Reblogged hattoririma
YOU!! YES, YOU!! GO WRITE THAT FANFIC YOU THINK NOBODY BUT YOU WILL READ!!
There's Always Me Chapter 10
Word count: 15.676
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language,Smut, Death,
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
NBC Studios June 17th, 1968
The atmosphere in the studio was thick with palpable tension as Steve Binder leaned in, trying his hardest to persuade Tom Parker. "Listen, Parker. It's a genius idea! Just imagine we get Elvis rehearsing with his friends, that authenticity will resonate with the audience."
Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes as he strode down the dimly lit hall toward the lobby, his footsteps echoing off the walls. "That would be ridiculous. No one wants to see that!" he shot back, his voice edged with frustration.
"It suits Elvis perfectly! It's not exactly traditional," Binder countered, his enthusiasm unwavering.
"Traditional is what Singer Sewing Machine wants," Tom insisted, his expression tight with disapproval.
Cecelia, an elegant figure holding her set of keys, approached the receptionist's desk. Tom’s skin crawled at the sound of her voice, a mix of recognition and irritation. When she finally glanced his way, her eyes rolled in annoyance.
"Ms. Valmos..." Tom began, but Cecelia cut him off.
"It's Mrs. Presley to you, Parker," she said through clenched teeth, the tension between them sizzling like static electricity. "If they want traditional, they've got the wrong guy." A self-assured shrug accompanied her words as Binder handed her the schedule for the day.
"Thanks, B," she said, scanning the call sheet. Meanwhile, Tom felt his frustration boil over; he was giving off an aura of simmering rage, like a pot about to overflow.
"No... No... No..." Tom muttered, eyes darting between the two of them. "You can't be here for rehearsals! You’ll distract my boy!"
"Actually, she has to be here," Binder smirked his confidence a stark contrast to Tom's agitation.
"She’ll be a distraction to Elvis, I swear!" Tom argued, desperation lacing his voice.
Before he could finish, Midge, the new producer, poked her head out of the office, eyes wide. "Hey, uh, Presley wants to speak to the directors," she said, her tone brisk.
Tom’s heart sank. "Tell him we’re coming," Cecelia replied, a sly smile creeping onto her face. Her white boots clicked rhythmically on the polished studio floors, matching the swift steps of Binder's Chelsea boots.
"So... who’s that?" Midge asked, her curiosity piqued as she observed the dynamic unfolding.
“Binder, Michaels, Michaels, Binder,” Cecelia introduced them with a practiced ease, her voice warm and engaging. "Midge will be our producer for the time being," she added brightly.
"Ever produced anything, kid?" Tom asked skepticism etched on his features.
"Music? A few contracts and budgets?” Midge shrugged, not backing down from the challenge.
"Works for me," Cecelia replied, her eyes sparkling with ambition as she braced herself for the project ahead, while Tom continued to stew in his uncertainty.
Walking into the rehearsal room, Midge could instantly see the problem. The team had been falling apart even more because the dream was a compromise. She could tell just how tense everyone looked. The dancers were confused, and there were Elvis elves in a corner. It felt like one big shit show of a hot mess.
"Hey, uh...Cil..." Midge whispered urgently, a hint of concern in her voice, "You've got a tough one on your hands..."
"I can handle it," Cecelia replied, her tone steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of uncertainty.
"Can you…?"
There's Always Me Chapter 9
Word count: 5.836
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language,
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Taglist:
@dreamondina94
Graceland 1967
"YOU'RE RARELY HERE!" Cecelia shouted, frustration evident in her voice as it echoed through the dimly lit living room. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth, sparkled with a mix of anger and disappointment. "You don't even know how things work anymore with the kids!"
Elvis stood frozen, caught off guard by her sudden emotional outburst. Just an hour ago, laughter had filled the air, and joy filled his heart as he had embraced his wife and children. Now, it felt as though a battle had erupted in the very space that should have been filled with love.
"Aw hell, Cece," he sighed, his shoulders slumping in despair. "I give the kids gifts, and suddenly I'm a bad father!" The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, as though he knew he had stirred the pot further.
Cecelia stepped closer, her expression shifting from rage to a painful humor. "They don't need a gift-giving, money-toting daddy. They need their father!" Her voice softened momentarily, but the sorrow behind her words sliced through the tension. She felt the strain of countless sleepless nights, spent yearning for the man she married while he chased fame under the bright California sun, leaving her alone in Memphis with the children and the weight of her worries.
"But what would you know?" She continued, her voice rising again, bitterness creeping back in. "You're probably out there with some young little thing, forgetting you have responsibilities here!"
"You keep it up, and you'll lose me like your mama lost your pa—" he warned, but before he could finish, the bedroom door slammed shut between them, leaving him standing in the hallway, bewildered and hurt. He shook his head, bewildered by how quickly their world had spiraled into conflict, and his heart ached at the thought of Cecelia crying behind that closed door. He realized he needed to mend this rift before it widened any further.
