Yours Truly - Chapter 12: A Curious Case

Yours Truly - Chapter 12: A Curious Case

・❥・pairing: Elvis x original female character

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

・❥・wc: 3774 words

・❥・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.

chapter index | prev | chapter 13

・❥・a/n: hello all! I thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I apologise for the long wait, well life happens and things get busy sometimes. Also, I will admit that this is one of the significant chapters - so I had intense perfectionist tendencies for this one. I really hope you enjoy this chapter! This will be crossposted on Wattpad as well.

if you like this, please do share and comment - it would mean the world to me. Also, if you want to give me a tip - the icon should be at the end of this chapter and on my profile bio. This is not necessary at all, so absolutely do not feel the need to. All my fics are always free. ✨

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"My soul chose yours. And a soul just doesn't forget that." - Ben Maxfield.

NOVA

The semicircular structure surrounded us, the transparency of the walls and roof effectively providing it to be easier for beams of afternoon sun to slip through the glass. The sun being an object of deception, as if I were to step outside the conservatory - I know that the almost-winter breeze will latch onto my skin. Various plants were situated on each corner of the room, as well as the usual decorative pieces that sat on top of wooden shelves. 

I sat on a sofa, opposite to the two-seater that Great Aunt Odette was sitting on. The sofas were comfortable, and stylishly woven from rattan to perfectly match the atmosphere of the room. A coffee table was situated between us, books and our empty cups of coffee rested on it. It was typical of Great Aunt Odette to spend time in the indoor conservatory, despite its functionality being best used for the summer seasons. But I shouldn’t feign surprise, as she never was rigid about such and such rules. 

I arrived an hour ago, and after the usual conversation of updating her about the normal elements in my life over dinner - I know that there is no delaying no further. With my action of suddenly calling her, and the two hours drive to her house - it is now the time to actually explain to her the purpose of my visit. There is no more sugar coating with Great Aunt Odette, and I simply wouldn’t get away with it at all - she will see right through me. 

Great Aunt Odette squinted her brown eyes at me, and I knew straight away that a question would land on me within the next few seconds. I just hope that my racing heart would slow down, in time to catch it. 

“Now, tell me Nova. . . “ She begins, “What is it you want to talk about? You said it was imperative to discuss in person.” 

Great Aunt Odette lived far out in the countryside. It was a total of a two hour drive to get to her home. It’s only been a few months since i’ve seen her, the last time being her birthday. Now, due to life and the stages of adulthood quickly approaching me - it has become harder to visit her. Although I do apologise for rarely getting to visit her, Great Aunt Odette is always quick to wave my apologies away as she says that there is a reason she chose to live in the middle of nowhere. She valued the peace and that the time in her life of constantly chasing life and being surrounded by people - she was finished with that. And so, she enjoys very little social interactions. But she is a very extroverted person. 

She is my favorite person in the entire world. If I don’t address her by ‘Great Aunt Odette’, I call her ‘Auntie Dottie’ - which according to her, is a nickname that I invented when I was a kid. Apparently, I was frustrated in being unable to correctly pronounce her name so settled with ‘Auntie Dottie.’ 

Great Aunt Odette patiently awaits my answer. The record player helps the silence, as the room is filled with the sound of soft, classical music.

If there is one person in my life that would listen to me, and understand this it would be Great Aunt Odette. No matter how ridiculous it may sound, I know in my heart she will listen to me. 

I push myself to regain my eye contact with her, as I take a deep breath. 

“I- . . . there really is no easy way to explain what has happened, and has been continuing to happen to me. I haven’t told my parents or any of my friends this. . . it’s a lot.” I said, trying to read the expression on her face. 

Her eyebrows arch as her eyes widen, “You are not in some kind of trouble, are you?” She whispers. 

I frantically shake my head, “Oh god, no. I promise you that’s not the case. “

Great Aunt Odette breathes a sigh of relief, with her hand placed on her chest. 

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“I found myself presuming so because it is very unlike you to not confide in your parents, nor your friends. “ She admits, freely sharing her trail of thoughts. 

“I promise you, Auntie Dottie. I’m not in trouble, nothing illegal, and I’m not hurt.” I clarify, in an attempt to cure her worries a little.

She pauses for a second as if trying to think through her words. 

“Have you been to the Doctor recently?” She says, her voice slow and with fear coursing her eyes. 

I shake my head knowing exactly where she is going with the question. 

“No, I haven’t. I’m perfectly healthy, I’m okay. “ 

“Then what is it?” She is at a loss for words, her forehead knotted as she looks at me in desperation for answers. 

I get up from my seat and move to sit next to her on the sofa. I lean my body sideways on the back of the sofa, as I cross my legs. 

My hands take hers as I take a deep breath, “I’ve been having dreams, Auntie Dottie.” I lower my voice, my heart releasing a shot of nervous energy as this is the first time I would ever tell someone this. 

The fear of something extreme leaves her face, but the confusion remains. Throughout the two hour drive, I tried to desperately practise how I would reveal this all to her. There is no other way to ease the confusion, there is no shortcut - it really is the case of telling her everything. There is no way to sugarcoat it or a slow build up to, because one way or another it will sound unreal. So, here I am now, I can only guarantee explaining it all as clearly as possible - no matter how insane it might sound.

“Dreams?”

I nod, “Yeah.”

“Are they bad dreams?” She tilts her head with a frown, as she sends me a logical question. Of course that is the first thing one would think. If someone was concerned about their dreams, the first thing someone would think is that they are dreaming unpleasant things. But for my case, it’s not that simple. Mine is good, but full of intricacy. 

“No, no. They are um. . .  quite the opposite actually.” 

Great Aunt Odette slowly nods, but I know that I have rendered her more confused than ever. 

“Okay. Then what is it, dear?”

I  find myself subconsciously biting my bottom lip, here goes nothing.

