belle

aspiring writer 💋⚡️🎞️ wattpad: cupcakeharoldstyles series: buymeacoffee.com/cupcakeharoldstyles

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belle's masterlist:

all my works - I hope you enjoy 💋⚡️ extras

ELVIS PRESLEY:

Elvis Presley Masterlist

one shots

the Presleys - book:

introduction & chapters index

AUSTIN BUTLER:

Benny Cross Masterlist

series 1: benny & y/n series 2: a baby miracle series 3: Honeybee one shots

Major "Buck" Cleven Masterlist

one shots

Austin Butler Masterlist

series 1: Bare Souls series 2: My Little Love one shots

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Forevermore - Austin Butler

request

the one-shot is here: Forevermore

Part 1: The reader and Austin have been married for a few months and on day while Austin is out and about the reader decides to take a pregnancy test (it comes back positive). So after when Austin comes home she says she has a surprise for him and tells him to close his eyes, when he opens them and see the positive test he extremely excited and as they hug the reader says with tears in her eyes, “you’re gonna be a daddy.” (Like Cilla did in the book) Fast forward a few weeks they attend the first ultrasound and are so excited to be parents.

Part 2: Austin and the reader have decided to host a dinner party at their house in honor of the 10th anniversary of the Elvis Movie with Baz, Catherine, Priscilla, Jerry Schilling, Riley (along with her husband and daughter whose now like 11), and Finely and Harper (who are now like 23) and some other friends in Hollywood. Towards the end of the dinner Austin gets up and announces that him and the reader are expecting a baby together. Everyone is delighted by the news. When the reader and Austin have finally said their goodbyes and gotten into bed the reader starts talking about the baby until she realizes Austin’s sad face. When she asks what’s wrong he bursts into tears and starts ranting about how Lisa Marie (Austin and Lisa had a close bond before she passed) and his Mother aren’t gonna be here to see the child. She reader comforts Austin and goes on to tell him how much of a good father he’s gonna be.

Part 3: (the reader is now 9 months and they’re having a girl) After Austin comes home after a long day at work him and the reader cook dinner together and afterwards they lay on the couch and Austin starts singing a song to the readers baby bump until he realizes she fell asleep on the couch and decides to get her up and go to bed. After sleeping for awhile Austin wakes up in the middle of the night only to find the reader shivering in her sleep as he wakes her up she realizes her water broke because the bed is wet. As Austin is freaking out about getting to the hospital the reader calmly pushes through her contractions and put her clothes on and does her hair and mascara. Hours into the hospital the reader is now at 6 centimeters and is crying due to the pain, Austin (being the loving husband he his) helps her try some different birthing positions to relieve the pain but none of them work, so she finally gives in and decides to get an epidural despite the fact that she’s terrified of the huge needle that’s about to go into her back 💀 After the epidural she’s finally relieved of the pain but hours later once the epidural wears off the pain starts coming back again. She asks for something to relieve the pain but the doctor tells her they can’t give her anything because she at 8 centimeters. At this point she’s now crying and shaking in pain and if absolutely breaks Austin’s heart so he decides to lie down and hold her while whispering sweets nothings into her ear to comfort her. Fast forward she’s now at 10 centimeters and it’s time to push. Even though she’s nervous and still in pain she jokingly threatens to kill Austin if he looks down at her you knows what 😭 after pushing for a couple of hours their babygirl is finally here and they name her Eleanor Marie-Anne Butler (Marie for Lisa Marie, and Anne because it’s his moms middle name). The next day after feeding Presley and spending time with her, Baz, Catherine, Priscilla, Riley, the twins, Jerry, David (Austin’s dad), Ashley (Austin’s sister) and Ashley Tisdale visit them in the hospital. When the reader and Austin reveal Eleanor’s name everyone gets emotional to the special tribute. After a few hours everyone slowly starts to leave and Priscilla is the only one left. As she goes up to the reader who’s holding Eleanor to say goodbye she can’t help but get emotional because all she sees is her, Elvis and Lisa Marie.

Part 4: Elle is now 2. Because it’s been a while since any of the family has been to Graceland, Riley plans a trip with the entire family including Austin, the reader, and Elle. After getting settled into the Guest House at Graceland they all head to Graceland for a private family dinner (they closed down the house to fans earlier than usual, but the fans are still welcomed to walk around on the property and take pictures). After dinner Austin (with permission) takes the reader and Elle on a golf cart ride. Without noticing, everyone else is watching them through the window when Priscilla starts tears up and goes on to tell them how every time she looks at them all she can see her, Elvis, and Lisa Marie. Everyone eventually joins them outside and they all get on golf carts to go sign autographs for the fan walking around. Later that night (when everything is closed down) Austin decides it’s finally time to introduce the reader and Elle to Elvis and Lisa Marie (it’s the readers first time at Graceland too) so everyone walks down to the Meditation Garden and to the graves. Austin introduces the reader first and explains to her that Lisa Marie was like a second mother to him. Austin then introduces Elle. Thinking that she didn’t hear what he told the reader, Elle does the most shockingly cute (and emotional) thing ever, she touches Lisa Marie’s grave and says “Hello Ms. Lisa”. Everyone’s stops for a second and they instantly start tearing up at the cute reaction.

I know this is a lot but I really hope you’re able to do this because I love your page so much! (If not it’s totally ok)

Thank you so much for letting me share my idea with you 💗

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Forevermore - Austin Butler

request: Ok so I recently just finished Priscilla's book on her and Elvis and I literally can't get over his reaction when she told him she was pregnant, so I was wondering if you could do an Austin Butler story or REALLY long imagine 😭 (there's 4 total parts) - Read the request here

A new forever:

The Elvis movie turned ten years old. Ten years since you watched a young actor portray the most iconic singer of all time. Endless rehearsals, countless books and the most meticulous of details. All learned and adapted— he was acting from his heart. Perhaps that was what made you fall in love with Austin in the first place. His ambition, his determination of doing a legend justice.

That was all it had been at the time. A young woman in awe at the skills of a young actor. Until the paths crossed and the lines blurred, bringing them to a big wedding and a bigger house many years later.

"You're gonna be a daddy," you said with tears in your eyes. Austin just stared, his eyes darting between you and the pregnancy test, like it was a dream come true. His breath got caught in his throat. Silence. Not a wheeze. Not a whisper. Quiet tears. Waterfalls of a man who had been hoping and praying for a sign, something bigger than himself. You gave him that. You.

"I-I don't know what to say," he made out in between contained sobs. You reached out a hand, feeling the burning sting of tears in your eyes as well. "My god... I... Thank you so much, baby. You— You have no idea h-how much this means to m-me."

The unbroken shattered right there and then. But you held onto other like anchors trying to survive in the most desperate of ways. For that was what you were to each other. A constant. A lifeline. All you had ever needed. Austin's emotions were something you loved about him. Every emotion was overwhelmingly intense. Maybe that was something you had to be cautious of, but you indulged in him being fully himself.

You loved the humanity in his sigh, in his eyes as he watched yours with intent, and in his hands as they held onto yours when the doctor announced you'd be having a little girl. One couldn't put a price on that. That was your moment, between tears and red noses sniffling in awe of your little creation.

Ten years of eternal beauty:

"Thank you everybody for coming," Austin called, shooting smiles at the guests. You watched him from your seat, hand on your bump and proud grin adorning your lips. "Today is a very special day— and not because the Eagles are playing." Scattered laughter bounced around the table. "Today is special because it marks the tenth anniversary of Baz Luhrmann's Elvis."

People cheered, putting their hands together. Baz smiled, waving his hand around comically.

"It's a movie that has given me so much. It has given me the opportunity to get to know a whole new person— Elvis. He was a rebel, a romantic, a performer, and first and foremost a human, like us all." His voice trembled faintly. "Now, working with you Baz has been an absolute honor, and I'm grateful that our paths crossed again in yet another wonderful project. Thank you for having believed in me from the start. I'm grateful for you— all of you wonderful people who have made the film what it is— Catherine, Olivia, Tom, Alton."

You felt tears in your eyes, the emotion in his voice making you tremble in your seat.

"If it hadn't been for the movie, I would've never met my wife," he said with a large smile, eyes darting down on you. "When the movie came out, she went and watched it with her friend. She kind of liked it—" More easy chuckles, and you withheld a teary eye-roll. "And then we talked, and we haven't stopped talking since."

You pursed your lips, preventing sobs to trespass unguarded. But lord, did his words hit you right in that sensitive bud of emotions. 

"And now we're expecting a little girl. So thank you, Elvis, really." Austin laughed and raised his glass in the air. "To all of you. Now, dig in, because we've been cooking the whole day." More cheers, easy laughter and good food. All ingredients to a good night.

"Good speech, I'm impressed." You bumped your shoulder on his once he was sat down. He glanced your way and suppressed a smile. "I think I even cried a little."

Austin looked down briefly, and raised his gaze up again, the golden flame fluttering above the candle making him look absolutely ethereal. "The movie really meant a lot to me... Shaped me into who I am today. As an actor, as a human being. I'm really grateful."

You felt the sudden maternal urge to pull him away from the world. But you didn't act on it. You gently caressed his cheek and leaned in to capture the softness of his lips. That was enough to him, more than enough.

The start of forever:

The faint sound of the door shutting made you look up from the couch. An instant smile found your face at the sight of your husband. Disheveled hair, happy glint in his eyes and all. It was intoxicating. Austin grinned, setting groceries on the kitchen island.

"Hey baby." He walked your way and bent down to kiss your lips. You smiled against him and raised a hand to his hair in automatic motion. It was second nature, you and his hair were one soul. "How was your day today? Babygirl being a little trouble maker?"

You hummed, tugging him to sit on the couch with you. "She's been more restless than usual, I'll say that." Austin sat on the armrest, lowering himself to brush a hand on your bump. "I should ask how your day has been. My days have been quite uneventful lately." You frowned, letting your fingers tangle together.

Austin chuckled, shaking his head. "You're cooking a whole human being. I don't think it matters if I stumbled into Meryl Streep at Target or not."

You breathed out a surprised gasp. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't babe. I don't think she goes grocery shopping by herself." Austin bumped your shoulder with a cheeky grin. You swatted his arm with a playful smile. "How about I give you a nice massage and sing babygirl a song?"

Your eyes lit up, your excitement caught up in your throat. "I like the sound of that."

That was your evening. A little fruit, back rubs, and Austin softly singing to the both of you. It had become a routine since you found out you were expecting. His soft voice lulled you to sleep each time with no fail, all under the soft glow of candlelight and his blue eyes. The feeling of safety could be described by that singular moment. From the way his arms cradled you like a mother would a babe, to the way his lips sang sweet little things.

"I can't help falling in love with you," Austin murmured, voice dripping with emotion. The flame wavered, but kept burning softly. Plump pink lips itched closer to your bump, until they finally touched your skin. Finally, you sighed in awe. That was love, that was how it felt like to be loved and cared about. In every shape and state. He loved you.

"I love you," he revealed unsurprisingly. The corners of his lips lifted into a gentle smile, one that had always been reserved for you and you only. Your hand rose to his cheek, feeling the light stubble under your touch.

"I love you," you said back just as easily. The distance between you two diminished, inch by inch, until two breaths became one and his lips finally met yours in an endless dance. One you could never get enough of.

You fell asleep like that, lulled by the sweet sound of breathy sighs and golden glow. 

Until your baby woke you up. 

"Ow..." you made out, a frown clouding your face. Austin woke up in an instant, so naturally that you wondered if he had even fallen asleep in the first place.

"Baby? You okay?"

You shook your head, settling a hand on your bump. "I think she's ready."

Austin's eyes widened, immediately shooting up to his feet. "O-Okay let's go— We'll get you ready. I got the bag in the car, but I have the spare one in the nursery. Should I go and get it, just in case? Do you want me to take the diaper bag as well? Do hospitals provide diapers?"

You managed to chuckle through your pain, your hand curling around his arm. "Just— Help me get up. And we can freak out later." He nodded, brows scrunched together and eyes following every move, every twitch of your fingers. His hand held you up, failing to let go in fear. "I'm fine. I'll just go—" you winced. "I'll just go and get ready— Go check the car."

The drive to the hospital was smooth. Traffic wise. Everything else was a panicked mess. Austin's frantic eyes stayed on you the whole time, one of his hands held yours as your nose scrunched in pain. "Yeah, you've got it baby. We're like five minutes away— Five minutes only—"

"Austin, I swear to god—"

He stopped talking, and you immediately shot him a look.

"Keep talking, oh my god. How else am I supposed to distract myself?"

He nodded, hand tightening on you. "Yes, you're right, you're right. Hmm, let's see—"

"Aus!"

"Okay!" He exclaimed in a hurry. "I got it, I got it. Remember that time at the beach? When that seagull snatched away half of my hotdog and dropped it on my head? That was so disgusting—"

"That was so funny," you smiled, delighted. "And then—" you winced at the shooting pain. "And then I gave you a bite of mine."

Austin disguised his worry with a big grin, nodding with faux enthusiasm. "Yeah, that's right baby. Oh, and look, there's the hospital." He parked with unprecedented precision and found himself by your side in an instant, bag across his shoulder and worried eyes concentrated on you. "Good, you're doing great, baby."

Nurses and doctors welcomed you both in, withholding the urge for autographs and photos. Although it was more than exciting having baby Butler born there.

"Mrs Butler, welcome." A nurse smiled warmly at you. "You look incredible."

Austin smiled faintly. "She said she didn't want the baby to see her hair messy."

You winced, your hold on Austin tightening significantly. "I'm still here."

The nurse nodded, her eyes widening. "Right, I'm very sorry. I'll wheel you into one of our rooms to change you in a comfortable gown. How does that sound?"

"I want Austin to come with me—" You darted a helpless look at Austin, who was already walking with you. No hesitation. No further questions.

 "Of course, let's go." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, following the nurse into another room. He helped you change into the gown, ugly and blue, making you whine.

"I don't like it," you cried, but your husband knew the further motive of your tears. He gave you a small smile, brushing a hand on your arm and then finally tended to your bump, big and ready to give you the little angel you had dreamed of for years.

"I know darling," Austin cooed softly. "But it's just so you can give birth to our babygirl. We'll take it off once it's all over." You nodded reluctantly and hoped that everything would go by in a flash. But your little baby took her sweet time, waiting and turning, making you cry in pain and Austin's heart break.

He had never seen anything like that. The true power of a human— of a woman. No one else was able to do something like that. Create life and deliver it into the world. Austin's eyes watched you— every drop of sweat trickling from your forehead, every wince, every tear. His woman. You were his woman. And you were capable of something as magical as that. He was in awe of you.

When Eleanor Marie-Anne Butler finally made an appearance, the world seemed to still, all the noise narrowing to that singular moment. A faint cry— then it sounded more like a scream. But she was right there, finally, into the life you've dreamed of for years. A nurse handed your little girl to you, her voice quietened, but your tears didn't subside. Austin cried too, his tears never-ending at the sight before him. Three. It was the three of them. He looked at you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You're incredible," he made out through tears. "Thank you so much."

A new normal:

The moon was shining bright that night. Austin thought it was shining particularly bright for his daughter, trying to impress her with games of moonlight. She didn't care as she blissfully slept in his arms, her tiny lips parted just a little and her fist holding onto his finger.

You were asleep in your bedroom, drifting into the well-deserved land of dreams. It had been three weeks with little Eleanor back home. The house seemed brighter, more alive. Not only because of her little cries. But laughter was sweeter, smiles a little cheekier. Everything was better.

Except for a little voice. It wasn't a voice exactly, perhaps a whisper. An echo. An image. His beloved mama. She couldn't see the bundle of joy sleeping in his arms right now. She couldn't see his wife, his rock through thick and thin, she couldn't see little Eleanor's grimaces at the sight of something new.

She couldn't see him become a father.

It hurt. Grief was never-ending. It subsided and it came back harder, sharper, in ways he couldn't control. The birth of his daughter brought it back, yet it silenced it at the same time. The bright look in her blue eyes— Austin didn't see the replica of his own, he saw his mother's.

The tears didn't ask for permission, they just fell to his chin, dripping to his chest. Why did he feel that gaping hole in his chest? Why was it so painful, still? After so many years of grief, of therapy, of long conversations and breakdowns. How come was it still there?

Austin didn't hear you come in. His gaze rose, catching your tired eyes. "I-I didn't wake you up, did I-I?" You shook your head, tangling your fingers through his soft hair, taking a seat beside him.

"You didn't, my love. I just sensed... You weren't there," you said honestly. Austin pressed his lips together, swallowing his cries. "Wanna talk about it?" A gentle question steered his way, not pushy, not demanding. Just there for him to take it.

"I just miss her so much." He looked up, eyes full of crystal clear eyes, but hands full with life. A life you had both created together.

