#70s elvis is something

[claire-elvisgirl]

I just saw it for the first time...and I stopped breathing! 🥵🥵

[claire-elvisgirl]

"Baby, baby, I'd get down on my knees for yOh MY DEAR LORD!!!!!

🥵🥵

when I say 70s Shag Carpeting Elvis this is what I mean

[arealtrashact]

You look lost...

[hooked-on-elvis]

When he said in a 50s interview that his eyes were greenish blue, he meant it. Depending on the light, his eyes looked very blue or a shade of green indeed.

[jhoneybees]

Neglected.

Okay, I HAD to write this. It's just too cute and I love Winnie the Pooh so much, I just couldn't wait 😫😣🫣🥹

Characters: Late 60s/70s Elvis X little!reader

Warning/triggers: I'd say nothing, it's flippin adorable I'm gonna combust :(

_____________________________________________

When Elvis comes back from tour, every time he’d have a gift for you. Rewarding you for being a good girl for him, leaving you at home to find ways to entertain yourself does make Elvis feel guilty and sad which is why he’d always come home with something. Of course he always makes sure there was someone you both trust to look over you, he would tell them to play with you whenever you wanted even if they had to pretend that they enjoy it just to keep you happy but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s a bad caregiver, just leaving you while he goes off having a blast.

The gift he got you this time, he’s quite proud of and he was so excited when he sat you down on the living room couch and placed the wrapped up gift on your lap to open it. Your eyes lit up and a small gasp escaped your mouth, he got you a new book collection of children’s books. Not just any children’s books though, he got you your favourite ‘Winnie the Pooh’ picture books. Oh you couldn’t hold in your excitement when you saw the covers, manoeuvring them onto the couch for your legs to scatter up under you, giving Elvis a big hug as you happily squealed “I love them!”

Elvis was so glad you loved the books but when you started reading them, he noticed that he wasn’t getting your attention anymore. Although at first he didn’t mind it, he started feeling a little neglected. Without his baby’s hugs and kisses and now he’s determined to get your attention back.

Looking through every room in the house, he doesn’t find you in any of them until he peeks his head into his bedroom. Seeing you reading quietly, right in the middle of the bed with your legs folded under and little sooties wiggling. The sight makes him smile before he walks in and closes the doors behind him.

Keeping his eyes on his mission, he makes his way over to the bed, lifting a leg as he sits down and waits to see if you notice in which disappointedly you are so immersed in your new picture books that you don’t bat an eye. It makes him feel a ping of sadness if he had to be honest. His baby is too distracted to give him, your daddy, some affection.

With a small pout on his face, he reaches a hand to tap your hip gently “Darlin?” and that got your attention “mm?” turning your head around “Oh! Hi daddy” he snickers “Hi baby” but before he could say anything else, your head turns back at the book in your lap. His eyes saddening, he calls for you again “Little?” earning absolute silence. He clicks his tongue and shuffles closer behind you. Elvis slithers his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder “yittle?” he calls again in a softer tone.

Your eyebrows rise just barely and a hum emits, still keeping your eyes on the book.

Tightening his grip around you “Daddy’s missin’ ya” he drawls, you answer back with soft hum. Not really paying attention to him because you want to know what happens to Piglet.

Almost pains him that you don't seem to acknowledge him. Yes, you said hello, to him though that wasn't enough. Nuzzling his nose against your jaw a little and pecking your cheek, he mumbles “Baby” in a ‘notice me’ kind of tone but it doesn't phase you.

He groans slightly and sighs, starting to lose hope until an idea pops up. A small grin grows on his face and his hands retract a little to your sides. This would have to work, Elvis begins tickling you and watches your face. His grin falls when he hears you whine and push his hands away.

Oh what is he gonna do?

He mutters an “Alright…” and lets you have your space by lying on his side next to you, his head propped up with his hand, facing you as his feet slide under his pillow. He pouts again as he watches you suck your thumb, Elvis reaches up and pulls your hand away from your mouth, secretly hoping that would grab your attention but it only just makes you move your hand to rest on the book. Your eyes stayed glued to the story.

