Astralheart21 - Tumblr Posts

Just in Time | one-shot

・❥・Pairing : Elvis Presley x reader

・❥・Genre: Time Travel!AU, angst, fluff,'70s!Elvis, loosely based on the TV show 'Timeless.'

・❥・Word Count: 7.6k

・❥・Summary: You are a part of a small team of people whose job is to time travel to the past, to prevent someone and his gang from changing history. But on a mission to protect a certain famous figure from the '70s, things take a turn. You are left to face the consequences of bringing the king of rock 'n roll himself to the year 2023.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings : SFW. A lot of angst, mentions of death, brief period of Elvis being unconscious, mentions of health conditions. Nothing too major though, don't worry.

・❥・Author's Notes: Hi! So this is my very first one-shot, I guess? I've never written one before and I have no idea what is the appropriate word count for one, if I'm being honest. This can also be read as Austin!Elvis if you prefer. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Also I want to mention that this is not cross-posted anywhere else. This is my writing, please do not copy this.

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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“They are taking too long, “ You said, as you nervously fiddled with your fingers. 

“They’ll be back soon. Don’t fret too much Y/N, “ Your boss, Francine, replies with her arms crossed as she portrays all confidence and calmness. You still can’t believe that it’s been three years since Francine recruited you as part of her team, and how long it took her to convince you that it wasn’t a practical joke. 

After all, who the hell would believe someone who tells you that they are offering you a job to be a time traveller? It sounds like a classical plot from a sci-fi movie, you thought. But something in the corner of your mind, perhaps that wishful thinking of the child version of you - brought you to call Francine from the number left on the business card she gave you. 

Once she met you at what she labelled the headquarters, which was really an underground bunker that seemed to be reminiscent of the dystopian movies that were once popular, you began to believe her. Well, and then she showed you a circular-type of metal vehicle with it’s contents inside involving three seats with multiple seatbelts and all the technicalities of the engine and the buttons to operate it. Then and there, Francine told you it was the time machine - and the only one ever in the world. She then told you that it has been test-driven before by herself and the scientists and engineers involved in its creation. 

And so, you accepted. 

It turned out you weren’t the only sceptic though. Francine approached two other people to be part of her team, and eventually, just like you they accepted. The actual job itself was not time travelling for the sake of time travelling. Each mission entails that you and the two other people - Ashton and Colin - were to prevent a particular man by the name of Max and his gang from changing history. They were ruthless and would go above and beyond to create havoc. With each mission, you held your breath and hoped and prayed that the three of you would return to the present time unscathed. That and successfully completing the mission. 

The three of you would always go on the missions together, as without one of you - it’ll be harder to achieve the aim. Until Francine noticed that you were more tired than usual and had a fever running, which she then decided that Ashton and Colin go ahead without you. It is not that you didn’t trust them, it’s just the anxiety of the waiting. 

And so, here you were pacing back and forth. 

“I should’ve gone with them.” You looked at Francine, in which she shakes her head. 

“You and I both know that you weren’t well enough.” 

“But I’m perfectly fine now!” 

“Now, yes. But a while ago you passed out on the couch.” 

You know that she has a point, but it still didn’t settle the nerves in your stomach. Like something has gone horribly wrong with the mission. 

You sighed, “I just have this sickening feeling that something did not go well.” You admit to her. 

“The mission was simple.” Francine argues.

You shake her head, “No, it’s not. Going back to 1972 to track down Max and his gang from possibly murdering a famous star - is anything but simple. What if they got themselves caught? Got themselves killed? What if they did more harm than good?”

“Have faith, Y/N. Ashton and Colin have done this a thousand times.”

Despite her efforts to calm you down, your anxiety cannot help but build up and you spill your thoughts. 

“Not without me they haven’t.” You say, running a hand through your face now.

“I mean, if I’m being honest why the hell is Max targeting Elvis Presley?” You shoot Francine a confused look. 

“I don’t know. We don’t know. But I do know that Max is a deviously smart man. He doesn’t do things just because.” Francine answers. 

All our past missions that you embarked on were self-explanatory. Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, The Watergate Scandal, Henry the VIII, The Second World War, The Moon Landing etc. If you ever had to protect a specific historical figure, they were mainly previous presidents, part of the government, members of monarchy for example. Never have you and the team ever encountered a mission whereby the focus is on an entertainer. Sure, it is undeniable that in the world of performers and actors, they are some that are famous no matter what. Those ones that are still so well-known despite no longer being on Earth. Elvis Presley is one of them. But you are so frustrated on why you cannot figure out why target him? Of course, there is no denying of his impact on music. But music is simply just music. 

Also, not to mention, you have been an Elvis fan since you could remember. Growing up with your grandparents endlessly playing his records whenever you would be at their house. So, although you cannot visit as often as you used to when you were younger, those same records played in your own apartment. This in itself just adds to your frustration because how could you, a very dedicated Elvis fan - not have even an inkling of an idea on why Max and his gang would target him? 

“They are coming!” One of the tech people behind the computer yells, both altering you and Francine who share a look of alert. 

A strong gust of wind blows against everyone as the time machine appears out of thin air, effectively standing still on the empty ground just opposite you, Francine and the team of tech people and scientists behind their computers. You smooth out your hair from the havoc caused by the strong wind. The engine stutters to a silence. 

You feel your heartbeat racing impossibly faster than ever. This is it. Once the door opens, you’ll have your answers to your questions. But what those answers may be - that you are unsure of. 

The door to the time machine slides open, revealing the people inside. You sigh in relief to see your colleagues and friends - Ashton and Colin. Both are breathing and are very much alive, but are sweating profusely and appear to have gone through hell and back. In summary, both are alive but it was definitely not an easy mission. But your breath gets caught up in your throat as your eyes cast over the unconscious figure that has their arms wrapped around Ashton and Colin’s shoulder. 

“Please, do not tell me that’s who I think it is.” You say in warning, clearly rhetorically. Because anyone, you don’t even have to be a fan to know that is definitely him. Sure there are hundreds of Elvis tribute artists out there, but knowing what you know in the nature of your job - that is most certainly an unconscious Elvis Presley that they are carrying. He is wearing that infamous white jumpsuit, the one with all the intricate details of the gemstones and a blue silk scarf wrapped around his neck. Rings upon rings adorned his fingers. 

“Surprise?” Colin says half-joking, half- terrified at the glare you are shooting them two. 

“You-” 

“We can explain.” Ashton interrupts, putting his hand up. 

“I defended both of you against Y/N’s concerns, you better have a good explanation for this.” Francine speaks up, her forehead suddenly knotted. 

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“. . . now do you see why we had no choice?” Ashton finishes explaining. You have been listening to their explanation for the past thirty minutes, as the famous rock ‘n roll star remains unconscious on the bed. His chest rising and falling. 

Initially, they were both sent there to protect Elvis Presley and to do it quietly. But in a turn of events, both reasonably couldn’t have avoided, they had no choice but to carry him to the time machine and just go, just as the bullets of Max and his gang rained on the exterior. They hoped to find Elvis Presley awake, but Max had other plans and planned to hurt the star while he was in his slumber in his Las Vegas penthouse. Luckily, Ashton and Colin were a step ahead and figured his plan out - but they had no second to waste. They had to act fast, with no time to really think about the consequences. And now, after hearing their story, you really couldn’t blame them for their choices. You feel that you would’ve done the exact same thing. 

“I just heard word that Max has time jumped again. November 22, 1963 Dallas,Texas.” Francine reports. 

“The assassination 0f JFK.” You respond quickly. 

All three of you begin to stand up from your seats, ready to head towards the wardrobe to change into clothing suitable for the period of time that you are about to enter. Francine, however, stops you all from getting to the door before anything. 

“Ashton and Colin go. Y/N, stay here.” Francine says. 

You begin to protest, “What? No-”

“You watch over Elvis here. You know the most about him compared to all of us here, plus you are medically trained.” Francine says. 

She was right. When Elvis wakes up, it’s not like there is the option of rushing him to the hospital in case of anything. And the usual doctor and nurse that were hired by Francine, have already left as Friday evening is quickly approaching. It was only down to you. You graduated with a bachelor’s in History and then went on to graduate from nursing school. It is only logical that you stay behind and look after Elvis. 

But, you being naturally stubborn, still persist to protest. 

You were about to argue that Ashton and Colin may need to rest as well, but seeing as they luckily obtained no injuries, left out that argument. 

“But they won’t have a historian with them.” You attempt to argue. 

Knowing that Francine saw how anxious you looked while awaiting Colin and Ashton to return, she must hear you out this time round. You don’t think you can bare another moment of that nerves of knowing it was only them two navigating their way through such a point in American history. It can’t be handled lightly. There is no way. 

“She does have a point, Francine.” Ashton says.

“Yes, they will.”

“Who?” Colin speaks up, curiously asking. 

“Me.” Francine smiles confidently. 

“I-”

“Come on, it’s only one trip. I am a historian myself, should I remind you all.” She explains, which is true. You asked her yourself when you were newly-hired on why she hired you, when she could just go on these missions herself. Her reasoning was that she was the main manager here. She is handling and managing not just the team, but the other employees and the entire operation. So, she went on to look for someone who will solely focus on fulfilling the role of historian. Luckily for her, she found you to be well-versed in history and medically competent. 

After a while of back and forth conversation, you sighed in defeat and agreed to Francine’s decision. All three of them soon boarded the time machine and disappeared into thin air. You just hoped and prayed that they all come back successfully soon. 

As Ashton and Colin have explained, they escaped with Elvis when he was in deep sleep, which he still is. Although he is not injured in anyway, you believe that it doesn’t hurt to still do your checks on him when he wakes up. It is not everyday that someone from the past travels 50 years into the future. And not to mention, someone who you know has several health conditions. 

