abby🤍

You walked into Elvis’ office just as he hung up the phone. He looked tense, rubbing his temple as he leaned back in his chair.

“Kathy’s sick… says she won’t be able to sing with us at the Astrodome,” he muttered. It was his first show outside the International Hotel, and the pressure was obvious.

“I’m gonna have to find another backup singer in the next few days,” he sighed.

You frowned and walked over, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby,” you said softly. He reached for you, pulling you down into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist.

He stared at you, eyes distant like he was thinking hard. You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “What?”

“I want you to do it,” he said.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I want you to sing backup for me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious, mama,” he said, dead serious. “You’ve got a beautiful voice. I want you up there with me.”

“But I can’t,” you said quietly. You’d never sung professionally, mostly because the thought of singing in front of a huge crowd terrified you.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “I’ll set up some rehearsals. You can practice with the Sweets.”

“I don’t kn—” you started, but he cut you off with a quiet, pleading, “Please…”

His eyes were soft, his mouth curled into a slight pout. You were a goner. You sighed, defeated—and before you could even say “yes,” his lips were on yours.

“Thank ya, thank ya, thank ya,” he murmured between kisses.

—

February 27, 1970.

You stood on stage beside the Sweet Inspirations, clapping along to the rhythm of Elvis’ set. The lights, the crowd, the enormity of it all—it should’ve terrified you. But it didn’t. Because nobody was really watching you.

They were watching him.

Elvis was a few feet ahead, dancing around the stage with all the energy and charm in the world. You couldn’t help but smile.

The music faded, and Elvis stepped forward, a little out of breath.

“Thank ya, thank ya very much,” he said, flashing that signature grin. “Before we go any further, I’d like to introduce ya to the members of my group.”

He introduced J.D. Sumner and the Stamps Quartet, then turned toward the Sweet Inspirations.

“These are the girls who opened our show tonight—the Sweet Inspirations,” he said as they stood and took a bow.

Then, he walked over to you. Your stomach flipped.

“And the little girl doin’ our high voice singin’ tonight…” He took your hand and gently pulled you to your feet. “…is my beautiful wife, Y/N Presley.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Elvis kissed you quickly, whispered, “I love you,” then turned back to the mic to finish introducing the rest of the band.

It was early 1967. Elvis had his friends over, as usual—laughing, playing pool, half-watching the football game on TV. The room buzzed with easy conversation, but his focus kept drifting to you.

You were on the floor, gently cradling Joe’s baby girl against your bent legs. She was just a few months old, soft and squirmy, letting out light giggles as you tickled her belly. Your laughter mixed with hers, warm and easy.

Behind you, Elvis sat on the couch, half-listening to whatever the guys were saying. But his eyes were on you—your hands, your smile, the way you looked so natural with the baby. His smile turned lopsided, eyes soft with something deeper than amusement.

He could picture it—your baby, his. That same laugh, but yours together.

Joan came over and crouched beside you. “Time to feed her,” she said with a grateful smile. You nodded, lifting the baby gently into her arms before brushing off your jeans and heading toward the kitchen.

Elvis followed, quiet.

As you poured a glass of iced tea, he slipped behind you, arms wrapping snug around your waist. You felt his warmth before you heard his voice.

“We should have one,” he murmured against your neck, brushing a soft kiss just below your ear.

You blinked, caught off guard. “A baby?” you asked, turning slightly to look at him.

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod, his voice low, but sure.

A smile pulled at your lips. “Really?”

He met your eyes. “Maybe after I wrap this next movie. We could start tryin’.”

You nodded slowly, the idea settling into your chest like sunlight. “Yeah…” you whispered, smiling.

“I love you,” you added softly.

you got out of the shower, drying your hair and body before going to the closet in you and elvis’ bedroom, changing into a matching cotton pajamas set—soft shorts and a top.

after brushing your hair and teeth, you wandered through the quiet house, searching for elvis. “el?” you called out to no answer, humming as you heard the faint strum of guitar strings.

you went to the front door, peeking out of one of the windows to see elvis on your front porch swing, strumming his guitar lightly as he stared into the moonlight.

you open the door and step out, shivering as the cold breeze hits your bare arms, the sound of the door opening and closing catching elvis’ attention. “hey mama” he says softly.

“hi” you say quietly with a smile. “c’mere” he says, you nod and go over to the swing, sitting down next him, smiling as he moves to lay his head in your lap, your hand finding home in his jet black hair.

“play me something” you say, earning a low chuckle and nod. “what do ya wanna hear?” he asks.

you think for a second. “my happiness” you say, earning a nod before he messes with the tuning pegs and starts playing it.

