I can’t get enough of your writing! I love it so much! 💖
Could you maybe do something where one of the Memphis mafia guys girlfriend or something is mean to little reader when they’re alone, but is nice when others are around. Reader doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to get anyone in trouble because she’s so sweet but one day it gets too much and she tells Elvis and he gets protective.
Sorry it’s so long I hope you have a nice day! 🎀💝
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wc - 2.9k
warnings - ddlg dynamic, if u don't like that i would advise not reading
You knock softly at Elvis' office door, waiting patiently until Elvis calls you in.
You're Elvis' long term girlfriend and you're just the sweetest little thing. You're so polite and you're as quiet as a mouse, even with Elvis still, you're just naturally very timid.
But Elvis loves you all the more for it. He likes having someone to control, to protect, to use. It's the innocent and timid nature that he adores the most, that he wants to preserve at all costs.
It wasn't too long ago that he'd introduced you to the Little lifestyle, now, you were certainly apprehensive about it, you were just a little bundle of nerves, weren't you? Elvis made sure to take it slowly, but Elvis kept you at Graceland, living under his rules so it was easy for him to help you succumb to the lifestyle when he made the whole environment push you further and further into a smaller headspace.
There were things he put in place that would help you slip.
He would give you warm milk before bed every night.
He bought you toys that would help clear your head and allow you to be Little, such as coloring books, or the most beautiful dolls house that you'd ever seen that you just couldn't resist playing with it as the Memphis Mafia would stand above you and watch as they sipped their beer with Elvis and you played with your toys on the floor.
He instructed anyone that looked after you to treat you as if you were only a little thing, whether it was the cook, one of the Memphis Mafia, their girlfriends or the gardener.
But not everyone had always been that nice to you, including Ramona, Red's girlfriend. She was a relatively new girlfriend, and unbeknownst to you, she was simply dating Red to try to get to Elvis, so she utterly despised you.
She, like all the other girlfriends, had been told about the way in which you were to be treated -- gently and softly, not to treat you like an adult whether you liked it or not.
But she used this to her advantage and would constantly make your life miserable. She'd pinched you, pulled your hair when brushing it, called you all sorts of horrible names, broken a few of your toys and ripped up some of your drawings that you'd made. She didn't try to hide it from you, she knew you wouldn't say anything, she knew you were too timid and shy and that whatever warped lifestyle Elvis had submitted you to, had too much of a hold over you to tell anyone what she was doing.
You were scared of Ramona, and you'd watch from your play area as she'd make Elvis laugh during parties, and you'd chew your lip nervously, realising that you couldn't say anything.
But she was coming over yet again, for a cook-out in the yard with all of the Memphis Mafia and their girlfriends and wives and you could feel the nerves growing in your tummy as you walked into Elvis' office.
Elvis looked up from the paperwork he was working on and offered you a smile, you were just so precious.
"Hey honey, y'okay baby?" Elvis said cooly, getting up from his desk and walking over to you as you stood nervously at the entrance of the office, looking around at his desk, noticing all the work.
"Did I disturb you?" You asked softly, picking at your fingers.
Elvis chuckled softly, "No honey, just finishing up some work s'all. What's on your mind Little One?" Elvis cooed gently, rubbing your shoulders and upper arms.
"Um, um," You say softly and quietly, avoiding the gaze of Elvis. "The party is nearly starting, um..." You say gently, not really being all that sure what you're even trying to say, which Elvis understands.
Elvis nods, he can tell that you're feeling smaller but resisting it. But that's what he's there for, to help you.
"And don't you look pretty huh baby?" Elvis smirks, taking in the pretty pink babydoll dress you have on and the ribbon in your hair that he had laid out for you earlier that the maid, Miriam, had put in for you. You can't help but blush at the comment and begin to chew on your lip. Despite being with Elvis for a couple of years, you're still such a reserved little baby. "How's about you go pick some of them flowers in the garden for the party huh? Y'know the ones you grew with Miriam's help and you were such a good girl, takin' such good care of 'em?" Elvis suggested, referring to your flower bed in the garden.
You'd become such a little green thumb recently, you loved flowers, you thought they were just so pretty, and you loved wildlife and nature. You'd always potter around the garden with the little tools that Elvis had bought you with your little sun hat on, showing Elvis all the pretty flowers you'd carefully planted.
You nod softly. "Flowers..." You repeat softly with a nod, processing the request.
"That sound good, Little One?" Elvis said, gauging your headspace, he can tell you're slipping.
You nod again, quietly listening and responding as the big man that you call Daddy kisses the top of your head. "Good girl, go get some pretty flowers f'me, 'kay?" Elvis said and you nod and set off to the lavish garden to your flower bed.
You love all your flowers so dearly, you're proud of every single one like the good little baby that you are, you make sure you water all of them at the right time, and you giggle softly every time Elvis compliments your hard work when he looks at them with you.
You have lots of flowers and it's a little overwhelming for you to decide which ones might be best to pick, but you're worried that you might pick the wrong ones. You always want to do a good job for your Daddy, he works so hard and he takes such good care of you that you just want to do a good job in return at whatever he asks for you. You absolutely hate the idea of ever being a bother to him.
You chew on your lip nervously as you sit on the grass and look at all your flowers, it's only when a shadow appears above you that you turn around and see Ramona.
You instantly become a little shelf of yourself, quiet as anything and a little fidgety, looking away from her stare and trying to concentrate on your flowers.
"Elvis said you were here pickin' flowers you've grown..." Ramona said, her tone less than friendly which made you feel tense, but you tried as hard as you possibly could to ignore that feeling.
All you can manage is a gentle nod, you're so shy around Ramona, you can't help it, she terrifies you.
"You grew these?" She asked, smoking her cigarette as she stood above you.
All you do is nod yet again but you can't help but think that maybe she likes them, maybe she's impressed and she finally likes something you've done.
"Let me help you pick some then huh?" She says sharply before pulling at all the flowers in the flowerbed, tearing them harshly and breaking their stems, pulling out so many so quickly that you don't know what to do.
"N-No, no, my flowers-" You say, trying to be loud but failing miserably, you just sound so timid and soft and little, but distraught nevertheless.
"Honey, m'just helpin' ya get the weeds out." She laughed, ruining your entire flowerbed before your eyes, the flowerbed you worked so hard on for so long. "Looks much better, dontcha think, Y/N?" She scoffed, trying her cigarette on one of the crushed peonies before walking away.
You can't help but feel tears coming to your eyes, you crawl to the flowerbed, practically getting in it to try and salvage some of the flowers and plants you'd so lovingly grown.
You don't know why she's so mean to you, why she would do this to your pretty flowers, everything from the roses to the tulips completely ruined and muddied.
Tears begin to trickle down your cheeks as you desperately try to fix what Ramona had done, your knees, legs, dress, hands, everything getting muddy and your hands getting cut from thorns as you tearfully try to make all the flowers better but to no avail.
"Oh no? Did the baby fall in her flowerbed huh?" Ramona feigns concern looking at you, getting Reds attention who immediately hollers at Elvis to come outside.
"Baby, hey baby, hey, hey, it's okay..." Red hushes as he reaches you first, crouching down on the grass next to you.
You immediately look to your lap as you sit in the flowerbed, ashamed and embarrassed that you look all tearful and muddy at the big garden party. "Daddy..." You say ever so quietly but enough for Red to hear it.
"Oh honey, Daddy's comin', here is, see? He's coming darlin', easy now, don't want you to get hurt on them thorns anymore baby." Red says gently, as you continue to avoid eye contact.
"What the hell happened?" You can hear your Daddy's voice say to Red as he observes the scene of his little baby girl, surrounded by destroyed flowers and covered in dirt.
"Ramona said she fell in her flowerbed, EP." Red says and you don't dare to correct him, you're far too shy of a baby for that.
Elvis can't really believe what he's seeing, even when you're in a Little headspace, you're never this clumsy - and you're so careful with your flowers all the time, he knows just how much you love them.
"Red, give us some damn space." Elvis muttered, gesturing for Red to return back to the house before Elvis crouched by you. "Baby, what's happened here, princess?" Elvis asked calmly.
"My flowers..." You sniffled, tears falling from your cheeks and hitting your pink dress.
"Did yer take a tumble huh?" Elvis asked gently.
You sniffle but you don't move or say anything and that's instantly a signal to Elvis that something has gone on, but it's clear you're not saying anything now and you're still sat in the flowerbed.
"Okay baby, m'gon getchu outta this flowerbed, 'kay? Just let Daddy take control 'kay? Don't want you makin' no sudden movements or nothin' and getting scratched again baby." Elvis said calmly, before grabbing you from under your arms and easily lifting you out of the flower bed and onto his hip.
You've always been smaller than him, easily pliable and manhandled. You continue to cry weepily, instantly resting your head on his shoulder and cuddling into him closely.
"There we go, that's it baby, s'okay, Daddy's gotchu." Elvis soothed, rocking you in his arms and hushing you. "Let's go put you in the tub and get y'all clean again baby, how's about that?" Elvis said softly kissing your forehead before taking you inside.
The pair of you walk past everyone and you instantly bury your face in Elvis' shoulder, determined not to be seen by anybody and Elvis can't help but find it just damn adorable. But you particularly don't want to see Ramona, you're too shy and too embarrassed to face anyone but your Daddy and even that's a challenge.
Elvis praises every small thing you do once you both reach the master bathroom alone, from letting him take off your dress, to accepting the pacifier that Elvis offered you to help you calm down and soothe you whilst you were in the tub.
"Good girl, you look so sweet with that pacifier, ain't that right honey?" Elvis chuckled, wiping the dirt away from your naked body as he lets you soak in all the bubbles. "Y'know y'being such a good little girl for Daddy huh? Lettin' Daddy wash you and clean you up."
"I messed my dress Daddy." You say softly around your pacifier, feeling bad for ruining the pretty pink dress had arranged for you to wear today.
Elvis clicked his tongue, tsking at you. "Uh-uh baby, it's just a dress sweetheart. Y'not in trouble baby." Elvis assures you, knowing there's something you're not telling him, he can read you like a book, he knows every cue, every emotion every expression of yours.
Once you were all clean, Elvis took you out of the tub and dried you, being careful not to be too harsh on the little cuts and scrapes you had acquired. He let you snuggle in the big kingsize bed that the two of you shared in your fluffy baby dressing gown as he picked out some clothes for you to wear for the rest of the day, settling on a soft cotton cream long sleeve top, a pretty pink tulle skirt and white tights.
You were just the softest and sweetest little baby he could ever dream for. Always so polite, kind and gentle.
"Ready to go back to our guests pretty girl?" Elvis asked gently, gauging your reaction.
"Please, um, please, um," You stumbled on your words, still feeling overwhelmed and nervous, but Elvis never rushes you - never. He always lets you take your time when you're overwhelmed, he knows you'll get there, you just take a little longer than most people. "Please, um, wanna, um, stay with you only Daddy." You said gently. "If that's okay..." You say quietly.
Elvis' expression softens at your vulnerable requests. "Oh darlin', you ain't gon' leave my side, baby." Elvis says gently, picking you up again to take you downstairs.
You're well into your smaller headspace now, and you instinctively pop your fingers into your mouth to chew on anxiously as you rested your head on Elvis' shoulder.
You stayed nestled by Elvis' side throughout the rest of the day, barely speaking, avoiding looking at anyone and becoming noticeably clingier than usual, something Elvis took note of.
Once everyone had finally departed, you were exhausted, you just wanted to sleep and Elvis knew you should've had a nap, you're too little to be up at this time, but he was too concerned about what had happened earlier, it was too out of character.
"Someone's sleepy, huh?" Elvis softly said, stroking your hair as you nestled into his side, your face resting on his chest.
You nodded sweetly, blinking heavily as the weariness took you over, which Elvis knew was his cue to push your limits and take advantage of your sleepy state.
"Baby, you gotta tell me somethin' before you start havin' your sweet dreams, huh Little One?" Elvis said gently, tracing circles into your shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you.
All you could manage was a soft hum. "Okay, I need'ta know what happened with all your lil flowers, baby girl. Daddy knows you ain't that clumsy Dolly, you're such a careful little girl, I know somethin' else happened, and when you tell me, you know you gotta be honest, you know Daddy ain't gon' tolerate any lyin'." Elvis said sternly and you wearily pushed yourself up from resting on your Daddy's body to sit up straight on the couch.
You began to chew on your lip again, puffing it up and rubbed your eyes.
"I'll get in trouble Daddy..." You said softly, looking down at your lap.
Elvis frowned, concerned at what you'd just said. He couldn't imagine a scenario where you'd be in trouble, you're too obedient for that.
"You ain't gettin' in no trouble baby, as long as y'tell Daddy the truth."
There's a long pause, Elvis letting the thick tension add pressure to you before you weakly say, "It's Ramona."
"Ramona? Red's Ramona?" Elvis said with confusion in his tone.
All you do is nod, leading Elvis to probe further. "What about Ramona, huh kid?" Elvis says tenderly.
"She, she, um, she-" You falter but Elvis just listens intently. "She ruined all the flowers, she ripped them Daddy and hurt them... she hurts me Daddy." You confessed, your nerves sky high, your eyes trained firmly on your lap.
Elvis immediately feels anger boil up inside of him. You're the most honest little girl he's ever known, he knows that you wouldn't lie - you can't lie in fact. To hear that someone has been hurting you, well, that just sets something off inside the big, bad man.
You end up telling your Daddy everything as he cradles you like his little baby, reassuring you that you're being such a good little girl for telling him. Reassuring you that Ramona ain't ever going to be near you ever again. Reassuring you that your beloved flowerbed is going to be alright.
