#its name is elvis

[why-the-heck-not]

We aren't gonna talk abt what happened to Elvis 2.0 (straight up forgot I had that going). It's Elvis 2.1 now

[purpleskelet0n]

thank you all so much for participating! this was so much fun and really makes me want to start a blog, Elvis sends love to all of you, but for now, he's got a friend to meet up with. (based on rps!)

(Stanley owned by @visillantopng ! STRICTLY PLATONIC, NOTHING ABT SHIPPING PLS IT MAKES US RLLY UNCOMFORTABLE.)

[fang-ghoul]

i hate lisi harrison for giving names to the parent characters. like vicKtor with the K my ass !!!! his name is obviously FRANK !!! Frank E. Stein !!!

[azuzula]

💙the johperetta playlist💜 (spotify)

you’re so vain - carly simon

i walk the line - johnny cash, the tennessee two

louisiana woman, mississippi man - loretta lynn & conway twitty

trouble - elvis presley

that’s what i like about you - trisha yearwood

great balls of fire - jerry lee lewis

show me - the resonant rogues

poison ivy - the coasters

heartbreaker - pat benatar

red headed woman - sonny burgess

crazy on you - heart

a big hunk o’ love - elvis presley

valerie - amy winehouse

tallahassee lassie - freddy cannon

[real-ponyboy]

[OOC]

Just found out my bunny is a boy…After a yr of having him. 😄

Renamed him Presley because our other Bunny's name is Cash ‼️‼️‼️🥳🥳🥳🥳

[thatbanditqueen]

I miss you Norah baby 😘

-Daisy (@powerofelvis)

Oh helllo there ! Did I just see that a new chapter of Aloha to my Heart is coming? Or the writing game prompt? I feel like we have all been deprived for so long I might have a stroke if you release something...

[teamseaslug]

Trisha Paytas' babies news coincidentally timing with political figures dying is fucking awesome btw

[diana-westmoon]

MIE I LITERALLY STARTED WATCHING TMA JUST TODAY!!!!!!

YIPPIE!!

WHICH EP ARE YOU ON? :0

[angel-blitz]

Whos more flirty in the relationship ernest or lips? 🥀

It's kind of a mix between the two, but Liver definitely wins. But Ernest is the only one that can really make him flustered, all he's gotta do is give him THAT look and livers like "oh boy"

[formula-fun]

Have u seen the redbull elvis suits? Idk if they are wearing that to the race or if its just a promo but literally wtf is that lol suddenly the ferrari blob circle thing seems nice......

I have 3 possible explanations for this because im trying to make any kind of sense of it. 1) max was so jealous of charles' monaco racesuit they made him his own white and red one and then chose a justification after the fact 2) red bull marketing is predicting a red bull/ferrari podium and want them all to look SO cute with their matching outfits 3) by choosing red and white ferrari has obviously invoked some old gods and a few spirits of drivers past to get that shitbox on the top of the board, and red bull is now fighting for favor from the same group of old gods and spirits just to ruin ferrari's weekend

honestly tho the color choice is so random and the design is so bad. why isnt it blue? why doesnt it match the car? why didn't they use the 23 elvis impersonators in the paddock as a focus group? they needed a focus group. if it didnt say elvis on it in 72pt font i wouldnt have made the connection. it is neither red bull nor is it elvis. it is simply ugly

[sockmuncher420]

chat we need new names for trans terms...

i like to talk to my friends abt trans stuff and here is our codes we use around cishets... its been used for 5 years and nopony has caught on

elvis=sex (this involves his past)

mint=penis

fanta=trans person (fruity)

club soda=terf/homophobe (its a gross bland soda but they'll think you complamented them)

bag= vagina

my drink is flat and ngl its yummy= im binding/tucking and its very affirming..

my moodring is:= my pronouns are

purple=neos

blue=he

pink=she

yellow=they

dark blue= xenos

i wish my mom/dad would let me have a goldfish= i wish i could have a binder/tuck supplies (aka goldfish)

betta fish=hrt

are you a friend of dorthy=ally/gay?? (old saying back when times were tough and only allys/old gays genuinely understand what you mean)

lmk if you want more terms so we can survive the 2025 season (spread if ur an ally of our gay ass mafia)

[austinbutlerslovers]

Sugar Daddy

Label Mature 18+

Summary Drowning in debt with dreams on hold a handsome stranger from your past pulls you out of the daily grind and as your relationship rekindles he changes your life forever.

🔗 Masterlist

💝Romantic Smut 💝 Austin in unrequited love • savior complex • love lorn • childhood crush • reunited • generous benefactor /sugar daddy •slow burn • friends to lovers • gives you everything •dreams come true • reveals his true feelings • lovemaking • orgasm • aftercare

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 💞

Sugar Daddy

The coffee shop hums with its usual morning rush, business people in tailored suits typing furiously on laptops, patrons snapping photos of their drinks, and regulars rattling off complicated orders over the clatter of steaming milk. 

You stand behind the counter, expertly maneuvering between the espresso machine and rows of shiny equipment, your hands moving with the precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. 

The café is one of the best in New York, a bustling haven for caffeine lovers, and you’ve earned your place here as one of its most skilled baristas. 

Your dedication to your craft earned you a feature in Coffee House Magazine as the ‘Rising Star Barista,’ a title that still feels surreal every time you think about it.

Your smile is polite but faint, masking the exhaustion of early mornings and the weight of your dreams deterred. 

Owning a café of your own still feels impossibly far away, buried under the reality of mounting bills and the shadow of debt.

You don’t notice him at first, not until you hear a smooth, low voice order an oat milk latte, a voice that feels strangely familiar. 

You glance up, ready to confirm the order, when your breath catches in your throat, because standing at the counter in front of you is Austin Butler.

He’s wearing a trucker hat low over his eyes, his face partially obscured, but there’s no mistaking him. 

The boy you once knew has grown into someone striking, almost unreal, his sandy brown hair just visible peeking under the brim, his chiseled jawline more defined than you remember. 

For a moment, you’re transported  right back to your childhood. Austin, the boy who once made you laugh until your sides hurt. 

The boy who made you feel butterflies long before you even knew what love meant. 

But that boy is gone. In his place is a man who looks like he’s stepped right out of a magazine shoot, otherworldly and utterly unattainable.

