Yours Truly - Epigraph

Yours Truly - Epigraph

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff, fantasy vs reality (if that makes sense lol)

・❥・Word Count: 56

・❥・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. None.

・❥・ Notes: A brief epigraph before we go into the prologue.

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"I love the silent hour of the night, 

For blissful dreams may then arise, 

Revealing to my charmed sight, 

what may not bless my waking eyes."

- Anne Brontë, Best Poems of the Brontë Sisters 

prologue

Announcement!

So if you haven't noticed, I have posted all of the current chapters of my ongoing fic called "yours truly" this fic has already been posted on wattpad. But I thought to crosspost it on here. If you want to read 'yours truly' please go to my masterlist that is pinned.

ALSO! Important note if you see the subheading 'journal entry' alongside 'yours truly' that does not mean that's what the chapters are called!! they are simply a peek inside the OC's journal! All parts of the story are listed as chapters. So please do go to my masterlist to make it easier for you to navigate!

Yours Truly - Chapter 3: Hold My Hand

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. High above the ground, fear of heights, unsteady infrastructure.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 4

--

NOVA

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

My eyes dart from the structure before us and to him. The structure in question is a narrow, wooden bridge that is held together by a thin rope. There is around a dozen horizontal wooden slabs that make up the bridge, which emits concern as there are gaps in between - it is incomplete and clearly hanging by a thread. 

A hundred feet above ground. 

I desperately shake my head, "Nope. Definitely not. "

"Tell me why," He urges, with a casual shrug. 

"You have got to be kidding me. Elvis, look at it!" I gesture with both my hands towards the bridge, in pure disbelief at his calm demeanour. 

His eyes briefly flicker to the bridge, "I am looking." 

I firmly cross my arms across my chest, "Well, what do you see?"

"A bridge, honey. A bridge." His tone was laced with undeniable amusement, his lips curled in that infamous smirk. When I gasped in disbelief, he returns his gaze back to me. 

"One foot on that thing and we'll be saying hello to the ground below!" I exclaimed, desperately searching for an inkling of sense in the man before me. 

"Ah, that's a good rhyme." 

Elvis turns his back to me and inches closer to the edge of the cliff, I feel my heart hammer against my chest, the veins of fear wrapping around me. 

"What are yo-"

"Hello ground below!" He cups his hands around his mouth as he dramatically yells. He walks back to me, in which I arch an eyebrow at him. 

"We say our hello now, then we don't have to say it later." He chuckles. 

"You are unbelievable." 

"A lot of ladies have said that to me," Elvis smirks, tilting his head to the side. 

It does not look like any sense of seriousness will arrive in his mind anytime soon. For the past five minutes we have been debating back and forth about crossing the bridge. And yet, in that duration of time - progress has been nonexistent. The only fact that stands right now is that there is no other way of getting to the other side of this forest, unless we use the bridge. I know that this is a dream, but just because I am dreaming does not change how I view this situation as being completely irrational. There is always the option to turn back, and go someplace else - the safe option, the stable one, the one that I can be certain of. 

With that in mind, I turn around determined to distance myself from his ridiculous idea. 

"Have fun with that breaking bridge. I am going back, " I tightly smile. 

I don't get very far though, as I feel a hand wrap around my right arm. 

"Don't. Please." His tone of voice made my body pause. For the first time since we have arrived at this choice, his voice is void of playfulness. 

I slowly remove his hand from my arm and turn to face him. 

"Okay," Elvis says softly, "I admit the bridge ain't pretty. But please trust me?"

I sigh, not quite giving in, "I-"

"If you don't trust me. . . trust the dream." His lips curl into a smile, examining my features for any signs of agreeing with his side. 

I hate to admit it, but he does have a point. My initial reaction to the situation is how I would normally react to it in real life. I have trained my brain to chose between flight or fight mode for every possible encountered situation, to the point that I forgot for a split second that this is not real. It can't be. This is a world that my subconscious somehow created. No matter the vague answers Elvis gave me earlier on the train - that could all be a product of my imagination. So, going forward with this, no matter its craziness - it can't be terrible, can't it?

It's a dream. But why does he not directly agree with me that it is?

He continues on, snapping me out of my trail of thoughts, "You yourself told me that this is all a dream. Right? So whatever happens, you have nothing to worry about." 

