summary:elvis's wife finds muse in marilyn monroe, admitting her husband and the late actress are her biggest inspirations.
word count: 2.2k (2280 words)
warnings: media harassment, paparrazzi, power imbalance, “daddy” dynamic in the marriage, public scrutiny of marriage, references to marilyn monroe’s life (failed marriages and speculated suicide), emotional distress
author's note: i don't like to use "daddy" for couples but for this lyrics and fanfic match it works so i will go against it this time. this fic takes place in late 60s, so it fits the general beliefs of people.
The Cadillac door swings open and the rigourous flashing of cameras, clicks before you, raising the white wall of light. They first greet your husband, all six feet of him and his black suit pressed on him perfectly. The collar of it is spread open, having women gasp at just the sight. He looks to you, extending his hand, like he is about to grab his most prized possession, which technically you are.
“Come on, baby.” When your heels hit the sidewalk, his hand firmly covers the small of your back. The world tilts at your presence, the crowd is now in ecstasy. The high squeal of a woman in the back, overlapping the shouts, her yelling Elll-vis! As if it’ll earn her an autograph.
The immense power you two have is getting into your head, but it settles in nicely, like it is home, where it is supposed to be. The reporters push forward, eagerly throwing themselves.
“Mrs. Presley! Over here!”
“Who made your dress?”
“Is it true you’ve been in talks for a film?”
They all wanted a piece of you. They’ve wanted it since you married him two years ago, but lately it’s been worse. You have not only become known as Elvis Presley’s wife, even if it was your main claim to fame. A brand has been created around you, your look and fashion. The sort that makes women tear your photo from Photoplay and pin it to their vanities.
You smile at them, as you have learned to do. Not with a heavy grin, but a tiny gesturing lift of your lips.
Then, one reporter calls out. “Who inspires you most?”
The question stops you mid-step. This one you wouldn’t mind answering. Especially since you have recently decided to work on that brand of yours. Create a statement, as it seemed fit to do. Even Elvis’s management approved of it. Your husband glances down at you, expecting you to either ignore it or toss out something, maybe a designer’s name or your mother’s. A safe answer.
But your lips curve illicitly, you turn towards the reporter, locking eyes with him in a way the man might think you are daring him to a staring contest. The blinding fleshes reduce.
“Elvis is my daddy,” you say, each word dripping out of you like honey. “Marilyn’s my mother. They’re the only two people I’ll ever look up to.”
The man’s eyebrows jump so high they nearly reach his hairline. The crowd of reporters erupts like a cherry bomb has just been dropped in the middle of them.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Did you know Marilyn?”
“Do you—”
You just shrug at them, hand sliding into the crook of Elvis’s arm. Once you are inside, the noise outside turns to a muffled hum. You can finally have a proper breath taken, however in here, the heavy scent of perfumes mix, the thickness of it giving little place to breathe in. Elvis takes your coat off you and hands it to the usher, his palm lingering over your bare shoulders.
“You know,” a low turn of his vocals graze your skin, “you’re giving those boys somethin’ to write about for the rest of the month.”
“That’s the point, Daddy.” You tilt your head up, charmed by him, as are all the girls. Expect you were rewarded with his ring and last name.
His jaw tightens, but he acts like it’s nothing. He leads you towards your seats, in the front row, reserved specially for Mr and Mrs Presley. Elvis’s leg brushes against yours as the house lights dim. He leans in once the movie starts playing, casting names of the stars starring in it.
“Marilyn, huh?” You nod, pointing out the obvious.
“She’s dead, baby.”
“No harm in honoring her. She was unbelievably beautiful and smart. I want it to be cherished.” He hums, resting his open hand on your thigh, seemingly in approval. The type you were always chasing to have from him.
The picture starts, but you’re not really watching. Your mind is clouded with the flashes. And reporters. You wonder how long before that sentence you uttered makes it to print. You practically put yourself next to the most famous woman in Hollywood. Soon some editor is going to put your face next to Marilyn’s in a spread titled The Old and New Marilyn. Despite the flattering image it presented, it somehow felt wrong. You didn’t want to replace her. She has been an inspiration, a guide to follow. Even your stylist has been trying to recreate a couple of her looks on you.
By the time the credits roll, you’ve sat through an hour and half of flickering light and music without really remembering much of the plot. You’ve been too aware of the weight of Elvis’s hand, the slow drag of his thumb along your thigh that nobody can see.
When the house lights rise, you smooth your skirt and stand, feeling the dozens of eyes on you. As you and Elvis make your way back to the car, the cameras wait like predators outside. More flashes, more shouts, but you keep your chin high and your smile easy.
Marilyn’s name was mentioned as you went. With a couple of questions you couldn’t fully register due to the quick steps you were taking to the car.
Inside the Cadillac, the door shuts and the noise outside dulls to a far-off buzz. Elvis doesn’t start the car right away. He just sits there, one arm draped over the wheel, the other resting on the back of your seat.
“You like stirrin’ ‘em up, baby. You know what they’ll say when that hits the papers?” He brushes a finger down your cheek with a little laugh. He tilts yout face towards him, studying what you will do next.
“That I’m devoted to my husband and idolize a movie star?” you offer sweetly, batting your eyelashes dollishly.
“Wouldn’t that just be nice?” His thumb runs along your bottom lip, deliberately. The car pulls away from the curb, the streetlights sliding across his profile. You watch him from the corner of your eye, taking in the set of his jaw, the way his hands look on the wheel. He doesn’t say much on the drive back, but every so often, his gaze flicks over to you, as if making sure you are still on your best behaviour.
When you get home, the house is quiet, the air cool. Elvis shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over a chair. Then his eyes find you again, lingering on the way your satin dress clings, the way your hair still holds the perfect curls.
He steps toward you, measuring, until his shadow swallows your figure. “You look perfect,” he says finally, voice low enough that it makes your skin prickle. “But don’t forget,” his hand slides around your waist, pulling you close, “…I’m the only one you’re tryin’ to please.”
You tilt your head, lips parting just slightly. “Always, Daddy.”
His mouth brushes your ear when he answers, approving. “Good girl.”
Two days later, the papers went off the lane.
Every headline has your name in bold type, strung next to his and Marilyn’s face printed just above yours. ELVIS’ WIFE CALLS HIM ‘DADDY,’ CLAIMS MARILYN IS HER MUSE. Some of them called it “provocative,” others “troubling.” You’ve read every word.
Now, you’re shopping with one of Elvis’s men looking after you. The sort of big, quiet type who doesn’t talk much, just makes sure you don’t get swallowed by crowds. Elvis insist on them.
The store is airy with a chill creeping on you. The racks of dresses in creams and silks and blush pinks hang all around the place, peaking your interested. You let your fingers drift over them, selecting a few that echo Marilyn’s most famous looks, the halter necklines, the cinched waists, the hourglass shapes that were practically a signature. Might as well own up to the claim.
“You about ready, ma’am?” the man asks, seriously.
You nod, tucking the last box into a bag and stepping toward the glass doors. Outside, you can already see the gathering, a cluster of photographers, ready to storm at you, hunt down as much as they can get.
The moment the doors open, they surge forward.
“Mrs. Presley, over here! Are you buying things to look more like Marilyn Monroe?”
“Do you think you’ll be the next Marilyn?”
“Is Elvis alright with you dressing like her?”
The flashes blind your path, you keep your chin high, the perfect neutral smile painted on. But they keep coming.
“Do you think your marriage will end like hers?”
“Will you take your own life the way she did?”
That one lands like a slap. Your steps falter, breath catching in your throat. You blink against the sting in your eyes, willing it away.
The man with you steps in, pushing a path toward the waiting car. “Enough,” he growls, but the questions still echo over the crowd.
“Do you see yourself as a tragic figure?”
“Are you worried Elvis will leave you?”
You don’t answer. Your hands are trembling now, the bags rustling against your legs. You can feel the eyes on you, the lenses catching every flicker of your face, undoubtedly not missing your misery. More so fighting to catch it.
By the time you reach the car, your throat is tight and your smile has vanished. The door shuts behind you, the sound mercifully muting the chaos outside. You don’t even try to hide it then. The first tear slips down your cheek, followed by another, faster. You press your palm to your mouth to keep the sound in, shoulders shaking.
The man slides into the driver’s seat, glancing back at you through the rearview. “You want me to call the boss?”
You shake your head quickly, wiping at your face. “No.”
You lean back against the seat, closing your eyes. But you can still hear them. The way they said her name. The way they said it was a prophecy that will follow you.
It’s past eight when you hear the front door shut, footsteps heavy down the hall. You’re curled on your side in the bedroom, the curtains drawn tight, only the faintest strip of evening light slipping in under the edge. Your dress is in a heap on the floor. You’ve stripped down to your slip, swallowed by the weight of the blankets, your face pressed into a damp pillow.
You hear him before you see him. “Baby? Where you at?” His voice carries down the hallway, searching for you. Then the door opens, and he’s there, filling the doorway in his work clothes, hair mussed from the day.
The moment his eyes find you, he’s moving fast. “Aw, baby…” He crosses the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees beside the bed. His hands are on you right away, smoothing over your back, finding your face under the blankets. “What’s wrong, huh? What happened?”
You shake your head, unable to get the words out at first. He keeps murmuring to you, “Talk to me, baby. It’s alright. I’m here.” His palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing at the leaking tears.
“They—” Your voice catches, and you have to start again. “The press. They… they asked me if I thought I’d end up like Marilyn. If I’d… if I’d kill myself. They asked if our marriage would end like hers have.”
Elvis exhales hard, but he doesn’t let go of you. He pulls himself up onto the bed, sliding in behind you so you’re tucked against his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you there while he presses his mouth to your temple.
“Baby girl…” His voice is low and careful. “I’m sorry they said that to you. I’m sorry they made you cry.”
You swallow, still clinging to the blankets. “I didn’t mean to cause anything. I just wanted to… I wanted to praise you. And honour her.”
“I know, baby. I know you did.” He rocks you gently, the motion slow and soothing. “It ain’t your fault they’re like that. They’ll twist anything they can to sell a headline. That’s the world we live in now.”
His hand strokes over your hair, careful not to pull at the curls. “But you gotta watch what you give ‘em. Every little thing you say, they can spin it against you. Against us. And I can’t let ‘em do that, you hear me?”
You nod into his chest, your voice small, broken down by the sobs you indured. “I just… I didn’t think...”
“That’s why I’m here.” He tips your chin up so you look at him. His eyes are soft, but his voice carries that note of certainty you’ve always listened to. “People are gonna try to separate us, baby. They’re gonna ask about divorce, try to make up stories, pit us against each other. But we don’t give ‘em the ammo. Not ever.”
You bite your lip, feeling another wave of tears rise. “I don’t want to lose you.”
His arm tightens around you. “Ain’t gonna happen. Not now, not ever. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Long as we remember that, they can’t touch us.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there. “Now, you’re gonna let me take care of you. We’ll let ‘em talk, and we’ll just keep on livin’ the way we do. Alright?”
You nod again, finally letting yourself breathe in the steady, warm scent of him. Elvis doesn’t move for a long time, just holds you until the shaking in your body stills.
"Elvis! You cannot keep coming home like that!" — Elvis presley x reader
Summary: drabble of Elvis coming home with lipstick stains all over him, and his mama telling him off
Pairing: Elvis or Austin!elvis x reader
Word count: 450
Warnings: none, fluff!! Probably typos <3
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Elvis strode into his house, a bit of pep in his step after his date with you. He went to greet his mama in the living room, freezing when she looked at him with displeasure.
"Elvis! You cannot keep coming home like that!" she exclaimed, a stern look on her face.
Elvis, momentarily confused about what she meant, walked over to the mirror that was hung on the wall, and inspected his reflection. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he ran his fingers over the lipstick smears that painted his lips, face and even his neck, he couldn’t help but smile at the fresh memory of the feeling of how they all got there.
“Aw mama, we're just having a little fun,” he said, flashing her a grin.
His mama shook her head, a mixture of concern and exasperation on her face. “I don't like seeing you like this, Elvis,” she said. “You deserve better than to be treated like a plaything.”
Elvis took another look at himself. He could still feel the way your lips felt so soft and delicate against his, and the way you giggled pressed up against him as he peppered you with kisses. He knew his mama was just being protective, but he also knew she had the wrong idea, and you and him were really getting quite serious.
“Mama, it's just a little lipstick,” he reassured her, turning to meet her gaze. “I promise, I'm not being treated like a plaything. Y/N and I have something.”
His mama sighed, her expression softening as she listened to his earnest words. “I just want you to be happy, Elvis,” she confessed, worry evident in her eyes. “And I don't want to see you get hurt.”
Approaching his mama, Elvis enveloped her in a comforting hug. “I know, Mama,” he murmured, holding her close. “But I promise, I am happy. I really like this girl, and she feels the same way about me.”
His mama nodded, a small smile on her face. “Well, if you say so, Elvis,” she says. “That's all that matters to me.”
“Why don’t I bring her over sometime, mama? She’s a real sweetheart, I think you’d like her,” he offered, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.
“That’d be nice,” she replied warmly.
“Good,” he kissed her on the cheek and headed upstairs to his bedroom. As he entered his ensuite, he caught sight of himself once more. With a fond smile, he reached for a towel and dampened it with water, gently wiping away the traces of you. If only you knew how giddy you made him.
Prompt: You see Elvis perform for the first time in person and it is more than you've ever dreamed of. Then later, you have a much needed conversation with him.
TW: Unprotected sex, smut, pain kink
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 3474
A/N: It finally happened!! Super excited about this chapter!
Waking up in the morning, you half expect the light to be on, but it's dark, almost completely save for the barely rising sun peeking through the blinds. Elvis must've turned the light off at some point in the night. After you asked him to stay, he held you until you fell asleep, which didn't prove to take very long. You were emotionally drained.
Looking over at the digital alarm clock, it reads 7:43A.M. As your eyes adjust more to the room, you look around for Elvis, but he's gone. Suddenly your heart aches.
He didn't stay.
You're not sure what you were expecting, but you thought he might've stayed with you throughout the night. Maybe it's for the best that he hadn't. You shouldn't get attached to him. You sigh as you pull the covers away from your body. Flipping on the light, you're about to head into the bathroom to shower when you see something on your bedside table. Approaching slowly, you see a note.
Hi baby,
I'm sorry I left you. I had to be up early to practice a song in the jungle room. I had breakfast made for you and if you'd like it, you can come down and watch for a little while. I'd like it if you did.
P.S. I thought Sonny was a little shit for getting that bookmark. I guess I wanted to give you something too.
~Elvis~
You don't realize the stupid smile plastered on your face as you look just to the right of the note and see a beautiful silver bracelet with a diamond in the middle. It looks so expensive.
"Oh God," you mumble a tear coming to your eye as you quickly swipe it away, slipping it onto your wrist.
It fits perfectly.
Your heart strains as you bring your hand to it. You almost can't believe it. Opening the drawer, you grab your romance book, opening the front page and placing the note there for safe keeping.
Heading to the bathroom, you decide you might put a little more effort into your appearance today.
---
You've just finished breakfast and sit at the table, suddenly frozen. Your hand comes to your new bracelet, a sigh leaving your lips. You've never seen Elvis sing in real life, just videos online. Taking one last drink of your coffee, you stand up from your seat, smoothing out your dress.
Maybe you dressed up a little too much. Looking down at your dress, it's the second nicest one you could find. You're wearing a floral jumper dress that looks like it was taken straight out of a magazine. Since Elvis is the one that bought it, you imagine it might've been.
Walking over to the stairs, your hand grabs the railing to steady yourself as you slowly descend the steps. After a few short steps down, the music starts swelling. Then Elvis' voice. Taking a calming breath as you approach the door, you turn the knob, slowly opening it.
For about the dozenth time since you've been in 1961, you can't believe your eyes. As you slowly walk down the last few steps, you watch as Elvis is lost in a song, There's Always Me. Sonny, Jerry, and a few other of Elvis' friends are off to the side of him, watching him. You see an open space on one of the couches and decide to take it. Sitting gently as to not interrupt, you are entranced. He sweats slightly as he wipes his face, his body swaying with the slow song.
"Hey, honey. You look real nice this morning," Sonny whispers suddenly.
You hadn't noticed that he moved from his previous position on a seperate couch. You almost don't respond, you don't want to take your eyes away from the man singing in front of you. It is beyond anything you've ever seen before. When you register what Sonny has just said to you, a blush comes to your face.
"Thank you Sonny," you whisper back.
He studies just how entranced you are.
"Ah, yeah, he's pretty great isn't he? He just get's lost up there, in the music."
You nod your head, your eyes traveling back to him. You suddenly feel very lucky.
"Yes, he is."
Elvis' eyes connect with yours at that very moment. He smiles. You have to force yourself not to hide your face as you look away, your heart jumping in your chest.
---
Opening the romance book, Loyal and all, you sit on one of the arm chairs in the living room. You figure it's time to start reading this to not arouse suspicion as to why you are never seen reading, having only read the time travel book in the confines of your bedroom.
Flipping to the first page, you read the first few sentences. A doctor and his nurse are arguing. The nurse’s mother had decided she is to travel with them on their journey to Budapest. The doctor is trying to convince her to make her mother leave.
"But you can stop her, surely? Or your father can stop her.""No." Marika shook her head and smiled suddenly, showing wonderful teeth. "She is like me. It is not so easy to tell her what she may do or not do."
You decide you like Marika as you settle further into the chair, the book enticing you.
You read on for a little further until your attention keeps getting pulled out. It's the couch. Your eyes keep drifting over to it. Sighing, you move to dog ear the book, then remember the bookmark Sonny gave you that currently sits on on of the tables upstairs. You'll have to remember to grab it next time.
Dog-earring the book, you close it and place it in your lap, gazing at the long sofa. How can something as simple as a couch transport you back in time over sixty years. It just doesn't make sense. You try to conjure up memories from that day, but nothing that you don't already know comes up. You started to feel nauseous, you got a piercing headache, you sat down for one moment on the sofa and you were suddenly back in 1961.
You wish you are back in your room right now, reading your time travel book to try and see if anything can help you. You wish you had your phone. Elvis had kept your items hidden away after you'd left his room, and you don't imagine your phone would work in this time regardless.
Elvis will probably want a conversation with you at some point soon. How much could you tell him? What would he ask you?
You also wonder if he'll bring up last night. You wouldn't know what to say. You are still so jumbled in your mind about it. You can't have a connection with him, you aren't even supposed to be here. You are so engrossed in your own thoughts, you don't hear someone approaching.
"Hey (y/n) I'm about to head out and pick up a few things. Is there anything you need?"
You jump as you whip your head in the direction of the voice, your heart leaping in surprise.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare ya'" Sonny laughs, his eyes searching yours inquisitively.
"Oh, it's alright," you laugh in relief. "Um, not that I can think of. Thank you, Sonny."
He nods, looking at the book resting in your lap, absent of the bookmark. Your face burns, you're not entirely sure why. You don't have feelings for Sonny, but you're starting to suspect that he may have feelings for you.
---
You smooth out your dress and you try to contain your nerves. After dinner, Elvis asked you if you would meet him back in the jungle room, just the two of you, at 7:30. You knew this conversation was coming, but you're not entirely sure if you're ready for it. You don't know if you ever would be.
You release a breath, your hands becoming clammy as you turn the same knob you had this morning. Closing it behind you, you cautiously descend the steps.
"Ah, there you are. Come on, honey, I've been waitin' for ya," you hear the familiar voice before you see it.
Walking down a few more steps, Elvis’ face finally comes into view. He is already looking your direction, a soft smile on his face. His gaze momentarily travels down your body, taking in your dress, before playing it off by looking down at a box he placed on the coffee table. The same box that contains all of your items. Your stomach drops slightly.
Approaching further, you see a bottle of whiskey with two glasses. You raise your eyebrow as you approach him. He chuckles as he follows your gaze.
"Well, I know I won't be able to be sober for some of the stuff we talk about. Do they still drink in your time?"
You snort as a thrill runs through you. You're about to get the opportunity to finally talk about this with someone. Then you look towards the shut door, and back at him.
"Are you sure no one will be able to hear us?"
He shakes his head, motioning for you to sit down before responding. You take a seat across from him before he sits down at the opposite chair. So formal, not like last night.
"No, there's not much sound that gets upstairs from here. The boys are going out tonight anyway. And, just to make sure no one comes down here," he starts before getting out of his seat, disappearing momentarily up the steps before you hear a lock click, him walking back down a moment later.
"Now we can be sure we won't be disturbed."
A lump forms in your throat suddenly. You barely know him and you'll be talking to him about things that sound completely ridiculous. How will he react?
Picking up the liquor, he pops the top off before pouring himself a glass. Then he looks at you, his eyebrow raising in question. Why the hell not? It won't be any easier for you.
"Sure."
---
The first thing he asks you is how you got here in the first place. You explain how you were having a tour of his house and you suddenly felt very sick and sat on his couch. Then you were just...here. In 1961.
"I give tours of my house?" he inquires, confusion on his face.
You hesitate. Should you tell him he died? Looking at his face, his young twenty-six year old face, you think no. You can't tell him that. Besides, telling him only what is completely necessary would probably be your safest course of action.
"Your fans really wanted to tour your house, it just started happening one day."
At this he lets out a surprised chuckle.
"I still have fans in your time?"
You look at him, genuine surprise on his face. Your heart swells, you just want to reach out and touch his cheek, remind yourself he's actually here with you.
"You have no idea how much you still affect people."
Maybe you wouldn't have said it if you hadn't had a shot and a half of whiskey, but your glad you did.
His eyes connect with yours as a blush appears on his face. He picks up his glass, swirling the liquid around.
"You're really a fan, huh?"
You blush.
"Yes. Not crazy or anything, but I love your voice."
"Can I ask you somethin' else?"
You are terrified he's going to ask if he's dead, but you answer anyway.
"Yes."
"Do I have a good career?" His eyes are pleading with you to tell him something positive, so you do.
"Yes, you do."
---
Elvis can't stop laughing. You start giggling too. The two of you have had way too much alcohol, but you don't care. It's the first time you're having fun since you've been here.
"You gotta be shittin' me," he laughs out, his hands coming to wipe tears from his eyes.
"I'm not! It's my phone," you laugh.
"That ain't no phone! That's a- it's a tv or somethin'."
You tried to turn on your phone, but it's completely drained of battery, so you just described to Elvis what exactly it does.
"This is a phone, baby," Elvis slurs slightly, moving to get off the chair, walking to a side table a few feet away from him where there is a rotary phone resting.
He picks it up and pretends to have a conversation before slamming it down.
"That's a damn phone," he laughs, letting himself fall on the couch, closer to your chair.
