#y: 1960

[videoviolence]

MEET DAD & DOG!

[buglass]

Just a Little Bit

Summary: You can’t stand it any longer; after a long day of watching Elvis film his latest beach flick Blue Hawaii in 1961, you take matters into your own hands and give him bodily appreciation--specifically to his thighs.

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

WC: ~1K

Warnings: 18+ - Smut: oral, dry humping, kissing, and suggestive language.

A/N: A girl can dream.

Based on this post here.

The two of you, Elvis and yourself, were tangled in the sheets without a care. You never believed someone like Elvis, a celebrity, would be possible to run into casually and later interest. The second you both locked eyes on one another, Elvis quickly decided to pursue you during his late lunch break for Blue Hawaii. Ever since you spotted his long, tanned legs being held together by his all-too-fitting swim shorts--you were feening for a bite to either quad or hamstring. You didn’t know why Elvis did it for you in that instant--plenty of men wore the same sort of bathing suit--but you weren’t ashamed to have the opportunity. That’s how you wound up in one of the few empty hotel rooms, post-check-out of the original guests, you cleaned and serviced.

“You sure no one is comin’ around?” Elvis asked between kisses.

“Promise. I’m the only one working this side of the hotel,” you reassured.

You were sat atop Elvis and hunched forward as the two of you locked lips. Though you’re both mostly clothed, he managed to strip some items away from your body; leaving you in just your maid’s skirt and bra. You liked the control, rubbing where you needed him most between your legs against the ever-growing bulge that formed beneath his trunks. Elvis watched you, his lips curled as airy moans withered past his lips. He still wore the captain’s hat you found him in earlier and that somehow also did it for you. Elvis’ unwavering desire leaving him too distracted to undress himself made you feel you had control of his libido. 

You undid the little knot he tied at the front of his shirt, the floral pattern wrinkled once it was free. Elvis watched on with bright eyes, your careful but pressing fingers rubbing into his skin. You leaned down to latch your mouth onto one nipple, making him gasp. Elvis could hardly resist the small upward turn of his lips and the lines forming on either side of his mouth. Your hips didn’t stop rolling against him either, a small promise of what was to come. Elvis was silently taken aback by your forwardness as he usually was the one to kiss a girl all over and make her sing for him. You smirk as you move to his other nipple, lashing it with barely-there whippings of your tongue that make Elvis groan and take your waist into both hands to rub your heat against his cock. 

“I should be careful… I don’t know how I’m gonna explain coming in my bathin’ suit if we keep at it,” Elvis panted.

“I won’t let that happen,” you smile.

Lifting your head fully, you begin scooting back down the bed along his legs and kicking the sheets clinging to you both. Elvis looks curious as you slide lower and lower, leaving kisses across his stomach. When you hook your fingers into his shorts he groans as his dick springs free and he obliges by lifting his legs to rid of them. He sits up temporarily to remove the rest of his clothing, including his hat, and lays back down. You were new and shiny, but seldom did a woman handle him like you did. You weren’t shy to grab his cock by its base, spitting onto it and licking a stripe along the underside before you began stroking his uncut length. There was a point where you weren’t sure if Elvis was fucking into your hand or your wrist tugged at him excitably. 

Elvis tried reaching for you between your legs but settled for your breasts instead as it was too far, squeezing and massaging at one while you took charge. His legs were spread for you now and his cheeks, neck, and chest grew red as you dipped your head to nip at the inside of his thigh. The twenty-six-year-old made a noise that sounded as if he didn’t think was possible. Elvis hissed when you moved to the opposite thigh, biting and sucking at muscular and equally supple skin.

“Oh, shit,” Elvis whispered.

He might not have known your name without looking at the name tag on your shirt, but he sure as hell wouldn’t forget the way your plush lips looked on him. You slowed your hand around him and his cock twitched against your insistent hold. You didn’t mind the hair of his legs against your tongue, he wasn’t very hairy at all. Besides, for you, seeing the Great Elvis Presley fold and whimper because of your touch did it for you alone. When you could tell he was going to come from your ministrations, you aimed for much more sensitive spots closer to his pubic bone. The scent of him was much more potent there. His breaths came faster, prompting you to lap and suck at his balls in favor of his orgasm. 

Elvis dropped a hand to the side of your face, stroking it a few times before sliding up into your hair for something to hold on to. Anyone else touching your hair would have had a stern talking-to for messing it up. You watched Elvis from below as he softly begged or questioned if he should come. He wasn’t the type to want to leave a woman dissatisfied but you were so sure about getting him off only. 

“Oh, you suck me so good, honey,” Elvis hissed. “I need your mouth on my cock. Don’t wanna make a mess.”

You moan against his sac one last time before assisting Elvis, closing your lips around the head. He fucks into your mouth shallowly, his face soon contorting as he ground his teeth and tossed his head back. You feel his seed spill into the back of your throat, causing you to gag, and instead push him deeper into your throat. His dick pulses, coating your throat with spurt after spurt. Only when he’s spent and whimpering from sensitivity do you remove your mouth from him and swallow. 

“Goddamn,” Elvis laughs breathily.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you grin, moving from between his legs.

“Where ya goin’? We aren’t finished yet, come sit on my face, honey.” 

[vintagecandy]

If lost come dance with us ✨

[theelvisprincess]

A Woman

Warning- 18+

--

Butterflies aggressively swirl around in your stomach as you impatiently wait in the master bedroom for Elvis to come home from filming his upcoming movie. Nervously chewing on your bottom lip- you anxiously look at the clock that is situated right on top of the lavish white dresser he had recently bought just because you had looked at it more than once in the store. Sitting on the edge of the king sized bed- you take a deep breath. Your diamond necklace grazes your skin as your chest fills with air- the gentle scent of the room fills your nostrils as you begin to run the pads of your fingers throughout your hair. You're finally gonna do it. You're going to ask him to make you a woman. While he was away- you talked to his friends' wives- all of them gasping in shock when you explained how you were indeed still a virgin. You didn’t know how to take their reaction but they did in fact tell you to tell him you were ready. ‘’Maybe he’s waiting for you to beg for it!’’ One of the wives declared waving her cigarette a little too close to your face- making you harshly cough. 

It has been three long days since the interaction and it’s been eating you alive. Thinking of how and what to tell him was what kept you up late at night. What pushed you to want to ask him however wasn't from what that wife said- it was Red’s wife's statement that really got inside your head.

‘’He’s probably getting that kinda love somewhere else if he ain’t asking you for it, sweetheart.’’ She stoically stated as she peered at her tacky blue colored nails.

Your face conorts in uncertainty as you recall the memory. Looking around the newly decorated room- you rub your toes nervously in the soft fluffy throw rug underneath you. Your heart soon drops to the depths of your stomach as you hear the familiar voices of Elvis’ men chattering loudly from the open window next to the television. Quickly shooting up from the bed- you head over to the window peering down to observe the group greeting their wives and girlfriends. Running your hands over your white dress to diminish any wrinkles- you anxiously note Elvis is nowhere to be seen. ‘’1... 2….3…4.’’ You softly count the cars parked right out front- eyebrows scrunching together as you realize the car he took is parked right there amongst the others. 

Gasping loudly- you shoot your hands up to grab hold of the much larger ones that are cupping your eyes that are blocking your vision. The smell. The oh so familiar scent of his cologne causes you to sigh in relief. ‘’Keep your pretty little eyes shut when I take my hands off, baby. I-I got a little something for ya.’’ Elvis peers down as he admires your petite body next to his. He hasn’t seen you in two full weeks and the women over in Hollywood were a lot different from you- they were experienced- not just willing but able and here you were safely tucked away in his beloved home. Staying the innocent little doll he wants to keep you. That did nothing but make his heart swell with pride as he lovingly gazes at your beautiful face. Biting his bottom lip he slowly brings his hands down- he alone walks steadily over to the bed where he carefully placed the gift he had thoroughly picked out for you- toying with the ribbon one last time to make sure it was perfect for you. Excitement bubbles up inside of you- not only for the gift but just the fact you get to see him after being away from each other for what seemed like an eternity.. 

Walking over to you- he gently grabs hold of your shoulders turning you around to slowly walk you towards the edge of the bed. ‘’Being away so long- I forget how damn pretty ya are.’’ He warmly states near your ear as he brings you right in front of the present. ‘’Okay, pretty. Open your eyes.’’ Shooting your eyes open- you quickly close them once again from how bright the room currently is. Slowly opening this time to adjust to the light- your mascara covered eyes widen as soon as you realize what he bought you. ‘’I- Elvis… this is too expensive I-’’ Stopping your sentence in shock you tear your eyes away from the gift to gaze up at him. Taking in his glistening blue eyes- luscious plump lips- and perfect face- you audibly sigh. Burying the side of your face into his chest you tear your eyes away from him to look back at the sparkling diamond wrist watch. ‘’You have to stop buying me stuff but- I-I love it. I’ve been looking at magazines with this exact watch but it- it’s so expensive.’’ You bring your hand down to pick the box that was popped open to display the beautiful watch. 

Elvis watches as your eyes begin to twinkle while looking at his gift. ‘’It’s gonna look perfect on your wrist, honey. Don’t worry your little head about the expenses jus enjoy the gift, hm? A little birdie tol’ me you had taken a liking to this watch.’’ A smile overtakes your expression as you once again tear your eyes away from the watch and back to peer up at him through squinted eyes. ‘’A little birdie?’’ You giggle out as you watch him bring his hand up to playfully zip his mouth and throw the key. 

‘’I love it, thank you very much.’’ You wholeheartedly say as you place the watch carefully on the bed- turning your body to fully face him. He shoots you a sly grin as he wraps his arms around your little body- pulling you gently into his front. Your hands snake up to wrap around his neck to bring him down so his plump lips can finally crash onto yours. He groans into the kiss from how long it’s been since he’s tasted your sweet lips- deepening the kiss. The taste of mint and tobacco fills your mouth as you lovingly graze your tongue on top of the tip of his. Pulling away- anxiety pools in your stomach as you look up at him. His eyebrows immediately furrow as he takes in your sudden change of demeanor. ‘’What’s the matter, honey?’’ Damn him and his unworldly intuition. 

‘’I-I have-’’ Pausing you look away from the older man. Closing your eyes you try and build up the courage for the nerve wracking statement to finally spill past your lips. You then come up with an idea- maybe not the best but it might work. Going on your tippy toes- you grab hold of his neck once more- desperately bringing him down to once again crash your lips onto his. Taken back from the heated kiss- he groans once again in your mouth. His hands trail from your waist to rest firmly on your hips. You swiftly run your hand down from his neck to his black dress shirt- slowly unbuttoning it as you continue kissing his pillowy lips. You then bring your leg somewhat up to rub your thigh on his linen covered bulge 

Pulling abruptly away- he furrows his eyebrows as he shoots you a look of disapproval. ‘’What the hell has gotten into ya?’’ His right hand goes down to roughly take hold of your delicate wrist- stopping your movements. You gasp lightly at the piercing gaze and the strong grip that’s now wrapped around you. ‘’Y-your hurting me- please stop-’’ Tears start to build in your eyes as you feel his grasp tighten. 