"What would your mama say if she heard us fighting like this, huh!" Cecelia's voice came through the thick wood of the door, her back pressing against it as if she could hold the entire world at bay with her despair. The emotional storm brewing within her resonated in every word, and Elvis knew he had to find a way to reach her, to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them.
Elvis cleared his throat as he did one of his funny voices, "She'd say Boobie! That's the one good woman you got. Either get yourself together, or you'll lose her." Elvis chuckled, as did Cecelia, leaning against the door as he fell into her lap. Blue eyes looking at cloudy hazel eyes, "You know I love you, right..." Cecelia asked,
"If you didn't, you wouldn't pitch such a fight to keep me in check." his hand on her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her, "I'm sorry if I made you feel all alone,"
"I'm sorry if I made you feel like I nag you." Taking his hand, Cecelia pressed a soft kiss into his palm. Elvis then got up and carried her to the bed,
"We haven't had any mama and papa time. Since I've been back. I think we're long over,"
CRASH!
"JESSE BROKE IT!" Elaine's voice echoed through the hallway, her eyes wide with indignation.
"DID NOT!" Jesse shot back defensively, crossing his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. The playful tension between the siblings was palpable.
Reblogged starry-river-serval
Out of Touch
Out of Touch Thursday
copywriteddad
OUT OF TOUCH THURSDAY
but im out of my head when you’re not around…
There's Always Me Chapter 8
Word count: 14.247
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language, smut (loads of it)
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
West Germany 1959
As Elvis sat at the long, worn table in the bustling mess hall, he absentmindedly shoved another bite of food into his mouth, the savory flavors mingling with the hum of conversation around him. Charlie leaned closer, a curious smile crossing his face, and asked, “So... Who're you gonna take to the ball, Presley?”
Elvis paused, glancing up from his plate with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Don't know," he replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. He shrugged his shoulders, the weight of indecision hanging heavy on him. "I'd take my girl if I could..." His voice trailed off into a sigh, the wistfulness in his tone unmistakable.
As he spoke, the radio in the corner crackled with soft melodies, playing a series of love songs that tugged at his heartstrings. The crooning voices filled the space around him, but instead of bringing him joy, they only served to amplify the loneliness he felt. He couldn't shake the growing annoyance; the love-sick tunes were starting to drive him nuts. All around him, laughter and chatter blended, but inside, he was lost in a swirl of what could have been if he hadn't left.
"Well, you only have an hour to figure it out," Charlie said with a smirk, looking at Elvis, who was rolling his eyes in response. Charlie continued, "You know, it might take me a few girls to find the right one." He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Elvis, however, shook his head firmly, his expression serious. "You don't need to date several people when you can recognize the one who's truly perfect for you. It's all about knowing when you've found something special."
"Did you find something special?"
Elvis took out his wallet as it had a photo of his Cecelia, "Better," He said, "Now I got a ball to get ready for." He sighed as Charlie nodded.
The grand ballroom was a spectacle of vibrant colors and festive decorations, adorned with cascading streamers that fluttered gently from the ceiling, swaying softly in rhythm with the music. Tables were laden with an enticing array of food—sumptuous pastries, savory hors d'oeuvres, and an overflowing punch bowl that glimmered under the lights, inviting guests to indulge. The atmosphere was alive with laughter and the clinking of glasses, as soldiers mingled with stunning frauleins, their elegant gowns making them the center of attention. Some of these young women bore uncanny resemblances to the sweethearts the soldiers had left back home, leaving everyone to ponder whether they had come seeking a semblance of familiarity or adventure.
In a dimly lit corner of the ballroom, Elvis Presley watched the scene unfold, a plate of food in one hand and a glass of punch in the other. He stood in his crisp formal uniform, the fabric hugging his frame, accentuating the confident posture he carried. His iconic pompadour was slicked back with meticulous care, each strand in place, but despite the lively atmosphere, an emptiness lingered within him. He had shared a dance with nearly every beautiful woman who had graced the evening, each interaction brief yet exhilarating, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the one woman who held his heart back in Memphis.
"Private Presley, have you met Nancy?" called out a fellow soldier, breaking his reverie.
Elvis turned to see a striking young woman standing beside the soldier, her laughter echoing like music. He stepped forward with a warm smile, taking her hand and gently pressing his lips to it in a charming gesture. "Nice to meet ya, Nancy," he said, hoping that the moment might distract him from the ache of longing nested deep inside him. Just as he engaged in conversation, he couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how enchanting the night was, something vital was absent—a piece of him that remained back home.
"Pleasures all mine." The young woman blushed, "I'll go get us some punch." Standing in front of Elvis was a cadet who he'd talk to now and then when he refused to sleep due to his reoccurring nightmares.