"I know, my love," you murmured, careful not to wake up your daughter. "No one can replace her. But I'm sure she's so proud of you." You brushed a hair to the side, catching one of his tears with your finger. "She's proud of the man you've become, the choices you've made, the family that you have." You tilted his chin, smiling softly at him. "I hope you know it too. You're amazing, Austin." Your lips caught his in a tender kiss, right when your daughter started stirring in his arms.

He felt whole again.

Forevermore:

The years went by and little Eleanor turned four years old. Her laughter echoed across the garden as she ran around with her shoes thrown over her shoulder. She was carelessly happy, and that was the best look on her.

"C'mon baby," you called from the kitchen. "We gotta go get ready. Graceland is waiting for us."

"Okay mommy!" She ran up to you, dirty feet, bright smiles and all. "What's Graceland?"

You bent down, pushing a wild curl behind her ear. "That's Elvis' house. Your daddy played him in a movie, remember?" The look of recognition flickered over her features, and then she ran off with a giddy smile, right past Austin.

"Well, someone's excited," he commented, cradling his coffee cup. "You ready?"

You hummed. "Yeah, just waiting on Elle to get ready." You left your mug in the sink, turning around to face him. "How do you feel? You haven't been there in... Many years?"

"Yeah, in way too long," he took a long sip of his coffee. "I'm excited though. To see it again, for our baby to see it... It's gonna be very special."

The world kept turning, but Graceland remained the grand palace it had always been. The massive musical gates, the lions in the front, and Angie Marchese waiting on the three of you.

"Elle, darling, go say hello to Miss Angie," you called gently, but she hid behind your legs, fisting your long skirt. You looked up with an apologetic smile. "She'll come around, she's a little shy." Angie beamed at her, unbothered by the behavior.

"Well, Mr Presley, lead the way," she said to Austin in a joking manner. He blushed, shaking his head, but he was still absolutely flattered by the remark. It had been fourteen years since the movie had come out, and even longer since Austin stepped in Elvis' blue suede shoes. Your heart jittered at the sight of the mansion, and you couldn't even imagine what that felt like for your husband, who had lived and breathed Elvis for so long.

Angie gave you the tour of the house, a giddy smile on her lips to have the Butlers in the Presley home. That place felt like home in some strange way. You had been there before, both times with Austin, and the magic stirring in your tummy didn't cease. Even after all those years. It was there, lingering like an old friend.

Jerry Schilling, Priscilla Presley, Riley and her children, they all showed up on the exclusive day the Graceland gates remained shut. A jingle of keys made Austin look up.

"I think these are yours. If you still want them." Angie dangled a set of keys in the air, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look. Austin glanced over his shoulder, catching the sight of his wife running after their daughter. He paused, watching them exist together.

"Yeah, we'd like that. I'm pretty sure my wife is gonna be the one enjoying it the most," he said playfully and grabbed the keys. "Thank you, Angie. Girls!"

"Yes daddy!" Elle ran up to her daddy excitedly, forgetting about her mother.

"I got a surprise for all of us." But his eyes were set on you and the playful smile on your lips. "What's that grin for?"

You shrugged, the grin untamable. "Nothing, just happy. Happy to be with you, our daughter, a golf cart."

"I knew it," he grinned. "You're just here for the ride." He bumped his shoulder with yours, your talk going straight past your daughter who watched the two of you, oblivious. "Okay, let's go."

"Don't be shy with that gas pedal."

Golf carts and laughter— the best medicine to cure any kind of blues. Priscilla watched the three of you with a longing look, the sight reminding her of simpler times. Where laughter was a given and company wasn't bought. That was pure happiness between a family. The most beautiful and organic feeling. Her eyes wandered elsewhere, but she couldn't look anywhere and not find a memory of some kind.

The meditation garden was the last spot.

Austin crouched down in front of Elle. "Now, baby," he took her tiny hands in his. "We have to be very respectful when we go in there."

"Why?"

"Because there are people resting."

"In peace?"

He nodded, humming. "Yeah, baby, they're resting in peace—"

"Like grandma?"

You felt your heart in your throat. But that was a genuine question of a little kid connecting dots together.

Austin nodded again, his lips pressing together more firmly. "Yeah, like grandma. So we have to be quiet, and respectful. We don't wanna disturb anyone."

Elle remained quiet, intently watching her daddy. Then she nodded, like she had finally processed the information. "Okay, daddy."

It was quiet, just the gradual noise of the water spilling from the fountain. You stayed by your family, passing each grave with a prayer. "Is this Elvis?" your daughter asked smartly, catching pictures and colorful flowers by his grave. You smiled sadly and nodded, brushing a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, baby, that's Elvis."

"He's very pretty," Elle mumbled, and looked up to you in confirmation. You stifled a laugh and nodded.

"Yeah, he was."

Austin's eyes lingered, never letting go of either of your hands. You didn't need to glance at him to understand what was going on in his head. The constant images of the past, of putting on a suit too big, of dyeing his hair black to fully believe in his dream. And there he lay, the man that made it all accessible. It felt surreal.

You passed another grave, Vernon and Gladys Presley, parents that encouraged a young man to a dream, and then finally Lisa Marie's resting place. Goosebumps covered every inch of your skin. A death that walked in too soon, that took away a life that meant so much to the world. And to your husband.

You heard it all in late night talkings, the motherly figure Lisa Marie was to Austin. It felt like two puzzle pieces had found each other again. The loss of her son, the loss of his mother— the void was filled, the wound started scarring. Only to be ripped open again.

"This is Lisa Marie, baby," Austin explained, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Marie?" Elle looked up. "That's also my name, daddy."

Austin nodded. "Yeah." The emotional knot in his throat prevented him to say anything more.

"Hello Miss Lisa," Eleanor murmured softly, her fingers brushing the gold lettering of the Presley name. "You have a pretty name."

You chuckled through tears, sniffling softly. Your eyes darted on your husband, only to find the same emotion haunting his eyes. His jaw clenched as his tears quietly fell, not suppressing them. A breath, a tear, big blue eyes looking up at the both of you. You curled a hand around his arm, pulling him closer to you.

"Thank you," you murmured in his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He glanced your way, faint confusion masking his face.

"For what?"

"For being you. Loving, funny, caring, showing emotions in front of your daughter... Just you."

Austin sniffled, his hand trailing to yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're the one that's made me who I am today. I only have to thank you for that."

You tilted his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you."

"Me too!" Elle called from below, her tiny hands thrown in the air.

"Alright, but let's go away first—"

Austin moved with you, hand never leaving yours. But his eyes followed Elvis' grave again, catching it like he'd caught up with an old friend. Thank you, the voice echoed in his head. The words weighed heavier, even after all those years that gratitude never dissipated into nothingness. He knew that without him a lot of his present would've never happened.

That feeling was forevermore.

A/N: that was almost 4k words, wild. hope you enjoyed 💋 requests are welcome 🍿

MASTERLIST austin masterlist

[bellesdreamyprofile]

ELVIS ⚡️

four years since elvis! crazy how fast time flies 🍿 to think that I hadn’t even watched the trailer when I asked my friend to go and watch it with me.

I left the theater speechless— in disbelief that a man died so young and was misunderstood by so many, and in awe of the wonderful actor that was able to blur the role into reality 🎸✨

that movie has changed everything from my music taste, to the books I read (my third most listened artist last year was Austin🤭 and the first was obviously Elvis).

now I write pretty little stories that haunt me daily, but I wouldn’t have it any other way 🤍 thank you Baz, Austin & Elvis for the magic you’ve gifted me⚡️

[bellesdreamyprofile]

instagram ✨🎞️

hi, I have recently opened an IG account for all things Old Hollywood as well as a way to promote my book.

My biggest dream is to publish my book "the Presleys" into a novel, which would be known as "the Givens". I'm currently working on it, editing, changing names and yada yada yada.

Either way my IG is here if you're interested "INSTAGRAM" . AND if you can give me tips and tricks on video editing and whatnot, I'd be eternally grateful, for this is my first time doing anything that isn't writing 😭💋

love you guys, new chapter coming out veeeery soon — Austin in that cheeky suit won't go unwritten 😉

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chapter 45 - 1963

previous part

CECE PRESLEY

USA TOUR '63

I sang, twirled around the stage and shared the mic with my musicians. The fans screamed my songs back at me, throwing themselves against the barricades. I smiled and laughed every now and then, reaching out to them with my hand. Some shook it, some grabbed it and tugged at it, forcing security to step in and pull me away from them.

I felt validated. I felt good.

Even once the show was over, the screams didn't stop— the walls shook unexplainably harder. Security followed behind me and Jerry stepped out from the side. "Hell of a show," Jerry fumbled with a towel, fluffing it up around my neck. I smiled and nodded, still breathless. "The car's waiting for us, c'mon."

A long, black limousine was parked in the back of the arena, hidden from watchful eyes. The flashes and shouts didn't cease even as I stepped out with a cover-up over my frilly dress. Sometimes I missed the simplicity of a suit. I adjusted the strap of my dress and walked with Jerry to the car. The evening air was cooler, carrying the faint scent of rain and post-show blues.

I didn't know when it started— the exact moment or time. But the moment I stepped off the stage, something shifted inside of me. The weight on my ring finger. The simplest reminder of what was actually going on in my life. Maybe it was guilt that he couldn't be on that stage with me. I was having a good time and he couldn't. I felt trapped by my own conscience, like it was telling me that my happiness should be taken down a notch, because my husband couldn't have the same.

The door shut and my breath caught in my throat. A thump made me look up. A person had thrown themselves onto the hood of a car, then another followed. And another and another.

"Good god," Jerry muttered beside me. "And that's just the tenth show," he shook his head, exhaling a laugh. I nodded, my eyes fixated on the person, slowly sliding off the hood. Their mouth was moving, clearly screaming something, but their eyes talked without blinking. The emotion was something I had last seen before Elvis was drafted.

Jerry nudged me with a small smile. "Hey. You good?"

"Yeah," I said, offering him a twitch of a smile. "All good."

"You know that was a great show. You should be proud of yourself," Jerry clicked his tongue. "I would even dare to say that it was your best one so far. Well, this one and the one in Memphis of course."

I chuckled softly. "The first show? It was a lot of fun, but I wouldn't say it was my best," I disagreed, letting my eyes wander out of the window.

"Good thing you have forty more to go," Jerry grinned. "I think you'll find what you like and don't like by the end. Or even sooner."

Forty more dates.

I shifted, my head turning to his as I offered him what I hoped looked like a smile. "I think I'll figure it out."

His eyes stayed on me for a moment longer, lingering more than usual. "'Dora and Tilly are in their respective rooms. I made sure their rooms are by the ice machine."

"You're a lifesaver, Jerry." I shut my eyes, feeling fatigue seep in my bones, and I was out like a light.

ELVIS PRESLEY

The sky was a mix of soft blues and peach, drenching the cemetery with honey-gold light. It didn't matter how often I came there, the feeling remained the same and the knot in my throat always felt impossible to swallow.

I pressed my hands just a little tighter around the bouquet of tulips, my breath caught in my throat as my eyes traced every single letter of her name. Her middle name made my heart thump a little faster, for love was all she spread around.

GLADYS LOVE PRESLEY

Tears I desperately tried to keep at bay were slowly sliding down my cheeks, raw and unhurried. There wasn't a day where I didn't think about my mama — her smile, her words, her kindness, her love. She was taken away too soon. She was taken away from me too soon. 

"Oh, mama," I sniffled, slowly lowering myself to set the flowers in the vase. "I miss you. So much." The knot in my throat released sobs I couldn't withhold anymore. "I-I wish you were here— j-just to talk to you. One more time. Just once. Please, Satnin."

I felt my body tremble as my knees hit the ground. My mama's name blurred, dotting my vision. "I-I can't do this no more, mama. It's all been s-so hard l-lately," I shook my head, raising my hand to brush stray tears away. "C-Cece is singing all alone— And I-I'm happy, I swear... But I-I need her to keep me sane. I-I feel like I'm slowly losing it. Please, mama."

I swallowed, taming my sobs. The sun was long gone and the air was cooler on my skin.

"I'm making movies nobody cares about," I mumbled after a while. "I don't care about 'em. They're crap. But they make money," a low breath fell from my lips. "And lord knows we need it. The Colonel, the house, the staff... It's never enough. Everything I do is never enough."

"EP?"

I looked up, finding Gene walking towards me, his fingers snatched the dark sunglasses away from his face.

"You good, man? Did you fall?"

I shook my head, clearing my throat. "No, I, uh, put flowers for mama." I stood up, adjusting my jacket. "We can go." He nodded, somewhat puzzled, and didn't add anything else. The door of the limousine opened and I got in, shifting in my seat to grab the seatbelt.

"Came in earlier today," Marty said from the passenger seat, his hand reaching between the two seats. A white envelope.

A smile tugged at my lips. "Is that Cece's?" I grabbed it and didn't wait another second to shred it open. Marty hummed and turned back around.

Dear Elvis (for old time's sake),

I'm currently in Dallas and I've just finished another show. What a rush! People here are wilder than the ones from back home, and I'm not gonna lie, I kinda love it. By the time this reaches you, I'll be in another city I forgot the name of. Jerry keeps track of everything these days.

I missed you and I know I can just call you, but this felt more intimate. I loved writing to you back then and I decided to do it again. This time the difference is that we know I'll come back home, back into your arms, kissing you anywhere you need me to. The road is fun, but it ain't as fun as it would've been with you. I miss our writing sessions, our rehearsals, your bickering with Scotty over who gets to date who. I miss the simplicity of being myself. Not that this isn't good, because it is. But I need my other half.

We're supposed to hit Memphis at the very end of the tour again, but I asked Jerry for a break in the middle for your next movie screening. I can't wait to see you dressed as a cowboy. Or whatever your character is stuck in this time. I was kinda hoping you'd pull some strings so we can watch it alone? 

I hope you're doing well, my love. Please don't stress over things you have no power on, grey hairs are no joke. But seriously, take care of yourself for me. If you don't wanna do it for you, then please do it for me. Know that every song I sing on that stage is dedicated to you and you only. I love you so much & I can't wait to see you again.

All my love,

Cece

My lips tugged into a smile. My thoughtful, little wife. It was like she knew exactly what was going on and magic words transformed into that piece of paper, giving me the boost I needed. I brushed the envelope and noticed contents I hadn't noticed as I was too taken by what she would've said.

Thought about you when I wore this xx Cece

My finger brushed over her delicate handwriting. I turned the Polaroid around and felt my chest puff in pride. "Well, I'll be damned," I smirked, humming under my breath. My eyes traced every inch of her body, taking in Cece wearing a lacy pink dress with ruffles at her sleeve.

"What is it?"

I pressed the picture to my chest. "Nothin' for you that's for sure." The guys rolled their eyes at me, but I couldn't care less. Another Polaroid— Cece and her band, DJ Fontana, Bill and Scotty. I snickered, reminiscing of the time I occupied that stage as well.

Then I pulled out the third and last item and I chuckled, thinking it was a five-dollar bill.

Cheque for 2 Million dollars

Granted by Cece Flora Enterprises to ELVIS AARON PRESLEY

I stilled, the thin piece of paper feeling impossibly heavy between my fingers.

"Can you drive any slower, Gene?" my voice rumbled in the car. Marty exchanged a look with the driver. "I didn't say look at each other. Drive faster, goddamn it!" The ride back to Graceland was fairly quick as a million thoughts swarmed in my head.

I should be relieved that a small portion was knocked out of the Colonel's ridiculously large sum. I should be relieved that a weight was lifted off my shoulders. But I wasn't— I couldn't be.

"Hello my love."

I cut her off sharply. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Elvis?" her confused tone echoed from the other line.

"How dare you even think that you'd pay back that fat toad by yourself?"

I heard her exhale. "You received my letter. I'm relieved," Cece mumbled sarcastically.

"Cece!"

"I won't be apologizing for that," she snapped. "It's not your debt only, Elvis. It's mine as well. It's ours."

"I-I won't have my wife pay for me," I shook my head. "You know what happens if word gets out? E-Elvis Presley can't look after his family!"

Cece scoffed. "I don't give a fuck about who's gonna say what. You are keeping that money, I already talked to Vernon about the cheque. End of discussion."

"There is no way—"

She interrupted me instantly. "Look, that was my money, right? I get to decide whatever to spend it on. I'm gonna repay that son of a bitch so he can let you go! Is that so fucking hard to understand?!"

"Stop cussing, goddamn it!"

"Stop telling me what to do!"

Silence fell over us, like a thick blanket. I heard her breaths, fast and uneven.

"Listen Cece..." I watched my tone as I sighed in distress. "I-I appreciate it, I really do. But I-I can't have ya giving out big sums of money like that. That's your money."

