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ghxst-heart · 2 years

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ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ─ ᴇʟᴠɪꜱ ᴘʀᴇꜱʟᴇʏ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (Y/N) was a good girl. She was always home before her curfew, she helped her father prepare for his gigs, and she stayed away from the good-for-nothin’ stagehand boys that were always trying to win her affection. She was a good girl, her father’s obedient pride and joy, until Elvis Presley became his opening act. ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Usual time-period sexism, angst, hurt/comfort. ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪɴғᴏ: Pronouns used are She/Her/Hers, HankSnowDaughter!Reader, kind of an Innocent!Reader, AustinButler!Elvis, the girl in the header is not any indication as to what Reader looks like I just found the pic on WeHeartIt. ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: Fem!Reader, Crushing!Elvis Presley X Reader ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.7k

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғɪᴠᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢ sʜᴏᴛ ᴍɪssɪssɪᴘᴘɪ ʙᴏʏ sᴇʀɪᴇs

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The first thing that (Y/N) heard the following morning was obnoxious knocking on the door of her motel room. At first, she thought it was the beat of a drum, an extension of her dream of the concert from the night before, but the more it droned on, monotonous and unrelenting, she realized that someone was at her door. (Y/N)’s face scrunched in annoyance as she lifted her head from the pillow, bleary eyes squinting to find the analog clock above the television. It was hardly six, but the sunlight was streaming through the sheer drawn curtains so intently that she finally recognized how hot the room was.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) grumbled and let her head fall back to the pillow, wanting to catch even just a few minutes more sleep as she grabbed a pillow behind her to cover her head with. The carnival wasn’t scheduled to leave until eight; she could sleep for another hour before getting out of bed. (Y/N) prayed that whoever was knocking at her door would go away, leaving her alone for a few extra minutes of solitude, and she let herself believe that they had when the knocking ceased. A happy sigh escaped her lips, and she snuggled further into the pillow, wrapping her arms tightly around it as she coaxed herself back into dreamland.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎It wasn’t even two minutes later that the incessant knocking started again, and she groaned with dread. She didn’t want to wake up yet. She kept her eyes closed, her voice heavy with sleep as she called out for her brother.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Jimmie, get the door, will ya?” (Y/N) groaned, tightening her hold on the pillow covering her face. She was met with silence, as much as she could get without the constant knocking echoing from the door. "Jim?” Her brows furrowed, and she pulled the extra pillow away from her head, glancing over her shoulder to see that her brother’s bed was still tidily made, the old quilt pulled taught over the corners of the mattress. He hadn’t come back last night.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The knocking started to become louder, and (Y/N) found it ridiculous that whoever was on the other side of the door hadn’t broken their knuckles yet. With a frustrated sigh, she threw the blankets from her body and grabbed the jacket she had worn the previous night, attempting to cover her slip by wrapping it tightly around her shoulders as she made her way to the door. She glanced through the peephole, and her mood only darkened.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I don’t wanna talk to ya, Betty.” (Y/N) sternly said, effectively ending the girl’s abuse on the motel door. (Y/N) kept her face pressed against the door, watching as Betty’s hand reluctantly fell to her side, and her face pulled into a frown. She usually would have felt bad for causing her mood, but she didn’t care at the moment.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“C’mon, (Y/N/N), just open the door.” Betty sweetly said, grinning as she stepped to the side to attempt to peer through the window. (Y/N) reached out and snatched the curtains closed even further, cloaking the room in darkness.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I’m goin’ back to bed. I’ll see ya in Tallahassee.” (Y/N) bit, her tone dripping with ice. She glared at the door, willing Betty to turn away and leave her alone, but the stubborn girl wouldn’t budge.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty thoughtfully hummed on the other side of the door, and (Y/N) could practically see her tapping her chin in faux consideration. "Don’t ya wanna hear the great news, though, darlin’?