Yours Truly - Author's Note: Before We Begin

Yours Truly - author's note: before we begin

Hi! Before you begin reading, I would just like to say a few words if you don't mind.

Hi! I'm Rose. 

First and foremost, I would like to say thank you for being drawn to my book, enough to give it a chance. I truly am grateful for it. I am sure that you would love to start the story, however if you do not mind, I will say a few words before we commence into the world of 'Yours truly.' 

I have been an avid reader for a long time, which cultivated my desire to start writing my own stories. However, all of my writings have been seen by myself and only myself - until now. 

The world of writing and reading is a vast space, which I am sure you are aware of. In this case, Fanfiction. I have read numerous fan fictions growing up, and I still do - drifting through one fandom to the next. I am relatively new to the Elvis Presley fandom, my interest started when I watched the brilliant movie Elvis (2022).  I will warn you now that this is Fanfiction - so it is the line between reality and fantasy. Read cautiously and carefully. 

next

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Warning: This story has occupied every corner of my mind for MONTHS, and it took a lot of courage to entertain the idea and plan it out, and now gift it to you. So I will not tolerate plagiarism, copyright infringement, stealing of intellectual property - reproducing this story on any platform in any way. It is a NO. I am sure that your hearts are pure and you will not do this, but if you do see my story on any other platform - please inform me and I will report it.  The only other platform this is posted on is my wattpad account : astralheart_

Disclaimer: As I have mentioned already; I am in no way, shape or form, portraying Elvis or any of the real people as who they actually were in real life. I do not know them personally. It is an Elvis fanfiction, please do not ignore the FICTION in that. I mentioned that I will be researching as I go along to sprinkle in some factual information, but this is not a biography. It is not cold, hard facts.

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This story was conceptualised through a series of songs I've listened to, and dreams I've had. I first outlined the plot and the type of characters, and then I decided for this to be an Elvis fanfiction. Which was not an easy decision.  In simple words: the story is the canvas, I am the painter, I just needed a muse to make this story happen. 

I tend to be drawn to the unexpected, complex and incomprehensible books. The type of book that will make a reader pause for a second and think, before continuing to the next sentence. Therefore, this story will deliver both a sense of familiarity of simplicities, and the element of trying to fit the puzzle pieces together, but not quite being certain of it all. 

In other words, I aim for those reading to be very immersed into the story - to be excited, to be thrilled, to be curious. This is why I am writing this. 

What can you anticipate? 

I do not want to spoil too much because I do love surprises, and I'm sure you do too. But just to briefly summarise - This story is something I hold very close to my heart. That being said, I want you to feel a plethora of emotions - good and bad, joy and despair, wonder and wishful thinking,   love and heartbreak.

All at once. 

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Okay, okay. I'll stop talking now aha - I apologise for the long message. It was necessary though. 

There is a series of songs that I think sets the mood for this story, I will post the Playlist next. 

Then after that

the story begins. 

So, with this note from me to you - I thank you once again and I am most wondrous to 

Welcome you to the world of 

Yours truly . 

@literally-just-elvis-fics

saw this on twitter rn, if you ever feel discouraged about writing fanfiction, read this again

Yours Truly - Chapter 9: So, this is Graceland?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.8k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. a kiss perhaps?, vague elvis (as always), OC is confused.

chapter index | prev | chapter 10

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NOVA

I followed closely behind Luke and Charlotte, as we all held our phones with the flashlight mode on. Charlotte stops and flicks on a switch that is to her left, the room before us illuminates with light. We all turned the flashlight off on our phones. 

The room could be larger, however its purpose shrinks the size of it to a much smaller size. A tower of boxes were stacked one of the other in the corner of the room, and different sports equipment scattered to the side. A hundred or so numbers of books lying on old, wooden shelves - the dust collecting is quite prominent. Posters advertising football games and various student clubs adorned the brick walls. 

Luke throws his arms up dramatically, "Welcome!"

I reached the last step of the stairs, "I had no idea this place exists." 

Luke places the two large tote bags he is carrying down onto the cement floor and turns to me, "This is what happens when you avoid exams." 

I gasped, "You hide out here?! To avoi-"

He shoots me an incredulous look, "Me? No, I have other places."

Charlotte finishes placing the large canvas against a large board on the wall and turns to Luke, "But you just said-"

"Nah, my cousin Charlie was the original founder of this place. " Luke grins proudly.

I shake my head, chuckling and share a look with Charlotte. 

"So being a rebel is in your blood, then?" Charlotte said, shaking her head with a smile as she unloaded the balloons from the tote bags. 

Luke casually shrugs, as he places his goggles on. 

Charlotte claps her hand, "Ta-da!" She dramatically gestures to the large canvas that was pinned on the boards of the wall. It would just be a plain sight, of course, if it weren't for the various colored balloons attached to every inch of the canvas. 

