Elvis Presley Imagines

Return to sender!

|| Elvis is not famous in this story. Also, I wanted to use just a GIF pack, but I had to google for more movies to do a right thing. ||

1962.

You have just broken up with this man, Elvis Presley. Yes, he is handsome and kind, but too much of a sir to you. You'd rather have some time with a bad boy or someone who likes adrenaline, too. 

You enter your house and close the door behind you, locking yourself inside since it is very late. You've been living by yourself for six months, but you still are scared of thieves and such stuff. You have some mail in your hand, which is making you wonder who sent you all these letters. Might be your parents? You take off your shoes and remove your coat, hanging it on the rack. You leave your purse on the coffee table in the living room, then head to your room. You undress yourself and remain in your lingerie as you slide yourself under the sheets. You then start looking at the envelopes, one by one. You carefully look for the sender and sigh, glaring at his name.

Elvis Presley.

Elvis Presley.

Elvis Presley.

This goes on for almost 68 times, making you so mad. You quickly sit up from bed and get up, looking for a red marker. You take it and write RETURN TO SENDER  on every envelope. You then leave the mail on your bedside table, turning off the light and laying under the sheets again, closing your eyes.

The next morning you wake up early, you don't want to miss the postman. You stand up from your bed, stretching a little as you walk to the bathroom. You wash your face and apply some light makeup, then you do your hair, pulling it up in a ponytail with a red bow decorating it. You walk back to your room and wear a red dotted dress. You take the mail and slide your feet into your white shoes, running to the exit and looking for the postman. 

"Sir! Sir! Wait!" You call him. He looks at you and walks over. "Yes, ma'am?" He asks you, lifting his cap a little. You smile at him. "I've received all these letters, but I'm not interested. Would you mind returning them to their sender? Thank you." You tell him, then you rush back into your house, taking a deep breath. Why does Elvis want to talk to you? You guys aren't made for each other. You shake your head and sigh, sitting on your green sofa. You have to sing in town's most famous restaurant tonight, so you start practicing some vocal ranges. 

Elvis' P.O.V.

I'm awakened by a loud knock on my door, so I try to get up but I end up fallin' on the floor. "Comin'!" I yell, rubbin' my eyes and strugglin' a little to stand up properly. I pass a hand through my hair, tryna fix it since I don't have time to gel it. I walk to the front door and open, squeezin' my eyes and protectin' them with my hand due to the much light. 

"Hey, Elvis." My friend Sonny, the postman, looks at me. I smile softly. "Mornin', pal. How'd you been?" I ask him, invitin' him inside. He politely shakes his head as he hands me the mail. "You better stop trying with Y/N, man. She sent these all back to you again." He tells me. I roll my eyes and take the mail, then wave him g'bye before closin' my door. I throw the mail in the trash and walk to the phone, dialin' Y/N's number. 

...

...

No replies. She must really hate me. But I've always been kind to her, how come? Maybe I ain't enough for her. I put the receiver down again and walk to the bathroom, takin' a shower. I wish I could see her again, I miss her so much. We broke up just one month ago, but still it hurts me and my soul a lot. I'm tired of women playin' with my heart, she's been the one that I thought was the one, but ended up not bein' it. I swear that I'm gonna become a monk if I get dumped like this again. Hmph.