“Um. . . the dreams aren’t normal. At least I don’t think they are.” I respond, looking at her to check that she is still with me. Great Aunt Odette is attentive, her gaze transfixed as she nods at me in encouragement. 

“How so?”

“Well. . .  for starters I just don't think it’s normal to be waking up each morning and remembering every detail of the dream I’ve just had. I remember each word that I have said, how I felt, and my surroundings.” I have let go of Great Aunt Odette’s hands now, as I can’t help, but talk with my hands as I explain. 

I stop myself from adding in the fact that he also appears in my dreams. I need to tell her the information little by little, saying that ‘oh btw Auntie Dottie, Elvis Presley is in my dreams every night.’ There is no way I can say it like that, I need to build it up first. 

She pauses for a moment before she speaks, “Have you ever heard of the term lucid dreaming, Nova?”

I nod, “Yes. Yes I have. But Aunt Dottie it can’t be that.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Why not?”

“I don’t go to sleep with the intention of controlling what happens in my dreams. They just happen.” 

Great Aunt Odette hums in agreement to my reasoning. 

“But when you are dreaming are you aware that you are?” She asks.

“Yes.” 

“How long has this been happening? Such things can happen to us every now and again I suppose. “ 

I bite my bottom lip, “Almost two weeks now.” 

Her eyes widened at my response, “Weeks?” She repeats, her tone full of shock. 

I nod.

“How frequently have they been occurring within that time frame?” She questions, and I can practically visualise the wheels turning in her brain as she adds each piece to the puzzle. 

“Every night.” 

“Good heavens,” Great Aunt Odette mutters, “I have never heard anything like it.” 

I sighed as I found myself absentmindedly drawing circles on the cushion that sat on my lap. 

“I-I know. Believe me, Auntie Dottie. I have googled it and all results don’t even remotely hint that this is normal. “

“These dreams. . . “ She speaks slowly and carefully, “Do you remember each one?” 

“Yeah. I can tell you right now about every detail, and It’s not like I need to write it down at all to remember. It’s…” I run my fingers through my hair, trying to find the right words, “It’s well. . . I don’t know. . . almost like recalling a memory.” 

Everyone may remember their dreams every once a while, and remember certain details. But for me to describe my dreams to the level of like a memory? It’s not a mundane experience at all. And I can confirm that the degree of it is strange because Great Aunt Odette is speechless. The words I let go have rendered her without any words to say. 

She rests her chin on her hand, gazing thoughtfully at me. 

“Give me an example. “

“Well. . . I had a dream of going on a hot air balloon ride and there was one where I went to a wedding reception uninvited. On my 21st, I made myself a promise that I would be open to new experiences, to step outside my comfort zone more. Those dreams started happening after that.” All that I have said is true, and sounds pretty normal so far. But I haven’t even begun to talk about him. I’m still unsure of how Great Aunt Odette might react.

She hums with a smile spreading on her lips, “Perhaps Nova,  it may be your subconscious mind telling you that you are heading in the right direction. I know you and I know that this is a brave step for you.” She held onto my hands, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

I nod, “Maybe. But there is another thing, Auntie Dottie.”

Here I go. This conversation was already strange to begin with, but now with the addition of telling her about him - that’s a completely new level of weird territory. But I silently remind myself that this is Great Aunt Odette. If there is anyone I trust more in the entire world, who I could tell - it has to be her. 

She tilts her head, eyes filled with curiosity as she awaits me to continue. 

I take a deep breath, “I, um . . . someone appears in my dreams.” 

“Who? Someone you know?”

I shake my head, “No. Not personally, at least.” 

Great Aunt Odette raises an eyebrow at my words. 

“No?”

“It’s a famous person.” 

She chuckles, “Oh, don’t worry dear.” She waves her hand, as if to emphasise the point of such a thing not being something to be concerned about. 

“Nova,” She continues, “It’s perfectly normal for a celebrity crush to appear in your dreams. “

I sigh, “I know that. But he isn’t a celebrity crush. I was aware of him, but not to the extent of calling myself a fan. “ 

Great Aunt Odette pauses at my words, and I see her eyes find themselves lost in a maze once again. A moment ago, it seemed like she was content that she found the root of all of this. It seemed that she found that the answer was simply that the appearance of a celebrity crush isn’t abnormal. Almost false hope, as she is back to square one. My Great Aunt is quite expressive, with how people often say that if the competition is to hide your true feelings about something - she would certainly not win. Her face tells it all, and right now - she is almost bewildered and frustrated. 

I decide to continue, in hopes to offer her another piece to the puzzle. 

“I understand that when someone appears in your dreams, we assume that they are there to deliver a message. But I believe that’s only  to people we are close to, people that we know very deeply. “ I find myself fiddling with my fingers again, as I set my eyes on the record player in the corner of the room.

My voice is quieter now as I say, “Not a famous singer who has been gone for decades, “ I ran my hand through my hair, “It’s not- it’s not making sense to me at all.” 

“Gone. . . no longer alive, dear?” She asks carefully, as my gaze floats back to her line of sight. Her eyes are as wide as ever, wheels certainly turning in her head. 

I nod.

“I know that sounds crazy, Auntie Dottie. Believe me, I am not making this up. No matter how ridiculous it may sound, like a plot from a storybook or something - I am telling the truth.” I explain, my words rushing out of me faster and stronger  than the wind blowing against the windows from outside. There’s that striking fear at the pit of my stomach because this is the first time that I have verbally explained my situation to anyone. 

“Who is it, Nova?”

There. The one question that will definitely seal my insanity. If the entire conversation was not abnormal enough, this final question will definitely be the cherry on top. On the drive here, I have decided to tell her everything. But I stood uncertain on whether I should tell her that it’s him. 

In the brief moment that silence passed us, Great Aunt Odette definitely saw a flicker of hesitation in me. A smile splits into her cheeks, “On second thought, keep him as a secret. “ She winks. 