He sighs again and rolls onto his back. “Yittle” extending the word with a bored voice, earning another hum from you “hm?” running his fingers through his hair “Can ya stop reading for a moment? Daddy's wanting a hug..” he asks, you hum again “Mhm…just wait Daddy” you say with a lifted finger. He groans again and decides to just wait til you're finished which seems like you're finishing up anyways.

The moment you close the book and look at Elvis, his face lights up “Ya done readin’?” and when you nod. He throws himself onto you making you lay flat on the bed and Elvis wraps his arms around you tightly as you giggle and squeal and kick your feet. “Daddy!” playfully munching on your neck, mumbling against your skin.

“I regret buying ya those books, they takin’ my baby away f’om me”

[elvisgasm]

Absolutely. Understood. Abso-fuckin-lutely

[claire-elvisgirl]

🥵🥵🥵

[doll-elvis]

there’s truly nothing more ‘big daddy’ than elvis in the sundial suit😩

those lil chubby cheeks, pouty lips, fluffy hair and the lil bit of chest peaking through?!?!?

[claire-elvisgirl]

yep...the belt...😏😏

Elvis performing at the The Coliseum in Greensboro, NC, April 14, 1972.

[arealtrashact]

Do you have a favorite Elvis song? Or an album?👀👀

Why oh why would you ask me such an impossible question !

If you're twisting my arm.......... I'd say American Trilogy. The last minute of his 'Aloha' rendition of it never fails to give me chills. There really is no word to describe it other than EPIC.

[hooked-on-elvis]

Those are absolutely two of my favorite pictures of Elvis. Of course I like the details and all the info I can get on the pictures. One thing I have to say is that in that moment Elvis was in his 7th season at the International Hotel in Las Vegas (August 4th - September 4th 1972), and it was the first time he brought Linda Thompson to accompany him during the concerts (prior to that she had only accompanied Elvis during rehearsals in July). You can imagine how jealous I am of her because, well, just look at Elvis! 🫠🥲 Anyway, here's a little story about the fans with Elvis in those pictures:

Las Vegas, NV. Monday, August 28, 1972. Elvis with two Italian fans. The woman is Nicla Crippa and the man was the President of the Italian fan club, his name is Livio Monari. Livio Monari started the Italian FC in 1962. Together with Nicla Crippa, a personal friend and member of his Fan Club, they met Elvis just after the Midnight show on 26th August 1972. Photos taken that day didn't come out, so they asked to see Elvis again... to have new ones taken on the 28th August (2nd meeting) which are the ones shown above. They had just attended the Dinner & Midnight shows on the 28th Aug: when a waiter approached them - that Elvis was waiting for them.

Nicla said the following about the meeting:

1972 was a special year for me, I picked up all my saving of a year and together with Livio Monari at that time president of the E.P.F.C. of Italy, I flew to Las Vegas in August to see Elvis performing. When we arrived we were so excited that we started immediately to ask anybody of Elvis entourage if we could meet Elvis, crook Col. Parker was at a gambling table with his cigar and he said very rude "NO, you cannot met Elvis", then Joe Esposito who said No too, and when I told him "Hey Joe you are Italian like us" he answered "I'm not Italian, I was born in Chicago" very rude too... until I saw the name of Emilio Muscelli on an office door, I knocked and entered and I said with all my 18 years old enthusiasm (in fact I was not yet 18, I would have turned 18 on December 30) "Hi Emilio, we are Italians and we are here to see Elvis concerts and meet him"... well he took it good to his heart and from that point on he treated me like his daughter - he was 50 years old. We saw 14 concerts in 7 days and we met Elvis TWICE, the first time on August 26 but the pictures Joe Esposito took with Livio's camera did not come out as Livio due the emotion charged an already used film in the camera... the second time on August 28, this time we called a professional photographer to take the 2 pictures to be sure. When I saw Elvis the first time coming out of his dressing room I ran towards him and I almost jumped on him, I hugged and kissed him and he returned the hugs and kisses to me and he asked me "Hey baby how old are you" I answered "18" and he said "And you came all the way from Italy just to see me?" "Yes Elvis" and he "Oh baby..." and he hugged me again very tight. We stayed with him for 15 minutes, we gave him a trophy we brought from Italy unfortunately we have no picture of Elvis with our trophy but I saw it at Graceland Trophy Room in 1987. He wrote a dedication to me, and one to Livio, on 2 LPs we brought with us, he gave us a yellow scarf each, but especially I held his right hand in my hands for a long time, and he did not withdraw it, on the contrary he caressed my hands. He was such a gentle, sweet and tender person, he made us feel at ease and he slowed down speaking English as at that time I could not speak English well. We asked "when will you come to Europe?" he said looking at Joe "I definitely wanna go, after a project I have for January 1973 (Aloha from Hawaii) I'll ask Parker to organize a tour to Europe". The night after Emilio gave us seats in the first row, Elvis saw me from stage and he stooped down and he put a red scarf around my neck... and on August 28 we met him again same place backstage and he said "Hey you are still here, good", he had such a sense of humour. Those 2 meetings with Elvis still are the best moments of my life!