“A-Austin Butler,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glances around quickly, pressing a finger to his lips not to say his name, and as his blue eyes meet yours the realization of how rich and famous he is dawns on you, leaving you momentarily stunned.

You lost track of his career after his Disney days but had recently heard of him staring as Elvis and you were both proud and floored. 

You feel guilty now that you never watched it. You smile remembering how well he could recite pulp fiction ver batum when he played at your house after school. 

“You look great,” he says, his gaze sweeping over you with an appreciation that makes your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice hesitant, highly aware of your simple work uniform, your hair held back in a loosened ponytail from the morning rush.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Is this your place?”

“No,” you admit, your tone tinged with embarrassment. “I just work here.”

Austin frowns slightly, the memory sparking in his eyes. “But you always wanted to own a coffee shop. I remember you playing coffee shop all the time when we were kids.”

You grin at the memory, but then the ache of his words stir in you. “Dreams cost money. I’m not quite there yet.” You admit.

He studies you for a moment, then asks, “When’s your break?”

You check the clock on the register to confirm.“Half an hour,” you say cautiously.

“Perfect,” he replies, smile widening. “Let’s catch up.”

You nod, your heart racing as he steps aside to wait.

You set to work on his oat milk latte, feeling his gaze on you the entire time. When you finally place the drink on the counter, your fingers accidentally brush against his, sending a jolt of awareness through you.

“Thanks,” he says, holding your gaze for a moment before moving to a nearby table.

You dive back into the rush, the half hour flying by in a frantic blur of orders, clinking cups, and the hiss of the espresso machine. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him at his table, scrolling through his phone, occasionally looking up to survey the bustling café.

A few customers eventually recognize him despite his low cap. A group of fans shyly approach, and he obliges with a polite smile, taking a couple of quick pictures. 

The attention starts to ripple through the café, the buzz shifting as other patrons take out their phones to film or snap photos. You feel your stomach twist, worried about the growing attention.

Austin seems to sense it, standing and making his way back to the counter with an easy grin that somehow feels just for you. 

“I think I’m causing a bit of a scene,” he says, his voice low as a few heads turn to watch the interaction. “I’ll have to take you out for lunch instead. This isn’t fair to you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “A-Austin, it’s fine. You don’t have to—”

“I need to,” he interrupts, his voice quiet but firm, the conviction in his eyes making you fall silent. “You always took care of me as a kid. Let me take care of you now.”

Before you can respond, he tilts his head, “Can I have your number? So I can text you where to meet me?” He asks.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, quickly scrawling it onto a piece paper and sliding it across the counter, and he takes it with a warm smile that makes you feel light-headed.

By the time your break rolls around, you find yourself anxiously checking your phone, unsure of what to expect until a notification pops up, and your heart pounds as you open the message:

Austin: Meet me at Alinea Bistro. It’s quieter there, and the food’s great. I’ll wait for you.

Alinea Bistro is a few blocks away, a sleek but understated place that’s known for its intimate atmosphere. You walk there quickly, nerves fluttering in your stomach.

When you arrive, Austin is already seated in a corner booth, his cap now gone, his sandy brown hair tousled perfectly. His blue eyes brighten as you approach, and a genuine smile spreads across his face filled with excitement.

“You made it,” he says, standing briefly to pull out your chair with a grace that feels both practiced and effortless.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intend as you settle into the seat. “Thanks for… inviting me.”

“I couldn’t resist,” he says, his tone light but his gaze is steady, leaning forward slightly. “It’s been long…way too long, actually, and I wanted to catch up, without an audience this time.” He grins, his eyes lingering on you, warm and unwavering.

His words hit you right in the chest, and you offer a slow, hesitant. “Yeah…it has been a while,” your gaze drifting over him, taking in every detail.

His crisp white tee is tight enough to hint at the lean muscle beneath, his easy confidence radiating a natural, unforced charm. 

His blue eyes are deep and sincere, catching the light in a way that draws you in, and his face…devastatingly handsome, his defined nose and full lips making him almost too perfect to be real.

“You look incredible, Austin,” you admit, your voice filled with awe.

He grins, and there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something enamored, almost boyish. “You’re the incredible one. I mean, look at you, still the same spark, just… brighter.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you duck your head, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “You’ve always been such the charmer, Austin,” you tease, eyes narrowing playfully as if to brush off his flattery.

He leans back, a slow, smile spreading across his lips. “Always with you,” he replies, his voice low and warm. “Then and now,” he adds, both of your gazes softening as the weight of nostalgia settles between you.

The conversation flows easily, slipping right back into the comfort of childhood memories. “You remember that time you fell off your pogo-stick in my driveway?” you say, laughing softly. “You wiped out so hard, I thought you broke your arm.”

Austin laughs, the sound low and warn. “Yeah, I was such a wild kid always trying to show off for you, and you were an angel for putting up with me. ‘You’d say ‘Austin, please don’t do anything crazy for five minutes!’ and I’d just grin at you like, ‘Never gonna happen.’”

You both laugh, genuine and easy, the sound filling the space between you, and as your eyes meet again, you can feel the weight of how much you meant to each other lingering in the air.

“I loved it, though,” you admit, your smile softening. “You were… chaos, but the good kind.”

His expression shifts, a little wistful. “I hated it when you moved. That was the first time Id ever felt heartbroken y’know? Thirteen years old, crying into my pillow at night because my best friend was gone.”

You blink, your heart aching, caught off guard by his admission. “Oh, Austin, I had no idea it hit you that hard. I missed you too so much…But everything changed so fast… life just happened, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger. “It does that.”

As he stares at his glass lost deeply in thought, you steal a moment to really look at him. The lanky blonde kid who’d always trip over his words when he spoke to you is gone, replaced by this devastatingly handsome man who commands every room he walks into and could have any woman he wants in a heartbeat.

Curiosity gets best of you as you tilt your head looking at him. “So… what about now? Your love life’s gotta be wilder than pogo stick accidents these days.”

He exhales a short laugh as he refocuses leaning back in his chair. “Just got out of a big one, actually. Fashion model, whole thing was a mess. You didn’t hear about it?”

“No,” you admit, grinning at his mock-offended look. “I’ve been a little busy steaming oat milk lattes.”

