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presleyverse · 23 days ago

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𝕁𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤 - 𝟚/𝟚

Tags/Warnings: open/ambiguous ending, 1974!Elvis, angst, hurt/comfort, no smut, all fluff and light angst, mention of E.P's drug use, hurt!E.P

people who wanted to be tagged : @jhoneybees @nomi-candies @minaxcarter

It’d been a hell of a show.

Elvis bowed to roaring applause, sweat slicked under the collar of his rhinestone-studded jumpsuit, his voice still ringing with the last notes of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” But even with the cheers, the lights, the kisses tossed from the front row, he felt... hollow.

He always did now.

One year. One damn year since he watched your taillights disappear from Graceland’s gates. You hadn’t called. Never wrote. And he never found the guts to track you down, not after all the things he’d said, not after getting on that damn plane.

But fate—fate had a funny way of showing up when you least expected it.He spotted you in the casino lounge just off the main floor of the hotel. Dressed sharp, elegant, glowing in the soft lighting like you’d stepped out of a dream. You laughed at something someone said.

That laugh—Lord, he remembered that laugh like it was stitched into his bones. His boots felt glued to the marble for a second. Then he started walking.

He walked toward you slow, uncertain, like a man crossing a minefield. “Darlin’,” he said, voice low, rough with nerves. “I—” He swallowed. “I didn’t reckon I’d ever see you again.”

You turned. And you stared up at him. Elvis damn near forgot how to breath right.

You stared at him.Really looked at him.Elvis still had the glitter, the stage presence, the voice that made hearts stop—but up close, under the soft casino lights, he looked older. Tired. So very tired.

There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and a faint tremble in his jaw like he was holding something back.Your hand moved before your mind caught up. Gently, your fingers brushing along his cheek, cupping his face and he leaned into it like a starved man.

Eyes fluttered shut like a man starved for comfort, like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long. The weight he carried—it wasn’t just physical. Though you noticed it too. A little fuller in the face, in the waist, nothing drastic… but you knew.It was the pills.

The late nights. The lonely ones. “Elvis…” you whispered.His hand reached up, covering yours where it rested on his cheek. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just stood there breathing you in like a prayer.

“I ain’t slept right since you left,” he murmured, voice thick. “Not a single damn night.”

You could feel the heaviness in the air, the weight of everything unsaid between you, but you didn’t want to leave it there, not like this. Not again. “Come on,” you said softly, coaxing him. “Let’s go to your room, Elvis. Let’s get you to bed.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking to the crowd around you, then back to your face—looking like he was battling something inside. His lips parted, but the words tangled up, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t find the strength. “Ya—ya… you really wanna come with me?” His voice was rough, strained, cracking on the last word.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “I—I mean... ya still—still wanna be around me?” His hands were shaking, just a little, when he reached for you, and for a second, you thought he might pull away. But he didn’t.

“Come on, Elvis,” you whispered again, your voice steady, but the warmth you felt for him made it waver just enough. “I’ll go with you. I’ll stay.” He looked at you then, and his whole expression softened, that familiar tenderness flooding his eyes, even as the exhaustion was written all over his face.

“Stay?” He breathed, stumbling over the word, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “I—I need ya ta' stay, darlin’... please.”

“Okay," you nodded, pulling him gently toward the elevators, a quiet promise. “I’m here.”

The elevator doors slid open on the 30th floor, and Elvis led the way down the hallway, his steps slow, deliberate, like every movement was weighed down by something heavy. You followed quietly behind him, your heart a tangled mess of emotions.

The door to his suite opened with a quiet click, and he stepped inside, his shoulders sagging as if he’d just dropped a load that had been too much for him to carry. He made it to the bed and sank down, the springs creaking under his weight. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as if he was trying to steady himself.

You stood by the door for a moment, unsure of how to bridge the gap between the Elvis Presley you remembered and the one sitting before you now. “Elvis…” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. “You need to get out of that jumpsuit.”

He looked up at you, his eyes tired but softened by something vulnerable. “I ain't sure I- I can, darlin’,” he said, his southern drawl thick with a hint of hesitation. He pulled at the collar of his jumpsuit, then stopped, his fingers fumbling.

