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rjmartin11 · 2 years ago

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Remember to Not Forget Me

One Shot

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: What happens when you forget about the love of your life? Especially when the love of your life is Elvis Presley?

Warnings: Memory loss, talks of suicide, and maybe a happy ending with possible. But who's to say.

Word Count: 9.5K

Author's Notes: I got this idea from another popular author I will not name. What I will say is this. She was joking in her lustful tale about having amnesia. Then I was thinking, what if it wasn't a joke? Enjoy this bittersweet tale. If you love it, please like, comment, repost, and if you haven't yet. Follow!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

You open your eyes, and your vision is blurred. You breathe as if you're taking your first breath of life. You try sitting up in your position on the bed you lie in. As you blink yourself into reality, you notice the low fluorescent lighting and the sight buzz in the background. The windows are dimmed where you can't see the outside world.

There's a cleansing smell of bleach and alcohol, but something else hangs in the air. A fragrance or cologne. You aren't sure. You just wanna know,

"Where am I?" You whisper through your inflamed throat.

There's a man with his head on your bed. He hears you and awakens from his slumber. There's an unearthly beauty to him. His eyes are blue, and his hair is black. He has some stubble that travels from his chin to his lofty sideburns. A brilliant smile dons his face. His eyes are wet.

"Y/N, baby, you're awake. Thank you, God. You're awake." He celebrates his excitement by kisses your hand.

Tears roll down his cheeks not of sorrow but of pure joy. He tries to embrace you, but you jerk away from him. Confusing bounces between the both of you. Shock covers his ethereal face.

"Baby, what..."

"Baby?" You interrupt him, confusion surrounding your voice.

"Y/N. It's me."

"Who are you? I can't remember. I..." You say to him.

Your confession stops his heart and stills him. The tears that were once for joy are now tears of pain.

"You don't remember me?" He asks.

You shake your head, and tears fall from your eyes. These are tears for a life forgotten. Why can't you remember?

"Do you know who you are?" He asks.

"I-I-I... don't remember anything." You say.

"I have to get the doctor, but I wanna tell you this." He says, making you a cup of water.

You take the cup from and quinch your thirst. The coolness of the water soothes the burn in your throat.

"Your name is Y/N M/N Presley. I'm Elvis." He says.

"Who am I to you?" You ask, handing him the empty cup.

"Everything."

Elvis walks to the door, exiting the room. He comes back seconds later with a doctor and some nurses. They begin to start asking you a series of questions to see where your mind is.

"Good morning, dear. I'm Dr. Harvey. Can you tell me your name?" The doctor asks you, examining your hand and muscles.

"I don't know. He..." You point to Elvis, who's currently watching from the counter of the room. "He said my name is Y/N M/N Presley."

"Do you know what day it is?" Dr. Harvey asks, examining your eyes with his pen light.

"No."

"What year is it?"

"I don't know."

"How old are you?"

You shake your head, and tears fall from your eyes. You can't remember a thing.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I can't..." You cry.

"Well, Mrs. Presley, let me be the first to inform you that you took a nasty fall outside your home. That fall caused you to hit your head pretty hard. You've been in a coma for the last two weeks. It seems the fall has caused you amnesia. Hopefully, in time, you will get all your memories back. For the next few days, we'll keep a close eye on you to see if you're ready to go home. You can have visitors too."

"Visitors?"

"Yes, family and friends." Dr. Harvey says. "Your husband's been keeping a visual over you since you got here."

"Husband?"

The doctor points at Elvis.

"The gentleman standing quietly in the corner."

You look at Elvis, and he has a slight grin on his face. The doctor extends his hand to Elvis. Elvis gives him his hand and shakes it.

"Thank you, Doc."

"It won't be long now, Mr. Presley. This is where the real work begins. Try telling her things to jog her memory. It's helps and, most importantly, be patient with her. These things take time." Dr. Harvey explains to Elvis.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Dr. Harvey and his colleagues leave you alone with Elvis. You two quietly stare upon one another. There's something calming about him that makes your soul feel at peace. Which at this moment is weird because you can't remember anything.

Elvis grabs his chair and pulls to your bed to be closer to you.

"You're my husband?" You ask, breaking the silence.

"Yes." He says, lightly grabbing your hand.

"How long have we been married?"

"Two years. It'll be three in August."

"What month is it now?"

"It's March."

You start to cry again. It's so frustrating not being able to remember anything.

"Baby, please don't cry."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could remember. Why can't I remember?"

"I wish I knew why you came running out the house."

"I was running? From what?"

"I don't..."

The door slams open, interrupting your conversation with Elvis. In pops a girl you don't believe you know.

"Y/N, you're up! You're up! Thank God, she's up, E." The girl says, running in and grabs your head, kissing your forehead.

"Who???" You ask.

The expression on her face goes from glad to confused.

"Elvis, what's going on?" She asks.

"She has amnesia." Elvis answered, his eyes closed from the truth of it all.

"She doesn't remember us?" She said, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Elvis shakes his head, indicating the harsh truth that you can't remember them. Elvis moves out of his chair.

"Introduce yourself. I have to make some calls. Where's Jerry?" He asks.

"In the hall with the boys." She said. "Elvis."

Elvis stops in his tracks and looks back at her. She walks to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Y/N's, awake. She's going to remember us in time. We're going to take it one step at a time. Okay?"

"Okay." Elvis nods, then leaves the room.

She walks to the chair by your bedside that Elvis placed there and sits. She grabs your hand and smiles.

"Is it okay if I hold your hand?" She asks. "I believe touch is supposed to help with memory."

"It's not helping. I wish I could remember you. I wish I could remember anything."

"Well, I'm Lucy. I'm your best friend. We met sometime ago. We've been best friends for years. You are Y/N. Elvis' wife. I'm your husband's best friend's wife, Jerry."