"Some people get those phones for decoration. They call it vintage," you hiccup out, your cheeks pink.
"Vintage! Hell, I can't take this," he howls.
As you laugh with him as you try to calm yourself. Getting up as well, you walk over to the phone, picking it up and turning it over in your hands before putting it up to your ear, hearing the dial tone.
This is crazy.
Turning back around, you let yourself fall on the couch next to Elvis. His gaze travels to you as his eyes get hazy. He looks at your lips. Your heart leaps in your chest. You look at his.
"What year did you say you were from?"
"2024."
"You're shittin' me," he gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly.
You shake your head.
"I'm not. I was so freaked out. And then I saw you and freaked out, then you kissed me and I-" you stop, your face burning.
He turns his body, scooting closer to you. You can feel his body heat as he leans forward.
"Did you like it...when I kissed you?" he mumbles, his breath washing over you.
A small voice inside your head tells you that you shouldn't be doing this. Right now though, you can't find it within you to care.
"Yes," you whisper, leaning in towards him.
Suddenly, his palm is cupping your cheek as he leans in further, his lips connecting with yours. This time, you respond as you deep the kiss, your legs coming to crawl ever so closer, straddling him. He hums in response as he moves his hands to your waists.
"Are there any boys like me in the future?"
You giggle into his mouth.
"No," you breathe.
"I'll have to make sure you get your time's worth then, shouldn't I?" he mumbles, his hands traveling down to your thighs, grasping them gently as he lays you back against the couch.
You hum in agreement, your hands coming to muss his hair, eliciting a groan from his lips, his mouth connecting back to yours as he hovers on top of you, his hips dipping down to yours.
You moan as you feel his erection, pressing up into it as your hands travel to his shirt, slipping underneath. He is quick to help you as attempts to undo the buttons, fumbling.
"Damn it, I don't have the time," he murmurs before just ripping it, buttons flying.
You gasp in surprise before a laugh escapes you as he shimmies out of it, throwing it on the floor. He looks to you his eyes gleaming as a toothy smile plays on his face. Leaning forward, he brings his lips back to yours, slipping his tongue inside. Sighing, you trail your nails along his back and your tongue dances with his.
"You're a good kisser," he whispers as he allows his hands to travel your body, finding your breasts.
You blush as you lean up into his hands. He groans, looking down at your chest. Suddenly, he removes his hands as he moves them to grab your own, gently pulling you to sit. You follow his lead as you sit up. His hands travel to your thighs, slipping underneath the fabric.
"Do you want me to take this off?" He whispers, his eyes connecting with yours.
"Yes, I do."
And so he does. His hands delicately hike the dress up around your waist before pulling it up your torso, freeing your body from the fabric. Now he looks at you in only your bra and underwear, a sigh falling from his lips.
"Can't believe I haven't been able to touch you before now. You look gorgeous. I've been thinkin' about you a lot,"
"You have?" you ask pulling him back down on top of you.
He smoothes out your hair as he looks in your eyes.
"Yeah, I have."
With a soft blush on his face, he leans forward kissing your neck. His hands travel back to your chest, covered now in just your bra.
"God," you mumble, your hands moving to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.
You tentatively raise your hips to meet his, feeling his erection more prominent than before. He responds to your actions, groaning as he gently grinds against you.
"God baby," he pants, before reaching behind you, undoing your bra after a few failed attempts, pulling it from your body.
He is quick to attach his lips to your left nipple, sucking gently as he kneads the other. You grip onto his hair as a whine escapes you, grinding against him with more urgency.
His shifts his weight suddenly, releasing your chest as he reaches for his pants, popping the button and undoing the zipper. When he pulls them down he takes his boxers with them, sighing at the relief of restraints from his member.
You are quick to take your underwear off as well as you discard them on the floor. You watch as he strokes his dick slowly a few times.
"Lord," he grunts looking at your now fully exposed body.
He eyelids are drooped as his eyes connect back to yours.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.
You grasp his hair again to keep him close. You never want this feeling to end. You bite his bottom lip as your brows furrow in pleasure when his finger finds its way to your clit. He groans in response.
"Do you like it when I do that, honey?" he breathes, his finger increasing it's pace slightly.
Your grip tightens on his hair, tugging.
"Yes, God, yes."
He hums before bringing his dick to line up at your opening.
"Can I baby, please?" he whines.
God, you can't take it.
"Elvis, yes, please," you moan.
A moment later, he enters you. You gasp, your hands tumbling to his shoulders.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
Slowly, he pulls his hips back before sinking back in slowly. You both moan. His lips come to your chest again, taking your right nipple now as he takes your hands from his shoulders, intertwining his fingers with yours.
You squeeze his hands as he slowly picks up his pace, crying out softly.
"Good God," he groans, licking all over your chest.
You think you feel a few sucks, leaning up into him. You are about to complain when he lets go of your hands before he grabs your thigh, hiking it above his waist while his other one goes back to your center, finding the spot you need him most.
Your head dips back against the throw pillow as you groan again, you nails coming to scratch his back.
"God, woman," he grunts when you connect your lips to his neck, biting gently.
"Keep pullin' at me, I like it when it hurts a little," he breathes, giving you the incentive to move your hands to his hair again, tugging.
He lets out a guttural groan as he speeds up his movements only slightly, both on your clit and the thrust of his hips. He pulls away just enough to watch himself pulling out of you before sinking bank in. You look with him.
"Shit, honey I'm gettin' close," he moans pathetically, keeping his gentle pace.
You start to feel that familiar feeling as well. You move your grip to his shoulders.
"Me too."
At hearing this, his finger picks up its pace, once languid circles turning tight and determined. He leans back down, his lips coming down to yours. When he bites your bottom lip, tugging slightly, the building feeling comes to a peak as you cry out, grabbing onto him and pulling him close.
He pulls out just in time to come undone on your stomach, his groan traveling through the room.
You gasp as you come back down to earth.
"Wow," you sigh, making him chuckle as he grabs his shirt off the ground, wiping his mess off of you.
Switching positions, he pulls you on top of him as you rest your head on his chest, hearing the rapid beat of his heart. He brings his hand to thread through your hair.
Every Minute, Every Hour (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Summary: You were out. You were out goddamnit. How was he here?
A/N: Soooo.... It’s been awhile. Writer’s block is an absolute son of a bitch. So this is based on an idea I had and requested to @venus-haze a couple months ago and which I almost completely forgot about until I got this request and I decided two birds and all that. I also acknowledge that there was another similar request made a while back, to the person who requested it don’t worry, I do have plans for it.
Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and delusional behavior. Dubious Consent in regards to coersion being involved. Loss of virginity. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), female mastubation, slight dumbification, and implied anal play. Brief depictions of choking. Touch-starvation. Mentions of Pregnancy. Referenced cheating on Elvis' part. Self-loathing. Stockholm Syndrome(?) Probably more that I am blanking on. Period-typical homophobia and closeted characters depicted. Please do not interact if you are under 18.
Word Count: 19.8K
Masterlist
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You look like an angel (look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
You’re the devi-
It takes you longer than you would have liked to reach the radio and turn it off. And it’s only as you reach it do you realize how odd it looks from the outside when you see a customer looking at you funny.
“Not much of a fan,” you say with an admittedly pathetic smile on your face.
“I can see that,” he replies with an awkward smile, before going back to browsing the books.
You bashfully turn the radio back on and quickly try to turn the knob to anything even remotely comprehensible, but it’s just your luck that this is the only station you get decent reception on in the store. With no other choice but to simply grin and bear it you put the volume on low and return to reading your book.
You do keep an eye on your final customer of the evening, and hope he hurries up so you can finally close up for the day. Susan had been complaining about a migraine since lunch and Gina was caring for her upstairs and so it was on you to close up the shop on your own today.
You feel embarrassed to have been seen that way but that all falls away when you hear the shop bell ring, only to be immediately followed by tiny rapid footsteps and an excited little “mama!” and you grab onto the counter before your little two and a half foot terror can knock out from behind you. Which ends up being the right call as you feel her head butt your knees and locking her arms around them nearly knocking you down.
“Mama! Mama!” she squealed, practically vibrating, she was so excited to see you.
“Rosie! Rosie!” you say, equally as happy to see her though you do a far better job at reining it in. She takes your hands in hers as you crouch down to look at her, and take stock. Her hair is askew with the ribbons you had tied in place this morning holding on for dear life in her beautiful curls, her face is smudgy with what you’re hoping is chocolate, and one of her socks is just gone, but both shoes are in place so you can only imagine how your little hellion managed that. Overall this is the best condition Rosie has returned to you in, after a long day with Jenny.
“Mama, Aunty Jenny took me to the Candy store!” she says, showing off the candy bracelets on her tiny wrists.
“Really,” you say, shooting a look at your friend for giving her so much sugar before bed. The woman in question has the courtesy to at least look a little guilty about it, before giving a small laugh.
“Mm-hmm. And we saw Danny at the playground and we-we saw Uncle Lee’s friends, and then we listened to a lotta music, and we saw a movie about a wizard and there was no one else in the whole room, and then-then…” she rapidly rambles on but you pepper her face in kisses before she can pass out from the lack of oxygen. She giggles uncontrollably and tries to squirm out of your grip, but you gotta get in one good raspberry on her cheek before you let her go.
“Alright, why don’t you go upstairs and help Aunty Gina finish up dinner,” you tell her with a smile on your face. Her “help” in the kitchen is typically watching and holding spoons and spatulas on a step stool, but she’s at an age where she believes the whole dish would fall apart without her important contribution to it, so she goes rushing to the stairs.
But she quickly comes running back while taking the uneaten bracelet off of her wrist. “Danny said to give this to you for your birthday,” she declares. Ever since meeting Jenny’s nephew she’s seemed to hang on to every word of his, and though you’ve never met the boy he seems to be a good kid, always polite and saying hello through your daughter, but has, as you've heard, an extreme affinity towards spinning a few too many fantastical stories. But your daughter is far too young to see him as anything but a friend so you doubt you have anything to worry about as of right now.
She’s always so eager to tell you about everything, and you’re just as eager to listen. Your folks never wanted to hear anything from you, and you pray that your attentiveness will pay off one day when she is never afraid to come to you with your troubles. Maybe if you had that with your mother you wouldn’t be where you were.
“Well tell him I said thank you,” you say, as you pull it on your wrist, placing a small kiss on her forehead before she books it back to the stairs behind the counter. As you stand back up, to your surprise you find the customer now at the counter with a good stack of books.
“Sorry to bother Miss…ummm…” the customer says nervously.
“Love,” you clarify for him. “Y/N Love.”
He gives a shy smile at that, “Well Miss Love, I’m ‘bout ready to check out so…” he says gesturing to his tower of books.
“Of course,” you answer and you begin to ring him up. He’s got quite a few so at least he makes the extra time staying down here somewhat worth it.
“Whatcha readin’ there,” he asks you, pointing to the open book you’ve left to your side. You show him your copy of We have always lived in the castle. “I-is it any good?”
“I would say so,” you answer. Though that ending did hit a little too close to home, you think to yourself.
“So umm, d-do you like to read?” he asks hesitantly as he quietly adds a copy of the book to his pile.
“I’d be in the wrong business if I didn’t,” you joke, and he laughs a little too hard. “How ‘bout you?” you ask, wanting to not have an awkward silence, as you’re not even halfway through the stack.
“Yeah, I-I love reading though I don’t got a lotta time for it these days,” he says with a guilty smile on his face.
“Why’s that?” you ask, since it seems to be the only way this conversation could go.
“I-I just started my residency at Charity Hospital,” he says bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Sam by the way,” apparently realizing that he hadn’t made the proper introductions.
“Y/N,” you say, giving him a small nod and a smile. “And congratulations on your residency,” you're almost done with the final few books, but you may or may not be taking your time to finish them up, wanting to prolong the conversation you’re having for a bit.
“Thank you, and I- well, umm… I couldn’t help but overhear your daughter, but umm… Happy Birthday,” he says ducking his head, a bit embarrassed at his own admission.
“Oh, thank you,” you say, your face heating up slightly that he had heard.
“Your Husband’s a lucky man,” he says, though he does steal a quick glance at you, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction.
So this is what it’s about, you think to yourself. “I’m actually not…” you trail off, and hope that he gets the message.
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that,” he stated before his eyes widened as he realized what he just said. “I-I mean not glad like I’m happy that you-you’re not married, bu-but glad li-like I’m relieved that I hav-haven’t been trying to build up the courage to talk to a cute girl for the past few weeks only to find out she’s married already.” he blathers on and you can’t help but laugh.
Your heart does flutter a bit at his confession. Everything about this feels like it should be perfect. Unfortunately for the both of you, you finally get a good look at his icy blue eyes that are a little too familiar for comfort, and it feels like your throat closes up.
You can feel your stomach churning (and not just from the baby that fills it) and cold regret for not buying an extra pair of socks as you sit at the Greyhound terminal in Nashville, your feet starting practically turning into ice blocks. That cold November morning you had made a show of telling everybody you were gonna make a quick trip down to the shops for some eggs, now you’re almost a full state away praying that the bus gets here soon, jumping every time a set of headlights passes by and you're just barely keeping dry underneath the metal canopy.
But for as cold as you are physically, your chest starts to heat up at the prospect that you’re so close to freedom from an even colder gaze. When the bus does get there you hardly sleep a wink afraid to let your guard down even now. You know how well he could sabotage your plans if he was so inclined, from small things like spoiling the surprise party you had planned for him to the major of ruining your chances to get into another school.
You know he’s half a world away yet that still does little knowing what the most loyal of his are willing to do for him. It’s not until you finally make it to the train station in Atlanta that’ll take you down to New Orleans that you finally give in to your heavy eyelids, willing to trust strangers with your safety, aware they can’t hurt you any worse than those you know have done.
You shake your head as you’re brought back to the present, and you hear him say something, “I’m sorry what?” you covertly wiggle your toes as you try to ground yourself and get sensation back in them as though you were just getting them out of the cold.
“I was just sayin’ there’s this club down on Bourbon that I been meanin’ to check out since movin’ down here, and I was hopin’ a local such as yourself could show me ‘round these parts,” he says, a nervous but hopeful smile on his lips.
For a moment you can almost imagine saying yes to him, how he would take you out on the town, how he would kiss you, how he would throw your daughter up in the air. How maybe you could be happy with him.
But like a looming black cloud, in spite of the lowered volume, you hear what the new station is now playing, clear as a bell.
Oh please come to my arms and say you'll love me forever
For with the dawn, you'll be gone
It’s almost as though He’s following you, serving as a constant reminder of what you did, and that you’re never allowed to imagine being with another man. You wordlessly turn off the radio before you’re forced to listen anymore. “Uhh, I-I’m sorry, I-I really don’t go out much,” you say, trying to shut this down as gently as you could.
“Oh-uhh, that’s fine I umm,” he says, pivoting hard. “I’m more of a movie guy myself, I hear he’s got a new one out, and we can go and watch anything but that,” he gives a small laugh pointing to the radio, but quickly drops it upon seeing your grim expression.
Without knowing it Sam just shut the coffin on any potential happenings between the two of you. “I’m sorry, it’s late and I gotta close up for the night,” you say softly, and he’s smart enough to take the hint.
“O-of course,” he says looking down at the books he has in his hands. “But can you promise you’ll think about it?” he asks as he reaches the door to look back at you.
Even before you open your mouth, you already know that your next words are going to make you lose a customer forever. “There’s nothing to think about,” you say, trying to feign apathy. Harsh as your words may be, you know this is far kinder to him in the long run as opposed to getting more involved with you.
You watch him leave the store with a sagging shoulders and a long face, before you feel a hand meet violently with the back of your head, and you swivel around to see Jenny with an exasperated look on her face. “So a handsome, single, doctor who loves to read, and doesn’t mind that you already got a kid, asks you out and you say…” she trails off, seeming to only get more offended with every dreamy quality he had.
“Don’tchu get like that Jenny,” you defend yourself, as you stomp to the door in order to flip the sign to closed and lock up for the night. “I’ve got a daughter to worry about and I don’t have time for a boyfriend right now.”
“Well newsflash Y/N,” she argues, “Rosie needs a daddy.”
You feel your hackles rising at that statement. “No she doesn’t,” you state firmly, not wanting to raise your voice, because you know better than anyone how easy it is to be overheard.
She deflates a little at your obvious fury at this line of questioning, before letting out a long tired sigh. “It’s just that… when we were at the park today… she asked me why she didn’t have one. And she… she just kept pressing,” she says obviously ashamed that she hurt you, but wanting to get across her reasoning. “What am I supposed to say to that? Especially when you won’t tell nobody what happened. I only got her to drop it when I took her to the candy shop.”
You feel guilty for snapping at your friend. Jenny Hodge had been an absolute godsend since you met her almost a year ago, when she and her new husband, Lee, had moved down from Alabama. Her arrival had coincided when Rosie started becoming aggressively mobile and insisted that running was the only way to get around anymore. And because she felt she needed practice with being a Mama before she had one of her own, she insisted on being your one and only babysitter, in exchange for free books every so often.
The story around the block is that you are were the young widow who “tragically” lost her husband in an accident before he ever had the chance to meet your beautiful daughter, and with no one in the world left to turn to, you ended up on your “spinster” aunt and her “good friend” Susan’s doorstep. And Jenny, since hearing your story, has by far been your most fervent supporter outside of this house, with her support primarily coming in two flavors: 1) helping you with your daughter so she isn’t so cooped up in the store while you work and 2) trying to set you up with any moderately successful man.
“Y/N,” she says softly. “I get that it’s hard to get back out there, but you need to think about the bigger picture, because it’s only a matter of time before she starts asking you.”
You know she’s right, and that’s the worst part about it. Your little Rosie Love is a stubborn one, not to mention smart, always has been. Didn’t want to walk because she wanted to run. Hated her diaper so much she learned how to unpin it when she was barely a year old. Wanted to try to feed herself when she first took to solid food, and would snatch the spoon out of your hand when she could. She’s broken out of every play pen she’s ever been in. Hell, she was almost two weeks overdue, and the doctors were forced to induce you, she didn’t want to come out until she was good and ready.
She, like someone else you knew, is capable of throwing a wrench into any plan you make. For as endearing as it can be, it is all the more frustrating knowing exactly where she gets it from.
With a long defeated sigh, you concede to her point and thank her for both her input and for being a good friend this past year. And maybe someday you’ll be ready to find another husband.
She has a wide cheshire-cat like grin as you say that, “And I’mma ‘bout to be a better one,” she practically sings. “Lee’s friend is in town, and I think you two would hit it off.”
“And I think we wouldn’t,” you state, putting books back where they belong.
“C’mon Y/N, I thought we were past this,” she whines.
“I did say someday, not today,” you emphasize.
“Y/N, your birthday’s comin’ up soon, and it ain’t like you’re gettin’ any younger. Besides Lee and I are already trying for a baby, so I ain’t gonna be so available much longer neither,” she says in a soft voice holding your hands in hers. “And you need to find someone you can rely on too, it’s not like you wanna end up like your Aunt Gina”
You say nothing not wanting to say anything incriminating about the relationship between your Aunts, as for all that you trust Jenny, you don’t trust her enough with somebody else’s secrets.
“Just promise me you'll think about it at least,” she pleads, hands clasped over your own.
What is it about people that, not trusting you when you answer the first time, and thinking given enough time you’ll come around?
Yet you're no better as you let out a long tired sigh, before ultimately agreeing, if only to get her off your back. Or so you tell yourself.
She tells you a bit about the man she has in mind for you, or more accurately she keeps insisting how perfect the two of you would be together. In her mind it’ll be love at first sight, how he’ll love and accept Rosie as his own immediately, how she guarantees that you’ll be married within a year and be trying to give Rosie a little brother or sister. You have to bodily shove her out the door by that point lest she get into any more specifics in her attempt to sway you.
Jenny’s a little older than you, but she is very much a romantic at heart, you suppose, though that’s the benefit of things going right in your life.
But your story went wrong.
“Why you in such a hurry to get out girl?” your accomplice would ask as he handed you the money (He had made it a point of order that you were never to handle any) the day before your escape.
“There’s someone else,” you say simply, because it’s true and if they were to ever betray your trust this would be worse on them than on you.
You got away with quite a bit back in the day like getting out of trouble for making out in a dark empty classroom by claiming to have been caught by surprise by your monthlies and now you couldn’t bear the thought of being seen like this. Or when you got hired by the library for the summer after you approached the front desk and claimed to be the new hire ready for her first day of training and nobody really bothered to check in with anybody else. Even that one time when you confidently strolled backstage at a music hall He had wanted to perform all to sneak them in through the back door and convinced just enough people that his band was meant to perform that night.
Your ability to make up stories on the fly and map things out in your head had led you to believe that you would make for a pretty good mystery writer. You had even tried to go to school to be one, though you told everyone it was to be a teacher, a far more respectable and womanly job.
Well not everyone.
He certainly knew.
Knew about your talent for planning and story-telling, and was practically always in awe to see it in action. But this recognition came at the expense that he was aware of your tricks and he always knew how to throw you off just enough to make any plans you made go belly up. Whether it was something relatively small like figuring out you were planning a surprise party to the major… like when you tried to end things the first time around.
He called you almost every night when he was on tour, and you had done your best to relay all that was going on back in Memphis. And in spite of his insistence that he wants to hear about it, you suspect that he wasn’t being truthful. He especially seemed disgruntled when you made any mention of doing anything with anyone else. Your friends, his friends, even your own family weren’t safe from his ire.
When He was here you would do everything together, yet now that you tell him about all that you’d been doing, there is a slight but noticeable edge when he speaks to you over the phone. Everytime you mention how you went to the movie theater or you went to the record store or the bookshop, it was almost always met with a solemn “we used to do that together.”
You would have gone with him, had your parents let you, and He knows that so you don’t understand why he’s so sore about the fact that you’re not simply sitting on your hands back home waiting for him to return.
So in an effort to spare his feelings you asked him about the things he was doing, you even go out of your way to say how happy you were when he was telling you about all of the fun things he had done on the road. You’re happy to hear it all and you thought
You miss him just as fiercely but you don’t want it to stop you from living.
But when you got your acceptance letter, you saw the writing on the wall. You both were going in different directions: you were going to be studying, were barely going to be home and his star just kept growing and growing each day taking him further out and making him harder to reach. You know you wanted this and you begin to suspect you may want it more than you want to stay with him, if staying with him meant being alone all the same.
This was only confirmed in the weeks leading up to Prom when you couldn’t get a straight answer out of him of whether or not He would be able to make it. It was on you to practically plan everything down to what he would wear, while his whole contribution was to show up- maybe?
Whether He did show up or not that night, you thought the result would be the same with you officially breaking things off between you two. But you still held out hope that at least if he did come you would have one last good memory.
