believe it, but the more you did, the less everyone had faith around you. You recounted the events of that night to Lucy and she was over the moon, but everyone else you told seemed to think you were exaggerating the details. Girls at school, your coworkers, even a few of your family members insisted that you were lying. The only people that truly, wholeheartedly believed that Elvis Presley was in love with you was Lucy and your mother, who’d read every letter he sent you as you showed her every other week with ecstasy written across your face. But the thing was that the longer time passed with him gone, the more you believed it yourself. Because the more you believed he was in love with you, the more you believed you were in love with him.
You’d always loved Elvis Presley, ever since you heard his first song on the radio. But you loved him as the singer, not him as the person. Up until spending years writing to the boy, dreaming of him when you slept and fantasizing about him coming home. You thought of him when cleaning tables at your work, and sometimes you even found yourself planning out your next letter to him, excited to race home so you could get out your pen and paper. Elvis had signed every letter he wrote you with Love, your Elvis since the very first one. Yours were usually finished off with a talk to you soon or a miss you entirely. This one, the one you wrote as the last one he would be receiving before coming home, felt different. Nothing had changed, it was still the same old summary of your week, telling him how excited you were for March 2nd, the day he would be coming back. But this time, you couldn’t write the words see you soon. Your first thought was love.
Your pencil stood still in your hand as your eyes raked across the page. You read the hundred word letter over and over again, stalling as you tried to work up the courage to write the simple closing line before folding the note up for the envelope. It took you what felt like hours before you gave in and signed it, I can’t wait to see you… your Y/N and then setting the pencil down. You would send it in the morning on your way to work, completely unhappy with the closing statement but ultimately, you knew you weren’t gonna do anything about it. You wanted your first ‘I love you’ to be in person, to his face, where you could see his raw, honest reaction. Not over a letter, when he would read it two weeks from now and then you wouldn’t be able to read his for two weeks after that.
So you would wait, until you could see him in person, and then you would tell him you loved him. You planned on doing it immediately, the moment you saw him, but when the day finally came, that wasn’t the case.
“Y/N, honey, you have a visitor.” It was deja vu, almost, the way your mother poked her head into your room, much like she had done the night you met the boy. But you weren’t in for a surprise this time — you’d been counting down the hours for this moment.
“He’s here!” You jumped up from your bed, and the speed at which you ran down the hallway was faster than any track star could have dreamed. You made it down the stairs in record time, and when your eyes landed on the boy standing in your foyer, talking with your father, dressed in his army green military suit, holding his cap to his chest respectfully, you lost your breath.
“There she is,” your father said, and at his words, Elvis turned around to see you for himself. The smile that exploded onto his face was unlike any other, and the boy reached out as you jumped onto him. He lifted you into his arms, spinning you around as you grasped onto him for dear life. It felt better than you were expecting, hugging him, smelling his scent that hadn’t changed a bit since he was gone.
What had changed, though, was his hair. It was short now, buzzed at the sides and not what you remembered at all. It made sense though, Elvis had mentioned in one of his letters that they had to shave his head when he joined the military. You hated the idea, one of the main focal points of Elvis Presley was his hair. But seeing him in the uniform, all dressed up, returning home from the war — he looked handsome, more beautiful than you could’ve dreamed of, so you didn’t mind the lack of hair. Actually, you quite enjoyed it.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much.” Elvis set you down, his arms still wrapped around you as he held you to his chest. You nuzzled into him, hugging him tightly as though he would leave you again should you let go. You heard his chest rumble with laughter as he placed a hand on the back of your head, seemingly talking to your father as he said, “Think she missed me, too?”
“Only a little,” the man responded, and you smiled into the jacket of Elvis’s uniform. It had taken a while for your father to warm up to the idea of you and Elvis Presley — ultimately, it took the proof of him not leaving you when he got shipped off. It was up until a year into you and the boy still talking that your father finally came to terms with your relationship. He’d told your mother that he was afraid Elvis would break his daughter’s heart, since, after all, he’s Elvis Presley. Your father chose to believe the media outlets over situations like these, so he’s never had a fond outlook on the boy, even before you began dating. And if he’s away in the military for two years, your father had said, nothing good would come from that. But, you proved him wrong, and here he was, almost as happy to see the boy as you were. Almost.
“Come on! I-I wanna show you my dress!” you exclaimed after pulling away from the boy, and you looked to your parents for approval. They nodded, and as quick as you had come down, you were pulling Elvis upstairs to your room. While he was away, Elvis had missed your high school graduation, along with your senior prom. He wrote you saying how much he wished he could be there, and when you responded you’d even sent him a few photographs your mother had taken of you on that evening, a few solo but a couple with the boy who had taken you, as well. You were stuck with the privilege of going with a mister Tommy Baker, a boy you’d known since you were little as your mothers were best friends. Elvis didn’t like the idea of you going with another boy, but you reassured him that as a girl, you had to go with a boy. And if he wasn’t there to take you, Tommy was the next best thing. If you had gone to the senior prom by yourself, it would’ve been humiliating, and it would’ve been even worse had you gone with a friend like Lucy, which is what Elvis suggested when he wrote you back. He got over it quickly though when he saw you in your dress, and he asked if you would show him in person when he came home. Lucky for him, you remembered.
It was also just an excuse to get him alone in your room.
“The pictures don’t do it justice — look at how pretty this colour is.” You unzipped the bag that your pretty purple prom dress resided in, and Elvis hummed in approval. “I would show you what it looks like on, but it takes ages to get into and then tie up.”
“That’s alright, baby. Another time.” You felt his arms wrap around your waist as you zipped the bag back up, and you blushed when he rested his chin on your shoulder. “For now, I wanna kiss you.” Elvis pressed his lips to your cheek, and then your jaw, and you giggled as you pushed him away.
“Let me hang this back up first. And Mama’ll kill me if she sees us kissin’ in my room.”
“That’s why we keep the door closed,” Elvis said slyly, moving across the room to grab the handle on your bedroom door, slowly and carefully closing it. You scolded him in a whisperful way as he twisted the handle, shutting it without a sound despite your protests.
“Are you crazy? Daddy’s gonna kill you! An’ then he’ll kill me!”
“That’s why we lock it, too.” He clicked it shut and you smacked the boy on the arm. Chuckling, Elvis grabbed your wrist in the process, pulling you over to him expertly as his free hand snuck its way to your lower back, and he dipped you down while he connected your lips.
The feeling of the kiss was too good for you to worry about the door much longer, and finally you allowed yourself to melt into him. His hand moved to cup your face, fingers twisting into your hair on the back of your head while he held you dangerously close. You felt his tongue slide past your lips and nearly gasped as it met yours, such a vile action that had your stomach dropping in the best way possible.
“Two years was much too long,” he said when you pulled away to catch your breath, and his words couldn’t help but cause a smile on your lips. His hand tightened its hold on your cheek, thumb brushing over the soft skin as he gazed down at you. His blue eyes were even more beautiful than you remembered, and you fought the urge to lean up and kiss him again.
“You’re tellin’ me,” you responded, and Elvis smiled small before he read your mind and bent down to connect your lips once more. As you kissed, all you could think about were those three words you’d been denying to write to him. I love you. It was such a simple saying, but for some reason thinking about saying it out loud had you more nervous than you were when you had to slow dance with Tommy Baker at prom. You loved Elvis so goddamn much it made your toes curl and your heart speed up so fast you were certain you’d go into cardiac arrest. And if you didn’t tell him soon, you were beginning to think that might not be an exaggeration.