Credits: elvis-collectors.com

[suraemoon]

piano man 🎶🩶

[claire-elvisgirl]

OMG I WANNA CHOKE IN HIS HAIRY CHEST 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

[andy-wm]

"Who wouldn't want it when he looks like that?"

Yes, Olly Alexander knew exactly how JK felt

I've been absent, I know. Life. But look, one chirp ;) from the lovebirds and I'm back hehehe

With no preamble I'm going to sweep straight past the cute and charming interactions between Jimin & JK on Weverse - always together - and only glance at JK's song recommendations because right now I'm more interested in what came before.

This post by the fabulous @slaaverin, about JK and the song he posted 10 years ago - Memo by Years & Years - hit me so hard in the feels, I had to sit down. Even though I've mostly paid attention to their song recommendations (yes, I know I can do better) this one passed me by completely.

How could I not know that JK posted a song by Years & Years??!

And especially in 2015, when he was really going through it. He had feelings bigger than a house and nowhere to put them.

This for me is a key moment. Watch Gayo 4 and tell me JK wasn't dying of love.

He was - and still is - a boy with big feelings that he doesn't always have words for. His face and body language have told us that he's filled up to the brim but he seems to keep it inside unless he's made up his mind to say something.

Which of course makes the song recommendations in 2015 so significant. We know it wasn't only about the songs - it never is - it's all about how he's feeling at he time. And he picks out the lines so carefully, so precisely, so that they can speak for him.

And if you read the lyrics of all those songs from 2015 and focus on the lines he picked out, there's a clear message.

I'm pretty sure he wasn't looking at Eels cover of Elvis's Can't Help Falling In Love for musical inspiration. And picking out I'll give you my everything - a cheesy love song from the '70s - so he could say I have something to tell you? Neatly in between the 2015 Osaka fan-meet and the notorious RBT concert in Hong Kong?

Smooth...

Very smooth, JK

He was in love. He was in lust. He was probably confused and afraid of the consequences, but he couldn't let it go. I know this has been thoroughly dissected so I won't go down that path.

What I am stuck on here, is Years & Years.

Where some of the lines he posted could be the result of searching for songs with particular words in the lyrics, like I have something to tell you, Memo doesn't hit the same way.

I want more (x4) isn't romantic or emotive like some song lines he chose and also it doesn't convey a specific message like others. Without hearing the rest of the song it feels a little brash but in the context of the rest of the lyrics, and with the gentle melody, it's honestly very soft.

He must have listened to a lot of Years & Years because Memo is a beautiful song but it isn't one of their hits. It vanished into obscurity pretty quickly.

Memo wasn't just an LGBT+ song. Years and Years was a very brazenly LGBT+ group.

Olly is a huge icon.