“Fair,” he concedes, then smirks. “It’s all orchestrated anyway, red carpets, magazine shoots, the works. Looks perfect on the outside, but…” His voice dips, softer now, almost hesitant. “People see the shine, not the scars…..you lose a lot of trust along the way….” He admits, his voice quieter with the pain he tries to push past.

You nod slowly, his words sinking in revealing a vulnerability that you didn’t expect, and it pulls at something in you. “I get that,” you say, your own voice lowering. “Not the fashion model part, obviously, but… the trust thing. It’s hard when you’re drowning in your own mess and no one’s really there …”

His brows knit together. “What kind of mess?”

You hesitate, then let it spill out with an exhale. “Debt, mostly. I’m good at my job, but it doesn’t pay enough to keep up, let alone save for that coffee shop I always dreamed about. It’s just… a lot.”

Austin’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours. You don’t tell him the rest, about how you’ve cried yourself to sleep more nights than you can count, how the relationships you’ve tried hollowed you out leaving almost nothing left, but he seems to hear it anyway.

“You deserve that dream,” he says finally, his voice firm. “You always did.”

The waiter arrives then, setting down plates of delicate, artfully arranged food, truffle-dusted ravioli for you, a perfectly seared steak for him. 

You both dig in, and for a while, it’s just the clink of forks and the occasional hum of appreciation. But the air between you feels charged, like the conversation’s only paused, not ended.

Halfway through the meal, Austin sets his fork down and leans forward again, his elbows resting on the table. “Listen,” he says, his tone shifting to something more intentional . “I’ve earned all this… money, and fame, and it took me a long time to get here, but now that I have it, I want to do something real with it. Let me help you.”

You freeze, your fork hovering midair. “What?”

“I mean it,” he insists, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’ve always taken care of me, back when I was a dumb kid crashing out at your place on the weekends, and even today, making me feel that genuine connection with you that I haven’t felt in forever. Let me take care of you. Get you out of debt, set you up with that café. Whatever you need.”

“Austin, I can’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“You can,” he says, his voice gentler but unyielding. “I’m not some stranger throwing cash around. It’s me. The kid who ate all your cookies and begged you to play coffee shop with me. I want this for you.”

You stare at him, your chest tight. “Why?”

He smiles, soft and a little sad. “Because you’re the one person who never wanted anything from me. And now that I’ve got something to give… I want it to be you.”

You look at him, caught between the life you’ve fought to survive in and the boy you once knew, now a famous actor offering you everything, and asking for nothing in return.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur, your mind spinning with his offer. By the time the bill arrives he’s already texting you something as your phone pings when he sends it over. “My accountant’s number,” he says with a nod. “Call him tomorrow. We’ll figure it out.”

“Austin, this is insane,” you confess, staring at the text like it’s a contract with the devil.

“Maybe,” he agrees, leaning back with that easy charm. “But it feels right. Say yes”

You smile, shaky and disbelieving, but the word slips out anyway. “Yes.”

His grin widens mischievously, and for a moment, he’s just Austin again, the wild boy from your childhood, not someone who’s grown into an impossibly famous and untouchable celebrity.

The day after your lunch at Alinea Bistro blurs by in a whirlwind of disbelief and cautious hope. 

You hesitate until evening before working up the nerve to call his accountant. When you finally do, the voice on the other end is crisp, professional, unfazed and clearly used to handling Austin’s whims.

“Mr. Butler’s already briefed me,” the man says. “We’ll start with clearing your debts. Send me the details, and I’ll take care of it.”

You hang up, stunned, and spend the next hour digging through bills and student loan statements, your hands trembling as you email them over. 

Within a week, your phone pings with notifications, balances dropping to zero, one by one. It’s surreal, like watching a weight you’ve carried for years dissolve into thin air. 

You cry in your apartment that night, not out of sadness, but from the sheer relief of breathing without a noose of debt around your neck.

Austin texts you the next morning: “How’s everything, how are you feeling?”

You reply: “Like I’m dreaming. Thank you.”

His response is quick: “Good. Now let’s get that café going. Meet me tomorrow?”

The next day, you find him waiting outside a vacant storefront in a quieter part of the city, his hands shoved in the pockets of a leather jacket, his breath visible in the crisp morning air. 

The building is small but charming, exposed brick walls, wide windows perfect for natural light, and a little patio space that could fit a few tables. He turns as you approach, his grin lighting up his face. “What do you think?” he asks, gesturing at the space.

You step closer, peering through the glass. “It’s… perfect,” you admit, already picturing the counter, the coffee machines, the chalkboard menu. “But Austin, this is too much—”

“Nope,” he cuts in, his tone playful but firm. “We’re past that. Come on, let’s check it out.” He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, ushering you inside.

The space smells faintly of dust and possibility as you wander through it, your fingers brushing the rough brick, while Austin trails behind, watching you with a quiet intensity. 

“I can see it already,” you say, turning to him. “Espresso machine here, pastry case there. Maybe some plants by the windows.”

“It sounds perfect,” he grins, leaning his shoulder against the wall, “The second I saw this place, I knew it was yours…” He says his voice, quieter now. “I bought this for you,” he softly confesses.

You meet his gaze, and there’s that spark again, something that’s always been there, flickering between you since you were kids.

“I don’t know how to repay you,” you admit, your voice small.

“You don’t,” he says simply, his voice warm and sure, “You just… let me be part of it. That’s enough.” He confirms, and he reaches for your hand lifting it gently.

He places the keys in your palm and as your eyes meet, he looks at you with a smile full of unspoken promise.

Over the next few weeks, the café takes shape, Austin’s accountant has already handled the finances, permits, contractors, and equipment, and you assist the crew, your sleeves rolled up, helping to assemble furniture and art pieces for decoration. 

One weekend while in town, Austin joins you, dressed in casual jeans and a black tee. You catch him installing a shelving unit, cursing under his breath as a screw rolls across the floor.

“You’re a movie star, not a carpenter,” you tease, handing him the runaway screw.

“Yeah, well, I better nail the role of carpenter then.” he shoots back, grinning.

The banter feels like old times, but there’s a new layer to it, a closeness that’s grown with the late-night planning sessions, and every text in between.

You don’t talk about what it means, this shift from childhood friends to… whatever this is. But you feel it in the way he lingers when he says goodbye, the way his hand brushes yours when you pass him the screw driver.