You took a step forward, gently pulling his hands away. “I’ll help,” you said quietly, your fingers brushing against his skin as you unzipped the jumpsuit. His breath hitched, his chest rising with a heavy sigh as your hands worked delicately to ease the fabric from his shoulders.

As the jumpsuit fell, he let out another quiet breath, his eyes closing briefly, as though the simple act of being cared for was something he hadn’t known he needed, as the jumpsuit finally came loose and pooled at his feet, you straightened up, brushing your hands together.

Elvis sat there, still looking dazed, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do next.You’d been here before, too many times, and the quiet intimacy felt familiar. You didn’t even need to ask where he kept his things. “I know where they are,” you said, your voice soft as you moved toward the dresser.

You knew the layout of this room just as well as you knew the back of your hand. You opened the drawer and pulled out a set of his favorite pajama pants, the black ones with the white stitching. The ones he’d worn the most after a long show—comfy, worn in, with the perfect fit.

You grabbed a soft shirt next, the dark blue one he liked best. The fabric still smelled faintly of his cologne. When you turned, Elvis was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes following you as if unsure whether to let you take care of him or not.

But the look in his eyes softened when he saw the clothes in your hands. “Thank ya, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low, almost bashful. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly still worn out from the stage.

You smiled softly, setting the clothes on the bed beside him. “Get changed. I’ll be right here.”

Elvis finished changing into the pajama pants and shirt, the fabric now soft against his skin. He looked more like himself, but there was still something heavy in his eyes, a lingering fatigue that no amount of sleep could erase.

He sat on the bed for a moment, his hand resting on the sheets, and then he looked up at you, almost shyly. “Would ya… would ya with me?" His voice was quiet, vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to hearing from him. "I ain't slept in so long… I could use the company."

You hesitated for a moment, and then, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, you nodded. You slowly made your way to the other side of the bed. Elvis shifted a bit on the bed, making room for you.

You rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming you. He sighed deeply, a sound filled with relief, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you both just were—together. "I’ve missed this," he murmured, his hand gently brushing through your hair. “I’ve missed you, darlin’.”

You didn’t answer him right away, letting the silence stretch between you both. There was so much left unsaid—feelings that had been buried beneath time and distance, too many things that still hurt too much to voice.

But deep down, you knew. You missed him more than you'd ever admit aloud. Instead of saying the words, you settled your head more comfortably on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

You combed your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, like you used to. His hair was softer than you remembered, slightly longer, and it felt comforting in your touch. His body seemed to relax at the motion under your fingertips. "Rest, Elvis," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "You need it. Just... rest."

He didn’t say anything, but you felt his breathing slow, deepening with each passing moment. It was as though your words, the warmth of your touch, the comfort of being close again, were all it took to make the weight of the world fade just enough for him to finally let go.

You continued to stroke his hair, gently coaxing him into sleep. Your hand traced over his forehead, brushing the damp strands from his face. He sighed deeply, the tension in his body dissolving bit by bit.

Without thinking, you leaned up just enough to kiss the bridge of his nose, just like you used to do when he was restless or upset. It was a quiet, tender gesture, a reminder of the small, intimate moments that had once been so effortless between you two.

“Thank ya, darlin’, thank ya...” he muttered, he stared at you once more before his eyes closed, and his breathing deepened once more. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t need sleeping pills. He fell asleep naturally, the kind of rest he hadn’t gotten in far too long.

You watched him for a moment, trying to coax yourself to sleep, but you couldn't. All you do is watch him sleep, make sure he was okay.

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis the king #elvis presley x you #elvis the pelvis #70s elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfic #elvis fans #the king of rock n' roll #king of rock n roll #elvis presley angst

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heartbreak-hotel-35 · 21 days ago

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Baby, Let’s Play House

Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,844

50s Elvis / Pre-Fame Elvis

• •—•• •••— •• •••

"Bye Mama, bye Daddy!" I called out, watching my parents pull away. Today was their marriage anniversary and Daddy worked hard to save money for a nice vacation for the both of them. So that was where they were headed.

Mama left me a list of things to do around the house while they were gone, so after their car was out of sight, I walked back up the rickety old porch stairs and into the house to get started. I closed the front door behind me, took a deep breath, and straightened out my skirt before making my way to the dining room to go over the list Mama had made for me.