Gay, out, and unapologetic, Olly was singing pop songs about genuine personal feelings and experiences. The songs explored all the nuanced feelings of lust, yearning, hurt, and uncertainty that come with falling in love. They have authenticity. They're the same type of songs Troye was singing in 2016 but a little more... adult. A little further along the track towards resolution. Olly was living the life of a young gay man and his songs reflect that. The content is pretty direct.

Years & Years weren't huge like The Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, or The Communards, but they were successful and popular especially amongst the lgbt+ community. They did get radio play in the UK too. Outside of that I think the group was relatively niche.

And yet, JK found them.

That he found them, says to me the he was searching for something. Searching for ways to make sense of his feelings in an environment that would be stifling for a young queer boy who was in love with his best friend.

The songs might not have been #1 on Billboard, but what they WERE was authentic and unambiguous.

Maybe I'm making too much of it but it makes me wonder where he would have been without a group like Years and Years.

If he hadn't heard those words in those songs, and felt the connection with the feelings expressed, would he have had certainty that what he felt was honest and real?

If he hadn't listened to someone else articulate emotions he could relate to, would he have had the words to describe his feelings when he finally confessed?

If Years & Years, and particularly Olly Alexander, hadn't been as successful as they were in 2015, would he have had the determination to face up to the company?

Who knows... maybe none of it really mattered and it was just a line from a song that he liked. But knowing - as ARMY - how much music can change your perception and your life, I don't think that's true. I think it meant something.

I'm so glad he found them.

💗💜💗

In case you've never seen him in action, here's Olly with the other members of Y&Y in concert at YES24 Hall in October 2022. He's wearing a yellow body stocking and thigh boots. Absolutely stunning performers.

[mysoulbelongstothe60s]

Pairing: FEM!Reader x Caregiver!Elvis Presley (Late 70s)

Warnings: Age regression themes, tantrums, crying, mild angst, hurt/comfort, sweet and fluffy moments, babyish speech (e.g. replacing "l" with "w"), emotional reconciliation

Summary: After a month of Elvis being away on tour, the reader is left at Graceland feeling abandoned and neglected. His cold phone calls only add to her frustration, leading her to throw a tantrum when he finally returns. Accusing him of not caring, the reader lashes out at Elvis, the Memphis Mafia, and everyone around her. But as the dust settles and she reflects on her actions, she realizes that Elvis was simply doing what he loves—singing for his fans. In an attempt to make things right, she writes him a heartfelt apology letter and goes to find him, hoping to patch things up and show him how much she truly loves him.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Graceland felt bigger when Elvis wasn’t there.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. You knew his tour schedule by heart, marked the days with little stars in your head, whispering, One day closer. The first week, his absence was manageable—his voice still fresh in your ears from late-night calls, the lingering scent of his cologne on his pillow. The housekeepers doted on you, Red and Charlie checked in, and the routine stayed the same.

But then, the days stretched. The calls got shorter.

By the second week, Elvis was different on the phone. Tired. Distracted. Sometimes, cold. You’d cling to the receiver, voice soft and needy, only to be met with clipped answers and heavy sighs. “I know, honey. I miss ya too. But I gotta go, alright?” The dial tone would ring in your ears long after he hung up.

By the third week, you stopped expecting warmth. You stopped hoping he'd say something sweet before hanging up. You still answered every call, still waited by the phone like a lost puppy, but the excitement had dulled into something else. Something bitter. Because even when he was there, he wasn’t really there. “Ain’t got time for this, darlin’. You know I love ya. Don’t make me feel guilty.” And just like that, the conversation would be over before it ever really began.

The house felt colder. The staff—bless them—tried their best, but they weren’t him. They didn’t fill the empty space in your bed or stroke your hair when the quiet got too loud. They didn’t hum soft lullabies when the world felt too big, too lonely.

By the fourth week, you were mad.

Mad that he left. Mad that he didn’t sound sorry. Mad that no matter how bratty you were, how much you stomped your foot or refused to eat dinner, he didn’t see it. He wasn’t here to fix it, wasn’t here to scoop you up and tell you he understood. You could cry all you wanted, but it wouldn’t reach him through the wires of a telephone.

