#elvis x louise

[be-my-ally]

Snowballs and Kisses

Hello darlings!! Merry Christmas! I hope everyone celebrating has a wonderful day, and everyone for whom it is a usual monday has a better than usual start to the week!! 

I have been MIA the last few weeks on here, but never fear I have been busy behind the scenes and hopefully more things and fics will be finished very soon!! I cannot wait for my little new year break, and *finally* catching up on all the stuff I've missed!! In the meantime as a ittle teeny tiny Christmas gift please enjoy this timeskip for my Splashing Around ‘verse to Christmas Eve 1960 and my shameless OC self insert of what I’d like to gift Elvis. 

a/n not totally accurate weather references: it didn’t actually snow in memphis in the latter half of 1959 but, this is fanfiction after all and it *was* very cold november 18th 1959. (I also cut a whole 4k of angst that will come out at some point as a separate chapter, Anita getting a poodle, and the colonel dressed as santa because honestly i just wanted to write and read fluff, but here's a warning that there may end up being more festive fics posted…a little late). 

warnings: 18+, smut lite; gentle fingering and references to cumming in pants. UNEDITED

Graceland - December 1960 

The excitement of having Elvis back at home for the festive season was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that it was his first Christmas at home without his mother. He’d not really tried to celebrate properly in Germany; sure they’d done the best they could, and he raved about the gift of a fully dressed tree for weeks,  but it hadn’t been the same as it would have been at home. 

This year though, Elvis seemed determined to restore the festive spirit. Perhaps even further than just restoration - an attempt to make it as bright and jolly as possible in response to both his mother’s passing, and missing the last two. He’d bragged to anyone who would listen about how excited he was to give out presents, his plans for even more lights than ever before; signs and lawn decorations.

While Louise was excited, it had left her in an almost constant state of anxiety, Christmas wasn’t just about the gift-giving… but it was a large enough part of it that it’s where her mind immediately went. From the moment he suggested they hang at Graceland that first year, from the first time they’d all pored over the letter to Frances, and his promises to “have a ball next Christmas”, giggling and whispering about what fun they were going to have the following year. From all of those times Louise had been preoccupied with what to get him and whether her secret plan was good enough for Elvis of all people. 

That first year he had reiterated to them all and was absolutely adamant no-one needed to gift him anything and wouldn’t hear of anything being sent over to him. But his frequent calls and mentions of the upcoming holiday belied his actual feelings and besides, Louise wanted him to feel special. Wanted him to know they’d been thinking of him as much as he must have missed being home. It wasn’t until the 27th of November and the slightest of snowfalls had occurred, tiny little snowflakes, delicately falling down when the temperature had dropped just enough for the rain to crystallise when a flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn’t send it, so instead she’d waited patiently, adding to her bundle throughout the months. Now that it was almost time to give it though she was second-guessing that two year decision. Was it too juvenile? It’s just so tricky to buy for the man who literally has anything he could ever wish for. As the festive period hurtles on she resigns herself to having to hunt for a back-up gift…maybe a nice sweater. Maybe that will do.  Or maybe it’s best to have options. 

Elvis’ melancholia about the holiday doesn’t seem to stretch into Christmas Eve, and he encourages them with all the enthusiasm he’s ever had. The party starts from mid-afternoon and stretches long into the evening and night with all the makings of an excellent time from the music to the food until eventually they all find themselves around the extravagant tree to exchange presents. It’s a little chaotic, so many people about and frequently someone’s having to dive from room to room to fetch people or hidden gifts. Louise finds it almost dizzying when she finally manages to take a seat on the long sofa, catching her breath from being sent to find someone. She was already finding herself struggling to think whenever she glanced over at Elvis - he looked outrageously good in a white shirt, black trousers - well, he looked outrageously good all the time at the moment - but there was something about the feeling in the air of the day that made it all the harder to act natural around him. Elvis had been quiet for a moment, but now he was sat on his armchair across the room, looking for all the world like a king on a throne ready to bestow his generosity on the peasants. Except, that’s not the feeling in the room at all; it’s jolly and wonderful, picture perfect - all of them slightly tipsy on champagne and vodka cocktails and finding the evening all the more entertaining for it. He announces he wants to give the presents that he’s bought everyone before he opens his own, and Louise dips her eyes when he hands her a little bow-tied box. No-one else’s comes with a ribbon and she strokes it, feeling a glow emanating from her stomach and chest as she imagines his nimble fingers tying it on, totally ignoring the fact that she knows someone else probably wrapped it for him. Still, she tugs it off to hide from the others - not wanting to be teased about how such a little gesture has made her blush so strongly - and tucks it into her palm, fully intending on slipping it into her shoe or around her wrist in a moment, knowing she’ll keep it forever - wear it in her hair like a declaration.

When she looks back up everyone has a similar box and she opens it quickly in case they’re all the same - she doesn’t want to ruin her surprise. There, nestled in a little velvet box is a ring, a huge, gaudy red stone in the centre, almost too big for her finger.  Louise is transfixed, staring at it, barely a thought in her head as she tries to wrap her head around the way it sparkles in the light. Despite the size of the gem, the band was more than a little small when she tries to slip it on, and she quietly puts it back into the box, not wanting to draw attention to her apparently larger than expected fingers. She glances around, suddenly coming out of her shocked obliviousness. Her face falling when she realises that everyone around her is unboxing similarly precious jewellery. She’s resigning herself to having to sneak it off to get it resized and hating herself a little for it, wondering if there are exercises she could do or maybe a special diet to shrink her fingers to size, when she suddenly realises all the other girls are turning each-other around, kissing Elvis on the cheek in thanks, or asking him to clasp their new necklaces. Louise looks back down at her box and the others. What does a ring mean? It’s been gifted with such casualness that it can’t possibly mean anything can it? When she looks back up Elvis is staring right at her, and she makes eye contact with him - her wide eyes meeting his laughing ones. He winks, and turns back to Red. She tries her best to distract herself from it, ooh and aahing over everyone else’s and keeping quiet about the little box clutched tight in her hand. 

Half hour later Elvis is admiring his own little haul, when he catches her eye again, 

“You forget about me Lou?” Louise cringes at being called out so publicly, 

“Of course not!” She looks around the room, at the large group gathered there, “No, uh, why don’t you, well I’ve gotten you something else….It’s a sweater. It’s not great really, but I… your real gift I’ve made you, but,” She swallows building her courage, unsure why she’s so nervous suddenly when she’d been so excited for so long; the whole idea just seemed juvenile and silly now. “… you’ve gotta follow me for it.” He stares into her eyes for a second, before nodding and standing up, gesturing at her as if to say ‘lead the way’. 

He grins at the boys when they walk out, making a salacious movement as if to suggest her gift may not be all too family-friendly to accompanying guffaws of laughter. She ignores it, even as her tummy churns; should she be offering that? Is that what he wants these days?

“Don’t laugh.” She asks nervously as they walk into the little pantry. Elvis looks bemused to find himself there, leaning against the wall of the tiny space 

“I won’t” Louise nods, shutting the door, only to hear Elvis giggle, “You tryin’ to get me alone, doll?” 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“One hell of a christmas present! to be locked in a cupboard with a pretty little gal.” 

She rolls her eyes, wiggling past him to get to the freezer, 

“Close your eyes.” He obediently does so, and she reaches into an old box of ice-cream to pull out a Tupperware, “Hold your hands out.” And she puts it in his cupped fingers, “Ok…open.” He blinks down at the Tupperware.

“Um. Well, thanks, I’m uh, sure this will be useful.” Louise rolls her eyes, impatiently tugging off the lid herself, “Oh.” Elvis goes silent, staring at the three perfect, teeny snowballs balanced in the tub. Each resting upon a little piece of paper with Louise’s very best cursive handwriting spelling out the date; December 12th 1958, 18th November 1959, and 20th December 1960.  

The silence stretches as Elvis stares at the box, and Louise starts to ramble nervously,  “I was starting to panic this year, but at least I’d thought to pick some up back in January — it snowed so heavy on the 5th.  I think it was, or maybe the 15th? I’ll have to check my diary… so I mean it isn’t entirely accurate that it’s all from the 20th - but I mean, I had to have something and well I know how much you loved it when, when your mother… and I wanted you to know I’ve been thinkin’ of you non-stop while you were away. So, here, the first snow from the garden from every year you missed.” Elvis is still staring at the box, one finger poking each little round ball. 

“This really snow from two years ago?” 

“Uh-huh… I mean I don’t know what you’re gonna do with it now, but it really is… been in that box in the freezer this whole time…I hid it from everyone. Every time someone said they wanted some ice cream I panicked.”  

“Lou.” 

“‘M sorry this is really stupid, god - what are you gonna do with some snowballs, I should’ve gone in with the other girls, got you something really good… I just - well, I thought you’d like it and I know you misse-”

“Baby, I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I… I didn’t think anyone would think of me like this, like mama did, ever again. I - well, thank you, Lou darling, this is, well, its the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.” He grabs her arm, tugging her to him - pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, the force of it surprising her.  “I’m gonna show everyone - c’mon - quick before they melt.” He runs out of the kitchen, leaving Louise to follow meekly behind. 

He shows them off like he’s a new father, proudly holding them up in the box, delicately picking one of them up and sighing at it, holding it up at the light for everyone to marvel at. It’s a little ridiculous in some ways - everyone in the room had been gifted something hugely lavish, and yet the thing  everyone was talking and gossiping at was a snowball. 

Hours later the party finally winds down enough that Louise realises she’s one of the last few stragglers of a night so late it’s turned into Christmas morning. How she’d ended up in this position she’ll never know, and she questions it herself as she stands quietly in the doorway, watching Elvis fumble on the piano. Just his fiddling is beautiful, little snippets of remembered carols, before he hammers onto the keys, singing along to Santa Claus is Back in Town. Louise can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes her and he looks up at her, smiling almost teasingly, perfect glint in his eye as he pauses for a second to run a hand through his hair before he continues for another verse and a half. He stops almost abruptly, standing up to stretch before turning to her. She’s trying to find the words to explain how beautiful it was, how perfect he sounds - how she can feel it throughout her whole being, but before she can express those sentiments he’s in front of her and grasping her hand. 

“C’mon,” He tugs her over to the armchair he’d been sat in earlier in the evening, “Over here hon, that’s it - you’re the last.” Elvis throws himself onto the chair, holding onto her, pulling her stumbling body against his. “You’re the last of my girls left…” He sighs melodramatically and Louise giggles uncontrollably back at him. She’d had an illicit two glasses and a half of champagne earlier in the evening; Elvis had playfully wagged his finger at her as she’d accepted it from Red although she’d seen him have more than a few drinks himself. She can feel the bubbles still settling into her tummy and head, fuzzing her thoughts a little and making her giggly and affectionate. Still, she wasn’t so tipsy she couldn’t call out his overdramatic behaviour. 

“They’ve just gone home for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure.”  She shakes her head. He ignores her, crying out, 

“I’m all alone!” He tugs her by her elbow, catching her as she stumbles into his lap, pulling her onto him, flattening her wide skirt. It wasn’t really the fashion anymore but while she’d been momentarily hesitant about her holiday dress she wasn’t self-conscious, and she liked how it made her shape look. Some might suggest the bow and petticoats were juvenile, but it made her feel more adult than the tighter styles that were starting to become popular with her peers, more herself than playing dress-up. 

She snuggles under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, cheeks pressed against the little buttons of his shirt. He pretends to choke at her hair brushing his nose, using his free hand to flatten it under his chin and she grins, shivering against him as his breath tickles her skin. They stay cuddled for a few moments, sinking into the kind of happy exhaustion that seems to only occur on holidays. It feels different than before, although Elvis is more similarly carefree than she’d seen him in a long time. He’d grown up a lot over the years she hadn’t seen him, or so it felt, and his adultness didn’t match the image of him playing and fooling around that she had in her head. It’s an awful feeling, she thinks, that even with him right there, surrounding her, she still longs for a little more of the playfulness of the past.

Suddenly though Elvis shifts, interrupting her thoughts and murmuring against the top of her head, 

“Y’hear that?” Louise stops breathing, and all she can hear is the solid thump-thump of his heart against her ear, he waits a second but she can’t work out what he’s referring to and doesn’t respond, he gasps “There it is again! Do you hear it?” 

Louise shakes her head against him, frowning a little, “No?” She tries really hard to listen out, but other than the faintest hint of the music from the boys in the other room she can’t hear a thing. “The music?”  

“No! No, listen.” He puts his finger to his lips, shushing her,

“I really don’t hear anything Elvis.” He wraps his arm around her waist a little tighter, tugging her up so she was sat more upright on his knee, her face close to his. He whispers into her ear, 

“I think I hear hooves…” Louise frowns, 

“Hooves!?” God, it would be just her luck that he’d gone and bought her a horse or something, and she’d have to act grateful even though she was terrified of them.  

“Mmhmm, that’s right.” His hand rises up to brush across her back gently, fingertips dancing around her side, “Hooves. Hooves and bells.” He pauses for dramatic effect, jabbing his finger into her side in a tickling poke. His voice dips lower, as his arm squeezes around her, “Someone must have been a good girl this year.” 

Louise grins when she realises what he’s implying and couldn’t bring herself not to play along. 

“…You think it’s Santa Claus?!” 

“Hmm, definitely…who else would it be, on the roof with hooves and bells on Christmas eve?” She giggles, both in response to his kind-natured teasing and his fingers poking her side with an exaggerated motion.

“Oh, I wonder what he’ll leave in my stocking…” Elvis hums against her hair, 

“Mmm. Coal.” 

“Nooo!” She giggles back to him, “You just said I’ve been a good girl!”

“You’ve been a very good little girl.” His voice has hit that low pitch that immediately sends a jolt down her spine, right into the pit of her stomach and she swallows, trying to keep up with the joke. 

“Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is.” 

“Mmhmm….” His hand brushes up her leg, “Bet ya I’ll like what’s in your stockings more…” 

“Elvis!” She shrieks, playfully batting his hand away, he pulls it off of her, smoothing down her skirt, and resting it onto her lap for a moment. Louise feels her breath catching as he presses a kiss to the side of her head, brushing her hair out of the way and shifting her on his thigh so that she’s facing him. It’s almost a struggle for her to meet his eyes, she felt so desperate for his attention - but there was nowhere else to look that made her feel any less heated. His hair, god even his eyebrows were Elvis-enough to make her squirm. It’s only a second of him kissing her jaw, before she’s gasping for him, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s grabbing his hand and shoving it back on her thigh. 

She’d kept herself for him, even as it felt that she’d been playing before, doing it for someone who would never notice or care - ostensibly in general, but really if she was truthful - for him. She’d touched herself, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation, especially after his deep voice came through the phone - but the other boys, the boys in school, the ones with blue collar jobs and careers, had all lost their appeal whenever she imagined kissing them, and her imagination interposed the image and feeling of him, his slippery body in the pool, the feel of him in front of her on the bike. He was thinner now, even still, than he was before, puppy fat replaced with lean muscles. His face shape changed just the tiniest bit, perhaps unnoticeable to some, but so very obvious to her, cheekbones and chin more angular than before. But his lips feel the same as they did before he left, and since his return home - she’d expected they’d have lost their eager nature, but still she can feel the hint of desperation as he presses them against her jaw.