"Lucy?"

"Yes. I'm Lucy."

"Tell me something I should remember, please?"

Lucy thinks quickly. There are so many memories to choose from.

"Oh. Your wedding day. I believe it's your favorite even if you can't recall. I'll do my best to paint you a picture." Lucy said. "You had picked out this beautiful dress. I actually helped you pick it out. We stayed in that dress shop for hours until you found your perfect gown. Off the shoulder lace on top with cream satin on the bottom. You were gorgeous, and you were so excited for your big day. We had candy and white wine while we got ready. We put forget-me-nots all over the place..."

"Forget-me-nots?" You asked.

"Your favorite flowers are forget-me-nots. Very rare little wildflowers. We had to grow them. Elvis had them planted all over the place. For the wedding, we put some in your curls, and we made your bouquet out of the forget-me-nots. You were just excited to see Elvis see you. I thought you were just going to run down the aisle to him."

"So I was happy?" You ask her.

"Happy doesn't cover it. Y/N, you're over the moon. Just brimming. I'm not going to tell you too much more. I'll let Elvis tell you." Lucy pats your hand.

"What about our friendship?" You ask.

"Y/N, next to Jerry, you are the only person I trust to confine in."

"Jerry... your husband."

"Right. That's right. That's good. Your mind's strong." Lucy said, patting your hand.

You and Lucy talk about meeting in Las Vegas. How you two bonded over drinks and conversations. Lucy left out a lot of important details about Elvis, hoping he would tell you himself or you'd find out on your own.

Ten minutes later, Elvis comes in with more visitors, and they come bearing gifts of flowers and candy. No one looks familiar to you, but everyone seems friendly. An older gentleman approaches you and leans down next to your bed.

"Hey, honey. You remember me?" He asks.

You shake your head. Was the message not passed around? Were they not informed of your current dilemma? Or is everyone just hoping by you seeing their faces it may spark something?

"I'm your daddy... in-law, but I love you just as if you were my own flesh and blood. My name is Vernon."

"Vernon." You repeat.

"Yes, honey. Yes." Vernon says, grabbing your hand.

You feel the grip of his warm hand and look at his face to see if there is any familiarity about him. He has a full head of hair all gray. His features are familiar, but not because you recognize him. Vernon's smile is bright, and his eyes are a clear blue. Even past all his wrinkles, he's quite handsome. You know his eyes. Those oceanic blues.

"You have Elvis' eyes." You tell him.

"Actually, being that I'm his daddy, I would say he has my eyes."

There was some laughter that filled the room at the comments that were being made between you and Vernon.

"Hey, baby." Elvis comes over to you and hands you a small bundle of blue and white flowers.

"Theses are beautiful. Are these forget-me-nots?" You ask.

"You remember?" Elvis asks, to his shock.

"Lucy told me about them. These are really pretty."

"Y/N, are you hungry. After all, it's been two weeks," Elvis says, leaning over you.

You touch your stomach, and it feels so empty. There's a pain there where food should reside. Suddenly, you feel gas in your stomach move from the lack of nourishment.

"I think food would be good." You answer.

Everyone clears the way, and the nurse comes through the door with a large plate of different foods you aren't too familiar with. The aroma is pleasing. The scent is astonishing, yet you don't know if it's good or not. Elvis takes the large tray from the nurse, and one of the other men in the room moves the food stand table in front of you. Elvis places the food on the table.

"What is this?" You ask.

"This my love is all your favorite foods. Chicken alfredo. Fried chicken stripes with honey mustard sauce. Garden salad with Caesar dressing. Tomato sauce with grilled provolone cheese. A side of tropical fruit. Mangoes, strawberries, pineapples, and white grapes. Water and an Oreo milkshake."

"This is a lot of food." You say.

"You don't have to eat it all. Just eat something. Please, eat anything." Elvis insists, scooting your table closer to you.

You look at everyone around the room and start to feel self-conscious. Are they going to be gawking at you while you eat? Is this a show that you do for everyone?

"Can I be alone and eat? Please?" You ask.

"It's no problem, Y/N, at all. Is it?" Lucy says, looking around the room.

All the men place your flowers and candy down on the widow seal. Some things are placed on your counter. Everyone tells you goodbye and leaves the room. Lucy kisses your forehead and tells you she'll see you tomorrow. Vernon kisses your cheek and leaves you with alone with Elvis sitting on your bed.

As the door closes behind them, Elvis looks at you with a smile on his face.

"You're still here?" You ask him.

"Yes, ma'am. Par our agreement. I am here."

"What agreement?"

"For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. It's part of our vows. I meant those when I said them. I know you don't remember, but I'm damn sure gonna help you." Elvis pauses. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to curse in front of you."

"What should I eat first?" You ask.

"Hmm. Try the chicken alfredo. It's your favorite of all the dishes."

You pick up the fork and plunge it deep into the bowl of pasta. You put it inside your mouth, allowing the food to coat your tongue. The flavor sends a rush through your body like you've never ever experienced, being that you don't remember. The flavor fills your taste buds with delight and pleasure. You love it so much that you start to shovel it in your mouth.

"Whoa, whoa. Baby, slow down. We don't want you to choke." Elvis says, putting his hand over yours to slow you down.

"Sorry." You say with a mouth full of pasta. You take your time chewing and swallowing the delicious cuisine.

"You know, Y/N, I was reading up on folks with amnesia." Elvis starts to say. "One specialist says that food can trigger memories."

You blink your eyes to see if it's working, but nothing is coming to mind. You can't remember. You sigh and shake your head at Elvis.

Elvis sighs, but he won't give up that easy.

"Drink this. It's cookies and cream." Elvis points out.