“Evening shadows make me blue

When each weary day is through

How I long to be with you

My happiness” he sings softly. your fingers drifted through his hair as you watched him sing

“Whether skies are grey or blue

Any place on earth will do

Just as long as I'm with you

My happiness” he sings softly, playing the last few strings before you look back down at him.

“i love you” you say softly. “i love ya too baby” he retorts, grabbing your free hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“can we go inside? it’s cold” you say, shivering a bit as the breeze hits you again, he chuckles and nods. “yeah” he says, getting up and holding out a hand to help you up.

It was summer 1970, elvis was on the second year of his international hotel contract and you were packing a suitcase to head to new york to study photography tomorrow.

elvis was sat on your shared bed in the suite of the international, watching you pack. “i don’ see why ya can’t jus’ stay here” he says, you look back at him and chuckle a bit “you know why i can’t, new york has a really good program for photography” you explain.

he groans and lays back. “but i want ya here with me” he says “i know..i wanna be here with you too..but this is a really good opportunity to start a career of my own, i get bored just sitting around” you say, he nods with a sigh.

“ya know they have photography schools here too, right?” he asks. “ya could go to a mornin’ or afternoon class and then come to my evenin’ shows” he explains.

“el..” you sigh. “y/n” he retorts. “you’re gonna be on the complete opposite side of the country, a different timezone..we wouldn’t be able to see eachother” he says.

“you could fly to new york when you’re not doing shows..this leg ends in a few weeks” you say. “you’d learn everything here that you’d learn in new york” he says, you sigh and stare at him, you’re really considering giving up something that could be really big for you, for him.

you move some hair behind your ear and nod a bit. “fine..i’ll look at the schools here i guess..” you give in, he smiles and gets up wrapping his arms tightly around you “thank ya baby” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You were sat crisscrossed on you and elvis’ shared bed at graceland, reading a random book out of his very large book collection, waiting for him to come back from recording at the studio, a hand resting comfortably atop of your bump.

You looked up as you heard the bedroom door open, a wide smile spreading across your face as elvis walked in. “hi mama” he said softly, walking over to you and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“hi..how did it go?” you asked. “it went great” he said, slipping off his shoes and slipping in bed behind you. “whatcha readin’?” he asked as you laying your back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you and his hands finding home on your belly.

“gone with the wind” you answered. “i’ve seen the movie a million times but i’ve never read the book and i don’t really have anything else to do so i thought, why not?” you added with a chuckle, he smiled and pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder.

“how ya feelin’?” he asked, his thumb rubbing gently across your skin, you shrugged. “not too bad today” you answered, earning a nod.

“did ya eat?” he asked, you nodded. “i made pancakes this morning and had a sandwich not long ago” you answered.

“did ya dr-“ he starts, getting cut off by your lips against his. this was a daily routine for him, come home and ask a million questions, making sure you ate, drank water, took your medicine and vitamins, etc.

“i’m okay..i did everything i promise” you say with a chuckle after pulling away. “i worry about ya, ya know that” he says, you nod.

“and i’m very grateful” you say, closing the book and laying it on the side table before laying your hands over his.

“have ya been thinkin’ of any names?” he asks, you nod. “a few” you say with a smile. you had just found out about a week ago that your having a little girl, elvis was ecstatic.

“tell me” he says. you hum, thinking a bit. “i really like paisley” you say, looking up at him.

“that’s cute, i like it” he agrees with a smile. “what about a middle name?” he questions.

“i was thinking love, for your mama” you say softly, making his smile grow bigger. “Paisley Love Presley..it’s perfect.” he says, bringing a hand up from your stomach and laying it on your cheek, pressing a soft and slow kiss to your lips.

“yeah?” you question, he nods. “yeah” he retorts, moving some hair behind your ear before laying his hand back on your stomach.

tw: reader having a panic attack, minor cussing, fluff

you and elvis were sitting down on the living room couch together, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulder as he talked to his friends.

you weren’t paying attention to anything being said, zoned out on the floor as your mind raced through things a million miles per hour.

“baby, you there?” elvis asked with a chuckle, pinching your thigh which broke you out of your thoughts, you looked up at him and nodded with a small, forced smile. “yeah i uh..i’ll be right back..” you said, getting up and going to the back yard to get some air, feeling your chest tighten.

you’ve always had really bad anxiety and kinda felt a panic attack trying to come on all day, but you tried to hold it back. you leant against a wall as your hands started to shake and started to feel like you couldn’t breathe. “shit..” you breathe out, sliding slowly to the ground, running a shaky hand through your brunette hair, closing your watery eyes as you try and catch your breathe.

