#milaselvisblurbs
Note
I love that skinny dipping prompt. Could you make it with 70s Elvis, maybe a hint of smut at the end. Thanks!!!!
Just Like Old Times
70s!elvis x reader | 🌺 - skinny dipping
tw: sad reader but that's it! || word count: 2.0k || rating: Pg-13
A/N: i'm baaaack!! it's been so super long since i updated but hi!! i hope all of y'all are thriving and are healthy and happy! i'm starting out slow with some blurbs (thank y'all for the requests fr!) but hopefully i will soon be able to step back into doing full-length fics as well!
~❉•────᯽────•❉~
You clutch the pillow harder and wipe a stray tear from your cheek. The moment your fingertips swipe it away, another takes its place. You ignore the sound of the creaky door opening, his footsteps on the carpet, the way the bed dips down when he sits on the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut in denial when you feel your husband’s palm stretching across your back.
“I’m sorry, baby,” his deep voice comes out raspy and strained.
You can tell that he’s been crying, too. For a moment, you feel accomplished knowing that you’ve hurt him. He should be upset; the whole argument was his fault to begin with. If he would just spend a little more time at home, if he would just settle down…
What are you saying? He’s Elvis Presley. There’s no such thing as settled down for him.
“You okay, honey? I don’t like this not talkin none,” he continues. “I can’t promise I can fix it, but what I can do is promise to listen. For real this time.”
“What good will listening do, Elvis?” You muster the energy to sit up, sniffing as you straighten. “I’m sick of this. I can’t do it anymore. I shouldn’t have to.”
“I know baby, I know,” he replies, taking ahold of your hands. “Believe me.”
You drop your gaze down the bed, feeling your chest tighten.
“Let’s go for a walk like we used to when you first move in here. Can we do that, darlin? Please?”
Your spirit brightens at the mention of your early days together, the honeymoon phase, when you had just moved into Graceland. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and you remember fonder times just after your marriage. You newlyweds had taken so many walks in the backwoods of the property. You talked to Lisa Marie in your stomach as you walked, telling her about the trees and the flowers and the fireflies.
When you raise your eyes to your husband’s, you hard exterior softens immediately. His eyebrows are turned upward, his eyes glistening with tears. He has always been able to break you down so easily. You sigh and nod.
You pull on a pair of sneakers and grab a jacket, just in case. Summer is turning to fall and the Tennessee weather is unpredictable. Elvis holds out his hand but you can’t bring yourself to take it just yet. You gently push it away and descend the stairs before stepping out into the familiar night.
For the first few steps, Elvis trails behind you. You guess he’s gauging how much trouble he’s really in and trying to decide how close he can get without upsetting you. You walk with your arms crossed over your chest, the jacket hanging loosely on your shoulders. You keep your eyes trained on the ground beneath you, watching each step carefully. He must have taken your silence as a good sign, because he circles around to your side and falls in step with you. You walk in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of your feet crunching through the grass and leaves to fill the crisp night air.
“I’m just frustrated is all,” you say quietly. “I married you because I want to do everything with you, share everything with you, be with you all the time. Now…I hardly see you and, when I do, I’m not even sure you’re really there.”
You are met with silence. Again, the air is filled with the sounds of your feet trekking through the backyard. After what feels like a long while, you lift your head to the side. Elvis’ fingers are busy rubbing repetitive circles on his temple.
“I know, darlin, I know. This has been botherin you for a long time now. I jus…see, I know how to fix it but I just gotta make myself do it. I know I gotta make more time for ya. For you and Lisa. I know that but I…I jus can’t. That’s the problem.”
Your feet scuff to a stop and you turn toward your husband, exasperated.
“Why can’t you? What are you so afraid of, Elvis?”
He throws his hands up, his head rolling to the side so that he doesn’t have to face you directly.
“If I take time off, I feel like I…like no one’ll…Nah, nevermind, it’s stupid.”
“Elvis,” you step closer to him. Your palm slides onto his face, forcing his eyes down to yours. “Nothing you could ever say will sound stupid to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
His jaw clenches and you can tell he’s clearly thinking. He sighs and nods resolutely.
“If I take a break, I’m worried that nobody’s gonna remember me when I come back.”
Your frustrated expression softens once again and you step closer to him, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone.
“Oh Elvis…baby, they’re not gonna forget you. No one could forget you. Hell, those fans know you better than I do right now. I feel like I hardly know you anymore. They got their time with Elvis Presley. Now it’s my turn.”
He hesitates, shaking his head. His face contorts into a concerned expression, so you grip harder onto his face.
“It doesn’t have to be forever, Elvis. Just for a while. I want my husband back, even if it’s just for a bit. A vacation. I think we should take one. We could take Lisa to Disney World or go on a cruise to the Bahamas or…whatever you want.”
Elvis closes his eyes, dropping his head down. His forehead crashes onto your chest. Your fingers tangle into his hair, gingerly brushing through the locks. You remain like that for a few moments before Elvis lifts his head. He presses a chaste kiss to the bottom of your throat and then pulls away. He sniffs and offers a small smile before holding out both of his hands. His body circles around you.