She didn't say anything at first, like she was debating my words. "What would you do if you were in my position? Would you have let me drown in debts as you go off on tour, doing what you love?"

I ran a palm over my face. "That ain't the same."

"Yes it is. And I know you would've done the same for me," she exhaled lowly. Then her voice turned into a hush. "I don't want you to spend a red cent, Elvis."

My brows scrunched. "Why?"

"I'm not sure what's going on... But if it is true what Jerry said about the Colonel and the money he's taking from us... I want you to be careful and aware of what's coming in and out of your account. Okay?"

I hummed in agreement. "You want me to investigate?"

"No, I'll get Jerry to do that," she stopped for a moment. "You do understand my actions, though? It has nothing to do with you as a providing man, or whatever is in your head right now."

I let out a chuckle. "You do really know me, huh?"

"We've been together for a hundred years, I think I know Elvis Presley pretty well by now," I could hear the smile through her words. "Don't think at is as degrading. It's just me wanting to help. Instead of buying you a car, I'm doing this. Same thing."

"Thank you, baby." My heart was still a jittering mess. "But please, promise me you won't put in all of your money."

"I won't do nothing you wouldn't, my love."

I sighed, smiling faintly. "You stubborn woman," I shook my head. "Anyways, I did enjoy the little Polaroids you sent me baby. How about a cheeky one next time?"

"Elvis!" Cece laughed loudly, my smile widening. "I'll see what I can do. Hey— you need to send something too. It gets lonesome."

I hummed, my eyes fluttering shut. How I longed to have her in my arms right now. "Tell me about the road, the fans, everything."

Cece's animated tone could've kept me entertained for hours. A knock made me raise my gaze. "Come in!"

Red pushed the door open, a bottle of colorful pills in his hand. He raised them in the air, his brow arched in question. I raised a finger, pointing at the phone in my hands. Red hummed, setting them on my bedside table and disappeared.

My eyes looked at each letter on the label, momentarily forgetting I had my wife on the other end of the line. I leaned my ear on the phone, occasionally humming when needed to, and grabbed two pills from the bottle, tossing them in my mouth.

"—and guess who else showed up on tour? Jane! She goes by Jane Moore now. She's much nicer than before. Thank god. But I guess time does that."

I grabbed a glass of water and swallowed them, blinking fast at the slight discomfort.

"Elvis?"

"Yeah, I'm right here," I nodded and leaned further against the pillow.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, baby. Tell me more nice things."

I shut my eyes as her voice lulled me to sleep.

A/N: we're finally at the very end of the book - expect the chapters to lead up to 1977 🎸⚡️ we've got a brand new cover for the book and different banners for the beginning, the in-between, the continuation and the end. let me know what you think & I'll see you in the next one 🎞️🤍

index chapter 46

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Daddy's Number One Fan - 70s Elvis Presley

summary: Elvis picks up his daughter from school

Little Annie had been bouncing on her feet all day. She could hardly keep her mouth shut at school, her blue eyes religiously glancing at the clock, like it'd tick faster. It was all the excitement for the surprise reserved for her later that day.

"Why are you making me the sandwich, daddy?" she asked, watching him spread peanut butter and jelly on two slices of toast. "Where's Mary? Are we poor?"

Elvis laughed, shaking his head. "No, honey. We're definitely not poor. It's Mary's day off today," he explained with a playful smile. "I can make sandwiches too, you know."

Annie hummed, leaning against the counter, blue eyes watching him curiously. "Oh. I thought you could only sing, daddy. And dance a little."

"A little?" Elvis set the knife aside, sealing the sandwich shut. "Your daddy can dance just fine, baby. Now, have you got your backpack and your jacket?"

Annie nodded, thrusting a pink container in his direction. "For the sandwich."

"Thank you, honey."

Annie crossed her arms on her chest. "You never drop me off, daddy. All kids are dropped off by their daddies."

Elvis arched an eyebrow. "Really? All children are dropped off by their daddies?" He pushed on the exaggeration, but she was a tough cookie, she would never admit to her own lies.

She hummed, raising her chin superficially. "Yes. I'm dropped off by uncle Red. No one has parents with red hair, daddy." Elvis threw his head back, laughing at her silly words.

"Baby... That's his job," he wheezed between laughter. "But listen, I'm gonna pick ya up today. Promise."

Annie's eyes widened as an excited squeal fell from her mouth— it was more like a screech. "Yes, yes, yes. Thank you so much, daddy! I'm so happy!" Elvis winced, but wrapped his arms around her nonetheless.

"Just... Don't make fun of Red again." He bent down at her level. "Not without me." He winked and kissed her cheek. "Be good, kid."

Annie went to turn around with her sandwich in hands, but stopped as a detail crossed her mind. "Uhm, daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

She looked around in embarrassment. "Can you... Not wear anything silly?"

Elvis halted, brows scrunched in confusion. "Nothing silly? I don't wear silly things."

Annie's eyes shifted back on him, trailing from his flared jeans to his blouse. "Really?"

"What? This is silly?" He looked at his outfit. "You know I wear bedazzled jumpsuits on stage, Annie, darling. This is my normal." Annie remained silent at his little defensive monologue, but kept her brows challengingly arched. "Fine," he huffed. "I'll look normal. For you."

"My daddy is picking me up today," she bragged, raising her chin up high. Her friends looked at her, shrugging, not impressed. At all.

"So what?"

Annie's lips parted. "What do you mean so what? My daddy is always on tour. Today he's not and he's picking me up. It's always uncle Red. Sometimes uncle Jerry. But never my daddy."

Her friends nodded. "My mommy and daddy are divorced," one of them said randomly. The others nodded. "My daddy works at a restaurant. He cooked for Frank Sinatra. The singer!" Another wave of sighs in awe.

Annie frowned, her foot impatiently tapping against the floor. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom." She headed elsewhere, straight to the headteacher. "I need to call my daddy."

Miss Tatcher raised an eyebrow. "Why do you need to call your daddy, Annie?"

"My daddy said to call him whenever I wanted. So I wanna call him. Now."

The teacher chuckled, shaking her head. "I don't think that's possible, honey. We don't call parents unless there's an emergency. Even if that were the case, we're the ones calling the parents, my dear. Not students." Her gaze leaned closer to the little girl, like she wanted to intimidate her. But little Annie was a Presley after all, and the tricks up her sleeve were endless.

"You know, Miss Tatcher," she trailed off innocently. "My daddy always thought very highly of you. He said you were a real good teacher."

Miss Tatcher's face flushed. "Elvis— I-I mean, Mr Presley said that? My goodness." Her hand rose to her blouse sticking to her skin. 

Annie hummed, looking away in faux disinterest. "Yes, he knows all about you. You know, my daddy knows everyone. He was real eager to meet you." She shook her head, sneakily glancing the teacher's way. "He's gonna pick me up today... Anyways, I'm gonna go—"

"Annie, wait—" Miss Tatcher stopped her, her skin impossibly pink. "You— You can call your daddy. Come with me." Annie smiled in triumph and trotted beside the teacher, until they found a phone. "But be quick."

Annie nodded, dialing the familiar number. "This is Graceland. Jerry speaking."

"Hi, Jerry. It's Annie."

"Hello darling, how are you?" A pause. "Aren't you supposed to be at school? Where are you calling from?"

The little girl rolled her eyes. "I'm at school. I just wanted to ask my daddy a question."

"Really?"

"Yes," she strained impatiently. "Tell him it's urgent."

"Ah, kid." Jerry moved away from the phone, calling Elvis distantly. "It's Annie. She needs to ask you something urgently."

"Where the hell is she? She ain't at school?"

"Daddy?" she called. "It's me, Annie."

"Annie? Baby, where are you calling from?"  his panicked tone went straight past his daughter.

"Daddy, when you pick me up later can you wear whatever you want? Like that big belt and the sunglasses I said were ugly."

"What?" he asked, confused. "Where are you?"

"I'm at school. I asked Miss Tatcher to call you."

Elvis breathed out. "Who the hell is that?"

"Daddy!" she exclaimed impatiently. "Just wear something silly, okay?"

Elvis let it go, his heart finally beating at its normal pace. "Okay, kid. I'll see ya later. Are you sure everything's alright?"

"Yes," she scoffed. "Bye daddy." And she hung up with nonchalance, like she didn't almost give a heart attack to her father and his crew. Miss Tatcher waited patiently, her giddy smile barely contained.

"So..." she started. "What does your daddy say about me?"

Annie shrugged. "I don't know. Nice things I suppose." The answer was enough for the teacher, pleasantly unaware that the Elvis Presley had never heard of her at all.

The day came to an end. Annie was patiently waiting with her teachers and the rest of the children. It was impossible to tell who was more excited for Elvis Presley's arrival, Annie or the teachers. Miss Tatcher was quick to share the news with her colleagues, who didn't waste any time and got each other's make-up redone during breaks.

A black Mercedes pulled up, immediately drawing all eyes in, like moths to a flame. Muffled squeals escaped one of the teachers, making little Annie look up with a judgy look. But that judgement was quickly wiped off at the sight of heavy, black, buckled boots stepping on the ground.

A teacher almost fainted, grasping the arm of another.

"Daddy!" she squealed, and her usual instinct was to run to him. But she waited instead. She wanted everyone to see him. Her judgy friends who didn't understand a single thing, the teachers who shifted in their seats at the mere mention of her last name.

Now they were all going to see him.

"Is that Elvis Presley?" someone whispered, but Annie heard them loud and clear.

"That's my daddy," she said proudly. Their mouths were agape, watching him slowly walk to up the walkway. Elvis' flared pants were black, similar to the ones he wore that morning, a big, chained, jeweled-up, buckled belt sat smugly around his hips, and a blouse, whose color Annie couldn't pinpoint, adorned his torso like a second skin.

A respectable outfit.

Silly with an edge.

"Daddy!" She ran straight into his arms and he picked her up, brushing his nose with hers. Annie shifted his sunglasses on his head, giving her a clear view of his eyes. "You wore the ugly glasses."

Elvis hummed with a smile. "Just for you." He leaned in and placed a kiss to her cheek. "Now, let me meet your teachers, baby. And we'll get going." He pushed the glasses on his nose again.

The kids watched wide-eyed, and paid attention to every jingle of Elvis' belt. A rockstar.

"Mr... Mr Presley, wow... I, mean, it's a pleasure to meet Annie's daddy." They all introduced themselves and Elvis gave them his signature disarming smile.

"Who's Miss Tatcher?" The woman in question trembled in her heels.

She cleared her throat. "Oh, it's just me," she murmured with an awkward laugh.

"Beautiful smile you have, miss. Now, we gotta get going," Elvis winked playfully, wrapping an arm around Annie's shoulders. "I hope my little girl doesn't have much homework, 'cause we gotta a whole afternoon planned out."

Annie squealed happily. "Yay!"

Miss Tatcher gulped, in shock of the reality she found herself in. "A-Annie you don't have to do anything. It can wait until Wednesday."

Annie's eyes widened. "Yes! That's so awesome! Thank you Miss Tatcher." The teacher didn't say anything, her flushed skin speaking for her instead. Elvis shook everyone's hands one last time, giving smiles brighter than anyone's future, and walked away with his daughter.

"That was great, daddy."

Elvis chuckled. "I think that someone wanted to show me off a little. And get her way out of doing homework."

Annie scoffed, pretending not to know what he was talking about. "I'm just your number one fan, daddy." She kissed the highest point she could reach, barely above his ridiculous belt.

"Mhm, it's good to know, baby."

A/N: I LOVED this! let me know what you thought 💋 I was inspired by Lisa Marie's story from her book, in which she talks about the day Elvis came to the parent-teacher conference ⚡️

extract, page 37: 

Then my dad showed up. He got out of the car and he had on a respectable outfit—black pants and some kind of blouse—but he was also wearing a big, majestic belt with buckles and jewels and chains, as well as sunglasses. He was smoking a cigar. I met him at the car, and I walked up the walkway with him, and I just remember that feeling of walking next to him, holding his hand.

MASTERLIST elvis masterlist ships and tails series

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chapter 44 - 1963

previous part

ELVIS PRESLEY

Memphis, 1962

Before Cece went on to do her USA tour, she came back to Memphis. She was finally back to me, even if it was just for a little while. The moment she stepped foot out of the car in her little leopard coat, I swept her in a tight hug. One that was long overdue.

"Lord have mercy," I muttered in her neck, fisting her soft hair. "I missed ya, baby. So goddamn much." I felt her sniffle against me, making my own eyes tear up. We pulled away and her hands immediately raised to my cheeks.

"My love," Cece murmured lovingly, her glossy eyes taking me in, fluttering to every inch of my face. "They've overworked my honeybee," she said, brushing her thumb over my cheekbones.

I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips, kissing it gently. "They haven't, Satnin, I promise you." And I pulled her in again, never having enough of her.

Someone cleared their throat, making me glance over Cece's shoulder.

"No way, Tilly!" I smiled, slowly pulling away from my wife, but still keeping a lingering hand on her body. "I hope Gene avoided those bumps on the road."

She smiled, shaking her head in a teasing matter. "I thought that was your way of welcoming me to Memphis."

"I drove over every single one, boss." Gene walked out of the car with an apologetic look on his face. "I didn't mean to."

Matilda smoothed out her cream jacket and chuckled, making her way towards us. "Long time no see, EP."

I extended an arm towards her, welcoming her in a side hug. "Welcome to Graceland."

"The land of horses and joy," Cece nudged my side with a playful smile, making me chuckle lightly.

"Just like that, yeah. Now, Gene would you mind taking care of the suitcases. I gotta give the ladies a house tour," I squeezed Cece's shoulder.

My wife turned to look my way with an uplifted brow. "Ladies?"

"Oh, yeah, because you haven't been home in a while. I'm afraid you've forgotten where everything is."

"Wow, that is peak humor, Elvis." 

My hand trailed down to find hers, intertwining our fingers like ivy. Then the tour started and it didn't even last that long.

"Grandma Dodger, this is Tilly, Cece's stepsister."

Grandma nodded, leaning forward to pinch Matilda's cheek. "Oh, you're a nice girl," she noted, looking at her up and down, only making Tilly flush in embarrassment.

"Alright, Grandma—" we moved to the living room, kitchen, den and eventually the upstairs area. "My daddy and his wife have moved to the other house on the property. Dee wanted some privacy." I rolled my eyes and squeezed my wife's hand.

"Anyways, here is our office—" I opened the door to the room. "Nothing spectacular. Then there is this other room which was Cece's." I opened another door, only to reveal a somewhat empty space. There was only Cece's old bed and a white sheet draped over it.

"Is this going to be a nursery one day?"

I felt Cece's hand go slack in mine.

"Because if it is, I don't wanna intrude."

Cece cleared her throat. "Uhm, no, not yet, no. You can stay right here."

I felt my stomach do a flip— or maybe it was something else, I had no idea. But I did like the simplicity of the thought of that room belonging to our future child. A perfect mold of Cece and I.

I felt my hand being squeezed and I looked down, only to find a soft smile on my wife's lips. "You okay?" she murmured lightly as Matilda was busy inspecting the room. I nodded, squeezing her hand back.

"Okay, and down the hall is our room. That's where very serious takes place," I said teasingly and Cece shook her head, biting her lip.

Matilda laughed, leaning against the doorway. "Oh, I bet. Just a curiosity, am I gonna hear ya from down the hall?"

"Tilly!"

"No, no," I reassured her with a playful smile. "I made sure that the walls are soundproof."

Cece let out a deep breath. "Okay. Elvis and I are going to get changed and then we're gonna leave. You sure you don't wanna come with us?"

Tilly nodded gently. "I'm sure, you kids haven't seen each other in a while. Have fun." Cece shook her head at her stepsister's insinuation and tugged at my hand, leading me to our bedroom. Once the door shut, I couldn't help but fall into her arms again, breathing in that flowery scent I had longed for.

"Mhm, I missed you so much," I repeated, drunk in love. I felt her smile curl against the skin of my neck.

"Me too, honey," and she pulled away. "We gotta get ready, then I'm sure we'll find some time for kisses and such."

"Oh, and such? Naughty, Mrs Presley," I squeezed her hips, but her untamable smile came right back to me, making me grin as well. "That is true, though, we always find time for kisses and such. We're so good at time management."

Cece laughed and leaned in, placing a slow kiss on my lips. The first kiss since she'd come back to me again. I hummed, pulling her closer to me, sliding my hands under her frilly blouse to feel her naked flesh. Lord, how much I had missed her.

"Welcome back to our origins, baby," I said, my hand curling around her thigh. Cece looked out of her window, in awe of the land before her.

"I haven't been here since I left all those years ago. Wow."

WELCOME TO TUPELO stood broadly on the insignia, and we swiftly drove past it. My fingers tapped on the steering wheel at the beat of our song on the radio and my eyes stayed on the road, though shooting a glance at my wife every now and then.

