#....not that elvi is much of a love interest in the show but

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[kacievvbbbb]

I think a major point that the live action completely misses and honestly a lot of people haven’t brought up. Is that in the original Nani WANTS Lilo around. Yes because Liko needs her and no one else understands Lilo like she does. But also because Nani needs Lilo just as much as Lilo needs her. Lilo was just as much all Nani had left same as Lilo. And to just not acknowledge that. To pretend like Nani stayed with Liko just out of some grander sense of responsibility and it’s “what she’s supposed to do” is to throw away their sisterhood.

The whole live action is Lilo talking about how smart and kind and amazing Nani is and how she has all these dreams and how she was really good at all these things until Lilo. Not once does it seem like Nani is even interested in Lilo or her hobbies outside of her responsibly to look after her as her older sister. She doesn’t care that Lilo’s been kicked out of hula class even tho Lilo in the OG loves hula, she immediately wants to take stitch back to the pound and then goes on a whole tirade about how you can’t let Lilo “trick” you into doing all these things, she doesn’t care when Lilo tries to show her the Elvis CD trick, She not there surfing with Lilo cause it’s an enjoyable pastime and something she loves and wants to share with her sister she’s there because it’s her new job.

Through out the movie Nani is part of the people that make Lilo feel ostracized which is completely antithetical to the original movie where Nani is fighting so hard to make the world a place Lilo feels accepted in.

So no the movie didn’t need to be a one to one remake of the original but it shouldn’t be a completely different movie either because then what’s the fucking point!!!

In this version I’m not even convinced that Nani actually LIKES Lilo.

And honestly the film doesn’t try and convince you that she should. Lilo is indistinguishable from any other movie child that is either a bundle of destructive chaos or just a mini adult both played for jokes.

[beanarie]

this is not the next installment of "buck takes a mental health break". i mean, it is, but i'm skipping around a little.

~

"My godbaby just had a lovely christening, Uncle Buck."

"Athena! Hey. Oh, uh. Was that today?" He squints at his alerts. "No one's sent me photos yet."

"Yeah, huh. That was today. Guess the days are less distinguishable out on the open road. What have you been up to? Maddie tells me about your adventures. Didn't see you as a Graceland type of guy."

"That was Albert's idea."

"Oh, he dragged you there, did he? That whip of a thing that you could break like a toothpick?" She sounds good, far lighter than she did the last time he saw her, about a week after Bo's birth.

"Okay, I admit I was a little curious."

"And?"

"Did you know Elvis had an identical twin?"

"What?"

"Jesse. He was stillborn."

"So there could've been two of him walking around," she says. "Interesting thought. Is that all you got from it?"

"He lived in a regular place first, but his neighbors didn't like dealing with the crowds, so he asked his parents to find him a farmhouse."

"A farmhouse?" She laughs.

"Yeah." He chuckles quietly. "It didn't stay that way. You know, when I first saw it, I wondered why anyone would ever need that much. It felt greedy."

"It is!"

"Yeah, no. It is. Just. He didn't start out wanting a palace. He tried something much quieter, more- more normal. The people around him didn't like it."

She makes a thoughtful noise. "Listen, Buck. If you find a place that feels more like home-" She pauses. "Or feels the way this place used to feel, you hold onto it. Don't cut yourself off from something that could be exactly what you need just because it's new. That's an order, Firefighter."

"Understood," he says, blinking rapidly. "I- How are you holding up, Athena?"

"Today was a good day," she says, a little brittle. "I had one last week, too."

"Tell me about it?" he asks, tentatively, unsure if it's his place. And she does.

~

(Buck): Hey, when do I need to make a decision about coming back?

(Hen): What do you mean "make a decision"?

(Hen): You really don't know if you're coming back

(Buck): It still hurts

(Hen): I know. That will never go away completely. Bobby was too important.

(Buck): Not him. You guys. You said I made myself small, but I didn't just decide to do that. It was what everyone clearly wanted.

(Hen): Oh, Buck

(Buck): It might be better if I join another house

(Hen): Is that what you want?

(Buck): Not really

(Buck): But I can't go back to whatever that was. No one would talk to me. I felt like I was on fire.

Hen bubbles him for quite a while. Buck finishes his sandwich and brushes the sand off his pant legs. The sun is strong today, but there's enough of a breeze coming off the water that it doesn't feel overwhelming.

(Hen): I think because we knew your grief would be a lot, we didn't know how to handle it on top of our own. So we didn't even open the door. Then enough time went by, it seemed like you were past the worst of it and bringing it up might cause you to backslide.

Buck stares at her words and listens to the waves crashing.

(Hen): That doesn't make it okay

(Hen): I think Bobby would be pissed at us

(Hen): No, I KNOW he'd have thoughts. Loud ones. He loved you.

(Buck): He told me that, you know. That night.

(Hen): Did he?

(Buck): I didn't say it back

(Hen): He knew. We all knew.

(Hen): I'm sorry, Buck. I really am. This goes a little further than forgetting your birthday.

(Buck): I don't have a yard, or gutters. I don't have a house.

(Hen): I'll help you find one. When you're ready. Just say the word.

tagging: @peppermintquartz @chococara25 connected-dots, tumblr won't let me tag you

[show, you cannot tell me hen and buck have the kind of friendship where he does yard work for DAYS to make up for forgetting her birthday but she leaves him to drown alone in his grief and that's just, fine. do me a fucking favor]

[mrcrawly]

Dr. House is still some of the best autistic representation I've ever seen

I made my initial post a while ago, but I'm finally starting season 4 and I feel just as strongly about this. I did get a little bit of pushback on my initial post so let me be clear: I don't care if you disagree with me! I don't care if you don't think Dr. House is autistic! Do not get into my comments and be condescending about it! I'm autistic and this is my opinion! Make your own post about why you think Dr. House is neurotypical and leave me alone!

Disregard for social cues or normalities. I'm really driving this one home because every time I watch this show it shocks me how much he's like me. Not necessarily even because he's an asshole, but because he's just weird. This is old news, but he has an entire conversation with Wilson about how he's not good with first dates and conversations because either the topic of conversation is boring, or there's subtext, and to understand the subtext you need "a decoder ring." Hm yes very neurotypical thing to say. He doesn't have much sense of boundaries or privacy, and regularly embarrasses Wilson or will discuss something gross with Cuddy while someone else is around. He also says pretty gross things in public and in inappropriate situations, even if just to be funny. Some of this is just generally him being an asshole, but I think some of this is genuinely a lack of understanding in how to interact with people. Sometimes he just plainly doesn't respond when asked a question or spoken to when he doesn't know what to say or doesn't want to speak.

Strong sense of justice and morality. I mention this a little in my initial post, but I don't remember if it was its own point. House gets angry when people endanger his patients, and will get angry at anyone, no matter who, if their decision hurts his patient. When Wilson was too afraid to put his foot down and insist that the family accept House's treatment in "Family," he gets pissed off at Wilson and tells him he's a "coward." He apologizes for this after because it was uncalled for, and Wilson's intentions were good, but nevertheless he was right. This is not me saying that House is a particularly moral individual. If you took a shot every time he violated very basic ethical principles you would die of alcohol poisoning before you reached the second season of the show. But House's concern is his patient's life. In his mind, if his actions save his patient's life, it is ultimately moral. When his team fucks up and risks their patient, he gets pissed off and will humiliate them so they understand the gravity of their mistake.

Specific and niche interests. I mention in my initial post that he has very few interests (mostly General Hospital and his job), but since the first couple seasons I've gotten more a feel for his love of music. He owns live recordings of Elvis on vinyl. He owns more than one guitar (from what I saw of his apartment). Music is kind of his thing. To take that a little further, it seems like he collects things. This is by no means necessarily an autistic trait, but collecting is very common with autistic people who have special interests. I collect Spiderman merchandise, for example.

Resistant to change. I don't think I'd seen the episode yet, but after he's shot at the end of season 2, he insists that the carpet that's been stained with his blood is kept. He goes as far as to annoy everyone incessantly in order to get his carpet back. House is also just generally the kind of person who wants things exactly how he wants them. He doesn't like people messing with his things or for his environment to change, even when the inconvenience is simple and ultimately unimportant. In the last episode of season 3, Wilson says this pretty plainly. House has played the same guitar since eighth grade, driven the same car for ten years, and been living in the same place for fifteen. Change just isn't his thing. It's often hard for autistic people to adapt to significant changes because of the way they process information. Change is overwhelming.

Observant and analytical. When Wilson starts yawning, he doesn't just write this off or explain it, he immediately starts considering every possible reason and deducing why he's yawning. House likes puzzles, and symptomology is his thing. He also definitely violated Wilson's trust by spiking his coffee with amphetamines, but he did so based on a line of logic and reason. This isn't necessarily an autistic characteristic, but it is fairly common among some autistic people to view a course of action or event through the lense of logic rather than considering the emotional consequences. I do this a lot. House is also especially blunt and almost excessively honest. He does lie (obviously), but when it really matters to be honest he will be, and he won't mince his words for people's comfort. This is going back to differences in how he experiences empathy.

This post is honestly probably boring, because I'm really just driving my initial points home. Again, I don't really think that House MD discusses autism in the most meaningful or accurate way, but House feels more authentic to me than actual, intentional autistic representation. Also, some of these things can be attributed to depression or House's problems with attachment; this is just my perspective on some things.