“Elvis,” you said, placing a hand on the boy’s chest to signal you wanted to stop. Immediately, he pulled away, blue eyes gazing down at you concerningly, his lips swollen from the prior activity and his chest rising and falling with deep breaths under your hand. You stared up at him, heart pounding and mouth growing dry, despite the sloppy kissing you’d just endured with the boy towering above you. His eyes were sparkling and his lips were so pink and full and he just looked so beautiful— “Kiss me again.”
So he did, and you wanted to curse yourself for chickening out but his lips were too entrancing. Elvis began leading you backwards, his hands sure to keep you steady when your knees hit the edge of your bed and you collapsed onto the mattress, his body falling over you gracefully. Elvis flipped you over, your legs moving to straddle him as he pulled you on top, and it was then that you pulled away, tucking your hair behind your ears as you repositioned yourself awkwardly. Elvis sat up on his elbows, staring at you. “You okay, lil darlin’?”
“Mhm.” You sat back, dropping your hands into your lap before realizing that was his crotch, and then lifting them as quick as you realized. The boy chuckled, smirking up at your flustered expression. “Oh!— Sorry.”
“You’re all good, mama.”
The nicknames he gave you never failed to erupt a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, on top of the nerves you felt just thinking about what you needed to say to him. It was now or never, you thought, staring back at the boy who lay under you, watching you with a look of love and adoration in his eyes entirely, a lazy smile on his lips and dark hair styled to perfection atop his head. The sight alone was enough to have you blushing. “Elvis, I…”
You couldn’t get the words out before a shout came to cut you off, and suddenly the nerves in your belly weren’t caused by the preparation of admittance. “Y/N Y/L/N! What did I say about boys in your room with the door closed!”
“Sorry, Momma!” you called back, smacking Elvis on the arm as he chuckled lightly. You climbed off him, rushing to open the door before stepping out into the hallway to apologize face to face. When you went back inside, Elvis was sitting upright on your bed, a picture frame in his hands before he glanced up at you. “See, I told you you’d get me in trouble!”
“Hardly,” he said, setting the picture frame back down on your nightstand. Elvis reached out for you, tugging at your skirt to pull you closer to him. You stood between his legs, peering down at him as your hands came to rest on his shoulders. He smirked up at you, resting his hands on your hips while he looked on at you devilishly. “I like it when you’re bad ‘cus o’ me.”
Your mind went fuzzy, stomach dropping at his raspy tone, his words dangerous.
“Makes you even sexier.”
Your head turned to see if your mother was still out in the hallway, and Elvis’s hands on the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer, had you turning back to him. “Eyes on me, baby.” He brought his hand to your chin, tilting your head down with his fingers. “Could be more fun this way.” He was gesturing to the lack of privacy, with the open door, and how suspenseful it would be, but you couldn’t ignore what would happen if your mother — or worse, your father — walked in at the wrong time. Elvis, on the other hand, couldn’t care less, as he was pulling you back in for another kiss.
“You’re crazy,” you whispered against his lips, and you felt they turn into a smirk as he whispered back, “I know,” before crashing his lips down onto yours for the third time that day.
You had your hands on his shoulders to keep you steady, but no amount of stability could keep your knees from weakening when you felt his hands slip under your blouse, making contact with the foreign skin as he held you at your sides. He flipped you over then, laying you down on your bed as he knelt over you slightly, keeping watch of the door. His hands were still under your shirt, sneaking their way down, and it was a dangerous touch but the way he was so delicate, fingers whispering across your skin as they slid into the waistband of your skirt, plucking at the fabric of your panties — you were more than certain it was the right thing to do. Everything he did, he did with such certainty that you couldn't help but agree with him. He was ethereal, and you were sure you wouldn’t have let any other man touch you the way he was doing now. Not until marriage, at least.
But yet, this boy had you under him, no ring on your finger, begging for his touch as his fingers slipped under your panties.
“Elvis,” you whimpered, and the boy shushed you as he ran a finger up your folds.
“Gonna have to be quiet for me, darlin’. Ain’t nobody gonna hear a sound, alright?” He began working two fingers over you, a feeling so foreign to you you couldn’t help but shiver, and the way you leaned your head back, teeth biting down on your lip, had Elvis struggling to contain himself, too. “So wet for me, sweetheart. You been waitin’ so long for me to come home to ya, haven’t ya?”
“Mhm,” you nodded, thighs clenching together as he had his hand buried deep between them. He finally entered a finger in you, your jaw falling open at the foreign feeling of penetration inside of you.
“That feel good, baby?” The suspense of being caught felt almost as good as the quiet, raspiness of his voice caused, and you couldn’t decide if those two things trumped the feeling of his fingers working you over. Every sense of yours was heightened and you could’ve sworn this was what cloud nine felt like.
He entered a second finger, pumping the two of them in and out before adding his thumb into the mix, rubbing your clit lightly to create a nice, steady pace for you. Your back arched off the bed at the feeling, a few whines escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, and Elvis shushed you before placing a hand over your mouth when he increased the speed of his fingers.
They were thrusting in and out of you at a rapid pace, curling inside of you to hit your g-spot while his thumb pressed circles into your clit as well. You were wiggling underneath him much more than you were minutes before, telling him that you were close to release, and Elvis pulled away with no warning, making you whine in distress. Was he just gonna leave you here like this?
He crossed your room to shut the door halfway, leaving it open just a few inches so that at least the bed wasn’t visible to anyone passing through the hallway. Elvis made his way back to the bed, where you sat on the edge with a pout on your lips. He chuckled, moving to stand in front of you as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back so you looked up at him.
“You liked that?”
You nodded submissively, your pupils shot and eyelids weary from the bliss you didn’t think was possible from the vulgar act you’d just taken part in. Elvis clenched his jaw as he moved to kneel between your legs, his arms wrapping around your calves to pull you forward. At the sudden movement you squealed, falling back onto the bed, feeling him place his hands on your thighs underneath your skirt. He slid your panties off smoothly, discarding them somewhere unknown, before pushing your skirt higher up your stomach.
“This alright, darlin’?” he asked, and the weak attempt at a hum of approval was enough for him. You felt his lips meet the skin of your inner thighs, dangerously close to where his fingers had just been minutes before, and your breath hitched.
“O… Oh,” you moaned, leaning up some to cast a quick glance down at the boy below you. His fingers gripped into your thighs, lips moving across your skin hastily, and it was when you felt his tongue like a stripe up your core that you fell back onto your back, a loud moan escaping past your lips.
Elvis pulled away as quick as he could, smacking you on the thigh lightly as he shushed you. “Don’t want us to get caught now, do ya?” he asked, and you shook your head apologetically. He got to his feet, leaning over you as his hand gripped your face much like how he had done at the concert, your first interaction with the boy. Now, two years later, he had you in the same position, still writhing underneath his touch. “Gonna have to contain yourself, baby. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes,” you nodded, and Elvis hummed, half satisfied with your answer, before he kneeled back down between your thighs and went to work. If you thought that first bit felt good, you were in for a treat. Elvis had your heart in your throat, your back arched off the bed with your fingers digging into the bed sheets while his tongue worked you over.
It was taking all of you not to scream out his name, your moans dying off your tongue before you could project them out. All you wanted to do was lean your head back and cry out in pleasure, his lips sucking at your core like his life depended on it. You’d never experienced a feeling like this, and it had you spiralling. You weren’t sure if you wanted to chase your release or just stay in this moment forever.
“Fuck,” you heard Elvis mutter as he adjusted, pulling your thighs closer with his fingers pressed into your skin, lips brushing over your heat again. He kissed the delicate area before standing up, placing a hand next to your head as he leaned into your neck and whispered, “You got no clue what you do to me, baby girl.” It was then that he lowered his hips, rolling them onto yours, and you felt a bulge pressing against the fabric of his pants, now pushing against you. It was big, and you couldn’t deny that his size was doing anything but turning you away from the idea of him burying himself inside you.