I had made sure to pick the most normal car from my collection and put on our infallible homemade costumes. All of this to take Cece back to the church we heard our first gospel choir.

I parked behind the church, away from curious gazes. I felt the ground vibrate, the car slightly shake. Cece turned to look at me and our gazes met, making me notice something delicate behind those brown eyes.

"It's like nothing has changed," her melodic voice made my heart flutter, like for the first time. I hummed, my hand finding hers in automatic motion.

"But everything has."

I voiced my thoughts without overthinking too much. Cece squeezed my hand, a faint sniffle escaping her.

"I know, I know," she nodded. "I wish things were different."

I disagreed, immediately shaking my head. "No, baby. If things were different you wouldn't have got the opportunity of a lifetime."

Her lips parted, but not a word came out. She paused, her gaze falling to our joined hands, then fluttered back on me. "If things were different... You'd be going with me, E. You wouldn't be controlled by that old bastard."

I brought our hands to my lips, kissing the back of hers. "My happiness is your happiness, my darling. Don't you ever forget that," I leaned forward and captured her lips with mine, my forehead gently falling on hers. The choir didn't stop, their powerful voices only intensified. "I think we're late to church. Again."

"That reminds me of a ten year old boy who desperately wanted to be seen as a man," Cece mumbled teasingly, a chuckle falling right on my lips. "He never realized that he was always a man to me. No matter what."

My lips twitched into a smile, desperate to hold onto a moment I knew was going to slip away. Forever. Out of reach. "I love you," I mumbled. "I promise you," I emphasized firmly. "I promise that everything will be alright, it's all gonna turn out perfect." Cece remained silent, giving me the perfect opportunity to squeeze her cheeks together and place a bruising kiss on her lips.

"Let's go listen to some gospel."

"Jerry Schilling. It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr Presley."

I shook his extended hand and motioned for him to sit down. "Please call me Elvis."

A knock on the door made us both turn around, then it opened, revealing Cece with a grin on her face. "You haven't started without me, right?"

"Of course not, honey," I said and sat down. Cece pulled back her own chair and sat down, eyes fixated on Jerry.

"Good trip, Jerry?"

He nodded. "Terrific," and he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, holding it out for me. I shook my head and cleared my throat.

"Alright," I started and opened various drawers, pulling out the contracts that tied us to the Colonel. "We gotta find a way for Cece to get out of this one."

I slid the sheets to Jerry, his cigarette trapped between his lips as he reached for the papers and skimmed it with furrowed brows. "This is under The Presley Enterprises, right?"

Cece hummed. "Yes and Vernon Presley, my father-in-law, as the business manager."

Jerry quietly breathed out the smoke, flicking to the next page. "We need the signature of Vernon Presley and this Colonel fella. That's your manager?"

We both nodded.

"This contract is quite old," he commented. "You should renew this, man. The ratio of what you're getting paid and what he finds in his bank account are not ideal."

"What do you mean?" my back straightened. 

Jerry raised his gaze, one eyebrow cocked in expectation. "He's making more than the both of you together."

A blanket of silence fell over us. My jaw tightened at his words as my mind spiraled with never-ending thoughts.

"This is my suggestion—" Jerry flipped the contracts and threw them back on the table. "You get Mr Presley, the Colonel and RCA to sign the contract in agreement of Cece's official departure from The Presley Enterprises and the label." He pointed his cigarette at Cece. "Then you gotta start your own business, Cece. Your own name on your own label. Hire people you trust to take care of your finances. That way, if everything goes south with Elvis' contracts, you can take him in."

I let out a low breath.

"There is no way the Colonel will agree," I mumbled. "Cece is the songwriter, the vocalist—"

Jerry raised a finger and bent down, picking up a leather briefcase. "Considering the Colonel's poor consideration of Cece— I don't think that he will struggle to cut her off the contract."

He threw different newspapers on the table. Cece hesitantly picked one up, her glossy eyes trailing on the different articles. One of them being her daddy's dumb interview.

"Yeah," she let out a weak laugh. "I don't think he's gonna disagree, no."

INCAPABLE OF AUTHENTICITY IN A SCENE

MOVIE PRODUCTION SAYS NO TO CECE PRESLEY'S NEW SONGS - DEEMED AS TASTELESS AND NOT UP TO PAR

FEWER ROLES AND LESS SONGS FOR THE FEMALE PRESLEY

My hands shook at the various headlines, all voices I wasn't aware of.

"Elvis," Jerry started. "We can find a way to get you of there too."

My jaw tightened and my vision blurred, the thick headlines becoming one big pool of ink. 10 million dollars. 10 million dollars. The pills. The exhaustion. The lies. 10 million dollars.

"Elvis?" Cece's chair screeched, her healed boots clicking as she approached me. "Are you okay?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and nodded, clearing my throat. "Yeah, uhm, I'm alright," I leaned forward and grabbed a cigarette, lighting in between cupped hands. Cece's gaze didn't waver from me. "I promise, I'm fine."

"It's a lot to take in," Jerry noted, nodding slowly, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray. "So, Elvis... What do you say?"

I paused for a moment, before shaking my head. "I've got movies lined up for the next four to five years..." I sighed, lowering my eyes. "You make sure that Cece gets the best deal out there, Jerry. And if I hear that you've broken your promises to her, may the good lord be on your side."

Jerry let out a dry chuckle. "I know a good entertainer when I see one, Elvis. Cece is the future."

My gaze fluttered on my wife, whose eyes were already planted on me. There was a tinge of worry in those brown pools of love, some hesitation perhaps too. But I knew that if someone could do it— if someone could change the world... That it'd be her. Only her.

Memphis, 1963

There was no way of telling how many people participated to her first show as a solo artist. No longer Cece Presley from the Presleys, but simply Cece Flora, a young songwriter that touched people's souls with her words and melodies.

The arena was the smallest in Memphis as executives and organizer feared not being able to sell enough tickets for just a solo artist. Jerry insisted on setting up as many musicians as Cece desired and needed, as well as tables for merch and gadgets. The sales exceeded expectations with every single ticket and every piece of merch with the name Cece on it got sold.

All people that didn't manage buying a ticket parked their vehicles in the parking lot and stood on the hood, feeling the vibrations of the warm summer air.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." a voice boomed across the space. "From Tupelo, Mississippi... The one and only..." the drums intensified only causing the cheers to grow louder. "Cece Flora!"

It wasn't a woman that walked on that stage. It was someone resembling a mythical creature, dressed in white lace and frilly fabric — an angel. An earth angel. Her heels clicked softly on the floor as she paid attention not to trip on insidious steps, and then the lights blinded her for a moment. The blurry dots became duller, until there they were — the audience. All for her.

"Wow," Cece muttered under her breath, in no way concealing her smile. It was unstoppable. The screams intensified and her head shook in disbelief. "Lord have mercy." She made her way to the centre of the stage as a mic awaited to be picked up. Her honey-brown eyes scanned the audience curiously, catching faces of people she knew and loved. Her husband was there, her mama, her stepsister. All people she loved the most.

"Well, that's all right, mama 

That's all right for you 

That's all right, mama, just anyway you do"

Cece sang the song that started it all, the song that confirmed and intertwined her path with Elvis'. The song that eventually led her to sing on the stage by herself.

Her head turned as she threw a glance over her shoulder, only to find her musicians rock uncontainable grins. She laughed, the melody carried away to the audience. It felt like a dream, and she didn't want to wake up from it.

Elvis and their family were sitting in a more secured area, and their cheers and applause certainly didn't disappoint. Pandora and Tilly eventually stood up, arm in arm, swaying to the sweet music. Vernon, his wife and her children joined in to the beat, clapping their hands rhythmically. Elvis was in a trance. His eyes observed her the way an art critic observed a piece of art. She was everything and beyond, even when he couldn't share that experience with her.

As she sang and laughed, he realized that her happiness was the only thing that would push him forward. He'd do everything, as long as she was happy. Including staying with the Colonel for the rest of his days.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! let me know if you enjoyed the chapter & I'll see you in the next one ✨🤍🎞️

index chapter 45

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Sunburnt - Austin Butler

summary: day at the beach with Austin 🌞 yes, inspired by those pics

Waves crashed against the burning sand, the breeze cool, brushing on sunburnt skin. Heaven on earth— although every place resembled heaven whenever your days off synched up.

Austin stretched in his chair, one muscular arm behind his head and the other right by his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun. A smile found his lips as he watched you swim in the water, carelessly happy, diving in search of bright seashells. Your hair was slicked back from the water, freckles were scattered all over your bare face. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

But lord, he had no words for the little bikini you were wearing. Austin bought it for you, knowing exactly what he was doing in dressing you in little leopard gold print. And you wore it.

He subtly shifted in his chair, pulling his gaze towards the water instead.

That little corner of the beach was private, belonging to one of Austin's friends, and he was kind enough to let you relax right there and then. He could've lay there all day, but it was way more fun to be in the water with you. "I'm going in, babe!" he called, earning a squeal from you.

You paused in the water, letting loose waves crash against your body, and simply watched him exist. The way he stretched like a cat, bright sun reflecting gold on his body hair, his smile bright, belonging to a true Hollywood star. You were completely smitten by that man. His existence alone did numbers on you, driving you to places where certain thoughts would be considered unholy.

He walked in the water, slowly, not letting his body adjust to the sudden change of temperature. Your jaw clenched, but you were intent in admiring that piece of art that was your man.

"Hey," Austin grinned, immediately caging you in his arms. You hummed, letting him pull you closer to his body. "Warm me up." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, an automatic smile found your lips.

"Yeah? I thought you were running hot all the time," you teased, curling your arms around his neck.

He leaned into your jaw, muttering against your skin softly. "Only when I'm with you, baby. But now it's an exception— The water is cold."

"Ah, yes, of course," you nodded in faux interest. "Come here then." Skin met skin in desperate need for warmth and familiar comfort, lips inching close until you were sharing one breath. You hummed, taking a second to admire the brightness in his eyes, and pressed your lips to his.

Austin smiled against your lips, letting the intensity of the moment turn into something tender, something he found himself missing when he was on the road without you. That gentle touch that always seemed to find itself tangled in the back of his neck, lost in curls of gold. The hum that died in your throat, but vibrated against his skin. That was the peace he had known for the past three years. It held no price.

You stayed like that for minutes— maybe even hours, you didn't know anymore. It didn't matter. Austin disappeared under the water for a whole minute and swam back up again, shaking his head like a dog.

"How much was I under for?"

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unimpressed. "Twenty-one seconds. I thought you'd do better than that."

Austin's lips parted, his eyes desperately blinking the salt away. "It was at least a minute. A whole minute. I'm pretty sure I could've held a conversation with a fish."

You threw your head back, laughing at his offended tone. "C'mon, Aus, don't be a sore loser."

"I counted your time fairly. You did thirty-six seconds. And you know very well that I did much better than twenty seconds—"

"Twenty-one—"

"Y/N."

You crossed your arms on your chest. "It's not my problem. You lost and I won. So I'm picking tonight's restaurant. That was the deal."

Austin slowly approached you, his arms sneaking around your waist. "Y/N..." he said your name gently, but you inspected every inch of his face with careful eyes.

"I don't like that look on your face," you mumbled, your hands resting on his tanned chest. Austin hummed, the knowing look turning into a sneaky smile, his grip tightening around you. "Austin..." You weren't quick enough to add anything else, for he dipped you both underwater. Your hands left his chest and found his neck, curling there— perhaps too tightly, but Austin wasn't a complainer.

"What the hell!" You spat out water, splashing him with faux offense, but he only laughed, swimming back to you.

"How many seconds was that, baby? Twenty-one?"

The sun had set, leaving a sky lit up by flames of red and yellow. The balcony door to your bedroom was wide open, the gentle caresses of the sea almost lulling you to sleep. Austin was quick enough to tap your forehead with a kiss.

"Not sleeping yet. We gotta last until they bring out the cherry jubilee. They set it on fire, baby," he mumbled, his arms wrapping around your shoulder as his eyes met yours through the mirror.

You smiled, leaning back on him and fully giving up on putting makeup on sunburnt skin. "Yeah?" He nodded excitedly. His blue eyes seemed lighter with that particular glow, tanned skin and golden hair. It had been a good day, so good. Happy emotions prevailing anything else. You were grateful— eternally grateful.

It wasn't hard picking an outfit for the night.

"What should I wear?" You pouted, intently looking at your closet.

No pause. "The white dress."

You raised an eyebrow in question, a smile almost escaping from your facade. "Why?" The question was pointless, for you knew exactly why. It was certainly no secret that the dress hugged you in all the right places, and Austin's piercing gaze never shied away from you, consequently causing reactions even he couldn't control.

"It matches my shirt." Austin tapped his shirt, a beautiful contrast to his tanned skin. You rolled your eyes, acting like it was silly stupid, but you loved little moments like those. The simplicity of being able to exist around each other, and the fact that it didn't reoccur as often as you would've liked, made it impossibly special.

"—the cherries are flambéed with brandy and served over vanilla ice cream. Would that be okay for you both?"

You nodded excitedly and Austin chuckled softly, nodding. "Go ahead." His arm slung on the back of your chair, subconsciously pulling you closer, as you watched the flicker of a flame grow bigger.

"Yum," you mumbled with a smile. You turned to look at him, only to find his eyes already set on you, like the romantic that he was. "Thank you for today," you said, feeling a blush warming up your face. "I loved spending every second with you. Even when you were twenty-one seconds underwater. I loved that too." You curled your ringed fingers around his thigh, giving it a comforting squeezed. "I love you."

"My love..." He leaned in, placing a kiss to your cheek. "You're the one that made today so wonderful. Making me breakfast, kissing me all day... And that bikini—" he said in a quiet hush, but you chuckled, your head shaking a little. Austin's mouth turned into a gentle smile, his eyes briefly shifting on the chef.

"There you go—" He plated it up and set the desserts in front of you. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." You both smiled, before turning your attention back on each other.

"I know that the schedule's been hectic lately," Austin noted, nodding slowly. "But it's gonna slow down from September on. I'll be all yours. For as long as you'll have me."

Another smile tainted your lips. "For as long as I'll have you?"

He hummed. "As long as you'll have me."

"Get ready for the rest of your life, Butler."

His mouth stretched into a wide grin, not even letting a second pass before he pressed his lips to yours.

"Luckiest man alive."

A/N: sinful pics that have come out of Austin! I got nothing else to say 🌞💋

MASTERLIST austin masterlist

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chapter 43 - 1963

previous part

CECE PRESLEY

"Houston, how are you feeling tonight?" my booming voice echoed across the stage. The cheers were almost immediate, shaking the stage in excitement.

I laughed, adjusting the grip on my guitar and glanced over my shoulder. Bill and Scotty each with their instruments, a wide grin spreading on their faces. The newest addition to the band was DJ Fontana, a drummer from Shreveport, Louisiana.

"Before we start, I'd like to say a few things..." I breathed out, pushing my hair back. "This is my first show since the one we played in Hawaii. That was in 1960?" I turned to the band only to find them nodding. "Yeah 1960. Though I wasn't alone I think, I was with somebody you might know or maybe not."

People laughed, clapping faintly.

"Yeah, I think you know him. His name is Elvis and he's my husband. And a great performer," I chuckled, then cleared my throat. "The papers have talked about him lately... About us and what presumably happened. We're still married and we're still very happy," I nodded, scanning the crowd. "He's doing Hollywood movies as of right now and I have the privilege to sing for you tonight."

"This is a new song called Patch It Up. One, two three, four!"

Los Angeles, 1962

Elvis was back in Memphis, studying his newest script and adding vocals to my prerecorded songs. Everything was orchestrated that no one would be able to notice my absence.

Matilda cried herself to sleep every night, she'd wake up with a puffy face and puffy eyes. I worried and was unsure on how to comfort her in a time like this. When Gladys passed away and Elvis was engulfed in grief and pain, he didn't let me in, building walls around him I desperately tried to break. But I hurt myself in the process.

"I love you," I told Matilda, taking a hold of her hands. "I need you to tell me what I can do for you. Whether it's sleeping in your bed or even me getting a hotel away from here. But I need to know how to comfort you."

Matilda cried, letting her head fall on my shoulder.

"I-I just need you here. With me."

So I did exactly that. I stayed and I listened.

LA seemed different from the last time I had been there. It was brighter, bubblier. Just so full of life. Before Elvis left for Memphis, we walked around the area in silly disguises — ridiculous hats, mustaches and wigs. We never got caught, and since Matilda's house didn't provide the same kind of privacy like Graceland, I had to get out and seek quietude and peace in nature.

I found Elvis' ridiculous red hat and put it on, a wide grin spreading on my face at the sight. Then the bee-like sunglasses and a silk scarf around my neck. I looked nothing like Cece Presley.

