ravenclawboyy

[ravenclawboyy]

— Sinful Act ⛪️ ₊˚࿐

Elvis Presley

- ✧ The old wooden doors of the small Memphis church creaked softly as Elvis Presley slipped inside, his boots scuffing lightly on the polished floor. The evening light filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a warm kaleidoscope of colors across the pews. He pulled his collar up, hoping to blend into the quiet sanctity of the place. It wasn’t often he could steal away from the crowds, the flashing cameras, and the screams of fans. Here, in this humble sanctuary, he sought a moment of peace, a chance to pray and feel closer to something bigger than himself.

Elvis settled into a pew near the back, his head bowed, hands clasped loosely between his knees. The faint scent of polished wood and candle wax hung in the air, calming his restless heart. He was deep in thought when a soft rustle of fabric caught his attention. His eyes lifted, and there she was—a young woman, no older than eighteen, standing near the altar. She wore a simple white dress, its soft pink floral pattern catching the glow of the candles. A delicate silver chain hung around her neck, a small cross pendant resting just above her collarbone, glinting faintly as she moved.She hadn’t noticed him yet, her gaze fixed on the altar, her lips moving silently in prayer. There was something pure about her, something that made the world feel a little less heavy. Elvis watched for a moment, then cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle her. Her head turned, and her eyes—wide, soft, and a little wary—met his.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and warm, that familiar drawl slipping out. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

She blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly as she took him in. Recognition flickered in her eyes, but it wasn’t the kind he was used to—no screaming, no fainting, just a quiet realization. “You’re… you’re him, aren’t you?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Elvis Presley.”

He gave a small, crooked smile, tipping his head. “Guilty as charged. And you are…?”

“Y/N,” she said quickly, almost reflexively, as if guarding her name was second nature. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, and she glanced toward the church doors, her posture tensing. “I… I shouldn’t be talking to you. If someone sees me…”

“Hey, now,” Elvis said gently, raising a hand to calm her. “Ain’t nobody here but us and the Good Lord. You’re safe, darlin’. I’m just here to pray, same as you.”

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, though her eyes still darted nervously. “I know who you are,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve seen you on magazine covers, in the papers. But my family… they don’t let me listen to your music. They say it’s…” She trailed off, biting her lip, as if afraid to offend him.

Elvis chuckled softly, no trace of offense in his expression. “They say it’s the devil’s music, huh? I’ve heard that one before. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna try to convert you to rock ‘n’ roll in a church.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, shy but genuine, and it lit up her face in a way that made his chest tighten. She took a hesitant step closer, her dress swaying slightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to listen,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I just… I’ve never been allowed. My family’s real strict. Church, home, and the Bible—that’s my world.”

Elvis nodded, his eyes softening with understanding. “I get it. I grew up with the church myself. Gospel’s where my heart’s always been, even if the world’s got me singin’ somethin’ else.” He leaned back in the pew, his gaze steady on her. “What’s a girl like you doin’ here all alone, anyhow?”

“I come here to pray sometimes,” she said, her fingers brushing the cross at her neck. “It’s quiet. Feels like… like God’s listenin’.” She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “I felt safe talkin’ to you. I don’t know why.”His smile widened, warm and unguarded. “Well, I’m glad you do, Y/N. Ain’t often I get to talk to someone who ain’t tryin’ to get somethin’ from me. Feels nice.”

She blushed again, her eyes dropping to the floor, but that small smile lingered. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the faint crackle of the candles and the distant hum of crickets outside. Elvis glanced at her, taking in the way her hands rested in her lap, the way the candlelight danced across her face. There was something about her—something that made him want to protect her, to keep her from whatever fears made her glance at the door.

“You ever think about what you want?” he asked suddenly, his voice gentle but curious. “Outside of what your family says, I mean.”

Her eyes widened, as if the question had never occurred to her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. I just try to do what’s right.”

Elvis nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a good start. But sometimes, darlin’, you gotta listen to your heart, too. God gave you one for a reason.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. The weight of her family’s expectations, the fear of being seen—it all seemed to fade, leaving just the quiet connection between them.

The church bell chimed softly, breaking the spell. Y/N startled, her eyes darting to the door again. “I should go,” she said, standing quickly. “If my pa finds out I was here talkin’ to… to someone like you…”

“Someone like me,” Elvis echoed, a playful glint in his eyes, though his tone was kind. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. You go on, darlin’. Maybe I’ll see you here again sometime.”

She hesitated, her hand resting on the back of the pew. “Maybe,” she said softly, almost-smiling again. Then, with a final glance at the cross, she turned and walked out, her white dress catching the last of the candlelight as she disappeared through the doors.

