#y: 1960

[videoviolence]

MEET DAD & DOG!

[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.

౨ৎ taglist:

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

[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

[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)

------

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

Warnings: smoking, weed, mentions of drinking

------

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.

[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

[persephone-presley]

[kitslittlegirl]

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

[morgandr]

Imagine:

Lurch hugging you goodbye as he hopes to see you again.

——————————————————————————-

(NOT MY GIF!)

(Lurch Addams X Reader)

——————————————————————————-

[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.

[cjsoleil]

Straight From the Tortured Poets Department (Bang Chan x Reader)

Authors note: This is part two of a two part series, part one is right here. You don’t necessarily need to read the first one, but I recommend you do. Enjoy.

Time had gone by quicker than Chan and Y/N would have liked. If Chan wasn’t sure about the girl before, he certainly is now. He met her parents a little less than a month after they started dating, something Chan had been dreading. It was bad enough that he came from next to nothing and only had a shit job at a bar, but not meeting them before dating Y/N must not be doing him any favors.

It’s embarrassing, how nervous he was sitting across from her parents. Living under the circumstances he does, it’s safe to say he’s been in a number of stressful, nerve wracking situations. Despite this, he’s never been more anxious than at that moment.

It was a little out of the blue when Y/N had mentioned that since her parents were back in town, so he had to meet them. When he joked and told her she should give more of a warning, he found that it was unexpected for her too. She didn’t plan on telling her parents about Chan right away, but plans changed the day after her parents came back to town.

“So, what boy have you been hanging out with?” Y/N had nearly spit out her tea when she heard the question.

“What?”

“Marie said you’ve been spending some time with a boy.” Her mom called from the kitchen. Y/N simmered in the question for a bit, and wondered however Marie found out about her and Chan. She had thought back to when San saw her at the drive in and it becomes much more clear. San, despite not seeming like one, is a gossiper. He probably told the boy he always hangs out with, Wooyoung she believes his name is. And word spread as quickly as a forest fire. Luckily, they did not act outrageously. Though she actually had to introduce Chan to them now.

It went better than Chan thought it would. There was no yelling about how a man like him is unworthy of being in their daughter’s sight, and other than the threatening undertone her father had every time they spoke, he’s pretty sure Y/N’s parents kinda like him. Well, her mom likes him at least. On another note, Chan did get lucky. Y/N’s father had handed him a card, confusing him at that moment.

“Tell the secretary at front desk you are meeting me. Be there at noon on Monday. If you’re a minute late, don’t bother.” Chan had been speechless, reading the card. Y/N has never mentioned her father’s business before, so he wasn’t aware that he works at a famous publishing company.

Wait, not work. Owns.

Chan always knew Y/N’s family has money. It drips off the diamonds hanging on her ears and covering her wrists. Still he didn’t think her family was so rich.

Chan thanked the man profusely, repeating and repeating his gratitude so many times it must have been annoying. The company has published a number of works by his favourite artists and offers him a career he would never be able to get otherwise. Chan does not have any education, he never even finished high school. Originally he was concerned about this, but after expressing his worries to Y/N they disappeared.

“Chan dear, that doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t have offered you a job if you couldn’t do it.” Chan didn’t have any more concerns after that.

Y/N’s parents are gone again, her father needing to go to one of the department branches. Her mom always goes with him. That leaves the house to Y/N and Chan. Y/N has only been to Chan’s place once. It’s located in a less than safe area and Chan firmly believes his girl has no business being in such a place. It is a tad overprotective of him, but it can’t be helped.

The two watch a movie on Y/N’s tv. It’s some love story. Chan has never cared for them, but Y/N loves them. So they watch on as the man on screen sets up an elaborate scene to propose to his girlfriend.

“Quite obnoxious isn’t it?” Y/N comments from her spot under Chan’s arm. He looks over to her as he raises his hand to undo Y/N’s hair. She wears it up a lot more often now.

“You’re not into grand gestures?”