She stands next to Luke and I, as we all place our goggles on. Luke steps forward and holds out the small container full of darts. He takes one and holds the container out to us, "Take one and throw. Ready?"

I take one and pause, "Wait, what if we get in trouble? Like what if-" 

"We won't." Luke interrupts. 

"You can't be sure of that. " My eyes flicker to the entrance that we just came from, "I really, really don't want to get into trouble-"

Charlotte turns her body to face me and places her hands on my shoulders, "I don't think anyone goes down here anymore. Besides, after we are done, we'll just. . .  I don't know. . . throw a sheet over it all." She grins, trying her best to reassure my nerves. 

"Bestie, we are not burning the place down, " Luke adds on, "We are literally just throwing a bunch of darts to paint-filled balloons. " He chuckles. 

"Nova, it's literally ten o'clock at night. No psychopath will be wandering down here." Charlotte gives me a look. 

I think for a moment. They both make very valid points. I need to do this. It could be worse, but we are literally just doing art in a different way, I guess? 

With a deep breath, I turn to both of them, "Okay. Let's do it." 

--

After drying my wet hair, I changed into a comfortable set of pyjamas and took a seat on my bed just processing what occurred an hour ago. I feel my face hurt from smiling and that bundle of anxiety on my chest has dissipated, replaced by relief and a sense of weird accomplishment? It's strange because I always considered academics to be the only time I'll ever feel like accomplishing something. But then there's this. I mean, dart painting is actually quite fun? 

The nerves I felt earlier wasn't really aimed at the activity itself, but the location and timing of it all. The sense of rebelliousness, a feeling and situation that I have never felt before. And strangely enough, I didn't get home until about an hour ago. The fun of it all made me lost track of time. 

A knock on my doors stops my trail of thoughts, I look up and see Luke with a grin on his face. 

"Knock-knock. I think the cops are outside our apartment? Something about paint-"

I stop him mid-sentence, "Shut up!" I laugh, shaking my head. 

Luke laughs and shrugs, "If one day when we are wrinkly and old and you can't stand my face - you will be reminiscing on times like these."

I shake my head at his dramatics, "Look at you sounding so wise, Lucas Fredrick Williams." 

His nose wrinkles as he frantically shakes his head, "Yuck. Don't say my full name I beg of you. "

I smirk, "What's wrong with it?"

"It makes me sound like I'm a founding father that graduated from an old boarding school and then became friends with someone like Mozart," Luke responds. 

I laugh out loud and clap my hands, "That is so specific. But Mozart is a genius though." 

"I'm serious!" He crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't know what the hell my parents were thinking, I might as well wear one of those wigs - hence the reference to Mozart."

We laugh out loud at our antics and I feel my eyes grow heavy, letting out a yawn. 

"I'll leave you to go sleep now, " 

"Good idea. Gosh, I'm so tired."  

"Same here. Goodnight, Nova. " Luke smiles and closes the door, but opens it not a second later. 

"What?"

"If the cops ever knock on the door asking for the girl who dart painted the university's basement, don't worry I'll cover for you." 

I chuckle at him, "Goodnight, Luke."

He finally shuts the door and yells, "Night, bestie! Have the sweetest dreams." 

I get under my covers and stare at the ceiling, patiently waiting for sleep to overtake me and already forming my apology to a certain someone that I will see soon. 

Not long after the blissful peace of the night overtakes my body, and I have fallen into a deep slumber. My consciousness is awoken by the faint sound of sizzling, it's sound rampantly filling my ears. My forehead knots in confusion, I try to make sense of it; my hands feel the two sides of where I am lying down. Soft material meet the palm of my hands, but it is not as soft as the covers of my bedding - so this couldn't be my bed, I conclude. 

I slowly opened my eyes and scan my surroundings. I quickly notice the pattern of stark white and blue accents that was consistent in the room. An archway is to my right, with two long mirrors lining up against the walls beside it. The archway gives me a glimpse of a grand piano and a chandelier. A white marble fireplace is directly a few feet opposite me, as I realised that I have woken up on a long, white couch. What seems to be around a 10-foot long coffee table is situated right in front of the white couch. A few other pieces are placed carefully in the end tables and shelves in the room, adding onto the classic look it seems to be displaying. 

I turn my body and slowly sit myself up, with my feet touching the soft carpet. 

Where am I? 

It seems to be that I'm in a living room, but where exactly? I push myself off the couch and start to walk to where I can hear the present sound of a voice singing. I instantly recognise the voice, and a smile finds its way to my lips. I have no idea where to go, trusting my feet to lead me where the voice is. Well, the owner of the voice. As I keep on walking, I pass by what looks like a foyer - I see the infamous staircase, with picture frames hanged up on the wall. 