I took the thin piece of paper from the table and scanned over the things that had to be done. While the list was long, it wasn't anything too difficult. Except for mowing the lawn and pulling the weeds out of the garden.

"I thought Daddy mowed just yesterday," I said out loud. I placed the list back down on the table and put my hands on my hips. "Oh well, I best get to it. The sun is sinking lower by the second." I walked into the living room where my Grandpa's old radio sat, collecting small amounts of dust with each passing day.

I turned the knob, the box sparked to life with the soft hum of radio static. I fiddled with the knob, scanning through stations until I found one I liked. My next stop was the kitchen to get Mama's cleaning apron she sometimes let me borrow. I placed the white fabric strap over my neck, reaching around to tie it in the back. Though I quickly realized it would be a more daunting task than I thought.

"Oh, Mama always makes this look so easy." I mumbled, dropping the mess of a knot I had created.

"Looks like you could use a hand." a voice said from the kitchen entrance. I yelped in surprise, not knowing anyone else was in the house. "Or two." I was relieved to see my best friend Elvis Presley leaning against the threshold, arms crossed, white-toothed smile plastered on his tanned features. I smiled at him, dropping the two apron strings I had been trying to tie.

"You'd be right," I replied, throwing my hands up in exaggerated frustration. "Would you mind?" I asked, turning my back to him. I heard his footsteps approaching, then the apron strings left my hips, Elvis tying them into a neat bow on my lower back. "How'd you get here anyways?" I asked, turning to face him, his face mere inches from my own.

"That would be your bedroom window, Doll." He informed me, reaching up and bopping my nose gently with his index finger. "Should really keep that thing locked." he said sarcastically, walking over to the fridge.

"But then how will my dashing best friend get in to help me tie my apron strings?" I asked him, placing the back of my hand on my forehead in a fake sign of distress. Elvis grinned, pulling an apple from the fridge, tossing it in the air, and catching it, bringing it to his lips.

"Should tell that fella to use the front door." He demanded, biting into the apple. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"You're right, I should." I said, spinning on my heel in a full circle, stopping once I was facing him again. "Hey, Elvis?" I said, approaching him slowly.

"Yes, doll?" he leaned down a bit, matching my height.

"You should really start using the front door." I told him with a laugh. Elvis laughed along with me, taking another bite of the apple.

"So what are you up to today?" He asked, placing his right hand on his hip and leaning against the dining room table with his left. I slid the chore list toward him, tapping it twice with my index finger.

"All of that is what I'm up to today." I told him. "Mama and Daddy's marriage anniversary is today and they went on a nice vacation. So Mama asked me to do all this while they're gone." Elvis nodded, chewing the apple in his mouth slowly, looking at the list. Then he smiled. "What is it?" I asked, leaning on the table, tilting my head to meet his gaze.

"I can't wait to see you mow the lawn, honey." He chuckled, biting into the apple again. I playfully slapped his arm.

"Elvis Presley, if you were a real gentleman you'd offer to do it for me!" I shouted, the smile I wore never once faltering. Elvis tensed up in an attempt to dodge my attacks, smiling like crazy.

"You didn't let me finish!" He shouted, catching my wrist before I could hit his arm again. "How'd you like me to do it for you?" I crossed my arms and tapped my foot, smiling up at him in fake thought.

"I'd like that very much, thank you." I replied, uncrossing my arms and placing them behind my back. Elvis smiled at me.

"What did I do to deserve such a wonderful friend?" He asked, walking over to the trash to throw away his apple core. I walked over to the doorway, placing my hand on his bicep.

"I should be asking you that, Elvis." I retorted, brushing past him and walking to the little cleaning closet in the hallway. He looked over his right shoulder, trying to keep his gaze on me, but ended up spinning in a circle as I walked away, leaning against the doorframe with his chest. I pulled out the broom and the feather duster we kept there, setting them off to the side so that I could grab a couple of rags. I felt his gaze on me, so I slowly turned my head to look at him. I was right, his blue eyes were baring holes into my face.

"What is it?" I asked, folding the little rag I was holding and tucking it into the apron pocket. He brought his hand up on the doorframe, resting his cheek against the back of it with a sigh.