I take a deep breath, "Okay. Fine." 

He extends his hand out to me with a victorious grin on his face, "Alright. Darlin', take my hand." 

I grab his hand without a second thought, as that power of anxiety slowly seeping back into me. It is a little odd, I feel like - to still feel that web of fear encapsulate me even in this dream world. I always believed that dreams were brief, and it brought out the opposite version of ourselves. That we had no time to think about our actions because it all just happens. No thoughts or feelings. Just actions. 

Then why is that the enclosing fear in my chest is so heavy and prominent?

Elvis' back turns to me, as he takes a few steps ahead of me. My grip on his hand tightens as we take the first step onto the bridge. I try to use my other hand to hold onto the rope of the bridge, despite the appearance of it representing anything but strength. Elvis took slow and steady steps, his hold of my hand never loosened - it was warm and inviting. I shake my head to regain my focus on what was ahead. 

In the corner of my peripheral vision, I see a hint of the ground below - reinforcing how high up we are. Elvis must've heard the deep breath I drew in, as he turns around, "You okay, honey?" He asks softly, azure eyes fixated on me. 

His intense gaze made me quickly nod my head with a small smile, "Yeah. Just oh gosh. . . we are so high up." I reply, bitting my bottom lip. 

"Almost there." 

Before we knew it, well more so I - we were only around four steps away from reaching the other side. The entire time I held my breath and I exhaled out deeply. But throughout it all, Elvis never let go of my hand and consistently checked up on me. His playfulness gradually returned back the way it was, with him attempting to make jokes which did manage to get a laugh or two out of me. 

"If this was a movie, I would burst into song right about now. " He laughs, shaking his head. 

I chuckle at this, "Really? Nah, you are bluffing." 

"Am not, dear." 

"In the middle of you walking across an unstable bridge? I don't think so." I strongly responded, even though I have concrete evidence of my claims. I knew that he did more singing in movies than acting, which he despised - but I have no idea how much singing actually took up the movies he was in. I never was a huge Elvis Presley fan. I have heard of him, of course, he was basically imprinted on all of American culture. I have heard a few of his songs from time to time when they played any of old, vintage songs on the radio. I know he did movies, but only recently found out about that when I watched the Elvis (2022) movie that was released this year. 

"Oh hell, you'd be surprised." He shook his head, chuckling, "I'd be doing the most random shit in a scene and my character would suddenly be handed a guitar and break out into song." 

"Yikes."

"Yep."

With one final step, we were finally on the other side of the bridge. We kept walking until we were in a great distance from the cliff edge. Elvis slowly lets go off my hand, and I instantly feel the cold wind meet it - a stark contrast from the warmth of his hand. 

I sighed in disbelief that we in fact did not fall, "Oh my gosh. . . we actually did it? You psychopathic, impulsive guy did not fail us. "

Elvis furrowed his eyebrows with that grin on his lips, as he looks mock-offended at me, "Nova, you sure know how to wound a man with your words." 

I roll my eyes at his dramatics, "You cannot blame me from my apprehensiveness." 

He mutters under his breath, as if he does intend me to hear it, "I never can." 

I keep reminding myself that we are at least 100 feet above ground, and look at the bridge that we just crossed. A bridge that really does look like it's holding onto its last breath, just like how I was a few seconds ago. The low bustling of the leaves from the trees of the forest alerted my ears, as a wash of relief and my previous fears left my body. I was looking around, looking at every corner - I just can't believe it. 

"Stop spinning or you'll get dizzy, woman." He warns, quickly placing his hands on my shoulders. 

There is that feeling that replaced fear. The fear and anxieties I previously had was like veins that tightly wrapped around my body, never letting me catch my breath. It plagued my mind with constant worry. But now, at the other end of it all - there is a light settling feeling in my chest. I closed my eyes, and concentrated on the feeling of the wind against my skin and the low hum of the birds - it all represented tranquility - all of which were blocked from me by my fear. 

"I. . . we . . .  crossed that! I just." Articulate words fail to leave my mouth, as I invite this feeling of glee. 

I felt this overwhelming sense of utter disbelief, what I just did is not Nova. I let out a loud laugh, an uncontrollable one. I cannot stop myself. I just can't. 

