Elvis One Shots/Imagines

It Keeps Right On A-Hurtin' - Elvis

A/N: Request by @mayaishome I tried to be really cautious with this topic, I hope that transferred

You'd kissed Elvis on the cheek before he went off, needing to meet with the Colonel for God knows what before coming back for dinner. You watched him drive away.

Something started to gnaw at you but you couldn't describe it. You tried to distract yourself by cleaning a bit, playing a little piano, and eventually trying to read. But each flick of the page brought you out of the fantasy world and back into the shit that was storming inside.

It was a completely normal day and suddenly memories of the shit you'd done start flooding back. All those moments you humiliated both yourself and Elvis. The times you came stumbling into the house with your panties down your legs, or vomit covering your front, or the time you flashed the paparazzi in response to their badgering questions. You started to sink deeper and deeper into the couch until your knees hit your chest. What a pathetic excuse of a human you were.

You pushed from the couch and went to the mirror, angry at what you saw. Your hair was just the ugly in between of curly and straight, your eyes bore large, purple bags from lack of sleep that you just couldn't get rid of, and dots of acne ran along your chin right next to the deceptively dark hairs of your mustache. It was official, you were ugly. An alcoholic, ugly woman who was not deserving of Elvis's love.

You didn't notice at first that you'd been drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. You didn't even feel yourself unscrew the cap until the bottle of vodka was before you, tempting you. You shouldn't, Elvis would be angry. But you'd done so good at not taking a drop. Surely a sip wouldn't kill anyone? You deserved it, just a moment of not having to remember how ugly you were and totally undeserving of the Elvis Presley.

You took a swig, placed the bottle down, and screwed the cap back on. The familiar burn went down your throat. It wasn't enough. You drank more, more and more until it dribbled down your front and made you cough. You earned this, this release.

You drank all afternoon, feeling the past wash away as the alcohol poured liquid fire into your veins. You drank until the sun went down and the paintings on the walls were nothing but blurs. You drank until your body lay on a crumpled heap on the floor, dried vomit on your chest, as Elvis comes in.

You earned this, you deserved this.

"Baby..." his deep voice seemed so far away, and blinking away the darkness didn't help. You felt a pair of large hands under your arms as you were suddenly heaved into the air. You heaved but there was nothing left.

"I sorry," you grumbled, though your words were incoherent.

You deserved this.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Elvis said, leading you to the stairs. You could barely walk and he gave up halfway through, lifting you bridal style.

He carried you to the bedroom as though you weighed nothing, sitting you on the toilet as he started up the bath. Elvis let out a little sigh that almost sounded disappointed, "baby what happened?"

You didn't answer, you just started to try and unbutton your top. His warm, calloused fingers came to help you. Soon you were naked as a newborn, and he was helping you into the warm bath. You huddled close, bringing your knees to your chest and closing your eyes as though that would block the shame out. You were drunk, but you weren't drunk enough to truly truly forget.

His hands came to your hair, wetting it then starting to rub shampoo in. You closed your eyes even tighter, like a child who doesn't want to let the boogeyman know she's scared. But this one is scared. Tears started to fall from your cheeks.

"What's wrong little Darlin? Shampoo in your eye?"

You shook your head but the thoughts came flooding in, furious and without remorse.

You deserved this. Why are you upset? Isn't this what you asked for? How could you expect anything different? If you're so addicted why don't you just stop? You deserve all of this. Drink, drink until your throat is dry, drink to forget and remember that you deserve all of it. Every last drop.

You sobbed, letting your head fall as loud, savage cries came from your chest. You screamed as though that would get the feelings out any sooner. Why you?

You hadn't noticed Elvis remove his shoes or slowly take his clothes off, but you did notice when he joined you in the tub. His big body surrounded you, warm arms encasing you as his fingers ran up and down your arms. His husky voice filled the bathroom as he sang. You didn't hear the beginning, but you heard as his words danced along the goose flesh of you skin.

"Lonely rivers flow
To the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea
Lonely rivers cry
Wait for me, wait for me
I'll be coming home, wait for me..."