"You look pretty with your hair up." He complimented. I blushed, averting my gaze from his and to the laundry basket sitting outside my parent's room.

"You've seen me with my hair up before." I stated, walking past him and heading toward the basket. Elvis straightened up off the wall and turned his body to face me.

"I didn't say I hadn't seen it up," he replied. "I was just complimenting you on it for the first time." He said, dropping his head lower, and looking at me through hooded eyes. I shook my head, smiling way too big. I picked the basket up and made my way over to him.

"As long as you're still standing here," I began, pushing the basket to his chest. "Would you throw these in the wash for me?" I asked, batting my eyes dramatically. He chuckled, wrapping his fingers around the basket's handles.

"Sure thing, Doll." He said, turning around and walking toward the little laundry room in the back of the kitchen. I walked around the corner, just outside the kitchen, and leaned against the wall. Elvis and I had been the best of friends for about four years now. We had always flirted with each other, but today felt different for some reason. I felt grown up. I heard Elvis' footsteps coming through the kitchen, so I straightened up, rubbing my palms against my dress.

"Done and done." he said, clapping his hands together in a 'finished' motion. I smiled up at him and then nodded my head in the direction of the back porch.

"Would you mind doing the yard now?" I asked politely. Just then, Elvis' eyes wandered to the radio in the living room. Maybellene by Chuck Berry had started playing, which I assumed was what got his attention.

"Oh, I love this song!" He said happily, making his way to the middle of the living room. I giggled at his excitement as he turned the volume up, bobbing his head to the music. "Come dance with me, Honey." Elvis said, holding out his hand.

"Elvis, you know I don't dance." I told him, crossing my arms firmly.

"Oh come on, you ain't gotta do nothin'. I'll lead." he begged. I sighed, shaking my head and slowly making my way over to him. I held up my hand and Elvis took it, spinning me in a circle, causing me to laugh. He pulled me flush against his chest, his left hand on my waist, my right hand on his shoulder. We swayed back and forth for a moment as I watched Elvis as he mouthed the words of the song. Then, he spun me again, pulling me back to his chest this time, crossing my arms in front of me, his hands holding both mine.

"See honey, ain't nothin' to it." He teased, putting his chin on my right shoulder. I leaned my head against his briefly before butterflies erupted in my stomach, realizing how this felt. How special and familiar it felt. I had never done this with anyone. I never had a relationship with someone like this before. How could it feel familiar? Natural?

"Alright, alright," I said, spinning myself out of his embrace. "I have to do these chores. I'll never be able to get them done if you keep this up." I said with a small laugh. I noticed a few wrinkles in his white button-down shirt, so I brought my hands up to his chest and straightened them out the best I could. He just stood there, hands on hips, looking down at me as I dusted and pulled the wrinkles from his shirt.

"Right, and you expect me to mow the lawn with you touching me this way?" Elvis hummed. I slowly pulled my hands away, stepping back to admire my work, ignoring his question.

"Perfect." I said quietly, turning around and grabbing the broom. "Outside with you mister." I said, pointing to the screen door that led to the back. Elvis put his hands up defensively.

"I'm going, I'm going." He said with a grin. I watched him leave and head to my Daddy's shed to get the mower out. I smiled to myself, starting to sweep the hardwood floor in the living room. As I swept the last corner of the room, I heard the mower fire up, so I glanced outside and saw Elvis, now shirtless, skin glowing in the light of the sun. I looked away quickly, blushing profusely at the sight.

-Time Skip-

I just finished mopping the rest of the house, which was one of the last things on the list to complete. I walked into the dining room, where the chore list sat. I glanced at it, mentally checking things off for the fifth time today. The sun was setting now, the orange and red colors of the sky pouring through the glass windows on the front of the house. As I read the list, I realized it had been a while since I had heard the mower's hum.

"What is he doing now?" I whispered to myself. I figured it would be nice to bring him some of the lemonade Mama and I had made the day before. So I walked to the fridge, taking the large glass pitcher out, and setting it on the counter. I went to the cabinet that held all of our cups and grabbed one, pouring the sweet liquid carefully. Then I walked around the house, looking out some of the windows to find Elvis.