[grahamkennedy]

"Who the fuck was Graham Kennedy and why the fuck do you care so much?"

Glad you asked (or didn't)! I'm kind of sick of me just plastering a link to his Wikipedia page on my pinned post and not actually explaining my kinda niche special interest to followers and mutuals and why the hell it became one. Not quite a primer, more like a personal essay.

The TL;DR is that Graham Kennedy was an Australian television comedian, variety show compere, game show host, actor, and a whole bunch of other things. He was hugely influential in midcentury Australia, one of the most highly awarded personalities in our local television industry, and while largely forgotten now, used to be so famous in this country that they gave him the title 'The King'. Like Elvis if he made dick jokes for a living and was also, like, insanely gay. Like really, really fucking gay.

Intrigued? Probably not but let me explain myself and his personal significance to me more autistically under a read more anyway

(The main source I use for information below is the brilliant book King: The Life and Comedy of Graham Kennedy by Graeme Blundell)

Graham Kennedy was a name that kind of floated around my periphery for much of my childhood. My dad is a Baby Boomer so I knew of him, but not much about him. In my early teens I first encountered the game show Blankety Blanks, on late night cable, and it became a comfort show for me in some of my darkest moments. It was bawdy, crude, and not particularly cerebral, so it was perfect background noise for me.

It wasn't until a hyperfixation in the show The Newsreader (a show set in an 80s Australian newsroom) popped up that he became a significant part of my life. I began researching important figures in Australian television and his name kept coming up over and over again.

He intrigued me. He was lowbrow, irreverent, controversial, and often extremely camp. His personal life was gutwrenchingly tragic, which made me both incredibly sad but instantly curious.

And what really drew me in was that often, his comedy was just so extremely queer. What do you mean, that one of the biggest celebrities in this country used to be a man who would flirt with male costars, kiss them on air, fondle miniature statues of David, and strut around in a sparkly suit and huge crown like this?

Kennedy never publicly came out, but he alluded so heavily to his own sexuality that it felt like queer performance art largely ignored. No one seemed to talk about how his work itself was gay as hell, the narrative around his sexuality seemed to be that he was simply ashamed of it and that's why he never came out as gay. But I asked myself, why would anyone who was disgusted by who they were wink and nudge so heavily, be so homoerotic? It seemed weird to view Kennedy's closet as one made of shame. The public certainly seemed to know he was gay.

The thing is, Kennedy was not treated well by the television industry, especially in the early days of his career. He was over worked, and scrutinised by his bosses and the public for his perceived effeminacy. One coworker, writer Hugh Stuckey, claimed to see actual physical abuse by a program manager on Kennedy's first variety show, In Melbourne Tonight (or IMT, as it was often shortened to) because he was too effeminate. He was stalked and harassed by fans, and forced to fake dates and hint at relationships with female costars. He was scared to go into his backyard because people would be peering over his fence.

In the last years of his life, he would tell one of his closest friends, Tony Sattler, that he never should have done IMT, the show which made him famous. The years on TV, the constant scrutiny, lack of privacy, lack of creative control, and a disastrous and unfulfilling love life compounded. He became bitter, angry and cruel, and the way he treated those he worked with as his career reached it's end could be absolutely abhorrent. He retired to the Australian bush, became a recluse, and essentially drank himself to death over a period of 15 years.

It felt to me like society had failed this man, who was, yes, complicated, and not exactly perfect, but who had been hurt so much by the industry he worked in. And when people talked about his comedy, they didn't talk about brave it was to be so outwardly flamboyant and bawdy and homoerotic when people cared so much about this man's sexuality.

Some of his comedy is extremely dated. Some of it really doesn't stand the test of time. But some of it feels like the jokes gay friends make to each other around the table at the end of a house party. It wasn't gay in a polished and digestible way, it was gay in a crude and very REAL way.

(I have a short compilation of gay jokes I love here.)

As of the time of writing, I've been obsessed with this man for a little over a year. I've collected books, magazines, DVDs (I have 16 individual DVDs of his work), and even an LP he recorded in 1973 (one of the worst albums of recorded music I have ever heard, btw). I have written poetry about him, I'm in the middle of making a video essay about him, I have introduced countless people to this guy who has intrigued in a way no other celebrity, living or dead, ever has.

And so. I actually decided to make a post that answers, at a little bit, the question above. Now you hopefully know a little bit about who the fuck Graham Kennedy was, and why the fuck I care so much.

^ If you read this whole thing I'm doing this to you

[wolfiesmoon]

Countless nights

Malleus x gn!reader

i felt like writing something super cute and lovey dovey and basic after listening to can't help falling in love by elvis presley so here we are lol😌🩷

this is nothing revolutionary that hasn't been done before just so much fluff you'll throw up a furball (made of fictional fluff) by the end

There are many a night which he spends thinking of you.

Lilia had told him about it, a long long time ago. How your chest would tighten, how your face would become warm, how your heart would flutter when gazing at the person you're in love with. But he never imagined that it could feel this amazing, this freeing, this beautiful.

There are many moments he thinks of on these nights...

You run up behind him, yelling the silly little nickname he's grown to love hearing fall from your lips.

He turns around, grinning at the sound of your voice. Truly, you are a sight for sore eyes. Your little furry companion is with you, too, dozing off in your arms.

"It's so nice to see you in the hallways for once." you realise that you mostly see him in front of your dorm when he randomly shows up. Because of that, you kinda forgot that he's also a student at the school and takes classes as well.

"Likewise. It's always a pleasure to see you." He didn't say anything presumptious, so why are you making that excited face all of a sudden? Now he feels giddy.

A silence falls between you.

"Ahaha... Um... I actually have no idea what to talk about... I kinda just ran to you after seeing you..." you admitted awkwardly.

That is... very comforting to hear. All you need is the sight of him to want to be by his side. The warm feeling spreading across his body is very welcome.

He wants to hear you say that sentence over and over, but greed is not a good quality to bear, so he'll settle with hearing it only once.

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind listening to me talk? Do you happen to be partial to gargoyles?" He takes the opportunity to talk about the passion no one seems to share with him. He's fully expecting you to say no and change the topic, and he wouldn't blame you at all in some regard. He's well aware most humans don't take interest in something as specific as gargoyles.

"I never really thought much about them before. But sure, tell me about it." you actually look really interested, waiting for him to start.

He smiles.

Oh, he just can't help falling in love with you.

.

"Did you hear about that new ice cream place that opened in town recently?"

When you asked him if he could spare 2 hours of his day just for the two of you yesterday, he was certainly not expecting you to open with this.

"Lilia told me you like ice cream, and I was pretty curious about the taste myself." you wonder to yourself if there's any funny flavours you wouldn't find in the human world. If so, you're definitely trying them out.

"So, uhhh... wanna go try it with me?"

You don't even realise how happy you've just made him. He has to hold back the wide smile that threatens to spread across his face.

"Hahaha, you're so strange... Though I certainly wouldn't mind." You seriously just want to... hang out with him? What a pleasant surprise, indeed. It makes his heart beat with excitement.

"Let's go!" you start running down the hill to get to town, excited to share ice cream with him.

.

"Aw man, it's almost impossible to choose." you're contemplating between three different flavours at the moment.

"Shall I choose for you, then?" Malleus suggests. He already picked the flavour he wants and is waiting for you to make your choice. Not that he's annoyed by that. The longer you take, the more minutes he can spend by your side. How greedy of him.

"Go ahead." you sigh defeatedly. You're truly thankful he can put an end to the awkward situation of you just staring between 3 different flavours for like, 2 whole minutes now. You're creating a line behind you, no doubt.

"You should get the strawberry flavour." Malleus recalled a story of Lilia's in which he told him that strawberries are a symbol of love in a country he visited. He feels a bit cheeky, sneaking a subtle hint in like this.

"Uh, sure! I'll have one scoop of strawberry!" you raised an eyebrow slightly at his satisfied smile. Why is he smiling now, of all times?

If he's happy, you're happy, you suppose.

The two of you decided to walk around town while eating the ice cream. It was a nice change of scenery.

You were telling Malleus about a funny potionology mishap you had with Grim and Ace today when someone bumped into you, making you lose grip of the ice cream.

It fell splat on the ground, making it no longer edible.

"Oh come on..." you looked down at the wasted ice cream sadly. It was really good, too.

"I can return it to its original form, do not worry." Malleus suggested, already about to do it when you gently grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened slightly and a strange tightness enveloped his chest.

"No need. Just hanging out with you is enough. Enjoy the ice cream for the both of us." you're really fine with just watching him. He seems very happy when eating ice cream, which you can't get enough of.

"...If you wish." he felt his whole being warming up at your sweet words.

Oh, he just can't help falling in love with you.

.

"Child of man. What is the meaning of this?" his expression darkens when he sees your fingers wrapped in bandages.

"Of wha- Oh, you mean my bandages? It's, uhhh, a bit embarrasing. And also a suprise." you hid your hands behind your back, not wanting him to worry about them too much.

"Tell me." he looked quite scary in this moment, almost like he was ready to kill. Is he really that worried over it? It kinda makes you feel giddy.

"It'll ruin the surprise, I'm just saying." you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. His terrifying gaze didn't falter however, so you gave up.