And to your relief He does make it, but he’s a little off the whole night. Not in the sense that his mind is elsewhere, more like he’s trying to commit everything about the night into memory, and looking at you with sad eyes when he thinks you’re not looking.
It all comes to a head when you’re parked outside of your house, and you’re sitting in a loaded silence with him at the wheel. He’s gripping onto that thing for dear life and you’re wondering if maybe you should save it, but you think you know yourself well enough to know that if you don’t say it now, you won't say it ever.
So as he’s opening his mouth to say something, you cut him off with his name.
“...I-I got accepted to Southwestern,” you blurted out to him and He looked so confused at your admission, but you push through. “I start in the fall, so I’m not gonna be home much anymore, and with y-you being on the road so much, I think it best that we-”
“Marry me,” he blurts out, panic etched across his face.
Your jaw is left practically on the floor as that was the last thing you ever expected out of his mouth.
You would later find out that he went to Prom with the same intention as you did but it was in that moment that he realized you weren’t going to wait for him to come back did he want to lock you down. But you didn’t see that in the moment.
What you saw at the time was the declaration that he was just as committed as you were, and so overwhelmed by the love you still felt for him at the time, you had no choice but to give an emphatic yes to him.
“We’re gonna figure this out baby,” He promises with a kiss.
That was the first time you tried to leave him.
“-Danny’s a real good singer Aunty. He told me he lives in Neverland and one day he would take me and-and he told me this is the only place in the whole word that they sell peanut butter cups,” you would hear as you made your way up the stairs connecting to the apartment above the store. You look into the small kitchen where you see your little girl sitting on the counter talking her aunt’s ear off idly dangling her little feet while holding a spatula you're not entirely sure is necessary. Gina looks over to you and gives you a playfully exasperated look, and you simply shrug your shoulders before moving into the small kitchen to pepper your little one's face in kisses.
“Alright sticky missy,” you announce, blowing a raspberry on her cheek and swiping the utensil out of her hand as she trills in delight. “You go wash up for dinner now, ya’ hear, and go wake up Aunty, I think she’ll feel alot better seeing you.”
“Ok Mama,” she says. She is utterly fearless as she slides herself to get off of the counter, and lands on her feet below. You can’t help the swell of pride that bubbles up in your chest seeing it, how brave your little girl is. You hope that you can take it as a sign that you’re doing ok at this motherhood thing.
Gina likes to say that you were just as bold at that age with the confidence of someone so sure they can take on the world, and in quieter moments she’ll lament how you lost that in you. You would be offended if you didn’t already know when exactly you lost it.
She had always been your favorite Aunt until you were about twelve and and your father would coldly tell you she died and was in hell now. Rather than a funeral, the family got together to destroy her things and swear to never speak of her again.
That didn’t stop her from visiting you one last time and telling you she was moving down to New Orleans with her friend Susan. She would take you to your favorite bookstore one last time in Memphis and promised that if you ever needed a place to stay, to not even hesitate to come, because she knew better than anyone what your family would do to girls who stepped out of line.
For years the only evidence that she was even alive was the annual birthday and Christmas gift you would get from her all under the guise of Nancy Drew books stamped with the name of a bookstore all the way in New Orleans. You cherished them and it’s one of the few things you took after your parents kicked you out.
You only wished you had taken the offer when your father had kicked you out and you were forced to rely on someone else.
“So I hear you broke another heart,” Gina idly says as she starts scooping some rice onto a plate.
You let out a long sigh, “When did Jenny find the time to tell you?” You’re more amazed than annoyed considering she didn’t leave your sight once down stairs.
“Jenny?” she says, raising a brow. “No Sue told me earlier how Lou from King’s Cafe ‘s been askin’ after you.”
Lou who always had extra beignets to give away when you took Rosie for a walk in the mornings. He recently asked if you had ever been on the Algiers ferry, and how beautiful it looked at night.
…You’ve been taking a different route to the playground since then.
“Is my love life just everybody’s business,” you ask frustrated that you weren’t even given a five minute break from this.
“In this house: yes,” she states, a grin on her face.
“Gina if this is about me movin’ out, you can talk to me, I’m a big girl,” you insist, trying to deflect and not have to think about it anymore.
“Sweetheart,” she says solemnly, placing a hand on your cheek. I may not be your mama, but I do think that you need to think about what’s best for Rosie,” she insists as she puts place mats down on the table.
Gina’s a little closer to the situation than Jenny, as she had asked no questions as to why you all of a sudden needed a place to stay far from your parents with nary a husband or boyfriend in sight to take responsibility for the baby growing within you. She had also been the one to help spread the tragic young widow narrative, and for as much of a gossip she can be, you know she’s a steel trap for secrets that matter.
“What does me getting, or not getting, a boyfriend have to do with Rosie?”
“A boyfriend? Nothing,” she dismisses. “A husband on the other hand…”she says with a smile.
“Don’tchu come talkin’ to me ‘bout gettin’ a husband,” you say, handing her another plate of food.
She laughs at that, “It’s not just about you gettin’ a husband, it’s about Rosie gettin’ a father,” she insists amused at your mulishness.
“Not you too,” you mourn what you thought was going to be a quiet evening.
“I’m just sayin’ that every child deserves two parents,” putting the lid back on the pot.
“She’s got three mama’s,” you counter.
“No,” she says waving the wooden spoon in front of your face. “She’s got one mama and two grandmas that spoil her rotten behind your back.” You open your mouth to protest, until she quickly follows up with, “Oh speak of the devil herself,” as you see your little troublemaker dragging Susan by the hand to the table, whom you had to bully into taking a rest to somewhat alleviate the migraine she had been having for most of the day.
Your daughter can talk for hours if left unchecked and you're eager to hear all of it as she bounces from subject to subject at the dinner table. You had always felt somewhat guilty intruding on their space, but Gina insists nothing of the sort and Susan jokes that the two of them are getting the full kid/grandkid experience through you and Rosie, since the traditional way ain’t for them.
Between bites she regaled the three of you with all that she did today which included seeing a dog, the playground being shiny, spinning around so fast on the merry-go-round she almost went into space, made friends with some of the ducks, saw another dog, Danny gave her his popcorn, got a lot of candy from the candy shop, and gave some jelly beans to the last dog she saw today, but only the green ones she doesn’t like, and then feeling bad about it and giving it some of the red ones to even it out.
She doesn’t mention anything to you about asking Jenny about why she doesn't have a daddy, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the first break you’ve had all day. Some may say you indulge her too much, but all three grown women at this table know exactly how it feels to have their thoughts and feelings ignored, and you all had come to the mutual understanding that Rosie would never have to feel this way in this house.
“Mama, I forgot to tell you,” Rosie states after she shoveled the last of her food into her mouth. “Barbie got a new job today!” she delights as she thrusts the doll in your face.
“Really?” you say trying to match even a quarter of her excitement. “Is she mmm… a firefighter?”
“No!” she squeals, delighted in the game you play with her.
Making a big show of putting a finger to your temple and closing one eye, apparently deep in thought, you ask, “Is she a… detective?”
“No that was yesterday!” she’s practically buzzing to tell you, but holds it in to keep this game going.
“Oh!” you say, pretending to have a lightbulb moment. “She’s a wizard!” You know your daughter well enough, so you’re reasonably confident in your guess knowing that Jenny took her to see that Disney movie today.
“No,” she laughs, “She’s an actress, but she also sings in all her movies.”
“O-oh,” you say, genuinely caught off guard by that. “Why’s that?” It’s certainly not an unusual thing for a little girl to declare, but for your daughter it most definitely was. When she declared what Barbie was going to be it was always influenced by something she saw that day. Sometimes she was a baker, sometimes a ballerina, even one memorable time a bus driver, but this is a first. Even when she has seen movies with actors in it she didn’t quite understand the concept that those aren’t their real jobs on screen, and she would pick that, which is why you guessed wizard.
“Because Danny does that,” she declares, as she starts to make Barbie dance on the dinner table.
And then it made sense, your daughter’s friend, Danny, who according to Jenny, has a penchant for making up stories. To your daughter the boy’s been a cowboy, a soldier, he’s as strong as superman, can play any instrument, and now apparently is a famous actor.
You give an amused huff, “I see Danny’s at it again,” you state, as you take her plate. It’s a literal miracle that Jenny’s impromptu trip to the candy store didn’t spoil her appetite, and but you don’t know how much of an appetite she’ll have for dessert so you decide to just split a slice of King cake with her.
“At what mama?” she asks as Gina wipes some of her food off her face.
“He’s telling stories again,” you say as you bring Gina and Susan their dessert plates.
“No he’s not,” she states, furrowing her brow, and you can’t help but quirk a smile at how stressed she looks as you sit down. “I saw it myself.”
“I’m sure you did, but Honey, it's just… sometimes boys have a habit of telling… tall tales,” you suppose that’s the nice way of putting it. It’s a fine line you walk with her, wanting to have her believe in herself most of all, but also wanting her to not believe everything she’s told, especially by boys. You’re the textbook example of what happens to supposedly smart girls who get in too deep with charming boys.
“But it’s true mama,” she insists, raising her voice a bit.
“Sweetheart, I think he means, he wants to be that when he grows up,” you try to gently justify, as you subtly try to nudge the fork closer to her.
“No mama, I saw it,” she asserts, getting progressively more upset defending her friend. “He is a famous actor and he was singing and dancing at the theater.”
“And I’m sure he’s gonna be a big star one day when he’s all grown up,” you try to assuage how worked up she’s getting. “But I don’t think he’s one right now.”
“No mama!” she yells at the top of her lungs, angry tears streaming down her face. “You’re a liar!” You feel your stomach drop to the floor and she herself looks shocked at what she just said. She proceeds to cry even harder before turning tail and running straight into the room you share with her and slamming the door as hard as she could.
When you were far enough away, and somewhat comfortable in your new environment in Your Aunties home, the first thing you did was read nearly every book about motherhood you could find. You were determined to do this right as you had made the unilateral decision for your baby to only have one parent. So you decided as a means of making up for it you would be all the parent she would need.
Doubt creeps into the back of your throat that you made the wrong decision and that you in fact were not enough on your own and that she never would have done that if He were around.
“You want me to go talk to her?” Gina would ask after hearing your door slam shut.
As bad as you want to say yes from the exhausting day you’ve had so far, you’re not about to foist your duties as a mother off onto her right now. She understands but you don’t miss the pointed look she gives to Sue, as she walks away to clean up dinner, and you bury your hand in your face hoping if you wish hard enough this day will finally come to a close.
“I remember the first time I yelled at my mama,” Sue off-handedly says after a few minutes. “Always too scared that that wretched woman would beat me black and blue if I was ever less than perfect,” she takes a sip of her tea. “And she did just that when I got fed up with all her teasing about me getting a boyfriend.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
“What I’m gettin’ at is… I was never comfortable enough with my own mother to be angry with her.”
“Am I bad at this?”
“You’re still new at this Hon,” she reassures you. “There's a big difference.”
Despite the fact that Gina was the one related to you by blood, Sue’s the only one in the world who even has an inkling as to what exactly you left behind. And that is only because she was a front row spectator to it.
You had managed to get permission to leave the hotel room for a few hours while He was on set that day. He had brought you down from Memphis, not wanting you so far out of reach and yet you were still pretty much kept confined. You had long since exhausted the books you had brought for the trip, and you were practically itching to get out.
Books were your only escape from this place. Where you could vicariously solve a mystery or meet royalty or stop a war or any other number of exciting things in your head. But inevitably you close the book and the story ends and your back in this fucking hotel room.
You realize by getting more books you're just masking a symptom rather than actually treating the illness. You couldn’t take it anymore and had begged Him to at least let you go to a bookstore to keep you occupied, because by that point you were willing to pay the price for it.
Sue had been the only one in the store the day but you hadn’t really taken notice of her, your eyes had been darting around everywhere trying to find Gina. Sonny was in there as well, as you were only able to bargain your way to being in here and picking out the books, but not enough to be able to enter the store alone. Sonny had been the one to pull the short straw and had been put on Y/N duty today. Usually that consisted of sitting in the hotel and making sure you didn’t go anywhere while also completely ignoring you.
Everybody knows the story of the last guy that paid a little too much attention to you. You still couldn’t look at raw ground beef without crying.
Outside of the occasional gathering you don’t really interact with anybody out of the immediate vicinity of home. It’s funny how He can put you in a room filled to the brim with his people yet make you feel so alone at the same time. It would be amazing if it didn’t make you feel so awful at the same time.
It’s a terrible thing He does, but it’s made all the worse that so many people can see what he’s doing keeping you prisoner and isolated and yet no one will ever dare breach it
If anything they actually help him as they all report to him practically what you did that day, do their best to talk you out of leaving the room, and even when you do insist on going off on your own, the men are quick to remind you that He won’t like it one bit. They won’t physically stop you, (they know the worst thing they can do is put their hands on you) but you know that’s where their “help” begins and ends.
At one point you even tried to play ball and asked for His permission last time you were in LA and you had wanted to go to the Griffith Observatory. You had asked in advance, agreed to only being there for two hours, and even gave in to being essentially chaperoned from a distance. Initially He had agreed to the terms and You thought you had done good and maybe you were finally coming to somewhat of a middle ground with him.
But in the days leading up to the trip He would ask for favors in return. They all just happened to be things you had refused to do for him up until that point. When you refused He would at first seemingly accept your answer, and then He would idly remind you of your upcoming trip before asking you again. You weren’t stupid enough to miss the connection and so you did what you thought you had to do for just the slightest taste of freedom.
Who are you kidding?
You practically begged and did tricks for Him like a dog for just the slightest bit of slack on your leash.
You could barely move the morning of the trip both physically and emotionally drained from what he had you do the night before, but you still persevered if only to make all that you went through worth it.
It wasn’t worth it.
Everything you saw that day was completely soured by what you had to do to get there. Every step felt like agony, and you had to make a conscious effort to not walk funny. And before you knew it the two hours were up and Red was telling you it was time to leave.
You don’t know what’s worse, the punishments or the favors.
You had to go the favor route today as otherwise he would have simply sent for someone to get you whatever books they could find, rather than letting you pick. You already know you’re going to get it when he finds out you went to a different bookstore than initially planned. You thought you could at the very least make it worth it by seeing one familiar face, but even fate denied you that as Gina was nowhere to be seen.
It was cold enough to justify wearing something to cover up most of the bruises, but that didn’t mean they were all hidden. You wouldn’t know it at the time but your skittishness coupled with the bruises struck a chord with Susan before you fully checked out of the store.
“I’m sorry if this sounds like an odd question but ummm…” you say, glancing around, making sure that Sonny was too far to hear. “Does Gina work here?”
Sue immediately tenses up, and you curse your caginess, as you reassure her that you’re Gina’s niece, Y/N. She seems to relax hearing that so at least she knows that you try to maintain a good relationship, sporadic your letters may be.
“What happened there honey?” she asks, gesturing to your wrist that has a ring of bruises on it, which you quickly move to hide. You internally curse yourself for your sloppiness. He doesn’t mean to hurt you but he tends to lose himself and be a little rougher especially when he’s worried about something else.
He’s been a little rougher for a few months now.
“Oh-ummm,” you steal a glance at Sonny, who was making his way to the counter. “Yes I am ready to check out.” Gesturing to the three towers of books you’ve managed to accumulate.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sue nor does she miss Sonny's statement of remembering the rules as to what you’re allowed to get, if her disapproving look is anything to go by. He’s fine with you reading but doesn’t like you reading books that will put “ideas” in your head.
You don’t exactly know what that means as the standards seem to change depending on His mood and it’s always a gamble as to what he will or won’t allow you to have. You fear the day He grows the same hatred for fictional men that he has for any man within your vicinity.
You're genuinely sad when it comes time to pay, (Well Sonny pays, He doesn’t like the idea of you handling money), and then Susan does something you could never have anticipated in a million years as Sonny grabs one stack and goes to put it in the car.
You wished it had been anybody but Sonny that day. His last girlfriend, whom he swore he was gonna make Mrs. Sonny West, had made the mistake of trying to befriend you outside of gatherings. She stopped by the house frequently just to visit and even invited you out to the salon.
And it was your mistake to believe you could have a friend that he would finally approve of. Friend or family, He eventually found something to disapprove of for everybody close to you previously. You thought that because she was already nominally part of the group, it would be fine to go.
He made it clear by the time you got home that it wasn’t.
You never saw her again after that and Sonny’s resented you ever since. You can hardly blame him, it’s easier to point the finger at you for not anticipating the unspoken rules, as opposed to the man who signs his checks and makes the rules.
You know that even the slightest toe out of line will be reported back to Him in the worst light. So you had to be on your best behavior.
“Y’know I highly recommend this book,” Sue says, sliding the book she had been reading at the counter to you.
Wide Sargasso Sea, the cover reads.
“Oh thank you but I already paid,” you say, almost afraid of this conversation. “And besides I already have enough books.”
“Sweetheart you can never have too many,” she insists and without looking opens it up to the first page where you see a little handwritten note. She closes it up before you can see what it says and slyly slots it in the middle of a stack.
Later on when you feel sufficiently safe enough to look at it you nearly burst into tears.
In case you need help
feel free to call
(xxx-xxxx)
Such a small thing really, but it’s the most human connection you’ve had with anyone else but Him in a long time.
You spend the next hour or two committing that string of numbers to memory before you proceed to rip out that page, shred it, and flush the remnants down the toilet.
Even when you were burning the number into your brain, you never thought you would have ever had the guts to use it. Back when you thought you could accept what looked to be your fate.
It would be unfair to say it was all bad, after all there was a reason you did fall for Him in the first place. When you would read mysteries and He would listen to you criticize the culprits' plans and schemes and he would look in awe at how you would’ve gotten away with it. Or how fun it was to sneak out with him, your family none the wiser. Even when things got bad and it felt like He was the only one that would talk to you for days, you cherished it because it truly felt like he was your life line.
When things were good they were great, it was just when they were bad did you start to recognize them.
Things were bad a lot towards the end.
Gladys had been one of the few willing to go to bat for you, and perhaps the only one who He would listen to. She was the only one who could set him straight when he got huffy at the thought of you having some basic independence of being able to go outside and not needing to be watched like a child all the time.
She was the one you went to with your suspicions and early symptoms, when you were too afraid to go to the doctor that reported right back to Him.
She had also been the only one who knew your fears about having this baby. In your mind there were a total of two possibilities for the life the baby would live. One that they would live a life like yours, isolated within the walls of the house under their fathers obsessive gaze, never to experience the outside world. Or two He would hate the baby on principle and see it as just competition for your time and attention like he did with everybody else.
She did her best to try to quell your fears, trying to assert He would never do either of those things, especially, the last one.
But you saw it in her eyes how she knows how sour He would get when he would come home to find you playing with his younger cousins. How He gets when someone new so much as looks your way a beat too long, or has the gall to get your attention.
How you’re barely allowed to talk to other girls your own age and that’s only saved for special occasions when his friends bring their girlfriends and He’s otherwise occupied. And even then He has a penchant for just removing you from them just to have you sit with him, and you’re out in the awkward position of being the odd one out in his group.
How when you did gather up the nerve to bring up the topic of babies to him one night his answer was “I ain’t ready to share ya’ darlin’, I don’t think I’ll eva be.”
But your most hard-hitting evidence was what happened to your dog, Hardy. He had been an old stray you saw skulking around the property, and whom you took in when He was touring. Hardy didn’t have much of an interest in running around or playing fetch, just sitting by your side and eating treats.
Everything was good until He returned. You knew it was gonna be trouble the moment He walked through the door and saw you scratching the dog’s belly. Inspite of the fact that Hardy was usually tolerant of strangers, something about Him immediately put the usually placid dog on edge. You immediately got to work on trying to find some sort of compromise in regards to him, and offered everything from making Hardy a permanently outside dog to even being willing to have him be boarded with a family member while He was home.
You had asked Gladys where Hardy was the very next morning when you couldn’t find him anywhere, only to be told that He had taken him out for a walk. You didn’t have the heart to be told a lie when He returned alone.
He started taking you with him at that point, and you hardly knew a moment's peace after that.
Your attention is not your own to freely give away, let alone your affection, He expects it all to go to him. He did lord knows what to a dog that had had the misfortune of occupying some of your time when he was there, you hardly wanted to chance the life of a baby that would need all of it.
However in spite of all of that, you thought with her by your side you would be able to weather his reaction, whatever it may be. Even if your worst fear came to be and He didn’t really want anything to do with the baby, you could at least have someone to love the baby just as fiercely even when you were otherwise occupied by Him. It wasn’t necessarily fair, but you could somewhat see the function of it, and in spite of the weariness he’s instilled in you by that point, you were still reasonably confident in your ability to plan for the long term.
And then Gladys died.
And you were left to navigate the hardest thing you could face alone.
“Ain’t nobody ever talks about how hard this can be. Or how easy it is to mess up,” Sue continues as she polishes off her plate. “But maybe…” she prods. “If you had a partner to help ease the load, you wouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”
You groan at this point wanting to truly be done with this day already. “Not this again,” you bemoan.
“Honey,” she says with a firm but comforting grip on your shoulder. “I know a thing or two about leaving bad things behind, but I do think sometimes you need to let someone else in to help you recover,” she says. And almost like they rehearsed it, Gina comes in with a mug of tea, and a kiss to Susan’s forehead as she demands she go back to bed to rest up.
You want to argue back that you did a good enough job of recovering by yourself, but that’s hardly fair to say considering how you were about as helpless as Rosie herself that first year and a half you were here. You had thought that you would’ve been out of here maybe a couple months after giving birth, and been in a completely new place with no ties whatsoever. But the reality is that there’s no possible way you or Rosie would have survived without the help they were so willing to give.
And that’s all they’re trying to do now.
You take a minute to fully gather yourself, as you realize you being upset won’t help Rosie in the slightest. You also pick up the slice of cake, as you don’t want her to think she’s being punished for being upset with you.
You find her hiding underneath the blankets of the bed you share with her and you can only hear sniffling at this point. You try to approach this delicately, as this is new territory for the both of you, so you place the cake on the nightstand, crawl underneath the sheets with her, and allow for her to come to you. Luckily you don’t have to wait for long.
“Mama!” she cries as she buries her face in your bosom, her tears already soaking through the cotton material. “Mama, I didn’t mean it! Please don’t be mad! I’m sorry Mama! Please don’t leave.”
“Sweetheart it’s okay,” you reassure her, running your nails up and down her back, as it always did the trick of settling her down when she was a baby. “Mama’s not goin’ anywhere without you. I’m always gonna be with you.” You hardly put her down her first year of life, going against all the books and holding her at just about every possible moment, so you can hardly fathom where she got this idea in her head that you would leave if you got upset with her. But remembering what Jenny had told you earlier, you have the sneaking suspicion it is related to her noticing the lack of a father in her life.