Elvis sat there for a long after she was gone, his eyes fixed on the altar. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he’d left a mark on her, even if it was just a moment’s worth. And maybe, just maybe, she’d left one on him, too.

kiss the sky..

and whisper to jesus

tags : @jhoneybees / @dreamingofep / @elvisbdoll / @lustnhim / @zablife / @elvispresley1956 / @hooked-on-elvis /

[ravenclawboyy]

[ravenclawboyy]

— Diet Pepsi 🥤₊˚࿐

Elvis Presley

- ✧ The Texas sun was a tyrant in the summer of ’67, scorching the blacktop like it was personal. Elvis Presley glided down the highway in his Cadillac Eldorado, top down, the radio murmuring a faint Buddy Holly riff. His shades rested low, jet-black hair slick and catching the breeze. At thirty-two, he was still the King—sharp jaw, easy grin, voice like velvet thunder. But today, his mind was on Clambake’s set: long hours, tight scripts, and a director with no chill. His throat was parched, the heat sucking the life out of him, and the nearest gas station was miles off. The road stretched endless, all dust and scrub, when a figure stepped bold as brass into his path. A girl—eighteen, maybe less—waving him down like she owned the highway. Elvis hit the brakes, tires spitting gravel. She was a vision, no denying it. Denim cutoffs, short enough to scandalize a preacher, hugged her hips. A white crop top clung tight, barely there. In her hand, a Diet Pepsi, frosty and dripping, glinted like a tease in the sun. Her blonde hair was teased sky-high, lips curled in a smirk that screamed trouble. Young, too young, but with a spark that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Hey, sugar,” she drawled, pure Texas twang, sauntering close. “You lost or just too pretty for this road?”

Elvis leaned on the door, tipping his shades down. “Darlin’, I’m just tryin’ to get to work. You plannin’ to stop traffic all day?”

She laughed, sharp and flirty, taking a slow sip of her Pepsi, lips lingering on the bottle. “Name’s Y/N . And I ain’t stoppin’ traffic—I’m savin’ you from a dull drive.” Her eyes roamed the Cadillac, then him, bold as a spotlight. “Bet you’re somebody. That car ain’t cheap.”

He chuckled, low and warm, the sound that had girls fainting from Memphis to Malibu. “Might be. What’s a kid like you doin’ out here, wavin’ down strangers with a soda?”

Y/N stepped closer, hips swaying, her perfume—cheap, floral, dizzying—hitting him like a wave. “Heard there’s a movie shoot nearby. Thought I’d catch a break. Or maybe just a ride with someone… special.” She tilted her head, eyes glinting, all mischief and heat.

Elvis smirked, but his guard was up. She was a firecracker, sure, but too young to be playing these games. “You got nerve, Y/N . But I ain’t in the habit of pickin’ up trouble, ‘specially not the kind that looks fresh outta high school.”

She pouted, all show, then held up her Diet Pepsi, condensation sliding down the glass. “You look hot, mister. Thirsty, maybe?” Her voice dropped, sugary and sly. “Go on, have a sip. It’s cold as heaven.” His throat burned, the Texas heat no joke, and that bottle looked like salvation. “You tryin’ to bribe me, darlin’?” he said, half-laughing, but his eyes flicked to the Pepsi.

“Tryin’ to be nice,” she purred, stepping so close her shadow fell across him. She held the bottle out, lips parted, daring him. “Bet a big star like you ain’t scared of a little soda.”

He shook his head, amused, but temptation won. “Alright, gimme that.” He took the bottle, their fingers brushing—hers cool from the glass, his warm from the wheel. He took a quick swig, the fizz sharp and sweet, cooling his throat. “Not bad,” he said, handing it back, catching her grin. “But don’t think this means I’m your chauffeur.”

Y/N leaned against the car, twirling a strand of hair. “Oh, come on, Elvis Presley. I know it’s you. Saw you in Blue Hawaii. Made my heart skip.” She winked, bold as sin. “Take me with you. I could be your next big thing.”

He laughed outright, the sound bouncing off the empty road. She was a riot, this one, but he wasn’t about to get tangled up. “Listen, Y/N ,” he said, sliding his shades back up. “You’re a spark, no doubt, but I got a shoot to make, and you got better places to be than hitchin’ rides with strangers.”

Her pout deepened, eyes flashing. “You’re breakin’ my heart, Elvis. Ain’t you gonna give a girl a chance?”

He started the engine, the Cadillac purring to life. “Darlin’, you’ll get your chance, but not today. Stay outta trouble, and keep that Pepsi cold.” He tipped his shades, flashing that million-dollar grin. “And maybe aim higher than blockin’ highways.”

Y/N stepped back, hands on hips, watching as he pulled away. “You’ll regret this, King!” she called, half-laughing, half-serious, her figure shrinking in the rearview mirror.

Elvis shook his head, the taste of Diet Pepsi still on his lips, a faint smile lingering. That girl was a story he’d tell someday—not for her flirty games or that cold sip of soda, but for the way she stood fearless under the Texas sun, chasing dreams on a dusty road. He pressed the gas, the set waiting, the King rolling on alone.

tags: @elvisbdoll / @elvispresley1956 / @inky-writing / @wanderingelvis / @dreamingofep / @jhoneybees / @hooked-on-elvis / @elvis-official / @zablife

[ravenclawboyy]

𐙚 about me : mady ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ 06 ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Libra ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Istp ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Libya ꒰ ꒱ྀི brown hair ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ honey eyes ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ cat person ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ older man lover ꒰ ꒱ྀི writer

𐙚 fav movies : Priscilla ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ miller’s girl ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ The Beguiled ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Virgin Suicides ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Speak ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ nosferatu ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ gilr,interrupted ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ silver linings playbook ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ The witch ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ jackie ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ bridge to terabithia ꒰ ꒱ྀི saltburn ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ The crush ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Sweeney Todd ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀What's Eating Gilbert Grape ꒰ ꒱ྀི

𐙚 fav singers/bands : beabadoobee ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ clairo ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ olivia rodrigo ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ conan grey ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ harry styles ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ gracie abrams ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ sza ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ wallows ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Ethel cain ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ elvis presley ꒰ ꒱ྀི