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“No,” (Y/N) immediately snapped, her eyes narrowing even further as her jaw clenched. After Betty’s inappropriate gift and the incredibly rude awakening, she didn’t want to hear anything that Betty had to say. (Y/N) needed some space to cool off for a bit; she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t say something she’d regret later.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Not even if it’s about your lover?” Betty snarkily asked, and (Y/N)’s mood plummeted.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“He ain’t my lover!” (Y/N) snarled, and in a split-second decision, she unlocked the door and swung it open, coming face to face with Betty. Her frown deepened when she saw the teasing look on Betty’s face, and she slowly shook her head. "I’m done pretendin’ that there’s somethin’ there that ain’t, Betty. He’s taken, and not by me. End of story.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty’s face fell as (Y/N) ranted, and she took a smaller step closer to her, reaching out to gently grab her hand. "What happened, doll?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) scoffed, pulling her hand from Betty’s and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Nothin’ happened, and nothin’ is gonna happen. I ain’t gonna go after someone that has a girl waitin’ for ’im at home, not anymore. I jus’ can’t.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Yer blinder than a bat, little girl.” Betty chuckled, shaking her head as she smirked at the younger woman.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“‘Little girl?’ Please,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, sinking into her hip as she matched Betty’s tone. "You’re all of three years older than me; I ain’t a little girl.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty’s face contorted into a sly smirk, and she shook her head, leaning back on her heels as she smartly said, “When ya stop actin’ like one, I won’ call ya that anymore. Wake up and smell the roses, sunshine. Elvis Presley is smitten with ya, and some prissy little teenager waitin’ by the phone for ’im ain’t changin’ that.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) fell silent, her eyes glancing to the side as she thought over her following words. Truthfully, she didn’t have a clue what to say. How was she supposed to respond? Her heart felt heavy, and a lump started forming in her throat as she thought about Betty’s statement. She couldn’t let herself fall into that temptation no matter how much she wanted Betty’s words to be true. Even with her desperation and determination from the night before lingering in her mind, she couldn’t help the sadness that crept in as she realized what she really wanted. She wanted Elvis, no matter how much she knew she shouldn’t. But, she’d already gotten herself into trouble by letting Betty put those ideas in her head, and she needed to be careful.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) met Betty’s eyes again, her irises swimming with nothing but despair. "As long as that sweet girl is in the picture, I won’t be. I couldn’t do that to ‘er.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎A wicked grin spread across Betty’s cherry-painted lips, “Ya already have, darlin’.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s eyes dropped to her feet, and her arms pulled the jacket over her shoulders tighter around her, the guilt from the night before rushing back to her heart. She felt her eyes sting, and she fought with herself to blink the tears away. She couldn’t let herself cry, not in front of Betty. She’d wait until she was alone, probably in the shower, so her tears could mix with the hot stream of water, and her sobs could be covered by the sound of the bathroom fan. She’d wait until then to admit to herself that she’d been the kind of woman she never wanted to become, the kind of woman with no regard for anyone else.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎She heard a door open and shut, and then the sound of Elvis’ laugh floated toward her as Scotty spoke to him. She wanted to rush back into her room, retreat from the confrontation she knew was coming, but she never got the chance.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Woah, what’s with the waterworks?” Scotty’s voice asked, and (Y/N) hastily began to wipe at her cheeks, clearing her blotchy skin of the few tears that had dropped. She sniffled, fearfully glancing up as Scotty and Elvis joined Betty outside her door. Scotty slung his arm over Betty’s shoulders, “Sun’s barely up. Nothin’ shoulda made ya sad yet, doll.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) shook her head, plastering a too-fake smile onto her face as she dismissed her tears. "Ah, it’s nothin’, Scotty. Jus’ bright out here, hurts my eyes.