Oh my god. Oh god. 

I know where I am now. It was so obvious, why didn't I recognise it immediately? I should've recognised it just from the interior design alone. I keep on walking and stop to what obviously seems to be the kitchen; it's layout and wooden furnishings giving it away. My attention is not focused on that though, I am more focused on the man who's back is facing me. He is wearing a mustard yellow shirt, with a short silk scarf wrapped around his neck and black slacks to complete the look. 

He seems to be humming a tune to himself. 

"Elvis?" 

He stops and turns around quickly, "Morning, doll." He says, and my breathe is caught in my throat for a moment as he flashes his infamous grin at me. 

"What. . . um. . . you," I fail to form a sentence and give up eventually. 

He chuckles amusedly at me, "Come here, I want you to try somethin.' " He beckons me to him with his hand, and I approach him where he is stood near the stove. 

He gestures to the plate in front of him, he takes a knife and cuts the sandwich in half; dividing it into two triangular pieces. 

"This is the best sandwich that you'll ever have. Go on, try it darl'. "

We both take a piece each. I take a bite of it and instantly feel my taste buds recognise the contents of the sandwich. I look to Elvis, his gaze is firm on mine, excitedly awaiting my reaction. 

I take another bite and swallow before speaking, "Peanut butter and banana? not bad."

Elvis nods in approval, "The best, right?" 

I chuckle at his enthusiasm, "I'll say that I've never had one before. But now-"

"Now, you'll thank me for changing your life forever." Elvis says dramatically, as he moves closer to me. His body is facing sideways, with his hip leaned against the kitchen counter as he rests his arms on the counter, his eye contact never faltering from mine. 

I suddenly feel a little warm. Oh god. 

I narrow my eyes at him, but I cannot help but smile. 

"Why, thank you Chef Presley." I play along with him. 

He laughs, "Anything for you, Miss Sinclair." 

"So, fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. Definitely new for me." 

"You see, I don't really cook. That's the only decent food I can do." He explains, shrugging casually but I can sense that hint of insecurity in his voice. 

"But you made this for me? Despite-"

"Like I said, anything for you Nova." His tone of voice filled with seriousness, filtering away from his normal playful manner of speaking. 

I hear a thump in my chest.

I have never been one to be good at holding eye contact, but my god, does he make it another level of challenging. There's an element of playfulness that you can see in his eyes, but also such intensity. My grandmother always told me that eyes are the windows to the soul, which is one of the most cliche phrases in the whole word, but I never really paid attention to that explanation until now. I feel that there is something in his eyes, more than what I just described - his gazing at me with a certain level of content and peace. A knowing gaze. 

 Those blue eyes of his piercing into mine,  as if to whisper 'I know you.'

His gaze flickers to my lips briefly, and I decide it's time to interrupt this because I feel my feet urging to step closer to him and I can't do that. 

I clear my throat and look away, in desperate hopes to grasp a new subject of conversation. I step away from him, and wander around the kitchen a little; creating distance from him. 

I look back at him, "So, this is Graceland. My first time here." I smile in wonder. 

"Right, many times. " He says, smiling only a little. 

I raised my eyebrow at him, "Huh?"

Elvis shakes his head and walks over to stand next to me, "Nothin.' I mean, with your list and all, I guess it's many first times." He avoids my gaze. 

I nod, "Oh, right. Well, actually. . . that's part of the reason why I was late." I say, looking back at him and he turns to me. 

"You've never been late," He nods, "I started to think that, man, I blew it with a girl I like." He whistles, looking down. 

I freeze at his words and feel my cheeks warm. 

he said what? Did I hear that right?  he must mean friends, right? Could I even label this thing we have as being friends? 

I choose to not read into what he said too much, and chuckle, "Such a charmer, just like Miss Esther said. But here I am."

He lifts his head back up, his gaze returning to me. He opens his mouth, but pauses - a noticeable brief hesitation. 

"There you are, like always, " He says, seemingly distant in his tone and shakes his head, "Not getting sick of me yet, are you?" He jokes, grinning at me. 

I quickly shake my head, "I never could. Mysterious stranger I met on a train." I reply, looking back on the first time he was in my dreams - the moving train and the relief in his eyes and his keen refusal in admitting that I was dreaming. 

"A good-looking, mysterious stranger. " He jokes. 

I roll my eyes at this and playfully hit his arm, "You really are something else." 

"Ouch, you wound me honey, " He dramatically clutches on his chest. 

I laugh, "Now, do you want to know why I was late or not?"

"Tell me on the way, doll," He muses. 

I furrow my eyebrows, "On the way to what?"

"To cross another one off your list."

His gaze briefly scans me from head to toe, and I subconsciously cross my arms over my chest.

