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#elvis austin butler
aconflagrationofmyown · 6 months
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Patch It Up Baby
A Sarge and lil Mama fic
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Summary: It’s 1977 and Jesse Presley has never loved his family more or had more chances to prove it. When America’s last dynasty implodes, it‘s up to the Presley heir to mend and rebuild what’s left. His first and least glamorous commission is to take his little sister Daisy Mae to rehab in Texas after she embraced their daddy’s rock n’ roll lifestyle a little too thoroughly. In the great game-plan of getting mama and daddy back together, keeping up appearances and bolstering up his siblings’ spirits, what Jesse doesn’t expect is Donna. Just…Donna.
Warnings: mentions of past hard drug use, mentions of withdrawls, a brief but recounted callous comment encouraging death, children dealing with parent’s divorce, publicity of said divorce, paparazzi stalking, a panic attack, Jesse being a bit hardcore like his father to a stalker and mentions of his previous violence, brief sexual scene and occasional mentions of sex.
My thanks to all the dears who helped me so much with this, who added their lines to this and aided in the plot, @prompted-wordsmith @elvisabutler @stylespresleyhearted @ab4eva @butlersxbirdy @eliseinmemphis to mention a wee few
NOTE: In this chapter the baby that is referenced as growing inside Elaine was conceived during Elvis and Elaine’s divorce, and ends up being Danny. Jesse refers to his upcoming sibling as a “last” and “surprise” baby, which he was. However he was neither the last nor the only surprise for Elaine and Elvis. Danny came and a few years later was followed by Shiloh. So uh, that means better times must be around the bend, right? But of course, Jesse wouldn’t know that. ;)
2nd Generation Refresher: as this is out of order and missing many key pieces, I understand it may not make perfect sense yet but I hope y’all enjoy getting a glimpse into the family later on. You’ll meet Elvis and Elaine over the phone and the older kids as they grow into their maturity. Everyone is a bit spread out in their different pursuits in this one compared to the last one shot when it was all young, familial domestic chaos, but there’s little updates in here I think y’all will enjoy. Xoxo
Jesse’s long and ringed forefinger pecks peevishly at the Rehab Center’s grimy rotary dial. He waits for the phone connection to be made with studied nonchalance, leaning casually against the bleach white wall in a tiny alcove, checking like a studied dandy for dirt under his nails. It’s a photogenic sorta lean, one boot crossed over the other and bell bottoms flaring in a way that naturally carries the eye to the belt buckle at his tapered waist.
Daddy taught him well enough how to cut a figure, and daddy was the reason why Jesse had any need to pretend nonchalance when calling home.
Home, he wants to scoff.
Not Graceland while this fiasco lasted.
Graceland was too storied and way too watched. Home was Palm Springs and warm weather and privacy to figure out what the hell the rest of them were gonna do with their lives and if mama and daddy could still make it. Together.
Home, where mama could cook this last little one that precious few in the outside world knew was coming, home where daddy could eat crow and stay sober.
Jesse’s teeth ache from the way he grinds them in his stress, he rubs at his cheek and wills the tenseness away, if he answered with clenched teeth mama would be able to tell. And mama would worry. And mama had done enough worrying to nearly cost her her life.
“Hello?” came through the receiver.
Jesse felt guilty for one brief second at his immense relief that she’d been the one to answer, not daddy, but then a flood of very legitimate grievances against one Elvis Presley came flooding in and he shrugged it off. “Hey mama.” he kept his voice down but he couldn’t help the smile that lifted his tone at just hearing her sound so soft and rested. “How’re you doin’?” he ventured, keeping an eye at the nurses and patients passing nearby, always aware of potential eavesdroppers.
“I’m good baby, I’m real good, how’re you holdin’ up?”
Jesse listens for any trace of a fib in her tone but for once she doesn’t sound strained when she says she’s good. He’ll take it that physically she must be finally good for the first time this whole pregnancy. “Thas good.” he whispers, cupping the receiver closer, “He takin’ care of you, mama? He’s being gentle a-and he’s -he bein’ respectful?”
Of her space and her nerves and her whole taken for granted self. He’s picked a cuticle till it’s bleeding on him, wincing he sticks it into his mouth, full lips curling around it, something his mama gave him in a face strikingly similar to his father’s. The scowl he sends at a lurking relation of some inmate in this druggie bedlam is entirely his father’s and he’s grateful for that one singular legacy. It’s come in real handy as folks come up to him and pepper him with questions on the football field like:
-is your dad strung out on coke or heroin these days? is it true what happened to your sister, man? did your daddy force himself or is your mama so pathetic she couldn’t say no to a man she was divorcin? got anythin’ I can trade off ya, Presley?-
Benign, regular family questions. Sorta questions most 20 year olds have gotta answer, for sure. He sucks harder and tastes copper round his finger.
“Oh yes. Really darling, I’m fine. We’re fine, in fact.” Mama’s talking again. That’s a bold statement. To refer to them as “we” and to say they’re fine. She’s not mean enough to lie to him now, not now it’s all crashed and crumbled and they’re trying to pick up the pieces together. His little cupcake world of happy families is sorta shot to hell by this point, anyways. Least Mama can do is be truthful about it, and learning from his daddy’s mistakes, Jesse chooses to believe her when she says she’s well.
That they’re good.
“Ok, good.” he breathes for what he realizes must be the first time in awhile, his fingers are numb and his lips feel tingly, he’s gotta stop doing that, he’s gonna pass out one day, he can feel it. “The baby?”
“Fine. We’re all fine, Butnin, I asked how you were.” she reminds him gently.
“I’m fine, mama.” he is, now that he’s back to breathing. Breathing is good for one’s health. He’s gonna keep it up. “Daisy is settling in alright, too.” he beats Mama to the question, glossing over some of the more queasy aspects of heroin rehabilitation. “T-the nurse here, uh, D-Donna, she uh, she said we oughta be over the worst of it. The uh, initial withdrawls and such.”
“Was it bad, Jesse?” poor mama, how’d it come to this that she has to ask it.
“Yeah, fairly.” he admits, recalling his baby sister’s foaming mouth and dilated eyes and seizing throat. Holding her as she scratched at herself like a maniac, forced her to tear at him instead. Donna, the nurse, has got him fixed up with plasters all up and down his forearms and hands. “But that part’s worn off.” he assumes mama knows what he means, if she hasn’t dealt with it directly with daddy she at least knows of it, even if his were all prescribed. “She’s just real sleepy now. Sleeps all day and most the night. I try to keep her talking and singing and playing stuff so, uh, so that she’s tired, ya know? So she’ll sleep heavy. She’ll get better quicker. That’s what Donna says, the more she sleeps the faster she’ll detox.”
“My sweet boy.” Mama murmurs and that’s compensation enough for how little sleep he’s gotten this past week and everything else.
“Happy to do it.” he mumbles, and he means it.
“I know,” she answers earnestly, “and we’re grateful.” they both let that lie and after a minute she speaks up again, a saucy undercurrent to her tone that throws him for a loop. It's been such ages since he heard it: “So, this Donna, you’ve mentioned her last time and before that, too. Is she an experienced nurse, dear?”
Jesse groans into his hand only to realize it’s amplifying the sound through the speaker. In his loneliness here he may have forgotten how obvious it is that he’s latched on like a limpet to the one genuine human who’ll give him something besides canned answers when his sister aspirates on her own spit in the bathroom floor.
“I-I-I lost one sister this way already.” he’d gasped to sweet little Donna and her baby cheeked self as they peeled Daisy off the floor and got her on a stretcher, “Jo, Jo died from this.”
Not a drug withdrawal, of course. Jo had drowned inside mama. But still.
-Aspirating.
It held a bizarre terror for him, that fancy word, his whole childhood and the whole nine months of waiting for Marie to come out healthy. He’d never forget asking his daddy one day at table how they could be sure this new baby wouldn’t drown, too. Daddy had gotten so angry before bursting into tears at the head of the table. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before or since. All that grief just stored up, and him scared as any of them for a repeat and no kid’s tactless inquiry and it all surface. “We don’t know.” Mama had said and daddy cut her off harshly, “No, Elaine!” he’d near yelled, “No, don’t even say it. This one’s gonna live, I'm demandin’ it.” Mama had bit her lip and replied softly, “Then we’d better start praying so.”
And that’s what they did every night for eight months, Daddy led them all in laying their hands on mama's growing belly and prayed and prayed until Marie came screaming into the world with clear lungs. And so Jesse got himself on the floor and beat at Daisy’s back while praying and Donna did it too, right with him.
“Uh, Donna’s pretty young but she’s capable.” he answers mama’s question.
“How old?” there’s nothing sly in her tone now, just genuine concern for the quality of her daughter’s care takers.
“She’s nineteen, mama,” Jesse admits with a wince, “she’s my age.”
“Ah.” and a long pause follows.
“There’s others too, but she’s the most eager, most -caring.”
“That’s good. Thank God he sent someone for y’all. I knew He would.”
“Yeah, she’s, she’s real sweet mama.” he assures.
“Oh is she?” there’s a smirk in her tone now.
“Nineteen and sweet.” that’s daddy’s voice coming through the phone from a distance and Jesse starts to stiffen. “Does this Donna happen to be pretty, too, son?”
Jesse is back to grinding his teeth and it sends a spark of pain up to his temple.
“Elvis!” His mama honest to god titters and it’s been such a while since Jesse heard that sound he suddenly feels like forgiving his daddy a few things just for that. Just for bringing that back. It makes his eyes sting.
Donna has hair the color of mamas but with a touch more red in it and it curls and fans in such a messy and unstudied way as to remind him of an artist, all while smashed beneath a nurse's cap. And her smile is sunshine incarnate and her eyes are as blue as his and her lips as plump as strawberries and she’s the first person he feels like he can trust in ages. Not that he’s trusted her with much besides showing he’s at the end of his rope with exhaustion and emotion. But she never missed a beat.
“I-I-I don’t mean to keep mentioning her it’s just-“ he bites his lip harshly before deciding to be frank, “it’s hard to trust anyone. Even here everyone is gossiping about us, they think I can’t hear ‘em but I do and it’s all the time and I ain’t going up to one of those tongue wags and asking them to help Daisy when she’s that vulnerable. I just can’t. So -so it’s Donna.” he explains.
It’s dead silent on the other end for a length of time that oughta be uncomfortable but instead it soothes something in Jesse’s soul to think that he got his point across enough to shut his smartass father up for a whole minute.
“I’m sorry this is so damn hard for you, son,” it comes in a deep rumble and bitter as he is, Jesse feels his hands sweat and his cheeks too, or else that sting has overflowed and he’s crying. In public. “I’m sorry you’re havin’ to pay for my sins.”
“I-I-I’m just glad you’re back.” he croaks and looks about the place frantically to make sure he’s unobserved.
It had been so good that day daddy walked through the threshold at Graceland looking twenty pounds lighter and stone cold sober, there to sort out his children, there to intervene for Daisy. The day mama’s body gave out on her and she puddled like so much water on Graceland’s foyer floor, as if her body trusted Elvis to take care of her family even if her mind wasn’t sure he’d forgiven her for the divorce. Daddy had been perfect that day, picked mama up like a baby and took her to the hospital, made press statements like a ordinary human sayin simply that he’d “jacked it all up and was here to make amends.”
Mama and him tucked off to California to grow that baby that made her faint and Jesse was charged with Daisy and bringing her here to Dallas. It had felt like old times, Sergeant Presley and all that famous stage presence ordering them all to battle stations.
It wasn’t till later that Jesse wondered how the hell the man had the gall to show up and demand respect. Turns out mama had kept that fire going bright enough all the kids just fell in line like nothing had ever been askew. Jesse wonders if now he can go back to being nineteen again. He’s a little scared to hope. That’s the worst of it, he’s not bitter, he’s scared.
Twenty year olds have futures with little nurses named Donna. For now Jesse is not a normal almost-twenty year old.
“I’m glad you’re back.” he repeats to his daddy, “Please…stay…back.”
It’s what he begs Daisy when she tries to bribe him to sneak her illegal shit next morning.
“Enough of that, you’re nearly sober and you’re gonna stay sober. Please stay good, f’me! Please.” he begs and weedles until her big blue eyes go from watery to scornful and she has fun at his pathetic expense but Jesse doesn’t mind. It gives her something to do, teasing him for being a blubbering softy over her. It distracts her. It assures Daisy she’s wanted, that somebody -more than one in fact- would be devastated if she didn’t win this fight.
She’s become a skeleton as the detox racks her. Hospital food tasting bad on a good appetite, it’s ever worse on a poor one and Jesse tears out clumps of his now shaggy black hair in desperation to have her stay nourished. He’s not supposed to be sleeping there overnight but Donna fibs for him. He’s not supposed to sneak shit into the clinic but Donna takes him back to her house, lets him use her stove to cook pancakes -Daisy’s favorite- and helps him smuggle them in under his leather jacket. All for the price of a motorcycle ride.
Jesse’s belly burned for nights after where her little hands had overlocked to hold onto him during the ride, burning him and cooking his guts hot and wanting even beneath the leather and the layers.
“Donna’s got the same spatulas you use, mama.” He’s reporting by the third week.
“The baby’s the size of an cantelope.” she reports back.
“What’ve y’all been doin?” he tries to make conversation and even to his own ears he sounds suspicious. When did he start to sound like Jack? How much more could daddy possibly screw this up? Knock his ex-wife up doubly? Like a cat? Jesse snorts and covers with a cough.
“Talkin’ mostly, floatin in the pool.” he can hear her shrug from here, “It’s terribly hot.”
“Mmm.” he sympathizes.
“We got a marriage license yesterday.” Daddy pipes up and Jesse lets out a stifled sob of relief. The gang is back together, it would seem.
“Cool.” he rasps before Donna passes and then approaches in concern for his blotchy face.
“You ok?” she asks gently.
“Yeah, yeah fine,” Jesse scrambles, “hay fever. Killer.”
“Who’s that, Butnin?” mama asks.
“Uh, umm nobo-“
“Is that Donna?” she guesses and he winces for the umpteenth time at this damn phone.
“Mamaaaa.” he begs.
“Can I talk to her? Please, please!” she begs in turn.
“Mama no!” Jesse pleads right back and Donna backs away with that keen sense of intruding while unable to suppress her fond smile at this cute, boyish side to such a burdened young man.
By week four Donna and him have taken to walking Daisy along the corridors, getting her strength back and making her move, her always lanky frame a featherweight between them now. They all share a laugh at how Daisy towers over Donna’s tiny self, has to hunch to use the petite nurse’s shoulder while Jesse’s height makes her strain to reach. They can use a laugh, the stares they get as Daisy’s famous face gets hauled past in pajamas and socks makes Jesse lose all appetite afterwards, his fingers going cold and his lips numb. He’d like to punch something but everything here is breakable, his sister and his family’s reputation, most of all.
It’s not fair to her and it’s more work for her but this loss of appetite worries Donna and by the end of their long day’s shift they’re together again as she force feeds Jesse tacos from a nearby stand, as they walk around the old part of the city and inadvertently become friends. He may have sucked some mango salsa from her fingers, but neither of them mention it. Too busy watching the others' faces as the sun dies out and eventually he drives her home, her body tucked behind his on his bike, wind whipping her hair that’s escaped his offered helmet.
By the fifth night of this routine he steals a kiss. It’s not hard fought, she leans into him eagerly and for the first time in his life there’s nothing about conquest in the act for him, it’s just…nice. So nice he tries it the next night while they’re sat on his bike, parked by a dance hall. It’s less nice and more like licking fire this time, suddenly his sweet intentions for her are a burning mass of need and that night Jesse goes back to his dinky motel alone and engages in wasteful practices in the shower. Donna had asked where he was staying and when he told her she’d been aghast.
“I just prefer something more -normal.” he’d said.
“Sure but -but that place is dangerous, Jesse.” she’d been so concerned for him and he gobbled it up like a starved man. “Normal folks don’t stay there even.”
“Maybe I’m not normal.” he’d quipped and Donna thought about his mother and her mafia connections, the ones with the dirt that sank Colonel Parker during the divorce, she thought of the bike clubs that Jesse is seen frequenting in the magazines, she thinks about how far the Presley’s might go to reconnect with normal folks -she holds her tongue. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, lil, I can handle myself.” he’d assured her as he thumbed out her frown.
“I know.” Donna had replied, “I mean, I’ve read about how you handle yourself.” and she’d run an admiring hand down his bicep before kissing him again.
That was another thing he liked about Donna, she didn’t play stupid about his family and she also didn’t pry. She’d read about him and Jack bustin’ those guys asses for what they did to Rosalee and she mentioned it. And left it at that. Jesse liked that maybe most of all. He also liked how everything he’d trusted her with never got related by anyone else. No nursing staff gossip or a sweet insider tip for a newspaper. Donna took his trust and tucked it tight inside her chest, right in that tender heart of her’s. He liked that about her, right next to her sweet smile and her warm nature and the feel of her breasts smashed to his back on a long ride.
“You’re in love.” Daisy goaded him the next day as she scribbled in the journal he had gotten her. They encouraged writing here and Daisy’s material had gradually shifted from juvenile doodles and giant block letters proclaiming “JESSE IS AN ASSHOLE” to something that looked alarmingly like stanzas as he snooped over the top of the pages.
Jesse colored brightly at her goad and adamantly refuted it. “That’s the drugs talkin’.” he joked.
“So you’re just passin’ time with her.”
“I-I-I dunno, Daisy.” he spluttered, “It’s not exactly hoppin’ here when you’re out cold. Can only call mama so many times a day. Gotta talk to someone.”
