Bestest Girl || an Elvis fic
Pairing: 1968!Elvis x female!reader
Summary: I’m not gonna give you one this time. Just read it and find out. ;))
Warnings/Triggers: Not much other than angst, possible assumptions of infidelity (depends on how you view it as the reader), possessive behavior, miscommunication. I think that’s it, lmk if you spot anything else!
“Oh, like hell you are, darlin’.”
The same old argument, different week. Except this time you’d gotten much further than simply storming upstairs and sulking in the bedroom. No, now you were shoving shirts and pants haphazardly into a suitcase, tears streaming down your face.
You didn’t feel seen anymore. You hadn’t for months. He’d been hosting random fans and people, along with the guys, in Graceland again like he did back in the day. Like he did when he met you. Only now, he was 33 and you were supposed to be his “bestest girl.”
Didn’t seem that way to you. Because you were one of those dazed, glassy-eyed fan girls that walked through the opulent front door of Graceland so many years ago. You knew how it felt to catch such a sought after man’s eye. You remembered what it felt like to receive one of his secretive smirks and winks before he not-so-subtly sent you upstairs to his bedroom to wait for him.
And you knew now, deep in your soul, that you were losing him. Slowly, not obviously like in the movies, but surely.
Why else would he be hosting randoms in the jungle room until the wee hours of the morning and barely giving you a kiss when he came to bed?
Well, the answer was quite simple, really—he had lost interest in his “bestest girl.” Finally, after eleven years, your novelty in his eyes had worn off. And you weren’t sticking around to feel such heartache. No, you knew it would hurt less if you left on your own terms.
So you shoved another silk blouse into your suitcase, throwing the hanger to the floor, and wiped aggressively at the pesky tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. And you were completely zeroed in on the task at hand until a warm hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged. It tugged until you were turned around and your face was buried in the owner’s chest. Said hand then started running through your hair.
“What’s the matter, baby? Hm? I ain’t gon’ let ya do anything ‘til ya dry up those tears.” The voice those words came from was soft and rumbled against your ear as you nuzzled his chest. “Talk to me, Satnin. Be a good girl and tell me what’s got ya cryin’ this time, yeah?”
And you start to. You really do, until you recall the distance that’s been between the two of you for months, and you shake your head. You shove at his chest and turn back to the suitcase on the bed. You zip it up and then you’re out of the bedroom door and halfway down the stairs before it registers—that same voice. Only this time it’s deadly calm, and yet oh so dark. It holds authority, and it halts you in your tracks.
That’s all he says. And yet it’s so powerful that it tingles the back of your neck and causes goosebumps to litter your skin. The suitcase drops from your hand and lands on the stair with a soft thud. And then you’re turning, slowly.
The look on his face speaks volumes. He stands at the top of the staircase, and there’s no doubt that he runs this house. For all the playfulness and charm he exudes on a daily basis, it’s obvious that this version of him is always there, waiting. And it seems that now you’re the one to bring it out to play.
You stare at him, a deer in headlights. He stares back, never once wavering as he descends the few stairs that separate the two of you. And then his hand is on your waist, yanking you to him until there is absolutely no space between your bodies.
“Ya think yer just gonna walk out that door? Hm, babydoll? That yer just gonna steal my bestest girl away from me?” The words tear a gasp from your throat. They’re low and they rumble as they crawl from deep in his soul. And with them comes a flash in his eye—dark, unquestioned possession. “No. No, absolutely not. The only way yer gonna leave me is if one of us is dead.”
His free hand snakes up and ever so gently tucks your hair behind your ear, the gesture full of love and warmth—so much so that you wonder why you ever questioned his affection for you. And he could see everything going on in your mind as he stared into your eyes. You could tell.
“Ya think ya ain’t special, darlin’? Ya think I don’t want you anymore? Is that it?”
You don’t really mean to nod, but the tiny, subtle jerk of your chin is enough to cause his expression to shift to fury. Not at you, no, but at himself.
He drops his forehead to yours and exhales roughly. “Nah, baby. Yer mine. How many times do I gotta tell ya?” He drags his thumb across your cheekbone almost reverently. “What, you think just ‘cause I talk to some guys and girls for a few hours, that means ya ain’t mine anymore?”
He scoffs. Actually scoffs. And then he’s shaking his head and that same word pours from his mouth again, “No,” he whispers. “Yer my bestest girl. I ain’t ever gonna let you go, you hear me? So don’t you ever try to walk out that door again.”
He then smacks your ass—a little tap. “Take that fuckin’ case back to our bedroom where it belongs and don’t ever get another silly notion in that pretty lil’ head of yer’s again that you don’t belong to me. Yer mine, Y/N.”
And you do. You do exactly as he says, trudging up the stairs and into the bedroom, knowing he’s following right behind you to make sure you put every piece of clothing in its rightful place. And once you’re done, you’re yanked backwards and thrown on the bed, “This is where you belong, understand, woman? And when I tell ya I love ya everyday, you’ll do best to believe me.”
You nod, your earlier tears long forgotten as he hovers over you and gently kisses you, his gentleness a contrast to the determination in his voice seconds ago. And it’s in that moment that you mentally berate yourself for ever thinking he cared any less about you than he did eleven years ago. You’re his bestest girl. Then, now, and forever.
Taglist: @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @iloveelvis2 (don’t sue me but if I forgot to tag you, I’m so sorry!!)
Heyy lovies! Long time no see, huh?? Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just been away reading it up on the kindle app and also still stuck on Elvis edits on TikTok. But, alas, here I am again, and I’ve decided to leave something (an idea that came to my head about two nights ago where Elvis stalked up to me with a hot, menacing look in his eye, and then this was born). Anyways, I’m not sure if there’s still a lot of Elvis fans sticking it out here in the tumblr community, but whoever is left, I hope you enjoy this!! Much love <3 and thank you to my amazing queen @jhoneybees for encouraging me to post this (marry me yet again)!!