But today, he was coming home.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to run into his arms or make him suffer the way you had.

The day passed in slow motion.

You should be happy. You should be running to the front door, counting the minutes until you saw him again. But all you could think about was every cold phone call, every rushed goodbye, every moment you spent staring at the ceiling, waiting for something—anything—from him.

So you didn’t bounce out of bed. You didn’t even rush to get dressed. You stayed curled up under the blankets until one of the housekeepers came in, gently coaxing you up with soft words and a warm smile. You let her dress you, comb your hair, but you didn’t say much. You just let it happen, your mind somewhere else.

Downstairs, the staff was busy. The house had been cleaned top to bottom, fresh flowers in the vases, food being prepped in the kitchen. The Memphis Mafia moved through the halls, making sure everything was perfect for Elvis’ return. Someone made a joke about how you must be counting down the seconds until he walked through the door, and you just forced a tight-lipped smile, gripping the hem of your dress between your fingers.

You weren’t counting. Not this time.

By noon, you could hardly sit still, but not in the way they expected. There was no excited bouncing, no impatient peeking out the window. Instead, there was a slow burn in your chest, something bubbling under the surface. You pushed your food around your plate at lunch, barely answering when someone asked if you were okay. You ignored the fond looks from the housekeepers, the way they seemed to expect you to light up at any moment.

But how could you?

He was gone for weeks. Left you here, alone, with nothing but half-hearted phone calls and clipped goodnights. And now, he thought he could just walk back through the door like nothing happened? Like you hadn’t spent the past month missing him so much it made your chest ache?

No.

You weren’t going to run to him. You weren’t going to let him think it was okay.

So you stayed stubbornly curled up on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the front door but refusing to move toward it. The sun dipped lower in the sky. The hours stretched. The tension coiled in your belly, tighter and tighter.

---

You heard the door open.

He was here.

The sound of voices downstairs made your stomach twist even tighter. You gripped your stuffed bunny, pressing it against your chest as you listened to the laughter, the deep rumble of Elvis’ voice mixing with the Memphis Mafia’s greetings. He was happy to see them. Chatting. Taking his time. Not rushing upstairs to see you.

Your bottom lip trembled.

You knew this was going to happen. He left you alone for a whole month, barely called, acted all cold on the phone, and now he was taking his sweet time saying hi to everybody else before coming to see you? Like you weren’t the one who missed him the most? Like you weren’t up here, waiting and waiting and waiting—

A sob bubbled up in your throat, hot and angry. You kicked your legs against the bed, gripping your bunny tighter.

"Stupid Ewvis!" you huffed, voice thick and wobbly. "Don’t even cawe ‘bout me no mowe!"

You threw your bunny across the room, watching it flop onto the floor with a huff. Then you kicked your feet against the mattress again, just to make noise, just to make somethig happen.

Downstairs, the voices kept going.

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen.

He was still down there.

Tears pricked your eyes as frustration boiled over. You scrambled off the bed, snatched up the closest stuffed animal—a big ol’ teddy bear Elvis gave you last Christmas—and hurled it at the door.

THUMP.

The sound was loud, but not loud enough.

You grabbed another toy, a soft little puppy, and threw it next. Then another. And another. Each one hit the door with a dull thud, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. You wanted him to hear you, to know you were mad, to fix it.

Then, finally—

Footsteps. Heavy boots on the stairs.

You froze, breath hitching, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

The doorknob turned.

Elvis stepped inside, still in his travel clothes, dark sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair. He looked tired, but when he saw the mess of toys scattered across the floor, his eyebrows shot up. His lips parted, like he was about t’say something but then his gaze landed on you.

Curled up in the corner, face red, hands trembling.

And that’s when it hit him.

You weren’t just mad.

You were still little.

His expression softened instantly. "Aw, hell, baby…"

You sniffled, curling in on yourself. "Don’t wanna tawk t’you."

He sighed, stepping inside, closing the door behind him. "C’mon now, sweetheart, ain’t gotta be like this. Daddy’s home."