You pick up the frozen cup and take a sip. Oh, how tasty this treat is. The icy beverage is sweet and creamy with cookie chunks. It coats your mouth and throat with an invigorating sugar rush. The coldness numbs a part of you, but you continue to drink.

"Y/N, slow down before you get a..."

You throw your hand on your head and groan. "Owe! My head."

"Brain freeze." Elvis says. He takes the cup from you and offers you some water. "Take it slow, Baby. The food ain't going nowhere. Swear."

The water helps the ache of the brain freeze. You sample each morsel in front of you, slowly discovering a new flavor. All fascinating and new to you. The pineapple is quite a new favorite, you think, but the milkshake is more savoring. The salad is good but not as delicious as the tomato soup with grill cheese.

You sit back and relax yourself. You are full and satisfied. Elvis looks at you the entire time.

"Elvis?"

"Yes, love?" He answers.

"What's so interesting about me that you choose to stay here? And please don't joke about agreements."

"Is it not enough to believe that I love you? Am I that much of a stranger to you?"

"Yes, I..." Tears come pouring from your eyes. "I feel so lonely. I know I'm supposed to remember, but I don't. You don't understand how terrible this is to not know."

Elvis takes your hand to comfort you, but you pull away from him.

"Baby..."

"Stop calling me that."

"Y/N, I can't possibly know what you're going through, but I want to know if you let me in. It hurts me that you don't know me. We've been through it all. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Just ask, but please don't pull away from me. I can't take that." Elvis pleas with you.

He can't lose you. You don't know how his heart dropped seeing you run out of the house to him only to fall down and hit your head. He doesn't even understand why you were running in the first place. Elvis stayed at your side the entire time.

You don't remember this part either, but Elvis loathes hospitals. His mama took her last breath in the very hospital you are currently in. Nothing good has come from the hospital as far as Elvis is concerned. You waking up made Elvis' heart beat again after two weeks lying dormant. Doctors only talking about your concussion made him depressed. He went to a dark place. As dark as the place your coma took you. He doesn't want either of you to go back there.

He thought about alternative options if you didn't make it. He could not bury you. Thinking of it made him physically sick to his stomach. In his depressed state, he wanted to sleep but hated doing that for two reasons. One, he had vivid nightmares about newspaper articles saying, "Elvis Presley died of a broken heart." Others said, "Rock N Roller died by suicide following the unexpected death of love of his life." He would never even think of it, yet it haunted his very dreams.

His other reason was he wanted to be here when you woke up. He wanted to see the honeycomb of your light brown eyes. He needed to hear your voice.

You look at him now, seeing the pain in his eyes you want to comfort him. Being around him does bring you peace. A peace that you can't comprehend or fathom. It frightens you, but you know he means well.

"Okay, Elvis. What should I know?" You ask.

"You should know you love it when I call you baby. It's your favorite nickname. I've called you that it seems like forever. Since the moment we met."

"Where did we meet?"

"We met in Las Vegas. You spilled your drink on me. It was an accident, of course, but it was the best accident to ever happen to me. To us." Elvis offers you his hand.

You slowly take his hand, feeling the calluses and rough skin. You could tell he used his hands to work. These are the hands of a working man. You grab his hand and hold it.

"What else? Tell me more, please."

"You love reading. Sometimes, at night, we read to each other until one of us falls asleep. We can talk for hours about anything and everything. You like to sing in the shower. You have a beautiful voice, but you don't like singing in front of everyone. I feel special to have been your private audience on more than one occasion."

All these things he tells you make you feel better. You seem to be a fun-loving person so full of life. How do you get back to the Y/N he knows? If you don't remember, will he still care about you?

"And I love you, Y/N Presley." Elvis says, catching your attention. "I always have loved you, and I will always love."

"What if I never remember?" You ask, tearing up again.

"Then I will make you fall in love with me all over again." Elvis kisses your hand. "Because you are worth it."

That puts a smile on your face, and your heart sings. This man is obsessed with you. You indulge in the thought. Because there's a chance you already may be falling.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The next few days in the hospital were crucial. They determined if you had to stay longer or got to go home. You had to muscle tests and memory tests.

They made you go to rehab for your walking. If felt good getting out of the bed. The testing to see how well you could stand on your own first. Then they made you walk. The first day was the hardest, but Elvis didn't leave your side once. He was your coach and cheerleader. He held your hand the whole time. By day four, you were a pro on the tram mill.

Lucy and Jerry came by to see you daily. Telling you stories about yourself to jog your memories but nothing helped. More visitors came by to visit and reintroduce themselves to you.

During your memory tests, the nurse declared that you had a skill to remember what was told to you. Your long-term memories were what you needed to retrieve, but it would take time. The doctor tested you for headaches and pains, making your concussion gone. There was no brain bleeding. Thank God. Elvis was glad to hear it. A sigh of relief came over him.

It was time to go home, and Elvis was thrilled to see you coming home after a grueling three weeks. Lucy came to help get you dressed for the drive home.

"Y/N, we got everything? Makeup, clothes?" Elvis asking, searching the room. Elvis did not want to come back.

"I believe so." You answered, sitting in the wheelchair.

Elvis made sure you were completely bundled up. With it being the middle of March and all.

"Let's go." Elvis said, rolling you out of the room to the car.

All the nurses lined the halls to bid you farewell. It puts a smile on your face as they all say bye to you. You catch a few eyeing Elvis, but you aren't sure why. You just assumed that it's because he's handsome. They must sense his magnetism and his kindness. Elvis wasn't supposed to stay past visiting hours but somehow managed it. You didn't dwell on it too much. You were glad to have him around to catch you up on life even if you didn't remember.

As you roll out the hospital, you see a big black car waiting for you.