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders, as I sigh in relief. 

“Sorry, it’s just-”

Great Aunt Odette stops me mid-sentence. “I believe you. I can’t say that I have heard of anything like this before, because I certainly have not. However, you are the most intelligent, logical and rational human that I know. “ She says, holding my hands tightly, “For you to tell me this - something which is miles from your beliefs - it has to be the truth. It has to be.” 

I found myself smiling, the clouds of doubt fading away. 

“Thank you, Auntie Dottie. I-I was going mad, I just kept this all to myself. Look, I can even show you my recent search history. “ I pull my phone out, in which she laughs.

“Now, I presume that you were visiting me to talk to me about this. But not necessarily expecting an answer?” She asks, and I instantly recognise the tone of her voice. It’s the tone of voice she often uses when she has a surprise that I am unaware of. 

“Yeah. . . what are you thinking?” I reply, chuckling. 

“Hm, you know me too well Nova.” She laughs as she stands up, “Come with me, there is something I want you to see.”

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Great Aunt Odette leads me to my favorite place of her house. She throws me a smile over her shoulder, as we go inside. The room was the second most spacious room in her house, I would think. Towering shelves embedded into the walls, in a circular shape as hundreds and hundreds of pieces of literature rested upon them. A cathedral-like window took the centre of it all, but with absence of natural lighting. Instead, the place relied on the dim lightning which was suitable for the atmosphere of the room. Extensive ornate woodwork in the form of two rectangular tables in the middle. In the far right, a nicely lit fireplace was present, surrounded by dark wood mouldings. 

Overall, Great Aunt Odette’s home library is paradise. 

The soft, red carpet adorned the flooring as I followed her lead. She stops at a bookshelf on the left, with a ladder resting on it. 

“Gosh, this has always been my favorite spot.” I say, as my fingers trace the books on the shelves. 

Auntie Dottie displays a bright smile at me, “You are very right.”

I stop my actions and turn to face her, “What was it you wanted to show me?”

“You’ve always had such an appetite for reading. Always hungry for knowledge, and you have spent countless times here - your eyes engrossed in a book. You would be reading Greek mythology, history, ancient egypt. . .  I thought for a second if I should hire you as a librarian.” Auntie Dottie laughs.

“That can be arranged, right?” I play along, laughing. 

“Most certainly.”

“But there is a part of you that I think you have forgotten about, Nova.” She says, voice now serious as ever. 

My eyebrows furrow, “Hmm?”

“I know that you like facts. Facts provide comfort, it makes us feel certainty in our choices. But the discovery of those facts was born from people’s curiosity.” She gestures to the world map that is hung on one of the dark-colored walls, “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean. . . scholars and scientists had to do so much research to publish valid information for the public. It was all trial and error.” I shrugged, still unsure on where the conversation is leading to. 

“Precisely.” She muses, “Although you are no longer a child, there is one element you must carry throughout all stages of your life. The one aspect that will keep your life balanced - curiosity. “

I chuckle, “Great Aunt Odette, if that is what you are getting at then you shouldn’t worry. I’m still a very curious person. Like you said, I like to plan and assess before jumping into something.” 

She shakes her head and chuckles, “Oh, Nova.” She mutters. 

“I promise I am.” 

“I’m not doubting you, dear. “ She assures with a smile, “I am only saying that you are lacking a different sense of direction. The most curious people are the ones that don’t fret over details about something - they just jump.” 

I remain silent and wait for her to continue speaking. 

“When you were a child you loved reading storybooks. Yes, girls like to read fairy tales about princesses. “ She shakes her head, almost deep in thought before her eyes shift back to me. 

“Nova, do you remember your favorite book when you were a child?” Great Aunt Odette asks, almost in a quizzing manner. Her eyes squint, as she awaits my response. 

I’m at a loss for words. It is true that I used to read many storybooks when I was a kid, as a kid normally does. But the subject of my favorite book - my mind is actually blank at the question. 

“I. .  .  I actually can’t remember.” I say, my voice sounding quieter. 

A knowing grin shines on Great Aunt Odette’s face, as she slides the ladder to one of the shelves. It is a good thing that the ladder is one of those that have wheels at the end, so it prevents her from having to carry it from shelf to shelf. 

She starts to climb the ladder and I immediately reach my arms out in alert, “Auntie Dottie, I don’t think you should climb that.”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’m not going too far.” She replies, her back now facing me as her hand reach out and flips through the books on the shelf. She mutters to herself before an excited, “A-ha!” leaves her mouth. 

To my relief, she safely makes her way down the ladder and stands right in front of me. A dark blue hardbound book is in her hands, but the front cover is faced down. 

“Wherever you went as a child, you had this with you. Other kids would have a stuffed toy with them as a source of comfort. But you had this story, this book with you. It was only when you turned eight years old that it was put down. I know your parents don’t favour thoughts of adventure, of spontaneity, of the unknown. “ Auntie Dottie sighed heavily, “And I know that they only have your best interest at heart. But you're an adult now, Nova and you are young. You get to choose how to let that place of curiosity grow within you. “ 

Great Aunt Odette is my favorite human being on earth, but unfortunately she is not my parents’ favorite. They describe her as being too risky, too uncertain and ‘wild.’ Although she was the one who babysat me during numerous times of my childhood, those ended quite abruptly when I was around the age of eight years old. I remember asking my mom why Great Aunt Odette can’t babysit me anymore, and they simply said because I was “growing up.” and how Great Aunt Odette’s “foolish ideas” aren’t ideal for me. Great Aunt Odette was and is the polar opposite of my parents. Her perspective in life is, to say simply ‘live your life to the fullest’, and I suppose my parents won in that respect. I became exactly how they wanted me to be; safe, always within the lines, and never taking a risk. I do love my parents, I really do. But it is in this aspect that I start to wonder if I have gone too overboard, too safe. 

