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justjams2003 · 4 months ago

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Time heals all wounds

Okay guys so...my PC broke🫨 it's um, done for. 2008 model so...yeah no there's not saving it... So if the formatting of this is weird, that would be the reason, I'm doing this on my phone.

Pairing: 70s!Elvis Presley x fem!reader

Summary: Elvis accidentally runs into a time traveler and doesn't even know it. All he knows is that she somehow just knows everything about him. Especially how badly he needs a good cuddle

Warnings: Topless reader, topless Elvis. Fluff. Angst (Elvis cries)(his ouchie body🙁) Mommy kink?? Idk this one might be a little weird guys... But he's so bbg really. Submissive Elvis. Coddling Elvis. Mentions if skin-to-skin contact. Mentions of Gladys Presley and how much Elvis missed her :(.

Word count: 2k+ unedited

Dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Just another groupie, he would have thought if it wasn’t for the way that he looked at her. Like she sees right through him. As if she knows everything about him. Past, present and future. Across the room, where the people mingle after his show. The VIP’s so excited to have the honour and the money to meet him. All too scared to touch him, for he is the king and they are but onlookers.

Long meaningful strides to the face that calls to him in the crowd. Eyes so warm and so clear of mind. Set on him and him alone. No other thought behind those eyes except the ones reflecting his own blue eyes. The light hits her and makes the frizz of her hair look like a halo and not an imperfection. Is her breathing matching his? He could swear he saw her chest rise and fall in rhythm as he takes a sharp inhale.

His hands fall on her upper arms, just below her shoulder. Wrapping all the way around and holding her like a Christmas present. Careful not to tear at the wrapping, wanting to appreciate the effort that has gone into the sharp folds of the corners and delicate little bow on top. Bound together by tape. Christmas lights, red, then green, then red again shining down on the present, begging to be opened.

“Hi.”

His tone of voice like one he’s known all his life. Like he would greet an old friend, one which you share such a bond with that even after years it’s still the same. The ruffles of her shirt conceal the soft skin that he so desperately wants to feel under his palms. His thumbs moves the finespun sleeve up, Elvis has to hold back a groan when he feels just how silky her pale skin is.

“Hi.”

She replies in the same manner as his. The lights reflect in the wet of her eyes, making it look like diamonds under sunlight. Long lashes blink, to truly take him in. His tan skin, from his Hawaii vacation she knows, his straight nose and soft pillow lips. Just how warm his hands are around her arms. Just how many hours she spent dreaming about this.

“Do I know you?”

A moment where they both seem to take in this bizarre moment. Anon, as if it was meant to be, they both just sort of break out in giggles. His wide smile that she’s seen so many pictures of. And a real laugh that the home tapes haven’t captured exactly. Simply because they can’t copy the echo. Or the way his eyes scrunch up and he leans forward against her. Or this crazy farm feeling that usually gets covered with shame.

But there is no shame now. Because this is real. Can you believe it? He’s actually here, in front of you. Holding you even. For him, it feels even crazier. Who are you? What is happening? Why do you seem to look right into his soul? You two must know each other. She looks so familiar, like those people you meet in your dreams and then suddenly see them walking past you on the street.

“No.” She says in between laughs and again he struggles to believe that. “Come on. I must’ve met you somewhere. Even just, on the road or- I don’t know in a bathroom line.” The girl just shakes her head again. “Do you even use public toilets?” He quickly eats his words. “No, I guess not really.” She can’t help but smile at the foolishness of this all. Of the craziness of this, really.

He slings his arm over her shoulder, like the photos, tucking her into his side. She can hear her heart beating louder than ever before. She’s scared she might even pass out from excitement. He’s so close, she can smell the Brut perfum against his neck, just like Priscilla said. She’s living every girl’s dream right now. Every crazy fangirl’s dream.

“Well then, I think we ought tah get tah know each other then, huh? Honey?” She practiced her soft smile in the mirror and she can only hope that it’s being reflected right now. She just barely moves her head in a nod. “I think so too.” Her eyes drink in every single behind road he takes, in hopes she can follow the path when this is all over.