𐙚 fav actress : tom hardy ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ Jenna ortega ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ lily rose deep ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ ben affleck ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ pedro pascal ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ sophie thatcher ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ bradly cooper ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ mark ruffulo ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ josh hutcherson ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ odessa a'zion ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ rachel zegler ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ cailee speany ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ florence pugh ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ drew barrymore ꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀ paul mescal ꒰ ꒱ྀི

[ravenclawboyy]

I love movies is my fav thing ever

[ravenclawboyy]

Blue baby

[ravenclawboyy]

[ravenclawboyy]

— Another Priscilla ⊹ ࣪˖⁩ 📓

—

- ✧ Elvis Presley sat in his dressing room, the faint hum of the crowd outside still echoing in his ears. The show was over but the adrenaline still buzzed through him. He leaned back in his chair looking at his reflection in the mirror. The King of Rock 'n' Roll, they called him. But tonight he felt more like a man adrift.It had been years since Priscilla. Years since she had left a mark on his heart that he couldn't shake no matter how many crowds he performed for no matter how many adoring fans screamed his name. Sometimes he’d close his eyes and see her again—the young, innocent girl who had captivated him with those wide eyes full of wonder. She’d been so young, so pure and yet so mature for her age. There had been something unexplainable about her.

As he sat there, lost in thought the door to the dressing room creaked open. His manager Colonel Parker, poked his head in. "Elvis, there’s someone here who’d like to meet you," he said with a grin. Before Elvis could reply a girl walked in—barely more than a teenager. She had a quiet shyness about her, and when she looked up, her eyes sparkled with an innocence that hit Elvis like a freight train. His heart skipped a beat. She reminded him of Priscilla—the way she carried herself the way her dark hair framed her delicate face. “Hi,” she said softly, barely audible over the noise from the hallway. Elvis swallowed, standing up. “Hi there, darlin’. What’s your name?”

“A/N,” she replied, her voice trembling just slightly. Something stirred in him. As they spoke, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he’d met Priscilla. There was something about A/N’s gaze the way she looked at him like he was something extraordinary, something out of reach. It was how Priscilla had looked at him all those years ago, with that same blend of awe and curiosity.Elvis found himself wanting to protect her, wanting to be the man she saw in him. Yet at the same time he felt a pang of guilt deep in his chest. She was young—too young, just like Priscilla had been. He knew where this road could lead the complications, the heartbreak. But he couldn't help the pull he felt toward her as if fate was repeating itself.They talked for what felt like hours, the noise of the world outside fading away. She was sweet innocent but had an old soul, just like Priscilla. Elvis found himself telling her stories, ones he hadn’t shared in a long time about his early days, about his music about the price of fame.

As the conversation flowed his mind drifted. Sometimes, in the dim light of the dressing room, he swore he saw Priscilla’s face instead of A/N’s. He shook his head trying to clear the memories that flooded his mind. It wasn’t fair—not to A/N not to him. But the past had a way of haunting him, no matter how far he tried to run from it.A/N left that night and Elvis found himself staring at the door long after it had closed behind her. He knew he had to be careful to keep the boundaries clear. But he also knew deep down, that he couldn’t help but be drawn to the innocence she radiated, just like Priscilla had once done. In the days that followed, they saw each other again at concerts backstage, at quiet dinners in his suite. The more they talked the more Elvis realized that A/N wasn’t Priscilla. She was her own person with her own dreams and desires. But sometimes, late at night when the world was quiet, he would catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye and for a fleeting second he would swear it was Priscilla standing there looking at him with those wide, wondering eyes.

And that’s when he realized—he wasn’t just chasing after A/N. He was chasing after a ghost. A memory of a love that had never quite left him.

But could he let go of the past to truly see A/N for who she was? Or was he forever bound to the shadow of Priscilla, the girl who had stolen his heart all those years ago?

tags : @jhoneybees / @lustnhim / @zablife / @stvolanis / @starryschoolgirl / @wanderingelvis / @dreamingofep / @searchingforgravity / @earthbaby-angelboy / @atleastpleasetelephone / @drtyelvisfantasy / @everythingelvispresley / @elvispresley1956 / @your-nanas-house

[ravenclawboyy]

— flicker Like Vegas ‧₊˚ 📽️

—

Hollywood, 1956 ₊˚୭

- ✧ The night was cool, with a light breeze that carried the scent of jasmine and cigarette smoke down the Boulevard. The stars above seemed to pale in comparison to the flashing marquee lights of the grand movie theater, where crowds gathered in excitement for the premiere of the biggest film of the year. A/N stood at the edge of it all, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She wasn’t used to this—the flashing lights, the photographers yelling her name, the long, sleek black velvet gown that hugged her figure in all the right places. She felt out of place, like a girl playing dress-up in her mother’s wardrobe, even though she was now Hollywood's newest darling. But this was different. She wasn’t just a small-town girl anymore. The world knew her name now. And they knew his Elvis Presley.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. The premiere wasn’t for his movie, but that didn’t matter. Elvis always found a way to steal the show. Just a few days ago, he had burst onto the scene with his first major film, his deep voice and magnetic charm sending shockwaves through the nation. And now, everywhere A/N looked, people whispered his name. She adjusted her hair, hoping to remain invisible in the crowd of stars, but fate had other plans. Out of nowhere, there was a stir at the entrance. The crowd shifted, the noise rising as a sleek black Cadillac pulled up to the curb. A murmur swept through the onlookers as Elvis stepped out, dressed in a fitted suit that screamed sophistication. His hair was slicked back in that effortlessly cool way, and his eyes gleamed as they scanned the crowd.And then—he saw her. Their eyes locked across the sea of Hollywood’s finest. A/N felt her breath hitch in her throat. He was a movie star, the movie star, and she was just...her. She wanted to look away, but something in his gaze held her there, frozen to the spot. He walked toward her, slow and deliberate, like a panther prowling through the jungle.“Elvis, over here! Elvis! Smile for the camera!” the photographers shouted, but he wasn’t paying attention to them. His focus was entirely on her. "Miss A/N, right?" His voice was a low, rich drawl, the kind of voice that could stop time. She nodded, managing a soft, “Yes.” He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, sending a shiver down her spine. “I saw your movie last week. You were somethin’ else.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m surprised you had time to watch it.”