"Elvis, just tell me." I plead, pouting my lips. 

"I'll tell ya after you get changed." He chuckles. 

I look down at what I'm wearing and blush in embarrassment to see that I am in fact, wearing the pyjamas that I went to bed in. 

I sigh in defeat, "Fine. But how will I know what to wear? and Where do I even get-"

He interrupts me mid-sentence, placing a finger over my lips, "Relax, darl.' I've got you something to wear, come with me, " He extends his hand out. 

I reach my hand out and he envelops it naturally. I expect him to turn around and start to lead me to where that piece of clothing is, but he doesn't yet. Instead, his thumb grazes over my hand and he bows his head down - placing a brief, delicate kiss on my hand. 

I gasp at this, his unpredictability is something I can never get used to. 

"You have smooth skin, honey." He says, his voice making me weak in my knees. 

"Uh. . . thanks." I awkwardly reply, completely thrown off by what he just did. 

thanks? really? that's what I have to say?

Elvis laughs out loud, his laugh contagious and beautifully melodic to the ears. He then lifts his head back up, and tugs me along with him.

"Elvis, not even one hint?" I try again. 

"Okay," He says, and I don't know why but the way he says that word - it's so satisfying and endearing. 

"The hint is this; you will be the prettiest one there, " He smirks. 

This seems to be the sixth or seventh time that Elvis is in my dreams. Consecutive nights. I remember each one so vividly, and the way he talks and looks at me - it still makes me wonder and question. Maybe not as overwhelming occupying my mind as before, but those question marks are still there. 

What and Why is this happening to me?

next chapter

Just in Time | one-shot

・❥・Pairing : Elvis Presley x reader

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

・❥・Word Count: 7.6k

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

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

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

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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

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

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

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

And so, you accepted. 

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

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

And so, here you were pacing back and forth. 

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

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

“But I’m perfectly fine now!” 

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

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

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

“The mission was simple.” Francine argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You begin to protest, “What? No-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, they will.”

“Who?” Colin speaks up, curiously asking. 

“Me.” Francine smiles confidently. 

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

He nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where then? How’d I get here?” 

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

“Where exactly is here, honey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, I don’t bite. “ He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d it go?” You quickly ask her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They both just shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all grow quiet for a few seconds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He frowns at your words, “Goodbye?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh at his stubbornness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cannot help but laugh at his adorable confusion. 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

You smile, glad that he feels that way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why did you-”

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

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

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

“Oh, shut up.”

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

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

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

You simply chuckle. 

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

You nod, “Yeah.”

He has already explained how the bracelet will work. 

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

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

“Mess history up, I know.”

Silence.

“What if you stay?”

How you wish it were that easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

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

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

“Yeah?” Elvis replies.

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

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

“What dream?”

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

Jerry wanted to ask if it may be his mother. 

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

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

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

“Which is?”

“I’ll always remember you.” 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours Truly - Chapter 4: How Do You Know?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 3.3k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. curse words, brief mentions of sex (literally a single sentence).

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--

NOVA 

As the door swung open, the bell above it dings to signify the presence of us. The smell of roasted coffee beans fill my nostrils, its scent permanently nestle in the air of the cafe. The cafe tables adorn the small, but inviting space - its mahogany wood nicely greeted by the warm, ambient lighting. A few chalkboards adorn the walls above the counter, listing the selection of choices that we may purchase. We approach the long counter, and my eyes immediately flock to the contents to the three layers of the glass display case. An assortment of luscious pastries sit invitingly on pastry tray displays; cakes, donuts, cinnamon rolls, croissants, pie and muffins. 

The various baked goods make me unconsciously lick my lips. 

"I take that you like what you see, huh?" Elvis questions in a rhetorical tone, his voice taking my attention away from the sweet delights. 

I smiled, "Very much so." 

Before he could say another word, we are interrupted by a loud and cheery voice of a woman.  

"Elvis!" A woman who looked to be in her late fifties wore a bright smile on her face, as she quickly rounded the counter and enveloped the man beside me in a tight hug. She had red hair secured in a  tight bun, and welcoming brown eyes. She wore an apron over a burgundy dress and a shinning name tag clipped on it. 

She parted from the hug with her hands cupping his face, "Aw look at you sweet boy, still handsome as ever." 

"Not as beautiful as you are Miss Esther." Elvis muses, with a beaming smile that provided a small glimpse of child-like happiness. 

The lady chuckles "Ever the charmer."

Elvis chuckles at this, he returns to my side with his right hand lightly touching my lower back. I feel a rush of warmth through my body, like a jolt of electricity. I intake a sharp breath and pull my lips into my best smile, although my mind is captivated by the lightest touch of his hand. 