He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it against the nearest chair’s back. “Darlin’... I jus’ can’t seem to place yer accent. Where did you say you’re from?” She has to make an active effort not to bite her lip, she doesn’t want to be that girl. She shakes her head. “I didn’t.” That crooked smile overcomes him. “Oh, right. Well, please do tell me.”

Crap. Now she has to think incredibly quickly. Her geography isn’t exactly the best and she’s never really cared to put in much interest in the timeline of America. “Up North.” His brows raise, “No spot spicific?” She’s quick to shake her head. “No...we travelled a lot.” His eyes go sympathetic, “Ah get that. Ah haven’t stopped traveling since this whole lot started.” She gets this look in her eyes, like she knows.

No one has ever before reached the level of fame he has. How could she know? How could she so convincingly act like she knows? But it feels so real, so much so that his heart and body feel all warm inside. “Yeah?” She replies, a one common word and yet it feels like it’s the perfect response. Not forcing him to go on, but rather inviting him to. Still, though, not at the same time. Leaving it open for him to decide if he says more or doesn’t.

“Yah mind if I go change into something more comfortable?” She’s quick to shake her head no. “Not at all.” It’s only warm smiles from him and to her and then back again. He seems reluctant to be away from her for even a bit. But when he does eventually pry his eyes from her, he speaks again. “Make yerself comfortable, little one.”

You have to stop yourself from gasping. The nickname reserved for Priscilla. And something you’ve done has made him deem you worthy for it. No one else has taken any notice of you. All brushing you off, that is what you wanted, you will admit. But you bought the VIP ticket with the intention of only catching a glimpse of him. Maybe even if you were somehow possibly lucky enough, a peck. Like he gives the front row girls.

Now, you’re in the famous International Hotel’s very own Elvis Presley’s residence and you’re damn sure you’re going to explode with joy. Or maybe even cry. Or hell, both! You know you shouldn’t snoop, having earned his trust, somehow. But you need to see this all, while you still have the chance. The universe could play some cruel joke and take this away from you any minute now.

Trinkets, of a price you can only imagine, scattered all over the place. A real, now not vintage, plate player. You gasp, quickly searching through the stack for your favourite song. You’re not really entirely sure how it works, you never could afford one of your own. Your fingers stumble, trying to get the needle to pick up the song.

Not that you have to put it on, large hands take the needle from you. Practiced, this is all he’s known, first try gets the needle to take. His voice plays from the record, his brow raises. “Yah like this one, darlin’?” The girl smiles, “I do, it’s my favourite.” He chuckles, “I jus’ sang this on stage, yah wanna listen tah it again?” Her lashes flutter like she can’t believe he’d ask such a question.

“I could listen to you reading the bible and still wouldn’t get bored.” You choose each word so specifically. And you knew he’d grin at that. “Is that so?” The girl smiles, her head tilts to the side. Again she seems to look deep into his soul. Into his true desires for gospel and the Word. Her brows furrow, her eyes get filled with this sort of hurt. She seems to be searching his face, inspecting every bit. He feels insecure, does she notice the way his cheeks are rounder? Or just how much she makes him sweat?

“Sit down, sweetheart.” Her voice takes this nurturing tone that he yearns for since his mama... When she takes his wrist and guides him over to the couch, he doesn’t protest. It’s the way she does it with so much love in each action. Even holding her hand out for him as he sits down, take the pressure off his soar knees.

She bends over, he can’t help but take a peak under her shirt. But his intentions seem so wrong when she places a tender kiss on his forehead. “You’re done performing. It’s just you and me now. I won’t judge, I wouldn’t dare even think of it. You can relax.” She mumbles, then presses another kiss against his forehead.

The girl, who’s name he has yet to ask, takes this huge pressure off his shoulders. He even lets out a sigh and sinks further into the plush cushions. His head leans back against the back of the sofa. He looks up at the pattern of the popcorn ceiling. A relaxed sigh comes from deep in his soul. Then, the lights turn off with a click.