‘’Nah, you're hurtin’ me. I was thrilled to come home to a patient, innocent, little girl who’s thankful for her thoughtful gift n’ all I got in return was some needy little slut.’’ The tears that blurred your vision now spilling down your rosy cheeks as you take in his harsh tone and anger filled gaze. One thing you didn’t take into consideration before acting out on your little plan, was how fast he can flip on a dime. ‘’Is that what ya want? Ya want to be treated like some cheap hooker?’’ A sob escapes from your lips as you quickly shake your head. The way he’s looking at you is making you feel so small which only adds to the hurtful pang you feel in your rapidly beating heart. ‘’I-I m’ sorry- d-don’t. I just wanted you to finally make me a woman, y-your woman.’’ You get out between sobs as you look down from his heated gaze to your freshly polished toes being engulfed by the rug. ‘’Some wives told me t-to ask you.’’ You admit half truthfully knowing damn well you wanted it more than anything. 

Silence. Something you never wanted to hear when talking to Elvis Presley. Your heart drops to your stomach once again- just this time it was a million times more intense. 

He couldn’t believe it. His sweet angel asking him to do something so wrong. He looks over your puffy face- mascara already staining your rosy cheeks as your lips part for air from in between soft sobs. ‘’You want me to treat ya how Red n’ ole Joe treat their little wives, huh? …Get on your knees.’’ You gasp softly hearing his command. A mix of excitement and uncertainty shooting throughout your body as you look up into his hard to read eyes. Your knees beck at his words- the softness of the rug grazes your smooth leg as you crane your neck to look up at him towering over you. He lets go of your wrist and goes to slowly unzip his pants- cock springing out from the lack of underwear. A jolt of electricity shoots down to your special parts as you take in his size. His hand firmly wraps around himself- pumping it a few times making his length grow more than what it was before. ‘’Elvis what d-do I-’’

‘’Ah shut up.’’ He grumbles harshly as he takes in your whore of a state.. He never in a million years thought he was going to be treating you this way but with stress from his stupid movies and the way you had eagerly asked for him to make you a woman- it lit a fire of anger inside him. Everyone seems to be telling him what to do recently and that is something that he absolutely despises- even his angel of a fiance was now demanding stuff from him. ‘’Open your mouth, little girl. Let me finally put it to good use.’’ Obeying in an instant- you peer up through blurred vision as you feel his tip graze your tongue. Elvis brings his free hand to firmly slide into the back of your silky hair just in case you try to pull away from him. ‘’That’s a good girl.’’ He praises as he watches you wrap your small mouth around his swollen tip. Precum is already leaking onto your tongue as he pushes himself deeper into your mouth. 

It doesn’t take long for your hands to shoot up to firmly push against his thighs and for you to gag loudly around him from the sheer size of his length. Groaning deeply- he pulls back just a little already loving the feeling of your mouth. It was so much softer than all the other girls' mouths for reasons he can’t explain- and your saliva was coating his cock just the way he likes. ‘’It’s like ya were made for this- don try n’ fight it, baby. Besides- ain’t this whatcha wanted?’’ He teasingly states- his chuckle soon turning to a deep groan as he feels your head move to nod- this only making his length wiggle down to your tight throat. 

‘’S-shit.’’ Elvis hisses as he pulls himself back- only to forcefully push himself back in. Your eyes screw shut as the feeling becomes too much. You try to pull back, your lack of oxygen concerning you. ‘’Hell.’’ He grunts disappointingly even though he loves you being inexperienced more than he’ll ever admit. ‘’I can’t b-breath when you do it like that.’’ You innocently huff out as you catch your breath. Your hands still firmly resting on each thigh as you look up at him. 

‘’Honey, you’ve been at it for less than a minute.’’ You bite your lower lip as you hear the upset tone he speaks down at you in. The fluff of the carpet now filling hard due to you sinking deeper onto your knees. ‘’Can we do something else?’’ The hopefulness in your voice was enough to make him chuckle. Putting his hands on his hips he looks down at you then back at his very much erect length, giving you that mischievous smile with an unreadable sparkle twinkling in his eyes. ‘’Gimme your hand.’’ His hand goes down from his hip and wraps gently around your much smaller one. You watch as he steadily brings it onto his length, both yours and his wrapping firmly around him. His hips stutter as he feels your freshly done fingernail graze the bottom of his tip. He guides your hand up and down his length with his own, loving the complete blush that covers your pretty face. ‘’Open your mouth.’’ His voice seems to have a deep rasp you’ve never heard coming from him before.

You obey immediately. Your tongue sticking out as you wait for him to move you closer- what you didn’t expect however, was him leaning down- lifting your chin with his other hand. That’s when you watch as a string of saliva from his mouth swiftly goes into yours. You don’t understand why your panties are starting to feel messy or why your hand that’s wrapped around him speeds up from him doing that but it does. You moan slightly as you taste him in your mouth, he lets go of your chin to now tower above you. He never thought he was going to treat you with such vulgarity but it’s turning him on more than doing it to any bitch back in Hollywood. ‘’Now, use that to get my tip nice n’ wet, baby.’’ You nod eagerly as you practically lurch forward and spill whatever he put in your mouth to now generously coat his weeping tip. The deep groan that comes from him sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never made him make a noise like that before- it motivates you to want to hear it again. Your thighs squeeze together for some friction as you feel some of your mixed saliva from his length spill down your chin. 

‘’Goddamnit- sucha dirty little girl.’’ He practically growls as you work your hands up and down his hard length- his own hand having moved away a while ago. Your mouth sucking just the tip just like he told you to do. His head drops back as he stares at the ceiling- the mirror barely reaches the two of you that’s hovering over the bed giving  him the most sinful view. He watches as your tongue kitten licks his tip and then how you slowly take him back into your mouth. You feel him twitch in your hand making you moan around him. ‘’Shit-’’ He hisses through gritted teeth once again as he feels the vibrations from your moan shoot up his spine. Elvis' head drops down- he returns looking at you as he pleads. ‘’Ah shit baby…stop… you.. wait-’’ You’ve never felt more powerful in your little life. This man, this man that you’ve always seen so put together- crumbling before your eyes in ways you never knew were imaginable. 

You feel his hips once again stutter against your tightly gripped hand- his length twitching almost throbbing against your lips. You peer up at him through glossed eyes- the view is something you’ll never forget. You look into his lustful, glossy eyes- his lips are parted as if he’s trying to continue to speak but the words aren’t coming out.

This only motivates you to keep up your movements as you once again squeeze your thighs together. ‘’Wait, honey-’’ He once again tries to say but it comes out weak. Your eyebrows scrunch together as you look up at him- not knowing why he’s telling to wait or stop your actions. ‘’Ah fuck.’’ He groans loudly as he fills his orgasm take over- his hand that has wandered onto the back of your silky hair, tightening. Your eyes widen as you begin to taste something completely foreign shoot inside your mouth. You pull back- swallowing some and the rest dripping down your chin- you gasp while gazing at the tip as you see some shoot out and land directly on your cheek. 

Groaning one last time he fully takes you in. Your look of astonishment makes him let out an airy chuckle, his laugh doing that hiccup thing you love so much. ‘’Honey- I tol’ you to stop.’’ He teases as his hands go down to swipe some of the cum off of your chin, to wipe on his shirt. He’s feeling somewhat bad but he can’t help admire the seed planted on your cheek. ‘’How’s it taste, pretty?’’ Your face relaxes into a grin and you nod a tiny bit. ‘’It kinda tastes good, I just- wasn’t expecting t-that.’’ His mischievous grin disappears and is replaced with a stern look. ‘’Here.’’ He once again gathers some from your chin but this time brings it up to your lips instead. ‘’This right here- is the only thing that could ever make ya a woman.’’ Your doe eyes look at the white coated finger, it moving forward to gently enter your warm mouth. You moan around his finger making his eyes squint at you. He pulls his finger out once he feels that you’ve licked it clean. ‘’Am I a woman now?’’ Your hopeful question makes him stop his squinting. 

Both hands rise to firmly rest on his hips. Shaking his head down at you, your heart drops. ‘’Nope. And I ain’t making you a woman any time soon, is that understood? Ask again n’ you’ll regret it.’’ 

His eyes pierce sharply down into yours as he towers above you. The position you're in correlates exactly with how he’s making you feel inside. You watch as he tucks himself back into his slacks. You nervously nod as he wipes the remaining cum from your cheek. Tears begin to fill your eyes as you realize your plan has failed. Not only did it fail but you can’t help but feel you’ve disappointed the one person who takes good care of you. ‘’Poor thing. Ain’t nothing ta cry over.. Stand up, honey.’’ You lift yourself up off the ground- the height between the two of you is still significant. He pulls you in gently, the smell of him surrounds you as you cling to him. He hums softly as he holds you close to his chest. Your head being completely engulfed by him. Sure he feels a little bad, for your his baby- but he just doesn't want you to be brought into that just yet. Shushing you gently he sways your little body against his. He needs to deal with who made his pretty little thing all worked up over this. 

‘’Now, you're gonna tell me the names of the woman who tol’ you to do that...’’ You stiffen against him as you hear that oh so familiar baritone in his voice- the vibrations from it rumbling against your head. You once again chew on your bottom lip as you think back, the tears that have spilled from your eyes making his black button up all damp against your temple as you look out the window- feeling somewhat bad that you're going to have to rat them out- knowing damn well they’re going to get told off… maybe worse. 

‘’Shut that pretty little head off n’ jus’ tell me, honey.’’

Watching the tree gently sway from the swift autumn breeze outside, you take in the calm before the storm. He’s about to turn the whole place upside down once he finds out who told you to do things you shouldn't have… he has before.

‘’Let daddy take care of everything.’'

----- --------------------- -----

UHHH THIS WAS eh compared to my others... but I wanted to post so ya'll know I'm still here!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for reading lovelies, I have other ideas so stay tuned. I wrote this today so it's rushed but LOVE YA'LL....hope it made sense!!! Elvis loves his innocent babyyy

taglist: @elviswhore69 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @hooked-on-elvis @eptodaytommorowforever

@lustnhim @sissylittlefeather @elvisslut @elvisvideos @iloveelvisss

@from-memphis-with-love @elvispresley1956

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: You are studying the one and only US President John F. Kennedy for your dual-title doctorate at Harvard University in 1963. Upon growing closer to the president, you happen to meet one of his Harvard friends, Coriolanus Snow, who is campaigning for the 1964 Election. You're both brought closer as time passes, and your life changes forever. As the 1964 Election continues and political tensions escalate, you come together. With the help of you, the Kennedys, and his charming wit and cleverness, Coriolanus Snow ends up with all he's ever wanted. However, the ever-growing Women's Revolution puts everything and everyone at risk. What Coriolanus doesn't know is that politics is all a game-

But there are worse games to play.

⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ word count: 269 (not including quote.) ⊹ author’s note: eeeee here's the prologue! I'm so excited to share this idea with you all. it was just a random fic idea I had and I didn't think it would snowball in my imagination the way it did, yet here we are lol. please be sure to check out the soundtrack and if you want to be tagged with every chapter, please fill out the form. I have both the soundtrack and taglist form below for you to click. much love!! ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❝And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric, and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him, and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him.❞ — Lana Del Rey, Spoken Monologue, National Anthem

“Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.”

You stare at Coriolanus for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. At this moment, he’s electric and powerful. You couldn’t be more proud of him for it. The two of you are in a brightly colored motorcade, slowly cruising through downtown Boston in celebration. Your husband effortlessly smiles in glory, his eyes twinkling in unbridled emotion- a rare sight to see from him. Coriolanus has his moments, but not like this. His blue eyes are usually cold, distant, and emotionless unless looking directly at you. Despite the lack of obvious light, you can still see it. It’s one thing Coriolanus admires about you; that you can see past his demeanor. The last time you remember him looking so full of pride, though, was the day you married one another.

It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that he succeeded at this- and you succeeded at this, too. Perhaps even harder to grasp that millions of people around the world now know your name and care about what you have to say. As Coriolanus said himself, the people love you. Sure, having the people on your side just as they are his matters to you. But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters for certain is if he truly loves you like he loves power. Sometimes you aren’t so sure. Sometimes, he looks at you, and you can’t see a thing.

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@nilletellsstories @noyatv @moonlightstuffs @slytherinholland @dominqueeekk @allcheesemelts @coconut-dreamz @rosewine-5 @hsfallingsky @imasimptoowth @tatumrileyslover @murdocksdaughter @fauxraven @throughgoeshxmilton @thesullengrrrl @fanfictionismyromanempire @americanprometheuss @prettycove

[thebugcollector2]

Stoned with Dallas Winston

“Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain” (Mary Jane's Last Dance by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)

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Summary: in which you are a hippie and sometimes get high with your good friend Dallas Winston (fluff)

Warnings: smoking, weed, mentions of drinking

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Most of the time, Dallas Winston preferred getting completely pissed drunk rather than a universal high. He often would go to parties, slamming drink after drink, only to find himself next to a random broad the morning after. 

Now Dallas did enjoy it, don’t let it be mistaken. Though, every once in a while he would find himself longing for the feeling of hot smoke burning his throat until his mind went fogged. 

So, once every few weeks you would get a call from Dally. His voice was alway rasped and gruff over the phone and it made your head spin. He knew you always had pot and that you were always looking for someone to get high with. It always went the same. You guys would spend the entire evening together, and on the rare occasion the night as well. Nothing out of pocket would be done between the two of you, at the most your shoulders brushing against each other if you sat too close, but never anything more.

You were sitting on Dallas’ bed, back against the wall with your knees hugged against your chest. He sat next to you, red eyed with a hidden smirk on his lips. You guys had been together for about four hours and in that time frame, two joints had been smoked and a pack of cigarettes as well. 

“Dallas,” you turned your head to look at him, a lopsided grin plastered on your lips as you spoke “what’s your zodiac sign?” 

Dally’s chest hummed as he stiffed a laugh, “Jesus Christ, man, you’re always asking dumb shit,” he shook his head and took a hit of his cigarette, “I don’t know doll, born in November so whatever that means.”

Doll, your smile widened at the nickname and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

You shrugged and looked away “I believe in ‘em,” you rested your chin on the top of your knees. “I think it’s all real interesting when you look into it,” you rambled, not even really processing what you were saying. “I like the stars and moon phases and all that,”

“I know ya do, doll.” He watched as you fell quiet. You reached for the pack of cigarettes that was to your right and lit one. Dallas would never say it out loud, but he always felt a sense of admiration towards you. He had never met someone in Tulas who was so entrancing and calm. You held a peace about you and that was rare for people that hung around him. Dallas watched as the smoke from your cigarette drizzled slowly from your mouth. “November ninth,” he broke the silence and smirked as he watched a wide grin form on your face. 

“Scorpio,” you murmured as you glanced his way. “Very loyal and uh,” you squinted at him as you fell deep in thought, “protective and intense too.” 

A deep chuckle came from him. “Hope that’s a good thing,” he inhaled his cigarette deeply. 

“I think so,” you always found yourself unable to hide your smile when you were with Dallas. It made your face feel numb from it. You’d blame it on the weed, but deep down you knew it was because of him.

“What ‘bout you,” Dallas gestured towards you as he spoke, “what’s your sign, or whatever” he mumbled. Normally he would have left the conversation silent, using the time to fall deep in thought. Though, for some reason he couldn’t explain, he wanted to listen and watch you keep talking. 

“Pisces.” you sighed and hit your cigarette before you continued on. “I would say we feel things very deeply, kinda like um, like a deep emotional connection to the universe.” Dallas noticed how your voice went soft and how your gaze formed a gentle look. “Also very creative but a bit impulsive.” 

Dallas also wanted to blame the weed for the thought, but he thought at that moment he had never seen anyone look so beautiful.

[morgandr]

Imagine:

Living a slow country life with your husband Tom who you will spend the rest of your beautiful life with.

——————————————————————————-

(PHOTOS FOUND ON PINTEREST!)

(Tom Selleck X Reader)

——————————————————————————-

(TAGS)

[adalwolfgang]

May I ask for headcannons of slashers (mostly Norman, Lester, and Nubbins) with a S/O who has a stutter?

Slashers with a s/o who stutters

Warnings: none I could really spot except fluff?

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

Norman Bates 7/10

He won’t judge you for it. Mainly he judges himself, assuming you can’t talk comfortably around him but that’s why communication is a good thing when it a relationship right? Just remind him that it’s not exactly his fault and that you overall cannot help but to stutter or scramble your speech.

Lester Sinclair 8.7/10

He’ll tease you a lil’ bit but not a whole lot, especially if it makes you uncomfortable or you just don’t like his teasing. In some moments he might get frustrated when he can’t understand you and what you’re trying to say, but it’s the same with with his gibberish. If he ever does (rarely) snap at you, he quickly apologizes. He might even try and help you stutter less if possible.

Nubbins Sawyer 6.7/10

Again like the others, he doesn’t really care. Hell, sometimes he stutters too! Only thing “worse” about him is his teasing. Unlike Lester, his teasing won’t stop. He’ll tease the hell out of you for it. If you bark back, teasing about his stutter, he’ll just laugh along with you. (Internally he is embarrassed)

[weirdlookindog]

Nostradamus y el destructor de monstruos (1962)

AKA Nostradamus and the Destroyer of Monsters

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Hii! sort of specific but could i request a norman bates (1960) x reader headcannons where the reader has ocd and autism and can tend to be a bit of a hermit and a hoarder sometimes. its ok if not, ahve a good day!!

of course! i hope you like it :3

heads up, i havent dealt with ocd personally, so im going to try to use my knowledge and research as best as i can. if anything is wrong or needs corrected, dont be afraid to let me know :)

note: i started this eons ago, only now finished it. its kind of incoherent because of that so my apologies.

Norman Bates x Autistic & OCD reader

if we are going to be true to the times, austism and ocd wouldve landed you in a ward.

its not well researched or cared for, so information on either is very scarce and definitely incorrect.

Norman just doesnt get it

he thinks youre strange (hypocrite.)

the way you hoard things in a way that only makes sense to you. the way you tend to freak out or shut off when theres a change in your daily routine that to Norman, isnt a big deal.

he cares for you though, and tries to be as big of a help as he can

dont like this thing being there? he'll move it

cant handle noises today? he'll talk low and soft

but cmon, lets face it

his taxidermy room, his compulsion to clean (and kill)

hes got his own stuff goin on too

so as much as he doesnt get it, he does

normans a good man, and by god he will try to be an even better man to you

if you dont like the texture of the blankets or the firmness of the mattress, expect to see them changed the next day

he will be adamant that you work the front desk with him, but only when he is also there

he becomes a sort of mother (not THE mother though, fret not)

he will pamper you to the best of his ability

he is super critical of himself if he does anything that annoys you or makes you uncomfortable

if you tell him about your compulsions or whatever intrusive thoughts you may deal with, he will share the sentiment

true, its not the same thing for him, but the symptoms are pretty damn similar

he understands the intrusive thoughts the most

if youre the type to hit yourself when youre upset or angry or overwhelmed, he will try his best to prevent it

he will hold you from behind, locking your arms from the elbows so you cant reach your head or chest

any bruises it causes will be tended to cautiously

he loves you, and having things to worry about with you gives him less space to worry about himself and his past

and he needs that

you become a routine, even if theres no actual linear routine

[persephone-presley]

[sevikainmyserviks]

ASPIRATIONS

word count: 1.4k

warnings: um it’s very soft. pretty fluffy, kinda angsty. in third person, most -readers- perspective

a/n: i’m so bad at holding descriptions while there’s dialogue. “he murmured, she hummed, he choked” so sorry if it sucks! i’m tired so maybe it’s entirely i coherent, who knows, NOT PROOFREAD

not my best work i hate it but i think it could get a part two? about y/n getting into school or somthinggggg

it was a simple, predictable life between you and kit. met fresh out of high school, got engaged when you were 19, and him 21.

all kit could talk about was your future together- a house, three kids- little girls, he hopes, coming home to me, a home, and his babies for the rest of his life. and you wanted that more than anything; you couldn’t wait to save enough money together to get your first house, to get that dream wedding your mother always imagined you having.

except for one thing; a career. you weren’t sure what, you never had an opportunity to think about your future since it’d been laid out since the doctors knew you were a little girl. grow up, marry a nice man, have kids, be a housewife! but you knew you wanted to go to college, to get higher education, retire on my own funds.

it only became more daunting in your mind as the new law recently passed- women and men were to receive equal educational opportunities. you finally had a chance, you could be the first career woman in your family!

but what would kit think? what if i crush his heart? of course you want kids, the house, the wedding- the works! but what if he doesn’t want to wait for kids? what if he wants them now and doesn’t want to wait for your own career? you can’t work in the run down diner forever.

you can’t decide what’s worse; telling kit your dreams and risking losing the love of your life, or not telling him and live a life you know you could bring more to?

him or you, is what it really came down to.

you’ve mulled over the idea in your head of telling him, and it going perfectly! but you’ve also catastrophized about every horrible reaction he could have; he could go through with the house, kids, wedding, but resent you, find a lover on the side. he could leave you to never love again. he could disappear the next morning and never say a word to you again. anything could happen.

but the wedding is creeping closer- it’s in 57 days now. and you need to tell him. you have to, but you can’t find the courage- and of course, being the perfect man he is, noticed.

kits noticed your furrowed brows when you sit in silence, he’s found you reading the newspaper sections about the new law, education opportunities. and it’s itching him just as much to figure out what’s going wrong with you.

it’s a late, thursday night. it’s your off day so your at home, humming to a ella fitzgerald record buzzing from the living room while you finish up dinner while you wait for kit to come home. 7:14 on the dot, like always.

you hear the squeak of the door, and latch shutting, so you call to him.

“welcome home, my loveee!” drawing out the last word slightly.

kit unbuttons his grease-coated work shirt and hangs it by the door, bringing his lunch into the kitchen to unpack- later though, if he remembers.