“I’m sorry mama! I’m sorry…” she repeats over and over again, and for each time you make sure to reassure her that nothing she could ever do would make you leave.
Finally when she’s tired herself out and her eyes are red and raw do you finally speak. “Rosie, it’s okay to be mad, but it’s not okay to be mean, because you’re mad,” you say softly to her running your nails on her back, something that has always soothed her.
She rubs her eyes and wipes her runny nose before looking up at you again, and gives a groggy “I understand Mama.”
“Good,” you say, kissing her forehead. “Now can you help me finish this cake.”
You see her eyes widen before she eagerly grabs the fork and dives right in. With your help, it’s not long before it’s almost entirely gone and when she takes that final bite of the cake she goes wide-eyed sticking her fingers in her mouth to pick out the errant piece. “What’s this Mama?” she says holding the little porcelain baby up.
“Oh you found it Rosie,” you say excitedly, “This means you’re going to have good luck.”
“... Like a wish?”
“Sort of,” you answer.
She gives an excited shriek before she clasps the little figurine in her hands and whispers something almost inaudible to it, with the only recognizable words being “Danny” and “Neverland.” You’re slightly disappointed that your lesson hadn’t quite landed today, but you choose to leave it for now, as you don’t see the harm in wishing to go to a non-existent magical place.
Once teeth are brushed and pajamas are put on, Rosie settles into bed, but not before making sure you’re not about to break your long-held tradition of storytime. She’s the type of kid who when she likes one story she demands to hear it over and over again.
And lately she’s latched onto Rapunzel.
The whole concept does unsettle you greatly, for how close it is to your story. But whatever qualms you have with the story you’re not gonna deny your daughter, because your problems are your own cross to bear, not hers.
As you read it you get to the part where the witch mother casts her out of the tower and she wanders the forests with her children. You wonder if Rapunzel ever found joy in those years away from the mother who isolated her, away from the prince who could have taken advantage of her. She survived not only on her own, but kept others alive as well. WHat did she do? Did she forage and hunt for her babies, did she find a village where she could work to support her family?
Sometimes you wonder if she did truly live happily after the end of the story, or if she traded one cage for another as you did before.
Your daughter is long asleep by the time you reach the happily ever after part of the story. She’s still in the habit of sucking her thumb at night, so you gently remove it, and put one of her favorite stuffies in her arms. And that marks the end of your daily duties, so in theory you should be able to finally fall asleep and be done with this day.
In theory.
In actuality you creep out of the bed you share with your daughter into the single bathroom of the apartment. Usually her steady breathing tends to be enough to get you to fall asleep, it’s been that way ever since she was a baby, but you’re left feeling agitated having had to think of Him more than usual today.
Not just because of the song on the radio, but Rosie’s outburst reminded you far too much of her father. It feels like the worst injustice that she mimics someone who isn’t even here.
Now that ain’t my fault now is it darlin’? A familiar voice whispers in your mind. You feel a shudder run down your spine at the thought of him, not to mention the way you shamefully feel yourself pool within your underwear. You slide down the bathroom door, out of sight of the mirror, as though that will prevent you from facing what you’re about to do. You even close your eyes for good measure as your hand reaches your folds and your fingers caress the slick outer lips of your pussy.
You had tried to ignore this part of yourself for so long. You justified it during your pregnancy, as your body had been making you want to do other stupid things like sleep right in the middle of the store or eat paint chips. Even after giving birth and your inner feelings remaining unchanged, you justified it by thinking you were just particularly lonely, and for all that he kept you isolated, you were never alone when you were with him. Or that he was the only man you ever knew that way so he’s all you had to go off of in order to satisfy these urges.
For as much as your mind curses Him for ever coming into your life, even after all these years, your body has yet to catch up.
You’re far from unique in your desire for him, but it’s especially shameful for you as you know what he’s truly like. It’s like scratching a mosquito bite, you may know that it’ll just make the itching worse, but dear god did it feel good in the moment.
But even that is far from an accurate description as you plunge your on fingers into your sopping channel in a poor imitation of what you remember.
You bite your lip in an effort to keep noises at bay but it just makes you concentrate on the wet squelching sounds echoing through the bathroom as you plunge your fingers into yourself. The sharp sting of pain forcing your mind back to where you experience the most of it.
“You’re so sweet darlin’,” he purrs, his jaw glistening from your juices having just made a feast of you for the past hour or so. He had made it a game to see how close he could bring you without actually letting you cum, something he tends to do when someone looks your way for a little too long, as though he means to re-establish his claim over you. That only he can give you pleasure like this but take it away on a whim if he chooses.
“No more…” you beg, new tears forming and following the trail previously set, your lips undoubtedly bruised from how much you have been chewing on them throughout. “Please,” your thighs aching from the death grip he has them in, undoubtedly leaving bruises for you to feel in the morning.
“Alright,” he says seemingly conceding. But before you can breathe a sigh of relief, he continues, “we’ll switch it up for tonight.”
He flips you over to your front, spreads your legs wide open again, and dives right back in.
You can’t help the way you’re left trembling from the memory, but what does shake you somewhat is the when you realize that it’s not simply the ghost of the memory that is making you feel that bruising pressure on your inner thigh, but in fact your own hand keeping it there.
Still the masochist within you that yearns for the ghost of a man you once thought you knew takes a hold and refuses to let go now that you’re so close to release. So you give in and continue your frantic movements biting down hard on your lip to prevent any errant cries from leaving, and grip onto your thigh for dear life, even now trying to deny yourself that you want him here with you.
As you’re coming down from your high, you fight back your tears of shame. Trying to remind yourself why you left in the first place. How for all the moments he made you feel amazing, they weren’t worth the amount of grief he caused you on a near day-to-day basis.
Grief he’s still causing you more like it.
You don’t think you could have written a better love story in the beginning. You met him when your eyes locked on each other from across your favorite bookstore back in Memphis. He had oh so shyly approached you and asked what you were reading, a bit starry eyed as he listened. Back then and arguably still the concept of a man listening to you was such a novel and unique thing to experience.
It progressed from there, hand-holding in the school hallway, shared milkshakes at the local diner, and Sunday dinners with his family. Of course there were the less than wholesome aspects of your relationship of stray hands when no one was looking and heated kisses after a particularly rousing performance.
Truly the hallmarks of the greatest love story the world had ever seen.
If only you knew how wrong a love story can go, because your story went very wrong.
You vividly remember your first time with him.
Undoubtedly the cruelest thing he ever did to you.
You were never supposed to find out about the other girls, well that’s not true. The newspapers sure knew about them but he had convinced you that it was all nonsense and that he would never do that to you. All of his friends knew, hell even some of their girlfriends knew, but ideally you were never supposed to find out.
But the only chink in the armor was that there was in fact someone who had wanted you out as soon as he stepped in. Fact of the matter is that he was practically giddy as he told you what your fiance had been doing on the road up until that point. You were heartbroken and humiliated as to what he did and even more so when you learned he had been gearing up to break up with you the night he proposed, but only stopped when he realized that you wouldn’t be waiting for him, once his career settled.
He had been calling your house non-stop and sending his friends over all with the mission to coax you into talking to him. Worse still he even got your own friends in on it and now you can’t have a single conversation with any of them that doesn’t turn into them telling you how sorry he feels for hurting you and how he desperately wants you back.
The only people, aside from his manager, that were happy at this development were your parents. They had liked him up until he started to really take off in his career, and they wanted none of the controversy, especially when it came to your squeaky clean, good girl image they had for you.
They’ve been walking around with the smuggest “I told you so” looks ever since you announced that you were done with him. If only they knew their good girl had been sneaking in her boyfriend for the past three years and had a whole routine for doing so.
But the downside to this is that He was just as aware of the routine as you were. And despite it having been awhile he evidently remembered enough as he stood outside your window, right after all the lights in your house had gone out.
“Get outta here,” you hiss at him, opening the window just a crack. “You’re gonna wake up my parents.”
“Baby I gotta talk to you,” he pleads, his face utterly heartbroken. Guilt eats at you, knowing how there were days you wished you could go back to not knowing at all. But then you get angry at not only him but yourself for these thoughts.
If only all of your love for him had died the moment you found out, you would’ve had the strength to shut the window on him that night, and your life probably would’ve taken a very different course.
But no, you’re hurt and you felt that you had to have the final word. “Talk to one a your other girls,” you say as you move to close your window but he beats you to it and ends up opening it wider, allowing for him to fully step into your space.
“Get out,” you say severely. “Get out, or I’ll scream.”
“Darlin’, please listen,” he begs.
“Don’tchu ‘baby’ ‘darlin’ me,” you whisper-yell.
“I swear things’ll be different this time round,” he pleads, clasping his hands in yours.
“I’m done with your nonsense, I want you outta my house and outta my life.” tears are already streaming down your face and you make no motion to wipe them away. If he’s gonna hurt you like this he deserves to know.
He looks at you. Truly looks at you and sees that you’re dead serious about this, that for you there is no coming back from this.
“Okay,” he says solemnly, looking down at you more defeated than you’ve ever seen him, unfelled tears doting his eyes, and his bottom lip trembling.
That takes you by surprise, but you try not to show it. “Good,” you say, trying to stamp down the urge to be mad that he’s not fighting harder. There is a hurricane of emotions going through your entire being, hating him and loving him at the same time, but you recognize that you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of being able to sort through said emotions while he’s here.
“But…”
“But?” you say, confused as to what more there is to say.
“Let me have you,” he begs breathlessly, stepping closer to you, boxing you into the wall behind you. “Just for tonight,” he clarifies as though that’s gonna make it better.
That offends you but you can’t afford to raise your voice so you hiss at him that it’s not as though you didn’t offer when he was here. “I ain’t ever gonna forgive myself for bein’ so stupid and steppin’ out on you, I-I thought I had more time, tha-that we’d got the rest of our lives together,” he says his voice painfully small, and his eyes pleading with you to agree.
Your heart swells hearing his words, pleading with your brain to forgive him seeing how much pain the thought of never being with you again is causing the both of you. Another, unmentionable part is also hounding your brain to accept his offer if only for the fact that you had wanted this yourself for so long.
“If-If I do that…” you say in a low voice, your face burning as to what the both of you want but aren’t saying aloud. “Then you’ll leave and never come back?” though even as you say that you’re not exactly sure how you feel over that prospect.
“Just one night sweetheart,” he begs, giving you a quick desperate kiss to your lips. “One night to know what a life with you could’ve been like, and I’ll be outta yer hair forever,” he says with a quick peck to your lips.
He makes it almost sound romantic, not like he’s quite literally backing you into a corner, and coaxing you into something you’re not sure you want just so that you would finally know peace from him. But that's far from your mind as that little bit of contact does something to you and it’s like opening the floodgates for all the feelings for him you’ve been trying to bury.
It feels like you're transported to almost a year ago when, he would sneak his way back into your room after having said his goodbyes to your family and parking his car around the corner out of view. How you both move your blankets and pillows onto the floor to avoid the creaky springs of your mattress, how you both keep your voices low, and muffle most sounds with the pillows, how he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt before slowly undressing you, your body being treated like a present to unwrap.
Like this it’s easy to forget what he did, easy to forget the pain he’s caused when he’s treating you so sweetly. Kissing every inch of skin, nipping at your sensitive skin every so often, before laving at the bruising area with his tongue. You bite down on your lip hard, willing yourself to keep a cap on the filthy moans and declarations of love alike.
You had done things with him before but it had never felt quite like this. He had always been insistent that you wait until the wedding night for that, wanting to savor you and all you had to offer before the time came. Which made it feel all the worse when you did find out about those other girls. Your friends had tried to justify it by saying that he was just getting in some “practice” for you, but that hardly made it feel any better.
But the way he touches you, so sure of his newfound skills, it’s almost easy to forgive him. He treats you almost deceptively sweet, and for as hard as you try to keep yourself quiet, you admittedly don’t do a great job at it. But you manage to keep a good enough lid on yourself. But as it goes on it feels like he himself forgets that he had to do the same, as moans and groans alike continue to escape from his mouth.
That should’ve been your first clue that he was up to something, but by then as he continues to bury himself deeper and deeper into you, you can’t focus on much else. Had you been thinking straight you would remember he arguably has better control of himself than you do, as he often would tease you over it.
But in the moment that’s not what you’re thinking about. All you had on your brain was him, and how good and right he felt.
If you could go back in time you think you would’ve strangled your younger, far more naive self, as now in retrospect it became clear what he was planning on doing. He had no qualms to exposing what you had done already with him if it meant merely getting a chance to talk to you, why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to go full scorched earth if given the chance.
He continues his steady rhythm, and when he whispers in your ear, “It’s only ever gonna be you, darlin’,” you find yourself letting out a silent scream. Your eyes screwed shut, so lost in the pleasure of it all, you would only get the tail-end of the disdainful look he would give upon failing to get you to crack.
Still you vividly remember how conflicted you did feel in the moment, how for all that it felt good, it also made your stomach turn, for all the hurt he’s caused you yet how deceptively sweet he could be to you. It just gave you a serious case of whiplash.
But you were so focused on keeping as quiet as possible not even being able to fathom the heap of trouble you would be in should your parents ever find out. You could hardly fathom the agent of your destruction laid within you, but it wasn’t until it was too late did it truly click.
That devious look he had in his eyes, the one that spoke nothing but trouble. The very same look that seemingly first trapped you all those years ago when you caught it staring at you from across the bookstore. He picked up his rhythm, not allowing for you to fully recover, from the last time, as he pistons into you seeking out release for himself.
You were so dizzy in that moment you didn’t register how he raised his hand onto your night table, before quickly slamming it three times into the wall.
The very wall you shared with your parents.
Even in the moment you didn’t fully recognize what he had just done, everything sort of blurring together. Before you can even hope to get your bearings, he’s spinning the both of you around so that you now were on top of him, his fingers digging bruises into your hips, as he thrusts back up into you, no longer trying to feign tenderness, as he seems to rip another climax from you as he lets an unrestrained groan fall from his lips, while your inner walls tighten around him.
Even in your haze, you realize that this is bad, and you manage to gather yourself enough to slap your hand over his mouth, but that does little to muffle the singer. Especially as it seems as though he's hellbent to be heard. “What did you just do?” you ask unbelieving, frozen in fear even as you hear the muffled shouts of your father through the wall. You feel underneath your palm as his mouth curls into a grin, as he shudders and you feel his hot seed burn you from within. And that’s when you hear the powerful footfalls of your father burst out of his room before he slams open your bedroom door.
You can only imagine the image you make at that moment, naked sitting astride the nearly fully clothed boy you had sworn up and down for weeks you were done for good with. “What in the hell is going on in here!” your father shouts at the top of his lungs.
Everything after that happens in a blur of your fathers harsh shouts and the sharp sting that comes from your mothers hand across your face as she calls you a whore. By the time it’s all said and done you’re on your knees at the front door begging them to let you back into the house.
“Take her with you,” your daddy practically spat at him as he tossed you to your knees outside of what was once your home. “I didn’t raise no whores, and you seem to now be in the business a collectin’ them.”
You can almost hear the sound of a rattlesnake as his arm coils around your shoulder, laying his jacket over your weeping form like a gentleman. “Don’tchu worry baby,” he whispers in your ear.
He’s almost angelic in his appearance, playing the savior role well, having escaped your home relatively unscathed and in remarkably high-spirits for the situation. But you don’t have much of a choice in the moment, remembering Gina’s words of how easily this family will toss aside wayward women, but it never truly sunk in that you were liable to become one.
He would tell everybody that your daddy had thrown you out after asserting that you still wanted to be with Him in spite of all of that he’s done, and your folks practically disowned you for it. You let him say what he wants because you don’t see a point in telling the truth and if you’re being honest, part of you wants to believe it. It was a far more romantic story than what had actually happened.
As you’re coming down from your second and somehow less satisfying orgasm, does the guilt start to creep in. Even after all these years you still yearn for his touch.
But that is so much easier to admit than the alternative of missing Him.
It eats at you that you still think of Him like this after all that he did to you, and worse still it’s almost like you want him to come back.
Your heart practically leaps out your chest when you hear a soft knock at the door and for one horrifying second you think you’ve somehow summoned him to you.
“Mama…” you hear a small voice whimper behind the locked door, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Mama, I threw up.”
You don’t know if it’s a consolidation of three different people telling you the same thing in one day, the culmination of your late night loneliness for the past four or so years, or the noxious fumes of the truly unholy combination of stomach acid, red beans, and Jelly Beans that you had to clean up in your sleep deprived state, but you come to the conclusion that you can no longer do this by yourself.
Being a mother tended to be enough of a deterrent to most men in the city, which didn’t bother you one bit, but it did make you feel all the worse when you did meet the few who were still willing even after learning about Rosie.
Sam or Lou may very well have been as nice and understanding as they seemed to be, but because of Him, you now look suspiciously at every man trying to get close.
Perhaps the women in your life were onto something and it is about time for you to move on with your life. Because if you resolve yourself to being for all intents and purposes a shut-in who never knew another man’s touch other than His, then you ran for nothing.
So it’s with a semi-defeated sigh that you tell Jenny the next morning to send over Lee’s friend to the shop while you’re working to “see how it goes.”
You do admittedly put a little more effort into your appearance than you would on an average day and you perk up every time a man who looked close to your age walked in. But if any of them were sent by Jenny they didn’t mention it.
You only ever had one boyfriend when you were a teen, so it feels more than a bit intimidating to go into this, but you can’t deny yourself a life anymore.
Afterall if you don’t then you may as well have stayed in Memphis.
The day goes by and of the few men that do enter the shop, of the few that seem interested in you, none of them knew who Jenny was.
It’s well past closing and feeling both tired and rejected, however the bane of your existence you call Jenny has yet to return, so you instead just flip the sign without properly locking up and hope they’ll be back soon. This isn’t necessarily unusual but you’re just eager for this day to end and hope that a nice cuddle with your daughter will be enough to lift your spirits.
But for now there are books that need to be out back.
Soon you finally hear the shop bell ring, but instead of the comforting tiny footsteps or the recognizable clack of Jenny’s heels, you instead hear an unfamiliar pattern of heavy footsteps over the low volume of the radio. You look between the shelves from where you’re stocking books in the back and while you can’t make out specific details you see what is undoubtedly the shape of a man standing at the counter.
“I’m sorry Sir,” you announce still from behind the shelf. “We’re closed for the evening, but please feel free to return tomorrow.”
“Oh I ain’t going anywhere sweetheart,” a voice drawls.
A voice you would recognize anywhere.
You think you begin to understand at that moment why some animals will chew off their own arms to escape a trap. After all, what is a limb or two in the face of inevitable doom? And even when they do eventually die, they will at least go with their head held high knowing that they did all that they could, because better dead than captured.
But you stand there frozen, barely capable of breathing at a steady rate. You feel like every drop of blood has been drained from your body. Like someone reached into your lungs and snatched the air right out of them. Like your bones have lost all integrity and you’re only kept standing by the mere fact you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
He is here.
Elvis is here.
Not only that but the footsteps getting louder tell you he is getting closer.
Fuck.
Your mind is going a million miles an hour to try to get out of this, but all of them fall flat when you remember your daughter is not here and if you were to run that would just leave her in his clutches. So rather than act on any plan, you walk out from behind the bookshelf, because there is no point fighting the inevitable.
You’re hoping your look isn’t so much deer in the headlights and more awestruck and in disbelief that he found you. Which is true to some extent as you thought you had been so careful all these years, so all you can muster out when you see him for the first time is a pathetic little “h-how?”
Your hackles raise slightly as you see him reach behind him, and to your surprise he pulls out an old battered copy of Nancy Drew. You’re so confused for a second until you recognize it as yours.
One of the many that Gina would send you periodically when you lived with your parents.
One of the many that had the name of this very store stamped to the inner cover.
One of the many you took with you when you were kicked out.
One of the many left behind at Graceland.
Fuck.
You want to kick yourself both for being so careless in your haste to leave, but you have no time for that as he says, “I ain’t as smart as you baby, but I figured out your breadcrumbs eventually.”
He thinks you wanted him to find you.
Didn’tchu though?
“E-Elvis…” you whisper, the single name somehow feeling wrong as it comes out of your mouth. You’ve avoided even thinking about it all these years, as though if you try hard enough you’ll be able to purge him from your mind and thus from your life. As though simply uttering it will somehow summon him.
That theory isn’t disproven as he, as usual, wastes no time in getting straight to what he came here for, his long legs carrying himself to you as he moves to engulf you within his arms. You stave off the immediate instinct of putting your hands up and allow this to happen, remembering what used to happen when you would deny him.
He even goes so far as to spin you around, and you lose your footing and have to rely on him in order to not face plant onto the floor. But this works all the better to create the image of the long-lost lovers joyfully reuniting after so long.
But as he gazes into your eyes, it isn’t fully complete until he leans down to capture your lips. You would like to say you had to force yourself not to flinch away, but even you would know you’re not that good of a liar.
It’s a kiss for the ages truly, both all-consuming and yet leaving you longing for more. The pitfall of having denied getting close to anyone these past few years now show themselves full-force as you on instinct lean full-force into his touch, and welcome his kiss, even fully knowing how precarious your situation is.
All these years you never could’ve imagined how much you could miss touch- how much you could miss his touch. The kiss itself isn’t even broken until he roughly moves you against the bookshelf and forces his thigh between yours and your left gasping for air as you feel him for the first time.
And you can’t help the little whine that leaves your lips before you gather yourself once more to look him in the eyes.
“Did’ya miss me sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips.
“I…” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “I’ve thought about you every night.”
This is not a lie.
His fond expression doesn’t crack an inch as you say that, but before you can sigh an internal breath of relief, you feel a tight grip on your wrist as well as on your jaw.
“Then where’ve you been all these years,” he says, low and dangerous.
It’s certainly not an unfair question to ask. But you’ve been prepared to answer this question since the moment you stepped foot outside of Graceland for a quick errand.
You don’t know what he knows yet, and that’s terrifying.
“I…I…” you say in a quiet voice, all your years of preparation failing you when you needed it the most.
In the back of your mind, though you are loath to admit it, you think you always knew this day was coming, that he would find you, and the only thing you could do was to try to lessen the blowback you would experience. It’s why yours and your daughter’s last name is Love. It’s why you never tried to get involved with another man. It’s why you even made that goddamn deal in the first place.
“I’m going to disappear,” you say, casually taking a sip of your tea, not truly a fan of the taste, but lately it’s been one of the few things your sensitive stomach could handle. “And you’re gonna help me do that.” You couldn’t just ask anyone for help on this, you were surrounded only by sychophants who would do practically anything for Elvis, so you had to look elsewhere to the person whose only side he was on, was his own.