Now that they were gone, your focus was solely on the raven-haired star that remained asleep on the bed. There were only three rooms in the underground headquarters, in case anyone in the team wanted to sleep here instead of going back to their own house. Even whilst asleep, you cannot help but admire him. Tanned skin, infamous black hair, and not to mention his many jumpsuits. You feel that even without all the glitz and glamour, he would still look effortlessly handsome. 

A groan disrupts you from staring at him, a sound that came from him. 

Shit. You think to yourself. You were still so caught up in trying to process the happenings of the last few hours, you actually haven’t mentally prepared a script or something on how you’ll respond from his questions. Because you know he’ll have questions, any sane person would. 

“W-Where am I? Goddamnit, Red! Why is the damn light so bright in here?” He curses, his hand quickly shielding his eyes from the brightness of the light above him. 

“Um. . . I-I’m sorry. I’ll dim them a little.” You say, hardly recognising the timidness of your voice. You go to the light switch and click the button to lower the brightness, then frantically go back to your chair beside him. 

But now it’s different. Now Elvis Presley has his eyes open, a beautiful blue that you only saw in photos and old videos on youtube. His eyebrows are quirked up in confusion with his eyes squinting at you, as if trying to make sense of the situation. 

“What. . . “ He trails off, “You’re not Red.” He mumbles. 

“No, I’m not.” 

He begins to sit himself up, but you were quick to stand up and gently encourage him to lay back down. 

“Please, lie back down. I promise I won’t hurt you. I-I just need to do a few checks.” You say, attempting to bring back the confidence in your voice. But with his gaze so fixated on you, as if he is studying every inch of your face, you feel yourself heat up. 

He fortunately follows your instructions, but his questions spew out. 

You get out your pen-light from your pocket and shine it into each of his eyes, noting down ‘pupils equal and reactive.’  You then instruct him to try and push back from your hands, and to raise his arms and legs. This is to test his strength and ability to follow instruction. You note down that all are normal and are competent. 

Elvis sighs, “What’s your name, honey?” He says, southern drawl prominent and you feel a weakness in your knees. 

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful name. Y/N, can you please tell me what’s goin’ on?” 

You nod, still avoiding eye contact, “I will. I just need to check your vitals, okay?”

He nods. 

You fit a blood pressure cuff around his arm and take a stethoscope, listening intently to the systolic and diastolic beats. You are aware that due to his cardiac condition, he is hypertensive. The reading shows ‘140/90.’ Although you do not know his normal range, your clinical judgement says that these figures ring true with hypertensive patients. 

You then continue on to check his other vitals; heart rate, respiratory rate, oxygen saturation, temperature. All seem to be within his normal range, although he is presenting a little tachycardic - which is normal for him, and as you have yet to tell him what’s going on, you are sure anxiety mixed into it too. 

“Okay. All seem to be fine.” You conclude. 

“Can I sit up now, doll?” He asks, and you finally look at him. 

“Yeah, of course. But take it slow.” You warn him and decide to place your arms around him, helping him sit up. Once he does so, he leans against the wall and you return back to your seat. 

He looks around the room and you know that look in his eyes. The look that he is aware something bizarre is happening, his face glances to the modern technology. A flat screen TV and laptop on the table.

“I’m not in the hospital, am I?” He asks a smart question as you have just performed a nursing assessment on him. 

You shake your head, “No, you’re not in the hospital.”

“Where then? How’d I get here?” 

You took a deep breath, “Some people tried to harm you and so, my colleagues, they had no choice but to bring you here. You are safe here.”

“Where exactly is here, honey?”

You bit your bottom lip, contemplating on how to explain it all to him. Or how much you can really say to him, as it is already such a danger that he is not in his time now. But then you remember the device that Francine told you about, a device that will help him forget about all this before he goes back. 

So then you explain it to him as best as possible, leaving out a few details of course. You tell him that he is in the year 2023 and about the nature of your job. You then tell him that someone was out to get him, and that’s the only reason why he has been brought here and now. You of course left out the details about Max and his gang, and also did not mention why you have this job in the first place. You simply told him that you time travel to protect history, to make sure that everything is how it is. No further detail. Afterall, once you return him back to his time period, he will naturally forget about all of this. 

Surprisingly, he took it better than you thought. Well, he initially thought that he was in some form of afterlife due to the unusual presence of modern technologies he had never seen before. But then you reassured him that is very far from the truth. Then he thought that someone was playing a prank on him, one of the members of the MM as he said, but you quickly shut down that theory of his. But then pretty soon after all that, he was calm and believed the truth of the situation. As a fan, after reading through many books written about him, you knew that Elvis was an open-minded person. He always believed that there is always so much more than what there is, so it didn’t come much to a surprise to you when he eventually did believe that time travel is real and he is indeed half a century into the future. That and also, unbeknownst to you, how could you not believe someone so beautiful and gentle with him? He was checking you out, and you oblivious as ever, did not even realise it. 

Elvis reveals that he is hungry, just like you predicted. The entire staff has decided to do a group order from a fast food place, in which you ordered two burgers, one coke, and one pepsi. A knock resounds on the door as one of the tech people hands you what you’ve ordered, so you thank him and settle back down to your seat. 

You hand Elvis a burger and a pepsi, “Thanks honey, I could eat.” He says to you, a grin finally showing on his lips. 

You smile back at him and eat your own burger. He is quiet for a while, savouring the flavours of the food in his hands. 

He takes a sip out of the Pepsi and smirks at you, “Hmm. . . how’d you know I like Pepsi?”

You should’ve seen that question coming. You didn’t even ask what he wanted to eat and drink, and yet, you have gotten it exactly right. It can be seen as a lucky guess, but the fact that you are a fan of his - now that is a much more believable reason. 

“Uh, lucky guess I suppose, Mr Presley.” You say, completely lying to your idol. You decided you didn’t really want to reveal to him that you were a fan of his, it did not seem to be professional. 

He whistles, “Mighty guess that is. Please call me Elvis, Mr Presley is my Dad.” He chuckles, and you nod. 

“Right. Sorry, Mr Pre- uh, I mean Elvis.”

You avoid eye contact again, feeling flustered by his intense gaze. You take a sip out of your bottle of coca cola. 

“You look out of sorts. C’mere, honey.” He says. 

“What?” You turn your head back to him, so much out of avoiding eye contact. 

“Sit next to me. “ Elvis says, patting the empty spot next to him on the bed. 

You hesitate. Sitting across from him in a chair was already making you flustered, and now he wants you to sit beside him? You don’t know how you could cope - the fanatic in you and the work version of you are suddenly at war. 

“C’mon, I don’t bite. “ He smirks. 

And so you sigh in defeat, standing up and sitting beside him on the bed with your back leaning against the wall like him. He smiles now in triumph. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask a reasonable and professional question. 

You have never brought back someone from the past to the present time. Lord knows what the possible side effects could be, what those could do to the person’s body. Even more so, someone you know is already experiencing challenges with his health back in his time period. It does not go unnoticed by you that Elvis’ breathing is abnormal and it is evident in the way he talks, how he would mumble his words before pronouncing them clearly. But you know that this is not a time travelling side effect, this is how he was back then - his known respiratory issues. Nevertheless, you feel your heart pinch at the reality of seeing it all before you. 

“Better now I have something to eat. Now, I’d much prefer to talk about you.” He says his flirtatious ways are not a surprise, but nevertheless you feel your face heat up. 

You spend the next hour just talking with Elvis. You find yourself mentally pinching yourself every now and again, as the reality of it all feels incomprehensible to you who is an Elvis fan. You find him stuttering from time to time and mumbling his words, but that boyish charm and that all too well-known southern drawl in his tone. You found yourself laughing, and you are pretty sure that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You’ve heard about Elvis’ sense of humour, but experiencing it yourself is a different matter. 

However, you found that no matter how much you try to divert the conversation back to him, he persists on getting it back to you. In which you found yourself involuntarily blushing as he gazed at you intently, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your lips from time to time. An action you know could very well indicate something, but before that could really go anywhere - you turn your head away very swiftly and clear your throat. 

Reminding yourself that this is work. You are at work. Work that so happens to now involve being in a room watching over Elvis Presley. 

“I-uhm-” You sputter, trying to find something, well anything really to change the subject of conversation. Your prayers seem to have been answered by the door opening and in comes Francine. 

“How’d it go?” You quickly ask her. 

She nods, “Good. All good.” Francine replies, going with a short answer knowing that she needs to be cautious with her words, as confidentiality is key with someone from the past being in the room. 

You sighed in relief at the news, “I’m glad.” 

Francine shuts the door behind her and approaches Elvis, they exchange introductions. But you know that Francine will receive a report from you later on about how he is really doing, in terms of health. 

“Y/N, can I please talk to you outside?” Francine asks, glancing back at Elvis very briefly. 

You nod and look back at Elvis, “I’ll be back, okay?” 

He smirks, “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” 

Once you exit the room and are now in Francine’s office, you are shortly joined by Ashton and Colin. They proceed to explain the details of their mission, but all your brain could focus on is the rock ‘n roll star that is sitting down by himself only a few feet away from you. Nevertheless, you pay attention to their explanation enough to know that the mission was a success. 

“So, how has he been?” Francine asks, you know she’s referring to Elvis. 

You nod, “Fine. Nothing too crazy, which is lucky, given that he was dragged into a time machine and dropped 50 years into the future.” You emphasise, as you shot both Ashton and Colin a look. 

They both just shrugged. 

“Hey, that’s good news right.” Ashton says. 

You sighed, “We need to get him back as soon as possible. Keeping him longer than necessary, well the fact that he is even here at all is already madness itself. “ 

Even though deep down in your heart, your fan heart, you didn’t quite mind that you get to spend time with him. But you know that this is not his time, he has to go back. 

Francine nods at your words, “I agree with Y/N. The longer we keep him here, the more possible consequences it could have to the past. We can’t have that.” 

Colin speaks up, “But how do we know that Max isn’t going to go back for him?” 

You become quiet. He does have a point, one you didn’t really think over. If he is returned now, how do we know that Max isn’t just going to repeat what he already attempted the first time around?