“You said that you wanted to show me something, after I told you about my dreams. Is this. . . ?” I trail off.

She smiles knowingly and nods, “Go on, turn the book over.” 

I follow her instructions and immediately gasped at the cover. The title is in cursive, with intricate illustrations on the outer aspects of the cover. 

It read: Peter Pan and Wendy by J.M Barrie 

“Oh my god, “ I shake my head, “How can I forget about this?”

Then I remember why Auntie Dottie is showing this to me, “Do you. . . is this why. . . “ 

She nodded, “There may be no scientific explanation for your dreams, Nova. But there doesn’t have to be. The universe has a way of guiding us, of pulling us towards something as a final push to where we are supposed to be. To better ourselves. “ Her eyes flicker briefly to the book, “That sometimes you need to be reminded of the beginning, in order to make some sense of the now.” 

chapter 13

TIP JAR ✨💫

Hi! First and foremost, thank you all so so much for taking the time to read my writing. It really means more than you can ever know. I absolutely love being a reader, and a writer in this small corner of the internet. My favorite corner of Tumblr.

I just wanted to make a post to say that I have opened a tip jar on my account. This is exactly what it says in the name. Any amount would mean the world to me, but please please do not feel obligated to tip. It is not necessary at all, as my writings will always be free to you on here.

The only reason I thought to announce the tip jar in a post is because things have been financially difficult lately. I am a student and have no job. The tips would be a great help not only for myself, but also for my mother. But to repeat myself, it is only optional. So, to conclude - each post has a tip option and it is also in my bio.

Love,

Rose 💋

Is it not enough to intensely daydream a fanfic in painful, emotional and visual detail constantly for over a week? Must I also convert it to doc/word format as well?

Little Black Dress | one-shot

・❥・Pairing: 70s!e x reader

・❥・Genre: a pinch of angst, fluff, mature themes, 70s!Elvis, shy reader, insecure reader, jealous Elvis.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MDNI.

・❥・WC: 5803 words

・❥・Summary: After being a devoted Elvis Presley fan for more than a decade, you and your best friend manage to miraculously score tickets for his Las Vegas show. You wear a classic little black dress, as your best friend decides it's the perfect opportunity to wear it for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, what you believed to be a 'plain' outfit choice seemed to have caught the eye of the King of Rock 'n Roll himself.

・❥ A/N: Hi my beautiful followers! I apologise for not posting for a while, life happens and well, you'll soon find out that I am quite the perfectionist when it comes to writing. This is unlike any other I have written before, my first attempt in writing NSFW content. Please be gentle with me, aha. Anyways, I hope you all like it! 💋

@literally-just-elvis-fics

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

“I think it’s too short,” You said, attempting to pull the dress down lower. 

“Girl, you look hot, don’t overthink it.” Your best friend, Annie, confidently replied in contrast to your self-doubt about your attire. 

Exactly a week ago, you managed to score some tickets to see Elvis Presley at the Las Vegas Hilton hotel. Even if the infamous singer has been playing numerous back-to-back shows at the infamous venue, the tickets remained challenging as ever to get a hold of. It seemed that even after the decade-long absence from the stage, his name never failed to lose its popularity and relevance. As a result, crowds upon crowds of people were lined up just outside the ballroom excitedly waiting to be let in. And for once, you and your best friend were one of them. 

You became an Elvis fan since you were a freshly-turned teenager, his charm and unique way of performing immediately captured your curosity.  Despite, of course, against your parents’ wishes. Like all the other parents in the country, they were determined in calling Elvis Presley “a rebellious boy” and how his scandalous movements are wrecking the minds of the youth. You laughed at that and simply ignored the “warning.” You were still fairly young back then, only really discovering him after he finished his military service. And so, ever since the start of teenagehood - you became a fan. 

Because here you are, all these years later and still an avid fan of him. Through the persuasive ways of your best friend, she has managed to convince you to finally wear the little black dress at the very back of your closet. You purchased it a while ago, with no specific intention on wearing it anywhere, as you didn’t perceive yourself as a wildly confident dresser. But as your best friend said, it seemed to be the perfect outfit to wear for your first Elvis Presley concenrt. 

And so, here you were. A tight little black dress that reached just a little above your mid thigh, paired with black boots and your hair in a half-updo. You thought it was basic and simple enough, but fitting enough for the event. But now, as you stood in the lobby - you began having second thoughts that the dress might be too short for the occasion. 

“Annie, does my underwear show through this?” You said, turning around, “I don’t want to be flashing anyone.” You worriedly say, knowing that the material of the dress is quite thin. 

Annie laughed, “You are absolutely fine, Y/N. “

You sighed in relief, “Ok, just double checking. “

“Besides, if you were to flash anyone, it’d be Elvis so-”

You gasped and hit her arm, “Annie! Oh my god, No!”

You shake your head horrified, face fully red in embarrassment at just the thought of such an incident. 

Annie simply smirked, “Why? It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You smile shyly, “Let’s just go before they close the doors.” You switch the subject immediately, keen to draw away from Annie teasing you. 

-

Excited chatter filled the ballroom, with not one single empty seat. You and your best friend were luckily seated only a few rows from the very front of the stage, but of course, found yourself rising from your seats and being as close to the front as possible. As close as possible to him. 

The moment you saw him appear on stage, it was surreal. He was one of the most photographed celebrities, but those photographs did not do him justice. It was true what others have said, how Elvis Presley’s looks were almost to the level of a greek god. A sharp jawline, beautiful tanned skin, high cheekbones, plump lips, and the most striking blue eyes that seem to pierce right through whoever he’s looking at. His black hair was messy, but fit him perfectly, falling over his eyes a little - with that boyish smile gleaming at everyone. It was such a stark contrast from the all clean-cut Ken doll throughout his Hollywood years. Even more so, his jumpsuit hugged his lean and tall figure, with the few buttons undone to reveal his chest. 