“That’s not what I said.” Chan runs his fingers through the girl’s hair, “Though I believe they’re unnecessary.”

“They can be sweet.” Is all Chan says, glancing over at the screen to see the male lead on his knee and the woman yelling yes.

Once the movie is over the two went upstairs to Y/N’s room. Chan is captivated by her collections. Shelves full with records and books.

“I never took you for a hoarder.” Chan comments, making the girl reach over and slap his shoulder, “You take good care of these.”

“Of course.” Y/N sits on her bed, and Chan picks a record, putting it on the record player. Music floods the room and he sits next to the girl.

“So anything special we’re going to do before you go?” Y/N hums, barely wanting to think about how she’s leaving town in a few weeks.

“Everything is special with you Chan dear.” She says it sickenly sweet without a hint of sincerity. He laughs and grabs her face softly, squishing her cheeks.

“You’re such a doll.”

Chan shakes Y/N’s face side to side before leaning in and kissing her pursed lips. It starts as one kiss, then two, and then Chan is holding Y/N’s face in his hands whilst kissing her passionately.

“I think I know.” Y/N whispers when Chan pulls away, nervously looking to the side, “A special thing we can do.” Chan takes a moment to process her words, before his eyes widen.

“Babydoll.” He practically groans the nickname, leaning in and kissing the girl quickly again, “Are you sure?” They have shared many passionate moments, but never went close into… that territory.

“We can wait til marriage- or longer if that’s what you want. Or never. Don’t worry about what you think I want, I only want you to be comfortable.” Y/N smile grows larger as she listens to Chan’s spiel. She places both of her hands on his shoulder, leaning forward.

“Sweetheart.” She stops his rant, “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Patting his face, she leans away and he can clearly see how red her face is, “Wait until marriage? That’s so far away, is it not?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Chan lifts Y/N’s left hand and kisses where the ring will be, “I’d marry you tonight if you wanted.”

“What would my parents think? Their daughter getting married without their knowledge.”

“And having sex out of wedlock is much better?” He laughs as Y/N makes an embarrassed sound and looks away from him.

“Don’t be so blunt.” It only makes him grin harder.

“Didn’t you just try to seduce me?”

“I didn’t- I-“ She sputters and Chan can’t help but press a hard kiss against her cheek.

“Now, to be serious.” He holds both her hands, “Is this something you really want?” “Do you love me Chan?” “More than words can ever express.” “So yes. I do want it.” He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands with a smile.

“It will hurt. I don’t want it to, but I fear it can’t be helped.”

“What is love without pain?”

“That’s a common misconception.” Chan says, “My love should never hurt you.” Placing a soft kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth, he starts to trail down to her jaw and neck. He gives a soft bite to the place below her ear before whispering to her, “So let me ask again. Are you sure?” Y/N’s faint whisper of ‘yes’ is all he needs to hear.

Chan grabs her face and brings her lips to his, hand going through her hair. He hears the girl hum when he bites her lower lip, and forces his tongue inside her mouth. Y/N has to physically push him away when she runs out of air, but he stays close. He moves to the side of her neck, one hand on her thigh. When her skirt starts to ride up, Y/N grabs his hand.

“Sorry.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as Chan pulls away, “Just instinct I guess.” He smiles softly.

“What else?” He tilts his head as she mumbles her answer, cute. “Hm?”

“I’m… embarrassed.”

“Of what? Your body?” He practically scoffs at the damn idea. Faster than Y/N can process, she is lifted to sit sideways on Chan’s lap.

“You can leave your clothes on, if that’s what you want. But don’t do it because you’re embarrassed or ashamed or for some stupid reason like that.” A kiss on one of the red marks on her neck. Since Chan’s hand was released upon placing the girl in her lap, he moves his hand up her thigh. Slowly so he can be stopped. He’s not. His hand reaches the fabric of her underwear and neither can hear the music playing anymore. Chan feels Y/N tense.