“helloooo, beautiful” he mumbles, clearly a little whooped from his long day. kit comes behind you, holding your hips, and bringing you close. he relaxes most of his body weight into you, holding your warmth close to heat up his body from the cold night. he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes shut from the sleepiness.

“what’s for dinner?” his charming little accent pokes through in the hum against your shoulder, making you smile.

“i’ve got some asparagus and that spicy fish you like in the oven, and the brown rice is almost done. i should be finished in…20 minutes.”

kit lets out a low hum in acknowledgment, rocking your bodies side to side- you were sure he was half asleep.

“we need to talk about somethin’, baby” you murmured quietly, maybe hoping he couldn’t even here you.

kit hoped you’d say that. he’d been itching to talk about why’d you’d been so different. had you been having second thoughts? did you get laid off? were you pregnant already? he’d run through every scenario, and needed to know just as much as you needed to tell him.

“we sure do.” he agrees, making your heart twist. of course he’s noticed. what if you were hurting him? scaring him? you felt like shit about this whole thing.

“so, you’ve heard of the new law? higher education for women…”

“yeah…what about it?”

“well, how do you feel about that? women receiving higher education, i mean” you fidget with the tongs to distract your nerves.

“i think…it’s a step in the right direction. about time you guys had a choice, yeah?” kits answer relieves you, your shoulders relaxing for the first time in a while.

“yeah. yeah, definitely…”

“why do you ask?” kits brows were furrowed, which you could only see out of the corner of your eye, his fingers fidgeting with the part of the apron that fell on your hips.

“well…how would you feel if i said i wanted a higher education?” this was it. you asked. this could ruin everything, everything you’d built with him. his heartbeat against your back and soft breathing on your neck only made you all the more petrified, the tension leaking back into your shoulders.

kit was confused, if anything. not really disappointed…he just felt like this came out of nowhere. it did, honestly. he’d never hear you speaking about education or a career, he was fairly convinced your guy’s future was set in stone.

he was conflicted. he still wanted to build this life with you, and he wasn’t sure how an education might change that.

“do you not want kids anymore…? or the wedding or the—“

“no, kit- i mean, yeah, yes, of course i still want it.” you cut him off, your heart racing as his did against you. you turn from the stove, taking a step to the side to face him, needing to look him in the eye to say this.

“i’d get married like yesterday if we could but…i’d wanna wait on the kids maybe…i want a career, college. but i want you too. can i have both? that’s what i need to know, kit.”

kits looking at you as you speak, the tension in your shoulder, the anxiety in your furrowed brow. he saw you differently now. as a woman with a different dream than he knew, what he expected.

he blamed himself for being so traditional at this point. he wondered if he was the reason you waited so long to say anything. did he just want a housewife? no…right? of course not. he wanted you, housewife or career woman. the love of his life.

while he pondered, he took too long to respond and the rambling seemed to spill out of you. regret seeped into your chest, wishing you could take it all back. you ruined everything, you were sure of it.

“it’s fine if you don’t, i get it, i can be your housewife, im okay with that! i’ll stay home, i’ll take care of our little ones, keep it clean, make you—“

“is that what you want, baby?” he squeezed your hands a little harsher than intended to grab your attention, cutting you off.

“do you want to be a housewife? or do you want a career? because i want you. i don’t care about having kids the minute i’ve got a ring on your finger, i don’t mind sharin’ the chores with you while you put in the work for your future. i can clean too, i can cook, i can take care of kids” kits chest is tight as he tells you that you’re free. while she shows you that he doesn’t expect a certain thing from you as a woman, that he supports you.

your heart is racing, but warm as he rambles on. ease again. your shoulder relax, your brows knitted in confusion, appreciation.

his words are insistent, strong, true and you can feel each one.

“really? i can go to school?”

“absolutely. please go to school, if that’s what you want. i’d love to see you build a beautiful career for yourself. use that perfect brain of yours” he smiles tenderly, almost as if to cry, but not quite.

but you do. tears stain your round cheeks and he reaches to hold it.

“c’mere, baby” kit mumbled as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his heart like you were the only thing in it- you were.

you wrap your arms around his waist, his heart pound’s against your cheek and it’s all you here.

“i love you” you speak through your soft cries.

“i love you too, sweetheart. more than you know.”

[christiangeistdorfer]

JACKY ICKX, 1960s

[buglass]

Me, Me More Cowboy

(A Short Series)

Summary: Based in the mid-1960s, ranch hand Elvis Presley is a new hire to the West Family Farm. He grows irate as cattle and livestock turn up missing over 6 months. Unbeknownst to the ranch, the hippie woman, Lilibet, he sees on occasion in their small town—along with members of her commune—is behind it. An ongoing dispute of right and wrong both morally and romantically ensues as Elvis takes Lilibet up on her offer of viewing things through her perspective.

Pairing: Cowboy!Elvis Presley x Lilibet Stevens!OFC

Chapters: 1/5

WC: ~5.8K

Warnings (for the entire series): Some historical and geographical inaccuracies, fluff, slow burn, no beta reader, mention of DV, cult/commune culture, and smut.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little spin. The original one-shot will be well over 20K+ words so I’ve broken it up into chapters for the sake of making it bite-sized. The title is based on the hit Brudi Brothers’ song. Please feel free to give feedback or thoughts. Thanks for reading :)

Next Chapter

✧ Chapter 1 ✧

ELVIS

Elvis Presley was a Tupelo boy through and through but the call of Tennessee sounded out to him for some time. Winter had come and gone. Despite his family managing to put food on the table between what they grew and bought, Elvis still felt they struggled to do so. His mama would never admit to it and his daddy was damn near no good about closing the gap. He heard stories of Memphis’ city-like charm and music scene which was out of his depth. The closest Elvis got to music was his guitar and church. The older he got, the more he sought it out and saved up for records he couldn’t bring along the way. There was nothing for him back home besides a quiet life and stagnant progression. 

If he wanted to do something with his life, he had to get out from under his mama’s wing and his daddy’s lazy habits. He had been contributing financially to the household since he was a teenager. Elvis’ parents sent him on his way with a few dollars to hold him over until he could find a job in Memphis and settled for bussing in a diner temporarily until he found pinned, handmade posters for ranch work helping cousins Sonny and Red West on their family farm out in small-town Water Valley—an hour away from Memphis. They promised housing, food, and a moderate income in exchange for work.

When Elvis came to the ranch by hitchhiking, selling his dingy Chevy truck, and using his charisma to his advantage, he first met Red then Sonny. Their families lived on opposite sides of the shared one-hundred-thirty-eight acres, their parents opting to live with their respective grown sons. 

“We’re probably gonna end up buildin’ somethin’ small for the both of us to get the hell outta dodge,” Red scoffed.

That’s what families did, confined by tradition and obligation though both men were in their twenties. The two of them gave Elvis an extensive tour of the property aided by a rusting pick-up truck that rumbled as if it was on its last leg bumbling on dirt roads and uneven paths. The newly built horse stables sat empty which gave Elvis a bit of relief since he didn’t know how he felt about the towering beasts. Elvis rode on the bed in the back, his large pea-colored duffel bag from his time in the Army held between his strong and capable legs as he took in the expansive land. The truck eventually came to a halt outside of the chicken coops, with a few hens and roosters roaming about outside. On the opposite side, goats were corralled and gathered. Some were eating and others looked their way curiously.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom in our house,” Sonny said. “That’s where you would stay.”

“We’ll get ya some better jeans than those, too,” Red added, gesturing to Elvis’ worn and torn pants.

The first month took some adjusting, waking up before the sun and the Spring heat turning to Summer breathed down the back of his neck. He liked handling the animals and watched as they grew used to him, trusting he wouldn’t hurt them. Red and Sonny did explain that sometimes the cattle were sent to and bought by a butcher in town or further away. Same for some of the chickens, but otherwise the West family prided themselves on being strictly dairy-related. The goats came second for their cheese and milk. Their greatest use was clearing the land and clothing production. 

Come Monday, they were loading up cases of bottles of milk from both the cows and the goats to drop off at the corner and grocery store in town. Elvis secured the straps over the cases, making haste to load up. They couldn’t afford to let the milk sour by taking their time and making the drive. Sonny rode passenger after he insisted that Elvis man the wheel. 

“You’ve got that lead foot,” Sonny laughed.

Elvis did enjoy driving fast.

Within twenty minutes, the pair arrived at the storefront and pulled into the paved parking lot. The door to the truck cried out as the old hinges moved and Sonny followed, climbing up the back of the bed. Sonny hoisted himself up with a boot on the top of the rear tire and swung his other leg over the side. Elvis came around to wrench the tailgate down and they moved the cases to the ledge it provided. 

“Go get a dolly, E,” Sonny directed.

“Yes, sir,” Elvis nodded. 

Sonny was three years his junior but that didn’t make him any less his boss. Elvis wiped the condensation of the bottles onto the front of his striped button-up shirt as he started toward the store. Sometimes Mr. Tom Parker, the owner of both the corner store and grocery, greeted them and other times he was too busy in his quaint back office to recall when they would arrive. The bell to the door tolled as Elvis pushed it open, reaching for his cowboy hat with his opposite hand to remove it from his head. The slightly cooler inside was welcome as the air conditioner on the truck was out and rolled-down windows could only provide so much succor. 

The store was filled with shelves that Elvis easily towered over, the slight hum of the plugged-in refrigerators holding beverages and groceries filling the small store for those who didn’t want to make the grueling trip into a fluorescent lighting hell. Behind the counter sat a young, black woman he had never seen before. She was flipping through a magazine long before she noticed Elvis watching her. He wasn’t staring at her solely because of how she looked or what she was, but she was beautiful all in her own right. 

More beauty than his eyes could stand. 

Her cheekbones were high and her long hair was done in two downward braids on either side of her. The outside heat didn’t stop her from donning a cardigan over what he assumed to be a dress, the front of the bunched material cupping at her breasts. She glanced in his direction because of the bell above the door but said nothing to him. When she moved to stand, she left her magazine open and tiptoed around the divide to walk the aisles. A stack of forgotten boxes and an adhesive pricing labeler took up half of an aisle. Elvis caught himself stuck, watching as she casually walked around to the waiting bunch as if minding her business instead of working a job.

“‘Scuse me, miss, is Mr. Parker in the back there?” Elvis asked.

Lilibet squinted at first, not quite looking at Elvis as she had started labeling cans and stacking them onto the shelf. His presence kicked her productivity into gear for what little it was worth. When she finally looked him dead in the eye, she softened as her incivility had nothing to do with Elvis. 

“He is. Want me to go grab him for you?” Lilibet offered, pausing as the pricing gun and large can in her hands went slack.

“I know where his office door is. Hard ta miss,” Elvis chuckled to lighten the mood, showing he wasn’t a threat. The same way he had done to the animals he cared so dearly for. Her large eyes and thick lashes made her look like a fawn he wanted to coo at and placate.

“Have at it,” Lilibet shrugged. She returned to her task as quickly as she spared him a few words. 