"Elvis, who's car is that?" You ask.

"It's ours."

The wind started to pick up, and you get out of the wheelchair heading for the car. You slide into the warm car and feel the instant comfort. You can tell the difference between the heat inside the car and the cold on the outside.

Elvis slides in next to you and shuts the door. You try to get familiar with your space. You sit in a bewildered amazement at the vehicle.

"Alright, Lamar. To Graceland." Elvis directs.

"You got it, boss." Lamar says from the drivers seat.

"Graceland?"

Elvis looks at you, a smile on his donning his lips. "Home." He whispers.

"Home." You repeat.

You aren't truly familiar with the place, but the work has a meaning behind it altogether. A peace of some sort. You consider whatever that peace may be as you sit back and look at the window, the outside world passing you by.

The car ride home is silent. You had things on your mind that you couldn't speak aloud such as,

Is my husband a con man or a mob boss? This Memphis Mafia thing is a bit much.

As you approach the gates of Graceland, you see a crowd of people surrounding the entrance. As soon as the crowd spots the limo, they start to scream and shout.

Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!

Girls all over the car. They are kind enough to let the car pass through the gates, but you still hear them screaming and shouting for Elvis.

"What's going on?" You ask, getting as far away from the door as possible.

Elvis grabs onto you as you scoot close to him.

"It's alright, darlin'. They won't hurt you." You whispers to reassure you of your safety.

"Who are they?"

"They're... fans."

"Fans? Of who?"

"Of me."

You look out the window as you go up the driveway of Graceland. The sight is breathtaking. These beautiful old trees drape the driveway to get closer to the house. The house is held up by four large pillars that guard the front door. The house itself is made from cobblestone, and the window shutters are green.

"Whoa..." is all you can manage to say.

"It is magnificent, ain't it?" Elvis whispers in your ear.

"This is your home?"

"Our. Home. Y/N. Ours."

"It's beautiful."

"You ready to go in?"

"I'm ready to get out the cold." You tell him.

The car comes to a halt by the front door. The car door opens, and Elvis scoots out first. He extends his hand to you, helping you out the car. He holds your hand tightly yet carefully as you go up the steps. Elvis pauses for a moment as if something is wrong.

"Boss, you okay?" The one they call Red asks.

Elvis looks up at Red, then back at you. He just nods his head and continues to the front door. He opens it to this luxurious home interior. Ivory carpet, royal blue curtains, crystal chandeliers, and a staircase.

"Elvis, what do you do exactly?" You ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"I'm in... entertainment." Elvis says, taking off your coat. "We'll talk more on that later. Are you hungry?"

The scent of food fills the air. You feel your stomach growl, and you begin to rub it. You look at Elvis and nod your head. Elvis smirks at you and leads to towards the dining room and into the kitchen.

"Ms. Mary has been cooking for you."

"Ms. Mary?"

You walk in the kitchen and see an older woman standing overthr stove cooking in a large pot. Her face is kind and pleasant. She sees you and smiles as she walks over to you.

"Welcome home, Ms. Y/N. I'm so glad you're back." She tells you.

Unlike everyone else you've met, she doesn't try to embrace you. Then you realize why. There's a chance Elvis has told her of your current condition. Why would she hug you if she knows you aren't familiar with her.

"Hello. Are you Ms. Mary?" You ask.

"Yes, I am. I'm your cook, and every once in a while, I help tiddy up the house for you and Mr. Elvis."

You look over to the pot of food nearly mesmerized from the smell and steam.

"Are you hungry, Ms. Y/N? Would you like something to eat?" Ms. Mary asked.

"I would, Ms. Mary. Yes. What... what is that you're cooking? It smells amazing."

Ms. Mary places her hand on your back and guides you over to the pot.

"This is BBQ gumbo with pulled chicken and shrimp. It's on the spicy side, but you enjoy spice most of the time. I have some sweet rolls to go along with it."

All of a sudden, you snatch one of the sweet rolls off the pan and drip it into the spicy gumbo. The flavor was overwhelmingly divine. It's spicy, but oh, so enjoyable. It warms your body. It's delicious and addictive. You can't stop eating it.

"Ms. Y/N, would you like a bowl?" Ms. Mary asks.

You forgot your manners, and a shade of blush covers your face.

"I'm sorry. Yes, please. I'd love a plate." You say covering your full mouth.

"Mr. Elvis, would you like a plate as well, sir?" She asks.

"Yes, please. We'll eat at the table, Ms. Mary." Elvis says, escorting you to the dining table.

Elvis pulls out your chair and then sits beside you at the head of the table. He slowly takes your hand. You look around the room. You look at the decor. The chandeliers. The stain glass windows and blue curtains. It's very beautiful and comforting.

"So, this is home?" You ask.

"Yes. Our house, but you're my home." Elvis says.

As he says this. Ms. Mary brings out to BBQ gumbo and the sweet rolls. Elvis thanks her and says a quick prayer still holding your hand.

"Dear God, thank you for what we are about to receive. We are truly thankful. Thank you for healing my bride and allowing her to come home after a rough three weeks. You are great, Lord. I thank you. Amen."

You look at Elvis with amazement. He's so caring and charming yet humble. It's alluring somehow.

"Hungry, baby?" Elvis asks.

"Yes," you nod your head as Elvis makes your bowl.

The gumbo warms you up from the inside out. The flavor coats mouth with chunky pieces of shrimp, rice, and vegetables. Your lips burn from the spice, but the sweet rolls measure out the flare. It's almost better than the tomato soup you had in the hospital.

"How you liking it, Y/N?" Elvis asks as he places his spoon down.

"It's great," you say, licking your lips. "So what do you do in entertainment?"

"I..." Elvis hesitates or a moment. "I-I-I sing. I play a little guitar and sometimes... I act."