"Where are you going like that?"

Matilda stared at me with a playful smile.

I sighed in faux exasperation. "Oh, Tilly, if you knew. I'm auditioning to be a clown, wasn't that clear?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Be careful. And if you need someone to pick you up, just call the house."

"Yes, mom," I walked up to her and pressed my lips to her cheek, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I'll be back in an hour."

I grabbed my car keys and left. My heart thumped a little faster than usual, perhaps it was the nervousness of being on my own for the first time in forever. I didn't know. But that was when I realized how much I relied on Elvis as my safety. I subconsciously knew nothing could go wrong if he was by my side. Now that he was on the other side of the country, I felt that unusual queasiness crawling under my skin.

My green Buick Riviera was parked in the garage, adjacent to the house. Elvis had insisted I have a car in LA too and despite my protests, he got it delivered by Matilda's front door.

"Lord have mercy," I muttered as a small smile started growing on my lips. I pinched the red ribbon and sighed. That had to have been my husband's doing.

Matilda laughed, walking around the car. "Oh, that man loves you. If you didn't know before, you know now."

I just shook my head, a soft smile growing on my lips. I had called him later that day and gushed over the aesthetics of the car. Elvis' laughter vibrated against my ear.

"What's Tilly's favorite color?" he asked out of the blue.

"Red. Why?"

"Oh, no reason."

A red Buick Riviera was parked in front of the house the day after, a white bow on the windshield. "For Tilly Martin" was written in glittery gold. Elvis' generosity stayed unmatched as he gifted twelve Cadillacs to twelve members of his staff, spontaneously.

The car ride was indescribable. I couldn't remember the last time I had sat behind a wheel. The wind blew through my hair in such a deliberative way that I laughed, feeling rejuvenated in an instant. I didn't know where I was headed, but I knew I craved a big cup of coffee.

I saw the first café and parked in front of it. My eyes wandered around, counting exactly five cars in the parking lot. I breathed out, shot myself a glance through the rear view mirror and walked out. The bell rang as I walked in, a passing waitress quickly said hello and strutted away. I found a booth in the back and sat down, the only noises being the moving ceiling fan and quiet music from the jukebox.

"What can I get you today?"

I looked up, somewhat startled and agitated and stuttered out my order. The woman gave me an unimpressed look and walked away with the notepad in her hands. I hesitated, but still decided to throw a look around. Three people, all solo, were scattered around and one blonde man was leaning his elbows on the counter. Black aviators perched on his nose, his hair a little longer than what I was used to seeing.

He turned my way, and I immediately turned away, feeling my face gradually turn warmer. The waitress came back with the bill and the coffee, but I didn't look up anymore, just muttering a quick thank you. The coffee warmed up my hands real nice, making me momentarily shut my eyes.

"Cheryl Bennett, right?"

My brows scrunched at the unfamiliar tone.

"Excuse me?"

The blonde man stood by my booth, his hand lifting to take his glasses off, revealing bright blue eyes.

"Cheryl Bennett?" he repeated, but I was still confused. My lips parted, but before I could say anything, he sat down on the opposite side. He leaned forward, throwing a short look to his left, before he turned back to me.

"You're the great Cece Presley," that wasn't a question. "I didn't wanna cause trouble by saying your name out loud."

I blinked. "I'm sorry... Do I know you?"

The man smiled. "I'm Jerry. Jerry Schilling. I'm a tour manager."

"Yes, yes, right! You've managed Benny Simons' tour," my eyes widened as my voice fell quieter as well. "It's an honor meeting you in person."

Jerry laughed, leaning back. "Believe me, it's an honor meeting you."

"I thought I'd be less recognizable,' I pointed at the glasses with a chuckle. He nodded, licking his lips.

"Well, yeah, to anybody else you'd be, yeah. But I know all the tricks of show business, Mrs Presley."

I felt more color staining my cheeks. "Oh, it's just Cece, please." I cleared my throat. "So... What brings you here, Jerry?"

He gave me a faint smile. "Benny has just finished the tour. I've finally earned a break myself," he nodded. "I've heard about your stepmother and stepsister... My condolences."

I withheld a wince. "Thank you."

"I didn't expect you to still be here. Is Elvis here too?"

"Uhm," I hesitated, unsure whether to trust him or not. "He's in Memphis... It's j-just temporary, though."

He gave me a good look, the one with soft eyes and a small, warm smile. "Whatever it is, you don't have to worry about me telling anybody anything. You have my word."

"Oh," fell from my lips, my brows scrunching in slight confusion. "Thank you."

"I, uh," Jerry let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "I'm a huge fan, first and foremost. I was at your first ever performance at the Bon Air club."

My eyes widened, a gasp falling from my lips. "But that was— Ages ago! I was a kid myself."

"Yeah, I'm the same age as you," he nodded. "It was, uh, one of my friends I think... It was his 21st birthday and he knew a few people and we managed to get in. Got in trouble with my folks, though. Can't say it wasn't worth it."

I laughed. "Well, I'm glad you liked the show. I remember it like it was yesterday. The scandalous wigglin' and dancin' that eventually got us in loads of trouble..." my laughter faded with a sigh. The good old days were far behind us and lord knows if we were ever going to relive them again.

Jerry stared at me for a while longer than he had before. "If you don't mind me asking... The movies you've been doing lately... Are they everything you hoped for?"

My gaze slowly raised to meet his eyes. "Hollywood is great. We're grateful... Very thankful for everything it's given to us." And I moved my gaze away, letting uncomfortable silence take over the conversation again.

"How's touring?" I decided to throw a question at him for a change.

"Oh, it's everything you image it to be. Kids going wild, wanting to do whatever they want..." he chuckled, shifting in his seat. "But it's incredibly rewarding. You know, seeing that look in someone's eyes— That look that makes it all worth it, because you know they're comfortable with their surrounding and ready to enjoy the show," he nodded, like he was remembering those exact moments.

I quietly observed the look that clouded his face. The one of contentment and accomplishment. One I had forgotten about, one I envied him for.

"I haven't felt like that in a long time," I revealed in a whisper.

The jukebox buzzed and the song changed to Edge Of Reality.

"Really?"

I hummed. "Yeah."

Another blanket of silence fell over us. Jerry leaned forward again.

"Listen, I-I don't know how long you're staying in LA for, but I'd love for us to talk again, Cece," his jaw clenched subtly. "I could imagine that playing Cece Presley is tiring. Especially when you're not given the same opportunities."

I withheld a sigh, the unspoken mention of the my father's interview on the paper making me want to run away.

"Maybe, it'd be easier if you just played Cece Flora."

My eyes darted on his, only to find him looking at me attentively.

"A young artist that writes her own songs and doesn't have to ask anyone's permission for it. Someone who goes on tour whenever and wherever she likes. Someone who performs songs that touch people's souls in a way only she is able to. A free woman."

His words lingered in the air, but I remained silent.

"I know this is a lot," a dry chuckle fell from his lips. "Especially because we've never met before. But I saw something in your eyes at the Bon Air Club. Something that is missing now."

"You don't want to wait too long to get your spark back, Cece," Jerry's fingers pulled a card from his front pocket. "This is my last one, maybe it's a sign... But if you're interested in anything I've said, feel free to call me. I'm in town for the rest of the month."

I grasped it. "Thank you, Jerry."

He nodded, giving me a warm smile. "See you around."

He stood up and left, leaving me stuck on the edge of reality.

ELVIS PRESLEY

"Mr Presley, Maybe with more enthusiasm—"

"Just do your job, goddamn it!" I snapped. "I'm doing mine!"

The coordinator and his assistant shared a look. The man nodded, clearing his throat. "Alright, let's take five."

People passed by, without sparing me a look. I found my chair and sat down, keeping my own gaze to my feet. Everyone looked defeated, disappointed. The same old rodeo wasn't appealing anymore, not to me anyways.

"My boy," the Colonel approached me, a big fat cigar between his lips. "Mr Lynn is right. That record needs more enthusiasm. More energy."

I huffed, grabbing a water bottle and swinging it to my lips. "What the hell do you know about music?"

"Ah, music is business," he tapped his cane, emphasizing his words. "And I know business."

I didn't reply and let out a low breath.

"If it's about Miss Finley's song— We'll change it up! Get you to put your own twist to it," he smiled at me, but my confused and bitter gaze turned to him. "This movie needs that passion— And what is passion without music? Am I right, my boy?"

"You must be out of your goddamn mind, Colonel," I said lowly, raising to my feet. "You think I care about any of this? You think I care about a twist in a song I have never heard before?"

The Colonel shifted in his feet, glancing around nervously.

"My boy, why don't we go talk in my office?"

I threw the water bottle on the floor. "You son of a bitch. The only reason you're allowed here is because of our hard work. My wife's hard work. And where is she now?! Outta here, for lord knows what reasoning!"

My voice echoed in the studio, but I couldn't care less. I felt my heart thumping wildly in my chest, urging me to get further, to push against the boundaries that son of a bitch created.

"Everyone out," the Colonel said lowly, eyes fixated on me.

"I'm quitting," I spat out, without waiting for the room to have cleared out. "I ain't gonna continue anything with you in charge and with Cece on the other side of the country."

The Colonel pushed the door closed. "You really think you can just quit in the midst of a contract, Mr Presley?"

"I can do whatever the hell I want. And this— I'm not doing this anymore."

The fat old man grabbed the script for the next movie, slowly walking towards me. "This script is the hard work of—"

I grabbed the papers and threw them against the wall. "I don't give a shit, Colonel. I'm out."

The Colonel looked at the flying sheets, his jaw subtly clenching. Then he turned his gaze back to me, something unreadable behind his eyes.

"If you don't do this, Mr Presley. You won't be able to do anything," he tapped his cane, hard. "I'll personally make sure that you won't be able to. I'm sure that no television show or bunch of fans are interested in a strung-out, pill-consumed singer with a ten-million-dollar debt."

I felt my stomach drop to my feet.

"I doubt Mrs Presley would approve of your behavior either."

I felt dizzy.

"Now, we do things my way, Mr Presley," he pressed in his tone, but I looked down, unable to face him any longer. "When Mr Lynn walks back through that door, I want you to sing the song as he wishes."

"Or I will have to personally notify Mrs Presley regarding this situation."

I sat down at the dinner table with a heavy sigh falling from my lips. The guys were all eating and chatting animatedly, my appetite was long gone.

"Elvis."

I turned to my left. Pandora placed a hand on my arm, a small smile on her lips. "Are you sure you're okay? You've barely touched your food."

I couldn't tell her what was really going on. I couldn't tell her that I was sick and tired of playing Elvis Presley, the buffoon-character in a low-budget movie. I couldn't tell her that I missed my wife's presence and that all of this reminded me an awful lot of the time we were separated as children.

"I'm not hungry," I muttered, my gaze falling back on my plate. "Was a long day, 'Dora."

Pandora's lips parted, but Mary walked in with a grin on her face.

"Elvis? Cece is on the phone for ya."

My lips twitched in a smile. "Really?" she nodded, and I didn't waste any time and pulled the chair back, heading to my bedroom in a hurry.

"Cece?"

"Hey honey."

I almost melted at the melodic sound of her voice. I missed her so much.

"When are you comin' back? I miss ya."

She laughed. "Really? I thought Red was doing a great job at replacing me."

"Red's an idiot," I chuckled. "How's Tilly? Is she feeling better?"

"Oh, with that brand new car you bought her? No, she's so sad behind that wheel," she said teasingly. "She can't stop thanking you, E. Was real nice of you."

I hummed. "We're family. There ain't no need to thank me."

"Tell me about your day, honey."

I smiled at her words. It didn't matter what she was facing, she always made sure to ask about me first. I talked, skirting around the issue with the Colonel and moved the conversation back on her.

"So, have you decided when you're comin' back? You can tell Tilly that she's more than welcome to stay here at Graceland," I curled my hand a little tighter around the phone, smiling faintly.

"Uhm," Cece hesitated. "That's what I've been wanting to tell you." She sighed on the other end. "You know Jerry Schilling?"

My brows furrowed in slight confusion. "You mean the tour manager of Benny Simons and his band?"

"Yeah, that one. Well, two weeks ago he came up to me and wondered as to why I wasn't with you in Memphis. And whatever, we got in this conversation..." she trailed off gently. "The point is... He's interested in representing me, E."

My smile faded away and my heart skipped a beat

"Really?"

Cece hummed. "He'd make sure to organize a proper tour, give me opportunities to write and perform my songs..."

"He'd give you freedom," I concluded for her.

"Yes."

Silence fell over us, the only sounds being our heavy breathing.

"E?"

"I don't know what to say," I mumbled honestly, palming my face. "I'd be stupid to tell you not to do it."

"I want you with me," she said hurriedly. "I'm not gonna do it without you."

"No, no, darling," I cooed gently. "I'm overflowing in contracts, but you... You should do it. I wanna talk to him first. Make sure he's a good fit for my girl."

"Oh, E," she sniffled. "It's just... Lord knows I wouldn't do it without you. I-I promise I'm gonna pay off that bastard a-and you'll be free, I-I promise—"

I interrupted her immediately. "No, no, you ain't gonna pay for nothing, baby. I'll find a way," my heart thumped a little faster. "Just- Could you come back to Memphis for a little while? Make sure to invite Tilly and my guys will get to Jerry."

"Are you sure?" she pushed.

"That man saw something in ya. We don't want that to go to waste, baby." I held the phone impossibly tighter. "Just— I need to see you, please."

"You're not gonna lose me over any business, Elvis," Cece said firmly. "I-I will do anything to get you on that stage with me. I-I promise. Be it the last thing I do."

I smiled faintly, letting my eyes flutter shut. "I believe in you, darling."

But I knew that the truth was entirely different. Me on that stage was something I have fantasized about as a child and it seemed like I've fallen into the same pattern all over again.

A/N: wow, thank you so much for reading! consider leaving a like and a comment if you liked the chapter, it would mean a lot to me 💋 also omg, cece flora as a solo artist? what do you think is gonna happen with elvis? 🤍

index chapter 44

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Professor Gale Cleven - Major Gale Cleven (part 2)

previous part

Weeks had passed, months followed. The Professor had yet to unveil, yet his secrecy somehow told you everything you needed to know. You were good at reading between the lines— even when the lines were transparent.

That was no happy man. You saw it in his walk, in his stance— still sharp and rigid, like pieces of war were still stuck on him. That was a man that was pushing through despite everything falling apart. That was a man searching for his next constant.

"Hey, did you hear that Elvis is coming to town?" Elizabeth curled her manicured hand around your arm, slowing you down. "You comin'?"

You looked her way, still lost in a daze. "Hmm? Oh, no, no, I'm studying. Also on duty to watch my little brother. Mama is finally going out with her friends. I don't wanna take that away from her."

"You sure?" Her gaze softened, but you could only nod. "Fine. I won't push. But even you need a girls night every now and day, okay?"

"Yes, please stop worrying about me." I smiled, pulling her into a brief hug. "You know who you should worry about, though? Your ex standing by your locker." Elizabeth pulled away with a gasp.

"I'm gonna strangle him!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "I'll see you in history— Timothy!"

You smiled faintly, readjusting your hold on your books, and sighed, walking to the next classroom. Then a body bumped against yours, right as you were about to turn to the next corridor, but steady hands grasped your elbows.

"I'm so sorry—" Simultaneous apologies fell from your mouths. That was when you looked up, his blue eyes calm, despite the storm hiding behind them. Your lips parted in shock, your eyes widened, your books sliding from your hold, smacking loudly on the floor.

"I'll get that—" Gale bent low and grabbed your books, handing them to you with a small smile. "You're in my history class, right? First row?"

Your mouth went dry. "Uh— Yes, sir. I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

He nodded, eyes widening unnoticeably. "Yes, that's right, I remember now. Well, I'll see you—" Gale glanced briefly at his watch. "—in two and half hours?"

You nodded, giving him what you hoped resembled a smile. Gale didn't utter a single word, his eyes passive, guarded, secretive. And he walked away. It was like watching a mythical creature— someone only mentioned in books, unreal, almost a fantasy. But he was right there, living proof that even the impossible could be made possible.

Was he haunted as your older brother was? Flinching at the mere mention of guns and uniforms? Looking away at the sight of morning eggs and watered coffee? Professor Cleven was a mystery, one you couldn't solve— one you didn't know if you should delve into.

"—now, what happened is what we call Blitzkrieg. Blitz means lightening— rapidity was in question. The Germans had their Luftwaffe, so air support, and fast moving tanks. That was how they were able to effectively bypass fortified lines."

Everyone's eyes stayed on the Professor. No one dared to breathe, blink, swallow their curiosity being finally met. Elizabeth inched closer to you, her eyes never leaving the Professor's figure. "He... He hasn't even opened the book. Not once. Not even for a peek."