“And why would I help you?” The Colonel said, idly stirring his coffee, but obviously trying to mask the spark of interest in his eyes. For as much of a slimeball as he can be, you would be a fool to not acknowledge that he’s a decent enough businessman at the end of the day to recognize a good deal when he sees one.
“Because you want me gone as much as I wanna be gone,” you state. He hated that Elvis kept you around, even more so when Elvis made it clear he had no intention of staying a bachelor once he finished service.
Truly under any other circumstance he would be the last person in this house you would confide in, but though your desires were very different they did often run parallel. Something you realized when he talked Elvis out of eloping right before he got shipped out and into a long engagement. Truly the greatest boon you’ve been given since you’ve gotten here, the lack of recognizability or association with the rockstar will serve your purposes all the better.
“Can’t argue with that logic girl,” he says, taking a bite out of the muffins you had baked this morning as a peace offering to him. “Why do you even need my help?” he questions.
“Because I need someone to make sure that he doesn’t ever find me,” you declare, you had practiced this in your head so many times, too afraid to ever voice it aloud or write it down should any of it get back to him. Even an Ocean away you still feel his breath on the back of your neck, with the only safe place being inside your head.
You had excused yourself from following him to Germany by feigning sickness with the promise that you would join him as soon as you felt better. Which wasn’t hard to do considering your symptoms before he left, left you practically bedridden.
Ever since you figured out your… condition (it felt too scary to even think in your head, let alone voice out loud), your mind had been running rampant with all of the possibilities of how he would react. None of which you're willing to risk coming to fruition.
“And if I said No?” he asks, but from the look in his eyes he’s all but ready to pack your bags himself. Part of you feels guilty to leave the boy you once loved with such a man, but you have bigger things to worry about now.
“You’re absolutely free to say no, Parker,” you assure, but he’s savvy enough to know that’s not the end of it. You don’t know whether it’s you mimicking the late Gladys Presley, or something that comes natural with becoming a mother, however you do know you need to assert yourself now of all times, not just for your sake but your baby’s. “Regardless of your help or not, I’m gonna to leave. Now whether I’m gone for twenty minutes or twenty years, will all depend on you, but know that this will also determine how long you’ll be able to keep your position as Manager.”
He seems to bristle at your words, “And how do you figure dat Lil’ Miss?” he says with a dangerous look in his eyes as you seem to threaten the only thing he happens to care about. But once you do explain it he looks at you with no small amount of respect in his eyes as he mulls over your plan. “Quite devious,” he comments, literally tipping his hat at you. “I think I’m beginnin’ to get what he sees in you.”
You're far from proud of your plan, and the slimeball’s admiration of it doesn’t help either, but you know for a fact it will work, and Parker is gonna make damn sure that he doesn’t ever find you.
You made that plan practically bulletproof, but you never factored into account that you would choke in the moment that it truly matters. “Elvis I…” you trail off, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, clutching your hands on his shirt to keep yourself somewhat steady, trembling from the effort it takes to maintain that makeshift barrier. You’re either about to give the performance of a lifetime or… or…
No
You can’t think like that otherwise…
This has to work.
Your brain is going a million miles a minute, trying to remind yourself that you have to make this work if you have any hope of getting out of this without him ever having a chance of finding her.
But in real time you watch as this notion turns to ash in your mouth.
You feel as your blood freezes in your veins when you hear the door slam open only to be followed by the familiar little dashing footsteps. Your heart drops into your stomach as you hear your daughter stop dead in her tracks and you want to throw up at the thought of him laying eyes on her. This is truly what all your nightmares have been building up to, but even they paled in comparison to the reality of what would actually happen.
“Danny!!!” she squeals at the top of her lungs, before sprinting right into the arms of the man you were so desperately running from. You’re too shocked to do anything about it at the moment, and only watch in horror as something beyond your worst nightmare plays out before your very eyes.
Even when your instincts kick in to keep her away from him, he casually moves your hands out of the way as he easily scoops her up and over his head, practically playing keep away as you try to take her back. “Is today the day!?!?” she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck as best she could, giving him a kiss on the cheek, none the wiser at the danger the two of you were in.
“It sure is baby girl,” he says with a mile wide grin on his face. “Why don’tcha go pack everything you’re gonna need in Neverland?” You don’t miss the way his eyes slide your way, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction.
She squeals in delight, as she jumps out of his arms and makes her way to the stairs, completely oblivious to your state.
Everything your daughter ever said about “Danny” suddenly makes a whole lot more sense, and you can’t help but want to kick yourself for not paying attention. You thought she was safe with Jenny, you want to throw up at the thought that you unintentionally sent her into the lion's den without her.
She doesn’t even have the decency to face you in that moment, seeing her right outside the window, in Lee’s arms -or Charlie as you would later learn- pointedly not looking in.
You don’t have the luxury of being mad as you feel his attention focus back on you in that moment.
“Now…,” he says as he brings your face closer to his, tenderly grabbing your chin, wiping away a tear. “You wanna try again, sweetheart,” he grins maliciously, knowing you’ll have no choice but to be “honest.”
And that’s it you have only one card left to play and you pray whatever forces that have written the story of your life will be merciful and let this plan work as you hoped it would all those years ago.
You fall to your knees and begin to sob uncontrollably into your palms. It’s actually easier than you had initially hoped, it in fact takes more effort not to cry when you think about him. It’s a miracle you’ve been able to stay this intelligible up to this point.
“Elvis,” you cry, trying to sound as pathetic and heartbroken as you possibly could. “Elvis I-I-I’m so sorry,” you stutter trying to really sell it. “He-he told me that you kn-knew and you didn’t want me anymore,” you hiccup for good measure. “Ho-how you couldn’t have a baby weighing you down, and that-that if I ever came back, he would make sure I would lose her for good.”
You start to hyperventilate, but it’s far from intentional, as you know your very life is at stake in this moment. If he doesn’t believe you… you can’t think like that.
You know him well enough to know that he won’t believe your words specifically, but he does believe in the world he’s created in his head. That regardless of what you feel, what you say, or even what you do, you love him and want to be with him- always. It’s just others preventing that from happening. It was the women who tempted him on the road, and then it was your family speaking poison in your ear, and then it was the men he couldn’t trust to not look your way. It was never you personally, regardless of how he would sometimes lash out at you, you wanted to be there because he wanted you to be there.
In the back of your mind when you had just barely begun to formulate leaving, you knew it would be foolish to believe there wasn’t a chance, no matter how slim, that he would find you. And you knew that it wouldn’t go without punishment should he ever find you should it ever occur. So you had to formulate a plan not just to leave, but how best to set yourself up if he ever returned.
(There have been some nights that you lay awake believing that you prepared so well not because you were paranoid, but because it was an inevitability.)
You hear his clothes shift as he kneels down before you, and he takes your chin into his hand though much gentler this time.
“Who’s ‘he’” he demands, voice as cold as a tomb.
He’s buying it, you think, though you have no time to celebrate. You let out a truly pathetic little blubber through your tears, purposefully unintelligible trying to sell the emotions.
“Who?” he asks, softer this time around, but no less urgent.
“The co-” you cut yourself off taking a deep steady breath. “The Colonel,” you whisper as though you fear speaking his name aloud will bring him to this very spot.
Parker’s far from innocent but you feel a slight twinge of guilt that his downfall would be for something he didn’t do as opposed to all the things he had done. But you can’t think like that anymore, it was gonna be either him or you.
Someone would need to suffer because of what you did, and you would be damned before it was you or your daughter.
And so Parker is now the villain who cruelly kept you and your daughter away from him, and not that you wanted so desperately to get away from him that you practically disappeared off the face of the Earth. But it seems like a fair trade. Parker loses his job, you lose your life. Maybe not in the literal sense, but in all the ways that matter you’ll be gone.
You don’t relax at all when you feel him gently cup your face in his hands to softly wipe your tears away. You look upon the devastatingly handsome man, as he looks as if he means to take you in his arms to never let you go.“Don’tchu worry baby,” he says, wiping your tears away. “You don’t gotta worry bout that rat bastard no more.” You let out a small cry, hoping it sounds more out of relief than out of devastation to his words. “So now you and Rosie can come home,” he states with a delusional smile on his face.
Despite the fact that you knew this would realistically end one of two ways, you can’t help but balk at the words. You try your best to smile at his words, but even you realize how hollow that gesture is, in spite of the part you know you’re meant to play in the moment, between the two of you, only one of you is an actor.
He’s having none of it as you feel the previously gentle hand cupping your face wrap around your throat. “Now. You. And. Rosie. Can. Come. Home.” he grits out, his grip around your neck tightening with each word emphasized.
He knows what your answer is, no doubt he’s just trying to rub salt in the wound knowing that it’s not a choice he’s giving you. This is all the proof you need that he doesn’t fully believe you, but is willing to play along. Leaving may have been forgivable, staying away for so long is another matter entirely.
He’s just punishing you for not being as enthusiastic as you should be at the prospect of coming “home,” as you should be.
You’re not playing pretend well enough.
“Mama!” Rosie squeals excitedly and when he lets go, you turn to see her making her way back downstairs, her favorite blanket now a makeshift rucksack of what you assume to be all toys dragging behind her. “Mama it worked!” she said, as she ran full tilt toward you, holding something in her palm. “Danny’s gonna take us to Neverland today.”
You see the little porcelain baby from the king cake and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else. But you know better than to believe in wishes.
“Can we go now?” she says, her little hand grasping one of Elvis’ fingers and shaking furiously. “Now please,” she begs, before he scoops her up into his arms and propping her on his hip. He holds her close and you're forced to face what you have been ignoring all these years. The shape of the nose, the way her lips curl in such a specific way, there is only one place she could have gotten all of that from. It feels like just your luck that your child would be practically a carbon copy of the man you so desperately tried to get away from. Really it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.
“Now hold ya’ horses yittle,” chucking her under the chin in a far too familiar manner, as she giggles in his arms. “Yer mama’s gotta get ready herself.”
“I… do…” you say, playing along, trying to keep a cap on your distress for your daughter's sake. “I-I gotta pack a few more things baby,” you say, giving her a kiss on her forehead, hoping she misses the tears in your eyes. “I’ll b-be right back.” you manage to stutter out.
“Don’t worry sweetheart,” his voice so saccharine sweet it makes our teeth ache. “We’ll be right here.”
As you turn around you feel a hard smack on your ass, and you fully stop, burning in humiliation that he would treat you like that, especially in front of your daughter.
The humiliation only further ramps up as you walk up the stairs, and you can feel the slick already gathering between your thighs. Less out of titillation you believe and more out of a defense mechanism, knowing what will more than likely happen the second he's able to get you alone.
Or is it?
It doesn’t feel real as you step into the upstairs apartment, you see Gina at the stove and Sue filling out a crossword puzzle, her glasses threatening to fall off her nose, none of which suggests they have any idea of what’s going on downstairs. You’re almost angry about that, like it would’ve been easier to walk away from them if they had also been in on it as well.
“Where’s Rosie so eager to rush off to?” Sue asks idly, not looking up from the paper.
“Oh ummm…” you say, trying to think on your feet for a decent enough lie. “ Sh-she’s going to a sleepover with-with Jenny.”
You’re usually a better liar than this, but him being so close again has you all out of sorts tonight. Not to mention your mind is running rampant with all the worst case scenarios possible at the moment with the most egregious being that he’s gonna take her and run, forcing you to chase him down the same way he’s undoubtedly done for you these past few years. You’re practically feeling every second tick by, fearing the longer you take the greater the chances will be that they’re both gone.
Is that how he felt when he was away from you? A small voice in your head asks. It’s an awful roiling feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if the person you loved most wasn’t where you left them. Would he be so cruel to do that to you?
“Did that fella Jenny setchu up with ever show up?” Gina asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Ye-yeah and… and I’m gonna get dinner with him,” you swallow, the lie tasting like bile in your mouth. As you turn to your room, already mentally mapping where the important documents were in your bedroom, preparing to pack a few outfits for Rosie, and whatever other odds and ends you would need.
Your answer catches Gina off guard, and Sue immediately looks up from the paper sharing a look with your other Aunt. “Ain’t that a little fast, Hon?”
“Maybe…” you say, hesitating as you try to hold back your tears.
“Ya don’t gotta go if you ain’t ready for it,” Sue says behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, that you flinch away from. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong If it’s still a little too early for you.”
That’s the worst part about it. You know they would fight tooth and nail for both you and Rosie if you just asked. But you know the type of mess Elvis can and will bring into this house should you decide to fight him on this. After all they’ve done for you, keeping them out of the type of spectacle he brings is the least you can do.
“I have to go,” you say sternly.
One look at your squared back shoulders and your far away look they know there’s no stopping this. You hold back your tears as you accept their hug and accept their well wishes. You say your goodbyes promising to be back soon, unsure if you will ever see them again, and you put on your biggest fakest smile as you let go of them, wanting to at least leave them with one happy memory.
Relief floods your entire being seeing her at the bottom of the steps, only for the dread to return seeing him there with her. Especially when you hear the story he’s telling her. You don’t miss the glance he steals your way before focusing on your daughter once again. “I thought to myself, ‘thas the girl whose gonna be mine.’”
“Like-like love at first sight,” Rosie asks, and you can practically hear the stars in her eyes.
“Exactly yittle,” he drawls out. “Took her awhile to figure it out though but she learned eventually. Now we’re all gonna go home.” His eyes slide right off her and cut directly to you. Her eyes follow him and she quickly scurries off of him to reach you.
“You ready Mama?” she asks you as she takes you by the hand leading you to the door where you see a car parked right out front. It may as well have been a hearse in your mind.
You pick her up and you look down the darkened streets and you briefly flirt with the idea of just sprinting and never looking back. But the hand on your elbow guiding you to the car puts a halt to those thoughts.
You still don’t know how much of your story he does actually believe, so you sit yourself down in the car without so much as a fuss and resolve yourself to your fate. Though that doesn’t stop you from seating yourself in the middle and placing Rosie by the window, as you still aren’t totally out of the mindset of keeping her as far away from him as possible. Neither of them seem to mind as she eagerly presses tiny hands up to the glass in awe of the nightlife of New Orleans, while he slithers an arm over your shoulder bringing you closer to him.
As you contemplate what your life will look like from now on, you pass by so many places you’ve become familiar with these last four years, but what nearly breaks you are the unfamiliar places. Record stores, movie theaters, restaurants, and so many other places you avoided all due to an irrational belief that he would somehow be there. You did your best to limit your time in the outside world to only when you absolutely had to be out.
Maybe that’s why you were so willing to trust Jenny and her altruistic generosity to watch over your daughter and take her places you were too anxious to venture to.
You caged yourself into your new seemingly better life, but you didn't live at all. You were hiding. Always so afraid that he would somehow find you, you neglected to live. You put yourself in a different cage and convinced yourself you were free.
“Mama? Mama, why are you crying?” your sweet little girl asks.
But you’re gonna do what you’ve always done for your daughter. What you’ve always done when it comes to Elvis. You’re going to play pretend.
“Mama’s just so happy we’re going baby,” you say with a solemn kiss to her forehead as his grip further tightens on your shoulder.
“I know what’ll cheer you up!” she declares and completely unaware of the salt she’s about to pour on your wounds, she pulls something out of her little rucksack. “Danny, do you know the story of ‘Punzel?”
“Can’t say that I do darlin’” he says, eyeing you over her head. She sets the Grimm fairy tale book down on her lap and opens it to the worn pages she’s seemed to memorize by heart. She proceeds to read to the both of you, in the sense that she recites the story she’s heard maybe half-a-million times before word-for-word, going off pictures more than the actual words on the page to know where she’s at in the story. You try your best to focus on the book for your daughter's sake, but it’s nearly impossible to do when you feel Elvis' familiar bruising grip on your inner thigh.
You shoot him a look and grab a hold of his wandering hand, trying to signal for him to stop and pay attention to Rosie. He gives a mirthful smile to you as he feels the slick there and seemingly tightens his grip in retribution, as though he wants to get a head start on re-establishing his claim over you. You in response bite your cheek and bear it, until at one point it nearly becomes too much and one lone tear rolls down your cheek and onto the page of the prince wandering blindly through the forest.
Your daughter is far too sweet for her own good, as she notices this and gives you a gentle pat on your cheek, trying to comfort you the same you’ve done for her before.
“Don’t worry Mama,” she reassures you, mirroring what you’ve done for her when a story gets her a little too worked up. “They always live happy ever after.”
You give a shuddering sigh as Elvis finally let’s go of your thigh. You clutch onto that little porcelain figure in your pocket and hope she’s right.
You make it to Memphis in record time, Rosie having long since tired herself out, is wrapped securely in your arms, but you’ll find no suh peace with his arm coiled around your shoulder as he sadistically whispers how Rosie’ll have a blast meeting the rest of his family while the two of you get “reacquainted,” of course he used more colorful language but you don’t want to have to think about that for right now.
When the familiar gates come into view
“Ahh, my baby missed home that bad,” he whispers, giving a deceptively sweet kiss to your tear-stricken cheek. “Why don’tcha hand the ‘lil one over to me and you just head up to bed and get ready for me?”
Despite the questioning lilt in his tone you know for a fact he’s not asking. And so going against all of your instincts screaming in your head, you let go of your daughter and watch as he takes a hold of her. To your relief she’s at the very least on the same floor as you, but you can only hope that she, at the very least, will sleep through the rest of the night, because you doubt he’ll let you out even a minute sooner than he has to.
The bedroom has changed in many ways since you’ve been gone, though the most striking thing was how your side of the bed looks as though it were converted into a little shrine for you. Small baubles and trinkets you left behind on the stand, you even find an old nightgown of yours on your side of the bed, the last thing he ever saw you in. It doesn’t fit you like it used to, having and breastfeeding a baby will do that to you, but you put it on all the same knowing he will want to see you in it.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing your breasts straining against the silk material and the bruises peeking out beneath the scandalously short hemline, it really does settle in that this was all inevitable. This is the very same image you saw the night before he left for Germany.
The same image that confirmed your decision to leave in the first place.
This moment, feels like the dread you always felt when getting to the last few pages of a book. As things were wrapping up and you would have to face the harsh reality of your situation...
You’re back in the fucking hotel room.
You won’t even have the luxury of daydreaming of your escape, because there is no world where you leave without Rosie, and he knows that. He knows she’s the reason you ran, and knows that without her you’re never gonna run again. That’s why he went to the lengths he did to endear himself to her first before you ever had an inkling as to what was going on.
Your thoughts turn to Jenny, and how you entrusted what you loved the most to her, only to have her spit in your face by turning around practically handing her over to him on a platter. Either she knew that he was her father and didn’t bother to question why you were so desperate to get away that you faked a whole other life, or she didn’t and handed over your daughter to a stranger. You don’t know which is worse.
You also can’t forget how she was perhaps the most vehement about you dating again, which you can’t even begin to understand if she was working for him the whole time. But you can’t put it above him that he wouldn’t have Jenny push the issue if only to further twist the knife if you ever did take up her offer. As though to remind you that you never had a chance of moving on.
Because it always goes back to him.
You want to hide from it all and you give into the urge, and crawl under the silky sheets of the bed, for all the good it will do to protect you.
Monsters don’t hide under your bed. They crawl into it. Those are your last conscious thoughts as you feel the bed shift
“Welcome home Satnin,” he whispers before you feel the sheets being ripped away from you.
Warnings: Angst, Mention of Drugs being taken, Drugs, Mention of Drinking Alcohol, Divorce, Depressed Elvis, Yelling/Fighting, Elvis having a meltdown on stage, Colonel trying to manipulate Reader, Mention of Elvis collapsing, Fluff at the end, and Maybe some Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!!!)
Summary: Due the Colonel making Elvis take a bunch of drugs to keep him energized to perform, it’s making Elvis completely fall apart. It get’s even worse when Pricilla packs all of her stuff up and leaves Elvis taking their daughter with her. After Elvis’s dad’s assistant Y/N hears the news she does everything she can to help Elvis pull himself back together.
Word Count: 2,162
Author’s Note: FINALLY MY FIRST ELVIS MOVIE STORY IS HERE! I’ve been waiting for basically a year to finally get a plot for a story for one of my favorite movies of all time! This isn’t just my first Austin/Elvis story but this is also my first story of the new year so I hope you all enjoy! If any of you want to you can read this as Elvis x Reader or Austin!Elvis x Reader! It’s up to you!!
Y/N Y/L/N is the assistant to Vernon Presley who is of course the father of the one and only Elvis Presley. Vernon is in charge of Presley Enterprises. Vernon hired Y/N to be his assistant when Elvis came home from the army. Due to all of the films Elvis was staring in at the time it was getting too hard for Vernon to take care of everything by himself so that’s why he hired Y/N.
When Y/N got the job, she wasn’t expecting to be around Elvis so much. Of course, Y/N isn’t complaining since Elvis has brought her in with open arms and so did his wife Priscilla. Elvis has thanked Y/N so much for helping his father out.
Y/N would be lying if she said that she has never had a crush on the heartthrob. When Elvis first started out Y/N immediately grew a crush on him, but that crush did fade away after she graduated from high school and when Elvis went overseas to be in the army. But as time went on that crush returned and the more, she was around Elvis, the more the crush grew. Y/N wished she didn’t feel that way about Elvis since he’s married to Priscilla, and she is really good friends with Priscilla as well. But those thoughts just flood her mind whenever she is with him.
Y/N loved everything about her job except having to work with the Colonel who is the manager of Elvis. Ever since the first day she met the Colonel she knew he wasn’t very fond of her. She hated being around him since she always feels uncomfortable around him, and she always gets bad vibes from him.
But Y/N didn’t see the Colonel’s dark side till Elvis started to play a residency in Las Vegas.
********************
Y/N was at her apartment getting ready to meet Vernon at a business meeting. Right before she walked out the door, she heard her phone ring. When she answered the phone, she heard Vernon’s voice.
“Hi, I was just about to walk out the door to meet you.” Y/N said into the phone. “Priscilla left Elvis this morning.” She heard Vernon tell her which made her heart drop. “Oh my gosh.” Y/N said in a shocked tone. Even though she’s shocked by the news she knew the reason why Priscilla left. “She moved all of her stuff out and she took Lisa with her.” She heard Vernon tell her. She could hear the sadness in his voice. “How is Elvis?” Y/N asked in the phone. That was the only question that was coming to her mind. “He’s a complete mess.” She heard him tell her which broke her heart.
“Can you go to Graceland and just stay there with him till I come back from the meeting?” Vernon asked her. “I just really don’t want him to be alone right now.” He added. “Of course, I can.” Y/N answered into the phone.