"Say, what's a guy like you doing alone? I mean, you're Elvis Presley."
"That may be true, kid." He laughed, "But, uh, got a girl back home who I promised to be true to."
"What's she like?"
"Well, she's a..."
" A what..."
The gilded doors swung open with a crisp creak, revealing a lavish ballroom bathed in shimmering light. Crystal chandeliers hung like ethereal stars from the ceiling, their brilliance enhancing the glimmer of a sapphire necklace that draped elegantly around her neck. A line of soldiers, their uniforms impeccably pressed, stood at attention, captivated by the vision before them.
Clad in a dark pink strapless mermaid gown, the fabric embraced every curve of her figure as if it were sculpted just for her. This woman exuded an aura reminiscent of a silver screen diva—an actress, a singer, and a guitarist, but above all, she was a captivating presence that demanded attention.
"Ms. Valmos, you look absolutely stunning," one admirer uttered, taking her gloved hand and pressing his lips gently against it. The delicate kiss caused a rosy flush to bloom on Cecelia’s cheeks.
"I'm afraid not. I was just in Italy earlier for a concert," she replied, her voice warm yet tinged with regret as she reached for a glass of lemonade from a nearby silver tray.
"Excuse me, Presley, for cutting our conversation short," Nancy said as she walked over, already aware of the buzz of activity around them.
"None taken," Elvis smiled, his attention momentarily drifting as he observed the lively scene. Captivated by the energy in the room, he also longed for a moment of solitude in the corner, away from the throng.
The polished dance floor buzzed with life, a battalion of men and women swirling in a harmonious waltz. Amid the elegant movements, Cecelia glided effortlessly, her grace and rhythm illuminating the space.
There's Always Me Chapter 7
Word count: 6.442
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language,
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Taglist:
July 1958 Fort Hood, Texas
Several months had passed, and Elvis was slowly finding his footing in the routine of life on the base. The weekends offered him a temporary escape; he often sought refuge at Fadal's, which felt like a second home where he could lose himself. During the weekdays, he returned to his family's warmth, checking in on them to ensure everyone was doing well. Yet, despite his efforts to adapt, there was an undeniable void in his heart—a longing for someone who remained far away, not in Texas with him. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings of emptiness, especially since he knew she had her career to pursue, but the ache of her absence lingered as a constant reminder of what he was missing.
Turning on the radio, Elvis heard an announcement, one close to what you'd hear back in Memphis,
"That's right, y'all. The iconic Pink Ford Fairlane convertible is in the wind,"
Elvis could feel his heartbeat quicken. Only one other person he knew had as many cars as he did, and her name started with a C.
Cecelia's Pink Ford was in the wind as Daphne was sleeping in the back, and Rosa and Carlotta were humming to songs on the radio,
"I don't see why you're so happy-go-lucky about Elvis..." Carlotta grumbled as Cecelia kept driving. She'd sometimes wondered why she kept her in the passenger seat.
"Two things in mind: Coca-Cola and a Quarter," Rosa remarked playfully from the back seat, noticing the rush of color that crept to Cecelia's cheeks. Rosa couldn't help but chuckle at the reaction while Carlotta, tilting her head in confusion, interjected, "What does a soda have to do with Elvis?" With a mischievous glint in her eye, Rosa shifted her gaze to Carlotta, a smirk spreading across her face. "Well, my little Latin Lover," she began cheekily, "It's more about his Cock-a-Cola and—
"Okay, no more talkin about my fiance's soda pop plus a quarter and then some." Cecelia blushed as they got to Fadal's place. Cecelia and Fadal had been great friends. Thanks to her mother and promotional skills, no one would know that Cece and her Vagabonds The Garnets were in town, not even Elvis, or so she had thought. Now, like herself, Elvis hated surprises, but she figured he'd like this one.
"So... wait, were we talking about his Polla..." Carlotta questioned,
"You’d prefer a cold Coke bottle over my fingertips…” she teased, glancing sideways as they strolled up the gravel driveway. The sun glinted off the hood of a sleek car parked nearby, its presence hinting at the fact that they weren't alone—someone was definitely home. Cecelia’s curiosity was piqued as she felt the familiar buzz of anticipation tinged with uncertainty in the air.
There's Always Me Chapter 6
Word count: 8.882
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language, smut
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
July 4th 1956 Memphis Tennessee, / New York City
The plane ride to New York felt smooth and serene, with the gentle hum of the engine lulling her into a contemplative state. Yet, despite the peaceful surroundings, Cecelia couldn’t shake the nagging thought of why Elvis had sounded so upset. Had she inadvertently said something wrong? Or had her mother crossed a line? As she reclined in her seat, lost in this whirlwind of worries, Cecelia was hastily whisked away to the bustling NBC studios and her dressing room.
