Elvis Presley • Austin Butler imagines

The Wrong Kind Of Fame - ELVIS

@itzzz_miag here you go!! ❤️❤️

•Elvis POV•

I'm used to paparazzi making up shit about me. But my girlfriend y/n, is not. It hurts me to see the things people say about here all over the paper.

'Is y/n gaining weight!?' A magazine says.

It's ridiculous. Maybe if you stopped looking at my girlfriend, you would see what a douche you are!

"Elvis?" Y/n hollers at me.

"Yes darling?" I respond, throwing out the gross magazine.

I walk into the living room to see y/n staring at the cover of our local paper. It's saying some nasty things about our relationship.

She doesn't even bother looking up at me.

"You know that isn't true, come on. I wouldn't ever do something like that to the girl I love! Throw that out now." She looks up at me, startled.

"Go throw it out." I say again. She gets up and walks into the kitchen to throw it out.

•y/n POV•

As I'm throwing out the paper, I flip through some pages first. They are all talking about how I've gained weight. I haven't even gained that much!

The things they say about me are horrific.

The stress of becoming famous has caused me to binge eat. It's a bad habit I've had since I was a kid, but I have it controlled now. I'm better.

I just have a little bit of a belly now, is that illegal? No it's not!

I toss the paper into the trash and walk back into the living room to see Elvis putting on his boots.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, walking over.

"You're coming with me, we need some groceries." He says, leaning against the door waiting for me to put my shoes on.

"Okay!" I chimed, pulling on my shoes and following him out the door.

As we drive down to the gates of Graceland we see people piling on eachother to get a good glimpse of Elvis himself. I know they aren't here for me.

As we are driving past all of them, cameras are flashing, girls are yelling, and we quickly speed past them.

A few of the photographers run after our car but quickly run out of energy to follow too far.

We pull into the grocery store parking lot and there are people waiting for us as we park. How do they know where we are?

I get out of the car and I notice that all of the paparazzi runs over to me, not elvis.

"How do you feel about gaining weight?!"

"Are you working out?"

"Are you pregnant?!!"

The people are shooting questions a million times an hour.

A push everyone aside violently, sick of it.

They act surprised when I do this.

"She pushed me! She's having a manic episode!!" One of them yells.

The flashing doubles in one second.

"Get away from her!" Elvis shouts at them, guiding me into the store.

"They are so shitty." I voiced.

Elvis walks over to the baskets, grabbing one.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's all my fault." He whimpers, turning to face me holding a basket.

"No it's not, let's just shop." I say, walking into one of the many aisles.

T I M E S K I P

Once we are done, we pay and shove through the crowd again.

I want to see what they have to say about me, but Elvis can't know. He will be mad.

"Oh! I forgot something, I'll be right back." I say, running back into the store. I didn't bother letting him respond, i knew he would want to come with me.

"Just this please." I say to the cashier, laying a magazine with my picture in the cover.

I pay and day thank you. I quickly shove the magazine into my purse, hoping Elvis won't see.

As I'm getting back into the car, elvis asks me something.

"I thought you forgot something?" He gestured to my empty hands.

"Oh! They don't have what I need, sorry for making you wait." I admit, putting my purse on the floor gently.

"It's okay! Let's head home." He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

Once we get home, Elvis goes to shower, i pull out the magazine I bought.

As I'm flipping through the pages on our bed, I feel tears begin to form on my waterline.

The things that they say about me are so hurtful. Why would i be pregnant?!

I hear the water shut off in the bathroom, I quickly shove the magazine under my pillow and lean against the headboard as casually as I can.

"I'm don- hey what's wrong?" He says, sitting beside me in his towel.

"How can you tell?" I ask him.

"You're nose is all red, that means you've been crying. I know you, y/n." He explains.

I nod. "It's just the things that they say about me." I say to him, pulling the magazine out from under my pillow.

He grabs the magazine out of my hand.

"I told you to throw these away! They are so bad for you." He says gently, ripping some of the pages about me in half.

"I know, I couldn't help it. I wanted to see what they think of me!" I croaked. I lean my head on his shoulder.

"I know it's hard to deal with but you have to get used to it. All that matter is that you know you're beautiful in my eyes. Always." He stroked my head, laying a sweet kiss on the top.

"I know that. Everyone criticizing me is tough. Even though I know that none of it matters." I grumbled, looking at my lap.

"You're beautiful. Remember that." He says to me.

"Thank you."