#elvis x black reader

[ssinnerplazahotel]

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*Chapter Five*

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WC:5k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation (kinda?), drug use, it’s the 50s/60s

Pairing: elvis, black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4

You woke up in Elvis’ arms, your throat dry and your limbs stiff as you shifted. It was past noon, making you late for work. You couldn’t bring yourself to jump out of bed, you were drained despite the twelve hours of sleep you’d gotten. You forced yourself out of bed, slipping out of Elvis’ embrace.

You looked down at his sleeping face, wondering what in your life led you to be there—in bed with Elvis after the worst argument the two of you ever had, watching him sleep as if he’d hung the stars and picked out the moon just for you.

“Satnin?” He spoke suddenly, startling you. You didn’t respond right away, thinking he was still asleep until he opened his eyes. “Where are you going?��

“I’m late.” You gathered your clothes from the ground before going into the bathroom to get ready. You stood in front of the mirror looking at your swollen eyes. Not even a touch of concealer could save you this time. On top of your appearance and how terrible you felt, you didn’t think you could get anything done around the house today. You left the bathroom and went to shake Elvis awake. “E?”

“Hm?” He hummed, you shook him another time. “What, birdie?”

“I don’t think I can work today,” You said. “I-I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong?” He shifted towards you, opening his eyes.

“I just don’t feel good,” You repeated. “I know I shouldn’t ask but…c-can I stay with you?”

He put his arm out for you. “C’mere.”

You dropped your clothes on the ground and climbed back into the bed, facing him as he covered you with the comforter. You felt conflicted about skipping work without talking to Dawn but you knew that Elvis would talk to her if she got upset.

Before you could fall back asleep the phone rang, startling you. Elvis didn’t react to the shrill ring of the telephone.

“Elvis?”

“Hm?”

“The phone’s ringing.”

“Mhm…”

You shook his shoulder. “Elvis, the phone.”

He opened his eyes then, he looked disoriented and annoyed as he sat up and reached for the phone, snatching it off the hook. “Hello?” You sat up with him, expecting it to be one of the guys calling him to go out with them. “Stay right there, baby,” He whispered as he got out of the bed. “Yeah…” He continued. “I can’t right this second, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

You tried not to listen in on the phone call but it was difficult not to.

“If I don’t call back tomorrow then call me again,” He said, his voice still laced with sleep. “…I said if I don’t, not that I wouldn’t.”

You laid back down in the bed, your back to him as he carried the phone and receiver with him as far as the cord would stretch away from where you were laying.

“I’ll call you back,” He said. “…I will…I do. I promise…you too.” He sighed and he hung up the phone, walking it back to the bedside table and setting it down.

You looked over your shoulder as he sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Who was that?” You asked. “It sounded like they really needed to talk to you.”

“Nobody,” He said, keeping his back to you. “I have to go for a meeting with the Colonel. You think you’ll be okay here by yourself?”

You found his lack of response to your previous question to be a bit odd, but you tried not to dwell on it as you sat up to get dressed. Once you were standing you were reminded again of your pounding headache. “I’ll be fine.”

“Where’re you going?” He asked, finally turning his head in your direction.

“I should let you get ready for your meeting,” You said, pulling your pants up your legs. “Plus I have homework to do anyway.”

He nodded. “You’ll come back t’night?”

It sounded like a question but you knew that it wasn’t. “I have class, and I like to go to the diner across the street after.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, so I don’t know.”

His eyebrows scrunched but you ignored his expression and focused on buttoning your blouse. “Who’s going to this diner with you?”

“Nobody.” You slipped your shoes on and walked around the end of the bed to grab your bag, putting the books and pens that had fallen out back inside.

“I thought you said you were sick. Shouldn’t you take the day off?”

“I’ve gotten through worse than a headache in the past few days so I think I’ll manage.”

“Who’re you going to the diner with?”

“Elvis~”

“Don’t say ‘nobody.’” To your surprise he didn’t sound angry. “Tell me.”

You put your bag on your shoulder and faced him. “My friends.”

“What friends?”

“Barb and Pat, I met them in class. I told you that already.”

He nodded again, with a hum that you couldn’t interpret. “Barb and Pat won’t miss you too much will they?”

“I don’t see why they’d miss me at all, I’ll be sitting right there with them,” You said, turning to leave. “Good luck with the Colonel.”

You heard him chuckle shortly as you left the room, closing the door behind yourself without another word.

*

By the end of your classes that night you were starting to feel more like yourself again. Your body didn’t feel so heavy and the dull ache in your head had fully subsided.

Barb called out for you when you walked out of your last class, waving you over to where she stood with Pat and Kenneth. “Marshall and James are already at the diner.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stay late tonight,” You said as the four of you headed over. “I really have to finish that paper for Winslow, he’s been on me about it for days.”

“There are twenty four hours in a day,” Pat said, linking her arm through yours. “You’ll have time to write it.”

“Right,” Barb agreed from the other side of you. “Life isn’t all work and school. You gotta play sometimes.”

“Easy for you to say, Barb,” Kenneth spoke up. “You could do Winslow’s work with your eyes closed and your arms tied behind your back.”

“It’s not rocket science, Ken~”

“I can’t stay late. Tomorrow night maybe.”

“Fine.” Barb huffed. “But tomorrow, we’re going downtown.”

“Last time we went downtown I woke up with the worst headache,” You complained. “I’m not doing that again.”

“You can drive then,” Pat said, earning a laugh from the others as you all crossed the street and headed into the diner. You found your other friends and joined them in a large booth in the back of the diner.

You always enjoyed late nights at the diner, especially after a long day of work and school. It took your mind off of things and made you forget about what was troubling you. For a few hours each day you weren’t missing your mother, avoiding Dawn, or thinking about Elvis. It was fun, and you needed it.

As you were sitting there drinking your milkshake and watching the guys arm wrestle to see who would pick up the bill between the three of them, you heard a commotion in the nearly vacant diner.

“Oh my god!” Someone exclaimed, drawing your attention to a table across the diner.

“What?” James asked, looking over at the woman that exclaimed.

You followed her wide eyes, looking outside to try and get a look at what she was screaming about. You almost didn’t believe your eyes when you saw three very familiar Cadillacs parked outside, and getting out of one of those Cadillacs was—of course—Elvis. “Oh my god…” You muttered, tearing your eyes away from the scene outside to see the few other people in the diner standing and gawking as he walked in.

“Oh my god, is that…” Pat started, standing up slowly as well. “I-Is that Elvis Presley?”

“Sit down, Pat.” You pulled her back down into the booth, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“No way,” Marshall said, looking out of the window. “What the hell is he doing at a colored diner?”

“Maybe he’s lost,” Kenneth suggested.

“Don’t be stupid,” James said.

“You think he’d sign my planner?” Barb asked. “I shouldn’t ask.”

“Are you crazy?” Pat asked. “Of course you should ask. Come on, we all should.”

“No,” You said with widened eyes as she grabbed your arm. “Pat, no~” You tried to protest but you were ultimately pushed out of the booth, Pat tugging your arm and Barb pushed you along. You panicked as they got Elvis’ attention, watching his eyes find yours. He looked down with a knowing smile before walking over.

When he was nearer to you he said your name, his tone was familiar but it still sounded strange. “Honey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” He lied, making Barb and Pat’s eyes stretch as they looked between the two of you.

“I could say the same.” You tried to smile and not look like your heart was seconds away from leaping out of your throat. “What brings you here?”

“Me and Doc go way back,” He said. “I like to surprise him every now and then.”

Pat shook your arm, giving you a question look and making you realize that her and Barb had no idea what was happening. “O-Oh, girls, well, I-I’m sure you know Elvis.”

“How are y’all?” Elvis smiled charmingly at them, putting on that smooth tone of voice that always made you melt.

“Elvis, I love just about all your songs,” Pat gushed. “I’ve bought all your records.”

“Me too,” Barb chimed in. “I think you’re just fantastic.”

“That’s awful nice of you girls, thank you.” He smiled timidly.

“Elvis is my boss,” You explained, glancing at your friends. “Elvis, this is Pat and Barb.” You pointed them out before gesturing to the guys that still sat at the table watching the interaction. “That’s Marshall, James, a-and Kenneth.”

“How’re y’all?” Elvis nodded at the guys politely.

“Alright,” James answered on behalf of the three of them.

“What brings you here, Elvis?” Pat asked, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes.

“He knows Doc, Pat, don’t you listen?” Barb said. “C-Can you sign this, Elvis? It’s for my sister, she adores you.”

“Sure.” He took the planner and scribbled his signature across the page, doing the same for Pat.

“These folks bothering you, Mr. Presley?” Doc asked, walking over from behind the counter.

“Nah, Doc, I know this little girl,” He said, gesturing to you and patting the man’s shoulder. “Give Sonny their bill, I’ll take care of em.”

“You don’t have to~” You started.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “You guys and girls take care. I’ll see you at the house, honey.”

“Bye, Elvis.” Barb said before he turned to leave, holding her hand out for a handshake.

“Bye, baby.” He smiled, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips in a brief kiss. “Tell your sister I asked about her.”

“I will,” Barb said, covering her mouth in awe as you all watched him pick up his order from the counter and leave—stopping to sign a few more autographs before making it to his car.

“I cannot believe you!” Pat cried facing you. “You know Elvis Presley?”

“Don’t you think that’s something a girl should tell her friends?” Barb asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“So this whole time you’ve been talking about your boss,” James started. “You’ve been talking about him?”

“The Elvis Presley?” Marshall emphasized.

“Are you insane?” Pat asked.

“I-I hardly ever speak to him,” You said. “Why would I tell you?”

“You have to tell us these things!” Barb exclaimed.

“Would the two of you stop falling apart,” Marshall frowned. “Shit, if I had known he was gonna swoop in I would’ve gotten more than a shake.”

Pat laughed as she slid back into the booth first, followed by you and Barb. “It’s not every night you meet ‘the Elvis Presley,’ Marshall.”

“Marshmallow just hates seeing his girl all beside herself because of somebody else.” Kenneth laughed.

“I mean at least I have a girl.”

“Damn,” James laughed, earning a punch in the arm from Kenneth.

“What’s Graceland like?” Pat asked, looking at you. “You’re so lucky to get to work there.”

“He said he’d see you at the house,” Barb said. “You don’t live there do you?”

“I do, but~”

“Oh my god!”

“Girls,” You complained. “Can’t you be mature about this? It’s a job.”

“I’d die,” Barb said.

“Me too,” Pat agreed.

You shook your head, grabbing your milkshake and stirring it around with your straw. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I couldn’t imagine going home to Elvis Presley~”

“I’m not going home to him, Barb,” You snapped. “Stop talking about it already.”

“I can’t, I’m in shock,” She said. “I never thought in a million years~”

“You’re making her upset,” Kenneth spoke up when he saw your expression. “Shut up about it.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Marshall said.

“Tell her to shut up then,” James said. “She needs to know when to quit.”

“You shut up, James,” Pat said. “Barb’s just excited.”

“I-I think I’m gonna go,” You said. “I’m tired.”

“No, don’t~” Pat started.

“I’m tired,” You said, grabbing your bag from under the table. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Let me walk you.” Kenneth offered.

“No, you stay,” You said as Barb stood to let you out of the booth. “Have a good night guys.”

“Goodnight.” They all hummed in different variations as you smiled and left the diner.

“See what you did, you and your big mouth?”

“It’s not my fault she knows him.”

“I would’ve been asking her to pay every night if I knew she was rich.”

You heard a chorus of laughter from the table as you exited the diner. Their words made your throat feel tight as you crossed the street to get to your car. Knowing that they would’ve taken advantage of you if they knew you worked for Elvis made you worry that they wouldn’t hesitate to do so in the future. You didn’t know if you could trust them without the fear that they were using you. It made your heart sink.

As you drove home, sadness blossomed in your chest. Your friends no longer saw you as you, but as the girl who knew Elvis Presley.

*

Back at Graceland you pulled your car around and moped into the house. You went directly to Elvis’ room, making sure no one was lingering in the hall or on the stairs before walking in.

He looked up from the book in his hands when you entered, closing it with a smirk. “There you are.”

“Elvis.” You sighed with a pout before tears formed in your eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked with a concerned expression as he stood, abandoning the book on his bedside table. “What happened?”

“Why’d you have to go and do that?” You asked, dropping your bag on the floor. “My friend’s adore you.”

“Why’re you cryin?” He asked, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Barb and Pat went on and on about you after you left, ‘Elvis Presley, this’ and ‘Elvis Presley, that.’” You wiped your tears. “You know what I heard them say when I was leaving? They said they would’ve made me pay for their food every night if they knew I worked for you.”

“Birdie,” Elvis laughed. “That ain’t nothing to cry about.”

“The only reason they’ll want to be my friend now is because of you,” You said, pushing his arms off of your shoulders and walking past him. You sat on the bed with a huff, crossing your arms. “They think I’m rich. They wanna know what Graceland’s like~”

“Bring em over,” He suggested with a shrug.

“No, that’s not the point,” You whined. “I want them to like me for me, not because of what they think I can do for them.”

“They liked you just fine before t’night, honey, why would that change?” He asked, kneeling down in front of you and meeting your eyes. “There’s too much to like about you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It's true, and if they can’t see that, well, it’s their loss. Not yours.”

“They were my only friends,” You said looking down. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“You have me.” He put his hands on your thighs, making you meet his eyes.

“You’re hardly a friend.” You laughed shortly. “I can’t talk to you about the same things I talked to Barb and Pat about.”

“What do little girls talk about?” He asked with a laugh. “Dresses and makeup?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You’ll find new friends,” He said optimistically. “There are plenty of girls in your classes, right?”

“There are.”

“Then talk to em.”

You nodded. “What am I gonna say to Barb and Pat?”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I’ll feel bad if I don’t.”

“You’ll get past it. I don’t like you hanging around those guys anyway.”

You disregarded his last sentence and the touch of possessiveness in his tone. “You almost gave me a heart attack tonight. You can’t do things like that.”

He laughed, clearly finding your nerves entertaining. “You didn’t think I came to make a scene did you?”

“You make a scene everywhere you go. Y’know, I contemplated telling Kenneth to make a run for it,” You said, making him laugh harder. “I’m serious!”

“I was just checking to make sure you were being good,” He said, chuckling as his laughter died down. “I wouldn’t have taken his head off without a proper reason, trust me.”

“You don’t have to worry about it anymore,” You said with a sad smile. “I’m friendless.”

“You ain’t never without a friend.” You laughed. “Don’t worry, pretty, you’ll replace em easy.”

“It was weird seeing you outside of Graceland.” You fidgeted with one of the rings on his hand. “When you kissed Barb’s hand,” You started, almost shying away from the confession. “I wished you were kissing me.”

He looked amused. “Can I make it up to you?”

You smiled as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips, keeping his eyes on yours. You watched him carefully as he turned your hand over and kissed your palm, then the underside of your wrist. He trailed another kiss or two up your arm before standing from where he was kneeling and kissing your left cheek, then your right. You giggled softly as he kissed your forehead, your nose, and your chin before stopping.

“You’re gorgeous,” He muttered, his eyes flitting fondly over your features. When he kissed you your eyes fell shut and your lips moved against his in perfect sync. “My gorgeous girl.” He murmured against your lips after breaking the kiss. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” You asked as he stood and walked into his closet without a word, returning with a plain white department store box.

“I got it a while ago,” He said, handing the box to you. “To give you once I got home.”

“What’s the occasion?” You wondered with a smile.

“Open it,” He said instead of answering, nodding at the box with an expression you couldn’t make out.

You opened the box, putting the lid on the ground before pushing the tissue paper out of the way. Your eyebrows drew together slightly as you lifted the sheer, white baby-doll nightie from the box. Finding a white set of lingerie underneath it.

“I want you to wear it for me,” Elvis said as he gaged your reaction. He sat down beside you and kissed your cheek. “I’ve been thinkin about you in it for weeks now.”

“Elvis, I can’t wear this.” You shook your head, a stunned laugh leaving your lips at the thought.

“I want you to,” He said, laughing when you hid your face in the crook of his neck. “It’s just me.”

“It’s too much,” You said, pulling away and looking up at him. “I can’t pull it off.”

“Pull what off?” He asked with a smile.

“Being…sexy.” He laughed, making you complain. “Elvis!”

“Baby, I think you’ll do fine.” His eyes roamed over you for a moment. “You just let your body do all the work.”

“I don’t know.” You looked down at the set.

“Try it on and see how you feel,” He encouraged. “I’m not gonna make you wear it if you don’t want to.”

“Fine,” You said. “I have to shower first so keep yourself busy for a while.”

“I could make myself useful and help you out in there,” He ribbed as you stood to go to the bathroom.