Elvis nodded, walking down the same aisle she filled to pass her. She smelled of rosemary and mint as if she carried it in her pockets. Elvis exhaled once he was down at the end and in the corridor where the janitor’s closet, water closet, back door to the store, and Mr. Parker’s office were. He rapped his knuckles against the thick wood and a grunt came from the other side. Elvis grabbed the steely knob and twisted it open to a smoke-filled room a la cigars and the heady smell of body odor of the overweight man propped behind his desk. Elvis stood in the doorway to make it quick so Mr. Parker would ready their payment for both stops there and the grocery store. 

“Good mornin’, Mr. Parker. Just stoppin’ in to let you know we’re rearin’ to bring in some milk. We’ll stop by the grocery store too right after.” Elvis said.

“Good morning, my boy, good to see you. Happy to have anything from the West family. Good quality, too. Come by when you’re done.” Mr. Parker said between puffs, holding the cigar between his lips once he was done speaking. 

“Yes, sir,” Elvis agreed with a polite smile. 

Elvis left the office for the janitor’s closet to grab the dolly knowing he would get an earful from Sonny about the whole thing taking as long as it did. He could bite the bullet with no problem. In the past month, he, Sonny, and Red formed a brotherly bond that included shit-talking without repercussion. Not including the wrestling bouts that broke out and noogies to the top of someone’s head. Red swore they were going to make him go bald if they kept at it. 

“You givin’ a soliloquy in there?” Sonny asked the second he was in view.

“You ever quit bitchin’?” Elvis smirked before he fully got the words out. 

“When you get to work, yeah.” Sonny laughed. 

They stacked the crates one after the other until Elvis figured it was enough. He didn’t want to risk breaking a single bottle to prove a point. His hat stayed in place as he tugged the door to the store open swiftly, using the dolly to catch the door. Elvis wheeled over to the cold section to place the crates in groups of six. He made two more trips before returning to the truck, mentioning to Sonny how Mr. Parker requested to be seen once they were done. 

When Sonny returned, Elvis was sitting in the passenger seat, prompting him to the other side of the truck as he counted through the cash he was given. The truck rocked as Sonny’s large frame slid in beside Elvis.

“You know that girl inside?” Elvis asked soon after.

“Why? Got a problem with ‘er?” Sonny raised a brow, disapproval in his tone.

“The opposite. I didn’t catch her name. Don’t see too many… You know. I grew up with black folks, like kin. I don’t mean nothin’ by it.” Elvis shook his head. He dug his finger into the top of his cowboy hat where it lay in his lap.

“Good. ‘Cause I can’t stand a racist,” Sonny grunted, shifting forward to slide the bills into the back pocket of his jeans.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Elvis wasn’t much of a drinker and was known incontestably as the household homebody. He spent more time with Sonny’s side of the family—his parents and six other siblings. Why did he need to go out when they were their own party? Sonny damn near had to beg Elvis to go out because he needed something to do that didn’t include one of his sisters in his ear or even seeing his one other brother’s face. Red was lucky to be invited at all. Elvis obliged under friendly incumbency. What he quickly learned about Water Valley was that unlike much of the South, black and white people lived relatively symbiotically, especially due to the small population. 

When Elvis was dragged into the only bar in town, he was fully expecting the plain, usual sort of music he found lacking any diverse rhythm and swing he grew up around. The entire place was a mixed bag of company though people somewhat stuck to what they knew besides the performers on the simple wooden stage that was one step up from the creaky floorboards. Elvis lagged, the West cousins wandering ahead grabbing a table. He broke from his thoughts, warmth spreading through him with the realization he was the happiest he had been in some time. Even when he sent most of his money back home to his parents, all the people he knew and loved were the same ones he worked and lived with.

LILIBET

Lizabeth Marie ‘Lilibet’ Stevens was the daughter of two working-class parents and was born in Arkansas. By the time she was old enough to understand how hard her daddy hit her mother and what made her little sisters cry, her mama took them away to colorful Memphis without warning. Her mother scraped by with mere pennies or bills she scrounged secretly from her father. When her calling turned out to be the commune down in Water Valley, Lilibet found new normalcy. The commune made up one big house where most resided, if they chose, and the rest of the surrounding land was covered in what could be seen as shacks or shotgun houses. There were horses which she had loved since she was an itty bitty thing and enough dogs to go around that each family in the commune could easily have two. The chickens weren’t her favorite—they liked to peck and got in the way. The feral cats were her second favorite because some days they weren’t too bad and soft to the touch when they let her pet them.

Everyone had a job or place of some sort to help that was based on winning Godly favor. Not contributing was frowned upon unless someone was injured, sick, or out of sorts. Lilibet didn’t know much else or see anything wrong with how she was being raised or taught to view the world. As of late, she questioned a few things though there was no one she trusted to convey her thoughts. She was in quite the bubble though sometimes someone said something she couldn’t grasp if they referred to somewhere like Memphis. When she had the time or control of the remote to watch one of the only televisions around, she was enthralled by what she read. Some parts about the rest of the world seemed strict but others seemed a lot more carefree than she had been told.

If she were truthful, she was afraid of the rest of the world but so curious about it.

When she was faced with a tan and tall cowboy, she grew nervous the second he entered. For how quickly she saw the man, his blue eyes stuck with her. His type could either be sincere and warm or cold and demeaning. Lilibet was mildly embarrassed to be seen behind the counter reading her magazine to pass the time. The usual rush of morning folks already passed earlier that morning. The lull between the lunch and evening rush typically left her with nothing to do. Being seen as lazy always bothered her. She took a job at the corner store to earn money for herself. Back at the commune beyond the town’s center, everyone shared and did everything together. 

As she entered her twenties, she began resenting her mother’s preferred way of living she and her two other sisters had been dragged into. While she respected her mother’s decision to leave their abusive father, she accidentally entered another abusive relationship by becoming a part of what some might say was a cult. The rest may have called it free-thinking, but sometimes boundaries were overstepped where the men benefitted more than the women. She didn’t want to think about how misogyny still managed to taint their upbringing and home.

As Lilibet got closer to the gentleman, her eyes dropped to his long fingers which worked against the brim of his cowboy hat. When she did finally raise her eyes just enough, she was too shy to hold his gaze but managed to soften her features. She went back to labeling the forgotten cans she left in the aisle before he spoke. His voice was a lot deeper than she expected it to be. Gentler, too. When he disappeared to the back, she wished she asked his name since they would see each other again in due time.

The time came two weeks later during an outing with some of the only other young women in their twenties—Corinne, Grace, and Morrow (her parents were hippies through and through). They were seated at the bar, leaning forward onto forearms as they all spoke excitedly and giggled. After already sipping down their first drinks, they were all unbelievably chatty. Lilibet liked to just listen since Corinne and Morrow had the most to say and everything was dramatic and heightened. The two of them liked to play off of the other. Lilibet was turning in her seat as the music on the small half-round stage drew her attention. The first week after she encountered Elvis—Mr. Parker informed her of his name after asking if she should expect deliveries—she stopped expecting to see him. Eventually, through word of mouth, as most news traveled in a small town, she learned he worked on the West Farm which was nearly half an hour away by car. 

No wonder why she never saw him. 

But she did that night for the first time since their original encounter. Last week, he wasn’t with Sonny for the drop-off. Instead, Sonny’s brother took Elvis’ place. She tried to mind her business to hide her disappointment. Elvis was standing near the doorway of the bar, unable to notice Lilibet with how many people filled the bar that Saturday night. Nearly all of the town could have filled the place, especially once someone looked up to see there was a second floor slightly shrouded by dim lighting and the thick railing blocking seated bodies. She crossed one leg over the other, smooth skin gliding under her linen dress and her faded, hand-me-down cowgirl boots knocking together. Lilibet bumped her elbow into Grace at her side.

“There’s that Elvis guy I was tellin’ you about. Don’t be too obvious,” Lilibet said, holding her straw at her lips.

“You told me dark hair, handsome, and white. How am I s’posed to point him out in here?” Grace snorted, turning her chair to look around the bar.

Lilibet waited until Elvis was seated and she glanced around before pointing in his direction. She thought she was caught when Elvis’ head shifted in a way that could have been mistaken for being in their direction. She wasn’t sure because he didn’t make a show of holding her attention. Lilibet dropped her eyes and turned back toward the bar again, clearing her throat.

“Oh, he is handsome. Makes for eye candy in this cesspool of a town,” Grace smiled, proud of her sarcasm. Her name shouldn’t fool anyone. She was mouthy and confident. Lilibet swore she could read her mind because everything she kept inside always found its way fumbling past Grace’s lips.

“He’s a farm hand. I’ve never seen him here.” Lilibet used her straw to stir her drink.

“We’ve barely been here before,” Grace reminded her. “West Farm, that farm? Lots of people in the commune don’t care for them. Says they slaughter their animals haphazardly.” 

“Really?” Lilibet asked, not knowing any better. Neither of them did. “I wouldn’t’ve taken him as the type to get his hands that dirty.”

“Those animals deserve better than being someone’s food,” Grace said firmly.

Lilibet should have summed it up as Grace being drunk rather than a good idea yet she agreed. Most things were easier when everyone agreed. Worse, Lilibet was one of the few in the commune who partook in eating meat. She was a little hypocritical but she could empathize better with a cow than she could with a chicken. Then, that’s when the conversation spread to Morrow and Corinne who were also convinced the moral decision would be to free the West Farm cattle. In the back of Lilibet’s mind, she thought it was asking for trouble but they were preached at about how they should follow their hearts and do the right thing. How did they know the cows were being sent to slaughter? 

Lilibet had never even laid eyes on the farm herself.

“Maybe we should think on this. We hardly know where to go to get there and how will we get there,” Lilibet cut in.

“Borrow a car,” Morrow offered with a snap of her fingers.

“My boyfriend has one.” Corinne nodded.

“The horses?” Grace suggested.

“They’ll hear them clunkin’ ‘round once y’all take off with ‘em. This is one big mess waitin’ to happen. I don’t want any part of it. I couldn’t face gettin’ in trouble. My mama would be beside herself.” Lilibet shook her head, having started on her third drink in the past half an hour.

“You’re bein’ such a normy square, Lil,” Morrow cracked a smile.

“A square that won’t be in jail for the night. Sheriff Schilling might be a nice man but he can be a piece of work.” Lilibet said.

Lilibet fussed about the idea even as they saddled up. Their horses, belonging to the commune as a whole but generally untouched at the hour it was, were tied up outside in the bit of grass and alongside the building where riders could tie their horse’s reins. Somehow driving a car was far worse than drunkenly steering a horse. Corinne was the only one with a vague idea as to where the farm was. Lilibet stayed quiet on the matter as they rode at a steady gallop. Lilibet didn’t know why went with them. Her guilt would have eaten at her if something happened to her friends otherwise and she wasn’t there to stop it. Then again, the world was spinning and she was lucky her horse, Chip, was as cooperative as he could be.

The next hour was a blur of large animals, wind in her face and hair, and vomiting off the side of Chip. She was fortunate to find the softness of a bed and pillow on her face when it was all over. 

ELVIS

“I can’t believe this shit,” Elvis snapped. “I-I swear we secured that gate. There is no way in hell.”