When the final details are polished and the café’s ready to go public, you establish the name Grounded, a nod to coffee, sure, but also to the roots you and Austin share. 

For the grand opening Austin is there, front and center, beaming as you cut the ribbon with shaky hands. “So Proud of you,” he grins, his voice low enough that only you hear it over the chatter.

“Thanks to you,” you reply, nudging him with your elbow and he just shakes his head, like it’s nothing.

The weeks that follow are a blur of steaming milk, pouring shots, and learning the rhythm of your own business. Austin drops by when he can, sometimes incognito with his cap pulled low, sometimes bold and carefree, drawing a small crowd of fans. 

One quiet evening, he slips in just before closing, the bell above the door jingling softly. You’re wiping down the counter, the last customer long gone, when he slides into a stool.

“Busy day?” he asks, resting his chin on his hand.

“Nonstop,” you say pulling your hair out of a ponytail . “But good. Really good.”

He nods, his eyes tracing the space before landing back on you with a quiet intensity. “You’re happy,” he says, more a statement than question.

“Yeah,” you admit, leaning against the counter across from him. “I am. And… I owe that to you.”

He waves it off, but there’s a flush to his cheeks. “Nah. This is all you. I just gave you a boost.”

“A boost?” you laugh. “Austin, you literally paid off my life and handed me a dream. That’s more than a boost.”

He shrugs, but his smile turns softer, almost shy. “Okay, fine. Call it what you want. Just… don’t stop letting me be around you…”

You pause, caught off guard by the earnestness in his voice. “You’re not going anywhere,” you say, and it feels like a promise.

He reaches across the counter, his fingers brushing yours.  “Good,” he says quietly. “Because I kind of like having you as a permanent fixture in my life.”

You roll your eyes, but your laugh betrays you, and as his grin widens the moment feels full—full of something new, something that’s been building since the day he walked back into your life….when he changed it forever. 

The next day, he texts you late in the afternoon: “Hey, would you like to come over tonight? I have something to show you.”

You smile as you click on the link to an address, a sleek high-rise that radiates wealth and exclusivity.

You pause, still getting used to running the cafe hands on, but with a good team in place and the gentle pull of his invitation you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

You slip into something simple, a sweater and jeans, unsure of what he has planned as you head over.

The elevator ride to his penthouse feels endless, your nerves rising as the numbers climb. When the doors slide open, you step into a space that takes your breath away. 

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a glittering view of the city skyline, the lights twinkling like stars against the dusk. 

The place is immaculate, polished marble floors, minimalist furniture in soft grays and black, a sleek kitchen island that looks untouched. It’s a far cry from your downtown apartment, and you can’t help but laugh as you take it all in.

“Oh, I see why my life was changed so quickly,” you quip, turning to him with a teasing grin. “You’ve been living like this while I was steaming milk for minimum wage.”

Austin leans against the kitchen counter, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he nudges a tray of perfectly arranged bruschetta toward you. “Hey, don’t judge me,” he says, his tone light, his eyes dancing with mock offense. “I worked hard to get here.”

You slide onto a stool, accepting the glass of wine he hands you, the deep red liquid glinting in the light. You raise your glasses and he toasts softly, “To your dreams coming true.” he says as they clink together.

The first sip slides down smoothly, warming you from within, and you feel yourself unwind as the conversation picks up easily. “This is amazing, Austin,” you say, nodding toward the spread, the penthouse, and him. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. I’m… happy. Genuinely happy.”

He takes a long drink from his own glass, his eyes locked on yours over the rim. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Seeing you like this, it’s worth it.” You grin, matching his sip, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, basking in the glow of your changed life.

He sets his glass down and moves to a sleek sound system, flicking it on. Soft, music fills the room, mellow and intimate as he crosses to the fireplace, already crackling with a low flame.

He sits on the plush rug in front of it, legs spread, arms resting casually behind him. 

He looks contemplative, his jaw tight, his gaze distant as he stares into the fire, the easy banter has long faded, replaced by a heavy lingering silence.

You slide off the stool to join him, settling beside him on the rug. “What’s up, Mr. Movie Star?” you tease, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re brooding over here like you’re about to recite some dramatic monologue from Raging Bull.”

He barely smiles at your jab like usual, instead, he turns his head, his blue eyes catching the firelight as they meet yours. 

There’s something different there, something unguarded, and it makes your stomach flip.

He lets out a slow breath, his face flushing a soft pink. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words falter, catching in his throat as he looks down. “It’s like I’m a kid again,” he mutters, sweeping a hand through his hair. “I’m all flustered.” He says placing a hand on the back of his neck.

You tilt your head, caught off guard by the shift. “Flustered? You? The guy who just waltzed into my café and turned my life upside down like it was nothing?”

He keeps looking away until his gaze lands on you steady and intense as the mood between you changes. Then, finally, he says it, his voice barely above a whisper: “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Your eyes go wide, your breath catching in your throat. “Me?” you blurt out, almost shouting, your mind racing as you replay every word he’s said over the past few months.

The confession hangs there, raw and exposed, and you see his chest rise and fall quickly, his heart clearly pounding.

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a shaky breath as he lowers his hand to squeeze at the thigh of his jeans. “Feels good to finally say it.” He says, as his eyes soften, but there’s a pained edge in them, like his heart is aching.

You stare at him in disbelief, your own pulse hammering. “Austin, I—”

“When you moved away I searched for years,” he cuts in, his voice shaking slightly, “Your mom got remarried, your last name changed…I lost track. But I knew you’d end up in a coffee shop somewhere, though. That was always you.”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the rug. “I almost gave up, until I saw you in that Coffee House Magazine feature, the Rising Star Barista. I knew it was you the second I saw your picture.”

You’re stunned, your heart pounding as the weight of his words settle in “Austin… I…you’re… y-you’re serious?” you stammer, your voice trembling with disbelief.

He nods, his eyes glistening as he fights back tears. “Yeah. I couldn’t let you slip away again. Not this time.”

You reach out, your hand finding his, and his fingers close around yours instantly, warm and steady. “I didn’t know,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “All this time…”

“Yeah” He laughs softly, a tear slipping down his cheek, and you wipe it away without hesitation, your touch lingering on his face, and for the first time, you let yourself feel it, the pull that’s always been there, now laid bare. 