She gasps, rocking against him as he roves down her neck - a place no one else has ever touched, tiny points of pressure feeling like a heat was expanding across her neck and chest, matching the clench of her thighs. His hand gently strokes up her stockings before he hitches her up, capturing his mouth with hers and shoving her underlayers up to her waist in the abrupt movement. Louise moves with him, desperate to stay in contact with his lips and she moans in upset when he starts to pull away. 

“C’mon baby,” He whispers, “C’mon, Lou-Lou let me - let me say thank you,” He’s barely audible as he speaks against her lips between pressing bruising kisses onto them, “I just - wanna, wanna make you feel good, Lou doll.” She gasps out her agreement, eyes falling closed and her head falling into his shoulder as his fingers find their way to rub against the silk of her underwear. He shifts her again, balancing her so she can rock against his thigh and his hand, whilst also rubbing her leg against his covered crotch. Louise is almost surprised at the heat of him against her thigh, but her curiosity has no chance to be satisfied when he hooks a finger under the leg band of her panties, totally distracting her from anything but the feel of him under her and attempting to stay somewhat upright. His finger feels softer than she’d imagined, and yet, in comparison to her own the pads feel foreign, rougher and surer than hers ever were sliding into the wetness they find there.

“God, you’re so soft baby, so fucking soft in here, perfect for me, you been waiting on me, honey?” 

“Uh-huh, waited, waited so long for you Elvis - didn’t, I didn’t want anyone but you.” He groans in response, his fingers moving faster. Until he’s forced to stop, tangled in the fabric and he growls in frustration. Louise feels it go straight down her body, and her thighs clench, trapping his hand even more. He pauses for barely a second to manhandle her up, just enough to roughly tug her panties down enough that it’s now entirely her bare skin rubbing against his hand and clothed thigh, the fibres of his trousers almost giving her a friction burn with her rapid movements. He continues as he was a second earlier, but now with far easier access he’s able to swipe his fingers across her clit, taking her to the edge almost immediately. She has no idea if this was something he’s always done well, or if this is a trick he’d picked up while he was away, but whatever the reason she was grateful. She doesn’t even consider how they were still, essentially, in public, too distracted by his slender fingers to be concerned about her now partial nudity. The only noise to break up their combined breathy moans is the layers of of taffeta rustling between them, as she continues to rock against his thigh, but this all changes when he delves his thumb into her wetness, bringing it back up to stroke circles on her clit, gently but repeatedly running it over her. 

“Oh, Elvis?” She cries out,  

“What baby? You’re so - I can feel you’re close,” His own breathing is getting heavier, and he holds her steady with his other hand grasping her thigh while his thumb continues to stroke her, 

“I don’t - I don’t…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, and before she manages to turn it into a complete sentence she’s shaking on him as she rides out her orgasm. He sees her through it, continuing to stroke her with the same pressure before rapidly shoving his hand down his own pants, roughly rubbing himself off to quick completion. She watches him closely, unable to do anything but stare as his own eyes slide closed, head falling back against the couch and mouth opening as he gasps out a high-pitched moan. It was about enough to make her shudder again against his thigh, the look on his face, his mussed hair, open collar and the noises of sheer pleasure. Louise finds herself bouncing on his chest as he breathes rapidly from the effort, and he holds her tight for a few moments while they both regain use of their limbs. Louise feels almost a little shell-shocked and she only really comes to her senses when Elvis shifts, wiping his hand on his trousers with a grimace and patting her thigh, 

“Gosh that was, I, um, thank you El,” He grins at her, clearly pleased with his success, and he pats her leg again, 

“Thank you, honey, for just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me earlier baby, it was just - I’m gonna treasure them snowballs forever, you’ll see.” She grins back at him before an unstoppable yawn takes over her face, “C’mon lil girl, time for bed.” She gulps, thinking about all the people on the house - worrying what will happen next, 

“D’you…where am I gonna sleep?” Elvis frowns, little furrowed line marring his previously relaxed face, 

“With me?” 

“Oh,” Louise swallows, “Um, I think my parents will be expecting me - you know, Christmas morning’s all about -“ 

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll drop you home at the crack of dawn,” He winks, “-gotta make sure the house is all in order in any case anyway.” Elvis pauses, “Or, or you could invite your mama and pops over. They’d be more than welcome…nothing my mama liked more than a full house - especially at Christmas.” He’s looking at her with that earnest little boy expression again and it takes everything in her not to just suggest she should stay forever, it was so absurd that he’d want her to stay, instead of the other way around. 

“Well…maybe I could stay. And, well, I mean, I could come over in the evening? If you swear you’ll make sure I get home in time -“ He’s quick to interject, 

“Cross my heart darling,” She hums at him, and he motions the crossing of his heart across his chest, solemnly holding eye contact, “I swear.”

“Ok then, I’d love to stay.” 

Somehow, and (despite his promises) to Louise’s surprise, she’s dutifully shaken awake and dropped off home, albeit not by Elvis himself, only a few very short hours later. Coming up the driveway of her childhood home it feels almost inconceivable that she should have spent the day and night how she has, and she wonders for a brief moment if she hadn’t knocked her head or something and just hallucinated the whole affair. She’s so in her thoughts that she doesn’t yet notice, as she traipses past the lounge and kitchen where she can hear her mother singing to quickly change, a new set of boxes under the Christmas tree. Elvis’ script on the gift tags declaring “To Louise, a very good girl, from Santa.” 

taglist: (it's been so long that I've lost the list for this verse - lmk if you want to be added, or taken off!)

@lialocklear @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @shakerattlescroll

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - drinking,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname if your confused🩷

Chapter 8

After Christmas we did something exciting every night, usually beginning after midnight. Sometimes Matt rented either the Memphian or the Malco theater to watch movies. Other times he rented the entire Rainbow Skating Rink, the infamous roller rink I’d heard so much about.

My first night there I was lacing up my skates when the boys asked me, “Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure,” I said.

“But do you know how to skate?” they persisted.

I got the message real fast when a box of knee pads was passed around. This was not your ordinary around the rink to organ music skating. The idea here was to keep your bones intact.

I wobbled onto the rink only to wobble off. I wasn’t about to stay on that floor after seeing the determined looks on the other skaters’ faces. They made the Roller Derby look mild. From the sideline, I watched them rounding the rink, adjusting their jackets and shirts so they weren’t too tight and checking that their arms and legs were securely padded.

Then Matt skated into their midst, calling out, “Okay, everybody. Y’all clear the way on the sidelines. I don’t want anybody hurt over there. Honey, why don’t you get on the other side there with Louise [Gene Smith’s wife]. The rest of you, get your asses somewhere else.” They all started laughing, and he said, “Okay, let’s go!”

About twenty-five skaters locked hands, forming what they called a whip. Skating abreast, they began circling the rink, building up speed. The objective of the game was to remain unscathed at speeds of over ten miles per hour. It could be very dangerous if you were to lose your balance or if you were at the tail end, when, by turning quickly, they all “cracked the whip.”

There were a lot of falls, but despite the danger, Matt seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I noticed that whenever someone was hurt, he was the first to see if they were all right and to decide if they should continue to play.

I still don’t know how anybody kept from getting seriously injured, yet no one complained and most of them were even willing to do it again the next night. It was rough, but as Matt put it, “If you’re man enough to get out there, then you better be man enough to take the licks.”

New Year’s Eve was approaching. Matt told Alan to rent the Manhattan Club for the evening and to invite about two hundred people, Matt’s friends and the presidents and other members of his fan clubs.

Although I was excited about the party, I couldn’t help thinking that after New Year’s Eve I would have to leave. Matt kept telling me not to think about it. I noticed that whenever I mentioned a problem to him he’d just say, “It’ll all work out, don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough to think about without having to worry about that.”

He always avoided problems. If I was disturbed or depressed, or if I felt we were becoming distant and wanted to get closer by talking it out, he avoided me or told me my timing was bad. There was never a good time.

Once I reproached him about the attention he was lavishing on the girlfriend of one of the regulars. She was very attractive, about my height, with black hair and a nice figure. She had come into the kitchen, where several of us were sitting, and Matt, who was wearing dark sunglasses, began making comments like, “Boy, it’s getting warm in here. Anybody else warm?”

I was so upset I left the room. I waited for him to go upstairs, then followed shortly behind him. “Matt, I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Sure, Honey, what is it?”

“I saw the way you were eyeing that girl. It upset me.”

“Look, woman,” he said, losing his temper. “No one tells me who I can look at and who I can’t. Besides, your imagination’s getting carried away. I’ve seen her ass around here long before today.”

With that I stomped out, slamming the bedroom door. I felt betrayed that he’d even desire another woman and was annoyed that he’d never admit it. I became obsessed and watched what Matt liked, what attracted him, trying to be everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and more.

The New Year’s Eve party at the Manhattan Club started around 10 p.m., but Matt timed our arrival a few minutes before midnight. We just had time to order double screwdrivers when the countdown began. Then we all sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

As people shouted “Happy New Year!” Matt pulled me close and said, “Baby, I don’t want you to go back. You’re staying here. We’ll call your parents in the morning.”

I was in such a state of ecstasy that I didn’t notice what I was drinking: four double screwdrivers, all drunk through a straw. After one double, I was feeling high; after four, I was reeling. I went into the ladies’ room with Louise and stayed there for what seemed like hours, swaying back and forth in the stall, trying to get myself together.

When we finally returned to the table, I tried to act as if everything was okay, but Matt took one look at me and said, “Baby, we better get you home. You’re in no condition to be here.” He asked his old friend George Klein, the Memphis disc jockey, if he would take me home.

I spent most of the ride back to Graceland with my head out the window. George and his date walked me to the door, where we said good night, and I let myself in.

Gripping the banister, I slowly climbed the white stairs, shedding my clothing as I went: my jacket, purse, shoes, and blouse left in a long trail up the steps. By the time I reached the bedroom I was wearing only my bra and panties. I collapsed on the bed and passed out.

A few hours later I heard Matt tiptoe into the room and come over to me. His condition was not much better than mine. I could make out his silhouette against the ceiling above me. I didn’t stir. Gently, he took off the rest of my clothes. Then he kissed me and kissed me over and over. This night we almost went too far. His vow was nearly broken. My passion had gotten to him and under the influence of alcohol, he weakened. Then, before I knew what happened, he withdrew saying, “No. Not like this.” It had to be special, just as he’d always planned.

I have to admit that, at that moment i didn’t care if it was special and I didn’t care what he’d vowed. I didn’t care, in fact, what he wanted at all. I only knew I wanted him.

The next morning my head throbbed with a terrible hangover. I felt ashamed and embarrassed—and yet not at all sorry about what we’d done. He was a little closer to being all mine.

The moment of truth came when we called my father in Germany. Matt was on the extension in his office and I was on another phone somewhere else in the house. Though the connection to Wiesbaden was filled with static, there was no mistaking my father’s words.

“Young lady, I will not go through this conversation again. We made an agreement. You were to leave there on the second of January. You’ve got one day left and you’d better be on that flight!”

Matt interjected, “Captain, sir, if she could just stay a couple more days. I have to be back in L.A. soon, and it would be nice—”

“Matt, I can’t do that. She has to be back in school and that was the deal. I’m sorry. y/n y/ln, are you there?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“We’ll be at the airport. You know the time; we’ll see you then.”

I was furious. I flew into Matt’s office where, sitting behind his desk, he was just hanging up.

“I hate them. I hate them both,” I yelled like a spoiled child. “Why are they stopping us? They just want me home to babysit, to take care of the kids, that’s all.”

Matt’s face was flushed with anger. “We made a goddamn agreement—who the hell does he think he is, talking like that on the goddamn phone—him and his military upbringing.”

He grabbed the phone and called down to the kitchen, demanding, “Where’s my dad! He down there? Tell him to come upstairs to the office.”

Within seconds James was at the door. “What is it, Son?”

“Goddamn Captain y/ln,” he shouted. “We just called to see if y/nn could stay a few more days and he comes off with this cocky attitude and refuses with his jargon about making agreements.”

“Now calm down, Son. It ain’t that bad. He was probably just concerned about her being home in time for school.”

“School, what the hell do I care about school?” Matt snapped, ignoring James’s efforts to soothe him. “Put her into school here, that’ll solve everything. She doesn’t need school. Hell, they don’t teach you anything nowadays anyway.”

“Well, Son, she’s gonna have to go back, there ain’t no two ways about it, give or take a day or two.”

“Goddamn, Dad, you’re not helpin’ matters any,” Matt said, but he was beginning to calm down. He sat back in his big desk chair and swiveled it around to face the window, then gazed out toward the pastures. Finally he turned around and announced that he had a plan.

Matt’s strategy called for me to return to Germany and to arrive in good spirits, then to concentrate on doing well in school so that my parents wouldn’t be able to use my poor grades as an excuse for not letting me return. Matt wanted me to finish high school in Boston and to that end he would make arrangements for me to return as soon as possible.

Germany

Although Matt said that I should greet my parents with a friendly smile, from the moment I got off the plane, my attitude was one of defiance. I now believed that my parents were a threat to my future happiness. I didn’t realize that their fears and concerns were entirely reasonable. All that mattered to me was what Matt and I wanted, and no one was going to stand in our way.

The weather was cold and dreary, which certainly didn’t help my mood. I walked through customs to find my parents waiting. Noting my attitude, their expressions were cool, their welcome stiff. No loving arms wrapped around me, no loving words greeted me. Only my father’s abrupt order, “Let’s go.”

The drive back to Wiesbaden seemed longer than forty-five minutes. I sat in the backseat in icy silence. No one mentioned my request to stay at Graceland.

“All in all, did you have a nice time?” Dad ventured.

“Yes,” I replied, looking out the window at the clusters of trees bare from the harsh winter.

“Did Matt like your present?” Mother asked hopefully.

“Yes,” I assured her. “He loved it.”

“Was it as cold in Boston as it gets here?” Dad asked, keeping the conversation light, trying to make me open up and talk.

“No, it’s colder here,” I replied sharply, referring to both the weather and my attitude. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror and surprisingly, Dad looked away rather than reacting to my cutting remark.

I knew I was pushing my luck with them, but I couldn’t suppress my feelings and pretend that everything was all right. I was so deeply in love that chitchat seemed pointless—as did everything except for Matt. I remembered how he had held me before we said goodbye, with such emotion and need that nothing could keep me away from him. How could I explain these adult feelings to my parents who, I thought, could never understand and would think me silly or just infatuated?

When we arrived home Dad said, “Well, you’ve got school tomorrow, so try to get as much rest as you can tonight.”

Mom added, “You should have dinner and get right to bed.”