“Midge!” she called out, her eyes scanning the array of dresses laid out for her each one more demure than the last. They seemed almost unwearable for dancing, a stark contrast to her signature style. While she appreciated a touch of modesty, she was known as the rock 'n' roll pinup, the Risqué Roller, and she intended to embrace that wild persona.
“What's wrong, Cece?” Midge asked, noticing the concern etched on her face.
“It’s about Pres,” Cecelia sighed, fiddling nervously with the bright yellow dress, complete with a detachable cumberbund that twinkled under the studio lights.
“Oh, tonight’s the big Russwood Park Concert!” Midge said with a mischievous smirk. Cecelia furrowed her brow, confusion creasing her forehead.
“It’s the biggest event in anyone’s career,” Midge continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Your mother booked you here specifically to keep you away from Elvis due to your little scandal…”
“Can we still make it back in time before he performs?” Cecelia interjected, the urgency in her voice drowning out Midge’s last comment.
“I can arrange something,” Midge assured her with a nod.
After Cecelia’s performance, she found herself seated in front of Ed Sullivan, staring into a sea of unfamiliar faces a stark reminder of an America that felt distant. But here she was, determined to present her best self.
“Lovely to have the daughter of the legendary Valmos with us tonight,” Ed began, his voice warm but probing. “Tell us, how do you keep your nails so lovely while strumming that guitar?”
“A guitar pick and lots of practice,” she replied, her smile brightening even as her heart raced.
“And those moves! I remember seeing you on another show dancing like… ah, what’s his name Elvis!” he chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Any inspiration from him?”
Cecelia sighed, bracing herself for the familiar line of questioning. “How does it feel to be compared to him as the lady Elvis… or are you perhaps his lady?”
There's Always Me Chapter 5
Word count: 4.958
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language,
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
Memphis Tennessee, 1956
There was a certain enchantment in the 61-degree Tennessee carnival air, a delightful blend of aromas swirling together sweet funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar, vibrant cotton candy melting on your tongue, and the laughter from the nearby petting zoo, where eager children cooed at fluffy animals. A crispness in the breeze hinted that spring was just around the corner, a promise of new beginnings and adventures waiting to unfold.
"I think that may have been my best performance yet," Denise exclaimed, her voice bright as she strolled past the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that filled the carnival. "And with the way your fame is on the rise, you’ll be feeling the same way soon enough. Right, Cecelia... Cecelia..." Glancing to her side, she noticed the young woman she had been addressing was already nowhere in sight.
"Jesus Christ, this child..." Denise muttered under her breath, frustration creeping into her tone.
"Need some help finding her?" Rosa chimed in, her eyes scanning the bustling crowd.
"No... I do not." Denise huffed, her tone a mix of exasperation and determination.
"Don't be cruel to a heart that's true," were the words that echoed from the stage, the melody wrapping around the dimly lit room like a warm embrace. Cecelia stood transfixed, her heart racing as the familiar voice soared through the air. She had listened to this song countless times, had been there in the studio when it was recorded, and had played every album until the grooves were worn smooth.
The stage lights illuminated the young man, revealing his piercing blue eyes that seemed to merge with the crowd's energy, meeting her own deep brown gaze. In that fleeting moment, amidst the flickering lights and pulse of the music, she felt an exhilarating rush an undeniable realization that she was truly in love for the first time in her 21 years on this Earth. But the thrill of this sensation was tangled with anxiety; keeping it hidden from her mother and the judgemental stares of the world was a delicate balancing act.
"Cecelia! There you are," her mother, Denise, muttered disapprovingly, drawing her daughter’s attention away from the stage. Cecelia's focus shifted reluctantly, feeling a pang of disappointment as the enchanting performance faded into the background. Denise’s expression was one of disgust, as she glared at the stage, unwilling to acknowledge the passion of the performance a stark contrast to the polished image of propriety she expected from her daughter. If only Denise knew the secrets Cecelia guarded fiercely, the wild escapades that unfolded while her mother was off touring she would be mortified. Each untold story sat heavy in Cecelia's chest, a testament to the freedom she craved.
"What is he doing with hips..."
"Mother, haven't you heard it's called dancing." Cecelia's glance never left his. And his glance never left hers. Cecelia was watching as he caught the flying undergarments thrown his way. She couldn't help but laugh, and it seemed neither could he. Denise had to admit he was cute, with his perfect smile and hair. But something told her she would have to do something if he even thought to talk to her daughter. Denise knew his type, the shy playboy, and she wouldn't have someone like him ruin her daughter's blazing trail.
"Up next in 16 minutes on this stage is Cecelia Valmos and The Garnets!"
The crowd of teenagers began to cheer even louder as the growing pain of nerves began to kick in for her.
"Oh shit..." she mumbled as her mother nudged her, running to the dressing room backstage. She took a deep breath as she gathered herself together.