“Not a chance.” You grabbed your bag from the ground and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You found your toiletry bag under the sink—hidden away for the nights that you didn’t make it back to your room. You took your time to go through your routine, you even shaved in an attempt to further stall. When the time came to finally try on the set you thought about backing out, but you told yourself not to be a coward.

You slipped into the bottoms first, admiring the floral lace in the mirror before putting on the top. You turned in the mirror after the set was on completely, looking at yourself from different angles. You were never that self-conscious about your body but you were noticing everything you hated about yourself. You didn’t feel confident as you slipped on the sheer nightie over the set, but you didn’t want to let your insecurities get the best of you.

You rummaged through your school bag and grabbed your perfume, spraying yourself twice before putting it back. You checked your face and hair once more and decided that you had hidden away in the bathroom long enough.

“Okay,” You said to yourself, huffing a sigh and shaking your hands out before opening the door.

Elvis looked up from the book he was reading when he heard the door open. His eyes met yours before darting over your body. He closed the book, standing from the bed slowly before stalking over to you in the same leisurely manner. His eyes pinned you to your spot as you waited for him to say something, anything.

“Well?” You asked as he approached you, fidgeting with your hands.

He took your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and leaving a kiss on each. “You’re beautiful,” He said, breaking the tense silence at last. “So beautiful, birdie.”

“Really?” You didn’t know what else to say.

“Really,” He chuckled, dropping your left hand and spinning you around with the right. “Better than I imagined.”

You were relieved. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Come sit on the bed, let me look at you,” He said, leading you over before guiding you onto the bed. He stood back with his arms crossed and looked at you once you were sitting on the bed. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You look like a sin, making me think things I shouldn’t.”

“Like what?”

“I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Your heart rate increased as he sat beside you, kissing your bare shoulder while trailing his hand up your exposed thigh. “Will you show me?”

He nodded and kissed you. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss and letting his tongue touch yours. You brought both your hands up to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. He helped you get rid of his shirt before pulling you into his lap. You tangled your fingers through his hair as you kissed, moaning softly when you felt his growing erection beneath you.

He lifted the hem of the nightie, removing it and leaving you in only the lace set. His eyes were clouded with lust as he leaned in and kissed your chest, his hands roaming over every inch of your body that they could reach. You became dizzy with want and you absentmindedly rolled your hips against his. He released a pleasured sigh and his lips found yours again.

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly changed positions, laughing a little as he laid you beneath him. You blindly fumbled with the buckle of his belt until you got it undone.

“Please,” You whimpered. “I need you.”

“I got you, baby,” He promised. “We don’t have to go all the way, we can do other things~”

“I want to,” You insisted quickly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He had a serious expression.

You nodded in response and again reassured him that you were ready. “I trust you.”

He kissed your forehead before repositioning himself between your thighs. You had a nervous feeling in your gut as you watched him kiss the inside of each of your thighs. With virtually no warning, your body jolted in response when he touched you and a throaty moan left your lips.

He pulled away to wrap his arms around your thighs, keeping them open as he tasted you. You found yourself grasping for anything to hold onto. He groaned quietly against you, moving his hips against the bed as he watched you fist the duvet.

The pleasure was too intense, but you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his every movement. If you were embarrassed by the sounds escaping your lips it didn’t show.

You gasped audibly when he nudged his ring finger inside and curled it deep inside you. His name left your lips like a mantra, egging him on. He doubled down on his efforts and pushed you closer to the edge. He reached that spot deep inside of you that made your toes curl and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut before you trembled and pushed him away. He came up from between your thighs, kissing you feverishly. You tasted yourself on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” You nodded your head, not trusting your voice as you recovered from your intense orgasm. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You responded.

“We don’t have to.” You could hear the strain in his voice and see the sacrifice in his eyes.

“I want to,” You promised.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much.” He searched your eyes attentively for any skepticism.

You nodded. “I will.”

He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a condom from the drawer, getting rid of his pants along the way. You watched him bring the package up to his mouth and rip it open with his teeth. He sat back on his heels in front of you and rolled the condom over the aching tip of his cock.

“You look like a picture, baby,” He said as he positioned himself between your legs. You chuckled at the comment, it sounded more like a nervous laugh to your own ears.

You released a tense breath, relaxing beneath him. He kissed your shoulder, angling himself at your entrance. You tried not to tense up but the pain was immediate. You closed your eyes, and tried to focus on anything else—the sound of his voice, his gentle touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin, anything.

“Breathe, birdie.” You were suddenly aware that you were holding your breath. You released a pained exhale. “I’m sorry,” He whispered into your neck, his breathing becoming more uneven the further he inched himself inside of you.

You had thought about this moment since you first realized you loved Elvis and the anticipation that you had been putting off feeling was all coming to a head now. You were addicted to the way he invaded your senses just by being near you, and now, you were fully prepared to be addicted to this.

The feeling of true invasion.

You expected the initial sting to worsen but you only felt a slightly uncomfortable amount of pressure when he stilled, fully seated inside. He met your eyes with a concerned expression.

“I-I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded your head, trying not to let your discomfort show. “Yes.”

He didn’t move for a while and when he did he gave you fair warning. You reassured him that it was okay. He thrusted shallowly, his strokes becoming longer the more accustomed you grew to his size. He was gentle and careful with his movements, praising you the entire time.

You whimpered out a moan when the pain subsided and the foreign feeling began to morph into something more pleasing. You closed your eyes in relief.

“Look at me, honey,” He said, bringing his hand up to caress your face, groaning when he met your eyes. “Keep your eyes open.”

His thumb grazed over your parted lips, slipping between them and pressing against your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his thumb and he seemed pleased as he watched you suck his thumb, slowing his pace and thrusting deeply. You gasped when he brought his hand between your legs. His pace increased and you were suddenly verging on your second orgasm of the night.

“Oh g-god,” You stammered through your cries of pleasure, digging your nails into his shoulders in an attempt to remain grounded.

You forced yourself to continue meeting his eyes and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer. His clenched jaw and his thrusts deepened before the knot in the pit of your stomach began to unravel.

“I can feel you,” He groaned, his eyes threatening to fall shut.

Suddenly you tensed and Elvis’ thrusts faltered as you trembled around him. When he reached his high his jaw went slack and his hips stuttered. He panted heavily, his pleasured sounds mixing with yours. He halted inside of you, staying there until the final pulses of his pleasure came to an end. He pulled out after a moment, leaving you feeling empty as he collapsed beside you. You turned onto your side facing him.

“You okay?” He asked after he’d mostly caught his breath, rubbing your back as he held you.

“I’m okay,” You said, lifting your head to look at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m perfect.” You smiled as you leaned in and kissed him. “I’m so happy.”

He hummed in response, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I love you.” You didn’t wait for a response. You didn’t care if he said it back, all you cared is that he knew.

The two of you eventually decided to get out of bed to clean up. You stood together at the sink, smiling each time you met each other's eyes in the mirror. You didn’t exchange more than a few words, the silence was comfortable and it felt natural.

As you were wrapping your hair for the night you noticed Elvis rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table before retrieving a small prescription bottle. He examined the label for a moment before opening it and shaking a few into his hand.

“You okay?” You asked, pulling the duvet over your legs.

“Yeah.” Shifting to you, he examined the label of the bottle again. “They help me calm down.” You nodded in response. “D’you want one?”

“No,” You chuckled, remembering how horrible you felt the last time you took one.

“It’s not gonna hurt ya.” He smiled. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” You sighed, you met his eyes as he smirked at you, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s not bad for you.”

You put your hand out, letting him drop a single pill in your palm. He threw the other two in his mouth, twisting the lid back on and setting it aside. He grabbed the glass of stale water that had no doubt been there since the morning and washed them down. You took the glass when he handed it to you, putting the pill in your mouth and swallowing it down.

You felt anxious waiting for that same dizzy feeling to come over you, but it never did. Instead you felt more relaxed, slightly drowsy but exhilarated at the same time. You had moved into Elvis’ arms after he’d climbed under the duvet.

“What’re you smiling about?” He chuckled. You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there in silence. All you could focus on was how his embrace felt warmer than it usually did.

“I don’t know,” You explained. “I wish this was real.”

“This is real.”

“You’ll go away again.”

“I know, but I’ll always come back.”

“Things are going to change eventually. I’m gonna finish school one of these days and your career’s taking off more and more everyday~”

“No~”

“It’s the truth.” You didn’t know how to articulate your fear of the future—of the unknown. “I wish I could stay in this moment forever.”

He sighed softly, it was obvious that he didn’t know how to respond. “We’re here right now, together. I’m gonna be here t’morrow, and the next day~”

“It still scares me, Elvis.”

“We can’t predict the future. All we got is right now, that’s what I’m tryna tell you.”

“I’m afraid to lose you.” You shifted so that you could look at him. “You’re the only person in the world that really knows me. That understands me.”

“That can’t be true.” He looked at you with heavy eyes. “Dawn’s your family.”

“Dawn hates me,” You said. “I don’t speak to my brother and my friends from school…they never really knew me. If I lose you, I’ll have no one.”

“Goddamnit, birdie,” Elvis started, exasperated but still gentle. His eyes bore into yours and he looked conflicted but you couldn’t fully read his expression as your eyes grew heavier. “Dawn doesn’t hate you, she loves you to death, that’s what’s wrong with her. And me, baby, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you with me, whatever it takes.”

You allowed yourself to be swayed by his words. “Really?”

“Really,” He confirmed, his thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek. “I need my favorite girl.”

“I’m your favorite girl?”

“And my best girl.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb still moving over your cheek. “My sweet girl.”

You closed your eyes as Elvis continued to whisper sweet nothings to you, his low voice morphing into what would become your favorite lullaby as you soon drifted off to sleep.

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Bloody Sacrifices

Summary: Reader reminisces about how she ended up with Elvis

TW: Cheating, angst, I think that’s it!

A/N: I know I know, where tf has bee been? Under a rock, sorry for leaving so suddenly but that’s just the way things go, I really did try to get back into my groove, with little success. But between school, and getting married and work, I had no time or really the patience to let myself be creative. And then, Eureka! An idea struck and my drafted papers that had been waiting on me finally started to get finished. Again, really sorry for the cliffhangers and such!

-Signed, Bee💕

Mrs. Presley,

What a title. Sometimes, it’s hard to think of life without him. He’s not perfect, no man is, but he’s pretty damn close.

Often time, you find yourself thinking about how you got this far. Married, comfortable, committed, with a beautiful child and very little worries.

The day had been heavy, you hadn’t had the greatest time. The boy you swore your heart to decided that for your third anniversary, he would treat another beauty to the dinner you reserved. Under his name, like some fool.

When the attendants opened the doors, you passed under the threshold, heart swelling. Something made you so certain it would be the day; the day he’d get down on one knee with glassy eyes and a nervous tongue and fumble over those four little words that would change your life forever.

When you asked the hostess about your table, she was quick to inform you that, the table had already been sat. You thought, for a moment, that he had beat you here. This made you excited, thinking he was really taking the initiative. So you thanked the woman and made your way around the restaurant, searching for your dream boat.

It didn’t take you long to spot him, knowing that haircut just about anywhere. Actually, every minute detail, down to how his collar hugged his neck was logged in your brain. Up until this point, you had spent an unhealthy amount of time…studying, perfecting.

So you approached the table, carefully as to not give away how excited you really were. As you got closer, hoping to see him fidgeting with his tie in front of an empty seat, you could feel the butterflies churn in your stomach. As fate would have it, things don’t always go as planned. Not at all actually.

Instead, you found a pretty blonde woman with tears in her eyes adoring an exceptional rock, and that boy with his head held high, with a beaming smile, and chest puffed out. Made you sick.

To this day, you aren’t sure what really drove you to do what you did that night.

Maybe, it was the way you cleaned after him like a mother would a toddler, or the way he expected dinner on the table before he returned at five thirty or all hell broke loose. It might’ve even been having to keep everything spectacularly clean. Down to his damn underwear.

Whatever it was, the camels back was broken and there was no reason for you to hold face now. You kept the tears at bay, gracefully walking over, stopping in front of the lovely couple.

Wouldn’t you know. As soon as the man saw you he did start to fidget with that tie. That same damned tie you bought for his birthday. You’d never seen him wear it but you’d guessed that day was as good a time as any.

And her. When you really looked at her, you picked her apart in less than 20 seconds. Bottle blonde, not natural, lipstick that wasn’t her color, makeup that didn’t compliment her, the dress she wore did nothing for her figure. All the things he swore not to like, sat right in front of you. You couldn’t believe it.

With a painfully fake smile you looked between the two. You had let out a quick breath in preparation for what you were about to say. It was quick, and sweet, no malice detected.

“Engaged?”

That was it. That was all you had asked.

Withought missing a beat she nodded her head

“After two years, I wasn’t even expecting this! At a place this nice, on our anniversary too. He really is so thoughtful. And the ring, ugh—”

She continued to ramble, but all you could hear was “Two years” and “our anniversary”

She had no clue about you. None.

And, for two of the three years, this man had the wool pulled over your eyes. Fresh out of high school, You had been walking blindly behind him and never noticed.

At least that’s what you told yourself in the moment.

But, you did know. You just wanted to deny your ignorance in that moment. You couldn’t deny the late nights, foreign perfume, and lack of affection though. Not even if you wanted to.

Till the very end though, you kept face.

“How lovely, I hope… I—, wish you both the very best.”

The woman gave a quick false smile and said “thank you, but we are trying to celebrate.”

You nodded your head and returned the same smile. You timber spinning on your feet and gearing up to make a beeline for the door. You really couldn’t help yourself though. You threw your head over your shoulder,

“Just remember, he doesn’t like it when you leave the stains in his underwear. You’ll never get them out though, just burn them and buy a new pair!”

And with that, you were through the door. Though it was a small power move, the tears still flooded your vision. It hurt bad. There was a slight downpour, mimicking the feelings you harbored. With no car you had no choice but to keep walking.

The back of your feet were rubbed raw, skin broken and bleeding. The hairstyle you had chosen for that night and no doubt frizzy beyond repair through slight adjustments.

In your emotional haze, the grate on the sidewalk went unnoticed, the back of your heel payed the price. You stopped and removed the shoe, assessing the damage. This small inconvenience on any other day would’ve made you roll your eyes and let out a curse or two. This wasn’t a normal day.

You had broken character. An almost primal shriek left your chest. Something akin to that of a hurt animal. It wasn’t pretty, or poised. It was raw and unfiltered. The scream felt good, exhilarating.

Even with that nice release of emotion, you wanted to go home. You removed both shoes and chucked them as far as you could, sacrificing their beauty, and continuing on your journey back to your very warm and dry house.

A few minutes passed, you were about five minutes away when those headlights creeped up behind you.

You looked back, part of you hoping it was the fool you’d banked on. What he did was unforgivable, yes, but you had nothing else. As the car started to progress a little was past you, you tossed that hope through the window.

“Scuse’ me honey. Why’d ya throw your heels at me?”

You stopped, glaring over at the unidentified stranger,

A simple, “I didn’t,” was all he got out of you.

The car stopped all together. The sound of the door opening put you on edge. A man stopping at this time of night, to return a broken pair of heels? Yea, right. When he rounded his car with your shoes in hand and a smug look on his pretty…face. He looked you up and down and you did the same, wondering who-

Holy shit. Was all you could think. You had thrown your heels, your very broken heels at Elvis Presley.

“Now honey, I’m no shoe salesman, but I’d bet my bottom dollar, that these here fit those pretty little puppies just right. Save for your ankles of course—”

Your shoulders dropped and you held your hand out.

“Please, just give em’ here. Night’s been bad enough, Mr. Presley. I don’t need to be humiliated any further.”

The brunet let out a light chuckle,

“Wanna tell me your name?”

You let out a sigh,

“Y/n.”

“Call me Elvis. And I can see that it’s been a little rough. What happened, honey, date stood ya up?”

You shook your head and decided to humor him,

“No, I found my beau with a different beauty,”

His smile faltered and he parted his lips, no doubt to issue an apology. You continued before he got the chance,

“Which he proposed to…”

His mouth closed, face showing pity. The last part of your confessional came out barley above a whisper,

“On our anniversary.”

Elvis was too stunned to speak, he looked around as if to see if anyone else had heard what you just said. He was in utter disbelief, that someone could wilt a beautiful flower such as yourself.

“I’m sorry honey, I didn’t meant to poke fun at you, just wanted a chance to ask you on a date.”

You could’ve sworn your ears were malfunctioning.

“I’m flattered, but no less than twenty minutes ago, I thought I was getting married. I don’t think it’s a good time—”

Elvis was quick to shake his head,

“No , no I meant to say it wasn’t appropriate. But at least let me drive you home.”