“Relax.” He tilts his head and brings the girl into a kiss in a attempt to sway her attention. He slips his hand into the fabric, swallowing her gasp.

As tempted as Chan is, he decides against dipping his finger inside just yet. Instead he lets his fingertips wander, smirking when Y/N lets out a cute little sound. After a while, he pulls his hand from under her skirt. The girl in his lap breathes heavily and Chan grins upon seeing what a effect he has on her.

“That’s nothing babydoll. Poor thing, you really don’t know what you’re in for.” He looks back at his fingers, a shine on them. Making eye contact with Y/N, he smirks before bringing his fingers to his own mouth, licking the wetness off of them and moaning at the taste.

Y/N is absolutely mortified, wishing she could close her eyes but her mind won’t let her. The heat pooling in her stomach is nearly unbearable and every time Chan opens his stupid mouth it gets worse. His deep and raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. The smirk he wears reminds Y/N of the devil he truly is, rather than the darling she is used to.

Y/N lets out a little shout when Chan suddenly stands. Chan drops her on the bed and climbs on top of her. He cages her head with his elbows and rests his forehead on hers.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“Hi.” She squeaks back.

“You okay?” She nods and when she says ‘yes’ he sits up. He smiles, and his hands start to go up her legs. Slowly, he pulls down her underwear and throws them to the side. He moves down and rests between the girl’s legs. Leaning upwards on her elbows, she looks down at Chan.

“What are you-“

“You trust me baby?” He interrupts before she can ask anything more, “Yes or no, Y/N.”

“Of course I do. Yes, but what-“ Y/N cuts herself off with a moan and her arms collapse, falling back on the bed. The feeling is gone after a moment and she is left wondering what the hell that was.

“What-“ She is cut off again, and for a split second she sees Chan’s head nearly disappeared under her skirt. He pulls back, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Folding the skirt up to Y/N’s hips, Chan returns to his spot. He licks directly over her hole before dipping the tip of his tongue inside. The girl gets louder. She’s never felt like this before. Chan swearing almost made her legs shake, he’s never done that in front of her before. On instinct, Y/N grabs Chan’s hair in her hands and tries to push him away. She doesn’t get away with it, as Chan grabs both hands and pins them on the bed.

“Be a good girl.” And he presses her hands into the mattress slightly for good measure before letting go. This time, he grabs both of Y/N’s legs and rests them on his shoulders. He keeps a strong hold on her thighs and goes back down. Rather than just the tip, he forces most his tongue into her hole, making her cry out.

“Channie!” She clenches the blankets, moan after moan being forced from her lips as Chan dips his tongue inside her, licks and sucks at her clit. Occasionally he will let out a moan of his own, Y/N feels the vibration in her bones. She doesn’t know why he’s doing so though, since this can’t possibly be doing anything to make him feel good. She doesn’t think that hard about it. She can’t really think about anything other than Chan. Unknow to her, Chan is truly having the time of his fucking life eating his girl.

Suddenly a near scream like noise fills the room, and Y/N barely registers that the sound came from her. Chan had put two fingers inside her without warning, kissing her clit. “Oh- oh my god Chan.” She whines and he lifts his head just to show her a dangerous smirk. His mouth is wet and oh this is so embarrassing.

“Isn’t that nice?” He scissors his fingers, “Don’t you feel good?” Y/N doesn’t give a proper and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that, sucking her clit hard, making her cry out. “Words doll.”

“Good.” She pants out moving a hand to pet Chan’s head. He lets her, “So good Channie.” She yells out his name again when he adds another finger. Chest rapidly rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. Pretty girl.” His fingers curl inside her and something about it is different, it makes Y/N grip Chan’s hair so hard tears may have been brought to his eyes while she brings up her other arm and bites down on her forearm to cover up the much to loud sound that comes out of her. “Oh you like that baby?” Chan moves his fingers to touch that spot again, making her whine, “Yeah, I know you do.”

