Presley's True Love

Here you go, darlings :)

Characters: 70s!Elvis x little!reader

Warnings/triggers: Anxiety, Stage fright, age regression, little!space

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Elvis has always been the type to not seek help when he needs it. He just thinks he can handle everything himself, he’s done it from the day he could walk and talk. 

So asking for help is a thing he never really does. Why would he anyhow? It’s beyond him because he can deal with his own troubles himself. 

When people do offer him help, he’s appreciative of it. It’s kind but he just declines the offer and politely brushes it off. 

When it comes to you though, someone he’s been madly in love with from the first time you met. He occasionally accepts your help whenever you would offer because he knows you can sense he’s lying when he says he doesn’t need anyone to help and he knows it worries you and he hates seeing a pretty little thing like you worrying.

So ever since preparing for the opening night at the International hotel, he’s been considering the thought of asking you to comfort him with his stage fright. He doesn’t really know how though.

He’s always suffered from stage fright. Every performance he did, from the first concert in Tupelo to the comeback special he was a shaky, sweaty, anxious mess and tonight isn’t any different. It’s actually worse.

“Smile, E!” a photographer calls out. 

After giving the camera what it wants, Elvis lowers his eyes back down towards the coffee table. Nervously fidgeting with a pen in his hand and licking his lips, his head spins with thoughts of tonight’s upcoming performance and the commotion going around him.

It’s a big milestone for Elvis, to be performing at the International. He gets this opportunity to show a pretty big audience that big sound he’s been experimenting with on a big stage and it gives him an opportunity to connect with his fans more.

 He’s real excited but also mighty nervous. 

“Wardrobe in half an hour, Elvis.”

Elvis nods. 

Running his hand through his hair with a deep breath, Elvis lifts his gaze and leans back against the couch with his hands on his head as he scans the room.

“Tonight is a new performance with a new audience” he thinks to himself.

He gulps.

Damn, his nerves are eating him alive. 

Elvis sighs quietly and closes his eyes, trying his best to soothe his anxious mind before someone mentions you coming into the room.

“Daddy?” a soft voice calls out. 

Opening his eyes again and looking to his right, he smiles gently at the sight of you standing there fiddling with the hem of your pretty pink dress. Looking at him with big eyes. 

Dropping the pen on the coffee table, Elvis holds his arms out with a hum. “Hi baby”

Seeing the corners of your mouth turn up, you climb up to straddle his lap and he pats your head softly.

 “How’s my little, hm?” he asks, earning a quiet nod from you and he lightly chuckles as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Good?”

“Mhm…” 

He breathes out a smile and pecks your forehead with a small hum. Tightening his embrace around your sweet figure before looking down as you speak. “Daddy’s gonna sing see see rider?” 

Elvis laughs and nods. “Mhm, Daddy’s gonna sing a lot of songs tonight.”

He feels you move your head and cups your cheek with loving eyes. Noticing your eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“You’re nervous.”

Elvis frowns and chuckles confused. 

“How do you know that?” rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

You lightly shrug. “Help?”

He observes your face and thinks, he adores how you always ask him if he wants help.

He reluctantly nods.

“A-Alright…” he whispers.

Smiling a little at your sparkly eyes, he lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding in as you hug him again. This time a lot tighter. 

“What’re nervous ‘bout?” you ask and he breathes in deeply, squeezing you in his firm hold.

“...Nervous about the show, baby.”

Feeling your head move on his shoulder again, you pull away and look at him with a calm expression. “s okay ta be nervous ‘bout the show, Daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…” you nod. “Shows that you care.” 

Elvis smiles genuinely at your words.

“E-Everyone came to see you because they love you, Daddy, jus’ like I do!” you exclaim, making him chuckle and pat your butt gently.

“Ya think so?” 

He laughs again at you cupping his cheeks. “Yeah! No one does a show like Daddy does.”

You always seem to know what to say to ease his nerves. It’s almost like you’re his little guardian angel. 

Okay, I couldn't keep this not posted on here, I can't resist the CUTENESS😩

Picture for inspiration!

GOD I HARDLY KNOW MUCH ABOUT MASQUERADE BALLS BUT HERE WE GO!

based off of phantom of the opera it explains the ending lol "Killing Me Softly With His Song"

Pairing: 60s!Elvis Presley x fem!reader SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- NOVEMBER 28, 1966.