"Darlin', you been such a good girl, tellin' Daddy what's been goin' on. You know that baby?" Elvis says, holding your chin so he can look at you and you nod softly. "You gon' tell Daddy if anyone ever hurts my little girl ever again, straight away, y'hear me baby?" Elvis says firmly and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.
"Good." Elvis said before kissing your forehead. "Let's get this sleepy baby to her bed, hm? Gon' get your pacifier and your teddy and get y'all soft and sleepy ain't we?" Elvis hushed.
You nodded gently, still just as timid as the day you both first met and Elvis carried you upstairs to your bedroom but you fell asleep in his arms before you even got tucked in by your Daddy, all your worries gone, all thanks to Elvis, who swore to never let anyone touch you ever again.
🫠😮💨you come here i’ll knock yo’ p***y out the damn frame🫠😮💨
🫦‘member the last time🫦
🤭i made you miss your damn plane🤭
😏🙂↕️‘member that last time😏🙂↕️
😩🍾i wet you down with champagne😩🍾
( ME AF WITH E 😫OBVI, all credits to owner, 😚 and guys i lied i love Elvis to much, to stop posting/defending about him 😝🙂↔️ anyways, byeee much love)
Authors note: I had so much fun writing this that I finished quickly. Maybe I will take longer with the next episode, as the next two weeks are very intense for me 🥲 Enjoy!!
Word count: 3,5K
Warnings: angst, innocent, a bit aggresive E, fluff.
Dontcha’ think It’s time
Part 2 (Part 1 here)
Before you reached the stairs, you could listen already the clinking silverware, lively chatter, and Elvis’s booming laughter. The smell of bacon, toast, and coffee pulled you toward the dining room.
Inside, chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the Memphis Mafia crowded around the table, plates piled high.
At the center, little Lisa Marie sat in her high chair, happily making a mess spilling cereals.
Lisa spotted you right away. Her face lit up with a big, messy grin.
“You sittin’ by me?” she asked fascinated, her voice slightly muffled by the cereal in her mouth.
“Good morning, Yisa. Of course!” you replied with a warm smile while sliding into the seat next to her.
Lisa giggled, she was excited to enjoy breakfast with you.
Elvis, seated at the head of the table, glanced up. He noticed the interaction, the way Lisa beamed at you, and that put a smile on his face.
Leaning forward slightly, his eyes softened as he said “Mornin’, sugar” his voice smooth and welcoming. “How’d ya sleep?”
You looked over at him, your nerves easing at his kind tone. “Good, thanks. The bed is really comfortable.”
“Well, that’s good to hear” he replied, leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand. “Graceland ain’t that bad, is it?”
“No, it’s really nice” you answered honestly, feeling a bit more at ease.
Elvis nodded, pleased.
Across the table, Joe piped up, breaking the short moment of calm. “Hey, E, the tailor has been waiting for you to confirm a date. Them jumpsuits of yours are about ready to give up.”
“Yeah” Red added, cutting into his pancakes with a grin. “Keep movin’ like you do on stage, and those seams ain’t got a prayer.”
The table roared with laughter as Elvis rolled his eyes, though his grin betrayed his amusement.
“You boys got jokes this mornin’, huh?” he answered back between laughs. “Tell the tailor to come by tomorrow. And careful now, you’re talkin’ to the man who makes sure y’all get breakfast every day.”
Red grinned back. “That’s true, E. But maybe if you laid off the damn bacon those seams wouldn’t be screamin’ for help.”
Elvis shot him a mock glare as the room erupted in laughter again. But before he could retort, Lisa’s little voice piped up, clear as a bell.
“Damn bacon” she let out, nodding as if she agreed with Red.
Everyone laughed at the joke except Elvis, who sighed playfully. He wasn't impressed because Lisa was at that age of repeating everything.
Setting his coffee cup down slowly, Elvis licked his lips, stretched his arms, and cracked his neck like a man about to deliver the final blow. Then, with a smirk so lethal it could knock a man flat, he pointed his fork straight at Red.
“Listen here, I ain’t eatin’ all this bacon for me, man. I’m carb-loadin’ for later… gotta keep my energy up for your mama.”
The guys detonated.
Jerry fell against Charlie, grabbing his chest like he’d been shot. Charlie was howling, pounding the table so hard the syrup bottle tipped over.
Elvis took another bite of bacon, chewed slowly, and winked.
Red threw his hands up. “Man, what the hell, E?! I ain’t even say nothin’ that bad!”
Elvis just shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before talkin’ about me and my jumpsuits. ’Cause trust me, man, ain’t nothin’ burstin’ at the seams but your mama’s breathin’ when I walk through the door.”
“I’m done. I’m done.” Red slammed his napkin on the table.
Elvis grinned, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yeah, well… your mama ain’t.”
You sat calmly, hands resting on the table, taking it all in. You were watching and listening, completely absorbed. You didn’t understand every jab being thrown, but still. The way he shot back, so quick, so clever… it was something to admire. You fixed your eyes on him, wide with quiet awe, captivated by the effortless way he turned every joke in his favor.
You had no idea what was happening. But one thing was clear: Uncle Elvis was winning.
Elvis looked at you and instantly felt the weight of all his sins.
Red looked between you and Elvis and smirked. “Yeah, E… now you can’t say anything, huh?”
He shot Red a warning glare. “Oh, you dirty son of a…”
After few seconds Elvis swallowed real slow, suddenly feeling about ten degrees hotter. He glanced around: Charlie nudged Jerry. Jerry looked up, saw your sweet little face, and immediately covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter. Joe was staring directly at Elvis, mouthing, “Don’t. You. Do. It.”
Elvis cleared his throat, straightened his back, and gave you his most innocent, charming smile.
“Well now, sugar” he started smoothly, looking you dead in the eye. “Let’s just say… your ol’ Uncle does a lotta charity work”
The table lost it.
Joe was laughing quietly, struggling to catch his breath and kicking his legs. Jerry was nearly in tears. Red's face was all red, and he was mumbling something about how the Lord was testing him.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jerry added, “E, you’re going straight to hell, man.”
The playful teasing helped you unwind, and soon enough, you were laughing along with the jokes, a sense of belonging settling in.
Noticing you loosening up, Red smirked and leaned toward you. “See? Give it a year, and you’ll be just as wild as the rest of us.”
“Yeah, but for now, take it easy, Red. She’s just a little girl.” Jerry swallowed a piece of toast, smirking.
Hearing Jerry’s words stirred something inside you. Since the atmosphere they created was making you feel comfortable, you decided to bring this up. Excitement began to shine in your eyes as you declared with a smile, “Well, not for long. Uncle Elvis is gonna make me a woman.”
The room fell into an instant, stunned silence. Forks hovered midair, coffee cups stopped halfway to lips, not a single breathing, and wide-eyed glances darted across the table.
Elvis paused mid-sip, his coffee cup still hovering close to his mouth. He froze, staring at the scene blankly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, the cup dangling from his fingers as he looked around to see how everyone was reacting.
Red made the mistake of looking at Elvis, saw the absolute panic on his face, and lost the battle. His chest jerked with a barely contained snort.
Charlie’s face turned toward the ceiling, eyes shut tight, fighting for composure, while Joe shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Elvis like he was waiting for him to say something.
But the real problem, the reason the laughter was strained, the reason no one could quite look Elvis in the eye, was that the idea wasn’t actually impossible.
By experience, they all knew better.
Before Elvis could even pronounce a word, you continued innocently, completely unaware of the tension. “He said he’d teach me about what men like and how to be more confident, so I figured…”
Lisa, completely oblivious, grinned up at you, swinging her legs.
“Darlin’, I told y-“
Elvis didn’t even get to finish before Jerry leaned in, his voice low but urgent. “You might wanna hit the brakes before this train goes completely off the rails.”
In return, Elvis shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that?”
Turning back to you, he forced a strained smile. “Now, sugar, what I meant was-“
“But you said-“
“I know what I said” Elvis cut in quickly, his voice tightening up with irritation.
Charlie decided to pour gasoline on the fire. “She’s got a point, E. You’re always braggin’ about how you know what women want.”
Elvis’s patience snapped. “Charlie, I swear to God…”
But you weren’t done. “And it makes sense, right? You said you know what men want, and if anyone can make me a woman, it’s you, Uncle Elvis!”
That was the final straw. The room went nuts, their laughter transforming into a strange mix of hiccuping, snorting, and wheezing. It sounded like a bunch of chickens getting spooked and a pack of turkeys doing their gobble thing, creating a total circus.
Elvis, however, didn’t find it funny.
“Alright, that’s enough!” he shouted. He slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump. His face was bright red, and his eyes blazed with frustration. Every time he tried to speak, someone cut him off. His patience was gone.
The room quieted suddenly, giggles dying out in an instant. Lisa's attention snapped to her father, her eyes wide and glued to his face.
You shrank in your seat, your face red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean anything bad” you whispered, your voice breaking.
Elvis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you didn’t, sugar” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “But you can’t…you just can’t say things like that. Not like that. Not here.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pushed your chair back. “I’m sorry” you said quickly, bolting from the room before anyone could stop you.
No one spoke. No one dared.
Elvis exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. The men exchanged uneasy glances until Jerry finally broke the silence. “Well…that went south fast.”
Elvis shot him a warning look but remained silent.
Red smirked softly “E, this is just a taste of what’s comin’. Wait till Lisa’s her age. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Elvis glanced at Lisa, who had returned to her cereal as if nothing had happened.
“Lisa” he said tiredly, “finish your breakfast. And behave when you get older, ya hear me?”
Lisa looked up at him, confused but obedient. “Okay, Daddy” she replied, taking another bite.
As soon as breakfast was over, Elvis let out a quiet curse before standing abruptly and leaving the table.
He made his way upstairs, pausing outside your door to knock softly.
“Darlin’? You in there?”
No response. He hesitated, then turned the doorknob.
The room was empty.
Elvis’s stomach sank as he scanned the hallway, his worry mounting.
“Jerry!” he called with sharp voice. “Get everyone. She’s gone.”
You ran down the driveway of Graceland, your feet pounding on the hot pavement. As you neared the end, the city of Memphis sprawled out before you, alive with activity, a sea of unknown but filled with the promise of answers.
You didn’t stop. Not when the air burned your lungs, not when the weight of this morning’s turmoil pressed against your chest. You weaved through pedestrians.
Finally, the library stood before you.
You pushed open the doors, stepping into the cool, hushed space. “If no one’s gonna help me” you muttered under your breath, determination settling in your bones. “I’ll find out myself.”
Some time later, Elvis was behind the wheel of his Cadillac, the engine roaring as it crawled down the streets of Memphis. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel. Jerry sat in the passenger seat, glancing anxiously between Elvis and the road ahead.
“E, you’ve been drivin’ in circles for an hour”
Elvis ignored him, his sharp blue eyes inspecting the sidewalks. “She couldn’t have gone far” he muttered.
Jerry sighed. “Look, maybe she just needed some air. She’s not gonna do anything crazy.”
“You didn’t see the way she looked when she left that table, Jerry. I snapped at her, and she ran off feelin’ like she’s got no one to talk to. Hell, I wouldn’t stick around after that, either.”
Jerry leaned back, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t know what she’s doin’. She just needs to cool off, and so do you.”
Elvis didn’t answer. He slowed the car as they passed the library, something catching his eye. He squinted at the front doors.
“There” he said suddenly, pulling over to the curb with a screech.
Jerry craned his neck. “You think she’s in there?”
Elvis didn’t reply. He threw the car into park, climbed out, and strode toward the library doors, his pace quick but steady. Jerry hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh, shoved his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the car, eyes fixed on the library doors.
You were still flipping through books, growing more and more stressed. Your fingers trembled as you picked up another, then another, the words on the pages blurring together in your frustration.
“What’s all this about?”
The deep, familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up to see Elvis standing at the end of the aisle, his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed on you.
You sighed, guilt and relief flooding your face.
Elvis walked closer, crouching down so he was eye level with you. His gaze softened when he saw the pile of books around you, and the frustration written all over your face. “What are you doin’ in here, honey? You had us all worried.”
You glanced down at the book in your hands, fidgeting with the corner of the page. “I just…I thought maybe the library would help. My parents always said books have the answers, but none of these books explain anything about…”
“About what?” Elvis asked gently, his tone calm and patient now.
You hesitated, then blurted out, “About how to be a woman. I thought if no one was gonna help me, I’d figure it out myself. But these books don’t make sense!”
He glanced at the titles around you, understanding dawning on his face. “Sugar,” he said softly, “you don’t need no books for that.”
You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. “Then how am I supposed to learn? I just…I want to understand what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be.”
Elvis let out a long breath, sitting down on the floor beside you, leaning his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the books scattered around you.
“Listen to me, darlin’” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “There ain’t no book out there that’s gonna tell you how to be a woman. That’s somethin’ you figure out on your own, little by little.”
“But I don’t even know where to start” you said, your voice small.
Elvis reached out, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you look at him. “I’ll help ya, honey, as best as I can. But don’t go running off thinking you’re on your own.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you sniffled, nodding. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“I know you didn’t” he said, his voice soft. “And I didn’t mean to snap at you. That’s on me, sugar. M’sorry.”
You nodded again, the tension in your chest starting to ease. Elvis stood, brushing off his pants, and extended a hand to you.
“C’mon” he said with a small smile. “Let’s get you back home. You got the whole house worried about ya.”
The rest of the day, you felt a little more at ease.
For the first time in a long while, you felt supported. Like maybe… you weren’t so alone after all.