"You sing? What kind of music?"

"It's a mixture of rock-n-roll, blues, country, and gospel. I really love gospel music," Elvis says, shyly looking away.

"So, is that how we met? Did you serenade me into marrying you?" You joke.

Elvis laughs at your wittiness. Something about the way he laughs warms your heart more than the gumbo. His smile is true and sincere. It makes you smile along with him. His eyes light up when he laughs. You begin to wonder if you're really that funny or if it's something else.

"No, baby. It's not how I got you to marry me. Although we did meet at one of my concerts in Vegas... kinda. It's more like a bar." Elvis says, grabbing your hand.

"Where I spilled my drink on you, right?"

Elvis smiles and nods his head.

"Yes, Y/N. That's exactly right."

"Do you remember that night? Can you tell me?" You ask, placing your hand over his other hand.

Elvis looks at your hands, touching him. It warms his heart that you touch him, and it sets his soul ablaze. It makes his Johnson perk up, but Elvis doesn't want to scare you away. He closes his eyes and tries to relax himself.

"Calm down, Little Elvis. Calm down. We have to wait just a little longer." Elvis thinks to himself.

"We..." Elvis starts to speak. "I was sitting alone. Just thinking. I-I get nervous before I perform."

"Why do you get nervous?" You ask him, seeing the worry in his eyes.

"It just bothers me. It's like... a fear of failin'. I just get so damn nervous in gonna fail. But... each and every time somebody comes along gives me the courage to get out there."

"Who was it?"

Elvis looks at you with this childlike innocent smile and says, "You."

There goes that feeling again. That electric charge passes from him to you in an instant. Your heart beats skip every other beat. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and goosebumps rise all over your skin. Your mouth goes bone dry, and you gulp. How does he have this power over you? Did it work like this when you remembered him?

"You moved the wrong way and spilled your drink over my arm. There was a sweetness and tenderness to you, I hadn't seen in anyone else," Elvis explains. "There... there was an innocence. A beauty. You had no idea who I was, and I loved that. You got to know me. The real me. The parts I don't show everybody. We... w-we made love that same night."

"Made love?" You whispered.

Elvis smiles and nods his head.

"Yes, and I knew that night you were mine. You meant to be mine," Elvis whispers as he leans his head against yours.

As he does so, you close your eyes and inhale. Still holding his hand, you open your eyes and eye his deep blue hues softly staring at you. You think you could get lost there. You realize that Elvis wants to show you his very soul.

"Come with me," Elvis beseeches you to follow him.

He stands from his chair at the table, never letting go of your hands. With his free hand, he pulls your chair out from the table, and you stand. You never drop your gaze from his eyes. It's as if Elvis has you under his spell, and you obey every movement.

Elvis leads you to the living room where his records are located.

"Let me play you something," Elvis says, placing the needle of the record player down on the album.

An unfamiliar tune starts to play. Although this tune is unfamiliar to you, you do find it quite pleasant and beautiful.

"Is this you singing, Elvis?"

Elvis looks at you and nods his head. He pulls you close to him. As he does so, he takes your hands and places them over his shoulders. First, your right arm, then your left arm. He slowly slides his hands down your arms to your shoulders and down to your waist.

"I want you to know. I'm not a dancer, but if it means I get to hold you, I'll do it," Elvis whispers as he gently sways you.

Your eyes are locked on his blue pools. They are so deep and light that you get lost in them.

"What's... this song called?" You whisper.

"It's called I Can't Help Falling in Love with You. I sung it for a film I did back in 1961."

"Of course," you smirk at him.

Elvis places his head on top of yours, and you let him sway you from side to side. You rest your head upon his shoulder. As you dance with him, you breathe in his musk, and he smells so good.

"I love you so much, Y/N." Elvis says.

You look at one another as the song ends. Look upon his ethereal face and wonder why can't you remember him. Elvis leans in to kiss you.

"Elvis, I'm tired," you say as you pull yourself away from his gaze.

"Okay. Let's go to bed then," He says, leading you upstairs.

When you reach the massive bedroom, you notice the large bed in front of you. Are you supposed to sleep here with him? What would he do if you asked to sleep elsewhere? Then you realize the bed is large enough for space to be in between you both.

"Please, Y/N," Elvis draws your attention back to him away from your thoughts. "Make yourself at home."

You quietly sit on the edge of the bed like a virgin on prom night. You're nervous and don't know Elvis' intentions. Elvis slips away into the bathroom, and you can hear the water running in the bathtub.

As he does that, you look around the room to familiarize yourself. You see a picture on the nightstand of you and Elvis kissing on another. You pick it up to examine it a little further. You look happy in his loving embrace. As if nothing could get in between you. You put the picture frame down as you notice another picture of you by a horse. You have your fingers intertwined together as you lean your back against Elvis. Elvis leans against a fence, and the majestic stallion has its head over the fence. All of you are smiling, even the horse is smiling.

"That's Rising Sun," Elvis says from the bathroom door.

"The horse's name?" You ask acknowledging him.

Elvis nods and offers you his hand. "Your bath is ready. I have your clothes here on the counter. You ready?"

You nod back at him and take his hand.

"May I bathe alone?" You ask.

"Of course. I'm just helping," Elvis says, walking you into the bathroom. "Let me know if there's anything you need," Elvis said, kissing you on the cheek.

His lips linger on your cheek long enough for you to feel just how soft they are. He walks out of the bathroom, leaving you to your devices. You place your hand over the spot where he planted his lips. Even though it was only a moment, electricity was filled.

You don't dwell on the thought too long. Although your cheek burns from the touch of him. You strip down and get in the warm water. The warmth of the water engulfs you, and you feel at ease, yet you still can't get Elvis off of your mind. Is this how it always was between you and Elvis.