Did they both honestly think that I could slip back into the routine of ordinary life?

I rebelled against going to school. I skipped classes, went to town, and downed a few beers with whoever I could get to join me. My attitude worsened along with my grades.

My parents were as confused as any caring parents would be, hoping the problem would eventually go away. But I didn’t make it easy for them. What had started out as a simple introduction to the world’s greatest rock-and-roll star had turned into a nightmare for them.

Matt began calling me almost immediately, and we’d talk for hours. My parents heard me whispering and giggling till three in the morning and wondered what on earth we could be talking about for so long. Nothing really—yet it seemed like everything.

I began to reveal to my mother that Matt and I loved each other and longed to be together. Finally one day I summoned the courage to tell her that Matt wanted me to finish school in Boston. Her response: an unqualified no. She felt it could wait until my father’s tour of duty was over. That would be the end of summer, she said, and there was no need for me to return to Matt sooner.

“But Mother,” I pleaded, “you don’t understand. He wants me there with him.”

“Why you?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Why can’t he find someone his own age? You’re only sixteen. What is this man doing to our family?”

She buried her face in her hands and began crying.

I did feel sorry for her. We were always close, she was always there for me, but this time she just didn’t understand. I hated seeing her in pain, but nothing seemed more important to me than Matt. Not even my mother.

“He’s not anything like you imagine,” I said, “and he needs me, Mother. I won’t get hurt. Please talk to Dad.”

Slowly she raised her head and looked at me.

“y/nn, I’d never forgive myself if I let you go and if you came back to us with a broken heart. You’re so young! You have no idea what lies ahead of you. All you know is you’re in love. Do you know how difficult that is to fight?” She sighed. “I wouldn’t wish this on any parent.”

She brushed away her tears and after a moment said, “All right, I’ll talk to your father, but not just yet. It’s still too soon.”

I gave her a big hug and whispered, “Thank you, Mother. I know you can do it. I love you.”

Now I had to wait for my mother to intercede. I knew how much my father was against the idea. My parents still didn’t really know Matt’s intentions toward me. They only knew what I had told them. But they had also read in the newspapers that Matt was dating every one of the female costars in his movies, so naturally they were suspicious.

One day on the phone I told Matt, “If you want me to come back and go to school, you’re going to have to talk to my father yourself.”

“Put him on,” Matt replied. “I’m not MacArthur, but I can sure as hell try.”

Drawing on all of his charm, Matt assured my father that if I was permitted to move to Boston, I wouldn’t live with him at Graceland but with his dad, James, and his wife, Angela. Matt promised to enroll me in a good Catholic school—he’d choose it himself—and make sure I graduated. He said I’d always be chaperoned and that he’d care for me in every way. Declaring his intentions honorable, he swore that he loved and needed and respected me. In fact, he couldn’t live without me, he said, intimating that one day we’d marry.

This left my parents in a dilemma. If Matt were as sincere as he sounded, there was a chance that our relationship might work out. But if it didn’t work out, they ran the risk of my returning to them disillusioned and brokenhearted. If they refused to let me go, I might never forgive them and I would bitterly regret this unfulfilled love for the rest of my life. In that light, there was little they could do but say yes, and eventually they did.

In truth, I was as mystified as my parents were about why Matt wanted me to come live with him. I think he was attracted by the fact that I had a normal, stable childhood, and that I was very responsible, having helped my parents raise my younger brothers and sister. I was more mature at sixteen than I was at fourteen, when he’d met me, not only because I’d gone through the normal growing period, but also because I’d experienced the pain of living without him for those two years.

Most of all, he knew he could depend on me. I wasn’t interested in a career, in Hollywood, or in anything else that would draw my attention away from him. I also had all of the physical attributes that Matt liked, the fundamentals he could use in turning me into his ideal woman. In short, I had everything that Matt had been looking for in a woman: youth and innocence, total devotion, and no problems of my own. And I was hard to get.

I intended to do whatever I had to to hold him, because if he had ever sent me home, it would have meant not only that I’d been wrong in going to him, but that my parents had been wrong for having permitted it. I firmly resolved to make our relationship work, no matter what.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - do you guys like longer chapters like this?🎀

[harrisonarchive]

Photo 1 by Express/Mirrorpix via Getty Images, photo 2 courtesy of Bridgeman Images.

Happy Mother's Day.

“My mum did encourage me. Perhaps most of all by never discouraging me from anything I wanted to do. That was the good thing about her and my dad….” - George Harrison, The Beatles: The Authorized Biography (1968) “George tried to teach himself [the guitar]. But he wasn’t making much headway. ‘I’ll never learn this,’ he used to say. I said, ‘You will, son, you will. Just keep at it.’ He kept at it till his fingers were bleeding. ‘You’ll do it, son, you’ll do it,’ I said to him. I sat up till two or three in the morning. Every time he said, ‘I’ll never make it,’ I said, ‘You will, you will.’” - Louise Harrison, ibid “[I’m into] Hoagy Carmichael, who my mother was also into.” - George Harrison,  Billboard, December 5, 1992 “My mother once gave me a Lichtenstein print called Reverie, where there's a girl singing, and in the speech bubble behind her, it says, ‘The melody haunts my reverie’ which is a line from [Hoagy Carmichael’s] ‘Stardust.” It stayed on my wall for years.” - Dhani Harrison, The Line of Best Fit, October 20, 2023 “My mother’s father, Esquiel Arias, was a singer, and dad recorded him singing these great Mexican songs. My mother’s mother was related to Jorge Negrete, who was a film star and singer, I guess at the same level as Elvis or Bing Crosby in Mexico. Dad was a huge fan and had him on the jukebox at home. There’s a long line of musicians on both sides.” - Dhani Harrison, MOJO, November 2017 “Well, it’s the craziest coincidence that our mothers were both named Louise, and had the same favorite song — ‘María Elena.’ Very popular, oddly enough, by Los Índios Tabajaras back in the '60s. I don’t know how George’s mother heard it. In California, you know, that would not be a surprise. But the fact that she had that album, and my mother had this album, in these latitudes so far apart, and yet we had this song that sort of bound us all together, our families together.” - Olivia Harrison, BBC Radio, October 1, 2023 (x)

[waywardxrhea]

Part of Your World - George Weasley

Chapter 5

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Muggle!reader

installment list / previous chapter / next chapter

word count: 1,534

content: angst, dementor attack, mentions of death (non-main character), fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

One chilly November evening George was walking you home from the bus station after your classes and rehearsal at school. Things had started to get more dangerous on the warfront of the Wizarding side of things, so this was a habit he had gotten into for his own peace of mind as well as for your safety. As you two took a shortcut through the park, you pulled your scarf tighter around your neck and your coat closer to your body when the air around you suddenly got a lot colder than it had been moments before. “I can’t wait until the spring,” you commented with a shiver as the both of you quickened your pace. 

You only got about ten more metres at this pace before you slowed down to a stop. Your legs felt like they were cement and they refused to move as an overwhelming feeling of sadness and hopelessness washing over you suddenly. You placed a gloved hand over your mouth as tears began to run down your face and your mind flashed to the worst day of your life. 

One sunny June afternoon you and your parents were gathered around the hospital bed of Louise, better known as Gran - your dad’s mother. The room’s blinds were open and sun was streaming into the brightly decorated room. This would under normal circumstances be a very pretty room as it had been for the last few months, but today was not any ordinary day. Today was the day the family had been dreading for months, ever since Louise got diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. 

Louise’s condition had been deteriorating for weeks, but today seemed to be worse yet. A few minutes prior, the doctor had pulled your dad out into the hallway and informed him that she was showing signs of dying and that they would start giving her medicine to help make her departure comfortable. When he told you and your mum this, you finally broke down fully, grabbing Gran’s hand and holding on tightly. 

Gran squeezed your hand lightly and croaked out, “Remember what we decided?” 

“Yes, but, I- Gran, please, I just want to-” you tried.

“Please grant this old bag her dying wish,” she whispered with a quiet laugh. “This isn’t the last time you’ll see me, love. Just have a little faith and we’ll meet again.”

You nodded, taking the guitar that your dad was handing you that previously stood in the case that was propped against the wall. As your parents sat on the other side of the bed with your dad holding Gran’s right hand, you sat on her left side and Gran made sure to put a hand on your knee as you strummed the guitar to her favourite song: Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley. It was the song that her husband had played when he proposed to her and they had their first dance at their wedding to. She wanted it to be played as she went to see him again. 

You couldn’t bring your voice to work as tears ran down your cheeks, so your parents took over the vocals for the song, harmonising like only they could as bandmates and as husband and wife. The sound brought a smile to Gran’s face and death approached fast, taking her before the second chorus even ended. 

Meanwhile back out in the stinging cold in Regent��s Park, George turned to check on you when he no longer felt your presence beside him and saw a couple of Dementors circling around you! A sense of doom creeped into George’s mind and dread filled him at the sight. Before this feeling could overwhelm him though, George remembered his DA lessons with Harry. He pulled out his wand and summoned up a happy memory: the one of him and Fred leaving Hogwarts. He concentrated on the warm feeling in his chest and bellowed, “Expecto Patronum!” 

From the end of his wand flew his Patronus, a magpie, and it began to pelt away at the Dementors, making them fly away in haste, leaving you on your knees on the cold ground. George quickly made his way to your side and as he did, he heard you whispering, “Please don’t go, please!” into your gloved hands as they covered your face.

George joined you on the ground and wrapped you in an embrace as he whispered, “Hey, I’m here, it’s okay now.”

Upon hearing his voice, you seemed to snap out of the trance the Dementors had on you and you buried your face into George’s chest as you tried to control your breathing. After a few moments, you found your voice and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to freak out like that. I don’t know what got into me…”

“Don’t apologise, it wasn’t random. There were Dementors here. Muggles can’t see them. I had to cast the Patronus Charm to get them away,” George explained. “Those damn things get into your head and pull out your worst memories. I’m sorry you had to go through that, darling.”

George separated himself from you and got you both to your feet before looking around, seeing that you were near the shop where you had your first date at and said, “Here, let’s go to our usual spot. We’ll get you a hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant.” As you headed in that direction, George told you, “Harry swears by chocolate after a Dementor attack.”

You nodded and followed George into the shop, still numb from both the cold and the memories that resurfaced because of the wretched beings. It was only after a few sips of the warm drink that you said anything, telling George quietly, “Thank you for saving me back there.”

“Of course,” he replied warmly, worry still etched in his small smile. “You still seem pretty shaken, are you okay?” George asked, noticing the tremor in your hands and how you used both to hold the cup in order to not spill the drink. 

“I’ll be okay…” you said quietly. “I just…haven’t really thought about all that day since it happened…”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what memory did the Dementors bring out?” George asked tentatively. 

You took a long sip from your hot chocolate before responding, your voice filled with emotion as you did. “The day my gran died. She was in the hospital on hospice for about two months before her body finally gave up. Stage four lung cancer. The doctors said there wasn’t any way to treat it so we just had to let it happen…” You placed the cup roughly on the table before the shaking in your hands got too bad, adding, “She was my best friend and biggest supporter. Before she got sick she made sure to come watch every show I was in and brought me hydrangeas after every one of them. Mary was the first show she didn’t get to see.” Your voice broke at the last sentence and you wiped a tear that escaped your eye from your cheek.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you added, “We would sing together when she watched me when I was younger and she taught me how to play the piano. The day she died, I was playing one of her favourite songs when it happened and Dad made me keep playing all of her favourites even after she was gone because they say hearing is the last sense to go and he wanted her to be happy when she passed on.” A smile finally made its way onto your face as you giggled quietly and said, “We played Sweet Caroline last and the whole nursing staff was in there with us singing, it was beautiful.”

George took your hands in his and squeezed as he told you, “I’m so sorry for your loss… I can tell she meant a lot to you.”

“She meant the world,” you agreed with a sad smile on your lips. “You know how I’m always saying to have a little faith?”

George nodded, saying, “Your optimism is one of my favourite things about you.”

You couldn’t help the bashful smile that made its way onto your lips before you said, “Well I got that mantra from her. That was how she lived her life and how she taught me how to live mine. Abbie thinks I’m too optimistic for my own good, but…”

“If we aren’t optimistic about what the future holds, there isn’t a future worth living,” George said thoughtfully.

“Well said, Weasley,” you said, impressed by the sudden philosophical turn of your boyfriend. 

“I try,” he said with a chuckle. 

Once you were finished with the warm drink and pastry, George walked you to your house and rather than going back to the shop, he stayed with you as long as you needed. And although you couldn't shake the memories pelting your mind of that day, with George's comforting words and hold, it became bearable as you finally began to come to terms with Gran's death and how it changed you as a person since.

a/n: I swear the next part is happier (mostly)!

anyways! likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss @v1ckycheesue @superduckmilkshake

[lancestrollsgf]

# R E Q U E S T L I S T ! L A N C E S T R O L L S G F

introduction master list request list

# REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN !! (as of august 12, 2024)

# DISCLAMER: I WILL WRITE POLYGAMY FOR ANY FANDOM. I WILL BASICALLY WRITE ANYTHING JUST REQUEST. PLEASE BE AS CLEAR AS POSSIBLE IN YOUR REQUEST. ALL STORIES WILL BE USING “YOU” POV. NO REQUESTS FOR SMUT. IF THE CHARACTER/PERSON YOU WANT ISN'T HERE I PROBABLY JUST FORGOT, SO JUST REQUEST IT. PLEASE SPECIFY IF SMAU OR WRITTEN (if not specify i’ll write to what seems fit). REQUEST FOR MOODBOARDS ARE ALSO OPEN!

FORMULA ONE :

lance stroll, charles leclerc, lando norris, carlos sainz, max verstappen, kevin magnussen, sergio perez, fernando alonso, pierre gasly, george russel, esteban ocon, oscar piastri, lando norris, yuki tsunoda, logan sargeant, daniel riccardo, sebastian vettel, lewis hamilton, alexander albon. (probably more just forgot) +retired drivers, +wags, +formula 2 drivers, +f1academy drivers.

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY :

conrad fisher, jeremiah fisher, steven conklin, isabel conklin, cameron, taylor jewel, and shayla.

BANGTAN SOYEONDAN :

kim namjoon, kim seokjin, kim taehyung, min yoongi, park jimin, jung hoseok, jeon jungkook ( i haven’t written for bts in a long time so please be specific in your request )

COBRA KAI :

miguel diaz, robby kenne, daniel larusso (specify if young), johnny lawrence (specify if young), eli moskowitz, tory nichols, samantha larusso, demertri, and yasmine.

GILMORE GIRLS :

dean forester, luke danes, lorelai gilmore, rory gilmore, logan huntzberger, tristan dugray, dave rygalski, lane kim, madeline lynn, and louise grant.