It’s terrifying and exhilarating, a breathtaking rush of vulnerability and want that draws you in closer as the air between you fills with anticipation. 

His fingers gently grip your waist, steady and warm, while his other hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you onto his lap with a tenderness that makes your heart race.

You gaze into each other’s eyes, the world fading away, and as your lips meet for the first time, there’s no going back.

He softly groans against your lips, a low, desperate sound as his hands squeeze your waist, holding you tighter like he never wants to let go.

Your mouths move together with longing and exploration, every kiss a discovery, a revelation of truth as the soft sounds escaping you both heighten the need between you.

All of your unspoken feelings consume you as your tongues brush together in a slow rhythm, fueling an undeniable need for each other.

He pulls back just enough to tug his shirt over his head, revealing the lean, defined muscles of his chest and arms, sculpted from years of work, flexing as he tosses the fabric aside.

His eyes meet yours, searching, as you instinctively touch his pecs, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver through you.

He pauses, his gaze softening with a gentle look, “You okay, you want me to keep going?” He asks breathlessly.

Your heart is racing, as you answer, stuttering softly, “Y-yes, Austin, please.” the words filled with need, urging him to continue.

His hands find the hem of your sweater, guiding it up and over your head with care, pulling your top away in one fluid motion, leaving you bare from the waist up. 

“I’ve been dreaming of you like this,” he whispers, his voice shaking with emotion as he cups your breasts.

His mouth lowers, pressing soft, reverent kisses to each one as you sit on his lap, and your thighs squeeze his waist as his lips close around your nipple, sending a warm jolt shooting through your core.

He sucks gently at first, then with more hunger, his tongue swirling in slow, circles that make your insides flutter. The sensation is overwhelming and so intimate that it sets your nerves on fire.

You moan a deep needy sound that vibrates against him and his hands tighten on your hips guiding you to rock against him.

Each movement draws a soft groan from him, his breath ragged, matching the rhythm of your hips as you grind faster, the friction sparking heat that builds between you.

His hardness presses against you, firm and insistent as his mouth gently sucks on your breasts, and with a gentle shift, he gets on top of you, his strong body pinning yours softly on the plush rug.

He kisses along your shoulder, soft and slow, each press of his lips a quiet promise,as his fingers unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs with your panties.

He pulls back, his blue eyes dancing with a mix of awe and desire as he sees you fully naked for the first time.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion as his hand trails down your stomach, slow and reverent, “I’ve always wanted you,” he breathes, his hands gently part your legs wider, the glow of the fire casting soft shadows across your skin.

His hand trembles slightly as he slides it between your bodies, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down with his boxers in one careful movement.

His cock slides out, much bigger than you expected, thick and hard the tip flushed and aching with need, the sight making your lips part in awe.

“I’m losing my mind,” he mutters to himself, his gaze locked on you. “This is real, finally real.” He whispers as he hikes one knee behind your parted legs, positioning himself above you. 

His body settles over you like a weight, pressing you gently into the rug. “It’s real, Austin,” you say softly, your voice trembling with the truth of the moment, and you capture his lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

He pushes into you, slow and deep, a low groan vibrating through him as he fills you completely, his breath hitching against your mouth.

You cup his jaw as you whimper, feeling how deep he is, each thrust sinking into you with a fullness that steals your breath, and his rhythm builds, steady and intense, the firelight casting shadows over his straining muscles. 

His hands roam over your body possessively, one gripping your hip to hold you steady, the other cradling the back of your neck, anchoring you to him as his thrusts grind against you, pulling you deeper into the moment.

His large cock fills you completely, stretching you in ways that pull soft, helpless sounds from your lips, the pleasure surging beyond anything you’ve ever known.

You move together, the heat of the fire blending with the warmth of each other, every thrust drawing moans from your lips as he gazes into your eyes, utterly captivated by you.

“I’ve always known … you were the one for me,” he rasps, his pace quickening, desperate now as you feel yourself unraveling, teetering on the edge.

“Tell me you feel it too,” he breathes, his voice raw, pleading, as you reach your peak.

“Yes,” you gasp, the word slipping out as your body arches into his and he groans, a relieved, wrecked sound as his hands tighten on you.

“I need you so much,” he breathes, his hips driving harder faster. “I just want to give you everything,” he confesses, and the tension within you snaps as you come together, moaning in unison, your eyes locked as waves of intensity crash over you both.

His cock pulses as you cling to him riding the aftershocks until the passion subsides, leaving you tangled and trembling in the fire’s glow.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion, his fingers tracing the curve of your face. “I’ve always loved you,” he confesses, pulling you closer, his warmth wrapping around you like a promise.

His words unlock something deep within you, your heart spilling open, unguarded and free. “I didn’t know I could feel this way until you came back,” you admit, your voice trembling with truth. “I love you too, so much Austin,” you confess, a soft smile breaking through and he leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss filled with a secret vow, sealed in the fire’s gentle glow.

In his arms, the weight of debt and doubt dissolves, replaced by a love you never dared dream possible, grounding you in a reality far bolder and more beautiful than anything you could have ever imagined.

END 💸

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty @louisejoy86 @butlerrizz @kulturalismellektermek

[beetleoops]

You keep getting married to Beetlejuice

This fucker loves to party (and he loves you), so you are having weddings constantly

You officially get married in private, with only Lydia, the Deetzs and the Maitlands there. You take it easy so he can adjust to being alive, but Delia still throws a pretty fun party- if a little...odd. Still, it's enough for Beetlejuice to learn his alcohol tolerance isn't NEARLY as high now that he has a heartbeat.

"Babes!! I cannot fuckin wait to get married to you all over again." He's half asleep, laying his entire weight on you, reeking of booze, smiling like a dope. "Uh-huh. Me too, Beej." You pat his back.

(Also, turns out now that he sleeps for real, he snores. you think its cute.)

Once he's human (and more or less used to it), you have a more traditional wedding with your friends and family all there, and throw an all night reception and after party at a bar - beej loves the energy and is cheering on your grandparents to throw ass on the dance floor all night

"Fuck it up Agnes! Hell yeah!" (This is probably not your grandma's name. Actually, is that even your grandma?)