You were entranced. You spent your days endlessly playing his records in your bedroom at your parents house, and now more recently in your own apartment. But hearing him sing, right at this moment, in front of you - his talent never wavered. It astounds and shocks you at the same time, the familiarity of it and the newness of seeing him perform right in front of your eyes. He seemed to be more confident in his performing persona, knows how to command a stage and gone was the shy smile of his when he first started out. All throughout the concert, he would every now and again drop jokes and would constantly check if the audience is enjoying the show. 

It is almost the end now, and sweat trickles down his face and it doesn’t surprise you. The way that Elvis performs, it’s not a case of simply singing. No. It’s the vocals, along with his dances and karate movements mixed along that capture the eager-eyed audience. His immense energy surprises you, and you aren’t ashamed to admit that you are one of the girls in the audience screaming constantly in excitement. 

But then came the moment you’ve heard through hushed whispers, and that is how Elvis would kiss his fans at his concerts. You thought it was simply a rumour that spread like wildfire, as celebrity rumours do - but now you can definitely confirm it to be true. And that is because you are now on the receiving end of such a public display of affection. You barely registered the very brief encounter, but it happened. Elvis cupped your cheeks with his hands, and planted a brief soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away, but made sure to fixate his gaze on you with that smirk of his quirk in the corner of his lips. He was quick to be pulled into another kiss by another female audience member, but you were frozen. You touched your lips with your fingertips, the sensation still lingering as waves of bliss course through you. 

Of course, you were not naive to the fact that you are merely one of the many women that he would kiss that night. Afterall, the evidence was right in front of you - how Elvis walked away from the stage and made his way around, interacting with as many fans as possibe. This went on for a good while, before he returned to the stage and resumed performing a few more songs. 

After the final song, Elvis bids goodbye to the audience and gratefully thanks them before the curtains draw the show to a close. Your cheeks seem to be hurting, probably from all the smiling you’ve been doing so naturally. But you are back to reality now, the concert you’ve waited for what seems like your whole life - is now over. It felt like it was over in a blink of an eye, and you never fully understood that phrase when people say it - but you do now. Hours worth of performances were done in a single second it felt. 

But despite the shrinking feeling of dismay within you, the euphoric sensation coupled with pure adrenaline coursed fiercely through your veins. You linked arms with Annie, who herself shared the same expression - absolutely elated and sad it’s over. Everyone slowly dispersed the venue, excited chatters of memorable moments from the show filled the conversations. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Your best friend says, as she sighs while you are in the line of people exiting the venue. 

You shake your head, “Neither can I.”

“Well, now we can cross off two things from our bucket list.” Annie muses, as she smirks. 

“Finally going to an Elvis concert?” You ask, unsure of what the second one could be. 

“That and also kissing him.” Annie says, pure delight in her voice. 

You bite your bottom lip, unable to control a smile. 

“Gosh, did you see how that lady leaped over the tables just to get to him?” Annie asks, lowering her voice a little, “She’s my idol.”

You chuckle, “She definitely was determined.” 

“I’m surprised that his clothes didn’t rip to shreds, like back in the 50s?” Annie says, as you quickly recall the news articles of ‘rebellious Elvis’ performing and would often end with his clothes, quite literally - destroyed. There was a photograph of him walking backstage with no shirt on, and his pants that might as well be shorts. 

You shake your head, “Gosh, yeah. That was - people are strong, I’m telling you.” You chuckle. 

Annie nods and says, “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Where do you want to go?”

You both were in the lobby of the hotel now, much of the crowd of people have exited the hotel and are most likely finding transportation to go home. 

Before you could even respond to the question, you hear a rush of footsteps that seem to be getting near you. 

“Excuse me!”

You both turn around and see a man who seems a little out of breath, “Hi, ladies. “ He offers a kind smile, and you instantly recognise him as part of Elvis Presley’s entourage. One of the men in his ‘Memphis Mafia.’ 

“I know you.” Annie furrows her eyebrows, seemingly taking longer to recognize the man. 

“Hi, I’m Jerry. I work for Elvis, and well he has invited you both  to his suite for dinner.” He says, as if it’s the most casual thing to say in the world. 

You freeze and exchange a look of shock with your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry?” You stutter, not fully believing the words. 

“Us? He’s inviting us? To meet him?” Annie questions, tone in equal disbelief as you. 

Jerry nods, seemingly unfazed by your reactions. 

“Yes, that’s right.” He nods in certainty. 

You look at Annie again. 

“We’d love to!” Annie responds grinning excitedly, interrupting your thoughts from running into overthinking. 

As Jerry leads the way, Annie whispers to you, “Don’t overthink it, Y/N. This is once in a lifetime.”

On the way there, Jerry makes small talk with both of you. Just the usual case of introducing yourselves, how long you’ve been a fan and all that. All the while, trying to calm the fast thumping of your heart at the reality that not only will you be face to face with Elvis - but you’ll be talking to him. And also thinking about the wild thought that he has asked to meet you. 

There was not even one single point during the concert in which you’d thought he’d be fixated on you like that. 

-

You have been in his suite for an hour now, and overwhelmed is an understatement. The suite was filled with many other people; beautiful girls that could easily pass as models (perhaps they are), actors and actresses, and of course the Memphis Mafia. It still felt like an intimate affair though, with only around fifteen people in the room. You were sitting on the velvet couch, as you took gradual sips of your drink. Evidently, you were subtly people watching. Annie seemed to be caught up in a conversation with Jerry, as they both lingered near the pool table. Her laugh seemed endless, and you know from the look in her eyes and the gestures that she was definitely flirting with Jerry. 