“I am,” she admitted, feeling the weight of the attention around them. She could see the cameras flashing, catching every word, every glance, every smile. Elvis leaned in slightly, just enough for his voice to be low, intimate. “You don’t look like you belong here with all these Hollywood types.”

“I don’t?” she asked, feeling strangely vulnerable.“No,” he said softly. “You’re too real for that.” Her heart thudded in her chest. It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he said them, like she was the only person in the world. She had heard stories about Elvis, how he had that effect on people, how he could make you feel like you were the center of the universe. And now, standing there in front of him, she understood why. Before she could respond, the crowd surged closer, the noise rising again. Elvis glanced around, his expression shifting as the paparazzi closed in. With a mischievous smile, he reached out, taking her hand in his. “Come on,” he whispered. “Where are we going?” she asked, breathless, as he began to pull her away from the chaos, He didn’t answer at first, just led her through the throngs of people, past the flashing lights, until they slipped into a quiet side street, away from the noise, the fans, the cameras. Elvis finally turned to face her, his smile softening into something more real, more genuine. “I figured we could use a break from all that.” He tilted his head toward the lights of the premiere, still visible in the distance. “Sometimes this life moves too fast. It’s nice to slow down.” A/N felt herself relax, the tension in her shoulders melting away. It was strange, but here, away from the madness, he didn’t feel like Elvis Presley, the biggest star in the world. He felt like a boy from Memphis, with a crooked smile and a heart too big for his own good.

She smiled back at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me feel like I’m not alone in this.” Elvis’ grin widened, and for a moment, they stood there, two stars in a city that never stopped shining, finding something real in the quiet spaces between the noise

tags : @zablife / @tickettride / @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler / @lustnhim / @stvolanis / @dreamingofep / @wanderingelvis / @elvispresley1956 / @youaintnothinbuta / @drtyelvisfantasy / @atleastpleasetelephone / @your-nanas-house / @jhoneybees

[ravenclawboyy]

[ravenclawboyy]

Me core ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎

[ravenclawboyy]

— Wild Heart, Wild Night ഒ ｡ﾟ

—

- ✧ Th e music thumped through the dimly lit room, the echoes of laughter and rock 'n' roll mingling together. The air was thick with an intoxicating mix of cigarettes and the sweet scent of perfume. You stood in a corner of Elvis Presley’s mansion, shyly adjusting your dress as you watched him from afar, the King himself—a magnetic whirlwind of charm and charisma.As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His eyes, dark and dangerous, scanned the crowd, searching for something—or someone. It wasn’t long before those piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, igniting a spark that sent a thrill racing up your spine.

“Hey there, darlin’,” Elvis said, his deep voice smooth like honey. He approached, his presence both electrifying and overwhelming. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a compelling force that made your heart race.

“Hi,” you managed to stammer, your innocence palpable in the wild atmosphere of the party. You were a young girl lost in a world of glamour and danger, a world he ruled unapologetically.Elvis leaned closer, the scent of leather and musk enveloping you as he whispered, “You’re too pretty to be standing alone here.” The way he looked at you made your cheeks flush with warmth.

Suddenly, the upbeat rock music faded, and a scuffle broke out in another part of the room. You gasped as a group of rowdy partygoers began pushing each other, the atmosphere shifting rapidly from joy to chaos. But Elvis didn’t flinch; instead, he grinned—a thrill lighting up his eyes.

“Let’s go see what’s happening,” he said, taking your hand with a possessive grip. You felt a rush of adrenaline as he led you through the crowd, his energy contagious. In the whirlwind of bodies, he pulled you close, the chaos around you fading into insignificance.Once you reached the front, you witnessed a brawl—a fistfight fueled by too much whiskey and rock 'n' roll bravado. As glasses shattered and the music pumped louder, Elvis chuckled darkly, his grip on your waist tightening. “This is what it’s all about,” he declared, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

You should have felt fear, but instead, you were exhilarated. The raw energy of the fight, the electricity of Elvis beside you—everything was intoxicating, and you found yourself inexplicably drawn to the danger, to him.

Elvis turned to you, his expression serious, yet playful. “You ready to dive into some chaos, baby?” You nodded, the innocent girl within you falling deeper into his magnetic pull. You wanted this—craved the rawness, the thrill of chaos intermingled with your burgeoning affection for the King.

Suddenly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let’s shake it up,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine. In that moment, you knew you were willing to embrace it all, the ultraviolence, the chaos, and the passionate love that danced on the edge of madness.With that, he spun you into the heart of the fray, and you laughed, completely lost in the rapture of the night, ready to lose yourself in the world of Elvis Presley.