When the news was brought to him about the cattle, one of Sonny’s sisters had been the one to find that some of their cattle strayed from their pasture and passed it on to Red’s side of the family and Sonny directly. Not only did she see it for herself but there were phone calls and a house visit by Water Valley cops responding to concerns. 

“It’s not your fault, E. Can’t be. Besides, there could have been any number of us that done it. Don’t let it get you down. All we can do now is go out and round ‘em up. Any good with a rope?” Sonny asked seriously, his brow crinkling deep in thought.

They stood outside along one of the dirt roads of the property and Elvis grimaced, knowing what was coming next. He had yet to fully acquaint himself with the horses, sure they could smell his fear and would react poorly to his wary disposition. 

“Aw, hell, Sonny,” Elvis breathed. “No better time than the present to become skilled at somethin’.”

“That’s the spirit. Good man,” Sonny clapped a hand on his back.

“‘Good man’,” Elvis mocked as they started toward the horse stables.

The mistake Elvis and the West family made was assuming the cattle escaping was a mistake. Because when it happened a second and third time, it made no sense for any of them to be so careless. None of them enjoyed having to convince the cows back home. Even with the aid of a herding dog, it was a pain in the ass. Production and profits slowed down every time they thought they were in the clear. One night, Elvis took it upon himself to stay up, shotgun in hand and a chair poised toward the pasture the remaining cows resided. The first few nights, there was nothing and eventually shifts were exchanged and taken over by West family members. 

Nothing then, too.

Weeks passed with nothing until he encountered any trace of someone risking being shot for a statement. That night, he was dozing off as he became fairly complacent about the whole thing. The sound of Earth being displaced by heavy, hooved movement caught his ear. At first, he thought he was dreaming it up for how quickly it stopped and crickets chirped in the cooling summer heat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, damp with sweat and tickled with an anxious trigger finger. He had always liked guns. The way they made him feel in control and unafraid of the rest of the world. 

Elvis moved to stand, almost tipping the lantern next to his boot, and he squinted in the dark, beginning to raise and cock the shotgun just below his chest.

“If anyone is out there,” Elvis shouted in the dark, black night. The only visible beings under the moonlight were the white spots on the cows and the grouped shadows surrounded by harrowing trees. “You’d better think carefully unless you wanna be shot!”

Silence at first, practically nothing and so loud of a nothing that Elvis’ ears rang painfully. There was some trotting he heard going the opposite direction, fading into the distance. The slow steps that did come his way seemed to hesitate, hooves starting then stopping before turning away and fading into the night as well. Elvis’ throat bobbed as he held his breath, waiting to confirm he was alone again with the cattle. 

He exhaled only then.

LILIBET

Lilibet was losing sleep and not solely because the venture of freeing West Farm cattle was a late night job. Somehow her friends got more people in on the idea. More wasn’t a lot but it was enough. Corinne’s boyfriend was a deep believer in doing the right thing, so much so it bordered on wrong because of it. Morrow’s fraternal twin brother joined, too. Lilibet felt it was mostly out of brotherly love for his sister than actual interest. As for Lilibet, even three months later she still felt inclined to keep an eye on everyone and mostly without drinking. When she laid in her bed at night, she thought about the ruckus their actions caused. Sure, some of the cows were on the loose but she felt terrible. 

The horses shouldn’t have been ridden so late and neither should any of the West family been trapped taking shifts for their cause. She recalled seeing Elvis, slumped in his chair sleeping when he could before the sound of the horses woke him. What little bit of light came from the lantern covered him in shadows once he stood up and took half-assed aim. Lilibet’s group was too far away for any real damage but it wasn’t worth being seen or discovered.

“You heard ‘im. We’re goin’ home. Go and I’ll be lookout in case they send someone for us,” Lilibet whispered to her fellow riders.

She watched them disperse into the trees and when she turned back, Elvis was there and stern. Lilibet wanted to tell him the truth. Every time since then when she saw him in town making deliveries as needed or shopping for himself, she wanted to say something that wasn’t a quick hello or a quick goodbye. She lacked the courage and convention to open herself up to him. There was no way either of them were alike. What could they speak about or have in common? Lilibet led Chip forward a few times before shaking her head and turning away to trot after her friends.

Days passed since then and she was firm in her belief that she wanted no part in continuing. A message was sent but playing with the livelihood of the richest family in town was a looming threat waiting to come down on them. 

When Elvis came into the corner store later in the week, he saved the pleasantries and beelined for the register. Lilibet sat straight, his brows rising as he held his hat between his hands as normal. 

“Hi, Lilibet. I know this is gonna sound intrusive, but I’ve got to ask you somethin’. I hope you know I don’t mean ta offend ya,” Elvis said.

None of it sounded good, not as good as their rapport as of late. Though her guilt sat on the outskirts of every waking minute and thought, she enjoyed passively getting to know Elvis. They had yet to dive into one another’s lives but she felt something deep within her chest every time they locked eyes. She disregarded it as her own delusions and fantasies but the hunger in Elvis’ eyes couldn’t have been imagined. Sometimes he caught his eyes dipping to her lips when she spoke and his own would part subconsciously. What little hope she had to feel his strong, scarred hands on her was replaced by common decency and understanding that politeness didn’t directly mean anything. 

A sweat broke out across Lilibet’s nose.

“Yeah, okay. What is it?” she asked, dog-earing the page of her latest magazine read.

“Would anyone where you live be prone to showin’ up at the farm? I mean, I know you told me that the community is very…liberal. Nothin’ wrong with that but I can’t see why else we’re bustin’ our asses to get these cows back.” Elvis grimaced, toeing the line of treading carefully and downright accusing the commune.

Lilibet never outright spat it out that her commune was filled with hippies but anyone could see it or speak on it. The commune loved it when people did ask questions because the more the merrier. The more in touch someone was with God and a higher power, the more free they would be. That’s what they would say but Lilibet felt the iron fist of the commune around her throat at times. Her mother was so quick to please that the amount of things Lilibet or her sisters were lended out to do in the hierarchy soured her feelings about their beloved home.

“I think you should speak to the Community Leader if you have any concerns. I can’t speak on it or others’ beliefs,” Lilibet said meekly. 

“I don’t think I could ever truly say I knew you were holdin’ back until now. Now, I’m sure what it looks like, Little Bet.” Elvis said, using the nickname he had chosen for her. His voice was laced with warning and sickeningly rich sweetness that twisted her insides and dropped between her legs. Her face grew hot as she met Elvis’ eyes and knew then he could see her. She was flayed by him to the bone, unable to hide the hand she had been dealt.

“Where can I find this Community Leader?” Elvis pressed, his brow furrowed in contempt.

“It’s easier to show you—”

“Show me.” Elvis said firmly.

With a sign left on the door noting Lilibet’s projected return, she prayed Mr. Parker would stay put in the grocery store for the remainder of the day and not fire her. Elvis came into town by horse so that was their only means of travel to the commune. There were worse things—such as walking. Lilibet wore a long, patterned dress that pooled just at the top of her boots. Elvis was a gentleman, asking if she was sure about riding forward, and helped her up onto the saddle.

“What’s her name?” Lilibet asked, cooing at the horse while petting.

“Prestige,” Elvis said, grunting as he climbed behind Lilibet. “She’s also a pain in my ass. We get along when we can.” 

It was the closest the two of them had ever been outside of face-to-face conversations. The already beaming sun felt hotter, its flames licking at her shoulders as the heat of Elvis pressed into her rear and upper back. The sleeves of Elvis’ shirt rode up as he reached for the reins, steering Prestige in the opposite direction of West Farm. 

“What if you’re wasting your time?” Lilibet asked after ten minutes. At the pace they were going, they had time for a bit of chit-chat. 

“And what if I’m right? I may not know you, Little Bet, but I think it’s safe to gather who is comin’ ‘round to my doorstep at night.” Elvis said above her, eyes dropping to his company. Sweat had long since formed between them but there wasn’t much either of them could do to lessen it. Lilibet’s less pure thoughts faded into discomfort riding in the Summer heat, temporarily put at bay by tree cover. 

“If it’s nighttime, how can you tell?” She asked.

“Can’t, but it’s a feelin’ I can’t shake. Bit of common sense helps, too. Anyhow, this is why we’re goin’ to speak to your Community Leader and this will soon be water under the bridge. Won’t it, Lil’?”

“I—” Lilibet began. 

Prestige was startled by something neither of them could see. With Lilibet’s familiarity of horses, she gripped the reins as Prestige reared back onto her hind legs. Elvis, who lacked the instinct and force of habit, flew back hard into the ground and got the wind knocked out of him. 

“Whoa, girl!” Lilibet commanded, steering her away from whatever was on the ground and Elvis. She didn’t want to see him get trampled in the process. Lilibet grit her teeth as she pulled hard at the reins and directed Prestige off to the side. A snake was slithering away and out of view by the time she could calm the horse down and hop off. 

“Stay,” Lilibet pressed, hurrying to tie the reins to a low-hanging branch. 

She rushed her way over to Elvis who hardly moved but when he did, he blinked as if he weren’t all there. He groaned as he gained consciousness and her heart hurt further. They should have never touched their cattle. 

“Oh, my God,” Lilibet whispered, bringing her palms to either side of Elvis’ cheeks.

“Told you she was a no-good sonofabitch,” Elvis croaked, letting his eyes shut. 

“At least you’re talkin’,” Lilibet said frantically. “Can you move?”

“I could but goddamn, I don’t want to. Head stings somethin’ terrible right now.”

“Okay. Just… Try not to move too much.” Lilibet breathed shakily.

“I think my head is bleedin’. My stomach is turnin’ just thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Elvis breathed, opening his eyes to look at Lilibet. 

She was moving without hesitating, tearing a part of her dress to create makeshift gauze. Lilibet told him to stay calm while she folded the wrap and placed it beneath his head. When his eyes fluttered shut, she panicked and shook at his shoulders.

“Elvis? Elvis!”

[melancholicbutterflies]

Now Hold On, Baby

Prompt: Elvis and his buddies are tossing the football around and you accidentally get hit. Needless to say, he more than makes up for it.

wc. 1,570

warnings: my awful understanding of medicine, elvis being a southern gentleman.

A/N: wow two fics in two days i'm impressed with myself LOL. I said i was gonna do football!elvis fic and i did! not sure why all my fics lately have been so fluff-based, but there ya go. there are potential other avenues i could go down with this setting, so if there's interest i may further develop the fic :O

"What a nice day to study outside," you remarked, smiling as you seated yourself in one of the nearby Adirondack chairs with your friend, Janie on the college's green.

"I agree on the first part, don't much care for the 'study' bit," she grumbled, flopping down next to you melodramatically.

"Oh, come on. It's better than studying inside. I've had enough of stuffy libraries, haven't you?"

"Oh sure. I just don't get why we gotta spend a beautiful day like this cooped up in books."

"Well, what would you rather do, then?"

"What would I rather do? What would I rather do?!" She cried.

"Yeah!"

Pausing, she laughed. "Gosh, it's been so long since I could choose what I wanted to do that I forgot what I even like!"