You’ve met Elvis earlier, it was very briefly since he wanted to say hello to everyone. But in that split-second interaction, you cannot help but blush and stammer your name out as you introduce yourself. You were thankful that he was wrapped up in a conversation with someone else, as it decreased the chances of you absolutely making a fool of yourself in front of your celebrity crush. Right now, he seems to be in conversation with a comedian and his laugh echoes. You cannot help but smile at the sound. 

Annie seems to be nowhere in sight, but so does Jerry and you can only make assumptions of what that may mean. You sighed and stood up, refilling your glass of wine as you leaned against the corner of the wall - people watching. You don’t go unnoticed though, as a member of the Memphis Mafia approaches you - Red West. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes refocus on the new face in front of you, he flashes a grin at you as he leaned the side of his body on the wall. 

You clear your throat, “Hi.”

“I’m Red.” He says, sticking his hand out. 

You shake it and kindly smile, “Nice to meet you, Red. I’m Y/N.” 

He repeats your name, an amused grin on his lips. 

“So, Y/N. . . avoiding humans then?” He jokes, as you are removed from all the conversations going on. Here you were, standing alone.

You chuckle, “Not exactly. I was part of the human chatter earlier.” 

Red nods with his arms crossed, “And now you’ve realised that humans are a pain in the ass.” 

You laugh, “I was going to say I just like people watching, but that too.” 

Red’s eyes flicker to your lips and you hardly notice it, completely oblivious that he is physically attracted to you. You yourself have never been experienced in the art of flirting nor romance, therefore you just deemed it to be a normal conversation. 

“Sounds like stalker territory, but okay.” Red says, dramatically putting his hands up.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, “You’ve never heard of that term before?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.” 

“It just means someone who is an observer of life. You know, how Shakespeare says that thing about how movies are ideas from what humans are like in real life. People get ideas from people, by people watching.” You explain. 

Red steps a little closer to you, and this you notice. But you don’t react because the conversation has been harmless so far. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet then, that’s Shakespeare right?” Red says.

That’s not exactly what you were saying, and you are pretty sure he just ignored the rest of what you were trying to say. But you are also aware of how some men just don’t use whatever brain cell they have. So, you are not surprised at his question. 

You smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

“You are very smart, you know. Very pretty just like Juliet.” Red says, a glint in his eye as he smirks. 

You laugh unsure of what to say, “Thanks, I guess.”

And still, you are oblivious as ever with his flirtatious tone. 

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes gaze intently at you from across the room. Elvis has been socialising with everyone for an hour or so now, but in the corner of his eye he is still paying attention to you. Ever since his eyes met your face at the show earlier, he couldn’t help but immediately want to see you again. He has seen and been with many beautiful women in his life, the advantages of being who he is - the way women just flock to him without him even lifting a finger. But your beauty was not overdone, and your whole look was minimal. It was obvious that you were not dressed to impress, as they may say. You dressed as one would to attend a concert, but not with the intention of ever drawing his attention. Well, you did. But you had no idea. 

Of course, Elvis would invite a bunch of people to his suite for dinner after his shows. Aside from celebrity figures, Elvis would also invite people from the audience. Most of the fans invited immediately said yes, as you and Annie did as well. The hopeful women that clearly wanted and competed for Elvis’ undivided attention surrounded him, but his head snapped to you. You who was leaning so close to Red West, as you laughed in your fixated conversation with him. You both looked so in your own bubble, apart from everyone else. Apart from him. The women around him keep on talking, but Elvis is no longer listening. 

Elvis has thrown warnings to the MM before about his fans, if any of them were to try anything with any of the fans - he wouldn’t take it lightly. Of course, some fans that he would invite to his suite - Elvis had no intention of being intimate with. And so, Elvis wouldn't bat an eye if any of the MM were to flirt with them. 

But he clearly expressed his interest in you to the MM, and so rage fuelled his body at the sight of Red going against his words. Even worse, it looked like you were enjoying Red’s company with your cute laugh and  endless smile. 

Elvis has had enough. He excuses himself from the women around him and stands up, much to their dismay. But they quickly talk amongst themselves. Elvis strides over to you and Red, he takes his sunglasses off and folds it confidently - holding it in his hands. 

“Red.” One word and Red freezes. He turns around and there is Elvis with his jaw tightened and a tight smile on his lips. 

“Boss.”

“Heard you both laughing all the way there, wondered what the joke is.” Elvis says, though the intensity in his eyes mentally burning holds into Red’s head. 

You, of course, were frozen that Elvis decided to show up all of the sudden. Still not used to his effortless charm and handsome smile of his. 

“Um, i-it was n-nothing. “ You stutter, mentally hitting yourself at the sudden timidity of your voice. 

Elvis eyes are on you but he quickly looks back at Red, who seemed to have gotten more nervous than ever. He is scratching the back of his neck and is no longer leaning against the wall, but straightening his posture. 

“Honey, I doubt it. What do ya say, Red?” He says. 

Red immediately gets the hint and realises that he has fucked up. Here he was blatantly flirting with you, right in Elvis’ line of sight. 

“I’m saying. . .  I uh, Charlie needs my help on something. I better go.” He says, quickly excusing himself and briefly looking back at you. You frown, confused as his sudden change of mood. 

Elvis sighs and pats him on the back, “Good idea, man.”

“Bye, it was nice to meet you!” You call out and he shoots you a small smile before vanishing somewhere else. 

“You enjoying yourself, honey?” Elvis asks, the southern drawl so apparent in his tone. He casually takes the spot that Red was standing in, but Elvis is closer and he is leaning against the wall. 

You attempt to make eye contact with him, but his gaze is intense. Even more so without his sunglasses on. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thanks for , um, inviting me.” You say, twirling the empty glass of wine in your hands nervously. 

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” He asks.

“You remember my name.” You say before you can stop yourself. 

Elvis chuckles amusedly, “Why wouldn’t I? Miss Little Black Dress.”  He says, shamelessly trailing his gaze from your long legs up to the gaze in your eyes. 