I opened my eyes and Elvis is staring at me. His blue eyes, still with that intensity and that never-ending amusement. 

"Now, how's that for fears Nova?" He smirks with his arms cross across his chest, his head tilted at 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 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

--

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

Yours Truly - Chapter 10: Girlfriend?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.9k

・❥・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. self-conscious OC, fluff, a kiss, adorably oblivious OC.

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NOVA

"Did you choose this dress?" I asked over the locked door, as I studied my reflection in the floor-length mirror. It was a cream white dress, with wildflower patterns adorning its entirety, the straps were tie-straps and the dress reached just a little above my knees. It was beautiful, and elevated the remembrance of summer days. The dress hugged my figured surprisingly, and I can only logically say that in dreams, of course a dress would fit perfectly. It is my dream, after all. 

"Yes and no." 

I roll my eyes at his response, of course. I take one final glance at the mirror and sigh. It is only natural to feel insecure, but its very existence loomed over me for majority of my teenage years. Being not 'conventionally beautiful' in a high school setting really does something to a young girl's self-esteem. I know now that outer appearance is not all that makes up a person, but it still does hurt when harsh words aim at something you were born with, it eats your soul. So, I guess even at the age of 21, webs of insecurity are still something I battle with. 

"You never give simple answers, do you?" 

Elvis chuckles, "I don't know what you mean. Are you done?"

"Give me a sec." 

I turn around and check my reflection in the mirror one last time. What if the dress is beautiful, but me wearing it destroys it? I purse my lips at the thought, but I don't really want to go back to wearing my pyjamas. What to do? 

"I can almost hear your mind running wild, doll. " He muses, his voice was closer to the door. 

Ok, breathe, Nova. Just get out there and if you look atrocious in the dress, you can always just blink your eyes and wake up from this dream. I try hard to tell myself. 

I take a deep breath. 

"Darlin, do you need help? I wouldn't want to be the shitty guy who's out here waiting when you are out there struggling-" 

I swing the door open, which cuts off his sentence. Elvis is leaning against the wall of the hallway, but he straightens to stand up suddenly. His familiar blue eyes gazed at me, slack-jawed. I take my hand off the door handle and take a cautious step towards him, my hands fiddling. His eyes trail from my legs up to my head, holding my gaze for what seems like an eternity. I hug myself, rubbing my arms consciously. 

What is he thinking?

"I, um. . . sorry I took so long." I finally say, the words seem to get stuck in my throat. My voice was unfamiliar to me, there was shake to my tone. This much attention, coupled with strong silence - I never know how to act. I don't think anyone else has looked at me like that, except for- well, I can't think about him right now. 

"No, no, don't be sorry. " Elvis says, shaking his head. He steps forward and takes both my hands in his, removing them from my self-conscious guarding. 

He breaks out into a smile, "You look beautiful, Nova." 

There's that thump again in my chest. Whenever he is within this close proximity to me, his scent encompasses my senses - that familiar cologne. I honestly do not know how all those woman in the past managed to contain themselves being this close to him. It's like a magnetic pull, an invisible rope that I know I can't fight against, or that I don't want to.

"Thank you." I softly say and looked down at my feet, "But I don't suppose I go wherever we are going wearing these house slippers, right?" I question, in hopes to cut the prevalent tension. 

Elvis laughs at this, as he bites on his bottom lip, "Nah, I don't think it helps your height." 

I gasp and hit his arm playfully, "Rude! Bye now, Presley. I'm off." I dramatically walk past him, but I am not fast enough as he catches my arm quickly. I then feel both of his arms wrap around my waist rapidly, his chest pressed firmly against my back. 

"No, honey, I'm sorry. I was only joking." He laughs, and I can feel his smile against my cheek. 

Oh god. He has never done this before, and this is a different level of closeness. Something you do when you know someone so intimately, and that thump in my chest beats far rapidly. I can almost feel it about to leap out my chest. But nevertheless, I feel my lips stretch out Into a smile, as I feel my face heating up. 

Our laughter dies down and we are once again met with silence.

"Please, don't leave me, Nova." He says this time, in whispers of desperation. So quiet that I almost didn't catch it. 