The crowd seemed to swell around you, a pulsating sea of bodies caught in a rapture of rock 'n' roll, rebellion, and raw emotion. The fray ahead was wild—shouting, shoving, laughter mingling with shouts of anger and glee. But all you could feel was the solid grip of Elvis’s hand in yours, anchoring you amidst the chaos.

He led you closer, deftly maneuvering through the crowd with a confidence that seemed almost otherworldly. People parted for him like he was Moses and this was the Red Sea. The electricity in the air seemed to thrum in time with his heartbeat, and with every step, you could feel your own heartbeat syncing with his—fast, reckless, alive.“Hold on tight,” he whispered over his shoulder, and you nodded, unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face. You were caught up in his orbit, and nothing else mattered.

You reached the edge of the scuffle, where two men were grappling with each other, sweat and rage pouring off them like they were fueled by the music itself. Elvis glanced at you, a mischievous smile curling at his lips, then looked back at the scene before him. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the gears turning in his head, his expression one of eager anticipation.

Without warning, he released your hand and stepped forward, positioning himself between the two combatants. “Hey, fellas,” he called out, his voice calm but commanding, “why don’t we save the brawling for the gym and keep the party rolling?”

The men paused, panting, still glaring at each other, but they couldn’t ignore him—the King himself. One of them, a burly guy with a busted lip, looked like he was about to protest, but then Elvis flashed that famous smile of his, disarming and magnetic. “Come on now,” he coaxed, “there’s enough room for everyone to dance, ain't there?”For a moment, there was a tension so thick you could almost touch it. But then, slowly, the men backed down, muttering under their breaths. Elvis gave them each a friendly pat on the shoulder and turned back to you with a triumphant grin. “See?” he drawled, “No need for a rumble when you’ve got rock ’n’ roll.”

You felt a swell of admiration—and something more—building inside you. He’d defused the situation without breaking a sweat, and now, his full attention was back on you. He sauntered over, his hips swaying with that signature swagger, and took your hand again. “Let’s dance,” he said, and before you knew it, he was spinning you into the center of the room.

The music shifted, a sultry beat taking over, and he pulled you close, his hand at the small of your back, his breath hot against your cheek. “You’ve got moves, darlin’. Let me see ‘em.”

The moment felt surreal, like a fever dream. All you could do was nod, caught in the whirlwind of his energy. As he guided you across the floor, you realized you weren’t just dancing—you were dancing with Elvis Presley. The King. The man whose songs made the world sway, whose voice made hearts flutter.

Your feet moved almost instinctively, matching his rhythm, mirroring his every move. And as the music picked up, so did you, losing yourself in the beat, in the heat of his touch, in the intensity of his gaze. For a few minutes, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of you.He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re a natural,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a wave of shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched, but you managed to reply, “Maybe I just needed the right partner.”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your heart skip a beat. “Well, honey,” he drawled, his hand pressing a little more firmly against your back, “you got yourself one hell of a partner tonight.”As the music built to a crescendo, you realized something—you were no longer the shy girl standing in the corner, watching him from afar. You were in his world now, and it was wild, and it was chaotic, but it was everything you had never known you needed.

And as the night carried on, with Elvis spinning you around the room, you felt an exhilarating sense of freedom wash over you. Here, with him, you were free to be anything, anyone. You were free to live, to laugh, to love. You were free to dive headfirst into the chaos, to lose yourself in the music, in the thrill of the moment, in the allure of Elvis Presley.Because with him, every second felt like an eternity, and every moment felt like the start of something extraordinary. And you were more than ready for the ride.

tags : @zablife / @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler / @dreamingofep / @xxanaduwrites / @stvolanis / @lustnhim / @tickettride / @wanderingelvis / @youaintnothinbuta / @earthbaby-angelboy / @searchingforgravity

[ravenclawboyy]

— ultraviolence ‧₊˚

—

- The air in the Memphis mansion was thick with mystery, dust motes swirling in the amber glow of the fading sun. You found yourself in the grand parlor, adorned with vintage posters and a piano that still held the essence of its last master’s haunting melodies. The shuttered windows creaked softly, like whispered secrets begging to be heard.

You gazed out at the lush green grounds, heart racing with an anticipation that felt almost illicit. The kind of thrill that coursed through your veins when you listened to that one sultry song, the one about love so raw and violent it could tear you asunder. It was the same thrill you felt when you thought of him.

Elvis Presley. The King. His name was like a wicked spell that twisted your insides and made your heart ache. His voice, a velvet caress that could ignite your soul, whispered through your thoughts even when he wasn’t around.

Just then, the door swung open, and he stepped in, all leather and desperation, a wild combo of swagger and vulnerability that sent shivers down your spine. His dark hair fell over his forehead in a way that made you think of classic film noir heroes, handsome yet dangerous—a tornado wrapped in a human form.

“Elvis,” you breathed, not even knowing how you managed to utter his name without collapsing into a heap.

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that made your skin prickle. “You like it here?”

“It’s… enchanted. Like something out of a dream,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

He approached you, a predator closing in on its prey, but in the most tantalizing way. “Dreams can turn dark, baby. Sometimes being in a dream feels like being in a nightmare.”

You felt a shiver race down your spine as his gaze locked onto yours, those blue eyes swirling with secrets and shadows. “Do you ever wonder about the things we keep hidden?” he asked, his voice dipping into a tone that sent your heart racing. “The things we would do for love?”

