Sweet To Sour (Beale Street Blues Part Six) - Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader
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if you’re new here, here is the link to PART ONE, PART TWO, and PART THREE, and PART FOUR and PART FIVE
“I can’t believe you wasted a nickel just to win me a stuffed bear, Elvis,” you said, shaking your head as you looked at the ground.
“Well, darlin’, you wanted to come to this carnival, didn’t ya?” Elvis asked, spreading his free arm out to gesture to your surroundings, “Ain’ it right of me to follow some of the carnival date traditions?”
“Traditions?” you asked, glancing up at him, “Since when have you ever cared about traditions?”
“Since now,” he retorted, reaching to scratch underneath your chin, making you snort and grab his hand, “and besides, I need to know that you got somebody to hold when I’m not here.”
“Hm,” you hummed, eyeing the oversized pink teddy bear, “Fair enough.”
The vibrant lights of the carnival attractions had been visible miles from town. Under the moonlight, the family-friendly event resembled the crowded roads of Beale Street on a Friday night. You and Elvis had been casually walking through each aisle, mainly people watching and observing your surroundings. That was, until you came across a dart-throwing game and Elvis forced you to watch him win you a prize.
“What’cha wanna do next?” Elvis asked, keeping his arm draped around your shoulders, “Go on a ride?”
“Maybe later,” you said, eyeing the swings, “Everything looks a little crowded right now.”
Elvis nodded, eyeing you gently before turning his attention forward. “I’m gettin’ a little deja vu bein’ here,” he said, looking up at the vibrant yellow lights, “I was at a carnival similar to this when the colonel first offered to manage me exclusively.”
“Exclusively,” you repeated, “because you were with a group performance beforehand, right?”
“Yeah, it was a travelin’ show of country artists,” he elaborated, “and he added me to the act after seein’ me perform at the Louisiana Hayride.”
You nodded, looking up at him. “But your light shined too bright to be included with a group of other singers, hm?”
Elvis glanced at you before shaking his head, clearly embarrassed. “Well, I don’—I don’ know about that,” he stuttered, making you smile, “Guess the audience reactions got to be a little too much for the rest of ‘em. I-I didn’ mean no harm by it, though.”
You laughed softly, greatly endeared by his humble tone. Reaching up, you planted a kiss on his cheek. “Your humility is one of the most beautiful things about you. Never lose it.”
As his ears began turning red, he waved you off. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he replied, making you giggle, “Enough about me. You’re gonna be on the red carpets of Hollywood with Marilyn one of these days.”
Your smile fell as you sighed, looking back at the ground. “Yeah, that was the dream for awhile. I wanna be a movie star like her, but I don’t wanna limit myself to comedies or just non-serious films in general. I feel like Hollywood limits her to roles like that because she’s so beautiful. They don’t let her become a serious actor and I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“Then, you fight ‘em on it,” Elvis replied, squeezing your shoulder gently, “You make sure they ain’t tryna limit your potential early on.”
“How could I possibly do that as a rookie in such a powerful industry?”
“Get yourself a good manager,” he said, “like the colonel. I bet you that once I’ve had my run with music, he could get us both in some big movie roles. Man, I’ve always wanted to star in films as a serious actor like Jimmy Dean.”
“You and me, Hollywood’s next method actors,” you said, “If we dream it, we’ll do it.”
He pulled you close, kissing your hair. “I know we will, baby.” Looking forward, he pointed to a funhouse. “Let’s go in there.”
“Mm,” you hummed skeptically before shaking your head, “Mm, mm.”
Elvis raised his eyebrows, smirking in amusement. He made his way in front of you, beginning to walk backwards as he positioned his hands on your waist.
“Mm, mm?” he parroted with a chuckle, “Any reason?”
“I don’t like ‘em,” you answered simply, avoiding his eyes.
“Don’t like ‘em?” he repeated, not buying your reasoning for a second. He glanced back at it before returning his gaze to you. He, then, reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You get lost in one as a child or somethin’?”
Your lips formed a small pout as you pulled your chin from his grip. He chuckled fondly, stepping closer before placing both hands on your head. Never slowing his backwards stroll, he pulled your head towards him and pressed his lips against your forehead.
“You’re the cutest lil thing, sometimes, you know that?” he rasped against your skin before kissing you again, “Alright, c’mon. We’ll go in and I won’t lose sight of ya, alright?”
You wanted to say no, but he was working his charms to their fullest extent, making it difficult for you to turn him down. As he stared down at you, his icy blue gaze held the playful twinkle that you adored. His eyebrows were raised as he awaited your answer, but the look in his eyes let you know that he knew you were wrapped around his finger.