With nothing but tears to lose, you nodded your head and shuffled to the passenger side door, which he kindly opened for you.

The two-minute ride i was silent but not uncomfortable, the radio was at a low volume and the only time you spoke was to give directions.

When you arrived at your small home, you thanked Elvis for the ride. Before you could part, he handed you a slip with his number on it,

“Call when you’re ready for that date, honey.”

Hesitantly, you took the slip and made your way inside.

It was stuffed in a drawer somewhere as you fell into your stupor. For two weeks, you wallowed in self-pity. Fourteen days before you grew a pair. You rummaged though all your kitchen drawers looking for that slip.

It might have been foolish to assume Elvis would still be thinking about you after two weeks, but you still gave it a try.

Your hands trembled as you spun the rotary dial, carefully choosing every number that was on the paper. Receiver against your ear, chewing on your lip.

It rang three times before you’d slammed the phone back on its hook. It was a fruitless idea, there was just no way—

A ring stopped your negative thoughts, it rang twice before you picked it back up. Saying hello and waiting for a response.

“Y/n?” There was a pause. You didn’t know he’d given you his personal number.

“Uh, hello? Honey?…ya there?”

You shook of the surprise,

“Y—yes, uh, yes m’here”

Elvis wouldn’t be Elvis without pointing out the obvious

“So, you’re finally callin’ bout that date?”

You could practically hear the smile in his voice, and with a roll of your eyes, you said yes.

That date turned into ten years of love and a little bit of stress. He got you the prettiest ring, proposed at the prettiest dinner, and gave you the gift of your son.

For once, tears felt good on your face. When you look for reasons to stay with this perfectly imperfect man, you remember,

Those bloody sacrifices.

Taglist: @powerofelvis @rjmartin11 @re3kin

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⌝

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: sometimes you get something better

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, angst, fluff, sexual content (mdni)

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 𖥔 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

elvis leans against the doorframe of the graceland kitchen, watching you from a distance.

the morning light spills through the wide windows, bathing you in a soft, golden glow as you pour a cup of coffee, lost in thought.

he can see the slight furrow in your brow, the same one you used to get when you were trying to work through something difficult.

it had only been a few weeks since you had walked back into his life, but already everything felt different.

for the first time in years, the loneliness that had clung to him, despite the crowds and constant noise of fame, began to fade.

now, it was replaced by something he hadn’t dared hope for—a sense of purpose, of belonging. of home.

but along with you came something he hadn’t expected.

your son.

he was five years old, quiet and shy at first, but with the same spark of life in his eyes that elvis had seen in you all those years ago.

the moment you told him, that night in the alley outside the concert, he had felt his heart stop.

"i didn’t want you to find out like this.” you’d said, your voice trembling as you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "but i wasn’t sure if i’d ever see you again, and now that i’m here… it’s important that you know."

elvis had barely been able to process it.

a kid?

his mind spun with the implications, the weight of the responsibility that came with it.

you had said the boy's father wasn’t in the picture, and elvis could see the tension in your shoulders as you spoke, the burden of carrying it all on your own for so long. but what had stunned him most wasn’t the fact that you were a mother. it was the feeling that rushed in after the initial shock—an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

he wasn’t going to let you do this alone anymore.

now, as you turn and notice him standing there, he can’t help but smile.

you raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

“how long have you been lurking there?”

“long enough to know you make a mean pot of coffee.” he says, pushing off the doorframe and moving toward you.

his fingers graze yours as he takes the cup from your hands, and for a moment, you both stand in the quiet of the kitchen, the air thick with unspoken words.

"is he still asleep?" you asked, glancing toward the hallway where your son’s room was.

elvis nods, “out like a light."

you let out a soft sigh of relief and lean against the counter, your eyes scanning the room before settling back on him.

“i still can’t believe we’re here. that you… want us here.”

his expression softens into a faint frown, a subtle flicker of pain flashing in his eyes as your words sink in, tightening something in his chest.

with a quiet breath, he carefully sets the cup down, the sound barely audible, before stepping closer to you, a hesitant but deliberate shift in his stance.

“i meant what i said, honey. i want to be here—for both of you." he reaches for your hand, gently brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “i know it’s a lot to take in, but i want to help, however i can. you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

tears well in your eyes, and you quickly look away, blinking them back.

“i’ve been doing it alone for so long, i’m not sure i know how to let anyone else in.”

elvis gently slips his hand beneath your chin, his touch warm and soft as he tilts your face toward his. his blue eyes lock with yours, their deep, mesmerizing gaze pulling you in, charged with an undeniable allure.

“then let me show you.”

you stand there in silence for a moment, his words sinking in, until finally you give a small nod. it was a beginning—one that elvis wasn’t going to take for granted.

nervous energy crackles between you, the weight of this moment heavy but gentle.

elvis guides you upstairs to your shared room, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he gently closes the door behind him.

he leans forward slowly, and you feel his breath against your skin, soft and warm, as his lips meet yours in a kiss that’s both tender and filled with longing.

his hands are careful as he slides the straps of your house dress off your shoulders, letting the delicate fabric cascade to the floor, leaving you exposed to him.

he kisses along your skin, kneeling before you, his touch reverent as if he’s trying to make up for lost time.

every caress feels deliberate, as though he��s learning your body for the first time, exploring with a tender curiosity.

standing, he moves his hands along your back, pulling you closer. you respond in kind, your heartbeat quickening in sync with his.

you let your walls down, surrendering fully as he guides you back to the bed.

there’s no rush, no need to hurry—just a quiet exchange of trust and affection, the moment unfolding naturally between you.

both of your movements are tentative yet filled with desire, a blend of curiosity and the need to be close.

with each kiss, each soft murmur, you navigate the newness together, savoring the intimacy that was as much emotional as it was physical.

*

in the weeks that followed, graceland became more than just the mansion elvis had bought to escape the chaos of his life—it became a home.

you and your son settled into a routine, slowly finding your place in the vast estate that once felt so hollow.

elvis could see the change in you, the way the weight of years of struggle began to lift from your shoulders.

and in return, you brought life back into his.

he had been spending more time at home, taking a break from the relentless touring schedule that had once consumed him.

the music was still there, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like the only thing.

he found himself spending mornings with your son, taking him down to the stables to see the horses or playing with toy cars in the living room. it was different from anything he had ever imagined for himself, but it felt right in a way nothing else had.

it was evening now, your son had gone to bed and the two of you are sitting out in the garden, the air warm and heavy with the scent of magnolias.

elvis notices the faraway look in your eyes and nudges you gently with his elbow.

“what’s on your mind, darlin’?”

you hesitate, biting your lip before you speak.

“i’ve been thinking about… my music. about what i had to give up when i became a mom.”

he raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“go on.”

you glance down at your hands, fidgeting nervously.

“you know i’ve always wanted to be a singer, elvis. not crazy famous like you, but… i had my own dreams.”

at your words, elvis thinks back to the little songs the two of you would make together, performing them for your families at supper.

he watches the emotions flicker across your face—the uncertainty, the longing. and in that moment, he sees a reflection of himself, of the boy who once stood on the brink of something big, not knowing if he had what it took to follow through.

“it ain’t too late.” he says, his voice firm and sure. “it’s never too late.”

you look up at him, surprised. “elvis, i have a child to take care of. i can’t just—”

“look.” he cuts you off gently, stepping closer and taking your hand in his. “you’ve spent years taking care of everyone else. now it’s time for you to do something for yourself. i’ll be here. we’ll figure it out. if music is what you want—what you need—then we’re gonna make it happen.”

your lips part, but no words come out. instead, you just stare at him, disbelief mingling with hope.

“b-but how?”

elvis smiles, one that reaches his eyes. his grip on your hand tightens.

“you’re livin’ in graceland, sweetheart. we got all the resources you need. you wanna record? we’ll record. you wanna write? i’ll make sure you have all the time you need. and don’t worry about the boy—i’ll be here for him too.”

you shake your head, still unable to fully grasp what he’s offering.

“e, i can’t just… drop everything. i’ve never had the kind of support you have. it feels… impossible.”

“nothin’s impossible.” he said, his voice low and filled with conviction. “you believed in me once, even when i didn’t believe in myself. now it’s my turn to believe in you. and i ain’t lettin’ you give up on your dreams. not again.”

tears well in your eyes as you process his words. for years, you had put your dreams on hold, telling yourself that there would never be a way to pursue them while raising a child alone.

but here was elvis—offering you the chance to take your passion back, to reignite the fire that had dimmed inside you, all the while providing you with the fullness of family.

“what if i fail?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

the blue eyed male reaches up a hand and squeezes your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“then you fail. but at least you tried. and i’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

a tear slips down your cheek, but this time, it’s one of relief.

you lean into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and in that moment, you know you’re not alone anymore.

“i’m scared.” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest.

“so am i.” he replies softly, his lips pressing gently against the top of your head. “but we’re gonna figure it out. together.”

for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to imagine a future where your dreams don’t have to be on hold. where you could have both—a family and a career.

the next few months are a whirlwind.

elvis had a small recording studio built just for you, where you spent hours writing, practicing, and recording your music. he was with you every step of the way—offering advice, encouraging you when the self-doubt crept in, and most of all, giving you the space to be yourself.

and as you worked on your music, elvis became more and more a part of your son’s life.

the two of them spent hours together.

it was a side of elvis that the world didn’t get to see often—the quiet, nurturing side that had always been there but had never had a chance to flourish.

graceland, once a symbol of his fame and isolation, had become something more.

it was a place where dreams could live again—your dreams, this time. and as you stand in the recording booth one evening, listening to your voice fill the room, you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

hope.

elvis watches you from the other side of the glass, his heart swelling with pride.

you had come back into his life unexpectedly, and now, here you are, chasing your own dreams, with him beside you.

as the last note of your song rings out, you look over at him, a smile playing on your lips.

he gives you a thumbs-up, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest.

sometimes, you don’t just get a second chance.

sometimes, you get something better.

[enchantinglyjade]

Austin Butler/Elvis Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(M) = Mature

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Series

I Can Dream About You [Sebastian Kydd x OC] (M)

Alex is a quiet nobody that was lucky enough to get recognized by the most popular girl in school, Donna LaDonna. Now under Donna's rulership, Alex is faced with the issue of her own individuality when her and Donna fall for the same bad boy, transfer student, Sebastian Kydd. He is everything Donna wants, but what happens he falls for her invisible minion instead?

Milk & Honey [Austin!Elvis x Black!OC] (M)

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

[l-eternity-l]

-Loving You

summary. - when a young lady has a little bit too much to drink, a certain singer comes to her rescue.

pairing. - Elvis x Black OC

warnings. - age gap, alcohol, creepy dude

word count. - 3k

author's note. - ahhh okay guys this is my first fic. I'm honestly thinking about turning this into a long series because I already have an idea for a few more chapters. The only thing is I don't know what name to give the character so I literally just named her after me, but I really want to change it. I hope you guys enjoy!!! (also feel free to send request!!)

 ═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════ ═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════ 

MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE 1957 The Country Club

    MERCEDES clapped her hands together as her brothers finished rehearsing their new hit song.

  "You guys sound great," she tells her brothers as people walk onto the little stage at the front of the building, fixing the boy's microphones and retuning instruments.

  "We did just as expected" Luther breathed out "everyone was off-key, not to mention Raymond forgot the damn words" he takes a quick sip of his water before handing it to Mercedes.

"Oh, can it Luther!" Raymond speaks up "why don't you focus on whatever the hell you need to do and stay the hell outta my business" Luther sends him a harsh glare.

  "This is my business Raymond, fuck it's all of our business. These people pay us to put on a good show".

"Okay, so what!" Raymond becomes more frustrated by the second "all you ever wanna do is please some white man by dancing and singing like a damn fool, you ever realize I don't put effort into this shit because I don't care!" he throws his water onto the ground before storming off the stage. Mercedes sighs.

  "Why do you guys always have to do this" before her brother can respond she keeps going "always doin' something right before you have to perform. you know he may not be coming back" Luther shrugs.

  As far as everyone was concerned, Luther cared more about the music industry than anyone in the world-- blasting music and putting his all into everything the band did.

  He played the instruments, mixed the records, and wrote most of the lyrics. people may say that he takes some things too seriously but Luther never cared--he was going to be a star and no one would hold him back from that. not even his own family.

  "As if we need him, if push comes to shove we pull you up here and make Jerome a back up".

  "Hey" Jerome yells out "don't punish me for what ray did" Luther just shrugs him off, walking over to his brother Ronnie "Raymond just needs a second to calm down, he’ll come back after he's had a smoke" The boy tries his best to reason with his angry brother.

  Jerome and Mercedes were less than a year apart, their parents not being able to wait another second to try for a girl.

  Even though he's one of the lead singers, people still tend to forget about him, especially his mother.

  Jerome has no interest in being famous--by the time he was born his brother had already started their carer singing outside of their father's barbershop to bring attention to it. Jerome's real dream is to become a pilot --singing is just a small hobby to him.

  "I don't know why you ain't performing now Sadie" Ronnie speaks up causing the young girl to roll her eyes and lean up against the stage with her arms crossed.

  "Because the women specifically asked for a male quartet. those poor girls have a hard enough time keeping their men from cheating under their own roof, much less outside of it" she picks at the skin around her nails in boredom.

  Mercedes has always been the most outspoken of the siblings, the exact opposite of what her mother wants from her. The only one their mother actually likes is Ronnie.

  Ronnie is the quiet sibling, he does whatever his mother says--doesn't matter if it's something small as bringing her the TV remote that's right next to her, or big as donating a kidney, Ronnie would do it in a heartbeat.

  Even though he does all of this for his mother, it doesn't save him from being called ungrateful and useless--but that's just how things went in the Estelle household.

  "If it were up to me you'd replace Raymond right now, he's sloppy and he doesn't care about anything or anyone," Ronnie says fixing his bow tie in the reflection of a mirror.

  In the boys' defense, Raymond has been causing issues lately. if he's not showing up to rehearse late then he's off with some girl, it drives their mom crazy, which only causes her to snap at the rest of them.

  Raymond wasn't always like this. As a child, he was charming and loved to sing and dance when company came over. it wasn't until his mom and dad started fighting, he came a little devil.

  Raymond has gone through more than the other siblings--having to be the one who dealt with their mom and her outburst when dad had got done beating on her. When their dad had just died and their mom left, Raymond was the one to take care of everyone.

  After all these years, Raymond's care for anyone but himself faded, and so did his relationship with his family.

  "You know mama wouldn't let that happen. He has a great voice, he just doesn't like to perform. Thinks it's silly" Mercedes reminds her brother "besides, he's just angry because it's gettin' late and he ain't had dinner yet".

  "Well, he needs to get over it because people are gonna start showin' up soon. We've only got a few minutes of rehearsal time left" the girl pushes off of the stage.

  "I'll go try and find him, you guys just keep practicing".

...

  Mercedes wanders around the expensive country club in an attempt to find her oldest brother.

  After what felt like hours but was only a couple of minutes, she found him leaning against their car with a freshly lit cigarette between his lips.

  "I ain't goin' back in there" Raymond starts before his sister even gets the chance to speak "I ain't gonna make a fool of myself for all of those people. singin' bout love and rainbows and girls all while swayin' back and forth and dancin'".

   He takes a long drag of smoke before continuing "I'm gonna quit and tell momma to go get somebody else to do it. I ain't doin' this shit no more!".

  "Are you done," Mercedes ask, unamused by his outburst "because you have a show to do and all of your brothers are waiting on you to stop throwing yourself a pity party" he shakes his head.

  "You're just as bad as the rest of them Sadie. if you think doing dumb shit like this is what's gonna help us be famous then you go and do it. I know father wouldn't have wanted this for us, he wanted us to be stars, not clowns" he take another long drag "and I ain't gonna be a clown no more".

  "I don't care what you wanna do or what you don't wanna do, it's about what you gotta do. Fathers gone and Mommas crazy, we gotta make ends meet somehow" the boy tosses his cigarette on the ground and crushes it with his heel.

  "I can't keep on doin' this stuff Sadie. I wanna be able to do what I want with my life, not what momma wants." Much as Mercedes wanted to tell her brother he could do that, she also didn't want to lie to him.

  "Look I don't like the way momma does stuff around here either, but as long as we live under her roof, we have to do what she says." he runs his hand through his thick hair "We need you ray" she places his hand on his arm "Only for a few more years, then we can stop doing shows and just make music" he lets out a long sigh.

  "Let's just head back," he slides his hands in his pockets and starts to walk away from the car, Mercedes next to him "Mamas gonna be here in a few minutes and if I'm not there she'll just take it out on y'all".

"See now you're using your brain" his large hand forcefully shoves her away from him "Oww, what the hell-".