“Does mama hate me?” she asked suddenly and he stopped cold in the middle of tuning her guitar to stare at her dumbly. “I mean -I deserve it I just…”
“No she don’t hate you!” he found his voice, “Don’t be an idiot. That self pityin’ mope don’t help the beauty of those dark circles none. She’s just wore out.”
“I wore her out.”
“Mm well, we all had a hand.” Jesse fudges.
“Ella told me to just get on with dyin.” she reveals, and Jesse puts his pick down for good this time, taking a deep breath and trying to listen coolly. “When mama was taken to the hospital and layin’ there unresponsive, Ella said I’d brought her to that, said if I was so intent on killin’ myself that I should get on with it and spare mama the suspense.”
“Well,” Jesse tries for a moderate tone, “that was a shitty thing to say.” he concedes, “And you -don’t pay Ella no attention. She’s worried and scared to death half times that Johnny won’t come back from ‘Nam. And now she’s takin’ care of Marie on top of her own baby. She’s just a little vinegary, thas all, pregnancy hormones. Took it out on you.”
“I think she’s scared the guy she married in such a rush is gonna come back.” Daisy growled. She crossed out a line angrily and Jesse was really starting to worry about those scribbles.
Jesse let her finish before he asked, “Why’s that?” It’s not like he got much thinking done lately between the court hearings and getting his head knocked about on the turf.
“She don’t love him.” Daisy rolled her eyes heavenward in an action that mama would have looked on with annoyance. Jesse glared at Daisy in her stead.
“People love in different ways, Daisy.” he sighed even as he had no bullets to fight her argument, Ella had left in uncharacteristically rash fashion, seemingly unable to take the atmosphere at home anymore. “And she says John’s a good man.”
“All that means is he don’t beat her.” Daisy snarked.
“Well, that’s a step towards romance.” Jesse joked back and they let the subject lie.
Each day Daisy gets stronger and writes more and more in that little book. Not that Jesse sees her at it most times, it’s just the pen she wedges in to keep her place gets closer and closer to the middle, and then towards the back. Snooping isn’t an option but he imagines they’ve got a lotta heartbreak on those pages, maybe bled out like lyrics.
Now days he makes the walk with her without Nurse Donna, and it’s both sad and a victory in one. Now that she’s strong enough to notice the stares Daisy takes delight in feebly flipping off her voyeurs and that’s a fight Jesse doesn't have it in him to win. If it makes her grin, he allows it, that stupid, crooked little boy grin that his daddy plopped right onto a young girl’s face. She’s perfect, she’s perfect and getting healthy and the stares don’t matter much. Not till he hears a voice he’s become very attuned to, snap at some idling nurses:
“Haven’t you got any work to do?”
And his head spins like a top on his neck and sure enough, that was Donna, temper snapping for what might be the first time in her sweet life, and Jesse feels his tingly gratitude down to his very toes.
“She’s alright, that one.” Daisy smirks beside him and little does he know her enthusiasm stems partly from last night when Daisy gave a little sisterly admonition to Miss Donna that her brother liked her and if she didn’t treat his soft heart gentle like, then Daisy was gonna unstring her guitar and end her with a metal cord.
“How ya doin, mama?” he asks her on a Tuesday and even to himself his voice sounds better. He may be far more tired than he was when he first came in here but his relief at Daisy’s progress colors his tone in hope.
“Doing good Butnin, real good.” she sounds good alright, more than good and Jesse uncurls his fist and let’s himself relax a little as he gives his daily report on Daisy. And Donna.
“Rosalee told me she’s gonna pop in and see y’all.” Mama informs him.
“Good time for it,” Jesse hums, “Mae Mae’s better enough to chat but she could use the encouragement.”
“I bet.” Mama sounds sad again. That won’t do.
Jesse lip curls up in mischief as he asks next, “Jack been by to see ya?” he inquires about that little sea creature hybrid he’s been missing and must call brother, “Brought any dolphins home to meet ya yet?”
“Oh Jesse! Stop!” she laughs a sweet peal of laughter and Jesse smugly twirls the phone cord round and round at his success, “He’s coming to dinner tonight, he has been too caught up before, he’s been out on the ocean for six weeks! I’m scared to see the state of his skin!”
“Welllll,” Jesse drawls, “No way the sun could burn that dimple off so, he’ll be fine.”
“He actually saved someone’s life, uh, day before yesterday.” Daddy’s voice rumbles through the receiver and Jesse’s eyes roll backwards a little at the way he’s never caught his parents separate on this trip, not even once. He can picture the patio phone and its loungers and its umbrellas right now, and imagines that daddy is probably cradling mama’s belly like he can push that magic healing through the skin and make that baby the healthiest infant California’s ever seen.
“Did he now?” Jesse admires, “Makin’ us proud, ain’t he?”
“Yeah, hauled someone who’d been adrift for ages, right up into his boat.” Daddy elaborates without a hint of mockery in his proud tone and Jesse smiles to himself.
“Bout time he put those muscles to use, s’not like he uses them when carrying snails around.” he teases back because having a serious and admiring conversations about Jackson might be a step too far in the healing process. Not this early, mama resting and then getting remarried and cooking a baby is plenty for the plate. Conceding that Jack isn’t a walking disaster is a little too much too soon. Heroics aside.
By week six at the Center they’re into behavioral shit and Jesse can freely admit this isn't the Presley family’s strong suit, but he’s gotta hand it to his sister that she is less preoccupied during it than he is. Out of respect for Rosalee’s interest in the same profession, Daisy pays a decent amount of attention to the therapist’s counsel. Jesse would be more attentive if the first fifty pages of Red West’s freshly published tell-all of his family’s secrets wasn’t banging around in his head. Somehow, somehow it’s not even the dirt that gets to him, makes him stagger out into the hall after a while and crumple against a cart and let the world go dim.
It’s the sweet stuff, the gentle stuff, the stuff that was only ever supposed to be theirs as a family and that fuckers like Red West were goddamn privlidged to be witnesses to, spilled out for all the world to pick apart and psycho-analyze. He hasn’t told Daisy and now she’s asleep and as he’s on the floor in the deserted hall he finds there’s really nothing stopping him from doing what he wants. So he panics and lets himself work up to a dim eyed fury and only the cool shock of a wet rag against his neck brings him back from it.
“Just breathe for me, honey.” That little Texan ascent is saying as he gulps into a brown bag with the embarrassed realization he’s had a panic attack. Sure Daddy had them at his age, too, but that was to go perform in front of hundreds of folks. This is just from reading Red Fuckin’ West’s bad prose. He can hear himself laughing, hiccuping little laughs of derision at himself and it, and Donna cooing all the while.
“You can’t drive your bike like that.” she points to his still shaky hands half an hour later.
It’s comforting watching Donna shut the place down, not that it’s totally abandoned at night, not at all, but just watching her finish up her duties and stash away her papers and arrange her workspace feels as if the heart of the place, the vitality if it, is turning in for the night. And he’s going with it.
He follows Donna like a lost puppy and she doesn’t mind it, he’s sweet and soft spoken and no matter what she does she only gets weak chuckles from him.
His boisterous charm and tired joviality is threadbare and she feels like it’s the right thing to do to slip her hand into the crook of Jesse’s elbow, to gently tow him out of the Center’s fluorescent lit maze and out into the night. He giggles at her guiding him into the passenger side, a soft little noise of trusting gentleness that is bizarrely attractive in such a capable man. He folds his long limbs into her dinky car and waits patiently for her to get into her side.
“What?!” Donna asks him as Jesse keeps gazing at her with big blue eyes and droopy pink lips as she turns the key and fidgets with the windows to get some air flow, “Am I gonna have to buckle you in?” she teases at the way he’s just melted into the seat, head leaned against the headrest and long limbs folded where they first flopped.
“Mmmmmaybeee.” Jesse drags it out and giggles again -and she knows it is common to be a little drunk, a little silly, a little loopy after a panic attack as severe as the one she found him having, but she’s never heard of it or seen it be so cute. Against her better judgment to coddle a grown man, Donna leans over the small console between them and reaches across Jesse for the seatbelt, getting the strongest whiff of his natural musk and spicy cologne she’s ever gotten, it makes the musty cab of the car feel ten times hotter than it was moments ago and she fumbles in her haste to hurry up and distance herself.
It’s silly, Donna thinks, she’s being silly to find this procedure of bucking him in a intimate thing when they’ve done far more, when they’ve kissed heatedly on his bike and danced wildly to that new Elton John record in her off time. They’ve been more forward than this but somehow his pliant and drowsy magnetism has her heart thudding and her body responding in ways not even his glorious kissing could produce. But the way his breath puffs from his lips and the way he looks at her as if she’s everything he wants in this moment makes it hard to brush this interaction off as a nurse with her patient. Or a friend helping a friend. Donna brought Jesse in because he was physically unfit to drive, she is being kind because he’s obviously had an awful day, he’s loose and pliant because of exhaustion -these are familiar things to Donna, they are integral to her vocation and her expertise.
And yet there’s those eyes of his, soft and burning all at once, catching her skin on fire and soothing it right after.
It does nothing to make her breathing calm as she drags the buckle across his soft yet lean belly, down the taper of his waist, so willowy and elegant that it makes her want to cry in envy, sliding it to latch at his hip.
“Donna.” he rasps before she can pull away, his hand shakily coming up to touch her cheek and she stalls, feeling as scared as a kid for what he’ll say next, “You take the sunshine with ya, everywhere you go. M’sorry for those poor suckers we’ve left.” he jerks his head towards the blazing ball of light that is the Center amidst the dark parking lot and Donna blinks at the compliment, absorbing it slowly as his fingers on her cheek do their best to wipe her mind blank.
“Daisy is gonna be fine.” Donna assures, scrambling to order her reassurances for maximum comfort, “She’s getting stronger and she’ll be asleep the whole time we’re gone. A-and we gotta take care of you, ok? Can’t have you going down too, can we?”
“Okay.” he whispers and she realizes her hand is still pressed to his belly. “I-I’ve had a bad day.” he admits, and it’s the first self focused thing she’s ever heard out of this forever uncomplaining boy.
“Let’s uh, let’s get you home -rested. Let’s get you rested.” she propels herself back over to her side of the car and jerks the gear more forcefully than needed before driving them out. She’s not sure they actually talked about it or that it was agreed to verbally but they somehow both know they’re headed to her rented house, the place with the ratty sofa and the duck taped windows and the malfunctioning stove that Jesse cajoled into working long enough to make Daisy batch after batch of fluffy pancakes. She had nearly sprung on him back then, taken him down to the floor and ravished him for being such a nice human being.
The bar might be low for men, but since that day, Donna had learned that Jesse Presley was more than lean legs, a nice ass, a gorgeous face and an earnest desire to please. Jesse Presley was a good man. And so Donna felt no qualms about taking him to her house, plopping him down on the sofa after fetching sheets, and letting his grabby hands tug her down atop him for a goodnight kiss. A kiss that lasted, and lasted, and lasted. Lasted until he was kissing between her breasts, the neck of her tshirt tugged down in a way that would deform its shape forever as she was idiotically scrambling to undo his clunky belt, eager to see the expanse of perfect, golden skin that his face and neck promised.
Donna had never gone this far with a man before but some inner voice told her it was a once in a lifetime chance, not to sleep with a Presley, but to ease a boy who needs so much comfort right now he literally can’t breathe. Jesse’s kisses don’t stop and she doesn’t try to make them, he’s inexorable while being slow, and it’s a combination she’d never witnessed before. Perhaps if he’d rushed her, or made an outright pass, she’d have had time to consider, to deny. But he just kissed her and kissed her as his hands mapped and worshiped her, caressing her all the way from his allotted couch to her bed until she was beneath him, accepting him inside her body like she had let him in her heart.
Idly Donna wondered how many girls his father took and left with the same good intentions, winders if the generations will just keep at it, on and on. It doesn’t feel trite though, she’s not sure if it’s because it’s her first time or because of how intensely tender he is, or the way he cries partway through the act.
“Hay fever, sorry.” Jesse insists weakly.
“Killer this time of year.” Donna agrees, stroking down the sweaty muscles of his rippling back, “For me it’s the cedar.”
She feels trusted with his tears, cherished by his revenant kisses, and never once does he give her cause to regret it, to panic. It’s slow and needy, strong but kind, the whole way through -just like him. Donna’s eyes sting at the realization he’s giving her such a sweet first time, even if he doesn’t know it. She finds herself sniffling with him over the thought that it might be the only time.
“Thank you, thank you.” he gushes, sweet as anything in a thin whisper, after he scrambles out of her and she adds her hand to his to finish him off. He had dexterously snagged a pillow case off one of her pillows and after it had served its purpose, he dropped the sodden thing to the ground.
There’s nothing trite about the way they lay in sweet silence afterwards, the way he doesn’t even try to collect his autonomy but instead winds those long limbs around her and keeps his face on her sweaty chest. “You’re a rare one Donna.” he praises, sleepy and gentle over her heart.
Donna struggled against sleep for the next hour, desperate to engrave the feeling of him laying melted on her in peaceful slumber and the pounding ache between her legs that had finally known a man. Something like virginity that she simply hadn’t gotten around to tossing away, was suddenly something very dear and painfully sentimental to her now it was gone. Now it was now wrapped up in soft kisses, large hands entwining hers to the sheets and raspy endearments. She fell asleep propped against the pillow with his head on her belly, repeating to herself at the rhythm of her pulse down there -it’s just a fling, it’s just a fling, don’t expect more, you hopeful idiot.
Cold sheets, or the sound of the door shutting from his exit or the scratchy presence of a note the next morning were conspicuously absent when Donna woke up.
Instead she heard the sound of gentle babbling, like the way a person might talk to a pet and combined with the gentle wriggling she sensed beneath the sheets, Donna engaged briefly in a time warp and wondered when she got a puppy and who was talking to it. But there was no puppy here, instead, as cognisense fully set in she frantically sat up and beat at the wriggly sheets, Donna found Jesse, still long and lean and naked as she hazily recalled from the dimness last night, wedged between her legs and chatting with her muff, placing chaste kisses to it that barely parted her outer lips.
“No way.” she said her foggy morning thoughts aloud at the sight of this beautiful boy still with her in the daylight and more pressingly -face to face with her used and unwashed and unshaven privates. “Oh what are you going to do?” she wailed as that mortifying relaxation sunk in. “Why’re you down there, you nut?“
“Good Mornin’ to you too, miss.” Jesse laughed and his breath tickled her core that was feeling strangely achy and happy all at once. “I’m gonna lick your wounds, silly.” he slapped her thigh gently as he went on as if to reprimand her while tugging up a mildly bloody sheet corner as evidence for his displeasure, “Donna, ya shoulda said, dear.”
“Oh it’s not a big deal.” she insisted in a bit of a panic to get him away from her vagina and in an attempt to convince herself it didn’t mean much. “You were so good. Don’t worry about it.”
“But you shoulda told me.” he insisted gently.
“There wasn’t much time for talking.” she cringed as soon as she said it but he took that in stride after realizing she was not insinuating any wrongdoing on his part.
“Are you hurtin’ much?” he asked gently and he was still down there, broad and smooth shoulders wedged between her stubbled thighs, tapering down to his tiny waist and that peachy butt and then those legs that were hanging off the edge of her bed like so much lumber. “Donna?” he asked with laughter in his voice as her eyes glazed over in review of him.
“No, not much, you were very nice. It felt great.” she insisted truthfully and ended with a little hiss as he ran his knuckles along her petals. “I mean, I-I’m honestly not sure I’m up for more activities right this minute but it’s not bad. It’s not hurting. Please don’t worry about it.”
“Did you even…peak?” he asked and his face flushed red like he was most ashamed of not being sure of that.
“No I-I was mostly just soaking up the whole…experience.” she admitted because it was true and didn’t strike her as deplorable at all. He had been big and she was new and it wasn’t quite comfortable enough to get there. Which hadn’t diminished the experience or changed the point of their tryst anyway. “That wasn’t the point of it all anyway.” she said softly while reaching to push his hair out of his eyes. It had grown inches since she first met him. “Not for me.”
Jesse’s face softened quickly at that. Like she had struck a nerve and soothed him all at once. “Yeah,” he nodded, “it wasn’t for me either.” and it feels like a far larger confession that it is for both of them, “Which is rich comin’ from the man who got to come.” he laughed at himself right after and she did too. “Now spread these legs so hims can do a lil community service on hers poor widdle clam shell.”
Donna never would have thought such babyish, almost infantilizing gibberish could be so authoritative but the potency of its endearing qualities, with his skilled tongue and earnest desire to please, ensured her cooperation so that they didn’t leave the bed for hours yet. Donna soon forgot her unshaved legs, her need for a glass of water and the fact she’d forgotten to set an alarm -and then when she recalled that detail in a lull of his caresses, she recalled that it was Saturday and she was off. And then he wiped her mind blank again.
It wasn’t till halfway through the radio blasting Dancing Queen and Jesse discoing in jeans and nothing else while flipping an omelet that it seemed to occur to him there was a life outside Donna’s little place and Donna’s fluffy hair and Donna’s ratty rented flat, and Donna’s sunshiny smile. She watched as reality intruded on his creaseless features, an instant pucker and burdened eyes clouding that ethereally sweet face as the outside crashed in.
A world outside Donna. It felt as good to see how well she’d helped him to escape as it was painful to watch it all come back down on him, weighing like a mantle on those strong shoulders.
“Shi-eeet!” he slid to a screeching stop of his jiving in his sock feet across her linoleum floor. “I was gonna call mama, see how they’re takin’ the book release stuff.”