After a few minutes of torment, Chan moves up the bed to kiss Y/N’s lips, up her jaw and to her temple. He moves his thumb to replace where his mouth was previously. It brings a burning feeling to her stomach and her whole body tenses. Y/N reaches out to hold Chan’s wrist and push him away. This time, Chan doesn’t bother moving her hands, the weak pressure on his wrist doing nothing to faze him.

“Chan- Chan I feel-“ The sentence is not finished, the girl shoving her face in the pillow under her head. “What is it?” Chan forces her to look at him with a hand to her chin, “Tell me.” “Feels weird.” Y/N mumbles with a lack of better words to describe it. Chan laughs lightly. “Weird, you say?” He leans down to Y/N’s ear, his whispered words sounding like shouts, “Do you feel like you’re burning baby? Like you’re being held over a fire and forced to feel nothing but the flames kissing your skin?” He places a barely there kiss on her earlobe, leaving her skin red and hot, “Or are you overwhelmed? Are you drowning, with nothing but pure desperation rushing through your vains to get what you need?”

Not a single word was registered by the girl on the bed, Chan knows. He still only smiles as he moves his fingers faster, grabbing her face again to get her attention. “Be a good girl and let it go, I got you.” And Y/N is pulled into a completely different world. At least that’s what it feels like.

Her grip on Chan’s wrist slackens, and he pulls his hand away to see indents of her nails on his wrist. Not that it matters. He focuses on running his clean hand through her hair and dries his other one using the bedsheets.

When Y/N can finally force herself to speak, she doesn’t really know what to say. So the first thing that comes to mind is what is spoken, “That was nice.” In a single second Chan bursts into laughter, leaning his head down onto her shoulder. “Yeah it was.” He agrees, “That was your first time cumming?” Y/N face turns an even darker shade of red as she nods. Chan didn’t have to ask, he just wanted to get an answer. It boosts his ego, being the first and only person to ever make his girl feel like this, “You ready for more?” “There’s more?” Chan can’t tell if she’s being serious but even Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are drawn downwards to the front of Chan’s pants and there’s a lot more.

Chan first takes off his shirt, and the sight of his bare torso is not an unfamiliar one to Y/N. He runs hot, and often is not wearing a shirt when they are alone. Still, Y/N can never resists running her fingers along the outline of his chest, down to his stomach and over his abs. While his torso is something the sculptors in Paris can only dream of having as a muse, it’s really Chan’s arms that get her going. Large and muscular, showing just how easy it is for him to throw her around when he wants to. His pants are next, along with his boxers. Y/N refused to look, keeping her eyes on Chan’s face. His hands go up to Y/N’s shirt asking softly if it was alright for him to take it off. The answer is yes, all embarrassment regarding Chan seeing her body gone after what he has just done. Soon, the two are left naked on the bed.

“Stop staring at me.” “An impossible task, beautiful.” Y/N rolls her eyes and lets out a gasp when she feels Chan’s tip inside her. “This is the painful part, but I promise I’ll go slow. Feel free to punch me if you want.” Chan starts to push in and hell it does hurt. Despite being stretched out, Chan’s big, and it hurts. Background to the pain is an undertone of pleasure, and Y/N keeps her hand covering her mouth to muffle her sounds. “Shit. Shit, you feel so good.” Chan moans and presses his lips to her neck. He lets out a small whimper as he unconsciously thrusts forward, bottoming out, “Just- hm- tell me when you’re ready.” He kisses down her neck to her collar bone and top of her chest as he waits for Y/N to ready herself, “I know it hurts. Your body is not familiar with mine, but it will recognize me after tonight. It will understand I belong right here.” He finds one of her hands and interlock their fingers.

A few moments pass, and Y/N taps his shoulder “You-you can move.” Chan smiles and lifts himself up a little, not before pressing a long kiss against Y/N’s lips. “Hold onto me.” Y/N nods and rests her hands on the man’s shoulder blades. He starts slow, sweet as he gently rocks his hips. Soon though, Y/N is tapping her hands on his back and is asking, begging him to give her more. “You want me to fuck you harder, hm?” Y/N moans louder at his word choice. Chan never talks like that in front of her. Always one to behave in front of a lady, like he loves to say. “Please Chan.” Chan smirks, saying something about how his girl is so polite before he starts to pull out completely and thrusting hard.

