Elvis One Shots/Imagines

If I Can Dream - Elvis

A/N: i Forget fanfic is free until I count the amount of words and realize I've written a book's worth of one shots. Should set up my Venmo lol. request by @1-800-KISS

Your little apartment oversaw all of Los Angeles from its crooked spot up on the 13th floor. You often sat on the fire escape, gently smoking a cigarette as the sun fell behind the clouds and came back up hours later. The night was calming, peaceful. It consumed you in the best way.

One night you saw a car with tinted windows pull up in front of your building, multiple men hustling from the doors of the car to the entrance to try and get in as quickly as possible. If you saw correctly, that was Steve Binder's car. Which meant that he needed something from you. Again.

You and Steve had been long time friends, occasional hook ups on the side, for years. He understood that you were the best in the fashion designing business, just as he was the best in whatever the hell he does. Music, something. You didn't quite understand and it was never something you talked about in length. Sure enough, a few minutes later and a knock came from your door. You got off the fire escape, put out your cigarette, adjusted your top so your boob wouldn't pop out, and opened the door.

Steve stood with his arms crossed, two large men behind him covering another man whose face you couldn't see. Steve was handsome, and when he flashed you a charming grin you couldn't help but hug him.

"Y/N," he said once the hugging and greeting was done. "We need a favor."

You lifted your chin, "what kind of favor?"

"We know you can design stuff that um, well no one else can. And I know you can keep a secret. Better than most. So I've come to offer a project."

You were listening, but your gaze was fixed on the man hiding behind the other two. You caught glimpses of black hair and tan skin. "Who's this?"

The men stepped aside to reveal Elvis Presley. Elvis fucking Presley. You tightened your jaw to prevent it from falling to the floor in surprise. If Steve was suggesting you designed something for Elvis, than he must have grossly misunderstood your career. You'd never designed for someone of this magnitude. Ever.

"He's making a comeback," Steve said definitely. "We need something that speaks for it."

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking about Elvis and his career, "Come in."

The men came in, Steve and the two apparent body guards sitting on your couch. Elvis, who was much taller than you realized, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His blue eyes watched you with peaked interest and you tried to not shudder under his intense stare.

"Little Peggy March? Paul Anka? The Beatles? You got some good taste, little mama." Elvis said, the first words he spoke to you deep. His finger was gesturing to the poster on your wall. You just nodded, returning back to the matter at hand.

"A comeback?" You said towards Steve.

"A comeback. To his roots."

You thought back to what you knew of Elvis and his career. You relayed those thoughts to the men, to Steve and Elvis specifically, "you want a sexy rebellion?"

Steve smiled and nodded. Elvis smirked, his words gravelly, "you think I'm sexy?"

"Darling, the whole world thinks you're sexy. That's not the point," you said, getting close to Elvis and looking up at him. With a sharp tongue you said, "The point, Mr Presley, is that I have to design something that shows why woman want to fuck you and why men want to be you."

Steve was trying, and failing, to hide his amusement with your straightforwardness. He was downright tickled with the way Elvis flushed from your words despite his calm exterior.