Donna had vaguely heard gossip about what she supposed was the book in question. A dirty little tattle tale by a fired employee is all it sounded like to her. “It’s bad then?” she asked.
“Shitty enough grammar to make me puke.” he joked bashfully and she supposed that it was his way of asking to drop it. “What’re you doin’ with your weekend? Like today? What else ya doin?”
“Not much.” she admitted, crossing her arms over the baggy shirt she’d donned to watch him cook her breakfast. “Um, I suppose I should get more groceries-“
“-I’ll make ya a list and we can go.”
“-and, oh. Ok. Yeah. And umm, well, I need to check on my dad. I usually spend my Saturday dinners with him.”
“Oh.” Jesse bit his lip, “I-I can go…you wouldn’t mind me taggin’ along for the groceries bit?” he asked.
“Of course not!” she tried to laugh off her butterflies, “Are you worried I’ll buy the wrong flour?”
“No, I’m worried you’ll buy margarine instead of good wholesome butter.” he growled gravely as he looped his arms around her waist and tugged her to him, laying his chin on the top of her head like she was dear to him and the butterflies went rogue in her belly against all her attempts to stay untangled. “I just wanna be with ya.” he admitted and she shuddered, winding her arms around his willowy waist and clinging on.
“I’d like that.” she admitted.
“Lemme just call my Mama real quick?” he asked.
Donna cringed before admitting, “I don’t have a working landline.”
“What?” Jesse pulled away just enough to look her in the eye, his own wide in protest, “Good lord darlin’, that won’t do. Livin’ alone and no phone for me to hear if you’re alright. Well, lemme grab my shirt and- help yourself to the omelet, baby. And remind me to get ya a damn phone!” he was already disappearing down her hall and she stared at the egg and ham concoction before her, wishing the terrible anxiety she felt over much she liked him would calm so she could taste it.
They ended up swinging by the Center first as Jesse acted like he’d committed a murder when noon rolled around and he hadn’t checked on Daisy yet. Donna felt for him and recalled the feel of his tongue too clearly to a fuss as she flicked her blinker to turn left, away from groceries and phones, and back towards her workplace. Some little part of her hoped he’d forget his promise to buy her one, it was extravagant and a little embarrassing.
The thumping beat of Springsteen’s Thunder Road filled her car with verve that matched the muggy exhaust tainted breeze that whipped through the windows and the noonday sun that glinted off Jesse’s rings as his hand wind surfed out the window.
“I got to play bass on this one.” Jesse murmured like someone might mention they had a hand in scoring a strike in their local bowling championships.
“What?! On this? You’ve worked with Springsteen?” she cried in shocked admiration.
“S’all my mama’s doin’.” he insisted as if regretting he’d made a deal of it. “A-and daddy. He taught me bass.” it’s the first personal thing about his daddy he’s divulged and Donna tucks it away for safe keeping.
“Aren’t you marvelous.” Donna swears.
“Hardly,” he blushes, “S’just when your name is Presley and your mom’s got her hand on the levers -artist’s tend to let ya mess about.”
“I somehow doubt they’d let a complete dud jam on their album.” she snarks and he bites his lip and doesn't retort.
The harmonica warbles on and Jesse’s hand raps out a rhythm on the car door. “-show a little faith there’s magic in the night! You ain’t beauty but hey you're alright, and that’s alright wi’me.” he sings to her, far more melodious than Springsteen’s grit and his eyes sparkle far more than stereo light ever could.
Once parked he worries his lip between his fingers as he stares at a faintly familiar car parked by his bike. It’s probably telling enough that Jesse left the thing here and went home with someone else. Or maybe folks will assume he wandered the streets and dive bars all night. At least that would spare Donna’s reputation while at it. “How ‘bout I go in first a-and if you want you come in later or -if ya don’t mind, you could wait out here? I’ll be back! Soon, I-I won’t dawdle, I swear!” he assures.
“Jesse, take all the time you need.” she smiles at him, leveraging her chair to lay back as sunbeams bathe her in a lemony glow, “I’ll be out here working on my tan.”
His smile is so full of relief that Donna realizes he was worried she’d be offended by his distancing himself and if he weren’t so relieved then maybe she’d be tempted to be offended. But she can’t bring herself to be. It’s all a mess in her head but she figures she can not make it worse by being accepting of the fact he doesn’t want to be seen with her. It’s ok, his smile makes that ok, as does the way those long fingers unclasp his seatbelt and the way those long limbs lean over her in a mirroring of last night and she feels those plush pink lips smooch her forehead, long and devoutly.
“Sit tight, baby.” he commands with his lips barely leaving her skin and then he’s out the door and strutting across the parking lot without a seeming trace of nervousness.
Rounding the hall down towards Daisy’s room he passes by the familiar wall phone and stops in his tracks at the sight of Rosalee propping Daisy up while having the receiver wedged between their cheeks. For a flash in his mind they don’t look a day over six with their scrunched faces and contrasting hair, always so compatible while entirely opposites.
Rosalee spots him first as Daisy is busy yacking at whoever they’ve held captive on the line and her blue eyes light with sweet recognition as she teases, “Well hey loverboy, good morning. Or is it afternoon?”
That makes Daisy look up and she answers someone on the line by proclaiming, “Yeah, he juusssst nowww walked in.”
“Who is that?” Jesse mouths, his forehead a washboard of wrinkled anxiety that Rosalee can’t bear anymore so she cracks and admits,
“It’s Mama, silly.”
Jesse relaxes a little on that account, moreso for the fact Daisy has obviously gotten past her presumption of being hated by their mother, if the giggles and gumption in her talk are any clue.
“Well yeah, I think he can talk,” Daisy is saying, “I mean I dunno, I’ll ask him. He looks like he’s missing a few ounces of fluids. You still got your tongue Jess?”
“Hush up!” He begs, pink in the face at the thought of mama thinking he’s been sleeping around when he was entrusted by Daddy to take care of his sister.
Daisy sticks her tongue out at him and Jesse finds that more reassuring that she’s stone cold sober than any other behavior he’s seen from her in rehab. Checking to make sure their squabble is unwitnessed, Jesse turns back and sticks out his own.
“Eww put that away, where’s it even been this morning?” she groans and his closes his mouth so fast his sisters become convinced of what had just been a suspicion.
“Oooh…” Rosalee coos.
“Nope nope nope.” He silences them with a meaningful hand chopping motion to the throat, “I kinda had an episode last night, and uh, Miss Donna was kind enough to lemme ride with her since my hands were shakin’. That’s it.”
“Oh Jesse!” Mama’s concern is loud enough over the phone to blast Daisy’s eardrums and reach his own, “Are you ok? You gotta make sure you eat and sleep. Did you sleep? She taking care of you? Baby? Are you -is he there, y’all?”
Rosalee scootches aside and pats the tiny sliver of white wall between the twins in invitation and resignedly he wiggles between them as Daisy laughs and tugs on the cord to help it reach him. Tucked together like this it feels doubly absurd to Jesse to be so fretted over and also, entirely soothing. He flings a lanky arm around each girl’s shoulder and squats a little to help Daisy reach his ear as she holds the receiver for him.
“Mama I’m fine.” he insists mid giggle as Rosalee’s finger finds a way to his armpit.
“Yeah, so fine you can’t drive!” Mama retorts and it relieves him that she obviously thinks the best of him, that he was in bad enough shape to go to a random girl’s house and not that he’s behaving like an absolute horndog in a new city. Just to make her not worry, he half wishes she’d think worse of him and just be displeased.
“Alright so, maybe I snooped through Red’s book yesterday.” Jesse admits since he intended to see how daddy and she were taking it, after all. “And it’s such shitty storytelling I got a little worked up. You know how I am when folks lyrics are dry a-“
“-Red wrote a book?” Rosalee interrupts as does Daisy with a-
“-am I in it?”
Jesse purses his lips and nods, twirling the phone cord and waiting quietly for Mama to say something.
When she does it’s a droll, “Red made takin’ LSD sound boring.” And between Donna’s sweet lovin’ and mama’s superhuman ability to shrug off the most defaming shit on the planet, Jesse is left smiling and burdened with only one small anxiety.
“How’s daddy takin’ it?” he asks as his ear gets pinched from Daisy mashing her face to his, eager to overhear. Rosalee is just face watching and Jesse knows she’ll get more information from that than if she listened.
“Oh, a bit hard.” she admits, “It's just so -so- tacky. To do that to a friend!” now she sounds mad, “When did we ever hurt that narcissistic fool? If our lifestyle was so unbearable he coulda quit, he had two decades to do it.”
“Yup.” Jesse pops the word for emphasis and notices someone down the hall has a disposable camera pointed at their little huddle. He supposes they do look a little bizarre, stacked in the alcove like overly matured sardines.
“Anyone giving you trouble about it?” Mama adds in concern.
“No. You know it jus’ came out yesterday and I-I-I haven’t been out and about much today.” Jesse admits and Daisy makes suggestive hand motions at waist level that he pointedly ignores.
“He predicts that when we’re in our fifties we’ll get back together.” she murmurs.
“Spoilers!” he hisses and mama laughs as does someone in the background that could only be daddy. “A real, genuine prophet, that Red.” Jesse wheezes. “And daddy,” he hollers loudly in hopes he’ll hear, “he were wrong about me hating the damn rollercoaster. I shit my pants everytime outta joy, I swear. Don’t let nobody make ya doubt that.”
For a minute all he can hear are mama’s suppressed belly laughs before Daddy’s rings clatter on the other end and the kids can almost hear the scratch of a sideburn against the mouthpiece, “Y’all can hear me?” he rumbles through and Jesse’s face gets smashed from both sides as the girls crowd in.
“Yeah we can hear ya daddy.”
“Alright then listen to me, lil munchkins,” his voice sounds as deep and smooth as chocolate, even over a trashy phone speaker, and they all hypnotically sway in anticipation of his next word, “y’all know how much I love each of ya, that I’d happily burn down my trophy room ‘fore I let anythin’ happen to the window boxes with yer various uh, weeds and rocks and such in ‘em that Red was always mockin’ and uh, I wanna apologize to ya, from the bottom of my heart, that I hindered y’all in your quest to strap the Wests to Roman Candles that one christmas. Ya had the right idea.”
Jesse’s day gets magically better after that phone call, like one sentence from Daddy can patch up his whole life. But deep down he knows, it’s a thread of Donna running through the whole thing, buoying him up, smoothing out the creases, patching up the little cuts. It makes daddy’s voice sound richer and his promises truer and Jesse holds the receiver and smiles as Rosalee makes plans to drive back for classes and visit them while she’s at it and Daisy suggests baby names.
Things are as they should be and somehow that means he ends up walking out into the parking lot with his two sisters, one of whom was technically not released and piling into Donna’s beat up Oldsmobile and taking off for the grocery store as if that were a sane thing to do. Rosalee tries her best to meet the young woman driving them and Donna is anything but cagey, yet with Daisy’s blathering about her and Jesse’s blushing over her and Donna’s slightly overwhelmed joy at it all -they make for a chaotic entourage picking out butter and pickles and hamburger buns.
Next stop, Donna watches as Jesse and Daisy spend a solid twenty minutes weighing the value of different landlines when all Donna needs it for is to answer if she’s been murdered or not and during this analysis she learns from Rosalee that the auburn haired girl with the bashful grin is going to school at Stanford. Nearly gave her father a heart stack, she laughs when she tells it, but she wanted to study psychology and be nearer him -the subtext that Elvis was more often in Vegas than at his own home goes unsaid and Donna doesn’t bat an eye.
For what the papers have to say about this family, there’s never once been due credit given for their love and comradery. It couldn’t have been easy and maybe it was far from good at times, but the Presley’s didn’t create this much love from a vacuum. Some aching part of Donna wants to meet them all and watch them in their natural habitat, swear to them that she gets it, that she’s so starved for it herself she’d trade anything for such affectionate dysfunction.
The phone Jesse buys her has no superior merits in static or connection but it does have a zebra print handle on it that Daisy insisted was the height of chic, and he insisted in turn that Donna deserved sexy things. Looking down at her overalls and plaid shirt, Donna has to agree she’s not exactly in Jesse Presley’s league.
Before she can think on that for too long and get herself into knots about it, they’ve piled back into the car and Daisy is eagerly asking if they can get dinner -if she can eat outside of her fluorescent lit, sterile white prison. Donna feels for her and she can see Jesse trying to formulate an excuse, how now is time to let Donna be as she’s gotta go visit her dad. If she weren’t so convinced these dear kids actually liked hanging with her she’d never have the guts to suggest it but they’re too honest and forthright in their affection for her to doubt it so she hears herself suggesting:
“Y’all could come meet my dad? H-he loves your dad’s music. Learned drums awhile back just to match Fontana. I know he’d love y’all to bits.” Rosalee and Daisy raise a chorus of agreement in the backseat but Jesse hesitates and Dona refuses to be hurt by it. He’s obviously the more cautious of them, and he’s got reason to be. Donna thinks she saw someone taking photographs of them all as they came out of the market.
There’s also the unspoken worry about putting Daisy out in public so soon with surroundings teaming with alcohol and other temptations. It makes Donna clarify, haltingly, “It would be somewhere quiet, wholesome. My dad he’s um, he’s a recovering alcoholic, see? That’s how I got into nursing, mama left to go get more from life and I stayed to take care of him. He’s been clean for a good bit now but -he could use the friendship.”
Daisy looks like she’s about to take offense at being considered only fit for friendships with washed up drunks and Donna gets it, that it’s touchy but it needed to be said if they’re going to meet him. Rosalee intervenes instead with a soft,
“Sounds good to me, we’d love to meet him. For my schedule it works, doesn't it Jesse?” she asks, “I mean, as long as it’s somewhere quiet? Maybe out of the city proper?”
“Yeah,” Donna agrees, already having a joint in mind, “we’ll get out of the city. Maybe out by Plano? They’ve got good barbecue at this one place.”
“Jess?” Rosalee asks again, softer this time.
Jesse just turns around in his seat, long arm bracing himself and his bulging forearm stretched across the console and Donna’s mouth waters at the popping veins and nimble fingers as she watches him stare a mute Daisy down. “Can I take you for barbecue with Miss Donna and her daddy and trust you to behave yourself?”
“Oh for fu-“
“Daisy?” Jesse cuts her off, dead serious and so easily authoritative that Donna’s legs rub closed despite the inappropriate context. He’s not all sweet boy and needy young heir and it gives her shivers. “I mean I don’t want even a raised middle finger outta ya, you hear me? Just imagine whatever you do is gonna be plastered everywhere, think about that and we’ll go. We got a deal?”
Daisy seems to weigh her anger at her brother’s bossiness with the dire need for something besides hospital food and after twenty tense seconds of belligerence she gives in with a hoarse, “Deal. Gosh it’s not such a big thing, relax.”
That night Donna’s love for them gets cemented. They’re only licking their fingers of sticky sauce and ordering five different smoked briskets to try but the kids make conversation like they’ve learned a bit of everything from everywhere. Which in retrospect, Donna assumes that maybe they have, exposed as they were to the best and the worst, but she didn’t expect it to be so natural and kind, so outwardly focused where Jesse pulled anecdotes about the Korean War from her dad she’d never heard and a mention or two of Ma from happier times after one of Rosalee’s queries.
Everyone just talks, talks about the stuff they want to talk about but usually don’t. It’s cathartic and Donna hasn’t seen her daddy so recharged in ages. Jesse ends the night digging in his deep pockets for something that ends up being a guitar pick.
“I-it’s my d-daddy’s, sir,” he stammers as he puts it in Donna’s father’s weather palm, “wish he were here to swap stories but I-I-I thought maybe you’d like it. Till you can m-meet him.”
Her daddy takes it gratefully and thumbs over it with a fondness Jesse has seen a lot of folks show for the man he knows too well and they love more than seems possible for strangers. It never fails to humble him and reignite some apprecIation of his own for Elvis’ warmth that’s made it all the way into the heart of a middle aged vet from Waxahachie Texas.
“I’d sure like to meet the man someday.” Her daddy admits. “And thank ya for dinner, young Presley.”
“I hope you will meet him, I think ya will.” Jesse stammers and can’t bear to meet Donna’s surprised gaze, “We owe your Donna a heap, sir. Mama is about ready to come down here and eat her up she’s so grateful. And I uh, I intend to not lose touch.” he mutters the last bit and it makes Donna feel close to faint with hope that her father misheard as they go on to talk about how the press has treated Elaine Presley and eventually say their good nights. Jesse won’t meet her eye, just tucks her into his armpit like her short height mandates for a hug and says goodnight. After the heat of last night she thinks she’ll waste away from such propriety.
As she gets in the car to drive her dad home, working the shift, a bright light slices across their windshield and after the sparks clear from Donna’s dazzled eyes she realizes someone, probably with a professional grade flash, just snapped a photo of them. They’re ordinary people who had barbeque with the kids of a famous man and now they’re being stalked. It’s not fair to them or the Presley’s and her dad rages against the unfairness of it and how nice those kids were all the way back to his place. It keeps Donna from crying over the notion that Jesse went through all those motions this morning to make her think he liked her more than just a lay, and now it’s a sideways hug and a terse “goodnight.”
Jesse’s heart hurts as he drives the girls back to the center in Rosalee’s car, smiling softly as he listens to their protests against his ratty motel and noticing the car behind trailing their every turn. He knew that the rehabilitation was wrapping up and he knew they were getting sloppy at laying low. There’s been a countdown in his head that’s kept him going, after all, and they’re so close now to the finish line that he had burned out and fallen into Donna’s arms for the last leg. The fact it is the last leg makes him jittery with a thousand thoughts at once. The chief one is how unfair it all is.