You all grow quiet for a few seconds. 

It was Francine who was the first to speak up, “We can’t be certain. But I do know that Max’s patience is not the greatest. If he does go back, he would’ve done it by now while we are here talking. Look how fast he time jumped to JFK. I have a feeling he won’t be returning for Elvis.” She confidently concludes. 

Colin slowly nods, “Fair enough. But I say we wait a while before returning Elvis back, just to make sure.” 

“Yeah, I agree with Colin.” Ashton says. 

You all then conclude that Elvis will have to spend three more hours before he is returned back to 1973. It is now just gone 10PM, which means all three of you need to go home now and get some rest, because you never know when Max time jumps again and you need all the energy you can when that happens. On that note, Colin and Ashton go home and you are now walking back to the room with Francine to say goodbye to Elvis for now. Francine informed you that she has called back the Doctor and Nurse to watch over him in the meantime, while you go home to rest. 

You both enter the room to find Elvis has fallen asleep. You quietly approach him and tap his shoulder gently, preparing to say your goodbye. He instantly wakes up at your action, as you know that he is a light sleeper - as his chronic insomnia being one thing he tried to fight. 

“Hi, darling.” He instantly grins at you. 

“I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He frowns at your words, “Goodbye?”

“Only for the meantime. I need to go home to get some sleep, but I’ll be back in a few hours.” You smile at him. 

But your words don’t seem to ease the frown on his lips. 

“Can’t you just stay here?” He asks, voice soft. 

Francine clears her throat and you almost forgot that she is in the room. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Presley. I have the most competent medical professionals that will look after you while Y/N is resting.” Francine says.

But Elvis shakes his head, “No thanks, Ma’am. But I’m perfectly fine with Y/N.” 

You sigh at his stubbornness. 

“I assure you, they’ll take good care of you.” Francine repeats again. 

“I need to rest, Elvis. You’ll be fi-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Elvis grasps your hand and you gasp. 

“What if I come with her?” He asks, looking at Francine. 

You and Francine both share a look of shock, eyes widened. 

“Elvis, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say, knowing that this is an insane idea and judging by the look on Francine’s face she’s sharing similar thoughts. 

“Mr Presley, with all due respect, I don’t think that is a safe option for you. Y/N will return after three hours, and then we’ll get you back home.” Francine explains, hoping that it is enough to convince him. 

Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed, “You’ll take me back to my time in three hours?”

You nod, “Yeah, the hours will go by fast.” 

He is silent for a while, his head down low in thought. You exchanged looks with Francine, perhaps he’ll finally agree. 

“Even more reason why I should go with Y/N.” He speaks up and you sigh. 

“Ma’am, I appreciate your concern about my health.” He looks at Francine, “But I-I’m most comfortable with Y/N. She’s the one I know the most since being here. I promise I won’t be trouble. It’s like you say after three hours, I’ll be gone.” He pleads, eyes hopeful. 

You slightly understand his stubbornness now. He does have a point somehow, if you look at it all from his perspective. It’s not a normal circumstance at all, and the person that he really knows was you. He only trusts you. And who can blame him? It was such an unusual situation, and you know in yourself you’d be acting the exact same way if you were in his shoes. 

You are snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Francine finally say something.

“Alright. I trust you to keep your word, Mr. Presley.” Francine says, giving him a look of warning. 

Elvis smiles in triumph, “Thank you, Ma’am.” 

Francine then turns to you, “Are you okay with this, Y/N?” 

You nod, not really being able to say anything right now.

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Oh my god, this is actually happening. You say to yourself, trying to calm down and not freak out. Before leaving the headquarters, Francine was quick to warn you. She knew that you were a fan of Elvis, and of course by him being in your apartment - that is definitely crossing the line you’ve made between work life and personal life. But this is it. 

The drive to your apartment was anything but quiet, as even in the night time, the difference between the ‘70s and 2023 are strikingly standing out. This of course meant that Elivs was gawking at the difference in buildings, and the signs, the clothes people wore, and not to mention the cars that you drove past. It made your heart hurt a little to see him so excited, knowing that this will be the only time he’ll really live to see 2023. 

You’ve planned to go home to rest, but you really do think you won’t have much sleep. You’ll be too busy trying to worry about Elvis. You break out of your thoughts as you open the door to your apartment, letting Elvis enter first and then you. You quickly lock the door and flick the light on. 

“Make yourself at home. I’m just going to get changed, okay?” You tell him. 

Elvis smiles, “This is a cute place you’ve got here, honey.”

You change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable - the typical sweatpants and sweatshirt. You then opted for letting you hair down, out of the strict ponytail it was previously in. You quickly to your night skin care routine, and went back to the living room. 

You see Elvis not on the couch, as you expected, but in front of the Google Home Hub that was on your kitchen counter. His eyebrows were furrowed as he muttered curses to himself, frustration so evident. You bit back a smile at his confusion.

You walk over to him, “Hi, what are you up to?” 

He looks over to you, his eyes briefly glancing at you from head-to-toe and not in a subtle way either. He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and points at the Google Home Hub. 

“This. The hell is this thing? What’s a tiny television doing on your kitchen counter?” He asks, and you can’t help but laugh at his assumption. 

“It’s not a TV. It’s like a um. . .  how could I describe it,” You mumble to yourself and then snapped your fingers.

“It’s like you know a very thin computer screen? Well, it’s that. You can search any information that you want to know, it’s like an encyclopaedia. But instead of having a keyboard attached to it, you can just tap with your fingers. But on this version, you can use your voice.” 

Elvis tilts his head at you, “Honey, I don’t know what the hell you just said.” He laughs.

You cannot help but laugh at his adorable confusion. 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your eyes open, awakening from slumber. You yawn, quickly glancing at the clock in your living room as it reads 12.30AM. In just thirty minutes, you’ll be meeting back up with the team at the Headquarters - ready for Elvis to go home. Speaking of, you look around in a slight panic, but sigh in relief once you see Elvis on the couch with his eyes wide open as he stares at the ceiling. You originally thought about just sleeping in your own bed, but decided it wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to keep an idea on him. Instead, you opted for sleeping on the other couch right across from him in the living room. 

You spoke for a long time before you fell asleep. Both of you are so caught up in your own conversation. After of course trying to explain to Elvis the technology of today, in which he failed terribly at, but you both just laughed at it. He then went on to ask about what other ‘future things’ are available that differs greatly from the 1970s. But you also explained to him that some trends have been going in cycles and are coming back, like fashion for instance. He was quick to find your collection of vinyls, which inevitably led to him discovering your numerous vinyls of his records. He was quick to tease you about it, in which you shyly admitted that you were in fact a fan. 

But then the conversation turned from light-hearted to something a little heavier. You just weren’t prepared for it at all. Elvis noticed how whenever he would make a comment about him being an ‘old man’ in this time, you would grow silent very quickly and refuse to look him in the eye. Then again when he would question and wonder how he’d be living in this time period, so far from the young man that bursted into the scene in the 1950s. On how many people really are a fan of him, how many people remember him. Remember his music, he means. As he presumed that he retired from the music industry and just settled into family life. That is all his presumption of where he is in 2023. 

But then he caught you simply nodding hesitatingly at his theories, and he knew then and there that there was something you were hiding. You knew that before he leaves this time, his memories will be erased anyway, and so you told him. You told him about his unfortunate ending in this world. 

It was difficult for you to tell him, as you saw how watery his eyes got in seconds and how he was shaking his head in refusal of the truth. You couldn’t help but approach him and wrap your arms around him, wishing and hoping that it was different. You know that hugging him is not professional, but this one time, you had to make an exception. 

You saw that it was already 11PM now, it was time to get rest. You knew that your eyes were growing heavy, but you were worried about Elvis, knowing that sleep never was easy for him. But he assured you to not mind him, and just close your eyes. 

Now, it was 12.30am and you are curious to know if he had any shut eye. 

“You’re awake.” You say, and he turns his head to you with that smile of his. 

“I woke up just a little while ago, don’t worry.” He replies. 

You nod and you are unsure of what to say. Your last conversation before falling asleep was a heavy subject. 

“You know, I wished you lived in my time.” He jokes. 

“Why?”

“I-It’s hard to find people to talk to about all the stuff I wanna talk about. You know, they brush it off and are never really interested in it all.” He says, referring to earlier times when you let him speak extensively about all the spiritual books that he’s read and his questions about the universe, and the world in general. 

You are unsure how to respond, “I’m sorry. “ knowing that he always found it difficult to have someone to talk to about his interest, as everyone, even his closest friends laughed at him and didn’t really listen. 

“It gets so lonesome sometimes.” He continues, and you feel pain in your heart for him.

“And I ain’t stupid, you know. I know when a girl is pretending to be listening to me just because they want something else from me. But not you. And I don’t think it’s because it’s your job,” He shakes his head, “I think it’s just cause you are a good person. I can see that.” 

You smile, glad that he feels that way. 

“Thank you, Elvis. But you really are smarter than you give yourself credit for. Nothing you ever say can be too much or crazy.” You say to him, and he stands up and approaches you. 

He is silent, but his gaze keeps flickering from your eyes and your lips.

“Damn, how I wish I’d met you in my time.” He whispers, and then slowly you find him planting a kiss on your cheek. Your face heats up as he pulls away, and he is grinning at your flustered expression. 

Not long after, you receive a call from Francine that it’s time to meet back at the headquarters. You quickly change into your work uniform, grab your car keys and head out the door with Elvis. The drive back to the headquarters was quiet. 

Once entering, you immediately are greeted by Ashton, Colin and Francine. Francine tells you that she has decided that you join the team now in returning Elvis to his time period, after all, he’ll forget about this all anyway once you land there. Francine instructs you that to wipe his memory, you’ll have to wrap a bracelet around his wrist, which will make him fall into a slumber. Once he is asleep, the bracelet will shine green indicating that his memory from this event has been successfully removed, and you can then take off the bracelet. 