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Not the most creative choice, I know.” You smile at him, trying to make yourself relax and appear more confident. 

Elvis shakes his head at your comment, “You look good, honey. Don’t count yourself out.” 

Although he has probably complimented many women, his words still make you naturally blush. You can’t help but look away and nervously say, “Thanks.”

The one chance that Elvis Presley is having a conversation to you and to you alone, and you are looking away? You mentally hit yourself and try to push out the shyness that seems to have taken over you since the start of this conversation. With Red, it was easy conversation, you weren’t rethinking each word that left your mouth. But he wasn’t Elvis. He wasn’t the celebrity crush that you’ve endlessly devoted yourself over for the past eleven years. Elvis found you adorably amusing, clearly hyper aware of the effect he has on you. 

You muster some courage of confidence and attempt to meet his eyes again, as you clear your throat. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask. 

“Hmm?”

“Uh. . you said about being honest with me about something?” You explain, redirecting the topic of conversation. 

He snaps his fingers and chuckles, “Ah! Right. I, well, would you like to get out of here?” He asks, his hand lightly brushing your hand but not quite intertwining your fingers. 

You freeze, not being able to maintain the shock with your eyes. Although you were practically oblivious when a guy was flirting with you, the naivety did not extend to words such as the ones that Elvis just let go. You knew what he was implying, and you were quite certain that he was hinting to sleeping with you. But this is when you drew the line. Sure, it was nice to talk to your idol, but crossing over to that territory? You don’t think you are sure of yourself. Besides, you haven’t even crossed territory like that with any guy. 

“I-”

He interrupts you, as if reading your mind. 

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I promise. I just figured it’s easier to get to know each other without all this noise.” He explains, voice soft. 

Your best friend’s voice echoes in your mind at that very moment. 

‘Live a little, Y/N. When an opportunity presents itself, just jump. As long as it’s not harmful. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ 

You hesitate, unable to form words. 

Before you could even register what is happening, you find yourself smiling at Elvis and agreeing to his offer, “Okay.”

-

It has been a while now since Elvis whisked you away from all the ‘noise’ as he described it. You were sure that your heart was beating loud enough for anyone to hear, as he placed his arm lightly around your waist. You were now in his room, and it was as luxurious as you’d expect it to be - the interior exactly what you imagined his taste would be. You were unsure at first on what to do, as you stood there. But luckily, Elvis was careful and noticed your nervous energy - he offered you to take a seat at the very edge of his bed. 

“How old are you, darlin?” He questions, as he faces you fully. 

“Twenty-four.” You say, and your mind immediately runs wild at what he must think of you now. 

Here you were, at the adult age of twenty-four and yet your life experiences seemed to not suit that description of such an age. You struggled to even hold a conversation with Elvis without stuttering or looking overly timid. In this stage of a woman's life, aren’t they supposed to be confident in their desires and advances? Romantic and sexual experiences should be vast by now, right? That’s what you believed, and yet - here you were. An anomaly within that belief. Your shy nature upon initial conversation with him, made Elvis conclude that you were a precious jewel out of the many. But your naivety to such things made you embarrassed, as someone with overflowing sex appeal had his undivided attention on you. 

Oh shit. He’ll probably ask something and that’s that. He’ll find out how embarrassingly inexperienced I am, and I’ll have to make a run from it. That is humiliating. 

You thought to yourself. Although you cannot be one-hundred percent sure that the conversation would lead to that, you know in yourself there is a pretty solid chance that it will. After all, the environment you are in just screams it. Here you were, literally sitting on his bed, the door is closed and it ‘s just the two of you. Besides, you’ve heard the rumours - about his sexual appetite. Afterall, he was this rock ‘n roll singer who practically had women fawning all over him. Logically speaking, he had to do something with that adrenaline after walking off stage - right?

You were getting ahead of yourself again, your thoughts running rampant and Elvis clearly noticed this. He delicately placed his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern swimming in his blue eyes. 

You shake your head, “N-Nothing. I, um. . .”

“I meant what I said,  I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He says, placing his hand over yours as he squeezes it reassuringly. 

You sighed and nodded, trying to calm your nerves down. 

“Do you read?” Elvis asks suddenly. 

“I used to a lot, but not anymore.” You reply, managing to form a normal sentence without stuttering. You tilt your head in confusion as Elvis gets up, but shortly returns back to his spot next to you with a book in his hands.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, his genuine curiosity took you aback a little. 

You shrugged, “Life became busy and I don’t know, I eventually lost interest I guess.” 

You look at the title of the book that he’s holding, “The Impersonal Life by Joseph Benner.” 

Upon reading the title of the unknown book, Elvis delves into revealing that he is an avid reader and brings a suitcase full of books whenever he’s on the road. Surprise would be an understatement, you admitted to him that you never expected him to be a reader. As the conversation grows, you find yourself relaxing and all the nervous energy vanishes from you. You thought that when Elvis said that he wanted to get to know you, it was simply just a phrase. But he truly did evidently show that he was interested in what you had to say, you felt flattered. You would answer his questions, but then he would ask another one based on the answer you just gave him. And you knew that he was listening to you, as he stared intently and would nod encouragingly at you to continue. 

Initially stepping into the room, there was no clock in sight. You wished that you had your watch on, it would’ve helped to know what time it was. It felt like you’ve been talking to each other for a while now, you presume it has been hours. And yet, Elvis was true to his word - he hasn’t done anything that you didn’t like. 

You were in the middle of explaining to him the meaning behind your name, but you stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling. Am I boring you?” You smile at him apologetically. 

Elvis grins amusedly at you and shook his head, “The opposite, honey.” 

