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suraemoon · 6 months

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A Sunset in 1956

“Hot summer days, rock and roll. The way you'd play for me at your show. And all the ways I got to know your pretty face and electric soul.”

Elvis Presley x Reader

Warnings: An unclear/inaccurate timeline? Memphis in the Summer of 1956 is all we know. The Colonel has a few namedrops (sorry). I think that's it...just a lot of fluff and longing.

WC: 4.7k

A/N: This is my first time ever writing a fanfiction, I usually give up after the first paragraph, so just keep that in mind lol. Kind of a long introduction. A lot of thoughts. A love letter to 1956 Elvis and all those who fell in love with him. <3

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1956 - The year when most of the nation first became aware of the name, Elvis Presley.

His name could be well-heard uttered like a beautiful not-so-secret secret in hushed, giggling whispers of teenage girls passersby after the local high school let out its last bell. Adolescent girls across the nation were caught mesmerized, crowded around their family television sets, as if under a trance by the Southern young man shaking his hips to the vibrations and melodies of that sweet, exhilarating Rock n’ Roll music.

The girls felt something awaken in them after watching Elvis Presley on their screens late in the evening. A feeling that refused to sleep in the quiet hours of bedtime, a light that refused to dim under the moonlight, a wind of extreme feeling that rustled through the pages of their minds as they lay in bed.

Excitement…for something they wanted, but did not quite have. A feeling of sexual desire that was not supposed to be openly felt and that was so forbidden, yet beautiful that it became a high of elation.

The feelings wake up with them the next day, and love not only for the music taking the nation by storm but also as the man, seen to many, as the face of it all, leads them to the record stores for every new release. It led them to the shows where he put his all into bringing them to their feet and bringing all those emotions over the edge. How they wish they had the opportunity to be with him.

To be in your spot? Not exactly…they want more.

You hear his name loudly hollered and complained about by older folk, eager to express their extreme dissatisfaction and disgust with what was presented on the late-night television programs as “dancing”. How dare Milton Berle air something so vulgar?

There is an excitement in the air that they can’t feel, can’t understand. The snowflake melts as soon as it comes into contact with them. They do not care to look at its unique pattern anyway. As the water from the faucet bends effortlessly around their tired, life-worn hands, they fail to notice the rainbow made as the water catches the light of the sun. A rainbow in which you have had the privilege of getting to know every hue throughout your years of close friendship.

This is unknown to most, especially an old man at your job asking if you listen to 'all that vulgar roll-and-rock stuff…or was it rock-and-roll? It's not worth it. You try your hardest to put on your customer service voice and politely laugh at the ignorance, knowing that your shift has just started and it's too early for the hassle of explaining Rock-n-Roll to someone not at all interested in learning.

His name, one you first heard when the teacher called out attendance in class all those years ago, was moving like a wave, and any unknowing individual would think he was running for office.

You can’t help but laugh softly at your own thoughts as you stare at the all-familiar Memphis surroundings through the glass of the car window. Suddenly, you are pulled back to reality by a firm squeeze of a hand that you had just noticed began to rest on your thigh. Then, you heard the signature Southern voice that had the whole nation going haywire.

“You alright, honey? You’re as quiet as a dormouse over there.”

Elvis looks over at you and slightly bites his lip as the car you two are sitting in, a new one he bought more recently, sits at a red light.

You smile at him, a slight hue of pink brushing your face, partly from embarrassment at being caught and taken out of your head like a fish out of the water and partly from your best friend’s hand still being on your thigh. You try to divert your focus from the shock of sudden attention and instead try to make a joke.

“Oh, I’m alright…Just in shock is all. I mean I’m in a car with Elvis Presley. I might faint.”

You playfully fan yourself with your hand as you enunciate his name as if it is displayed in big letters on a marquee shining bright on the busy streets of Broadway. A sight that you can easily imagine coming to fruition. You can’t help but laugh, breaking your already unconvincing, but in a way real, act.

“Mhm, sure." He hums, all too used to your teasing, “You sure it’s not just the heat? You can roll the window down a little more.”

He has that signature smile on his pretty face as he focuses his sky-blue eyes on the road before him. When the light turns green, he puts his foot on the gas. His right hand hesitates for a second, debating on whether it is still appropriate to continue to lay on your thigh. He ultimately decides to lift his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m just kidding ya.” He already knew that. And you know that he knows that you just had to make sure.