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) did well to avoid Elvis’ gaze, knowing that if she looked up at him, she’d crumble. She couldn’t risk it, so she quickly mumbled that she was going to shower before breakfast with the carnival and slid back into her room, collapsing against the door the moment it was closed. Her head bowed as her body started to tremble with weary sobs, but she clasped a hand over her mouth to quiet them. She hadn’t heard the group move on from her door. She knew they were still standing there, probably shocked by her out-of-character shortness. She was always warm and friendly; this reaction was totally unlike her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What’s goin’ on?” (Y/N) heard Elvis ask, his voice deep as if he’d just woken up. Her heart panged in her chest, hating that he was so concerned with her wellbeing. He was just so good, so sweet. That just made her feel even worse. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked, “Somethin’ happen?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎There was a pause before Betty bitterly said, “She jus’ ain’t an early bird.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s head softly thudded against the door, and she winced as the sound reverberated in her ears, making it sound much louder than it probably was. She bit her lip when she heard Betty begin to pull the two men along, saying that she was jonesing for some coffee after her late night. (Y/N)’s shoulders fell with relief, no matter how slight it felt, and she pushed herself off the door to slink back into bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep anymore, but she simply didn’t have the energy to face the day just yet. Despite the room’s heat, she pulled the blankets up and over her body, tucking them firmly under her chin as she retreated into her mind, ready to let her thoughts consume her. She knew it wasn’t the healthiest way of coping, but it was all she could manage at the moment.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎She had only laid down for a moment before a faint knock sounded on the door. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to just be left alone. She felt a single tear slip from the corner of her eye as she cleared her throat, letting her shoulders turn toward the ceiling slightly so the person on the other side of the door could hear her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I’m busy!” (Y/N) weakly called and frowned when her voice cracked, revealing a tiny bit of her genuine emotions. She sighed and shook her head, turning over once more and hoping that whoever stood outside her room took the hint.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“No, ya ain’t.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎It was Elvis. Of course, it was.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) didn’t know how to respectfully tell him to leave her alone, so she opted for silence. She thought that it worked, she heard a defeated sigh through the door, but her relief was short-lived, just as it was just a few minutes ago when Betty woke her. She heard the doorknob twist before the door opened, and she shot upright, her eyes widening as she realized that she had forgotten to lock the door. Sunlight streamed through the crack in the door, only a part of it blocked by Elvis as he poked his head inside. (Y/N)’s heart ached as she took him in. The sunlight illuminated his form, bringing a halo effect to his presence. She wanted to roll her eyes; of course, he looked like an angel.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Can I come in, doll?” He had a soft expression on his face, nothing accusatory or overly happy about it. He looked her over, and a slight frown formed when he saw her tear-stained cheeks. Then, when (Y/N) didn’t immediately tell him to get out, he took a tentative step into the room and shut the door, enveloping the room in darkness once more. He flicked on the light, and (Y/N) squinted as her vision adjusted to the sudden lighting, her hand coming up to shield her eyes.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis began slowly crossing the room, rounding her bed and taking a seat on the edge. (Y/N) pushed herself up against the headboard, her knees tucked under her chin and her arms cradling her legs to her body. Elvis quietly chuckled and shuffled closer to her, placing his large, warm hand on her knee. Warmth spread through (Y/N)’s body, and she let out a shuddering sigh.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What’s got ya all teary-eyed, baby?” Elvis quietly asked, his southern drawl threatening to pull (Y/N) under his spell. She wanted to grab his hand in her own, hold it tight as she told him all of her thoughts and worries, but she knew that she’d be going against her promise to herself if she did. So, instead, she narrowed her eyes at his hand until he got the hint and removed it. Her heart tugged when he sighed, raising his hands in surrender as he shook his head. "A’ight, I get it. Don’ wanna be touched right now. Not a problem.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) thickly swallowed, her eyes closing slightly as she gathered herself. Then, finally, she let out a shaky breath, “Thank you.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis nodded, and (Y/N) somehow found the courage to let her eyes meet his. He held no resentment or sadness in his eyes at her rejection, and she felt even worse. Dixie was so lucky; Elvis was so kind and considerate. He was everything any woman could ever want. He was everything that she could ever want.