“C’mere,” he says.
“Where are we going?” you ask, even though you’re already reaching out to meet him.
“You’ll see.”
He starts to pull you along, on a path you don’t immediately recognize. You squint into the darkness but, without the generous light from the streetlamps, all you have to work off of is the beam of white light from the full moon above you. Despite the darkness surrounding you, you can still see the way your husband’s eyes sparkle. You haven’t seen that in a long time.
You stumble behind him into a small clearing. Your breath catches in your throat as you start to comprehend where you are. You giggle and bite your lip as memories flood through your mind.
“Remember this place?” he asks, stepping behind you.
“Yes, of course I do,” you reply.
You grin sheepishly as you gaze out across the small stretch of freshwater pond in front of you. The reflection of the glinting stars and the moon shimmers in the water as a gentle incoming autumn breeze blows through the air. Your arms raise automatically when you feel Elvis’ hands wind around your waist. He pulls you backward into his body and tucks his head in the crook of your neck.
“Remember what we did here?” Elvis continues in a hot breath across your skin.
Goosebumps rise on your neck and arms. You tuck your head to stop the sensation from spreading.
“Yes,” you reply through a cheeky smile, “I remember.”
His fingers start to trail down the exposed skin of your neck, intensifying the goosebumps already there. His soft touch sends shocks down your spine. He hasn’t taken the time to touch you so carefully in a very long time. He deftly lifts the jacket from your shoulders and then pulls the straps of your nightshirt down your shoulders. As the fabric falls limp on your arms, exposing your shoulders to the night air, you shiver.
“Elvis, it’s cold out here,” you mumble.
That doesn’t stop him. He moves to the hem of the shirt, his fingers dancing underneath it. He lifts it smoothly over your head. Although your entire body is shuddering, you gladly allow him to undress you. The growing fire inside your gut is countering the frigid temperature around you. Elvis’ warm lips press to the side of your neck. Your head falls to the side as the touch of his tongue warms you. Your hands respond by reaching backward to tangle in Elvis’ hair, pulling softly. He grunts in response and you close your eyes to take in all of the sensations coursing through you. While he works your neck, Elvis’ fingers are busy sliding off your pajama bottoms. Your clothes pool around your legs in a lifeless pile.
Suddenly, he’s gone. Your eyes flash open and flick back and forth as you search for your husband. It’s so dark without the street lamps that you can barely see. You squint into the dark, but, when you finally locate him, he’s rushing past you to cannonball into the water. You laugh as the wave he created splashes onto the side of the pond's bank. Elvis resurfaces with a loud yelp.
“Woo! Damn, that’s cold!” he shouts and you giggle again. “Come on, darlin! Whatcha waitin for?”
You glance down at the water and your smile fades. You turn away from the water, shaking your head.
“Elvis…”
“Nah, don’t you Elvis me. C’mon. Need somebody to warm me up, mama.”
That is an invitation you just can’t refuse. You carefully walk forward, one foot at a time, to brave the cold waters. When you dip a toe in, you gasp. It truly is frigid. You aren’t sure how Elvis is handling it all by himself.
You turn away again, tempted to go back inside and warm up. You aren’t really in the mood for this, especially after the fight you just had. But when your eyes flick back to your husband, waiting so patiently and expectantly for you, you find your body moving forward into the water.
You jump in, crashing below the surface. An electric shock swims through you when you hit the water. The memories come flooding back in the darkness. You automatically start to move your arms and legs, resurfacing as soon as possible.
“Holy shit!” you yell as soon as you pop back up. “That is so cold, oh my god.”
“I know, baby. C’mere,” Elvis says, chuckling.
His arms reach out for you again, pulling your body closer to his. You wrap your legs around his waist to hold yourself against him. You drop your arms to his shoulders and wind them around his neck to support your body. Elvis’ hands fall to your waist and hold you steady.
“There we are,” he mutters. “Now you better get real close, mama, cause I’m freezin.”
You chuckle, pulling yourself closer to him. Although your bodies are shivering together, you feel a warmth that you haven’t experienced in quite a while. Elvis brushes some wet hair from your forehead. You lean down, letting your lips tickle against his for a previous moment. You hover in the shared space and Elvis’ fingers tighten on your waist. One of his hands slides up your spine, pressing your chest against him. Your back arches in response and you release a desperate breath.
You feel the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk. He finally connects your lips, pressing hard against you. You melt into his touch, kissing him back fiercely. Your mouths work together, fighting for dominance. Elvis’ tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in. You love the way his mouth tastes on yours. Your hips move forward against him and that tempting feeling in the pit of your stomach pulses through you. His fingertips glide across your skin, smoothly under the water. As his palm slides down the inside of your thigh, a breeze floats through the air. You both shudder violently, your lips detaching.
You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, burying your head in his chest.
“I guess it was warmer last time,” he admits sheepishly.