Y/N scratched up Chan’s back, not having enough conscious to consider that it may be hurting him. Chan welcomes the sting though, he kind of hopes they scar. A physical claim for her to make on him. “It’s amazing, you know?�� A particularly hard movement, “Every gasp, every moan. You create poetry without saying a single word. What a talent.”

“Chan. Channie.” She moans out and pushes Chan down to meet her for a kiss. Tears fill her eyes and threaten to fall since she feels so much more sensitive now. He pulls away and kisses the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Sweet, a drastic contrast to how he’s moving. After a few attempts, Chan finds an angle that hits Y/N’s spot, making her muffle a scream in her pillow. “Please more, Chan Chan-“

“Fuck.” Chan clenches his jaw when Y/N tightens around him, feeling just on the edge of release. With a grunt, he wraps his arms around Y/N, one hand holding the back of her head and the other at her lower back as he picks her up. Chan settles her in his lap and doesn’t give her any time to even process the sudden change in position as he grounds himself on the bed and thrusts up into her. Grabbing her waist, Chan pushes Y/N down as he thrusts up, making him go in deeper. “Come on babydoll. Come for me.” Arms wrap around his neck, Chan feels her bite his shoulder and tighten around him, “Atta girl.”

When Y/N comes down from her high, Chan gently pulls out and kisses her, letting her stay seated in his lap. “Chan you didn’t, um…” Y/N doesn’t finish her sentence, blood rushing to her face as Chan stares at her with a smile. He looks a mess, hair messed up, a bite mark on his shoulder and scratch marks on his arms. If he looks like that, she can only imagine how she herself looks. “I don’t think we should start a family until we’re married.” Chan kisses close to the middle of Y/N’s chest, where her heart lies under skin, muscle and bones. “Well-yes, I agree but I mean… can I help you?”

Chan blushes at that moment, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Do you want to?” Y/N affirms that she does, “Okay.” He pecks her lips, “Touch me baby.” Y/N brings her hand to Chan’s chest, kissing his shoulder as her hand goes downwards until her fingertips make contact with Chan’s cock. She touches him carefully, too nervous to do anything more. “Wrap your hand around me.” Y/N obeys, holding Chan in her hand. Chan moans loudly, jerking his hips, he doesn’t know how the fuck he managed to not come inside her earlier, “Shit. Fuck yes, that’s good honey. Move your hand a bit- yeah just like that.” Y/N barely needs to do anything before Chan is cumming, groaning into her neck.

When he feels alive again, Chan wipes off Y/N’s hand and his own stomach with the bed sheet before lying down, bringing Y/N with him. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married tonight?” Chan asks and a laugh echos through the room, over the music playing on the record player, “Ah Nevermind. I don’t have a ring yet.” “Maybe when I come home for the holidays.” “A winter wedding sounds lovely.”

Standing at the train station together, Chan thinks that maybe this was a fraction of the feeling military wives felt while sending their husbands off to war. Not the same, because there is no fear that Y/N will not be coming back, but the point still stands.

“Have you ever been on a train, Chan dear?” “Yes. But not the formal way.” That makes Y/N look at him with a confused expression,

“I used to train hop.” The girl nods looking forward towards the tracks. The autumn wind has just started to come out, messing up both their hair. The sun is setting, giving a warm golden hue to the world around them. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t able to make it.” Y/N shrugs, it’s not a big problem to her. “It’s alright. You’re here.” “Forever.” A voice rings through the speakers, announcing that the next train will arrive soon. “That’s me.” Y/N looks towards Chan, “You gonna miss me Channie?” “Not at all.” He pulls Y/N into a hug as she laughs at him, “I feel as if you are going to war.” Y/N pulls back from their hug, but stays close enough for Chan’s arms to remain around her waist. “School is not quite the same as a battle field.” “Either way, I will miss you just as much.”