When he speaks again, he has the same excitement that he had when you two first got into the car as if it never left, because truly it never did disappear. As you stare at his beautiful eyelashes, enhanced by the mascara that you’ve helped him apply a few times before, you notice a look in his eyes. It’s like the Memphis road ahead of him reminds him of another long road, one that he does not quite know the destination of yet. Your eyes trace his side profile as he talks with a boyish smile on his face.

“Once we get to our spot, Imma tell you all about everything, Satnin. I will. Life’s gonna be even more crazy, if you can believe that. I mean the Colonel said the tours are gonna be…a-and the audiences will be even bigger. It's all up from here, honey, and I’ll explain it all to ya…I really will. I ain't gonna say it all complicated cause it might be a lot for your pretty head… I m- I mean it's hard for me to even…believe. Ya know?”

He says this all fast-paced, hurriedly as if he’s being timed to speak, but you have no problem keeping up with his words from years of conservations both long and short.

“I know, Elvis. I’m really excited for ya. I always am and you know that.”

“For us, honey. Me, you, and my parents.”

You look at him adoringly, admiring his apple-like cheek, his outfit the shirt of which had to be from Beale Street, and the beautiful way the sun reflected off of his face. The beautiful orange before sunset that put a comforting and pleasing softness on everything it touched wouldn’t be until a little bit, but when you were around Elvis, every minute felt golden.

There are a few minutes of silence perfectly comfortable due to so many years of knowing each other before Elvis pulls into the driveway of your home; the same cornflower blue house that your family has been living in and loving for as long as you can remember. His eyebrows furrow and a few creases appear between them, the same ones that you love to smoothen with your thumb whenever you get a chance, as he ponders for a moment,

“Your folks ain’t home?”

You responded nonchalantly, a little surprised that this had not already come up in conversation. But, considering the fact that so much has been going on in his life lately, it is not shocking that your parents not being home for a weekend didn’t wander into your discussions today.

“Nah. They left this morning for a wedding of some old friends of theirs. They were telling me over dinner yesterday….”

You and Elvis get out of the car, doors closing in synchronization as you continue,

“The couple getting married have been friends their whole lives…I think the guy was already divorced…or was it that the lady already has a kid?”

As you go on trying to carefully recall what your parents had told you about their weekend trip while you were scarfing down Mama’s delicious home-cooked dish at dinner yesterday, you fail to notice Elvis taking something out of the car’s leather back seat and slipping it into the back pocket of his pants.

“I don't know, Maybe both…But they realized recently that they’re made for each other. Getting married in Nashville so my parents are spending the weekend.”

Elvis focuses his attention on you and nods, letting you know that he is listening to your story, “I’m guessing your brother is still out on his work trip too, which is crazy, 'cause that means…”

Elvis looks at you with a playful gleam in his eyes, one that lets you know that you’re about to be teased, “They trusted you with the house.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You giggle, feigning offense with your voice.

“I’m plenty responsible for taking care of ole' Blueberry.” You put your hands on your hips in confidence as you look up at your house and the spot on the second-floor siding that needs to be repainted. Whatever happened to it anyway? Your “Rosie the Riveter”-worthy confidence takes a back seat and your hands leave your hips to rest at your sides as you ponder that question.

“Well…” Elvis elongates his word as he leans his arm on your shoulder, tilting his head slightly.

You turn your head up towards him, already knowing the situation that he is referring to. “You really won’t let me get away with the ‘almost burning the house down thing’ huh? I was trying to do a good deed! What can I say, I’m a good girl at heart.”

“Yeah, you were trying alright, and then the surprise ‘Happy Anniversary’ cookies for your folks caught fire.”

“Stop teasing me.” You whine with a small laugh as you take his hand in yours and lead him to your backyard. “Let's go out back before the sun sets on us.”

You can’t help but let your mind wander back to the cookie incident as you walk hand in hand to your signature spot in the backyard, looking down at your feet in the green grass,

“Can you believe that after I burnt my cookies, David brought out his ‘Happy Anniversary’ cupcakes? Totally upstaged me.”

“He’s the golden child. Unlike your cookies…which weren’t golden at all. They were actually tar black.”