You giggle, biting your lip. You tilt your head, brushing your lips against Elvis’ ear before you whisper.
“Take me inside, Presley.”
~❉•────᯽────•❉~
🦋 mila
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Hi I love your writing ! If your still accepting requests, I would love to see an imagine where the reader gets her period while Elvis is preforming a show and she misses it trying to take care of her situation. Its kind of angsty because he thinks she just skipped but it ends with fluff and him taking care of her ! sorry I know that was super specific, doesn't have to be the same just something similar. Thanks :)
That Time Again
tw: Mentions of blood/period pain + a lil bit of angst
word count: 1094 || rating: Pg
A/N: i would kick myself if this happened to me fr 😭 but i would also give anything to have elvis/aus take care of me. this is not my best work so i am deeply sorry for that 😭
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No, no, no. Not now, please not now.
You squirm as you silently argue with your body. You know that feeling. You could never mistake it after all these years. It's that uncomfortable sensation, as if you're peeing but can do nothing to stop the liquid from coming out. The feeling of blood dripping out of your vagina.
You squeeze your legs together, willing everything in your body to fight against your biological cycle. But as the sensation ripples through you again, you sigh deeply.
"I'll be right back. I'm afraid I'm having some lady issues," you whisper, leaning over to Gladys.
"Of course, hunny. You jus let me know if ya need anythin," she whispers back, offering you a smile.
You quietly stand, trying to draw the least amount of attention to yourself as possible. You glance up at Elvis onstage in a beautiful pink tweed jacket with black pants. A smile spreads across your face as you watch his body wiggle back and forth, eliciting screams and even some moans from the women in the audience.
You slink out of the audience and run toward the nearest women's restroom, ducking inside and immediately into a stall. You bend at the waist, pressing a hand to your stomach as you try to soothe the sharp stinging pain there You gasp out a few breaths and then pull your panties down to see a small circle of deep red blood, luckily not too dark or saturated that it can't be hidden. But it will definitely leave a stain on the fabric of the panties. You grab some toilet paper, dabbing yourself clean, and then fashion a makeshift pad to keep you covered until you can get ahold of a real one.
You take a few more deep breaths and try to straighten yourself up but the painful pinching waves that ricochet through your body make you double over again. You hear the door open and then Mrs. Presley's voice.
"Y/N, honey, are ya in here?"
"Right here, Mrs. Presley," you choke out, unlocking the door and walking out to see her. Your face must be reflecting the pain you're in because she offers you her arm and shakes her head.
"Let's get you home, dear," she says, dragging you toward the door.
"Oh Mrs. Presley, no, I have to-ughh."
"No, I know that look. Home. Now. I'll drive ya myself," she says in a tone so firmly that you know the conversation is over.
So, you climb into the car with Gladys and allow her to drive you back home to Graceland, where she helps you up the stairs and tucks you into Elvis' bed. She smooths some hair from your forehead and brings you a glass of water.
"Now, Imma be downstairs if you need anythin. From one woman to another, get some rest. I understand how painful this time of the month can be."
She offers a comforting smile, and you return it, settling into the warm sheets. She takes a few steps toward the door, but you stop her.
"Mrs. Presley," she turns. "Thank you. And would you send Elvis up when he gets back?"
"Of course, darlin."
And with that, she shuts the door. You snuggle deeper into the soft sheets and the next thing you know you're waking up to the sound of the bedroom door slamming against the wall. You jerk up and blink the sleep from your eyes to see Elvis standing by the dresser, shrugging off his outfit with his back toward you. You're already lifting the covers and getting out of bed, feeling so much better after your deep nap.
"Elvis, honey! You were amazing!" you say, and he turns at the sound of your voice.
You throw your arms around his shoulders and squeeze him tightly. He gives you a pat on the back but nothing more.
"Elvis, baby, is something wrong?"
He says nothing at first, just clenches his jaw. You gaze up into his eyes, trying to parse out his emotions.
"Where were ya, Y/N?!" Elvis suddenly shouts, and you recoil, shocked by his change in tone. "I needed ya there. This was a really, really important performance for me. The whole of America was watchin. Everybody but you, Y/N! All I wanted was to look out into the crowd after the performance and see ya sittin there with that beautiful smile on ya face, but you weren't there!"
"I...I-I'm sorry, Elvis, I-I was there! I swear I was, but then I-" you suck in a painful, shaky breath as you try not to cry. "I had to go t-to the bathroom because I s-s-started my p-period, and y-your mom insisted that she could t-take me ho-home. I-"
You feel your face immediately screw up and tears start to stream down your cheeks, one chasing directly after the other. You squeeze the words out through shaky breaths even though they're barely coherent. The tears are hard at work, forming two wet rivers down your cheeks. You try to wipe them with your fingers but only spread the wet moisture across the rest of your face. You drop your head into your hands.
"Oh baby...oh, sweet girl, I'm so sorry," he says and, in a flash, you feel his hands on your shoulders, gently walking you back to sit on the bed. "I didn't know...I didn't realize that...well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make ya feel like this, baby. I'm sorry."
