Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Treat Me Nice - Elvis (NSFW)

A/N : this does take place after he's bought Graceland so we're looking at 1957 ish. I put him in the outfit from the Louisiana Hayride just because it's a great outfit, I understand the small historical hiccup.

You loved Graceland, you loved the beauty of the house, you loved the family and you loved living with Elvis. One thing you did not love was summers at Graceland. Tennessee weather was not forgiving. It was hot and humid, and made everything sticky that wasn't quite meant to be sticky.

As the sun set outside, orange peeking in gently through the windows, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You'd been trying on a variety of swimsuits to prepare for the sweltering summer ahead. None of them were what you wanted and as you stood staring at yourself you came to realization it wasn't about the swimsuit - it was about you. You stared at this lump of a human, too much this and not enough that. Nothing flattered your shape. Your hair clung to your face and not in the sexy way. Your hands came to grasp your stomach, perhaps the biggest insecurity of yours. Stretch marks, slight hair, not perfectly flat. Tears welled in your eyes, this was disgusting to you. This was no Marilyn Monroe, this was average at best. The two piece you'd bought had a halter top, red, with a sweetheart neckline that dipped a little too low on your boobs. It was high waisted - thankfully - but you hated the way it hugged the lower half. You went to remove it, wanting nothing more than to take all the swimsuits and burn it.

"Hey doll, you know - My, my..." whatever sentence Elvis had came into the room planning to say disappeared on his lips. He stood tall in his black lace shirt tucked into loose pink pants. The lace shirt on a normal day did things to you that you would rather not admit, but today you weren't thinking about that. His beauty did nothing to boost your self confidence.

You went to wipe away at the tears before he could see it. You turned to face him. "What do you need, darling?"

His striking blue eyes darkened at the sight of you. You watched as they went down, from your hair to your toes and back up again. He was methodical, not quite caring if you saw him gawk. You hated his eyes on you.

"Baby, you look stunnin'" Elvis said softly in that deep, Southern voice of his.

That was the straw that broke the camels back. You turned away from him quickly, tears flooding down your face. "Don't lie!"

You made a move towards the bathroom. Elvis grabbed your arm to stop you.

"Why would I lie?" He sounded so genuinely bewildered, your heart melted a little. But you caught the sight of your double chin in the mirror and it was all over again.

Elvis didn't ask another question, he simply wrapped his arms around you and held you while you cried onto his beautiful lace shirt. He was patient, kissing your forehead and running his hand along your spine to calm you down. When you started to take deeper breaths and weren't hiccuping, Elvis took that as his chance.

"Didya think I was lyin' cause you wasn't beautiful?"

You nodded against him.

"Y/N..." he murmured, a growl in his voice.

You pushed away from him, suddenly angry. "Elvis! You must know what you look like! You must know the way women look at you? You are this gorgeous, captivating, talented man and you're with this ogre-"

"No." He cut you off. "Not in my house. I will not have slander of my best girl in this house."

"But I'm nothing compared to you. You are everything."

You saw him stare for a second as though you spoke complete blasphemy. For a long moment neither of you said anything, he just stared at you and you looked anywhere but him. Then, he took one of your hands and gently lifted your face with the other. You were closely your eyes, childishly wanting to avoid looking at him.