“Thank you so much dear.” She heard him say. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He added which made her smile a little. “You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you soon.” She told him through the phone. After they said their goodbyes Y/N hung up the phone.
********************
Y/N parked her car in front of the big Graceland mansion. She turned the car off and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. She got out of the car closing the driver's seat door. As Y/N made her way to the front door she wrapped the strap of her purse around her shoulder.
When she got to the door, she rang the doorbell and waited but no one answered so she rang the doorbell again but still no answer. Y/N put her hand on the doorknob and twisted it which made the door open. Y/N walked inside the mansion. “Elvis!” Y/N called out as she closed the door. She looked around and noticed that things that belonged to Priscilla were gone. Y/N let out a sigh she she walked into the dining room and put her keys and purse down onto the table.
“Elvis!” Y/N called out again as she walked over to the bottom of the staircase and again, she got no response. She knew Elvis had to be home because where else would he go. Y/N walked up the staircase and right when she got to the top, she heard whimpering. Y/N walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door to what was the bedroom Elvis once shared with Priscilla. That was where the whimpering was coming from. She was going to knock on the door, but something was telling her to just walk in.
When she opened the door, she saw a bunch of medicine bottles on the floor. Y/N walked in and at first, she didn’t see Elvis till she walked past the king-sized bed. Elvis was sitting on the floor crying into his knees that were hiding his face. It broke Y/N’s heart seeing Elvis in this kind of state. “Elvis.” Y/N said in a soft voice. Elvis looked up at her with his eyes filled with tears and his cheeks soaked with tears running down them. “What are you doing?” Elvis asked her. She could hear how broken he was in his voice. “Your father wanted me to be here with you till he comes back from his business meeting.” Y/N told him. Elvis didn’t say anything back. He just looked away from her.
Y/N sat down next to him. “I’m so sorry about what happened.” Y/N told him with sincere in her voice. “Why are you saying sorry to me?” Elvis asked still not looking at her. “What do you mean?” Y/N asked him. “I’m the reason why she left. She said I’m like a zombie.” Elvis told her as tears continued to stream down his face like a waterfall. “Those pills are what turn you like that.” Y/N told him which made him finally look back at her.
She can’t just keep jumping around it anymore. When he’s on those pills it’s like he’s a completely different person. Those pills are making him fall apart.
“The pills. They just keep controlling me. It’s like they have taken over me.” Elvis told her as he started to cry harder if that was even possible. “I know.” Y/N started. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to help you get through this.” Y/N told him looking him straight into his eyes. Elvis believed her as he stared back into her eyes. “Okay.” Elvis said in a soft voice.
“I’m going to go downstairs into the kitchen to get you some water.” Y/N told him but before she could stand up, he grabbed her hand. “Please, don’t leave me. Please stay with me.” Elvis said to her in a pleading tone. “Okay! Okay, I’ll stay here with you.” Y/N told him in reassurance. Y/N wrapped her arm around him and rubbed her hand up and down his arm as he cried.
They stayed like that till Vernon came home.
********************
As a lot of time pasted Y/N kept her promise to Elvis. She’s been looking after him as much as she could. Even though Y/N has been doing her best to take care of Elvis, he’s still not the man he once was.
The only time Elvis looks happy is when he is on stage in front of his fans. The only people that knew what he was going through were the people he sees every day.
Elvis was playing another show in Vegas. Y/N watching him perform from the side of the stage with Jerry by her side. “You’ve been very quiet this evening.” Jerry said to her which earned him a glare from her. “You know damn well why I’ve been quiet.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. “The Colonel came before I could call you and right away, he made Dr. Nick shoot him up with drugs.” Jerry explained to her. “I’m not mad at you, okay!” Y/N told him with a heavy sigh. “He should be in a hospital bed but instead that monster decided to make the decision to shoot him up with the same drugs that is what made him collapse in the first place.” Y/N said with anger in her tone.
Jerry saw the tears forming in her eyes, so he brought her in for a hug. He knows about the feelings she has for Elvis, so he knows it’s hard seeing him like this. As Y/N returned the hug she tried her best to keep her tears in.
They released from the hug when they heard Elvis singing to Suspicious Minds with no music. Y/N could sense right away that something was wrong, and it was just going to get worse. As Elvis went on a rant about how this was going to be his last show in Vegas the Colonel immediately made his way up to the stage.
“Pull the curtain down!” Colonel told someone in a demanding tone which made Y/N and Jerry look at him. “What is going on here.” Colonel asked Jerry in a stern tone. Jerry took a glance at Elvis and then back at the Colonel. “I think he wants to know that, too.” Jerry told him.
When Elvis saw the Colonel started to act even more out of character. Elvis was having a melt down and it was starting to scare Y/N a little since she’s never seen him act like this. As the curtain started to fall Elvis started to yell at the Colonel. When Elvis said, “You’re Fired!” to the Colonel Y/N felt her heart rate speed up.
As the Colonel walked closer to him, he just kept saying “you’re fired” louder and louder each time. “YOU’RE FIRED!” Elvis screamed into his microphone which made everyone, and everything go silent. Everyone looked at Elvis with shock as the Colonel looked at him with sadness. “You’re fired.” Elvis said more calm and not into the microphone.
When he dropped his microphone, it made Y/N jump by the loud noise the mic made when it hit the stage. She watched him turn away from the Colonel and walk off the stage.
********************
Y/N decided to wait an hour before going up to Elvis’s room to check on him. Y/N was walking down the hallway to the elevator when she felt someone grab her left wrist. Y/N turned around to see that it was the Colonel who grabbed her wrist.
“Let me go.” Y/N told him in a demanding tone. “You go up there and tell him to take me back.” Colonel told her in the same tone she used. He knew she was going upstairs to talk to Elvis. Y/N let out a scoff as she pulled her wrist out of his grip. “You are the reason why he’s falling apart!” Y/N told him. “You’re the reason why he’s hooked on all of those drugs and you’re the reason why Pricilla and Lisa left him!” Y/N added as she looks at him with a fiery look in her eyes.
“Do it or you’re fired!” Colonel told her in a warning tone. “You’re not the boss of me and you never were.” Y/N said not back down to him. “You stay the hell away from him!” Y/N told him in a warning voice and walked away from him.
********************
When Y/N got to Elvis’s room before she could knock on the door it opened to reveal Elvis. “When I heard footsteps, I figured that it was you coming to check on me.” Elvis told her letting her inside. Y/N could tell that he was more calmed down then what he was just an hour ago. “I was going to come up here right away, but I decided to let you cool off.” Y/N told him while he closed the door.
“I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. I guess I just lost control.” Elvis told her turning around to face her but didn’t look at her. “Elvis, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Y/N told him. She put one of her hands onto one of his cheeks which made his eyes meet hers. “It was the drugs and that shot of alcohol didn’t help either but that’s what made you lose it.” Y/N reassured him.
“But what you did right was you set yourself free from that monster.” Y/N told him stroking his cheek lightly with her thumb. “I didn’t want him taking you away from me, too.” Elvis told her.
Before she could say anything, Elvis’s lips connected with hers. Y/N immediately returned the kiss. They continued to kiss until they had to pull away for air.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Elvis confessed to her. Y/N’s lips curved up into a smile. “Me too.” Y/N told him and leaned back up to reconnect her lips with his soft lips again.
𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 | ex's best friend! austin butler x reader
summary: after a bad breakup with your cheating ex, the last thing you're expecting is for his best friend to side with you. at his insistence, you decide to let him accompany you to the arctic monkey concert in las vegas. what happens in las vegas doesn't always stay in las vegas.
warning/notes: one bed trope, SMUT! exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, begging, creampie, protective!austin, austin really said "fuck cheaters" with his whole chest in this fic
word count: 13,138
masterlist | requests are currently closed !
“Austin wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, I don’t even really know Jeremy anyway, so why the hell would he bring him?” You were currently holding Juniper, placing a few quick kisses to the top of her head as you bounced her in your arms. Your best friend was in the process of cubing cheese, getting ready for the wedding anniversary party she was throwing. You had offered to help earlier, but she had simply handed you her daughter. Juniper loved you the most out of any of her other friends, which was why she never threw fits when you were around. She simply tugged on your hair and played with your necklaces, content with just being around you.
“I don’t know. I’m just anxious, you know? I broke up with him a week ago, and you know how vindictive he is.” Jeremy was the type of person to go out of his way to make you uncomfortable. He was the absolute king of getting a rise out of you, and you hated that. You had a feeling that he had been spewing all types of bullshit Austin’s way, and despite the fact that you and Austin had been friends before you and Jeremy even dated, you knew that his loyalties would probably be with his male friend. It only made sense.
“Come on, Y/n. Jeremy is a-” She lowered her voice as she looked up from the cutting board. “Asshole,” she whispered, shooting you and Juniper a small smile before going back to work with her knife. “But Austin isn’t. He asked specifically if you were going to be here tonight because he wanted to talk to you. He loves you both. Besides, you weren’t the one that got caught with a Tinder account. You aren’t the bad guy in this situation. Austin is a loyal friend, but he’s fair. He knows Jeremy is the one that messed up. When I talked to him last night he sounded super angry about it all.”
You rocked back on your heels, spinning around in a circle a few times just to make Juniper squeal before continuing your train of thought. “Yeah- no. . . you’re so right. I don’t want to make him choose a side, but he’s known Jeremy the longest. I know that if push came to shove, it wouldn’t be me he’d stick beside. That’s all.” You’d have to be an idiot to think that Austin would pick you over his longtime friendship. You had met Austin through a modeling gig towards the beginning of his career. The Hannah Montana era- which he still visually cringed at the mention of. You had been an assistant photographer back then, fresh out of high school, and the two of you had clicked. Two years later you both ran into each other at Ashley’s birthday party and decided to exchange numbers. Austin was the person that had introduced you to Jeremy in the first place. Of course, he probably never thought that the two of you would end up dating. You and Jeremy were polar opposites, which you had once found cute and quirky, but now realized was incredibly annoying and a waste of your fucking time.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” You heard Ashley mumble under her breath, but when you hummed at her, she merely shook her head. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” She was quick to flash you an “innocent” smile.
There was a knock at the door, and you were quick to shuffle off towards it. “No, no. I’ve got it.” Christopher called out, jogging ahead of you before opening the door. A few familiar faces shuffled in, giving Ashley’s husband tight hugs before moving over to you. You gave them side hugs, smiling softly to yourself as they cooed at the adorable baby in your arms before moving towards the kitchen. Words of congratulations were exchanged before they were ushered out the back door. “I’ll take her from ya.” Ashley walked over, scooping Juniper out of your arms before nodding towards the kitchen. “Can you cut up the carrots and celery for me? That’s all that’s left.” You were quick to salute her, a silent ‘you got it’, before moving over towards the kitchen island. She wrinkled her nose at you, blowing you a quick kiss before floating out the back door and to the waiting guests.
“I think you should stay another week. Having you around has been an absolute blessing, Y/n.” Chris told you, and as you looked up you could see that he wasn’t joking, but telling the truth.
“Ah, you guys need your privacy though. I just didn’t want to go back to our apartment until he moved all of his shit out.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “We have a big house. Besides, Juniper hasn’t been this well behaved in a while. She’s teething, and with you around she hasn’t been as fussy. Not only that but Ashley loves having you here. You live an hour away, and she misses you.” You shot him a warm grin before ripping open the bag of organic carrots, cutting off the stems before slicing them down the middle.
“Hey! In my defense you two are the ones that moved away from me.” He laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry for stealing her from you.” He teased before heading out the back door to follow after his wife.
You’d met all of Ashley’s previous flings, and none of them were as fantastic as Chris. You couldn’t imagine her with anyone else. He loved her as well as her family and friends. He treated you like family, and you adored him for that. There was a soft knock on the front door again, and instead of putting your knife down to open the already unlocked door you simply called out that it was open. A lanky blonde pushed his way in, a large bouquet of flowers in his arms. For a second the two of you stared at each other, anxiety already gnawing at your stomach. Ashley’s words from earlier had only calmed you down a little. You weren’t sure what kind of conversation he wanted to have with you, but you were sure that probably wasn’t going to be good.
“Long time, no see.” He smiled softly at you, walking further into the house so that he could set the flowers down on the kitchen table before making his way over towards you. He stood across from you at the kitchen island, leaning over so that he could place his forearms against the granite. You rolled your eyes, shooting him a soft smile.
“It’s been two weeks.” You retorted.
He returned the smile, his blue eyes dancing over your face before he nodded. “Exactly. Long time.”
For a few seconds the only sound that could be heard in the house was your constant chopping. You weren’t sure if he was waiting for you to say something or not. You weren’t sure what to say in this sort of situation. You were sure that something along the lines of ‘hey there, i know my shithead of an ex boyfriend is your best friend, but i’ve known you longer than i’ve known him, so i’m hoping we can still be friends’ probably wouldn’t go over too well with him.
“So Jeremy called me last week.” He started.
You sucked in a breath before placing the knife down on the cutting board. “Oh yeah? What did he say?” He cleared his throat before walking around the island, moving closer to your side. He leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked good, but when did Austin not look good? He was wearing white wash jeans, old boots that made him even taller, and a jean button up the same shade as his pants- tucked in with a belt. You would be lying if you said that you had never been attracted to your friend. He was a good looking guy, but he had just started dating Vanessa right around the time that the two of you got close. Not to mention that, but you weren’t the type of person to cross the boundary of friendship with someone that you were close to like that. That was how things got messy, and you didn’t like drama.
“Well. . .” He pursed his lips for a second, his blue eyes flickering up to the ceiling for a second before he finally looked back down at you. It appeared that he was trying to find the right words to say. “He tried playing the victim for a few minutes, but caught on pretty quick that I wasn’t falling for it. I scolded him a little bit, and now he isn’t returning my texts.” Your mouth fell open, eyes going as wide as saucers. Austin had stood up for you? God, you knew that he was a wonderful person, but you didn’t expect that.
“He isn’t talking to you?” You were stunned.
Austin shook his head, mouthing the word ‘nope’ before reaching over for the knife that you had placed down. He went to work doing what you had been doing before, giving you the opportunity to assemble the vegetable board in a way that Ashley would find aesthetically pleasing.
“I’m sorry if I look a bit shocked, but I wasn’t expecting you to actually say anything to him.” He cleared his throat, his long fingers gripping the hilt of the knife tightly as he started to work on the celery.
“Being cheated on is a shit feeling, and the fact that he threw away almost five years with you is just plain stupid. He knows how I feel about it, and now he’s choosing to ignore the problem rather than to own up to anything.” Ashley had been right. It sounded like Austin really had picked a side.
And it was yours.
“How are you holding up though? I was waiting for you to reach out to me, but you never did.” He sounded a little hurt. You licked your lips before grabbing one of the small bowls Ashley had taken down out of the cabinet, filling it with the green goddess dressing the two of you had picked up at Whole Foods a few hours back.
“I’m doing surprisingly alright. I’ve been staying here with Ash and Chris for the last week, which has been pretty great,” You took a deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t reach out to you because I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position with Jeremy. I didn’t want you to feel any pressure on my end. Maneuvering friendships after a breakup like this is really hard.” He hummed in understanding, scooping up the celery in his hands before distributing it on the plate. His hand brushed yours, and he kept it there for a couple of seconds before moving it back down to his side.
“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m your friend too. You’re having a hard time, and I want to be there for you. Jeremy can be a selfish dick, but I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s always been like this. I don’t really expect too much out of him anymore, but just know that I’m really upset with him over this. When you two first started dating I had a feeling that this was how it would turn out. I tried to warn him about hurting you, but he didn’t seem to heed my advice.” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest again. “Which isn’t surprising.”
Sure, you’d heard some pretty choice words about Jeremy from Austin’s lips before after a drunken fight or some play-teasing that one of the boys took too far, but this was pretty full on. Whatever picture Jeremy had tried to paint for Austin the other day over the phone must not have been very nice. It made your stomach churn just thinking about what he had told his other friends. God, they must have thought you were some kind of a monster. That was the one thing you absolutely couldn’t stand. You were the one that had been hurt in this entire situation, but suddenly you’re the bad guy. You had done everything you could think to do in order to save your relationship with him. You knew that it wasn’t going to work out long term, but you still loved him. You don’t just waste five years of your life on someone you don’t love. The longer you spent away from Jeremy, the more and more you started to pull your head out of the clouds and come back down to earth. Even if it was a long way to fall- the realizations had been hard- but it was good. You had been biding your time with Jeremy. The two of you never really talked about marriage or children. It was almost like the two of you had just been in a relationship because it was convenient for the two of you. You were attracted to one another, you had mutual acquaintances, and it had just made sense to be together in your early twenties. Now? Now you just felt like a moron who had allowed herself to be mistreated all in the name of “love”.
“Well I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for so long. I’ve only known him for five years and I’m starting to regret the day I ever met him.” You tossed a carrot onto the plate a little harder than you had meant to, and you cursed under your breath as it bounced off and landed right on the floor.
Austin bent down and picked it up for you, tossing it into the trash. “I guess you have me to blame for that. I wouldn’t have introduced you two if I knew that he would have hit on you. You aren’t the kind of girl he usually goes for. You’re unique and actually have a personality.” That made you laugh. Austin couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face as he watched you, and soon he was bumping his shoulder up against yours. “Do you need help with anything? I’d be willing to drop some of his stuff off at his place. Maybe egg his house? Might be therapeutic.”
You snickered, shaking your head. “No, he should have all of his junk out of my place by now. I gave him a week, and my neighbor said that he hauled a whole truck load of shit out. The only thing that’s causing me some stress right now is the fact that I spent way too much money on those Artic Monkey tickets and a hotel room up in Vegas, and now I can’t even go.”
His nose wrinkled as he looked down at you. “Why the hell wouldn’t you go? You need to get out of the house and have fun after all the shit you’ve been through this past week.”
Yeah, you could really use a night out.
Sure, getting wine drunk and watching Married at First Sight with Ashley was a blast, but you needed to get out of California for a bit, even if it was just a two day ordeal. The tickets had originally been a late birthday present for Jeremy, but he’d gone and fucked everything up. You’d already called the hotel only to find out that they don’t do refunds so short notice, and it was impossible to find someone to go with you. Ashley didn’t like the Artic Monkeys, and even if she was willing to go with you, there was no way you were going to inconvenience her any more than you already had. Jenny from work said that she would have loved to go with you, but her fiance had planned a surprise trip to Arizona to visit her elderly grandparents. The rest of your friends either weren’t big fans and weren’t willing to take the time off of work or already had plans. Sure, you could always go down there and stay by yourself. It would nice to have meaningless sex with a hot stranger, but over the years of inconsequential hookups you knew that doing something like that after a bad breakup only ever hurt you worse in the long run. There’s nothing bad about chasing your own pleasure, but you were better than that. Besides, getting even with your cocksucker of an ex wasn’t worth the possibility of contracting some kind of sexually transmitted disease, and Vegas was probably chalk-full of those.
You also had your own safety to worry about. There was no way you trusted yourself to get drunk at the concert, hail an Uber and then crawl back to your hotel without something bad happening. Human trafficking was a real and serious thing, and you’d rather waste a little over a thousand dollars than something bad happen to you. “I wish I could go, but I’ve already asked everybody I could think of and they’re all busy. I’ll probably just try and sell the tickets or something.”
Austin’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a bite out of one of the carrots. He chewed a few times before hurriedly swallowing. “You didn’t ask me.”
And for a good reason. You didn’t hate the idea of being petty. Jeremy totally deserved it, but Austin didn’t. There was no way you were going to pull him into your drama. You gave him a look, and he let out a small chuckle before shaking his head, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. “No, I’m serious. I’ll go with you. I don’t have any shoots or interviews for a full week, and my upcoming project doesn’t start for another month and a half.” Ever since he was in that Elvis biopic his face had been plastered all over god’s green earth.
“Jeremy would-” He cut you off before you could finish.
“No, fuck that. You told me you spent like. . . five hundred dollars on the hotel room for the night. Let’s just go, have a good time, and then we can both come back home refreshed. Besides, I love the Artic Monkeys. You know they’re one of my favorite bands. The tickets were sold out by the time I decided to buy one. Not only that, but I didn’t want to crash you and Jeremy’s date.” Austin did love the band just as much as you did. Also it was always a blast hanging out with him. You hadn’t been alone with him for years. You remembered how much fun the two of you used to have back in the day, and you could really use a good laugh.
Breakups make people do dumb things. Some people bleach their hair in a desperate attempt to reinvent themselves, while others go on a month long drinking binge. You? You agreed to go to the concert with Austin. Your ex’s longtime best friend. Alone. “Yeah! You’re totally right. It will be fun.”
Austin threw his fist in the air, and once he had heard you laugh he threw his leg out in a half-assed move he had probably learned during one of his karate lessons, which only made you laugh that much harder. “It’s going to be great. God, I’ve never seen them in concert before. I’m actually pretty psyched right now.”
And you could tell. He was grinning ear to ear. That smile remained on his face for the rest of your best friend’s celebration, and he stuck to your side like glue throughout the entire night. Later that night he shot you a text, as if you would possibly forget the promise that the two of you had made.
You had asked a very tipsy Ashley what she thought about the situation, but her input wasn’t much help. “I think you should have sex. No! For real, girl. He thinks you’re hot so I think you should go for it.” She was ridiculously inebriated, and mostly everything she says when she’s drunk is either highly dramatized or completely nonsensical, so you disregarded the last comment.
If Austin found you attractive at any point during your friendship, then there was no reason why he would have introduced you to Jeremy in the first place. The two of you were strictly friends. . . even if you did find him attractive yourself. That didn’t mean that the feelings were mutual.
You always used to enjoy road trips. That is, until Jeremy came along. The man always had something to complain about. Either his legs were cramping up, his ass felt sore for sitting too long, or he didn’t like the music you had turned on for the both of you to listen to. Going anywhere with that man was always a chore. Not to mention the fact that he always had something to say about your driving. Driving in the car with Austin reminded you what you loved so much about the open road. It was supposed to be fun and carefree, and when you had good company it was always a blast. Austin insisted on picking the music, which you definitely didn’t mind. He was still on an Elvis kick, and because of his major role in the movie he had a newfound love and respect for blues music. Towards the end of the four hour trip he had turned on the Artic Monkeys to get you both ready for the concert. You had sped down the interstate listening to his favorite songs by them, screaming the lyrics right along with him. Austin enjoyed driving with the windows rolled down, not caring about how his hair looked or how his ears popped. He must have enjoyed the feeling of the wind on his face. You followed his lead, rolling yours down as well. It really was therapeutic to get out of the state for a little while. The second you saw the sign for Nevada you practically moaned in relief. You were free, even if it was just for a little under forty-eight hours.