You sniffle, removing your hands to look at him.
"I'm sorry, too. I don't know why I'm crying. I guess it's just..." you gesture toward your crotch.
His fingers slip under your chin and lift your eyes to meet his gaze. His thumb strokes your cheek. His expression is completely different now, softened, full of love and affection. These are the eyes of the Elvis you love, the eyes that tell you he loves you back.
"Baby girl, you can cry all you'd like cause Imma be right here to take care of ya," he says quietly and his hands slide underneath your body, carrying you bridal style toward the top of the bed.
You pull the covers back and he lays you down so incredibly gently onto the mattress. He pulls the comforter and blanket up to your chin, sitting beside you and stroking your hair. He leans forward and presses a soft, warm kiss to your forehead.
"I love you, honey," he says with a smile that you return. "You're my bestest girl, forever and always."
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🦋 mila
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could I maybe request a fix it where reader visits elvis after he’s hospitalized for suffering of exhaustion and when they’re alone the reader insists elvis should fire the colonel and get help but he says he’s fine and the reader mentions that lisa said she doesn’t like Las Vegas because it made her daddy sick and when reader asked to explain herself she said that since he started his residency he looked tired and dizzy and sad all the time (ofc because of the drugs but she doesn’t know). all she knows is that her daddy is suffering and he doesn’t look sick when the colonel is not around. and hearing that his daughter is worried about his health breaks him and he decides to fire the colonel and put steve in charge, and steve makes sure that elvis is clean and healthy before sending him on a world tour and filming more movies that e can actually be proud of (because “I’m not sending you like this around the world, it’ll kill you”)? I just want to imagine what would e’s life would’ve been if he had seen the signs sooner and had fought to get better.
For Lisa
tw: sad reader, elvis, and lisa + mentions of drug abuse || word count: 1077 || rating: Pg
A/N: this is possibly the worst thing i've posted so far, so i do apologize for that 😅 💕
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“Oh Elvis,” you mutter as you walk into the hotel room.
You shield your eyes as Jerry and Cousin Billy lift up sheets of flashy silver tin foil. The sheets are being taped up onto the windows to keep too much sunlight from shining into the room. As you glance at your husband laying lifeless on the bed in his robe with a pair of dark red sunglasses covering his eyes, you sigh. He looks totally exhausted.
You had been at Graceland in Memphis with Lisa Marie, getting her ready to go off to school in the morning when you'd gotten a call from Jerry that Elvis was being hospitalized. Jerry said that your husband was suffering from exhaustion and you had better get there quickly. Of course, you'd jumped on the first flight to Vegas after getting Lisa settled.
"Hi baby," Elvis murmurs, holding his arms out for you.
You approach him, shrugging your bag off and dropping it into a chair in the corner of the room. You take his arms and lean over to hug his relaxed body. You press a kiss to his hot forehead and trail your fingers down his face, stroking the soft skin. You are about to ask him how he's feeling when the Colonel's high-pitched voice interrupts you.
"Yes, as I was saying, Dr. Nick will help you rest so that you can get back on your feet in time for a U.S. tour," the Colonel says, throwing a look of contempt in your direction. You return it without hesitation before he continues. "And I think 15 shows, 15 days, 15 cities will work out very nicely."
You clench your jaw, squeezing your fingers into fists by your sides and glaring over at the Colonel. The anger that rises in your chest moves you to speak before you can stop yourself.
"Can we have a minute, please? I'd like to speak with my husband alone," you blurt out, glancing at Jerry for support. He nods, understanding your meaning.
"Yeah, let's leave the married couple alone for a bit. I think they deserve a little time just the two of them."
You smile at Jerry as he ushers everyone out of the room and wait patiently until the door is closed before you turn to Elvis.
"How are you feeling, baby?" you ask, taking his hand. You stroke his skin with your thumb, noticing how dry and calloused it is. It's nothing like the soft, smooth skin that you remembered.
"Just a lil tired, hunny. It ain't nothin. I'll be better in the mornin."
You nod, averting your gaze from his eyes for a moment as you try to balance your anger, frustration, sadness, and irritation all at the same time. You heave a deep breath before turning back to Elvis. Tears are beginning to brim in your eyelashes. You try to blink them away, but your emotions get the best of you.
"You know I almost brought Lisa with me. I considered it, I really did. But she didn't want to come. Do you know why Elvis? Do you know why your daughter didn't want to come here to see you?"
Elvis says nothing, confusion knitting his brows together.
"Because she's afraid of this place. She told me. She said she doesn't like it here because daddy is always sick. Even your three-year-old daughter can see that this place fucking makes you sick, Elvis!" your voice has risen to a shout. "These drugs, all this performing, the shitty food, it's too much! It's scaring Lisa and it's scaring me!"
"Hunny, hunny, hunny," Elvis has leaned up in bed and is grabbing onto your flailing wrists which you've been using to gesture. "Baby, what the hell is this all bout? I'm just a lil tired, that's all. It ain't nothin."