It was as if he was reading your soul, pulling threads of your very heartbeat into the light. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken confessions. “I’d do anything,” you admitted, your voice trembling with a mix of yearning and fear.

Elvis stepped closer, a predator stalking its prey, and you could smell the leather on him—a mix of gasoline and something sweet, intoxicating. “Anything?” he challenged, his breath warm against your skin.

Uncertainty shot through you like fire. “What do you mean?”

There was a glint in his eyes, mischief swirling beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break. “The world isn’t kind to dreamers, sweetheart. It can be cruel and beautiful, and sometimes you’ve got to embrace both sides.” He took your hand, intertwining your fingers, his touch sparking a fire in your veins. “Ever thought about what we could create together? A symphony of passion and chaos?”

You leaned in, entranced by his magnetism. “With you, I would dance on the edge of oblivion.”

His grin widened, revealing a glimpse of the wild man behind the charm. “Let’s make some noise, let’s be a beautiful disaster.”

As the sunset dipped below the horizon, the shadows cast stretched long and sinister across the room, the walls almost pulsing with the energy between you. You could almost hear the mournful strains of song playing in the back of your mind—a rhythm both haunting and gloriously alive.

In that moment, with Elvis Presley’s fingers laced with yours and the promise of unspeakable ecstasy looming closer, you knew you were stepping into a whirlwind. His world was raw and reckless, a symphony that could shatter you—or create something breathtakingly beautiful.

“Promise me,” you whispered, the weight of the truth palpable in the air, “promise me we won’t be just another tragedy in the stars.”

He leaned closer, lips hovering just a breath away, darkness and light mingling in the depths of his gaze. “With you?” he murmured. “We’ll be a legend.”

And as his lips finally met yours, the world collapsed into a kaleidoscope of color, chaos, and sweetness—the beginnings of a story written in blood and velvet, the shadows welcoming you both into a dance of ultraviolence and timeless love.

tags : @zablife / @xxanaduwrites / @tickettride / @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler / @dreamingofep / @wanderingelvis / @lustnhim / @stvolanis / @starryschoolgirl / @youaintnothinbuta

[ravenclawboyy]

𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐴𝑊𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐶𝐼𝐺𝐴𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑇𝐸𝑆 🍓 ₊˚࿐

‎‏♡‧ ⁺彡𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑆𝑇 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 💋⋆◞

—

- ✧ The summer sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the little town. The days were long, and the heat was relentless, baking the earth and making the air feel thick and heavy. Johnny Davis found himself wandering through the streets, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, not lit this time. His thoughts kept drifting back to A/N — her laughter, the softness of her touch, and the taste of strawberries still lingering in his memory.

He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, not since that night in her strawberry garden. Something about that meeting had stayed with him, pulling him back to the edge of town again and again, hoping he might catch a glimpse of her.

Today, he decided to head back to the garden. Maybe it was fate or just a stubborn yearning that had settled in his chest, but he felt like he needed to see her again.

As he approached the small, worn-down house, he saw her. A/N was outside, kneeling in the dirt, her hands carefully tending to the strawberry plants. She was wearing a light blue sundress, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and there was a faint blush of red on her cheeks from the sun. She looked up, sensing his presence, and smiled. That same warm, inviting smile that seemed to light up everything around her.

“Johnny,” she called out, standing up and brushing the dirt off her hands. “I was wondering when you’d come back.”

He grinned, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I guess I couldn’t stay away,” he said with a playful shrug. “You got any more strawberries?”

She laughed, reaching down to pick a particularly ripe one from a nearby plant. “Always,” she replied, holding it out to him. “But this time, you have to earn it.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Oh? And how do I do that?”

A/N eyes sparkled with mischief. “Help me in the garden. These plants don’t take care of themselves, you know.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Alright, deal.”

For the next hour, they worked side by side, pulling weeds, watering the plants, and laughing at each other’s jokes. A/N showed him how to handle the fragile leaves and protect the delicate fruits from the sun’s harsh rays. Johnny pretended to be clueless, but he couldn’t help but admire the way she moved, the way her hands carefully cradled each berry like it was something precious.

As they worked, the sun climbed higher in the sky, and the air grew warmer. Johnny wiped the sweat from his forehead, stealing a glance at A/N, who seemed completely in her element, a soft smile playing on her lips.

After a while, A/N stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “I think that’s enough for today,” she said, a satisfied look on her face. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

They sat down under the shade of a large tree, the branches providing a cool respite from the heat. A/N reached into a small basket she had brought with her and pulled out a handful of fresh strawberries, still warm from the sun.

“Here,” she said, offering one to Johnny. “A reward for all your hard work.”

He took the strawberry from her hand, their fingers brushing for a moment, sending a small jolt through his skin. He bit into the fruit, the sweetness exploding on his tongue, and couldn’t help but smile.

A/N watched him, her expression thoughtful. “Do you know what I like about strawberries?” she asked, her voice soft.

Johnny shook his head. “What’s that?”

“They’re sweet,” she replied, “but also a little wild. Like they don’t belong in a garden, but out in the fields, growing wherever they want.”

Johnny chuckled. “Kind of like you?”

She laughed, a light, carefree sound. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe like you, Johnny Davis, with your cigarettes and leather jacket.”

He felt his heart skip a beat at the way she said his name, soft and lingering, like a secret shared between them.

A/N picked another strawberry, this time holding it up to his lips, a playful challenge in her eyes. “Close your eyes,” she whispered.