“Please,” you whispered, head rolling back as you felt him thrust against you, fully clothed. Your hand gripped his bicep, your other hand coming to push his button up further up on his stomach, fingers making contact with his warm skin.
“You want this, baby?” Elvis was imitating the acts of intercourse now, his hips moving with yours while you wrapped your legs loosely around his torso. His hand strayed down to your heat, finding your wet core as he began rubbing your clit while he continued his previous actions. “You like it when I touch you?”
“Mhm,” you whined, digging your nails into his arm that held himself above you.
“How much?”
“A-A lot,” you mumbled, trying to keep quiet as you bucked your hips against his hand, searching for friction and that feeling that you had no clue about, but you knew it was something extraordinary. “Go-Go back.”
“Back where, baby?”
“Down. I—” Before you could finish, Elvis was sinking back down to his knees, pulling you close and burying himself between your thighs again. You were whimpering, sitting up slightly at the shock of his tongue against you. Your fingers were digging deep into the jungle of his hair, teeth clenching down on your lip to stop you from screaming out.
His tongue licked at you, the speed ferocious as he focused on your bundle of nerves above everything else. He knew exactly where to pleasure you, exactly what felt the best, and Lord were you grateful for it. Within seconds, you had your stomach clenching, your head thrown back and your legs shaking. A feeling of euphoria washed over you as Elvis worked his magic between your trembling thighs, and once you fell back, releasing your hand from his hair, Elvis knew his work was done. He climbed back over you, grinning from ear to ear as he placed a kiss to your cheek.
“How you doin’, baby?”
“Fantastic,” you breathed, opening your eyes, and the boy chuckled before you pulled him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on him, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t get enough of him.
“Woah, slow your roll there, mama. Not much else to do ’cept put a baby in ya.”
“At this point I ain’t even care.”
“Now who’s the crazy one?” he teased, and you smiled up at him as he sat beside you, your head coming to rest in his lap. Elvis reached down to fix your skirt and your blouse, his hand taking home on your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek while he looked down at you.
“Elvis?” you said, staring into his eyes. Now or never, Y/N.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
You gulped. “I love you.”
The look on his face didn’t change too much for a while, which had you nervous. It wasn’t until you saw a smile peek at the corner of his lips that you let out a breath of relief. “You love me?” he asked, and you nodded, letting out a smile of your own. “Well that’s good, baby. ’Cause I’m crazy about you.”
You blushed, grinning wildly now, unable to contain it from spreading across your face like a wildfire. “You are?”
“I been in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you, baby. You won’t even believe.”
The grin on your lips turned into a mischievous one, and you knew you had Elvis to blame for that. He wasn’t the greatest influence, but you loved it. “Well if I won’t believe, why don’t you make me?”
The look cast across Elvis’s face was more shock than anything, but it quickly transformed into a daunting expression, eyes excited and the smirk on his lips wicked. “You sure are trouble, ain’t you, little one?”
“You’re to blame for that.”
“Oh, am I?” He was sliding off the bed, fingers caressing down the tops of your thighs with him. “I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.”
“You know what?” you said, watching as he sank to his knees again, large hands moving to wrap around the backs of your knees. “Me neither.”
This is just my opinion but… I feel like no one is going to be able to play Elvis better than Austin! Austin did such an amazing job and I don’t think anyone will ever top his performance as the king!
Unforgettable | E!Austin Butler X Plus! Reader | Part 1
Warnings: some vague descriptions of plus sized body. Aside from that, just the beginnings of a wonderful story.
Word Count: 3.5K
A/N: I have enjoyed writing this so much--it's probably been my favorite fic I've written so far. This fic is not exclusive to only plus readers, however it was intended for that audience in mind. I received several fic requests for a plus! reader, but this story is specifically based on a request from @im-just-star-dust. You may interpret this fic as Elvis himself or as Austin's version. This fic will end up being several parts. I have written nearly 10K words already and it's just the beginning. Dig your claws in and stay awhile.
Where’s the manual for what to do when the most famous and most beautiful man in America walks into your bookstore like a neighborhood regular?
“Evelyn!” you shouted across the storefront, buried in stacks of new books that had just arrived off of the truck. At this pace, you would be in the position for several hours. So, considering how dead the book shop was, you decided to slip off your mary janes and walk around in your socks. “Evey! Gimme some help, will ya?” Loading several boxes on a single dolly, you decided to do the work yourself without her, sticking your tongue out of your mouth to concentrate. You wheeled the rickety dolly to the book stacks, heaving a sigh before getting down on your knees to place the books on the shelves.
“Stupid girl,” you sputtered to yourself. Too busy writing love letters to her darling, that’s what. Wish that was me. As you knelt, you kept pulling on your hose and stockings, just to make sure you were covering yourself modestly. You wanted to be like every other small, dainty girl who wore pretty little outfits and got away with showing a tad too much skin. You wore a sky blue cotton blouse with a peter pan collar. Delicate embroidered cherries adorned the fabric. It was one of your favorites, so you wore it often. You wore the top tucked into a navy blue wool skirt that just barely grazed your knee. It was a cute outfit, but the skirt fit you tighter than it should and your knee high socks kept rolling down your legs, reminding you that you were just a bit too large to fit the style of the time. You sighed and sat on the floor with your legs crossed, reaching for the boxes of books. You pulled each title up to the shelves one by one, meticulously organizing them label by label, author by author. You had left a small notebook tucked in one of the boxes so that you could keep track of inventory, writing down the serial number of each copy before putting it on the shelf. Only, when you checked, it wasn’t there. You looked into the boxes several times, hoping that it would appear upon second check, but you had no such luck. Looking up at the stacks, you saw that edge of the notebook hanging over the edge of a higher shelf. You reached a hand up to one of the shelves to pull yourself up from the floor, but it was a bad mistake. The entire shelf tilted precariously, falling with you. “Oh no!” you yelped, reaching for the gigantic shelf in a feeble attempt to right it.
“Woah, woah, woah!” a voice boomed, from the other side of the shelf, pulling it away from you so that it wouldn’t topple completely. To your dismay, all of the books on the shelves tumbled to the floor in mess.
“Mercy!” You spat, pulling your hands up to your face in frustration. “Ugh.” You bent to pick up the books and start again, loading them each back on the shelf. As you bent again, a hand reached down to the mess, picking up a pile of books. “Nancy Drew. Hmph,” You heard as you pulled more books into your arms. “How long you think they’ll keep writing these?”
“As long as they’ll fly off the shelves I reckon-” you responded before being choked to silence when you stood up straight to see who stood in front of you. “Elvis Presley.” You said, plainly, as if he were the embodiment of the Lord Messiah in front of you. You were shocked into speechlessness. If you hadn’t caught yourself, your internal dialogue would have slipped out of your mouth right there in front of him.
“Yes, Ma’am. How’d you know my name?” He said with a sly wink, bending down to pick up more of the books that had fallen. “I’m just kiddin,’ doll. What’s your name?” He gave you a kind smile as he placed the books on an empty shelf.
“I- I’m Y/n.” You said, still reeling at the fact that the most famous man in America and maybe even the world was standing directly in front of you.
“Hmm.” He said, biting his bottom lip, pondering over a thought. “Can I call you Cheeks? You’ve got big ole cheeks just like me. Real pretty.” Embarrassment raked through your body. It felt sinful to finally have a man comment on your appearance, let alone Elvis Presley. You nodded shyly, avoiding eye contact.
