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venus-haze · 2 years

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omg could you do vampire or werewolf elvis headcanons? im in the spooky mood and i think you’d write that so well, especially like a darker theme!!

I went overboard with this one😅 Both scenarios are AU-ish and take place in the 80s. I took from the line “I’ve been playing this mausoleum for 1,000 years” for a vampire Vegas-era Elvis but also I love the idea of Graceland being this like creepy old mansion no one goes in because it’s supposedly haunted so...enjoy🧛🏻‍♂️

Vampire!Austin!Elvis x Reader

Warning: Dark themes such as emotional blackmail, death, blood, and obsessive and manipulative behavior, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Mild sexual content that involves coercion. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Graceland (’50s Elvis)

Growing up, you heard stories of Graceland—people going in never to be seen again, soft music coming from the supposedly abandoned house late at night

It stopped being so scary after you got to high school, but even so, it was an unspoken rule to stay the hell away from there

You go out drinking with coworkers one night, a new coworker of yours unfamiliar with the old place and the stories behind it, which leads to the group of you stumbling through Memphis to get there

Perhaps wanting to prove something to yourself and your peers, you volunteer to go inside, insisting the stories are bullshit and it’s just another eyesore building that the city won’t do anything about

You go in with a little keychain flashlight one of your coworkers hands you and scale the fence surrounding the dilapidated old mansion

The doors are boarded up, most of the windows too, and you can hear your coworkers calling you back, that you made your point, but some inexplicable feeling draws you in, you enter the dark house and go up the flight of dusty stairs

A faint glow comes from beneath one of the doors along with the soft sound of a guitar, and against your better judgment, you open it. Both you and the unbelievably handsome yet familiar looking man you encounter stare at each other in equal shock. As soon as you see his eyes glow red and impossibly sharp fangs, you run

You know it’s probably pointless and he’ll find you sooner or later, but you hide in one of the many rooms in the mansion and are in disbelief to find it’s filled with posters, buttons, even pillows with his face and name adorned on all of them—Elvis

You barely have time to think before the door swings open. He crosses the room and grabs you by the shoulders. Despite your begging to not hurt you, that you swear you won’t tell anyone, he sinks his fangs into your neck and between the pain and the sound of your skin breaking you pass out

You wake up in the room you found him in, god knows how long ago, because your head is pounding and you’re starving and thirsty. Your now captor stares at you like a deer in the headlights, as if he wasn’t the monster

“I’m glad you’re okay. I didn’t want to kill you, but I can’t help it sometimes,” he says. You balk at his statement, hardly calling the situation you were in okay

Elvis is lonely and reclusive, a sadness in his unnervingly red eyes that makes you almost feel sorry for him whenever he slinks into the room to check on you and bring you an odd offering of food because he isn’t sure what humans eat

He refuses to allow you out of the room, he thinks you’re not well enough yet. He entertains you by singing and tell you stories

His voice is soft and low as he tells you that he was at the height of his popularity as a musician when he was turned (he refused to go into the details on that), but afterward he couldn’t control his hunger and killed his family and management team

Too horrified and ashamed of himself, he only leaves Graceland to feed when absolutely necessary, otherwise keeping himself in his self-imposed purgatory because he doesn’t want to hurt people

You believe him, because besides that first night, he hasn’t done anything violent or dangerous, until some of your coworkers return to the house, looking for you

Elvis had always been frustratingly avoidant and vague when you asked how long you’d been there or when you could leave, but when they call out your name saying the police didn’t believe their story but they had to come back for you, desperately searching every nook and cranny in the place to bring you home, he snaps

You follow him as he storms out of the room, almost as if he’s floating on air as he descends on each of your coworkers, brutalizing them as you watch in horror, screaming for him to stop—he does, only after killing the last one, wiping the fresh blood from his mouth and meeting your terrified expression with one of wild desperation

“You can’t leave, Y/N. I can’t be alone again,” he pleads, as if you have a choice. He turns you, holding you as you go through the painful transformation to become one of the undead, to be with him forever

Vegas (’70s Elvis)

After an almost frustratingly long interview process, you get a job as a cigarette girl at the International Hotel in Las Vegas. You’d never had a job make you sign an NDA before, but you figure it came with the territory–it’s your dream job, but you’d heard they made good tips, even if it meant looking the other way when wealthy patrons got ahead of themselves