Even so, when night fell, sleep wouldn’t come.
You tossed and turned, kicking off the blanket, pulling it back on again, but nothing helped. Your mind wouldn’t settle.
Finally, with a sigh, you pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. You hesitated at the doorway.
You still felt a little uncomfortable moving around on your own in a house that wasn’t yours. Everything felt too big, too unfamiliar, too grand. But waking someone up? That felt even worse.
So, you forced yourself forward.
Graceland was different at night. The house was silent, dimly lit, wrapped in shadows. The soft white carpet felt cool under your bare feet.
When you reached the kitchen, you traced your fingers along the cabinets, finding the fridge by touch alone. The soft glow illuminated the space as you pulled it open.
Carefully, you poured the milk and warmed it up the way your mother used to.
The moment the warmth hit your fingertips, you sighed, finally feeling something familiar. Something that felt safe.
You were ready to take that first, much-needed sip, and then you realized you weren’t alone.
Leaning against the counter, watching you, stood Elvis. His robe was hanging loosely, and his hair was messy, making him look different.
Finally, he spoke.
“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough from the lateness of the hour.
You shook your head, “You either?” still gripping your glass.
Elvis let out a quiet huff, lifting the drink in his hand slightly. “I don’t do much of that these days.”
You hesitated, shifting slightly before finally stepping toward the counter, perching on one of the stools. You suddenly felt small in the space, small in his presence.
Elvis’s gaze flickered over you, noticing something, thinking, but keeping it to himself. He took a slow sip of his drink before exhaling through his nose.
“I told you I’d teach you a few tips, and I meant that” he murmured, his voice steady. “But I think you already learned the first lesson on your own.”
You frowned slightly. “What lesson?”
Elvis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter.
“You had initiative to do what your heart wanted” he said. “You made a decision for yourself, without anyone tellin’ you what to do.” A small smirk touched his lips. “And… you’re willin’ to change. That’s admirable, sugar.”
A warm feeling curled in your chest.
Elvis wasn’t the kind of man who gave compliments easily, not the ones that mattered.
But just as the moment started to feel too heavy, too serious.
He suddenly leaned back, stretching slightly.
“Ah, and also” he added, pointing at you, “you’re grounded for escapin’.”
You nearly choked on your milk. “What?!”
Elvis smirked, taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. Sorry, young lady, but I gotta stick to it.”
“You don’t even ground people!”
“I do now” he said, chuckling. “First time for everything.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is so unfair.”
Elvis just shook his head, his laughter soft but real.
The moment softened, and for a second, it almost felt normal again.
Then, you studied him a little closer. His face wasn’t guarded like it usually was. He seemed… different.
“You look different at night,” you said out of nowhere, tilting your head.
Elvis raised a brow, smirking slightly. “That so?”
You nodded, taking a sip of your milk. “Yeah. You seem… I don’t know. Less like ‘Elvis Presley’ and more like… just you.”
Elvis exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Darlin’, I don’t even know what ‘just me’ is anymore.”
You frowned, watching him carefully. “Well… I think you’re the best person I know.”
That made him stop.
His fingers tensed subtly around his glass. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but then he hesitated. He had spent years battling to separate the man from the artist, struggling for people to see the difference between who he was and who they expected him to be. But you were too young to understand the weight of that fight, and he wasn’t about to launch into a speech. Instead, he swallowed the thought, keeping it to himself.
You didn’t know why, but you wanted him to believe you. So you continued.
“I…I think you’re kind, and funny, and you make everyone feel safe. And I don’t think people tell you that enough.”
Elvis stared at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.
His blue eyes flickered in the dim light, studying your face. Then, before you could think, his hand lifted, fingers grazing along your cheek.
“Appreciate it, darlin’”he said, his smile warm and sincere.
The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a strange feeling through you.
It was warm. It was soft. It made something deep in your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t understand.
You looked up at him, your breath hitching slightly. He was so tall, and his hand seemed enormous compared to your face.
Elvis seemed to realize how you were reacting to what he had just done.
His hand lingered just a second too long, his thumb brushing the corner of your jaw, before he suddenly pulled away like if the surface was burning, clearing his throat.
Elvis shifted, suddenly looking tense, uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair, reaching for his drink like he needed something to do.
You swallowed, confused by the strange feeling left behind.
The athmosphere in the kitchen felt heavier now. Different.
Elvis downed the rest of his drink in one go and turned his back to you.
“Alright, honey” he said, voice tighter now, forced into something lighter. “Time for bed.”
You hesitated, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin.
But finally, you nodded.
“Okay.”
You slid off the stool, heading for the doorway.
Elvis didn’t turn around.
As you walked back to your room, you weren’t sure what had just happened.
You didn’t know why your heart was beating too fast.
You didn’t know why your skin still felt warm.
And you didn’t know why as soon as the door clicked shut behind you…
Elvis let out a long, sharp breath and muttered under his breath, “Shit.”
A deep sigh falls out through his lips. Tilting the sparkling glass up to sip. Dark blue eyes that once didn’t need the help of the fire crackling away in the fireplace. Elvis reminisces about his youth,
when he was the fire.
Up there on stage, wiggling away like he had ants in his slacks. Elvis could almost crack a glimpse of a smile remembering it all…igniting a strong, blazing bomb fire for the crowds, family, friends,
You.
But all he can muster up is just a trembling flame of a candle that everyone has to try to keep it alive before it burns out entirely. Most people get tired of that, annoyed.
“Elvis?”
But you are never like those people.
Elvis lifts his head, just enough to glance up to find that sweet face of yours. He pulls the corners of his lips for a brief moment.
Looking down at the white carpet that spreads throughout the mansion.
“Couldn’t sleep?” You move towards him from where you were at the archway of the living room. Bringing your hand up to card through his silky black locks.
Hearing his hum vibrate through your body. “Somethin’ like that…”
Your head tilts to the side. Quietly watching his eyes that you see as dying ambers.
Sliding the glass out of his hand, you put it on the little side table. Climbing onto his lap effortlessly like you always do.
“What is it?” Your voice comes out softer this time.
You know he’s been yearning to go back to like it was in his heyday. He yearns to be that man that everyone still remembers but you had to hear what he would say.
Elvis flicks his dissociating stare into your equally sad gaze but there’s a gentle spark.
“I’m old now, Satnin…40 and no one’s gonna remember me anymore.”
His large hand grips the side of your nightgown by your waist as he drags his head around to look at the dying fire on the crumbling wood.
“I’ll always remember you.” You remind him.
He breathes out a hint of a chuckle.
“I will.”
“Mhm.”
“Baby, I will!”
A gentle combination of giggles interrupt the still of the night air.
Foreheads touching.
Noses barely brushing.
You blink at him with a small grin. “I’d never let you burn out cold.”
❝ it won't take you long to figure me out
i go and give it away when i open my mouth
the southern drawl rings clear as day
lord knows i can't be something i ain't ❞
✦︎ summary: living in new york and having met elvis in the big city, you pretend to be from the big apple yourself. why? because love makes you do crazy things. like pretending you're someone you're not... and getting frisky on the hood of a cadillac.
✦︎ word count: 6,2k
✦︎ warnings: reader pretending to be someone she's not (?), lil bit of angsty-ish moments, the use of the word "yankee", bad southern slang if you squint, sexual innuendos, smut — unprotected, not greatly detailed because i'm lazy, the memphis mafia teasing the hell out of elvis. that's it, i think.
✦︎ authors note: i don't know if alabama has sweet cornbread... but for the sake of this fic, they do. this was inspired by the song can't hide country by emily ann roberts. please do not copy, translate and/or use for ai purposes !!!!
elvis didn’t like new york coffee.
he said it every time the two of you sat down at some little café that boasted being “the best in manhattan.” he’d take a sip, grimace like it personally offended him, and mumble something about actual good tasting coffee back in memphis.
he left the part where he’d rather be drinking an ice cold soda out.
you just smiled behind your cup, all smooth lipstick and raised brows. “maybe you’re just not sophisticated enough for it, presley.”
“or maybe this stuff tastes like someone boiled a pair of socks and called it espresso,” he shot back.
you were sitting in one such café now—tiny, crowded, with jazz elvis hated on the radio and a waitress who hadn’t smiled since truman was in office—or since he’d stepped out. the soft september air outside allowed for elvis to wear a short sleeved shirt, hair slicked back, and his knee kept bouncing under the table like he was trying to dance sitting down.
“you always jittery like this?” you asked, propping your chin in your palm.
“can’t help it,” he said. “i got ed sullivan rehearsals in a few hours and i’m buzzin’ off one sip of this terrible excuse for coffee.”
“well, don’t blame me when you start yodelin’ on live tv.”
he grinned. “don’t tempt me, sweetheart. i’ll have ya dancin’ in one of those german dresses for me.”
you laughed, tossing a sugar packet at him.
he caught it one-handed. “nice arm.”
“thanks. used to play softball back in school.”
“where at?”
“upstate,” you lied quickly.
he squinted. “mm-hmm.”
you'd been dancing around the alabama thing for days now. it wasn't that you were ashamed—you just liked the way elvis looked at you like you were this sharp, stylish city girl. you liked that he didn’t expect you to say y’all or know the words to every patsy cline song. although it made you feel a little guilty, you liked pretending.
you’re also aware that not everyone in new york is very fond of southerners, and not wanting to fall into a stereotype, you decided to slip on the mask and keep the little white lie alive. which was a stupid thing to do, honestly—especially to someone like elvis, because he was from the south himself and despite having only gone out with him for two weeks, you’d never heard him hide his twang.
your accent was hanging on by a thread.
the waitress came by and slammed down a plate of toast and eggs. you both flinched.
“she’s a real ray of sunshine,” elvis muttered.
you smirked and picked up your fork, just as someone behind you bumped into your chair and nearly knocked your bag off the table.
“oh, mercy me!” you exclaimed, everything you’d been trying to hide coming out.
elvis froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.
you blinked.
he blinked.
“what… what did you just say?”
“nothin’,” you said quickly. “just—surprised me, is all.”
he set his fork down slowly. “no, no. you said somethin’. sounded like somethin’ my meemaw used to say when she dropped the cornbread.”
“nope. that wasn’t me.”
he leaned across the table, eyes squinting like he was investigating a murder. “you said ‘oh, mercy me.’ ain’t no yankee girl on god’s green earth sayin’ somethin’ like that.”
you chewed a piece of toast in silence.
“...you ain’t from new york, are you?”
you sighed, dropped your fork, and slumped back in your chair.
“i’m from alabama, alright?! greenville, to be exact. born and raised. i drink dr pepper with barbecue and i own a pair of bedazzled boots and my mama says grace out loud at diners.”
elvis stared at you like you’d confessed to being royalty.
“well i’ll be damned.”
you crossed your arms. “you gonna make fun of me now?”
“make fun of you?” he sat back and let out a low whistle. “sugar, i’m offended. here i was thinkin’ i was the only country bumpkin in this whole city.”
you rolled your eyes. “i just didn’t want you thinkin’ i was some kind of small-town yokel.”
“darlin’, have you met me? i once wore pink satin pants to a county fair. i am the mayor of yokels.”
you couldn’t help but laugh.
he leaned closer. “greenville, huh?”
“yeah.”
“you know how to make pecan pie from scratch?”
“of course.”
“ever ridden a horse bareback through a pasture at dawn?”
“ridden? honey, you’re lookin’ at the best trick rider in the state of alabama.” you smirked playfully, thickening your accent on purpose.
he slapped the table. “lord have mercy, i knew there was a reason i liked you.”
“because i can bake and ride a horse?”
“no,” he said, grinning. “because when you said that just now, i swear to god, it made me feel like i was back home. and i miss home.”
your heart did a little somersault in your chest.
“you’re ridiculous,” you said, but softer now.
he leaned over the table, close enough for his cologne and that stupidly perfect smile to knock you senseless. “and you’re a damn delight, alabama.”
you tried to hold your glare and failed right there as a smile broke through.
he stole a kiss right there in the café.
the waitress walked by and said, “get a room.”
elvis winked. “we’re workin’ on it.”
two days after elvis had been on the ed sullivan show, the two of you celebrated a good show (and reviews) by having a late night dinner and a walk through the west village, the air crisp and just warm enough to go without coats. the streets glowed golden under the streetlights, and elvis had a paper bag tucked under his arm from the record shop he’d insisted on stopping at “for research purposes.”
“you know,” you said, slipping your hand into his, “i’ve been thinking.”
“dangerous,” he teased.
“shut up. i’ve been thinking… we’ve been talkin’ about everything but the most important topic of all.”
“what’s that?”
“food.”
elvis looked at you sideways. “go on.”
“specifically, southern food. you think tennessee has the best of it.”
“has? girl, we are the best of it.”
you stopped walking. planted your hands on your hips. “excuse me?”
he turned to face you, smug and grinning. “name one thing alabama does better than tennessee.”
“brisket.”
he scoffed. “please. we got ribs so tender they fall off the bone if you look at ’em too hard.”
“that’s cute,” you said, taking a step forward. “but brisket’s a science. a religion. you gotta smoke it low and slow till it melts in your mouth. it’s an art form.”
“ribs sing, sweetheart. they got soul. you eat a good rib and your ancestors sit up in their graves and say, ‘that’s my girl.’” with a grin, he gently tapped the tip of your nose.
you laughed so hard you nearly tripped on the curb, making him grip onto your arm.
“what about sides?” he challenged.
“mac and cheese. creamy, baked, crispy edges.”
“we got that too,” he said. “plus collard greens with ham hock, real mashed taters, and cornbread so good it’ll make you propose.”