"Go find somethin' to do while we rehearse, you look like you wanna put a pistol in your mouth just sitting there".

If Mercedes was being completely honest, her brother wasn't wrong. they've all performed together since childhood, her and Jerome switching who'd lead, often doing duets. Any time Mercedes didn't get the chance to perform she felt an extreme sense of jealousy. Her mother only ever took her out saying it looked better with the boys singing, the boys are too tall and she doesn't fit in, and that four people on stage looked better than five. All this did was make Mercedes want to perform more.

  Mercedes and her mother didn't have the most loving relationship. After Luther was born, all Her dad ever talked about was having a girl-- after begging for years she agreed but they had another boy. This only fueled his want for a little girl more and they immediately had another child, even though Grace never wanted more than 3 kids. Soon after Mercedes was born, her father passed away from an unknown illness-- leaving her mother alone with 5 kids. Because of this Grace had resented her youngest child for years. Mercedes being unruly and never taking no for answer, only made this situation worse.  

She walked around the country club for a few minutes, trying to find something to cure her growing boredom. She feels an arm brush against her and quickly moves over to give the person more room, only they don't walk away. Mercedes glances up at the culprit. The man was older, maybe 25-35, with jet-black hair that was combed over and slicked down. you could see the gel glistening from the lights. He held a cigarette in his hand and sported a kind yet devious smirk.

"I'm sorry sir" Mercedes voices, quick to apologize in an attempt to avoid conflict. he waves his hand as if to dismiss her apology.

"Don't worry honey, it was my fault. What are you doin' here anyways" his gentle voice surprised Mercedes. Though the girl has never had a bad interaction with a white person before, she had heard many war stories of what her people go through on a daily basis-- this lead her to avoid them as much as humanly possible. "don't seem like the kind of place you'd find a nice young lady such as yourself," thought every cell in Mercedes's body told her to run away from the man, something else was begging her to stay--to figure out what it was this man wanted.

"I'm here with my brothers, they're performing tonight" he slowly nods his head.

"And they left you all alone out here, all by yourself" he sets his hand on her arm, a gesture that would normally make her pull away with fear, but the kind smile on his face seemed to soothe the thoughts that ran through her head.

"What? don't think I can take of myself" she says dripping with fake innocence. his smile grows.

"Oh the exact opposite," he moves his arm around to the small of her back, leading her away from where they stood "Why don't you come sit with me and my friends while you wait for your brothers, they're right over here," thought the situation feels off, Mercedes doesn't really have anything else to do at this party-- Not to mention, she loves the thrill of a little danger.

...

  Surprisingly, she ends up having a good time, talking to the men along with some of their girlfriends. They talk about music and performing while they sip on their expensive drinks. the night was going well and her brothers were putting on a good show, even though Raymond looked like he wanted to die the entire time. She sat beside the man she had met earlier, James. He had his arm resting on the back of her chair as he bragged about his yacht club and how much his soap company makes in a month. Even though Mercedes couldn't give a shit about his boat and his money, she did enjoy the drinks that the man kept handing her, Loving the burn of her stomach as she sipped on the fruity cocktails. One of the boy's songs comes to an end as Mercedes laughs at another one James' corny jokes. normally she wouldn't have, but her intoxication could make her laugh at a blank wall.

  "So," he pulls the drink away from her lips "why don't we get out of here" he runs his course hand up and down her knee, going a bit further each time "we should head someplace a bit more private". though Mercedes was so out of it she could barely form a sentence, she knew when something sounded sketchy. and in that very moment, she realized just how close he was to her. she clears her throat, sliding her chair a bit further away.

  "Yeah," she pushes his hand off of her leg, "I think I'm gonna have to pass on that" She lets out a nervous giggle as she takes another sip of her drink.

  "Don't be like that, I bought you all of these drinks and you're not gonna give me something in return" he leans to place a kiss on her cheek before whispering in her ear "Come on baby, I'll take you to my boat."

  "Sorry Captian, guess I'm not the girl you took me for" the man plasters on a fake smile, sliding his hand back onto her knee.

  "Why don't you have another drink, maybe then you'll change your mind" she pushes him off again, the chair letting out a loud cry as she stands with haste.

  "I've gotta go check on my brothers, I'll be back later" Mercedes says in an attempt to remove herself from the situation. She shoots the others at the table a quick smile before she quickly maneuvers her way through the crowd with unsteady feet, using the wall as a crutch. A sea of various people occupied the dance floor as she tries her best to make it to a less crowded area. The girl spots some public restrooms not too far away and makes her way toward them, stumbling with every step. Once she's there she lies against the side of the building before sinking to the plush grass, resting her head against the smooth concrete wall, a nauseating feeling overcoming her. Mercedes knew that people got drunk, hell she had to carry Raymond back into the house several times, but what she didn't know was how it felt. Her vision was clouded and her head was pounding. it felt as though her world was spinning. For a second, she even wondered if the man had slipped something inside her drink. The distant sounds of toilets flushing could be heard as she tried her best to regain her composure.

  "You okay there?" a southern voice draws her out of her dazed state. Mercedes looks up to yet another white man with slicked-back hair, only this time it was a bit longer and more in his face. though she felt like she really shouldn't be talking to him, the alcohol had clouded her judgment.

  "Umm... no. I don't know" Mercedes drops her head into her hands "I drank," she tells him.

  He lets out a slight chuckle "Well I can see that" he sits down next to her, lighting the cigarette between his lips. "What's a pretty girl like you doin' out here all alone?" he asks. Mercedes knows this trick all too well--in fact, she had experienced this trick less than two hours ago.

"I ain't gonna leave with you" her words slurred together, getting to the point as soon as possible.

"I ain't tryna take you anywhere honey, just wanted to make sure you aren't here alone. My name is Elvis, what's yours?".

"Sadie, and I'm not alone, 'm here with my mom and my brothers. There performing tonight." he hums.

"Your brothers are the Estelle's" the girl nods "I used to play basketball with them. I remember when you were just a baby. Your momma let you drink at this age?" he asked tilting his head. she shakes no.

  "No, she doesn't. But what she doesn't know won't hurt her" he raises his brows, amused at the girl's response.

  "Guess no one can tell you anything huh?" Elvis's voice was laced with sarcasm. Mercedes- not finding his little joke too funny, rolls her eyes.

  "What do you want" you'd swear you could see the annoyance radiating from the girl's body.

  "As I said before, I just wanna make sure you're okay" The girl scoffs as she tries to push herself back to her feet, failing miserably. Luckily Elvis helped her before she slid back down the wall.

  "Well, you can go find some other dame to save because I'm fine" The amusing thing is that Mercedes is definitely not fine, seeing as the only thing holding her up is Elvis.

  "I'll believe that when hell freezes over." he moves her arm around his shoulder for support before he leads begins to lead her away from the restrooms "Don't worry little girl, I'm gonna take you to your momma" she immediately starts to resist against his attempts to move.

  "No!" she says franticly "Are you crazy? If she finds out she'll beat me 'till I'm black and blue" Elvis stops for a moment, trying to think of a better option.

  "Okay, then I'll go get your brothers. How 'bout that?" Elvis offers.

  "No they'll kill me too " she argues "If they find out I was talking to a man they'd...they'd...oh, I don't know what they'd do but I know it wouldn't be pretty."

  "Look I gotta tell somebody, I can't just leave you sitting here drunk outta your mind!" Mercedes lets out a frustrated sigh "I don't care how mad it makes you you've gotta chose somebody. So who will it be? Your brothers or your mom?" Though both options sounded like a death wish, she knew that her brothers wouldn't lay a hand on her-- the most they would do is yell at her for a few hours and act distant for a day or two.

  "My brothers have an intermission in a few minutes, they usually smoke by the car." Mercedes reluctantly tells him, slightly pissed at the fact he's so hell-bent on getting her in trouble today.

PART TWO IS POSTED!!

[kinascum]

CHARMED ᯓ★

Austin Butler x Reader

wc: 1.7k | summary: y/n, an interviewer at Variety, scores an interview with Austin Butler. | nav - taglist

FLUFF. no major warnings.

You sit in the quiet of the Variety office, surrounded by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clack of a keyboard echoing through the open-plan space. Your heart beats a little faster than usual today as you prepare for the interview of a lifetime. The email with the subject line "Austin Butler Interview: Confirmed" still sits open on your screen, a stark reminder of the excitement and nerves you've been juggling since you read it. You've done this before, of course, but something about Austin feels different. Maybe it's the way his blue eyes seem to look right into your soul in every magazine cover, or the way his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine when you watch his interviews. You're a journalist with a knack for making even the most guarded celebrities open up, but you're not immune to the charm of Hollywood's golden boys.

The clock ticks closer to the scheduled time, and you stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your blouse and taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You've spent hours researching his career, from his early days on the small screen to his breakthrough performance as the king of rock 'n' roll. You've rehearsed your questions, honed them to perfection, and now all that's left is to wait for the moment when he walks through the door.

When he does, it's like the air in the room shifts. He's taller than you expected, with a presence that seems to fill the space around him. He's dressed casually, but it looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread, his jeans fitting just right, and a leather jacket thrown over a simple white tee. His eyes scan the room, and when they land on you, you feel a jolt of energy. He smiles, a genuine, warm smile that reaches his eyes, and you can't help but return it, feeling a little bit like you're melting.

You extend a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm but gentle. His skin is warm, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of his touch. "Y/N," he says, as if he's known you for years, not minutes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." His voice is like a caress, and you blush, hoping it's not too obvious. You've always been a little shy around the people you admire, and the fact that he's looking at you with such kindness isn't helping your nerves.

As you lead him to the interview set, you notice the way his boots scuff the floor, the quiet confidence in his stride. He seems to be at ease in his own skin, a stark contrast to the flurry of activity around you. You offer him a seat and take yours opposite, placing your notebook and pen on the table. You've done this a hundred times before, but today, your hand trembles ever so slightly. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you thought you'd outgrown, and try to remember to breathe. The cameras start to roll, and you're aware of every little detail: the sound of the film crew moving around, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the background, the way the lights cast a gentle glow on Austin's face.

He leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "So," he begins, his voice like a purr. "What's the first question you've been dying to ask me?"

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You clear it, hoping he doesn't notice, and glance down at your notes. But as you look back up, you realize that the question you've so carefully prepared isn't what you want to ask anymore. There's something about the way he's looking at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way you never have before. And in that moment, you know that this interview is going to be unlike any other.

You take a deep breath and dive in, asking him about his preparation for his latest role, one that's earned him critical acclaim and a slew of award nominations. His eyes light up, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to those intense days and nights spent becoming someone else. He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, his voice deep and resonant as he recounts the hours of research, the months of practice, the moments of doubt and triumph. You're captivated by his dedication, his passion for his craft shining through every word.

As you listen, you find yourself leaning in, hanging on to every syllable. His words paint a vivid picture of his journey, and you're drawn into the story as if you were there with him. You ask follow-up questions, eager to learn more, and he responds with the same thoughtfulness, never rushing, always choosing his words with care. His honesty is refreshing, and you can't help but admire the way he's handled the pressures of stardom with such grace.

But then his gaze starts lingering on you a beat too long, and when he smiles, it's a smile that says he's not just talking about the movie anymore, and suddenly, the air in the room feels charged with electricity. You blush, your cheeks grow warm, and you feel your heart race in your chest. Your hand fidgets with the pen, and you realize you're playing with your hair again, a nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in high school. But with Austin, you're feeling anything but professional.

He leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and asks you a question about your own work, your favorite stories, your dreams. And you find yourself opening up to him, sharing things you never thought you'd say out loud, let alone on camera. His voice is a gentle coax, drawing you out of your shell, making you feel as if you're the most interesting person in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe it.

The conversation flows like a river, twisting and turning through topics of art, life, and love. His stories are peppered with laughter, and you find yourself smiling more than you ever have in an interview. His hand reaches out, resting on the arm of your chair, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric as he pulls your chair closer to his. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt through your body, making you aware of every inch of space between you as you catch a glimpse of how his muscles flex under the studio lights.

You notice the way his fingers tap against the chair, a subtle beat that matches the rhythm of your heart. His eyes, so blue and deep, seem to see right through you, and for a moment, you wonder if he can read your thoughts. You realize you're not just asking questions anymore; you're exchanging glances, sharing silent moments filled with understanding. The chemistry between you is palpable, and the crew seems to have melted into the background, leaving just the two of you in the spotlight.

The interview comes to a close, but the energy between you and Austin doesn't dissipate. As the crew starts to pack up, he lingers, his hand still resting on the arm of your chair. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "That was one of the best interviews I've had in a long time." You blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was an honor."

He stands, and you follow suit, the space between you closing as you exchange pleasantries about the weather and the traffic. His eyes never leave yours, and you can't help but feel like there's something unspoken hanging in the air. He's charismatic, down-to-earth, and thoughtful—everything you've read about him, but seeing it up close is like experiencing the gravity of a star for the first time. His words come out measured and deliberate, each one chosen with care, as if he's afraid of saying too much or too little.

As you walk him out, the quiet of the office seems to amplify the sound of your shoes on the floor. The lights seem to dim, and the world outside the glass walls fades away. You find yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to dance when he smiles. He pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees wobble. "Y/N," he says, and the way he says your name feels like a secret shared between the two of you. "Could I interest you in a drink? To celebrate a successful interview?" His words are followed by a cheeky grin as he addresses you in an overly formal manner.

You're surprised by the invitation, but something in his tone tells you that it's more than just a professional courtesy. You hesitate, your heart racing as you laugh nervously. You've never mixed business with pleasure before, but the way he's looking at you, the way his thumb brushes against the back of your hand as he holds the door open, makes you want to throw caution to the wind. You nod, trying to sound casual. "Sure, I'd love that."

The bar he chooses is dimly lit, the kind of place where whispers are the loudest sounds and secrets feel safe. He orders a whiskey neat, and you ask for a glass of wine. As you sit across from him, you can't help but notice the way the light plays with the shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He talks about his love for music, the way it's shaped him as a person and an actor, and you listen, enraptured. His passion is contagious, and you find yourself sharing stories from your own life, things you rarely speak of outside of your closest friends.

The conversation flows as easily as the alcohol, and you realize that you're not just talking about work anymore. You're laughing, sharing, connecting in a way you never have with an interview subject. His hand reaches across the table, and he takes yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. It's a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, a question, a door opening to something new.

A/N: kinda in a love-hate relationship with this one yall

tell me if yall want to be added to this masterlist's taglist !!🩶🩶🦫

[lustnhim]

elvis swimming at his first memphis home (7-4-24) 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[mamasturn]

send you away, major gale cleven

pairing: major gale cleven (masters of the air) x black fem oc (eden marie cleven)

content: eden is anxious about having to be separated from her husband when he reveals that he has to serve in England.

an: I was burnt out from writing elvis content, but, now we're on masters of the air content, yay!

“I’m sorry, baby, but I gotta go.” His voice was a song sung by an old church choir; soothing, warm like her mama’s hugs, then it got disruptive. Like the snares of the drums as the song reached a climax. “They need us in England.” 

The pained look on her face would be engrained in his mind forever. There would be no way for him to forget it. Her thick eyebrows eat in a deep frown, pushing the rest of her features further down. Her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, glistened with tears. She refused to blink. The gentle rivers would transition to monstrous waterfalls with no dam to keep them at bay. And her lips, full and swollen from tender kisses, quivered as she clenched her jaw to keep her composure. 

“For how long?” Her voice was quiet. Gale sighed heavily and ran a heavy hand through his hair. If he had an answer, he’d give it to her. But, his silence spoke loud enough. She hummed and brushed his hand off her lap and began to trudge upstairs. A defeated sigh came from him. 

“E,” Gale called out. He followed her up the wooden steps. “Eden!” 

His large hand palmed their bedroom door that threatened to push him out. The lamp on her side of the bed was on, the blankets on the left side were pulled back, and she stood in front of the mounted mirror brushing her freshly pressed hair. Her sad expression had morphed into one like stone. He could see her jaw tick as each second passed. 

Gale took slow steps toward her. He could only imagine what she was thinking. Her husband, whom she’d only been married to for six months, was being shipped off to England to assist them in bringing down Germany. How coulde she not be upset? 

Gale stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His advances didn’t keep her from wrapping her hair and tossing her satin scarf around her head. He leaned down, nose brushing against the shell of her ear. Eden’s breath hitched. His lips followed, pecking at the sensitive area below her ear. He pulled at her skin with his teeth and she whimpered softly, her hand falling on top of his. “Gale…” A warning. 

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “Please.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said after some time. “I knew what I got into when I married you but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m scared, Gale!” Finally, she turned to meet his gaze. So big and blue, they were. Filled with sympathy and remorse. 