A couple of times during the trip you had seen Austin lift his phone up, taking pictures of the desert road and videos of you singing your heart out, your hair in your face from the wind and a wide smile dimpling your cheeks. Ashley would always be your best friend, but you hadn’t felt this happy in months. Maybe even years. Austin appeared to be in the same boat. You hadn’t seen him stop smiling. Not even once. When the two of you finally pulled up to the hotel, which was only about ten minutes from the concert venue, the both of you were in high spirits. Austin grabbed your overnight bag for you as you climbed out of the car, which you thanked him for by opening the lobby door so that he could step into the hotel first.
“Hey there. I booked a room here about two months ago.” You gave the front desk clerk your first and last name, but he was staring straight behind you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. You almost rolled your eyes as Austin used his free hand to wave, knowing damn well that the man must be momentarily star struck.
“O-Oh. . . okay. Give me just one second.” The young man’s face flushed as he began typing away furiously at the computer. “Here’s your key cards for the room.” He went to hand it to you, but his hands were shaking so horribly that he dropped it. The short brunette cursed under his breath, scrambling to grab the small packet before handing it off to you.
“Before we head up, I just wanted to see if there might be any rooms available with two beds? I know that the one I booked was a suite with a king size.” You didn’t want to be difficult, but it was certainly worth a try. Austin took a step closer to you, leaning against the counter as he looked down at you. You ignored his gaze, waiting for the boy to check.
“I’m so sorry, but we’re completely booked for the night. There’s a pretty big concert going on down the street in two hours, so all of the hotels in the area are probably completely booked up for the next week.”
You should have known that this would happen to you. You’d seen enough romcoms to know how this sort of situation went. Two platonic friends get stuck in the same hotel room together with just one bed. Of course this would happen.
You closed your eyes tightly for a few seconds before pocketing the hotel pamphlet. “Thank you.”
The boy shuffled awkwardly where he was standing before nodding his head towards Austin. “I know that this might be super lame, but my girlfriend absolutely loves you. I saw Elvis and. . . y-you killed it, man. Do you mind signing something for me?” Austin smiled warmly, placing the bags down on the floor.
“Not at all. Hey, thank you so much for seeing the film by the way. And tell your girlfriend that I said thank you for the support.” The boy nodded, quickly grabbing a blank sheet of paper out of the printer that he had beside the computer monitor, sliding that and a pen across the counter towards the blonde. You were used to people stopping Ashley while the two of you were out, so it wasn’t anything that you weren’t used to. For some odd reason, in this case at least, you felt an immense amount of pride wash over you. Seeing the way that he so sweetly interacted with a fan who was very clearly freaking out made you feel proud to have him in your life. Austin wasn’t just an amazing actor, but an amazing person as well.
“What are you all smiley about?” He asked you with a small smile on his face, bumping into you with his shoulder as you both walked into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.
“Just proud of you is all. It’s really amazing to see how far you’ve come.” Austin leaned back against the stainless steel wall as the doors began to close, and as you turned your head to face him he was quick to face the other way.
“Are you blushing?” You teased lightly. He was quick to wave you off with his hand, shuffling his feet until he had his back to you. You could still see him in the reflection of the wall, and you were quick to let out a small chuckle. “Don’t get all shy with me when I compliment you.” He shook his head a few times before facing you, blue eyes wide with shock. He had a sheepish grin on his face, and there was something about that expression that made your insides feel uncomfortably warm.
“I’m not used to you saying stuff like that to me in person.” Compliments had always made him feel embarrassed, which was why press tours made him feel a bit anxious. Austin was humble to the degree that whenever people went out of their way to remark on his work he sort of. . . shut down. His cheeks would heat up, he’d begin biting his lip, and he’d find it hard to make eye contact. He’d always been like that, ever since you first met him. Teasing him was fine, but whenever you very honestly commented on how well he was doing in his career? That was when the nervous ticks began.
He was smiling to himself, staring straight ahead at the glowing buttons, watching as the numbers flickered on the screen, signifying that you were still a long way off until the top floor. The confined space was beginning to make you feel. . . odd. Your heart was pounding, you were becoming overly aware of how close you were to Austin, and all you could smell was his woodsy cologne. You were the type of person that used humor as a coping mechanism, so under your breath you began singing what you could remember of the Hannah Montana theme song. He was quick to give your arm a light thwack, his loud laughter echoing in the confined space.
“You ruined it. We were having a bonding moment, and you totally killed the mood.” He was still laughing though, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Exactly. Of course you didn’t admit that. Instead you only laughed, moving away from him as he gave you a gentle shove.
“Come on, dude. . . I mean- sometimes I’m in a jam and I have to make a plan. It might be crazy, but I do it any-” He grabbed you by your shoulders, giving you a few shakes. At this point you were both belly laughing, barely able to keep yourselves up as the elevator continued to jostle as you climbed higher and higher. The sound of his cellphone loudly ringing made the both of you quiet down though, and the second that he dug the device out of his pocket and you saw the name that was flashing across the screen? Dead silence.
“Shit.” Austin cursed under his breath, his thumb hovering over the answer button as he debated whether or not he wanted to answer. Anxiety locked up your limbs as you fell limply against the wall, watching with wide eyes as he worried his lip with his teeth. “I’m going to answer it. Be quiet for a second.” He swallowed thickly before pressing the phone against his ear. “Hey, man.” There was a beat of silence before Jeremy’s loud voice came over the other end. He sounded mad. Really mad.
“What the fuck, Austin? Are you with Y/n right now?” Austin licked his lips, turning down the volume in an attempt to keep you from hearing whatever rotten things the rancid man was bound to say.
“We’re seeing a concert together. Why?” The blonde sounded guarded, a stark difference from the soft, teasing tone he had been using with you just seconds ago.
“Why? Are you seriously asking me that right now? You’re on a date with my girlfriend of five years after only a week of us being separated. What the hell is wrong with you?” You kept your eyes on the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief when you noticed that you were almost to your floor. It was almost as if Jeremy knew that you had finally allowed yourself to let loose and have fun. Whatever joy you had felt just minutes ago had been sucked from your body. Hearing his voice had been a catalyst, and suddenly all you were reminded of was just how wrong this whole situation was. Sure, he deserved it, but you weren’t the kind of person to go out of your way to be cruel.
Austin seemed to notice your shift in mood, because he reached a hand out, placing it on your shoulder as he spoke. “Y/n and I have known each other for well over five years, so I don’t think it’s weird for me to spend time with her. You can’t dictate when and where I see her anymore, Jeremy. She had an extra ticket and I offered to go. End of story.” Austin’s tone left no room for argument, but that didn’t mean that Jeremy didn’t try.
“I had to find out through your instagram story that the two of you were even with each other right now. Do you know how embarrassing this is for me? You’re supposedly my best friend, and now you’re in Vegas with my ex. Do you not realize how fucked up this is? Am I in the fuckin’ twilight zone or something?” You didn’t even think about the fact that Jeremy might see Austin’s private story. You had been too preoccupied with actually being in the moment to even think of the repercussions. You knew that your ex would eventually catch wind of the two of you doing something like this, but you didn’t think he would have the audacity to call within the same day.
“Embarrassing for you?” You flinched at Austin’s tone, your heart rate picking up even faster. God, was this going to turn into a fight right now? You started shaking your head, trying to signal for him to give you the phone. Whatever anger Jeremy had, you were used to taking the brunt of it. You didn’t want Austin to be the one that got reprimanded over this situation. He had been nice enough to come with you, after all. Even if he loved the band, he was still doing you a major favor by tagging along and keeping you safe from whatever creepy men were surely lurking in the shadows of Las Vegas. He shooed you off with a gentle flick of his wrist, his eyes hardening on the steel elevator doors. “You got caught trying to cheat on your girlfriend of five years, and you’re the one that is embarrassed? Why? Because your ex and your single friend- who have known each other for years, might I add- are hanging out? You’re a fuckin’ piece of work man.”
“Fuck you! How the hell do you not see how big of a deal this is? You’re fucking her, right?” Austin groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him with a gentle thud, his eyes screwed shut.
“I’m not fucking her. You’re painting this out to be some huge deal when it really isn’t. Stop spinning this false narrative so that you can play the victim. It isn’t going to work with me, Jeremy.” You ran your hand down your face, listening to the elevator as the floors continued to ding past. Jeremy must have recognized the noise too, because he was quick to speak up about it.
“So where are you two right now?”
Austin didn’t hesitate. “We’re heading up to our hotel room.” You instantly recognized the mistake though. Room. Singular.
“So you’re sleeping with her tonight? Austin, how fucking long has this been going on?” Great, now the paranoid asshole thought that you were the one that had been cheating. Maybe this had been what he was fishing for the entire time. He needed a reason to continuously slander you to all of your mutual friends.
This was turning out to be a car-crash of a day. A fiery one too. You couldn’t seem to catch a break. You’d been smart enough to block Jeremy on all social media the night that you saw the notifications on his phone and kicked him out, but now you felt the need to unblock him just to message him. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he could try to move on whilst still being knee deep in your relationship. Suddenly you’re the bad guy for trying to do the same? You hadn’t even come here with the intention of making a move on Austin. That had been the furthest thing from your mind, but you were so angry that suddenly it was on the table. You had always liked Austin. He was a fantastic guy, and had always gone out of his way for you without fail. Having sex with Austin might make things a bit awkward, but you sure as hell wouldn’t hate it. You just didn’t want him to think that he was a rebound hookup.
Because let’s face it; you’d always had a bit of a crush on him. Seeing the way he was viciously protecting you right now only solidified that. He must have known that he was potentially ruining one of his longest standing friendships for you, and he didn’t seem to care. Austin wasn’t pulling any of his punches either. He was going straight for the throat.
“If I’m so disappointed in you for cheating on her, why the hell would I go for her while she was still in a relationship with you? How does that make any fucking sense? Not to mention you went out of your way to control and nitpick every single little fucking thing she did, Jer. I wouldn’t do that to you, and I’m pissed off that you would even accuse me of something like this.” The door to the elevator opened loudly, and Austin was the first one to walk out, the two duffle bags swinging in his right hand while he held the phone up to his ear with the left. You couldn’t hear what Jeremy was saying now that you were out in the hall, but it must not have been good, because the second that Austin walked up to the correct room number he tossed the duffle bags down, throwing his free hand up into the air exasperatedly. “You’ve always gone out of your way to keep us away from each other. It hurt my feelings, but I understood and dealt with it. We get along too well and you felt threatened.” You scrambled to reach into your pocket with a shaking hand, trying desperately to find the keycard.
“Yes you were,” A beat. “No, Jeremy. You felt threatened. Every single adult woman that I know has at least one male friend. Ashley has a husband and we still call and text almost every day. It’s normal. The only thing that isn’t ‘normal’ is you in this situation.” Austin nodded his head in a silent thanks as he pushed his way past you and into the hotel room. He placed your duffle bag down onto the bed, keeping a hold on his own as he made his way towards the bathroom. You were still standing in the entryway, feeling like your limbs were locked up from the shock and stress of it all.
He brushed past you, and it was then that you could hear what Jeremy was saying. “-and I always knew you had a thing for her! So why the hell would I leave you alone with her? I’m a guy! I know how guys are!” Austin was quick to shut the door to the bathroom, not wanting you to hear any more of the conversation. You could hear the zipper to his bag and his hushed voice, but other than that you couldn’t make out anymore of the conversation.
“I’m not trying to be difficult, but my friend will most likely get ambushed if we try to enter through the main line.” You had asked to speak with the manager of the venue, chewing your bottom lip anxiously as he narrowed his eyes on you.
“And tell me again who your friend is?” The man asked gruffly.
The last thing you wanted was to try and come off privileged, but this certainly wasn’t a ploy to try and cut the lines. Someone was bound to recognize Austin, even in a dimly lit concert hall, but the last thing you needed was for all hell to break loose. There were at least a few thousand people that would be attending the show, and protecting your friend was your top priority. He had gone out of his way to show you support throughout the entire day. He had ruined his friendship with Jeremy all so that he could be there for you. You could tell just by the look on his face when he had stepped out of the bathroom that things had blown up far worse than they had in the elevator. It was over. By the time that the two of you headed back home, you were sure that everyone in your tight knit group would think that you were a homie hopper of epic proportions, and Austin would be losing one of his oldest friends. For now the two of you didn’t want to think about that though. Right now, at this very moment, the two of you wanted to drink overpriced beer and act like fools in front of Alex Turner.
“Austin Butler.” The guy blinked a few times before realization dawned on him.
“Ah!” He pointed at you, nodding his head enthusiastically. “He was in that Quentin Tarantino film.” You snapped your fingers, nodding your approval.
“That’s the one. He was recently in the Elvis biopic, which is really the only reason why I’m hoping you can just scan our tickets and get us in the dark building.” The short, stocky man nodded a few times, music pumping away loudly in the building. The opening act hadn’t started yet, but they were bound to play any minute. Adults and teenagers of all ages were lined up around the building, chattering excitedly with one another.
“I loved that one line of his. ‘I’m as real as a-’”
“‘ Donut, motherfucker,’” You finished hurriedly for him, laughing nervously. “Yeah, yeah. It was hilarious. What do you say though,” You looked down at his nametag. “Anthony? Can I go ahead and wave him on over? I don’t want him to get out of the uber if you can’t help us though.” The second that people started clamoring out of line to get pictures and autographs was the second that you would both probably be forced to leave. Anthony nodded, grabbing his walkie talkie off of his hip and bringing it up to his mouth.
“I’ve got two VIPs up front that are going to need an escort. Stand by.” You turned your body towards the silver Hyundai, waving animatedly at the car. Austin must have been watching you, because the second you gave him the “okay” signal, he was up and out of the car.
“Thank you.” You heard him say to the driver before closing the door, quickly jogging over to your side. He tucked in close to you, smiling down at Anthony.
For a second the older but shorter man just stared up at Austin. “Holy shit, you weren’t lying.” You let out a nervous laugh, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You thanked god that you were wearing your comfortable heeled boots. You had already been standing outside for nearly thirty minutes. You could hear whispers in the line beside you, and while Austin didn’t dare to turn his head to face anyone, you anxiously did. Sure enough, a group of young girls were staring directly at the both of you.
“Come on you two, I’m going to take you through the side entrance.” He told the both of you, already walking off in the direction of the building.
Austin breathed out a quick thanks before reaching down, taking your hand in his as the two of you began walking through dimly lit doors. The concert venue already smelled of alcohol and women’s perfume. Whether it was the Nevada temperatures or the amount of bodies that were already packed in the room, the building was stiflingly hot, even in the back corridors. You blinked your eyes as you passed by a few black chests, squinting ever so slightly to read the words painted on the side.
“I think this is their stuff.” You leaned in to whisper to Austin, who was quick to whip his head around.
“Holy shit. Are we. . . backstage right now?” He mumbled, though quickly shut his mouth as Anothony turned to face the both of you.
“Did you guys want to get any beverages? Once I put you guys in your spots, there’s really no leaving.” Austin reached into his back pocket and pulled out his card.
“Is there any way that someone could grab us a few beers?” Anthony took Austin’s card from him and waved over another person who was wearing a black “staff” shirt. They whispered something to one another before Anthony quickly shuffled off.
“What if he stole my card?” Austin turned to look at you, smiling widely.
You rolled your eyes, letting out a small scoff. “Oh my god. You’d shit yourself.” The blonde let out a small laugh, rocking back on his own vintage boots.
“The night would definitely go to shit, that’s for sure.” He wrinkled his nose in that adorable way that you loved so much, and you found yourself getting caught up in the moment again. Austin had this wonderful way of making everything feel alright. The world suddenly felt steady beneath your feet. You could breathe in his presence. “Let’s have a good night, alright? We didn’t drive here.”
“Meaning we can get wasted?”
His lips twitched up into a small, naughty smile. The moment felt very personal. Special. You had almost forgotten about his hold on your hand, because you nearly jumped when he gave it a small squeeze. “I think that we both deserve a drink.”
You lost count somewhere after your fourth beer. You weren’t a lightweight, but the last time either of you ate anything was hours ago, so the alcohol went straight to your head. You excitedly raised your beer above your head as the band finished up their third song of the night. Austin laughed at you, but was quick to raise his own beer as well. You couldn’t remember the last time that you felt this comfortable around a guy before. Here you were, in a highly populated area and drunk to boot, feeling more safe than you ever had in your own home with your ex. Austin stood behind you, his free arm wrapped around your shoulders, his forearm pressing against your neck. Maybe he wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave his sight. Or better yet, maybe he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. You were too inebriated to think too far into things. During the opening act, when you were a little bit more perceptive to your surroundings, you had seen a few people taking photos of you and Austin. You were positive that he must have known as well, but he didn’t bat an eye. He stuck close to you, leaning in to whisper jokes, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He had even pulled out his own phone, pressing his forehead against the top of your head as he kept the camera pointed at the stage. Every once and a while security would walk over and take the empty beer bottles out of your hands, waltzing off so that they could quickly replace them for you both.
Austin had the top buttons of his shirt undone, so when you turned your cheek further into his embrace, you felt his bare skin against your face. It was hot enough in the building that you both were sweating, your hair sticking to your cheeks and the back of your neck. A few strands of wavy hair currently clung to the skin just below his temples. You were trying your hardest not to stare up at Austin, because the longer you looked, the more beautiful he became. You could feel your hair sticking to his chest as you leaned your head back against him, blinking up at him as the stage lights flashed. Fans began to cheer loudly as Nick O’Malley played the opening notes of the song Arabella. You watched Austin’s smile widen, his eyes twinkling in the bright blue lights. He must have felt your gaze on him, because he looked down at you.
“What?” You couldn’t hear him with how loudly the music was playing, but you could feel his chest vibrating against your cheek as his deep voice sounded. You could see his plush lips form the words.
“I just love you.” You shouted back up at him. Because you did. Really and truly. Austin was one of the best people that you ever had the pleasure of meeting, and you hoped that he felt the same.
You weren’t an idiot though. You saw how he treasured you and your friendship. He had proved how wildly protective he was over you. You saw the way that he was looking at you right now. He didn’t have to say it back, because everything that he had done tonight said it for him. Every gentle brush of his knuckles against the skin of your bare shoulders. Every featherlight kiss on the top of your head. Every sway of his hips as he danced right along with you, matching your goofy energy effortlessly. The smile that he shot back down to you was blinding, and right on cue one of the staff breezed by, reaching out for your empty drinks. Austin grabbed yours out of your unsteady hands, leaning in close to the other man to say something that you didn’t hear. Now that the two of you were no longer nursing your drinks, Austin swung you around, throwing his head back as you let out an excited shriek. You pressed your chest in close to Austin, breathing out a small laugh as Austin pressed his forehead against yours as the two of you swayed back and forth. His large hands were holding tightly to your hips, dragging them against his as you both swayed in place. His knee was in between your legs so that he could be the one in control of your movements. You weren’t sure if you would be able to keep either of you steady if he had let you take the reigns.
The other concert-goers bodies were pressed in tightly to you, but they were all dancing with their own partners, some of them kept their phones out to film the performance and the crowd. In that moment you suddenly remember just who he was and the fact that he was dancing very provocatively with you.
“What if someone takes a video of us?” You pressed your lips against his ear as you spoke. You felt him shiver against you, having to bite your own tongue to keep yourself on your best behavior.
He was shaking his head before you even finished. “Fuck it.”
We deserve it.
You remembered his words from earlier on in the night. You were usually the kind of person that over thought every decision that they ever made. You were anxious by nature, which was why being with someone like Jeremy had only served to worsen your mental health. Dancing with Austin like this in a crowd of people that no doubt knew exactly who he was probably wasn’t a very good idea. Drunk or sober, you probably would have put yourself into this exact same situation. Why? Because this was the most fun that you have had in years. You felt free. Actually free. You were with someone that looked out for you and cared for you, and if he wanted your chest pressed right up against his so that he could feel you better- then damn it. You were going to let him. His long fingers tangled themselves into your hair as he slid his palm up to the base of your neck. You could see your lashes as your eyes became half lidded, and felt the heaviness of the thick mascara you had applied before leaving the room. The glitter that you had applied to the tops of your cheeks and the inner corners of your eyes had rubbed off on Austin. It was on his chin, his own cheeks, and his chest. The stage lights flashed from blue to red as the chorus picked up, the drums pounding in your ears.
As Arabella! Arabella! Just might have tapped into your mind and soul.
You leaned up on your toes so that you could press your forehead against Austin’s, both of your eyes still half lidded and glued to one another’s. “You can’t be sure.” He mouthed the words, his plush lips brushing against yours. Once again your lips were twitching up into a smile, and you reached your own hand up, grabbing a fistful of his wavy locks so that you could press his forehead even harder against yours.
That’s magic in a cheetah print coat. Just a slip underneath it I hope.
The lights flashed again, going from red to a deep purple. The two of you were now fully wrapped up in each other, the both of you covered in your glitter, your bare skin dewing with sweat. You’d never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. Not once in your life. It was painful just standing there, gripping onto one another like your lives depended on it. Neither of you were dancing anymore. You both had stopped your movement the second that Austin’s lips had brushed against yours. You could see the gentle question in the man’s blue eyes. Would it be a mistake? Would this just be a one time thing for the both of us? Would it mean as much to you as it would for me?
Asking if I can have one of those organic cigarettes that she smokes. Wraps her lips round the Mexican Coke.
You were too buzzed to overthink anything anymore. You were sick and tired of being worried about everything. You had a bad habit of overcomplicating things in your head, when in actuality it was really quite simple. You and Austin were far from strangers. You found him attractive, and his actions tonight had you questioning whether or not Ashley really had meant what she had said the other night about him having a thing for you years back. Would it really be a mistake if something really did happen between you? You were both single, and even though you and Jeremy had only been separated for a week, things had gone sour years ago. The tears that you had shed over the situation were those of anger. You were embarrassed about the fact that you had unknowingly allowed yourself to be taken advantage of. You didn’t miss him. If you kissed Austin, it sure as well had nothing to do with Jeremy. So as Austin leaned forward, his blue eyes still locked on yours, you couldn’t help but urge him forward.
Makes you wish that you were the bottle. Takes a sip of your soul and it sounds like-
His lips were softer than you expected, but you blamed it on the fact that you had been kissing your ex’s dusty ass exclusively for far too long. He kissed you tentatively at first, testing out the waters, but as the guitar solo continued to press on, the crowd cheering loudly all around you, the lights flashing behind your closed eyes, his timidness began to dissipate. You clung tightly at his shoulders as your lips moved fluidly against his. It felt like years of pent up attraction was being put into this kiss. It felt heavenly and hellish all at once, and you knew that if you could devour Austin in that moment then you would have. The venue largely smelled of other women’s perfume and beer, but now that you were as close to Austin as you could possibly be, you were able to really smell him again. His signature scent had changed multiple times over the years, as had yours. His natural scent was something that you had never been able to fully describe though. It made everything smell a bit darker- more earthy in a way. The woodsy, amber notes of his current cologne made your head spin.