Many gathered around at the Black and White ball. Many people were invited, from authors to musicians. You were a lucky poet whom had also been invited for your great works. You were in a form fitting white dress, silky as it rode down your body. You had matching heels and pearl earrings. You had a black corsage as well. The mask that decorated your face was half black, half white, with miniature pearls on the outside. ----- --- -----

The grand ballroom was a swirl of monochrome elegance, each guest a moving masterpiece in shades of black and white. The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses and the gentle strains of a live orchestra playing timeless classics.

You made your way through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and smiles with other guests. You spotted a few familiar faces—an acclaimed novelist engrossed in conversation with a renowned jazz musician, a playwright animatedly discussing his latest work with a famous actress. It was a night where creativity and artistry mingled freely, and you felt a sense of belonging among these luminaries.

As you approached the center of the room, you noticed a figure standing alone by the grand piano. He was tall and striking, dressed in a tailored black suit with a white mask that contrasted sharply with his dark hair. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers gently tapping the piano keys as if composing a silent melody. ----- --- -----

Intrigued, you made your way over to him. "Hello," you greeted, your voice soft but confident. "Beautiful music tonight, isn’t it?"

He turned to you, his blue eyes were piercing through the mask. His aura was radiant. "I guess," he replied, his voice deep and resonant. "But I believe the most beautiful melodies are yet to be played."

You smiled, feeling a spark of connection. "Are you a musician?" you asked, curious. His voice sounded awfully familiar but you just couldn't put your finger on it.

He nodded. "And many other things. But tonight, I am simply a guest, enjoying the company of other artists." His drawl was heavy, almost addictive.

"What is your name, Mr. Tall, Dark, and-" He shoots you a glance. You immediately pull away from the bubbly introduction. To which he responds to with a crooked smile, then a light chuckle.

"Surprised you ain't guessed yet, doll." He said, looking down at you. He gently takes your hand, it was only then you would have noticed that there was music playing. You were too busy becoming entwined with your fascination for this utter stranger.

"May I have this dance?" His larger hand engulfs yours, all you could do was breathlessly nod.

----- --- -----

He had then led you to the dance floor. You two were almost in sync, predicting each move. As you moved together in perfect harmony, it felt as though the entire room had faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the music and the moment.

His hands slowly trickled down to your hips as you two had a gentle sway going. It was almost like being inside of the music. It was killing you softly.

He had began humming, you rested your head against his chest.

"Your whole aura, it's just-" He cuts you off.

"Shh. Enjoy the peace. Don't get caught up in conversation baby doll."

----- --- -----

When the two of you finished, there was a moment of silence, followed by an almost silent tension. "Thank you for being my muse tonight." He muttered, he rubbed your cheek with the back of his fingers. Admiring you.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "It was my pleasure," you replied.

Right before you two departed from eachother, he stopped you.

"By the way," "Hm?" "The name's Elvis, Elvis Presley."

You were awe-stricken. How could you have not noticed sooner. But, by the time you were to turn around and face him. He was gone. Gone into the crowd of many.

I INSTANTLY melted when he thanked us for being his muse for the night.

HIS MUSE.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Oh don't apologise for that! I don't mind waiting! Like they say, good things might come to those who wait😚

As somebody who believes in the great big beautiful beyond, it probably shouldn’t affect me as much as it does—I know he isn’t trapped in that breaking body anymore, or shackled to a world of stifled creativity—but the footage of those final concerts is just so sad.

He’s exhausted, he’s struggling to move and stumbles over some of the lyrics of fan-favorite songs…but then he smiles, and those eyes sparkle amidst his bloated face. His spirit, his love for his fans is still so alive…it makes me want to cry.

He legitimately gave us everything he had. He gave everyone everything he had. He deserved to go out with dignity, with compassion and all of that love returned in full.

Instead, ask any average Joe about Elvis, their first instinct is usually to make a joke about toilets and cheeseburgers.

How did we reach that point? How could the world he cared for so much, devoted so much of himself to it literally killed him, treat his legacy, his memory like this? Why was that passed down, instead of those beautiful eyes, that boyish smile, struggling to put on one last helluva show?

I don’t understand it. This world is so cold sometimes.

you can tell me what you want but he must have known he had a great butt

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ red !!

Theme 391: late but pretty

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