“I knew what I was getting into when I married you, but still! I gotta send my husband away and I don’t want to think about the day where someone could knock on the door telling me--”

Gale shushed her softly and pressed her body against his in a tight embrace. His warm hand gripped her chin and tapped softly. She met his eyes. “So let’s not think about that. I leave in three weeks. We’re gonna focus on making these three weeks worthwhile, and we’ll cross the other bridge when we get to it. But I’ll always be with you one way or another, you know that, darlin’. You do know that, don’t you?”

Eden nodded. Gale raised an eyebrow. “I know, baby.” 

Gale hummed and drew invisible lines along the bare skin other thigh. The lace of her slip tickled her leg. His hand inched up slowly. “How about we practice for that final send off?” 

Eden smiled knowingly and broke away from him, peeling the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders her bare body on display. “C’mon, we’ve got all night.” 

All night indeed.

[lovemyselfyay]

AUSTIN IN BLACK AND WHITE PICTURES IS MY WEAKNESS

[ssinnerplazahotel]

𝘽𝙞𝙧����𝙞𝙚&𝙀

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Two*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 6k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch.1

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

AFTER THE WHOLE PILLAR DEBACLE, you figured things wouldn’t go back to the way they were when it came to Elvis. And you were right to assume so.

You also knew that he was gifted in his ability to scope you out no matter what room of the house you were in. But his advances towards you became increasingly more frequent as time continued. It started small, a few glances here or there, a good morning when he came downstairs in the middle of the evening, a goodnight when he finally went to bed in the morning. But he never did anything to give the impression that something was going on between the two of you, no matter how minute the feelings he had for you were.

As the weeks passed you could tell that he was becoming more and more restless, annoyed with not being able to talk to you freely. You had to admit that you enjoyed your brief encounters throughout the day, and you might’ve also enjoyed his restlessness.

“Hey, babydoll.”

“Watch it.”

He snuck up on you in the kitchen one gloomy afternoon. He stood behind you as he reached over your head for a glass, his hand resting dangerously on your hip. You shooed him away—preoccupied with checking items off your to-do list for the day.

“Dawn’s around here somewhere,” You said.

“She always is.” He walked over to the sink and ran some water into his glass. He would soon abandon it on the counter, merely using it as an excuse to be in the kitchen. “I’ve gotta get to a show t’night. You should come. See me in action and everything.”

“You know I can’t.” Even if you could, you didn’t see yourself ever going.

He hummed in thought but didn’t look too disappointed. “If you come by my room after I won’t be so sad to not see you there.”

“What?” He had a persuasive look in his eyes—it didn’t outshine the hope that lingered there as well. “Why?”

“Because I want you to, that’s why.” He smirked. “I wanna talk. I miss you.”

“You miss me?” You couldn’t help but laugh in amusement at the confession. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because his feelings seemed unwarranted. “We talk every day.”

It was true. You spoke on daily basis—so much so that the days that went by when you didn’t see each other felt strange. You didn’t realize it then, but looking back now, the days were longer. Quieter, perhaps, because you weren’t anticipating him like you did when you knew he was home.

“I wanna talk to you for real.” He peaked out of the propped open door before moving closer. “Without any distractions,” He continued in a low voice. “Just wanna focus on my girl.”

“Your girl?” You quirked an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since you almost fainted when I told you how bad I want you.” He toyed with the scarf hanging from your apron. “Unless you forgot about that already.”

Before you could even begin to recall the embarrassing experience, he plucked the scarf from your waist and held it out of your reach. “Hey!”

“Hey. You come see me tonight and I’ll make sure you get your pretty little scarf back, okay, honey?”

“Elvis~”

“If you don’t,” He hummed tauntingly as he walked away with the scarf. “You might never see it again.”

“Elvis~”

“I’ll see you t’night.”

You groaned lowly in defeat as he disappeared without another word. You didn’t see him again until that night when he and his entourage were heading out for the show. The pouring rain didn’t seem to put a damper on their mood. You were good about keeping your eyes to yourself whenever Elvis was around, but you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger momentarily when you saw your scarf tied around his neck. You looked around for any sign of Dawn, and your stomach dropped when you saw her coming down the stairs.

“Good luck, Mr. Presley,” She said in passing as she headed in your direction.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Elvis responded. He met your wide eyes and where he saw panic in your own, he seemed amused.

You turned around to dart into the next room but your aunt stopped you, handing you a basket of linens that needed to be washed.

“I’ll get them done now.”

“Did you lose your scarf?” She asked before you could rush off.

You looked down at where it usually would be. “I guess I did.”

Dawn hummed before continuing into the living room. You hurried off to the laundry room. You made a mental note to give Elvis a piece of your mind when he returned later that night.

Despite the panic coursing through you, you couldn’t help the tiny butterflies that erupted in the pit of your stomach. It seemed like you were in a constant battle with yourself when it came to him. Although you’d given up on trying to stay away, you weren’t able to let yourself go. Your hesitation seemed futile, even to yourself. There was no such thing as testing the waters when it came to Elvis Presley. Even if you tried to dip your toes in little by little—you’d eventually fall right in.

*

You could feel the house come to life when everyone got back that night. If the noise wasn’t enough of a tell, the energy everyone returned with was somewhat contagious. You felt your nerves ignite when you remembered that Elvis expected you to come to his room. It wasn’t that the thought had ever escaped you, you had just suppressed it all night in an attempt to not drive yourself insane. As you were trying to talk yourself into keeping your word there was a knock on your door. Your eyes widened. It had to be him.

“W-Who is it?” You smoothed the front of your mahogany skirt—subconsciously adjusting your hair while going to get the door. A voice that wasn’t Elvis’ responed, causing your steps to falter before you hesitantly pulled the door open. “Oh, Mr. West.”

You put on a polite smile. Sonny West. Dawn told you he was Elvis’ bodyguard. You always avoided talking to him, you didn’t know why. Subconsciously, you may have feared him.

“Can I help you?”

“Elvis can’t seem to find that marigold drinking glass of his.” He sized you up as he spoke. “Said you might know where it is.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Well, I’m sure it’s in the cupboard if it’s not in his room.”

“If you find it, run it by his room,” Sonny said. “He gets all nit-picky about certain things when he wants to.”

“I’ll go look for it now.”

“I’ll let him know.”

You waited for him to walk away before leaving yourself. Your heart hammered against your rib cage as you went to find the drinking glass. Out of all the glasses in all the rooms of the house, you couldn’t figure out why he wanted that one in particular. It wasn’t until you found the glass and got to his room that you realized it was just a ploy to get you there. You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation before knocking lightly on the door.

When the door opened you expected to see the usual wide-eyed, bushy tailed Elvis you’d grown so accustomed to. Instead you were greeted with a weary smile and tired eyes. He’d changed out of the get up he left in. Although he looked exhausted he still dressed presentably in a pair of black slacks and a midnight blue dress shirt.

“I see you got my message.” He leaned against the door. “You didn’t think I’d let you stand me up, did you, birdie?”

“I was actually on my way.” You walked past him. You looked around for a moment and took in the layout of the room. It was your first time seeing it for all it was and you instantly felt transported to another place entirely. “I don’t appreciate you sending Sonny to interrogate me like I stole something.”

“I told him to get you to bring me the glass, I didn’t know he was gonna be hard-ass about it.” He shut the door and took the glass from your hands. “I actually hate this thing. It always looks like it’s stained, dirty or somethin.”

“You look exhausted.” You pointed out. “Rough night?”

“Just coming down. You shoulda seen me a little while ago, I was like a live wire.” He made a crazy face that made you laugh and set the glass on the table by the door, adding to the endless clutter. He wrapped his arms around your waist—leaving your hands to rest on his chest. The physicality made the hairs on your neck and arms stand at attention as you anticipated what he would do next. You never could tell with him. A part of you started to fear what he might have been expecting from you. “Can I get you somethin?”

“My mother’s scarf, actually.” You tried to hide your nerves by toying with the top button of his shirt.

“So it’s your mama’s pretty scarf?” He hummed in enlightenment. “I see.”

“Yeah, and if I don’t get it back she’s gonna have a real problem with you. You didn’t lose it, did you?”

“Course not, baby. Come sit right here for a minute.” He pulled away from the embrace and took your hand—leading you to the bed and sitting you down. “Don’t move, stay right there for me. And close your eyes.”

“Elvis~” You started, cutting your eye apprehensively.

“Do it,” He insisted as he walked into his large closet. “I’ll tell you when you can look.”.

You did what he asked, keeping an ear out for when he came back. You sensed him stopping in front of you before you felt the bed dip beside you. A necklace was placed around your neck, the cool chain rested weightlessly against your collarbone as he secured the clasp with clumsy fingers.

“Okay, you gotta see it in the light.” You opened your eyes as he pulled you up from the bed and into the bathroom.

His words didn’t fully make sense until he pushed you in front of him to stand in the mirror. Your eyebrows furrowed momentarily in confusion before your features softened.

“Elvis…” You met his eyes through your reflection.

“I saw it the other day and it reminded me of you.” He stood behind you and put his arms around your waist. “D’you like it?”

It was a thin, gold-chained necklace with a golden lark charm attached. The diamond eye of the bird dazzled under the light.

“It’s beautiful, it really is.” You smiled. “But I can’t let you give me this.”

“Why?” Disappointment graced his soft features when he looked down at you.

“Dawn would think I stole this if she ever saw me with it.” You laughed—shifting in his arms to meet his eyes. “It’s thoughtful of you, really~”

“Honey, if that’s what’s stopping you, don’t let her catch you with it,” He said. “Wear it for me. She’ll never know.”

“I think she knows a little more than we think. Especially after that stunt you pulled earlier,” You said. “You should really be more careful.”

Elvis agreed, but he sounded distracted. “I wouldn’t want her gettin ahold of ya.”

“You’ve said that before.” The smile on your face faded as you tried to make something of his inscrutable expression. “What is it?”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen.”

“You must be delirious.”

He laughed shortly—his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “Nah, baby, I ain’t delirious.”

The space between his lips and yours steadily decreased as he stared into your eyes.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Elvis~”

You weren’t sure what your tone was meant to convey. Your brain short circuited. You didn’t want him to stop. You’ve never wanted anything more than you wanted him to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“E-Elvis.” Your lips were mere centimeters apart.

“What’s wrong?” He looked concerned when he turned you in his arms to face him completely. “Am I overwhelming you?”

“No, It’s not that, I just…” You trailed off, mostly out of embarrassment, as you forced yourself to finish your sentence. “I-I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“This, I’ve never done this.”

He processed your words slowly. A hint of confusion still remained when he spoke again.

“You ain’t never kissed anyone?”

“No, I haven’t. I’ve never been with anyone, ever.”

He fell silent—looking off to the side with that same confused expression.

“Well I’ll be goddamned…no wonder you almost hit the ground the other night.”

“Elvis!”

You whined as he threw his head back in laughter. You couldn’t find anything funny, only cripplingly embarrassing.

“It ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about,” He said through his laughter. “I mean, I’m sure there are plenty girls your age that haven’t.”

“If there are I don’t know any of them.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the counter.

“You saving yourself or something?” He leaned forward against the counter with a hand on either side of you. Caging you in with an amused gleam in his eye.

“It’s not that.” It was true. You just hadn’t found the right person, you told him.

“Why do you think that is?” His tone sounded genuinely interested.

“I expect too much.”

“You deserve to.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You think I’m sweet?”

“Yes.”

“…Sweet enough for you?”

You smiled softly and he slipped his arms around your waist again. He held you close to him and returned your gentle smile, his hands trailing over your hips and taking your hands in his before stepping back. He lead you out of the bathroom without a word, taking you back into the room and onto his exceptionally large bed. If you ever thought you had butterflies before that moment you were mistaken. You watched him with anxious eyes as he joined you on the bed. His fingers graced over the goosebumps rising on your arms. You craved his touch as much as you anticipated his every move.

Your breath hitched audibly when he moved to close the space between you and the smile on his lips momentarily deepened into a smirk. Your eyes fluttered shut and you held your breath as his lips moved to press gently against yours. His hands caressed your face and you melted into his touch. You parted your lips and let him invade your senses with a silent gasp.

You found yourself clinging to the front of his shirt in a moment of desperation before he broke the kiss. You were surprised to find his pupils blown—his jaw clenching as his eyes darted over your features. For a moment you thought you did something wrong, but you recognized the expression on his face despite your lack of experience.

He craved you just as you craved him.

There was a flicker of consideration behind his hungry eyes before he released a tense breath. He grazed his thumbs gently over the apples of your cheeks and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. He lingered before pulling away completely. You watched him move down to the head of the bed and lie down on the pillows, gesturing for you to join him—which you did without question. He laid his head on one arm and the other draped over you.

He laughed at your expectant expression. “That’s all for now, honey.”

“Why?” You asked, earning another short laugh from him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. I wanna be good to you and I can’t right now.”

You were suddenly aware of his tired eyes again and you nodded in understanding.

“Tell me about your day.”

You insisted he sleep. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I want to talk.”

“Another time,” You teased, moving to sit up.

“You can stay until I fall asleep,” He said, keeping you there. “Don’t leave yet.”

You thought about it for a moment. You knew deep down that you should’ve left then, but how could you when he begged with his eyes like that? That subtle insistence that urged you to please stay? You settled back down. “Only until you fall asleep.”

He smiled in victory and pulled you closer—pressing another kiss to your lips before laying his head down and closing his eyes.

“Am I sweet enough for you, birdie?”

“Too sweet.”

His features softened and his breathing eventually evened out. You stayed for a while longer, watching him sleep as he held you. You never wanted the night to end, but you forced yourself to leave him there alone. You crept back across the hall to your room without anyone seeing you and climbed into your own bed. Exhausted by the events of the night—you fell asleep quickly.

*

You never hated your birthdays. You usually looked forward to spending time with your mother and what few friends you had in high school. However, high school was over now and your mother wasn’t there to make you breakfast or to tell you the story of your birth—which she had made a habit out of doing every year. Dawn had tried to feel you out for a gift but you insisted she not get you anything. You wanted to go about the day like normal.

It was just another day.

You were exhausted after preparing for Elvis’ Thanksgiving dinner party. Dawn sure you knew that working Thanksgiving night wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was a long week of preparation followed by a long day of making sure there was enough food to feed a small army. The excitement of all the preparation was starting to wear off and you found yourself slightly dreading the party tomorrow.

Your dread dissipated ever so slightly when Elvis knocked on your door that night. You hadn’t noticed the way your mood elevated when you saw him, but it was undeniable. Despite the way your heart raced as the butterflies soared in your stomach, you were still miserably tired.

“I know, baby, but I wanna show you something,” He insisted upon hearing your complaints. He walked into your room holding a bag.

“What’s that?” You wondered.

He turned to you with a smug smile before holding the ivory paper bag out to you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“How did you…”

He pressed his lips together, smothering a laugh. “I heard Dawn talkin about how it was your birthday a couple days ago and you wasn’t wantin nothing so~”

“You got me something?”

He took your hand and made you grab the bag. “I had to.”

“Elvis.”

“Take it, for me. So I’ll at least feel better knowin I got you something.”

You didn’t have it in you to deny him—he was so excited. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out.” He stood back and watched your reaction.

You reached into the bag and pulled out the white rectangular box inside, it looked like it came from a department store. You let the ivory bag fall to your feet as you balanced the box on your arm and opened it. Your eyes widened as you lifted the pure white nightie slightly from the box. It was lined with gold embroidery that twisted and turned into small flowers along the hem.

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

“You’re just terrible at receiving gifts, y’know,” He said with a proud smile taking over his features. “I-I was gonna get you a pretty little dress, but I knew you’d never wear it. Cause of Dawn and everything. So I got you this.”

“It’s beautiful, it is,” You said—still admiring the nightwear. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, doll.” He took the box out of your arms and set it on the bed. “Try it on for me, make sure it fits.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“C’mon,” He drawled, pulling your body against his. “Let me put it on you.”

You let out a nervous laugh. Your slick response died on your tongue when he reached for the hem of the old nightgown you were already wearing. His fingers brushed your thighs, waiting.

“Okay.”

He smiled, happy with your response, and he ducked his head to leave a sweet kiss on your lips. “Good girl,” He murmured against your mouth before pulling the gown up over your head. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you stood before him, bare aside from the plain white panties you wore under your gown. You felt the urge to cover yourself, you had never been exposed to anyone like this. But something about the way his eyes shamelessly roamed your body made you forget your discomfort. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he grabbed the white nightie from the box. He slipped it carefully over your head—-helping you slip your arms through before letting it fall gracefully over your body. The silk felt like a cloud on your skin, reaching just before the middle of your thighs. It was a complete contrast to the polyester nightgown you were wearing before. He looked pleased as he helped you slip into the robe, adjusting it on your shoulders.

