Big Boss Man | Austin!Elvis x Reader | One-Shot
Summary: Your boss is a disgusting, misogynistic jerk, and Elvis will do anything to help you get out of that situation.
Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Reader, Elvis x Reader
What you’ll like: Elvis being just positively bonkers about you. Protective!Elvis, supportive Elvis, happy endings, fluff and general sweetness in spite of everything.
Warnings: Misogyny (like, your boss is a total asshole), attempted sexual assault (nothing graphic happens), the 1950s was cool in theory but was a bad time to be a working-class woman.
If the above will trigger you, read Just Pretend instead. It's soft, fluffy, and comes with 0 content warnings!
Word Count: 3542
A/N: Who hasn't wished Elvis would break into their workplace and punch their boss in the face? We've all been there, right? *sweats nervously*
Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want! Confess your sins! Have a good time with it!)
I can’t take it anymore. It was a thought that came up in your mind again and again, like a wave washing up on the shore, retreating and coming right back, all day every day. You didn’t mind your job- waitressing in a small cafe on a road just off of Beale Street wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it helped your Momma pay the bills. Customers weren’t always polite, but you could handle that.
It was your manager, Adam Reed, you couldn’t stand. The self-proclaimed ‘Wolf of Beale Street’ owned half the cafes in Memphis, but made this one his home. There was no clear reason why, apart from to make your life hell.
“Why ain’t you smiling, sweetheart?” Mr Reed scowled when you came into the kitchen to pick up some fresh burgers. “You’re a pretty little thing when you smile.”
The corners of your lips tilted upwards while bile rose at the back of your throat.
“Better.”
It was all you could do to keep the smile on as you picked up the fresh-made meals for table 4 and backed out of the kitchen- the ‘Wolf’ was sure to comment something about your ass if you walked out normally.
I can’t take it anymore. Your smile stayed on as you served the food, took more orders, returned to the kitchen, picked up the food, repeated. I can’t take it anymore.
“You havin’ that time of the month, darlin?’ Reed commented when you returned and forgot to keep a tired smile up. “You look puffy. Not as perky as usual.”
Your mouth opened and closed- What can I even say to that? - You shook your head and plastered the same smile on your face as before, but wider. Reed grinned and mopped some sweat from his greasy, balding forehead before turning his attention back to the stovetop.
“That’s more like it. If you don’t want to be a good little girl, there’s plenty of others in this town who will.”
“Yes sir.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Sorry, Mr Reed.”
He grunted in response, and relief washed over you when you realised it was 5:55 PM. Your shift was over in 5 minutes. The cafe was empty and, most importantly, your boyfriend would show up to drive you home. Elvis hated the thought of you walking alone in the dark. The only thing he hated more was the thought of you being alone in the cafe with your boss.
Like clockwork, at 5:57 the bell above the cafe door rang and Elvis walked in. He looked as tired as you felt, but his blue eyes lit up when he saw you.
“Hey, Baby.” He leaned in to wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the cheek. “You about ready to go?”
“She’s got three minutes on the clock, squirrel.” The Wolf appeared from the kitchen, pulling on his coat. “Don’t forget she’s mine ‘till 6. Hands off.”
Elvis bristled, but he knew how much you needed this job to pay the bills, so he withdrew his hand from around your waist with a shit-eating smile.
“Yessir.”
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
“Sorry about him.” You sighed, slumping into the passenger side of Elvis’ truck. He gave you a peck on the lips before gently closing your door and walking over to the driver’s side.
“Don’t you apologise for that bloodsuckin’ old vampire.” Elvis turned the key in the ignition and began the drive home. “You want me to take the scenic route so we can talk about it?”
You couldn’t hide the grin on your face; the first real one all day. “I’d like that.”
The scenic route wasn’t so much a route as it was a long way through the backstreets of town, with one long stop in a turnout by the river, secluded enough that you could stop and talk about life for as long as you needed.
Elvis’ knuckles grew white on the steering wheel as you told him all the snide comments Reed slid your way with every dish.
“That snake’s just as slimy as his food.” He growled through gritted teeth. “I ought to sock him in his fat goddamn face.”
You shook your head. “He’d just call the cops on you. And besides, my Momma and I need the money. He might be a snake, but he pays half our bills. If I lose this job I don’t know what we’ll do.”