MARVEL :

tom! peter parker, andrew! peter parker, toby! peter parker, edward "ned" leeds, iron man/tony stark, black widow, captain america/steve rogers, hulk/bruce banner, thor odison, black panther/t’challa, daredevil/matt murdock, winter soldier/bucky barnes, doctor strange/steven strange, scarlet witch/wanda maximoff, quicksilver/pietro maximoff, deadpool.

CELEBRITIES/MISCELLANEOUS PEOPLE: sturniolo triplets (excluding nicolas 😞), austin! elvis presely, austin bulter, vinicent hacker, joao felix, enzo vogrincic, xolo maridueña and more.

(i’m also open to crossing fandoms like joao felix x f1 if that makes any sense)

[agirlwithachakram]

does anyone want to see bits from my dumb self indulgent post canon vampire wilson fic

here are the worst bits

"You're not interesting. You're a walking cliché, a dull misanthrope who thinks his devotion to one good person redeems him, that all he has to do to be a real boy is love the person he already loves. You're a dime a dozen. He's the interesting one.”

x

"You pull weird shit on me all the time, I don't know what you're cooking up!"

"Now? You think now, you think I dosed you with meth and angel dust and��and got you cosmetic Twilight dentistry? One last completely insane hurrah before we Thelma and Louise this shit?"

“Yes! No.”

x

What is even happening? "Why do you suddenly care about kosher now?" House asks in a fruitless attempt to drag the conversation somewhere that makes any sense at all. "You eat cheeseburgers.”

"BECAUSE I JUST DRANK A PITCHER OF PIG BLOOD."

"And mine."

"AND YOURS."

"I think if it's hot, God's cool with it."

"...It was hot?"

x

Wilson takes pity. "Look, I wasn't supposed to live, but it happened. I don't have a good medical explanation here, you know sometimes things just happen."

"Yes, I'm aware of spontaneous remission." Chase replies, seemingly grateful for something he can respond to. "I also used to know this doctor who would punch me in the face for letting that be a real answer. There's always some reason. Herpes. Rabies."

"Porphyric hemophilia," House says, because he is incapable of shutting up.

"That—that's not a real…very funny."

"Doesn't he look so pale these days, though?" House adds, patting Wilson's cheek. "No sunlight," he whispers.

x

"See? We're married in the eyes of that Elvis impersonator. I always wanted to marry a porn star."

"Keep going. You can get divorced from a porn star." He doesn't even have to look to know House is making that stupid face he always does when Wilson fights back. He looks anyway. It's cute.

x

He glances over at Chase. "I don't want to be interrogated. Just promise to keep your mouth shut."

"I can promise that, if House keeps his promise."

"What promise?"

"Fine," House says.

"What promise?"

"Don't worry your pretty little eyebrows about it."

[vorondoloknittingco]

Harry Styles' Life Story

Harry Edward Styles was born on 1 February 1994 in Redditch, Worcestershire, to Anne Cox and Desmond 'Des' Styles. She has an older sister named Gemma. His family separated when he was seven years old.

Styles spent most of his growing years with his mother and sister in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. He received his education from the 'Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School'.

Styles has admired music since childhood. She enjoyed singing and even performed as lead singer for the school band 'White Eskimo', which won several competitions. Freddie Mercury, Elvis Presley and 'The Beatles' were the earliest influences of Styles. He even worked part-time at 'W.'. Mandeville Bakery' at Holmes Chapel to support himself.

Harry Styles is an English singer and songwriter known as a member of the famous pop rock band One Direction. Blessed with his love for music, Styles stepped into the music industry at a young age. She made her debut when she auditioned for a spot on The X Factor. Styles' natural talent and sense of music made him a favorite among the judges. Although he was unable to tour the judges' houses, he was pulled out as a member of the pop rock band One Direction. Stiller called the band 'One Direction'. The band's first song, which was also an elimination song on the 'judge's house' tour, was an acoustic version of 'Torn'. Their performance was so brilliant that they soon gained popularity in the United Kingdom. One of the biggest contenders for the coveted title and a people's favorite, 'One Direction' finished third in the seventh season of 'X Factor'. Soon after, 'One Direction' was signed by Cowell's 'Syco Music Records' on a £2 million contract.

Despite being the youngest member of the men's group, Styles soon became a favorite among fans because of his talents, appearance, and attitude. After months of recording in various cities including Stockholm, London and Los Angeles, 'One Direction' released her debut album 'Up All Night' in 2011. The album debuted at number two on the UK Albums Table and eventually became the world record holder. It is the UK's fastest-selling debut album of 2011.

Their first single, 'What Makes You Beautiful', peaked at number 1 on the UK Singles Chart. In 2013, director Morgan Spurlock made a documentary titled 'One Direction: This Is Us' that allowed us to take a look at the band's routine. The film grossed more than $68 million worldwide.

During their five debuts, One Direction broke several records and became the only boy band to debut their first four albums to number one in the United States. They also became the first boy band in U.S. chart history to release two number-one albums in a calendar year. After a hiatus hiatus, Styles pursued a solo career and signed a record deal with Columbia Records. Styles has also starred on television and in films, including the Nickelodeon series iCarly, the documentary concert film One Direction: This Is Us, and the feature film Dunkirk.

Her self-titled debut solo album was released in May 2017. The album topped the 'US Billboard 200' chart. It has also been successful in many other countries such as the UK and Australia. The album was certified platinum in the U.S. and four other countries for being the ninth best-selling album of 2017. He also embarked on a tour of North and South America, Europe, Asia, Europe and Asia called 'Harry Styles: Live on Tour'. and Australia, from September 2017 to July 2018.

Harry Styles has an image of Casanova and is known for his various romantic connections. In 2011, he dated television presenter Caroline Flack. Their relationship made headlines around the world due to the age difference between the two, with Styles being just 17 at the time and Flack 32.

After leaving Flack, Styles formed a romantic bond with various personalities including Sarah-Louise Colivet, Emma Ostilly, Cara Delevingne, Lily Halpern and Rita Ora.

In December 2012, Styles began dating international pop star Taylor Swift. The two separated in January 2013. He later dated Kendall Jenner and Nadine Leopold.

A longtime advocate of equality and an ardent supporter of the LGBT community, she often waives the rainbow flag (the flag of LGBT pride) on stage. She has also supported organisations such as the 'Little Princess Trust' and the 'Young Survival Coalition'.

[heavenlybutler]

paper rings

pairing: austin!elvis x reader

request: not sure if u still want requests but if so can it be austin!elvis and the reader (his gf ofc) is like super spoiled and usually gets her way but this one time he doesn’t let her and she gets all pissed (idk what it is the reader wants you can make up anything)

summary: reader has been watching her friends get engaged or married left and right. so she finally brings the topic up to elvis and the conversation turns into an argument.

warnings: angst (apparently i’m on an angst kick lol), and fluff at the end.

wc: 2.5k

note: this is obviously inspired by taylor swift’s song that i love oh so much. this isn’t exactly what the person requested but once i started writing i just ran with it lol. but i still hope you enjoy! <3

“did you hear about louise and johnny?” you asked as you sat down on the couch, watching elvis who was fiddling with the piano.

elvis turned his body around on the bench to face you, “no, what ‘bout them?”

“johnny proposed last night…,” you said with a small smile on your face. it seemed like every one of your friends were at least engaged at this point. every time they announced it to you, you were obviously happy for them but all you thought was i hope it’s me next.

“that’s great,” elvis muttered and went silent for a few seconds.

you also fell silent because all you could think about was the day elvis would finally propose to you. you hoped it was soon, very soon.

“i mean it’s a little bit quick for them… don’t ya think?” elvis pointed out, breaking the silence.

you shook your head slowly, giving him an inquisitive look, “they’ve been together for almost two years, elvis. i think that’s plenty of time if you ask me…”

“four years,” you heard elvis mumble under his breath, assuming he was talking about the length of time the two of you had been together. elvis’ eyes fell to his lap for a few seconds before meeting yours, “tryin’ to tell me somethin’, honey?”

a smirk plastered on his face while a hopeful smile came to yours. “well…,” you started, having to stop and think about your next words, “i hope i wouldn’t have to tell you. i kind of hoped you’d already been thinking about it…”

little did elvis know that you had been agonizingly waiting for the day he would propose to you. there were moments when you thought it was finally going to happen but every time you got your hopes up, they would quickly fall, day after day.

“life has just been so busy, honey…,” elvis started, the smile that had currently occupied your lips disappeared at the doubtful sound in his voice. elvis’ eyes were now dropped to the floor while he fidgeted with his fingers in his lap.

you let a few moments of silence go by before saying, “so you haven’t thought about marriage? like at all?” elvis looked up when he heard the crack in your voice, which only occurred when you were upset.

you weren’t used to elvis ever shutting you down or saying no. everything you had ever wished or asked for, elvis delivered to you on a silver platter. most things you asked for were never actual physical items, just simple things like asking him to stay in bed a few minutes longer. elvis never told you no, ever. you were beyond grateful but you hadn’t realized how used to being spoiled you had grown.

“it ain’t that i haven’t thought about it, y/n… you know how busy i am. i just don’t think with everything that’s goin’ on…,” elvis trailed off as he thought about the embarrassing performance he had made on the steve allen show the other night, “that now is the right time for me to be thinkin’ about marriage…”

you quickly averted your eyes away from his as tears brimmed your eyesight. you didn’t know whether you should be angry or upset, but you were experiencing both.

“is it ever going to be the right time, elvis?” you blurted out, his eyes shooting wide open at your response. you lifted your head to look up at elvis, awaiting a response, but he was speechless.

your frustrated voice got a little louder but still not loud enough that his family that was currently in the kitchen could hear you, “it’s been four years, elvis. when we celebrated two years together, i thoug- i knew for sure that it wouldn’t be long until you were down on one knee. i just keep waiting for the day and it never comes…” you admitted with tears now running down your cheeks.

elvis bought his palms to his face before he mumbled under his breath, “it’s never enough…”

“what, elvis?” you asked softly this time.

you watched as he ran his fingers through his black hair, shaking his head.

“everything i do for you… is it ever going to be enough?” elvis almost shouted, standing up from the stool now. “you ain’t ever happy, y/n! i‘ve got you everything you’ve ever dreamed of! every single fucking thing! that car you wanted for years sitting in the driveway…,” elvis pointed out the window, “i bought it! this house we dreamed about for years, i bought it! i’ve bought you everything just because i wanted you to be happy! everything down to the damn shoes on your feet! now you wantin’ a damn ring… but what will it be after the ring? it ain’t ever enough for you! you always wantin’ more!” elvis screamed, hovering over where you sat on the couch.

you were immediately taken aback at his words. he had never said anything like that to you before. you couldn’t even process the words that left his mouth.

when you met elvis, you had just completed high school and you worked your ass off every day to help keep food on the table at home. and he knew that because he was in the same predicament. when his career picked up, he basically begged you to quit your job and just let him take care of you. you were very reluctant at first, telling him that you didn’t want to be his responsibility. but after weeks of him begging, you did.

elvis took very good care of you and your family. you couldn’t have ever wished for a better man. you had even mentioned going back to work to elvis but he immediately shut that down. he said there was absolutely no need for you to work.

elvis showered you with gifts constantly, like the car he had mentioned. when the two of you first met, you had mentioned your dream car to him in a casual conversation. he told you that he’d get it for you one day, which you never believed until he did. you didn’t drive the car for a week, begging elvis to take it back. you explained that you didn’t deserve it and he should’ve never spent so much money on you. but elvis told you that there was no one else in the world who was more worthy of it than you.

elvis had never thrown the things he had bought or done for you in your face until now.

you were violently sobbing, staring up at the man who had never hurt you a day in your life until this moment.

“i didn’t ask for any of this, elvis,” you managed to choke out. elvis’ didn’t even look like himself as he stood over you. he looked like a whole different person and sounded like someone you had never even met before.

elvis backed away from you, chuckling in disbelief.

“i was just as happy with you four years ago… when we didn’t have anything. none of this fancy shit matters to me and i’ve told you this... the only thing that matters is you, just you. i’d choose you over anything in this world,” you cried out through hiccuped breaths.

you thought elvis was calming down as he slowly paced back and forth in front of you. until he opened his mouth and his loud voice erupted through your ears again, “don’t you lie to me! you ain’t ever fuckin’ ha-!”

elvis was cut off as he heard his mother's voice interrupt him.

“elvis presley!” gladys shouted, having heard the commotion and walking into the living room to interfere.

both of your heads snapped over to her, gladys immediately noticed how upset you were as she looked between the both of you.

“what in god’s name?” gladys mumbled before elvis stormed out of the front door, slamming it when he did.

you began to cry more as you looked out the window to see him getting in one of his many cars and leaving.

“oh my goodness… what happened, sweetie?” gladys sat down on the couch next to you, wrapping her arms around you.

“i-i didn’t mean to m-make him upset,” you stuttered out but gladys could barely make out a word you were saying.

all she did was pull you closer into her chest as you soaked her shirt with your tears. “it’s alright, darlin’…,” gladys rubbed her hand up and down your back, “that ain’t him… hasn’t been himself since that show the other night. he’s just stressed and taking it all out on you… you don’t deserve this. i’m sure he didn’t mean it, baby… he’s just going through a lot.”

—

it had been hours since elvis stormed out and you were starting to worry about him as you crawled into your shared bed which felt empty without him. you weren’t worried that he wouldn’t come back, you were worried that he wouldn’t want you here when he did.

you had cried for hours, insisting you go look for him but gladys told you that you were way too upset to be driving.

you laid in the bed, trying your hardest to fall asleep so you could get him off of your mind for what felt like hours. you tossed and turned until you finally heard the bedroom door open.

you slowly turned over, squinting your tired eyes to see elvis’ frame entering the door and shutting it behind him. you didn’t know what you expected to happen next but you knew you had things you needed to explain to him first.

“y/n,” elvis spoke, much quieter than earlier. his tone was different as well, he actually sounded like himself.

“you awake?” elvis whispered as he walked closer to the bed, sitting on the edge and placing his hand on your lower calf that was under the covers.

you nodded your head, half hoping he wouldn’t see you because of how dark it was in the room, but he did.

elvis reached over to the bedside table, cutting a dim lamp on. his eyes finally being able to see your face which broke his heart.

your eyes were puffy, your face was bright red, and your lips were swollen from crying so much.

“i’m so sorry, darlin’… i-“

“before you start i want you to listen to me,” you mumbled as you sat up in the bed, “i’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me… i’m thankful for everything you’ve done for my family, everything. i love the things you get me, even though i reiterate to you every time that i don’t need anything else… because i don’t but you love to shower me with things and i’m fine with that as long as you continue to love doing so. but what you said about the ring… i couldn’t care less about the ring. i’d literally marry you with paper rings…,” you paused as a small smile appeared on both of your faces for the first time in hours, “but what i’m trying to say is, i want to marry the man you are now just as much as i wanted to marry the boy who had to scrape up money for two weeks just to take me on my first date,” you finally finished your rambling with a gentle smile as elvis placed his hand on yours.

elvis shook his head as thought back to what he had said to you earlier. he’d never been so disappointed in himself. the things he said about you wanting more and more were simply not true. he knew he should’ve been saying those words to the colonel…

“baby, i’m so sorry…,” elvis started, squeezing your hand, “i shouldn’t have said any of those things. i don’t know what was going through my mind. it’s just the whole thing with the press and the colonel…,” elvis trailed off looking over to the floor but you squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to you.