“i have had tennessee cornbread,” you admitted. “was a little dry.”
he gasped like you shot him in the chest. stumbling backwards, he let your arm go and put one hand over his heart. “take it back.”
“never.”
“you think alabama cornbread is better?”
“it’s sweet.”
“sweet?! cornbread ain’t supposed to be cake, darlin’. y’all are out there makin’ muffins with a god complex.”
you doubled over laughing, nearly crying. “oh my god.”
“no self-respectin’ southerner puts sugar in their cornbread.”
“and yet,” you said, “we’re thriving.”
he shook his head like he was genuinely distressed. “i don’t know if i can date someone who thinks sweet tea should come with a side of insulin.”
“oh please,” you said, grabbing his hand again. “you’ve had three cups of it every time we’ve been to that diner on sixth.”
“that’s different,” he muttered. “that’s survival.”
you both continue to stroll in silence before you and elvis sat down on the steps of a brownstone. you didn’t live there, and obviously neither did he—it was just quiet, and no one had come out to shoo you off. the air smelled like concrete and blooming trees. the streetlights buzzed soft.
elvis leaned back on his elbows, one leg stretched out, the other bent. “you ever notice how even when it’s quiet here, it ain’t really quiet?”
you nodded. “yeah. like the silence is fake. like it’s holdin’ its breath.”
he tilted his head toward you, squinting. “so it ain’t just me.”
“nope.”
you were both a little tired, a little wired from the activities of the evening—and the knowledge that elvis was about to go back home soon, a feeling you were dreading more than anything. but now you were in that comfortable space where words came easy, and so did the truth.
“wanna know what i hate most about the city?” elvis asked.
“always.”
“the smells.”
you burst out laughing. “oh god, yes.”
“it’s like—one minute you’re smellin’ fresh bread, next minute it’s garbage juice and something dead, and they just mix, like the whole city’s a stew.”
“a stew of regret.”
he pointed at you. “exactly.”
you rested your chin on your knees. “i don’t like how hard everybody is so… hard.”
“mm,” he agreed. “everyone surely speaks their minds. no southern hospitality ‘round here, sweetheart.”
“they wouldn’t even know southern hospitality if it hit them in the face.”
he laughed, deep and real. “you ain’t wrong.”
you watched a yellow taxi slide past, headlights glowing like sleepy eyes.
“so,” he said, glancing over. “why’d you come here?”
you were quiet for a second. “same reason everyone does, i guess. tryin’ to be somebody.”
“you are somebody.”
you gave him a look. “don’t you start.”
“i mean it,” he said. “you got presence, sugar. even when you was tryin’ to hide the alabama in you.”
you smiled a little. “i wanted to be... polished. the kind of girl who goes to art museums and doesn’t giggle when she drinks champagne.”
“you still giggle when you drink champagne.”
“it tickles my nose.”
“it’s cute.”
you nudged his knee with yours. “stop bein’ sweet. i’m bein’ vulnerable.”
“sorry,” he said, smirking. “go on.”
you picked at a chipped spot in the concrete step. “back home, everything felt small. like the town already knew what i’d be before i even got to try. i wanted to see if i could be different here.”
“and?”
you shrugged. “i don’t know yet. i like parts of it. i like bein’ anonymous. but... i miss stars.”
elvis leaned his head back and looked up. “ain’t nothin’ up there but smog and skyscrapers.”
“yep.”
he glanced at you again. “sometimes i miss the sound of frogs at night. that dumb little summer buzz.”
“and crickets. and screen doors slammin’.”
“and the way it smells before it rains.”
you looked at him, soft around the edges now. your heart skipped a beat at the fantasy of dancing in the rain with elvis flashing before your eyes. “you’re almost going home. excited?”
he thought about it. really thought about it. “yes… and no,” he said finally. “sometimes i wish i could be at home without everybody actin’ like i’m somethin’ special. i love what i do, but i wanna just sit on my mama’s porch and eat a peach in peace. and… i’m gonna miss you more than anythin’.”
you smiled, kissing his cheek. “fame sounds really lonely sometimes.”
he looked at you for a moment, quiet.
“you don’t make me feel lonely.”
the words sat between you like a candle, small and warm.
you cleared your throat, a soft shade of crimson creeping up your cheeks. “you don’t either.”
he looked away quickly, pretending to study the fire escape across the street. “i mean, you do talk a lot—”
you shoved his shoulder. “do not.”
he laughed and caught your hand in his. “i like it, though.”
you both sat there for a while, fingers tangled, knees bumping, the city still pulsing around you. but somehow, in that moment, it felt like a small town porch. just two southern kids, a thousand miles from home, finding something that felt a little like it.
1034 audubon drive was tucked away in the quiet, leafy heart of memphis. a typical surburban neighborhood, with mostly mid century ranch-style homes. you fell in love with the house at first sight, mostly because the boy you loved even more was inside those four walls.
it was early morning and there’s no fans outside, making you a little less nervous. suitcase in one hand, the other shading your eyes as you squinted up the driveway. it was already hot, sun coming up over the trees like it meant business. the air was thick with post summer and the whine of cicadas—summers in the south always lastee longer, and memphis was no different.
you buzzed.
no answer.
buzzed again.
static crackled over the intercom. then a familiar, suspicious voice. “...hello?”
“hey. it’s me.”
“y/n?!” elvis caught on quick, nearly yelling through the intercom.
you grinned. “surprise.”
the static exploded and cut off and then you heard it—the slamming of a screen door, rapid footsteps. a blur of white and bedhead flying down the driveway.
elvis.
barefoot, pajama pants clinging to his hips, hair a wild mess. he looked like he’d just woken up in the middle of a tornado and it was freaking adorable.
he skidded to a stop in front of the gate, breathless. “you—what—how in god’s name—what are you doin’ here?”
“just decided to stop by,” you said, playing it cool even though your heart was trying to beat its way out your ribs.
he stared at you like you were a mirage. then he yanked the gate open and all but tackled you into a hug.
“you’re real. oh my god.” he was laughing, giddy and still half-asleep. “i thought i dreamed you.”
“nope,” you said, squished against him. “dreams don’t sweat this much.”
he pulled back to look at you. “you came all the way from new york?”
“missed you. and i got too curious about your mama’s peach cobbler.”
he groaned. “lord, she’s already corruptin’ you.”
“i was born corrupt.”
he kissed you quick, sweet and boyish. “you’re somethin’ else.”
“wait till you see what i brought for breakfast.”
“did you bring brisket?”
“no—but i brought sweet cornbread.”
he stumbled back like you slapped him. “baby…”
“you'll love it.”
“maybe,” he muttered with a smirk, grabbing your suitcase and your hand and practically dragging you up the front steps.
the kitchen smelled like bacon and eggs.
gladys was already up, flipping biscuits in a cast iron pan like it was war.
“baby, go put some decent clothes on,” she called over her shoulder as you and elvis walked in.
“but mama, she likes me like this,” he grinned, winking at you.
gladys turned, wiped her hands on her apron, and looked you up and down with a smile that was all love and a little mischief. “well i like her better than your last one. that girl didn’t eat nothing. i offered her grits and she looked like i cursed her.”
“i’ll eat grits,” you said quickly, nervous and smiling.
“good girl.”
you sat at the table while elvis disappeared to go get dressed. before long, the kitchen started to fill up—first gene, still in socks and his boxershorts, then red, then junior, then lamar, all loud and yawning and slapping each other’s backs.
“well damn,” red said, blinking when he saw you. “elvis really did summon you like a genie.”
“she just showed up at the gate,” gene said, pouring himself coffee. “like a movie star in one of them romance pictures.”
in the mean time, gladys scolded her sister’s son about putting on some pants.
“she brought sweet cornbread,” elvis called from the hallway.
gene didn’t take his aunt’s words to heart and froze, turning slowly. “...sweet?!”
you nodded, laughing as you joked. “you can pretend you don’t like it, but i know you’re all just jealous tennessee didn’t think of it first.”
a dramatic gasp echoed around the room.
“blasphemy,” lamar whispered.
“i ain’t eatin’ no cake with breakfast,” red muttered.
“you will and you’ll like it,” gladys snapped, setting a plate of sausage down with finality.
“yes ma’am,” they all chorused.
elvis reappeared, hair tamed, in a black and pink short sleeved shirt, collar up.
“you tryin’ to show off for your little alabama sweetheart?” gene smirked, taking a bite of bacon.
“course i am,” elvis said, dropping into the chair beside you and stealing a biscuit off your plate. “girl came all this way. gotta act like a gentleman.”
you raised an eyebrow. “you just stole my breakfast.”
“i was testin’ it for ya, sweetheart.”
“elvis, sit down and stop snatchin’ that poor girl’s food. ain’t nothin’ to test.” gladys slid into her chair with a satisfied sigh, smiling warmly at you. “ain’t nothin’ like a full table.”
it was true. the kitchen buzzed with laughter and coffee and butter-slicked plates. you passed around your cornbread and got teased mercilessly for it, until red finally took a bite and went quiet.
“...this is actually good,” he muttered.
gene stared at him. “don’t say that.”
“it is. it’s like… dessert bread.”
“you’re dead to me.”
but by the time the meal was over, the cornbread was gone and so was your nervousness. elvis had his arm thrown around the back of your chair, fingers idly tracing the fabric of your blouse. you felt like you’d been at that table a hundred times before.
later, while the boys started clearing plates, elvis leaned in close and murmured, “you fit in here.”
you looked up at him, smiling. “i know.”
“you ever think about stayin’?”
“maybe.”
in your heart, you already knew this was where you wanted to be most. sure, new york city could be exciting and a real thrill, but the south is where your heart and soul were. this is your home.
you spent the day at the house with elvis and his family and friends. his father was a little more quiet and aside from asking what your father did and where you were from, he mostly kept to himself and the guys. gladys seemed to love you from the start, showing you baby pictures of your boyfriend, and telling you to bring yours next time so she could see how her grandbabies would look like. the thought made your cheeks heat up and your heart flutter.
at night, memphis looked different.
quieter. slower. like it was exhaling after holdin’ its breath all day.
elvis’s cadillac purred beneath you, low and smooth, the engine a lullaby. you and elvis decided to go for a drive after dinner and the sun had long gone down, just the two of you. the windows were rolled down, warm air drifting in, soft with honeysuckle and music coming from somewhere far off—someone’s radio, probably, crackling out a sam cooke song.
you had your bare feet up on the dash, skirt pooling around your thighs, hair a little wild from the wind. elvis drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. his fingers tapped out a beat only he knew.
“ain’t nothin’ like this,” he said softly.
“like what?”
“the road. you. night air. no noise, no cameras. just memphis bein’ memphis.”
you leaned your head against the seat. “you always drive like this?”
“when i need to think. or when i’m tryin’ not to.”
he turned off the main street and onto a quieter back road, trees rising up on either side. the cadillac’s headlights lit up patches of kudzu, the flash of a deer’s eyes.
“do you ever think about leaving memphis?” you asked. “for good, i mean.”
he was quiet for a second. “sometimes. but i don’t think i could. this place... it built me. every note i ever sang came from right here. even the bad ones.”
you nodded. “yeah. i get that.”
“you?” he glanced over at you. “you think you’ll go back to new york?”
you sighed. “i don’t know. i went there to feel like i was somebody. like i could make myself. but the longer i stayed, the more i missed who i was before.”
“a sweet-talking southern girl with dangerous cornbread?”
you smirked. “exactly.”
he reached over and brushed a strand of hair from your face. “don’t go back unless you really want to.”
you looked at him. the night wrapped around his silhouette, all shadows and gold from the dash lights.
“what if i wanna stay here?” you asked.
his eyes flicked to yours. soft. startled. hopeful. “with me?”
“i wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else.”
a smile spread across his face, squeezing your thigh a little firmer before he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, kissing your temple.
after a few minutes, he pulled the car over onto the shoulder, right by a wide field you hadn’t noticed until now. fireflies winked like stars in the tall grass, the highway that stretched out a few miles nearby didn’t even bother you.
he turned off the engine. silence fell like a blanket.
“come on,” he said, already opening his door.
“elvis, it’s nearly three in the mornin’.”
“exactly. nobody’s watchin’. come on, alabama.”
you laughed and followed him out barefoot. the grass was cool under your feet, the sky huge and velvet above you. he took your hand and spun you, right there in the middle of the road, slow and easy, no music but the crickets and the hum of the car cooling down behind you.
“you’re real trouble,” you whispered.
“so are you,” he said, and kissed you like he meant it. slow. certain. like maybe this was the moment he’d been waitin’ for all day long.
you broke apart just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his.
“think i might stay awhile,” you murmured.
he smiled, eyes closed. “yeah, darlin’. i’d like that real much.”
and under the memphis sky, you both stood still. just you, elvis, and the whole world turning slow around you.
it started as a joke.
you were sitting on the hood of his cadillac, legs swinging off the edge, heat from the engine still warming the metal beneath you. elvis leaned against the side of the hood, arms folded, eyes on you like you were some kind of miracle he still didn’t quite believe.
“you know you’re gonna give all them boys a heart attack,” he said.
“why’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, legs still swinging.
“girl sittin’ pretty on a pink cadillac lookin’ like a dream? they’re gonna crash their damn cars.” he grinned as he pointed at the highway in the distance, which wasn’t busy at all at this hour.
you rolled your eyes. “oh, hush.”
“i’m serious.” he walked over and stood between your knees, hands finding your waist. “ain’t fair to look like that and then kiss like you do.”