For her mainly.
But if there’s one thing Donna taught him last night, it was to take a little time to hurt for himself. By the time he sneaks Daisy back into the Center under a cloak of darkness and drives Rosalee to a hotel fit for housing a nice girl like his sister is, his heart just about wants to burst with hurt. He sends Rosalee up to her room with a kiss to the forehead and plans to have her car back in time for her to drive back tomorrow. He goes cback out to the parking lot and making a beeline for the beater Mercedes’ parked three rows down from his ride. He raps on the window and it doesn’t even take the gun in his boot to freak the unexpecting and nosy little bastard in the driver seat.
“Hey, brother.” Jesse greets as the guy actually rolls the window down in his panic on being confronted, “You like my route?” he asks congenially but there’s an edge to his voice that isn’t false bravado, “I noticed ya liked the barbecue, too. Wanna come up to my room and watch me sleep? Or were you gonna wait till I leave and try that with my sister? Hmm?”
The guy, like most guys in the nation, knows what Jesse did to the last fella who tried something with Rosalee, how his brother Jack and his friend Sam and the whole of Sam’s squad from the Memphis police just sipped bourbon while Jesse drug the fucker by the balls down S. Riverside Dr. It makes the smirking boy at his window a lot more imposing than his decent stature, hippy length hair and strong hands seem on first impression. “N-no man I’m here- I’m here to- uh-“
“Just hand me the damn film rolls and we’ll part ways, ok?” Jesse holds out his hand expectantly and the guy hesitates a bit. Sighing heavily, Jesse reaches into his back pocket for the persuasive shit and he can see the man’s panic show in his eyes again as Jesse reaches, only for it to be replaced by confusion as he’s presented with a badge of sorts. “This here badge was given to me by President Nixon himself, alright? Back when he asked to meet my daddy in the Oval Office, and he gave me this badge and it’s got the authority to demand such private property as photographs of my face and my sisters’ faces, ya understand? I wouldn’t wanna get you into trouble none by writing a damn reportc a. Just -hand ‘em over, k?”
The guy still hesitates, doubtful he’ll get off so easily and wary to give in and still get his ass handed to him. To be perfectly honest he doesn’t care much about some badge that some impeached President gave a rockstar’s fifteen year old kid . “Really, dude, I’m just here to meet a-“
“You really wanna see what my daddy gave me for my birthday last year?” Jesse asks with burdened patience and somehow, without it even being said, the man knows that birthday gift was a gun. Elvis Presley has been downright insane for some time now, it just fits. Jesse Presley, lanky frame bent to wedge into his low window like a looming specter in the dark doesn't look much more stable. He fumbles in the passenger seat and grabs the priceless rolls containing an excellent shot of that girl he’s been hanging out with, in her car with her dad as she pulls out of the barbecue place. It hurts the guy deeply to watch them go but he comforts himself with the thought of all the earlier snaps he’d managed to drop at the publishers earlier.
“Here, Jeeze.” the guy plops them in Jesse’s large palm and Jesse’s fingers curl over them elegantly while his pointer finger beckons still.
“Gimme the one in the camera, c’mon now. I’m not stupid.”
“You can’t shoot me-“
“No, I can do way worse, believe me. The roll, give it here!” Jesse’s ringed fingers make a gimme-gimme motion and the guy notices that those rings would make a mean and gaudy sort of brass knuckle if tested. His nose hurts at just the thought.
He hands over his camera and despite expecting the kid to drop the precious thing and stomp on it or something, all Jesse does is pop the lid and take out the roll. Adding it to the others in his back pocket along with that stupid and sentimental badge that belongs in an era back when his famous daddy still had the nation’s respect.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Jesse murmurs as he hands back the neutered camera, “and I hope you understand that if I ever catch you at this again, for myself or my friends, you’re gonna have more audits and subpoenas than you do donuts in that gut. Am I understood? I’ll bury your ass.”
It’s freaky getting threatened so effectively by a teenager. Like he’s old inside and knows that paperwork is scarier than a knife when you’re tired and broke. Most of these Presley’s belong in the loony bin or the MET, with Elaine Presley being the latter and the rest of her family the former. Either way, all of them need to be under lock and key, except they're too rich for that. And they’re certainly rich enough to make the guy’s
I life a living hell. Or very rich if he were to sell pictures of Jesse Presley necking a rehab nurse on his bike.
“Yeah ok, can I go?” the guy asks, exasperated.
“By all means, get the hell away from my family!” Jesse smiles and backs away, patting at the back of the guy’s car in farewell before the man hears a screeching sound of metal ripping off.
He frantically looks behind him only to find Jesse innocuously sauntering back to his bike in the dark parking lot. Suspicious of what the kid did, and suspecting a poked tire but too scared to get out and investigate while he’s still on the prowl, the guy waits and watches as the kid’s bike revs to life. Sure enough Presley steers the thing right past his window while waving the guy’s license plate like a giant metal envelope in his hand.
“Have fun without this, man, lotta bored cops on the lookout tonight!”
Feeling very good and very angry, Jesse waits at the red light, full aware the guy is watching him and when the fucker doenst get the hint to leave the parking lot ahead of him, Jesse revs his motor and bekons the guy over like a gentlman ushering a lady through the door first. Exhaust fumes have never smelt so sweet to him as he takes a turn trailing the guy until he’s well out of Dallas and nearing Arlington, well away from Daisy and Rosalee.
And Donna. Jesse’s blood boils and the hot summer air clings to his neck as he peels off into the dark of night and heads back to his motel with its greasy bedspread and its mildew shower where he’s gunked up the drain with his fervor for her large lips and sweet eyes and eyebrows that are like busy caterpillars dancing across her forehead. He wants her so badly it’s painful and now he knows what it’s like to be with her and held by her and accepted so readily, so selflessly, so sweetly -it’s worse than before. He can’t even bear to think of settling for shower steam and his fist. He falls into bed and rolls onto his belly, pulling open the bedside drawer before placing the license plate next to the complementary motel Bible. It makes him smile, Donna’s got a phone and he’s got a license plate. He keeps staring at his tin trophy knowing fully well tonight’s slumber is merely metaphorical. He’ll not be sleeping a wink.
He’ll be thinking of her. And how he’s gotta be a bastard for a little longer to keep her safe. And how mama’s about to have a baby and daddy’s about to remarry her and Rosalee just started to sleep herself after the attack and how Daisy will be out and testing herself and how John will be coming home to Ella and their baby and -he really outta visit Ella while he’s here in Texas. And while she’s got Marie staying with her. Marie could use to see another face. There’s so much ahead and none of it needs to involve Jesse fending off reporters so he can go make professions of premature love to a little Texan with a penchant for his pancakes and clitoris nibbles.
Like the planner his mama taught him to be, he steadies himself with a hand to the bridge of his nose and lines all these frantic responsibilities into a tidy row. And to the side are his wants. For a few years now those have gotten a little dusty and he doesn’t begrudge that, not really. But right now he makes another column to this mental checklist.
His needs.
Which comprise Donna and more Donna and Donna forever. It’s so simple, the roses ahead that may take years but it is simple nonetheless.
Go get the girl, that’s what they all say. Daddy had done just that.
Jesse thinks about that phone he got her this afternoon, assuming she’s hauled it out of the trunk by now. He’s already arranged for someone to hook it up by next weekend.
Step one accomplished. He wants to laugh at his own impatience. Step one, already done. Before the end of the week he can be calling her and she’ll be wrapping her fingers around the phone like he wishes she would somewhere else and he can make comments about how nice the barbecue was and she can ask about Daisy’s progress once released.
And they can keep that up. Till he finds a time to marry her. Hopefully not in some red letter year that involves his parents remarrying or making a surprise child.
Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.
If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo
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heavenlybutler · 2 years
Text
you’re all i see
pairing: austin!elvis x reader
summary: y/n attends one of elvis’s shows and overhears fans talking about a girl he had supposedly been seeing. she assumes elvis is cheating on her and decides to distance herself from him.
warning: literally every emotion ever but mostly lots & lots of ANGST. inaccuracies to the movie, the whole talk about getting shipped off after the show at russwood doesn’t happen.
word count: just over 5k, whoops.
notes: this is my first elvis fic and this is also the first story i’ve written that i’m actually very proud of!!! i’ve spent hours on it. big thank you to @asshlyyyy for giving me the idea. she has been the absolute sweetest and most helpful person. keep in mind that i’m still learning about writing and trying to get better. i hope everyone who reads enjoys! please leave some kind words if you like it! <3
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july 4th, 1956
“honey, i promise you it’s all gonna be alright,” you comforted elvis as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring blankly into it.
you walked behind elvis, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his back. elvis was silent, which was usual for him when he was overthinking.
“just go with your heart, baby. what you feel in your heart could never lead you wrong,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his back.
your moment was interrupted when you looked over to see the colonel entering the room. you internally rolled your eyes, backing away from your boyfriend.
“you ready to go, my boy?” the colonel smiled and all you wanted to do was slap the grin right off of his face.
elvis turned to look at him while placing his palm on your lower back.
“yeah, let me get my tie on and i’ll be out there in a second,” elvis nodded to him.
“miss y/n, you’ll be riding with mrs. and mr. presley. correct?” the colonel asked like he didn’t already know the answer.
you nodded your head as you chewed on your bottom lip.
“well, um… i have you a great seat that’s away from the parents. wouldn’t want any fans spotting you with them and speculating, would we?” the colonel chuckled.
“we sure wouldn’t,” you spoke coldly, pressing your lips together.
you hadn’t liked the colonel since the moment that you met him. you always told mrs. presley that there was something off about him. but you tolerated him, only for elvis’s sake of course.
the first time you ever met the colonel, he made it very clear that he didn’t want you in the public eye at all. he didn’t even want you going in public with elvis. he wanted you to be a ghost, basically.
you had been with elvis since before his career took off. so when the first conversation arose about ‘being available’ between the colonel and elvis, elvis told him that he couldn’t pay him enough money to take you away from him. it was definitely out of question.
elvis had told you everything the colonel had suggested to him and you started disliking him even more after that.
you tried to understand that elvis only went along with the secretiveness of your relationship to keep the colonel happy because he was indeed, his boss. but sometimes you think there’s more reasoning than he’s letting onto.
“ya’ help me with my tie, baby?” you were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard elvis’s voice. also noticing the colonel had left the room.
you smiled softly and nodded, grabbing the red and white tie that was laid out on the bed. you raised onto to your tippy toes a bit, bringing the tie around elvis’s neck.
you could feel his eyes staring down on you. elvis knew that you didn’t like the secretiveness of the relationship. but he also knew you didn’t want it to be public just for the fame. you wanted everyone to know that you loved him and that he loved you, plain and simple.
“you know i love you?” elvis asked, seemingly out of nowhere. you switched your eyes up to his blue ones for a few seconds before focusing on the task at hand.
“i do,” you said quietly, you felt so small with him basically standing over you.
you finished with his tie and gave him a light pat on the chest. you watched as he grabbed his tux jacket and pulled it on. you could see how tense the show had him just by his posture.
elvis walked closer to you as he buttoned just one of the buttons on his jacket, before bringing his hands to cup your cheeks.
“i’m gonna go with my heart… just like you told me,” elvis told you softly.
you nodded your head as he leaned down to press a short kiss to your lips.
“i love you,” you whispered against his lips before the both of you pulled away.
“and i love you,” elvis said, taking your hand and exiting the room.
you rode with elvis’s family to the russwood park stadium where the show was going to take place. the car was full of tension and no one really said a word on the way there until vernon spoke up.
“i hope elvis don’t pull nothin’ that could get us in trouble,” you peered out of the window as the car pulled into the stadium. you had never seen so many people in your life.
“y/n, did he say anything to ya about what he was going to do? he won’t tell us anything… and i’m just so worried i can’t take it,” gladys spoke, looking over to you with sincere eyes.
“no ma’am, um… he just told me he was going to follow his heart… which i think is the best thing for him,” you said and gladys reached to squeeze your hand, nodding.
the car came to a halt as a man in uniform opened the back door signaling for you to get out. you stepped out, gladys stepping out shortly behind you.
a few men in uniform walked the group of you behind the stage, awaiting elvis who had apparently just arrived because the screams of fans became louder and louder.
“there are reserved seats for the family on the side,” a man spoke to elvis’s parents, pointing to a group of empty chairs.
gladys counted them, noticing there was not a chair for one of you. she began to open her mouth but looked over to see the colonel and elvis walking up.
you couldn’t even get a word out before the colonel had grabbed your arm and pulled you in front of the stage, walking in between the crowd and the men lining the stage that were wearing white.
“best seat in the house,” the colonel cockily smiled and pointed to the only empty chair in the first row. it was towards the end where a bunch of dancers that had previously been on the stage were sitting.
“thank you,” you rolled your eyes as you sat down, watching him scurry back over behind the stage.
you began to rub your hands up and down your thighs, becoming nervous from the large group of people around you. you hoped elvis would be on soon, so all of your attention could be on him.
“i wonder if he’s ever slept with a fan,” you heard a girl giggle behind you. you subconsciously listened in on their conversation, trying your best to hear over the crowd.
“i bet so! but i heard he’s got a girl…” you heard another voice come from behind you. you scratched your neck as you leaned back further to listen closely.
“i heard somewhere that it was an actress or something. they were seen downtown a couple of weeks ago but they’re trying to keep it secretive. that’s why he’s always said he’s single but i also heard he’s a cheat… so you might have a chance,” the girl continued.
your fingers started to play with the hem of your dress nervously.
you were indeed not an actress, just a regular girl.
how could he cheat on me?
he’s always with me, when could he have done this?
are they telling the truth?
questions started to fog your brain as tears whelmed up in your eyes. you couldn’t believe what you had just heard.
you quickly rubbed your eyes to rid them of tears that were about to escape as elvis walked onto the stage. the screams got louder as you tried to subside your thoughts.
elvis stood in front of the microphone, silent for a few seconds as fans calmed down.
“there’s been a lot of talk about the new elvis,” your boyfriend spoke into the microphone, signaling shouts of discouragement from fan's.
“and of course that other guy…” you watched as elvis rose his pinky finger and wiggled it, singing a short line from hound dog.
all negative thoughts put behind you, you smiled to yourself, he could never be serious for too long. and that’s one of the reasons you loved him.
everyone cheered for him as he looked through the crowd, his eyes landing on you.
“a lot of people say a lot of things,” elvis started, “of course, you’ve got to listen to the people that you love,” elvis spoke, looking over to the colonel and nodding.
you began to feel nervous for him, thinking the colonel had coursed him in the car on the way here.
“but in the end, you’ve got to listen to yourself,” elvis said, shooting you a quick look as you gave him a comforting smile.
“so i want you to know those new york people ain’t gon’ change me none,” elvis shouted, the crowd cheering and you began to clap.
you watched as he walked over and sat his guitar down on a piano and whispered a word to his bandmate.
“i’m gon’ show you what the real elvis is like tonight!” elvis yelled as he gripped his microphone.
you grinned as you stood up, clapping for him with everyone else.
“you lookin’ for trouble?” elvis began to sing as his band started playing. you smirked to yourself, knowing the colonel was probably shitting his pants right now.
you were almost knocked off of your feet as the fans began to push towards the stage, which caused your body to be nailed up against it.
you tried your best to breathe as you watched your boyfriend perform but the people pushing against you didn’t help.
your boyfriend's back was to you as he sang, “so don’t you mess around with me,” walking backward to your side of the stage and settling right in front of you.
“i never looked for trouble, but i never ran,” elvis sang, his leads spreading right in front of you.
you looked up at him and licked your lips as you took him all in. he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.
and he was all mine… you thought possessively to yourself but the words from the girls that were behind you a few minutes ago popped back in your head.
you zoned out for about 30 seconds, staring at the floor of the stage as girls pushed and shoved around you.
your thoughts snapped as you saw your boyfriend's knees hit the stage in front of you. he made quick eye contact with you before singing.
“because i’m evil,” elvis thrusted his hips in front of you as you smirked up at him.
his face got closer to yours as you stared at him in awe. only ungodly thoughts crossed your mind.
his familiar fingers grabbed your face, his face stilling a few inches away while singing, “my middle name is misery.”
you could’ve fallen to the floor at that moment, watching as he pulled away from you and stood back up.
a few short seconds later, the crowd started going absolutely berserk. guards were attacking people as your rib cage was probably getting bruised, getting pushed against the stage.
you started to have a panic attack due to everything going on around you. you couldn’t even pay a speck of attention to your boyfriend. your mind was everywhere.
not even a minute later, elvis was being pulled off of the stage by a group of men. he frantically tried to get away from them all while trying to find your face in the crowd, which he did.
“get her out of there!” elvis frantically yelled to one of his band mates.
tears fled your eyes as you watched the men manhandle your boyfriend and also from the pain of people pushing against you.
you felt relief as one of elvis’s band mates pulled you out of the crowd and onto the stage. the both of you quickly jumped off before a guard could pull you off.
you ran over to the car you arrived in, seeing gladys yelling at someone and looking over to see it was elvis. he made eye contact with you, knowing you were safe.
“mama, get in the car!” elvis screamed as he got shoved into the back of his car.
you grabbed gladys’s arm, pulling her into the car and away from the commotion. elvis watched out of his window to make sure you and his family were in the car and safe.
you arrived back at graceland, noticing the car that elvis was in was already parked at the front.
the whole ride home you had been thinking about what those girls who were sitting behind you had said. the words burned into your mind, every word playing on repeat in your head.
you should be thinking about the absolute catastrophe that had just happened at the show but your mind didn’t allow you to.
you walked into the house, elvis’s family still loading out of the car behind you. the first thing you saw was elvis pacing around the living room, cursing to himself.