Y/N has to look away from him when she feels her eyes water, “Hey, hey. Come here.” Chan wraps his arms around her from behind, swaying as they stand facing the horizon. Normally, Y/N would never allow Chan to display such affection in public, as it isn’t appropriate to do so. This time though, she lets it happen for both their sakes. “You know, one love the sunset when they are sad.” Y/N smiles upon hearing the reference. “Why is that?” “Many different reasons. Maybe because it marks the end, because it brings tomorrow just a little bit closer.” Chan rests his chin on Y/N’s head, “Or maybe it’s because the sky is beautiful at this time.”

They watch the sky until another train arrives. Y/N doesn’t have to say a word as she turns around just for Chan to bring her into a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up on her tiptoes as Chan bends down. It’s not even a deep kiss, but it conveys their feelings all the same.

Together they walk to the train and once onboard, Y/N quickly finds a seat next to the window and sticks her head out the open window. Chan waits just below and holds up his arm. Y/N reaches out and holds his hand. “I love you babydoll.” Is all he says before he places a kiss on the palm of her hand, the back and her ring finger, “I will be ready with a ring when you come back.” “Will you propose at the train station?” “The odds are not slim.” He gives another kiss. “I love you too.” Y/N says over the train engine, as they just are about to start moving. She is not close enough to see it, but a tear does fall from Chan’s eye.

The train moves very slowly at first, so Chan walks along with it and doesn’t let go of Y/N’s hand. Soon though Chan is forced to let go and Y/N assumes that he will stay still and let her pass, but he doesn’t. “What are you doing?” The question comes out as a laugh when Chan starts running along side the train. “A grand gesture!” He yells back, and runs until he can’t keep up anymore. Y/N waves as Chan disappears into the distance, before eventually sitting down in her seat. She cannot wait to be on this train again, with snow falling behind the windows and going the opposite direction.

“Chan dear, the last one if for you.” Y/N gestures to the final box under the Christmas tree. They sit together on the floor, along with their dog. A older mutt, used to be stray called bandit, “It’s fragile. So please be gentle.” “Ah, I hope it is nothing outrageous babydoll.” Chan smiles as he undos the perfectly tied ribbon on the box before he takes off the lid. “You didn’t doll.” Chan laughs as he reaches to grab what’s inside the box. “Oh but I did.” Chan lifts a small, King Charles Spaniel puppy out of the box. She squirms as Chan looks at her. A little red bandana is tied around her neck, ‘Berry’ sewed into the fabric in white. Chan brings the puppy closer to his face and allows her to give him plenty of face kisses. Bandit makes sure to get closer too, sniffing at the new family addition.

“I love you.You are the best wife a man could have, you know that?” Chan asks as puts Berry in his lap to lean over and kiss Y/N’s lips, before grabbing her hand and kissing the ring on her finger. One he gave to her three years ago. “I love you too, and of course I am.” The puppy crawls out of Chan’s lap and over to the woman, who allows Berry to rest on her leg with her head on her stomach. She makes sure to pet the older dog too, since like Chan, he tends to be a little jealous at times as well. “You’re not going to be the only lady of the house anymore.” Chan smiles and rubs the puppy’s ear.

“Oh we may overpower you soon.” Y/N laughs and gestures to her stomach, “We are still unsure as to what we will get.” “Ah, but I’m sure he will be a boy.” Chan places his hand on his wife’s belly. He quickly leans down and gives her belly a kiss before straightening up and kissing his wife properly.

“You cannot possibly know that.” “I have a feeling.” “And if she ends up being a girl?” “Then I will love her just as much.”

[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. 