“oh yeah?” you smirked, resting your hands on his shoulders. “and how do i kiss?”
his voice dropped, low and teasing. “like you’re tryin’ to ruin me.”
you grinned. “maybe i am.”
he hums lowly. then, without a word, pushed you gently back onto the hood.
you laughed as you landed, skirt fanned out, your back meeting warm metal. elvis leaned over you, arms braced on either side, grinning down like the devil himself.
“this what you wanted, miss alabama?”
you pulled him closer by the collar, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. “you tell me, memphis.”
his mouth was on yours before you finished your sentence.
it was slow at first, lazy, like you had all the time in the world. the kind of kiss that made your heart hiccup, made you forget where you were. his hand slid up your ribcage, over the thin fabric of your shirt, until it rested just under your breast, thumb grazing skin in a way that made your breath catch.
you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugged just a little, and he groaned into your mouth like you’d set something loose.
“lord have mercy,” he mumbled, trailing kisses down your jaw. “don’t do that if you’re not gon’ finish what ya started, baby.”
you laughed, breathless. “who said i wasn’t going to finish it?”
his hips pressed against yours, slow and teasing, and you could feel every bit of heat between you in the humid night air.
he chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at you. eyes wild and sweet and full of trouble.
“god, you’re somethin’ else,” he said. “i could kiss you right here till the sun comes up.”
“you better,” you said, biting your lip as your hands moved down to the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath the fabric.
he kissed you again, deep and slow and full of promise, the cadillac creaking a little under the weight of your bodies as he leaned into you even further.
fireflies blinked in the grass.
the crickets sang their midnight lullaby.
and under the old memphis sky, you lost track of time on the hood of his car, tasting love and lust in every kiss.
you didn’t mean to stay out that long.
but kissing elvis was like falling into a well—deep and dark and echoing, like time didn’t apply anymore. one minute you were just teasing him on the hood of his cadillac, the next he had his pants tugged down to his thighs and your underwear tugged aside, thrusting into you at a rushed though still delicious pace.
his shirt was halfway unbuttoned. the buttons of your blouse completely open, your pink lace bra teasing him as it gave him the perfect view. it was like all of your senses were heightened, like every little sound was crystal clear while your boyfriend fucked you on the hood of his car like he meant it. and he did.
with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, ankles hooked together at his ass and your face hidden in his neck, you moaned softly but lewdly in his ear as he pulled you into sweet euphoria. thighs trembling, your walls clenched around him as he groans and his hips stutter, telling you he was experiencing the exact same feeling of your own personal slice of heaven.
you should’ve gone back home hours ago.
“we really did stay out till the sun,” you whispered, looking at the soft pink haze just starting to bloom on the horizon.
elvis groaned beside you, one arm thrown over his eyes. “i could stay out for longer.”
you rolled your eyes at the smirk on his face as he looked at you and shoved him. “get up before someone finds us—”
headlights.
you froze.
a car pulled up behind you, gravel crunching under the tires.
“oh my god.” you sat up so fast you nearly slid off the hood.
“don’t panic,” elvis said, pulling up his pants and fixing his belt with shaking hands.
“you’re panicking.”
“i’m not—” he dropped his comb out of his pocket and hit his head on the windshield trying to catch it. “panicking.”
the door of the other opened.
“elvis aaron presley, if that is your naked ass on the hood of that cadillac—”
“gene?!” you yelped.
elvis let out a sound that was half laugh, half wheeze. “oh hell.”
gene squinted at you through the early morning light, one hand shielding his eyes. “you two got any shame left or did you leave it on the dashboard with her bra?”
“she still has her bra on, man!” elvis yelled back while laughing as you scrambled to button up your shirt, slapping his arm after. “what the hell are you doin’ here?!”
“gladys sent me. said she ‘had a feelin’ in her bones.’ figured you two had run off to elope or get arrested.” it stayed quiet for a few seconds, until gene’s voice called out again, a tremble of humor on his tongue. “or to make babies—but that one was my idea. should’a put a bet on it with the guys.”
elvis stood up, trying to flatten his hair, which looked like it had gone through a small tornado. “technically we didn’t do anything illegal—”
“you’re makin’ out on the highway with a girl in a skirt. in my car.”
“your car?” you and elvis said at the same time.
“well, i cleaned it last,” gene sniffed. “so now it’s my problem.”
you jumped off the hood and yanked your skirt back into place.
elvis grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “you ready for breakfast?”
breakfast? yes. facing your mother in law after this? definitely not.
“lord, don’t tell her where i found you.”
“don’t worry. we’ll say we were at… church.” elvis laughed, failing to come up with a good enough excuse.
gene snorted. “yeah. the church of sin.”
you groaned and buried your face in elvis’s chest. “i’m gonna die.”
he kissed the top of your head, laughing at your dramatics.
and as you climbed into the passenger seat, still red-faced, hair tangled, heart full of him, you realized maybe you didn’t mind being caught after all.
not if it meant mornings like this.
not if it meant being caught with him.
the second you stepped through the door at audubon, it hit you.
the smell.
bacon. biscuits. fresh coffee. trouble.
gladys was in the kitchen, apron on, wooden spoon in one hand, looking like she’d been up since five just waiting to pounce. you barely had time to cross the threshold before she was already walking toward the front door.
“well, look who decided to come crawlin’ home in the daylight.”
you froze mid-step.
elvis—smelling like your perfume and shame—came in behind you, trying very hard to whistle like he didn’t have hickey-red cheeks and wrinkles in his shirt.
“mornin’, mama,” he said, too cheerful.
“don’t you ‘mornin’ me,” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. “boy, your hair looks like you combed it with a spoon, and that poor girl’s blouse is on inside out.”
you glanced down.
damn it. it was.
vernon appeared from the hallway, coffee cup in hand, already smirking.
“mornin’, kids,” he said, like he hadn’t just walked into the funniest thing he’d seen all year. “get a good night’s sleep?”
you were surprised he was more talkative than before and if you weren’t getting scolded right now, you would’ve laughed at the way he seemed to amused right now.
“not one second,” gladys muttered.
“we were just—uh—we were lookin’ at the stars,” elvis said quickly.
“real bright stars.” gene smirked, which earned him a slap on the back of his head by elvis, before the smith boy walked off into the kitchen, the sound of his laughter clear as crystal.
vernon snorted. “well, you sure weren’t lookin’ through no telescope.”
you looked at the floor. the wall. the ceiling. anywhere but gladys’s face.
“i’m gonna go wash up,” you mumbled.
gladys’s voice followed you as you bolted toward the stairs. “make sure you get all that sin off your collar, sugar!”
despite her words, you could’ve sworn you almost heard her giggle.
upstairs, you could hear elvis defending your honor with all the finesse of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“mama, we weren’t doin’ nothin’ disrespectful. we was just talkin’. and kissin’. a little. maybe more than a little.”
“elvis aron presley, if you think for one second that shirt wrinkled itself—”
“now, gladys, let the boy breathe,” vernon chuckled. “he’s young. in love. foolish.”
“he ain’t in love. he’s in heat.”
“better that than bein’ alone,” vernon said, sipping his coffee. “besides, she’s sweet. she’s got fire. i like her.”
you stopped halfway up the stairs, heart thudding in your chest as you smiled to yourself.
in love?
you heard elvis go quiet.
gladys, too.
“...i didn’t say that,” elvis said, soft. “but. i mean. maybe.”
a long pause.
gladys’s voice, quieter now. “well. just don’t be stupid, baby. and use protection.”
“mama!”
you stifled a laugh behind your hand and ran the rest of the way up the stairs.
you’d faced a hundred things in your life, but nothing—nothing—was scarier than gladys presley with a wooden spoon and a suspicion.
vernon wasn’t wrong, though. it was kinda funny.
the afternoon was thick and lazy.
memphis sun poured down like syrup, warming the grass around the audubon pool. the boys were all draped over lawn chairs and towels, shirtless and grinning, radio playing something low and bluesy while the scent of suntan oil and cigarette smoke hung in the air.
you were half-asleep on a striped lounger, wearing one of elvis’s shirts tied at the waist and your own bikini bottoms, sipping iced tea and pretending not to listen. despite still being tired because you and elvis didn’t have much sleep, you refused to actually let yourself fall asleep, wanting to eavesdrop on the boys.
elvis sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling in, hair damp and curling a little at the ends.
the guys were in rare form today.
“so, e,” red called, tossing a beach ball in the air. “when’s the weddin’? next week or y’all waitin’ to make a scandal first?”
“i heard he already gave her a ring,” billy, another one of elvis’s cousins who was mouthy for his 13 years of age, added. “one of them big honkin’ ones with a pink stone, just tacky enough.”
elvis shot billy a glare, but laughed nonetheless. “hell, i don’t do tacky rings.”
“she eats cereal outta the box in his kitchen,” red said. “that’s domestic.”
“man, shut up,” elvis muttered, looking down at his feet in the clear water as his ears were turning red.
“aw, he’s blushin’,” lamar who sat on one of the loungers crowed. “look at that. ep’s in loooove.”
“i will drown you in this pool,” elvis said flatly.
“you can’t drown us all, e,” billy pointed out. “laws of physics.”
“yeah?” elvis raised a challenging eyebrow, flicking water at him with his foot. “watch me. you’ll be the first one to go.”
they kept laughing. you kept sipping, pretending you weren’t hanging on every word.
“you ain’t gonna tell us about last night, elvis?” red said, smirking. “never stayed out with a girly that long before.”
“give us the dirty details, man.” lamar roared out a laugh, to which you rolled your eyes to behind your sunglasses.
elvis stood up, dripping water. “alright, y’all wanna know the truth?” he said, looking at all of them, sounding annoyed but serious.
they shut up immediately.
he looked over at you.
you blinked, frozen halfway through a sip, heart knocking once, hard.
“i love her,” he said.
just like that... the world tilted.
“been in love with her since she pretended to be some fancy gal from upstate new york and kissed me on the mouth to shut me up.”
you laughed, breath catching.
“and you know what?” he kept going, voice stronger now, grinning that slow, real grin that started in his eyes. “i don’t give a damn who knows it, who writes about it and i sure as hell don’t give a damn about anyone who might not like it. because i love the girl, man.”
“damn,” gene muttered, pretending to be stunned but then smirked and held out his hand as he stood by the pool. “pay up, fellas. told ya a baby is on its way.”
“shut up, gene.” everyone called out in unison, laughter filling the backyard.
you stood and walked over, slow, sun warming your bare shoulders. elvis met you at the edge of the pool, hands finding your hips without a second thought.
“you sure about that?” you asked, low.
“dead sure,” he said, pulling you close. “i love you, darlin’. don’t love your cornbread, but i do love you.”
you leaned in, kissed him soft, all grins and nerves and sunlight.
“good,” you whispered. “cause i love you, too.”
hollering and whistles came from behind you and you flipped the boys off behind your back, still kissing elvis.
elvis just laughed into your mouth and held you tighter, while the whole world—memphis, the boys, the heat, the years ahead—spun golden around you.
gladys watched through the kitchen window at the display, clutching a kitchen towel to her chest. when vernon popped up beside her, she looked at him and threw the towel down, pulling her apron off. “go get the car keys, vernon. i need to go to the shops.”
“for what, glad? it’s too darn hot!”
she looked at him as if it was obvious, as if her husband had lost his mind. “my grand baby ain’t gonna come into this world without a full wardrobe.”
“gladys, she’s not–” he deadpanned, but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. laughing softly, he shook his head as gladys was already grabbing her purse and putting on her shoes. he has no choice to follow, the little party in the backyard continuing well into the night.
Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]
TW: Cussing, angst, mentions of infertility, Elvis being ~very difficult~😠
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5.4k
A/N: Hi everyone! Posting in Elvis hours again hehe. This chapter is an emotional rollercoaster so be prepared! Forgive me for putting these two through the wringer🫣 I would recommend re-reading the first chapter again because I did leave some clues of what is going to be unveiled... Hope you enjoy! Elvis needs a hug and a slap on the wrist in this chapter🤭
July 5th, 1969
Tonight was another planned dinner and you couldn’t be more excited. This means you get to see Elvis with no other explanation and if you were lucky, you’d sneak away from everyone and kiss him like he’s your only supply of oxygen. Elvis coordinated this whole dinner. After five full days of rehearsing hours on end for his show, he wanted to have a little fun and invite some friends over. You liked how excited Elvis got over things lately. It was such a turn compared to a few weeks ago when he barely liked any company, especially yours.
John was never thrilled about these dinners. He wouldn’t sit by you and would barely look in your direction so you and Elvis always sat next to each other. You’d joke and glance at each other with longing stares that made you feel aflame. His hand would brush your thigh and you couldn’t help but inch closer to him, longing for him to keep touching you. You loved those secret moments.
It was almost time to leave and you put on some glossy pink lipstick before rushing to get your heels on. You open the door and the phone rings as you’re about to leave the house. You run back in and grab the phone.
“Hello?” You say a bit winded.
“Hi baby when are you coming over?” Elvis asks smoothly.
“I was just about to leave but here I am on the phone with you,” you tease him.
“Well, I’m glad I caught ya then. I want you to pack some things. I want you to stay the night,” he says matter-of-factly. You almost gasp at his request. He wouldn’t dare make it so obvious that you two were seeing each other.
“No, absolutely not. Are you insane? We’d get caught and that would be the end of that,” you say shortly.
“No one’s gonna be home tonight. Dianne won’t be here, she’s got a flight later tonight to see some family,” he explains. You grew nervous, it was still too risky. This plan of his was going to blow up in smoke.
“And what about John? You need to deal with him. He expects me to be home with him. I don’t need him to start to grow suspicious of why I hang out at your house so late,” you say annoyed.