You glared at him, bottom lip jutting out. "Don’t cawe! Didn’t even come see me! Tawked t’evewybody ewse f’so wong!"

Elvis exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I know, baby, I know. Was jus’ tryna—"

"Don’t cawe!" you interrupted, voice cracking. "You weft me! You was mean on da phone! Now you back ‘n you don’t cawe!"

His jaw tensed, guilt flickering across his face. He took another step toward you, slow and careful, like he was approaching a skittish little thing. "Sugar, y’know that ain’t true. Missed ya somethin’ fierce."

You huffed, turning your face away, curling tighter into yourself. "Don’t bewieve you."

Elvis let out a breath, then crouched down beside you, close but not too close. His voice dropped to that soft, low drawl he used when he was trying t’calm you down. "Baby, look at me."

You refused.

Elvis was patient. He always was with you. But right now, that only made you madder.

You didn’t want him to be soft and sweet, not after what he did. You wanted him to hurt the way you did, to feel as bad as you felt all those lonely nights when he didn’t call, when he sounded cold and distant.

Your little hands balled into fists, shaking with frustration. "No! Don’ wanna tawk t’you! Don’ wanna see you!"

Elvis sighed, staying crouched beside you, reaching out again. "C’mon, sugar, I know y’mad, but—"

"No!" you shrieked, smacking his hand away before grabbing the nearest stuffed animal—a big ol’ floppy-eared puppy—and hurling it right at him.

Elvis barely flinched. The toy bounced off his shoulder and hit the floor. "Ain’t gonna help nothin’, baby."

That only made you madder.

You grabbed another stuffed animal—your big teddy bear—and threw it even harder. "You weft me!"

THUMP.

"Didn’t caww me!"

THUMP.

"Was so mean t’me!"

THUMP.

"Bet you was wiff otha giwws!"

That made him pause. His brows pulled together, lips parting slightly like he couldn’t believe what you just said. "What?"

You were breathing hard now, chest rising and falling fast, eyes blurry with angry tears. "You heawd me!" you spat, voice shaking. "Bet you was wiff pwetty wadies ‘n you didn’t caww ‘cause you didn’t cawe!"

Elvis’ jaw tightened. He exhaled slow, like he was trying to keep his patience. "Ain’t never done that, baby, and y’know it."

You sniffled hard, shoulders rising to your ears. "Do I?"

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Jesus, darlin’…"

But you weren’t done.

"Bet you was huggin’ ‘em, t-touchin’ ‘em, givin’ ‘em kisses—"

"Now stop it," Elvis cut in, voice low, firm. "Ain’t never been like that, sugar, not ever."

You huffed, tears spilling over as you reached for another stuffed animal. "Wiar!"

You threw it at him. Then another. And another.

One hit his arm. One hit his knee. One bounced off his boot and landed in the middle of the floor.

Elvis sighed. Long and heavy.

Then, without another word, he stood up. Straightened his jacket. Adjusted the sunglasses still perched on his head.

And walked toward the door.

You froze. "W-Where you goin’?!"

Elvis didn’t turn around. "Ain’t gon’ sit here ‘n let ya scream at me, sugar," he said, voice calm but tired. "Y’need t’calm down, ‘n I ain’t helpin’ none by sittin’ here lettin’ ya throw things at me."

Your chest tightened. Panic bubbled up, mixing with the anger. "Nuh-uh! No weavin’!"

Elvis opened the door.

"Daddy!" you wailed, voice cracking.

That made him stop. Just for a second. His shoulders rose, like he was taking a deep breath, but he didn’t turn around.

Then, just as slow, he stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

And just like that—

He was gone.

The room was quiet now. Too quiet.

You sat there, knees pulled up to your chest, surrounded by the mess you’d made. Stuffed animals scattered across the floor, the covers on your bed twisted and thrown aside, little sniffles still hiccuping out of your chest.

Elvis was gone.