You soak your body and wash yourself. You dip yourself in the water one last time and get out of the tub. You dry yourself off and dry your hair. You look into the foggy mirror but can't see your reflection. As you wipe a part of the mirror off, you see Elvis looking at you. You gasp and turn away to look at him, but he's not there. You quickly look back in the mirror to see yourself in the room alone. What just happened?

You don't dwell on what you thought you saw. You finish up in the bathroom, put your night clothes on, and head to the bedroom.

Elvis waits for you on the bed wearing nothing a towel. You gulp, and Elvis smirks at you. He knew that look even if you weren't familiar with it.

"Are you okay?" He asks, raising off of the bed. "How was your bath?"

"It was fine. Rejuvenating," You tell him.

You left out the part where you thought he was in the bathroom with you. You move past him and sit down the other side of the bed where your back faces him. You see a brush and start to pull it through your damp curls.

"Okay," Elvis says. "I'm about to take my bath."

"Okay," you say.

You hear Elvis go into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You think about what happened in the bathroom. Are these your memories trying to break through, but you're afraid to let them?

You don't contemplate on the subject any longer. You struggle brushing your hair with all the knots in trapped within the curls. On top of that, you're angry because you can't remember who you are. You start to sob as you furiously brush through your curls.

You don't hear Elvis exit the bathroom, but he quietly comes to sit beside you in the bed.

"Baby, let me help you with that," He says, gently taking the brush away from you.

You don't fight him. You find fighting him useless when all you want is to be near him. Elvis starts to brush out the ends of your hair and work his way to the top.

"Talk to me, please. Tell me what's the matter," Elvis asks in a gentle tone.

"Why can't I remember? This is such a terrible feeling not knowing who you are," you confess, tears stream down your cheeks.

Elvis brushes through your curls, and you're at peace. It feels so good and comforting. Goosepimples raise all over your skin, and you feel your cheeks flush.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'll remind you about everything," Elvis coos. "It's funny. How'd you know that this was your side of the bed?"

"I didn't. I just saw the brush."

"I think that's muscle memory. Your body remembers, but your mind doesn't."

You turn and look at him. Elvis is so beautiful. You are captivated by him. You look deep within his eyes, and he smiles at you. You look at his lips and want that feeling you felt earlier on your cheek. That sensation. That rush. Elvis places his head against yours.

"Why do I feel this way when I'm around you?" You ask.

"What way is that?" Elvis whispers.

"It's like a need," you confess. "Elvis, tell me the truth. Was I a good person? A good wife?"

"You're an amazing person, and you're an excellent wife. You're my favorite person," he says.

He wants to kiss you. He needs to kiss you. Elvis has been without your love for nearly four weeks. Sure, when you were unconscious, he kissed you, but not having you kiss him back was like a dagger through his heart. He knows he can't rush you, so he waits for you to come to him.

You close your eyes and softly kiss his lips. Elvis melts into you so easily, like butter. He opens his mouth, praying you let him into yours. And you do. You place your arms around his neck, and Elvis smiles as you both embrace. It's as if you've completely come back to him, and he missed you.

The next second, you push him away and run to the bathroom. You start to vomit in the toilet. You don't know what this feeling is. It wasn't Elvis. You enjoyed that feeling, but sickness just randomly came over you. Elvis comes up behind you and holds your hair as you continue to vomit.

Five minutes later, Elvis has you back in bed with a cool cloth over your brow. He called downstairs for Ms. Mary to bring up some crackers and water. She did so, and you chewed through the sleeve of crackers.

"You know," Elvis starts. "I've never made a woman physically sick before."

"It wasn't you. This was random. I'm so sorry."

"I'm joking, love. I know. Maybe it was too much food for dinner?"

You shrug and say, "Maybe."

When you finally close your eyes to sleep, Elvis kisses your head and turns out your lamp. He crawls over to his side of the bed, but not too far from you. Just in case you need him. He's relieved to be back in his own bed with you by his side. He can rest well knowing you're here.

The next day, you had to get along by yourself. Elvis hated leaving you, but he was overdue for studio time.

You got dressed in a fitted dress and went through the closet to see what a normal outfit looked like. You brushed through slowly feeling the fabrics and materials. There are so many different colors and styles.

After you're done with the closet, you make your way downstairs to familiarize yourself with the house and all the workers. Ms. Mary was absent this morning. There was another in the kitchen this morning. She was kind enough to make you breakfast.

"Morning, Ms. Y/N. It's so good to see you up and about," she said. "I'm Ms. Nancy Rooks. Your morning cook."

"Morning, Ms. Nancy," you say, walking into the kitchen. "Is this for me?"

"Yes, Ms. Y/N," Ms. Nancy answered, handing you the plate of food.

You reluctantly take it, fearing that you could get sick again. You don't feel nauseous. In fact, you feel like you haven't eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

"I'm hungry, but I'm afraid to eat anything. I got sick last night."

"Ms. Mary told me. From out of nowhere. You feeling better?" Ms. Nancy asked, lightly touching your hand.

"I'm better. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm starving," you tell her, grabbing your fork and eating the fruit off your plate.

You everything on your plate. The hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, and mixed fruit. You and Ms. Nancy speak about the daily routine around Graceland. She walks you around the house telling you about each room.

Among all the rooms in the house, you favored the jungle room most of all. You like how it faced the backyard, and you could see the grounds from the window. It was also close to the kitchen. It was a perfect setup for your day.

Lucy came over to spend the day with you and help jog your memory with some pictures that were taken.

"Here's the pictures of your wedding day. Here's the pictures when we were at the beach. Awe, you and E look so happy and in love," Lucy cooed.