౨ৎ taglist:

@nilletellsstories @noyatv @moonlightstuffs @slytherinholland @dominqueeekk @allcheesemelts @coconut-dreamz @rosewine-5 @hsfallingsky @imasimptoowth @tatumrileyslover  @murdocksdaughter @fauxraven @throughgoeshxmilton @thesullengrrrl @fanfictionismyromanempire @americanprometheuss @prettycove @ilikefictionalmen @etfrin @xyraphine @arzua10 @shadowolf993 @niki-is-a-thing @ashy-kit @snowsgames @impeterporker @randomgurl2326 @tspilled @tonixe @sammythecat7 @nowitsmissing @wearemadeofstardust0 @ebsmind

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

Sticking this on here even tho it's a general Sitewide Problem - I'm sick of people making excuses for retroactively adding more bigotry into tf2. It feels like people are only capable of thinking about marginalized people (especially "in the past") as our suffering, so writing a gay character, or a trans character, or a black character, or etc. must involve them suffering somehow. People go to such fucking lengths to pull hypothetical marginalized people out of their ass who LOVE writing about characters like them experiencing hate crimes as "coping", but In My Opinion your coping should not involve publicly making a bunch of joke characters from a comedy video game get called real slurs that affect people in real life. Even if your point is "bigotry is bad", not every single fucking thing that has a black character or a gay character in it has to be About Bigotry. You all let white characters just be characters, but the minute you wanna put Demo tf2 in your fanfiction you need to take some great stand against racism and choose to do this by portraying him suffering. I don't care if it's to show that Racism Bad - you NEED to learn to love marginalized people more than you hate bigots. Never mind everything I could say about how actually no, it would not be "period accurate to the 1960s" for everyone to constantly be spewing or facing racism and homophobia. Acceptance and taking stands against bigotry aren't new concepts. Your "historically accurate" tf2 fanfic has done absolutely nothing except show a bunch of already marginalized people that our suffering is more important than our joy. In My Opinion

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Norman Bates - First encounter

warning : Non consensual, drugging, creepy behavior, mental illness, dark theme, sleeping pills, no use of y/n

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°Since you set foot in his hotel on a rainy dark night. He looked up from his small reception and his eyes went to you, he was fascinated by you. The lightning in the sky seemed to illuminate you and you approached him with only the wood between you.

°It was like when Marion had come to him in the hotel and had aroused his interest. But she did not last long, his mother did not allow it. But now it seemed completely different. It all seemed so much stronger but he could not quite understand why. He could not understand why his mother did not say anything to the young woman who came in.

°,,Good evening Sir, what a terrible thunderstorm, do you have a room available?" she asked and pointed outside for a moment before shaking the rain from her umbrella. The dark-haired man could hardly take his eyes off her before he looked into his book. Well knowing that he had no guests, that he would not get any. But she greeted him with patience and kindness, leaning lightly against the wood and seeming pleased that he was there at all.

°That she was here only by chance and yet in his mind, next to his mother, something convinced him that she was here only because of him. That she had found her way here because of him. ,,Yes-yes, truly bad weather, one moment please," he replied, looking back at his book. He felt her gaze on him as he pretended to look for a free room. Knowing that it would be the room with the special extra.

°,,You're lucky, there's a room available with an adjoining bathroom and if you want something to eat I can make you something," he replied more hastily than intended and felt as if he were still giving her the whole plan. Saw how she seemed to think for a moment before deciding on the room. She took the room key from him and he had to hold back, her skin was so pleasantly soft and warm. Like a mother.

°She gave him one last grateful look before taking her suitcase in her hand again and walking towards the room with the key. She didn't see how he looked after her, demanding and yet reserved. His fingers closed tighter around his pen. She's perfect, Mother, it ran through his head as he set about eating.

°He hurried into the kitchen, knowing he wouldn't let her go. She had to stay with him. She mustn't go he heard her voice as he prepared the soup and paused. ,,But what if it happens again?" he asked and his arm moved twitching towards the locked cupboard. He involuntarily pulled out the key.