"No, Elvis. Stop. I'm so tired of this. Lisa needs her father back. I need my husband back. And the Colonel isn't gonna allow that to happen. He won't let it, I know it. Just like I fucking told you, as soon as you got here he had you under ten feet of snow already before you even realized what was happening. He'll never let you go because every time you get away, he finds some way to drag you back. And then you're under all that snow again drowning, suffocating!"
"Nah, baby, the Colonel's helpin me out. I know I was 'posed to fire him back a few months ago, but he just knows how the industry works. He's gonna figure it all out for me. I just need a lil time to rest."
"Elvis, listen to me," you say, grasping at his hands and holding them close to your chest. "Please fire him. For your daughter, for me. I know you think he's the only one who can help you, but I promise, baby, I swear that we'll find another way. What about Steve Binder? I saw you up on that stage during the special. I saw how much fun you were having, and for the first time since I married you, I saw my husband. That was Elvis, not this."
You can see Elvis' eyes soften immediately and you realize just how tired he is when he barely puts up a fight. He opens his mouth to respond, but the nurse bursts back into the room before he has the chance. She immediately rushes to the side of the bed to attend to something, and you release an irritated breath. Within a matter of seconds, the room has flooded with people again.
"I think we should leave Mr. Presley alone to rest now," the nurse says, and you nod although you don't trust her.
You stand and lean over to kiss your husband, hovering on his lips for a moment before pulling back to whisper in his ear.
"Please just think about it," you squeeze his hand.
"I don't need to. Would ya give Steve a call for me, hunny?" he asks before pressing a soft kiss to your hand and releasing it.
He glances up at you with a soft smile and you can see the wink even underneath the dark red sunglasses. You return the expression, feeling a pang of intense hope pound in your chest. You mouth an "I love you" as he slips away into a deep slumber. You don't know if it will work, but you're just happy he's willing to try.
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🦋 mila
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Hi! Could I request a fic where reader is an actress in a play/movie that's kinda like a star vehicle for Elvis but she's starring opposite him. I remember reading that he wanted to do serious stuff, like not just singing and dancing. And also, could reader be very innocent and nervous about doing scenes and stuff with such a famous guy like E.P.? Maybe there's a kissing or a love scene and she gets nervous to do it for real? Could be fluffy or smutty, whichever way works best! <3
Dreams
tw: none! [ fem!reader ] || word count: 1827 || rating: pg
A/N: after the absolute sin i posted last night i hope y'all enjoy this softness lolol 🥰 this is such a cute idea!!! i loved writing it 💕
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“Does my hair look alright, Doris?” you ask, glancing over at your stylist with worried eyes.
You’re standing in front of the mirror in your trailer, preparing to film your very first scene on the set of a new movie. While you’re already nervous after critics have expressed a lot of excitement for the movie, some predicting it to be the best film of the year, you’re even more nervous to meet your co-star. When your agent explained to you that you’d be starring opposite Elvis Presley, the famous musician and actor, your heart had stopped.
“Yes, of course, it does, Y/N. You look wonderful,” Doris responds with a smile as she brings your coat over.
You sigh as you slide your arms back into it. You know you shouldn’t be worried or nervous. You’re clearly just as talented and capable of an actor as Elvis since you’re co-starring in the same movie. And you happen to be one of the hottest names in Hollywood in general, with hundreds of fans throwing themselves at you on the daily. Glancing at yourself in costume in the mirror, you heave a deep breath and smile at Doris through the reflection.
“Don’t worry, dear,” she says, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “You’ll be perfect. You always are.”
You lean affectionately against her arm and thank her. She opens the door for you and you make your way across the street toward the studio. The security guards open the door for you and you enter, silently repeating your lines to yourself in your head. You approach the director, Paul, and paste on your most charming smile. As you come closer, you realize that Paul is already discussing the scene with someone, although you can’t tell who since their back is turned to you.
“Y/N, darling! We’re just discussing the scene,” Paul says when his eyes lock onto you.
He gestures for you to come forward so you step up to the conversation and your breath catches in your throat when the mystery man turns around. Of course, it’s none other than Elvis standing before you. He offers you a charming smile which you return happily.
"Y/N, this is-"
"Elvis Presley," you interrupt Paul. "It's truly an honor to meet you Mr. Presley. I'm quite a fan."
"I'm a pretty big fan of yours, too, Miss Y/L/N."
He thrusts his hand forward and you take it and give it a firm shake. Paul continues talking, gesturing toward the set behind you. It's a scene halfway through the movie which takes place by a romantic Italian fountain in Milan. It also so happens to be the first kiss scene that occurs in the film. As you step up onto the set, you gulp and try not to shake as you reach up to take Elvis' outstretched hand. You feel heat creeping into your face as Elvis smiles and helps you up the steps.
"I think if we have you begin over here, Y/N, it will be more natural for you to look Roger in the eyes, yes?"
"Like this?" you ask.