You look at all these pictures and all these people you try to familiarize yourself with. It's not coming back to you at all. In fact, it's quite overwhelming. You try to focus on you in the pictures and your demeanor. You seem so happy, and so does Elvis. You can't keep your hands off one another.

"Lucy?" You ask, getting her attention. "Elvis is a good guy, right? Someone I'd run to if I was in need?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" Lucy wondered.

"I'm trying to figure out why I was running to him the day I fell."

"No one knows," Lucy admitted. "We questioned everyone in the house. Ms. Mary was here that afternoon. She said that you were happy. She said you hugged her and told her she was right. Then you ran to the door because you knew Elvis was home."

"What was she right about?" You asked out loud.

Lucy shrugs.

"Lucy, I've been feeling sick on and off all day. Last night before bed, I threw up."

"Maybe it's from the fell. The doctor said a slight concussion. Some patients experience nausea and dizziness with concussions," Lucy broke it down.

"I don't feel dizzy. I do want something else to eat."

Ms. Nancy brings you both a fresh plate of food, which you gladly indulge in.

"Y/N, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere," Lucy says.

"I'm sorry. I'm starving."

After you both finish up lunch, Lucy takes you outside to get some air. It's cool outside but not as cool as I was the day you came home. You walk along the backyard near the fence of the corral where the horses graze. You stay quiet and listen to Lucy talk about things you should remember. Dates. Places. Faces. You impress her with your knowledge of how you remember everything told to you, but it's not because you remember. It's because you've been told to remember.

You lean against the fence and watch the horses that were let out of the barn to graze for a few hours. The big stallion sees you and trots to the fence.

"Look who missed you," Lucy said, leaning against the fence to pet the horse.

You recognize this horse from one of your pictures with Elvis.

"Rising Sun? Is that you?" You ask.

"You remember?" Lucy says with wide eyes.

"Only from the pictures Elvis showed me last night," you say, petting Rising Sun. He's such a sweet horse.

"Y/N, tell me honestly," Lucy submits. "How are you?"

You look at her somberly and answer, "I'm lost." You pause to tell her all the right words so not to offend her. "I know I'm supposed to remember, but don't. I want to. It's a terrible feeling not knowing."

Lucy sheds a tear for you. She wants you to remember her and the good times you had. She really wants you to remember Elvis. He hasn't been himself since your accident.

"Lucy?"

"Yes?"

"Do Elvis and I have children? I saw that swing there between the trees," you ask, pointing to the two trees close by the house. There's a wooden swing there.

"No, not yet. Elvis put the swing there for you. You told him some of your best childhood memories with your mama were at the beach and swinging on the swings," Lucy says.

"My mama?" You ask.

You never thought about your parents, yet no one ever told you about them either. This is the first time you hear something about your mother. She never showed up at the hospital. Only Elvis and his family.

"Where is she? My mama?" You ask, looking at Lucy.

"Oh, Y/N. Your... mama passed away sometime ago. Long before you married Elvis. Long before you moved to Memphis." Lucy explained.

You feel an unexplainable grief in your heart that makes you want to cry and run away. If you weren't lost before you were now.

"My father? Is dead too?" You ask.

"You two are estranged. You don't speak of him or to him for that matter."

You can't help the tears that stream down your cheeks. For a moment, you thought your parents could unlock the questions of your past.

"Why was I..." You pause and cover your mouth. The nausea has returned, and you ran to vomit.

Lucy runs behind you to help in any way she can. You vomit once in the yard, and you manage to make it in the house for the second wave. You wash up and lie down on the sofa with a cool compress on your head. Lucy and Ms. Mary are with you keeping you company. Ms. Nancy has left for the evening.

You look around dazed and giddy. You close your eyes and listen to the voices.

You know you're the best thing that's happened to me, Y/N. I love you so much. I'm absolutely nuts about you.

I'm crazy about you too, Elvis. You're the sweetest and most fun person I've ever known. I don't want anyone else. I love you with all that I am. I can't believe you're mine.

"Darlin', wake up," Elvis whispers in your ear.

You open your eyes to Elvis sitting by you, holding your hand. You look at him and blink your eyes. Were you dreaming? Was it lust or a memory? The more you think about it, the further the dream fades away from you.

"You okay, baby?" Elvis asks you.

You nod your head and try to sit up.

"I'm fine," you tell him. "I'm just hungry."

Elvis laughs and asks Ms. Mary to make some plates of food. You try eating slower than usual. Elvis inquires about how your day went. You don't really say too much. Lucy let's Elvis know about the vomiting spells. Not trying to worry Elvis, you take his hand and reassure him you're fine.

After dinner, Lucy leaves, and you bid her farewell until tomorrow. You and Elvis go upstairs and get ready for bed.

For the next week, the days are all very similar. You're starving all the time. You get sick at least once a day. Lucy is there as a companion and confident in your times of need. You've grown to trust her very much. Between Lucy and Ms. Mary, you felt comfortable and cared for while Elvis was away.

Elvis, forever the gentleman, was able to take the end of the week off to take care of you himself. He went over pictures with you and favorite memories with you. Even though you don't remember your past memories of him, you find yourself falling deeply in love with him. You find him beautiful on the inside as well as on the outside. His soul glows brightly, and his charm is undeniable.

Your dreams invaded your every thought. You were fighting them at every moment.

When you feel sick, he's there to hold your hair and care for you.

"What is wrong with me?" You ask.

"I'd like to know myself," Elvis says, lightly dabbing your head with a damp cloth. "This has been going on for too long, Y/N. I think you need to see a doctor."

"No, Elvis. Please. I don't want to go back to the hospital."

"I'll have a doctor come out here to see you. I promise," Elvis says, kissing your forehead.

As he presses his lips to your head, you feel a jolt of electricity go through you.