"You were almost late," Daphane smirked, brushing her hair as she straightened her dress.
"What were you doing out there," Rosa asked, watching as Scotty winked at her,
"Oh, I know!" Daphane raised her hand,
"Stairing at your boyfriend." Carlotta teased as Cecelia rolled her eyes,
"Oh, whatever."
There's Always Me Chapter 4
Word count: 6.466
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language, smut
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
Mississippi September 8th, 1955
Midge’s voice rang out, bubbling with barely contained laughter as she spotted the trio emerging from the dimly lit dressing room. ‘Daphne, Rosa, Carlotta!’ The two young women, adjusting their outfits with a mix of frustration and disbelief, were joined by their new bandmate, Carlotta a striking figure and an ex of Cecelia’s. The three stood there, their expressions a blend of indignation and amusement, as they glared at the ridiculous costumes they had been forced into. It was a comical sight: the girls’ attempts to stifle their urges to unleash a torrent of colorful expletives were palpable, their eyes darting around as if searching for the culprits behind their flamboyant attire.”
"Aw, look if it isn't Howdy Doody!" Cheryl joked,
"What in the hillbilly hell is this," Rosa grumbled, she hated the way her dress fit, and the white fringe with the black jean material was driving her up a wall,
"This feels like a joke," Daphne sighed, looking at her aunt. Midge thought her outfit was cute, while Carlotta had on a swing dress covered in fringe with a matching little hat with her scarf around her neck,
"Just smile and play. Hey, anyone seen Cece?"
"Damnit, it's in my eye again, Scotty!" Elvis grumbled. Trying to do his makeup. It was something he was still getting the hang of,
"Maybe try not getting it into your eyes?"
"Geez, thanks." Elvis groaned, "Bill, what color goes with black?"
"Have you tried Topaz? Cosmopolitan claims it’s a stunning hue for blue eyes," Cecelia called out from the doorway, her voice playful yet teasing. "Need some help, Pres?"
"God, does he ever," Bill chimed in with a chuckle.
"We'll meet you on the stage," Scotty added as he and Bill dashed off, leaving Cecelia and Elvis in the softly lit room.
"Here, come sit down," she instructed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she settled herself gracefully onto his lap. Elvis felt his cheeks flood with warmth, but he steeled himself to remain still. Cecelia exuded a perfect blend of confidence and beauty, her soft features glowing in the light, and he couldn’t help but admire how she was poised to enhance his appearance.
"Alright, the first thing you need to focus on are your lashes," she announced decisively, reaching for the mascara. As she brushed it onto his lashes, it added an enchanting depth to his blue eyes, bringing them to life in a way he hadn’t expected.
"Yeah, I know that," Elvis shot back with a sassy grin, watching her amused expression from beneath his lashes.
"Clearly not," she teased, a light laugh escaping her as she carefully lined the pencil under his eye.
"You’re gonna poke my eye out with that thing," he warned, feigning seriousness.
"Eh, you’ll be just fine! Now, look up," she instructed, and he complied. It was then he noticed for the first time that she was wearing a delicate petticoat, and her corset, his eyes trying to trail down her body.
"Eyes are up here, Pres," she chided lightly, reaching for a palette of eyeshadow. The shade she selected was just right a rich, captivating color that would sparkle under the stage lights, perfectly highlighting his eyes.
"Wasn't looking Val," Elvis shot back playfully, giving her a wink.
"Elvis! You've messed up my shadow!" Cecelia exclaimed, mock exasperation painted across her face. She quickly returned to her work, smudging the other side with her finger, a gasp escaping her lips as the unexpected mishap caused her to giggle. Elvis couldn’t help but laugh along, the atmosphere filled with a blend of playful banter and the warm camaraderie that only the two of them shared.
"My eyes are up here," he leaned in, his lips nearly brushing hers. Cecelia could feel his breath on the top of her lip, and Cecelia wanted to give in,
"I know, they're really pretty-"
"HEY!" Scotty shouted,
the two broke apart as she shook her head. It was like she was hypnotized by Elvis Presley.
"I, uh, I-I..."
"Yeah, me too..."
There's Always Me Chapter 3
Word count: 4.968
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
Nashville, Tennessee, August 21st, 1955
"TIME TO GO!" Midge shouted, her voice echoing through the stillness of the night as she knocked firmly on the grand front door of Valmos Manor. It was two in the morning, and the chilly air outside was thick with anticipation. Inside, Cecelia was already awake, her energy surprisingly buoyant for such an early hour. She stood in her bedroom, hair still adorned with fluffy pink rollers, a vibrant scarf wrapped around her neck like a cozy shield against the cool air. With a sleepy smile, she leaned in to plant a kiss on the poster of Elvis plastered on her wall, his charming grin a constant source of comfort.