You didn't respond, for there was truly nothing to say. His voice didn't waver, his body didn't shake. Was that normalcy for him? Did talking about war feel like talking about what was done last weekend? You winced at his next words, cutting like sharp knives through thin papers. How were such inhumane actions excused and executed by a large number of people? How did people obey, without questioning anything else?

Human lives. Millions. Either killed or changed forever, tainted by the memory of haunted eyes and red books.

"Class dismissed." The screeching of chairs made you blink, your mind finally turning back to your reality. You didn't notice the way girls lingered, eyes fluttering on the pilot like he'd stare back with the same interest and fleeting look. Elizabeth curled a hand around your arm.

"You okay?" she asked, her eyes narrowing to your paled face.

A nod was what you gave her, hoping it was convincing enough, one she wouldn't question.

"You don't seem okay."

A sigh trespassed your lips. "I'm fine, I promise," you insisted, your tone tired, slacking off on the emotions that had built up stories high on your chest. You gathered your books with shaky hands and pressed them to your body, like that would disguise your discomfort and unease.

Elizabeth's eyes lingered on you, but she didn't push any further. She knew you'd talk whenever you were ready. "Alright," she breathed out, almost in defeat. "Hey, do you mind if I go to Jim's after classes?"

"Who's Jim?"

A faint blush stained her cheeks. "Oh, no one. Just someone I met in Italian. You don't mind, though, do you?"

You shook your head. "Of course I don't." The room was mostly empty now, a few people were left behind, and Gale Cleven was annotating something in his notebook. Once you were about to pass by his desk, your eyes followed his hunched figure, fluttering towards his face. Faint scars were scattered here and there, but the precision in his eyes was as alive as ever.

He looked up, catching your gaze, your breath lost in your throat. "Hey, Miss Y/L/N." You halted, not quite catching Elizabeth's stupor or the way words slipped from her mouth in a quiet hush "He knows your name!".

"Everything alright?" Gale straightened his posture, a kind smile on his lips, as he took in your shivering, distraught figure. And you nodded, not offering him more than you had given Elizabeth. "Good, good."

You licked your lips, nodding. "Have a good rest of the day, Professor."

Gale smiled. "Thank you, you too." He nodded, proceeding with his annotations, and that was your cue to leave. Elizabeth didn't speak until you were out of the room.

"Oh my god, what was that? He knows your name?" Her impatient tone bombarded you immediately. You sighed, shaking your head faintly.

"I bumped into him this morning— Or he bumped into me I don't know. That's it."

The blonde's lips parted. "That's it? That's it?" She hissed into your ear. "You can't be that blind? He totally likes you!"

It was your turn to gasp. "Lizzy! What are you talking about, he's our Professor!" You grasped her arm, lowering your tone. "And if I'm the blind one then you're totally seeing too much into this."

Her lips curled into a sly smile. "Okay," her tone was hinting at something, like she knew something you didn't.

"Lizzy," you said, arching an eyebrow. "Elizabeth. Be realistic for one second, please."

She shrugged. "Fine. You want me realistic? I'll be realistic." She gave you one more look, the same smirk still intact. "I, uh, I have to go now. I'll catch you later?"

"Elizabeth," you said her name again, like it'd change her. But she smiled the same knowing smile and walked away. "Fine," you muttered under your breath and headed to your next class. The hours passed, but Gale Cleven's lecture remained with you, his words still buzzing in your head.

He spoke about the war with precision, giving factual details that only a surviving pilot could. That was what haunted you. That look. The steady, guarded look that would've fooled anyone that didn't know what war looked like. But you knew. You saw that look coming home. And you saw that look getting forever lost in a war, under rubble and death.

The day had finally come to an end, and you were selfishly happy to go home to your mom and little brother. You had a desperate need to unwind— to think about anything else except for war. The walk to the bus stop was brief, but enough to make you feel lighter. You sat down on the bench and waited with your gaze trained low, disinterested, tired.

People walked, cars drove by. Other than that it was quiet. Footsteps got louder, then they slowed down in recognition. "Miss Y/L/N?"

You looked up, your eyes going wide for a split second. "Professor Cleven." You straightened your back. "You take the bus?"

Gale chuckled lowly. "My car broke down yesterday. I don't think that walking for one and a half hours is an option for me. At least not when it's late." His gaze shifted back on you. "Mind if I sit down?"

You shifted to the side. "Not at all." And he sat down, letting silence engulf you both. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound being the rustling motors of cheap cars driving by in the moonlit street.

"I... I knew your father."

You froze.

"Colonel Y/L/N. Great leader and great pilot."

A knot formed in your throat, unable to be swallowed down by reality. You felt the same shiver as the day the news was delivered to your house. Thirteen years old, wide-eyed and unsure of the meaning of uniform-clad men and bowed heads. You didn't know what your mother's sobs meant, you didn't know what the chest of belongings meant.

"I'm sorry for your loss. War hasn't been kind to any of us. In any way."

You didn't know what to say. You felt trapped in your own head. Caged in memory of what had been.

"Thank you, Professor."

The bus arrived shortly after, and you stood up, hastily glancing over your shoulder. "Good night, Professor Cleven."

Gale nodded, his jaw clenched in regret of what had fallen from his mouth. But the realization hit him harder than it had ever had. He knew you. No one on base missed the day the Colonel proudly gushed over his family— you. Eleven or twelve years old at the time, he couldn't remember anymore. But the curios glint in your eye as you tugged at your father's sleeve, finger raised in the air.

That he never forgot.

He looked away and stood up shortly after, deciding to walk home after all.

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I Love You - Austin Butler

summary: after a big event behind you, you're finally able to relax into the arms of your husband

Your hand found his bare chest, right above his heart, tracing faint hairs of gold. Chill air blew past the curtains, but it was dark outside, you didn't have to worry about anyone seeing you, except for the moon hung up bright in the sky.

Austin's arms were wrapped around your body, skin pressed on skin, breaths touching each other in the most intimate of ways. Neither of you spoke for a while as you let the day linger on your skin, the tranquility a stark contrast to what the day had been.

Big wedding, bigger cake, with laughter so loud no one cared about the music. It was a good day— seeing two people you cared about happy and in love would make any day a good day.

The day was theirs, but the evening was yours. And you both made sure you'd remember that the following day as well. Lips bruised the skin above his chest, trailing cheekily to his jaw, right there where you knew he liked. Austin's lips were a plump pink— beautifully seductive that made you blush at the thought of his sweet torture.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling content and relaxed in the warmth and safety of his arms. God, you were happy. Did he know that he made you the happiest? Did he know that you blushed at the vague mention of his name?

"You know I love you?" you asked, shuffling against him, your jaw settling on his pectorals. Austin smiled softly, squeezing your hip.

"Yeah, baby. I think you made that very clear tonight." His tone was laced with playfulness, but he didn't quite understand that you loved loved him.

"I love your hair— It's blonde and it's pretty. And I know it's weird, but I love your body hair as well. It's golden—" Austin let out a laugh, his head squishing against the pillow impossibly further. But you didn't stop.

"I love that little scar on your eyebrow—"

He interrupted you, amused. "The one I got from filming Elvis?"

You nodded, no longer blushing at your love being finally given a proper voice. "Yeah, because that was the moment where I was like, yup, I'm gonna marry that man." You smiled a little at the memory of yourself sitting on a plush chair at the cinema. "That leather jumpsuit did a number on me."

Austin hummed, eyes softening as he looked at you. "I'm glad my discomfort served a purpose."

"I love it when you get mad as well, because it's always a fine line of you looking like this adorable lion cub and sexy, hot husband," you grinned to yourself, then halted, giving his chest a light slap. "But I don't love it when you're mad at me— You've never been mad at me though, right, Aus?"

"No, baby. I could never be mad at you. You're my wife."

You squirmed, muffling your squeal against his skin. "And when you call me your wife. Lord, do I love that." Your rant went on for another two or three minutes, your lips twitched into smiles and your hands moved animatedly— you couldn't even pay attention to the man you loved himself.

"God, baby, you don't even know what you do to me." His lips pressed to your temple, lingering warmth with eyes fluttered shut. "I'm not good enough with words... But you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You blinked gently. "Really?"

Austin breathed out, his hand reaching to your hair, brushing it behind your ear. "Baby, you have no idea. The day you looked at me was the best day of my life. I remember sweating and thinking, there is no way this girl is single. And there is no way she'd have me, she's too good to be true."

You chuckled. "No, you didn't think that." But he nodded, dead serious.

"Oh big time. Then at some point I wanted to ask you out, but chickened out and went to the bathroom instead." Austin shook his head. "Then Callum told me that you liked me too, and the rest is history.”

You hummed. "So we owe our marriage to Callum?"

"Eh, let's not give him full credit for that. He gave me a boost of courage."

"Bless him," you mumbled and placed a kiss on his chest. "Either way, my monolgue comes to an end and I hoped you loved every word of it."

Austin let out a chuckle, bringing his hand to your cheeks, squeezing them together to place a wet kiss on your lips. "Now, since my monologue sucked—"

"—I loved it."

"Let me show you with actions." In a quick motion you were flipped on your back, contagious laughter falling from your lips, but his delicious torture had just started.

And you loved every bit of it.

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Storm & Grace - Austin Butler (part 2)

previous part

"Since when have you known that you wanted to write? Like professionally?"

You hummed, raising your coffee to your lips. "I don't know for sure. But I don't remember a time in my life where I didn't write. I've always had a diary to write in, and even during school I would write on random sheets of paper. It was later on where I had tried out everything and didn't fit anywhere. I made my own space."

The lights flickered over his head, just enough for the neon glow to shift on his face, rending him impossibly and unfairly beautiful. But it wasn't just the blue in his eyes, it was their depth, the genuine curiosity, the pureness. The light that was just a little brighter, like they had fought wars in the dark, before daylight was found again.

Austin's eyes didn't shift from you, he leaned in, curling his shoulders forward as a gentle smile stretched his lips. "That's really beautiful."

"I feel like we've been only talking about me," you laughed lightly, feeling just a little overwhelmed by his forwardness. "What about you? How'd you get into acting?"

Austin blinked, scratching his chin. "It was so long ago now," he chuckled, shaking his head. "It was my stepbrother that wanted to be an actor, actually. I was really shy and just wanted my mom." He smiled fondly, eyes glancing at the coffee cup in his hands. "They needed extras and that's how I got started."

Your eyes widened as a playful smile tugged at your lips. "Wow, so you mean you didn't become Elvis from one day to the other?"

Austin laughed, shaking his head. "No, no. It took a while to get there. A long, bumpy journey."

"But it was worth it?"

He raised his gaze, eyes lingering in yours in a quiet, unguarded manner. Then he nodded, slowly, calculated. "Yes, it was definitely worth it."

The conversation shifted to something less personal, yet still incredibly private.

"Who's your favorite The Office character?" Austin asked, bringing noodles to his mouth. You stayed in the same place, same corner tucked away from wandering eyes and curious gazes. The only difference was that you got hungry and Austin insisted on ordering noodles.

You hummed. "Michael Scott, hands down. He's the best thing that's ever happened to television." Austin smiled, nodding, his cheeks puffy with food. "He's a special character to me, and I'll tell you why—" You pointed the chopsticks at him. "He's this funny, unfiltered, goofy person, because deep down there's this part of him that's really insecure. He masks all of his insecurities, like never being really liked by anyone or finding true love, with humor, dumb jokes— and no one takes him seriously for that. But I think that all he really wants is love, someone to joke with... I'm happy he's found his person at the end."

Comfortable silence fell over the table. Your gaze lowered only to find stubborn peas unwanting to be picked up by chopsticks. Austin swallowed. "Yes, that's it, you just said it all. Perfectly."

You raised an eyebrow. "He's your favorite too?"

"Yes, although I have never analyzed his character in this profound way that you have," he chuckled faintly. "I feel like I'm living in season four Michael Scott." 

"Yeah?" You looked up. "How so?"

"Season finale is Toby leaving—"

You groaned. "I hate Toby."

Austin laughed, his hand clutching his chest. "There is no way— Okay, okay," he took big breaths, huffs of laughter still rolling off him, like you had said the funniest thing in the world. "The finale marks the end and the beginning. Remember? So Toby leaves, but—"

You couldn't help but interrupt him excitedly. "That's where Michael meets Holly!"

"Yeah, he meets Holly and something clicks. Like the realization finally hits him, that this is the woman he had been waiting for all his life— his soulmate. Someone he doesn't have to dim his humor for, the person he can be himself with."

You fell quiet, letting go of the chopsticks you didn't really know how to use anyways, and licked the salt on your lips. Austin stopped eating too, his piercing gaze wandering from you to the food. But he got no reaction.

The silence was broken by the sound of your faint sigh. "So your Toby is your divorce?" You chuckled a little, raising your gaze only to find his already on you. A heavy beat from your heart, your throat dry and jaw clenched.

"I guess so, yeah."

"And your Holly? The person you don't have to change for?" The emotion in your eyes didn't waver as his only intensified. The space between your bodies was minimal, almost considered inappropriate for people who had just met.

But why did it feel so right? Why did it feel so right to share a piece of your soul with a person that willingly listened? Neither of you had a notepad and a pen to annotate the other's answers, just curiosity and an open heart.

"I don't know." He shook his head. The laughter dissipated but the easiness stayed right there, lingering between the two of you like unspoken words, but said everything that needed to be said.

Too bad neither of you read between each other's lines.

"It's getting late." The clock warned close to three a.m. Austin looked up, nodding at your words.

"Yeah." You gathered your things with quiet speed, never meeting blue eyes that didn't beg you to stay. But that had been a good night, right? Loose, fun, perhaps tight on some extents, but it was good. Right?

You both stood up, making your way to the backdoor, then he halted, his hand lingering on the doorhandle. You caught the hesitation, looking up in question. Austin's lips parted, a soft breath passing through, his eyes shifting on you.

"I wanna see you again." His tongue wet his lips. "Maybe it's unconventional... But I felt a real connection with you." The softness of his words caught you off guard. "I don't have Instagram, so I'm gonna be old-fashioned and ask you for your number. Or I can give you mine?" His cheeks tinged a soft pink as he chuckled in slight awkwardness.

Your lips split apart, unsure of what to say, but acutely aware of what you really wanted. "I wanna kiss you."

Austin's eyes widened just slightly, but not in surprise. You had just connected the dots in his head, saying what he had wanted to do from the start. So his hand left the doorhandle and moved to your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps along the way, settling on your soft cheek.

"I wanted to be a gentleman, take it slow, take you to dinner—"

"You did," you pointed out with a knowing smile. "We had coffee and Chinese takeout."

He hummed. "Can I still have your number? Even after I kiss you?" You nodded, lowering your gaze for a split second, letting your own hands find his waist, unknowingly feeling him shudder at your gentle touch. Austin's blue eyes followed your every move, catching the bold red painted on your nails. You itched closer, waiting for your breaths to graze each other and you leaned in, catching the full softness of his lips.

Austin's eyes fluttered shut, his other hand pillowing your cheek. He was living the dream he had always dreamed of. The one where he didn't have to dim his light to let someone else shine. The one where talking about a TV show could lead to a realization followed by a scenographic kiss.

He had finally met his Holly.

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chapter 42 - 1962

previous part

CECE PRESLEY

FEBRUARY 1962 on the set of "Follow That Dream"

"Alright, Elvis, one more time please— From the top, and ACTION!" the director, Gordon Douglas called out. Elvis didn't even bother raising his gaze, his breaths were shallow yet controlled.

I still worried. Despite his apparent control of himself and the situation, I was still very concerned. I wasn't unsure what exactly was wearing him down, whether it was the Colonel or the scripts — maybe all of it together.

He was still my Elvis, still caring and loving, showering me with kisses and tight hugs. The deep, dark bags under his eyes didn't just signal tiredness, he was exhausted. And he was pushing his body to its limits.

I watched him run a hand through his hair, saying his lines impeccably, his lips curling into one of his knowing smirks. I sat on his chair, proud and tall, mumbling to myself all the words his co-star was supposed to say. That had been my life, along with recordings at the studio. Studying lines with Elvis and his co-star, practicing with him, recording the songs in the soundtrack and then eventually bringing everything to life on set.

Most of my involvements were left unpaid, for the Colonel and the business didn't accept any of my songs for movies anymore. My singing was apparently considered lower class compared to Elvis'— so I was paid, but much less compared to my husband.

We fought the Colonel about it, but he didn't budge.

"The real money goes to the star," he pointed at Elvis with his cigar. "He acts and sings the songs. You, Mrs Presley, are just the backing vocals on Mr Presley. The numbers don't add up."

I sighed, my gaze lowering partly in shame and humiliation.

"This makes no sense, Colonel," Elvis stood up, slamming his hand on the table. "Cece offered you her songs and you're too thickheaded to take 'em! She has something to offer."