“oh my god… y/n, honey… are you okay? elvis asked as he walked up to you. you nodded softly as hugged you, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“elvis!” vernon screamed as he walked in, “i’m glad to see you’re okay but what in the hell was that?”
elvis just stood there and shook his head.
“deddy, i ain’t mean for things to get that out of hand,” elvis spoke, staring down at the floor.
“i’m just glad you’re okay, baby,” gladys whispered as she gave elvis a loving hug.
the tension in the room started to come down until vernon began to yell again about how elvis should’ve known better and how the colonel was going to let him go.
“i don’t give a damn, deddy!” elvis spewed. you had never seen him so mad before, he had gone off on almost everyone in the room except you and his mama at this point. elvis stopped yelling as the front door opened and the colonel walked in.
the colonel had a disappointed look on his face which made you want to snicker but you didn’t.
you watched as elvis walked closer to him, his face red from yelling.
elvis started by pointing a finger in his face, “first of all, i want to know why the hell you put my girl in that damn crowd? she was getting crushed out there! i’m not putting up with your-“
“elvis, it’s fine,” you placed your hand on his shoulder trying to drag him away from the colonel but he wouldn’t budge.
“it’s not fucking fine, y/n!” elvis yelled, getting very close to your face. you backed away, tears immediately forming in your eyes. the two of you had had fights but he had never screamed in your face.
the colonel shook his head and spoke up which made elvis’s attention snap to him, “i’ll just leave. it’s not a good time. we can talk about all of this tomorrow.” he turned towards the door as the room was engulfed in silence.
“no, i’ll leave,” you spurted out, wiping the tears from under your eyes.
elvis looked over to you, now noticing how upset you were. you watched his heart break into a million pieces at the sight of you.
“honey, no… i didn’t mean-“ elvis started as his hands tried to reach out and pull you into him but you strayed away from him.
“i’m fine, i’ll see you tomorrow,” you said lowly, not making eye contact with anyone as you grabbed your keys that sat on the table by the entrance.
you opened the door, slamming it a little too hard as you shut it. you ran down the steps, hearing the door open and close behind you.
“y/n, i didn’t mean to yell. just come back in and i’ll get the colonel to leave. we can just go onto bed, please just come back in,” elvis said as he walked quickly behind you.
the thoughts of him cheating on you ran through your head once again, you couldn’t take anymore.
you turned around to face him as you made it to the side of your car.
“i need space, elvis,” you said, staring into his glossy blue eyes.
“are you mad at me because i yelled? i promise you, i ain’t mean to get that loud. you know i wouldn’t do nothin’ to ever intentionally upset you, darlin’,” elvis said with tears in his eyes, walking closer but you backed away.
you ignored his question, “elvis, just let me go. i’ll be fine in the morning and we can put this behind us. you’ve just gotta give me some space, okay?”
“okay…” elvis whispered as you opened the car door on your purple cadillac that elvis had bought you a while ago after you told him you didn’t need it, but he insisted.
you sank in the seat, reaching to close the door but elvis’s hand stopped it.
“i love you, y/n,” he peered down at you as he held the door open.
“i love you, elvis,” you said bluntly, simply not in the mood. tears leave his eyes, that’s the first time you had said i love you to him that sounded like you didn’t mean it. elvis let go of the door so you shut it and started your car.
elvis watched as you drove out of the gates, not knowing you had started to cry again shortly after pulling away.
it had been 3 days since the last time you saw elvis. he had called you the morning after the incident but you told him that you didn’t feel well and just wanted to rest at home, which wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole story.
he had called a few more times that day and your mama had answered. you told her to tell him that you didn’t feel like coming to the phone so she did. but he didn’t let her off after that, asking questions like
“you sure she doesn’t need to go to the hospital?”
“will you let me know if i can bring her anything?”
“mrs. y/l/n, will you tell her to call me when she’s feeling better?”
“can i come to see her? i don’t wanna bother her but i won’t stay long.”
and the list goes on… he was worried sick about you.
you being okay was the only thing he could think about, but the only thing you could think about is his lips on another woman’s… his hands wondering someone else’s body…
you had driven yourself crazy over the words that had come out of that girl's mouth a few nights ago. your mama even started to worry about you because you barely ever stayed at your own house. you had even started to call graceland your home because you were there 90% of the time. but you had been locked up in your bedroom for three days now.
you overheard your mom on the phone as you poured yourself some cereal in the kitchen.
“so he rose his voice at her? you think this is the whole reason she’s been acting like this? there’s got to be something else we don’t know about… you know they’ve had their fights but they’re usually over it by the next day. i just can’t put a hammer to the nail, gladys,” you heard your mother say, instantly listening closer when you heard she was talking about you.
a few seconds of silence went by before she continued, “if i figure it out i’ll let you know, and don’t worry bout her. y/n is a tough girl, she’ll get through whatever it is.”
more silence.
“yes, i’ll let her know. mhm, okay… bye,” you heard the phone being placed back on the hook as you quickly went back to making your cereal.
you then heard her footsteps walking towards the kitchen, wishing you had time to escape the conversation but you did not.
“gladys just called,” your mother said, entering the kitchen and sitting on a stool at the bar.
“and said?” you asked, scooping a spoon full of cereal into your mouth and then looking over to her.
“well, you won’t tell me what happened between you and elvis… so i asked about it. she said something about elvis yelling at you while he was trying to defend you to the colonel. is that true?”
you scoffed at the fact they were conspiring on your relationship, “y’all do know we’re not 17 anymore, right? y’all don’t have to discuss us or guide us through this. we’re not kids anymore.”
“listen, gladys is worried sick about you and so is elvis. whatever happened between the two of you can be worked out, i’m sure of that. you love that boy and he loves you, i know it and so does everyone else. you can’t throw five good years together down the drain, y/n.”
you shook your head as anger began to flow through your veins. you didn’t do this, elvis did. elvis caused all of this. you finally lost it.
“mama, i didn’t throw five years down the damn drain! elvis did with some other woman! but keep thinking you know it fucking all!” you yelled before you stormed out of the kitchen.
you had never talked to your mother that way but she had to be crazy to think you’d stopped talking to the man over him raising his voice at you. it was pathetic to think.
you slammed your door as you walked into your bedroom. you crawled into your bed and bawled your eyes out for what felt like hours before you fell asleep.
you were woken up at the sound of someone knocking at your front door. you looked over to the clock on your bedside table which read 11:34 PM.
you got out of your bed and wandered down the hall, seeing your mom had already answered the door and she was talking to someone who stood behind the door frame.
“mama, who is that? it’s almost midnight,” you groggily complained as you got closer to the door.
your mother stepped out of the way, revealing elvis. you squinted to make sure it was really him and pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.
but it was real, and it was him standing on your front porch with the most sorrowed look on his face, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“absolutely not,” you started, turning around to head back to your room, “go home elvis!” you yelled, hearing his footsteps coming behind you in the hallway as you sped up.
“y/n! just talk to me, baby,” elvis chased behind you. you made it to your bedroom door, trying to shut it but elvis slipped in the door before you could.
he stood in front of you and you thought to yourself, i’ve never seen him look this rough before. he looked like he had been crying but he had no damn right to be crying after what he did to you.
you imagined you looked like pure death, standing there wearing a large t-shirt and some of his boxers he had left at your house years ago. you had red speckles all over your face from bawling so hard. you hadn’t brushed your hair in days.
“elvis, get out…” you muttered, not having the strength to look him in the eyes any longer so your sight rested on the floor.
“just explain to me, y/n… what did i do? was it the yelling? i-“ elvis started as you looked up at him with a shocked face.
“you think this is about the stupid 5 seconds that you yelled at me? don’t act fucking stupid elvis!” you laughed in disbelief while simultaneously feeling tears brim your eyes.
“you think that i’ve been ignoring you all because you yelled at me?” you repeated yourself as you began to cry thinking about the real reason.
you pointed your finger roughly to his chest, “don’t act fucking ignorant. you know what the hell you di-,” you cried so hard you couldn’t even get your words out.
elvis’s heart broke into small pieces inside of him, watching the woman he loves fall apart in front of him. tears threatened to fall from his eyes as his hands started to shake.
elvis tried to wrap his arms around you but you tried your hardest to push him away.
“calm down, darlin’,” elvis stayed calm as you tried to shove him away. you tried your best to get away from him for over a minute but you broke down. all the energy left your body.
“no, no, no!” you whaled as you finally gave up struggling to push his stronger arms away.
your body fell limp into his arms as you began to sink to the ground, elvis holding you the whole way down, dropping the bouquet of flowers on the floor.
elvis’s back slid down the door, bringing you with him.
you let out whimpers as you gently landed on the floor, elvis wrapped his arms even tighter around you as you cried into his chest.
you cried and cried and cried, elvis ran his large hand up and down your back because he knew that was one of the only ways to calm you down.
“you’re okay,” elvis cooed, your crying starting to subside after a few minutes of elvis comforting you.
“when you’re ready, i’m gon’ need you to sit up and look at me. i’m gon’ need you to tell me what i’ve done to make you so upset. i’m not gon’ raise my voice, in fact, i won’t say a word until you want me to. okay, doll?” elvis whispered, hearing your soft sobs eventually go away.
you let a few minutes of silence go by because your head was pounding from crying so hard. you could feel the snot and tears spread all over your face, you almost felt ashamed to pull your head away from his chest, but you had to.
you slowly disconnected your head away from him, elvis looking down to see the mess on your face. you didn’t make eye contact with him as he took the sleeve of his sweater and wiped your face off.
elvis didn’t give a damn about the mess on his sleeve at this point, the only thing he cared about was you and what he had supposedly done to you to make you hurt so much.
you readjusted yourself, sitting in front of him with your legs crossed. your feet brushed his shoes because you were sitting so close to him.
you finally got the confidence to look away from the flowers that laid on the floor and up at him, he was already staring at you waiting for you to explain.
“whenever you’re ready, baby,” elvis whispered, placing a hand on your knee.
you squeezed your eyes shut, thinking about what you were about to say. you had to try your hardest not to start crying again as you said to him, “at the show the other night…” you dragged on, scared to say the next sentences, “these girls that were sitting behind me were talking about you and um… some girl that you were supposedly seeing.”
you paused as elvis gave you a blank expression but you went on, “they said you were seeing a girl. i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i did. said that it was maybe an actress that you had been spotted with downtown.”
you looked down to your lap because you couldn’t take his blank stare anymore. “i just got to thinking and you’ve always agreed with colonel about keeping our relationship private. i thought maybe you kept us private so you could see other women. that had me all in my head as well. so all i’ve been thinking about is you with another woman. you kissing her, touching her, fucking her…” you stopped at that because tears began to drop from your eyes into your lap.
“darlin’… i- are ya fuckin’ stupid?” elvis chuckled as your head snapped up into his direction.
a look of relief was on his face while your jaw was on the ground, shocked at his response.
“elvis… i- excuse me?” you said, defensively. you were about to snap on him. what the hell is funny about this conversation?
elvis continued to laugh as you slapped his arm as hard as you could which made him stop laughing.
“y/n y/m/n y/l/n, i love you to death but you sure ain’t the brightest bulb in the box,” elvis shook his head as he smiled.
you were speechless and confused.
“baby, they were talkin’ bout you,” elvis said as your jaw dropped even farther open.
“are you being serious right now? because… i- how do you know that?” you asked as a permanent smile stayed on elvis’s lips.
“honey, i ain’t been downtown with a woman besides you or my mama. never in my life, have i even thought about being with another woman while i’ve been with you. y/n, you’re all i see.”
you felt so stupid, you really did. you spent the rest of the conversation on the floor wanting to punch yourself for thinking elvis would do that to you.
although elvis thought it was funny, he also reassured you that you never had to worry about that, never.
after a few minutes of him talking you down, he finally stood up and reached his hand towards you to pull you up.
“i’m so sorry, elvis,” you apologized for the tenth time.
elvis shook his head, he had already told you to stop saying sorry.
you looked down, seeing the bouquet of flowers that still lied on the floor.
“the flowers are lovely… thank you,” you giggled as you leaned down to pick them up.
elvis came closer to you, the only thing between you being the flowers you held in your hands. elvis leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips which you smiled into.
elvis pulled away, noticing the flowers were what was keeping him from not pressing up to your body fully, “fuck the flowers,” elvis chuckled as he took them from your hands and threw them back onto the floor.
his lips returned to yours as you tried your best not to laugh but you couldn’t hold it in. elvis started to chuckle again, resting his forehead on yours.
“i am so in love with you, elvis presley,” you smiled, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks.
“and i’m even more in love you, y/n y/l/n.”
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A Whole Man is Hard to Find | masterlist
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Warnings: This story takes place on a floating casino during the reconstruction period of the post Civil War South… so, there’s a boatload of potentially offensive content here. Such as, mentions of buying human beings, murder, tragic backstories, casual mentions of prostitution, references to abuse during prostitution male and female, the existence of Colonel Parker, racism, period typical use of laudanum, attempts to entrap a man through sex and using virginity as a commodity. And chief among them: past sexual abuse and mental manipulation of the male main character. All or most of this is peripheral or off camera to the story itself which focuses on love and camaraderie -however, consider yourself warned. I’ve tried to remain as respectful as possible while retaining the feel of the era and the fascinating shift in the culture. It is however quite mature. 18+ only, read at your own risk. And hush. Don’t worry, there are heroes in this story who will rise to the challenge of all of this. There will also be smut, this is one big excuse to write period piece Elvis smut, after all. And there will be fluff, true fluff, eventually -I swear it. Enjoy.
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Five
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Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen (coming soon)
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dreamingofep · 1 year
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Umm… these pictures… I can’t form any words other than ✨holy fuck✨🥴
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asshlyyyy · 1 year
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Lil Baby Presley (Austin!Elvis x Reader)
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
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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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Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.
Taglist: @babyhoneypresley, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @mommy-maia, @yagirlalexx, @alligator-person, @diorxmimi, @anangelwhodidntfall, @pumkiinpasties, @djconde58, @21bruhs, @girlblogger2002, @dollfaceyourfear, @homebodybirkin2003, @dark-as-love, @pandora-journey, @hsstylesrings, @4everrmore, @bewitched-tales, @butlersluvbot, @curatedbyemily, @gyomei-tiddies, @wandawiccan60, @re3kin, @passengerjett, @neepo, @vane28282, @emilykolchivans, @gothantoinette, @gruffle1, @annamarie16, @misacc08, @marchingicenotes7, @callthedarknessdown, @domaniquessidehoe, @gay-af-satan, @skinnypantsmcgee, @sassyblazecloud,  @lordandmistress, @nuo0n, @coldonexx, @adoreyouusugar, @aliciaelle47, @danitheedanimal, @raefoxiegirl, @cobra-kaii, @rylee-durhxm, @crabat-the-queen, @austinbutlersgirlfriend, @hopefulinlove, @aradevil​, @laperceval​, @xcallmetaniax​, @londonalozzy​, @mslizziesblog​, @gloomynigvts​, @randompointlessbeauty​, @nora-nexus-34​, @jazmin2211​, @kittenlittle24​, @moonbird1507​, @bobthefishiesworld​, @cevans-winchester​, @luckyevansstan​, @noorreads​, @normatural​, @hauntedarchivesx​, @thatcrazyfangirl22​, @amiets2​, @myguiltypleasures21​, @poppet05​, @xcallmetaniax​, @fullmetal-falcon​, @kaitaesupremacy​, @rainydayz101​, @asd-n-adhd-fox​, @eliseinmemphis​, @adaydreamaway08​, @stitchattacks​ @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s​, @dkayfixates​, @fa1ryprincess222​, @austinstyles​
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sagesolsticewrites · 1 year
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Austin getting a hair & makeup touch up between takes (via Ruby Bell on Instagram)
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peaceloveelvis · 11 months
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Polly Bennett just made my day with these photos of Austin! 🥰
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paperjunk · 2 years
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I love Austin Butler in a military uniform! I think I would faint if he had done a scene blonde and in uniform. DX
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dulcewrites · 2 years
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I really love your fics! Can you write where Austin!Elvis meets your father? Can be 50s!Austin!Elvis or any other era.
Papa Don’t Preach
Pairing: austin!elvis x reader (wc: 1.8k)
Requested: yes (thank you)
Warning: mentions of religion, and allusions to purity culture
A/N: I honestly didn’t know what direction I wanted to take this. I had a couple of ideas and decided to work in the preacher’s kid x ab!elvis that i had like a month ago. Also I was inspired by the Moesha episode when Q comes to dinner at the Mitchell household lol.
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“You and my dad at the same table?” you ask while twirling the chord to the phone around your finger. “That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
Throughout your life, you have endured your fair share of lectures. But you can’t even imagine the one you’d be in for if Elvis Presley shows up at your door for dinner.
You even had to receive one of those lectures tonight.
You had promised Elvis that you would watch his Milton Berle performance, and he promised he would call you as soon as he could. Excited to have the night to yourself, you popped a squat in front of the family tv. You got to see half of the show before your parents came home from a church function earlier than you expected.
Elvis’s singing was then drowned out by the self-righteous tone of your father.
“Rock and roll music is the sound of juvenile delinquency young lady,” he said sternly, and added a finger point for good measure.
Your father walked over to the television and turned it off before going into the kitchen. You had looked over to your mama for help. All you receive in return is a sympathetic glance before she follows him into the kitchen.