Elvis pulled off of the road. The sun was practically set, the day had turned into a beautiful Memphis dusk. The sky was a pale pink, a favourite colour shared by you and Elvis, and the river was calmly running, surface smooth as glass. Being away from the cafe was enough to lift your mood on its own, but being here with him was more than enough.
“I wish you didn’t have to think like that.”
“You know how it is.” You shrugged. Your father had been out of the picture since before you were born, leaving your Momma to scrape by waiting tables, cleaning hotel rooms, looking after old folks, and anything else she could find.
Elvis didn’t respond, just looked out across the water, at the fields in the distance beyond the river. His father drove a grocery truck and worked odd jobs while his Momma spent days doing laundry for anyone who’d pay. Elvis drove this very truck all over Memphis during the week and worked at the movies on weekends. All his pennies went to paying the bills and buying food for the family, same as yours.
“Well, one day I’ll make it different for us.”
You took his hand from the wheel and held it in your lap. “I know you will. But for now, we just have to put up with it.”
“If he tries anything, I swear I’ll put him in the ground.”
“I know you will. That’s why I love you.”
Elvis turned to look at you and smiled, leaning over for a kiss. It started out innocent, but his hand reached to hold your chin in place while his tongue slid along your bottom lip, asking permission.
He wasn’t big on saying I love you- he preferred to show you with actions. Picking you up from work every day was just one example. Buying you a soda on your days off, walking Beale street with you and listening to you talk about your dreams. Over the time you’d been dating, he’d grown fluent in body language between the two of you. Everything about this kiss said I love you, over and over. I love you. I really love you. I’d do anything for you. Just say the word and I’ll punch that sucker’s lights out.
You only broke apart so Elvis could reach under your seat and pull out the blanket he kept there, asking a question with his eyes. You grinned and opened the passenger door.
Elvis spread the blanket across the back of the truck and let you lie down first, arms folded behind your head. The stars weren’t out yet, but the pink sky filtered through the green summer leaves so beautifully you didn’t care. It was quiet here, hardly a car passing by on the back-road. The perfect place to lie together without anybody bothering the two of you. You could stay here for hours and when you got home late you’d just tell your mother you’d gotten stuck in traffic, or Elvis had a flat tire, and she’d believe it.
Real life paused while Elvis lay on his side next to you. His arm draped over you and his eyes studied yours intently, as if trying to read your mind.
“I went to a recording studio today. I’ve been saving up some money, and I recorded a couple songs." He looked down, as if he wasn't sure how you'd react. "You know Sam Phillips, right? He works with Big Boy Crudup. He says he likes my sound. Wants to sign me.”
“Yeah?” You grinned. “That’s great!”
Until now, Elvis’ voice was a poorly-kept secret. He sang all the time; when you were together, when he drove you to and from work, when he was at home with his parents or alone in his truck. Elvis always had music playing from the radio, no matter where he was, and he was always singing along. Next to you, music was the love of his life.
“I just hope my Momma likes the record.” He was trying to sound modest, but the smile on his face betrayed how excited he really was. “I only wanted to record something for her birthday this month.”
“She’ll love it. You know your voice is great.”
You pulled his head down for a long kiss, only breaking apart to whisper in his ear,
“I can’t wait to hear it either.”
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
It was only a few weeks later that everything changed- for Elvis. His record, That’s Alright Mama, flew to the top of the charts for Blues and Country. Suddenly he was booked on live radio for interviews around the state, and soon after that he was quitting his job to go on a real tour, center-stage.
“I won’t be able to pick you up for at least three weeks.” He’d said the night before leaving. “But if he tries anything, I need you to call me, okay? I don’t care where I am, I’ll come flyin’ back to you.”
“It’ll be fine, Elvis.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, hardly caring if any nosy neighbours were peeping through their curtains at the two of you. He kept his hands on your lower back, pulling you scandalously close. “Just come back soon, and tell me all about what it’s like outside Memphis.”
“I will, I promise.”
That was six weeks ago. Elvis called most nights, but The Wolf had made it his personal mission to make sure you were never home to pick up the phone. Your Momma talked more to your boyfriend than you did.
“Sweetheart, I don’t force the customers to come in after 6PM, but if that’s when they come in, that’s when I need you here. So don’t be late.”