This goes over not great, but better than expected; everyone has a good time. You do too, of course. You are drunk and wearing white and laughing so loud, and when you aren't dancing, Beetlejuice can barely keep his hands off you. Hell, when you ARE dancing Beetlejuice can't keep his hands off you.

you go to Las Vegas for the honeymoon and get married again - Beej insists on the most tacky wedding possible and you agree.

You get married by an Elvis impersonater in a sticky little chapel on the strip. You wear a suit, and he wears a tight, short wedding dress with a veil and pumps.

"third time's the charm?" You ask, when Elvis finally says to kiss the groom. " Oh no, babes. We're hitting the drive through wedding chapel next."

"Deal!" And you dip him before kissing him square in the mouth.

You keep getting married to Beetlejuice, because you both want to make fucking SURE it sticks.

[unpeeled-human]

okay what the fuck. i was about to say "im never going to listen to an elvis song again" but this song isnt even BY elvis its ABOUT elvis. by some dude named Mojo Nixon. these fucking lyrics man

ANTI-ELVIS...?

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 24: Dirty Picture/Video

Let Me Love You Anyway

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, cussing, kissing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, body insecurity, erectile dysfunction

Word Count: ~3k

Kinktober Masterlist

You stand next to the stage with your little envelope just waiting for him to walk to the edge. You're not sure what you'll do if he doesn't. 

He looks out to the front couple of rows as Love Me Tender plays behind him, trying to decide who he wants to kiss, if anyone. Truth be told, he's getting a little tired of the whole thing. He's 40 years old and kissing strangers is starting to lose its appeal. He'd rather have someone to really share something with than just a random pair of lips to smash against his and pray she doesn't try to shove her tongue in his mouth. He's scanning the crowd looking for someone who looks safe when his eyes settle on you. You've got something clutched against your chest and the way you look at him with your eyes round and hopeful takes him straight back to 1956. The girls around you are screaming, but you just stand there, almost reverential. He's intrigued by you in a way he hasn't been by a woman in a long time. 

Your heart stops as he walks directly to you at the edge of the stage and kneels down. He throws his scarf around your neck and pulls you in close, pressing his lips against yours softly. Unlike the others, you don't push for anything else. You just take what he's willing to give you and then slip the envelope into his hands. He pulls back and smiles at you and then leans forward again, kissing your cheek and whispering. 

“Thank you.” Without thinking, you kiss his cheek too and whisper back. 

“I love you.” Women are always telling him that they love him, but something about the quiet and sincere way you say it feels different. Like you might really mean it. When he backs away from you, he peeks into the envelope before handing it to Charlie and then looks up at you quickly, a smile spreading across his face. You blush and look down demurely and then back up at him, a little surprised to see that he's still looking at you with an amused grin on his face. He sneaks another peek into the envelope. 

Pictures. But not the kind of lewd, pornographic pictures he's used to from women. They're always so over the top, like the girls think they have a better chance with him the dirtier they are. But honestly, he's a little traditional. Your photos in your pink and white nightie catch him off guard. There's a touch of reality in them. It's not that you're innocent, per se, he can tell you're older than that. It's the modesty, the humility, the ladylike way you sit with your hands in your lap as you smile softly at the camera. 

“Boss, I'll take that.” Charlie comes up to him and tries to take the envelope. 

“No! I'll, uh, I'll keep this one.” He sets it on the edge of the piano, eager to get back to his room and see them up close with his glasses on. He looks back at you in the crowd where you stand with your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth. “Actually, Charlie, tell Joe I want to see that girl after the show.” 

Charlie nods, understanding the assignment and Elvis launches back into the concert. He kisses a few more women, but he never loses track of you. 

You watch the rest of the concert with his scarf on your neck, praying that he'll enjoy the gift you gave him. It's probably kind of boring in comparison to what he's used to from girls, but you've never been one to be too outrageous. He just seems sad these days and you wanted to cheer him up a little in the only way you could think of. You hope what you've written on the back of the photos isn't too cheesy. 

******

Elvis sits in his car after the show, waiting to see if Joe can deliver. While he waits, he pulls the envelope of your photos back out and takes another look. He flips it over to see if you've maybe written your name or contact information on the back, in case Joe can't find you. Instead he gasps a little and turns all the photos over to see if they have something written on them and they do. 

Poetry. You've written short poems on the back of them. Poems about him and you and the universe and the way you hope he knows how important he is. He feels the lump form in his throat and he sighs deeply, trying to keep his tears in his eyes. He says another quick prayer that Joe will be able to find you. One of his guys leans into the window. 

“EP, we gotta go. I dunno how long we can sit here waiting before they find you here and swarm the car.” 

“Just… a few more minutes. Please.” The guy nods, thinking Elvis is off his rocker staying here and waiting for a particular girl when he could order up anyone else easily. Finally, he sees Joe come down the ramp with you in tow. 

You look to Joe and then out to the limousine where it's parked at the end of the ramp. Surely this can't be real, can it? He's actually asked to see you? 

Elvis nervously rearranges himself on the seat as you reach the car door, still not quite believing he's inside. It's not until you slide into the car and look over at him that it sets in. You're in the backseat of a limousine with Elvis Presley. 

“Hi, honey. I'm Elvis. What's your name?” You're almost paralyzed with shock and he starts to wonder if this was a mistake. Then you smile and take his hand softly. 

“I'm y/n. Sorry, I just can't believe I'm really here.” He relaxes a little as you do and you both sit back against the seat. 

“Well, you did tell me you love me and hand me an envelope full of dirty pictures. Did you really think I'd let you just walk away?” He smiles teasingly. 

“Honestly? Yeah. I figured they'd be too boring for y-”

“Boring? Sweetheart, these are the sexiest pictures I've seen in a long time. And I love the poems. I can't wait to read through all of them.” He lifts the envelope to his lips and kisses it gently. You laugh softly and whisper.  

“You really like my poems?” He nods and then takes your hand in his, holding it like he's done it a thousand times before. You try not to melt, sure he's tired of girls who lose their shit around him. 

He tries to keep his hand from trembling as he holds yours. For some reason, touching you makes him feel like a teenager again. 

“If you don't mind, I'd like you to come to my hotel with me.” You blink a few times in surprise. “If not, I can have my driver take you wherever you want-”

“Elvis, I'd love to go to your hotel with you.” He breathes a big sigh of relief. You make small talk for the rest of the short car ride and he holds your hand and plays with your fingers the whole time. 