When I saw him, he was still shirtless, his skin shiny with sweat from the summer sun. He was knelt down in front of the flower beds at the front of the house, his long black hair getting in his eyes, his now gloved hands picking at the soil. He was truly beautiful. I smiled, taking a deep breath, and opening the front door, stepping onto the porch. He looked up at me through squinted eyes, a smile creeping onto his lips.

"Brought you something." I said simply, holding up the glass a bit. I walked across the porch, sitting on the edge of it in front of him. He stood up and pulled the gloves off of his hands, walking over to the edge of the porch. He put his right palm down on the wood, right beside my left hip, tossing the gloves in the grass in front of the beds. I brought the glass closer to him and he took it in his left hand, raising it in a 'cheers' sort of motion.

"Thank you, Honey." he said breathily, bringing the glass to his lips. I looked out across the street, trying to focus on anything but his bare chest.

"What are you out here doing?" I asked, kicking my feet back and forth. He swallowed the last of the lemonade, setting the glass beside him and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Pulling the weeds. I noticed that was also on the list and I decided to make sure those pretty hands of yours stayed clean today." He said. I knew he was smiling by the sound of his voice. It made me smile.

"Thank you Elvis. I truly appreciate it." I said, forcing myself to look at him, trying to control the heat rising to my face.

"Anything for you, Honey." He said sweetly, winking at me. I rolled my eyes playfully before looking back across the street at the sunset. We sat in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of nature and bike bells ringing in the distance. It was nice. "I guess I'll get back to it." he said, standing back up. I looked over at him and caught a glimpse of what looked like some blades of grass stuck together on his left cheek.

"Hold on, come here a second." I told him. He looked back at me and stood directly in front of me, leaning forward so both of his arms rested on either side of me. I blushed again. Elvis knew the effect he had on me by now. His chest pressed into my knees as he stood there, his eyes darting between my own. I swallowed the lump in my throat and brought my right hand up to pluck the grass from his face. After doing so, I dropped the blades onto the ground, looking back at him to ensure I didn't miss anything.

"Grass?" Elvis asked, tilting his head a bit.

"Mhm." I replied softly. He smirked and stood straight again, brushing his fingertips across my left forearm which was holding me upright.

"Thank you." He said, before turning back to the yard, grabbing the gloves off the ground. I watched him for a moment longer while his back was turned to me. The way his back tensed when he pulled the gloves on. I shook my head, trying to get out of whatever daze I was in. I got up and dusted my backside.

"I'm going to make supper," I said, drawing his attention back to me. "Would you like to stay?" I offered. "As a thank you for helping me today." He smirked, dropping his head and then looking back up at me.

"Sure, Honey. I'd love to stay and have supper." He replied, kneeling down again, and reaching for a stray weed. I nodded once and then headed back inside. After I closed the door, I pressed my back firmly against it and laid my hands on my chest in an attempt to calm my pounding heart. I loved this feeling. This feeling of loving... of being loved. Or at least feeling like I am being loved, by someone other than my parents. I took a deep, refreshing breath, the scent of oranges from the cleaning supplies flooding my nose. Wiping my palms on the cleaning apron for the hundredth time today, I began making my way to the kitchen.

-Time Skip-

I wiped the light sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, the heat of the stove radiating in the air. I had decided on making spaghetti, since it was easy and because those were the ingredients Mama bought for me before going on her trip. I topped the noodles with tomato sauce that I had prepared fresh with tomatoes from my Daddy's garden. Taking a step back, I looked at the dining room table, proud of my work.

I turned around again, facing the sink now, beginning to take off the apron I had been wearing all day. After I had taken it off, I tossed it into the laundry closet at the back of the kitchen, going to my bathroom to straighten up my appearance a bit. I laid down my flyaways with a little water and spritzed a bit of perfume on my collarbone. I began making my way to the front door, my heart skipping a beat with every step. I see him almost every day. Why am I so excited to see him?

"E.P.?" I called, leaning out of the doorway.

"Yeah, Honey?" He called back. His voice had come from the left of the porch. I looked that way and was met with a very sweaty, exhausted-looking Elvis. I giggled at the sight and then spoke again.