You stand to follow Paul's direction toward the fountain and turn with your knees resting elegantly against the side of the marble structure. You stare off into the distance where Elvis' character, Roger, is marked to stand.
"Yes, that's delightful. And Elvis if you'd begin over here," Paul suggests and Elvis follows his direction. "Wonderful, wonderful! Let me make sure the cameras are ready to roll and we'll start filming."
Paul runs off toward the cameras as a few lingering set assistants swoop in to fix some details. You chuckle as you make eye contact with Elvis from across the set and he winks. A few moments later, Paul's voice rings out again.
"Alright kids let's begin from 'what are your dreams, Roger?' And...action!"
"What are your dreams, Roger?" you start.
Elvis recites his monologue, much longer than most of your lines in this scene. When you originally read the script, you were upset by the idea that you had so few lines, but now as you sit shuddering silently with anxiety, you're actually quite glad. You don't think you could handle more than a few lines. You watch as Elvis dances around the set, interacting with the props exactly as scripted. You find yourself genuinely impressed by his skills. He continues through the monologue until he sits next to you on the fountain. He takes your hands in his and stares into your eyes. Suddenly, your mind goes blank and you realize that you've forgotten what you're supposed to say.
"What about you, Maggie, what are your dreams?"
"I dream of a day filled with sun, sand between my toes, and...er..."
"Cut! Okay, Y/N, honey let's try it again, please. Remember the line is 'I dream of a day filled with sun, sand between my toes, and my body in your arms.' Let's go again please. Reset and...action!"
You shake yourself back to focus, repeating the line again and again in your head. Before you know it, Elvis is sitting by you on the fountain.
"What about you, Maggie, what are your dreams?"
But when it comes time again for you to recite your response, your heart begins to thud in your chest. Your brain jumps forward to the scene you know will follow in which you have to kiss Elvis Presley. Passionately. And nerves quickly take over.
"I dream of a day filled with sun, sand between my toes, and my body...in your...arms, in your arms. I'm sorry," you say, dropping your head into your hands.
Although Paul remains calm, you can tell that he's growing irritated. Elvis touches your hand gently and nods encouragingly.
"You'll get it, darlin. I know you will," he says with a wink.
Your heart beats quickly in your chest snd the frog in your throat keeps you from saying anything. So instead, you just nod. Elvis returns to the start of the scene and you take a deep breath. Paul yells action and you start the scene once more. You're doing wonderfully and you finally get down your line, but as Elvis' fingers intertwine into yours to the soundtrack of his deep southern drawl and beautiful sea blue eyes, your memory turns into mush.
"And what'll we do then, Maggie?" he asks, leaning in as his eyes flick down to your lips.
"I...we will s...we...shit," you hiss, rubbing your fingers on the bridge of your nose. "Excuse me. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."
You can feel the heat climbing into your face and ears now. You stand up as the crew begins to reset and walk back into the corner, closing yourself off from the rest of the staff as much as possible. You scold yourself in whispers.
Since your eyes are closed, you jump at the sound of Elvis' voice beside you.
"Y/N, y'aright honey?" he asks.
You turn with your best fake smile and nod.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just...frustrated, that's all. I promise that I'm more professional than this. For some reason I just can't..."
"You'll get it. I know you will. I've seen you act on the screen and watchin you is like magic."
You lift your gaze to his as the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.
"Thank you. But it does no good if I can't even remember my lines on day one of filming. I'm better than this, I know I am. I just need to-"
"Hey," your breath hitches in your throat as Elvis takes ahold of your fingers. His warm, calloused fingers soothingly circle over your knuckles. "You just need to relax, baby. Listen, I ain't never acted opposite someone so beautiful and talented before. I can't wait to see what you can do. Just relax and take it slow, like we're havin a real conversation. Yeah?"
You nod and smile. He gently pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger
"Atta girl."
You close your eyes and heave a few deep breaths before returning to your mark to prepare for the scene. Paul raises his eyebrows and you nod back with a determined expression. Paul's worked with you several times before and you know that he's aware of your talent. He probably realizes that you're just having an off day. Paul yells action and Elvis begins the scene. You breathe a sigh of relief as you make it through your first line without issue.
"What about you, Maggie, what are your dreams?"
"I dream of a day filled with sun, the sand between my toes, and my body in your arms."
"And what'll we do then, Maggie?" Elvis asks.
He takes your fingers gently, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You smile at him and tilt your head. His gaze is soft and sweet, his blue eyes sparkling in the romantic light of the set. His eyes flick down to your lips and yours do the same as you prepare to say your next line.
"Well, I'm not sure. What do you have in mind, Roger?"
Elvis smiles, his hand gently cupping your face. His thumb strokes your cheek and he pulls you to him. You lean forward slowly, tilting your head. Right before your lips touch, Elvis pauses and takes you in. You bite your lip and he leans forward to press his lips onto yours. You smile into the kiss, your arms winding around his shoulders to pull his body closer. His snake around your waist and he deepens the kiss. Your fingers start to tangle into his hair and he accidentally leans forward a little too far, caught up in the passion of the moment.