“Alright, now do a little spin.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he held your hand up over your head and spun you around.

You put your arms around his neck when you faced him again. Before you could speak he was kissing you, deeper that time. You parted your lips willingly, still unsure but eager to match his pace. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you felt so utterly inexperienced in his arms. He broke the kiss eventually, trailing a kiss or two down your jaw before pulling away completely.

“I wanna show you something else.”

“If it’s another gift—”

“It’s not exactly, but it kinda goes with this one, I guess.” He sounded amused.

“What is it?”

“I have a promise to keep, don’t I, honey?”

He only smiled as he bent down to kiss you—pushing the silk robe off your shoulders as his tongue roamed your mouth. You felt dizzy.

The further you inched towards the bed, the more eager you became. Your body lit up with want. He continued to trail kisses down your neck until he kissed the top of your breasts, exposed by the low-cut neck of the nightie.

He was gentle in the way he handled you. You thought he was maybe going easy on you– because he thought you were fragile. Perhaps he could sense how insanely hyper aware you were of everything that was happening. He continued on like this for a while, his gentle fingers roaming your skin and smoothing the silk fabric over your curves. After he’d had his fill of kissing you, he stripped you of your new nightie just as meticulously as he had dressed you in it—slipping the thin straps slowly from your shoulders until it fell into a graceful heap on the ground.

You felt a foreign feeling wash over you as he pushed you further onto the bed, laying you back as he hovered over you. You could feel the heat radiating from both your bodies as you pulled him closer.

“You sure about this, pretty?” He asked, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“Yes.” You weren’t sure you’d ever been more sure.

He smiled, leaning up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips before continuing to kiss down your body.

Your breathing started to pick up as you lifted yourself onto your elbows, watching as he kissed the exposed part of your hip, just above the top of your panties, and hooked his fingers under the thin material before slipping them slowly down your legs. Your breath hitched in your throat when he continued to trail kisses down the inside of your thigh. He hummed in amusement when you shied away.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” His were voice the only thing getting through to your brain, you couldn’t decipher his words, however. He chuckled when you didn’t answer, kneeling between your legs to hover over you again. “Talk to me, birdie,” He said, meeting your unfocused eyes. “Have you?”

“No.” The only thing you could focus on was the way his right hand rested against your lower stomach, still and idle. “I-I’ve tried but I never…”

“I’ll show you how.”

“Okay.”

Your body reacted to him in ways that you had never experienced. You crooned at his every touch and your breath heaved at every crude word that left his lips. Words that, prior to that night, you had only heard passed around by people at school. Yet, somehow, there you were, hearing them being utter by the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t disobey the urge you had to let him consume you. Your body was making its own decisions—leaving your brain to process what was happening after it was already done.

He didn’t make love to you like you thought he would. Instead, he slipped a calloused hand between your tender thighs and played your body like a song—letting each whimper that left your love bitten lips become its melody.

His melody.

He whispered in your ear all the things you wanted and needed to hear and you held onto him—bracing yourself. His words were enough to send you careening over that steep edge. Your eyes rolled and the feeling completely consumed you from the inside out. He didn’t pull away until a short sob left your lips, shushing you gently as he wrapped his arm around you. You were barely able to register him leaving your soulless body, but you missed the heat of his the second he was gone.

You forced your eyes open. You felt small in your bed. Your body trembled—still recovering from the intense fire that had been set inside of you. You almost felt alone as you laid there with the air turning cold around you.

“Elvis?”

“Hold tight, baby.”

His voice was muffled by the wall and the sound of the faucet running. It felt like forever before he joined you again.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

You flinched when he pressed the warm cloth against you, delicately wiping away your release before standing and disappearing into the bathroom again. When he returned he covered you with the throw blanket that stayed on the end of your bed before laying beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“I think I love you.”

“Don’t say that, birdie…you’ll regret it.”

You wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that love was the only word you could use to describe the things you felt for him. But you decided not to argue. Instead you allowed yourself to get lost in the scent of his musky cologne and the warmth of his embrace.

Nothing could’ve ruined that evening for you.

*

{It was thanksgiving day.}

You hadn’t expected to go downstairs and find your aunt talking on the kitchen phone with a grim expression on her face. She spoke quietly to whoever was on the other line. You hadn’t expected her to hang up and tell you that your mother wasn’t doing well. That she was taken to the hospital and they’d already done everything they could for her. It was the last thing you were expecting.

You’d spoken to your mother on the phone less than a week ago on your birthday and she reassured you that everything was fine, that she was actually feeling a lot better than she had been for months.

“Your brother thinks she’ll pull through,” Dawn said, holding your hands in hers as she broke the news. “But the doctors say we should start making preparations~”

“Oh god.” You pulled your hands away and leaned forward against the counter. You legs felt weak beneath you. “She told me she was fine, w-why would she~”

“I know.” Dawn’s voice was unsteady as she rubbed your back. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

“They say guests should arrive around one,” Cynthia, a fellow housekeeper that was close friends with Dawn, said walking into the kitchen. “Do you think we’ll have everything done before then?”

“A couple hours after if not,” Dawn managed to say, putting on a brave face. “Get the table linens from the dryer, hon.”

You nodded, thankful for the escape.

Your body was on autopilot as you followed her orders, your mind jumping from one thing to another so quickly you weren’t sure what you were thinking. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to afford a funeral, you didn’t know how you were even going to manage to put one together. You never thought the day would come when you would have to think about such things and it made your stomach churn, unsettled. You tried to hold on to the same hope your brother had that she would pull through, a part of you knew it was futile.

You felt guilty for hoping. Hoping that she would live to continue on with her life of pain and suffering, it was selfish.

Pain and suffering that you’d witnessed first hand, nonetheless, pain and suffering that you so desperately wanted her to be free of.

People started showing up a little after one, just as Cynthia had said. The house was all made up and filled with friends and family members, most of whom you’d never seen before. You tried your best to put on a polite expression despite how much you wanted to curl up and cry. You willed for the night to be over, desperately wanting to call your brother and at least let your mother hear your voice.

A few hours into the nights, as you cleared a tray of dirty dishes into the sink to be washed, your mind ran rampant with thoughts of getting to the train station to buy a ticket home. You wondered if you could make it there before the end of the day tomorrow, or maybe sometime later into the night. It didn’t matter, as long as you got there.

“Birdie~” You startled out of your thoughts, the glass in your hands slipping through your fingers and shattering onto the ground. Your eyes widened in horror as you knelt down to gather the larger pieces of broken glass. You grabbed it with your bare hands, which might not have been the best idea.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You cried. “I’m so sorry~”

“Hey, woah.” Elvis knelt down and stopped you, making you drop the few pieces of glass in your hands. “Don’t do that, honey, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m s-sorry,” You said again, tears springing into your eyes as you stood to grab the broom. “I’ll get it up, i-it slipped—”

“Slow down,” He said, standing with you. He stopped you with his hands on your waist and tried to meet your teary eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Dawn’s voice called out to you before you saw her entering the kitchen. “What happened?”

You shook your head, abandoning the broken glass on the ground as all your emotions suddenly came to a head. You rushed out of the kitchen, trying to make it up the stairs and out of sight before you let the tears in your eyes fall.

“I’ll make sure she’s alright, Ms. Dawn,” Elvis said before she could rush after you. “D’you mind gettin this up, I don’t want the kids or anybody hurtin themselves.”

He didn’t catch much besides a confused expression from Dawn before he left the kitchen, skipping up the stairs to your room where he found you sitting on your bed with your head in your hands. “Birdie,” He said, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms. “W-What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry a-about the glass~”

“I don’t care about the glass, it doesn’t matter.” He brought his hands up to cup your face, thumbing away your tears uselessly. “What happened?”

“M-My mother,” You tried to explain through your tears. “She’s…she’s not doing well.”

“Oh…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” You sobbed. “If I lose her…”

He didn’t say much in response, only a constant string of apologies fell from his lips as he tried his best to console you. “Breathe, baby,” he hummed as he rocked you in his arms. “You gotta try to breathe.”

Your bedroom door opened then and Dawn came in, quickly moving to take Elvis’ place. “I’m sorry, Mr. Presley, I’ll take it from here,” She said. “You should get back to your party.”

“It’s no problem.” He stood from the bed, lingering there for a moment. “She should take the rest of the night off. Both of you should, really.”

Dawn nodded. “Thank you.”

He stood there for another moment, wanting to say something more but deciding against it. He wished you both a good night and left the room.

You moved away from Dawn, very obviously not okay even though you insisted that you were. “Leave me alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

She sighed and stood to leave, patting your shoulder once before walking out of the door. “I’ll come check on you again before the end of the night,” She said as she closed the door.

“Is she alright?” Elvis asked, startling Dawn as she suddenly became aware of his presence in the hall.

“Elvis, honey,” She said with a hand over her heart. “I thought you went back downstairs.”

“I wanted to make sure everything was alright,” He said, not doing a very good job at hiding his concerned eyes. “I’ve never seen her so upset.”

“Her mother, my sister, she’s very sick,” Dawn explained. “She has been for a while now. It was just a matter of time, so...” Her eyes were glossed over with tears.

Elvis nodded, staring off with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry…”

“You should get back downstairs.”

“No, I’m gonna…if they ask where I am tell ‘em I turned in,” He said, walking past Dawn in the direction of his bedroom. “I’m goin to bed.”

“But the party~”

“I don’t feel like havin a party anymore.” He walked away, his mood shifting suddenly. “Tell Sonny to take care of it. Please.”

Dawn stood there in shock as he retreated to his room and shut the door, leaving it up to her to relay the message.

As you laid in bed that night you heard your door creak open and shut softly before you felt the side of your bed dip down under Elvis’ weight.

“Birdie?” He whispered as he put his arm around you. You turned around in his arms, burying your face in his chest as he held you. “You okay?”

“I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Your mother died that night—over a thousand miles away with only your brother there to hold her hand as she took her final breaths.

You didn’t want to believe it. You so badly wanted to believe anything else. Even as you packed your bag for the trip home you didn’t want to believe it. The entire way there, and through the entire funeral service, you wanted so desperately not to believe it. You wanted to cry as they lowered your mother’s casket into the ground, you wanted to fall to your knees and beg god to take you with her, but all you could do was stand there and watch. Frozen and unmoving.

When the service came to an end and all was said and done you still didn’t move an inch. Staring at the uneven soil of the fresh plot that your mother was buried in.

Buried…gone.

You felt multiple hands lead your frozen body to the car before you were placed inside, your eyes looking at the green tent still pitched outside until they strained to see.

As numb as you were, you still felt the hole in your chest where your heart should’ve been. It was empty, hollow. Void. You were feeling everything yet nothing all at once and you didn’t know whether to lean into it or run away. Nothing felt right, nothing felt settled like it was supposed to be. You felt on edge, waiting for the moment that you would snap out of it and wake up.

You waited for the moment that you would open your eyes back in your childhood home with your mother downstairs cooking you a hot meal before school. A moment that, not even a year ago, had been your reality.

You closed your eyes as the dust from the dirt road surrounding the cemetery picked up around the car, praying that when you opened them you’d be back in that place with your mother and all her warmth.

As you drifted off into unconsciousness, you knew you’d never feel that warmth again.

***

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Drop It!

Warnings: Supernatural elements. Dead!Elvis. Reader’s father is dead. Reader denotes elvis to his face. Dilapidated Graceland.

Summary: It’s move-in day! Reader spends the day fixing up the house. By the end of the night, she just wants to relax but something, or someone, needs to talk to her.

A/N: I am fully aware that graceland is cared for and not at all in ruin but the story calls for it. I put a lot of thought into this series and i really want everyone to enjoy it! The story is inspired by my house and what it’s like living here. though i’ve never come face to face with my goulish friends, i do respect them. A small bit, while comical, is something i actually did experience. Granted, i never spoke to anyone, or at least, never got an audible response. Most of this series includes odd happenings that i’ve dealt with. Isn’t that fun? Non-beliver or not, i hope you enjoy it. Happy reading- Bee💕

September 2023

The keys resting in your palms bring nothing but joy, even after dealing with a snippy mother and grumbling movers on an overcast Thursday afternoon. It should've been alarming, the way that realtor hightailed it off the property, but you were just glad to get your hands on what once was a beautiful home.

Graceland had nearly fallen to ruin; once the previous owner's legacy began to deteriorate, so did respect for the house. Squatters, Drug dealers, vandals, this house has seen it all. Yet, under all that muck and destruction, you saw a chance to restore its beauty.

Your mother was a bit...perturbed by the decision, wondering what she had done in your childhood that could've led to this point. When the idea was first pitched, she laughed it off, assuming it was another one of your odd bouts, like it was some fairytale. So imagine her surprise when you tossed the paperwork onto the breakfast table.

Your mother's concerns only doubled when she actually saw the house. Move-in day is supposed to be exciting, and for you, it is. Pushing past the doors into your new home is something magical. You don't know where to start. The kitchen? The front room? Upstairs? It's all so tempting.

"Mama, this place, it's so beautiful. Doesn't it jus' make you wanna cry?" You exclaim, unable to contain the excitement rushing through your body.

"...That's...well, that's one way to put it." your mother says, watching for possible loose beams as you traverse through the house.

You kiss your teeth at her tone and begin rattling on about your ideas for the space.

"I can fix her up in no time. We can start with the walls; they only need a few patches and a fresh coat a' paint. Oh! And then we can work on the floors. And I'm sure we can find some replicas or have 'em made. I think-"

"Y/n!" your mother interrupts, "Rome wasn't built in a day, baby. Don't get too ahead of yourself. You already broke the bank buyin' this...place and-"

You shake your head "Mama, don't you know who used to live here? Daddy woulda-"

The older woman before you holds up her hand, face dropping into an unamused expression. "Don't compare me to your daddy; we never did have the same tastes. And of course, I know; Elvis was my crush before you were even thought of."

You tilt your head, shifting to move a box. "But you just said you n' daddy didn’t have the same-"

She cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Hush up and listen to your mama." A chuckle leaves your mouth as she scolds you.

"After all this time, daddy still can't catch a break?"

Your mother lets out a saddened sigh, "Well, he may not be here physically, but pokin' fun at him is the only way I know he's still around."

Your shoulders drop, and you set the box down. Your father passed away six years ago; he didn't want his family knowing he was sick. You thought it was a cruel joke, some twisted prank set to traumatize you forever. The wails your mother let out that night on the kitchen floor told you otherwise. She tries to pretend but hasn't been the same since—the idea of remarrying tossed to the wind like a dandelion's pappi.

"Mama, don't you think daddy would've wanted you to let him go?" you lament, hoping your mother would consider it this time. But, alas, the notion is shot down once again.

"You may not believe in ghosts or the afterlife, y/n, but I do. Your daddy is always with me. It wouldn't be right to get hitched in his face."

You shrug and continue unpacking, "If you say so mama, I jus couldn't imagine stickin' it out till the very end." That statement seems to tickle your mama pink. "You ain't never been in love, sugar pie. When you meet your mister right, you'll know what I mean."

You purse your lips. Even while talking about her dead husband, she hints at your sad love life. To you, love is just a feeling, and the dead are just that, dead. So your mother's musings about 'ghosts' and 'true loves' are nothing short of fantasy in your world.

"O...kay. Well, we've got a lot to do, and we've been talkin' bout nothin' for ten whole minutes. Let's hop to it!"

Your mother rolls her eyes, "This ain't my dream house, honey. I ain't GOT to do nothin' but stay black and die."

"Oh, here you go with that mess. You agreed to help your only baby move in so that I wouldn't 'die in my sleep cause some spider decided to munch on me,' so don't give me none of that." You mock.

Your mother pops your arm and grabs a broom. "You yo' daddy's daughter, alright. Couldn't have got that mouth from me." She mutters.

For the next four hours, the two of you dispose of odd findings, scrub, wash, disinfect, and grumble through the house. By the time you finish, the home is as clean as clean gets. The sun has set, and all you want to do is eat and sleep. The last thing to set up is the bedroom.

You feel a little strange sleeping in a room that once belonged to such a legend, but he isn't here, and the house belongs to you. The wall of TVs would be dealt with later. For now, a flatscreen was simply placed in front of them; aside from that, you pre-ordered replicas of the bedroom furniture, not wanting to personalize too much.

After kissing your mother goodbye, you trudge up the stairs, stopping halfway to crack your back. Once you return to the master suite, flopping on the bed only seems fitting. A groan escapes you as you realize you still need to shower. Rolling over, you grab a towel from your suitcase, lay out some pajamas on the center of the bed, and head for the bathroom.

While waiting for the water to warm, perched on the porcelain throne, the lights flicker. You'll need to replace the bulbs later; simple fix.