For a while, you were still mad. You sat there, arms crossed, glaring at the door like you expected him to come crawling back, begging for your forgiveness. He should come back. He should feel bad. He should be the one apologizing, not just leaving you like that.

But he didn’t come back.

Minutes ticked by.

Five.

Ten.

And then, slowly, the stubborn little fire in your belly started to cool.

You rubbed your face with your sleeve, sniffling again, and thought about what you’d said. Bet you was wiff otha giwws. Your own words rang in your head, sounding smaller now, weaker. Elvis had looked hurt when you said that. Not angry. Not mad. Just… tired.

And maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t been fair.

You peeked at the door, like maybe he was standing right outside, waiting for you to call for him. But there was nothing. No footsteps. No voice. Just silence.

You flopped back onto the bed, gripping the edge of your blanket, heart twisting in your chest.

Elvis did love you. He always made sure you were safe, made sure you had everything you needed. He built you this room, filled it with your favorite things, just so you’d never feel alone when he was away. And yeah, he’d been mean on the phone sometimes, but maybe he hadn’t meant to be. Maybe he was just tired, worn out from all the traveling, the singing, the meetin’ fans—

Oh.

Your breath hitched.

That’s what he’d been doing.

He wasn’t ignorin’ you. He wasn’t bein’ mean on purpose. He was just doin’ what he loves.

Singing for his fans. Performing. Being Elvis.

And what had you done when he got home?

Thrown a tantrum. Yelled at him. Threw things at him.

Your stomach twisted into a guilty little knot.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your puffy eyes. You had to say sorry. But words were hard, and you were still too shy, too stubborn to just go find him and say it out loud. No, you needed somethin’ else.

An apology letter.

You scrambled off the bed, digging through the little desk in the corner of the room. Crayons, paper, scissors—there! You grabbed a sheet of pink paper and started cutting, tongue poking out in concentration as you shaped it into a big, wobbly heart. It wasn’t perfect, but neither were you.

Then, gripping a chunky red crayon, you started writing.

“Deaw Daddy,

I sowwy.

Didn’t mean to be so mean. Didn’t mean to frow my toys at you. I miss you so so much ‘n I wuv you so much ‘n I know you wuv me too.

I know you gotta sing and see yo’ fans ‘n do what makes you happy. I jus’ missed you so bad I didn’t know what to do. But I shouldn’ta been a bad giww.

You awe my bestest best fwiend and da onwy pewson I evew wanna be wiff fowevew ‘n evew. I pinky pwomise I’ww twy t’be bettew next time. Pwomise!

Pwease fowgive me?

I wuv you so so so much.

Yo’ baby y/n”

You finished the letter with a big, wobbly heart at the bottom, then grabbed a sparkly sticker from your desk and stuck it right in the middle for extra cuteness. You sniffled, holding the letter to your chest for a moment, trying to build up the courage to go find him.

But you couldn’t just go empty-handed. You needed somethin’ else. Somethin’ that would make him really know you were sorry.

Your eyes flicked around the room before landing on your stuffed bunny—the one you never let anyone else touch, the one you slept with every single night. It was soft and well-loved, its ears a little floppy, but it was your favorite.

Slowly, you picked it up.

It hurt a little, thinking about giving it away, even just for a little while. But if anyone deserved it, it was Elvis.

With a deep breath, you tucked the letter under the bunny’s arm, clutching them both close as you padded toward the door.

Time to find Daddy.

---

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

You peeked down the hallway, then slowly crept toward the staircase, clutching your bunny tighter. You weren’t sure where Elvis had gone, but you had a feeling he was downstairs. Probably sitting in his chair, all tired and grumpy, maybe talking to the guys or drinking a Coke.

Your tummy fluttered with nerves as you made your way down. The Memphis Mafia was still around, lounging in the living room, talking and laughing, but Elvis wasn’t with them. You felt tiny standing there, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs, bunny squeezed against your chest.

Jerry spotted you first, his expression softening. "Hey there," he said gently. "Feelin’ a little better?"

You nodded shyly, but you didn’t stop. You just kept walking, poking your head into different rooms until—

There.