“Colonel don’t let me out often,” he said in an almost whisper. You watched as he poked his head around the end of the stacks, eyeing the entrance of the bookstore. “I came in when you had no customers.” You furrowed your eyebrows, still confused as to why this man was in the middle of a Memphis mom-and-pop bookstore. “Tired of hiding from everybody, you know?” He asked the question as if to get words of agreement, but in reality, you really didn’t know what it was like. You still nodded.
“Are you looking for something in particular, Mr. Presley?” You asked the question, finally finding enough courage to speak. He almost recoiled when you called him by his last name.
“Please! Just Elvis. I don’t even let my lawyers call me by my full name. And surely a pretty girl like you. You can call me Elvis.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, inserting it into his mouth. “Want a piece? It’s clove flavored. My favorite.” He stuck out the candy to you and you took it, thanking him. “So what do you say I help you pick up these books and get this all back in working order?” He said, smacking audibly on his gum.
“Oh, no. No, don’t worry about it. I can clean it up–”
Elvis reached out his hand and took your forearm in reassurance. “I want to. I’d like to feel useful. Something outside of the newspapers and radio.” He bent and picked up more books and you let him.
“It’s about to be lunch hour. It’s going to pick up.” You warned him in a soft tone.
“What if I asked you to close for the day? Maybe I could help out a bit, clean the place up? Dust off some shelves. Idk…look pretty?” You paused at the proposition.
“Uh, it’s not my place. This is my uncle Harold’s store.” You answered.
“Is he here, maybe in the back? I’ll be happy to speak with him.” You observed him, how his eyes lit up at the idea of working the most boring job known to man.
“No, he’s home for the day. Me and my little cousin are working today.”
“He got a telephone? I’d be happy to pay for a full day’s loss–even more.” He practically jumped out of his sports coat.
“There’s a phone in the back office,” You said, stepping out of the way of the books and onto the sales floor, letting him follow you from behind. “Are you sure you want to help out? I just sell books.”
“Well, Cheeks,” He said, trying out the nickname. “I love books. I don’t look the type, but like reading all kinds of books. And I need a break from the world. From the noise.”
Uncle Harold didn’t believe him at first, even when Elvis took the phone from you. “Hiya, sir. This is Elvis Presley…yes sir. Yes. Yes sir. Yes, that’s me. I got my social security card on me if you’d like to see it,” He chuckled, causing your insides to stir. You struggled to look at him. How in the hell was he more gorgeous in real life than on television or in the pictures? You cleared your throat as if he could hear suspect thoughts swimming in your head. “Yes, I’ll cover today two times over. Your niece,” he paused, forgetting your name, putting his hand over the phone.
“Y/n,” you reminded him with a smile.
“Y/n! She is lovely, sir. Seems like the type to put me to work.” He winked at you before focusing back on the call. “Come over for dinner?” You heard him say the words, and you immediately felt like you were going to vomit. “Well, I’d love to.” You leaned against your uncle’s desk as they continued to chatter on the phone. “Mississippi pot roast?” He said, raking his hands through his sleek pompadour, messing it with the tips of his fingers. “I’m a Mississippi Man myself. Mm–Yes sir. Yes sir. Six o’clock?” He looked at you while he spoke. “I’ll be there. Mmmhmm. Yes sir. See you then.” He hung the phone up on the wall.
“Looks like I’m having dinner at your place tonight,” he said, chewing on his gum, looking proud of himself.
“Looks like you are,” you said wide eyed, bewildered at what just happened.
“You said that your cousin works with you? Is she a ghost?” Elvis said, stepping out of the office, his hands tucked in his pockets. “No, she’s probably smoking by the back door.” You stepped out of the office and turned a sharp corner into a dark, wood paneled hallway that led to the back staff entrance of the bookstore. The back door, just as you suspected, was pulled ajar and you could see a ray of sunlight beaming through onto the linoleum floor. “Evelyn.” You said out loud. “Evelyn,” you said louder, jutting open the door.
“What on earth do you want?” She asked, turning and grabbing the door, swinging it open. She blew a puff of smoke in your face as she held a lit cigarette between two fingers. You fanned it away. “It’s not like we were busy.” In her other hand, she held the most recent volume of Confidential magazine with Elvis on the cover. You looked down at it, amused at the surreality of the moment. “He is so dreamy,” she said, taking another puff of her cigarette. “Not afraid to shake things up a bit. Little bit of a bad boy. Wonder how many woman he has to tear off of him on a daily basis.”
“Quite a lot, miss. But today, I’ve gotten a bit of a break.” Elvis finally spoke, stepping into the light.
You watched with a raised eyebrow as Evelyn dropped the magazine to the ground along with her cigarette. Her jaw went slack as the man from the cover materialized before her. “No. Way.” She said, splitting both words with a pause in the middle. “Elvis goddamn Presley,” she blurted, the obscenity carelessly falling from her mouth.
“Evey!” You scolded her.
“Okay, so uh. When were you going to tell me that you were hiding him?” She said, stomping out her cigarette and closing the heavy door, leaving the magazine forgotten on the concrete.
“I just walked in with my own free will if you’d imagine it,” Elvis said with a smirk. “Business wasn’t exactly boomin,’ anyhow.”
“Hold on a second, let me get this right,” Evelyn said, walking beside the two of you as you walked back into the store front. “You’re literally the most famous man on Earth right now and you choose this hell hole?”
“Evelyn, watch your mouth.” you warned, glaring at her.
“I’m sorry, I’m just shocked.” She said, throwing her hands up in front of her. “How am I supposed to react?”
“Well, Little miss Y/n took it pretty well, I think,” Elvis said, looking down at you with a grin. You didn’t usually like men to look at you. You knew what they were thinking most of the time. You were too chubby. Your curvaceous figure wasn’t attractive, and even when someone would show interest, they were never convicted enough to go steady with you. You liked the way Elvis looked at you, though. His demeanor was relaxed and charming, and he made an effort to look you directly in the eye when he spoke.
“I knocked over an entire bookshelf trying to get up from the floor. Elvis saved me from becoming a pancake,” You said, his name feeling slippery and insecure on your tongue. You felt his arm swing around your back, taking you by the shoulder and pulling you in. “Glad I could swoop in and save the day. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to Captain Marvel Junior.”
“Who?” Evelyn said, her face scrunched in confusion.
“You don’t know who he is?” You and Elvis both said in Tandem, looking back at one another before looking back at her.
“He’s my favorite superhero. Loved him growing up back in Tupelo.” Evelyn eyed Elvis with half suspicion and half admiration, unsure of what to say next. “Say, uh,” Elvis began, leaning against the nearest wall with his pointer finger resting under his nose in thought. “You girls know where I could get something to drink in here?” Two minutes later, you were back in the tiny back room behind uncle Harold’s office drinking cold bottles of Coca-cola.
“There ain’t much better than a fresh coke, I’ll tell you that,” Elvis said, tossing back the bottle for a large swig. He leaned against a tall filing cabinet.
You sat on the corner of the kitchenette counter, slightly more aware of your body now that there wasn’t much left in terms of introduction between Elvis and yourself.. You tugged at the hem of your skirt and tried your best to be subtle with your attempt to pull up the knee-highs that were constantly rolling down your calves. “I know where there’s something a bit more…interesting.” You offered with a flirtatious wink.
“Oh yeah?” Elvis responded with a wide smirk, his eyebrows raised with mischief. “And just what are you up to, Cheeks?”
“Cheeks?” Evelyn asked, her eyebrows knit together with confusion–or jealousy. She looked at you, her eyes wide with disbelief before looking back at Elvis.