"STOP KISSIN' THAT DAMN POSTER!" Midge's voice rang out again, sharp and loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. The exaggerated annoyance made Cecelia’s cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation, reminding her of the fine line between devotion and embarrassment. Now, she felt both fatigued and humiliated, her heart racing from the shame mingled with the excitement of the night ahead.
With a resigned sigh, Cecelia picked up her suitcase, the weight of her preparations already heavy in her arms. She trudged down the long, dimly lit hallway, its wallpaper faintly peeling, memories of laughter and secrets etched into every corner. As she made her way to the guest room, the door slightly ajar, she could hear Rosa, blissfully unaware of the chaos outside, softly murmuring in her sleep.
"Sleepin' good here," she called out quietly, turning again in the warmth of her soft bed, her tousled hair falling over her face. Cecelia paused for a brief moment, a pang of yearning for the comfort of the bed hitting her, but Midge's impatient calls snapped her back to reality. It was time to go, and there was no turning back now.
"Midge is waiting outside." Cecelia groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"Let her wait." Rosa laughed, "It's our tour anyway."
There's Always Me Chapter 2
Word count: 2.988
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Taglist:
As they arrived at the diner, the comforting glow of neon lights spilled out onto the sidewalk, inviting them in from the cool evening air. They settled into a cozy booth, the vinyl seats slightly worn but still welcoming. Cecelia, her dark curls framing her face, slid in next to Elvis, who had a relaxed demeanor and a warm smile. Across from them, Rosa nestled between Scotty and Bill, who were both animatedly discussing the day's events. Meanwhile, DJ dragged a chair into the tight space at the end of the table, the screech of metal on tile breaking the din of conversations around them.
“This may be the first integrated place I’ve been in,” Cecelia remarked quietly, casting a curious glance around the diner. Her voice was a mix of surprise and contemplation, reflecting the significance of the moment.
Elvis nodded thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the diverse crowd. “I’d have to agree with you on that," he replied, pausing for a moment. "Well, actually, there’s this one spot on Beale Street,a great blues joint where you can really feel the music…” His voice trailed off, as he seemed to drift into reminiscence, punctuated by distant laughter and the clatter of dishes, which filled the room with a sense of community and camaraderie, despite the complex backdrop of their surroundings.
"California is pretty spiffy on it," Rosa shrugged, "But uh, what're we orderin'?" she asked as Cecelia laughed along with her.
"A celebration feast!" Scotty and the boys shouted,
"Why not! On me, my treat." Elvis smiled,
"Are you sure? " Cecelia asked as Elvis looked into her brown doe eyes. She really was being sincere, "You don't have to spend your 18 bucks, I-"
"Cecelia..." his blue eyes looking deep into her soul, "Allow me to treat the soon legendary rock n roller to a meal." Cecelia nodded as he put his arm around her.
"Alright, but don't spend it all in one place, Pres." she ruffled up his hair as he brushed it back.
"Alright, so everyone knows what they're orderin?" the waitress asked,
"6 of everything," Elvis winked as Rosa and Cecelia laughed. Sometimes, he swore he was so charming.
"Alright, make it 6 of everythang..." the waitress said,
The food had come, and they had all eaten everything. Rosa and Scotty had taken it upon themselves to share a Milkshake. Bill and DJ were by the phone, and Elvis and Cecelia were by the Jukebox. He was mesmerized by her, and she felt the same way as him.
Earth angel, Earth angel, will you be mine?
"You wanna dance?" He asked,
"I'd like that..." Elvis led her to the dance floor. His hand was on her lower back, as hers was on his shoulder.
Earth angel, Earth angel, the one I adore
Love you forever. And evermore.
I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.
The two swayed gently to the rhythm of the lyrics, her gaze lifting to meet his. He towered over her, an embodiment of classic charm with his striking features, but deep down, they both knew the painful truth: he belonged to another world, and she to hers. A dull ache settled in her heart as she faced the inevitable.
“Practicing for a dance, huh?” Cecelia mused softly, her head resting against the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
There's Always Me
Word count: 3.600
Prompt: In October 1954, two southern heartthrobs met, and the rest is history
Warning: Time Period Language
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: A rewrite
Chapter 1. Chapter 2
Taglist:
Lousiana 1954
"Mrs. Valmos... She'll be just fine," Midge reassured, a warm smile spreading across her face as she rummaged through the trunk of her boss's car, pulling out an array of shimmering equipment. The air buzzed with energy as cars rolled into the back lot, their engines humming softly against the backdrop of excited chatter. Crew members hurried to unload musical instruments and lighting gear, all destined for tonight’s much-anticipated performances. Midge couldn’t help but chuckle as she spotted Denise Valmos, the extraordinary jazz singer, flitting about in a flurry of anxiety. It was amusing to see her spiral over the most trivial details when so much was at stake in this grand production.