"I have brought someone special with me. This is-"

"Heavens above. . .Nova?" A gasp escapes her, her hand quickly covering her mouth as her eyes widened - staring into mine. My brain was still processing Elvis' description of me as 'someone special' and now, on top of that is this wave of shock that seems to be aimed at me. 

How does she know me? I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I repeat this in my mind because it is the only logical explanation. This is not real. 

I slowly nodded, "Yes, that's me." 

"Nova, meet the great Miss Esther." Elvis says, as she envelops me into her arms. I am beyond confused, but her warm motherly nature eases me a little - I return her hug. She parts from the hug, and her hands slide down to my arms as she smiles brightly at me. But the pure picture of disbelief still very much evident on her face. 

"Oh my, it is such a pleasure to meet you, dear." Her voice is filled with clear delight. 

"It is so nice to meet you too, Miss Esther. I like this place, its calming." I smile, finally mustering a string of words despite my brain running with a million questions. 

"Well, it's hard not to like when it is owned by someone as great as Miss Esther." Elvis smiles, putting his arm around her shoulder into a side hug. 

Miss Esther shakes her head, "You flatter me too much, sweet boy. I know that you only say that because of the food and hot drinks." 

"That's only half true." Elvis shrugs jokingly. 

Miss Esther mocks a gasp, "I knew it! My, my, I feel sorry for that this nice girl is stuck with you." She gestures at me. 

I let out a laugh, "He is a bit of work." I sigh very dramatically. 

"Hey, don't be lying honey!" Elvis plays along, his eyes intense as ever - his level of eye contact make my cheeks heat up a little. 

Our laughter eventually dies down.

Miss Esther's eyes flicker between me and Elvis, a glint in her eyes that I can't quite decipher. 

"Now, what can I get you both?" 

Elvis' eyes light up at the question, removing his hand from my back and steps forward to the selection of choices displayed. I try my best to ignore the absence of the warmth, and instead focus on Miss Esther coming beside me to lean forward - her voice lowered to a whisper in my ear. 

"Truthfully dear, I am not the least bit surprised that this boy was so hung up on looking for you." Miss Esther placed a finger under my chin, tilting it up a little - a gesture that I was all too familiar with that my grandmother does, "You are a beauty." 

I am relieved that Elvis is not within earshot to hear this, as I feel my cheeks bloom a shade of rose embarrassingly. He is far too distracted with picking what to order. 

"Looking for me? What do you mean?" I furrow my eyebrows at her.

Miss Esther tilts her head, appearing to be wearing the same confusion on her features, "Oh, didn't he tell you Nova?"

"Tell me what?" 

Miss Esther's mouth opens to begin a response, but is interrupted by the sound of Elvis' voice. We both turn our heads towards him, his hands on his hips with an eyebrow arched at me. 

My mind is puzzled even more by Miss Esther's words, and I do appear to be zoned-out when Elvis looks at me questioningly. I shake my head, "Sorry. . . what were you saying?"

He chuckles at this, "I was asking you if you want anything else. " I approach him and peer at the pastries displayed on top of the round glass trays.  In the corner of my eye, I see Miss Esther walk around and position herself behind the counter as she taps her fingers on the counter - humming a tune. 

"I've chosen two slices of the red velvet cake and two cups of coffee for us. So, anything you wanna add?" He asks, but I freeze at  the mention of the choices he has picked.  He quickly notices this. 

"Why? What's wrong?" 

I shake my head, "Nothing. It's just, um, what made you pick the red velvet cake?" 

"Because what kind of guy does that make me if I don't order it for the birthday girl?" His southern drawl evident, as his lips pull into a crooked grin.

It's a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream. Is it really?

A chuckle escapes me in disbelief, "I- I have no words. Red velvet is my favorite." 

A dream is a product of my subconscious mind, so of course Elvis would know this because everything about who I am is stored within the corners of my mind. All of this has to be a dream. I created this all. Well, my subconscious mind did. 

Miss Esther suggests her special pie that I 'must' try, in which I was hesitant at first due to my nature of not being an adventurous eater at all. But eventually I gave in. We insist to wait for our orders, but Miss Esther ushers us to a table near the front window and informs us that she will bring it out to us when it's ready.

"Well, she is the boss." I chuckle, as we sat down opposite each other. 

"That's Miss Esther for you, the nicest lady but no point being stubborn around her." Elvis laughs, shaking his head. 

A silence falls on us with the only noise being the chatter of the other customers occupying the cafe. 

I don't want to wrestle with my thoughts anymore, it might cause an unfortunate headache which would ruin this dream. I think out of the million questions that ares swimming in my head, there is one that I can keep whilst filtering out all the rest; why is Elvis Presley in my dream? I understand that dreaming about celebrities  is not an experience that is uniquely for me because everyone dreams about celebrities. But I always believed that, if someone were to dream about a celebrity; it would often be a celebrity that they have spent a lot of time thinking about. A celebrity that they are a huge fan of. 

