Hi, darlin’! May I request a fluffy Elvis fic if your requests are still open. Like a midnight snack craving thing? Where Elvis finds the reader in the kitchen or something? ☺️💓
“I can’t have you goin' back to bed unsatisfied.” — elvis presley x reader
Summary: you can’t sleep- you’re too hungry. Finally you decide to go find something to snack on, accidentally waking Elvis in the process. He finds you downstairs and you both decide to have a little midnight meal together
Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader
Warnings: none! Teeth rottingly sweet fluff. Hopefully not any typos eee
A/N: thank you so much for this request, i really wanted to get back into writing for Elvis, it’s like you read my mind, I hope this is okay <33
Each clock in the house would’ve read just past 2:30 AM, but there you were, wide awake. Your body had decided it needed something sweet, and no amount of tossing and turning was going to change that.
Barefoot, you quietly padded down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps beneath the carpet breaking the silence. Reaching the kitchen, you opened the fridge, the cold air hitting your face as you peered inside, hoping something would jump out at you. But nothing did. A bottle of milk, some leftover dinner from earlier, a few eggs.
Next stop, the pantry. You opened the door, scanning the shelves. It was far from empty, crackers, chips, cookies, etc, yet still nothing that tickled your fancy. You moved some cans aside, your hands rummaging through the shelves, hoping to uncover something forgotten in the back.
Just then, you heard the soft padding of footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by the flick of a light switch, illuminating you, standing there with a handful of chocolate chips, looking guilty as ever. Elvis stood in the doorway, his hair slightly mussed from sleep, his eyes half-closed.
His low, sleepy voice asked, “Honey, what're you doin'?”
“I was tryin' not to wake you,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile. “But I just couldn't sleep. I’m hungry.”
Elvis chuckled, the sound deep and warm, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Well, let's see what we can find.”
He walked over to you, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leaned over to look into the pantry. His presence was comforting, and you felt a little silly for dragging him out of bed, even if it was accidental.
“I wanted some ice cream,” you suggested, biting your lip as you searched the freezer, “but I don't see any.”
“Hmm,” Elvis mused, reaching up to grab a box of cookies. “What about these? Or maybe we could make somethin'?”
You sighed, not entirely satisfied with the options. “Make something?”
Elvis grinned. “Pancakes?”
"Pancakes, huh?" You considered it, the thought of warm, fluffy pancakes topped with syrup and maybe some whipped cream making your mouth water. “Don’t you want to go back to sleep?”
“We can sleep in,” Elvis assured you, already moving to gather the ingredients. “Bring some ‘a your chocolate chips out here.”
You watched as he moved around the kitchen, his sleepiness fading away as he got into the idea. He pulled out a mixing bowl and started cracking eggs, his movements quick.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” you teased, watching him toss the egg shells in the rubbish.
“Well, you got me up,” he shot back with a playful grin, “might as well make it worth it. 'Sides, I can’t have you goin' back to bed unsatisfied.”
You couldn't help but giggle at him, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well aren’t you sweet.”
Elvis smiled. “It's my job, darlin'. Now, get over here and help me.”
You joined him at the counter, measuring out some flour. The familiar routine of it was comforting, and soon enough, the kitchen was filled with the scent of batter sizzling on the stove.
Elvis eyed you sneaking another handful of chocolate, telling you about the dream he'd been having before you woke him up, something about being on stage in front of a crowd that wouldn't stop clapping no matter what. You laughed, imagining him trying to bargain with an audience that was too happy to let him perform.
“Sounds like a good problem to have,” you teased, flipping a pancake as it turned golden brown.
“Maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter, his eyes soft as he watched you, standing there in your pj set, slowly adding to the growing stack of pancakes.
Finished cooking, you sat down together, a pile of pancakes between you and some syrup to go with it. Your tummy growled audibly, earning quite the chuckle from Elvis. Pouring a generous amount of syrup over your pancakes, you dug in, smiling with how pleased you were. The house was quiet except for the occasional clink of your forks against the plates, and the pancakes were warm and filling, exactly what you needed.
”I think I might've outdone myself,” he says between bites.
You leaned forward to take another bite, nodding in agreement. Once he was done, Elvis leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face.
“Well, darlin', how are you feeling now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.
You smiled, feeling full. “Much better. Thanks for getting up with me.”
Elvis reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Anytime, sweetheart.“
You stood up, attempting to clear the table and wash up. Elvis gently pressed his hand against your chest, sitting you back down.
“Tomorrow’s problem,” he said, his eyebrow raised slightly.
Sighing, you complied, “okay.”
“Come on,” he said, his voice a gentle murmur. “Let's get back to bed.”
You nodded, “Yeah, let's.”
He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back upstairs and into your bedroom. Slipping back under the covers, Elvis pulled you close, his warmth enveloping you as you snuggled into his chest.
“Sweet dreams, honey,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Sweet dreams, Elvis,” you murmured back, your eyes already drifting closed.