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Ya wanna talk ’bout anythin’?” Elvis asked, turning his body, so one leg was propped on the bed while the other hung off the edge. He copied her movements, only he let one arm hang around his shin while his chin rested on his knee. He looked so innocent, staring at her like that, his eyes wide and endearing. "I don’ like seein’ ya so sad, doll.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) let out a pathetic chuckle, her eyes falling to the worn quilt bunched around her feet. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t leave him without an answer. He wouldn’t leave her alone until she spoke to him. She let out a deep sigh, peeking at him through her lashes before closing her eyes with a shake of her head. She decided to be as vague as possible while still letting some truth leave her lips. "I ain’t been the best person lately, jus’ caught up to me this mornin’.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching her face. (Y/N) could feel his gaze, and she started to feel itchy. She never wanted to feel uncomfortable with Elvis, but the hesitancy of his body language was only making her nerves worse. Finally, Elvis hummed, his back straightening as he lifted his chin from his knee. "This ’bout last night? Before my set?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) slowly raised her eyes, but she didn’t look his way. Instead, she nodded, her chin rocking back and forth on her knees as her fingers started to mess with a stray thread from the quilt. "Part of it. I shouldn’t have said that; it was inappropriate of me.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis let out a quiet chuckle, and (Y/N)’s attention finally snapped to him. Her brows furrowed, and her jaw slacked at his reaction. How could he be laughing? What was amusing about her acting so pathetically sensual around him?

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What’s so funny?” (Y/N) asked, her voice small. She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, but her mouth asked the question before she could think it over. She found that happening a lot with Elvis; his ways of not keeping his thoughts bottled up slowly transferred to her. Elvis laughed louder, his light eyes shining with adoration. (Y/N) felt her body start to heat up, a pretty rosy color spreading up the back of her neck and onto her cheeks. She tucked her face into her slip, letting only her eyes peek up from her knees. "Elvis, what’re ya laughin’ at? I’m bein’ serious!”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis grinned, shaking his head as he stared into her eyes. "I ain’t never met anyone as adorable as you, baby.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Despite herself, (Y/N) felt a slight smile tug at her lips, but her guilty thoughts about Dixie quickly squashed the heartwarming compliment from the man in front of her. She shook her head and forced herself to look away from Elvis again, her cheek resting on her knee as she focused on the window. She could see shadows of people walking past her room, and she heard the faint voice of her father. Her body froze, goosebumps prickling her skin as she waited for him to walk past her room. He’d kill her if he knew she and Elvis were alone in her room, and a new wave of guilt crashed over her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Tears brimmed (Y/N)’s eyes again, and she squeezed them shut, her heart feeling heavier than ever before. She felt her lip quiver, and she clamped her teeth down on it to distract herself from what she was feeling. If she could focus on the pain of her teeth sinking into her lip, she could attempt to forget what a horrible person she was becoming. She could try to forget about the man-snatching, disappointment of a daughter she was.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎She tried her hardest but felt her shoulders shake as a rough sob coursed through her body, meaning that she hadn’t succeeded. Even before Elvis, she had never been the poster child for emotional control. She felt the bed dip beside her before Elvis hesitantly placed his hand on hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. She pushed her face further away from him, shame overtaking her body. She heard Elvis sigh, but it didn’t sound like he was frustrated with her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“C’mon, baby doll,” Elvis whispered, his free arm wrapping around her shoulder. (Y/N) felt her body involuntarily relax as he started to rub soothing patterns into her back, his fingers ghosting over the thin fabric of her slip. She sighed and turned her head back to him, finding him closer than she thought he’d be. Their faces were closer than the night before, their noses almost brushing against each other. She could feel his hot breath fan across her parted lips, smelling like mint toothpaste and a hint of espresso. She suddenly felt self-conscious, realizing that she hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet, and clamped her lips together. Elvis nudged the tip of her nose with his, letting his hand fall to the small of her back. "You ain’t been a bad person, (Y/N). Ya never could be.