“Let me deal with him. Just bring your things, okay?” He says low and hangs up quickly.
You grunt frustrated, you hated that it had to be his way or no way at all. But you also didn’t have it in you to fight with him. You liked him taking the lead and having his way with you. You quickly go back to the bedroom and scour the closet for a duffle bag to pack some things for the night. It was a little nerve-wracking that you’d be there all night but you knew you’d love it. You race back to the front door and put the bag in your trunk, excited for tonight’s adventure.
*
You pulled up to the house and the driveway was already packed with cars. Some of the guys were out there waiting to open the gate for you and you quickly parked the car, rushing to get inside. Walking up to the door, the murmur of voices behind it made you a bit nervous. Elvis better be on his best behavior. There were going to be too many eyes around tonight. You couldn’t get too close to him or disaster could strike.
There were a few people at the entrance of the house and they politely smiled at you and said hello. You do the same but your eyes frantically search for Elvis. You wanted to see him, as bad as it was, you needed to see what he was wearing tonight.
You round the corner and into the living room and you stop dead in your tracks. You found him and he was wearing all black and a blue scarf that made his eyes pop. He forgoes a shirt underneath his jacket and it shows off his tan chest. You loved his fashion choices lately and not wearing anything underneath his jackets with scarves or leaving his shirts unbuttoned scandalously low. He looked absolutely gorgeous and his eyes lit up when he saw you too.
Your smile begins to fade when you realize Dianne is sitting on his lap, wearing a short ruffled skirt and tank top, twirling his scarf around her finger. Your blood boiled, you hated seeing her on him. It was stupid honestly. She was only playing a part and so was Elvis. But this wasn’t a public event, there was no need for a dramatic display of affection from the two of them. You do everything in your power to force the fakest smile you’ve ever given. Elvis probably saw right through it as you stared at him blankly.
“Hi y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” Jerry says on your right, snapping you out of your jealousy.
“Hi Jerry, always nice to see you,” you say to him and give him a hug.
John was sitting next to Elvis and goes to hug you. It shocked you a little, he wasn’t the type to give affection so publicly. You smell the faintest scent of alcohol on him. I guess that answers why he’s so affectionate. You hug him anyway because you want Elvis to feel the same jealousy you felt when you looked at Dianne sitting on his lap. You grab John by the face and kiss him. You felt Elvis’ eyes burn into your skin. He hated what you were doing. You loved getting the reaction out of him though.
You pull away from him and act embarrassed, “Oh hi Dianne, so nice to see you again! Hi Elvis,” you say a bit flatly. Dianne quickly gets up and gives you a big hug.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! I can use a girl’s company! Please sit down,” she says sitting back on Elvis’ lap and having you sit right next to him. There was a small space left on the couch and you squeezed beside him, placing your purse on the side of it and out of the way. His legs were spread open and your leg touched his. You try not to let it get to you but your body says otherwise.
“How have you been y/n? How was your day?” Dianne asks.
“Oh, it was fine. I just worked a shift at the diner and went home for a bit to relax before coming here,” you tell her.
“Oh, how nice. Do you like your job?” She asks as he continues to twirl Elvis’ scarf around her finger and rest her other hand on his bare chest. You tried to let it not distract you but you’re failing. It irked you the way he was letting her touch him. It was ridiculous of you, but it didn’t matter. You hated it and wished you were the one in his lap instead.
“No, not really, but it pays the bills in the meantime,” you joke.
“You’re an actress right?” Jerry butts in. Thank God for that, at least you don’t have to look directly at Dianne anymore.
“Yes, I am. I’m on a bit of a hiatus. Things have been a little tough and I’ve needed to take a break from it. I wasn’t getting as many jobs and it started to affect us,” you say a bit hurt.
You hated admitting that your dream wasn’t panning out the way you wanted it to. You didn’t quit the business, you were just falling on hard times and needed to make some quick money before going back out there.
“Sorry you’ve had to take a break, you’ll get back on your feet in no time. I’ve seen some of your movies, you’re a natural,” Jerry says sweetly.
“Thanks,” you say sheepishly. It was nice to hear someone saw the potential you had. You look at John briefly and see he has this annoyed expression on his face when he’s listening to you talk about your career. It ticked you off even though you should be used to it by now.
“Maybe you can focus on other things in the meantime,” Dianne says cheerfully, “Maybe you can start a family,” she tells you.
You look at her blankly. You didn’t want to talk about this stuff with her around. She was the last person you wanted to talk about family stuff with.
“Umm, no, I don’t think that’ll be happening,” you try to deflect.
“Oh, why not?” She asks.
“It’s not the right time,” you try to shrug like it doesn’t bother you.
“Well, you never know. Blessings can happen when you least expect it,” she says as she wraps her arms around Elvis’ neck. It took everything in you to shove her off of him and get her to stop asking a million questions.
“Yeah, but we’re good. It’s not the right time to start a family,” you reiterate a bit sharply, hoping she’ll shut up.
“Oh but can you imagine, a little you running around? That would be the cutest,” she says excitedly looking at Elvis, “maybe we can try again?” She says looking at Elvis, leaning in to kiss him.
You felt like screaming at him, both of them for that matter but God that got under your skin and stayed there. Again?! What does she mean again?! You wanted to yell and scream your head off at him if he was actually having his way with both of you at the same time. You clench your fist closed and do everything in your power to swallow your pride and not say anything to him. Yet. He will get an earful from you later, you were going to make sure of that.
“Well you have fun with that,” you say sarcastically, making sure to not look at Elvis.
“You two really would have the cutest kids!” Dianne continues to ramble.
“Yeah, that's not happening. We’d need a miracle to happen,” John mutters a bit too loudly as he takes a sip of his beer.
You feel every pair of eyes dart to you and you freeze. You stare at John in disbelief that he just said that. He looks at you as though he sees right through you. He looks at you like you’re such a disappointment. You glance at Elvis and see a look of concern.
“What? What does he mean?” Dianne asks confused. You wanted this night to end right here and now. You were sick and tired of her incessant questions and angry at John’s drunken slip-up.
“It means I can’t have kids. It’ll never be the right time it seems and I can’t do anything about it but move on,” you say sharply and throw daggers at her. She grows quiet and looks away from you.
The room was extremely quiet and you felt everyone’s uncomfortableness as the rest of the house was loud and full of laughter. You tap your leg nervously, hating that the attention is on you and this topic. You debate whether you should just leave the room or pray to God someone changes the topic again. You were hoping Jerry would be that person again but sadly he didn’t get that memo.
“I’m so sorry y/n,” Elvis says softly, almost too low for you to even hear.
You look up at his puppy dog eyes and let your anger get the best of you. Looking at him made you more angry and hearing that he was sorry for you pushed you past your boiling point. You stare at him blankly, fire burning in your eyes as you don’t want to be around him anymore.
You get up from the couch and try to put on a believable smile like none of this got to you.
“I’m going to grab a drink, does anyone want anything?” You ask cheerfully.
Everyone murmurs no and you see yourself out. Your smile instantly drops when your back faces everyone in the living room. You squeeze your way through the dining room where a lot of people are gathered and go to the kitchen. It's a bit quieter in here and you get to breathe and try to shake off everything that just happened. You hated how this was brought up, it made you feel shitty. You don’t know if Dianne brought this up on purpose or what but you like her even less now.
You find champagne on the kitchen island and pour yourself a small glass. You sip the bubbly drink and try to calm yourself down before you go back out there. You suddenly feel a hand gently grab your arm and pull you to the side. You look up and see it's Elvis and he keeps walking to a side room off of the kitchen. You shrug out of his grasp and grunt frustrated.
“Elvis?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You snap.
“I needed to talk to you,” he says.
“It can wait, let's get out there,” you say flatly, trying to push past him.
He steps in front of the door and locks it.
“No, I’m not letting you out of here until we talk about this,” he says sternly.
“There’s nothing to talk about Elvis, let’s just go,” you grumble.
“Yes there is,” he says as he pulls you in to hug you, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” he says gently.
As much as you loved it when he held you in his arms, you didn’t want that kind of affection right now. You push away at his chest and feel the tears well in your eyes.
“Elvis no. I can’t do this with you. I tried to tell you. I did, I tried. But you were too busy for me! That was the moment I realized we weren’t friends anymore. I told whoever answered the phone it was extremely important to talk to you and they said they’d go and get you but you didn’t answer the phone! I waited for hours for you, crying my eyes out hoping you’d talk to me but you didn’t. I needed you. I needed someone to go to and comfort me when I was going through this tough time and I had no one,” you say angrily.
“God no,” he angrily mutters, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t remember-. When was this? Please help me understand,” he pleads with you.
“A few years ago. ‘66 I believe. Everything went up in flames that year. I came to the realization I’ll never be able to have a family and things only got worse with me and John. I was losing traction with my career and not getting cast as much. It was all a mess and I had no one to talk to,” you weep turning away from him so he wouldn’t see you cry.
“I’m sorry honey that’s awful. I wish I could have done something, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…” he rambles.
“Nothing. You were thinking about nothing and ignoring me like every other man in my life,” you grumble.
There’s a heavy silence that fills the room as you can still hear the liveliness of the party going on out there.
“He isn’t supportive about any of it? Not even empathetic?” Elvis asks gently.
“No. And I know deep down, he hates me for it. We were having some minor problems before this happened and a naive part of me thought that if I gave him a baby, everything would be alright. But years went on and it never happened. I had to face the reality that something was wrong with me and had to move on. There’s nothing I can do about it,” you say defeated.
“Honey I-,” he starts to say but you stop him.
“No! Don’t honey me! You are not innocent here. What the fuck was that about in the living room? Dianne saying you guys should try again?” You say as anger boils through you.
“Are you messing around with her and me at the same time?! You told me the whole relationship between you two was just a publicity stunt and nothing more,” you seethe.
He sighs and takes a step back from you, “It’s more complicated than that…” he starts to say.
“No it’s not!” You yell at him.
“Shh, please lower your voice,” he growls.
“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do! Yes or no, are you two screwing around or was she trying to make your little story more believable by saying that.” You snap.
His face looks distraught and he looks like he can cry too. It was a horrible sight to see. You only wanted to see him happy and full of joy. You can see he’s searching for the right words but hesitates to say any of them.
“Yes, years ago we did. I was very unhappy with my career and hated everything I was doing. A lot like you, I thought maybe I should get married or have a baby, maybe that would make me happier? But I realized that none of that was going to make me happy and I didn’t like Dianne that way. I would be miserable if I married her,” he explains.
You felt bad for him too, how unhappy he was like you and had nowhere to go. Things should have been different between you two. If you had talked to each other about all of this, maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone and helpless.
“But to answer your question, no, I’m not even touching her. I want nothing to do with her like that now,” he pauses and slowly gets closer to you, “I only want you baby, please you have to believe me.” He says sorrowful.
You don’t respond to him. You were too hurt by all of this and don’t want to be here anymore.
“We should go out there, they’re waiting on us,” you murmur not looking at his face. He doesn’t budge and pulls you into his arms once more.
“Baby please look at me. I’m sorry about everything,” he purrs.
You wanted to forgive him of course, it felt awful to be cross with him but you needed space. You still hold this grudge against him that he hasn’t been there for you when he said he always would be. You push past him and quickly get out of the room and into the kitchen.
There were so many people around, that your absence wasn’t noticed where you had been for the last few minutes. You head back out to the living room with a drink in your head. You force another fake smile as you stand off to the side as you don’t want to sit by either Dianne or John. Fifteen minutes passed and Elvis still hadn’t joined you. You grew anxious as to what was taking him so long. It’s not like he’d just leave his own house and leave his party.
After an hour or so of dealing with insufferable conversation, it was time for dinner. An extra table was brought in so everyone could sit together. Elvis finally appears from the back of the house with a stark look on his face. As usual, he coordinated it so you had to sit next to him. This was the first night you did not want to be close to him by any means. Everything was ticking you off and everyone’s dumb jokes were annoying you more than anything.
Elvis picked up on your mood instantly and he was quieter than usual. You could feel him looking at you through the whole dinner but you didn’t look his way once. You picked at your food, not really hungry after everything that has transpired. It was only ten but you wanted to get out of this house. You were no longer in the mood to stay over or be around Elvis at all. The longer you stayed here, the worse this night could get.
You probably should have listened to your instincts and gotten up right now but you didn’t and disaster was about to strike.
You tune back into everyone’s conversations and act like you’re interested in what they have to say. Some of the guys were talking about something that happened on a movie set a few years ago and were laughing about it. They brought up some girls they thought were pretty and how they didn’t give them the light of day when they asked them out on a date.
Elvis would mess with them and tease that no girls were interested in them anyway. It was light-hearted banter and it did take your mind off of the uncomfortable situation you were in earlier. One of the guys turns their attention to you and it surprises you a bit.
“You’ve worked with Nicole, haven’t you? You know who we’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah, I worked on a movie with her. She was so nice,” you recall the fond memory.
“She liked you too. She hoped to work with you again. What are you working on now?” He asks.
You don’t feel threatened by the question and brush it off, it was just an innocent inquiry.
“Nothing right now. I’m hoping to get back out there soon though,” you say hopefully.
“You are? SInce when?” John asks a bit annoyed from the other end of the table. You stare darkly at him and try to keep your cool.
“Yes, I do. I miss being on set and everything. That’s where I was the most happy and had the most fun,” you say looking away from John and addressing anyone else that was listening to the conversation.