"Supper is ready." I told him. He smiled and clapped his gloved hands once, making his way over to the porch steps. Elvis kicked his boots off by the door, throwing the gloves down beside them. As he began to walk inside, I stopped him with my index finger on his chest.

"You'll be wearing a shirt, yes?" It came out as more of a demand than a question. He smirked and took my hand from his chest, bringing it to his lips.

"It's just us, Honey. Couldn't I eat this way?" he asked in a teasing way. I blushed profusely shaking my head from side to side.

"No, you may not Mr. Presley." I teased, walking toward the dining room. I could feel Elvis' piercing blue eyes on me as I walked. It made my stomach do flips. Elvis walked out the back door to grab the white shirt he was wearing at the beginning of the day. I watched him put it on through the window above the kitchen sink, biting my nails nervously. Why was I nervous? The sound of the back door closing snapped me out of my daze as I turned to look at the doorway.

"Better?" Elvis asked. I rolled my eyes, taking note of how he had buttoned the shirt all the way up to the top button. I slowly approached him not taking my eyes off of his. Where did this wave of confidence come from? I was quick to silence my thoughts as I now stood in front of him. I reached up and unbuttoned the top button and the button below that one, spreading his shirt open a bit.

"No need to be a smart-aleck." I said softly, looking up at him. His eyes darted back and forth between my own. I smiled, seeing a light blush rising to his cheeks. I swiftly moved away from him and took my seat at one end of the table.

"No no," Elvis said, walking over to the chair next to where I set his food. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and then expect me to sit opposite you. You're sitting next to me." While it was indeed a demand, it came across as somewhat of an invitation. I never could figure out how Elvis did that. He could make you feel like you had a choice even when you had no choice at all.

So I stood, grabbed my food, and moved over to sit next to him. Elvis pulled the chair out for me and I sat down, nodding a small thanks to him. He then sat down next to me, his knee pressing against my own. I smiled at the feeling, not noticing Elvis was holding his hands out to me.

"Shall we say a blessing?" He asked me with a quirk of his eyebrow. I quickly placed my hands in his and bowed my head as Elvis began to pray.

-Time Skip-

Elvis was now standing in the living room, leaning against the radio with one arm, listening to the music. I was cleaning up dinner, putting all the dishes in the sink, and then wiping the table down. As I picked up the rag from the table, I glanced over at Elvis. I loved to watch him listen to the radio. He was always so passionate when it came to music. Even though, in eighth grade, he got a C in that class based on what his mother told me. I thought back to every time I had heard him sing in front of me. He truly has a beautiful voice.

I walked to the sink, turned the water on, and rinsed out the rag before tossing it into the laundry closet. As I began to wash the dishes, I heard Elvis' footsteps approaching. The sun was now fully set, so I was able to see his reflection in the window. I glanced up to see him looking at me from the doorway.

"You could come help me you know." I teased, glancing over my shoulder. As I scrubbed the pot I used to boil the noodles, I felt Elvis' arms wrap around my stomach. Before I was even able to register what was happening, my arms seemed to raise up a bit on their own, allowing him to rest his arms comfortably around me. Then I felt the side of his face laying on my shoulder, facing away from my neck. I looked at our reflection in the mirror and for a brief second, I could've sworn I saw the future.

"What are you doin', E.P.?" I asked softly, resuming washing the pot. He sighed before answering.

"Jus' loving you." he said simply. I felt my heart absolutely sputter at his words. I kept my composure.

"Elvis Presley, you love me?" I asked in a playful way. Elvis scoffed quietly.

"Course I do, Honey," he replied, picking up his head from my shoulder and putting his chin there instead. "You know that." He nudged my cheek with his nose before laying his head back down. I froze for a moment before continuing to wash the dishes. Somehow I truly did know that, but it felt as though it was too good to be true, so I never said anything about it. Elvis began to sway back and forth, causing me to sway with him. I smiled as he began to hum softly. I tilted my head just enough to where my head was resting against his. This felt perfect.

This felt real.

This felt like true love.

#elvis presley #elvis the king #elvis the pelvis #50s elvis #rock n roll #the king of rock n' roll #fanfic #short story #love #sweet #fluff #SoundCloud

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