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) felt her stomach churn with anticipation, and her heart hammered in her chest, echoing so loudly in her ears that it was all she could hear. Any moment now, she knew he’d lean in to kiss her. She wanted to kiss him so badly; she had spent the past two weeks dreaming about what his lips would feel like against hers. She imagined now that he’d taste of mint and coffee, she imagined that he’d kiss her gently and lovingly. God, she wanted him to kiss her, but as his lips brushed over hers, Dixie’s face flashed in her mind, and she felt her body become rigid with remorse.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I can’t do this,” (Y/N) breathed, pulling her face away from his. Her eyes burned with tears of sadness, and she shook her head as she scooted away from him. She hated it; she felt it was the worst thing she’d ever had to do, but she knew she had to. It had gone too far.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis watched her, finally letting his face fall with hurt. His eyes were wide with wonder, and his lips parted in slight shock, unsure why she’d pulled away. She knew that he thought she wanted to kiss him, and she did, but he didn’t see the reason she couldn’t. Perhaps he had forgotten all about Dixie, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t his girl. Even if Elvis had forgotten about her, (Y/N) hadn’t.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) shook her head, her eyes glossy as she sighed. "We can’t do this, Elvis. Ya know we can’t. You’re goin’ home to Dixie today.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Realization slowly spread across Elvis’ face, and he paled, thickly swallowing as he ran his hand across his jaw. (Y/N) watched him with bated breath, not knowing how he’d react. Then, it finally seemed to hit him, the reality of the situation they had gotten themselves into. All of the flirting, the lingering touches and stares, and impure thoughts about one another late at night brought them to this. All those little, seemingly insignificant things. It almost amazed (Y/N) that, although what they were doing was wrong, especially while Elvis had Dixie back home, it never felt that way. Maybe that’s why this hurt so much. They couldn’t let it happen no matter how much they wanted the other. Not in good conscience, anyway.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I don’ have to go home.” Elvis suddenly said, his voice sounding thoughtful and calculative. (Y/N)’s heart dropped at his words, and she shook her head, contradicting her instinctive feeling. She wanted Elvis to stay; she wanted him all to herself. She wanted him to be hers. Elvis moved closer to (Y/N), sudden desperation appearing in his eyes as he grabbed her hand. "I ain’t never had more fun than I have this week, (Y/N), an’ you’ve been such a big part o’ that. The Colonel wants to talk to me and the boys this mornin’, an’ we both know what he’s gon’ say.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s head sadly tilted to the side, her brows pulling together as she listened to him ramble. She hadn’t heard him speak so eagerly before, at least not about the possibility of staying with the carnival for her. Yet, as much as she loved the warmth that involuntarily spread through her chest at his voice’s sincerity, she knew she couldn’t encourage it.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Elvis,” (Y/N) sighed, her hand gently squeezing his. It never ceased to amaze her how soft his hands were. His skin was always warm and smooth, bringing immediate comfort to (Y/N) with each touch. Her eyes dropped to where they held each other’s hands, her small one wholly enclosed in his large one. She could feel the calluses on his hands, his fingertips rough from his years playing the guitar. Her finger trailed across his knuckles, her movements almost dispirited. "We can’t pretend that Dixie don’t exist. She’s your girl, not me.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Ya could be,” Elvis spoke almost as if he hadn’t even thought about his words. He began to ramble, “(Y/N), I want ya to be my girl. I can call Dixie right now. I can -- "

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Stop,” (Y/N) choked out, cutting him off. (Y/N)’s heart thrummed in her chest, and she felt as if her world had stopped. ‘Ya could be.’ Those three words rocked her to her core; they were everything she wanted to hear. Yet, she didn’t know how to react. She felt as if all of her dreams were coming true. It was a euphoric feeling, but the longer she kept her mouth shut and didn’t say anything, the more contradictory she felt about it. He’d be willing to end things with Dixie for her in an instant, but how could he do that? Wouldn’t he feel any regret at all? Wouldn’t he need time to heal from the breakup?

