Just a bunch of imagines about the King, Elvis Presley. I have read another compilation of imagines and that inspired me to write one too. Thanks to @applehead7122009 for the inspiration. Let me know how you like it!
|| For the first time in my life, I can publish a Christmas fiction on Christmas day!! Merry Christmas to all!! P.S: Tiffany makes jewelry even for men. ||
Christmas, 1968.
You wake up at eight o'clock sharp, you stretch your arms and legs as you yawn, getting up from the king-sized bed where you have been sleeping for ten years so far. You look out of the window, it is snowing. You have been desiring snow on Christmas day ever since you were a child. You finally pull the curtains to have a proper look on the driveway that leads to the exit. You see a figure in the snow, cleaning the road from the white crystal dust. You knock on the glass, and he turns around, waving at you.
You quickly put on your slippers and your pink/black gown before rushing downstairs. The door opens while you still are in the middle of the staircase. "G'mornin', little one! Merry Christmas!!" The man says, opening his arms, waiting for your hug. You giggle happily and jump in his arms, he lifts you up and spins around, chuckling along. Once you are back on your feet, you cup his face in your hands and whisper: "Merry Christmas, Elvis." He smiles and kisses your lips softly, rubbing your rib cage with his thumbs. You stay like this for a while, then he pulls away to hold your hand. "I've got a wonderful plan for today, baby. We're gon' open some of the presents now, then we'll get ready and go to Church. After that, we're gon' go have lunch at our place, everybody'll be here!" He announces, smiling like a little boy. You giggle and nod. "It seems like a worth plan." You reply, before being pulled to the living room.
Elvis makes you sit down, covering your legs with a blanket. "Just in case ya feel cold." He kisses your forehead, then heads to the kitchen. "Honey, what are you doing??" You ask, laughing a little at his excitement. "I'm just gonna prepare ya breakfast, satnin!" He yells from the stove. You shake your head, laughing as you look around at the decorations.
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The white Christmas tree is shining brightly, the beautiful red and golden balls add some joy to it. You look down at the presents, they are not many, but very big. You know how your husband does big stuff. Then, your man comes back. "Okay honey, I've prepared your favorite Christmas breakfast. Yesterday I made Mary do your one-bowl chocolate banana bread, which you can see in the dish on the left; then I prepared the winter citrus fruit salad, in the cup on the right. You've got a choice of drinks: milk, coffee, tea and chocolate with whipped cream. Now, enjoy your meal, pretty baby."
You are a little confused on how much food he is giving you, at first you thought he wanted you to remain thin, while on the other hand, you feel as if he wants you to blow up. Eventually, you start eating as Elvis walks to the piano in the other room, the two rooms are separated by a hallway. You smile at yourself as you hear him play Here Comes Santa Claus. You remember when you first heard that song on the radio, it was 1957. Elvis' voice seemed like an angel's voice to you, and that was basically the reason why you forced your family to make you work as a backup singer. His voice is more manly now, you love how he grew up during these years. You literally saw him going from being a little boy with little sideburns and floofy hair, to a hot, sexy stud with a great body and an even better hairstyle.