You yelp as you both fall sideways into the water of the fountain. Your clothes are immediately soaked and you both burst into laughter. Paul yells cut and claps.
"That was honestly wonderful! You know, I think I like this better than what we had scripted. We wanted Roger and Maggie to be a lighthearted, fun-loving couple, and I think this demonstrates that beautifully. Let's get you both cleaned off and go for another take. Great work, everyone!"
You and Elvis are still coming down from your fits of laughter. Elvis steps out first and holds his hand out for you. You accept his help and he pulls you to standing as the last few chuckles escape from your lips. Silence settles between you and you chuckle nervously.
"Thank you," you say.
"Don't mention it, darlin," he responds, waving his hand dismissively. "Sorry for gettin ya all wet."
You chuckle and shake your head.
"Oh, I don't mind. If it means I get to kiss you again, I'm all for it."
You turn to get changed into a dry costume, glancing over your shoulder to see a surprised Elvis with deep red cheeks.
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🦋 mila
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Imagine going to club handy with Elvis. Staying till it’s just you two, B.B. King and sister Rosetta, Elvis and B.B. talking while you falling asleep and Elvis carrying you back to the car and to bed
Goodnight Club Handy
tw: none!! || word count: 902 || rating: pg
A/N: hiiii! i love this idea and so i did a lil blurb for it!
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You tear your sweater on as you burst out of the front door, down the steps, and into the car. As soon as your butt hits the leather seat, you lean over to give Elvis a big hug. His hands leave the steering wheel, curling around your body to hold you close.
He’s had another fight with his mother and called you right up afterward. He always does. These fights with his mother have been more frequent recently with all the stress of his success. Whenever he gets into it with Gladys, he gives you a call just to hear your voice. You can always tell when it’s been a particularly bad fight because he asks if you would come with him to Club Handy on Beale Street. You always agree, even if it means you have to sneak out of the house from under the nose of your parents.
This is one of those nights.
You never ask what the fights are about, and you know that he doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants you there, to hear your voice and feel your presence.
As he drives, the warm Memphis air swirls around your faces, and you hold onto his fingers. He squeezes your hand tightly and every once in a while, you raise his fingers to your lips to reassure him. Neither of you talk while you drive to Beale Street but you’re there quicker than a flash, with your house only being about five minutes out. Once he pulls into a parking spot, he pauses, drops his head, and heaves a deep sigh. You climb over the car and wrap your arms around his head and neck, pulling him into your chest. You sit for a few minutes before he gently removes you, grabbing his jacket and taking your hand to enter the club.
It’s busy, as usual, at Club Handy and the smells and music are immaculate. You meet B.B. King, Elvis’ good friend, at the front of the club and he leads you back to a secluded table where you can all relax and observe. Elvis sits on the bench first, scooting over to leave enough room for you. You crawl onto the wood next to him and snuggle into his armpit. He winds his arm around you and then presses a soft kiss onto the top of your head. You smile and intertwine your fingers with his.
You all sit, listen, and talk for about an hour before people start to trail out of the club. Soon, it’s just you, Elvis, B.B., and Sister Rosetta left in the club. Sister Rosetta starts to sing an old gospel lullaby, and you yawn, squirming closer to Elvis. It’s the perfect environment for a good night’s sleep. With the warmth of Elvis’ body radiating onto you, the dim lighting of the club, and Sister Rosetta’s deep and raspy voice singing such a soothing tune, you feel your eyelids growing heavy. The club’s smells of lingering smoke and alcohol mix for a warm scent that makes you feel right at home. And you lean into the soft vibrations of Elvis’ deep southern drawl as he talks to B.B. in low voices about his troubles. Your eyes start to flutter closed
“Y/N, baby, it’s time to go home,” he whispers quietly.
You groan and wipe your eyes, refusing to open them. But you don't protest as he maneuvers you around and up onto his hips. His hands slide underneath your thighs and hoist you up. You wind your legs and arms around his body like a toddler being carried and let him escort you down to the car. He gently drops you into the seat, and you immediately curl up into a ball. A cold wind makes you shiver, but you feel soft fabric being draped across your skin. You curl your fingers around it, pulling it into your body and nuzzling into the warmth. You can tell by the smell that it’s Elvis’ jacket. That sweet musky...
Before you know it, you’re being gently shaken awake again. Your eyes flutter open for a quick moment this time, and you smile when you see Elvis’ handsome face grinning sweetly down at you. His arms wind around your body, lifting you up bridal style, to carry you into the house. You yawn and thread your arms around him, nestling your face into the soft, tender skin of his neck. He smells so good, like musk and warm spices. You inhale his scent as he carries you inside without a problem.
You realize about halfway up the stairs that you’re at Graceland, not your own house, but you’re too tired to protest. You know he’ll take you back home first thing in the morning, and your parents won’t be the least bit wiser.