As he led you into the funhouse entrance, you glanced back. In doing so, you were met with the view of a mysterious man watching the pair of you. He wore a polo, belt, slacks, and dress shoes. He had on sunglasses, but it was still incredibly obvious that his gaze was focused on you. With a cigarette in his mouth, he raised his lighter before flicking it on.
“Y/N?” Elvis’s voice caught your attention. Turning your head, you met his gaze. His hand was in yours as he prepared to lead you inside. “You alright, mama?”
You glanced back one more time before nodding, not wanting to worry Elvis. “Yeah, let’s go.”
However, Elvis caught your uneasiness and placed a hand on your back, pushing you inside before he glanced back. Immediately, he spotted the man that you’d been staring at. Narrowing his eyes, he allowed himself to get a good hard look—taking note of anyone else around the funhouse—before following you inside.
Elvis quickened his pace as he approached you from behind, bending down slightly before reaching out and gently clawing at your sides, making you squeal and jump forward.
Keeping his grip on you, he leaned over your shoulder and pressed his lips against your right ear. “You ready?” he growled playfully, making you raise your right shoulder and shrink to the left.
He stayed behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and walking with you as you entered a room of mirrors.
“Oh no,” you groaned, making him chuckle.
“C’mon, we got this,” he encouraged, releasing you before reaching his arms straight out, framing your body, “Let’s see …”
The pair of you stretched your arms out, feeling your way through the confusing pathway. As you continued to move through the room, you kept glancing back, making sure that Elvis was still with you. He noticed this and smiled knowingly, placing a hand on your waist.
“I’m right here, baby,” he rasped.
You both struggled but, after awhile, you managed to find the exit that led to the rest of the funhouse. The next part was a spinning tunnel, which was painted with swirling red and white patterns. However, the loud paint job did nothing to assist with the tunnel’s lack of light. Compared to the room of mirrors, this next part only heightened your anxiety.
“C’mon, baby,” Elvis said from behind you, beginning to coax the two of you forward. However, after taking your first step, a figure stepped into view at the other end of the tunnel. Immediately, Elvis grabbed your waist as you halted your movements.
“Hold up,” he said, slightly tightening his grip on you. His tone had dropped immensely.
The figure leaned against the railing, crossing its arms before pulling a cigarette from its mouth. Elvis stiffened as you stepped back, positioning yourself against him.
“E …” you mumbled, uneasiness laced within your tone.
“I know,” he said lowly, pulling you against him before glancing back. Once he saw that no one was behind you, he turned his attention forward again, eyeing the man at the end of the tunnel.
“Can we help you?” Elvis called, raising his voice so the man could hear him from the other end.
The man exhaled a breath of smoke before keeping silent. Though you could still hear the commotion from outside the funhouse—coming from the rest of the carnival—the silence between the three of you produced a thick tension in the air.
“Alright,” Elvis mumbled, guiding you to his side, “We’re gonna ignore ‘im and keep movin’.”
“Are you sure?” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“He ain’ gonna hurt you,” he replied. Confidence was laced within his deep, raspy tone. As he wrapped an arm around your waist, he took the first step onto the tunnel, leading the two of you through.
The man waited, unmoving, as the pair of you approached him. Your footsteps echoed through the hollow space. The closer you got, the more positive you became that he was the same man that had watched you at the entrance. Before long, you were face-to-face. You both stepped off of the tunnel before Elvis gently pushed you behind him.
“There somethin’ that you needed?” he asked. By the tone of Elvis’s voice, you knew he meant business. “Or you just followin’ us for the heck of it?”
The man chuckled before shrugging. “I don’t mean anything by it, son,” the stranger replied, “Just keepin’ an eye on that little lady back there.”
Your stomach churned as you gripped the lace on Elvis’s shirt. “And your business with her is?” Elvis asked.
“Let’s just say that her daddy’s got some pals in some high places,” the stranger replied, “And, don’t worry, I know who you are, too. Elvis the Pelvis. Man, those uh—those newspaper headlines haven’t exactly been in your favor recently now, have they?”
You swallowed thickly as nausea began to spread through your body. Elvis kept silent as the man chuckled, shrugging again. “I’m just sayin’ takin’ a good fella’s daughter and holdin’ her from him won’t exactly do much to help your public image now, will it?”
“It was my choice!” you yelled at the same time that Elvis barked, “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m nobody,” the man answered.