"Roses are really important symbols in Briar valley, so I've heard. So I kinda wanted to give you a hand-picked rose boquet for your birthday tommorow, but I was dumb and didn't use gloves to de-thorn the roses. So that's why my hands look like this." you still felt a little bad ruining the surprise, but giving Malleus peace of mind is much more important.

"Oh... So it was that, I see." Malleus still witheld a somewhat cold, scary expression. He can't stand to see you hurt, in any way. And knowing it was all for him makes him feel even worse.

Still... you wanted to make him happy so much that you willingly hurt yourself to see it happen. Warmth rushes to his face at the thought of you handing the boquet to him. That's quite a common way of confessing love among humans, is it not?

He can't wait for his birthday all of a sudden.

On these nights, he just can't help falling in love with you.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

I know you’re in the middle of Kinktober (and crushing it btw!!!) so I’m sure you won’t be taking requests for a while, but leaving this in your inbox because I cant stop thinking about it. Humbly requesting wholesome cockwarming with BDE 🙏🏼

A/N: Thank you very much! I decided to make this a sequel to Bunny.

Not that innocent

Pairing: BDE x reader

Word count: 2.3K

TWs: Erectile dysfunction, cockwarming, p in v sex, a lot of cum, a short appearance from angry!Elvis, reader cries (not sex-related).

Elvis likes you, so he wants to keep you around. He was a little anxious that maybe you didn’t like him back when you said no to his invitation to spend the night. But then you turn up to his show the next night wearing the dress he’d had sent to you, so some of the anxiety dissipates. He feels like he does the entire show for you, the moves, the songs, even when he’s kissing all those other women he still has you in mind. You intrigue him - he thought you were shy, and then you asked him all those questions. All those oddly pertinent questions. As though you could see inside his mind and knew that he was sad and lonely a lot of the time. He wants you by his side again so he can talk to you some more. And of course it wouldn’t hurt to teach you a few more things in the bedroom. 

This time you decide to go to Elvis’ suite alone. Your friends aren’t that interested in going again anyway - they’re only in Tahoe for one more night and then they’re going back home. You’re supposed to go with them, only you’re not sure if you will. There’s not a lot pulling you back to Virginia. Your job, of course, but no significant other or pets or anything like that. And you could get another job. It might not be that professional to just stay in Tahoe until the end of Elvis’ residency, but part of you is wondering if you should try living a little. 

As soon as he sees you Elvis’ hands are on you, guiding you around the room as he murmurs questions in your ear about the show and what you’re drinking tonight. You answer him brightly, because you loved the show and you’re dying for another margherita. He settles you down next to him on the sofa and immediately starts talking to the rest of the people around him in an extremely animated fashion. You sip quietly on your drink and watch him. He really is very handsome, and you love the way he talks. Not just his accent, but the way he says things, something about it really appeals to you. 

After an hour or so, you start to get antsy. You’ve been sitting in the same position, with Elvis’s arm around your shoulders, being jostled by him as he moves back and forth. And you’re uncomfortable. And if you’re really, truly, being honest, a little bored. You tap his leg cautiously and look up into his face. He’s still talking though, barely registering anything else in the room other than the conversation that he’s so completely immersed in. You tap again, but there’s still no response. Then you think of something that will get his attention, your little hand wandering over to his groin and squeezing his balls. 

“Bunny!” Elvis’ face is red and his eyes are wide. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, your eyes meeting his a little reluctantly. “I tried to nudge you but you weren’t paying attention.”

Elvis is briefly furious at the fact that you’ve touched him, there, in public, and part of him wants to throw you out of the suite and never see you again. There’s a weird stillness in the room as everyone around him waits to see how he’s going to react. It’s not as if any of them actually saw what happened, but they all know that tone, and that there’s a high likelihood of the entire suite being cleared out in the next couple of minutes. 

“You can’t do that!” He rages, far too loud and too close to your face. 

You’d heard that he has mood swings nowadays, you’d read about them in the newspapers. He’d been nothing but sweet to you last night, though, so you hadn’t really believed it. But here you were now, right in the middle of one. You burst into tears. 

“I d-didn’t mean to… I… I… it’s uncomfortable and loud and I don’t know anyone but you and I don’t even know you…” the words are rushing out of you at a rate of knots and you struggle to make them stop. “I just wanted y-your attention, it’s too much b-being here on my o-own…” you sniff loudly and then succumb to sobbing again. 

“Oh, bunny…” Elvis softens immediately, seeing how upset you are and knowing he’s the cause of it. 

“Right, Charlie, everyone out!” He shouts into the room, and then without warning scoops you up and carries you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

“Bunny I’m so sorry,” he coos, placing you down on the bed and sitting himself next to you. 

You sniff and try to get your breathing under control as he passes you a box of tissues. “It’s… it’s okay.”

He watches as you wipe your face and take a few more gulping breaths of air, gradually calming down again. 

“Ya don’t like all those other people?” He asks, gently. 

You shake your head. “N-no. It’s just a bit much.”

“Sorry, honey. C’mere.” He pulls you into his arms, your head on his chest as he strokes your hair lovingly. You both stay like that for a while, and then he wonders what you were trying to get his attention about in the first place. Now he’s had some time to think about it, it’s kind of a funny way to get his attention, and if nudging didn’t work he can’t really blame you for doing it. 

“What did ya want anyway, Bunny?”

You move your head to look at him. “Jus’ your attention. Wanted to move off that sofa and do something else.”

He grins. “Well ya got what ya wanted.”

You wriggle up his body, your hand burrowing into his hair. “I kinda wanted something else, too.” You press your lips against his and he responds eagerly, kissing you gently at first and then with increasing passion. 

You start to pull at his clothes and it’s not long before he finds himself naked with you, a position he doesn’t usually like to be in with the lights on, but somehow your little body is making him care less about it than usual. He caresses you with his big, guitar-roughened  hands and you moan, kissing him and rubbing your body against his. He’s shocked when you pull away from his embrace and straddle his thighs, your hand tugging on him just like he taught you yesterday. He’s even more shocked when he feels you rub the head on your pussy, your arousal covering him as you sink down onto his length. 

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at you through hooded eyes. “Thought ya were an innocent lil bunny.”

You giggle, settling yourself down, his dick completely inside you. “I’ve had sex before, Elvis.”

He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “‘parently so. Ya not gonna move then, bunny?”

You giggle again, shaking your head and running your hands over your breasts, arching your back as you do it. He groans. “Thought I might tease you a little?”

“T-tease me?” He stumbles over the word a little. He really read you wrong when he met you, you might’ve been terrible at handjobs but you definitely know what you’re doing with your body right now. 

“Mmm. Jus’ sit on it.” You bite your lip and tip your head to one side. One of your girlfriends had told you about teasing and you thought it seemed fun, but you hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to try. The couple of guys you’d been with were so demanding about their own pleasure you’d been more of a fun plaything than a woman with agency. 

“S-sit on it?” Elvis feels like he has to stop repeating everything you say back to you as a question, but it’s like his brain has gone completely blank. Apart from the part that reminds him that he’s 40 and he takes too many meds for his dick to co-operate like this for too long. And he doesn’t want to say that out loud. 

You grin. It seems like it’s working. You rock your hips just a little and he moans in response. Biting your lip, you decide to try pushing it a little further. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice about being so mean to me, next time?”

Elvis’ expression changes a little, and you wonder if you’ve pushed it too far. His hand reaches to slap you on the side of the thigh. 

“C’mon. I apologised fer that. Ya need ta move.”

His tone is bordering on annoyed, and you consider it for a minute and then shake your head, going for your best attempt at a girlie cute little grin. 

“No! Not yet.”

Elvis groans, feeling himself starting to get soft. 

“Please!”

“No!” 

You think you’re still teasing, until you feel something change inside you and watch something changing on his face, too. 

“Ya may as well jus’ get off,” he huffs. 

You tilt your head to one side and look at him. “Don’t want to.”

Still huffing, he gets up onto his elbows and looks at you sternly. “There’s no point now.”

His tone is bitter but he keeps staring at you, waiting to see what you’re going to do. Expecting you to move. But you don’t want to. You don’t feel as full as you did earlier, but he’s still nestled inside you and you like that feeling. 

“I like it,” you tell him, then you hold out your arms. “Want you closer.”

He’s confused but the way you’re being with him softens his frustrations and he finds himself sitting up as you ask, with you adjusting to make sure he doesn’t fall out. After some wriggling he finally finds himself with his arms around you and his head on your shoulder, breathing in your scent. 

“Too old ta be teased,” he whispers. 

“Maybe I’m jus’ not good at teasing,” you suggest. 

“Hmmm.”

“Like the feeling of you inside like this.”

He grumbles into the crook of your neck, then sighs, relenting. “Like it too.”

You sit there for a while, in one another’s arms, enjoying the feeling of closeness. Then you wiggle your hips a little. 

“You think I can get it back?”

“Hmmm?”

“Your hard-on. Think I can get it back? I’m not that good at teasing but I am good at… other stuff.”

Elvis shakes his head a little to clear it of your dirty words. “I dunno, honey. Little Elvis isn’t that co-operative nowadays.”

You giggle, moving so you can look at him properly. “Little Elvis? You named it?”

He looks down, shyly. “Y-yeah. I named it.”

“Ohhh. Maybe I should talk to him.”

“What’re ya gonna say?”

You think for a while, tilting your head to the side and nibbling on your lower lip, going through several options. Then you decide you’ve come up with it, and smile brightly at him. 