You can not help but laugh at his cheesy joke as you two sit on the lush grass under the big tree in your backyard. Its leaves are still green from the energizing air of summer, their bright beauty contrasting with the broken wood swing hanging from the tree’s strongest branch with now only one rope, the other one laying on the ground as if having given up a long time ago. The swing has been broken for so long that it's almost like decor at this point. For years, this tree has been the spot where you and Elvis chose to spend long, but never dragging, hours talking to each other and listening to listening to records. Whenever the weather allowed for it that is.

This was the spot where all those years ago, Elvis told you all about his favorite superhero, Captain Marvel Jr., the very first time he came for a playdate at your house. You had convinced Elvis to let you play alongside him as a superhero after fulfilling your role as the damsel in distress for a few rounds of the game. Well, being alongside him as Captain Marvel Jr’s sidekick; it would have to do, you thought contently. The two of you had run around with towels as capes for hours, stopping crime in the confines of your gated backyard which your young minds had imagined was actually all of Memphis.

Elvis went back to his house right before sunset that evening with grass and dirt stains on his clothes that matched your own. This was something that you two kids had also shared with your Mama’s new towels left scattered in the yard, which she wasn’t too thrilled about. A smile stayed lingering on your face as you were tasked with doing the laundry that night.

Those old times thrive not only in your memories but also in the roots of the old tree. Does it smile when you and Elvis still choose to sit under it time and time again? The age of the tree is unknown due to the fact that it was already full grown when your family moved in all those years ago. Maybe love has kept it up and standing despite any storm that might come blowing its way.

A few minutes of conversation under the tree remained similar in structure and topic to a lot of your discussions with Elvis recently. 1956 has been a huge year for Elvis and you have never minded him being the center of attention because of how much you truly and wholeheartedly adore him.

“Isn’t this all amazing, Elvis? We used to dream about this stuff for you. I mean I’ve always known that you’re great but….I mean, remember when we were just kids listening to records? Now people go out and buy records that say Elvis Presley.”

Elvis looks up at the white, pillowy clouds passing by. New clouds float through the sky but their all familiar patterns and shapes never lose their comfort. Someone looking up could easily be convinced that the clouds they see are the same ones that just passed by the last time that person had gotten the inclination to look. That would mean they weren’t paying close enough attention.

“I remember being in grade school and my audiences only had my lil Satnin sitting crisscrossed apple sauce with those big wide eyes.” He looks at you and you get a glance of the smile lines gifted from Heaven.

You run a hand through his dyed, jet-black hair and you smile to yourself as you think back to the sandy-haired boy who had just moved to Memphis from Tupelo. The one who on the first day of school was placed in the seat next to you by the teacher. You remember how his leg bounced up and down in anxiety under his desk on the first day; his pencil tapping in what seemed to be the rhythm of a song.

You remember the cheeky grin of the sandy-haired boy who had just moved from Tupelo to Memphis. The boy who talked really fast except for when he was singing…something that he loved to do. It was hard to miss that Elvis was a lover of music because he made it known.

“I was early to the party, wasn’t I?”

“V.I.P.” He says nonchalantly as if your exceptionality is obvious.

“Now you got thousands, millions who wanna listen to ya. A bunch of wide eyes on Elvis Presley.”

“Mhm...but your eyes are still my favorite. Always will be.”

Your eyes saw the butterfly come out of the cocoon. Your eyes saw the fidgets, the smiles, the tears, and all the little habits that made Elvis, Elvis. But did you feel the feeling? A shakiness in your legs as you watched him dance and shake his? A jump in your heart at the first riff of his guitar? A slightly parted mouth as you watched him sing from those beautifully plump lips? Of course. Oh, how you feel it all.

Girls nationwide are experiencing what you have been feeling for years now. It’s just that they have the ability to do things that you aren't quite in the position to do...express your attraction for the world to hear, scream for dear life at his performances, rant and rave to your best friend about the handsomeness and charm of Elvis Presley. All these things you could not do due to the fact that your best friend is the man himself.

He mumbles a little, expressing random thoughts out loud, “We need to keep doing those guitar lessons with you too. I know it’s been a while but I’d hate to lose our progress. You’ve really got something.”

You hum in response, “I think I was just starting to get the hang of it. Whenever ya find the time I’d love for ya to teach me more.”

“Need to get you a guitar. Something real nice so you can practice when I’m not around.”

“I don’t need anything 'real nice'. Maybe once you get a new one, I can borrow your old one. I don’t need anything new.”

You’d hate for Elvis to spend his money on getting you your own guitar. Would it be spectacular to have your own? You’d love it and play it any chance you got. But to have him go out and get one for you would be unnecessary. You’re sure you can save up the money for one with some paychecks.