When the water reaches hell, you waste no time jumping in. It soothes your aching body, and all of the tension from today washes down the drain. You hum a nonsensical tune to keep you entertained while you clean away the dirt and grime. In the middle of the improvised song, a crash steals your attention.

You finish rinsing and shut off the water, quickly making your way to the bedroom door. You aren't going to investigate; too bright (or too experienced in the horror genre) to even give that a thought. No, you lock the door and mind your business; that is a morning problem.

When you turn back to retrieve your nightwear, you find them on a chair in the corner of the room. Odd. You could've sworn you left them in the middle of the bed. Whatever, you think as you throw them on.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, you grab the remote and turn the TV on—finally, a moment of peace. You flick through Netflix, desperate to find good background noise. Landing on your favorite show, 'The Good Place,' is enough for you. It's ironic, don't believe in anything after death, or love, and here you are, watching two dead people fall in love.

Halfway through Episode six, the source of entertainment shuts off. You huff; it was getting good too. The remote is behind you, out of reach, so you aren't exactly sure what could've caused this.

"Probably just a glitch," you mumble, turning the TV back on and resuming your minor addiction. This time, you place the remote on the dresser, ensuring no interruptions.

Despite your effort, it happens again; A guttural noise leaves your body. You're broke in a house that's falling apart with no man, pets, and no energy. TV is the one pleasure you have left, and even that is beginning to frustrate you.

Repeating the process, you hold the remote in your hands, eyebrows raised, daring your peace to try and leave again. After a few moments, you sigh in relief as the halfway point passes and set the remote down. As soon as it comes in contact with the plush, black comforter, the TV again fails you.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." You exclaim.

"Ladies shouldn't swear; ain't attractive." A voice bellows from behind you. A shrill shriek is all that is heard as you scramble off the bed. Your eyes search for the source but find nothing. Slowly, you creep toward the bed and snatch up the remote. "Can't go downstairs till morning, and I'm losin' it in here. What a night." You whisper.

A shiver rolls through your body, and you decide it's better to sit on the floor. Again you try with your tv (which you will be returning in the morning), and of course, that doesn't last long.

"Sugarpie, I don't wanna see that junk. If you're gon' watch somethin' in my bed, I suggest it be somethin' good. Not some trash show that don't know the first thing bout bein' dead." The strange voice booms again.

This time when you jump out of your skin and turn to face the intruder, you see what you can only assume to be the world's most accurate Elvis impersonator.

"What the hell are you doin' in my house?!" You screech, "Get out! Get the hell out."

The man before you is nowhere near ready for the projectiles flying his way. Clothes, shoes, books, and a stuffed bear. You name it; it's flying at his head.

"Hey! I—I said—, goddamn! You got an arm on ya! Put the—,"

Elvis can't even finish his sentence as you continue to fling whatever you can at him.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House!" You grunt, each word punctuated with the throw of an object. The tall, blue-eyed stranger ducks and dodges with precision, but when he sees you getting ready to toss a picture frame, one you no doubt failed to realize the importance of in your defensive state, the fun and games stop.

"Drop it! Drop that damn picture right now! Your mama would tan your hide for days if she saw that you broke that frame." Elvis booms.

Your chest is heaving, and you blink, glancing over at the photo.

"S'your daddy, right? Y'all were talkin' in the kitchen bout how it's the last thing he gave ya. You promised ta take care of it. So drop it."

You nod and gently place the photo on the bed, reaching for a good substitute.

"Jus—Just how long have you been here?" you question, ready to launch the lamp in your hand. Elvis ponders for a moment. "What year is it?" He asks, seeming genuine. You quirk an eyebrow, unamused with the game he's playing. "You can't be serious."

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an actual answer. Your phone is across the room, and the chances of getting past this psycho-wannabe Elvis are slim to none. So, you entertain him. "It's twenty-twenty-three, you should know that." You say, face stoic.

Elvis's eyes widen, "Twenty- Good lord!" He chuckles in disbelief.

"Well, to answer your question lil' mama, if that's true, I've been here for sixty-six years if you're countin' when I bought the house."

You shake your head; there's no way the idiot in front of you is this dedicated. "Yeah, sure, I reckon you want me to believe you're Elvis Presley himself. Is that what this is? Some attempt to scare me?"

Elvis chuckles and shakes his head, "No, ma'am. Ain't no pretendin' round here. I'm the real deal."

You can't help the cackle that slips past your lips.

"My ass!"

Elvis's smirk fades, "I told ya that shit isn't cute. And if ya don't believe me, try to shake my hand." He says, extending the appendage forward.

You scrunch your nose, "Now, why would I do that?"

He shrugs, hand still held out.

"Well, I ain't goin' nowhere for a long time n' you're the first person to see or hear me in ages. Whether ya do or don't, it really ain't too concernin' for me."

You sigh, knowing this is how dumb girls in movies usually meet their end. Can't believe m'doin' this. Shakily, you extend your hand, and when it meets his, it goes right through. You gasp as the limb turns to smoke before materializing again.

"Sweet jesus," you sputter.

"I wouldn't know if he was sweet, I ain't met him yet." Elvis jokes. You back away, very spooked.

"T-This, this isn't possible. Ghosts they—they aren't-"

"Real?" Elvis cuts you off, "Yeah, I heard that part too, jus didn't wanna scare your mama, so I waited till it was jus you n' me."

You scoff, offended, "My mama gets a pass, and I don't?"

He chuckles and sits on the bed, "She believed, you didn't. For someone with a gift this great, ya sure do love ta act like ya don't know what she's talkin' about."

You fold your arms, looking down, "I don't have-"

"Oh, yes ya do. Don't give me none of that. I spent the whole afternoon chit-chattin' with your old man. "

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. "You spoke to my daddy? How is he? Did he ask bout mama? Because she'd be thrilled. I gave up. I knew I shouldn't have. I'd been tryin' to reach him since he died, but he never-" The smug look on Elvis's face shuts you up.

"Well, first off. Why would ya need to call a man who's in the same house as ya? Second, you'd been tryin' so hard to find happiness for a woman who don't need it, that ya pushed your daddy away anytime he tried. A ghost can only do so much without scarin' someone half to death, baby."

This is all too much; Ghosts exist, Elvis Presley is in front of you, and your daddy hasn't moved on. Mama was right. You lift the covers and shimmy under them.

"I need to sleep on this. Jus—I...I don't know where you go, but scram for the night please."

Elvis chuckles, nodding. In a flash, he evaporates, fumes left behind as he finds another room to settle in.

You breathe through your nose as you think. What a night indeed, miss y/n.

Taglist: @prayerstopresley @powerofelvis @re3kin

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ⌝

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, angst, cheating, slightly toxic!elvis

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the moment elvis walks through the door, it feels like the ground shakes beneath you, but not in the way you once dreamed it would.

he’s back from deployment, tall and broad-shouldered as ever, his presence commanding the room like it always does.

but there’s something—someone—by his side, a blonde woman with a sparkling smile and a grip on his arm that makes your stomach turn.

her. it’s her.

you stand there, frozen, as your mother, nancy, greets them at the door.

“welcome back, mr. presley,” she says, trying to hide her surprise at the sight of the woman clinging to him.

your heart races, pounding in your ears so loud you barely hear the small talk.

“elvis,” you manage, your voice coming out weaker than you want. he looks over at you, his eyes flicking over your face, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of recognition, of something—anything—that could explain this.

but he says nothing.

instead, the woman pipes up, beaming.

“you must be nancy’s daughter! elvis has told me so much about you.” her voice is sweet, dripping with condescension, as if she’s already staking her claim in the space you once thought was yours.

“elvis,” you repeat, louder this time, your eyes locked on him, willing him to acknowledge the unspoken truth that’s hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.

he clears his throat.

“yeah, uh, this is stacey,” he says awkwardly, avoiding your eyes. “we met while i was away.”

“met?” you echo, the word like ash on your tongue. your pulse quickens. “met?”

the betrayal is sharp, slicing through your chest.

“yeah,” stacey chimes in, still clinging to him. “we hit it off right away, didn’t we, satnin?”

she looks up at him adoringly, and you want to scream.

the word hits you like a slap. satnin. that’s what you used to call him, in the quiet of the night when he would sneak into your room, pulling you close and whispering promises he never intended to keep.

the world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way she says it—like she owns him, like that name was never yours.

your blood runs cold.

your mother hurries out of the room, sensing the tension, leaving you alone with them. it’s just the three of you now, the air thick and suffocating.

“elvis, what is this?” you ask, stepping forward. “you promised…”

the words choke in your throat, but you won’t let them fall away. not now. not when you’ve kept this secret, this relationship, buried deep for so long.

his jaw tightens.

“i didn’t… i ain’t promise nothin’,” he says, the lie bitter on his lips.

“really?” your voice rises, the anger bubbling to the surface. “that’s what you’re going with? after all the nights you spent sneaking into my room? after everything we—”

“don’t,” he snaps, his eyes finally meeting yours, hard and unyielding. “that was… it ain’t like that.”

“not like that?” you repeat, incredulous. “then what was it, elvis? because you made me believe it was real. you made me believe we had something.”

stacey’s eyes narrow, and she looks between the two of you, sensing the shift.

“wait a minute,” she says, her voice cold now. “what’s going on here? what the hell is she talking about, elvis?”

you glare at her, the heat of your rage burning in your chest.

“i’m talking about the fact that i’ve been with him. that we were together.”

elvis groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“this ain’t the time for this.”

“no, it’s exactly the time!” you shout, your voice shaking. “you come back here with her—like i don’t even exist? after everything we went through?”

stacey crosses her arms, stepping in front of elvis like she’s marking her territory.

“you’re seriously trying to tell me you and elvis were… what? a thing? i don’t believe it. not for a second.”

your chest tightens, the disbelief twisting into something ugly.

“you don’t have to believe it. but it’s the truth.”

elvis stays silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, and the silence feels like a slap in the face. he’s not denying it, but he’s not fighting for you either.

it’s like you’re watching him slip away, out of reach, into the arms of someone who has no idea what the two of you shared.

stacey’s face twists with anger.

“you’re lying. he would’ve told me if you meant anything. he wouldn’t hide something like that from me.”

you laugh, bitter and cold.

“wouldn’t he? that’s all we ever did. hide. sneak around. because he didn’t want anyone to know.”

“that’s enough,” elvis cuts in, his voice harsh. but you’re past the point of caring, past the point of holding back.

“it is not!” the words explode from you, raw and jagged, and the room falls deadly silent.

elvis looks up, his blue eyes wide, startled, and for a brief, flickering moment, you catch a glimpse of the man you thought you knew—the warmth, the softness that once made you feel safe.

just as quickly, it vanishes.

his gaze hardens, turning cold and distant, like a door slamming shut between you, leaving nothing but an icy void where there used to be something real.

stacey’s face twists in confusion and fury.

“is it true, elvis?” she demands, her voice tight. “you were with her? what, was she some side piece to you? the other woman?”

you freeze at the words. other woman. that’s what you are, isn’t it? the secret. the hidden affair that no one talks about. the girl in the shadows while he’s out there, with her.

the realization burns, and you feel the weight of it crushing you from the inside out.

he doesn’t answer, and the silence is all the confirmation she needs.

“unbelievable,” she hisses, turning on him. “you lied to me. about her? about this?”

“it wasn’t like that, honey,” he mutters, but she’s already backing away from him, her face contorted with betrayal.

“wasn’t like that?” you interrupt, your voice shaking with anger and hurt. “you lied to both of us. you made me believe i meant something to you, and now you bring her here? acting like i’m nothing?”

stacey rounds on you, her eyes flashing.

“you think you’re the victim here? you’re nothing but the other woman. he’s with me now, so whatever little fling you had—”

“i am not the other woman!” you scream, the words ripping out of you, raw and jagged. “i was here first!” your voice cracks, and your eyes blur with unshed tears as you stare through elvis like he’s a stranger. “you were mine first!”

the room falls silent at your outburst, the weight of your confession hanging in the air.

elvis stares at you, stunned, his face shadowed with regret and shame and for a brief moment, you see the truth in his eyes. he knows it too. you were his before anyone else. before stacey.

the blonde haired woman doesn’t care. she’s already storming out of the room, her heels clicking angrily against the floor as she mutters curses under her breath.

“elvis!” she snaps as she reaches the door. “you’re a coward. a liar. don’t bother calling me.”

the door slams shut behind her, leaving you and elvis alone, the silence deafening.

you stand there, chest heaving, staring at the man you thought you knew. the man you loved.

but now, you see him for what he is.

“you didn’t even fight for me,” you whisper, your voice trembling as a lone tear slips down your cheek. the weight of the words hangs in the air, heavy and broken. you choke on the emotion clawing at your throat, staring at him through the haze of your tears. “i was yours first, and you didn’t even fight.”

___

🝮 taglist: @dhimpson @ab4eva @crash-and-cure @elvisslut @iloveelvis2 @elvis-presleys-stuff

[enchantinglyjade]

Milk & Honey Cast

This is something I found in my drafts, and obviously take this with a grain of salt because the characters can look however you want them to, but just for funzies here's who I would cast to play my Milk & Honey characters.

Read Milk & Honey here

Elvis Presley

Austin (obvi)

Honey James

Jorja Smith

Loretta James

Kellita Smith

Pearl Beau

Jenny Maxwell or Elle Fanning

Charles Beau

Michael Fassbender

Michael

Aldis Hodge

Vickie

Coco Jones

[l-eternity-l]

- Loving you

summary. - with her brothers being busy performing, Elvis is in charge of taking Mercedes home.

pairing. - Elvis x Black OC

warnings. - none really, just throwing up

word count. - 2k

author's note. - I've been meaning to post this chapter for like 4 days but I've been so tired that I literally just kept putting it off lol. thank you for actually reading the first chapter! I've wanted to write for a while and seeing that people actually like what I put out means a lot.

 ═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫  ═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫  ═══════ 

MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE 1957

The Country Club Parking Lot

  Raymond's deep voice carries through the air as he screams at his little sister. Even though Mercedes could have told you what her oldest brother would say, it didn't make it hurt any less.

  "I'm sorry! okay?" Mercedes argues.

  "Yeah sorry just ain't gonna cut it this time Mercedes!" she lay flat on her stomach in the back of their convertible, trying her best to keep her dizziness at bay.

  Luther starts to say something to Mercedes, but she completely blocks him-- having already heard enough of their bickering.

  Mercedes's head was pounding, and their yelling was only making it worse. She starts to wonder why people even drink alcohol, It's like poison. If it were up to her she'd make it illegal and ban it from every state in the U.S.

  "Mercedes, are you even listenin' to me?" the girl rolls over, using the side of the door to hoist her upper body from the leather seats.

  Anyone could see that Mercedes wasn't herself.

The usually put-together girl had her long curls all over the place, blocking most of her vision. Her face was flushed and everything she said had a delayed reaction.

  "No" she whispers before returning to her original position.

  "Do you not understand what could have happened to you? you could have gotten hurt."

  "Oh, so what? I get a little bit tipsy and you guys just think I'm gonna get stabbed in the street" she rolls onto her back "News flash Luther, I know how to take care of myself"

  "But you don't!" Luther yells, louder than his previous brothers "You don't understand what could have happened! What if he forced himself on you? huh? Then what would you have done, because I know for a fact you can't fight him!" Ronnie places his hand on Luther's shoulder

"Calm down, she's just-" he throws Ronnie's hand off with aggression

"Don't tell me to calm down and don't fuckin' touch me!" with that, Luther walks away from the car--taking a break from the situation at hand, but Ronnie knew it wouldn't be his last outburst of the night.

"The main thing is that she's okay," Ronnie says, adjusting his glasses as glances over at the intoxicated girl. "When we take her home and put some water in her she'll come around".

"Whoa whoa whoa, What do you mean take her home? We gotta be back on stage in seven minutes, it takes thirteen to even get back to town" Jerome reminds his brothers. "Just put the hood up and lock her in the car, she'll be fine" Raymond slaps the back of his brother's head.

"We ain't lockin' her in the car, she's not a dog" The youngest brother puts his hands up in defense.

"Well I don't see no one else comin' up with any ideas"

"Just give me a second to think" Ronnie mumbles with his head in his hands.

  Of all the times their sister has gotten them into a sticky situation, this one takes the cake.

  From Mercedes's first step, she's been causing trouble for the boys--making a mess that her brothers would have to find a way out of. In her defense, she never does it on purpose.

"Wait guys," Raymond says, nodding over to Elvis-- who had been standing back with his hands in his pockets, watching the situation unfold.

  Now, he wouldn't have been Raymond's first choice, knowing the man's history of being a player and taking any chance he could get with a pretty woman--but seeing as there was no one else around that he knew on a first-name basis, He had to settle.