“I just think if he actually knew me, he’d like me,” Elvis says confidently.
He’s not entirely wrong.
The irony isn’t lost on you. Your sweet Elvis, who sings you hymns on the phone, being the artist that makes your dad blow a gasket. It’s unfortunate because if Elvis wasn’t the singer he is, you have a feeling your dad would love him for you.
“I don’t even know how to go about bringing it up,” you reply.
Your parents knew that there was someone special in your life, but you have been extremely careful not to let on that the special person was the most talked about musician in America.
“Just say you want a friend to come over for dinner,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Oh, if only it was that easy.
“So, give them no warning,” you sigh, laying down on your bed. “Do you really think a good start is me lying about who is coming to dinner?”
There’s silence from Elvis. You can already see the look of thought on his face. Brows furrowed, lips pouted, eyes downcast.
“I say we ask for forgiveness not permission.”
Elvis seems to be doing that a lot lately. It is getting harder. The lying and sneaking around; maybe it is time to come clean.
“I’ll think about it,” you need time to mull this over. “Now tell me about New York and Uncle Miltie. I want the full run down.”
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You’re sure if you continue to pace that you’re going to burn through the carpet in the living room. But you can’t help it; the idea of Elvis being in your home sort makes you antsy. One trip to Graceland, Sun Records, and a few other places on Beale Street are the only places you two have been together. Even then, you both made sure to be careful. Now he’s going to be in your space. Looking at the baby pictures of you that hang on the wall, seeing the crosses everywhere, and sitting at the dining table your granny gave your dad when y’all moved into this house.
And to add insult to injury, your parents don’t know it’s Elvis coming. You took his advice and left the whole situation vague. Telling your parents that you were ready for them to meet the guy you’ve been seeing and left it at that; even despite the valid questions they had.
So, now you’re here. Heart racing, palms sweating, and pacing in the living room. Luckily your parents are occupied in the kitchen and dining room to notice your nervous energy. You jump when you hear the light roar of an engine; peeking out the window, you see a car pulling into the driveway.
A deep purple Cadillac and a silvery grey pinstripe suit. Subtle man, your boyfriend.
Before he can even get the door and knock, you rush out of door.
“Was the Cadillac necessary,” you ask, crossing your arms as watch him get out of the car.
He simply laughs and leans over to get something out of seat. It is a gorgeous car, but Elvis is literally the only person you know you can afford a new one. And the only person you know that would want that color.
“Hello to you too,” he walks over to you. “Looking beautiful as ever darlin’.”
You notice the flowers and bottle of alcohol in his hand.
“Are those for me,” you smile up at him, motioning to the roses.
“These are for your mama, but this is for you,” he wraps his free arm around your neck, and leans down and kisses you.
Your body instance relaxes into his side. You should be worried about your parents catching like this, but Elvis has a way of making your brain fuzzy. It takes you a minute to remember the situation you’re in, and you pull away dazed.
“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter against his lips. “And remember what we talked about on the phone.”
You conducted a fool proof script for this night. Well thought out answers to the questions you know your father is going to have. Only thing Elvis has to do is stick to the plan.
“I hope you like pot roast,” you say while opening the door. You see your mother sitting on the couch. Her movement falters a bit when she sees Elvis. She quickly recovers and puts a tense, but bright smile on her face.
“Sweet pea, I was wondering where you went,” her eyes go from you, to Elvis, to him holding your hand. “I see our guest of honor has made it.”
You squeeze Elvis’s hand, and he squeezes back. One thing about your mama, she will never be one to create a scene. In a moment like this, you greatly appreciate that.
“Mama, this is Elvis. Elvis, this is my mom,” your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” he lets go of your hand shake your mom’s. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
He hands her the roses, and she giggles. She giggles. Since when does your mom giggle? And here you thought Elvis’s charm only worked on people under the age of 30. Elvis winks at you, and you bite back a smile.
“Moms love me.”
The statement he told you on the phone days ago rings in your head. It’s kind of hard not to get moony eyed over him. Being that handsome and that charming should be illegal. With the way people respond to him, you’d think it is.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she sniffs the roses.
The moment gets broken up by the sound of your father’s dress shoes coming out of the kitchen into the living room. His eyes go straight to Elvis, before raising a single brow at you.
You know he would never be less than perfect in front of a stranger, even one he clearly doesn’t like. You just have to beat him at his own game to get through this night.
“Daddy this is my boyfriend, Elvis.”
The stern look, tough handshake, and clearing of the throat are all signs he’s not happy. But he’s not freaking out which you take as win.
“Ok, now that introductions are over. Let’s eat,” your mom breaks the tense silence in the room.
Your dad follows after your mom, and you know they’re talking about it in the kitchen.
“See, I told you,” you whisper to Elvis leading him to the dining room. “He talks a good game, but he wouldn’t dare let anyone see him sweat.”
Elvis just nods slowly, looking less confident than he did when he met your mama. Well, when he said moms love him, he didn’t mention the dads. Probably for good reason.
He pulls your chair out to the dining table before sitting across from you. Your mom carries in the pot roast while your dad sits down at the head of the table.
“Honey, why don’t you bless the food,” your mom sits down opposite of your dad. Your dad nods, a small smile coming over his face. Oh goodness.
“Let’s bow our heads,” he says, and you reluctantly bow yours, an uneasy feeling coming over you. “Father, praise You for the nourishment we about to consume. We have gathered to share this meal, and every meal in your honor. Bless it to our bodies.”
The grace starts out strong. It’s good… till it isn’t.
“And Lord, bless everyone at this table, especially my sweet daughter. May you guide her down the right path. May she stay the pure, child of God we taught her to be. May she not be tempted by any sin that will come her way. Amen.”
Everyone except your father give halfhearted Amens. Your eyes go to Elvis, who looks uncomfortable. Then at your mom, who to your surprise looks equally put off by your dad’s words. If your dad wants to be that way then fine, script be damned.
“You know what, why don’t we just lay it out on the table,” you look at your dad. “You clearly want to know if Elvis and I are having sex.”
Your mom lets an ‘oh my’, while Elvis chokes on the water he was taking a sip of. You can almost see the steam come out of your dad’s ears as he stares you down.
“We aren’t-, we’re not rea-, I mean I wouldn’t-,” Elvis tries jump in with an answer he thinks would be adequate.
You both know you haven’t taken that step yet. Honestly, much to your chagrin, Elvis hasn’t even come close to trying anything like that with you. Everything has been painfully slow with you guys. As if he’s worried, he’ll scare you off by trying anything.
“We aren’t,” you rescue Elvis from the panicked states he’s in. “Elvis has been nothing but a perfect gentleman since we met. And daddy, you should know better than to assume things about people before meeting them.”
You slump in your chair after your speech, glaring at your dad. Elvis still looks uneasy, eyes wide and brows furrowed.
“We know, and we trust you sweet pea,” your mom reaches over and grabs your hand. “The both of you.”
She says the last part a bit slower, like she’s unsure. But you appreciate her having your back. Your mom gives your dad a pointed look.
“Yes, we… trust you,” he mutters, clearly not wanting a fight with her. “But as long as you live under this roof, there will be rules to this relationship.”
You and Elvis share a look before you nod at your dad. It’s better than lying or having to sneak around.
“Good. Since that’s settled, let’s move to another topic,” your mother smoothed down her dress before turning to Elvis with a big grin. “I hear you signed a movie deal.”
Moms really do love him huh.
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stephstars08 · 1 year
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Photo by Ruby Bell📸
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valkaryah · 1 year
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Elvis Presley in Elvis: That's The Way It Is (1970) // Austin Butler in Elvis (2022) audio version x
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That lil house, between your legs, where all my dreams wait
A Sarge & lil Mama fic -the Proposal
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Summary: Elvis informs a certain girl of his dreams that she’s gonna marry him…she’s got some concerns and conditions, one includes him making sure his babies will fit in her lil house
Warnings: Umm, the mild usual with this universe? Themes of breeding, housewife and innocence kink, ill informed consent regarding a pussy inspection and said pussy inspection and descriptions of a vagina (ok, it’s Elvis being a creep and looking up her skirt on her request, but made cute ok?) mentions of Gladys’ death
-February of ‘58 timeline change
“It’s been decided.” is the first thing out of his mouth that morning as he strides up to Elaine where she stands in the shade of her father’s porch.
She’d been over at Graceland all day yesterday and the evening, too, -most days here lately- trying to make him eat, trying to keep him company, trying to get him out of his mother’s closet. It had been in the reverse order of all that, but she had done it. She was the only human that Private Elvis Presley would take orders from, though he reckoned she didn’t guess that. Sweetly, softly, efficiently, she’d gotten him out and gotten him calmed down and gotten him fed. Probably would have put him to bed if he hadn't given her a weak smile and told her to run on now, he wanted to discuss something with her father.
And now he’s here on her porch, looking like maybe he did sleep after all, judging by the rumpled state of his usually pristine hair. It’s growing out a little since they shore him of his prized locks. She thinks he looks better this way, prettier and sweeter without the gel and the sulk. He looks older, too, the way his arms bulge from push-ups and bootcamp, highlighted by the way they bracket the porch posts as the heavy weight of his gaze flicks over her.
“What’s been decided?” Elaine asks him from the gloom of the porch, squinting at his looming silhouette as it’s outlined by the white, bright, February sun.
She’s unable to recall a single loose end regarding the funeral arrangements he had charged her to oversee. It’s over and down with. Miss Gladys is six feet below the sod in Graceland’s backyard and the fans and family have been hosted with impeccable hospitality by herself, the obituaries and memorials written, the flowers preserved as long as possible. Elaine noticed a few petals had started to fall from the Peace Lilly spray when she was over yesterday. She’d picked them up hastily, hoping he didn’t notice that even those were dying. The decisions are all over and done with, he’s due back to the army in a month. And she’s back to teach and produce at RCA.
“It’s been decided and don’t you go objectin, it’s for the best.” he repeats insistently, but his jittering leg gives away the bold act. He’s nervous, she realizes.
“What is it, Elvis?” she asks, voice soft and encouraging as it’s been all week.
“You’re gonna marry me,” he says, “talked it over with your daddy an’ everything, it’s settled. Graceland hasn’t got a mistress no more, and you belong there. Saw it all week, you’re perfect for it.”
He informs her -not asks, ask would imply some free will on her part- like it’s her required duty to the nation or something. Marry him. Like taxes or the draft.
“You outta your ever lovin mind?” she whispers, genuinely worried he’s snapped under the weight of his publically analyzed grief. She’s seen how useless Vernon has been in comforting him, she knows how lonely it gets when one’s mama isn’t there to comfort you for her dying on ya. Elaine really feels for him, she does.
He was there for her when it happened to her, so she’s been there for him. But she knows this can’t be more than a half baked idea.
“I’m dead serious.” he growls, his ferocity taking her aback, she shifts her weight from foot to foot and eyes him warily, “I told ya, it’s all settled, your daddy said yes, you ain’t got anythin to object to.”
“Don’t I just?!” she laughs, “Elvis, you’re just sayin this cause I’ve been with ya during these last few days, and you’re hurtin and you’re lonely and it’s understandable and I’ll be there for ya, always. But you just had a girl, and this’ll pass sure enough. You’re Elvis Presley, your life’ll go on after this. And, and I-well, I’ve been wanting to get married and I want babies and I’ve wanted it for awhile now. I’ve waited on ya to help me like ya promised but I won’t be played with, I won’t! Not even by you. Not even when you’re sore.”
“You want babies?” he asks, his voice low and a sweaty hand leaves the porch post and cups her cheek, calloused fingers digging into her scalp when she goes to pull away, “I’ll give ya babies.”
“I’m being serious, Elvis!” she complains, neck craned away from his assessment of her lips. She never jokes about children, and she won’t let him.
“So am I.” his soft, boyish face looks hopeful suddenly, and rather capable. “I’ll give ya babies, far more than most men could manage.”
“How?” she whispers, his persistent sobriety throwing her into confusion.
“How?” he repeats, copying her quiet tone, distantly hearing the faint squeak of the porch swing chains as the breeze lazily rocks it.
“Yes,” she hesitantly goes on, “how do you know you can? How does anyone know if they can?” It’s something that's bothered her for awhile now. The idea of marrying a man who fails to give her children like Mrs. Myers husband down the street. Five years married and no kids, it’s the talk of the neighborhood. Or those starlets who manage to never have a child and disfigure their waists, no matter the amount of masculine company they keep.
Elvis cocks his head to the side, a puzzled glimmer in his eyes as Elaine’s bashfully inquiring eyes plead with him to understand her burning curiosity. And when he does -fully understand her naïveté, that is- he feels his cock twitch beneath his belt.
“Wellll,” Elvis draws the word out and she is swaying towards him now, that boiling hunger to learn coiling her tight as she hangs on to his every syllable, “I’m pretty confident, it’s just a thing that a man can tell, ya see, it’s a guess, but an educated one. But, we could make sure.” he’s winging it at this point, and shaming his heavenly mother while he’s at it, but he can’t seem to stop himself, not now that he knows he’ll be her teacher and her claimer if he can just make her agree, “We could check and make certain I ain’t overpromisin’, make sure the furniture fits the house, if ya get my drift.”
She doesn’t get his drift. That’s plain to see by the quizzical furrow of her eyebrows and the gape of her plump mouth as she tries to make sense of his euphemisms. Clever and bright Elaine Phipps looking a bit dumb as she blinks up at him in the shade of her front porch makes him smirk wickedly.
“You want children?” she asks, instead of taking him up on his offer just now.
“Most certainly do, we talked bout this before, Elaine.”
“You were complainin bout Anita, back then. Anything to find fault with her, doesn’t mean ya like children.” she crosses her arms and it pushes up her girlish bosoms, pale and promising beneath her gingham check house dress. He’s gonna make those bigger, so plump they’ll spill over that merely adequate neckline.
“Look here you got it wrong, Anita and the rest, they were nice gals, yeah?” he concedes, but it’s just to launch his next explanation, “But they weren’t mama material, ya see? My mama, she told they weren’t fittin, and she told me you were. Just as all the twiggy boys and sleek doctors and the artists fellers ya hang round, they either want your money or they’ll only make decent beaux -but they ain’t gonna make good daddy’s. Mark my words.”
“And what, you don’t want my money?” she teases.
“Now, ‘Laney honey, I’m the one who makes ya your money.” he laughs, tweaking her nose with his fingers and she bats his hand away with a giggle. “And conversely ya own my voice, you’re on my label as a producer, right next to your ole man.”
“Speaking of,” she grows earnest, “ya know Sam Cooke? Signed onto RCA right after ya?”
“Yeah, what of ‘im?” he frowns, impatient this conversation has gotten derailed from its original purpose -to the topic of another man, and a swanky one at that, “You gonna marry him?” he balks.
“No, no! though if he asked…” she winks and he squeezes her waist in warning, feeling the soft flesh give under her girdle from his pressure. That’s how it’ll feel to hold onto her when she rides him.
“What bout him?”
“So, he’s gonna start another record company,” she looks so earnest and invested in the topic he has to let her go on, “one where the artists will have control and rights to their music! And he’ll stay at RCA in the meantime but he’s tryin’ to find supporters and other to join him, a few have already this first month. And, well -“
“What?” he asks again, and it makes her lashes flutter as she gets shy under his stare, “Ya want me to join?”
“Well yeah! Though I doubt Parker would let ya. But that isn’t what I was gonna tell ya.” she bites her lip, “My point is, the point is -that Sam has offered me to be a producer! I mean -Elvis! We’re talkin Cooke, Redding and Smokey and well Burke and- lord it would work for you! But the point is, I’m gonna be doin that, I’m thinkin of taking him up on it.”
“Now hang on a second.” he shakes her gently by his hold on her waist, “One minute you’re objectin to marryin me cause I’m ‘Elvis’ and you say that as if babies an’ me don’t go together like cookies and cream -and now here ya are all talkin bout hangin with cool cats and producin and climbin the laddeh. Which ya want honey? Thought you wanted to be a mama?”
“I’m just saying,” she stamps her foot in the little bit of floor space his crowding has given her on the porch, “You’re talkin bout marryin and Graceland havin a missus and meanwhile you’re gonna be gone across the ocean! How’s that make any sense? Ya don’t need a wife for that, I could be house sittin for ya just as well, while producin with Cooke in the meanwhile and when you get back, I’ve no doubt you’ll fall in with some starlet or other. See? There, fixed. Sensible plan now. And I agree to it, yer welcome.”
“Little girl, yer not hearin me at all.” he raps his knuckles against her oh so sensible yet silly head, her startled indignance the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “I want me a woman to marry before God, to give my children to, to raise those children to a right legacy, to help me make a change for good in all this mess. And I want that to be you.” he articulates the last sentence clearly and prods his index finger against her chest, like the finger of fate marking her out for this.
“Elvis i-“she shakes her head adamantly, and he thinks it must be a little hard for her to understand that his every daydream, every evening prayer, every midnight spill into the sheets these last two years have been about making a family outta her. But she will get the vision, she’s gotta. She has to. Or else. Else he’ll do somethin rash and unchristian if she doesn’t relent to bind herself to him before he goes back to Fort Hood.
Somethin real rash, like wring her neck or admit he’s a goddamn slave for her. Embarrass them both. She probably can tell, the way he’s gripping her and nearly salivating over such close proximity to her lips and body and everything. He has to remember his mama, has to remember how to treat the gal she pointed out to him in the manner befitting a new Mrs Presley.