“i understand. i know it’s hard on you, honey,” you reassured him. it wasn’t hard to see how much of a toll the recent commotion had caused elvis.

“it all just got to me today and i snapped… i took everything out on you and i know shouldn’t have. god, i wish i wouldn’t have… if i could take everything back i promise i would but i can’t,” elvis spoke as tears appeared in his eyes. you could tell how much he regretted it from the disappointment written all over his face.

“um… i got you something, i know it’s not what you want right now but…,” elvis paused as he reached into his pocket.

“elvis, no… i don’t need anything else,” you shook your head as elvis pulled the gift out of his pocket. you couldn’t see what it was since it was wrapped in his large hand.

“it’s a promise ring,” elvis unveiled a small black velvet box, holding it out in front of you.

you slowly took it out of his palm, clutching it in your hand.

“i don’t need this,” you blurted out, attempting to hand the box back to him but he wouldn’t take it.

elvis chuckled at your actions, “at least open it, darlin’…”

you then noticed you had the same problem that elvis had with you, you couldn’t say no to him. so you reluctantly opened the box, your jaw dropping when you finally saw the ring. it was beautiful but very far from dainty.

“ya like it?” elvis asked with a smile as he took in your facial expressions.

“i-i love it, elvis… but i can’t take this…,” you whispered as you closed the box and sat it down on the sheets in front of you.

“yes, you can, doll,” elvis said as he picked the box back up and took the ring out, taking your hand in his.

“i know this isn’t what you want right now but it’s a promise- i’m making a promise with this,” elvis spoke as he held up the ring, “i promise when i feel that the time is right, which i believe is very soon… that i will marry you, y/n y/m/n y/l/n… i will get down on one knee and ask you the question. i promise i will, but i want it to be perfect. i don’t want any of the stress that’s currently on my shoulders to be on my mind when that does happen. all i want to be able to think about is you… okay?”

you teared up at his words, he made you absolutely speechless. all you could do was nod your head with a large smile on your face.

elvis lifted your hand so he could slide the beautiful ring on your finger, which surprisingly fit perfectly.

“i love you,” elvis whispered before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“i love you more,” you smiled, placing another peck on his lips.

“not possible…”

[oh-austin]

going method, part five (austin butler)

summary: you're playing priscilla presley in the new elvis biopic, when your co-star asks you if you would like to date him during the filming of the movie to better understand elvis and priscilla's relationship.

word count: 3,743

authors note / warnings: no warnings! trying to write more and get these out for you quicker, but life is hectic right now! but here's the fifth part- five left! we're halfway there <3 I hope you all love it x

series masterlist / previous + next part

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It was a big day today on set. Sure, every day was becoming bigger than the last for everyone; but this one was especially big for you. Everyone seemed a little more on edge this morning, but you were panicking. Priscilla was coming in to watch some scenes today. 

It would be the first time she had seen you in your hair and makeup since the first week of shooting, it never got any less daunting. Portraying a woman to only have her come and watch you attempt to fill her shoes and display her legacy. You felt pathetic today.

Austin spent the morning filming some individual scenes before a re-shoot of Priscilla’s first scene. He knew you would be in hair and makeup, most likely inches away from losing your mind and maybe your breakfast. 

Austin quickly slipped into your trailer, with his present in hand and placed them on the table so that you would see the array of pink and purple petals as soon as you came back. He pulled the gift card from the bouquet and scrawled a message on there for you. Austin left quickly, needed to rush to wardrobe- he knew that he was pushing for time, but you were worth it.

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Louise, your hair stylist, looked down at you with her eyebrows raised. 

“I might,” You couldn’t stop looking yourself in the eye as you sat in front of the mirror. You didn’t feel like yourself, which you guessed was a good thing; you’re not supposed to be Y/N, you’re supposed to be Priscilla.

“She helped cast you, Y/N” Louise reminded you, “She wouldn’t have picked you, if she didn’t think you could handle it,” She fiddled with the bangs she needed to clip into your unruly wig. 

“I wouldn’t have picked me,” You sighed. It was hard to remain level-headed when you were so close to facing a huge moment in your life. The woman that you had been dedicating your craft to was about to see the outcome, you just wanted to make her proud. 

“Well,” Louise clipped in the hair-piece, “She did,” 

“She did,” You nodded. You were now ready to film, hair and makeup done and in costume. You didn’t look like yourself, a good thing. Over the past day of your increasing anxieties, you had begin to understand Austin’s imposter syndrome. He was something else, you weren’t sure how he did it- you couldn’t.

“You’ve got ten minutes still you need to be on your mark, why don’t you go take a minute in your trailer or your car? Sit by yourself and chill out,” Louise held your face in her hands, “You look like you need it,” She smiled.

“Thanks,” You rolled your eyes, “I’ll see you later,” You hugged her with a thank you falling from your lips as you left hair and makeup.

The walk to your trailer felt longer than it usually was. You heard whispers between crew members that Priscilla was here, you felt your stomach drop. Waves of anxiety fell over you. You stumbled into your trailer. 

There sat a bouquet of pink and purple flowers, tulips- a flower that you loved. You felt your heartbeat slow as you walked over to the vase they were sat in. A white card sat against the base of the vase, you instantly recognised the handwriting. It read:

For my sweet ‘Cilla

Make her proud today,

You’ve got this - Austin

You would have cried if you didn’t have to be on set soon, but you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up. Austin really had won you over, heart and soul. He was the kind of man that you felt you could love forever unconditionally. He was everything. 

You felt better, knowing that Austin had your back today- he knew how much you had been stressing yourself out over today. He had developed a talent for noticing when you were in your own head, just like you had for him- it was a beautiful mutually shared talent. You weren’t drinking as much water as usual, or eating your lunch with everyone- rather hiding away in your trailer with your script glued to your hands. You were extra grateful for Austin as you left your trailer. He was slowly becoming one of the biggest parts of your life, a welcome change. 

Approaching the soundstage is when you saw Priscilla, her back turned to you- but it was her. She was talking to Baz, you weren’t sure if you should interrupt- but you wouldn’t want her to think you were rude for not saying hello. So you decided to talk to her. You swallowed the lump that made itself present in your throat before walking over to her, trying to hold your head as high as you could. 

“Y/N!” Baz smiled as you walked over, Priscilla turned around at the call of your name. 

“Y/N, how are you darling?” She asked. Priscilla’s voice was softer, you worried that you were making her appear too gutsy when acting. Suddenly all of your negative thoughts came flooding back.

“I’m alright, how are you?” She pulled you in for a hug. Baz had left you alone with Priscilla now, so you had no one else to fall back on if you began to panic.

“Just wonderful,” She smiled, “I can’t wait to watch this scene, very special to me,”

Your swear your heart dropped into the pits of your stomach. “Well, if you want me to change anything or do anything different, please tell me-“ You could have been borderline hyperventilating with the way you were laughing awkwardly, your breaths fell from your stomach- “I want it to be perfect for you,”

“Darling, you’ll be great,” She held onto your shoulders, “Just relax”.

You couldn’t. You had Priscilla Presley reassuring you that it was okay to step back and take a breath, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do it. 

“Hey mamas,” Austin’s hand was now sat on the small of your back as he came over to you both, “Priscilla, how are you?” He had such a gentlemanly smile on his lips. 

“So great,” She told him, “You look very strapping,” Priscilla admired the military outfit that Austin was wearing for the scene. “And you-“ Priscilla put her hand on your cheek, “It’s like looking in a mirror,” Okay, maybe you could breathe a little, “Fifty-odd years ago, but still-“ She laughed- “A mirror,”

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Austin looked down at you. Priscilla watched as Austin admired you, her heart skipped a beat seeing two people who were such visions of herself and her true love. It was surreal, she wished he was here to see it.

“Just gorgeous,” Priscilla nodded.

Soon, Baz was calling both you and Austin to your marks, ready to film the scene. You shook your hands out as you stood up and on your mark. Austin tapped your leg with his foot from his position on the floor. “Hey,” He whispered, “You’ve got this, I promise”

You swallowed the lump in your throat once more, a persistent and pestering trait of your anxieties. You looked down at him before nodding.

“I got this,” You whispered, trying your best to convince yourself. 

“Ready,” Baz began to call. You closed your eyes and listened for him to cal action, “Mark.. And action!”

“And then he said to me…” You cleared your throat, deepening your voice with a gravelly tone, pretending to inhale from a cigarette- blowing out imaginary smoke into the air. “‘You know what, Priscilla? You gotta listen to me, sweetie, because this guy, he’s got girls all over the world, okay?’” You looked down at Austin who was looking up at you in awe, “‘He’s got girls waiting outside of his house and girls writing him endless fan mail.” You abandoned the deep and rough tone, “And then mommy decides to pitch in and go, ‘ooh, what could he possibly see in you, okay? What do you two do up there all night?”

And…” You looked over to see an extra peering into the room. 

You softly scoffed, before closing the door slightly. "And I just said, ‘mom, dad… We talk and we listen to music, okay? That’s all.” You leave the door and walk closer to where Austin was sat, “And then they were going on and on about that photo of you and Natalie wood riding around on that bike in Memphis, and-“ You took a quick deep breath- “And then what I said- and I said this really calmly, I said, ‘listen, okay? He’s just really lonely. And quite frankly, so am I’” You shrugged.

You and Austin sat in a pause of silence before you giggled softly, “And then they didn’t really know what to say after that, so I went upstairs and I went to bed,” You smiled. Austin still sat with the same face staring back at you. It was beautiful sight.

“Never met anyone like you,” Austin’s southern drawl present once again, deeper than usual. 

“Well, I hope not,” You leant back against the bed, looking at Austin, “So… what is Natalie wood like?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“She’s nice, you know. She’s been writing me about acting. I’ve been asking her stories about working with James Dean and… God-“ Austin sighed whilst shaking his head- “I just hope to one day be as good as him, you know?” He looked over at you. You hummed a response before Austin continued. “Colonel’s promised me that when I get back he’s gonna set me up in Hollywood to be a serious actor. That’s really what I dream of,” He admitted.

“Hey, E.P,” Another extra called out, the door now open once again. Austin was now stood up, “E.P, now, you promised the captain that you’d get her home by 7:00.

“Hey, Charlie. What’s that behind you?” Austin walked over to the door, pointing behind the extra. 

“What?” The man followed Austin’s gaze but when he looked back the door had been closed in his face.

“He don’t boss me around,” You and Austin moved over to the bay-window seat. You were leant against the wall as Austin sat closer to you.

“You know, I think if you dream it, you’ll do it.” You told him, your voice soft.

“You do?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You whispered.

“Cut!” Baz called. You let out a breath you didn’t know that you were holding in. Austin grabbed a hold of your hand, squeezing it tight to let you know that he was proud of you. 

Baz came over to talk to you about the scene before another take, you were enthralled with every word Baz ever spoke to you. As you were busy talking, Austin walked over to Priscilla who had a smile on her face.

“What did you think?” Priscilla almost had to take a double take whenever speaking with Austin. He radiated the same energy as her Elvis- scary really, but she knew he would be proud of Austin. He would be honoured.

“Isn’t she just great?” Priscilla had her arms crossed over her chest as she marvelled at your performance. 

“Oh, tell me about it,” Austin shook his head as he watched you deep in conversation. The way you spoke with your hands, he found it so endearing. “She’s just-“ He sighed- “Amazing,”

“How long’ve you two been together?” Priscilla asked. Austin’s heart stopped beating in his chest. Technically, she wasn’t wrong.. you two were ‘dating’, but the fact that Priscilla wasn’t aware of your agreement and still noticed your chemistry shocked Austin. 

“Oh uh- well,” Austin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “We’re not actually together, we’re just ‘dating’-“ He air-quoted- “For the film. We’re method acting,” He explained.

“Oh,” Priscilla was confused at his answer, startled really. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed or anything, you both just have this..” She searched for the right word, “I’m not really sure,” She shrugged. Priscilla knew that she was lying, she had seen this before- had felt that way before. 

“No, don’t worry,” Austin brushed it off, “I’m not offended or anything-“ Austin tripped over his words, reaching for the right thing to say- “I wouldn’t be offended by anyone thinking we were actually together. You know? She’s great, but we’re just ‘together’ for the film, that’s it” Priscilla watched as Austin nodded as he spoke. She wondered if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

“Well alright,” She nodded at him, the two of them looking back over at you, “Could’ve fooled me,” Priscilla shrugged. As Austin turned his head to look back at her, she was still watching you speak with Baz.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if people thought you were really together, Austin wouldn’t be opposed to that. A happy accident maybe.

As the day went on, you were feeling more comfortable in your own skin. Priscilla was kind as ever, offering you tidbits about her life and telling you how she felt in that exact moment so that you could bring your performance to the next level. Having her on set was the little push you needed to believe in your abilities, Austin was right- you’ve got this.

You were done with your scenes around lunchtime, though you and Priscilla sat together on set. In between takes you would speak about the film and how you both were feeling about it all. You were grateful to even get to be in the same room as her, let alone have genuine conversations.

Austin was filming another performance, you honestly had zoned out at this far along in the day- you weren’t even sure which number it was. All you knew is Austin was standing on a stage, rhinestones adorning whatever jumpsuit he was wearing and he was probably looking very good while doing it.

You felt bad for not paying attention to the scene being filmed, but you and Priscilla were having such a great time whispering like little school girls in the back corner of a classroom- you didn’t even notice when Austin hurt himself.

It happened quite quick. You heard Baz call ‘cut’ louder than he usually would. Then the words ‘you’re bleeding’, that caught your attention.

When you looked over to the sound stage, Austin held a guitar in hand and was telling Baz he was ready to do another take whilst blood dripped down his forehead.

“No, you’re going to get checked out” Baz ordered. You watched as Austin tried to stumble his way from the stage, his hand on his head. You mumbled a small ‘sorry’ to Priscilla before rushing over to Austin.

“What the hell did you do?” You grabbed his arm, trying to help him down from the stairs. Austin had a gash in his forehead, it didn’t look too deep- but it looked like it hurt.

“I threw the guitar off,” Austin mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, “You hadn’t practiced that enough yet to do that, Austin. You know that”.

“It felt right in the moment,” Austin opened his eyes wide and blinked a few times. “Mamas, could you please walk me to the medic, I’m a little woozy,” His breaths began to deepen, as they did you placed yourself under his arm, trying your best to support his large frame.

“You’re not going to a medic, you’re going to a hospital,” Baz told him, “I’ll re-work some schedules, you’re back on Monday unless a doctor or myself says otherwise,”

Austin opened his mouth to try and argue, but you whisked him away before he could. You whispered a quick goodbye to Priscilla as you walked Austin from the lot and tucked him into the passenger seat of your car.