“Well, it was nice seeing 2023 even if it was short.” He says, grinning and then goes on to thank Francine. 

You were surprised at first on why Francine told you that Ashton won’t be coming on this trip. It will only be you, Elvis, and Colin. But Francine explained that Ashton opted out to get more rest, and besides, there’s only three seats in the time machine. Colin and Elvis went ahead on being seated and putting seatbelts on. 

This is when you pull Ashton aside, “You are the most energetic person I know, Are you okay?” You bombard him with questions. 

Ashton chuckles, “I’m more than okay, Y/N. “

“Then why did you-”

He leans over to your ear to whisper, “You are a huge fan of his. This will mean more to you than it will to me.”

You look at him in surprised, “Thank you.” You say to him sincerely. 

He simply smirks and ushers you to hurry, “Go, now. Before the machine leaves without you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

It was quick. Next thing you know, you have landed. After regaining initial shock from being in the ‘70s, you feel yourself become upset at the prospect of saying goodbye to Elvis. You know that you have to do this. But from all the conversations you’ve had in such a short period of time, being that close to him - you wished it never ended. 

But it will now, because now you are both standing in his hotel suite. Colin already said his goodbyes, as he waited outside the door. 

“Quickest trip I’ve ever been on, a plane has nothing on that machine.” He jokes, in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You simply chuckle. 

“So, this is the part where you’ll make me forget?” He confirms, eyes downcasted. 

You nod, “Yeah.”

He has already explained how the bracelet will work. 

“Do you have to?” He asks, voice soft and gentle and you almost want to say ‘No, I don’t want to.’

You smile a little at him, “You know I do. It’ll mess-”

“Mess history up, I know.”

Silence.

“What if you stay?”

How you wish it were that easy. 

You shake your head, “You know I can’t do that, Elvis.”

He sighs, knowing you are right. He belongs in this time and you belong in yours. It’s just such a cruel thing that the one person he feels connected to, more than anyone else, happens to be you - a girl very, very far away from him. He almost cursed at the universe on why it had to be this difficult. 

“Thank you for everything, Y/N. “ He finally says, as he takes a seat on his bed. 

“It was no problem at all. “ You say, words are suddenly hard to find. 

“Are you ready?” You ask, in which he nods and takes a deep breath. 

You place the bracelet around his wrist, and in a matter of seconds - his eyes close. You were quick to hold onto the back of his head, as you gently placed his head on the pillow. You then propped up his legs, so now that he was in a comfortable position as he sleeps. The bracelet turns green, and you remove it from him. 

Perhaps you didn’t realise it then, but now you do - tears spill from your eyes, slowly staining your cheeks. A whirlwind of emotions escape your heart - the last hours of being with him, and the reality of his ending. You wished you didn’t have to make him forget, in hopes that he’ll change his ways and live longer. But you knew you couldn’t do that. 

As you look at the raven-haired man in front of you, you gently leave a kiss on his cheek and whisper to him, “I’ll always remember you.” 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Elvis is awoken from his sleep by Jerry, who tells him that rehearsals start soon and he should get something to eat. But Jerry’s words escape Elvis’ focus. 

“E.P?” Jerry says, trying to catch his attention. 

“Yeah?” Elvis replies.

“You okay?” Jerry asks, worry evident on his face. 

Elvis furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah, I'm good. I just had this really strange dream, man.” 

“What dream?”

“Well, I can’t really tell if it was a dream. It was dark but there was this voice, a woman’s voice.” Elvis explains, his forehead knotted in confusion. 

Jerry wanted to ask if it may be his mother. 

But Elvis confirms that it’s certainly not, “It wasn’t my mama. No, this voice is different.” 

Jerry crosses his arms over his chest, “What was the voice saying?”

Elvis shakes his head and looks back at his friend, “She kept saying the same words over and over again.”

“Which is?”

“I’ll always remember you.” 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

It has been a few weeks now since Elvis returned to his time, and so you went back to your normal life. It was hard at first, trying to process the reality of everything that happened. You know it’s different now though whenever you listen to his music, a different kind of feeling. 

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that again?” You say into your phone. You were on the phone to your best friend, who was planning a surprise for their partner, and so he needed your help. Now he was saying the address to the surprise location, and you frantically were trying to find a piece of paper to jot down the address. 

You go through magazines and post-it notes filled with phone numbers and random lists written down. You finally find a small blank piece of paper, slipped in the very corner of one of the magazines on the coffee table. You click your pen and are ready to scribble down the address, but pause when you find out the paper isn’t exactly blank as you remove it from inside the magazine. 

Your eyes quickly trail off the words written, “Um sorry, can I call you back?” You say to your friend on the phone, in which he agrees and you both end the phone call. 

You gasp in disbelief because there on the paper was his handwriting. It read:

‘Thank you for listening and being there for me. You helped me more than you think, Y/N. Don’t forget me.’ E.P.

You were certain that it was his handwriting. You can’t believe it. There you were thinking that you’ll only have a memory of him, but now there is this. Something that you can treasure forever and you can’t help, but think that sometimes life has it’s way of gifting you small miracles. . . just in time. 

Yours Truly - Chapter 2: Mystery Train

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW.

・❥・ Notes: And here we are with Chapter 2! I had so much fun writing this chapter. Chapter 1 was purely to set the scene and really solidify the main characters, with only a glimpse of Elvis at the end. But this one offers the main core of the story, I believe. The heart and soul of it all. I like to be ambiguous, so I do like to leave hints here and there :) 

|chapter index |prev | chapter 3

--

NOVA 

I take a few more sips of water and gently place the glass on the floor, as my eyes find there is an absence of a table. 

I then peer at him, "Awake?" I quickly shook my head at the word. There are a few instances in life where the rule of a 'pinch-me' moment applies, this is not one of those. Those moments happen when a pleasant surprise enters your life, nothing too far out. But this does not even graze the scopes of reality even a little bit. 

Elvis nods, "Yeah." 

I shook my head again, "I don't think so. I'm dreaming." I firmly say.

"Oh, darlin," A smirk forms on his lips and briefly glances at the window to his left before facing me again, "What makes you think that?" His thumb and forefinger on his bottom lip with his elbow leaning on the windowsill. 

I try to avert my eyes from the gesture and focus back on his gaze, waiting for me to answer his question. 

I tilt my head, "I was in my bed seconds ago. it was the end of my birthday party. Now, I'm on a train - which I don't remember getting on - and Elvis Presley is sat in front of me." I gesture to him with both hands, trying to emphasise the ridiculousness of the situation. 

My goodness, even the words coming out of my mouth sound completely insane. 

His azure gaze pierced into me, "You've got it right." He nodded, an amused smirk remained on his lips. 

"So you agree? that I must be dreaming, right?" 

Elvis chuckles calmly, "No, honey. I'm sayin' I am who you say I am and we are on a train." 

"But. . .none of this makes any sense!" I scoffed, not knowing anymore who I am trying to convince more; myself or him? I place my head in my hands, trying to comprehend. 

"Hmm, I agree. " He says, catching my attention to look up at him. 

He continues, "Why serve food and drinks if there is nowhere to place them in this compartment?" He gestures to my empty glass of water on the floor and laughs to himself.

I squint at him, "What are you on about?" 

He shrugs, "What? It doesn't make any sense, Nova." 

I place my head back down in my hands, "My goodness, it's like we are having two different conversations. This is getting nowhere." I mumble under my breath. 

I shot of realisation coursed through me and I looked up, straightening my posture, "Alright. If this isn't a dream then how do you know my name?" 

"How do you know mine?" He says playfully, pointing at himself. 

"That's not the same. You are known by thousands of people, and I'm only known by my friends and family. " I explained as a matter-of-fact. 

"And I am not one of your friends?" Elvis asks, furrowing his eyebrows in mock-hurt. 

"We've never met before and it's impossible to know each other because you're. . ." My words get trap in my throat, "Well. . .you're no longer-"

"Alive." He finishes my sentence, his tone laced in seriousness - a switch from his playful nature of conversing this whole time. 

I bit my bottom lip and I slowly nod.

Silence. 

I clear my throat, "I'm sorry. I . . ." I fiddle with my thumbs, a bad habit that occurs when I cannot quite grasp the facts of the situation at hand. 

"It's alright, darlin." Elvis says quietly, leaning closely and grasps my shaky hands. 

"I just don't like not knowing anything. "

"No one does." He replies. 

"I like knowing the situation and I like the logic because then I'll be able to plan my next move. " I explain, taking my hands away from his hold. 

"I know," Elvis says, a smile forming on his lips - a smile that reached his blue eyes. 

He knows?

Elvis runs his right hand through his jet-black hair, and sighs a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, "Okay. " 

"Okay?" I raise my eyebrow. 

"If you say you are dreaming honey, then okay you are dreaming." He says for the sake of calming me down, even though his eyes are only showing how he is anything but believing his words. 

Still, it comforts me. This entire conversation that I've had with him thus far has been filled with confusion and persistent question on my part, which might have been annoying for him. But I think anyone would be thrown off by it, even more so the fact that Elvis Presley has never made an appearance in my dreams before. And for him to disagree with my judgement and dismiss this as a dream. I'm glad that he has finally offered logical reassurance, something that I needed to hear - it provides the safety of being in the once unknown environment. 

I sighed in relief, "Thank you." I feel my lips pulling upwards into a smile. 

I glance out the window, the passing scenery is beautiful. Lush green hills and evergreen trees, with that quiet hum of the wind. My mind retraces back to the first words he ever said to me, I turn back to him to find him gazing at me. 

His gaze was intense, I feel heat rush to my cheeks. 

"Um. . . I have a question."

"Go on, " He nods, encouragingly. 

"This is a dream. Does this mean you're a ghost? or. . . did I make you up?" I slowly said. 

He chuckles with a shake of a head, "You are a bright girl, Nova. Everything in that pretty head of yours can make anything happen." He points at me, a charming smile prominent on his lips.