“I know where uncle Harold keeps his booze,” You said with a wicked smirk.
“Are you old enough to be drinkin’?” Elvis asked, stepping forward off of the cabinet. “You’re just a pretty little thing.” You were 19, but appeared younger than you actually were.
“You gonna tell?” You fired back, challenging him. You were always a wallflower, but something about the man standing in front of you made you feel like you needed to prove that you deserved to be speaking to him. You wanted him to find you attractive and cool.
“You are a wild one, aren’t you? Maybe I should call you my little wild cherry,” he said, stepping towards you, pinching the fabric of your shirt, referring to the embroidered fruit. He stole the air from your lungs as he stepped close to you. Though you stood calmly, it took a moment for your brain to stop its internal panic. He let out a belly laugh. “Oh you’re so cute. Not used to the flattery, are you, Cheeks?” You averted eye contact with him, offering a modest smile. “Go fetch the stash for us!”
You walked out of the kitchenette, letting your body finally sag in a massive release of breath. What the hell is Elvis Presley doing in my bookstore? Chatting it up with me–flirting with me? You couldn’t help but argue with your internal dialogue as you fished through your uncle’s office drawers, finally finding a bottle of whiskey tucked behind a stack of undesirable bank statements. You pulled the bottle out and swished its contents back and forth, walking the bottle back into the kitchen. “Not much left,” you said, holding it out in front of you.
“That’s alright,” Elvis said, gesturing for you to hand it over. “I’ll buy him another.” He turned around and peered at the acrylic overhead cupboards. “You got any glasses?” He asked, opening up the doors to the cabinets, peering into them.
“Coffee cups,” Evelyn said with a shrug. Elvis looked back to her over his shoulder. “Well, it ain't the Taj Mahal, but it’ll do.” He pulled down three mismatched coffee cups, blowing puffs of air into each one, clearing out any settled dust. “Don’t tell your daddies I let you drink on the job.”
“I smoke. I drink. I’m one step away from a reprobate,” Evelyn said, grabbing a coffee cup, waiting for Elvis to pour her her share of liquor.
“Meanwhile your little cousin here,” He eyed you as he poured. “She’s an angel.”
“She’s two years older,” Evelyn corrected him, taking her cup to her mouth and taking a swig. You watched as her eyes twitched as the bitter-sweet alcohol went down.
“Are we gonna get any work done?” You asked, a bit uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Oh, work. That’s right,” Elvis said, handing you a coffee cup before tipping his back to his lips, looking at you from over the rim. You took a swig of the whiskey, trying your best to not make a face.
***
“Damn,” you said with your hands on your hips as you looked down at the mess of books still strewn out on the floor. Evelyn let out a big sigh.
“I’m not cleaning that up. Not even with Elvis Presley in the building.” She winked at Elvis, biting her lip.
“Go off and write totals in the ledger, then. It’s fine. I made the mess anyway.” You crouched to begin picking up the rest of the books from the floor, noticing that Elvis was still standing there. “Oh, you can go hang with Evey, I got it.” He watched you for a moment before crouching down with you. “Ah, but you know.” He said slowly, considering his next words. “I kinda like this mysterious girl. I wanted to learn a bit about her. Can’t really do that when I’m crunching numbers with her cousin, can I?”
You looked at him for an extended moment before clearing your throat and describing the organizational system. “Nancy Drew. Goes above the label “Na.” We’ve got nine copies in stock right now.” You handed Elvis the stack of books for him to order on the shelf. “Make sure the copies equal what’s on this,” You said, holding up the notebook from earlier.
“Yes, ma’am. Put me to work,” He responded.
You spent several minutes organizing the shelf back to its previous condition-perhaps even more tidy than before. You found out quickly that he knew how to make you genuinely laugh. It was a rarity that you found hilarity in your daily banter with others. Elvis, however, was extremely charismatic and authentic.
“Looks pretty damn good if you ask me,” He said, clapping his hands together, signaling work well done. You nodded your head.
“Tell me, Elvis. Need a job?” You asked with a wide grin, that only seemed to grow bigger when he threw his head back in a throaty wallop of a laugh.
“I’m destitute, Miss. Please, oh please hire me.” He said, throwing his hands up in a beggar’s fist.
You rolled your eyes playfully before checking off the inventory list in your notebook. “So uh, what do you say we close up shop.” Elvis said softly.
“Elvis, It’s only been like half an hour.” You replied, raising your eyebrows.
“And? What if I said I wanted to take you girls out on a joy ride. Maybe buy you a little thing or two. On me, of course.”
“I really shouldn’t. We told Uncle Harold that we’d still be worki-” Elvis brough his pointer finger to your lips.
“Shh.” You did as he asked. “You’re with Elvis Presley. It may be big headed of me, Cheeks. But I like you. And I don’t wanna waste the day twiddling thumbs in here, even if I was originally trying to get away from fans.”
“So you want to run from them with us?” You asked him, crossing your arms across your chest. “Mm, might be fun to have two pretty girls like yourselves around my arms while we walk downtown.” The thought of being paraded around town with fans flocking around you made you absolutely queasy.
“Oh, I- I don’t know,” you hesitated.
“Oh come on, Y/n. He took your hand, sending bolts of electricity through your consciousness. “Take a chance. For me.” He willed you to look up at him, his cerulean eyes flooding your mind body and soul, daring you to say no to the man in front of you.
“Okay.” You decided.
“Okay?” He repeated, his eyes lighting up immediately.
You nodded with a smile. “Yes.”
“Ha!” He patted you enthusiastically on the back. “I knew it. There’s a spark inside of you, Y/n. I can hear it buzzin.’” He shook his finger in the air, emulating electricity. “We just gotta get it out of you.”
End of Part 1.
If you would like to be added to my taglist, please fill out this form!
Ok, so this my first time requesting. But, in honor of Elvis’s Birthday could you write something where Elvis and reader spend a day together and just do fun stuff (like go to club handy) for his birthday. Just fluff pls.❤️❤️❤️thanks!
King For A Day
Masterlist
Pairings: Elvis x Reader and/or Austin!Elvis x reader
Word Count: 769
Warnings: so much fluff it makes you wanna cry
A/N: Thank you for the request Anon! Sorry, it's a bit late I was editing the other stories I had planned so I just got to this one today. I hope you enjoy it! (Also, Austin is lookin' hella fine at the golden globes. Just wanted to make sure the girlies were aware.)
◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──
You had been awake for the last hour and a half trying to get Elvis' birthday breakfast ready. He usually slept in so that allowed you a couple more hours to bang around in the kitchen while he rested soundly.
You had prepared quite the assortment of bacon, sausages, pancakes, cut fruits, cheeses, and of course his toast with peanut butter and bananas; although you hoped he would eat all of the other things you had prepared.
Just as you finished setting up the table and cleaning the last of the dishes unbeknownst to you, Elvis had already woken up and had been standing by the steps watching you.
You had music playing softly from the record player and you hummed along while you washed the dishes. The sight alone was enough of a birthday present for him, never mind all of the festivities you had planned for him that day. Elvis grew tired of just watching you so he crept up behind you and slipped his hands around your waist. Although the touch startled you initially, you could recognize his large warm hands anywhere.
"Good morning honey. Did you sleep well?" You leaned back into his chest as you spoke putting your full weight against him.
"I'm doin' good baby. This is a wonderful sight to wake up to." He tightened his arms around you and leaned his head into your neck. He was still sleepy and his mannerisms were so endearing to you. You rest your hand over his palm as you speak, "I made some breakfast! Do you want to eat before the gang gets here, or do you want to wait?"