“I think I’m gonna say, Little Elvis… you’re not actually that little, are you?”

Elvis bursts out laughing, his fingertips digging into your fleshy hips as he throws his head back. Your hands hold onto the back of his neck as you grin at his reaction. 

“I’m also gonna say, I like playing with you, and I’d really like it if you got all red and hard for me again. But if you’re too tired, I understand.”

Elvis is still laughing, all the tension from earlier has completely gone and he just loves how silly you’re being. It’s making him feel like the whole thing is less serious than he’d first imagined. Then he starts to feel something as you rock your hips back and forth on him, your ass firmly pressed against his thighs so he doesn’t slip out. A little hardening, a little rush of blood back down there again. Your lips find his ear and you murmur into it. 

“Want to show you how good I am at this. I know you’ve had a lot of girls and I’m sure I’m not the best, but I want to try.”

He groans at your words and your movements, and he starts to think that you’re right, you are good at this and you can bring his erection back. He’s never known a girl be able to do it before, he usually gets so psyched out and upset when it happens he doesn’t even let them try. 

“Bunny,” he breathes, feeling your pussy hugging him again as you start to roll your hips forwards, pushing your breasts against his chest. 

“Elvis,” you moan back, raising yourself up on your knees just a little before sitting back down. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands on your ass as you start to make your movements bigger and bigger, until finally you’re bouncing on him like…well… a bunny rabbit. 

You move one of your hands to rub your clit as the familiar feeling inside you builds, his dick pleasuring you just the way you like. You’ve only been in this position once or twice, but those are the times you’ve been able to cum from sex and so you’re excited to do this with Elvis. You watch his face contort in pleasure and it brings you even closer, thinking that you’re the cause, you’re what’s making him feel so good. Your fingers rub faster and you keep bouncing, his hands helping you move now too, fucking you on his dick. 

Leaning back, you finally sigh out your orgasm, so quietly Elvis would’ve missed it if he was just relying on his ears. But he feels you, and then he knows he has to move you before he cums. His strong hands pull you off him completely and set you down somewhere around his knees, before he grabs his dick and quickly jerks himself, cumming in seconds, his release spurting all over your belly and tits. Lying down with a groan, he wraps his arm around you as you lie down next to him. 

“I need a shower,” you whisper in his ear. 

He’s still breathing hard, trying to recover from his orgasm, and he pries his eyes open to look at you. You’re literally covered in his cum. 

“Shit.”

You giggle. “Told you I was good at it.”

He shakes his head with a wry smile. “Knew Bunny was a good name fer ya. Jus’ didn’t realise how good. Until now…”

***

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley

[starkwlkr]

if you dance, I’ll dance | cillian murphy

2006

“Doesn’t this look nice? Look, I found the perfect matching earrings to go with the dress.”

Y/n stood in front of a mirror. It was a few hours before ‘The Devil Wear Prada’ premiere since she was invited by her good friend, Anne. Her assistant, Joli, was helping her get ready.

“I like it.” Y/n smiled to herself. This was her first big premiere, although it wasn’t her film, she still wanted to support her friend.

“Okay, oh my god, you look gorgeous!” Joli hasped at the sigh of Y/n.

“I just want this night to go great.”

“Y/n! You made it!” Anne yelled over the shouting of the photographers.

“I did, you’re my best friend, of course I was going to show up for you.” Y/n smiled and hugged Anne.

“You have to come to the after party. It’s going to be so much fun.” The brunette laughed.

“Let me remind you what happened last time you and I went to an after party. I lost my shoe and you almost got arrested.”

“I promise nothing bad is going to happen at this one.”

Something did happen that night, but it led Y/n to the greatest love of her life. Yeah, she might’ve been a little too drunk and confused her future husband with Henry Cavill, but at least she has an interesting story to tell to her future kid.

It started with a shot of tequila. Then the one shot became two and then three and so on. Not only was tequila consumed, but a waiter had brought a bottle of wine courtesy of the great Meryl Streep who wanted to celebrate the film’s success.

“Wait, shut up, shhhh,” Anne placed her hand over Y/n’s mouth. “Oh my god, they’re playing Poker Face! You have to dance with me!”

“I don’t think I can keep myself up. Where’s the restroom? I might vomit or I need to pee, I can’t decide which one.” Y/n admitted.

Anne pointed towards a hallway that had a sign pointing to the restrooms so Y/n mumbled an ‘I’ll be back’ and darted to the hallway. Like any other after party she had attended, the line to the restroom was long. The sight of the line made her frustrated so she left the hallway and walked outside to get some fresh air.

The night sky was shining. Y/n could see some guests already leaving, some women had their heels in their hands, a guy was missing his coat, Y/n even saw Ryan Reynolds being dragged by his manager. That night, she couldn’t really remember if she had vomited on ‘Henry Cavill’ or if she even vomited at all. All she remembered was that some guy had told her she had a pretty smile and gave her his number which she held onto for the rest of the night.

Oh! How could she forget! She had also shared a dance with him to a sweet melody that she forgotten the name of.

‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ by Elvis? No, that wasn’t it.

‘At Last’ by Etta James? Nope.

‘Unchained Melody’ by The Righteous Brothers? Not even close.

She tried so hard to remember the song that she dances to with the guy who made her smile so much. She just wished she could relive that night whenever she wanted.

“Cillian, his name is Cillian.”

BARBENHEIMER TAGLIST

@thatgirlthatreadswattpad @leclercloml

[sissylittlefeather]

So... I had this dream about Elvis.

It's a little blurry and my English isn't perfect, nos, but I can remember the important bits.

I (the reader, of you wanna write about it ;]) was working as Elvis's assistant and practically loved with him. There where some feelings between us and, eventually, we ended up in bed together. The things were getting heated up, he was rubbing himself through his pants and i was grinding against his thigh.. and just when things where going to get good...

I woke up.

Oh, sweet, sweet nonnie. Your fantastic dream sparked a whole thing for me. Please enjoy this fanfic that resulted from this ask:

Return to Sender

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, dry humping, thigh riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~3.3k

Also decided to base it loosely on this gif:

You were so nervous in your interview that you actually knocked a cup of something off of his desk. As a result, you were pretty sure you did not get the job. But what you didn't know is that he found your stuttering and fidgeting endearing and when you bent over to clean up the cup you spilled, the view he got of your ass made his decision for him.

That's how you ended up as Elvis Presley's private secretary. It's 1959 and he gets so much fan mail these days that he can't manage it all himself. So, he hires you to help him out. He's pleased when you prove to be useful and supremely impressed when you show him that you can mimic his signature perfectly. Still, his interest in you is far from purely functional.

He's not sure how to go about making his first move, especially since you work for him and he'd hate to lose you. You're really quite effective, so he'll have to play this just right. He doesn't want to offend you and run you off for good.

Instead, he spends a lot of time watching you and smiling at you when you catch him looking. You can't figure out why he keeps looking at you. You're not dumb, not even naive really, but it still seems outside the realm of reality that he might be into you for more than your typing skills.

He tests the waters a little with some flirtation here and there, and you don't seem to turn him down, but you also don't seem to reciprocate. He confuses your nervousness with disinterest and tries to stay focused on the task at hand any time you're together. But as time passes, you get more and more comfortable with each other and eventually a kind of friendship forms between you. It's easy to bond as you laugh about some of the crazy things the girls write to him, but you really start to get close when he begins to talk to you. And not just about the letters. Without meaning to, he tells you about his loneliness, his fears, and how much he misses his mama. You're a good listener and he needs you more than he realizes.

Eventually, you get to the end of his time in the service and know he'll be headed back to the states soon. You're not exactly excited about seeing him go, but there's not much you can do to change it, so you take it in stride.

He's not so resigned, though.

If there's even the slightest chance that you might want him, he's not going to let the opportunity pass him by. The night before all of his big army-ending interviews, he asks you to come over. You assume he needs you to get through some letters or something before he leaves, but he has something else entirely different in mind.

“Hey, honey, thank you for coming over so late.” His voice is quiet, shy almost. The room is dimly lit and there's the faint smell of cigar smoke in the air. He sits in a large armchair, watching you as you stand in the middle of the room. You nod and tell him that you don't mind.

“You have some new letters that you need help with?” He shakes his head sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“Not really. I just wanted to see ya before I leave.” You blink a few times, confused.

“I'll be there for the interviews tomorrow.” He nods. This is not a surprise, but he wants to talk to you without people around.

“Yeah, but…” He fumbles over the words, trying to say exactly what he feels. The hesitation is heavy in the air between you and it's almost as though the words get caught in his throat when he tries to speak.

“But what, Elvis?” You look down at him and he sighs deeply, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. Without warning, he stands up and walks to you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek gently. There's a moment of nothing but being between you and you see the conviction enter his eyes.

“Oh, fuck it.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and needy. At first, you're so shocked that you stand there with your eyes open and his mouth on yours. You can see his eyelashes where they settle on his cheeks and feel him breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. He pulls back and notices the look on your face. “No? Was that…?”

“Do it again.” A smile creeps across his face and he leans down and kisses you again. This time your eyes close and you melt into him. The taste of him on your lips is exquisite, something between mint and man, and it feels like you'll never get enough. He deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands drifting to your hips as he pulls you in close to him, your bodies flush against each other. You moan softly as his lips move down your jaw to your neck and his hands slips down to grab your ass through your dress.