Elvis was in the den, sitting on the couch with his head back, one arm draped over his face like he had the worst headache in the world. He hadn’t even changed clothes yet, his boots still on, his shirt rumpled from travel. He looked tired.

Your heart squeezed.

For a second, you almost turned around. Almost ran back upstairs.

But no. You had to do this.

Slowly, hesitantly, you shuffled into the room, feet barely making a sound against the carpet. Elvis didn’t move. Didn’t look at you.

You took a deep breath, then stepped right up to the couch and held out the bunny and the letter with both hands.

A tiny, timid whisper left your lips.

"Fow you…"

Elvis didn’t move right away. For a long moment, he just sat there, eyes still covered by his arm, like he didn’t even know you were standing there. But then—

His arm slowly slid off his face, his eyes blinking up at you, surprised but soft, like he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

You stood there, holding the bunny and the letter like it was all you had left in the world. Your fingers were trembling. You tried to keep your gaze steady, but you could feel your heart racing in your chest.

Elvis stared at the bunny for a second, and then his eyes flicked up to meet yours. His voice was low and gentle when he spoke.

"What’s all this, sugar?"

You bit your lip, your eyes going down to the floor for a second. You didn’t know how to say it—how to tell him you were sorry, how to make up for everything that had gone wrong.

But you had to.

"I… I sowwy, Daddy," you murmured, voice shaky. "I didn’t mean to be so mean. I just… I missed you so much, I got mad, and… I know you had to be away, but… I wuv you so much. So much, Daddy. I… I jus’ wanna be with you."

Elvis' expression softened, and he sat up slowly. His big hands reached out to take the bunny from you, fingers brushing gently against your own. He looked at it for a moment—your favorite stuffed animal—and then back at you.

"Sugar, you ain't gotta apologize. I know y’missed me."

He pulled you toward him gently, your body soft and small in his arms. You could feel the warmth of him, that familiar sense of safety, and for a moment, all the tension you’d been holding onto melted away.

He held you for a second, and you buried your face in his chest, feeling a few tears escape. Elvis didn't rush you. He just let you cry.

"I’m so sowwy, Daddy…"

"Shhh, darlin', it’s alright," he said softly, stroking your hair. "You don’t gotta apologize. I should’ve been better, shoulda checked in more. But, sugar, you know I love you, right? I love you more than anything, more than the world. I’d never leave you on purpose. Just had to do what I do, y’know? Sing, see my fans, that’s my job. But you’re my world, baby."

You sniffled, your tiny hands clutching onto the sleeve of his shirt as you nodded. "I know, Daddy. I know you wuv me... I jus’ got so sad 'n mad. I... I wanted to be wiff you, but I was being a big baby."

Elvis chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek, wiping away your tears. "You ain’t a baby, sugar. You’re just... my little girl, and sometimes, little girls get upset. I understand, okay?"

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, soft eyes. "You fowgive me?"

"Course I do," he said, his voice full of warmth. "Ain’t nothing to forgive. I love you. Always will. You’re my girl, ain’t no doubt about it."

You smiled a little, the weight in your chest starting to lift. You’d made up. You’d said what you needed to say.

"Can we pway now?" you asked quietly, shifting from side to side. "I just wanna stay wiff you, Daddy..."

Elvis smiled, that familiar twinkle in his eye. "Course we can, sugar. We got all the time in the world."

He helped you climb up onto his lap, the bunny resting between the two of you. You snuggled into him, feeling his arms around you, secure and warm. You could hear the sound of his heartbeat, and everything felt right again.

"I love you, baby," he whispered.

"I wuv you too, Daddy," you replied, your voice small and soft.

And just like that, everything felt better.

_________________________________________________________________________

Hey everyone! This is my first time posting any of my writing, so I just wanted to say this is my first time posting any of my writting and I’d love to hear any feedback or advice you might have! I’m still learning and trying to improve, so please feel free to point out anything that could make it better ! Thank you! :)

[claire-elvisgirl]

OMG I'm in love 😍😍😍