"I'll leave you alone and go call our family doctor." Elvis leaves you in the bathroom to clean yourself up.

You sit on the floor and think about everything that you've been going through. It's all overwhelming, and you don't believe you can take any more bad news.

You look over and see a small white stick concealed between the toilet and the trash can. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you move closer to pick it off the floor. As you examine it, you notice there are two small pink lines.

"What does this mean? What is this?" You ask yourself.

Then, like a freight train, it hits you.

About four weeks ago

You lean against the sink and tap your foot impatiently against the floor. These next few moments could make or break you. These next moments could change your life. The last three days, you have been extra hungry, your feet swelled, and you smelled everything that came in and out the house. Not to mention, your period was two weeks late.

You spoke quietly with Ms. Mary, about your concerns. She joked and said,

"Y/N, you sound like the stork is coming to visit. Not to mention, I have been dreaming about fish the last few days," Ms. Mary laughed.

She joked, but you had a funny feeling come over you. Were you expecting Elvis' little one? You told Ms. Mary you'd be back home soon and left the house. You went to the store alone to pick up a pregnancy test. You made your way back home to take it, and here you are in the bathroom impatiently waiting for the stripes to tell you.

You go in the room and look at the clock on the nightstand. Ten minutes have passed. It's time to know. You take a deep breath before picking up the test and pray.

"God, if it be your will."

You open your eyes and see two pink lines. The excitement that rushes through you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. You're about to be a mommy, and Elvis is going to be a daddy.

You hear his car pull up to the door, and you rush to the window to confirm it's him. It's him!

You run downstairs with a smile on your face and glee in your heart. Elvis will be so thrilled you think. Ms. Mary is at the bottom of the staircase and says,

"Y/N, what's gotten into you?"

You hug her as you get to the bottom of the stairs and say,

"You were right!"

You let her go and run to the door to tell Elvis your good news. It's the beginning of March in Memphis, and it's freezing outside. You run towards him and slip on the stairs, hitting your head. It happened so fast that you didn't know what hit.

Back in the present

It was like a wave of memories rushed over you. After seeing the pictures and hearing the stories, it's like you jumped in the photos themselves and lived the moments of your life again. You remembered. Tears of joy fall from your eyes.

"Elvis," whisper as you get up and go searching for him.

You go downstairs and find him on the phone in the living room. He looks at you and smiles that beautiful, warm smile you love. It lightens up your heart, and you feel as though you can float away.

You want to tell him, but you don't want to just blurt it out. So you quietly sit with him until he's done with his phone conversation.

"Thank you, Dr. Nick. We'll be waiting," Elvis said, hanging up the phone. "Hey, baby. How you feeling?" He asked you.

"Much better, yes. Thank you," you tell him.

"I just got off the phone with Dr. Nick. He said he'd be here in an hour or so."

You think to yourself that's more than enough time.

"Dr. Nick. He any good?" You ask Elvis fully aware of Dr. Nick's credentials.

"He's my personal physician. I trust him with your health."

"So, we have an hour?" You ask.

Elvis nods his head. "What have we not discussed about our lives? How can I bring you back to me?" He asked, grabbing your hand.

"Elvis," you say, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Can you tell me about our first time?"

Elvis widens his eyes as he hears the question.

"Did she really just me that question?" He thinks.

"We. Huh. We... we went up to your room. In Las Vegas. We started out slow. We talked for a bit, and you told me about your first kiss. I decided that I should give you a real kiss."

"How did you kiss me?" You ask, looking him in his his cerulean eyes.

"It was like this," Elvis says, gently touching your face.

You see him eyeing your lips in the hungry look he gives you when he's ready to devour you.

"Open your mouth a little bit," He asks.

You remember him telling you this the first time you two made love. Elvis softly presses his lips to your, slow entering his tongue in your mouth. You light place your hands on his cheeks, kissing him back. It was sweet and gentle, just like the first time.

"Whoa..." Is all you can mustar up. "What else happened?"

"Well, I kissed you from head to toe."

"Show me. Please."

Elvis smiles because he's missed you in that way so much. He takes you upstairs to the bedroom and shows you exactly how he made love to you the first time. How fun it was and how you both didn't have to rush. You remember how he took care of you.

You're pregnant, so all your senses are heightened. To feel him inside you over stimulates your very being. Your core burns as you pulsate around him as he rocks in you. Elvis places his head between your neck and shoulder. He moans as you both cum together in the most passionate way. He kisses you softly on your neck and face as he rolls you both on your side.

"Oh, Elvis," you sigh with pure pleasure.

"I missed this," Elvis whispers. "I missed having you in my arms, baby."

"You left something out, didn't you?" You tease him.

"What? What do you mean?"

You look at him with a smirk on your face. "Elvis Aaron, you left out the part where I asked you to stay."

Elvis smiles at you and realizes you remember. After four weeks of being without you, he has you back. A tear escapes his eye, and he pulls you in closer.

"Y/N, baby, you remember?" He whispers.

"Yes, my love, I do. I remember everything. I even remember why I ran outside the day I fell. I was going to tell you..." You pause.

"Tell me what?" Elvis asks, anticipation fills his heart.

"We're gonna have a little rockstar in about nine months."

Elvis eyes widen, and the expression that covers his face is pure bliss.

"Y/N, are you telling me..."

"I'm pregnant, Elvis. We're gonna a baby."

"A baby? Ours?" Elvis says this and starts to laugh.

He embraces you and kisses your face. This is the beginning of something great. A piece of Elvis and a piece of you in the world. You already know how much you love your baby. You can't forget that.

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#elvispresley #elvis fans #elvis x reader #romance #elvis #elvis x y/n #70s elvis #ElvisPresleySeries #elvis smut #ElvisPresley fluff

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