Every once in a while you chance a glance at him on the seat next to you. He's beautiful. The navy jumpsuit makes his eyes stand out and the silver phoenix gives him an almost angelic quality. One time, he catches you looking and smiles. 

“What?” Your eyes pop up to meet his behind his silver glasses. 

“What do you mean?” You try to act innocent. 

“I see you lookin’ at me. Not what you expected?” You can tell there's an edge to his voice like he's assuming you're disappointed. 

“You're just so-”

“So what?” The edge gets stronger and he puts your hand down. 

“Beautiful.” The way you say it is so sincere that he almost cries. He actually believes you. You stare into each other’s eyes for a while before he starts to lean in. He kissed you on stage, but this is different. He's almost nervous. His hand goes to your cheek and he's barely got his lips on yours when the car door opens. 

“What?!” He yells to the guy that opened the door. He's obviously annoyed with the interruption, but you giggle a little. 

“I think we're here.” You say softly and he immediately melts. He hasn't met a woman who can calm his anger in a long time. 

When you make it up to the room, he dismisses his bodyguards and leads you into the sitting area. 

“You want a drink, baby?” He's found that the girls he brings back to his room usually do. 

“No, I'm okay. You wanna change? That can't be comfortable. I'll wait out here if you want.” Your concern with his comfort reminds him of his mother for some reason and he's hit with the urge to wrap you in his arms and never let go. 

“I need a shower, but I'm exhausted.” He plops onto the couch next to you. You immediately bend over to take his boots off of him. You've always been a caretaker and something about him tells you that's exactly what he needs. 

“A bath then. I can get it ready.” He nods, unable to speak. He's completely in awe of you and your unbelievable kindness. Usually women want things from him, but you seem to only want to give. Once you've got his shoes off, you kiss his forehead and make your way to the bathroom. You're not sure what possessed you to kiss him so intimately, but it felt right. After a few minutes, you return from the bedroom. “I hope it's not too warm. And the hotel had some fancy bubbles in there, so I took the liberty of adding them. Hope that's okay.” 

You take his hands and pull him off the couch, leading him to the bathroom. He sees the effort you've put in and decides to do something a little out of his comfort zone. You turn to leave and he grabs your hand. 

“Stay.” You look up at him surprised. It wasn't your intention to do anything other than let him relax, but this sounds like a dream. 

“In the bathroom?” His thumb brushes your cheek as he looks down at you. 

“In the bath with me.” You nod and start to unzip his jumpsuit as he removes the heavy belt. When you get it down to his belly, he inhales sharply and touches your hand softly. “I'm… I don't…”

“Please?” Your eyes are warm and filled with admiration and for some reason he trusts you, so he lets you finish unzipping the suit and push it off of his shoulders and down to fall at his feet. Your eyes slip over his body and he feels the shame start to creep in, but you send it away with a single whispered word. “Beautiful.” 

Without another thought, he leans down and kisses you fully on the mouth, tasting you as his tongue dances against yours. His hands wander down to your thighs, where he grabs the hem of your dress and lifts it above your head and off, pulling you in close to him as he continues to kiss you. He opens your bra easily and pushes your panties down, reveling in the feeling of your soft, warm skin against him. 

Oh, how he'd love to make love to you, but his body doesn't seem to be cooperating. Before he can get too frustrated, though, you back away and step into the bathtub. You arrange yourself so that you're sitting behind him with your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands running over his chest. The water is the perfect temperature and the bubbles hide the parts of him that he doesn't want to see. Somehow you've made this exactly what he needs. He can feel your breasts pressed against his back as you kiss his shoulders and neck. His hands rest on your calves, moving down to your feet and back up periodically. 

“Honey, are you an angel?” You laugh softly and nip at his earlobe. 

“No, just a woman who loves you.” His words catch in his throat and he's glad you're behind him, so you don't see the single tear that escapes and slides down his cheek. “You deserve to be loved like this, Elvis.” 

He turns in the tub and pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. You smile and kiss him a few times gently and he mumbles against your lips. 

“It's hard for me to let you.” 

“I know. Let me anyway.” He nods and kisses you deeply again, pulling your hips in so that your center presses against him where he wishes he was hard. 

“I can't even-”

“I have an idea. Something that would be fun, I think.” 

“What?” You're so good at changing the subject when he needs you to. 

“Would you like to take some pictures of me?” His eyes immediately light up. 

“Can I?” You nod, giggling and he kisses you again. “I have a Polaroid camera.” 

Both of you get out of the bath and wrap yourselves in the thick, fluffy hotel robes. He goes to a black bag in the corner and pulls out a camera. Then he goes to his rack of clothing and pulls out a button down silk shirt. 

“I don't have a nightie. Would you wear this with panties?” You nod and take the shirt from him. 

“I'll wear whatever you want. You're the boss.” He giggles as you go back in the bathroom to retrieve your panties and put on his shirt. When you come back out, he swallows hard. You've taken your hair down from where it was piled on your head and it cascades around your shoulders. He can see your nipples ever-so-slightly through the silk of the shirt and he thinks to himself that you might be the sexiest thing he's ever seen. When you crawl onto the bed, he gets a full shot of your ass in your white cotton panties and has to suppress a moan. 

“What?” You smile as you position yourself on the bed. 

“Nothin’ honey, just, goddamn you're sexy.” He's so distracted by you that he doesn't even feel his dick as it begins to harden. You notice it under his robe, though, and bite your lip as he starts to snap photos. 

By the time he gets through the roll of film, you're so wet it's visible and his cock is so hard it makes a tent in the fabric. He tosses the camera onto the bed and crawls on top of you as you open the robe and push it off of him. Your heart pounds as he tears at your clothing, ruining his own shirt and throwing your panties across the room. Eager to not waste an erection, he rubs his tip on your entrance and sighs. 

“This may not… I might…”

“Elvis, hush.” You grab his hips and pull him into you, moaning loudly as he slides deep inside you. 

“Oh, fuck, honey.” He grunts and starts to grind his hips against you, slow and sensual at first and then picking up speed. He whimpers as he starts to really pound you. Sex hasn't felt like this for him in a long time. 

“Does it feel good?” You whisper into his neck. 