“A nobody that has influence over the papers?” Elvis retorted, “A nobody that’s got ‘pals in high places’? Well, you tell those pals that this girl’s father left bruises on her body that were beyond healin’ on their own. That he was keepin’ himself knee-deep in her career while spendin’ his free time beatin’ her to a pulp.” You felt a lump form within your throat as Elvis’s words—without meaning to—cut you like a knife. You could always rely on him to recite the harshness of your reality, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“I ain’ doin’ anything but what a man should do when he sees a woman in that situation,” Elvis finished, stepping farther in front of you.
The stranger went silent for a long moment before taking another hit of his cigarette.
“Reckless choices have consequences. Your manager may be approached with some … requests. Should you choose to ignore them, I’m afraid this may not be hidden from the public for much longer. Good luck with that, son.”
With that, the man turned towards the railing before opening a gate, letting himself out of the emergency exit. Your vision swirled as you processed the man’s words. Whoever he was, he clearly had a connection to your father. Furthermore, this had proven that your father had made connections to the higher-ups that were trying to tear down Elvis’s career.
Feeling sick to your stomach, you released Elvis’s shirt and stepped away from him. Elvis waited, watching the man until he disappeared into the crowd before turning his attention to you.
“Y/N … baby …” Elvis began, stepping towards you, “You alright?”
You tried to answer, but your breath caught in your throat. Gripping your neck, you swallowed thickly as you stepped away from him. “They’re gonna try to take you out,” you choked, feeling tears sting your eyes, “They’re gonna try to terminate your career on account of my actions.”
“Y/N,” Elvis said, placing his hands out in an attempt to calm you, “You and I both know that it was me that encouraged you to move out of your daddy’s house. Ain’t none of this your fault.”
“But it has everything to do with me,” you whimpered, trying to check your emotions, “I-I can’t let you. I can’t let you pay that price.” You struggled to swallow as your throat burned with a seering pain. “I have to go back.”
Elvis’s eyes widened as horror overtook his expression. “What?” he cried, “No! No, baby, I won’t let you! I won’t let you do that to yourself!”
“They’re gonna ruin you!”
“He’s gonna ruin you!” As he raised his tone, his voice cracked.
You looked up, meeting his heartbroken gaze. Your heart contracted within your chest as you saw his expression. His eyes were frantic and glassed over. His breathing was rapid and uneven. He looked as desperate as you felt.
The clear signs that he was on the verge of tears sent you over the edge. Falling to your knees, you placed your face in your hands and screamed. You screamed louder than you’d ever screamed before. You weren’t a singer, so you’d expected your voice to grow hoarse after a minute. But it didn’t, so you continued to scream into your hands.
Once you couldn’t hold your breath anymore, you reached up and grabbed your hair. “Why is he—” Your sobs cut off the rest of your words. “I can’t take this,” you cried, tears falling freely down your face, “He’s gonna take everything from me. Everything.”
Acting slowly, Elvis kneeled in front of you, taking in your state. Gently, he grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands from your hair. This time, instead of letting him, you fought him. “No, get away,” you choked, scooting back, “You have to go. I’ll never forgive myself if I drag you down with me.”
Elvis shook his head, reaching out to you again. You scooted back again, making him visibly deflate. “He can snuff out my light, but I’ll be damned if he touches yours,” you said, hiccuping as you struggled to breathe.
“Darlin’, I—” Elvis began, frantically searching his mind for ways to keep you with him.
You shook your head. His blue eyes grew devastated as he released a breath, looking down briefly before lifting his gaze back to you.
“Won’t ya just let me hold you?” he pleaded, “Can I take ya to the car and just hold you, please?”
You hiccuped again, feeling a migraine begin to creep its way into your head. Placing your hands on your head, you looked down, not wanting to give him an answer. At this point, you couldn’t think clearly anymore. You couldn’t stay where you were because you’d dropped your car off at Graceland and Elvis was your ride here. The stranger’s words continued to cycle through your mind as the pounding in your head increased.
Suddenly, you felt arms around your shoulders as they pulled you into a chest. You squirmed slightly as a gentle hand cupped your head.
“I just wanna hold ya,” he rasped as a hand rubbed your back, “Won’t you let me do that, baby?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, cupping your hand over your mouth before muffling your sobs, once more, You folded your knees to your chest as sobs wrecked your body.
The reality of the situation was settling in. In this state of mind, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. However, you knew that, deep down, you couldn’t get yourself to leave Elvis. You knew that—if you truly wanted to go back—he would let you go, no matter how much it hurt him. However, as much as you wanted to protect him from your father’s wrath, the selfish part of you needed him to remain at your side.
You wanted to get past your trauma. You wanted to eliminate your father’s place in your life. You didn’t know how, or what the plan would be from here, but you couldn’t think about it anymore that night.
Finally relaxing against him, you let Elvis hold you as your body continued to mend the wounds that had tormented you for so long.