And you weren’t. Unfortunately, neither was Reed. Customers after 6PM were few and far between, meaning you mostly mopped, swept, wiped tables, and listened to Reed’s opinions on everything from Elvis’ ‘hillbilly trash’ music to complaints about your poor workplace attitude ‘turning off customers’.
Sometimes he leaned in close enough that you could smell the stale hamburgers on his breath, just to tell you to wipe a certain table or ‘make me a pot of coffee, doll. We’ve got some hours to kill.’
That was the least of your worries. It was autumn, and longer, darker nights were beginning to set in before the winter. Most nights you couldn’t leave the diner until 11:30, walking home until midnight. Every night you walked with your hand clasped around the keys in your purse, like Elvis had taught you: Don’t put them between your fingers, Baby. You try to hit somebody like that, you’re more likely to cut up your hands or drop the keys altogether. Hold one key like a knife, point it downwards, jab him where it hurts, and you’ve got a chance.
Your heart pumped a mile a minute the whole walk home, hands shaking and legs jumping at the slightest sound on the street. Wind in the trees must be a crazed murderer, the echo of your own footsteps was a stalker. Nothing felt safe anymore.
Tonight wasn’t much different: one patron lingered in the cafe sipping on free refills from 9:30 till 10. After they left, Reed insisted on keeping you behind to clean up for the rest of the night.
Sleep dragged your eyelids down, head emptying of thoughts as you leaned over to wipe crumbs from the very edge of one table. You were so engrossed in getting the job done and worrying about the walk home, you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you. Warm hands on your hips made you jump, and any thoughts of going home froze in their tracks.
Hot burger-breath puffed in your ear,
“You know, you act like such a sweet little girl,” A beefy hand crept up to grasp the back of your neck, not tight, but just enough to let you know who was in charge. “But if you’re still seeing that greaser, you must have a dirty side.”
Breath froze in your throat. Your lungs screamed for air, but you couldn’t move as Reed pressed his nose to your hair and drank in your scent before letting you go and taking a step back, giving you just enough space to turn around.
His eyes were dark with lust when you did, looking anywhere but your face. Now he had you backed up against the table, an arm on either side of your body. Boxed-in.
“You know, you seem mighty fine staying here all alone with The Wolf. Makes me think you like me more than you let on. Maybe you like thinking about what might happen. Does it give you a little thrill, huh sweetheart?”
Your arms hung uselessly at your sides. Thoughts came fast, but not fast enough: Where are my keys? Where is my purse? I need to get home. I need to get past him to get home. I need to get home now. Please, not here, not now.
By the time you dragged your arms up to push at him, his hands were on your lower hips, lifting you onto the table you’d just been cleaning. A scream bubbled at the back of your throat, but his hand came up to cover your mouth.
“Shh, sweetheart, this can be our little secret. You behave nicely now, and I just might give you a raise…”
You didn’t care. You could sleep on the streets. You could find another job, any other job- just so you’d never see him again. You kicked, but he grabbed your legs and held you down with brutal force.
The bell rang, but you couldn’t get up to see who’d just come in.
“Scram, we’re closed.” Reed grunted as he tried to hold you down with one hand and keep your mouth covered with the other, not bothering to look up.
Everything happened at once- his weight lifted off of you, and you heard a familiar voice scream in rage,
“You sonofabitch!”
That voice made you move, jumping off of the table and seeing the back of Elvis’ head as he pinned Reed to the breakfast bar, punching him so hard you heard something (or a few somethings) crack.
“I’ll fucking kill you. You piece of shit. You feel like a big strong man now, huh?” He lifted the man up just to slam him down again, hard. “Think you’re some big boss man? Call yourself a wolf. You ain’t even a chihuahua.”
A tidal wave of emotions washed over you- fear and adrenaline, relief and love, and an overwhelming need to pull Elvis off your boss before he killed the man. You rushed forward and grabbed Elvis’ arm, only to have him flick you away, barely registering your effort.
Blood splattered the counter you'd finished wiping just moments earlier as Elvis held the older man down with one hand and punched with the other.
“Elvis.” You whimpered, voice not as strong as you wanted to sound. “Elvis, I need you to look at me.”
The softness of your voice reached him, and he paused to look at you. The hardness in his eyes evaporated immediately, and his shoulders went slack.
“Elvis, let’s just go. He’s done.” You tugged your boyfriend’s arm once more, and he reluctantly got off of Reed. You started leading him towards the door, but the sound of Reed getting up behind you made you pause.
