With Love, 𝙀𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙨

Chapter 5

Y/N HUDSON

APRIL 21, 1957

"Billy stop whippin' that football so close to the house, ya' gonna break something!"

"Where's the mixer at?"

"I can't find my runnin' shoes!"

"Did you check on your feet, idiot?"

It was the usual chaos on Saturday mornings that woke you up. Despite the walls being somewhat thick, you still heard the commotion coming from around the house. It's been a little less than a month since everyone moved into Graceland and everything has been a 'chaotic breeze'. This was what you get for agreeing to live in a mansion with your friends with little to no parental supervision, despite the fact most of you were in your 20s.

You walked down the stairs from your bedroom and the aroma of blueberry muffins filled your nostrils. You said good morning to everyone you passed and made your way into the kitchen. Miss Jenkins, Elvis' cook, was whipping up some breakfast in the kitchen.

She noticed when you walked in and immediately set a glass of orange juice on the counter for you. You walked over to go pick up your glass of orange juice and kissed her on the cheek before she began running around the kitchen once more.

"Good morning Miss Jenkins," You said, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the orange juice. "What'cha cooking?"

"Mornin' baby. Just some breakfast for everyone. I made some muffins with a new recipe, try it!" Miss Jenkins nearly shoved the blueberry muffin into your mouth, but you weren't complaining, it was delicious, as was everything else she cooked. "Mr. Presley up yet? His food's just about done."

"This muffin's delicious, Miss Jenkins. And I don't think so, I can take up his food for him if you want."

She told you to take as many muffins as you wanted and thought it'd be a good idea if you took the food up to Elvis before it got cold. On his plates, there were some scrambled eggs, sausages, a biscuit, and bacon. His drink to wash it all down would be a cup of coffee. You never thought Elvis was a coffee type and you guess it was just because of his hard work recently.

✩

You balanced the tray on your hip as you knocked on the door repetitively, but received no answer. Bringing it upon yourself to wake him up, you turned the door knob and let yourself in.

Upon entering, the room was fairly dark, his thick curtains were draped over the windows and blocked any sunlight from entering the room. The only source of light was coming from Gunsmoke, which was a show playing on the television quietly, the volume turned down so Elvis could sleep soundly the night before. You sighed and set his breakfast tray on the coffee table in his room. You set your muffin down on the plate as well.

"Mister Presley, wake up!" You said in a sing-song voice as you walked around the room, drawing the curtains from each window.

A low and muffled groan came from the bed, you turned and saw Elvis' figure tangled within the sheets and one arm dangling off the side of the bed. You laughed and picked up the set of clothes from the night before off the floor and threw them down the laundry chute.

"Good-mornin' lil mama," he said raspily, picking his head up to look at you. "It smells go-od!"

Many would wonder how you weren't swooning over Elvis talking to you, let alone calling you nicknames, in that sexy morning voice of his. The low pitch, the quietness, the raspiness and grogginess, and that little whine that came through sometimes when he talked in the morning did use to make your stomach do a hundred flips, but you got used to it at this point. However, some things he says and the way he says them will still make you feel that way at times.