Elvis One Shots/Imagines

I'll Be Home For Christmas - Elvis

A/N : Request by @NEwTieToMmY001 thank you for your patience, and I hope you don't mind the Christmas-y element I added! I've been listening to his Christmas album on repeat

"Parker wants us there at 11am, Mr Presley likes to sleep in," Keith said as he stood up from the desk he'd been sitting at. You threw your head back on the little red couch, your body laid out as he had described the plan for tomorrow.

"Of course he does."

"Mr Presley is a very famous man, you can't fault him for that," Keith says, handing you a plastic water bottle and sitting on the edge of the desk. "This is a huge opportunity for you."

You took a sip of the water, "Keith, I'm already well known. I don't need Elvis's help."

"Maybe, maybe not. Public opinion changes in the blink of an eye, but love for Elvis Presley has remained constant. It's been 10 years since the Louisiana Hayride, and people haven't stop loving him. Hell, he went away for the army and it didn't change anything. Hate to break it to you, Y/N, but you're a woman and the world's gonna be a lot harsher to you. It'd be wise to get him on your side."

You nodded, biting your lip.

Keith continued on as he slid his jacket on, "Brenda will be at your place by 8am to help you get ready. Since y'all are recording a Christmas album, she'll probably put you in something festive."

He made for the door when you called out, "thank you, Keith."

"Anything for my clients." And he left, closing the door to your apartment behind him. You stood from the couch and went to the window, looking at the men and women crowded around the street lamps and watching eagerly as Keith existed. They flooded him, asking questions about you.

You shut the curtains tightly, grasping your water and gulping the rest of it down in one swig. It wasn't even late out, yet the sun had long set on Beverly Hills. Winter does that. You wandered aimlessly around your apartment, thinking about this arrangement with Elvis Presley. A Christmas album.

You and the King were to sing a set of 12 Christmas songs for an album, one of which was going to be featured in a Coca Cola commercial the two of you were to film next week. You walked silently down the halls of your apartment, looking at the posters of the past films you'd been in. Your hand went to stroke the award you'd gotten for your single, Paper Moon. A cover of Ella Fitzgerald, though she'd sang it much better than you.

All these accomplishments lined your walls, filled your apartment, and yet Keith was right. One wrong move and the world would turn, just as they've done in the past. You were already fading from spotlight when you dared to make a comment about John F Kennedy cheating on Jackie. You knew it wasn't fair to hold this anger against Elvis Presley, you'd never even met the man. And yet, he seemed entirely untouchable.

You laid on your bed despite the early hour and stared up at the ceiling, configuring fancy shapes from the patterns. Your radio playing softly started to announce in a cheery voice, "And now, Y/N L/N with At Last!"

You clicked to switch stations, "...L/N's Can't Buy Me Love."

You clicked again, "...amazing us with her vocal prowess, we give you Y/N L/N singing These Boots Are Made For Walkin!"

You turned the radio off, sighing. All this and yet, you had to rely on Elvis Presley. If you didn't know better, you'd say Bah, Humbug.

The next morning, Brenda arrived promptly at 8am. She teased your hair large on your head, lined your eyes with black ink, and dressed you in a short red dress with long sleeves and a turtle neck. Black knee high boots to match, of course. Your chauffeur, Robert, picked you up at 10:15 and you arrived to the studio 10 minutes early. He offered to drive around a bit, but Keith said the two of you could just go in. He quickly escorted you into the building and towards the studio, excusing himself to find Colonel Tom Parker.