Elvis liked being around other people but right now he just wanted to be able to spend a slow and lazy morning with you.
"I'll eat before they get here I want ya all to maself." He puffed a breath into your neck when he finished and your answering giggle made him tighten his arms around you.
" I think I'll wait to see 'em until we get to Club Handy I want as much time alone wit ya as possible." Although his words sounded like they meant something else you knew they meant he wanted cuddles and kisses from you.
You kissed his cheek "Of course, honey, come on the food getting cold." You threaded his fingers through yours and led him to the table where you sat down next to each with hands still intertwined.
You fed him pancakes with 'Happy Birthday!' written in chocolate chips while he spooned cut strawberries and apples into your mouth. You kept your head leaned against his neck and sang his praises; telling him how much you loved him, how lucky you were to have him, and how handsome he was. He ate it all up and gave you grateful kisses and hugs in between each declaration.
You both cleaned up the kitchen before making your way upstairs to your bedroom where you proceeded to lay in each others arms until well into the afternoon.
Elvis' arms were wrapped around your waist and his head tucked into your collarbone. He let his hands rub circles into your side while you raked your fingers through his silky locks and kissed his forehead.
Eventually, when the clock struck 8, you both needed to get up and start getting ready to go to Club Handy for his actual birthday celebration. You both had matching outfits picked out. He was in a dark brown suit with no shirt under and you donned a brown dress accessorized with jewelry he had gotten you.
He kissed you as you applied your makeup and you did the same to him while he buttoned his suit jacket. The drive there was uneventful save for the fact that he had his hands intertwined with yours at any given time. He rubbed your knuckles and pressed his fingers into your palm.
You both stepped out of the car outside the back entrance to the club and made your way in.
The whole night was spent with drinks passed around, rambunctious laughter echoing off the walls then mingling with the sounds of the jazz playing in the background, and Elvis' arms wrapped securely around you. He brought you everywhere with him. Whether he was talking to friends or just standing alone. You always occupied the space directly in front of him and his arms never left you.
You were both content with that; and although you sang him happy birthday the softest, he heard you louder than everybody else. He felt so powerful at that moment. He felt like he had been crowned king for a day.
◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆─
Done! I was listening to the Actors Round Table video with Austin while writing this and can someone explain to me how tf his voice is so attractive. Seeing all these hot people everywhere just reminds me how painfully single I am. 😭
Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader (can be Austin!Elvis if you prefer)
Word Count: 651 words
Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of child birth, Language (let me know if I miss anything)
- - -
Chapter 4
December 24, 1967
Back in your private suite, you finally rested while Elvis held baby Mallory. It was safe to say he was wrapped around her pretty little finger just like he was with you.
“Hey little darlin’ god you look your mama’s twin,” Elvis said to her softly, “you know princess, no one is ever gonna hurt in this world I promise you that. You and your mama are my girls and I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you two.”
Elvis looked over at you fast asleep in bed and then back at her. In his mind, you and Mallory were both sent from heaven and her birth date confirmed it for him. Christmas Eve. The most wonderful time of the year just got a little more wonderful.
It was around 4AM when you were awaken by Mallory’s crying. Elvis handed her over you and you fed her for the very first time. You were already a pro at everything involving baby Mallory. After you fed and burped her, you couldn’t help but to tear up when you looked into her little baby blue eyes
“Elvis, I just wanna say thank you”
“(Y/N) why are you thanking me. I need to thank you. For giving birth to our daughter. For never giving up on me. For loving me.”
And he was right. You never gave up on him; the proof of that was in your arms fast asleep. Elvis kissed her little head and then kissed you. In that moment you knew that you had made the all the right choices in your life to lead you to hear.
With Elvis. With Mallory.
Of course, Elvis called Vernon first to tell him the news of Mallory’s birth. Then Jerry, Red & Sonny West, the rest of the Memphis Mafia and eventually the Colonel. You were still on cloud nine along with Elvis. Mallory wasn’t even a whole day old yet she has already made an impact on your lives.
December 25, 1967
It was Christmas Day. You and baby Mallory finally got to go home. It was perfect. Elvis drove home so slowly compared to only two days before driving like a maniac. When you got home, everyone was there waiting on you. Elvis hurried up and opened your door with a big smile and proclaimed, “Everyone meet the newest Presley. Little miss Mallory Love Presley!”
You blushed and he took the chance to kiss you right on the mouth. Mallory was sound asleep so she had not a clue to the commotion. You finally got inside and that’s when you realized something: Mallory was gonna be spoiled rotten. She already had gifts around the tree. Her little stocking was already full now, probably thanks to Jerry, her godfather.
“Merry Christmas baby,” Elvis said in his true southern gentleman voice. Elvis took Mallory while you sat down on the couch trying to get comfortable. Sure you were still in some pain, but you didn’t care. You loved Christmas almost as much as you loved Elvis and you wanted it to be as normal as possible.
Of course Elvis had the home cameras going. It was magical, the lights on the tree twinkled. Laughter and smiles all filled Graceland. The Memphis Mafia got their turns in holding Mallory, the newest heir to the Presley family. Everyone said the same thing: she was your twin.
After everyone left, it was the three of you. Elvis shut the door and then scooped up Mallory from your arms into his. “How was that for your first Christmas baby girl?,” he cooed to her, sleeping away.
“I think she loved it babe,” you replied back to him,” thank you for everything E.P. I love you.”
“Anything for you, darlin” Elvis replied back. The two of you spent the rest of Christmas sleeping and taking care of Mallory. All was calm, all was bright.
Summary: A story based in the late 60s, Austin who works for a famous man, sees a girl in need of help, to which he comes to her aid.
Warnings: fluff, angst (?), age gap, smut is mentioned, cigarettes, smoking, hippies, and cursing.
Tags: none.
Note: This story is shit, but I had to get sumn out this week. If Tumblr deletes paragraphs. I’m gonna lose it.
MASTERLIST
—
Opening the door to the house, the tall figure had his hand in his pocket. With his black hair greased back into a pomade, clean shaven face, he seemed ready for another day. As he entered the house, he was greeted with his boss. “There you are, Austin!” Hearing a boastful voice. He meekly looked to where the voice was coming from. “You know them hippies was here last night, smokin’ pot down the damn street or sum’n like that.”
His boss, Colt. He was a nice guy. Tall, with tanned skin but blonde hair that was slicked back. Colt Turner was a famous guy. Real famous, and well, Austin worked for him. Always.
Colt had found Austin one day down the street, and thought that he was suited for some work. Austin at the time who was homeless, had figured it was a good idea. So he took the deal. What was the deal? If Austin could drive Colt around, take him to where he needed to be, make coffees for him and etc. then Austin would be payed.
Austin was allowed to drive Colt’s car anytime he wanted to. Colt didn’t mind, in fact, he actually encouraged his friend to do it. Austin was the only person allowed to touch Colt’s beautiful and well maintained car. Anyone else who touched it without Colt’s or Austin’s permission, Austin was pretty much obligated to punch them.
Colt met Austin when he was in his late teenage years, and now Austin was reaching his late twenties, while Colt was reaching his forties. In spite of having to work for Colt for such a long time. Austin trusted Colt with his life, and it was the same for Colt. They both would probably risk their lives for each other.
“Should’a been here, I would’a gotten you to take care of em.” Colt said, when he took out a cigarette case from his pocket. Popped it into his mouth like usual and struck it lit with a lighter. Austin smirked, shaking his head, as he walked towards his friend. He approached the kitchen to where Colt was standing, seeing him holding a glass root beer bottle. He grabbed a bottle opener, snapping the cap off with ease then handing it to Austin.