  Ronnie sends his older brother a knowing smile as he makes his way to Elvis.

"Hey, remember that time your car needed a jump at the gas station" Ronnie brings up

"Uhhh, yeah I do. Down there off of Frank Hill"

"Yeah, yeah" he places his hand on Elvis's shoulder "and you said that you owed me one"

  Now, Elvis wasn't the brightest when it came to guessing games, but it only took all of three seconds for him to realize what the brothers were hinting at.

"Oh, no," Elvis says realization all over his face "no, no. I ain't playin' babysitter!"

"We just need you to take her home for us" Jerome pleads "You know better than the rest of us how people act when a band is late"

"C'mon, man. Do us a solid, just this once" Raymond adds.

  It's times like this that Elvis wonders why he's so determined to be a gentleman. He could have just kept walking like he didn't see the poor girl sprawled against the restroom--but his pride just wouldn't let him.

  He planned to find some cute girl after the party and head to her place after. Maybe have a drink or two, then end the night with a bit of fun. Now he's stuck having to make sure this girl doesn't choke on her own vomit.

"Okay" Elvis sighs reluctantly "I'll take her home for you" Ronnies face holds a wide grin, his appreciation obvious.

"Thanks, man." He pats his shoulder as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Here take this. We live on 325 Parkhurst road, it'll be the sixth one on the left."

"Yeah, yeah. Parkhurst 325 on the left" Elvis complained as the rowdy boys say their thanks and rush back to the country club.

  He peers into the Convertable to examine the sleeping girl. She had rolled onto her side and her hair had somehow become even more unruly than before.

  Her long eyelashes lay softly against her flushed cheek as she slept. Her lipstick was slightly smudged but not enough for it to be too noticeable.

  Though she looked like a complete mess, Elvis would be lying if he said he didn't find the girl attractive.

  The singer placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her slightly. Mercedes stirs but doesn't wake up.

"Come on mama, gotta get up" he's more aggressive this time, shaking Mercedes.

  She lets out a grunt and shrugs his hand off of her shoulder before sitting up.

  "Mornin' sunshine" Elvis teases "You enjoy your little nap?" Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"Where did my brothers go?" she asked trying her best not to fall back over into the car.

"Well honey, they've got a show to put on so I'm takin' you back home" Elvis explains. Mercedes looks him up and down as if she would find the truth somewhere on his body.

"Hmmm" the girl lays back down "m' just glad they finally shut up. Always trying to tell me what to do" she pulls at the loose thread on her dress

"Now don't talk about your brothers like that. They really care 'bout you" Elvis tries his best to stick up for the older Estelles.

Elvis had always wanted siblings, especially when his mom would talk about Jessie—Elvis's late twin brother. He felt as though having siblings would put less pressure on him to take care of everything after his father went to jail.

At a young age, the singer took the responsibility as two sons and a father.

Elvis had to be three men all at once.

He would often stay up at night and think about his late twin. Wondered if they would have the taste in music or like the same foods. It seemed like the more he thought, the worse it hurt.

"You don't understand" She pulls hard at the string, ripping it from her dress "All they ever do is bitch 'bout everythin'. It's like World War III with them boys. We can't even watch the ball game without someone's masculinity getting wounded." Elvis smiles, amused by Mercedes's complaints

"Is that so?" he questions with a smile on his face. The girl nods dramatically

"Oh yeah. Yesterday, Raymond finished the entire case of Pepsi so Luther smashed the crate over his back. It took Ronnie and Jerome half an hour to get 'em to stop" Elvis furrows his brow

"And where was your momma during all of this?" he questions leaning closer to the intoxicated female. Mercedes shrugs

"Don't know" she moves back into a seated position, discarding the string "saw her for the first time in six days this morning, something about her boyfriend Paul"

Mercedes opens the door and stumbles out of the car, Elvis helps her in the process. Though he questions why her mom would be gone for so long just to hang out with her boyfriend, he doesn't question any further and focuses on getting her back to his car.

...

"Atta girl, let it all out" Elvis's soothing voice is drowned out by Mercedes as she vomits onto the plush grass.

The two were parked on the side of the road--Mercedes on her hands and knees with Elvis holding her hair and rubbing small circles on her back.

At first, the ride back home was peaceful. Neither of them talked, just listened to the radio in comfortable silence. It wasn't until they got to the curvier roads that Mercedes's stomach started to turn.

She heaves once again as the putrid taste of vomit coats the inside of her mouth.

Amid her intense puking session, she had completely convinced herself she was going to die any moment now. That her final moments were gonna be spent lying on the ground next to her own vomit.

As if her headache wasn't bad enough, the screeching of cars speeding by surly wasn't helping. Not to mention the rain that had completely drenched the poor girl.

"I don't know why you were even drinkin' in the first place. They don't teach the legal age in those fancy little schools anymore? " There are an infinite number of things you could say to piss off a sick angry drunk--hell sometimes even being in their presents is enough to get you cussed out and beat up. So imagine what making passive-aggressive comments would do.

"Why don't you legally shut the hell up?" She barks back, voice coarse from emptying her insides mere seconds ago

Elvis just chuckles at the girls childish come back.

"Is that what you want me to do?" he says through a smile. Mercedes scoffs as she closes her eyes, trying her best to stop the nausea

"yes Elvis, that actually is what I want you to do," she expires "and while your at it could you also legally back the hell up, or would your lawyer need to present for that?"

The smile on Elvis's face drops when he realizes Mercedes wasn't joking

"Now that ain't no way to talk to the man who's doing you a favor," Elvis says pointful, aggravation growing in his voice. "Don't go getin' your panties all in a twist 'cause you decided to get drunk at five in the damn afternoon"

Mercedes spits, making one last fugal attempt to get the sick taste out of her mouth before she pushes his arm off her shoulder

"Fuck off Presley" she mutters under her breath, beginning to make her way back to the car.

She doesn't get very far before Elvis grips her wrist.

"Who the hell you think it is you're talkin' to!" he calls out. Sharply, Mercedes turns around, throwing her hands up in the air

"Who the hell do you think I'm talking to Elvis! I don't see nobody else standin' out here!"

Mercedes's filter was barely there to begin with, saying whatever popped into her mind without much of a second thought--With some liquid courage in her system, it wasn't much this girl wouldn't say. Even if it meant pissing off her only way back home.

Elvis stood with his hand on his hips, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from escalating the situation. He was borderline shaking with anger, now wet hair sticking to his forehead.

"You better watch the way you talk to me girl" he warns.

Mercedes just scoffs as she looks the pissed-off man up and down as if to challenge him.

"Or what? You gonna raise your voice? Yell at me? Tell my momma?"

"You know someone really outta teach you some manners"

"Your one to talk!" she yells out "I know all about you, Elvis Presley, you spend the whole night with a girl just to leave 'em the second you see sunshine" Elvis lets out an angry breath, running a hand through his drenched hair "Does your mother know what your doin' every night? or is she too busy layin' around too?" Before Mercedes can blink he grips the strap of her dress, balling it up in his fist as he forcefully pulls the girl towards him. Mercedes tries her best to keep a straight face--struggling to maintain her cool composure.

"You foul-mouthed bitch, you ain't gonna speak about my momma that way!" Elvis screamed so loud his face strains "I will slap you till your ears ring, you hear me!"

Mercedes has been yelled at countless times. In class, at home, hell even at drive-ins--But none of them have ever made her feel the way she does now. Her eyes started to get that familiar burn while she tried to think of something else to say.

A quick comeback that would deflect her feelings and make Elvis eventually give up.

But for the first time in 18 years, the girl was a a lost for words.

Mercedes feels the familiar burn in her eyes as she holds her breath, afraid of what Elvis might say next. She tries her best to keep the hot tears from spilling over, but it was only a matter of time until the dam broke loose.

  "Aw, hell," Elvis says as he watches the tears slide down her freckled cheeks. "Look I-" Mercedes pulls herself out of his grasp

  "Just...take me home," she says with what little aggression was still in her body, hurrying back over to Elvis's car

[ranaissingle]

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Summary: The reader and Austin spend a day at home when the Oscar nominations come out and the reader comforts an insecure Austin the day before. Rating: T (it is straight fluff and I eat that shit up) Pairings: Austin x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.8k A/N: I haven't posted in like a week bc I couldn't find inspiration but I need more soft Austin content to think about so this is what you guys get instead of Coffee or Tea Pt. 5 lol (Which is the last part by the way and I am currently suffering from writer's block so I'm doing this to distract myself. ) Reader has almost no body descriptors like race, body parts, weight, etc.

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Austin had been counting the days until the Oscar nominations and had run himself ragged in the process. He googled when they would be released at least 4 times a day and consulted his manager about the likelihood of his nomination in the time between. As much as Austin tried to convince himself he didn't care, he hadn't fooled anyone; not even himself.

You were content to watch him at first and assumed it was a natural part of being an actor; you weren't sure what you could do to ease his stress, to begin with. But after the dreaded day drew nearer, Austin's anxiety had shot through the roof and multiplied tenfold. You couldn't bare to watch him wallow in his own misery or stress himself out any longer. So the afternoon before the Oscar nominations were to come out and Austin's anxiety was at an all-time high, you would make your move.

You had planned a delicious at-home dinner followed by a movie and a relaxing day in bed. You had prepared a delicious bolognese sauce with mini bowtie pasta (Austin's favorite) accompanied by a tasty fruit cake for dessert.

You had really outdone yourself.

Austin was due to come back from the day's interview at 6:45 which was perfect for dinner at 7.

You had just finished lighting the dinner candles and switching off the lights when Austin tumbled into the door looking worn out and stressed to high heaven.

You walked up to the door to take his coat and kiss his cheek.

"Welcome home love, how was work?" This had become a routine; Austin would tumble in, you would take his coat, kiss his cheek, and then ask how his day was. That routine was one of Austin's few consistencies in his hectic life and he looked forward to your soft smile and breathy voice during his entire commute home.

"It was alright darlin' how was yours?", he placed his hand on your waist and drew you closer.Just as Austin finished his question to you, it seemed he noticed the lack of fluorescent lighting in the apartment.

"What's up with all the lights not being o-" He set his eyes on the dinner table set with the best dishware and china, the long thin candles lit in the middle, and the unopened bottle of red wine occupying the end of the table.

"You've been so stressed lately and it's taking a toll on your health," you reached up to place your hand on his cheek and swiped your thumb over the discolored skin under his eyes.

"I'm worried about you is all, so I made us dinner and I have a movie qued for us to watch after." Austin gradually wrapped his arms tighter and tighter as you spoke. Eventually, his head landed in your neck and you felt his breaths tickling your clavicle.

"Thank ya darlin' I love ya so much, ya know that?" His voice was ragged. Austin loved being taken care of, but he wouldn't tell anyone that and you loved taking care of him. It was a win-win situation.

You pulled your face away from him to grasp his hands in yours and lead him to the table.

"Darlin this smells delicious, did ya make pasta?"

"Just how you like it, my love." Austin's smile was breathtaking and he looked more alive in that moment than he had in the 2 weeks before.

Austin pulled out your chair before walking around to the table to pull out his own. He tried the pasta and all but moaned in approval.

"Darlin' this is amazing! I swear you cook this better each time." You were glad the hours spent over the stove reducing the sauce with spices and herbs had the desired effect.

"I'm glad you like it Austin! I called up my mom to get some better tips for making a meat sauce. I'm glad the work paid off." You giggled as Austin continued to shovel spoon after spoon of the delicious pasta into his mouth.

Dinner went by pleasantly with both of you conversing about whatever came to mind. Both your legs were intertwined under the table and Austin fidgeted with your hand where it rested on the table.

You both made it through the main course accompanied by the wine and when it came time for dessert, Austin decided he wanted to spoon-feed you the fruit cake as a 'thank you' for all the hard work you had put in to prepare a delicious meal for him.

Austin had been drained and tired for what felt like an eternity but it seems an afternoon with you and a home-cooked meal was all he needed to recover.

Austin had asked you three times to let him help you with the dishes but you had profusely refused and all but shoved him into your bedroom as you told him to relax and kissed his forehead.

"I can take care of the dishes myself and I'll just be putting them in the dishwasher anyway." You waved your hand to emphasize how light the work would be.

Austin frowned but eventually let out an "Alright darling whatever you say." accompanied by a heavy sigh and a 'thank you' kiss on your temple.

You did the dishes in record time because you wanted to spend some time with Austin before his eventual crash. He wasn't going to last through the whole movie as was evident by his eye bags and already drooping eyelids.

You crossed the living room and opened the door to your shared bedroom. Austin had changed into his pajamas and was tucked under the covers while he read one of his mystery novels.

"Hey, baby," you spoke as you entered the room and Austin perked up, "I was thinking, we can still watch the movie if you want but you're looking a little tired and I don't want to keep you up, especially when you need all the rest you can get. So, what do you choose?"

"Could we just cuddle and go to sleep? I am feelin' pretty tired." He tilted his head in the most endearing way as he asked and you were happy to satisfy his request.

You crawled into the bed and opened the blanket and your arms to invite Austin into a hug. His smile was breathtaking as he practically threw his book onto the nightstand and shimmied under the sheets to get closer to you.

His head found purchase in your neck yet again and his arms wrapped around you to hold your hips in his embrace. You settled one hand on his back to rub circled on his spine while the other raked its way through his soft locks. You knelt your head down to whisper how proud you were of him, how much you loved him, and how he had nothing to worry about because he was guaranteed an oscar nomination tomorrow. He kissed your necks over and over as you spoke and only buried himself further into your form when you finished speaking.

The dim street lights reflecting into the room and the lavender diffuser you had on at all times calmed Austin. He eventually relaxed in your embrace and spoke a mumbled "I love you" before finally nodding off.

"I love you more."

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The sunlight streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and illuminated the room with a soft and warm light. The both of you were still fast asleep in the position you had slept in the night before; although Austin seemed to be nestled impossibly closer to you. He had fallen asleep in record time and had not woken up in a cold sweat once during the entire night. His dreams were filled with mundane days spent at home and your smile took center stage in his every thought.

Alas, although you and Austin had both forgotten what day today was, his manager had not been so lucky. The Oscar nominations had been released in the early morning and you both had slept ever soundly through it. Taylor, Austin's manager, had been awake at the crack of dawn refreshing her inbox and the official oscar website. As soon as the nominations dropped, she picked up her cell to call Austin. It took her 4 attempts before your sleep-ridden voice made its way into her receiver.

You picked the phone up to your ear and mumbled a broken

"Hello?"

" OH MY GOD THANK GOODNESS SOMEONE ANSWERED. AUSTIN GOT THE NOMINATION!" Her voice blared into your ear making you wince and pull the phone away from your face.

"What??? Are you serious Taylor??!!" You tried to keep your voice soft so as to not wake Austin before you confirmed the news.

"YES, THE NOMINATIONS WERE RELEASED A FEW MINUTES AGO!"

"Okay, I'll tell Austin! He is still asleep so I'll have to wake him up." Said man was still tucked into your neck but had begun to stir.

"Pleeeeeease do, he has been waiting for this nomination for so long and you and I both know he deserves it."

"I know Taylor, thank you for calling so many times it would have been a shame if we missed this."

After ending the phone call, you put the phone down and wrapped your arms back around Austin while leaning your mouth into his ear and running your hand down his back.

"Austin baby, you have to wake up love. We can't sleep in any longer." Austin stirred but did not fully wake up. You stroked his back again before using your words to coax him up into the world of the awake.

Austin's facelifted slowly out of your neck to turn to where the light was streaming into the room and he placed his head over your heart while he slowly woke up.

"Austin, Taylor just called." You felt him tense his arms around you as he braced himself for the bad news. You just wrapped your arms tighter around him and whispered, so softly he barely heard you at all

"You did it, my love, you got nominated for best actor by the Oscars. Out of so many actors, they chose you! I'm so proud of you Austin, you worked so hard and you did it, baby. You did it, my love."

Austin's choked sobs were palpable in the room.

"I did it? A-are you serious? I actually got nominated?" He had picked his head up from your chest and sat up to look at you.

Taking his face in between both your hands you gazed into his eyes.

"Yes, you did Austin. Believe it and live it because you deserve it. All your hard work has paid off and I will always be right here for you, for as long as you'll have me."

Austin's teary eyes and blissful smile made your heart flutter in a way you never knew was possible.

Never in your life had you loved someone like you loved Austin.

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This got very sappy very fast but I can't say that I'm mad at it. I also think that Austin probably needs a lot of assurance right now just like the rest of us. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[lustnhim]

elvis preforming at the LV international (7-31-69) 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

gives off some vamp elvis vibes + him in black is 🤤🤤🤤