"That doesn't answer my question." I chuckle and shake my head, "But okay, okay. A dream is a dream."

"Answer this one then." I begin. 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"When I opened my eyes you said that you were glad to finally find me. What exactly did you mean by that?" I tilted my head. Now that we have established that I am dreaming, my brain retraced the first words Elvis has ever said to me and those words do not sound like a typical conversation-starter. 

The train comes to a screeching halt and I furrow my eyebrows. Elvis pats his hands on his knees and stands up, "Looks like we're here."

"And where is that?" I anxiously ask, looking out the window as I feel a nervous pull in the pit of my stomach - the unknown again. 

"Come on, you'll see." He offers his hands to me.

"You haven't answered my question." 

His forehead knots with a frown on his lips, "I have, Nova."

I shook my head, "No, the one about why you said those words to me?"

His mouth forms an 'O' at realisation, he looks down and shakes his head - his black hair shakes lightly into a less put-together style. But yet, he still manages to pull it off. Elvis chuckles to himself and finally looks up, "You."

"Yeah I know you said those to me-"

He shook his head, "No. I mean. . ." He takes a deep breath, "You. . . I said that because you found me." He softly says, his eyes anticipate a reaction from me. 

He must've sensed the increase in my confusion, so he sighs and says, "Don't worry about it , honey. You coming with me, or be left on this train?" He playfully says, and gestures at the scenery outside the window. 

I sigh with a small smile on my lips and stand up, "Fine. Just tell me. . . where are we?" I ask, taking his hand. 

"Trust me, okay?" He grips my hand tightly in comfort. 

"But what if there's something dangerous? or it's-"

"I won't take no for answer. Sometimes, you gotta just do it and see what's out there. Sometimes you just gotta take a jump." He smirks. 

"Oh, God, that's risky! What if you're a mad man?" I ramble, nervousness piling up in my stomach. 

"You said it yourself, Nova. We don't know each other. So come with me and get to know me." 

It's just a dream.

I nod and he flashes me that infamous smirk of his, licking his bottom lips, "Let's go."

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 5: Questions, Questions, Questions

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. speeding lol, minor character injury, quite angsty.

|chapter index| prev | chapter 6

--

NOVA

A sharp gust of wind blew past me, its never-ending force meeting my skin. It was difficult to adjust to my surroundings, for all I saw is the landscapes flying by past me. Then it occurs to me - I am on a moving vehicle. And I am most certain the person operating the said vehicle - is him. 

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed. 

"Hold on, honey!" With his response, I circle my arms around his waist tightly. 

I have heard of Elvis' love for vehicles. His iconic Pink Cadillac was only one example, but I have heard of his collection of hundreds of cars and evidently-so, his love for motorcycles it seems. 

"Since when did you have a motorcycle?" I inquired, trying my best to level my voice to a volume that he will hear me, despite the encompassing wind. 

"What?" He countered back, briefly turning his head to me before refocusing back on the road. I attempt to repeat my question, but know that he could not hear me - so I focus on stabilising myself on the speeding vehicle and frantically try to distract myself on the fact that this is happening. 

I feel my heart beating loudly against my chest, like it's a beat away from truly escaping out of it. I have steered clear away from motorcycles in my life so far. They are the epicentre of everything that symbolised danger and higher chances of the safety line being crossed. I enjoy my peace and my safety, thus I never saw the appeal of riding a motorcycle. 

Elvis' howling laughter shakes me out of my thoughts. 

"Woohoo! Ain't it fun?" He doesn't turn his head around, but I can sense that he is grinning from the pure sound of glee in his voice. 

I shake my head and then realise that he can't see me. 

"You are crazy!"

He increases the speed which I did not think was possible from the rate that he was going, but it was. My eyes shut with the veins of fear gripping onto me, like it always did. At least maybe with my eyes closed now, it wouldn't be as frightening and we will get to where we are heading soon. I feel my hands tighten around his waist, in desperation that I do not fall off this motorcycle. 

The universe must've heard my prayers as before I knew it, the pace slowed down and the gust of the wind slowed. The motorcycle stopped. I hesitatingly open my eyes to confirm that we have in fact stopped. 

Elvis put the brakes on and swung his legs off the motorcycle, standing up. This is when I briefly realise what he is wearing. A classic black leather jacket, with a black turtleneck underneath and black pants to match. He swiftly took off his helmet, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair briefly. 

How is he so good-looking? 

It really is unbelievable. 

"You need help, doll?" He smirks, that annoying smirk of his. 

"Huh?"

"When you are done checking me out, I can give you hand off the motorcycle. If you'd like." He chuckles at me. 

 I feel immense heat rush up my cheeks. I am horrified.  Was I really staring at him for that long? Nova, get yourself together. 

"I - I wasn't, " I stammered in which he rose an eyebrow at me, "Oh, shut it. I can get off this fine."  I said before he approaches me. 

Frankly speaking, it does suck that I am shorter than him. Tall people really do have the advantage of a lot of things. For instance, getting off a motorcycle does not require taking multitudes of time trying to get your feet to reach the ground. A problem that I am encountering as of now. 

"Are you sur-" 

I cut him off with my hands up at him, "Yeah, I got th-"

My sentence is cut off by the imbalance of my body, as I feel my body met the ground. That f.ucking hurts. Ouch. 

I hear Elvis rush to me, "Nova? Are you okay?!" 

I feel him take the helmet off me as he places my head onto his lap. His hands gently cup my face, and its contact does not go unnoticed. His hands are cold, but nevertheless, the fact that his skin is in contact with mine - it leaves me breathless for a brief second. 

Wincing at the pain, I try to open my eyes and see his blue ones meet mine. His once carefree smirk is gone, and is replaced by a frown and concern swimming in his eyes. 

"You are so f.ucking lucky that I landed on grass and not concrete!" I scold at him, hitting his arm with my hand lightly. 

He is confused at first, but then releases a sigh of relief. He shakes his head at me, "Hey lady! Here I am checking if you are hurt and you. . ." He trails off, but a smile is slowly creeping up on his lips. 

"I'm real glad I found you, Nova." 

I squint my eyes at him, "Elvis, you keep saying that. But you won't tel-"

"We are going to need a band-aid for your knee." He confirms, as he rolls my jeans up slightly to check my leg.

--

Pastel colors of orange, pink and purple adorned the canvas of the sky. The gentle sound of the water harmonised perfectly with the breeze of the trees. I sighed in the tranquility, and leaned back on the wooden bench. 

"This is nice."

"Yeah, it is. It's the quiet that I think every person needs once in a while." Elvis says, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the glistening sun's reflection on the lake. 

"Very true. Especially after falling off a motorcycle," I emphasised jokingly. 

He turns to me and puts his hand up in mock-surrender, "Honey, I offered to help and you declined." 

I rolled my eyes at this, "Fine. I'll give you that. But you better explain to me why were we on a motorcycle in the first place?" I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Didn't you say that you wanted to be a little more reckless, live a little?" 

"No, I didn't." 

But I did. Yes I definitely did. But I didn't verbalise it out loud. I said it in my mind when I blew out the candles at my birthday party. 

"Yeah, you did."

I don't argue with him any further and instead move on to a different question. 

"I have a question."

"Okay," He smiled, biting his bottom lip, "I'll answer it only on one condition." 

"What?"

"Trust me." 

"But-"

He moves closer to me, and holds my hands, "You and I both know that you wished to live more spontaneously. To be more open to new experiences and just live. I can help with that, and I promise you with all my heart that I won't let you get hurt, Nova. I know that there's that band-aid on your knee, but that is because of your own stubbornness."

My lips fail to stop the smile on my lips. 

"Okay, Elvis." 

He releases a sigh in relief, and he releases my hands. 

"I want to ask my first question now." 

"Go ahead." He smiles, although he is no longer holding onto my hands - he is still very much sat right next to me on this bench. There is literally no space between us. 

"How is this happening? I mean, how are you here again? I thought dreams are one-off. They don't continue like this." 

He shrugs, "I don't know, honey. I guess the boss up there owes me a favour." He points to the sky and chuckles. 

"Elvis!" I groaned, slightly annoyed. 

"Nova!" He grins. 

"Answer me seriously." I say. 

"I am, I swear."

I thought for a second. 

"Okay. How about this; I ask a question and you can only answer with one word." I say seriously, trying to decipher if he will agree to this. 

After a little back and forth, he finally agrees to this. It will give me a peace of mind. It has to. Because at the moment, this is not making any sense. Weren't dreams supposed to be different each time we dream? We don't continue of the last dream, don't we?

"Am I dreaming right now?" I take a deep breath, awaiting his answer. Although he kinda answered this before on our initial meeting, I want to ask him again. 

"Maybe."

He's playing safe. 

"Why are you in my dreams again?"

"Promise." 

I furrow my eyebrows at this. Promise? 

"What do you mean?"

"Uh-uh. Only one word, honey. remember?" He smirks. 

I sigh frustratedly and continue on, "Was your song playing on my way to lectures this morning. . . was that a coincidence?" 

"Nope." He shakes his head, more amused than ever at my confused features.

"Did you like the song by the way? It's not as known as my other songs. But it was a fun song from my movie called 'Live a little, love a little'." 

I freeze. He really-

"Are you real?" 

For the first time in this line of questions, Elvis simply nods and does not verbalise a response. 

"How do you know me?" I ask, and sense his body stiffen. There is that tension in his shoulders. 

"Let me rephrase that. . . who am I to you, Elvis?" I ask nervously. His features are etched with seriousness, and for a second I see a glimpse of an internal battle with himself. He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it once again. He looks away for a second and closes his eyes, exhaling. When he meets my eyes again, his eyes are red with the evidence of tears trying to break out.

I have never seen him cry in this short time I have known him so far, and I suddenly feel guilty for asking this. 

"Elvis. . ." 

I feel a tightness in my chest. 