°He was afraid that it would go too far again, but the sight of her made him think that he could finally be perfect. Prove it to his mother and not have to leave her. So she stays with you said his mother, her voice so familiar as he took the small ampoule. He saw the wise powder that he carefully mixed in the soup dissolve.

°Walking from his house back to the motel, he recognized the soft rush of the shower and felt a thrill of curiosity and excitement run through his body. The thought of seeing her like this, without clothes he went into the room next to hers. He put the tray down carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible as he took the picture off the wall.

°Pressing himself closer to the wall and looking through it, he saw to his excitement that she had not closed the shower curtain. The water fell on her naked body and the foam of the soap was spreading over her body. She was beautiful the most beautiful woman he had ever seen more beautiful and almost more loving than his mother would even be to say and think it. He had to touch her.

°Only moments later he came to her room with the food and felt his heart beating fast. He had waited until the shower had gone out, she had finished and it wasn't too hard. He was afraid that she would leave, that it wouldn't work and that she would call the police. That his mother would end up in an institution. Shaking his head to banish the thoughts from his mind, he knocked on her door.

°,,I have your food," he said more quietly than necessary, almost afraid that she would not hear him. But only a moment later the door opened in front of him and wrapped in a bathrobe she stood there. Smiled at him before she said, ,,Thank you for the trouble, of course I'll pay extra for it" and took the food from him before she closed the door with a grateful wink.

°His heart never seemed to beat so fast. Her body in the bathrobe well knowing how she looked underneath. He stopped in front of the door and put his hand on the doorknob, he would not let her go.Tonight be patient he heard her voice and involuntarily detached himself from the door. He didn't want to leave, but he knew that he would have to wait a little.

°It seemed to take an eternity until she had finished eating and the light in her room went out. Before he dared to approach her room again and the time had come. He opened the door with his universal key and entered the dark room. The room was lit only by the moonlight that fell through the curtains as he walked to her bed.

°Saw her desirable body under the covers as he reached out his trembling hand to her. Saw in the dim light that she had completely eaten the soup. See the sleeping pills are working he heard her voice as he swallowed and put the blanket aside and saw her in her nightgown. The white thin fabric clung to her body and yet had shifted slightly.

°Embarrassed and yet full of excitement, he let his hand run over her body. Slightly pushed up the fabric of the nightgown and finally touched her warm soft skin. Drove up to her face and gently stroked the soft lips. His thoughts ran wild as he imagined having something like a family of his own for the first time.

°But as he ran his fingers through her hair, looking at the fabric, he finally understood why he liked her so much, why she wouldn't let him go, why he was so obsessed with her. She reminded him of his mother, she seemed to be her image in younger and yet she was not. But she was slightly different, was nice and friendly not controlling him like his mother.

°A fact that shocked him and yet in his mind it seemed normal that he found her so attractive. ,,She's pretty and helpless," he murmured, ignoring for a moment his mother's voice telling him to take her with him and drag her into the house. Instead, he took a moment to observe her. Leading over her body, he listened excitedly to each of her soft sounds and almost overdid himself.

°If his mother had not intervened and pulled him away from the woman, he would have truly overdone it. There'll be time for that later! she hissed and Norman took care of her car knowing she didn't need it anymore. Would perhaps rather sell it to buy her nice new clothes. Before he went back to her he slowly and carefully lifted her out of bed. Pressed her gently against her before he went with her into the main house.

°He knew she would not wake up for a few hours. Hours in which he prepared her room and made it as comfortable as possible before he laid her on the soft bed. Gently tucked her in and sat with her on the bed. ,,I'll be there when you're awake" he murmured and gently reached for her hand. But the softness of her skin, the warmth and love let him know that it was only a matter of time until he finally had her. Until his mother was with him again and she would love him. She had no choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@icarus-star

[mioritic]

An uncharacteristically (amusingly?) quirky mid-century rendition of the Falangist yoke and arrows and the Legionary cross and prison bars.

Horia Sima, Dos movimientos nacionales (Madrid: Ediciones Europa, 1960)