His rings pulled on a few strands of your hair as he gripped harder onto the base of your neck, pulling you as close as humanly possible. If you thought that it was hard to breathe before, now it was impossible. Austin was crushing you to him, the hand that had tangled itself into your hair gripping hard at your hip. There was a small, nagging voice chattering in the back of your head, trying to tell you that it wasn’t a good idea to be making out in the middle of a crowd of people. You normally would have been worried about whether or not you were making others uncomfortable, but you couldn’t think of anything else outside of Austin. You could feel his fingers digging into your hip, his digits slipping beneath the flowy fabric of your top. The band had only played four songs and you were already more than ready to head back to the hotel. There was raw desperation in the way that Austin was touching you, almost as though he was panicked that at any second this might be taken away from him. That you might be taken away.
His lips were no longer timid against yours, rather demanding and possessive. Whether you knew it or not, he was claiming in that sea of people. Pressing hard enough to bruise and committing your taste to memory. His tongue claimed your mouth, the palm of his hand dragging upwards over your stomach, his fingers grazing over your underboob. He froze, pulling away from your lips to let out a small hiss. You didn’t need to hear every word he said- you felt them against your mouth. Swallowed them as he spoke to you.
“You’re not wearing a bra.” It was less of a question and more of an observation.
You could feel the drums echoing in his chest against yours, and let out a small whimper as his fingers moved upwards another inch, cupping you through your shirt. All someone had to do was look over at the two of you and they would immediately be able to see what was going on. You weren’t about to shy away from Austin because of a few prying eyes.
“No.” You breathed against his lips, swallowing thickly as you felt him groan deep in his chest, giving your breast a small squeeze.
“I’m trying so hard to be good right now.” You pulled away another inch so that you could look up at him.
His cheeks were flushed a pale pink, lips kiss swollen and glossy with the combination of both of your saliva. His eyes? No one had looked at you like that in years, and even if they had, they sure as hell weren’t Austin. His dirty blonde hair, in the yellow stage light, looked golden halo. The damn near biblical beauty that the man possessed was offset by the dark look in his eyes. They were blown out wide, practically black as he looked down at you. His jaw was clenched, and you could tell that every bit of beauty that you were currently finding in his face, that he was currently finding in yours as well.
You weren’t sure how many minutes had passed, but you must have missed a few songs. People were cheering all around you as “R U Mine” echoed over the speakers.
“This ones a classic.” You tried to lighten the mood, swaying your body back and forth ever so slightly.
Your hips dragged against his with the movement, and you could feel just how hard he was for you. You hadn’t even touched him yet, and he was stiff to the point of pain. He let out another groan, letting his head tilt back towards the ceiling as he closed his eyes tightly. His hands were still holding you to him, but you could feel them beginning to shake. His restraint was steadily crumbling.
“Yeah,” He breathed, pressing his hips harder against yours. “Classic.”
You weren’t sure how you were even able to stand anymore. You were suddenly stone cold sober, all of the alcohol burning right out of your system. You felt like you were burning up, suddenly overaware of the warmth pooling in between your legs. Consequences be damned, you wanted to fuck him. You needed to fuck him. You didn’t care about how other people might feel about it, or even how it might make you look.
You were sick and tired of being unhappy. You were sick and tired of being sexually unfulfilled. You were sick and tired of being attracted to Austin and unable to say anything. People often say that “timing is key”. Well. . . now was the right time. You were sure of it. Jeremy, over the years, had somehow convinced you that it was better to be docile. Women that were bold with their sexuality weren’t sexy at all to him, rather just whorish. You felt yourself beginning to hesitate, worried that somehow your brazenness might send him the wrong message. Because you were needy, but that didn’t mean that this didn’t mean something to you. The way that Austin was staring at you though silenced your fears without him having to utter a word. In a sea of beautiful women, he had stared at you all night as though you were the only one that existed. He had tunnel vision, and it had been that way for years. He had been happy for his friend when the two of you started dating, and moved on with Vanessa. But you’d always been on his mind. Whether this was just a one night stand to you, or perhaps a backwards way of getting revenge on Jeremy. . . He couldn’t find it within himself to care. He’d let you use him in whatever way you saw fit, just so long as he could have you. Even just once.
People were pressing in on the two of you as they danced and sang along to the music, and he pressed you in closer to him to make room for the others. Your hands brushed over his chest, slowly making their way down his abdomen to the front of his jeans. He sucked in a breath, eyes widening as he took in your delicious expression. He loved seeing you so confident. You were always gorgeous, no matter what you did, but you were otherworldly in your confidence. If there was enough room to do it, he would have fallen to his knees in front of you. Dressed in all black, your hair slightly limp with sweat, your glitter face catching the light just right. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. His expression pushed you to go further, pressing your palm a bit harder against his length and giving it a few gentle rubs. He twitched in his pants, lurching forward a bit as he let loose a rather loud groan. You two had earned a few stares throughout the night, but thanks to the popular song no one was paying either of you any attention.
“I need to fuck you. Please. Please let me fuck you.”
The uber ride was spent in tense silence, the two of you unable to take your hands off of one another. He never let go of your hand, placing soft kisses against your face as the minutes ticked by and you began to get closer to the hotel. The driver must have realized that now was certainly not the time to make small talk, because the only thing he said to either of you was your name when you opened the car door, just to make sure that you were the right person. You both uttered a quick thank you before climbing out of the car. Austin practically yanked you through the double doors of the hotel, still shaky and slightly sweaty from the concert. The second that he had gotten you into the hotel and pressed the button, the heavy metal doors rattling closed, he had you pressed against the wall. In the blink of an eye you had been pushed back a few steps, his large hands scooping both of your wrists up so that he could press them above your head, rendering you useless. The cool stainless steel bit into your skin as he pressed you harder against it, his jean covered hips pressing against your stomach.
He kissed you like he loved you and hated you all at the same time.
You felt like you were going to explode. Like he was pressing into you so hard that your ribs might give out and break. Honestly you didn’t mind that idea. If you could have absorbed Austin into your body somehow, you would have. He was everywhere. His scent was heavy in your nose, the taste of him on your tongue as he devoured you, and you could feel every inch of his body pressed up against you. Trapping you there against the wall. He kept your wrists gripped in one hand, his free hand running down your body, hastily unbuttoning the front of your tight pants.
“C-Cameras.” You mumbled against his lips, opening your eyes so that you could nervously eyed the corners of the elevator. Sure enough, there was one situated right on the both of you. “The front desk can see us.” Your voice came out hoarse, and as his lips moved to your cheek and down your neck, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy sound. A cross between a sigh and a moan as you tried to keep the noises at bay.
“He can watch.” He mumbled against your skin.
“Holy fuck.” His voice had never sounded so deep in your ears before. You could barely breathe as his hand slipped down the front of your pants, easily slipping past the thin fabric of your underwear. He took a second to feel the fabric between his fingers, and you could feel him smile against your neck. “Lace?” You couldn’t even nod. All words had completely escaped you as well. “Cute.”
And then he was pressing into you, fingers running along your velvety folds. He swallowed thickly, his hold on your wrists becoming so tight that it was slightly painful. You didn’t care. You wanted him to hurt you. Any sensation was a good sensation at this point. He must have felt how wet you were already for him. Now he knew that kissing him at that concert had practically killed you. “So soft.” He spoke gently to you, but his deep voice cracked. He was trying to stay soft with you, but now that the dam had finally broken, it was hard to keep himself in check. There were years of pent up sexual tension finally bubbling to the surface.
His lips continued to press against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin every once in a while. You were sure that there would be marks tomorrow morning. Either he wasn’t thinking about the dark hickeys that he was leaving or he just didn’t care. You would take whatever he gave you. You wanted it all. His finger pressed against that small bundle of nerves, causing your hips to jerk forward in surprise. He let out a small hiss, removing his lips from your neck so that he could run his nose gently up the expanse of your throat, straightening out to his full height so that his smoldering eyes could bore into you.
“Be good for me, okay? I need you to stand as still as possible.”
You nodded quickly, the elevator floors flashing on the digital screen behind Austin. You didn’t even remember pressing your floor number. You could be headed to the roof for all you knew. He leaned back down, pressing his face into your neck once again so that he could get better leverage. The height difference, in this case, was beginning to get annoying. His fingers gathered up your slick before pressing against your entrance. He didn’t ask for permission or warn you, rather he just slipped them inside of you without any hesitation. It felt good to be full- though you still weren’t as full as you would have liked to be. Having something inside of you was still enough to have your head lolling back against the elevator wall, your eyes screwing shut tightly as you tried to keep your hips as still as possible.
“That’s my good baby.” My.
You wanted to scream. His fingers curled slightly inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit as he began to successfully work you up into a frenzy. You were already worked up to the point that you could feel yourself immediately building up, your abdomen tightening with every thrust of his fingers and every brush of his thumb. That combined with his teeth and tongue constantly teasing the skin of your throat- it was more than enough. When was the last time that anyone had actually made you cum? It was sad, really. You always went out of your way to pleasure your ex and never got anything in return. Austin was taking his time with you though, almost like his own pleasure was an afterthought. He wanted to possess you first. He wanted to work you up until you couldn’t think about anything else other than fucking him.
The elevator chimed, the doors rattling open. You let out a whimper when he slowly slipped his fingers out of you, watching as he smiled that slow, sly smile of his. Much to your relief there was no one in the hall, so when he let your sore wrists go you practically stumbled through the hall, trying desperately to find your room. Austin’s large hand found your wrist again, pulling you in the right direction. You tried to keep up with him and his long legs, your own feeling unsteady beneath you.
“W-Where’s the keycard?” He seemed so put together and in control in the elevator, but his stutter told you everything that you needed to know. He was just as wrecked as you were. Barely able to hold it together. He reached into your back pocket before you could tell him, his hands sliding over your rear. He “tsked” softly when he found what he was looking for, quickly sliding it into the handle and yanking it open wide. You winced as the knob slammed against the door, but you were past worrying about any noise complaints or the possibility that you might have neighbors. Austin was slipping his shirt off of his shoulders before the door was even fully closed, kicking off his boots as quickly as he could before descending upon you. His hands gripped at your hips, pressed the fabric of your pants down and off of your legs. He took a second to pull back so that he could admire your panties.
“Just like I thought. Cute.” You squirmed under his heated gaze, moving your hands to your shirt so that you could remove that too. He brushed your hands away though, wanting to do it for you.
There was a possibility that this might be the first and last time that he got to do this, and he wanted to be able to fully enjoy the moment. He let his eyes explore every inch of your skin, his fingers dancing along the soft skin of your back, moving to cup your breasts in his hands. You felt impatient, but you didn’t complain. You allowed him to admire you. Seeing the way that he looked at you reminded you that you were worthy of love. You hadn’t felt beautiful in a while, but seeing Austin panting over your body put it into perspective for you. You were never the problem. It was him.
“I want you to keep your feet planted on the ground, but turn around and face the bed.” Austin was unzipping his jeans after what felt like an eternity of gentle touches and heady exploration.
You were quick to do as he said, but grunted when he gently pushed you forward. You planted your forearms on the bed, keeping your back arched, your ass in the air. He sucked in a breath, his belt jingling as he kicked the pants off. He must have liked the panties more than he was letting on, because he merely slipped them to the side, taking a good look at your warmth.
“Fuck, so pretty.” You believed him.
He slid his hand over his length, giving it a few good pumps before he froze. “I don’t have a condom.” He mumbled out, defeat edging its way into his voice.
“I’m on birth control.” It was irresponsible, you knew that. Saying something like that was so unlike you, but you truly felt like you would regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t fuck him tonight.
“I’m willing to risk it if you are.” He seemed to be in the same boat.
You quickly nodded, gripping the duvet covers tightly between your fingers as you felt the head of his member press against you. “Please. Please just fuck me.” You didn’t need him to try and warm you up- to gently slip in so that it wouldn’t be a painful fit. You needed him inside of you. He didn’t say a word, rather he let out a loud moan at your panicked insistence and pressed his hips forward. At this angle it felt like he was in your stomach. Pain and pleasure melted together, a loud moan leaving your own mouth as you let your forehead press against the soft mattress. The pace that he immediately set had you gripping for dear life onto the blankets, the nicely made bed a mess in seconds. Austin kept one hand planted on the small of your back, the other one gripping hard at your thigh. You could feel the weight of his stare on your ass, and you somehow managed you twist your torso so that you could watch him. Seeing the expression on his face was enough to have you letting loose another moan. He was gorgeous, his sharp jawline twitching as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. His blue eyes were fully focused on you, eating up every jiggle of soft supple skin. You watched him pump in and out of you, reaching a hand back so that you could feel the assault. Your fingers ran along his length, slick from your own heat and his precum.
“Fuck.” He cursed again, his eyes flickering to your face. He removed his hand from your back, reaching out for you, leaning over your body so that he could grab your neck. He pulled you until your back was against his chest, still pistoning in and out of you. The hand that was on your thigh repositioned itself so that he could lift your leg, making it easier for him to fuck you at the same startling pace. He was using the height difference to his advantage.
He squeezed down on your neck, his wet lips pressing against your cheek, the corner of your lips- anywhere he could reach. You were close. He had edged you enough in the elevator, and the angle was enough to have you gasping for air. “Not yet.” He must have felt your fluttering walls and known what was about to happen. You weren’t sure how long you could push off your climax. You shook your head quickly, your lips parted, eyes squeezing shut. He quickened his pace, his hips snapping into you. You could feel his moans rumbling in his chest, his breathy pants hot in your ear.
“Gonnacumgonnacumgonnacum-” You were past the point of being able to form coherent sentences.
“I wanna cum with you. I’m close.” There was something so endearingly intimate about the way that he said it.
“Where do you want it? Tell me quick.” He breathed out. And maybe your decision made you stupid. Maybe Austin had fucked all of the common sense right out of your body, but your answer was immediate.
“Please for the love of god cum inside of me.” His grip on your throat tightened, and he breathed your name against the top of your head. “Fill me up. Please-”
“Oh fuck, I’m going to pump you full.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
Without any warning the hand that was on your throat moved down, his palm pressing against your abdomen as he worked your clit. The stimulation along with the brutal way he was fucking you was enough to push you over the edge. You didn’t have time to silence yourself. Didn’t have time to try and be courteous to anyone else. Your moans turned to screams, your eyes closing tightly as he continued to pound into you. You felt him twitch inside of you, his hold on your thigh tightening to the point where you were sure to have a palm sized bruise there tomorrow. His warmth spilled inside of you, his heavy pants dissolving into moans. It was a string of curses, followed by your name. He took extra care with shaping each syllable of your name. He wanted you to know without really having to actually say it.
Please don’t let this be a one time thing. Please- god.
You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock, your hand blindly reaching for the bedside table so that you could press the snooze button. Austin grumbled at your side, his hold on your waist tightening. He had held you all throughout the night. He had been insistent on it, following you closely even when you moved in your sleep. You were scared that he might regret having sex with you in the light of day, but judging on the way he nuzzled his cheek against your bare skin, he didn’t regret a thing. You smiled lazily, reaching down to detach one of his arms from your stomach so that you could bring it up to your face, giving it a warm kiss. He sighed contentedly into your hair, returning the sweet sentiment by giving the back of your head a kiss.
You were quick to check your phone notifications, wanting to make sure that your ex hadn’t found some way to harass you throughout the night. Thankfully you saw nothing from him- but a hundred messages from other people. Co-workers, friends- even family members had texted you. Ashley’s contact was the first one that you clicked on though- per usual. Your best friend had barraged you with texts throughout the night. Asking you how the ride up there was. Then asking you about the show. Somewhere around the twelve o’clock mark she had sent you a screenshot from instagram. From the person’s profile picture it looked like a regular girl- but right there, in the crowd, was you and Austin.
You were quick to scroll down, clicking on one of the many links that she had sent you.
“Austin Butler caught in a heavy makeout sesh with a mystery girl at the Las Vegas Artic Monkeys show.” “Who is Austin Butler’s mystery girlfriend? Read more to find out.” “Austin Butler caught locking lips with talented photographer friend.” And sure enough, people had been able to find you. Your instagram had been leaked, internet detectives able to find you within the timespan of less than twelve hours. You had old pictures of you and Austin posted from years ago, and so of course news outlets had uploaded those.
“Um. . . Austin?” He grunted, and you were quick to try and detangle yourself from his arms. “L-Look at this.” You were quick to push the phone into his face. He tried to blink the sleep from his eyes, focusing on the words. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“They called you talented. That’s nice.”
“Good God, why are you like this?”
thank you for the emotional support, you sweet sluts: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @sournatromanoff @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny
Pairing: Austin!Elvis x reader x Olivia!Priscilla.
Summary: After a week of sickness, nothing sounds better than a family day out.
Warning: Time-period racism, Overprotective Austin!Elvis, Fighting, Fluff, Pregnant Olivia!Priscilla, Teen Lisa Marie, Poly relationship. (A/n: sorry this took so dang long, I lost motivation but I tried to push pasted my writer's block for this. I hope you liked it)
You smiled as you took in the fresh air of a gorgeous dawn, the birds chirping was like Harmony to your ears. A week spent in bed without sun and light and nasty medicine was all behind you and now you got to see your babies, Lord had mercy on your little Spencer and Savannah. Now Elvis did the best he could do to deal with their hair, most hairstyles were clumsy and unsure yet the twins wore them with pride and would brag about their daddy doing their hair if the stories your older daughter told you was true.
"Takin' in the view mama." Elvis walked up from behind you and hugged your waist. You hummed and looked over your shoulder to see he wasn't looking at the "View" but you. Gigging you batted his arms from you as you looked through the open door to see Priscilla trying to go down the stairs. "Elvis!" you gasped. "Cilla!" Elvis didn't skip a beat and rushed to help his legitimate wife.
"Oh calm down you two I'm okay." Priscilla huffed yet it held no bite as she allowed Elvis to help her down the last steps. "Cilla, you know how dangerous it is to go down those stairs. Alone" you scolded her and in turn, she rolled her eyes, a tiny smile on her painted lips, and simply walked past you towards the car. "Come on, the kids are waiting," she said looking over her shoulder before opening the passenger seat and sliding into the vehicle. Elvis chuckled and shook his head as he got into the driver's seat, and waited for you to get in the back with Lisa, the twins, and your baby boy. You could see the giddiness of your children, all so happy to go to the new restaurant that opened up close to Beale Street, and Elvis had been dying to visit. The ride was filled with laughter and lively chatter. Once Elvis had parked the car, everyone filed out, the children sported smiles and grins as they looked upon the front of the restaurant was it beautiful, a glowing gold neon sign in cursive was raised above the door, adding a fancy touch. You were luckily seated, almost immediately once they saw your husband, and if you thought the outside was beautiful the inside did it no justice. The carpet was a velvet red and a classy glass, golden chandelier hung from the high ceiling, the black tablecloths and white chair covers popped out of the glamorous colors. Your brows frowened as a waiter came up to your table wearing a spotless suit his eyes flicking to you and your babies, his smile twitching each time he did as he took your orders and rushed away. "I'm so excited for some food." Lisa Marie groaned and leaned back into her chair, eyes closed and dramatically rubbing her stomach, causing the twins to giggle at their older sister as she opened an eye to peek at them, a playful smile on her lips. The giggles, Priscilla warning Lisa Marie to behave, and Elvis trying to calm down his wife blurred to background noise, as you suddenly felt aware of the stares from the other patrons and the not-so-stable way the waiter seemed to whisper to another waiter and pointing to your table. "Mama, ya okay?" Elvis whispered as he grabbed your hand, squeezing it. "Oh, yeah. 'm okay." you faked a smile, reassuring your husband, as you squeezed his hand back as a man came to your table. He didn't look like a waiter, he wore a striped black suit instead of the plain black suits the serves wear and cheap golden jewelry, "Ah, the famous Mr. And Mrs. Presley! Welcome to my restaurant." his grin at Elvis and Cilla before it turned sleazy as he looked at you, "Sorry but pets aren't allowed here, so if you can take your pets out that would very appreciated." a pregnant silence filed the air before the sound of a chair falling to the floor and a grunt broke the silence. "Lisa Maire, help your siblings! " you ordered as you quickly helped Priscilla out of her chair and towards the exit, looking back at your enraged husband. You knew better than anyone you had to get the family away from the scene, you wouldn't let your babies see violence so young. No later Elvis was storming out the door, panting in anger as he slide into the drivers seat, his shaking fingers running through his messed hair and straightening out his shirt. Wordless you leaned forward and took hold of his shoulder, your touched seemed to calm down your husband, as he shaky exhaled,"Thank ya, mama." Elvis laid his hand on yours.
"Mama," Savannah spoke up softly, "why did that man call us pets?" she asked, her eyes glazed over as she looked at you and her father. "Oh baby.." you shushed her as you pulled her into your embrace. "Some people were raised wrong, bug," Priscilla said softly. "but there will be people who will love and care about you regardless of your skin color" Elvis piped in, reaching back to hold his son's arm, comforting the little boy as tiny stifles came out of his lips. "Why don't we head down to our favorite diner?" Lisa Marie suggested, with that the twins cheered up as they pleaded to go, even little Eric cooed in agreement.
The familiar smell of greased food and the cheerful welcome of a waitress as she led you to your tables. And like that, everyone was happy again, At times like that you realized despite the cruelty you weren't alone anymore. You had your family, you had your fortress and you were all in it together.
warning: making out, hickeys, eating out, protected sex
Y/N’s POV
Every girl wants him, every boy wants to be him, a bunch of women throw themselves at him but when he saw me in the crowd, he fell in love with me. One night he invited me to go to his hotel room, but the way he looked at me when he opened the door, he wants me.
When I got on the bed and waited for him, he closes the door and locks it. I get in comfortable position and Elvis gets on top of me and begins to kiss me I tug on his hair, the way he kisses my neck made me moan.
He takes my clothing off and kisses all over my body and when he went to my inner thighs and I can feel him giving me hickeys, I tug on his hair and I can feel his tongue inside my cunt, I scream.
The way he fucked me, it felt so good. He grabbed a condom don’t worry! He kisses my neck again but this time it feels different. I never had a man be this good to me, I can feel him inside me by him moving around in my cunt.
After a while, we’re laying on the bed, exhausted. I cuddle up against him and he cuddles me as well. He’s so good in bed and I already know people are going to call me a slut and homewrecker even though he’s not married.
When I left his hotel room, he whispered in my ear that I’ll be his favorite.