“I've wanted this forever.” His voice rumbles against your throat. You feel his hardness where he presses it against you, the urgency in his hips becoming more obvious.

“Took you long enough.” A little giggle escapes your lips as his hands continue to roam your body, squeezing you where it pleases him. He takes your breasts in both hands and lets out a small whimper. The need for more of him burns inside of you, manifesting in the ache in your center. His cock is so hard it hurts as he rolls against you, tangling one hand in your hair to hold you still as he dips his tongue into your mouth again. You start to pull at his shirt as he walks you backwards through the house toward his bedroom, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible.

You fumble with buttons, fingers trembling in anticipation. All of a sudden, it seems like his shirt has a hundred buttons and you groan in frustration. He pulls back, chuckling and pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. In the hallway, he turns your back to him and puts your hands on the wall, dragging his down your back to your hips. The ache between your thighs is quickly becoming unbearable, your body burning up with the intensity of your need. His hands grip your hips as he ruts against you, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he unzips your dress, pushing it forward off of you to let it pool at your feet. He turns you to face him, eagerly raking his eyes over you hungrily as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He takes a moment to really appreciate your body in just your underwear and bra.

“What?” You ask playfully, noticing the spellbound look on his face. He shakes his head a little, basking in the scent of your perfume as it mixes with the heat of your body.

“You're even more beautiful than I could've imagined.” He runs his fingertips down the side of your stomach and grips your hip tightly. The last ounce of inhibition leaves you and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to yours. Every ounce of him hums with insatiable desire as his soft mouth moves on yours passionately. He pushes your back to the wall and presses his body tightly against yours, his thigh on your center. Without thinking, you start to rub yourself on his thigh, your body begging for friction against your swollen clit. He groans and starts to roll his hips against you. “Goddamn, baby. Don't stop that.”

Your hands slide around to his back as you pick up speed, grinding your clothed pussy on his leg.

“Oh god, Elvis.” A deep moan floats up and out of you as your aching bud reacts to the delicious sensation of his pants.

“Fuck, baby. That's a good girl. Make yourself cum on me.” He grips your hips and helps you rut against him, chasing your orgasm. The wetness seeps through your panties, soaking the fabric under you, but he doesn't care. He wants you to cum, needs you to cum, his hips stuttering against you as you rub on him.

“I'm s-so close.” It's more of a whimper than a sentence, but he gets your meaning. His grasp on your hips is almost bruising as you grind on him faster and harder. The familiar bubbling heat gathers in your lower belly as the sweat drips between your breasts. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss and then mumbles against you.

“Come on, baby. You're right there. Let go.” And then, like your body knew to listen to him, you cum on command, shuddering and trembling as the orgasm rushes through you, sending bolts of pleasure to your extremities. He starts to slow the rolling of your hips as you go floppy against him. “Good girl. So pretty when you cum.”

“Think I might've ruined your pants.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“They'll wash. Can you walk?” You look at him, your eyes hazy with your post-orgasm daze.

“Huh?”

“I'm nowhere near finished with you.” He smirks.

“I'm not sure-” You don't even get the sentence out before he bends down, throwing you over his shoulder. A squeal escapes your lips as he carries you to the bedroom and drops you unceremoniously on the bed. He turns on a small light on the nightstand, casting a kind of orange glow around the room. You look at him standing there, the small patch of hair on his chest, his angelic face, and the small wet spot where his dick has leaked precum onto his pants and continues to stand at full attention. He looks at you spread out on the bed and decides at that moment that he'd give you anything you wanted, even his last name if you asked for it.

“I need you, baby.” He palms himself over his pants and you nod, reaching back to unhook your bra. You slip it down your arms and drop it on the floor, moving to push your panties down your legs. He grunts when your pussy becomes visible, moving his hand on his cock a little faster. When you spread your legs, he bites his bottom lip and moans.

“What are you waiting for?” You coo. His eyes are glued to your glistening pussy as he quickly unbuttons his pants and lets them drop. Your mouth waters a little as his cock bounces free, big and uncut and weeping precum. He climbs on top of you, arranging himself against your entrance and taking one of your legs onto his shoulder.

“You ready for me, honey?” He asks desperately, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. You nod and he groans, slowly pushing into you. The feeling of his dick stretching you out is overwhelmingly good. Finally, he groans, his whole cock buried deep inside you, balls pressed against your ass, as he resists the urge to pound you silly. Your hands clench around the silky sheets and you breathe, trying to adjust to the feeling of him. He looks at you with his eyebrows knit together in concern. “You okay?”

“God, yes.” He smiles down at you and pulls his hips back, sliding his now-wet cock out of you and then rolling them forward again, plunging himself into you. Your eyes roll back and you moan loudly as he starts to pick up a steady rhythm of slamming against you. He kisses your ankle gently and fucks into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of your sex hangs in the air. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and he grunts, his release gathering in his balls. The headboard starts to bang against the wall and the little light on the nightstand rocks with the force of your lovemaking.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Such a tight little pussy.” His hair is sweaty on his forehead and you revel in the smell of him as he wraps your leg around his hip and leans down to kiss you, his cock sliding in and out of you. In doing so, he shifts the angle a little and begins to rub against your g-spot. Now, you whimper and moan with every movement of his hips, clawing at his back as he pounds you. You devolve into just a body, soaking in each sensation: skin pressed together, sticky and wet, his tongue in your mouth, insistent and deep, and his cock filling your pussy up again and again. He does the same, sinking into the waves of pleasure, your tight heat wrapped around his dick, squeezing him just right. Everything is sensual as you mix together and quickly lose track of whose sweat is whose.

“Elvisssss…” You whine, another climax crashing into you and burning you up from the inside out. He moans with the feeling of your pussy tightening around him.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Fuck. Gonna… oh fuck!” He pulls out of you at the very last possible second, shooting cum all over the inside of your thighs. His cock throbs and pulses and he collapses on top of you, sticky ropes pumping out of him onto your legs. When he finally finishes, he groans loudly and picks up his head, kissing your lips softly. You giggle and push his hair back off his forehead. He chuckles. “I made a mess.”

“Yes, you did. But I helped.” He laughs and kisses you again.

“Yeah, I'm gonna blame this one on you.” You giggle as he rolls off of you and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. When he's done, he crawls back into bed and pulls you onto his chest. “Stay with me?”

You look up into his eyes and it's obvious he doesn't want to be alone tonight. Honestly, you wouldn't leave him even if you could.

“Of course.” He smiles and nuzzles into your hair. You settle in to sleep with him wrapped around you.

***

When you wake up the next morning, he's already dressed in his full uniform. He moves around the room quietly, but he notices when you stir and smiles softly.

“Hey, baby.” You lift your head up and yawn, stretching.

“You're leaving?” He nods and then sits down on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, I have those interviews. You comin’?” Again, it's clear that he wants you there, so you nod back.

“Oh yeah. I just have to run home and get dressed, but I'll be there.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up. You're still naked from your activities last night and he looks down at you hungrily. He pulls the covers down a little so that he can see your body. “Goddamnit. I hate to leave ya.”

You're not sure if he's talking about this morning or forever. You reach out and take his hand, kissing it gently and then placing it on your breast.

“Fuck.” He climbs into bed in his uniform and pulls you onto him, kissing you deeply and running his hands all over your body.

“Thought you had to go?” You ask between kisses. He groans and buries his face in your neck. The sweet scent of your sweat and sex lingers on your skin and he breathes it in, trying to commit everything about you to memory. He mumbles into your hair.

“Yeah, I do. Just wish I could keep you naked in my bed forever.” For a few more seconds, you just hold each other, trying not to think about the future. Then, he pulls away from you and gets out of bed. “I'll see you at the interviews.”

He turns and leaves before he can get back into the bed and stays there until he dies. You sigh and get up, gathering your things and getting dressed. Something is missing, though. You cannot find your panties anywhere. Sighing again, you check your watch. You don't have time to keep looking. At least he'll have something to remember you by.

******

At the interviews, you stand behind him sipping your coffee and watching. The press are snapping photos like crazy and the flash bulbs are almost giving you a headache. You wonder how he stands it. The room is filled with noise and people, but you can't take your eyes off of him. He looks better than he ever has before, but maybe that's because you've seen him naked and know how beautiful he is without clothes. Your eyes drift down a little and you think about what's hiding under his pants, rubbing your thighs together. And that's when you see them: your panties, just barely peeking out of his pocket.

Your mouth pops open, but you shut it quickly. That little shit. He stole your panties! And he has them with him!

You grab a pen and a scrap of paper and scribble out a note. Motivated by his boldness, you walk up behind him and then lean forward, slipping the note into his jacket. He looks up and realizes it's you, his heart stopping in his chest. Still, he plays it off for the press and keeps going.

However, the second he's able, he pulls out the note and reads it eagerly.

You thief. I see what you stole and I want them back! Call me before you leave.

He grins widely, kisses the note, and folds it up, adding it to the pocket where your panties are. His intention was only to keep them, but now his blood is pumping with the possibility of seeing you again. A thought hits him and he sits with it for a bit. By the time he gets home, he's determined to make it a reality. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

“I'm not givin’ em back.” Your face breaks into a smile.

“You better!” He chuckles.