I'm not a huge fan of Elvis Presley, but I am also not a hater. I only just begun learning about him after watching that Elvis movie that came out in the summer. But for him to appear in my dreams? It was not like he was actively occupying my mind throughout the day; because he wasn't. 

It just does not make sense. No matter how much I try, I just keep running back to square one. I guess the only thing that calms my rational mind is that this dream will end eventually, might as well make the most of it. 

As I return my gaze on the present time, I study him. His black hair matched perfectly with his tanned skin, and those smouldering blue eyes with that twinkle of wonder and amusement in them. His features are chiseled, a maturity to him that eliminates the baby fat on his face. He does not have that boyish look about him anymore, there is sureness and confidence that comes from maturity. 

I pursed my lips in wonder.

"What is it , honey?" Elvis asks, snapping me out of my stare on him. 

"Hmm?"

"I ain't a mind reader. Would you tell me what's going on in that pretty mind of yours?" Elvis smirks, biting on his bottom lip. 

I feel  a rush of heat on my cheeks, as I try to fight back a smile. 

"My goodness, you are such a flirt." 

He leads forward a little and holds his hand up as if to count on his fingers, "So now I'm a psychopathic, impulsive, flirty guy? Hot damn." He jokes, letting out a whistle. 

"You really are a wild combo." I squinted my eyes jokingly at him, pointing my finger at him. 

He suddenly leans forward even more, and without any warning - bites onto my finger. I yelp in surprise, his eyes stare at me intently as I giggle uncontrollably trying to retract my finger. 

"Hey!"

He lets me go and casually leans back on his chair with his arms folded over his chest, a laugh bubbling out of him. 

I cannot help but join him in his laughter, it's a laugh that just really encapsulates his entire being. His shoulders moving up and down, as he looks up and then gazes back down to me. 

"You are a strange, strange man." I said in between my laughs. 

"Gotta keep things interesting, honey."

Before I could respond to him, we are interrupted by Miss Esther approaching our table holding a tray of our order. She places it on the table, and transfer the contents from the tray, in which I notice a candle on top of the slice of cake in front of me. 

"Enjoy, kids." Miss Esther smiles and then rubs my shoulder, "Happy birthday, sweetie."  

"Thank you, Miss Esther." 

"Thank you Miss Esther, this looks good." Elvis says. 

She then leaves and Elvis turns to me, "Are you gonna make a wish?"

I close my eyes and think for a second. . .

I wish to have the answers to my questions. 

I open my eyes and blow out the single candle. 

"Happy Birthday, Nova." He smiles at me, and it's not a smile that stops at the lips. It's a smile that reaches his eyes, it's the kind that you cannot help but smile back. 

"Thanks, E.P." 

His blue eyes widen a little in surprise, and my forehead creases in surprises and confusion. Where did that come from? Why did I call him that?

"You haven't called me that-"

I wave my hands quickly in embarrassment, "Oh god, so sorry I don't know what came over me."

"Relax, darlin'. Relax. It's okay." Elvis shrugs, chuckling. I see him lift his hand, as he nervously scratches the nape of his neck, "I was surprised, that's all. You haven't called me that in a long time."  His tone seems to be in a daze. 

I squinted at him, "What do you-"

Elvis clears his throat and turns his gaze to the food on the table. 

"We should eat." He interrupts, "and you have to try this pie!" He takes a bite out of the slice of cake and then the Banoffee pie afterwards. 

I shake my head at this and remind myself 'do not think too much of it Nova.' I first take a bite out of the red velvet cake and the familiar luscious delight makes me beam. It was always either chocolate or red velvet for me, I've tended to switch between the two for each of my previous birthdays. 

I take a small portion out of the Banoffee pie, as Elvis anticipates my reaction, "What'd you think?" 

"Oh my gosh, that is amazing!" I exclaimed, quickly taking another bite out of it.

--

After we finished eating, we bid goodbye to Miss Esther in which she wishes for us to come back soon. And I truly do want to, but this is not real life. 

We step out of the cafe with Elvis ahead of me, he stops and faces me. 

"I have a birthday present for you." 

"You do?"

He nods, "So we need to get to where it is." 

"How?" 

He flashes me his signature smirk at my question, in which I panic a little, "Oh no, what do you have planned now?"

He tucks his hands into his front pockets, facing away from me and began to walk across the street. 

"Elvis! Where are you going?" 

He briefly turns to me and uses his head to beckon me to follow him. I sigh and follow him into yet, another unknown. 

"Wrong question, honey. It's where are WE going?"

--

"Nova? Nova?" 