“mama?” you faintly hear elvis call out from inside, looking up as you hear the door open, he immediately dropped to your side, knowing what was going on “i can’t..can’t breathe” you say in more of a whisper as your breathing got heavier, closing your eyes again

“i know..look at me” he says, grabbing your chin and making you look at him again. “try an’ breathe with me, okay?” he asks, you nod before trying to follow his breathes, keeping eye contact with him, his hand rubbing your leg softly.

“good job..you’re okay” he says softly, wiping the tears from your face as your breathing starts to steady, wrapping his arms around you. “you’re okay, i got you” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head.

“i-im sorry..i don’t know..i don’t know why that happened” you breathed out, he shakes his head. “ya don’t need to apologize baby” he says softly.

pt.1

you hummed a song quietly to yourself as you folded elvis’ towels.

“mornin’” you hear behind you, making you jump a bit. you turned around to see elvis leaning on the doorway of the laundry room.

“good morning mr presley” you say. “elvis” he corrects with a small chuckle, you nod a bit.

“good morning elvis” you say with a small smile, earning one back before you look back at the towels, grabbing another one and folding it.

“ya know..that song you sang last night really reminded me of my mama” he says, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you.

you looked up at him “yeah?” you questioned, earning a nod. “yeah” he retorted in more of a whisper.

“she used to sing it when she cooked or when we sat on the porch at night. i had forgotten about it til ya sang it” he explained, you smiled. “funny how music brings people back” you said, he nodded in agreement.

“i think you’re the only one who understands music like me” he says with a smile.

“well if you ever need someone to talk to, you know who to come to” you say. “thank ya” he answers softly.

“you’re welcome” you said, he stood there for a second before walking out of the room.

and for the first time since you started working at Graceland, it didn’t feel quite so much like work anymore.

an: this is not hate to ann margret i love her and lowk think she was elvis’ true love

a tear ran down your cheek as you held a small piece of paper in your hand, a small love note to your husband from another woman, you knew who.

elvis had just gotten back from filming viva las vegas, there had been rumors flying around in the papers about an affair with his co-star for a few weeks now, but elvis told you it was all fake, you didn’t have any proof to back it until now so you believed him.

you sniffed and wiped away your tears and walked out of the room, going to his office. “can we talk?” you asked, he looked up at you and quirked a brow, leaning back in his office chair with a nod. “sure baby, about what?” he asked.

you sighed and held up the piece of paper, you could immediately see the fear in his eyes. “this” you said. “is it from her?” you asked shakily.

he clenched his jaw. “why are ya goin’ through my stuff?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

you shook your head. “i didn’t, it was in your jacket pocket, and as your wife i have every right to read it” you explained.

he sighed. “it’s nothing” he says, leaving forward and grabbing a cigarette, lighting it and taking ba drag. “that’s bullshit, you’re a horrible liar” you said.

“all i’ve done is love you and support you and this is what i get?” you asked, earning a sigh as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth. “y/n-“ he starts.

“no fuck you elvis, i’m done.” you spit out, he stares at you in disbelief. “huh?” he questions, standing up.

“i can’t do this anymore” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “im not gonna sit here while you go and sleep with other woman and act like it’s okay” you added before crumbling the paper and throwing it on the ground, going to the bedroom, elvis following not far behind you.

“where are ya goin’?” he asks, you shrugged. “my parents..a hotel..anywhere” you said.

“baby we can figure this out, you’re bein’ crazy” he says, you stop in your tracks and turn to him. “i’m being crazy?” you questioned. “you’re fucking other woman half way across the country while your wife sits at home, i don’t think i’m the crazy one here” you said before going to your shared closet, grabbing a suitcase and sloppily packing your clothes.

elvis runs a hand through his hair, watching you pack. “please don’t do this..” he says softly, you zip up your bag and look at him. “i can’t keep living like this i’m sorry..” you say. “maybe she’ll be better for you” you added, taking your wedding ring off and handing it to him before walking out of the room and going downstairs.

“i’ll be back to get the rest of my stuff” you say, walking outside and putting your suitcase in your car before getting in, looking at him as he stands on the porch.

you were a maid at graceland, it was a quiet evening other than the rain tapping on the windows, you and elvis were the only ones there which was rare.

you were cleaning up the dining room a bit, looking over as you heard elvis play a few chords on his piano in the music room, he looked upset, tired.

you wanted to ask if he was okay but you’d never really talked to eachother. you went to walk out of the room before you heard him speak up. “ya ever feel like you’re vanishin’?” he asked, you look over at him again, a little surprised he actually said something to you.

“what?” you questioned. he looked over at you, you made eye contact for the first time. “ya ever feel like your vanishin’?” he repeated. “little pieces at a time?” he added.

you shrugged a bit. “sometimes” you said softly. he hummed and played another note on the piano, low, sad.