“Alright, you can have ‘em. BUT-” He pauses for effect and you just about die with anticipation. You hear him take a deep, steadying breath before he continues. “You have to come get them in Memphis.”

Your mouth drops in shock. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that.

“In Memphis?”

“Yes. Come home with me.” His heart is in his throat as he waits for your response. He twists the phone cord around his finger and bites his lip. If only he could see your face. The suspense is killing him.

“Okay.” What else could you say?

“Okay?” He asks excitedly, standing up with the phone.

“Yes.” Your heart is racing, but there's nothing that important keeping you here. Not if he's asking you.

He does a silent fist pump and thanks God that you said yes.

“I'll come get you on my way to the airport. Pack to stay for a while. Like, forever.”

“Elvis…”

“Listen, baby. It took me a long time to find you. I'm not lettin’ you get away anytime soon. You gonna argue?” You think for a second about what you're agreeing to and then decide to take a leap of faith.

“Not at all.”

“Good. And baby?”

“Yeah?” He hesitates for a second, his nerves getting the better of him. Then, he just says it, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“I love you.” Your heart stops.

“I love you too, Elvis.”

******

The End

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222

[dreamingofep]

His First Bite: A Sinned Awakening Story 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: It's 1959 and Elvis has just been bitten. He doesn't know how to navigate his new life but a night on the town changed it all.

TW: Harem warning, mentions of blood/gore, SMUT, oral, dirty dirty feelings

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.5k

A/n: Well here it is... a dirty extra chapter I had locked in the vault for a year.🫣 When I started writing this, I totally chickened out and could not write such scenario but Vampire!E has been living in my head lately...begging to be let out.😏 I touched a bit on this scene in part 9 when I wanted to show more background of vampire!E and show why he is the way he is. Its just filth and couldn't post it til now so please enjoy this bad boy 😈🩸

♱

Paris 1959

The hungry pit in his stomach was relentless. Nothing could satiate him. Everything he ended up eating would be wasted a few moments later when he puked it up. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. It must have been whatever was left over from his illness. At least he was off for the next few days and didn’t have to think about anything Army-related. Some of the guys convinced him to go to Paris for a few days. 

It couldn’t be a bad idea, he hadn’t gotten out of Germany since he first arrived. He needed a break from Army life and the incessant pressure that they put on him in here. As much as he wanted to focus on what he was doing here, he couldn’t help but think of home. He missed his old life and the love that he had from his fans. He constantly worried if they would tolerate him and his music when he got out of here. He knew things could be over tomorrow and the next best thing would come along, making him lost and forgotten. He missed being on stage and engaging with the people who loved him so much. 

He straightened his suit as he stepped out of the car. He looks up at the old building with big sparkling letters “Moulin Rouge.” It was a well-known nightclub here in Paris. It was said the girls were divine and they were just the thing to make him distracted with how awful he’s been feeling. He just wanted someone’s attention. Make all this noise in his head disappear. With not being able to eat right, he also constantly heard this pounding in his head. It was relentless and he couldn’t drown it out. Every noise was too loud for him and it was driving him up the wall. Maybe he just needed a distraction and it would all go away. 

The club was told he was coming. They sectioned off a table in the front for him and a few other army buddies to sit at. They served them champagne and anything else they wanted. He wasn’t interested in any food tonight, he wanted to watch the girls on stage and drown in their presence. This nightclub should have been called what it really was; a strip tease club.

The girls started to come out would dance to whatever song the band was playing. Slowly, their clothes would come off piece by piece revealing their perfect bodies. The place erupted with cheers and whistles when there was nothing else left to the imagination. Every girl had a different routine and drove everyone in there insane. Even Elvis. He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time and the slightest thing was making his cock hard. It pressed hotly down his thigh and he did everything in his power to not palm it through his pants. He did everything to try and ignore it but these girls were making him think horrible things. 

Toward the end of the night, he was becoming restless and the pounding in his head was worsening. He was starving but no food would help. He didn’t know what was happening but he might have to see a doctor if this carried on for much longer. Elvis stood up and leaned down to one of the guys, “Get the girls up to my room.”

“Which one?”

He thought for a moment and couldn’t decide.

“All of them.”

They were staying in the hotel next door and he figured it would be easy to sneak them upstairs. He was on the top floor and no one was bothering him thankfully. He took off his jacket and went to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. Something was lacking in his eyes. There was no spark in him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was but he could see there was something wrong with him. He blamed it on his illness. Whatever he had nearly killed him. 

He heard footsteps coming to the door and the loudest thumping in his ears. He couldn’t figure out what it was but it was taking over his senses. He walked to the door and tried to gather himself before letting them in. The door opened and a dozen girls, either in their costumes or thin robes stood before him. 

“Please, come in,” he says warmly. They each walked in one by one and that thumping sound only increased. They all looked at him with lust, not believing they were in the same room with him and wanted to tear him apart. Some of them made themselves comfortable and sat on the bed or in a chair but all eyes were on him.

“You all were lovely tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he says low. He takes a sharp breath in before speaking again and he can distinctly smell all of their perfume. Some wore a floral type and some wore something more natural. It was so strange to him to be able to pick up on all these scents and then something else hits him like a truck. He smelled something so sweet, so delicious, his mouth watered at the thought of it. He couldn’t figure out what it was but they all smelled the same way and he wanted them closer to him to find out what it was and lick it off of them. 

There was an empty chair behind him by the window and he sat down, spreading his legs out before him. He could hear them all take a sharp breath as they looked at him. He didn’t know how to get them closer other than inviting them to him. There was one girl with big blue eyes and red lipstick who didn’t stop looking at him from the moment she walked in. She was really beautiful and there was something about her he liked. 

“Come here,” he says gently with a smile. 

She happily walks over and steps to the side of him, wearing a sly smile. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it. 

“What’s your name darlin’?”

“Claire.”

“Oh, I love that name… you were so mesmerizing up there,” he coos as he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her onto his lap. That warm, sweet scent flooded his senses once again and his whole body responded to it. It was a hunger and a lust that burned through him. He had trouble breathing with her this close. 

She sighs into his touch and plays with his shirt. 

“Thank you, we were happy you could make it. We heard you were in Europe and wondered if we’d ever get a kiss from the one and only,” she teased. 

“Is that what they’re saying about me?”

“I don’t know about everyone else, but us girls were quite interested,” she quips. 

He looked down at her lips and they were plump and inviting. His eyes continued to trail down her chest and the robe that she wore was practically see-through. Her hard nipples poked through and he couldn’t help but want to suck on them. She was warm in his lap, radiating with need with every second that went by. He places his hand on her face and takes another deep breath in. God that smell was electrifying. He needed that wherever he went. 

“All of you can kiss me for as long as you want,” he hums as he presses his lips to hers. 

They were soft and full and she let out a soft moan when his lips crashed into hers. She looks up at him dazed and shocked at how good it was. She went in for another kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. Another wave of her scent came hurling at Elvis and he groaned because of it. The way he was acting was strange even to himself. He had never been like this with any woman. 

Another girl walked to him and waited for her kiss. The girl in his lap didn’t get up as one by one, every girl in that room got kisses from him. They all groaned when they felt his lips on theirs, pure ecstasy pouring into them. It made his cock hard just the way they were reacting to him. He didn’t have to do much and these girls were dying for attention from him. 

The girl in his lap started to unbutton his shirt and slip her hand across his chest. Her skin was so soft and the pounding sound he heard in his head only got worse. He pulled her in closer and started to kiss her more feverishly. She loved it and let her robe fall off her shoulders. He slipped his hand along her waist and his mouth moved down her face. He covered her face in warm wet kisses and moved down to her neck. That pounding sound became crystal clear when his fingers touched the side of her neck where he could see her pulse. His hand slid down to the top of her breast and the sound he heard matched the feeling of her heart pounding away under his hand. 

I can hear their hearts… how is that possible…

Everything in him was telling him to put his mouth on those spots. He needed to feel it against his skin. His hand squeezes her breast and he brings her nipple to his mouth. He sucks and squeezes her, making her make this soft moan that makes his cock harder. He felt someone at his legs, rubbing their hands up and down his calves and their breathing ragged. 

Someone pulled his hand off of the girl and brought it to their own breast, making him squeeze her too. 

"Please touch me," she cries.

He pauses and looks at these women fawning over him. They were all so desperate for him and the sounds of their heartbeats nearly drove him mad. He had to focus on one at a time. 

His mouth was back on her nipples and sucked and teased them till they were red and swollen. He moved up her collarbone to her neck and groaned when he felt her galloping heart race against his lips. His mouth sucked on her neck harder and he felt this overwhelming power surge through him. She trembled against him and held onto him tighter.

The girl at his feet slowly started to slither her hands up his thighs and palm his length through his pants. He groans deeply and quickly looks down at her. It felt so good, he hadn’t had anyone touch him like this in so long. He watches her hands try to unbutton his pants and reach into them to pull his cock out. She looked up at him with innocent eyes and slowly pumped him in her hand. God, he could fuck her all night with the way she looked at him. He nodded his head at her to keep going and she happily obliged.

That mouthwatering scent continued to swirl in his head and almost became too distracting. He began to feel overwhelmed if he didn’t get what his body was craving. He started to breathe heavier as the girls around him took turns kissing on him. They kissed any part of him that they could get their hands on. It drove him wild and he started to kiss them more feverishly and nip at any exposed skin he could get his mouth on. They responded with moans and sighs from his touch and it made him feel intoxicated. A buzzing high started to take over and he wanted more from them. This hunger inside him couldn’t be suppressed.