A hand is rapidly shaking my arm, I gasped bolting my eyes open. I blink my eyes a few times and survey my surroundings; beige walls, photos, posters, a closet. It seems to be that I am laying down, my hands move around and feel soft material beneath it; my bed. I am in my bedroom. I slowly slide myself up in a sitting position. 

"It was a dream. It was all a dream." I mutter to myself, swallowing hard at the realisation. 

"Of course it was, you nutcase!" I turn to my right and see Luke with his backpack slung over his shoulder, holding a jug of water. 

I yawn, "Luke? What?" 

"F.ucking hell, woman! I have been trying to wake your ass up for the past, " He pauses, looking at the watch on his wrist, "Fifteen minutes now!" 

I shake my head a little, "Why?"

He takes out his phone from his pocket and faces the screen to me. It's Monday. Monday which means we have a lecture today. 

"Oh s.hit." 

"Exactly! You better get dressed now, or I will be using this jug of water after all!" He threatens to spill it on me. 

"Okay! Okay. I'm up." I get up from the bed, rush to my closet to retrieve the outfit that I have planned a week ago and then rush to my bathroom with a quick shut of the door. 

It's not that Luke particularly cares about being late for class, because he doesn't. It's just that the seats in this specific class become full very quickly, and the only unoccupied seats that would be left are the ones at the very front. Ones that both myself and Luke hate since this particular professor just loves to aim the questions at the people in front row. And there is no room for error; this professor wants the right answer. If you are not precisely providing him the right answer - it is the humiliating. That is why the very back row is the safe haven in this class. 

I plop my clothes on the bathroom counter near the sink, as I start to brush my teeth. 

"Luke, I am so so sorry! This never happens."

I hear Luke pacing back and forth outside the door. 

"It never does which makes me think. . . " Luke gasps, "Were you having a s.ex dream?" Luke questions in a hush whisper, his pacing steps stops. 

"What?! Oh god, no!" My cheeks flare up in embarrassment at the thought. 

"You sure?" 

I shake my head, even though he cannot see me. 

"I am positive, Luke!"

"Positive that you were having one or positive you weren't?" He asks further, his voice closer now as I imagine him closer to the door. 

I quickly finish changing into my clothes and swung the door open as I brushed through my hair. 

"I did not have a s.ex dream. "

He puts his hands up in defence, "Just making sure. I mean, even if you did - I would not be the one to judge you, bestie. I myself indulge in my own share of pleasurable dreams, so-"

I shut my eyes and wave my hands, "No, no, no. let's drop it now, okay?"

Luke laughs at my reaction, "Alright. But you can't blame me for asking though since I have never seen you in such a deep sleep. Plus,  you did have a really big smile on your face." He arched an eyebrow at me with an amused grin, teasing me. 

"I did?" 

"Uh-huh. Like a child on Christmas morning. You were glowing, missy." He elbowed me playfully. 

We exit the apartment and make our way to the parking lot. As I close the door to my car, all that fills my mind is the fact that for the first time in my lifetime; I can remember it all. I remember my dream. Every detail, and it is so vivid in my mind. 

It was so real. It felt so real. 

I let out a deep sigh, and start the engine as I turn the radio on. I reverse out the parking lot, as Luke drives closely behind. 

"Good morning to all our listeners. Ah, Monday. Another week continues! If you are a student dreading the classroom, or an office worker mustering the strength to get though that 9 to 5 routine - we are here at HITS 101. Bringing you all music that will get you through whatever the season. Now we have requests coming in very fast. Our first request is an old, but gold tune. This person requested this to be played for their friend whose recently celebrated their birthday. Here is A Little Less Conversation by The King, Elvis Presley!" 

I almost slammed my brakes. 

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 7: Bird's Eye View

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 1.5k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. heights.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 8

--

NOVA 

"Think about it like you are on a plane, just a little different." He spoke, as his eyes stayed on me. 

My back was firmly pressed against the wall of the space that we were enclosed in, as I sat with my knees bent, hugging them to my chest. There's a hush silence to it all, apart from the sound of the chirping of the birds and the flowing of the rivers - there was no overpowering noise that elicited a sign of danger. This is what I try to focus on, to remind myself - but of course, uncertainty has never been a best friend of mine. 

I shook my head at him and let out a nervous laugh, "Okay, sure. Apart from the fact that a plane has a pilot, therefore passengers know where they will land. Plus, the windows are mega tiny on a plane so you-" 

I close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths. Closing my eyes helps me to momentarily re-think the whole situation, to almost convince myself that the uncertainty it as a minimum. Of course I did tell Elvis that I was ready to just go for it, and try something from my list. To try and see what happens with me being a little less frightened with being spontaneous. With experiencing new things. But that does not mean I can just switch of this instinct of mine to control the narrative in my mind. 

"You can open your eyes, honey." Elvis says.