"Nova. Please, please. . ." He bits his lip, holding back tears, "Please ask me something else." I notice that his hands are back in holding mine. But the hold is not gentle like before, this time it's like he is clutching my hands. Like when you are holding onto something to give you strength. 

I feel my throat dry. Suddenly, my mind is empty of any questions.

"Do you know how to swim?" I smile at him. 

He breathes a deep sigh of relief and chuckles, and I feel my chest become lighter to hear him chuckle. 

"Yeah."

"Good because I don't." I laugh. 

next chapter

Yours Truly | Journal entry no. 1

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 491

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW.

・❥・ Author's Notes: So this is a peek into what Nova is thinking at this point. This is a supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' therefore, DO NOT read this unless you have read the between chapters 1-6.

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AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

November 22 , 2022

Dear Journal, 

I know that despite buying this journal a while ago, I have never really written an entry in it. I've written quotes that I found from books and maybe my favorite songs. But I've never written a proper entry. I like to think that people write in their journals when something interesting happens in their life, and honestly-speaking, my life is not very interesting. 

But something happened. Suddenly. And I guess this is the point where I think it's only right for me to make this my first journal entry. 

On my 21st birthday, I made a promise to myself that I will try to take more chances. Which I know it a big statement for me. But I will try to do this. Luke and Charlotte helped me make a list. So in some way there is still order amongst the point of being spontaneous. 

I've been having dreams recently. Not normal ones I believe. I've been having consecutive dreams for the past week now. In my dreams, this man appears. He first appeared in my dreams on the night of my 21st. It gets crazier. I know that people dream about celebrities all the time, even more-so when people have a crush on a celebrity. But this is when it gets strange.

Elvis Presley appeared in my dream. And people can say that dreams don't make any sense anyways. But I never really thought about Elvis Presley. I mean, sure I watched the biopic of him when it was released during the summer and that was the first time I really learned about him. But for him to suddenly appear in my dreams? Consecutively? 

It gets crazier. 

Each time I wake up from these dreams, I remember everything. Every detail. Every conversation that I have with him in the dream. I am usually a person that looks for logic and scans a situation to know what's going on, but this makes me dumbfounded. 

Our conversations - they sound normal. like a normal conversation you would have in real life. But there is something more, something that I don't know. It's strange because Elvis, the way he acts, it's like he knows me. Certain details about myself and the way he is around me - it is like he has known me for so long. And I know that can easily be explained by how there is a part of the human brain that subconsciously generates personal dreams. 

But I just have this doubt inside of me. Something is going on, and it frustrates me to no end that I don't know what that something is. 

He says that he'll help me experience the things on my list, the goal of living life to the fullest. To try new things. So I'll try and focus on that instead.  

After all, dreams are just dreams. . . right?

Till next time journal. 

Nova. 

next

Little Black Dress | one-shot

・❥・Pairing: 70s!e x reader

・❥・Genre: a pinch of angst, fluff, mature themes, 70s!Elvis, shy reader, insecure reader, jealous Elvis.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MDNI.

・❥・WC: 5803 words

・❥・Summary: After being a devoted Elvis Presley fan for more than a decade, you and your best friend manage to miraculously score tickets for his Las Vegas show. You wear a classic little black dress, as your best friend decides it's the perfect opportunity to wear it for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, what you believed to be a 'plain' outfit choice seemed to have caught the eye of the King of Rock 'n Roll himself.

・❥ A/N: Hi my beautiful followers! I apologise for not posting for a while, life happens and well, you'll soon find out that I am quite the perfectionist when it comes to writing. This is unlike any other I have written before, my first attempt in writing NSFW content. Please be gentle with me, aha. Anyways, I hope you all like it! 💋

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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“I think it’s too short,” You said, attempting to pull the dress down lower. 

“Girl, you look hot, don’t overthink it.” Your best friend, Annie, confidently replied in contrast to your self-doubt about your attire. 

Exactly a week ago, you managed to score some tickets to see Elvis Presley at the Las Vegas Hilton hotel. Even if the infamous singer has been playing numerous back-to-back shows at the infamous venue, the tickets remained challenging as ever to get a hold of. It seemed that even after the decade-long absence from the stage, his name never failed to lose its popularity and relevance. As a result, crowds upon crowds of people were lined up just outside the ballroom excitedly waiting to be let in. And for once, you and your best friend were one of them. 

You became an Elvis fan since you were a freshly-turned teenager, his charm and unique way of performing immediately captured your curosity.  Despite, of course, against your parents’ wishes. Like all the other parents in the country, they were determined in calling Elvis Presley “a rebellious boy” and how his scandalous movements are wrecking the minds of the youth. You laughed at that and simply ignored the “warning.” You were still fairly young back then, only really discovering him after he finished his military service. And so, ever since the start of teenagehood - you became a fan. 

Because here you are, all these years later and still an avid fan of him. Through the persuasive ways of your best friend, she has managed to convince you to finally wear the little black dress at the very back of your closet. You purchased it a while ago, with no specific intention on wearing it anywhere, as you didn’t perceive yourself as a wildly confident dresser. But as your best friend said, it seemed to be the perfect outfit to wear for your first Elvis Presley concenrt. 

And so, here you were. A tight little black dress that reached just a little above your mid thigh, paired with black boots and your hair in a half-updo. You thought it was basic and simple enough, but fitting enough for the event. But now, as you stood in the lobby - you began having second thoughts that the dress might be too short for the occasion. 

“Annie, does my underwear show through this?” You said, turning around, “I don’t want to be flashing anyone.” You worriedly say, knowing that the material of the dress is quite thin. 

Annie laughed, “You are absolutely fine, Y/N. “

You sighed in relief, “Ok, just double checking. “

“Besides, if you were to flash anyone, it’d be Elvis so-”

You gasped and hit her arm, “Annie! Oh my god, No!”

You shake your head horrified, face fully red in embarrassment at just the thought of such an incident. 

Annie simply smirked, “Why? It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You smile shyly, “Let’s just go before they close the doors.” You switch the subject immediately, keen to draw away from Annie teasing you. 

-

Excited chatter filled the ballroom, with not one single empty seat. You and your best friend were luckily seated only a few rows from the very front of the stage, but of course, found yourself rising from your seats and being as close to the front as possible. As close as possible to him. 

The moment you saw him appear on stage, it was surreal. He was one of the most photographed celebrities, but those photographs did not do him justice. It was true what others have said, how Elvis Presley’s looks were almost to the level of a greek god. A sharp jawline, beautiful tanned skin, high cheekbones, plump lips, and the most striking blue eyes that seem to pierce right through whoever he’s looking at. His black hair was messy, but fit him perfectly, falling over his eyes a little - with that boyish smile gleaming at everyone. It was such a stark contrast from the all clean-cut Ken doll throughout his Hollywood years. Even more so, his jumpsuit hugged his lean and tall figure, with the few buttons undone to reveal his chest. 

You were entranced. You spent your days endlessly playing his records in your bedroom at your parents house, and now more recently in your own apartment. But hearing him sing, right at this moment, in front of you - his talent never wavered. It astounds and shocks you at the same time, the familiarity of it and the newness of seeing him perform right in front of your eyes. He seemed to be more confident in his performing persona, knows how to command a stage and gone was the shy smile of his when he first started out. All throughout the concert, he would every now and again drop jokes and would constantly check if the audience is enjoying the show. 

It is almost the end now, and sweat trickles down his face and it doesn’t surprise you. The way that Elvis performs, it’s not a case of simply singing. No. It’s the vocals, along with his dances and karate movements mixed along that capture the eager-eyed audience. His immense energy surprises you, and you aren’t ashamed to admit that you are one of the girls in the audience screaming constantly in excitement. 

But then came the moment you’ve heard through hushed whispers, and that is how Elvis would kiss his fans at his concerts. You thought it was simply a rumour that spread like wildfire, as celebrity rumours do - but now you can definitely confirm it to be true. And that is because you are now on the receiving end of such a public display of affection. You barely registered the very brief encounter, but it happened. Elvis cupped your cheeks with his hands, and planted a brief soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away, but made sure to fixate his gaze on you with that smirk of his quirk in the corner of his lips. He was quick to be pulled into another kiss by another female audience member, but you were frozen. You touched your lips with your fingertips, the sensation still lingering as waves of bliss course through you. 

Of course, you were not naive to the fact that you are merely one of the many women that he would kiss that night. Afterall, the evidence was right in front of you - how Elvis walked away from the stage and made his way around, interacting with as many fans as possibe. This went on for a good while, before he returned to the stage and resumed performing a few more songs. 

After the final song, Elvis bids goodbye to the audience and gratefully thanks them before the curtains draw the show to a close. Your cheeks seem to be hurting, probably from all the smiling you’ve been doing so naturally. But you are back to reality now, the concert you’ve waited for what seems like your whole life - is now over. It felt like it was over in a blink of an eye, and you never fully understood that phrase when people say it - but you do now. Hours worth of performances were done in a single second it felt. 

But despite the shrinking feeling of dismay within you, the euphoric sensation coupled with pure adrenaline coursed fiercely through your veins. You linked arms with Annie, who herself shared the same expression - absolutely elated and sad it’s over. Everyone slowly dispersed the venue, excited chatters of memorable moments from the show filled the conversations. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Your best friend says, as she sighs while you are in the line of people exiting the venue. 

You shake your head, “Neither can I.”

“Well, now we can cross off two things from our bucket list.” Annie muses, as she smirks. 

“Finally going to an Elvis concert?” You ask, unsure of what the second one could be. 

“That and also kissing him.” Annie says, pure delight in her voice. 

You bite your bottom lip, unable to control a smile. 

“Gosh, did you see how that lady leaped over the tables just to get to him?” Annie asks, lowering her voice a little, “She’s my idol.”

You chuckle, “She definitely was determined.” 

“I’m surprised that his clothes didn’t rip to shreds, like back in the 50s?” Annie says, as you quickly recall the news articles of ‘rebellious Elvis’ performing and would often end with his clothes, quite literally - destroyed. There was a photograph of him walking backstage with no shirt on, and his pants that might as well be shorts. 