“God, yes. Lemme see ya, baby.” You manage to roll him over without him pulling out and start to bounce on top of him. His hands squeeze your hips, guiding your movements and his eyes are mesmerized by your breasts as they move with his thrusts. “Fuck, honey. I'm gonna cum.”

“Oh, I'm so close!” He licks his thumb and moves it to your clit, rubbing it quickly. This is one of his old moves he hasn't tried in years because the effort just hasn't seemed worth it. But with you it does. 

“That good, baby?” He's so close to a climax, he can feel it gathering at the base of his cock. 

“God, yes! Oh!!” You groan loudly as your orgasm crashes into you, making your walls thump and pulse and squeeze him as the wildfire rushes through you. 

“Yeah, baby! Fuck!” He grunts as your release pushes him over the edge too and he cums hard into you. That's also a thing he never does, but the thought of being with you for a long time doesn't scare him. It comforts him. 

You lean over onto his chest and try to catch your breath as he runs his hands up and down your back. For the first time in a long time, he's not self-conscious about anything. It's like everything outside the hotel room has ceased to exist and he's happy in this bubble with you. If it were up to him, he'd never leave. 

You look up at him with your chin on your hands on his chest and he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Thank you.” You whisper and he frowns. 

“For what?”

“For letting me love you. Even just for tonight.” The reality that he has to leave in a few hours hits him and he closes his eyes. He smiles when he feels your lips on his cheek. 

“What if it wasn't just for tonight?” Now it's his turn to whisper. His eyes flutter open and you look at him in shock. “What if I let you love me until you didn't anymore?” 

“Then you'd let me love you forever.” 

“I'm not easy to love.” 

“I know. Let me love you anyway.” He smiles and kisses you gently. 

“Only if I can love you too.” 

“Always.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[elvisslut]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

An: I know its not elvis ill write elvis asap but billie is wife so i want angst

Banner:uzmacchiato

Small blurb

TW- ANGST, slightly smut, name calling, billies temper(idk if thats a warning), thoughts of another woman, cheating, car crash, not proof read, i think thats it

“Fuck..” billie breathed out, nearing her climax as you were about to reach yours.

“Billie..im close..” you moan, billie nodded in understanding.

“Me too ally..” she huffs, you lay your hand on her shoulder and stop her after you registered what was just said. “Who the fuck is ally?” You ask, rightfully mad.

“Billie? Who the fuck is ally?” You ask again, billie stayed quiet, searching your face. “Stop im done, im going home” you say, billie pulls out and takes her strap off, fixing hers, going to fix yours.

You slap her hand away and shake your head, fixing your pants and getting up. “Thinking about another woman is insane.. ‘you’re the only one for me’ such bullshit” you ramble, getting your stuff together.

“Hey, wait why are you taking all your stuff?” She asks. “Im not gonna be with you if you want to be with another woman. Not gonna hold you back from something you want” you say. To be fair, you did come to the decision incredibly fast but who wouldn’t.

“No youre not, i want you�� she says, getting up and grabbing some of your stuff from you. “Shut the fuck up” you say.

“Dont tell me what to do y/n” she huffs, anger starting to mask the guilt and sadness she felt. “You don’t have to worry about that in a moment” you spit out.

“You’re not going anywhere” she says. “Oh yeah? Try and fucking stop me, you fucking cheating bitch” you seethe, going out of the bedroom and heading to the door.

“Dont call me a bitch!” She yells, grabbing your arm and yanking you back. She’s never laid a hand on you or anything but that was worrying, you stared at her. What comes after this? Will she beat the shit out of you? Of course not but you were worried about just in the moment so you questioned it.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She says, grabbing your stuff and slamming it against the wall. “Sit your fucking ass down” she says, gritting her teeth.

“Fuck you.” You say, she grabs your wrist and tugs you to the couch making you sit down. “Stop acting like this” she says, you stare at her your lips parting.

You wouldn’t have actually left her. You would have ran back to her, you love her more than you need oxygen to live. She was your home even if she wasn’t the best home right now with everything she was dealing with, ally? Who is ally though. How is she better than you? How can she take billie from you? Your thoughts were too consumed to realize billie started to cry.

You payed more attention to her and frowned a bit as you see her tears. “Im sorry..” she breathes out. You’d forgive her, you already did honestly, there is noone else in the world youd fake sleep for so you could listen to her breathe, noone else you’d be okay talking to about true crime.

Billie was the definition of everything and she was your everything. Sometimes you’d have to share even though you shouldn’t have to, shes billie eilish, the world’s favorite pop-star. There’s no way she’d ever only be yours.

“Its fine..” you say quietly, defeat coating your voice. Billie bit her lip, she knows what she did, she knows what shes doing. You were going to die in this relationship or die wanting it.

“Im going on a drive” you say, she nods and runs a hand through her hair.

You’d been gone for a while, too long. Billie was worried you came to your senses and left her in the dust. You didn’t answer her calls, you didn’t text- nothing, absolutely nothing.

The next morning she was frantically calling and texting you, you hadn’t come back once. She was scared she’d lost you, seriously this time. He hope rose as a knock came from the door, she goes and answers it, her heart sinking as the cops stand there.

“Ms.O’Connell, we regret to inform you that Y/n L/n has been in an accident and is in the hospital right now. You were the emergency contact and address, there was no pick up when we tried the phone this morning.” One of the officers state. Billie stares at him then nods, grabbing her keys.

“Excuse me” she says, going past them getting in her car and going to the hospital, she was on pilot mode as she thought about everything. She walked in the hospital, half functioning as she asked about you and went your room.

She snapped out of her trance once she saw you, sitting down and looking over your beaten up face, swollen and bruised from the airbag.

“Baby..its me..im sorry for leaving you leave” she says, sniffling. “Im sorry for cheating on you..i was on tour and couldn’t help myself..i missed you so much then i just kept doing it..im sorry..you deserve better..” she says, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Promise you won’t again?” You suddenly ask, she hums as you open your eyes.

“Im leaving you y/n..i can’t let you be with me..you need better” she says, you frown. “You’re gonna leave me after i almost died crying over you?” You ask

“Thats why i need to..im not going to let you go through that again..im sorry i need to go..” she says, getting up and leaving.

You watch her back as she leaves, tears filling your eyes. You just lost the one thing that made you go right instead of left into the tree, she was everything and now you’re left with nothing, like sand that sifts through your fingers.

Maybe you should have went left.