“You want babies? Hmm?” he’s breathing in her exhales he’s so close, as she’s bowed backwards as he leans in, her little head almost bumping her fathers front door in an effort to keep their lips apart, “I’ll give ya babies. You wanna make good music? The best in music is holdin ya right now, baby. You wanna make a difference? I know ya do, ya want power and ya want security and money and ya want love, don’t ya? Way I see it, I’ll give ya that. Better and more of it than anyone. Sensible plan, ain’t that what ya called yours? Well, here’s one, damn sight more sensible than yours and tryin all this solo.”
Her pretty lips are puffing with each labored breath she takes to steady herself and her eyes track over his face intently, and he knows she weighing the pluses and the minuses, his fame verses money and his moods over his devotion and his appetites over his loyalty and anonymity over influence. The hands she has pressed to his chest to keep them apart soften with each passing moment.
“But -do ya even love me, Elvis?” she asks, a note of something very sad but a little hopeful lingering in her voice. Like she’s mourning the fact that she’s considering this for all the reasons that make her so wonderfully practical, but the girl in her can’t help but wish for a little romance.
A gust of a breeze whips her hair around her in a swirl of brushed out curls and her eyes sparkle even in the porch’s shade. He cups that precious, brave little face in his hands and presses her against the screen door, neighbors and street traffic be damned
“Oh honey,” he gushes then, cool demeanor abandoned and all that lovely passion she adores in him coming out at last, “I have for a long while now. And I can’t think of a stronger way of showin ya than to give you my babies. To make a life with you, give ya mama’s house and my name. Please say yes, Elaine. Please, please I need ya to say yes.”
“Oh Elvis,” she breathes, feeling him hold her and promise to her and want her is every bit as naturally compelling of obedience as that night of the funeral, but she never once imagined it as his wife, “I just don’t wanna be alone Elvis,” she tries to make him see her true fear, “I’m real honored by this but, but I’m so lonely and I want all this so I won’t be! And you’re gonna be gone. Gone to Germany and then gone to make music and movies and-“
“I’m gonna take ya with me! Always, always together, I swear!” he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers firmly despite her lack of response, “I need me a wife, Elaine,” he pants against her mouth and she can smell the spearmint of his gum, “I need a good woman, and you’re the one mama pointed out to me. Shouldn't of put it off so long but I-I was a fool. I need ya with me everywhere I go, don’t send me across the ocean without you! Don’t, you wouldn’t be so cruel, please baby, please!”
He’s not sure how it happens but he’s slumping down the length of her body, hands sliding along the gorgeous outline of her and suddenly he’s on his knees, painted boards hard against his knees, begging like a groom oughta, his face is pressed to her womb. This womb he’s got such plans for and such right to and he has to make her see that in his head they’ve been married for years already. “I’ve taken care of ya, haven’t I?” he begs her to remember, “You trust me to take care of ya, to love ya, to cherish you, don’t ya, Elaine?”
The kicker is she does. And she’s not sure why she worries more is needed. All she wants right now is to be needed, and the crying, grieving young man clinging to her right now needs her badly. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly and likes the way that makes him shudder. “Will you always need me, Elvis? Really? Even when good times come round again?” she asks what really worries her.
He pulls his face away and looks up at her, lips puffy and his dark lashes clumped from tears, “Always, Elaine, always.”
“And you’ll give me Graceland?”
“Yeah, course baby, you’ll be my wife, it’ll be yours!”
“I mean...legally, you’ll give it legally.” she doesn’t ask this time, she’s stating conditions.
“I-I-if it matters so much, sure. What’s some more papers?” he laughs. “Why?” he adds with a flicker of dread.
“You won’t divorce me if I’ve got Miss Gladys’ house, will ya?” she explains and has the audacity to grin.
It hurts deeply that she still doesn’t get just how badly he wants her for all eternity. “Why you talkin bout divorce, honey?” he asks wounded.
“So many people get them.” she says mournfully, “And mostly entertainers.”
“That's cause they marry icy bimbos and are selfish bastards.” he states, rising up to his own two feet again, the topic back on safe ground -ground he has the upper hand in. “See, darlin, there’s plenty of men who want wives, and cause the wives want children they tell the poor girls they want kids, too. But they don’t, so once the wives have got the kids they move on. Real dastardly thing to do and more common than you realize. And with your money and your looks, you’ll have a line of such good for nothin bastards linin up with fake promises. You understandin me?”
“Yeah.” she swallows thickly, knowing he knows far more about all this than she does.
“So it’s important to marry someone ya trust, right?” he prods.
“Yeah.”
“More so than even someone ya love, dontchu think?”
“I suppose so.” she nods, care creasing her face, “You don’t mind that I don’t love ya Elvis?” she asks worriedly, “Because I am really fond of ya, and I enjoy you I just -I don’t think I love ya.”
“I’m willin to bet that’ll come.” he says solemnly, “And I’m willin to put in the work to make it grow. Just as I will our babies.”
Her face softens at the mention of the longed for babies. A smile even plays around her mouth, beginning to plump up her cheeks. “Will ya check, then?” she whispers.
“Check what?” he asks, absently thumbing the beautiful line of one of her collarbones.
“If it’ll work.” she blushes, ignorance both emboldening and shaming her all at once, “Make sure we can make babies for sure, you and I.”
“Gotta do that before you say yes?” he laughs, disbelieving and feral at the prospect.
“Yes, it’s important to me, Elvis.” she remonstrates against his humor. “Most important thing of all.”
“A-a-alright, I-I-I’ll check.” his mouth runs dry at the prospect of seeing, smelling, maybe even wetting his fingers in that place he’s wrung himself dry imagining night after night and morning after morning. And the fact she’s asking, offering -under ill informed pretenses as it is. “Can’t do it out here.” he whispers, the depravity of his taking advantage like this actually taking a toll on his bravado.
“Come in then,” she whispers in turn, though from a different motivation, “but be quiet, daddy’s still sleeping, ya kept him up so late.”
She opens the creaky screen door with painstakingly slow care, and the large wooden one, too, with its familiar stained glass windows. It is cool and dark without a lamp on or blind raised inside their den, she’d barely gotten dressed and come downstairs to start breakfast when she heard his car peel out in the front drive.
She spins around just short of the coffee table, her circle skirt swirling and swooshing tantalizingly, no stockings on yet as she wasn’t prepared for guests.
“Where should I….” she trails off as she surveys the different flat spots upon which to perch for this examination, her devout ignorance of the socially condemned nature of it all giving her a chipper confidence that Elvis finds throbbingly attractive in an unschooled virgin.
His voice sounds gravelly and about three octaves deeper than usual when he croaks out, “Anywhere's fine -how bout here…” he picks her up by her waist to sit her on the high top, Oriental imported side table, a gift her father gave her mother as an anniversary present.
It’s taller than the couch and it lets her legs dangle apart naturally. He could easily take himself out and slide right into her at this level. It makes him dizzy when he hears her shaky exhale as he seats her, belying a real, deep seated nervousness on her part that he’ll find some abnormality with her that will crush her dreams. The fact he’s certain she’s not as nervous over a red blooded boy lifting her skirt and looking at her bare cunt makes him so painfully hungry to devour her that he has to gnaw on his bottom lip to keep from groaning. -And taking advantage of what’s not yet his. For his mama's sake, for his mama's dream of this, he’s gotta keep ahold of himself and refrain from anything God might find fault with. For them to be punished with barrenness because Elvis couldn’t hold back before the proper time would be too cruel. He can’t do that to Elaine or himself. He’s gonna be the man in her life, has already been so for awhile now, and he’s gotta do right by her. He thinks this even as he gives her lips another peck and sinks to his knees to give her pussy an inspection that is as futile as it is arousing.
He rubs at her thighs over her dress soothingly, though by her quick breaths he suspects she’d rather he hurry and give a verdict. Her eyes that have been turned towards the staircase, making certain father is still asleep, drop to his face expectantly.
“Here I -let me, I should probably-“ she says determinedly and suddenly she’s pulling at her skirt, the thin fabric sliding from beneath his palms as she lifts it and then he’s holding onto warm flesh instead as she gathers the fabric to her waist.
He chokes on his own spit at her innocent brazenness and has to glance away for a moment from the blood stirring sight of graceful thighs bracketing plain white panties, a wet patch visible on the crotch and a few stray wiry curls sneaking out from the seams at her groin.
“You ok?” she asks, and the genuine concern in his voice tells him that the agonizing need he feels is visible on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just so goddamn pretty.” he admits, truth the only thing he can manage to blurt and it serves him well.
She looks relieved and gives him a pleased smile and chooses to spread her legs wider. So wide in fact that she has her heels propped on the sideboard beside her hips. Who needs stirrups for an examination when a girl can bend like that? Bend…oh god he can’t wait to bend and bury and dump inside her…
Elvis has never wanted to dive face first into a muff so bad in all his life. The wedding is gonna have to be next week. He can’t wait longer than that, he doubts he’ll sleep a wink until he knows what she tastes like.
“Can you tell like this?” her soft voice reminds him he gave her a fucking excuse for this perverted cock tease torture and he reels through the options of backing out now or pushing this a little further. “Or do you need to move these?” she voices the second option for him, the barrier of her panties implied if not mentioned.
“Yeah, gotta look at the lil house.” his voice comes out wavering and wrecked, “Lemme just-“ he tentatively raises his hands to her precious place and hooks his fingers to the cotton panties and pulls them to the side.
She’s so goddamn pink. Glistening and swollen like she’s been freshly teased. Something about him excites her, without her even knowing. Her curls are sopping wet, they slick up his fingers as he holds her apart, and in their strands they’re trapping the most delicious essence he’s ever smelled in his entire life. She hasn’t shaved, she hasn’t primped, she hasn’t stretched herself out, she’s exactly as God made her and he’s the first man to see it.
It causes him to whimper, long and gut wrenched, his whole throat throbbing as he wiggles on the floor.
“Oh…Jesus.” he wheezes.
“What?” she demands peering down at him, and she’s the authoritative one here, now that he’s all but humping the floor in his delicious misery of viewing Elaine Phipps’ perfect, unused cunt. “Will it work? Is something wrong?”
“No no no.” he garbles out, one hand slipping from her slick folds and gravitating to his own lap out of natural instinct, crushing his twitching bulge into submission, “You’re perfect, Elaine, absolutely perfect.” he wants to cry, maybe because he's so horny, maybe because he loves her so damn much. He’s really not sure, nothing makes sense except that he was meant to live inside that perfect little haven of hers that is honest to God trickling before his very eyes. His thumb involuntarily swipes up and spread it to her clit, making her buck towards his attentions.
“It’s achey, Elvis, it’s always achey.” she informs him, “Does that mean anything? Is it wrong?”
And he knows she means wrong as in humanly abnormal, not morally incorrect. He’ll never let her know anyone would think differently. As long as he possibly can he’ll keep her eager and unabashed.
“Nah honey, nah that’s a good sign.” he breathes heavily, still stroking that dribbling, untried place, “Means you’re fertile, means you’re ready for a baby. It’ll keep achin till ya have one in ya.”
“Oh.” her mouth rounds childishly and she nods as if this were a sudden epiphany.
“We should give ya a baby, then, shouldn’t we?” he prods now that he’s got her attention and her arousal.
“I’spose so.” she agrees, tentative, her lip drawn between her teeth, still contemplating this marital bargain with the fabric of her hem crushed in her palms. “Your babies’ll fit?” she asks once more for good measure.
His babies. She’s no idea it’s his cock she should anticipate. “Yeah, perfect fit. Don’t think anyone else’s would.”
“Oh….good.” she lets out a massive sigh of relief she has been holding in for most of her teenage years.
“Gotta marry me, first.” he reminds, swirling his thumb faster and she keens a little before remembering her father upstairs, “I can’t go round givin babies to someone who ain’t my wife, ya know.”
“Alright.” she agrees to marry him in a soft whisper, her hand coming to cover his own tenderly as it works between her legs, stalling his distracting movements.
“What’s that?” he asks again, breathless with hope.
“I’ll marry ya Elvis, if you’re sure we’ll work.”
“I’m sure.” he swears, watching the way her pink hole flutters, “I’ll give ya a baby and fix the ache, darlin. Won’t have to fret over anything again your whole life.”
The floorboards upstairs creak and Elvis nearly yelps in shock, so far gone was he in their own little world he’d forgotten that he’s got her spread bare in her father’s den. He stands up abruptly and pulls her skirt down gently, making her proper again.
Wedding night. He’s gotta wait till the wedding night before trying anything, or even explaining the mechanics of it, he thinks. He doesn’t wanna spook her, and he wants to have her stuck with him before he drops that final little detail about the necessity of a man going inside and blowing his load in order for the miracle of life to occur.
Yeah, that’s not something you tell a skittish little girl who just barely agreed to marry you for your mansion and security.
He’s pulled from this scheming by the feel of her arms winding around his neck, drawing him forward gently and to the immense relief of his battered heart he realizes she is about to kiss him. It’s a sweet kiss, gentle and tentative and growing in surety as she decides she likes it, and it’s the loveliest one he’s ever had, made so by the relief that she must care for him somehow, even if it’s no match for the insane obsession he harbors for her. It’ll do, it’s a seed he can water and grow.
“You’ll stay for breakfast?” she asks him as they pull away, drowsy and a little cross eyed from how long they’ve smooched.
“Love ta.” he murmurs, pulling her off the table and drawing her close so he’s holding her to him, swaying gently and savoring the feeling of his soon to be wife as she nestles into his chest.
Father comes down shortly after.
“It’s settled, sir.” Elvis informs him, a respectful title tacked on to a declaration that leaves no room for argument from either of you, “She’s agreed. And I’m the happiest of men.”
Most fathers might tell him, “congratulations” or “welcome to the family” or if it were someone besides Elvis Presley they might venture a “be true to her.”
Father says not a word, all advice and remonstrance and conditions already expended on this headstrong young man the night before. He surveys the young people as they embrace with a genuine smile on his lips and a world of melancholy in his eyes. Elaine wonders if he is mourning the loss of his own bride, or mourning her future as Elvis’.
For Elvis, though, that day is remembered as the most joyful and blessed of days when he lucked out and snagged the loveliest creature living. And how he came to eat French toast and cantaloupe beside her father without having washed his hands.
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heavenlybutler · 2 years
Text
loving you will be the death of me
pairing: austin!elvis x reader
summary: you catch elvis cheating but you let your love for him overpower your common sense so you stay. you stay and give him the opportunity to change but he never does so you have to force yourself to leave.
warnings: angst, mentions of sex, cheating, think that’s all.
note: the only thing that comes easy to me when writing is angst so i apologize that it is 90% of my page. i think it’s easier for me to write about because i’ve only ever been in toxic relationships lol. sorry about how short this is, just wanted to post something while i’m working on the second part of it’s always been you. i wrote this while in a rush but hopefully it doesn’t suck.
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elvis had been coming home later and later every night. he never knew you’d be awake when he crawled into the bed at such hours.
at first, you believed him when he told you he was just drinking and blowing off steam with friends. you never really questioned it until one morning you discovered that to be false, rolling over to find elvis sleeping peacefully with a lipstick print on his neck.
you had played it off as if you never saw it, like a complete and total fool. you pushed it to the back of your mind and pretended it never happened because you were such a fool for him. you tried to convince yourself that maybe it was a one time thing.
but elvis then started staying out all night, not coming home until the sun was rising and you were already up for the day. he’d crash in the bed as soon as he arrived home, not even giving you so much as a glance. by the time he woke up, he’d be straight out of the door again. the two of you barely had conversations anymore, barely even had physical contact.
in the beginning, you tried to defend his actions in your own head. maybe it’s my fault, you thought to yourself because that’s how much of a fool you were for him. the man was breaking your heart into pieces but still your thoughts defended him.
after months of that same mindset and the same actions from elvis, you finally came to the scary realization that this cycle would never stop. but still, being the idiot in love that you were, you gave him one last chance.
you stayed up all night, waiting for him to come home but when the sun began to rise and elvis wasn’t home, you began to pack.
you pulled out three large suitcases that were in the back of elvis’ closet and laid them out on the floor. you neatly placed your clothes in them at first so you could fit as much as possible but you quickly realized you couldn’t stuff four years worth of things in three suitcases. so you began packing the more important and sentimental items.
you let the emotions you had been holding in for months release as you picked up the photo of you and elvis from his side table. the picture was from the first date you had ever went on, you looked up at elvis as if he was already your whole world.
you gently placed it into a suitcase before heading to the bathroom to gather your necessities from there. your heart skipped a beat when you heard the bedroom door open, but you kept your eyes on the bathroom counter. you knew the second you looked at him you would crumble.
“honey, what is this mess?” elvis nonchalantly called out to you when he saw the clothes and suitcases stirred all over the floor. you ignored him as you kept frantically shoving things into your makeup bag.
elvis walked over to the bathroom door seeing you in a frenzy, “y/n, what in the hell are you doing?”
your eyes stuck like glue to the floor as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his when you did. elvis followed you to the suitcases on the floor as you fell onto your knees to start zipping one of them up.
“speak to me god damnit!” elvis suddenly yelled which almost made you jump out of your skin. elvis didn’t notice the tears that were streaming down your face until you looked up to him.