"It's not me that doesn't want Mrs Presley's songs, my boy. It's the business that doesn't deem them suitable."

I knew that the real reason was the amount of money he would've paid me. Singers, songwriters and actors were all paid differently — and if you only had to pay one out of the two, the other half could easily - presumedly - go into the Colonel's pocket.

It was all calculated.

I was discouraged, but I still wrote my songs. They were my escape from the reality I had been living in. Songs I hoped would be sung out when we'd be able to get out of the contract. The big, red, mighty number made me somewhat a control-freak — I was counting every cent that left our pockets and adding up the sums coming our way.

The shortage of money didn't make sense. At all.

"Lunch break for everyone, we'll meet again in one hour!"

I raised my gaze, unaware I had been swimming in my own thoughts, and smiled at the sight of my husband walking towards me.

"Hey," I said, handing him his water. "Good job out there. Remembered all your lines. Good boy," my tone was laced with playfulness as I puckered my lips.

Elvis rolled his eyes and kissed me, grabbing the bottled water. "Thanks honey," and he chugged down about half of it. "Did you tell the guys to bring our lunch here?"

I nodded, pushing myself off the chair and wrapped an arm around his waist. "I told them to get us those sandwiches you saw in that one funky shop in town."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. "Thanks. They looked good, didn't they?"

"They sure did. I got myself the one with what looked like mozzarella and—"

Elvis' gaze wandered over my shoulder.

"Mrs Presley?"

I turned around, confused. "Yes?"

It was a young man that was in charge of phone calls around the set, he looked awfully skittish. "There's a call for you. Someone named Matilda Martin."

My eyes widened as I exchanged a look with Elvis.

"I-uh, yeah I'll be right there," the young man nodded and turned around. I looked over at Elvis. "You go have your lunch and I'll join you later, okay?" I gently rubbed his tummy, but he frowned.

"You sure? Don't want me to come with you?"

"It's just Matilda, darling. Maybe she's getting married," I said in a light tone, raising my eyes to him. "There is that one guy that she's been dating for a little while... Maybe that's it."

Elvis hummed, still looking unsure.

"C'mon my love, your minutes are counted. I see Joe over there with the food," I pressed my lips to his cheek and patted his tummy. "I'll see ya in a moment."

"Okay," he nodded. "Say hi from me."

"Will do," and with one last smile, I walked off in the opposite direction.

The young man was already waiting with the phone in his hand and I smiled, thanking him.

"Hey Tilly," I called, twirling the cord around my finger. But I was met by devastating cries. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" my brows scrunched at the panic in her voice and my hand tightened around the phone.

"Tilly?"

Another sob tumbled from her lips. "It's mom a-and Clara—"

"Cece, they're gone!"

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, my hand freezing.

I didn't respond — I couldn't. Her cries filled the silence, desperate, slicing through emotion. I found a seat, hand still cradling the phone, but not speaking, just my rushed breaths seemingly matching hers.

After a while, her name left my lips breathily. "Tilly... I- Can you— Can you tell me what happened?" my shaky hand brushed a sweaty strand of hair from my face. The chattering noise from the set acted strangely comforting in the chaos going on in my head.

"A car a-accident—" she cried, her sobs somewhat muffled. "Both of t-them, then- then they were rushed to the hospital, but i-it was too l-late."

I brought my hand to my mouth, suddenly feeling very light-headed.

"The funeral?" I dared to ask, my tone a little quieter, careful.

"I-I don't know, I think this week still. I don't know what to do, oh good lord—" her cries continued, twisting my own heart.

I sniffled, clearing my throat. "And, uh, daddy?"

"They haven't talked to each other since the divorce," she hiccuped. "I don't know how to reach him."

A sigh fell from my lips, finally letting the tears roll down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Tilly. I'm here for you, I promise, no matter what it takes. I'll be there," our sobs melted into one, shielding me completely from reality.

We cried more, all the way until I had no more tears left, the phone call ending naturally. I felt the puffiness in my eyes and the lack of lucidity in myself. My eyes lowered to my lap as my stomach churned at the ugly reality I found myself in.

Naomi, one of the kindest and most generous people I had ever met — gone, just like that. Clara, her youngest daughter, even her life was taken away. Both gone too soon.

My hand settled on my chest, feeling my rapid heartbeat, but then the tears appeared again and I couldn't stop them, feeling utterly hopeless.

"Mrs Presley, your husband is asking for you," but I just shook my head, unable to speak. Seconds turned into steady minutes, and I heard him before I saw him.

"Cece?" his tone was careful, slow, like he was trying to assess the situation before approaching me fully. I didn't turn around at the sound of my name, quietly crying to myself. "Darlin'."

Elvis pushed the material of his pants up his thighs, crouching down in front of me. I felt his blue eyes searching for mine, but I couldn't even breathe.

"Satnin," he said softly, his hand raising to my wet cheeks. "Hey," I sniffled, mouth gaping for air. "C'mon baby, deep breaths."

I nodded, trying my best to get the air inside my lungs, redirecting my focus on Elvis' voice. My hands shook, trailing down my chest and Elvis caught them, pressing them to his lips.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked carefully and my eyes fluttered open. His thumbs brushed over my hands in circular motions, encouraging me to talk.

I pressed my lips into a thin line, then breathed in fully.

"It's Naomi..."

Elvis squeezed my hands. "Your stepmother?"

I nodded, sniffling. "Both her and Clara, my stepsister..." I looked down, my face contorting in pain again. "They're gone."

"Gone?" his tone held disbelief as he squeezed my hand. I just nodded, unable to say anything else. "And your daddy?"

I swallowed, untangling a hand from Elvis' to brush my tears away. "Tilly says no one's spoken to him in a while." He didn't need to say anything for me to notice the subtle anger bubbling his eyes. He released a breath.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he grabbed my hand again and brought it to his lips. "She still lives in LA, right?"

I blinked my tears away, clearing my throat. "Yeah."

Elvis stood up, his palm finding the back of my head and pressing it to his torso. "We're leaving for LA today then," he bent down to kiss my head. "I'm here for you all the way, I promise," he kissed me again.

I nodded, grateful. "Thank you, honey."

"Of course," he smiled gently and extended his hands out for me to take. I looked up, putting my hands in his, and he pulled me up to my feet with ease. "It's all gonna be okay. I'm here for you," Elvis' knuckle brushed a stray tear away, the gesture almost making me smile, then he pulled to his body, wrapping his arms around me.

I sniffled, feeling the tears forming in my eyes all over again. The simplicity of the gesture made me emotional. I forced my eyes shut, redirecting my focus on his steady heartbeat against me. 

A wave of memories hit me — the time I first met the brand new Martin family, the jokes, the fights, the reconciliation. Now it was all gone.

The flight to LA seemed infinite spent in the quiet of my own mind. My thoughts consumed me to the point where I couldn't close my eyes without feeling my heart in my throat. Even Elvis' soothing words didn't work, they entered one ear and exited the other.

Matilda was dressed all in black as she waited on us, two security guards by her side. I let Elvis take my bag as I slowly ascended from the plane and the tears were almost automatic.

Neither of us said anything, just accepting the embrace of each other. Tears rolled down her cheeks and eventually sobs tumbled from her lips, I just held her a little tighter.

"My darling," Elvis said softly, making me pull away from my stepsister. I brushed my tears away and cleared my throat. "Tilly, my sincerest condolences."

Matilda nodded and moved on to hug Elvis as well. "Thank you guys for coming, it means a lot to me."

I desperately clasped my hands in front of me, causing physical pain in order to forget about the storm going on inside my own head. Another wave of screams hit us, the fans batting their hands against the barricade.

I adjusted my sunglasses and leaned over to Elvis. "If you want to go sign a few autographs you're more than welcome to. I can't do it, I'm sorry."

Elvis squeezed my elbow in comfort. "I'll be quick." He kissed my cheek and left me to join Tilly in the black limousine. Gene opened the door for me and I thanked him, getting in.

"Thank you for flying over," Tilly looked over at me. I grasped her hand and squeezed it.

"Stop thanking me over nothing. That's what family is supposed to do."

A blanket of silence fell over us, the faint voices of the fans acted as our background.

"I missed you, you know," Tilly said with a sigh. "I ain't gonna lie, it was painful to hear about you from the news first."

My hand froze in hers and my breath hitched in my throat. I knew she was right. For the most time it felt like I was trying to erase that part of my family — like me living elsewhere with other people never happened. It wasn't shame per se, although the idea of people finding out that my daddy had two families simultaneously was humiliating. I didn't know what it was, though I loved them because they were the closest thing I had to home.

But I hated confrontation.

"You used to phone me," she continued, her voice raw from crying. A low breath fell from my lips, not really knowing what to say.

I cleared my throat. "It's just... Everything was happening so fast a-and just a tangled mess—," I shook my head, forcing my eyes shut. "Point is, I didn't stop because I stopped loving you. I promise." I opened my eyes again, daring to look at Matilda, but her gaze was fixated forward.

She exhaled, slowly nodding. "Okay," her tone was soft, bared by pain. "It's just you and Elvis?"

I hummed. "Yeah, mama wanted to come but she got the flu. And Vernon had something to take care of, I don't know."

The door opened and at the sight of Elvis, I slid to the middle seat.

"Signed?"

He nodded, grabbing the seatbelt with a low whistle. "More reckless than usual."

"That's LA for ya," Matilda added playfully, the tension easing significantly.

The drive to her house wasn't far. The place I had been taken to over a decade ago was long gone. After my father and Naomi divorced five years ago, the family split ways — Naomi and the girls changed address, moving to a house closer to the city and my father chose to stay in the house he had purchased all those years ago. Eventually, Clara moved out a year later and left Tilly with Naomi.

I didn't ask about my father, it didn't feel appropriate.

Elvis extended his arm out to me and I took it with a small smile, squeezing it in comfort. We both gazed at the modest house and something strange settled on my chest, like this unexplainable heavy weight that tugged me down. I felt the tragedy, I saw it cast over the house. People dressed in black walked in and out, heads low and expressions gloomy.

"I'll show you to your room," Tilly gave us a brief tour of the house, but I couldn't focus as different emotions were prevailing. "If you need anything, let me know."

The door shut and I let out a breath I had been holding in for too long.

Elvis' hands found my shoulders with ease, massaging them firmly.

"Look at the palm trees, baby," he said gently, his body steering mine to stand in front of the large window. My lips tugged into a small smile.

"They're pretty," I commented and shut my eyes, letting myself immerse in the brief pleasure. "Elvis..."

"Hmm?"

"I think... I think I need to stay here for a while."

His movements stopped, his hands simply settling on my shoulders. "Yeah, I did think that only two days weren't enough. We'll prolong for a week. I'm sure I can get the Colonel to understand."

I winced at his words, turning around, letting his hands fall to his side. My eyes set on his, the vibrancy of his emotions breathtaking.

"No... I-I mean yeah, a whole week sounds good, but..." I looked down, but his fingers on my chin wouldn't let me.

"Tell me, darling," Elvis encouraged gently.

I huffed, feeling tears prickling my eyes all over again. "I meant that I need to stay here for a while. With Tilly."

His lips parted, but no words fell from them. But I continued, still having a lot weighing on my chest.

"We haven't seen each other in years and she's just lost her mother and sister at the same time," I justified softly. "She doesn't have anyone else anymore." He didn't flinch at the raw emotion in my voice. He remained quiet and leaned in, not to kiss me, but to tuck a loose hair behind my ear.

"The way you look out for other people... That is something I have always admired about you," Elvis said, his eyes digging deeper in mine. I felt tears finally leave my eyes, sliding down my cheeks like waterfalls. "I love you and I trust you... If you wanna take care of your sister..."

I blinked fast. "B-But what about you?" my tone held desperation and then the scenario felt like the one from years ago. "Who's gonna take care of you?"

Elvis gave me a soft smile, his hand lingering on my cheek. "I'll be fine," he nodded. "Besides, there's phones and letters," he poked my side playfully. I still wasn't convinced.

I raised my hands to his cheeks. "I'm not staying if you're not 100% okay with that. There is no point in comforting my sister if my husband will suffer because of that."

"Aw, honey, suffer?" he puckered his lips, leaning down to finally peck mine. "It's gonna be okay, darling. It's just a little while... Then, if you'd like to, you can invite her to stay at Graceland."

I sniffled, my heart beating impossibly faster at his generosity. "Oh, Elvis."

"I'll be fine. You need to take care of your family, then you come back to me."

Then my heart-wrenching words. "But you are my family."

Elvis' eyes turned glossy and a low breath fell from his lips. "Good lord, okay," he cleared his throat and kissed me again, his passion lingering on my lips. "I promise, baby. It's all gonna be okay."

The quiet knowing in his tone, the soft certainty. He truly made me believe that it was all going to be alright — that he was going to be fine. The day of the funeral, he held my hand with his head bowed low in respect. The day after, he stayed, wrapping me in warm hugs and sweet kisses. 

Elvis did everything in his power to show me he was doing fine — sending funny polaroids with dirty little letters, calling me and talking until the sun was shining again.

I had forgotten how good of an actor he was.

A/N: wow, thank you so much for reading! this was an intense chapter to write, emotionally as well as trying to figure out the final direction of the plot! veeeery interesting things coming your way 💋🎞️

index chapter 43

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SERIES ON SALE 📚🎞️🤍

you can find all of your favorites on BuyMeACoffee for just 1 Dollar!!! it would mean a lot to me if you could buy even just one 💋

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Professor Gale Cleven - Major Gale Cleven

summary: the year is 1955 and Gale Cleven chooses to drop his military uniform for books and chalks

1955. Nobody expected it. A war hero— a pilot that fought for people without picking up medals he gained for his bravery. A man tainted by the hope of survival. The application was welcomed warmly, and the noble Gale Cleven walked through the halls of the university. His shoulders were rolled back, his gaze impassive, his pace steady as curious eyes washed over him.

"That's the new professor!" a voice hissed, and the corridor transformed into a sea of hushed whispers. Heads turned, eager to see the new professor, and as soon as he walked by, the confirmation that there hadn't been anyone that handsome covering the teaching position, settled in. Girls blushed, turning to each other as if to make sure they had seen the same thing. Guys watched him with wide eyes, jaw clenched, taking in the pilot who had once served in the war.

Gale was thirty-seven and spent, looking for something to ignite the light in himself again. His friend Bucky had suggested him applying for the position as a history professor, secretly as a way to get him out of his cave made of walls of loneliness. Marge had left years ago, claiming that he wasn't what she had expected him to be.

"It's just... You're different and I'm different," Marge explained with a sympathetic smile.

Gale's heart jittered nervously, afraid to lose yet another constant in his life. "Baby, we're just not on the same page at the moment. We just need to get used to each other again."

Marge winced. "We're in two different books, Buck."

And it was over. Just like that. 

That side of Gale was kept hidden for that exact reason. Being tossed out once he became inconvenient. Buck still thought about Marge, and how wouldn't he? After a ring and a home shared together? But he knew it was time to move on, a fresh start.

You didn't hear about it immediately. You felt the ruckus before you heard it. The vibration of the walls, of the ground, startling you for a moment. Elizabeth grabbed your arm without adding anything else, her eyes wide with wonder and her lips parted.

"You have no idea who's our new history teacher."

Your lips twitched into a smile at her excited tone. "Who?"

"That pilot! Who served in the war!"

"Oh, wow. And he's a professor now?" The two of you talked all the way to the classroom. Your thoughts wandered on the exam you had today. You didn't think anything about the pilot Elizabeth mentioned, thinking he was a man in his forties or fifties, someone that talked about war in a strict, manly manner, collected scars like he collected medals. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Those men earned that kind of speech either way. But you'd listened to enough men talk about it.

You found your seats in the front row, the usual. Your eyes wandered around, your pulse quickening at the room having more students than it had ever had.

"They're all here for the hot shot," Elizabeth murmured in your ear, her eyes looking over her shoulder. "There is no way that Charlotte got up for the eight a.m. lecture." She couldn't add another word as the door opened, the room quietened, everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

And there he was.

A singular book in his hand, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, a brown belt accentuating sharp hips, eyes that told stories before his lips could even part.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Good morning class," Gale nodded, moving to stand behind his desk. "I'm Gale Cleven, your new history professor."

Silence. No one dared to speak, too hung up on the lingering echo of his voice.

"Just like in every other class, if you have a question, raise your hand. Don't interrupt others, don't speak if not asked to, be respectful, be mindful of others. If you follow these rules we won't have a problem for the rest of the semester."

Gale's blue eyes scanned the room, in a quietly calm manner. Then a breath. "Any questions?"

Then a hand raised in the back.

"Yes?"

"You served in the war, right, sir?"