“Baby, I’m fine,” Austin tried to tell you.

“I’m ignoring you,” You shook your head, “Cannot believe you smacked yourself in the head with a guitar”. Shooting a look over at Austin, you saw his eyes slowly drifting. You smacked him softly in the chest trying to him keep awake as you drove to the hospital.

“Austin,” You hit him again, “Stop that, don’t do that to me,”

“My head is killing me,” He groaned.

“Yeah, because you almost knocked yourself out, idiot” You scoffed, “Stay awake please, we’re like ten minutes away- not even”. You moved one of your hands from the steering wheel and on top of his, grabbing onto it. “Squeeze my hand if you need to, just don’t pass out on me please” You squeezed his hand twice to get his attention. Austin gave you a squeeze back, before looking over at you.

Did you push the speed limit? Sure. But as you walked Austin into the emergency room, you knew it was worth it. You knew that Baz must have pulled some strings to get Austin looked at straight away, you felt guilty for the other people having to sit in the waiting room for who knows how long.

It didn’t take long for the doctors to say Austin could go home. They put four stitches in the gash and ruled out a concussion. You felt more at ease knowing he was going to be okay.

Austin thanked you incessantly as you took him back to his apartment. You tried your best to play it off, you didn’t feel like it was a big deal. You were doing what any friend would do. Austin wouldn’t have it though.

Back at his place, you told Austin to get changed into different clothes- he was still in a glittery jumpsuit, one you would need to return to wardrobe tomorrow morning. As Austin got ready for bed, you slipped into his bathroom, brushed your teeth and pulled the old shirt from the box of things Austin had put away for you. It felt good to be in something fresh that didn’t smell like a hospital.

If Austin noticed that you were wearing his shirt, he didn’t say anything. You tucked the duvet underneath him to get him comfortable. “Hey, you seriously don’t have to do this, Y/N,” He told you.

You ignored him as you pulled his water bottle out of your bag and handed it to him. Austin whispered a soft thank you as he unscrewed the cap off.

“Can you be more careful next time please?” You took the water bottle back once he had finished with it. You put it on his bedside table so it was close to him during the night.

“Yes, mamas- I promise,” He nodded. Austin grabbed your hand from where you were sat on his bed, “You gonna stay tonight?”

“I can if you would like me to,” You shrugged.

“I always want you to,” Austin closed his eyes with a sigh. His head throbbed right behind his stitches, he regretted trying Elvis’ guitar-throw move more than he ever thought possible.

“Okay,” You whispered, “Then I’ll stay”.

You tidied up Austin’s room as he called obstructions from the bed, in too much pain to stop you from picking up after him. “The room is a mess, please don’t” He said, “I’ll clean it up tomorrow, I just haven’t had heaps of time,”

“I’ve got time,” You told him, “So I’m doing it. Close your eyes,” You watched as he rolled his eyes before closing them, a wince following in suit.

“You okay?” You stopped in your tracks from picking up a pair of jeans from the floor.

“Yeah mamas,” He nodded softly, “Just.. sore”

You left Austin’s bedroom and headed down into the kitchen where he kept his medicine. You pulled an almost empty box of ibuprofen from the cabinet before heading back upstairs.

“Take this,” You popped out two pills from the foil packaging into Austin’s hand, then handed him his water. You continued to put his clothes into the hamper as Austin took the pain medication, especially grateful for you in that moment.

When you were done, you slipped your bra off and out from underneath Austin’s old t-shirt before getting into bed next to him. You shuffled around for a second, trying your best to get comfortable.

“Come ‘ere” Austin whispered. You rolled over and moved closer towards Austin. His face and yours were inches apart.

“Thank you for taking care of me, baby” He whispered, his eyes still closed. You smiled.

“Of course,” You laughed slightly, “Wouldn’t want you to bleed out on set, we’d lose our leading man”.

“Could stick you in a wig and let you do it,” You watched a small smirk crept onto his face.

“I couldn’t pull of black hair like you,” You chuckled, “You look very very good with black hair, very pretty”.

Austin opened his eyes to meet your gaze. He could only just make out your face in the dark, but he knew you looked beautiful, you always did.

“Thank you for today,” He whispered to you.

“Always,” You smiled. You watched as Austin’s eyes flickered down to your lips. You couldn’t help but copy his actions afterwards. After your eyes both met, and it was unspoken where the conversation was heading- but you both knew.

You closed your eyes as you leant forwards, Austin doing the same. You let your hand rest softly on his cheek as his moved to your neck. His lips met yours.

They felt soft and plush, exactly how they looked. You had thought about what it would be like to kiss Austin, but now that it was happening, you were pleasantly surprised by the innocent kiss.

You pulled away first, suddenly shy in front of him. Austin but his lip as your eyes met once more, his hand still sat on your neck. Your brain rushed through a million things to say to him, you weren’t completely happy with what you came out with.

“You’re a great actor, Mr Presley,”

Austin’s heart dropped as you spoke. His entire conversation with Priscilla came flooding back, that you weren’t really together and no matter how much the idea of you being his and not Elvis’ made him happy- you had confirmed that it wasn’t going to happen in six small words.

For he came to the conclusion that you were never going to kiss him as Austin, but only as Elvis.

─── ∘◦❀◦∘

@rainydayz101 @sammybutler @klizzie93 @rockerchick05 @fanatics30 @sh-aniah @little-rythmix @austinsrealgf @hallecarey1 @catertotshitposts @abloversblog @inkpot-winters @adrientte715 @gabrielajimenez @butler-trouble @rodrig-hoe @b1llzb1tch @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-blog1 @behindmygreyeyes @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @teti-menchon0604 @sparklemarysunshine @xy05m @onecrazydirectioner @knivqs @dre6ming @gigisworldsstuff @namoreno @all-lit-up @aesthetic-lyssa @butlersantics

[fluffyhales]

Lost In The Music || Peter Maximoff (Pt.1?)

Peter Maximoff (Ralph) x Female Reader (Eunice )

Eunice is the name given to the reader in the Hex just so there's no confusion.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆

It wasn’t until a new couple moved in several doors down that she started to really take in her surroundings. Her house seemed big and empty, but that may have been a side effect of living alone, especially in a neighbourhood full of married couples. 

She preferred to keep to herself, not venturing out of the house much and enjoying the safety of her attic. The space was old and dusty, like it hadn’t been used in a very long time; nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good spring clean! (Was it spring? She couldn’t remember.)

On a small wooden table in the corner sat her small radio. The sound of Connie Francis’ ‘Stupid Cupid’ filled the attic, prompting the woman to turn up the volume, forgetting that her window was wide open. 

The house next door had an almost identical attic layout, with the window directly across from her own, giving whoever happened to be in there a good view of her home. This is exactly what happened on that particular day. He had been struggling to contain his energy, almost claustrophobic in the space of his own attic. He pushed open the window to let some air in and was met with the sound of Connie Francis and the sight of a beautiful young woman dancing by herself. He sat on the window pane, enraptured by this stranger.

A chuckle from nearby brought her back to reality, making her jump. She turned and saw the grinning young man at his window.

“Jeez Louise! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

He laughed again, dimples on full display. He was stunning. Big, soft eyes the colour of… the colour…. Where was the colour? Where was she? Who was she? She had to get ou-

He was stunning. Big, soft eyes that made her feel at ease. 

And hair that looked so soft, and slightly curly at the front. He wore a letterman jacket and looked every bit the charming heartthrob. 

“Sorry, doll. I saw you dancin’ and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” Heavens, he was gorgeous. The man leaned forward slightly and smirked. “Although, I think you need to change up what you’re listening to.”

“What’s wrong with Connie Francis?” She asked. Whilst not her favourite, ‘Stupid Cupid’ was a fun tune! And who could possibly resist lyrics written by Neil Sedaka?

“Nothin, nothing. But I’m more of an Elvis guy, myself.”

“Of course you are,” she laughed, “and yet you say I’m the one who needs to broaden my taste in music?” 

He put a hand to his chest, gaping in mock offence. “You wound me! Elvis is the greatest artist of our generation.”

She knew that they had never met but it already felt like they had known each other their entire lives… Even though she didn’t even know his name.

“So, stranger… What’s your name?”

“I’m P-” he paused, eyes shifting before finally settling back on her, “I’m Ralph.”

The two spent the next few hours discussing their respective music preferences, dancing to the songs in their record collections and singing along at a volume that may have irritated the neighbours. If it had, they certainly hadn’t indicated such to the pair.

Soon enough, the sun had set and the stars came out. Ralph’s eyes occasionally drifted over to the sidewalk, a look of unease briefly taking over his face.

“Is everything alright?” She asked. 

“Y-yeah. Sorry, just got a little lost for a second… It’s getting late.” He moved to stand from his spot on the window pane. He could see her approaching the house and the last thing he wanted was for the sweet girl next door to have to deal with the repercussions of his actions. “Hey, I never caught your name, doll.”

It took her a moment to respond. 

“...Eunice.” She didn’t sound entirely sure about it but who was he to call her bluff on her own name. Perhaps she just needed a second for her mind to kick back into gear or she might have been tired, unable to remember very basic things due to the fatigue overwhelming her body. Regardless, at least he now had an answer.

“Well, Eunice, shall we continue this in the morning? Maybe I can come over there and see you dance up close?” 

Oh. 

He hadn’t intended for that to sound so… suggestive. 

“Do you dance, Ralph?”

“Me? Not really, but maybe you can teach me a step or two. We’ll have to see.” 

She laughed. “Goodnight, Ralph.”

“Goodnight, Eunice.”

It wasn't long after he saw her attic light turn off that a horrible sensation had begun to creep its way back into his body. Everything that surrounded him felt wrong, even the hours of the day. He couldn't tell if they were moving too slow or himself too fast or vice versa. The ticking of the clock on the wall was taunting him. 

As for his body, Ralph felt like the string of a bow; pulled back tight, never moving too far away before being dragged back into the same position he started in. He was the string but he desperately needed to be the arrow - he needed to move.

The tapping of heels against wooden flooring alerted him of the person approaching his door and a feeling of dread washed over the young man.

His 'wife' was home.

[be-my-ally]

Before the Draft Notice

This follows on directly from Splashing Around Chapter 1 & Chapter 2. 

Hello darlings! So, I had something else ready to post, but, well, it's not yet even Halloween and therefore I’ve been informed it might be a little, teeny, tiny, bit early for Christmas fics - so here I am, bridging the gap with a little teeny tiny filler. Let me know though if/when you think it might be the correct time for festive fluffy fun! 

warnings: kissing, implications of underage. unedited (I will probs come back to this tomorrow).

1957 elvis x oc

wc: 2.4k

Elvis wasn’t home soon though, he dawdled in California until they all saw the news articles of him at a fancy Halloween party and though the other girls had a lot to say about it, Louise privately thought it made sense; he was young, he was popular, he was making it, why wouldn’t he be rubbing shoulders with the starlets and actors of the west coast? Although that didn’t mean she didn’t share their fears, understanding their annoyance was borne from stress that he was leaving them behind. Besides, he’d called in a terrible temper the night before and it was, or at least Louise thought, an effective way for him to blow off some steam. He had been on the phone to them for hours, forcing them to pass it around to one another, telling them the same story over and over - presumably intending on doing so until someone managed to calm him down. Louise dreaded to think of the cost of just that one call - surely more than she’d spent on the phone in a year. 

“Hey Elvis, it’s me.” She could picture his nostrils flaring as she heard a puff from him,  

“Lou-ise.” He was curt, and she worried the phone cord around her finger, twirling it as she tried to think of what to say; desperate to prove herself to him and to the others - to succeed where all the others had failed.  

“I, uh, I heard ‘bout the, I heard about the police.”  

“Did ya? Wish they’d just move on; I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t get why they hafta keep picking on me.” Louise hums, and he continues, “They’re sayin’ I’m - I’m lewd, got the goddamn police after me again like I’m a fucking criminal. Ain’t enough they’ve made me 1A already, they gotta try and prove their goddamn point.” She sighs,  

“Well - I thought that didn’t bother you anymore?” He huffs back at her,  

“Well, no, it don’t. I find it funny most of the time now. I mean - they didn’t even look at me the whole night, but it’s still, it’s still not fair to treat my fans like that either is it?” She murmurs back to him in what she hopes is a consolatory tone,  

“No, no you’re right El… it’s not, it’s not fair.” She pauses, briefly, “What’s really the matter though? That’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before.” There’s a longer pause, as if he’s debating whether to tell her. She shakes out a hand to the others left in the room motioning at them to leave. They grumble but filter out, talking about who was driving who home. Then, in a whine,  

“Some reporter had me read something from Sinatra.” Ah, there it was, “And, and, I just don’t know where he gets off being so mean.” He sounds like a little boy complaining about someone in the school yard, and Louise smiles,  

“Uh-huh, I hear you. He is being awfully unfair. You want me to write an opinion piece back to him? I could hand it in for extra credit in my English class.” He laughs,  

“Oh, I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. Not at -” She can practically hear him adding up the time difference on his fingers, “- well, this late on a school night.” He pauses, “What are you doin’ there anyway - shouldn’t you be at home?” She winces, it was pretty late, and she’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.  

“Well, we were all here waiting for you to call. Wanted to be here in case you needed us - all of us that could be here anyway - and well, a lot of the others have gone home but, well, your mom said I could stay as long as I liked so, well, here I am.”  

“But you’ve been keeping up with school? You’ve not been skippin’?” She rolls her eyes, and he tuts,  

“I heard that.” Louise giggles back, 

“You can’t possibly!”  

“Trust me - I always know.” He sighs, “God, I can’t wait to be home.” He yawned, jaw cracking, “Gotta, gonna go to this party, just - think it’s just a lil, little, uh, gathering - then I’ll be home.”  

“Well, I’ll be waiting,” He pauses,  

“Well - it’s, it’s probably best if you, well if you go home ‘til I call for you hmm?” It wasn’t unexpected, but Louise still felt her stomach drop.  

“Yeah, of course, uh, whatever you say.”  

“Just be for the best, I think honey.” 

“Yeah, I get it, sure.”  

“Sleep tight then baby, I’ll see you soon.”  

“Yeah-huh, you too.” He hangs up and she’s left holding the receiver, in his empty living room, uncertain really what he’d been saying.  

When he finally got back Louise didn’t get a call, and then she heard he had left for Hawaii before she had managed to muster up the courage to call him herself. Once Elvis returned, he didn’t call her himself for days, although she did get several calls inviting her up to the house which she of course accepted every time. And every night it was the same story, she sat there, quietly with the other girls while he chatted and played evening after evening. Louise wasn’t being ignored, not really. He was just…sharing his affections. Equalizing his attention amongst them all. It wasn’t until a week later, on the weekend, that he came around to the girls, flopping down onto the sofa between them and resting his head onto Louise’s lap. Frances had his feet on hers, and she softly brushed his sole until he huffed, twitching his foot away and turning his head into Louise’s stomach. She gently stroked his hair, fingers barely catching in his freshly washed strands. She could feel his hot breath against her skin through the thin fabric of her dress and it makes her hair stand up on edge, the intimacy of the moment almost too much for her as she tries to keep her breathing steady.  