It’s likes she just knows him. The stress just sort of falls away. “We’re caught in a trap...I can’t walk out...” she hums the lyrics of the song, she cups his cheek. She slightly tilts his head up to look up in the eyes. “Because I love you too much baby~” His breathing hitches at the sincerity of her words. His lip quivers and she frowns, her thumbs grazing over his cheeks to wipe away the tears pouring down.

She sits down next to him, he’s quick to hide his face in the crook of her neck, in shame that he’s crying. “That’s okay, Elvis. It’s okay, baby.” She coos, rubbing circles against his back. His large hands grab at her shirt. The material feels so rough and in all reality he wants to feel her bare skin. She coos again, cradling his head in her arms.

“C’mere, baby. C’mere my Satnin.” His head snaps up, his brows pull together. Now you’re panicking. Too far? Did you give yourself away? His large hands wrap completely around your waist. He cuddles his head in the valley of your breast. Holding you like one would a teddy bear. Especially when it’s thundering outside and it’s all you have to keep you safe.

And then...he just sobs.

Your one hand holds his shirt, so tightly your knuckles turn white. The other rakes your nails against his scalp. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You’re safe, baby. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Cry all you need, booby.” And when she uses that nickname he just cries even harder. How? How does she know? All the sweet names his mama used to call him.

And how does she hold him, like he’s been craving to be held. Grasping onto him, with all her might. As if he might run away any moment. Taking all that he gives to her with gratefulness. God, he missed when people used to be grateful. When people used to ask for him and not just expect all of him all the time. When people were happy with whatever he gave and not expecting for him to die for their entertainment.

“You don’t need all those pills, baby. You don’t any of it. You’re just a darling boy who needs to be held. Ain’t that right, honey?” She coos as he rubs his tears off on her blouse. She doesn’t care. His hands slide under the shirt, gently tugging it off. He places wet open mouth sloppy kisses against her collarbone.

When he’s satisfied with her taste, he rubs his cheek against her neck. Down, down until he rests once again between your breasts. The soft feeling of your skin and the steady beat of your heart rhythm pulls him closer to sleep. He looked about settled, until he huffs, sitting up right again. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, before he shrugs off his silk pajama shirt.

She chuckles when he wraps himself like a vine around her again. “It’s okay, baby. I know you’re tired, sweetheart. So, so tired, hmm? Putting on such a good show, your mama would be so proud. I’m sure of it.” Again, you chose your words so carefully. Between exposing your position and cradling Elvis to sleep.

You cradle his head in your arms. Gently feathering your nails across his bare back. The other tucked under his hair, holding his face so close to her. Like they’re glued together in this skin-to-skin contact. “Sleep my darling Elvis. Your mama and Jesse is watching down. Looking over you. Protecting you. They’re so proud of you, Satnin. You can sleep easy now, it’ll all be okay.”

And you stayed in his arms, even as your arms and legs fell asleep and your back groaned from his weight. You didn’t dare move an inch. Besides the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you tried to keep your breathing steady.

All to keep him sleeping. He needs it so...he needs his rest...

So, here is the sitch. I usually really hate like time travel fics. Because they feel so poorly done and like such an easy cop out to me. But with the 16th recently I just couldn't stop thinking about he just needed to be held:( And then I discovered Elvis ASMR and that like made this thought even worse.

I thought about making a part 2 where it like shows the readers POV of like accidently time traveling and finding him but then I realised like, what's the point?? That doesn't add anything to this narrative. And like the whole chapter would just be the reader scheming to see him?? And like how they feel?? And like, what's the point, you guys already know how you feel??

But, this Elvis ASMR has like a whole bunch of scenarios and I thought about like writing something like this to futher the scenario. All of them usually end up in Elvis sleeping though, so maybe I'd just be more of the same thing? But I think it'd be nice to have something to read while you listen to it?? And I could call it the Sleepy Elvis series...

Um yeah, tell me what y'all think 🥰

#Elvis #elvis presley x reader #70s elvis #60s elvis #elvis the pelvis #elvis presley #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis x reader #elvis fic

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