Is he afraid that I'll end this dream sooner than he wanted, and then he'll have to wait for me again the next time I close my eyes. 

"I won't." I softly say, tilting my head a little to the left to turn to him. 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

I sit down in the passenger seat of his car, I am sat down sideways with the car door open and the right side of my body leaning against the back of the car seat. I glance down at him on his knees in front of me. 

"And you just so happen to have this in your car?" I asked him, referring to the pair of white heeled-sandals that are in his hands. 

"In case of emergency," He looks up at me and winks. 

"Elvis, you do know I can manage putting shoes on myself." I chuckle. 

"I know, darlin. But let me just do this for you, okay?" Elvis grins. 

I nod as I know there is no point in disagreeing, once he has his mind set on something he'll do it. 

His hands are soft and careful as he slips my feet into the pristine white heels. The contact of his hand against my skin doesn't go unnoticed by me, as I feel heat rush to my cheeks. He finishes putting the final strap on and suddenly leans down, planting a kiss on the area right next my ankle. 

I gasped, "Hey!" My cheeks are no doubt turning a bright shade of pink. 

"Sorry, couldn't help it." He looks up with that infamous smirk of his, not apologetic at all. 

"Well, thank you." 

"For the kiss?" He says mischievously. 

"No, not for the kiss, oh you are impossible." I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. 

I slip both my legs into the car into a comfortable position, as Elvis stands back up. He closes my car door and jogs around, quickly getting into the driver's seat. He starts up the car, and slips on his sunglasses. I stare in awe at the infamous musical gates of Graceland as we pass through them, "Who opened the gates?" I asked him, as he heads down the main road. 

"Consider it a magic trick," Elvis replies, briefly glancing at me before refocusing his eyes on the road. 

Both of the windows on either side are rolled down, perfectly welcoming the fresh breeze into the vehicle. The wind accompanied my hair, letting the strands dance wildly which I am sure I will have to fix later on. The sun hangs high in the dreamy blue sky, encapsulating scorching hot heat onto my skin.

"It's so warm for a December day, " I admit, it's definitely not the usual temperatures for a day in the supposedly Winter months. But I suppose in the land of dreams, nothing really Is logical. 

Elvis chuckles, "I ain't complaining, just embrace the change." 

"Neither am I. It's good." 

Although the gust of wind is continuous as Elvis speeds through the roads, the scorching heat of the sun still permeates my skin. I have the right clothing on and the right shoes, so it's just my thick, long hair not really helping the situation. 

"Damn it, why don't I have a hair tie?" I mutter to myself, instinctively looking down at my wrist as I pull my hair up in a ponytail. I purse my lips in thought, what can I use to tie my hair up? I pause on my train of thought as I feel his gaze on me in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to look at him, and see his eyes flicker briefly to my exposed neck - his sunglasses are half-tinted blue, making his gaze much more prevalent compared to normal fully-tinted ones. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for something to tie my hair." I find myself explaining, and he simply nods and refocuses his attention back on the road. His jaw is noticeably tensed, with his bottom lip between his teeth. I wonder if he's deep in thought about something. 

He mutters something under his breath, and I think it's along the lines of "Lord, have mercy." He pushes back his hair with his one hand that's not on the steering wheel.

"Elvis, are you okay?" I ask.

Elvis clears his throat, "Yeah, yeah. 'Course I'm good." 

"Okay, I just wanted to makes sure you weren't in pain or something." I chuckled, smiling at him. 

He shakes his head, "In pain? Now, why would I be in pain?" 

"Nothing." I shrugged, "It's just you looked a little tense there for a second."

He lets out a chuckle and gives me a wink, "There's nothing to worry about, darlin', trust me." 

Before I could spark a new subject of conversation, the car comes to halt as Elvis switches the engine off. I observe where he parked, which is in the middle of a vast landscape. He has basically parked on grass. 

"We are here." He states. 

"Um. . . this is the middle of nowhere." I say, as a matter-of-factly.

Elvis gets out of the car and quickly opens my car door for me, with his hand outstretched. I gratefully take it, "Thank you."

He shuts the car door, locks the car - all without letting go of my hand. 