“What’d you do?” Austin dipped his head in thanks when he took the bottle. “How’d you scare em off?”
“I didn’t. I’m too scared.” Colt smirked, shaking his head. Taking a drag from his cigarette, “You’re tougher than me Aus.”
“I’m a stick.”
“You ain’t a stick. You work out, I see you work out, you fix my roof n’ everything. You ain’t weak.” Colt was baffled by how Austin was underestimating himself. To which Austin shrugged, taking a swig at the root beer before walking back to the door of the house, Colt following right behind him.
Austin grabbed the keys to Colt’s car, which was a 1969 Dodge Charger. He walked over to the drivers side of the car, unlocking the door then pressed the button that allowed the passenger side to open. Colt swung the door open and they both sat down in their places. With the car roaring to life, he took the shifter in his hand and put it into reverse, Austin looked over his shoulder. Stomping on the gas, the car shot backwards, break, spun forward, shift into drive.
Colt’s back slammed against the car seat, he gagged from his cigarette almost going down his throat. “Holy shit Austin-“ he coughed out, looking at his buddy, “-you could at least fuckin warn me dude!”
“My bad.” Austin chuckled slyly, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. With his other hand on his side, eyes narrowed to focus on the road in front of him. Colt chuckled, leaning back as he shook his head. Both windows rolled down so when Colt could smoke, it wouldn’t fill the car up.
“Oh yeah Aus,” Colt looked over at his friend, and in response Austin glanced at him, “I bought a supercharger kit for the lady, I was wonderin’ if you could drop by home n’ make sure it’s arrived safely. Also a new camshaft.”
“Sure.” He shrugged, not minding a thing.
Austin pulled up to the building to where Colt worked. Popping the door open, Colt took one smooth motion to walk out. Leaning down to look at Austin through the open window, he held onto the door. “Oi take good care of her.”
“I treat lady better than I do my own.” Austin assured, and Colt smiled, patting the top of the door before pulling away to walk into the building. Austin raised a brow as he watched Colt. “Aye Colt!”
“Yeh?” Swiftly turning around to face him.
“Do you need more for the rest of the day?”
“No, do whatever you want. Good luck to ya.” Colt smiled, winking at Austin before he turned his back on him. Walking towards the door of the building and opened it to disappear inside.
Austin sniffled, rubbing his nose for a moment to process what he was going to do. “Well shoot alright.” He giggled like a school boy, starting the car back up. Slowly prowling back into traffic. He leaned over to the dash, deciding to blast the radio.
—
Austin had stopped by at a stop light, he looked through the windshield and could see a girl who was standing on the sidewalk with her thumb up. She was alone, and looked in need for a ride. He stared at her quietly, intrigued.
She was pretty, he couldn’t lie. But, she looked young, real young. He was curious, why was a young girl like her out on her own. Shouldn’t she have been in school? Where it looked like she belonged. Unless Austin was just assuming wrong, it didn’t answer the question why she was out in the street.
Well, this was the 60s, the late 60s, and many young people were homeless cause they chose to be. Hippies… hippies and sex. In spite of her being a hippie, and the stigma behind them. Austin couldn’t help but worry over her. He saw her at that spot every damn day, and he wondered if any men would take advantage her.
Austin could see the girl look over at him, instantly, a beaming smile flashed on her face. She waved at him, and he tilted his head towards her, waving. She pointed to herself, then down the street, the opposite direction where Austin was headed.
‘Wanna give me a ride?’
Austin shook his head, then pointed forward. ‘I can’t, heading that way.’ After that, he shrugged in sorry.
She pouted at him, expressing her sadness. Then mouthed the words, ‘how about next time?’
Austin glanced at the light, seeing how it was still red. Looking back at her, he gave a nod. Mouthing back to her, ‘when I got time for you.’ It was a firm nod, he knew he had to keep his word to her. She smiled, jumping up in joy. She had successfully read his lips, and just as the light shot green. The Charger prowled forward. He waved bye to her as he drove past, and she returned the wave.
Austin had rolled up to Colt’s driveway. Right as he rolled up, he spotted two boxes stacked that was just sitting in the middle of the driveway beside his own stink bug of a car. Austin raised a brow up, as he parked the Charger beside his own car. Popping the door open, shutting it, then locking it. He walked towards the box quietly with his hands in his back pockets. He could feel a few strands of his own hair loosen up in front of his face.
“Well shoot.” He looked down at the two boxes stacked on top of each other, seeing the name COLT TURNER. Leaning down, his arms wrapped around the box. It was a supercharger, and it was going to be the heaviest pile of dung heap in the world. So with as much strength as he could form, he swiftly picked it up. Stumbling a bit as he walked towards the door of Colt’s house. “Holy fuck.” He breathed, trembling from how heavy it was. He was practically holding a whole engine.
—
When Austin went to go pick up Colt from work. He could see the girl in the same spot, this time with what looked to be her friend. Who also looked way too young for her own good. Austin watched them both as they held out their thumbs, sitting on the bus bench.
The girl had turned around, seeing the similar black 1969 Dodge Charger, and when she peered inside. She could see the same man who looked like Elvis’ doppelgänger. As she looked at him, he looked back at her with a blank expression, a smirk slowly peering on his lips. “That’s the guy I was talking about Lila!” She exclaimed, nudging at her friend who looked off her rocker. The girl pointed to the doppelgänger, waving at him.
He smiled, waved back at her. She pointed to herself, with raised brows. He shook his head, pointing down the street. She flailed her arms, annoyed he had no time for her. He was a handsome man, and she wanted to see if she could get her way with him. He looked kindhearted too, looked like he was a good listener. Which was why she wanted to befriend him so badly. Maybe yap away if she could.
But to her dismay, he had shaken his head no. Then mouthed the words. ‘When I got time for you.’ Like always, every day. But she couldn’t lie, for a man as handsome as him, she’d wait willingly. He dipped his head, waving goodbye to her as he drove off, she jumped up and down, waving bye at him.
When Austin had went to go pick up Colt. He could see him holding a can of beer, and Austin knew he’d probably have to deal with an emotional Colt, cause when Colt drank, he was emotional. Meaning something at work as well went wrong. “Hey there Aus,” he greeted as he opened the door, sitting down in the passenger side.
“Hey Colt.” He smiled, seeing Colt take a drink from his beer can. “Bad day at work?” Looking over his shoulder to drive back in the street, when he didn’t hear an answer, his head turn to glance at Colt. “What? Samantha reject you again or somethin’?”
“Samantha is as crude as a woman gets Aus!” Colt complained. “Damn well threw her coffee at me and I needed a new suit and everythin’ man!”
“Why she throw her coffee at you?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know Aus sum’n ‘bout the damn editors, and that ain’t even in my department either! Sure I produce but fuck me, I don’t focus on the editors! She does! God dammit Aus, she’s a strange woman. I don’t even know why they hired her.” He wiped the sweat off his brow. Austin glanced at Colt, he wore a brown leather jacket, black shirt with some white slacks. “Fuckin’ hate producing movies with her!”
“Yeah I bet Colt… I bet… wanna watch The Good, The Bad, The Ugly back at home? Bet that’ll cheer you up.” He suggested, a cunning smile on his face.
“Good idea… I should’a thought of that.” Colt inhaled, nodding his head repeatedly. “I knew I could trust you!” Punching at Austin’s shoulder, he was laughing, happy that his best friend could always cheer him up.
—
The next day it was the same routine. Austin had dropped Colt off. And he told him. “Do whatever you want for the rest of the day. I don’t need ya. I’ll take Lady down by the shop to get that supercharger installed. So just explore ‘round, pick me up at nine.”