You laughed together.

She wasn't completely wrong; this semester had been a doozy, a far cry from your first one freshman year where everything was new and exciting, the feeling of finally being on your own for the first time in your life leading to more partying than school, the reason you were all there after all. The spring had been a real shock, filled with nonstop deadlines, rigid professors, and nearly as many all-nighters although not of the partying kind. It was a rude awakening for everyone in your year, but for Janie in particular, who had some attention issues although she was plenty smart.

"...Right now, I just wanna sit down and relax. Close my eyes a bit." Janie was saying drowsily, looking as if she was about to drift off to sleep right then and there. As the sun shone on you, a gentle breeze passing by, you had half a mind to join her. Your barely opened textbook slipping from your fingers as your body let loose some of that much needed tension.

Not two minutes later, you faintly heard someone yell "Heads up!" Thinking nothing of it, as it sounded as if it were a ways away, your mind felt fuzzy as it entered that half-dream-like, half-awake state.

Suddenly, it wasn't so fuzzy anymore. It was downright aching, like a bucket of ice-cold water rained down on it. Opening your eyes, you realized you'd been hit by some flying... football? Your hand massaged the side of your head while you looked blearily around for the source of the assault.

"Oh, man, I'm real sorry darlin'," a familiar-looking young man came jogging over to you wearing a forlorn expression. "It wasn't me, but I ain't gon' make excuses for them," he jabbed a finger in the direction of a few other young men, looking concerned. It was then that you realized who they were. You were speaking with royalty, as far as most of your fellow students were concerned. Football was big at your university, and from what you'd heard, your school was one of the top contenders. Elvis Presley, the man standing before you, was a big reason for that. He was quarterback, and he reveled in the attention as much as he enjoyed playing.

"Darlin'?" He questioned; thick dark brows furrowed in deepening concern. "You all right? We need to get your head looked at?"

"No, no," you shook your head, regretting the action as you felt like a rock was rolling around in there. "I'll... I'll be fine. Just try not to hit me again." You joked weakly. You thought it was funny, but also got your point across, and you went to move back to Janie. You didn't realize you were moving sluggishly, and walking not quite straight, until you caught the grass getting closer to you.

"Wha-

"Damn it!" You heard Elvis cry, and stupidly you shut your eyes, as if accepting your fate. "Gotcha," he cooed in your ear, and you came around to the fact that you were now in his arms, his nice, strong, warm arms... You looked up at him, eyes blinking, your head nearly lolling to the side if it weren't for his hand cradling your neck. "It's gon' be OK, sweetheart. Gon' get you to the nurse to get that head looked at. You're stubborn as hell, girl," he shook his head at you, half smile on his face. You wanted to poke it, your hand raised to do so but it landed on his cheek. He laughed. "'Nuff of that, woman. You want me to trip with you? We'll both crack our heads on this sidewalk." In your muddled state you laughed; the image was rather funny.

Some time later, you woke up in the nurse's office, alone. Where were you? You tried to recall the last moments but were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in?" You said hesitantly.

A young, dark-haired woman came inside in a nurse's uniform and greeted you pleasantly as she took your vitals. "You had quite a bump earlier, didn't you? Came in all zonked out."

The machine beeped. "Good, 107 over 20. Had you all the way down in the eighties, was thinking we'd have to send you to the hospital!"

"Oh, gosh."

"Luckily, you're looking a lot better. You don't still feel dizzy, do you?"

"No, I feel all right. Still a little bruised, though..." You went to feel your head, coming up against a light bandage. "Don't fuss with it, it needs to heal. I'm glad you came in when you did. If it weren't for that handsome fella that brought you, carrying you like a white knight and everything!"

A blush started rising to your cheeks, and you glanced away. "He was awfully nice to do that. Then of course it was his friends who hit me!"

"Oh, I'm sure it was just an accident. Besides, girls have done less to get Elvis' attention," she winked, moving toward the door. "You should be fine but take it easy, no sudden movements and no sports for a few weeks!"

"Thank you," you said, grumbling you hadn't intended to get his attention, it seemed to be thrust upon you. You couldn't deny it was a kind act he did; you didn't know many men that would have gone through that much trouble to make sure you were all right. You definitely were lucky he had stopped you from falling and incurring additional harm. And, even though you'd never admit it aloud, you found him not horrendous to look at. Maybe even cute. You were sure he was well aware of his affect on the opposite sex, and rationalized he didn't need more compliments.

"Oh, there you are," a familiar deep voice sounded to your right as you stepped into reception, about to leave toward your dorm to find Janie. You hoped she hadn't gotten too much of a scare. For all you knew she was still knocked out on the lawn; she was the heaviest sleeper you'd ever known!

"Elvis," you said, and it was all you could say in your surprise of him staying close. "What... what are you doing here?"

"Making sure you were OK, silly," he rose to his full height from the chair, stretching. "A bigger ask than I'd anticipated; those seats were none too comfy." He teased.

"Oh, Elvis, that's awfully kind of you but you didn't have to."

He waved a hand off, "naw, I was raised right, I wouldn't leave a woman in distress, especially since it was my numb knuckle friends who got you into that mess. I hope you can accept my apology, darlin'." There was that beseeching look again in his blue hues.

When he turned those eyes on you, you were done. "Of course I do," you said softly. He smiled real wide then, straight, shiny white teeth nearly blinding you in their exuberance. "Oh, doll, I'm so glad to hear that, I am. I was so worried. I know how smart you are, I didn't wanna think we were responsible for knocking all that genius outta your noggin!"

You guffawed; it was so ridiculously inane, yet entirely endearing because of the genuineness with which he said it. But then you sobered at the realization that he knew who you were. Or knew enough to know how seriously you took school. "Wait, how did you know-?" As far as you could recall, you'd never spoken, hardly laid eyes on him more than once or twice in passing, and even then, thinking nothing of it. You weren't someone who got into sports.

"I sit a few rows behind you. Prolly didn't notice, I don't blame you. I'm usually late or taking a snooze, not the most dedicated student," he rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed. "Well, I reckon we probably had a few classes together last semester too, but I guess you didn't notice me."

He watched you as you formed your opinion about this, not upset, but strangely earnest. It took you aback. You would've figured The Elvis Presley would have been a lot more cocky and self-assured. He wasn't in the slightest. It was... delightfully refreshing.

"Well, I can be pretty oblivious, but I can definitely say I know you now, Elvis Presley." You smiled the first real smile since speaking with him, and he mirrored you happily.

"Where you headed?" He asked. "My dorm. I should check on Janie, my friend," you add in explanation.

He nodded. "How 'bout I walk you there? It's gettin' late, and it's not but a few blocks from my dorm."

"Sure! I mean, if you don't mind. You've spent enough time on me today as it is. I'm sure you have other places to be."

He stopped you by the arm, forcing your gaze to his steady one. "There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be." He said, and you believed him.

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒: 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: the first time you meet coriolanus snow, you're unsure how to gauge him. but a conversation opens a new door for you politically. ⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: consumption of alcohol ⊹ word count: 3331 ⊹ author’s note: I'm so excited to finally post this hehe. I know everyone has been so hype about this series and I'm proud to introduce to you the first chapter. any feedback is welcome. ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❝A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on.❞ ― John F. Kennedy

It’s a peculiarly warm day in New England despite traces of snow still blanketing the dead grass in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts. A blizzard had blown through the night you arrived, and the remains of the storm are now melting away with each passing moment. A veil of mist hangs in the air by the ocean, the mixture of freezing sea water and balmy air still trickling in from the middle Atlantic lingers. You’re watching the thin fog swirl around in the cool breeze as you stand in front of the formal living room window. The Kennedy Compound is just far enough from the beach that you can see it clearly from the front of the main house where you currently reside. And though a part of you longs to be outside after being cooped up for days due to that nasty winter storm, you’d rather not be bombarded with the still fairly bitter and salty air. Thin, long sleeves cover your arms as they cross over your chest despite the warmth of the fire in the den nearby. The house is still and silent. Everyone seems to be off doing their own thing after dinner wrapped up not long ago.

At 18 years old and beginning your secondary education journey, you never would have believed that you’d be where you are a decade later. You’re now 28, working toward your dual-title doctorate in political science and history at Harvard University. You’re so close to finally graduating, and it’s almost bittersweet. You wish your parents were around to see it. You’re the first in your entire family to go to university, not to mention the first to go to Harvard. Going to such a pristine school is unheard of in your neighborhood. What’s more unheard of, is your privilege to closely study and research your chosen dissertation topic. You decided you would research the life and ongoing legacy of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States. 

Except for the amount of data and information you need, you have to interview and research extensively. Which means having to eventually meet the man himself. 18-year-old you also would never believe that you would meet the President and shake his hand. Or even get to know him past the facade he puts on for the world. But it doesn’t stop there. Due to the difficulty of getting ahold of John F. Kennedy after his passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1963 and the Interracial Marriage Act, a decision was ultimately made. The chaos of Capitol Hill and the citizens of the United States pushed John F. Kennedy to leave for the holidays much sooner than usual. After getting to know you well enough over a few months, the decision was made that John F. Kennedy would invite you to stay with him and his family in Hyannis Port. Just for a few weeks, through Christmas and New Year. It isn’t like you had anything else to do or anyone to spend it with. Besides, this will be your chance to get exclusive information about the man and his family for your dissertation. 

So here you are in the Kennedy family home. In the last week you’ve been here, you’ve gotten to know Jack and his family quite well. You had insisted on remaining professional and calling Jack by his real name, but he refused that. “All my friends call me Jack.”

You’ve gotten the inside scoop on Jack’s childhood and his chronic illness that has carried into adulthood. The military history in the family has also been spilled to you, and not a single detail has fallen on deaf ears. You’ve filled two notebooks already. When you aren’t scribbling down everything, you’re nose-deep in a book Jack has written. Currently, you’re reading Profiles in Courage and have found it quite interesting. You decide you’ve done enough staring out the window and that you’d join Bobby and Ted outside at the bonfire. Once you’re outside, they’re heading back indoors. But they offer to leave the fire going for you. Graciously, you accept their offer and take a seat by the warm flames, opening up Profiles in Courage.

You’re blissfully unaware of how much time has passed, your eyes eagerly scanning each word in each line as if they’d disappear any moment. You almost don’t notice the sound of snow crunching underneath someone’s approaching feet.

“Sorry to bother you, but Jack is asking for you inside.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a man’s voice that you don’t recognize. You peer over your book at him and gauge that he must be safe, even if you don’t know who he is, considering the house is crawling with security.

“Alright, then,” you nod, putting your book down before standing up, stretching, and brushing yourself off. 

You look closer at the man before you as the orange flicker of the fire basks him in an angelic glow. His hair is a mess of stark blonde curls, and he’s in a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up his forearms.

“And who might you be, exactly?” you ask, tilting your head slightly in confusion.

“Excuse my lack of introduction. My name is Coriolanus Snow. Jack’s best friend.”

You quirk an eyebrow, exhaling a laugh, “But Lem is Jack’s best friend.”