“Oh, you should have been on the set for one of Elvis’ movies. We had some wild times,” one of the guys laughed. A lot more of them laugh, reminiscing about such memories and you giggle too, you can only imagine what kind of trouble they got into on set.
“Oh I bet you guys have quite the stories,” you chuckle, “that almost happened though. I almost got the role of Elvis’ love interest in one of his movies in ‘66 but the producers went another direction at the last minute. It sucked but whatever,” you try to say nonchalantly.
“That’s right, I remember when Elvis found out you got cast. He freaked out,” he says laughing.
“Would you shut up,” Elvis says quickly, anger lacing his words.
You were confused by all of this. Why would Elvis be so freaked out about you getting cast in a movie? You thought it would be a nice reunion in a way. It was something you always wanted to happen.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, laughing slightly thinking he was just messing with you.
“Yeah, he saw your name on the cast list and called the director right away. You didn’t know? I thought he called you to explain,” He asks you confused.
“He didn't call me for a whole decade,” you scowl.
“That’s enough,” Elvis hissed.
You were baffled at what was going on. None of this made sense. Why would he act like this when he found out you got cast in his movie? Your mind races and starts creating the worst possible scenarios. Did he actually have a hatred for you for whatever reason?
You slowly turn your body to face Elvis, a slow boiling rage is once again beginning to develop inside of you.
“Why would you call the director about me?” You say sharply, holding your breath as you look at him like you could bite his head off.
He looks back at you with the same intensity but you don’t waiver.
“Answer me,” you say through your teeth.
Everyone gets a bit uncomfortable, not looking directly at either of you.
You watch him swallow sharply, clearly not wanting to speak.
“I-, I called him to tell him I had concerns..” he says gently.
“Concerns about what?” You snap.
“That maybe you weren’t the right fit…” he says timidly.
You had enough and quickly got up and left the table. The screech of your chair moving back made everyone jump and not look at you in your state of fury. You walk back into the living room to grab your keys and your purse and head for the front door. No one moved an inch and watched you storm out of the house. You didn’t know whether you should scream or cry or do both at the same time. You couldn’t believe Elvis would ever do such a thing. Especially to you.
You start to walk towards your car and you hear excited screams of a dozen fans waiting outside to see Elvis. A few flashing lights are going off from their cameras but are instantly disappointed that it’s just you. It was going to be hard getting out of here and you get frustrated, you needed to leave and get some space from all of this. You didn’t want to give Elvis any more time to fuck up anything else.
“Y/n please wait,” you hear Elvis say behind you. You glance over your shoulder and see he’s trying to catch up to you. The backyard gate is on your left and that’s the only place you can go to hide from the screaming fans and everyone else at this party. You quickly open it and walk along the side of the house. Your heels make a loud echo on the concrete as you storm away from Elvis as fast as you can.
“Y/n please,” Elvis begs and gently grabs your arm to stop you.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You seethe. He looks at you stunned, he’s never seen you so upset. “Why would you do this to me?!” You continue.
“Honey I- I don’t know. I didn’t know what-, can you just let me explain,” he tells you. You could barely see straight you were so upset.
“No, you listen to me! Do you know what you did?!”
“I know it was wrong. I-I-I’m sorry baby I just thought-. The script was absolutely terrible and I was tryin’ to-,” he stammers.
“You were thinking about yourself that’s what was happening! How could you take something like this away from me,” you say as your voice cracks with emotion.
He grunts frustratedly and walks away from you, his hands on his hips with his head fallen down.
“I was afraid… I couldn’t see you after all those years,” he mutters.
“What?”
He turns around slowly and his blue eyes are filled with tears.
“I knew I was being an awful person. I wasn’t writing you back, I wasn’t answering your phone calls, I didn’t even try to see you in person once I came back from the army, I knew you hated me for it all. And I couldn’t blame you. As time went on, I knew there was nothing that would have excused how I was acting. I panicked and couldn’t see you. I called the director and said I was nervous working with you. I explained there was a certain history we had and I couldn’t shake my nerves. Before I knew it, they had you recast. It wasn’t what I intended to happen. I was just hoping they would push the start date or something. I never wanted you off the movie, I just needed more time to figure out what I’d even say to you,” he admits.
“Why didn’t you say something like that then? Why didn’t you tell them you wanted me in the movie,” you ask.
“I just-, I was still afraid. I thought it was meant to be this way… to keep not seeing you,” he admits.
You sink to your knees and sit on the hard ground. You cover your face in your hands and let your tears fall. You couldn’t believe any of it. How could you be so dumb? All you wanted was to be close to Elvis again but he proved time and time again he didn’t want that.
He was afraid to see you? What did he possibly think when he agreed to hire John. Did he think that he could still ignore you?
“That one role could have changed my life you know that? If I had on my resume that I worked with Elvis Presley, maybe the tide could have changed for me. Now I’ll never know if that could have been a possibility,” you sob.
“I know… I’m sorry…” he says softly. “And I didn’t know what you were dealing with personally which makes me feel even worse,” he says kneeling in front of you.
You both sit there motionless, not wanting to talk anymore. You felt your heart hurt, you never thought you could feel so broken. Just when you thought things were getting better, it came crashing down. You knew this whole thing was too good to be true. You just didn’t know how messy it would be.
You get up and smooth your dress out. Elvis quickly gets up too, looking at you with concern.
“I’m sorry baby, please. I was an idiot I didn’t know what I was doing,” he pleads as he gently caresses your face. His touch burns your skin and makes you feel weak. You hate yourself for liking his hands on you so much. You sigh softly and lean against the wall. He presses his forehead against yours and his breathing hitches. You place your hand on his cheek and feel the wet drops of tears cover his face.
“Please, forgive me,” he begs, his voice quivering softly. You stay silent as he tilts your head up to look up at him through wet eyelashes. He places the softest kiss on your lips, making you feel weak. Both of you gasp, needing air over this small kiss. He places another kiss on your lips, this time with a bit more urgency. You squeeze at his arm, trying to fight his magnetic pull. It’s almost useless. His arms pull you closer to him and you both sigh exasperated. You tremble with emotion and he places another passionate kiss on you.
“I’m sorry baby, please,” he whimpers.
You feel on fire but the tears pouring down from your eyes are making you feel like you have a fractured soul now. You’ll never be whole again. You struggle for breath and try to get a hold of yourself. You push at his chest and blink through your tears to look at him. You had never seen him cry like this and it breaks you.
“I can’t see you anymore. Whatever this was, it's done,” you sob.
Fear engulfs his eyes and he shakes his head.
“No no please baby, don’t go. Stay, we can talk more,” he pleads.
“There’s nothing else to say,” you whimper. You start to take a few steps away and he gently holds your hand.
“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me. I can’t be without you. I don’t know how to get by without you here. I need you,” he begs. Tears stream down your face and you feel like the air got sucked out of your lungs when you hear him confess this. It sounded too good to be true. These were words you always longed to hear coming from his lips. It’s too late though.
“I have to go,” you sob.
“Baby no,” he cries, slowly crumbling to his knees in front of you.
You feel your heart break in two, this was a sight you never wanted to see. It felt awful to say but you needed to walk away. There was nothing else to fix this relationship.
“Bye E,” you whimper and pull your hand away from his. It felt physically painful.
You walk back out to the driveway and you see some of the guys waiting to open the gate for you. Putting the keys in the ignition, your radio blares and Elvis’ voice rings from the speakers. It was a song you didn’t recognize. It must have been off of his new album or something. You quickly shut the radio off and want to drive in silence instead. Backing out of the driveway, you see Elvis standing in the middle of it. He looked distraught, like he just witnessed a death.
In a way, that’s what it felt like. This whole evening was ruined from the moment you walked into the house. Any possibility of what could have been with you and Elvis was washed away by a flood.
SUMMARY: After following Elvis throughout his career and being there for him, he seems to forget what's most important... you.
warning: ANGST, hurt to comfort?, shouting, miscommunication, insecurity.
A/N: This is my first ever post on Tumblr I've been on here a while so I thought why not give a shot at writing, please keep in mind English isn't my first language :)
Pairing: Elvis x reader (can also be Austin elvis!)
As the sun set over Memphis, the vibrant city whispered tales of heartache and passion. Among the countless souls navigating the streets, a young woman could be found strolling the dimly lit pathways with what seemed to be a small frown perched upon her face.
That woman also happened to be one of the worlds most talked about people in this current moment, yet she felt like she was the only one talking and no one was listening. That woman was who teenage girls could only dream to be, yet she didn't want to be herself in the very moment. Why would she?
Today was supposed to be different she told herself, he would actually remember, she really tried to believe her own husband would be there to support her during one of the biggest achievements of her life, just like she had done for him the last seventeen years. You see she had been there for him through all walks of life, since he was a tiny little blonde haired ray-of-sunshine and when he dyed his hair black and decided to switch up his style, she was there. And he couldn't even show up for one stupid court-case?
God she felt pathetic, she knew he wouldn't come, so why did she think this time it would be any different. But what could she do? She was Mrs Presley, and thats all people would see her as. As she walked along she moonlit streets she became more wary that she had been pushed aside by her husband, she had made a fool of herself letting him walk around with his wedding band off and acting like a single man with women surrounding him. People warned her about marrying Elvis but she would never listen to them because he was her Elvis and no one knew him like she did, and for a while that was true... until it wasn't.
Her beautiful Navy suit had been especially picked out for this trail, hoping that people would see her, hoping that He would see her. Thoughts swirled in her mind as she tried to process why she had let herself go so far as to have to beg for his attention, she was not some groupie he had picked up from his concerts or some teenaged fan that adored his music, she was his wife.
The night air clung to her like a heavy shroud as she approached the hallowed gates of Graceland. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the sprawling estate that had once been her sanctuary. But tonight, it felt more like a prison.
The grand entrance of Graceland loomed ahead of her, its ornate ironwork giving way to a long, winding driveway. As she ventured further in her green Beatle, the faint sound of music reached her ears, weaving its way through the evening breeze. Laughter, muffled and distant, hinted at a revelry she was not a part of.
Stepping across the threshold she had first hesitated towards, she entered the foyer. Dimly lit chandeliers bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, casting intricate patterns onto the polished marble floor. The air was thick with the mingling scents of expensive perfume and the anticipation of a vibrant gathering, yet it only deepened her pit of despair that was building inside of her.
Through the open doorways, she glimpsed the living room, ablaze with colour and movement. Lavish gold accented decorations adorned the walls, reflecting the vibrancy of the party within. The room seemed pulse with energy, the laughter and voices of the guests hanging in the air like an invisible veil.
In the midst of the festivities, Elvis stood at the centre, a star among the crowd. His charismatic smile drew people to him, their adoration evident in their eyes, but as her own guys met his, he remained transfixed by the merriment, not even batting an eyelid in her direction.
Her heart sank the steps, becoming slow and weighted with the sorrow she could no longer bear. She carved attention, his understanding of this passing sea of celebration. She appeared to be nothing more than a ghost existing in the peripheral of his attentions.
There, at the centre of the circle of vibrant guested, Elvis, his charm radiating like an Ethereal light. He was locked in at dance of words with a fan Her face flashed with the light basked on his attention. She observed the ease with which he engaged in stranger, his smile more genuine than she had seen in months.
The woman's voice, light and melodious, carrying hints of infatuation as she flirted shamelessly with Elvis. Hello, after accompanied by the soft music in the background seem to melt with the rhythm of his wife's own shattered heart. She could hardly fathom have someone. He didn't even know how to more sway over him, and she is devoted wife.
As she watched her husband, his eyes, twinkling with amusement, she felt an indescribable pain gnaw at her chest. She had dedicated her life to him, bent over backwards to keep their love and life. I need to find herself reduced to an inconsequential presences.
As she leaned against the wall, her tears subsiding, but her pain still palpable. Elvis's eyes flicker towards her. His eyes lingered for a moment before realisation, dawned on him, and with Swift footsteps, he crossed the room to reach her side.
"Hey, baby," He drawled, attempting to dismiss the intensity of the scene, she had just witnessed. His voice infused, with a southern twang still sent shivers down the spine, had once been the balm to her weary soul, but now it only served as a reminder of the golf at grown between.
Her eyes, once filled with love and admiration, now held a mix of sadness and anger. She took a deep breath, collecting the fragments of her resolve, before confront the man she had given her heart to all those years ago.
"You've missed my court case, my own battles and achievements, all while you were caught up in this whirlwind of adoration from strangers," She finally blurted out.
Elvis blinked, his azure eyes mirroring the confusion in his voice. "Satnin? Why didn't you say anything?" He cooed, attempting to soothe her. "You know I've got a lot on my plate."
The word "Satnin" would have once brought a smile to her face, an endearment she cherished, due to Elvis's late mother Gladys who was her second mother growing up in the small area of Tupelo. She shook her head, causing her locks to cascade around her like a waterfall of frustration.
"How can you think we are okay?" She exclaimed, her voice quivering. "
"Elvis, I can't help but feel pushed aside. It's not just about this one encounter; it's about so much more. You've missed my court case, countless family dinners, and it feels like our connection has dwindled to empty conversations. I've been left here, alone, while you bask in the adoration of fans."
Elvis's brow furrowed in confusion as he attempted to grasp the gravity of her words. He had been so immersed in his own world that he failed to recognize the depth of her emotional turmoil. "Satnin, I didn't realize you were feeling this way. I've just been caught up in the whirlwind of fame. Ya know it's not personal, right?"
y/n's frustration simmered beneath her surface, threatening to erupt like a dormant volcano. "How can it not feel personal, Elvis? We used to be each other's entire world. Now, I'm just an accessory on the fringes of your life while you play the role of the adored superstar."