“i used to play for joy. now i can’t tell if it’s still in me, or if im just echoing someone i used to be.” he explained, you stepped into the hallway, leaning on the doorframe of the living room.

“you still got it, maybe it’s just quieter now” you reassured softly, messing with the fabric of your dress.

he looked back over at you, staring for a second. “could ya sing something?” he asked. “i’ve heard ya singing a little when you’re cleanin’, ya got a pretty voice” he said.

you sighed, looking down in embarrassment, shaking your head. “mr. presley i-“ you started “please” he pleaded softly.

you nodded before softly singing a gospel song you grew up listening to, you looked up at him once you finished, he looked at you in admiration. “that was beautiful baby..” he said almost in a whisper, a small smile growing on your face. “thank you..” you said quietly.

“i uh-..i should probably get back to cleaning” you added, standing up straight, earning a nod.

you and Elvis were sitting on his bed in silence, your head resting on his chest. He was leaving for the army in a few days so you were spending as much alone time as possible since you wouldn’t be able to go with him immediately.

you looked up at him, he was zoned out on the floor. “what’s wrong?” you asked softly, breaking him out of thought.

he looked down at you and shook his head a bit, he looked like a little boy. “just thinkin’ baby” he said, earning a nod from you. “about what?” you asked, searching his face.

he sighed and looked down at his pants as he messed with my fabric. “about goin’ to the army..what if everyone forgets me?” he asked, you frowned, reaching up and laying your hand softly on his cheek, making him look back at you.

“nobody’s gonna forget you..colonel already said he’d keep putting out new songs and you have that one movie coming out soon” you reassured.

“but i-i’ll be in a whole ‘nother country, they won’t hear from me or see me in concert for three years” he replies.

you nodded again, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. “you’ll be back on stage as soon as you come back and it’ll be like you never left” you said softly.

warning: panic attack, colonel

Elvis was supposed to be on stage almost two hours ago, he was currently sitting down on the backstage couch with his head in his hands, breathing heavily as his leg bounced up and down.

“el you’ve got to get out there, i don’t think the sweets are gonna be able to stall much longer” you say for probably the 15th time in the last hour and a half.

“i-i can’t, they ain’t gon’ like me..they didn’t like me last time” he said.

“that was thirteen years ago..they’re gonna love you i promise” you reassured him, you hadn’t seen him this nervous to go on stage since the 68 comeback.

you walked over to him and knelt down in front of him, grabbing his hands and making him look at you. “you’re gonna do so good..i’ll be right up front” you said softly.

he searched your face, he looked like a little boy. “what-what if i forget the words?” he asks.

you shrugged a bit “it happens..but i’ve never seen you forget the words to a song” you said, looking over and clenching your jaw as colonel wobbled into the room.

“my boy, what in the world are you doing?” he asked. “he’s just nervous, he’ll be out soon” you answered.

“he needs to be out there now, mrs presley” he said with an attitude, making you roll your eyes. “just gi-” you started before being cut off as elvis gets up and takes a deep breathe, you sighed, you always hated how fast he listened to colonel over you.

warning: just fluff!

you stretched with a hum as you woke up, groaning a bit as the bright sun hit your eyes through the window, looking around for elvis.

you got up and left the room, looking in the dining room, the den, the living room, anywhere he’d usually be at this time.

you scratched your head a bit as you thought of where else to look, going outside, a smile growing on your face as you saw elvis outside on one of the lawn chairs next to the pool with his eyes closed

you walked over to the chairs, laying down next to him on one of the other chairs. “hi” you said softly so you wouldn’t frighten him.

he hummed and opening his eyes, looking at you with a smile. “mornin’ baby” he said, scooting over some to make more room on the lawn chair and holding his arm out. “c’mere” he said.

you smiled wider and got up, laying down on the chair and laying your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you. “i’m surprised you’re out here so early, usually you’re asleep by now” you said softly.

“can’t sleep, need to start tannin’ for my next movie anyway ‘n we ain’t got time to go to hawaii” he explained with a chuckle as he ran his fingers softly through your brunette hair, you nodded a bit with a content sigh.

“i love you” you said. “i love ya too” he replied, moving his free hand up to your chin and making you look up at him before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “you’re so pretty” he said as he pulled away, moving some hair behind your ear and searching your face.

“thank you” you said quietly with a wide smile, your face heating up from his compliment like always, which didn’t go unnoticed by him, making him chuckle and shake his head, pressing a kiss to to your now red nose.

“why don’t ya go on upstairs and get in your bathin’ suit and we’ll go swimmin’ , hm?” he suggests, earning a nod from you.