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) searched his crystal eyes, but, for once, she couldn’t tell what emotion he was holding in them. It looked like a mix of excitement, adrenaline, and a twinge of sadness hidden somewhere deep within. (Y/N) shook her head, licking her lips as she took a shaky breath. "Ya can’t do that to ‘er, not while you’re hundreds of miles away. That ain’t fair to her. She deserves to hear it from you, face-to-face.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis nodded, dragging a hand down his face as he considered her words. He let out a long breath, something of a smile painted across his face. (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by his reaction, and it only deepened when he reached up and gently ran the backs of his fingers across her jaw, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. "You’re gonna be the death o’ me, darlin’, I swear it.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) didn’t know what to say, so she just stared at him. Her features were set in a look of shock and pure joy, and that seemed to be enough for Elvis. Then, silence settled over the pair, and although it was nice, it opened the door in (Y/N)’s mind for her overthinking to creep in. A whirlwind morning full of so many emotions and proclamations, but she still felt as if she were standing at the same spot she was when she woke up. Elvis wanted her, he wanted to make her his, but the fact still remained; Dixie was still his girl. So, where did that leave them?

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) never got the opportunity to put her thoughts into words because two short knocks on the motel door broke through their sacred space, and it flew open, sunlight and Jimmie’s voice flooding the room. (Y/N)’s head swiveled over her shoulder, taking in her brother’s labored breathing and goofy smile.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Elvis!” Jimmie excitedly said, his voice far too loud for (Y/N)’s liking. She had gotten used to the silence that settled over herself and Elvis, and she cringed as her brother bounded into the room. "Elvis, the Colonel wants to talk to ya! Says it’s urgent!”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) turned back to Elvis, her eyes doe-like as she carefully took in his every move. She noticed how his hands flexed as he placed them on the bed before he stood up. She saw how Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. She noticed how he nervously slicked his hair back as he stood to his full, intimidating height. Finally, he cleared his throat, eyes slowly drifting between the Snow siblings with a nod.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Guess I better get goin’ then.” Elvis shortly said, patting Jimmie on his shoulder as he passed him. He was partially out the door when (Y/N) suddenly called his name, sliding to the edge of the bed and letting her legs hang off the side, her fingers tightly gripping the quilt under her. He paused, looking back at her with hope shining in his eyes. (Y/N) wasn’t sure why she stopped him, but she didn’t like how they had left things. Her head shook slightly, her mouth opening and closing with unspoken words.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Finally, after what felt like hours, she said, “Good luck.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis let a small grin etch itself onto his face, and he nodded, his voice low and sweet as he said, “Thank ya, darlin’.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The door closed, and (Y/N) felt like the air had been knocked from her lungs. She struggled to fill her body with air. The air was too thick with tension. Jimmie stared at her wide-eyed, his brows scrunched together in confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a bewildered sound left his lips before (Y/N)’s eyes snapped toward him in a warning. He held his hands up in defense, shaking his head as he mentally backed away from the clearly sore subject.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels, “Ya better start gettin’ ready. The Colonel has an announcement to make to everyone’ fore we hit the road.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) simply nodded, but she remained seated on the bed. Jimmie sighed and turned to leave the room, giving her one last parting comment before he left. "I hope ya know what yer doin’, (Y/N/N).”Jimmie left then, leaving (Y/N) alone for the first time all morning. She glanced toward the analog clock above the television, a dry huff of amusement leaving her lips when she saw that it was only half past six. All of that in thirty minutes? If that was how her day had started, how the hell was it going to end?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: You guys, I'm so sorry for the blue balls omg. I told y'all this would be a slow burn, but I honestly didn't anticipate it turning into this much of one. But, I think the whole development of Elvis and the reader's relationship feels really organic, and I think it's flowing nicely. I hope you all think so, too! Thank you guys so much for all of the love and support you've shown this series so far, it means more than I can truly express. Until next time, my loves!

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