Elvis's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and offense clouding his features. He tried to interject, but her pent-up emotions poured out like a torrential rainstorm, unable to be contained any longer.
"You think this is all about my support? It's not about that, Elvis! It's about feeling invisible, unappreciated, and alone. I've offered my unwavering support, but what have I received in return? Empty promises and missed moments. Is this how our love is supposed to be?"
A flicker of realization darted across Elvis's face, but his natural stubbornness lingered. "Satnin, I've been trying my best, but I can't be in two places at once. This music, these fans, they're a part of me. You knew that when we got married."
Her voice reached a crescendo, her frayed patience snapping under the weight of Elvis's dismissive attitude. "I didn't expect you to choose, Elvis. But I did anticipate that you would make an effort to make me feel like a priority in your life. Instead, I feel like I'm a distant second to the screaming crowds that cheer you on night after night."
Elvis, his patience waning, raised his voice in frustration. "Listen, baby, I have responsibilities, commitments. This is the life I've chosen. Can't you understand that?"
She gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. "Understand? I understand that you're using your fame as an excuse to neglect your responsibilities as a husband. You blame me for not understanding, but what about the countless nights I've spent alone, waiting for you? What about the promises you've made and broken?"
Elvis's expression turned defensive, his charm morphing into frustration. "You're being unreasonable, Y/N. I can't be at your beck and call all the time; I have a career to manage."
Y/N's voice trembled with anger. "Unreasonable? You have the audacity to call me unreasonable? All I wanted was a partner, someone who would be there for the important moments, to listen and support me. But you're too wrapped up in your own fame to even notice."
Elvis's obstinacy overshadowed any semblance of understanding. His tone hardened as he lashed out, trying to deflect his own guilt. "Maybe it wouldn't feel so empty if you were more supportive, if you understood the sacrifices I have to make!"
Her patience snapped, her voice resonating with a mix of fury and hurt. "Sacrifices? Where do my sacrifices fit into this equation? I've sacrificed my dreams, my desires, to support you, to be the wife you needed. And all I ask for in return is a fraction of your attention, your time."
Elvis and Y/N stood face to face in their lavish Memphis mansion. The room crackled with tension as their argument escalated, both parties unwilling to back down. Her eyes were brimming with tears, reflecting her hurt and frustration, while Elvis stubbornly refused to see his faults.
"You just don't understand, Y/N! I give you everything, I give you this beautiful home, luxurious cars, and all the fame you could ever want. Why are you so miserable?" Elvis exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief.
Y/n took a deep breath, trembling with the weight of her emotions. She knew this was her moment to speak her truth and reveal the depth of her pain. "Elvis, material possessions and fame aren't enough for me. I want emotional connection, intimacy, and a partner who truly understands me. But lately, it feels like I'm living in your shadow. You're so consumed with yourself that you've forgotten about our marriage."
Elvis's eyes widened, struck by her heartfelt words. For the first time, he began to truly comprehend the gravity of his actions. "But Baby, I don't mean to neglect you. I love you more than anything. How can I make it right?" His voice wavered, a mix of desperation and regret seeping through his words.
Her gaze softened, her love for Elvis still evident despite the pain she felt. "It's not just about apologies, Elvis. It's about changing your behavior, showing me every day that I matter to you. I can't keep living like this, always feeling secondary to your career."
A mixture of guilt and sadness washed over Elvis as he realized the damage he had caused in their marriage. He reached out, gently cupping Y/Ns face in his hands. "Baby, I never intended to hurt you. I know my words haven't always been kind, but you're the center of my world. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm truly sorry."
The air hung heavy with silence as she contemplated his words. She searched his eyes, seeking a sign of sincerity. Slowly, she nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Elvis, I want to believe that you mean it, but forgiveness doesn't come easy. We need time to heal, to rebuild the trust that has been shattered."
Elvis nodded, his heart sinking as he realized the consequences of his actions. They moved towards the hallway, away from prying eyes, their voices lowering to whispers. "Mama, please don't leave me. I can't imagine my life without you. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."
She looked into his eyes, her pain alongside her love for him evident. "Elvis, the road to forgiveness will be long and arduous. I need you to understand that. It will take more than just words to mend what's been broken. We both have work to do."
Elvis took a trembling breath, feeling the weight of his past mistakes. He gently squeezed her hand, a solemn vow crossing his lips. "I promise you, Satnin, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll be a better husband, a better man. Just please, don't give up on us."
As they stood there, enveloped in the intimacy of their private moment, Elvis and Y/N knew that the journey ahead would not be easy. But their love, their shared history, and the desire to rebuild what was lost provided a glimmer of hope. Their path to healing had just begun, one step at a time.
A/N: I got a bit carried away! But I'm also looking to make more friends in the Tumblr/Elvis community and would love to follow people or have proofreaders :) thank you <33
Hi! This is heavily inspired by @fandom-imagines. Is this based off a resident evil fic? Fuck yeah it is. You can’t stop me. I love Resident Evil. You are more than welcome to read what inspired this. I will leave a link here.
Masterlist
Pairing: Austin!Elvis x fem!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, Leaving Elvis, Like... very little angst, fluff, spelling and grammatical errors most likely
Word Count: 1.8k
As Elvis pulled open the door to Graceland, he felt as if something was off. He closed the door behind him and peeked around the corners. You weren't in the living room... you weren't in the dining room. Where were you?
"Y/n?! Darlin'?!" Elvis called out to you. When he didn't hear your voice back he started to get worried. He took a look around the house. Mostly to see if you were hiding somewhere within the property, or if there was a note.
After having searched the whole entirety of the house, and backyard, you were nowhere to be found. Not to mention there was no note. He was certainly starting to freak out. There had to be a reason you weren't home. You had just spoken to him last night.
Sure, he was home way earlier than he told you he would be... but... you didn't mention going out the night before. He didn't want to think that you were just leave him, but you weren't anywhere to be found. All he could do is sit and wait.
"Y/n... are you sure you want to do this?" Your friend asked with a soft-spoken voice. "I mean... he loves you like crazy."
With your gaze fixated out the window, you let out a sigh. You closed your eyes and turned your head to face your friend. As you opened your eyes, you started to speak. "He's always busy, Bunny... I can't just force him into parenthood."
Bonnie knew there was no way to change your mind. You had seem to have already made it up. She just wished that you wouldn't push yourself through this by yourself. "Well... then your secret is safe with me... I promise."
While Bonnie didn't want to promise such things, she knew that she had to. You needed a friend right now, and lords know that your family would be upset with the whole matter. You were essentially homeless right now, and you had no idea what to do.
"I should get going. I have to get to my brother's house and ask him if I can stay there."
"Why not stay at mine?" Bonnie looked a bit hurt. You trusted her enough with your news, and yet you wouldn't come stay with her?
"Because you're married. You guys are still in the honeymoon phase. My brother is married with kids. I'm basically a free babysitter to him. Plus... It will help me get ready." Bonnie sighed once more and nodded. It seemed like you had it all planned.
So, you got up and reached for your coat. You wrapped it around your frame and pushed your arms through the sleeves. You looked at your best friend and sent her a smile. "Thanks for coming on short notice, Bunny. I appreciate it."
"Of course, you're my best friend. Call me if you can't stay at your brother's okay? I will convince Scotty to let you stay."
A light chuckle escaped your mouth and you shook your head. "I'll give you a call nonetheless."
"I love you."
"I love you too," you said softly and walked out of the diner. You looked down at your watch to catch the time and let out a breath. Elvis should be on his way home now. He was supposed to be home later tonight. Today was your last day to leave.
You walked over to your car and got in. A gift from your boyfriend you frowned gently. You loved Elvis will all your heart, and generally, you didn't want to leave. But, you didn't want him to put a stop to his career to help raise a kid. This was just the best option in the end.
After staying with your brother for quite some time, you ended up finding a place of your own. It wasn’t the best, but it was enough for yourself and your child. Who was now… roughly two years old. He was quite a rascal that’s for sure.
Of course, he just had to look exactly like Elvis. Why wouldn’t he? It made all the sense. You leave the only one you had ever loved, and your child ends up looking like him. You weren’t exactly complaining, because he was quite a cute papa. Floppy blond hair, dazzlingly blue eyes. He was the cutest toddler you have ever seen.
Yet, you were still lonely. Not to mention, it did get difficult at sometimes. Having to work and be a mother. It was all just one big… mess at some moments. You just wanted to be able to stay home. Be a stay-at-home mom, and not worry about the bills. You missed Elvis, and it sucked that your baby had to grow up without a father.
As you sat on the blue seat near the phone, you picked it up and rested it against your ear. You rang the number for your best friend and waited for her to answer. You looked down at Austin as he played around with his toys.
“Hey Billy, can you answer that!” Bonnie called out to her husband.
“Sure thing!” Scotty replied back. He made his way to the phone on the wall and answered it. “Hello?”
You let out a breath and hung up immediately. Scotty was still a friend of Elvis, no matter the fallout the two had when the band broke apart. If Scotty knew you called, then it would just give everything away.
“Who is it?” Bonnie wiped her hands on her apron.
“I don’t know… They just hung up. No one does that.” Scotty shook his head in confusion. Bonnie put two and two together and immediately knew that it was most likely you.
“Oh don’t worry about it, must’ve been a wrong number.” Bonnie laughed nervously and shook her head.
“You know something, don’t you… Bought, Y/n. Don’t you lie either. You two are best friends.” Scotty folded his arms against his chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.” She replied and walked back over to the kitchen. Scotty followed after her. A look of determination on his face. Whatever secret she was keeping, he would get it out. “Bunny, don’t you lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” she shrugged in return. Scotty let out a sigh and took the wooden spoon out of his wife's hand. Bonnie looked at him and glared. She was just trying to be a good housewife, and her husband was getting in the way.
“Was that Y/n who just called?” He asked. Bonnie shrugged her shoulders and turned to work on something else. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying. How could I possibly know? It could’ve been some teen's prank calling. I don’t fucking know.”
“You never swear, so what’s up.” Scotty trapped her between himself and the counter.
With nowhere to go, Bonnie met Scotty’s eyes. “I just can’t… I can’t tell you.”
“And why not?” He asked in return. He just wanted to put Elvis at ease. It’s better to know she left, instead of just dying.
“Because you’ll just go off and tell Elvis. I’m not stupid.” Bonnie rolled her eyes. She folded her own arms against her chest at this point. She hated being interrogated, especially by her own husband.
“Maybe so, because he thinks she’s dead!” Scotty admitted. That was the first time, Bonnie heard about that. She always just thought that Elvis thought she left. Not that she was simply just… dead.
“She’s not dead. She's alive and healthy. Just… preoccupied.” Bonnie replied the best she could, without revealing too much. Though, by the need, she knew she would spill the beans.
“She moved on? She just left him?” Scotty raised his eyebrow.
“She was pregnant! She didn’t want to bare Elvis with a kid all right?!” Bonnie admitted.
“She’s what?” Elvis’ voice erupted between the two. When did Elvis get there? And how did he get in? Then again, Scotty and Bonnie left their door unlocked all the time.
Both Scotty and Bonnie both turned their heads toward the rockstar. Elvis had been a mess ever since he came home. Sure, he still pushed himself to do movies and occasionally perform, but he was still heartbroken.
“I well- you see- uh-“
After you hung up the phone you turned your attention toward your son. You sat down on the ground and pulled him into your lap. With a smile on your face, you kissed his cheek repeatedly. A small giggle left his mouth, it just made you extremely happy.
You would have to call Bonnie back at some point, but for now, you weren’t going to call. Maybe for a few days… weeks… you just didn’t want to be called out. The last thing you need is for Elvis to find out.
After quite some time you heard a knock on your door. You looked at Austin and gave his head a kiss before you pushed yourself up onto your feet. You walked over to the door and opened it up. Before you could fully see what was at the door, they pushed it open and walked in. You blinked in disbelief and looked at the person.
“I- Elvis-“ You couldn’t even believe your eyes. Elvis was standing inside your apartment. Did Bonnie snitch? That fuckin-
“Y/n, wh-why? I mean I just- Why?” Elvis didn’t seem to be angry, but you knew at some point that anger will come out eventually. You let out a sigh and closed the door.
“I didn’t want to ruin your career, Elvis. It’s as simple as that.” You replied and shook your head.
“That wouldn’t have mattered. I would’ve made it work. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was scared okay? We were both still pretty young and everything was just happening at once. You were in California most of the time-making movies. It’s not exactly the best-case scenario.” You pointed it out to him.
“I would’ve had you come live with me up there. Darlin’… You shouldn’t have been going through this alone. I was a part of this. I should’ve been there to help.”
“No, Elvis… You should have followed your dreams. You should still continue to follow your dreams.”
“Do you know what it was like coming home? No note… no one in sight. I thought ya fuckin’ died.” Elvis admitted. You frowned softly and felt your eyes start to water up. Maybe you should’ve left a note.
“Look, I’m sorry Elvis… I just… I didn’t want to risk anything.”
“Do you still love me?”
“What- Elvis- of course, I do. I left because I loved you. I didn’t want to see you throw your whole life and career away. It was a decision I had to make and it fucking sucked.”
Elvis let out a shaky breath and walked closer to you. When you didn’t back away he wrapped his arms around you. “Please come back… Please… I want to be a father… I want to be a husband… Please.”
Hearing Elvis starting to cry broke you. This was exactly why you had to just leave. If you saw him upset you knew you would change your mind. You returned his embrace and ran your hands through his hair.
“I will… I will.” You replied softly and leaned your head against his. You closed your eyes and let your own tears start to fall.
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