"This isn't like from when she was 12 singing jazz..." Denise sighed, watching Cheryl, Midge's "friend" pull out a White Falcone guitar, it was one of the things her ex-husband left for their daughter as a "parting gift" as he'd put it.
"Careful with that!"
"Are you always this uptight..." Cheryl grumbled at Denise. Her eyes darting at the other womans mumbles,
"Cheryl!" Midge groaned as she hit her in the arm.
"Are you always so... ill-mannered." Denise scoffed. watching the woman before she walked off to smoke her cigar, fixing her tie as she gave Midge a troubled look.
"Midge..." Denise said as she gave Cheryl the side eye.
"Yes, Mrs. Valmos,"
"I'm going to have a word with the promoters," Denise said, her voice trailing off as she noticed the curious, sidelong glances directed at her. A wave of unease washed over her. "In the meantime, can you keep an eye on Cecelia...?"
"I'm not a babysitter," Midge groaned, rolling her eyes in exasperation, her arms crossed defiantly.
As if on cue, Cheryl appeared "Which one are you to keep an eye on?", striding back toward Midge with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean, which one?!?" she exclaimed, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
The back of the stage was an expansive whirlwind of activity, alive with the frenetic energy of stagehands skillfully maneuvering equipment and groups of performers diligently rehearsing in every available corner. The air was thick with the scent of fresh paint and the faint echo of musical notes reverberating off the high walls, creating an atmosphere that pulsed with excitement and possibility. For most, stepping into this space felt like crossing a threshold into the big leagues, a dream realized.
Among them was Cecelia Shanel Valmos, a 19-year-old young colored girl from North Carolina who stood wide-eyed amidst the chaos. Growing up, she had shared the spotlight with her mother, absorbing the art of performance like a sponge. But now, at 19, Cecelia was beginning to grasp the intricate workings of the entertainment industry, realizing that it was much more than just a stage and spotlight. She was learning the nuances of the business, the relentless competition, and the sacrifices it demanded. This stage felt like a turning point; it was where childhood fantasies were challenged by the realities of adulthood and where her aspirations began to intertwine with her growing understanding of the world.
Reblogged
That's Alright for Such a Night (Rewrite 1)
Word Count: 1,816
Writers Note: A rewrite to the original, I realized I had wanted to expand on the story again
Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.
Lousiana 1954
"Mrs.Valmos... She'll be fine." Midge said, pulling out equipment from her boss's car.
"This isn't like from when she was 12 singing jazz..." Denise sighed, watching Cheryl Midge's "friend" pull out a White Falcone guitar,
"Careful with that!" Denise rubbed her temples.
"Are you always this uptight..." Cheryl grumbled at the other woman.
"Cheryl!" Midge groaned as she hit her in the arm.
"Are you always so... ill-mannered." Denise scoffed. Cherly rolled her eyes, watching the woman before she walked off to smoke her cigar, fixing her tie as she gave Midge a troubled look.
"Midge..." Denise said as she gave Cheryl the side eye.
"Yes, Mrs. Valmos,"
"I'm going to talk to the promoters, and while I do that..." Denise began to trail off, feeling some odd looks geared her way. " Keep an eye out on Cecelia..."
"I'm not a babysitter-" Midge groaned,
"Which ones gone?" Cheryl asked, walking back towards Midge.
"What do you mean which fucking one!?!"
The back of the stage was massive, with the hustle and bustle of stagehands moving equipment and groups rehearsing in each corner. It made almost anyone feel like they made it to the big leagues. At least, that's what everyone thought, especially Cecelia Shanel Valmos, a 19-year-old North Carolinian black girl. Sure, she had been performing with her mother since she was a little girl, but now Cecelia was 19 and old enough to understand the business, the way of the world,
Relax
Word count: 1.106
Prompt: May 1957 Elvis is hiding how exhausted he'd been lately only to come down with a summer cold
Warning: None
Pairing: POC OC x Elvis
Note: Inspired by an idea with @eapep
Taglist:
Hollywood California, May 1957
The heavy door of Cecelia's Hollywood mansion creaked on its hinges as Elvis stepped inside, a tired expression clouding his face. After a long day on the set of Jailhouse Rock, he looked as though he had been burning the candle at both ends, his eyes slightly drooping from the relentless grind of filming and rehearsing. The lavish surroundings of the grand foyer, adorned with opulent decor and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air, contrasted sharply with his worn demeanor, hinting at both the glitz of Hollywood and the toll of his demanding schedule. His body secretly ached and his nose was a little runny but he kept telling himself he was fine.
"If he don't rest, he won't live to see thirty, and you know it!" Gladys’s voice crackled through the phone, laced with worry as Cecelia chuckled softly, "I know, Mama G." There was a heaviness in her tone, and she let out a weary sigh that echoed her concern. "Just the other day, he told me he’s so exhausted he can barely muster a smile some days, the poor thing."