He returned his attention to the girl on his lap and grabbed the back of her head forcefully.

“Touch me,” he commanded.

She takes a sharp breath in before reaching down and jerking his cock slowly, groaning when she feels the size of him. His eyes roll back and buries his face in her neck. That sweet smell was the best from there and he feels like he’s in a frenzy. He can’t control how much he wants to stay there and bask himself in her scent. 

He sucks and nips at her neck harder, feeling a pool of warmth reside under her skin. His jaw has this sharp pain that takes over his mouth but he tries to ignore it. He found it harder to breathe and all he could think about was wanting to nip at her neck a little harder… like that would be so satisfying for him and help this hunger inside him.

He lets that dark voice win and sinks his teeth into her neck. She screams out in pain but her blood pools in his mouth quickly and once his tongue tastes that perfect nectar, he’s unglued. It was the best-tasting thing he’s ever had in his mouth. It was rich and sweet and made the hunger inside him come more alive. He held onto her body tighter and started to suck harder and gulp mouthfuls of her pooling blood. He was in heaven. She scratched at this chest and continued to cry out in pain.

The other girls started to see the blood dripping from her neck and became frightened. They all quickly stepped away and gasped in horror. Elvis took his teeth out of her and felt so good but the moment he opened his eyes and saw what he had done, he was mortified. The girl’s face was scared beyond belief and scrambled to get off of him. She covered her neck and winced in pain. He didn’t know what he had done. He bit someone and he liked it far too much.

He stands up from the chair and begins to panic.

“Darlin’ I-I-I, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you-,” the stammers and they all cry out terrified and turn their faces away from him, like his very appearance is the most horrifying thing they’ve ever seen. The bathroom was directly to his right and he could see crystal clear, even from here, these bloodthirsty red eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening. In long strides, he rushed to get a closer look at himself. His eyes were terrifying and blood was smeared all over his mouth. 

“Oh my God,” he says shakily.

When he opens his mouth, he can see the razor-sharp fangs that descend from his normal incisors. He truly was terrifying and couldn’t understand what was happening.

He was a vampire.

That was the only thing he knew for sure. The hunger he’s had these last few days wasn’t for food but for blood. And that incessant pounding in his head wasn’t a headache, it was everyone’s heartbeat he could hear, calling out to him like a siren. It was fuzzy, but he remembers that night the army captain came to his bedside and promised to give him a gift, something to guarantee him making it out of Germany alive. He couldn’t believe it. He felt deceived and fearful. He didn’t know what this meant for his future. 

He heard the girls murmuring in the other room and he realized he needed to do something about them. He walks back into the bedroom and they all tremble looking at him. He felt helpless and just wanted them to forget what they’d seen.

“I’m sorry.. p-please forgive me,” he pleads. They all hold their breath and look away from him.

He takes another step forward and begs for them to listen.

“Please! I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please forget what you’ve seen!” He pleads.

They all look at him and the fear washes away from their faces. They look at him with awe again and want to get closer to him. Elvis was relieved and breathed normally again.

He could make them forget whatever he needed them to. They wouldn’t remember how his eyes were monstrous and bloodthirsty. 

He had power.

His throat felt tight and that hunger he had earlier came back with a vengeance. He tried to calm himself so he wouldn’t scare them again was difficult but he had to try. He looked at them all in the eyes and licked his lips before speaking.

“Do you trust me?”

They nod their heads at them and look at him like they want to take a bite out of him.

“Good don’t be afraid of my eyes or my teeth, I’ll be gentle,” he breathes, “Do you want me?”

They nod their heads and whimper at the question. That made him feel disastrously weak and pull his shirt off his body and pulled his pants down. He got on the bed and sat up with the pillows behind his back, his legs spread and his cock at full attention.

“I want you too… I’ll try to please you all night, if that’s what you want.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that, there were a lot of them and only one of him but he just wanted them close. He wanted to bask in their scent and fuck them til the sun came up. 

One of the brunettes came forward first and got between his legs, looking at his cock with anticipation. 

“Come closer,” he begged, “Get on top of me.”

He could hear how her heart pounded against her ribcage at the request. God, he couldn’t get enough of it and it excited him in the worst of ways. 

She straddles his hips and presses her wet cunt to his shaft. They both groan when they feel how needy they are. He pulls her close and starts to suck on her neck. She groans at the sensation and grinds herself against his length. He felt the bed shift in weight and more of the girls wanted to get closer to him, hoping they would get an ounce of his attention. Elvis had never felt so deprived of human touch but this searing thirst in his throat made it so much worse. His hands squeeze onto her hips and gently lifts her up and sinks her down on his aching cock. She squeezed tightly around him, not prepared for the size of his length. He momentarily lifts his head from her neck and looks her in the eyes, encouraging her to move. She groans helplessly and slowly bobs up and down on him. He curses how good her pussy feels. So warm and tight around him.

He looks to the right of him and another girl is trembling watching Elvis please the girl on top of him. He motions her to come closer to him with a flick of his finger. She kneels on the side of him and rubs his chest. He guides his fingers under her dress and to his pleasure, she’s wearing nothing underneath it and is soaking wet. He rubs his fingers back and forth through her folds until they are covered in her arousal. He then pushes two of his fingers at her entrance and slowly thrusts them in and out of her. She holds onto him tightly, overwhelmed with the feeling of him inside her, and cries out his name. Just watching these girl’s faces get off because of him made him want to cum.

Another girl to his left started to kiss on him and beg for his attention. He pulled her close and sucked on her breasts, making her groan prolifically. He couldn’t get enough of them. He had never done something like this but it had never felt so right. He began to thrust his hips harder into the girl on top of him and he could feel her walls flutter after every move he made. The hunger washed over him again and he wanted to make this beautiful girl cum all over him while he sunk his teeth into her neck.

He pulled her close and wasted no time. His hips drove into her, making her cry out his name and he sucked on where he wanted to take a bite. He felt this overwhelming instinct come over him and he gently sunk his teeth into her neck. She cried out but didn’t stop moving on him. He let the blood pool into his mouth before greedily sucking it out of her. It was the best feeling he could have imagined. He felt satisfied beyond belief. The sound of groans filled the room as some of them watched him make these girls come undone. His fingers still pumped in and out of the other girl and he could tell she was about to finish. She was grinding herself on his fingers begging for release.

He groans into the girl’s neck when he feels her walls pulse around him and squeeze his cock. He had to take his teeth out of her neck to make sure didn’t bite any harder as she rode him through her orgasm.

“That’s it baby, keep cumming. You feel so good,” he growls. She keeps her eyes closed and nods her head, grinding herself at the base of his cock. He turns his head to the side and watches the other girl cum on his finger, squeezing them for dear life. She drips down his knuckles and he nearly loses it at just the sight.

The girl on top of him slumps onto his chest, gasping for breath. Elvis takes the opportunity to lick the remaining blood that was leaking from her neck and give a satisfied groan.

“Please forget I bit you, I’m sorry for the pain,” he whispers in her ear. She hums in agreement and slowly gets off of him. He then slowly took his fingers out of the girl next to him who was also just as spent. He wanted a taste though. He wanted to see if a certain person’s blood tasted any different from another. He pulled her in and took a bite into her neck and reveled in the sweet taste of her blood. It all tasted good to him and he couldn’t waste a drop. 

After he was done feeding from her, the girls stared at him waiting to hear what he wanted next. He looked down at his hard cock that was begging for release. Another girl came forward, her heart racing uncontrollably when she looked at him. She crawled in between his legs and he stopped her from coming any further. He leaned over and caressed her face when he looked at her.

“Make me cum, please. I want you to use your mouth,” he instructs.

She whimpers at his instructions and takes his hard length in her hand, pumping it a few times before licking the tip of him. God, it felt good. He closed his eyes and enjoyed how her tongue worshipped him.

He wanted more blood, it clouded his whole mind. He didn’t know how to stop. This was all so new to him.  So he pulled the next girl in and attacked her breasts with kisses and nipping them softly. Her sweet moans only egged him to go further. He picked her up easily and had her straddle his face. He grabbed her by the hips and pushed her glistening cunt to his mouth. He eats her out in a fervor and enjoys the taste of her. Moans filled the whole room as he felt his release coming. He bucked his hips into the girl’s mouth and had her take more of him. She happily obliges and he hits the back of her throat, making his hips buck into her again and releasing his hot cum into her mouth. He groans heavily against the girl on top of him and makes her come undone too. 

They were all overcome with ecstasy and pleasure radiating through them. He gently lifted the girl off of him and took a bite into her breast, relishing in the sound of her galloping heartbeat so close to him. One by one, he tasted every single girl’s blood that night, barely able to get enough but he felt so much better. That hunger that he was dealing with the last few weeks subsided tremendously. It was well into the early morning that he discovered he didn’t grow tired. He had been trying to close his eyes while at the army base but never felt like he got an ounce of sleep. Now he knows why… vampires don’t sleep.