“I’ve got a bad feelin,’ Ma does too.” Louise’s hand stills, her other coming down to tickle his back, soft fingers dancing over his shoulders. Elvis twists his head, nodding against her hand and Louise gets the hint returning to gently brushing through his hair. 

Frances pipes up,  “What d’you mean?”  

“I’ve - I’ve got a nasty feeling about my notice - don’t think it’ll be long now.”  

“Oh.” Louise feels her chest tighten, worry already setting in as Frances responds,  

“No! I’m sure that’s not true Elvis! You’ve got so much already planned!” He huffs, and Louise whispers back to him,  

“Well, we’ll deal with it if it is,” He whines a little into her,  

“Y’all gotta promise me - promise me you’ll all be good while I’m gone, I don’t - don’t wanna hear you’ve gotten into trouble.” He pauses, his voice muffled by the fabric of her dress, “Don’t want anything to change.” Louise can’t help but think about all the ways she wants things to change, namely how it’s now been months since they last kissed properly, and she felt like she was close to begging for it - propriety be damned. Whether Elvis notices her telepathic hinting, or if it was always in the plan is unclear, but within the hour he had returned to his bedroom, presumably to get changed again although he didn’t bother to announce that to the room. George tapping on her shoulder twenty minutes later after some sort of Chinese whispers had taken place with orders for her to be sent up to him.  

Louise tentatively knocked on the door even though she knew he was expecting her, awaiting his, “Come on in little Lou-Lou!” before opening it. He’s perched on the end of his bed when she walks in, her feet sinking into his soft, still new-feeling, thick white carpet, and he opens his arms to her. She practically throws herself into them and is immediately rewarded by him pulling her tight to him, his arms folding around her back, clutching her close. She couldn’t break away further than an inch if she wanted to, not that she did. She contented herself nosing at his neck, before one of his hands strayed up to rest on her cheek, turning her face to his, before falling down to her neck, fingers splayed up to her chin. She tips her head up, meeting his eyes and he winks before ducking his own head down to meet hers. It’s at once far more involved than the last time they’d kissed. This time he’s kissing her like he’s hungry for it and he pulls away, briefly, with a tug to her bottom lip,  

“God - I missed ya, baby,” before clutching her face close again. Louise feels like her body is burning from the inside out, can feel the heat building and starting to radiate off her, and Elvis’ arm clenches around her, stilling her movements as she practically bucks against him. She just melts, his arm the only thing really holding her up as she willingly goes along with her devourment. He laughs, his fingers grazing her waist, as she gasps for a breath, her eyes still closed, “You’re so pretty.” Her eyes flutter open in disbelief, unable to believe, even having heard it herself, that Elvis was telling her she was pretty. She gathered her strength to place her wobbly arms around his neck, murmuring back to him, “No, you’re the pretty one, gosh you’re gorgeous, you look so good,” as she presses little kisses all over his cheeks and face. He reciprocates, and she manages to keep her eyes open, watching him at impossibly close range. He ends by pressing a kiss to her mouth again, and this time Louise pushes herself against him so hard that they go tumbling down onto the bed. She giggles, looking around at the blue walls, but Elvis quickly regains her attention, caging her in under him and capturing her mouth with his again. She relaxes into him - completely at ease and trusting.

By the time they make their way back downstairs, Louise was dazed, and her lips bitten sore, and she was pleased to notice Elvis’ looked the same - a little zing of possessiveness sent straight up her spine. Yes; she mussed his hair up to look like that. His lips are rosy and plumped because of her. She misses everyone’s first looks, coming in behind Elvis, and though he doesn’t announce what they’ d been up to she can feel their knowing eyes, and she resigns herself to having to field questions on the nature of her relationship with Elvis.  

Elvis immediately situated himself back on the couch, patting the space next to him.  

 “C’mon little girl, come sit next to me.” Louise writhes a little, her face echoing her jumbled internal thoughts. 

“What? C’mon, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, eyebrow rising and Louise is quick to walk over to him, anxious for him not to change his mind despite her annoyance. He grabs her wrist before she can sit down, tugging her to stand in front of him. “You don’t wanna sit with me now?” She thinks, but doesn’t say, ‘well, no. because you’re holding me upright.’  

“No, no, I do. I just, I know you don’t mean it in this way, but it’s just…well, Elvis - you’re not that much older than me, and it feels like sometimes you’re, - “She pauses, unsure how to put it, his gaze hardens,  

“I’m what?”  

“Like you’re, oh I don’t know Elvis!” He doesn’t let go, and he doesn’t respond, just waiting her out. “Well. You just don’t needta call me little all the damn time.” His brow furrows as he tries to work out what’s referring to,  

“What? I can’t call you little girl?” He scoffs, “I don’t mean nothing by it. Jus what you are s’all.”  

“Elvis.” She pouts, and he grins, pulling her closer, pressing his palms to her cheeks,  

“Just my itty-bitty baby girl.” She groans, annoyed he wasn’t taking her seriously, and stomps her foot. He cackles in response, drawing back.  

“See, what did I tell ya boys - She’s just a baby.” He says it with a sneer, and it suddenly doesn’t feel like kind-hearted teasing anymore. Louise can rapidly feel tears of frustration blurring her vision, frustrated at the situation, and at how it’s impossible to argue she’s not a baby when she’s crying at everything. Elvis frowns. “Oh, honey, there’s no need fo-” But they don’t stop coming, and he watches almost forlorn himself as a fat, salty teardrop slides down her cheek. He sighs, “C’mere with me.” He drags her out of the room away from the others and pulls her along all the way back up to his bathroom, “C’mon, here we go,” He picks her up to balance her on the vanity while she sniffles.  

“So-rry,” She manages to get out, while he gently wipes at her eyes with his thumbs, “Didn’t mean to, I know you were playing.” He smiles, eyes almost pleading, crinkling just the tiniest amount around the corners,  

“Thought you were gonna fight it out with me. I wasn’t expecting the waterworks, but I guess, well I guess, you’re jus’ a little over-emot’onal huh, darling?” He kisses the tears away, teardrop clinging to his lip as she struggles to compose herself. “Will you still come back tomorrow?” The question startles Louise enough for her to stop the tears,  

“Of course! Whenever you want me too.” Elvis brushes his hand through his hair, shoving some of it back into place.  

“Honey, I want you here all the time. Even when you’re bein’ silly.” He taps her nose and Louise giggles again. “Look, I think someone here is tired, so how’s abouts I drop you home?”  

Louise blinks back at him, the offer almost unheard of, “You want to?” He nods, his hair flopping back into disarray,  

“Yeah-huh, let’s wash your face, huh honey? And then I’ll take you home. Tuck my baby in for the night.” Louise blushes, this was exactly the kind of comment she’d just been protesting, and yet now it was making her head feel fuzzy and her tummy flip with anticipation. Elvis shifts his weight as he cocks a hip, holding his hand out for her hold for balance as she hops off the sink and as the sturdy weight of his fingers sink into hers Louise decides it’s not an argument that she has any desire to win.

[stylesnews]

In a decade, Harry Styles has gone from teenage heartthrob to a global pop star in his own right. As he's distanced himself from his adolescent years as a member of One Direction, he's become his own person, starring in the 2017 blockbuster Dunkirk, hosting Saturday Night Live and creating music that pulls from a variety of influences.

Styles released his second solo album Fine Line late last year, and in addition to showcasing some of those influences and his talents as a songwriter, it was also a huge commercial success, with the biggest U.S. sales week for a British male artist since Eric Clapton's Unplugged in 1992.

But Styles says he spent a lot of time rethinking his idea of success after touring his self-titled album. "I think if you're making what you want to make, then ultimately no one can tell you you're unsuccessful, because you're doing what makes you happy," he says.

NPR's Mary Louise Kelly spoke to Harry Styles about his love of Fleetwood Mac and finding freedom in the music of the '70s, what he would say to his 16-year-old self and nail polish. Listen in the player above and read on for a transcript of their full conversation.

Mary Louise Kelly: Your most recent album seems tied up in the '70s, which is a decade you didn't actually live through. What is it about that era that draws you in?

There's a freedom in the music that is so inspiring. If you go back and listen to so much of that music, and you listen to songs from [Carole King's] Tapestry and Harry Nilsson songs, they sound so fresh. I think it's crazy that something that was made so long ago, you can listen to it now and be like "I want my drums to sound like these drums, and I want my strings to sound like these strings." I think that's really incredible. And I think it's just the freedom, it's people doing what they wanted to do. Obviously, the music business has changed so much since then — there was a lot more of everybody hanging out together and playing songs, and I feel like music is a lot more competitive now.

And is it maybe a little more produced now? Less organic?

I think we just have different technology. When we came to do my first solo album, I had this thing where I wanted to do everything to tape. And then I kind of realized that The Beatles didn't use tape because it was really cool to use, they used it because it was the best technology they had [at the time] and it sounded the best. And now we just have different ways of recording stuff and you can make stuff sound really nice — so we kind of abandoned the tape thing. Overall what draws me to that time with music is just the freedom.

Was making Fine Line sound like the music of the '70s a conscious choice?

I'm not listening to stuff so much anymore being like "I just want my stuff to sound like this." You grow up listening to what your parents listen to. For me it was the [Rolling] Stones, Beatles, Fleetwood [Mac], a lot of Queen, Elvis Presley, Shania Twain, Savage Garden, Norah Jones. That was kind of like the base of what my first experience with music was, and I feel like you can't help but have a lot of references from what you grew up listening to [in your own music].

Speaking of Fleetwood Mac, I saw you've gotten to know and work with Stevie Nicks. What's that like, to get to know someone who was the soundtrack of your childhood and go out on stage with them?

It borders on an out-of-body experience. "Dreams" was the first song I knew all the words to; I used to sing it in the car with my mom. Every time I'm with her, you want to be, obviously, present, right? I'm trying to enjoy being with her and soaking in. But I think at the same time, while you're in the room with her, I'm sitting there thinking about being 10-years-old and singing the song.

Does it matter if you're super famous yourself?

I don't think so, because ultimately we're all humans. It's not like paralyzing starstruck, it's more like I try and appreciate what my 10-year-old self would think of it. I think ultimately you meet [other famous people] and you're kind of in awe of them, but at the same time you get to hang out with them on this human level, where you're just talking and it's really amazing.

Those are the moments that kind of mean the most because it's real. And when everything else about being in music goes away, that's the stuff that I think you end up telling your grandkids. For example, with Stevie, my favorite moments about it aren't usually the show, it's the practicing. When we first played together, it was at the Troubadour — famously, where Elton John did his first U.S. show — and it was an amazing moment, but my favorite was soundchecking. It's like four people in there and just us singing in the empty Troubadour. For me, that's a moment that I'm going to hold on to.

Speaking of moments where you wish you could tell your younger self "Buddy, you have no idea": 10 years ago when you auditioned for the British reality show X Factor, the judge Simon Cowell asked you "What do you want to do with your life, what are your future plans?" You said you were going back to college in the fall to study "law, sociology, business and something else, but I'm not sure yet."

There's a lot of us who wanted to be a rock star and ended up being lawyers. You've gone the other way. Is it funny listening back to yourself? What do you wish you could tell your 16-year-old self?

I guess like "Don't worry." In the early years, I spent a lot of time worrying about what would happen and getting things wrong and saying the wrong thing and doing the wrong thing. I'm trying to let go of the worrying thing, and that's what I've loved the most about this album, rather than the first one. I think I had a lot of fear — whether it was conscious or subconsciously — just about getting it wrong. When I listen back to the first album now, although I still love it so much, I feel like I was almost bowling with the bumpers up a little bit. I can hear places where I was playing it safe.

When I listen back to the first album now, although I still love it so much, I feel like I was almost bowling with the bumpers up a little bit. I can hear places where I was playing it safe.

I think with this one, after touring with an album that wasn't necessarily a radio record and people came to see the show, I realized that the only thing that people really want is for you to do what you want to do. Ultimately, I think if people believe in you, you can make a bad record, you can make a bad song, and people will still come to a show if they're interested and they want to come see you. I think the only time people go "You know what? I'm done with this," is when it stops being authentic. You can't really blame people for that. If there's an artist I loved and I felt like they were faking it, I can't say that I'd keep going to the shows. I think that was a big thing for me, just trying to worry less. The worst thing that can happen is that I make a record that I think everybody else wants to hear, and then it doesn't do well. And you sit there going "Well I wish I'd just made the record that I wanted to make." I think if you're making what you want to make, then ultimately no one can tell you you're unsuccessful, because you're doing what makes you happy. That's the biggest thing that I learned this time.

You dress amazingly. You wear suits, but they're patterned and florals and you had that blouse that got all the attention at last year's Met Gala. I noticed you're wearing nail polish, and you do wear clothing that blurs traditional lines sometimes. What are you hoping people take from that? Is it just "This is what I want to wear, deal with it" or are you trying to send any kind of message?

For me, it's not like doing it to send a message. Part of being on the last tour, when people came to watch the show, I realized "Oh, these people just want to see me be myself, and I'm telling them to be themselves." And I just didn't want to be a hypocrite. I do it when I'm not working, so to me it doesn't feel like it's "Oh, I'm sending a message with my nail polish." I just put a lot less weight behind it, I think. And sometimes I forget, because I'll go somewhere and someone will be like "Have you got nail polish on?" I'm lucky that I work in an industry that allows you to be creative and express yourself, and I'd encourage it to anybody.

Can you tell us about a favorite song on the album?

My two favorite songs on this album are probably "Cherry" and "Fine Line." "Cherry" is the fifth song on the album. It's one of my favorites, mostly because of how it came about. When I started making this album ... I felt like it had to be big. The last record wasn't really a radio record: The single ["Sign of the Times"] from it was a 6-minute piano ballad, so it wasn't the typical formula. So I felt a bit of pressure that I wanted to make something that worked. I was trying this stuff one night in the studio, and I was worried because I just wasn't really liking anything that I was doing. I felt like I was trying too hard. That's when I make the music that I like the least, is when I'm trying to write a pop song or I'm trying to write something fun.

Everybody left for the weekend, and it was me, Tyler Johnson, who I work with, and Sammy Witte. It was two or three in the morning, and we were having a drink and just talking. I was saying how I have all these records that I'd love to make, I love all this kind of music and in five years I want to make this kind of record, and in 10 years I want to make this kind of album, and then I'll get to make the music that I really want to make. And Tyler just said "You just have to make the music that you want to make — right now. That's the only way of doing it, otherwise you're going to regret it."

And "Cherry" was the result of that?

Yeah, so we stayed and Sammy started playing the guitar riff, and we did it through the night and recorded it. Everybody came back in the morning and listened to it ... I heard it when it was finished and was like "This is the kind of music I want to make."