"Not yet, " I shake my head, "But what were you saying about a plane being just like this?" 

"Okay." Elvis interrupts me, "A hot air balloon looks different and travels differently. But there's something else."

Yes, I decided to try to go on a hot air balloon for the first time. Not the first thing on my list, but I thought by not going in order - it'll warm up my spontaneous spirit. I hope. 

I sighed, mustering a small smile at him, "And what is that?"

"Nova, how many plane rides have you been on?" He questions, I can hear the amusement in his voice. 

"A few, why?" I ask, trying to figure out where he is going with this question.

He nods at my response, and I hear him sit himself down beside me. I open my eyes briefly, and see that he has one  knee bent, while his other leg rests on the floor of the basket. I return back to closing my eyes.  I've found myself in a few instances where the proximity between us are almost nonexistent, but his effect never wavers. It's this overwhelming energy that seems to encapsulate whoever is in his presence. He is undeniably attractive, yes there is the physicality of him, but that charm of his - so effortless, but comforting. A mix of it all leaves me having to release a few breaths, as my mind momentarily forgets the newness of the situation before me. 

 He speaks after a few seconds  "You've been on some plane rides and it's no hot air balloon. Now you are here, with me. " 

I chuckle, "It appears so. What are you trying to get at, Elvis?" 

"Open your eyes." 

"Not yet." 

"Then I can't answer your question." 

I gasped dramatically, "You wouldn't dare!" 

Elvis lets out a laugh, and its so melodic and almost contagious - I feel my lips pulling into a smile, uncontrollably. 

"Come on, honey, open your eyes." He tries again, but this time I feel his hand intertwine with mine - stopping the nervous fiddling. His hold of my hand is warm, and this warmness makes a rapid shot of climbing into my heart. I breathe in and out - and I have this feeling that the hot air balloon is not the only reason for it. 

I slowly open my eyes, and take in his close proximity to me. The warm orange of the sun reflects on his tanned skin, highlighting his cheekbones as that familiar grin of his spreads across his lips. 

"Hi there." 

I feel my cheeks warm. 

The hot air balloon does not sway, there is quite a stillness to it that I haven't noticed before. A sense of security, somewhat. 

"Another thing that those plane rides don't have, that this has. . . is me." He points to himself and continues on, "I'm here with you, Nova.  I won't let you get hurt." He says softly. 

"Thank you, Elvis." I say, in almost a whisper. A whisper because sitting down, right here, in a hot air balloon with such a small space and hearing his words so carefully said - it seemed as if I spoke even a little louder, it would break the serenity of the moment. 

"You can't see much of the world from sitting down here, " He speaks up, smirking and stands up with my hand still in his. 

I stand up along with him and feel myself giggle, Elvis raises his eyebrows at me, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." I shook my head, "It's just. . .how tall are you?" 

We move to gaze at the scenery before us. Luscious green landscapes fill my vision; smooth hills and mountains with snow covering the tips. The water flowing from the rivers and waterfalls are crystal clear, and if we were close enough - I could almost believe we could see our reflection through it. Some may say it's boring, that there is nothing else but water and land - but that's nature. 

Elvis props his elbows on the edge of the basket, with his left hand holding onto my right hand still. 

"Six foot." He shrugs, "I should've modelled, right?" He smirks, striking a dramatic expression on his face. 

I laugh, "That was not what I was implying! You are full of yourself!" I hit him on the shoulder. 

"Then what were you implying, doll?" 

"I just found it funny how you were sat down in this small space of a basket, when like 80% of you is all legs." I gesture at him, giggling to myself, "It's just so cute." 

"Cute? Never been called that before. My, oh my, Miss Sinclair - aren't you something." He muses ,grinning at me with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, as his blue eyes gaze at me amusedly. 

I furrow my eyebrows, "You know my last name?" 

He shrugs casually, "Well, you know mine." and abruptly glances back at the scenery passing before us. 

"It's nice. " I say, feeling the slight breeze against my face as I study the scenery. 

"Us humans sometimes forget that there is more to things than what we see. This is a bird's eye view right here. But we are viewing it right now, as humans. If you don't try new things, you are not letting yourself see what could be." Elvis says, sighing as he closes his eyes for a moment. 

I am surprised by the sudden depth of his thoughts spoken out loud. Elvis is carefree and loves to joke, he definitely has that energy to him. But one thing I think I am slowly learning is that, not just his actions are unpredictable- so are his words. One second is light conversation, and the next it's  like he is ushering you to take a glance inside the inner corners of his mind. He loves spontaneity, that promise of new adventure, of just going for it. Which frightens the hell out of my overly-analytical mind, but there's that tug in my brain - A web of curiosity. About him.

A web of curiosity that begs to be acknowledged. And I just might unravel it.  

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