"Are we going to have a picnic? Do you have a picnic basket? I mean, there's literally nothing here. But it is the perfect weather to have a picnic, for sure. Or are we going to play football? or any other sports? Elvis, I'm terrible at sports, I can't cop-"

He cuts off my nervous ramblings with a laugh as he turns his body to face me completely, "Breathe, baby. Breathe. I'm with you, okay?" His thumb gently grazes my cheek, before returning his hand into tightly intertwining with mine. 

baby. 

I feel my pulse quicken, my heart hammering ruthlessly against my chest. And something tells me it's not because of the unknown, but because of him. His way of being so affectionate, gentle, and- I should really stop thinking about it. I can't hold onto this thought any longer. Elvis is a charmer, I mean, I guess he is like that with everyone. It is only natural for him to be so, so. . . close. 

I slowly nod after taking a deep breath. His lips spread into a smile, as he tugs me along with him. We walk down hill a little and not long after, I hear the sound of excited chatter and music booming from speakers fill my ears. We keep on walking, until we find the source of all the sound. There, in the middle of the vast empty grass, was a walkway leading up what looked like two giant light tan-coloured tents that are combined together. As we walk closer, the tents seemed to be held up by numerous solid wooden poles. I immediately stop walking, as my eyes widen in realisation on where we are going, "A party?" I turned to Elvis to confirm my guess. 

"Hmm, not exactly." 

"What do you mean?" 

Elvis ignores my question and tugs me along with him. We keep on walking down the pathway until we are at the very opening in the middle of the two tents. The music and the chatter grow louder and louder, until we are right inside of the tent. Fairy lights dazzle my vision, framing the entirety of the main entrance and the large inner space. Numerous rustic tables adorned the space, with around eight or so people on each table. At the very middle of the it all is a mirrorball. A simple stage is at the very front of all the tables, and a bar to the far left. What seems to be hundreds and hundreds of people occupy the space, all adorned in such formal clothing. But what catches my eye is the three-layer cake on the long table beside the stage, "This is. . . stunning. It's a wedding reception."

Elvis nods. 

"This was not on my list." I say, challenging him. 

"Are you sure 'bout that, Nova?" He grins mischievously. 

Oh no. What now?

Suddenly, a man dressed in security uniform approaches us rapidly. His eyes are narrowed at us, with a clipboard in his hand. 

"I didn't see you both at the entrance. Names?" He questions, suspicion evident in his tone. 

Well, shit. Did I see Elvis take in invitations? I don't think he had any invitations in his hand when we left Graceland. 

"I'm Aaron and this is Katerina." Elvis confidently says, smirking at me. 

First off all, how does he know my middle name? Well, I mean, I know his but that's not the point. 

The guard flips through the pages of his clipboard and shakes his head, "Neither of you are on the list, which means you have both just broken into a private event." 

Oh shit. 

I pull Elvis' arm and frantically whisper into his ear in a panic, "Elvis, this is not good. This is really not good." 

"I've got this, doll." He whispers back calmly with a smirk. 

Elvis turns back to the man, "You see. . . Gregory is it?" He asks, briefly glancing at the name tag on the guard's uniform, in which the man firmly nods. 

"Gregory. Listen, pal, " He steps forward and places a hand on the man's shoulder, he then leans down and whispers something to him as he gestures to me. 

Damn it. What is he saying? 

The guard, Gregory, his face goes a deep shade of red as his eyes widen at me. Elvis leans back and returns to stand next to me, intertwining our fingers. 

"Now you see why, Gregory?" Elvis dramatically sighs, in fake sadness. 

The man nods his head and sputters out a string of apologies, "I-uh. . . of course! Silly me. I apologise to you and your girlfriend. I am so sorry for the trouble." 

"It's all good, man. " Elvis smiles brightly, as Gregory walks away very quickly. 

My mouth is hung wide open in shock and surprise, I turn to Elvis with my eyebrow arched at him in confusion. 

"Girlfriend?! What on earth did you tell the him? You frightened the poor guy to death." 

Elvis simply laughs at my reaction and tugs me along with him, "I'm afraid I can't spill my secrets, baby."

There he goes again with the pet names. 

"No, I want to know!" I pout at him. 

He hums, "Maybe another time. Let's crash a wedding first?" He questions, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "Fine. But this is not the end, E.P." 

"Wouldn't dream of it, Nova."

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