The blonde man chuckles, taking a step closer to you, “Well, maybe there’s a lot about Jack you don’t know about just yet.”

You narrow your eyes at this Coriolanus Snow, not caring that your shoulder collides with him as you swerve around his tall figure. You walk briskly back to the main house, wondering how this mystery man has yet to be brought up. When you enter the front door, Jackie is holding John Jr. in the foyer. 

“I was just looking for you, dear,” she says, “Jack is asking for you.” 

“So I’ve heard,” you raise your eyebrows at Jackie, and John Jr. reaches for you. You poke the boy on the tip of his nose.

Jackie gives you a confused look, but you’re quick to explain, “Some man outside said that Jack was. He isn’t Secret Service.”

Realization crosses her soft features, “Ah, Coriolanus, I’m guessing?”

“You’d be correct.”

“He’s a long-time friend of Jack’s from Harvard. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. His father was a New York senator for years.”

“Can’t say I’m too familiar with the Snows,” you purse your lips together, “But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see what Jack needs me for.”

Jackie lifts John Jr.’s hand to wave goodbye to you, and you give him a big smile, waving back. You walk through the den to the staircase, trodding up the stairs until you reach the landing. The office is immediately to your right, and when you approach the door, you knock. When you do, the slightly ajar door opens wide enough to see Jack laughing and conversing with someone in the room. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt-“ you begin as you step inside the office, but you still yourself quickly.

Your eyes meet Coriolanus Snow’s steely blue ones as he leans against Jack’s desk, his forearms bearing his weight. His head is turned to you, his face appearing as if he were shocked by your arrival. 

You clear your throat, fixing your gaze back onto your original point of interest, “But I was told you were requesting my presence?”

“Yes, I was,” Jack smiles at you from his spot in his desk chair, “I’d like you to meet Coriolanus Snow, a great friend and colleague of mine. We attended Harvard way back when.”

Coriolanus stands up, straightening himself out. You notice he has an air about him that oozes confidence and prestige. His presence and towering height would seem intimidating to some upon the first meeting. Not to you, however. With your life focus being on politics, you’re quite desensitized from men and their faux personas.

“Nice to meet you,” you bite back a remark about already meeting Jack’s friend and stick out a hand, face blank and expressionless, “I currently attend Harvard myself.”

“Coriolanus, this is the bright Ph.D. student I was telling you about. She will be here until the New Year,” Jack says, a prideful grin on his face as he motions to you, “Be nice to her, she’s known to hold her ground.”

“I can tell,” Coriolanus gives Jack a close-lipped smile, his eyes averting to you.

You stand by Jack almost protectively, unsure of how to feel about the blonde man before you. The fact he managed to beat you inside and upstairs when you left him outside first made you wonder. Coriolanus’s physique in itself is alluring and piques your interest. He also seems quick-witted and the type to be a few steps ahead of everyone. It’s not hard to gauge this just from a few exchanged words. You’ve been studying and shadowing long enough to know who you’re interacting with. You study political science, for crying out loud. You know a born and bred power-hungry man when you see one. But at the end of the day, they’re just flesh and blood like those outside of the game. That’s the historian part of you trying not to judge Coriolanus so hard. You don’t know all the facts yet. If Jack is friends with him, he may not be so bad, despite the dark vibe he gives off. But you want to figure out why he appears so stiff.

“Coriolanus will be staying with us until New Year,” Jack turns to you, patting your back as he notices your shift in mood, “You don’t mind some extra company, do ya?”

“Not at all,” you smile sweetly at your mentor before turning to Coriolanus, “Besides, there’s still a lot about you that I don’t know about just yet. And I’d love to hear all about it.”

Jack hums in agreement. Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at you, and you raise yours back. He clears his throat, standing up slightly straighter than previously.

“I can always pour us some wine, and we can discuss some lighthearted details before turning in,” Coriolanus offers you, “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“That sounds lovely. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must grab my belongings from outside, and then I’ll be available in the den, Coriolanus.”

Jack and Coriolanus watch as you leave the room, closing the door behind you. Jack feels fairly content and is proud of his esteemed shadow getting along with his best friend. Or, appearing to be, anyway. Coriolanus is silent and remains neutral in his facial expression. He carefully turns the idea of you over and over in his head. There’s something to your character that intrigues him. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t figure it out.

When Jack and Coriolanus wrap up their conversation, you’re getting settled in the den. You’re curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace, continuing your book from earlier. You circle a sentence that catches your attention, gnawing on the tip of the pen as you think of what Jack could have meant by this specific statement. You’re ripped from your thoughts when a hand delicately holds a glass of blood-red wine in front of you.

You abruptly close your book, taking the glass of wine, “Thank you.”

You don’t look at Coriolanus as he sits down, and he does so quietly without breaking his eyes from you. He keeps his focus on you as he sips his wine, and you can feel him do so as you stare into the flames in front of the couch.

“So,” Coriolanus clears his throat, “How long have you known Jack?”

You pause, taking your time to swallow your wine before glancing over to Coriolanus with little to no expression. You flash him a closed-lip smile before setting your glass down on the table, “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.”

Coriolanus is taken aback, not showing it other than his raised brows before responding, “I see. And what makes you think I already know the answer to that?”

“Despite what society may think, a woman isn’t as daft as she appears to be. Given a man in her presence is smart enough to know that she isn’t, anyway,” you stare at him, unblinking, “No offense Senator Snow, but I know you’re a man of Harvard. And you know I’m a woman of Harvard, so let’s cut the chit-chat.”

Coriolanus slides his tongue across his teeth underneath his closed mouth before chuckling smartly, “I can see why Jack chose you. And you’re right, I did know the answer. But not every source is reliable.”

You lean down to retrieve your drink, “And why would Jack be an unreliable source?”

Coriolanus shrugs, “Well, as I’m sure you know, Jack knows his way around the ladies.”

“Am I supposed to be offended by this common knowledge, Mister Snow?” you swirl your wine around in the glass, peering up at him warningly.

“Of course not,” he furrows his brows, shaking his head in light disgust, “But you’re not unattractive by any means, miss.”

You scoff, “I’m very well aware. But your suggestion that I would entertain a superior I’m studying for one thing is pretty crass.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand, “You know how Jack is-”

“Yes, I do,” you say sternly, “However, I’d never involve myself in nonsense.”

“And why is that?”

You tilt your head at the man, laughing in awe at his brazenness, “For starters, he has a loving and caring wife. Someone I rather respect and admire, actually.”

Coriolanus nods, sipping his wine without a word. It’s not the only reason, of course. But it takes anyone with common sense to know why you wouldn’t so much as poke Jack with a ten-foot stick. Yet you still decide to take this friend of Jack’s by surprise.

“And besides,” you shrug, “I prefer blondes,” you say plainly, throwing back the remainder of your wine as Coriolanus fights to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Now,” you lean against your knee that’s crossed over your other leg, holding your empty glass out to Coriolanus, “I’m studying the man and have studied him for years already. So, how about you tell me something I don’t know, hm?”

It takes a little while for Coriolanus to warm up to your snarky attitude, given he is the reason you have one. But you also take some time to soften up yourself. You aren’t always so bitey- not unless deeply provoked. And all that Coriolanus Snow has done is provoke you as long as you’ve known him, which has only been a few hours. But the more the two of you talk and drink, the more you both begin to unravel. It takes about three glasses of vintage wine to make Coriolanus crack a genuine smile for the first time in front of you. Which, by all means, was not normal for him, especially around someone he just met. More so around a woman in general. However, just as you know there’s something to Coriolanus, he knows there’s something to you as well. And he has barely even scratched the surface.

“One night during his campaign, he had a little too much to drink at a dinner, and his accent was so thick I had to translate,” Coriolanus says, his chin resting in his hand. His arm is propped on the arm of the couch that you are perched on where he now also sits. Coriolanus is far enough from you to be civil but close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. For someone with such a cold demeanor, he could put the fireplace to shame.

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh, “That’s actually quite funny, considering how thick it is in general. I can’t imagine how it must sound while he’s a few sheets to the wind.”

“Exactly,” Coriolanus lifts his finger from his glass to point at you, “But in actuality, it was a test.”

You look at him confused as you pour a fourth glass for yourself, “How so?”

“Jack wanted to make sure I knew what to say to voters and donors,” Coriolanus says, finishing his wine.

You offer to pour him more, to which he accepts, “Why would that matter?”

“He knew I was planning to run this year.”

You set the bottle of wine down, “To run?” you repeat, openly laughing now, “For what? Cabinet?”

“No. President.”

The burn of alcohol shoots pitifully through your sinuses, nearly exiting your nose as you struggle to cover your obvious laugh. You sniff harshly, covering your mouth and nose with the back of your hand as you swallow the remainder of the wine, recovering the best you can before answering.

“Normally, I’d believe a senator who says that, but before today I had no idea who you were, Coriolanus,” you look at him incredulously, “The election is eleven months away now. You need to, and pardon me when I say this, light a fire under your ass.”

Now it’s Coriolanus’s turn to laugh, “Shocking you’ve never heard of me, considering you’re a political science guru.”

“Shocking that I’ve never heard of you, considering you’re a senator of the United States of America under John F. Kennedy and running for the thirty-sixth President of the United States,”  you bark in response, your initial disliking of this man rising back to the surface.

Coriolanus’s jaw jerks to the side before he looks down in his lap, nodding to himself, “No, you’re right. I do need to light a fire under my ass.”

You shrug, finishing your wine and not bothering for another glass.

“How about since you made me realize this, you can help me out.”

You set the empty glass on the table before sinking back into the couch, crossing your arms as you look straight at Coriolanus, “Help you out with what, exactly?”

“My campaign,” Coriolanus says.

“You’re terribly hilarious, you know. I have too much to worry about right now to help a grown man who should already have a plan if he truly wanted to win the election.”

Coriolanus goes to defend himself, but you interrupt, “Before you give me some sort of excuse, yes, I know you’re a grown man. Yes, I do have too much to worry about. I’m literally writing a book about a man and his entire life. Yes, you most definitely should already have a plan by now if you want to win.”

Coriolanus just stares at you, unsure of what to say, but again you give your two cents, “And yes, as much as I probably shouldn’t, I will help you. But you will owe me big time. Got it?”

It takes a moment for Coriolanus to realize you’ve agreed to help out, but when he does, there’s a slight glow of gratitude in his eyes, “Thank you. I know I’m seriously behind, but I know I can do this. Especially if someone as well-endowed as you is helping me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m well-endowed in more ways than one, but politics is just the icing on the cake, sweetheart. So, let’s continue this tomorrow before I fall asleep here.”

Standing up from the couch after numerous glasses of wine has proven tricky. Your head swims, and you sway slightly from side to side. Coriolanus has to rest a gentle hand on the small of your back in order for you to steady yourself. You glance at him, letting your eyes linger in silent thanks, before collecting yourself and walking out of the den into the hallway. After putting your book and notes away, you strip your clothing and curl up under the soft duvet on your bed. Hopefully, your craving for political experience and curiosity in your interest won’t land you into trouble with Coriolanus Snow. But you’re eager to find out. 

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