Gale's lips parted. "I meant questions regarding the class or the following learning program. But, uh, yes, I was a pilot. I flew B-17s." Hushed whispers followed, his blue eyes calm, darting around the room. "Any other questions?"

More hands shot up, jittering with curious excitement. "Yes?"

"How did it feel?"

Buck arched an eyebrow. "What exactly?"

"Winning."

He felt his hands go slack around the book as he gently set it on the desk. "What's your name, young man?"

"Timothy Simons, sir." Elizabeth sneakily glanced over her shoulder, taking in the flushed face of her ex-boyfriend.

"Serves him right. Being called out," she quietly muttered to you, her gaze back on the professor. But you didn't really hear her. You were too bothered by Professor Cleven's clenched jaw, white knuckles and quiet storm behind his eyes. 

"No one is a winner in a war, Mr Simons," Gale spoke with startling calmness. "We all lose. We are all losers in a war. I wouldn't consider losing millions of people to gas chambers, executions, bombs and battle, winning. We didn't just lose people in the war. We lost homes, schools, entire villages, jobs, animals... Our human souls will forever be tainted by torture and violence." His gaze shifted, it wasn't on the student anymore, his eyes wandered outside the window, green branches tapping lightly against the glass window.

"No one is a winner."

The silence that followed muffled every single emotion you felt running through your veins. Your heart was still a thumping mess, but it was quieter, his words lulling you to a calmer state. It was odd and unusual, but you felt the subtlety of his pain tainting his words, you felt his quiet strength and bravery. You felt it all.

It was going to be a very interesting semester. You were sure of it.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! I was thinking about making this into a mini-series 🎞️✈️🤍

PART 2

MASTERLIST buck cleven masterlist

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chapter 41 - 1961

previous part

ELVIS PRESLEY

My hand settled my bouncy knee, my twitching hand to my right, between Cece and I. I wasn't nervous, no. I was unsettled for some reason. Uncomfortable.

"That's gonna be odd, huh?"

Gene chuckled, looking at us through the rearview mirror.

"What?" Cece asked, her brow piqued in interest.

"Well, both your exes are getting married. Sorta funny."

We both remained silent as Cece and I exchanged a knowing look. Her lips were pressed into a tight line and her lone hand grasped mine, her touch comforting me magically.

"Bill did say that the band wouldn't work if he was in love with the singer," she leaned to her left, nudging me softly with her elbow. I looked over at her, catching the playfulness in her eyes.

I gave her a weak eye roll. "That son of a bitch and his infatuation with you... Good thing it didn't work out," I let out a scoff, my head shaking at the memories of Scotty being all over my Cece.

"We'd be going to a different wedding."

My jaw clenched. "I thank god every day that he chose to walk away from you—"

"He cheated on me!" Cece exclaimed breathily. "With your ex!"

I refrained a chuckle. "Well, baby, if he hadn't we wouldn't be here talkin' about it. Especially not without that big rock I got ya."

Cece mused, raising her left hand to look at her engagement ring. "I am lucky, yeah. What would I have said if the diamond hadn't been this big, hmm?" her gaze darted on mine and I wordlessly grabbed her hand and pressed it to my lips, maintaining her eyes.

"I would've begged on my hands and knees," I moved her hand over my heart. "Until my heart burst," my face itched closer to hers, letting our breaths touch each other.

"What a sight that would've been. My husband on his hands and knees," she smiled seductively and then we heard a click, the glass slowly being pushed between us and Gene.

Cece laughed and finally pressed her lips to mine. "We musta scared him."

I hummed against her, slowly separating. "I hate that he butts in our conversations. Goddamn, noisy boy."

"Alright honey," she let out a low sigh, her head falling on my shoulder. "He just wants to be good at his job."

I placed my hand on her thigh. "His job ain't listening to other people's conversations."

"Okay, baby, new topic," she squeezed my hand, her finger tracing the cold metal of my rings. Oddly soothing. "Tell me more about the new script you got."

It was my turn to sigh as I let my eyes shut in exhaustion. "Same script, different character. This time I'll be a tour guide," I added with faux excitement.

"Ain't better than a cowboy, but at least it's something different?"

I shook my head. "You don't have to pretend, honey."

"I don't know what else to say, E. We're all making sacrifices here," she mumbled, her voice inexplicably tired. "This isn't fun for me either."

Another breath tumbled from my lips. "I know, baby, I know," I held back my thoughts. Just for today. She didn't need to know that I was jealous of her creative freedom. She could write all the songs she wanted and play the guitar to the horses in the ranch. She could do whatever she wanted — although unpaid.

But she stayed up all night with me, memorizing my own lines and the ones of my co-star, so she could practice with me. I squeezed her hand.

The separating glass slid open in slow motions.

"We're here."

The faint sound of cheers found my ears and the flashes of cameras were unmistakable. My jaw clenched.

"I thought this was a private event. His goddamn wedding, goddamn it!" I felt heat slowly rise up my neck, Cece let out a breath, leaning forward to Gene.

"Gene," she said, eyes catching the bright camera flashes through the tinted windows. "Is there a way to walk in from another side?"

My cousin looked at her through the rearview mirror. "This is the only way. I was told to get you here."

My anger started bubbling more intensively, my head slowly shaking. "At least walk out and open the door for your boss," I spat out, irritated.

Cece let out a low gasp, slapping the side of my leg. "Elvis!"

Gene just rolled his eyes and killed the engine, already opening his own door.

"He ain't got no power over this, E," Cece hissed in my ear. "Please be nice today," her finger touched my chin, bringing my face to hers.

My jaw clenched at the subtle fire in her eyes. "I am nice," I said lowly, eyes boring in hers.

A knock snapped me back to reality, then the door opened on both our sides. Cece gave me curt nod and walked out, an easy smile automatically finding her lips.

I walked out as well, although I couldn't withhold my sigh. The flashes started snapping almost instantly, I smoothed out my suit as I waited for Cece to come to my side. Lamar approached us from the car behind us, immediately in bodyguard-mode.

"Fancy seein' you here," her heels tapping gave her presence away. My lips formed into a loopy smile and my arm curled around her waist.

"I could say the same about you, darling," I tightened my hold on her and started walking, the cameras were boldly pushed in our faces, but we didn't lower our gaze.

"Mrs Presley, how do you feel about Scotty Moore getting married?"

I glanced over at Cece, only to find an easy grin on her face. "He's our friend and we only want the best for him."

"Mr Presley— Rumor has it that your guitarist is getting married to your ex? Is that true?"

I waved my hand in dismissal at the question. "I don't think it's an appropriate question at our friend's wedding. Thank you, though."

Red stepped up and motioned to the photographers to move away. "Enough questions, folks. Move aside, please!"

We nodded and smiled, eventually even shaking some people's hands. Even photographers were excited to get to know us. I looked at my feet, only now noticing the red carpet leading to a big, white tent.

"You think this is Scotty's doing?" I gave my wife an unimpressed look as I looked down at the carpet, then back at her.

She let out a laugh, her head shaking. "I think that's Jane. Couldn't be Scotty, no," butlers stood on each side of the carpet, nodding at us with warm smiles. "I mean you know her better than I do— thank you," she smiled at a glass of champagne offered to her.

"Ha ha," I rolled my eyes, playfully pulling away from her.

Cece chuckled, her hand catching mine with ease. "C'mon honey, I was teasing."

"Elvis!" a voice called, making us look forward. "And Cece!"

My eyes widened. "Bill! Long time no see, man!"

"Bill!" Cece called enthusiastically. "What's going on?"

Bill's gaze shifted to the photographers, clearing his throat. "Let's get in. More discrete."

I grabbed Cece's hand and walked ahead. Bill held one side of the curtain, letting us walk in first. "Well, thank you."

Four or five long tables with what seemed like hundreds of chatting guests, three giant cakes, decorations that managed to blind me. I leaned down to Cece.

"This is the tackiest thing I've ever seen," I mumbled, eyes raising to the diamond chandelier in the middle of the tent. "How's that thing hanging there?"

Cece pressed her lips into a thin line, her dimples showing. "Well... You are right. This is a lot for me too."

I hummed and turned to Bill. "They invited ya too, huh, Bill?" I patted his back playfully. The man chuckled, bringing his champagne closer to his lips.

"I'm the best man", he said casually. "He did consider you, but... You stole his girlfriend," his eyes darted on Cece as another laugh stumbled from his lips.

"That's alright," my wife smiled weakly. "Well, how're you doing?"

"You mean since the Colonel fired me?" he raised an eyebrow, making us shift uncomfortably. His tone wasn't bitter, or maybe it was, but it wasn't directed at us. "Come, your seats are over here."

"You know it wasn't in our power, Bill," I reasoned, following him. "We wouldn't have— It wasn't up to us."

Bill motioned to the table and sat down. "I know, I know... It's hard to accept when we went through thick and thin together," a sigh fell from his lips.

Cece sat down beside me. "We get it. Again, we're very sorry."

He nodded, his eyes briefly focused on his glass, then he looked up. "Enough about me. I've heard all kinds of things about you, guys. What's up with exclusively making movies? I thought you were over that."

My wife sighed, nodding. "We were..."

"Colonel's orders," Bill finished for her. "Despite the Hawaiian show? That was seen by millions."

I didn't know how much we could tell Bill, but he was our friend after all.

"The Colonel, uh... Contracts and money. All kinds of messy," I mumbled lowly. Bill hummed, his eyes squinting on me.

"No offense— But you look like shit, man," he leaned back in his chair. "Have you been taking the pills I gave you? Those are terrible for insomnia."

I froze.

"Pills?" Cece looked at Bill, then moved her eyes on me. "What pills?" 

I shook my head, keeping my lips sealed.

But Bill didn't see the harm in his words and kept talking, despite my eyes staring daggers at him.

"We used to call it the relaxation pill," he continued nonchalantly. But Cece's hands were clasped together on her lap, twitching — shaking. "You pop one when you can't seem to stay still and then it hits ya at some point. Again, not good when you have insomnia."

"Are you taking them?" Cece looked at Bill, her jaw clenched.

"Cece—," I tried to interrupt.

"Only sometimes. EP is the real consumer, though. They worked wonders in Germany—"

"Stop it, goddamn it!"

The room went still. People looked over their shoulder with curious gazes, whispering.

Bill cleared his throat. "I take it you didn't know, Cece," his gaze was low, his ears slowly turning red.

"That's probably not the only thing I don't know," she gave me a dirty look and stood up, the flowy material of her dress expanding after her.

I watched her go, my jaw locked in frustration. "You had to go and tell her things that don't pertain to her?"

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Everything pertains to your wife, EP. It pertained to Cece long before you married her."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

A sigh tumbled from his lips, his figure scrunching over the white table. "You aren't just husband and wife— You are friends, coworkers... We were a band. All of us. Not just one."

His words settled in my brain, though they lingered for a little while.

We. We. We.

That was no secret, but I still struggled with that.

All I knew in my life was that I had to be in control. The moment my daddy landed in jail and left me as the man of the house to care for mama — I was in control. The time I stepped foot in the Sun Records studio, signing the contract with the Colonel, all of that was my doing. Cece dating someone else bothered me, because I wasn't in control. 

But I couldn't control her.

The urge was there, but I didn't want to act on it.

"I, uh," I cleared my throat, gaze slowly raising to Bill's. "I'm gonna go talk to her," I stood up, giving him a curt nod. "I'll see ya later."

Bill nodded, a pensive look on his face. Then he stood up as well, extending his hand to me. "Don't be a stranger, Elvis."

I looked at his hand for a moment, my breaths a little shallow. My hand slipped in his, shaking it firmly. "Thanks, Bill."

Cece wasn't hard to find — no one was wearing a pink, satin dress and brown cowboy boots. I noticed her tense shoulders before I noticed anything else, but her back was perfectly straight, not letting anyone suspect anything.

"My love," I murmured once I was close enough to her. I found a seat on the barstool beside hers, lifting a hand to the bartender. "A soda, please."

She didn't look at me, her quiet focus on her fizzy drink.

"I'm sorry," I leaned closer to her, my lips were almost brushing her ear. "Bill and his big mouth are right and I was wrong. I should've told you," my head shook in distress at the lack of reaction.

"I'm an idiot, I should've never taken anything... But- I-I don't know what to say, really."

Her head finally turned to look at me. The fire in her eyes was long gone and replaced by quiet disappointment. "I thought that you could tell me everything, Elvis. And I was the one that kept everything to herself," she brought the drink to her lips.

"B-But that was different— Those were your songs, y-you wrote those—"

Cece interrupted me instantly. "And that's your health! How is that any different?" she hissed lowly. "Without you here by me, I can't write anything."

"Cece," I said softly, grasping her hand. She reluctantly let me take it, although looking at me with attentive eyes. "I promise they were nothing. Just little things to get me going. Like when I-I was on overnight guard duty— We were all given Dexedrine pills to stay awake."

"You couldn't just get a good night's sleep at home with your wife?" she snapped with a scoff.

"Darling, I was grieving," I looked at her, squeezing her hand. "I know, I know we've had this conversation before that I should've told you, but I couldn't. I didn't decide how to feel. I didn't wanna feel like that," I brought her hand to my lips. "I didn't wanna be away from you."

"So you took drugs to ignore it all?"

I withheld an exasperated sigh. "Those are pills, not drugs."

"Are you still taking them?" she asked, gaze fixated directly on me.

My eyes didn't dare to waver. But I felt my heartbeat speed up and my nails picking at my skin.

"No."

She raised an eyebrow, her hand almost freezing in mine. "No? Really?"

"Yeah, I promise. It was only during the army."

Her jaw let go, softening her face. "Okay," she squeezed my hand. "But you need to tell me if you ever feel the urge to get back, I-I don't know."

My hands flew to her cheeks, kissing her lips repeatedly. "I will, my love, I promise, I promise. You ain't got nothing to worry about."

Cece's lips formed into a hesitant smile, her hand squeezing mine again. "Okay."

"Now, let's go and congratulate those two fools that ditched us."

Then I heard her laugh, the most beautiful melody I had ever heard. Cece nodded, letting our hands intertwine like puzzle pieces.

"Let's go."

I didn't know if all my kisses and sweet talking were to convince her or me.

CECE PRESLEY

"I'm trying to go over our last payments here—," I mumbled, pulling receipts out of two colored folders. "But nothing adds up," Elvis stood in the corner of the room, hands on his hips and a distressed look on his face.

"Look over from before we went to Germany. 1958."

"It's in that yellow folder over there, honey," I pointed at it and Elvis reached it for me, flicking through the pages. 

"Uh, someone got married that year," he whistled, looking at me through the papers with a playful smile. "I wonder who that was."

"Mhm, two lovesick puppies I reckon," I shook my head with a smile, leaning back against my chair. "How much was the wedding?"

"Six-tier cake with marzipan roses and blah, blah, blah— Was $3,200," Elvis glanced up at me. "It was a damn good cake, though. Probably the best one I've ever had," he skimmed the list again. "Decorations, flowers, my tuxedo, adjustments to your mama's wedding dress... A little over $4,500."

I nodded, humming. "Honey, I don't think the wedding was much of a dent. I think we need to look at the year you purchased Graceland. Then the cars, the ranch and the horses."

"Okay so the year before, 1957. $100,000—"

The calculations went on for so long that even Elvis had to sit down. "Alright, but all the records we sold, the performances, the movies... Where the hell are those numbers?"

My brows scrunched in confusion. "None of that here. We might have to ask your daddy, he is the business manager after all," I threw the folder on the table and sighed, leaning back. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"We can't be broke, though," Elvis closed the folder in his hands and threw it on the table as well. "That's not possible."

"Yeah, that makes no sense at all," I wondered out loud. "But I don't want ya to do the movies for the Colonel for the sake of not being broke."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Cece?" he mumbled tiredly. "There is no way for me to get outta here without getting sued," he brushed a hand over his face.

"If you stay... He's gonna take advantage of you and use that big fat number against you. Against us. Preventing me from acting and preventing you to be on the stage. He's got his claws on you," I raised my gaze to meet his.

"I can try to convince him to give you a few roles," he looked up with a pout. "I don't wanna do those tacky movies any more."

I shook my head, circled the desk and found a seat sideways on his lap. "It's enough he's letting me sing on the soundtrack," I cradled his head, brushing black strands of hair away.

Elvis sighed defeatedly. "Then it's over, he won."

"No, honey. He didn't win nothing," my finger found his chin, tilting it so I could meet his eyes. "Now you listen to me good. I'm gonna get us out of this contract, pay the son of a bitch what he wants and we can continue like he never existed."

Elvis' arm curled around my hips as he hummed, his eyes blown wide. "What did you have in mind?"

A/N: I loved writing this! let me know what you think cece's plans are ;) I'll see you in the next one 🎞️🤍🍿 also fun fact: elvis' cake would've cost over $30,000 today! insane!

index chapter 42