Johnny hesitated for a second, then did as she asked. He felt the cool, soft touch of the strawberry against his lips, followed by the warmth of her fingers. He opened his mouth, taking a bite, the juice running down his chin.

He opened his eyes to find her leaning closer, her face inches from his, her breath mingling with his, smelling faintly of strawberries and summer air. He felt a sudden rush of nerves, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years.

“A/N…” he began, but she pressed a finger to his lips, her eyes dancing with something new, something deeper.

“Shhh,” she murmured. “Just… stay here with me.”

She leaned in, and before he could say another word, she kissed him. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberries, sweet and wild. Johnny felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands instinctively reaching up to cradle her face, pulling her closer. The world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of bees in the garden.

A/N pulled back slightly, her face flushed, her eyes bright and searching his. “I’ve been wanting to do that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thudding of his heartbeat.

Johnny smiled, his fingers still gently tracing her cheek. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

She grinned, and in that moment, they both knew that something had changed, something had deepened between them. She picked another strawberry and held it up to his lips again. “Want another?” she teased.

He nodded, leaning in to take a bite, his eyes never leaving hers. “I think I could get used to this,” he said softly.

They stayed there under the tree, sharing strawberries and kisses, the sun warming their skin, the air filled with the scent of fruit and the promise of something more. For now, it was just them, a man with a cigarette and a girl with a garden, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

End..

tags : @zablife / @xxanaduwrites / @tickettride / @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler / @pacifymebby / @iridescentprose / @mayfieldss / @garbinge / @drabbles-mc / @narcolini

[ravenclawboyy]

𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐴𝑊𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐶𝐼𝐺𝐴𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑇𝐸𝑆 🍓 ₊˚࿐

‎‏♡‧ ⁺彡𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝑂 🚬 ⋆◞

—

- ✧ A year had passed since Johnny Davis had given A/N a ride home on that quiet evening. Seasons came and went, and the little town stayed much the same — dusty streets, old diners, and whispers of the past mingling with the hum of motorcycle engines. But for Johnny, something felt different. The memory of the girl with the basket of strawberries and that playful smile had lingered in the back of his mind, like a song he couldn’t shake off.

One summer night, the Bike Riders were back at their usual spot, gathered around their bikes outside the same old diner. The neon sign flickered overhead, casting a soft, buzzing glow onto the street below. Johnny leaned against his bike, a cigarette perched between his lips, eyes scanning the familiar surroundings.

That’s when he saw her again.

A/N was walking along the sidewalk, her steps slower, more measured than before. Her hair was longer now, falling in waves around her shoulders, and she wore a simple sundress that moved gently in the warm evening breeze. She looked older, but still young — like time had brushed past her without really settling in. There was a new confidence in her stride, a quiet self-assurance that hadn’t been there before.

Johnny’s heart skipped a beat, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. She looked up and saw him. For a moment, their eyes met, and something sparked between them, a recognition, a memory.

She smiled, a slow, deliberate smile, and walked over to him. “Johnny Davis,” she said, her voice warmer but still holding that soft edge. “Still here, I see.”

Johnny chuckled, taking the cigarette from his lips. “I could say the same about you, A/N. You’ve grown up a bit.”

She laughed, a sound that was somehow both familiar and new. “Yeah, I guess a lot can change in a year.”

Johnny nodded, his gaze lingering on her face. “What brings you back here?”

Emily shrugged. “I come into town sometimes. It’s where the stories are, where things happen, you know?”

He nodded, understanding the unspoken words. There was a restlessness in her, a desire for something more than the worn-down house and the quiet life at the edge of town. “You want another ride?” he asked, half-joking, half-serious.

She tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “Maybe,” she replied. “But this time, I have somewhere else in mind.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

She leaned in, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something deeper. “There’s an old road up by the cliffs,” she said. “They say it’s dangerous, but the view is beautiful. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

Johnny hesitated. The road she was talking about was notorious, narrow and winding, a place where thrill-seekers went to test their luck. But there was something in her voice, a challenge, a dare that he couldn’t resist.

“Alright,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Let’s go see it.”

A/N climbed onto the back of his bike, her hands finding their place around his waist, just like before. Johnny felt the familiar thrill of the ride course through his veins as he kicked the engine into gear and took off down the street.

They rode out of town, past the fields and the quiet houses, toward the cliffs where the road twisted and turned, hugging the edge of the steep drop-off. The wind was warm against their faces, and for a moment, Johnny felt like they were the only two people in the world, racing against the setting sun.

When they reached the cliffs, he slowed down, bringing the bike to a stop at a small overlook. The view was breathtaking — the town spread out below them, bathed in the golden light of dusk, the river winding its way through the valley like a silver thread.

A/N slid off the bike and walked to the edge, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Johnny stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, watching her take it all in. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”

She turned to him, her face glowing in the fading light. “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said. “I knew I could count on you.”

Johnny felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. “Anytime,” he replied, a hint of a smile on his lips.

After a few quiet moments, A/N turned to him, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “Hey, why don’t you come to my house? I want to show you something.”

Johnny hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Lead the way.”

They rode back to her place, the ride slower this time, the twilight settling into a deep, warm blue. When they reached her house, A/N jumped off the bike, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. She led him around the side of the house, down a small path that wound through a patch of tall grass.

“I’ve been growing something,” she said, her voice soft, almost secretive.

They reached a small clearing, and Johnny stopped in his tracks. There, behind the house, was a garden — a small, neat patch filled with rows upon rows of strawberry plants, their red fruits glowing like jewels in the dim light.