You shake your head, “Gosh, yeah. That was - people are strong, I’m telling you.” You chuckle. 

Annie nods and says, “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Where do you want to go?”

You both were in the lobby of the hotel now, much of the crowd of people have exited the hotel and are most likely finding transportation to go home. 

Before you could even respond to the question, you hear a rush of footsteps that seem to be getting near you. 

“Excuse me!”

You both turn around and see a man who seems a little out of breath, “Hi, ladies. “ He offers a kind smile, and you instantly recognise him as part of Elvis Presley’s entourage. One of the men in his ‘Memphis Mafia.’ 

“I know you.” Annie furrows her eyebrows, seemingly taking longer to recognize the man. 

“Hi, I’m Jerry. I work for Elvis, and well he has invited you both  to his suite for dinner.” He says, as if it’s the most casual thing to say in the world. 

You freeze and exchange a look of shock with your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry?” You stutter, not fully believing the words. 

“Us? He’s inviting us? To meet him?” Annie questions, tone in equal disbelief as you. 

Jerry nods, seemingly unfazed by your reactions. 

“Yes, that’s right.” He nods in certainty. 

You look at Annie again. 

“We’d love to!” Annie responds grinning excitedly, interrupting your thoughts from running into overthinking. 

As Jerry leads the way, Annie whispers to you, “Don’t overthink it, Y/N. This is once in a lifetime.”

On the way there, Jerry makes small talk with both of you. Just the usual case of introducing yourselves, how long you’ve been a fan and all that. All the while, trying to calm the fast thumping of your heart at the reality that not only will you be face to face with Elvis - but you’ll be talking to him. And also thinking about the wild thought that he has asked to meet you. 

There was not even one single point during the concert in which you’d thought he’d be fixated on you like that. 

-

You have been in his suite for an hour now, and overwhelmed is an understatement. The suite was filled with many other people; beautiful girls that could easily pass as models (perhaps they are), actors and actresses, and of course the Memphis Mafia. It still felt like an intimate affair though, with only around fifteen people in the room. You were sitting on the velvet couch, as you took gradual sips of your drink. Evidently, you were subtly people watching. Annie seemed to be caught up in a conversation with Jerry, as they both lingered near the pool table. Her laugh seemed endless, and you know from the look in her eyes and the gestures that she was definitely flirting with Jerry. 

You’ve met Elvis earlier, it was very briefly since he wanted to say hello to everyone. But in that split-second interaction, you cannot help but blush and stammer your name out as you introduce yourself. You were thankful that he was wrapped up in a conversation with someone else, as it decreased the chances of you absolutely making a fool of yourself in front of your celebrity crush. Right now, he seems to be in conversation with a comedian and his laugh echoes. You cannot help but smile at the sound. 

Annie seems to be nowhere in sight, but so does Jerry and you can only make assumptions of what that may mean. You sighed and stood up, refilling your glass of wine as you leaned against the corner of the wall - people watching. You don’t go unnoticed though, as a member of the Memphis Mafia approaches you - Red West. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes refocus on the new face in front of you, he flashes a grin at you as he leaned the side of his body on the wall. 

You clear your throat, “Hi.”

“I’m Red.” He says, sticking his hand out. 

You shake it and kindly smile, “Nice to meet you, Red. I’m Y/N.” 

He repeats your name, an amused grin on his lips. 

“So, Y/N. . . avoiding humans then?” He jokes, as you are removed from all the conversations going on. Here you were, standing alone.

You chuckle, “Not exactly. I was part of the human chatter earlier.” 

Red nods with his arms crossed, “And now you’ve realised that humans are a pain in the ass.” 

You laugh, “I was going to say I just like people watching, but that too.” 

Red’s eyes flicker to your lips and you hardly notice it, completely oblivious that he is physically attracted to you. You yourself have never been experienced in the art of flirting nor romance, therefore you just deemed it to be a normal conversation. 

“Sounds like stalker territory, but okay.” Red says, dramatically putting his hands up.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, “You’ve never heard of that term before?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.” 

“It just means someone who is an observer of life. You know, how Shakespeare says that thing about how movies are ideas from what humans are like in real life. People get ideas from people, by people watching.” You explain. 

Red steps a little closer to you, and this you notice. But you don’t react because the conversation has been harmless so far. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet then, that’s Shakespeare right?” Red says.

That’s not exactly what you were saying, and you are pretty sure he just ignored the rest of what you were trying to say. But you are also aware of how some men just don’t use whatever brain cell they have. So, you are not surprised at his question. 

You smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

“You are very smart, you know. Very pretty just like Juliet.” Red says, a glint in his eye as he smirks. 

You laugh unsure of what to say, “Thanks, I guess.”

And still, you are oblivious as ever with his flirtatious tone. 

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes gaze intently at you from across the room. Elvis has been socialising with everyone for an hour or so now, but in the corner of his eye he is still paying attention to you. Ever since his eyes met your face at the show earlier, he couldn’t help but immediately want to see you again. He has seen and been with many beautiful women in his life, the advantages of being who he is - the way women just flock to him without him even lifting a finger. But your beauty was not overdone, and your whole look was minimal. It was obvious that you were not dressed to impress, as they may say. You dressed as one would to attend a concert, but not with the intention of ever drawing his attention. Well, you did. But you had no idea. 

Of course, Elvis would invite a bunch of people to his suite for dinner after his shows. Aside from celebrity figures, Elvis would also invite people from the audience. Most of the fans invited immediately said yes, as you and Annie did as well. The hopeful women that clearly wanted and competed for Elvis’ undivided attention surrounded him, but his head snapped to you. You who was leaning so close to Red West, as you laughed in your fixated conversation with him. You both looked so in your own bubble, apart from everyone else. Apart from him. The women around him keep on talking, but Elvis is no longer listening. 

Elvis has thrown warnings to the MM before about his fans, if any of them were to try anything with any of the fans - he wouldn’t take it lightly. Of course, some fans that he would invite to his suite - Elvis had no intention of being intimate with. And so, Elvis wouldn't bat an eye if any of the MM were to flirt with them. 

But he clearly expressed his interest in you to the MM, and so rage fuelled his body at the sight of Red going against his words. Even worse, it looked like you were enjoying Red’s company with your cute laugh and  endless smile. 

Elvis has had enough. He excuses himself from the women around him and stands up, much to their dismay. But they quickly talk amongst themselves. Elvis strides over to you and Red, he takes his sunglasses off and folds it confidently - holding it in his hands. 

“Red.” One word and Red freezes. He turns around and there is Elvis with his jaw tightened and a tight smile on his lips. 

“Boss.”

“Heard you both laughing all the way there, wondered what the joke is.” Elvis says, though the intensity in his eyes mentally burning holds into Red’s head. 

You, of course, were frozen that Elvis decided to show up all of the sudden. Still not used to his effortless charm and handsome smile of his. 

“Um, i-it was n-nothing. “ You stutter, mentally hitting yourself at the sudden timidity of your voice. 

Elvis eyes are on you but he quickly looks back at Red, who seemed to have gotten more nervous than ever. He is scratching the back of his neck and is no longer leaning against the wall, but straightening his posture. 

“Honey, I doubt it. What do ya say, Red?” He says. 

Red immediately gets the hint and realises that he has fucked up. Here he was blatantly flirting with you, right in Elvis’ line of sight. 

“I’m saying. . .  I uh, Charlie needs my help on something. I better go.” He says, quickly excusing himself and briefly looking back at you. You frown, confused as his sudden change of mood. 

Elvis sighs and pats him on the back, “Good idea, man.”

“Bye, it was nice to meet you!” You call out and he shoots you a small smile before vanishing somewhere else. 

“You enjoying yourself, honey?” Elvis asks, the southern drawl so apparent in his tone. He casually takes the spot that Red was standing in, but Elvis is closer and he is leaning against the wall. 

You attempt to make eye contact with him, but his gaze is intense. Even more so without his sunglasses on. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thanks for , um, inviting me.” You say, twirling the empty glass of wine in your hands nervously. 

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” He asks.

“You remember my name.” You say before you can stop yourself. 

Elvis chuckles amusedly, “Why wouldn’t I? Miss Little Black Dress.”  He says, shamelessly trailing his gaze from your long legs up to the gaze in your eyes. 

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Not the most creative choice, I know.” You smile at him, trying to make yourself relax and appear more confident. 

Elvis shakes his head at your comment, “You look good, honey. Don’t count yourself out.” 

Although he has probably complimented many women, his words still make you naturally blush. You can’t help but look away and nervously say, “Thanks.”

The one chance that Elvis Presley is having a conversation to you and to you alone, and you are looking away? You mentally hit yourself and try to push out the shyness that seems to have taken over you since the start of this conversation. With Red, it was easy conversation, you weren’t rethinking each word that left your mouth. But he wasn’t Elvis. He wasn’t the celebrity crush that you’ve endlessly devoted yourself over for the past eleven years. Elvis found you adorably amusing, clearly hyper aware of the effect he has on you. 

You muster some courage of confidence and attempt to meet his eyes again, as you clear your throat. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask. 

“Hmm?”

“Uh. . you said about being honest with me about something?” You explain, redirecting the topic of conversation. 

He snaps his fingers and chuckles, “Ah! Right. I, well, would you like to get out of here?” He asks, his hand lightly brushing your hand but not quite intertwining your fingers. 

You freeze, not being able to maintain the shock with your eyes. Although you were practically oblivious when a guy was flirting with you, the naivety did not extend to words such as the ones that Elvis just let go. You knew what he was implying, and you were quite certain that he was hinting to sleeping with you. But this is when you drew the line. Sure, it was nice to talk to your idol, but crossing over to that territory? You don’t think you are sure of yourself. Besides, you haven’t even crossed territory like that with any guy. 

“I-”

He interrupts you, as if reading your mind. 