Your first few weeks of work are uneventful, and you make more in tips in a night than you did in a week at your old job. Plus, you’d become friends with most of the girls you worked with, but you couldn’t help but notice how often they seemed to quit, how long it’d take to replace them, and how none of them seemed to be working there for very long

While getting ready to go out to the showroom before whatever act was slated to perform for the next few weeks, your boss power-walked into the breakroom. “The penthouse wants a personal delivery,” he says, pointing to you. “Don’t keep him waiting”

You nod, grabbing your tray and rushing out of the breakroom. One of your coworkers stops you, jokingly asking what the rush is for. You feel a pit in your stomach at the way her expression shifts when you tell her

Whoever’s up there is probably just an asshole, you assure yourself. Nothing you haven’t dealt with before, you hope as you push the elevator button to bring you to the top floor of the hotel

You walk up to the door of the penthouse suite apprehensively, feeling like an idiot when you knock and say “Cigarette delivery”

The door opens a crack, and suddenly your apprehension seems to disappear as you let yourself into the room. The lights are dim, and most of the illumination comes from the glow of the Vegas Strip through the window. You don’t see anyone, until the door slams shut behind you, and you jump, dropping half the cigarette boxes in your tray on the floor

“Sorry,” you stammer to the man who’s just made his presence known to you. “I didn’t see you there. Sorry.”

He studies your trembling form for a few moments, before kicking the dropped boxes out of his way and stalking over to you. Even in the darkness of the room you can tell he’s handsome, but you can’t make out the specific features of his face. He looks so familiar, and you find yourself staring at his full lips until they pull back into more of a snarl than a smile to reveal abnormally sharp canines

“What d’you got, baby?” the man asks, his voice thick like honey as it rumbled from deep in his chest. You list off the cigarettes you have on hand, including the ones on the floor, and he grabs a box of Luckies and hands you a hundred dollar bill after watching you bend down to pick up the boxes you’d dropped

You aren’t sure how much time has passed by the time you get back downstairs, but your coworker looks genuinely shocked to see you. You pull her aside and ask her what the fuck is going on

“Honestly, Y/N, I don’t know. The girls who go up there–you’re the first one who’s ever come back down,” she whispers, her paranoid gaze traveling throughout the room

When you tell your boss you quit, he pulls out the NDA you signed but didn’t read over, which states in one of the clauses that you had to work there at least a year or forfeit all of your earnings since you started. You didn’t have that kind of money on hand, not after spending so much of it already

You can hardly sleep the next week, especially when another cigarette girl goes up to the penthouse suite, and when you inquire her whereabouts the following night, your boss tells you that she quit–which makes no sense because she’d been working there less than you had and he wouldn’t let you quit. You don’t question it to his face, though, but you spend your sleepless hours trying to figure a way out

It’s only a matter of time before you’re called up to the penthouse again, you know as much, but it doesn’t terrify you any less when your boss tells you that the occupant asked for you specifically. You take deep breaths as the elevator ascends, hoping by some miracle it gets stuck

The door to the suite is already open halfway when you get there, and you stand in the doorway, looking around for the man. “What’re you so afraid of, baby? Think I bite?” he teases from the other side of the room, though you swear he hadn’t been standing there a moment ago

Just as you’re a foot or so away from him, he flicks on the lights, and you gasp upon recognizing Elvis Presley. The resemblance was way too uncanny to be one of the dozen or so impersonators you saw on your first day in Vegas–but it wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be him. He was dead, and even if he were alive he’d look much older

He beckons you closer with a curl of his pointer finger, and you find yourself pressed against his chest, the tray of cigarette boxes thrown to the floor as he kissed you deeply, pulling away only to pierce your lower lip with his fangs, lapping up the blood that pooled from it despite your resistance

His crimson eyes raked over your figure as you held your bloodied lip, tears streaming down your face. “I knew there was a reason I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, baby”

“Please don’t kill me,” you choke out

The grin that spreads across his face is nothing short of evil, “No, I’m not gonna kill you. In fact, I think I’ll keep you around a while”

He tears off your skimpy uniform like it’s made of paper, sinking his fangs into one of your exposed breasts. As he sucks and licks the blood coming from it, you collapse in his arms, feeling yourself being carried over to his bed

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @kittenlittle24 @crash-and-cure @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan (sorry if y’all only want to be tagged in fics and not headcanons! Please let me know if this is the case)

#headcanons #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #vampire x reader #darkfic #vampire!elvis

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