“I planted them myself,” she said proudly. “Every one of them.”

Johnny looked at her, surprised. “Why strawberries?”

A/N smiled. “Because they’re sweet,” she replied simply. “And they remind me of being a kid.”

She walked over to one of the plants and picked a strawberry, holding it up to his lips. “Here, try one.”

Johnny took a bite, the sweetness of the strawberry flooding his mouth. For a moment, he forgot about the cigarette in his pocket, the bike waiting by the curb. All he could think about was the taste of the fruit and the girl in front of him.

She laughed softly, and Johnny felt something stir inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Emily picked another strawberry, this time gently feeding it to him with her fingers. He could feel her warmth, the softness of her touch, the lingering scent of the strawberries on her skin.

He leaned against the garden fence, watching her move among the plants, her face glowing with joy and mischief. She turned back to him, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “You’re different,” she said quietly.

Johnny’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more serious, more thoughtful. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just you who makes me feel that way.”

A/N blushed and looked away, but there was a smile on her lips. “Maybe,” she echoed softly.

They stayed there for a while, sitting among the strawberry plants, sharing stories and fruit, the night air filled with the scent of sweetness and smoke. For that brief moment, time seemed to stand still, and the line between the innocent and the savage blurred in the moonlight.

When Johnny finally left, he couldn’t stop thinking about her — the girl with the strawberry garden and the smile that made him feel like a different person. As he rode away, the taste of strawberries still lingered on his lips, mingling with the scent of his cigarette smoke.

And he knew he’d be back.

End..

tags : @xxanaduwrites / @tickettride / @pacifymebby / @iridescentprose / @mayfieldss / @zablife

[ravenclawboyy]

𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐴𝑊𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐶𝐼𝐺𝐴𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑇𝐸𝑆 🍓 ₊˚࿐

—

- ✧ The air was thick with the smell of gasoline and the lingering scent of cigarettes as the Bike Riders waited outside the old diner on the edge of town. Johnny Davis, their leader, sat on his bike, one hand gripping the handlebar and the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. The orange glow of the tip burned brightly in the dimming twilight. His gaze wandered over the quiet street until it landed on a figure standing in the doorway of the diner.

She was young, maybe seventeen, with a face that still held a trace of childhood innocence. Her hair was dark and fell loosely over her shoulders, and she wore a thin white dress that fluttered in the evening breeze. She was holding a small basket of strawberries, fresh and ripe, their red juice staining her fingers.

Johnny flicked the ash from his cigarette and watched her. She looked out of place, standing there with a shy smile on her lips, a stranger among the smoke and leather. He wondered what she was doing there, so far from home at this hour. As if sensing his thoughts, she stepped forward, clutching the basket tighter.

“Hey,” she called out, her voice soft but clear. “Can you give me a ride home?”

The other Bike Riders exchanged amused glances, but Johnny just nodded. “Where to?”

“Just up the hill,” she replied. “Not far from here.”

Johnny glanced at his friends. “Alright,” he said, extinguishing his cigarette under his boot. “Hop on.”

She hesitated for a moment, then moved toward his bike, her steps light and careful, like she was afraid to break something. She climbed on behind him, her hands wrapping around his waist, the smell of strawberries mixing with the lingering smoke.

As they rode down the darkening road, the wind whipped through their hair, and the town began to blur around them. Johnny could feel her grip tighten as they picked up speed, her small frame pressed against his back. He couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation, like a mix of responsibility and rebellion. The girl was young and innocent, and he was a man with a cigarette, a leather jacket, and a motorcycle — a mix of danger and freedom.

They rode in silence, the sound of the engine roaring through the empty streets. She leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You like cigarettes, huh?”

Johnny smirked. “Something like that.”

She laughed softly, the sound barely audible over the roar of the bike. “I like strawberries,” she said, holding the basket closer. “They’re sweet. They remind me of summer days.”

Johnny didn’t know why, but her words made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it was because she was so different from anyone he’d ever met, or maybe it was the way she spoke, like every word mattered.

As they neared her house, an old, worn-down place at the end of the road, Johnny slowed down. The house looked tired, much like the old man standing on the porch, his face weathered and lined with age. He watched them approach with a frown, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Johnny and his bike.

“Thank you,” the girl said, her voice sincere. “I really appreciate it.”

Johnny nodded. “No problem.”

She slid off the bike, her dress swirling around her legs as she turned to face him. “My name’s A/N ,” she said. “And I know who you are, Johnny Davis.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

She nodded, a playful smile on her lips. “Everyone knows you. The Bike Rider with A bit of a rebel, aren’t you?”

Johnny chuckled, lighting another cigarette. “Something like that.”

Your’s smile widened, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Thanks again,” she whispered, and turned to walk toward the old man who waited for her.

As Johnny watched her go, he felt a strange tug at his heart, a pull between the innocent and the savage, between the strawberries and the cigarettes. The old man’s eyes were hard, almost accusing, as he put a protective arm around the girl’s shoulder, guiding her inside the worn-out house.

Johnny stayed there for a moment, watching as the door closed behind them. He felt something shift inside him, something he couldn’t quite put into words. The innocence of a girl with a basket of strawberries, and the smell of his cigarette smoke lingering in the air. A brief encounter, a moment in time, where two worlds met — hers sweet and untainted, his rough and wild.

He revved his engine, took a deep drag of his cigarette, and rode away, the taste of smoke and the memory of strawberries lingering on his lips.

End..