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I promise. I just figured it’s easier to get to know each other without all this noise.” He explains, voice soft. 

Your best friend’s voice echoes in your mind at that very moment. 

‘Live a little, Y/N. When an opportunity presents itself, just jump. As long as it’s not harmful. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ 

You hesitate, unable to form words. 

Before you could even register what is happening, you find yourself smiling at Elvis and agreeing to his offer, “Okay.”

-

It has been a while now since Elvis whisked you away from all the ‘noise’ as he described it. You were sure that your heart was beating loud enough for anyone to hear, as he placed his arm lightly around your waist. You were now in his room, and it was as luxurious as you’d expect it to be - the interior exactly what you imagined his taste would be. You were unsure at first on what to do, as you stood there. But luckily, Elvis was careful and noticed your nervous energy - he offered you to take a seat at the very edge of his bed. 

“How old are you, darlin?” He questions, as he faces you fully. 

“Twenty-four.” You say, and your mind immediately runs wild at what he must think of you now. 

Here you were, at the adult age of twenty-four and yet your life experiences seemed to not suit that description of such an age. You struggled to even hold a conversation with Elvis without stuttering or looking overly timid. In this stage of a woman's life, aren’t they supposed to be confident in their desires and advances? Romantic and sexual experiences should be vast by now, right? That’s what you believed, and yet - here you were. An anomaly within that belief. Your shy nature upon initial conversation with him, made Elvis conclude that you were a precious jewel out of the many. But your naivety to such things made you embarrassed, as someone with overflowing sex appeal had his undivided attention on you. 

Oh shit. He’ll probably ask something and that’s that. He’ll find out how embarrassingly inexperienced I am, and I’ll have to make a run from it. That is humiliating. 

You thought to yourself. Although you cannot be one-hundred percent sure that the conversation would lead to that, you know in yourself there is a pretty solid chance that it will. After all, the environment you are in just screams it. Here you were, literally sitting on his bed, the door is closed and it ‘s just the two of you. Besides, you’ve heard the rumours - about his sexual appetite. Afterall, he was this rock ‘n roll singer who practically had women fawning all over him. Logically speaking, he had to do something with that adrenaline after walking off stage - right?

You were getting ahead of yourself again, your thoughts running rampant and Elvis clearly noticed this. He delicately placed his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern swimming in his blue eyes. 

You shake your head, “N-Nothing. I, um. . .”

“I meant what I said,  I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He says, placing his hand over yours as he squeezes it reassuringly. 

You sighed and nodded, trying to calm your nerves down. 

“Do you read?” Elvis asks suddenly. 

“I used to a lot, but not anymore.” You reply, managing to form a normal sentence without stuttering. You tilt your head in confusion as Elvis gets up, but shortly returns back to his spot next to you with a book in his hands.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, his genuine curiosity took you aback a little. 

You shrugged, “Life became busy and I don’t know, I eventually lost interest I guess.” 

You look at the title of the book that he’s holding, “The Impersonal Life by Joseph Benner.” 

Upon reading the title of the unknown book, Elvis delves into revealing that he is an avid reader and brings a suitcase full of books whenever he’s on the road. Surprise would be an understatement, you admitted to him that you never expected him to be a reader. As the conversation grows, you find yourself relaxing and all the nervous energy vanishes from you. You thought that when Elvis said that he wanted to get to know you, it was simply just a phrase. But he truly did evidently show that he was interested in what you had to say, you felt flattered. You would answer his questions, but then he would ask another one based on the answer you just gave him. And you knew that he was listening to you, as he stared intently and would nod encouragingly at you to continue. 

Initially stepping into the room, there was no clock in sight. You wished that you had your watch on, it would’ve helped to know what time it was. It felt like you’ve been talking to each other for a while now, you presume it has been hours. And yet, Elvis was true to his word - he hasn’t done anything that you didn’t like. 

You were in the middle of explaining to him the meaning behind your name, but you stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling. Am I boring you?” You smile at him apologetically. 

Elvis grins amusedly at you and shook his head, “The opposite, honey.” 

He nods at your black boots, “Interesting choice.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, well, wearing heels makes my feet hurt. I mean, I have worn heels before because on some occasions, you just have to. But my black boots are my go-to, and coincidentally enough-”

You are looking down at your black boots, but stop yourself from continuing your sentence because you feel his focus has shifted. In the corner of your eye, you feel the heat of his gaze and this makes you naturally turn your head to face him. The pair of blue eyes flickered between your eyes, and your lips. Elvis sighed and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to lean in. All the while when you were talking, his mind kept directing him to stare at those lips of yours. So perfectly pink and inviting. But he held himself back, and didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

It was only this, in this moment did you realise how close together your bodies were. Your thighs were pressed up against each other and literally no space between you. It was silent for a while. You found yourself studying his face, and you still cannot believe how perfect he looks. It was so unlike the beauty of any other human being, you thought. You found yourself tracing his features with your finger, lastly touching his plump lips. Your motions were slow, and agonsing it seemed as Elvis' breathing increased. All the while you maintained your eye contact with him in good control. His eyes held pure fascination with your actions, a stark contrast from your shy nature. Your touch was delicate and careful, but he can tell that there is something more wanting to break out from you. 

It was in this very moment that you felt a hot sensation within you. You have hardly done anything, and Elvis is already feeling that familiar ache. His eyes intensified, as his tongue wetted his lips. 

Annie’s words echo through your brain again.

“I want to kiss you,” You finally admit, voice delicate but strong. You have never been this forward with a guy before, and so the words that leave your mouth surprise you.

“You don’t have to ask.”  He says, his tone of voice low.

You circle your arms around his neck, and finally - your lips meet his. The melding of your lips together, causes Elvis to let out a groan. The sound sparks the sensation in your lower body. The kiss was sweet and slow at first, but you felt yourself wanting more. An unfamiliar determination takes over you, as your hands thread through his hair - pulling it tightly. Elvis welcomes the pain, and tightly secures an arm around your waist - his touch searingingly  hot through your little black dress. The kiss is far from slow, as you both grow in need. His other hand grips your cheek as he deepens the kiss, recapturing your lips again, as he bites into your bottom lip. You let out a gasp, and swipe your tongue on his lips. The sweet sound of your gasps spurs something darker within Elvis, he needs more. But he can’t be selfish, and so he pulls back from the blissful touches.

Elvis is breathing hard, and you do too. Both trying to catch your breaths, as you try to comprehend what you just did. But a smile pulls on your lips, as does his. 

“Y/N, if we continue. . . I-I don’t think I can stop.” He warns, and your heart beats at how careful and honest he is. Staying true to his word. 

You lean forward once again and whisper, as you look him right in the eye, “Then don’t.” 

You gulp at the words you just let go, unaware where you found this confidence from. But you keep it going, not knowing when you’ll shrink back into your timid nature. 

Elvis’ movements are fast, as your lips meet together for the second time. This time, the kiss is not gentle anymore. It is filled with hunger and pure desire, a kiss that feels like the dichotomy of scorching desert sun and the icy glaciers that are surrounded by the Southern Ocean. A kiss that both felt like a crashing wave of relief, and an invisible rope tightly binding you and Elvis together. Your hands travelled through his back, his neck and his hair. Elvis’ hand trailed up your thigh and you felt your heart beating faster, as he slid the ends of your dress higher and higher. His other supported the back of your neck, as you naturally arched your back - displaying your neck invitingly to him. 

Elvis left a trail of strong kisses to your neck, “You have such soft skin, honey.” He hums, and you feel his teeth tug lightly at the skin of your neck. You moan at the feeling, knowing that you’ll have to find a way later on to hide the inevitable hickies that’ll be marked on your skin. You feel Elvis smirk at the sound, and this only encourages him to add more to the ones already forming prominently on your skin. 

“Elvis, I-I” You gasped. 

He pulls away, you frown confused at abruptly stopping his actions. Elvis finds this cute and chuckles at your expression, “Let’s take these off.” He removes both of your boots, and winks at you. 

He pulls you back into a kiss, and naturally brings you to his lap with your legs on either side of him, straddling his lap. Elvis groans at the contact of your thin underwear on his crotch, in this new position. His hand on the back of your neck finds its way to grip the butterfly clip that holds your hair together, he removes it letting your hair fall down and rest on your shoulders. 

Elvis looks at you in awe, “Beautiful.” 

Your cheeks heat up, only adding to the warmth that fiercely courses through your body. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the little black dress.” He says, and you feel breathless. 

“Oh do you now, Mr. Presley?” You muse, tilting your head at him as you bite your lip. 

Elvis places both of his hands on the ends of your dress and attempts to remove it smoothly, but grows frustrated at the strength of the material and you suddenly hear a sharp sound of tearing. Elvis pays it no mind and lets it fall to the floor. 

You laugh and shake your head at his frustration. Elvis laughs along with you and leaves kisses at the side of your face, as  you glance at the torn material on his velvet carpet. 

“But it’s time to say goodbye to it.” Elvis smirks. 

He flips you both over, so your back is on the soft sheets of the bed as he presses his body against you. Both of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You help him rid of his clothing, admiring in awe at his bare chest. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” He assures you, implying to the ripped up dress. 

“I have a better idea,” You say, tone sultry. 

Elvis smirks, his fingers circling your breasts, as his thumbs graze your perked nipples in repeated motions. You moan at the action, arching your back. At the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Elvis wishes to have the sight before him captured into his mind forever.

“Hmm? And what would that be?” His deep voice, sending you into limitless bliss.

You reach your hand out and grip the necklace dangling from his neck, using it as a way to pull his face towards you, as you clash your lips together and you feel him smirk through the kiss. He detaches himself from your lips, and descends down to kiss your jaw, your skin and now your chest. He is quick enveloping the hardened buds, wetting them with his tongue, as he repeats the action to your other breast. Your mind is in a frenzy, feeling your toes curl at the pure euphoria as you moan. 

Thank goodness for the Little Black Dress, you thought.