“i’m leaving,” you stated in a calm matter. in that moment, you knew you should have never looked at him. the expression that came upon his face from your words made you want to stop what you were doing… but you couldn’t, everything about the situation was too far gone.
elvis chuckled under his breath as if you were joking, “what in the hell are you doin’ all this for?” he couldn’t believe what was happening.
you looked up to him with a look of disgust plastered on your face, “don’t act like you don’t have a damn clue.”
in that moment, elvis knew that you knew but he didn’t want to believe that. he never meant for things to continue on this long with the woman he had been seeing. at first the only reason he was seeing her was too simply get away from all of commotion in his life. elvis didn’t like to be vulnerable or weak around anyone but through the years you witnessed many of his lowest moments… the lowest being the loss of his mother which you never left his side by.
elvis felt as if he lost his masculine role to you. he though you no longer looked at him as the strong and protective man he was when the two of you first met. he thought you must’ve looked at him as if he was less of a man and more of a weakling after watching him fall apart for years. the woman he had been seeing knew nothing about him but you, you knew everything about him. the woman had never seen him break into pieces or seen his vulnerable side… to her, he was simply just a man and elvis adored that.
elvis was in complete shock, “darlin’, stop… i ain’t-”
“you’re not stopping me,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear the bull shit lies he was about to tell.
elvis shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, “you ain’t leavin’ me, y/n...”
elvis knew how much you loved him deep down, how much you fawned over him. he figured if you ever found out about the cheating, he could apologize and you would forgive him right away… because only you loved him that deeply. but if you had known about this for months, he knew it might be too far gone so he had to do something. he began pulling the neatly packed clothes out of your suitcase and throwing them all over the room.
“stop!” you shouted but elvis didn’t seem to care or listen as he threw more and more out of your bags. “you haven’t paid any mind to me in months! i might as well be a damn ghost here so why the hell do you decide to care now?”
“now you know that ain’t true, y/n,” elvis spoke softly, knowing your words were true but he had to at least try to repair all of the damage he had done.
“when’s the last time we had a conversation that lasted longer than five minutes? when’s the last time you kissed me? i don’t mean those damn one second pecks… hell elvis, when’s the last time we’ve had sex?”
elvis was speechless, he knew the woman had distracted him from you but not this much.
“you haven’t even told me you loved me in months…” you choked out, “you used to tell me every single day…”
“i do love you, baby… i’ve just been busy and-“ elvis started to defend himself but in his heart he knew that there was no repairing the pain he had caused you.
“busy?” you exclaimed, “cut the bullshit, elvis! busy fucking another woman?” you finally stood up off of the ground.
“i…”
“don’t you dare try to lie to me!” you screamed and cried loud enough that you were red in the face.
there was almost no chance of elvis saving this and he knew that when he asked, “how long have you known?”
“months… but i stuck around waiting… just waiting for you to change, just waiting for a lightbulb to go off in your head… but it never did. i’m such a fucking idiot…”
“don’t say that, baby,” elvis spoke softly as he walked closer to you but you backed away. you knew the second he touched you that you would melt right under him. “i can change. i promise i can. just give me one more chance, please,” elvis begged with teary eyes.
elvis meant every word, he had finally realized what he had done. he had hurt the only person who truly knew the real him, the only person who truly loved the real him.
“i’m tired of waiting on you, elvis- i’m done. i’m done waiting on you…”
“but baby-“ elvis started to protest but you cut him off.
“you know, all you had to do was love me. was that so fucking hard?”
“i do love you, baby! i’ve loved you since the day i met you!”
all you could to respond was shake your head, you knew if he loved you that he would never have treated you this way.
“i can’t do this…” you mumbled before running out of the shared bedroom. you didn’t care about getting any of your things, you could get them at a later time when elvis wasn’t there… but you couldn’t listen to anymore of the lies that came from the lips that used to kiss you to sleep every night. your vision was blurred from tears as you ran down the stairs but elvis’ words stopped you in your tracks.
“you don’t love me?” elvis asked but it sounded like more of a statement to you.
you whipped your head around quickly, your mouth falling open from his words.
elvis in fact knew that you loved him… but he used that to his favor.
elvis continued from the top of the staircase, “if you loved me, you’d stay…”
all those words did was make you finally snap.
“you think i don’t fucking love you, elvis?” you shouted as you walked back up the stairs, getting closer to him by the second. “don’t you think if i didn’t love you i would have left a long fucking time ago? do you think i’ve cried myself to sleep every single night because i don’t love you? i’ve blamed myself for your wrong doings! you don’t get to tell me i don’t love you, elvis!” you pushed his chest when you finally met him at the top of the stairs.
never in elvis’ life did he think you’d ever abandon him but reality finally hit him… elvis sank down to his knees, begging at your feet, the epitome of vulnerability… “if you love me…,” elvis gulped as he looked up to your sad eyes, “you’ll stay…”
as you watched tears slowly leave the blue eyes you had fell in love with all those years ago, all you wanted to do was sink down next to him and hold him… comfort him until the tears were gone, but he wasn’t yours to console anymore.
“elvis, i love you so much that i feel as if it’s killing me everyday,” you choked out, “but i’m afraid if i don’t leave, loving you will be the death of me… i can’t do it anymore. ”
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screensland · 2 years
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dreamingofep · 1 year
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Austin, you are incredible in every single way. You brought a resurgence to the King of Rock n’ Roll and he is looking down at you and smiling. Thank you for blessing us with the best performance of the year🖤🤍🖤
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asshlyyyy · 1 year
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The Famous Truth
Here is another draft that I am trying to get rid of and out the door. I liked how this one turned out. You got the angst, you got the fluff, you got the tears, you got absolutely everything you could ever want! Thank you for everyone who sticks by my side through everything I'm going through.
Masterlist
Pairing: Elvis (or Austin!Elvis) x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Cheating, Spelling and Grammatical Errors most likely. I am not trying to justify cheating! No one should ever cheat and get back with that person. this is purely fiction and make believe. Let me know if i missed anything!
Word Count: 2.7k
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You knew the difficulties that came with Elvis when you first got together. Not even with Elvis himself, but his whole lifestyle of being rich and famous. You knew that there were going to be hard moments, you just never knew it would come to this. 
Sure, you knew girls would be throwing themselves at him… but you never thought that you would find him in bed with someone else. You stormed out of the room without a sound and picked up your son, and rushed down the stairs where your daughter was. 
“Sweetheart, listen- Would ya just stop,” Elvis rushed after you. You shook your head repeatedly and waved your daughter over. 
“I’m not stopping Elvis. Was this not enough for you? Was I not good enough? We’re your kids not good enough?” You whimpered out as the tears threatened to fall. Elvis shook his head.
“No no, baby, I- I can explain.” You shook your head and tried to focus on anything else. Having to deal with Elvis was not it at the moment. Especially not in front of your kids. 
So, as you zippered up your daughter's coat you thought of his explanation. “Let me guess, she jumped on you and you dragged her all the way here. Then you two somehow ended up in our bed?” You let out a chuckle and stood up. “I’m not going to stand here fighting with you. I-I can’t do the fighting. Look, we’re going to stay at my parent’s house. If you want to be an adult and tell the truth, then you can come over.”
“Please… no… sweetheart, you can stay here-“ he reached out for you as you made your way to the door. 
“Elvis, let it go please… I’m not letting our kids stay here while she’s still in our bed. It’s best if we part ways… and… and give you some time.” You whispered as you opened the front door.
Elvis shook his head as his eyes started to cloud up with tears. “Darlin’- I know- I know that I love you. You’re ma whole goddamn life. I love ma children. I love you all please… please.” He begged you. You shook your head and looked away from him. It pained you too much to look at him. To see him like this… All you wanted to do was hug him. 
“I can’t look at you without seeing her now… it’s going to take some time.” You explained as you took a deep breath.
“Darlin-“
“Goodbye Elvis… say bye to your daddy kids.” You said towards your two young kids. 
“Bye daddy,” your daughter said as she pulled herself away and ran to her father. She engulfed him into a hug. You sucked in a breath and bit your tongue to stop crying.
“Bai,” your lil baby boy waved to him. Elvis frowned and hugged his daughter tightly. 
“I love you all… very much, and I promise… I promise I will fix this… I will fix everything.” He whispered and kissed the top of his daughter's head. He looked you in the eyes and mouthed I love you. 
“We love you too,” you whispered and grabbed your daughter’s hand and left. You let out a shaky breath and went over to the car. 
You got your kids into the car seats and closed the door to the back. You looked at the house one last time and felt yourself coming near. You had to get to your parents before you broke down completely. You sucke in a breath and got into the driver’s seat. You started the car and made your way to your parents. 
As you got to your parents you got out of the car. Your hands were starting to shake and your breathing was getting quicker. Before you know it, your breathing would slow and you would need to just pause on the world. You closed the door and went to quickly get your kids out. 
You made it to the front door and knocked quickly on the door. You wouldn’t stop until they answered. God, you prayed that they were home. If not you were just going to have to break in. Before you knew it your mother answered the door.
“Mama, thank god,” you breathed out. She raised an eyebrow in confusion and let you three in. 
‘What happened?” She asked.
“I just, can you please take the kids before I break down because I am on my last limit here.” You said as you handed her your son.
“Yeah of course, I-“
“Thank you!” You rushed over to your old bedroom, which turned into a room for your kids and you and Elvis when you two visited. It was a little cramp but, right now you just needed to lay down.
You got into the bed and pulled the covers over your head. You allowed yourself to break down. The tears formed quickly and fell just as fast. Your throat became dry, and you pulled yourself into a ball. You couldn’t believe that actually happened. You always knew that something might happen out on the road yeah, but to see him in bed… in your shared bed with someone else. God you wanted to punch him!
You knew it would be smart to just never see him again, but you couldn’t do that to your kids. They absolutely adored and loved the hell out of him. Who knew when you would see him again. It could be days, weeks, months, hell maybe even years. You didn’t want it to be years. God almighty please… please don’t make it years. 
You heard a soft knock on your door and you shook your head quickly. This was your alone time. You didn’t want to be interrupted, you wanted to be left alone in your thoughts. You yelled out a go away and sunk further and further into the bed. 
“Honey, can I please come in?” Your father’s voice said. You whimpered and shook your head, only to realize that he couldn’t see you.
“No.”
“Well, I’m coming in either way.” He said and came into the room. You let out a huff and tightened the covers over yourself. You felt the edge of the bed dip and only assumed it was your father. 
“Look, I may not know what happened… I could only guess it’s Elvis. You two have been through a lot. And, if the news has taught me anythin’ bought him… it’s the girls. But I want to remind you that you two have been apart for a long time. You yourself sealed comfort in another guy.”
“Dad-“
“Yes, I know it didn’t go far, and I’m sure it wouldn’t have gone far with Elvis either. He’s not an idiot to lose you-”
“They were in bed together dad!” You yelled at him. He didn’t see what you saw, and what you saw… god you didn’t ever want to see that. You never ever want to see it again in fact.
“Where they actually having sex or just making out?” He asked you. 
“They were… they were just making out…” you muttered. 
“Look honey, this may be something you don’t want to hear… But a lot of times people will kiss other people while in the relationship. I know there've been men who kissed ya mama when we were younger and together. Sure, some even made it to the bed. But… it finished before it got far.” Your father explained.
“Doesn’t mean you do it when you have kids.” You muttered under your breath.
“Listen, I may not know Elvis on a personal level. However, I know that he would have realized his mistake and ended things before they got further . Then, he would have told you everything. So, I guess what I’m trying to get at is… go talk to him.”
“I’m not talking to him right now.” You moved the cover from over your face. You looked towards your father who had his back turned to you.
“Well, it’s better than waiting for him. Look, just… give it a day or two. Then you two should meet and talk it out.” He suggested. You nodded and took it in. You knew he was right. Elvis wouldn’t purposely mess up your marriage, Especially when you two had kids.
“Okay… I will.”
Days went by, weeks went by in fact. You went to reach out to Elvis and there was no answer. You went by his house and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t making any music, he wasn’t doing any concerts… it’s like he just disappeared. 
“That fucking idiot!” You yelled as you threw the pillow across the room. “First he says he’ll fix everything and now he’s just gone! GONE!”
“Y/n-“
“Don’t Y/n me, I have every right to act this way.” You huffed and avoided eye contact with your friend Jess. 
“Oh please I would be pissed also, but he wouldn’t just disappear.” She tried to reason with you. You turned and looked at her, an annoyed expression on your face. 
“I called Jerry, I called Vernon, hell I even called Bill! Lord knows they aren’t as tight as they used to be. How could he just disappear??? It makes no sense!” You whined and fell face first into the bed. 
“There’s always the second option.” You moved your face from the mattress and looked over at her.
“The second option…?”
“Yeah, you take expensive things, leave the kids with Vernon, run off and start a new life in Canada.” She explained. You gave her an annoyed look and threw a pillow at her.
“I’m not doing that. I am not leaving my kids, and I am not leaving the love of my life.” You explained to her.
“Well he isn’t here so…”
“You’re a terrible friend,” you groaned and pushed yourself up. “I need to check on my baby.”
“Mhm, I guess I’ll continue to hit the phone books.”
“Thank you,” you whispered to her gently.
“Yeah yeah, I know, I’m the best ever.”
“Don’t get cocky now,” you laughed gently and headed off to your baby boy.  You headed down the hall and into your boys room. You decided a couple of days ago to begin staying back in Graceland. It wasn’t fair to your parents having to take care of you and your kids.
“Where’s my baby boy,” you said in a soft voice as you looked in the crib. “There he is,” you smiled and tickled his stomach gently. He laughed in response and kicked his small little itty bitty legs. 
“Aw my cutie little Orson,” you spoke in a baby voice and picked him up. “How was your nap?”
“Goo,”
“That’s good,” you whispered and kissed his forehead. “I bet you’re hungry.”
“Wes,” he responded and rested his head on your shoulder. You smiled and picked up his blanket. You headed out of the room and made your way downstairs. You heard your daughter speaking and you didn’t think much of it. She had her imaginary friends.
“Honey, come here please.” You called out to her. You heard your daughter's feet hit against the floor and she soon appeared in front of you. 
“Yes mama?” She asked with her hands behind her back.
“Are you hungry? I’m about to make your brother some food.” You asked her. She nodded her head quickly.
“Yes please,” she smiled.
“Okay, I’ll make you some also then. Say, who were you talking to?” You said as you did a double take. You wanted to make sure it was just an imaginary friend and not just some stranger. 
“Daddy.”
“Daddy? Daddy isn’t here.” You shook your head confused. She giggled at you lightly and nodded her head.
“Yes huh, he on the phone.” Honey replied. 
“Where?” 
“In the guest bedroom.”
“Take your brother,” you said and handed her Orson. You walked over to the guest room and picked up the phone. You let out a breath.
“Elvis…?” You said softly.
“Y/n,” his voice replied back. 
“Wh- what-,” you could cry right now! Well, that was until you remembered everything he did. “Where the hell are you!”
“All right alright sugar, calm down okay? Let me explain.”
“We should be talking about this in person, not over the phone Elvis,” you quickly muttered. “Where even are you??”
“I went away for a bit. Remember how I said I was going to fix everything? I was.” He explained. You made a confused look.
“You can’t just fix things without talking to me, Elvis. That is how you fix this, by talking to me.”
“I know I know, look okay… I’ll be home tonight. It’ll be after the kids are asleep. We’ll talk, and I’ll show you how I fixed it.”
“Okay… okay…”
“I love you, with all my life, darlin’.”
“I love you too, Elvis.” You whispered. 
“Dry those tears for me. I’ll be home soon. Bye.” With that, he hung up. You wiped the few tears that have formed and hung up the phone. Tonight… Tonight…
Night time came way quicker then you wanted it to. The sun was no longer in the sky and it was just dark out. No sun. No blue sky. No nothing, just the moon and stars. You got more nervous with every minute that passed!
So, as you passed the living room, you played with the rings that laid on your fingers. You dreaded seeing him again. You were scared to see him again. You knew you were going to hug him and melt against his touch. You knew you were going to ball your eyes out and forgive him no matter what.
God were you being stupid? You had to be… maybe that started way before when you first met. People called you stupid for falling in love with him. People called you stupid for wanting to marry him. People called you stupid for having kids with him. Just, everyone tended to call you stupid for everything you did with Elvis. 
You paused in front of the fireplace and looked at the picture that hung above it. Every year we tend to change it out, but just looking at it… It reminded you how much he loved you. He wouldn’t just go ahead and end everything. He looked happy and in love with every picture there was. The way he’s looking at his kids, you held a look in your eye that screamed love. 
Maybe you were stupid… but goddamnit… you were stupid in love with Elvis Presley. You heard the sound of a car door closed and you turned around. This was it… this was it. You made your way over to the front door just as he was opening it. You gave him one look and you started to cry. Goddamnit emotion! Get the hell out of here. 
Elvis walked the rest of the way in and closed the door behind him. He put down his things and looked at you sadly. Your bottom lip started to quiver and you rushed to him and threw your arms around him. You squeezed him hard and never let go. God, you could never let him leave again. No no no. Never ever again. 
He returned your embrace quickly and kissed the top of your head. You two ended up slowly making your way to the floor and held each other for what seemed like hours. It quite literally ended up being an hour. You pulled away after that and looked at him.
You watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “I went to every ring store in America. Well… almost every one. I wanted to find the most perfect ring for you.”
“Elvis-“
“This ring symbolizes the love I hold for you every single day. This ring symbolizes the love we share for each other. This ring symbolizes so goddamn much. And, it took forever because I knew I had to find a find better than your engagement ring and goddamn. Sent me damn near half all the states.” You giggled lightly and reached up to his face.
“You’re a fool,” you whispered and closed the distance between you two. You kissed him so deeply, and so emotionally. You had to make sure he knew what he put you through all those goddamn weeks. 
“A fool who’s in love,” he mumbled against your lips after pulling away. 
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Mutual Taglist: @babyhoneypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles
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