He nods at your black boots, “Interesting choice.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, well, wearing heels makes my feet hurt. I mean, I have worn heels before because on some occasions, you just have to. But my black boots are my go-to, and coincidentally enough-”

You are looking down at your black boots, but stop yourself from continuing your sentence because you feel his focus has shifted. In the corner of your eye, you feel the heat of his gaze and this makes you naturally turn your head to face him. The pair of blue eyes flickered between your eyes, and your lips. Elvis sighed and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to lean in. All the while when you were talking, his mind kept directing him to stare at those lips of yours. So perfectly pink and inviting. But he held himself back, and didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

It was only this, in this moment did you realise how close together your bodies were. Your thighs were pressed up against each other and literally no space between you. It was silent for a while. You found yourself studying his face, and you still cannot believe how perfect he looks. It was so unlike the beauty of any other human being, you thought. You found yourself tracing his features with your finger, lastly touching his plump lips. Your motions were slow, and agonsing it seemed as Elvis' breathing increased. All the while you maintained your eye contact with him in good control. His eyes held pure fascination with your actions, a stark contrast from your shy nature. Your touch was delicate and careful, but he can tell that there is something more wanting to break out from you. 

It was in this very moment that you felt a hot sensation within you. You have hardly done anything, and Elvis is already feeling that familiar ache. His eyes intensified, as his tongue wetted his lips. 

Annie’s words echo through your brain again.

“I want to kiss you,” You finally admit, voice delicate but strong. You have never been this forward with a guy before, and so the words that leave your mouth surprise you.

“You don’t have to ask.”  He says, his tone of voice low.

You circle your arms around his neck, and finally - your lips meet his. The melding of your lips together, causes Elvis to let out a groan. The sound sparks the sensation in your lower body. The kiss was sweet and slow at first, but you felt yourself wanting more. An unfamiliar determination takes over you, as your hands thread through his hair - pulling it tightly. Elvis welcomes the pain, and tightly secures an arm around your waist - his touch searingingly  hot through your little black dress. The kiss is far from slow, as you both grow in need. His other hand grips your cheek as he deepens the kiss, recapturing your lips again, as he bites into your bottom lip. You let out a gasp, and swipe your tongue on his lips. The sweet sound of your gasps spurs something darker within Elvis, he needs more. But he can’t be selfish, and so he pulls back from the blissful touches.

Elvis is breathing hard, and you do too. Both trying to catch your breaths, as you try to comprehend what you just did. But a smile pulls on your lips, as does his. 

“Y/N, if we continue. . . I-I don’t think I can stop.” He warns, and your heart beats at how careful and honest he is. Staying true to his word. 

You lean forward once again and whisper, as you look him right in the eye, “Then don’t.” 

You gulp at the words you just let go, unaware where you found this confidence from. But you keep it going, not knowing when you’ll shrink back into your timid nature. 

Elvis’ movements are fast, as your lips meet together for the second time. This time, the kiss is not gentle anymore. It is filled with hunger and pure desire, a kiss that feels like the dichotomy of scorching desert sun and the icy glaciers that are surrounded by the Southern Ocean. A kiss that both felt like a crashing wave of relief, and an invisible rope tightly binding you and Elvis together. Your hands travelled through his back, his neck and his hair. Elvis’ hand trailed up your thigh and you felt your heart beating faster, as he slid the ends of your dress higher and higher. His other supported the back of your neck, as you naturally arched your back - displaying your neck invitingly to him. 

Elvis left a trail of strong kisses to your neck, “You have such soft skin, honey.” He hums, and you feel his teeth tug lightly at the skin of your neck. You moan at the feeling, knowing that you’ll have to find a way later on to hide the inevitable hickies that’ll be marked on your skin. You feel Elvis smirk at the sound, and this only encourages him to add more to the ones already forming prominently on your skin. 

“Elvis, I-I” You gasped. 

He pulls away, you frown confused at abruptly stopping his actions. Elvis finds this cute and chuckles at your expression, “Let’s take these off.” He removes both of your boots, and winks at you. 

He pulls you back into a kiss, and naturally brings you to his lap with your legs on either side of him, straddling his lap. Elvis groans at the contact of your thin underwear on his crotch, in this new position. His hand on the back of your neck finds its way to grip the butterfly clip that holds your hair together, he removes it letting your hair fall down and rest on your shoulders. 

Elvis looks at you in awe, “Beautiful.” 

Your cheeks heat up, only adding to the warmth that fiercely courses through your body. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the little black dress.” He says, and you feel breathless. 

“Oh do you now, Mr. Presley?” You muse, tilting your head at him as you bite your lip. 

Elvis places both of his hands on the ends of your dress and attempts to remove it smoothly, but grows frustrated at the strength of the material and you suddenly hear a sharp sound of tearing. Elvis pays it no mind and lets it fall to the floor. 

You laugh and shake your head at his frustration. Elvis laughs along with you and leaves kisses at the side of your face, as  you glance at the torn material on his velvet carpet. 

“But it’s time to say goodbye to it.” Elvis smirks. 

He flips you both over, so your back is on the soft sheets of the bed as he presses his body against you. Both of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You help him rid of his clothing, admiring in awe at his bare chest. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” He assures you, implying to the ripped up dress. 

“I have a better idea,” You say, tone sultry. 

Elvis smirks, his fingers circling your breasts, as his thumbs graze your perked nipples in repeated motions. You moan at the action, arching your back. At the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Elvis wishes to have the sight before him captured into his mind forever.

“Hmm? And what would that be?” His deep voice, sending you into limitless bliss.

You reach your hand out and grip the necklace dangling from his neck, using it as a way to pull his face towards you, as you clash your lips together and you feel him smirk through the kiss. He detaches himself from your lips, and descends down to kiss your jaw, your skin and now your chest. He is quick enveloping the hardened buds, wetting them with his tongue, as he repeats the action to your other breast. Your mind is in a frenzy, feeling your toes curl at the pure euphoria as you moan. 

Thank goodness for the Little Black Dress, you thought. 

“Embrace uncertainty. Some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later.”

— Bob Goff