“You fucking idiot.” The older man coughed and spat blood onto the floor. “I oughta have you both arrested.”
Elvis stopped in his tracks, and you swore you saw red flash through his eyes, but it wasn’t him who moved first. It was you.
With one fluid movement, you kicked the Wolf of Beale Street in the balls. “I quit. And the next time you even think about threatening us again, I won’t stop him from killing you.”
Reed was in so much pain he could hardly look up at you, but when he did you saw fear flashing in his eyes. Coward. That was enough to get you to turn around, take Elvis’ hand and lead him towards the exit.
“That’s my girl.” Elvis mumbled, grinning to himself, as he held the door open for you.
You looked around for his truck, but it was nowhere to be seen. He took your hand and led you over to an unfamiliar car. You didn’t care, as long as it could take you far away from the cafe. It barely registered in your brain as Elvis held the passenger door open for you before walking to the other side to drive. Your mind was too busy trying to process what had just happened. Elvis was back. Your job was gone. Your boss - ex boss - had a broken nose. He'd have to clean up his own blood tonight.
Neither of you spoke as Elvis drove to your spot by the river. It must have been around midnight by the time you got there. The moon was high in the sky, and the river was utterly still, as if it were rehearsing for freezing over in winter. There was no breeze and not a single leaf moved on the trees above. The whole world was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to speak.
“Can we get in the back seat?” You spoke first. He looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows. “I need to feel you.”
“Of course, Baby.”
Once you were both in the back, Elvis wrapped an arm around you and held you close to his chest. It was a respectful touch, light as he rubbed gentle circles up and down your back. His scent was everywhere; a heavy, almost floral cologne and something else- something unspeakably Elvis. The most comforting smell, and one that had left a hole in your life for the past six weeks. Your throat swelled up at the sheer relief of having him back, and you broke into pieces.
The first sob was louder than you expected, and the second one was more of a wail. Elvis held you through it all as the events of the night hit you fully- what had happened, what could have happened, what would have happened if Elvis hadn’t shown up when he did.
“S’alright. You’re gonna be alright now. I’m here. I ain’t leaving you ever again.” He whispered into your hair.
“He- he tried to-” Even in the comfort of Elvis’ arms, you could hardly breathe.
“I know.” Elvis took your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. He wasn’t angry anymore; sadness was written everywhere in his blue eyes. He licked his lips as if he couldn’t decide how to ask his next question. “Did he… did he do anything else? While I’ve been away, did he hurt you?”
You shook your head. “He’s been making more of the same comments, a bit more crude, but tonight was the first time he tried anything like that.”
Elvis let out a breath of relief, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Thank god.”
You looked up to kiss him again. His ghosted over yours, like he wasn’t sure how much you wanted from him, but he would give you as much or as little as you needed.
“Elvis, what am I gonna do?” You pulled back to look at him. “Me and Momma can’t afford rent without that paycheck coming in.”
He smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Baby.”
“What are you talking about?”
He gestured around the car with the arm that wasn’t around your waist. It was then that you took in everything new about your boyfriend: he’d picked you up from the cafe in a pink cadillac. Not only that, but he was wearing a pink silk suit, the same colour as a Memphis dusk. You recognised it from the window of the Lansky Brothers’ Tailor on Beale Street, from the many times you and Elvis had paused to admire it together. Underneath that, he wore a black lace shirt that looked equally expensive.
“Elvis…?”
“I signed a record deal with RCA yesterday. $5,000 just as a bonus, not even as a salary.” He was grinning ear to ear, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying. $5,000? That much money couldn’t possibly exist. If it did, what difference would it make to you?
“Baby, it’s happening. I bought my Momma a mansion yesterday, 23 rooms, on a big old ranch just outside of Memphis. And guess what? Two of those rooms are for you and your Momma there, too. If you'll have them. You never have to go back to working for that toad ever again.” Your expression didn't change. Elvis smiled nervously, hands giving yours a squeeze. “I can take care of everything.”
Then it clicked, and you threw your arms around his neck in a kiss, moving so that your legs were either side of his hips. Elvis moved his hands to your lower back, holding you close as the kiss deepened and you breathed,
“I love you.”
He smiled against your lips as he answered for the first time,
“I love you too.”