How did you write "Fine Line?"

"Fine Line" I wrote [during] a gap in the tour. It was January 2018 and I was at my friend Tom's house, who I work with, and we just started strumming this thing, and we started layering these vocals, and it turned into this 6-minute thing. I had it for a long time and I kept listening to it during the tour, like I'd listen to it before I went to bed. Just sonically I loved the song, and I loved the lyrics of the song. When we wrote it, I kind of knew it was the last song of an album, and we ended up taking it to Bath, in England, where I was making this record for a while. I wanted it to turn into something else at the end, I wanted like a big crescendo ending. While we were in Bath, Sammy started playing this little thing on the piano, and I tweaked it a little bit and I was like "That has to go at the end of 'Fine Line.' " Now when I listen to it, it's one of those things where I'm just proud that it's mine, I'm so happy. It's one of those songs that I've always wanted to make.

[hlupdate]

In a decade, Harry Styles has gone from teenage heartthrob to a global pop star in his own right. As he's distanced himself from his adolescent years as a member of One Direction, he's become his own person, starring in the 2017 blockbuster Dunkirk, hosting Saturday Night Live and creating music that pulls from a variety of influences.

Styles released his second solo album Fine Line late last year, and in addition to showcasing some of those influences and his talents as a songwriter, it was also a huge commercial success, with the biggest U.S. sales week for a British male artist since Eric Clapton's Unplugged in 1992.

But Styles says he spent a lot of time rethinking his idea of success after touring his self-titled album. "I think if you're making what you want to make, then ultimately no one can tell you you're unsuccessful, because you're doing what makes you happy," he says.

NPR's Mary Louise Kelly spoke to Harry Styles about his love of Fleetwood Mac and finding freedom in the music of the '70s, what he would say to his 16-year-old self and nail polish. Listen in the player above and read on for a transcript of their full conversation.

Mary Louise Kelly: Your most recent album seems tied up in the '70s, which is a decade you didn't actually live through. What is it about that era that draws you in?

Harry Styles: There's a freedom in the music that is so inspiring. If you go back and listen to so much of that music, and you listen to songs from [Carole King's] Tapestry and Harry Nilsson songs, they sound so fresh. I think it's crazy that something that was made so long ago, you can listen to it now and be like "I want my drums to sound like these drums, and I want my strings to sound like these strings." I think that's really incredible. And I think it's just the freedom, it's people doing what they wanted to do. Obviously, the music business has changed so much since then — there was a lot more of everybody hanging out together and playing songs, and I feel like music is a lot more competitive now.

And is it maybe a little more produced now? Less organic?

I think we just have different technology. When we came to do my first solo album, I had this thing where I wanted to do everything to tape. And then I kind of realized that The Beatles didn't use tape because it was really cool to use, they used it because it was the best technology they had [at the time] and it sounded the best. And now we just have different ways of recording stuff and you can make stuff sound really nice — so we kind of abandoned the tape thing. Overall what draws me to that time with music is just the freedom.

Was making Fine Line sound like the music of the '70s a conscious choice?

I'm not listening to stuff so much anymore being like "I just want my stuff to sound like this." You grow up listening to what your parents listen to. For me it was the [Rolling] Stones, Beatles, Fleetwood [Mac], a lot of Queen, Elvis Presley, Shania Twain, Savage Garden, Norah Jones. That was kind of like the base of what my first experience with music was, and I feel like you can't help but have a lot of references from what you grew up listening to [in your own music].

Speaking of Fleetwood Mac, I saw you've gotten to know and work with Stevie Nicks. What's that like, to get to know someone who was the soundtrack of your childhood and go out on stage with them?

It borders on an out-of-body experience. "Dreams" was the first song I knew all the words to; I used to sing it in the car with my mom. Every time I'm with her, you want to be, obviously, present, right? I'm trying to enjoy being with her and soaking in. But I think at the same time, while you're in the room with her, I'm sitting there thinking about being 10-years-old and singing the song.

Does it matter if you're super famous yourself?

I don't think so, because ultimately we're all humans. It's not like paralyzing starstruck, it's more like I try and appreciate what my 10-year-old self would think of it. I think ultimately you meet [other famous people] and you're kind of in awe of them, but at the same time you get to hang out with them on this human level, where you're just talking and it's really amazing.

Those are the moments that kind of mean the most because it's real. And when everything else about being in music goes away, that's the stuff that I think you end up telling your grandkids. For example, with Stevie, my favorite moments about it aren't usually the show, it's the practicing. When we first played together, it was at the Troubadour — famously, where Elton John did his first U.S. show — and it was an amazing moment, but my favorite was soundchecking. It's like four people in there and just us singing in the empty Troubadour. For me, that's a moment that I'm going to hold on to.

Speaking of moments where you wish you could tell your younger self "Buddy, you have no idea": 10 years ago when you auditioned for the British reality show X Factor, the judge Simon Cowell asked you "What do you want to do with your life, what are your future plans?" You said you were going back to college in the fall to study "law, sociology, business and something else, but I'm not sure yet."

There's a lot of us who wanted to be a rock star and ended up being lawyers. You've gone the other way. Is it funny listening back to yourself? What do you wish you could tell your 16-year-old self?

I guess like "Don't worry." In the early years, I spent a lot of time worrying about what would happen and getting things wrong and saying the wrong thing and doing the wrong thing. I'm trying to let go of the worrying thing, and that's what I've loved the most about this album, rather than the first one. I think I had a lot of fear — whether it was conscious or subconsciously — just about getting it wrong. When I listen back to the first album now, although I still love it so much, I feel like I was almost bowling with the bumpers up a little bit. I can hear places where I was playing it safe.

I think with this one, after touring with an album that wasn't necessarily a radio record and people came to see the show, I realized that the only thing that people really want is for you to do what you want to do. Ultimately, I think if people believe in you, you can make a bad record, you can make a bad song, and people will still come to a show if they're interested and they want to come see you. I think the only time people go "You know what? I'm done with this," is when it stops being authentic. You can't really blame people for that. If there's an artist I loved and I felt like they were faking it, I can't say that I'd keep going to the shows. I think that was a big thing for me, just trying to worry less. The worst thing that can happen is that I make a record that I think everybody else wants to hear, and then it doesn't do well. And you sit there going "Well I wish I'd just made the record that I wanted to make." I think if you're making what you want to make, then ultimately no one can tell you you're unsuccessful, because you're doing what makes you happy. That's the biggest thing that I learned this time.

You dress amazingly. You wear suits, but they're patterned and florals and you had that blouse that got all the attention at last year's Met Gala. I noticed you're wearing nail polish, and you do wear clothing that blurs traditional lines sometimes. What are you hoping people take from that? Is it just "This is what I want to wear, deal with it" or are you trying to send any kind of message?

For me, it's not like doing it to send a message. Part of being on the last tour, when people came to watch the show, I realized "Oh, these people just want to see me be myself, and I'm telling them to be themselves." And I just didn't want to be a hypocrite. I do it when I'm not working, so to me it doesn't feel like it's "Oh, I'm sending a message with my nail polish." I just put a lot less weight behind it, I think. And sometimes I forget, because I'll go somewhere and someone will be like "Have you got nail polish on?" I'm lucky that I work in an industry that allows you to be creative and express yourself, and I'd encourage it to anybody.

Can you tell us about a favorite song on the album?

My two favorite songs on this album are probably "Cherry" and "Fine Line." "Cherry" is the fifth song on the album. It's one of my favorites, mostly because of how it came about. When I started making this album ... I felt like it had to be big. The last record wasn't really a radio record: The single ["Sign of the Times"] from it was a 6-minute piano ballad, so it wasn't the typical formula. So I felt a bit of pressure that I wanted to make something that worked. I was trying this stuff one night in the studio, and I was worried because I just wasn't really liking anything that I was doing. I felt like I was trying too hard. That's when I make the music that I like the least, is when I'm trying to write a pop song or I'm trying to write something fun.

Everybody left for the weekend, and it was me, Tyler Johnson, who I work with, and Sammy Witte. It was two or three in the morning, and we were having a drink and just talking. I was saying how I have all these records that I'd love to make, I love all this kind of music and in five years I want to make this kind of record, and in 10 years I want to make this kind of album, and then I'll get to make the music that I really want to make. And Tyler just said "You just have to make the music that you want to make — right now. That's the only way of doing it, otherwise you're going to regret it."

And "Cherry" was the result of that?

Yeah, so we stayed and Sammy started playing the guitar riff, and we did it through the night and recorded it. Everybody came back in the morning and listened to it ... I heard it when it was finished and was like "This is the kind of music I want to make."

How did you write "Fine Line?"

"Fine Line" I wrote [during] a gap in the tour. It was January 2018 and I was at my friend Tom's house, who I work with, and we just started strumming this thing, and we started layering these vocals, and it turned into this 6-minute thing. I had it for a long time and I kept listening to it during the tour, like I'd listen to it before I went to bed. Just sonically I loved the song, and I loved the lyrics of the song. When we wrote it, I kind of knew it was the last song of an album, and we ended up taking it to Bath, in England, where I was making this record for a while. I wanted it to turn into something else at the end, I wanted like a big crescendo ending. While we were in Bath, Sammy started playing this little thing on the piano, and I tweaked it a little bit and I was like "That has to go at the end of 'Fine Line.' " Now when I listen to it, it's one of those things where I'm just proud that it's mine, I'm so happy. It's one of those songs that I've always wanted to make.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

World Wednesday for Tiffany Katz?

B A S I C S

full name: Tiffany Eliza Katz

gender: Female

sexuality: Bi

pronouns: She/Her

O T H E R S

family: David Katz (brother), Brian Katz (uncle), Les Katz (father), Louise Katz (mother)

birthplace: Houston, Texas

job: War Correspondent & Nurse

phobias: spiders, dying, losing her loved ones, suffocating, iguanas

guilty pleasures: I Love Lucy, Sunset Boulevard, James Dean, musicals, Elvis Presley

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: neutral good

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert

organized/disorganized

close minded/open-minded

calm/anxious

disagreeable/agreeable

cautious/reckless

patient/impatient

outspoken/reserved

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic

optimistic/pessimistic

traditional/modern

hard-working/lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Tiffany x Diego

ot3: tbd

brotp: Tiffany & Dave, Tiffany & Klaus

notp: Tiffany x Klaus

Send me “World Building Wednesday” and an OC and I’ll tell you

[popdroid]

Popdroid Poplist 2017 #09

click song titles to discover...

01 Blanche: City Lights 02 The War on Drugs: Thinking of a Place 03 HAIM: Want You Back 04 Cigarettes after Sex: Apocalypse 05 Clara Luciani: Comme toi 06 London Grammar: Oh Woman Oh Man 07 LCD Soundsystem: American Dream 08 HAIM: Right Now 09 Calypso Valois: Vis à vie 10 Peter Peter: Bien réel 11 LCD Soundsystem: Call the Police 12 Father John Misty: Total Entertainment Forever 13 Los Angeles Police Department: Grown 14 STUFF.: Galapagos 15 TOPS: Petals 16 Grizzly Bear: Three Rings 17 Soldout: Forever 18 Juliette Armanet: L'amour en solitaire 19 Hazel English: More Like You 20 School Is Cool: Trophy Wall 21 Blondino: Jamais sans la nuit 22 Day Wave: Promises 23 Feist: Pleasure 24 Declan McKenna: Brazil 25 Bazart: Lux 26 Roméo Elvis x Le Motel: Drôle de question 27 Soul'Art: Django 28 Juniore: Difficile 29 The Jungle Giants: Feel the Way I Do 30 Moonchild: Cure 31 Royal Blood: Lights Out 32 Amy Shark: Weekends 33 Alexia Gredy: Paradis 34 HMLTD: To the Door 35 Témé Tan: Sè Zwa Zo 36 Lana Del Rey feat. The Weeknd: Lust for Life 37 Wilsen: Centipede 38 Fazerdaze: Take It Slow 39 Timber Timbre: Grifting 40 Phoenix: J-Boy 41 La Féline: Séparés (Si nous étions jamais) 42 Le Manou: L'homme 43 Spoon: Hot Thoughts 44 Dan Auerbach: King of a One Horse Town 45 Aldous Harding: Imaging My Man 46 Aimee Mann: Goose Snow Cone 47 Fishbach: Y crois-tu 48 Dua Lipa feat. Miguel: Lost in Your Light 49 Sylvan Esso: Radio 50 Tsar B: Golddigger

BUBBLING UNDER

01 Mathilde Fernandez: Mon Dieu 02 Rive: Nuit 03 Pond: Paint Me Silver 04 Little Cub: Hypnotise 05 Marie-Flore: Passade Digitale 06 Crooked Colours: Flow 07 Becca Stevens feat. Laura Mvula: Well Loved 08 Goldfrapp: Systemagic 09 Elastic Bond: Honey Bun 10 Gretta Ray: Drive 11 The Strypes: Oh Cruel World 12 Roméo Elvis x Le Motel: Lenita 13 Bonobo feat. Innov Gnawa: Bambro Koyo Ganda 14 Sir Sly: High 15 Paramore: Told You So 16 Ramona: On My Own 17 Laure Briard: Les pins des Landes 18 Paramore: Hard Times 19 Roger Waters: Smell the Roses 20 Lucy Rose: Is This Called Home 21 Is Bliss: Into a Dream 22 Luminize: Twilight 23 Foster the People: Pay the Man 24 The Big Moon: Sucker 25 Holy Brune: Pandemonium 26 Lo Moon: Loveless 27 The Sherlocks: Chasing Shadows 28 Halo Maud: Du Pouvoir 29 FùGù MANGO: Blue Sunrise 30 Urban Cone: Old School 31 Nite Jewel: The Answer 32 Halsey: Eyes Closed 33 The Mountain Goats: Rain in Soho 34 Allison Pierce: Evidence 35 Cat Pierce: Weapon of War 36 Andrew Combs: Blood Hunters 37 Circa Waves: Love's Run Out 38 My Baby: Cosmic Radio 39 Noga Erez: Off the Radar 40 Thurston Moore: Smoke of Dreams 41 Fyfe feat. Kimbra: Belong 42 Brutus: Drive 43 Novella: Change of State 44 Desperate Journalist: Be Kind 45 Izzy Flynn: Faith 46 Clare Louise: La vase 47 Yelle: Interpassion 48 Algiers: The Underside of Power 49 A/T/O/S: Vortex 50 Amber Arcades: Can't Say That We Tried

[1ibertine]

could you recommend some french music? literally can't stop listening to Aline and Granville, french sounds so fucking beautiful (i hope that doesn't sound super weird:( ).

holy shit i totally forgot to answer this i'm so sorry! cool french bands/artists:- la femme - tahiti 80 - indochine - melody's echo chamber- pendentif- louise attaque - les rita mitsouko - cracbooms - telephone- radio elvis this is a mix between some newer bands & some really classic french artists, hopefully you can find something you like on this list x