Cecelia felt a pang of worry for her boyfriend; her heart ached with love for him, but deep down, she understood that in their line of work, taking a break was never truly an option.
“He’ll work himself sick if he keeps this up!” she warned, her voice tinged with desperation.
“I’m aware…” Cecelia replied, her gaze drifting toward Elvis, who was slumped against the doorframe, an aura of fatigue surrounding him. “Hunny, I’m back.” He yawned widely, the weariness palpable in his eyes and posture, and it broke her heart to see him like this.
"He's back, and he doesn't look too good."
Cecelia's voice was tense as she spoke into the phone, her heart racing with concern. She could barely suppress her worry, knowing how quickly things could spiral. "You take care of our boy."
"Always," came the reassuring reply before she hung up.
As she walked toward him, her brow furrowed in worry, she noticed his skin had taken on an unsettling pale tone, and beads of sweat clung to his forehead, his dark hair matted against his skin.
"You don't look too good..." she said softly, her voice laced with concern.
"Darlin', I'm fine..." he replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.
"You sure?" Her gaze searched his, desperately hoping to find the reassurance she needed.
"Darlin'," he glanced at her with a hint of weariness, fully aware of her tendency to worry. She was always there to nurse him back to health, from dealing with The Colonel's relentless demands to coaxing him into taking breaks when he pushed himself too hard.
"Okay... okay," she relented. "You go get relaxed, and I'll start dinner."
He suggested lightly, but she raised an eyebrow, clearly not happy with the idea. "We can eat out..."
At this, she gasped, her surprise turning to mild indignation. "We're moving in together soon! And I’d like to act a little domesticated for once, please." She crossed her arms, a playful pout forming on her lips, but the warmth in her eyes revealed her affection for her attempt to create a homey atmosphere even amidst their chaotic lives.
"Whatever you wanna do doll." He winked as he walked upstairs to take a hot shower, chills formed on his body under the water as his immune system was shutting down with sickness, his teeth chattering and his nose ready to shoot out a sneeze, "Aw hell..." He muttered to himself, as Cecelia kept cooking downstairs she could sense he had a cold a mile away, making her grandmothers infamous chicken noodle soup and hot toddy she'd have him nursed back to help as quickly as he could shake his hips,
"Hey there, baby, whatcha makin'?" he asked, his voice muffled and nasally as he lay wrapped in a thick blanket, cocooning himself like a burrito. His eyes peered out with a mix of hope and weariness.
"Chicken noodle soup," she replied, turning to face him with a warm smile. The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of simmering broth and tender noodles, a homey embrace that made the moment even cozier.
"Is my wittle baby wabby all sicky wicky...?" she teased, crouching next to him, her tone dripping with affectionate playfulness.
"Mhmm..." he murmured, the sound barely escaping his lips as he folded inward, feeling vulnerable to her baby talk. Anyone who knew Elvis understood that beneath his tough exterior was a heart that craved warmth and comfort, especially during times like this.
Cecelia, more than anyone else, recognized his softer side.The one that relished being held and cared for, especially when he wasn’t feeling his best. She grinned, knowing that even the strongest among them needed someone to lean on. "Let's get you tucked in." She said leading him up the stairs as he was clinging on her, "I've got to marry you one day." He chuckled as she kissed his nose.
"I know."
Tucking him under the sheets she made sure to check his temperature as she gave him tea and medicine to nurse him to good health,
"If you need anythin'"
"Just holler, I know baby." Elvis flipped through the TV Channels unimpressed as he then tried to read, doing everything to keep himself up when he really needed to sleep. As Cecelia's footsteps made their way back upstairs she had noticed his sleeping features, how peaceful he'd look with his long black lashes at bay and his lips parted, his hair messy and yet this was what made her feel at home, placing a kiss on his forehead she could feel him move,
"Did I wake you?" She whispered, as he grabbed her hand, "Naw darlin, the soup did." He chuckled as he coughed,
"Woah there now... I love you but you gotta cover that thang!" She joked, "Afraid my crud could get'cha," He smirked,
"Yes, and I have a show next month!"She playfully poked him, "Anyway... are you hungry any?" Elvis gave her a glance that only she knew, "Something fiercely," As the pampering continued the night came and Cecelia was rolling her hair up as she usually did,
"CECELIA!"
"YES!"
"CAN YA SING ME TO SLEEP?" Oh how she regreted to tell him to hollar, but as she laid him in her arms running her pretty fingers through his hair she could feel him softly falling asleep, "Feel better my love..." She swooned
Sometimes it truly paid to just simply...Relax.
"A...AH...ah..Choo!" Cecelia sneezed, her eyes gone wide,
"uh-oh..."
"ELVIS!"