As you think about possibly getting your own guitar, Elvis has already moved on from that topic and starts talking about something else that has popped up in his thoughts. He was truly lightning in a bottle, a constant, sometimes unpredictable spark of electricity.

He gets that special smile again and you know that he’s thinking about the future.

“I’m gonna take you international. Maybe one day I’ll perform under the Eiffel Tower and I’ll get ya all of the French clothes that gals like cause for some reason the French ones are better than the Memphis ones…Or maybe I’ll perform in one of those fancy palaces in England for the Queen.

Imagine that. You think she’d like me?”

You smile as you imagine the Queen of England at an Elvis Presley performance. I mean if she’s like most young women…

”I don’t think she’d be opposed.”

“Might go against some protocol by having me there. It's gotta be real strict for the royals in London. You know how the knives and the forks are supposed to go on certain sides of the plate? All that rich folk stuff?"

He sighs as if words aren’t enough to describe all of his dreams just right, “I wanna do it all. Go everywhere. I don’t want to be confined to one place…no reason to be.”

As his fingers reach to play with a strand of your hair, a promise that Elvis made to you a few years ago pops back into your consciousness, like the younger-version of you blew a bubble and sent it to the front of your brain,

‘You’ve still yet to take me to New York.”

He chuckles, “I’ll take ya to the top of the Empire State Building, honey. Once you grace the streets of New York maybe they’d even resculpt the Statue of Liberty to look like ya. It would be a great sight to see…Imagine all of those tourists lining up to see your pretty face like you’re Miss America. Would leave a good impression, that’s for sure.” He lays the strand of hair back perfectly where he found it.

You giggle and a blush of pink spreads across your cheeks, “Elvis stop.”

He shrugs at you, “Just telling the truth.”

As if the heavens heard him utter the words “a great sight” and God himself wanted to show the world one of the most beautiful sights he ever created, like an artist shows off his masterpiece, you notice how hues of orange, pink, and purple start to fill up the sky above you. The clouds blend into the mural; even though they have been moving contently through shades of calming blue all day, it is as if they halt to be gladly used in the greater canvas. They are happy to be used to enhance the beauty of the sun, for they know that the light makes them shine.

A golden light falls over Elvis’ features as it does yours. A gift for both of you to admire on each other.

Elvis breaks the beautiful silence gently, stuttering a little over his words,

“Speaking of New York, I-I got you something real special. I was there and they had this store, it was all fancy…and I saw this. Reminded me of you.”

He holds out a small, thin box for you to take and you notice how his long, slender fingers seem to shake a little bit as if this moment had been anticipated all day.

“You got me a gift, Elvis? What’s the occasion? It ain’t my birthday yet.”

A confused look graces your features like the sun paints the sky. Unaware of the way he takes the time to admire you and the beautiful, golden light of dusk as it kisses your features, you think carefully as to why Elvis has given you a gift. Your mind flips through a calendar.

"Stop worrying your pretty little head, doll. Does there need to be an occasion?"

You hum in response and hesitantly decide to take the black box into your hand before beginning to open it gently.

"It ain't gonna jump out at ya, Honey." Elvis whispers quietly, playfulness replacing nervousness in his voice.

"Be quiet." You whisper back.

After opening up the lid of the box you gasp, "Elvis!"

Your lips slightly part in shock and you smile as you lay your eyes on a beautiful gold bracelet with small diamonds adorning it. After a few seconds of admiring the beauty of the piece, you realize for a second time now that it's yours to keep. You quickly look at him with a face of slight worry.

A smile remains on his face from watching your eyes light up at the sight of his gift.

"Ain’t no way this is for me, Elvis. You can’t. It must’ve been so expensive an-and I really don’t need it. I don’t want you spending your money on me, especially not on fancy stuff like this…I ain’t one of those Hollywood girls.” You ramble on, closing the box and trying to push it back into his hands. You place his pretty hands around the box as if it is too expensive for you to even hold.

Elvis breathes out from his nose and licks his lips as if slightly entertained by your reaction. His voice stays soft.

“Nuh uh, Satnin…You always try to do this when I give ya something nice. You could win a Nobel Prize and you would still have trouble accepting a congratulations card from me. It’s for you, honey. I got it just for ya. You don’t gotta be one of those Hollywood girls to have some nice jewelry.” He pushes the box back into your smaller hands.