“Sure thing.” And Austin watched Colt walk off into the building. He said nothing but start the car back up, knowing damn well that if he ran into that hippie again, he’d have to give her a ride. Considering he would repeatedly promise to give her a ride.
And he did. He ran into her again, and she was sitting on that same bench. She waved at him once she spotted him, he waved at her. She pointed to herself, raised brows. He gave a nod, confirming he could give her some of his time. He could hear her squeal dancing around, wiggling her hips like there was no tomorrow. Kickin the sand around as she danced, the light green, he pulled over in front her.
She saw him stop the car in front of her. “Hey there.” She heard the casual greeting, as she had leaned down to look at him. She couldn’t help but smile at him, now up close he seemed more handsome.
“Hi,” she bit her lower lip nervously, twitching endlessly, “I see you finally made time for me!”
“Yeah, my boss says I can screw ‘round today before takin’ Lady down to the shop tomorrow.” He informed.
“Well… can I come in?”
He gave a nod. She swung the door open, plopping down in the passenger seat. She leaned up close to him instantly, he sat in the drivers seat, relaxed as her face was inches away from his. “Where you headed off to?” He asked her.
“Creek side.” She gave the simple answer.
“Oh.”
“It’s just down—“
“I know where it is.” He cut her off. She looked at him, surprised. But that smile remained on her face, and he smirked at her. “I’ll take you there no problem.” Merging back into traffic, sighing. “So,” he started as he glanced at her, “whad’ya do? Just hitch round all up in here all day? And you ask someone to take you to Creek side when you’re done?” He asked, genuinely curious.
“Well yeah, aw c’mon, tourists love me!” She laughed innocently at him. “They talk about me y’know? Tell people about that one pretty girl who made their ride the best experience they ever got! And an even better experience at Creek side.” She proclaimed confidently. Austin said nothing after that statement, simply shrugged and nodded along. Whatever you say. He thought to himself.
After a few miles of pure comfortable silence Austin had merged into the freeway. The girl had been staring the doppelgänger down intently, hadn’t yet learned his name yet. She could see how he had a clean shaven face, greased back black hair, one hand on the steering wheel of the car. He was bobbing his head to the radio, enjoying the sweet tunes that were playing. He wore a simple white shirt, jeans, with a belt and some cowboy boots.
Wanting to make conversation with him. “You remind me of Elvis.” She suddenly said.
Austin glanced at her. “The pomade?” He chuckled, quirking up a brow.
She gave a nod before leaning closer to him. “Only problem is,” she began, “is that your pomade unlike Elvis is messy.” Grabbing the loose hairs that was in his face, she slicked it back, then grabbed his face to force him to look at her.
His face was turned towards hers, but his eyes remained on the road. A small smile on her face as she let go so he could be fully focused on the road. She kept watching him drive. “Want me to suck your cock?”
He looked at her, raised brows at the sudden question. Licking his lips for a moment due to his amusement and not knowing how to react, he brought his hand to his mouth. His fingers rubbing his jawline, trying to hide his smile. She was bold, very bold. When he gave her another glance, her eager face distorted into a worried face, as if she was afraid that he’d reject her. “How old are you?”
“What?” She seemed offended by the question. “There’s no way you just asked me that.”
“How old are you?” Followed with a low chuckle. She could tell that he was serious. He shook his head, which caused her to believe he had already known.
“Wow man,” she thought about it for a moment. He was the first one to have ever asked her that in a long time. After maybe a hundred tourists it felt like, she was finally asked that. Shaking her head, “been a long time since someone asked me that.” She still didn’t answer his question.
He didn’t say anything but shake his head, amused by how she was avoiding his question. Glancing at her, he could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. As she watched him in those three seconds of silence, she had already went to the assumption that he was a good man. “Well,” deciding to press on, “I’m eighteen. There. Now can we get the show started?”
He revealed amused smile. Looking back at her with a face that showed he didn’t believe her for shit. “You got a drivers license? I need’a see sum’n that says you’re eighteen. Sure I’m givin’ you a ride but not that type of ride.”
She rolled her eyes, sitting back in the chair. “You’re obviously the fun one at parties huh?” She mocked, and he nodded his head. She kept looking at him, and now knowing that he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. She comfortably shifted in her spot, laying her head down on his lap.
He moved his hand out the way to let her, glancing down at her as she stared up at him in awe. “Why don’t you just do me? I mean, I’m sure Elvis would.”
“Because ma’am,” rolling his eyes, “if I’m ever gonna go to jail it ain’t because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants for some chic who keeps lying to me ‘bout her age so she gets in bed with me.” He said with a scoff. “And I ain’t Elvis.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I ain’t him, but I also ain’t like those stupid sons of bitches who take advantage of folk like you.”
“Folk like me? What? Hippies?” She wanted to clarify how he saw her, how he viewed people like her.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “you guys just got different beliefs. I ain’t gonna take that to my advantage. Most of you are young’uns.”
“You talk like you’re old.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“No you’re not.” She called his bluff. “You look like you’re some nineteen year old.” He scoffed but took it as a compliment. Reaching into his pocket to get out his wallet. He handed it to her, so she could take out his ID to look at it. She said nothing but take it, grabbing out his ID. She looked at the photo. He had a sultry look. With his lips slightly parted, dazed siren eyes. She kept looking at it, reading the information. “Name… Austin Butler, height is six-one, age is twenty-eight, sex is male… eye color gray…” she looked at his face to confirm that he had gray eyes. Which he did. Not only was he Elvis’ doppelgänger, but he even had the rarest eye color. Then looked back at the card, “…and Elvis’ doppelgänger.” She added. “Y’know, Austin Butler is a pretty badass name.”
“Badass?”
“Rolls right off the tongue.” She giggled childishly, kicking up her legs out of the car. “Austin Butler.” She repeated, still staring at his ID photo.
—
Pulling into the dirt lot of Creek side. He sat in the car for a moment, looking at the ranch site. He could see a few little sheds of the ranch that seemed occupied. Creek side was huge, it was like a little town actually in the eyes of Austin.
He looked at his surroundings, there were horses, cowboys, dogs walking around with old abandoned rusty cars, and of course, hippies as well. As he looked around with his eyes, he could see at least four of them were pregnant. Well, sex does make babies.
“Austin!”
His head shot towards the girl. “Hm?”
“C’mon.” She walked out the car. “I wanna introduce you to my friends!” She said eagerly. He sighed, hopping out the car and locking it like usual. He made his way towards the girl, and she reached out her hand. He took it, their fingers intertwining. She quickly walked forward, but he leaned back, slowing down her pace. Which had caused her to practically drag him behind her.
She was looking at her surroundings. So was he. And she saw at least only maybe 10-16 people there, when usually there was way more. “I wonder where everybody is.” She looked around, standing beside Austin, her hand still clutching his. “I mean, everyone is asking about this doppelgänger I keep talking about y’know.” As she kept walking around, she made her way towards another part of the ranch, a small little shop. Where a girl was walking towards her. And this girl looked to be a high schooler as well. “Hello!!” She called to them.
“Hey Connie!” The girl had ran towards them.
Connie let go of his hand, seeing that the girl wanted to embrace him, “Hey Angel.” They both exchanged a hug with a quick kiss. Austin slipped his hands into his pockets, watching them both quietly. “This is my friend Austin,” she looked up at Austin then at Angel. “The doppelgänger I keep tellin you guys about.”
“He does look like Elvis.” Angel looked at him up and down. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yes.” Austin chuckled, his eyes looking at Connie then away from her.