He drops you onto the bed and helps take off your shoes, socks, and jacket. You fall onto the soft sheets, your eyes still closed, and sigh happily. A few minutes later, you feel the bed shift with his weight as he pulls you back into his body with an arm securely wrapped around your waist. He nuzzles his nose onto your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin.
“I love you, darlin,” he says softly, and you hum in response. Even though your eyes are closing quickly, you know you’ll see him soon in your dreams.
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🦋 mila
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hello, i LOVE your elvis work!
a request, if i may: reader has an anxiety/panic attack and he helps them through it/comforts them. feel free to get creative!
thanks <3
Keeping Promises
tw: anxiety/panic attacks + angst || word count: 947 || rating: pg
A/N: hi nonnie and thank u thank u! this is super cute, but i can't think of a good plot line for it, so i'm just gonna do a lil blurb!
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You fall into the armchair in the corner of the living room, gripping the arms with your fingernails. Your eyes are trapped on the television screen even though it's blank. You can't tear your glare away, even when you feel the stinging tears gathering in your eyes.
"No," Gladys says sharply. "There's no way my baby's goin to Germany."
"It's this or jail..." the Colonel starts going on and on, his irritating voice droning into your ears.
You feel Elvis' fingers on your back, gently settling onto the skin. But the sensation doesn't soothe you at all. In fact, it actually upsets you more when you begin to think about how much you'll miss his touch while he's gone. As you grip the chair with all your strength and try to block out the Colonel's voice, your breathing starts to increase.
At first, you close your eyes, trying to keep it from becoming a problem. But as the Colonel tries to justify his ideas, Gladys grows more hysterical by the moment, and Vernon sits still saying nothing, you start to feel your body rock back and forth manically. Elvis has left your side to go defend his daddy's honor, and you feel all but unstable. With each rock forward and back, forward and back, your chest starts to rise and fall more heavily and quickly. You feel your blood and the tips of your fingers running cold. And the rocking begins to turn into full-on shaking.
You lift your hands in front of your face. Even though you're unable to focus your eyes on each finger, you can still see them shaking and shuddering through your blurry tears. Your stomach convulses over and over, and you can tell your erratic breathing is becoming more noticeable. You fling yourself out of your seat and race to the bathroom before the full fury of your panic attack hits you.
Crashing to the floor, you try to slam the door shut, but something stops it. On your hands and knees in the bathroom, you can't bring yourself to look up to even see who it is. But when you feel hands on you, you can just tell that it's Elvis. Waves of shudders and hyperventilating breaths shock through you, and there's nothing you can do about it other than make it worse. You try to hold your breath and regulate it, but you just can't make your brain listen to your words. You wish your brain is strong enough to turn it off, but it just isn't.
You hear the door close and feel Elvis' arms wrap around your body. His weight on top of you helps to push some pressure out of your lungs. You close your eyes trying to refocus your attention on one thing at a time.
"It's aright, baby, everythin's gonna be okay," he says reassuringly in that calming deep southern drawl. He leans back, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms securely around you. You shudder in his grasp, trying once again to breathe deeply. You can't. Elvis softly strokes your hair and squeezes you tightly.
"Shhh, shhh. Just breathe, darlin, just breath my love," he says softly. "Here gimme ya hand."
You can't move, but he takes your hand and places it on his chest. You curl your fingers into the skin.
"Tell me what ya feel. Describe it to me."
You both know that no words will come out of your mouth, but just thinking about something, focusing on something else, will help calm you down. You run your fingers over his soft skin, feeling the coarse hairs of his chest, the black flaps of fabric from his mostly unbuttoned shirt. As your fingers get busy feeling and trying to identify the textures, your breath begins to slow and your body returns to normal.
"Aright now, that's it, honey," he encourages you. "That's better, ain't it."
He's still stroking your hair, and while his tenderness is comforting, it also destroys you. You feel a tense pressure in your chest before tears begin to explode out of your eyes. Your head drops into the crook of his neck, and he repositions to hold you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other behind your head to support you.
"Shhh, shhh. I'm here for ya, baby," he says, the deep rumbling of his chest soothing you. "I'll always be here for ya. You're my bestest girl."
You let the tears flow out, feeling guilty for staining his chest and probably for upsetting him even more. He just rocks you back and forth, kissing the top of your head, and talking to you in a smooth, deep voice until you're all cried out. He tilts your chin up and smiles down at you so incredibly sweetly.
"Everythin's gonna be okay, love," he says. "Imma be back before ya even know I'm gone. Imma come back to ya, I swear to god. Ya gonna keep me goin up there, I just know it. Hey and whatever happens..."
He pauses to grab your face gently.
"Whatever happens, you never, ever forget that I love you. I'll always love ya, more than anythin in this world or the next one. You're everythin to me, and Imma come back to ya. I'll bring ya somethin nice from Europe. Somethin real pretty that you can wear, so everybody'll know you're mine."
You smile weakly, pulling him down for a kiss, a soft one stained with the salt from your tears. It's hardly a kiss at all, but it's enough for that moment. Enough to let you know that he'll keep his promise no matter what.
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🦋 mila
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