“Elvis…”

“Let me pamper ya. Let me spoil ya. I need to. I’ve known you for so long.” He says almost as a beg, a soft plead.

You nod small and then suddenly give him a huge hug, the force pushing him back a little. His eyes widen for a split second, not having expected this big of a gesture so quick, but he relaxes as you fall onto him.

When you lift your head from the crook of his neck, you blush at how close your faces have happened to end up. A matching blush falls over his features and you can hear his soft breaths as they come out. His blue eyes are perfect…absolutely gorgeous. They are the only stable blue in the sky’s changing hour. You always take any opportunity you can to admire Elvis’ beauty, but now, being practically on top of him…you can see everything closer and more intimately than usual. His hand gently rests on the small of your back as you sit in his lap.

Now, both of you are at a standstill when it comes to what happens next. Think of a pen picking up from the page and pondering what else to write while in the middle of an important sentence, one that might change the story. You want so badly to kiss him, to show him how much you adore him in a way you never have before. The only time you have gotten to feel his soft lips on yours so far has been at night when you dream. Two soft pillows, one under your head as you sleep peacefully under the moonlight and one being his lips kissing you, your imagination providing you with what you so desperately need.

His eyes have the same apprehension as yours as if the two of you are thinking similar things, going through similar battles of emotion in your all too similar but at the same time very different brains.

You know you can’t kiss him. It will complicate an already bustling life. Elvis can’t have a girlfriend. That is what he told you the Colonel said when you asked him why he ended things with Dixie. You remember how Elvis paced around the room that day. Colonel Parker got rid of Dixie…what if he got rid of you too? You can’t lose your Elvis, you won’t lose your Elvis. You know deep down that you can’t let your feelings hold him back from the greatness he is destined for, even if it means a state of eternal longing. The haunting question “What if?” forever stuck in your head. Oh, how some days your mind asks you to be selfish.

The look in his eyes makes your lips go for his cheek instead, missing the beautiful, pillowy target that your heart’s arrow was aiming for. He relaxes into your comforting kiss, long black lashes on true display as his eyes shut.

When you pull back and giggle at the mark of pink lipstick making itself comfortable on his face, he opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of your smile.

“Thank you. Do yo-you wanna…want me to help you put the bracelet on?”

You nod, leaving the comfy spot on his lap to instead sit back on the grass next to him. The same grass long abandoned after you had the opportunity to be even closer to the one you love so much. It wasn’t empty though, the black box still sat from where you placed it to hug Elvis, opened and waiting patiently to be remembered. Its velvet interior stood out greatly against the grass.

You grab the box and take the bracelet out from where it lay, handing it to Elvis. Elvis takes the bracelet and looks at it quietly for a moment. He hums as if still satisfied with the choice he made while in the jewelry store in New York. What looks beautiful while sitting under the artificial light of the jewelry container looks even more gorgeous in the all-familiar setting of Memphis under the sun’s calming light. He knows for a fact that what looks beautiful sitting next to many other expensive jewelry pieces, will look even more gorgeous on the wrist of his Satnin.

Elvis softly wraps his hand around your wrist to be able to guide it to lay on his leg. He takes a moment to unclasp the bracelet and then gently wraps it around your wrist. When he reclasps the bracelet, you hold your hand up and smile admiringly.

You look back at him gratefully, eyes full of love, “Thank you, Elvis. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

He smiles at you adoringly, “No worries, honey, I’m really happy that you like it. You deserve all the good things, you really do….And you wanna know what else?”

“Hm?”

“No matter what happens with all these changes…there is one thing that isn’t gonna change and that's this. That’s us.”

Change. How scary it can be.

You want the relationship between you and Elvis to change, blossom, and thrive like how the hydrangeas you planted last spring can change colors with pH but still remain so beautiful. Oh, how sometimes you wish that there was just a slight change: a minute more of hand-holding, passionate kisses reoccurring throughout long days, and nights spent loving in a way that you never have before. But, you aren’t one to gamble, and change can also mean sadness, heartbreak, and loneliness. You stay content and grateful for the one-of-a-kind beauty of a friendship well-loved.

“We’ll always have each other, Elvis. Always have and always will.”

You smile wide and lay your head on his shoulder as you two continue to look at the sun moving lower and lower into the horizon before disappearing.

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#elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #hope u enjoy #thanks for reading #<3 #50s elvis #1950s

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