He also discovered not too late into the evening, he didn’t need rest from any activity. He was able to keep his cock hard all night even after finishing. He had never felt such pleasure like this and kept his promise of pleasing every girl in that room, some of them multiple times. By the time the sun was up, everyone was asleep well into the afternoon. Elvis had girls on top of him peacefully sleeping and not scared to death that a vampire fed from them all night long. He checked their necks and the spots his fangs pierced into their necks had completely healed. Some of them had slight bruises on their necks from his sucking a bit too hard but nothing too telling it was a vampire that did it. 

He manages to slip out of the bed and take a shower. He looked at his reflection and thankfully his eyes went back to their normal blue shade. His face was a smeared bloody mess and had to wash it off. He didn’t want the reminder that he was now a monster. A monster who craved blood so much he couldn’t function otherwise. The cool water felt good on his skin and he took his time there. There was so much he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything more about vampires other than what folktales have said for generations. All he knew was he craved blood and that made all the rest of his senses calm down. Everything felt so overwhelming if he didn’t have his teeth buried in someone’s neck. 

Elvis put on new clothes and the shrill sound of the phone rang in his ears. He tried to cover his ears with his hands but it was no use, everything was so loud to him. He quickly emerges from the bathroom and angrily picks up the receiver.

“What!?” He growls annoyed.

“Mr. Presley, This is Mr. Leonard, the owner of the Moulin Rouge. You need to get the girls back here for the first show of the evening,” he says sternly and very annoyed.

“Sure,” Elvis snaps and hangs up immediately.

The sound of a knock on the door ticks him off more and he quickly opens the door.

“What?” He snarls before looking to see who it is. It was one of his guys standing there, surprised by his tone of voice. 

“Hey… the owner isn’t very happy you took all of the girls last night…” he says carefully. He looks past Elvis’ shoulder and sees his bed full of naked women and more of them sleeping on the floor.

“What the hell happened last night?” He asks wide-eyed.

Elvis can’t help but chuckle softly, “you wouldn’t believe me even if I tried explaining,” he says slyly.

“But I can tell you this, I’ve never been better.”

*

*

*

Tagging:

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers

@dontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11@that-hotdog

@louisejgy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114_@raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart @aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen @eapep @ladelinee

@iloveelvisss @ccab @buglass @its2amlol @peaceloveelvis

@theycametoconquertheearth53 @iloveelvis2 @rollerink @atleastpleasetelephone

[interact-if]

Black History Month Author Spotlight: Kiki

Our third edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Kiki (@scapegoated-if)!

(I’m rly happy to have gotten to know Kiki better through the feature, and the interview contains really interesting insights on gender and race-locked main characters in interactive fiction, among other things! If you haven’t yet played Scapegoated (and if you’re a fan of Infamous/music IFs, definitely give it a go!)

Author: Kiki Born and raised North London, but ethnic background Jamaican (my parents are a part of the Windrush Gen)

Games: Scapegoated (slice-of-life, music, hollywood, '70s)

Short blurb: Scapegoated is about a female musician in a band that is seguing into an acting career. She is facing a lot of blame and scandal regarding the split between her band that happened in 1968. Not only are a lot of the general public hurt and angry about it, but so is an infamous serial killer that has been terrorising the west coast...

Quotes from the interview

I’m from North London. My parents moved to London when they were children from the Caribbean and are a part of the Windrush generation. I am a black, bisexual woman growing up in the UK, a place that tends to disguise its wider prejudices as a classist issue in all cases. […] A huge part of my love for music is strongly intertwined with my relationship with my late father. He passed away in June of 2023, and he was very much so kickin’ it in the ‘70s. He was a DJ throughout his life, so the legacy of LPs that he left behind was unspeakable and very ‘70s.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

I graduated from a Russell Group university with an English Literature BA (Hons). I think a part of me has always wanted to be a writer in some capacity; I know that I’ve always wanted to write a book. So, I think beginning this IF has existed for me as a gateway to see what that would be like. I thought of it as a brainteaser–the prospect of exploring different outcomes and different pathways that a character may undertake. It has been challenging, dare I say more challenging than writing an actual book, but that’s exactly what I wanted out of this process.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My best friend introduced me to the world of interactive fiction one day last year. She introduced Infamous to me and asserted that I would really like it because I’m a huge music nerd. Of course I fell in love with the characters and the world, but I also fell in love with the format of IFs. 

A huge part of my love for music is strongly intertwined with my relationship with my late father. He passed away in June of 2023, and he was very much so kickin’ it in the ‘70s. He was a DJ throughout his life, so the legacy of LPs that he left behind was unspeakable and very ‘70s. I am a huge music lover with such a wide-spanning eclectic taste, but the period of music post-”Dylan going electric”, post-”Elvis being on the out”, Quincy Jones (rest in king) and Beatlemania is just everything to me, so the idea for Scapegoated came into my life in a very natural way. I knew that whichever story I told, I wanted it to explore the Sunset Strip, groupies, rock ‘n roll, The Beatles, The Manson Family and Cher all at its core. 

I am of the opinion that coverage of the ‘70s music scene has been run into the ground lately. There has been a resurgence of nostalgia within the public consciousness when reflecting upon this time due to Daisy Jones & The Six, which was one of my favourite shows the year it was released. So, including Hollywood and murder was my attempt at innovation.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

I’m from North London. My parents moved to London when they were children from the Caribbean and are a part of the Windrush generation. I am a black, bisexual woman growing up in the UK, a place that tends to disguise its wider prejudices as a classist issue in all cases. I am writing Scapegoated as someone that has only been to the US twice for two weeks at a time. I am writing Scapegoated as someone that can only relate to two aspects of my main character. I am writing Scapegoated as someone that has experienced discrimination and has been scarred by instances of discrimination. In university, I tended to be quite outspoken; in my first year, I felt quite ostracised by my predominantly white cohort during the BLM movement, because I seemed to be the only one willing to speak out in favour of it.

When I first wrote Scapegoated, I was inboxed on Tumblr and replied to on the Choice of Games Forum with genuine curiosity about my choice to gender and race lock my protagonist. This is an excerpt of my response:

I didn’t want to have a self-insert MC because I wanted to ensure that the conversations had revolving these social issues and the murders that unfold aren’t danced around. Perspective is an extremely important factor in that, and I want to ensure that the MC is directly involved–rather than just there as things happen because it wouldn’t be interactive. [...] Initially when I planned this story, before it was titled and the only thing I knew was that I wanted to write an IF about the '70s music scene, it was neither gender or race locked [...]. But I did toy with my ideas by self-inserting (I’m a black woman) when I was attempting to figure out the logistics of gameplay. That’s when I realised that due to the time period and all of the change that was happening at the time, social issues had to be discussed.

To this day, I am extremely proud of my decision and the conviction in my decision. I asserted a level of loyalty to the story I am telling in a way that I didn’t know I was capable of; retrospectively, I think I took a kind of power in it. But I really love the story I am telling and the range of representation. 

I am trying to work the line of prioritising my vision, all the while giving weight and importance to my readers’ opinions in the way that these very interesting and thorough opinions deserve. It warms my heart that even one person might care about my characters just as much as I do.

what are some of the most rewarding or challenging aspects of writing Interactive Fiction for you?

Songwriting. I’m tragic at it, but I like to think I’m self-aware enough. There are different characters with different voices and different reasonings behind their songwriting styles. I struggle to ensure that their songwriting oozes with their individual personalities. 

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Story beats. However, planning and writing can exist as two entirely different realms to me. What I think the story may be, can develop into something entirely new all on its own once I begin to write. Sometimes characters that I think I know transform into someone entirely new once I start to get to know them through writing their dialogue. I’ve experienced this with several characters already. On the contrary, some characters are so secure in my mind that they can’t be anything other than who I’ve introduced them to myself as.

I really love the writing process I’ve conjured up. It hasn’t failed me yet, but it isn’t secure–writing can never be anything other than an insecure process. Writing, for me, always remains in a constant stage of planning.

Do you have favourite interactive fiction games, characters, scenes or authors that you’d like to recommend?

I have received a lot of IF recommendations due to how new I am to IFs. I truly haven’t read very many, so all I can recommend to anybody are the 3 IFs that I have read which I each loved enormously: Infamous; College Tennis: Origin Story; and Apartment 502.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

I only got here in December, and so far everyone has been extremely welcoming and helpful. Honestly, I have no notes. All I can do is encourage everyone to give writing a chance. It’s been so fruitful and rewarding for me, so I strongly urge everyone to give it a shot if you’re considering it. Stop thinking, just do!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

I’m currently reading I’m With The Band by Pamela Des Barres as research for my IF, which has been a great insight into the mindset of groupies on an intimate level.

As for something that changed my life, I recently watched Sing Sing (2024)--which wasn’t something I did in relation to Scapegoated, I am just an avid film-watcher–and it was such an incredible de-stigmatising eye into the prison system. An extremely important watch for Black History Month, too!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Kiki's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Kiki’s custom “either-or” pairing: writing in silence or with music playing?

[vintageshanny]

Elvis Top Three - Live Shows

It’s been a long time since my last top three question (about fifteen minutes as a matter of fact 😉)! I’m not sure how many Elvis fans are still active on here, but I’d love to hear from anyone who’s interested. My question today is: What are your top three live Elvis shows? I know I’ve asked top three live songs before, but this time I’m wondering what your go-tos are if you’re putting on a whole live album.

Here are my current picks:

February 23, 1970 – Closing Night in Vegas

This has been on my list of favorite shows since I first heard it over a year ago. Elvis has that beautiful soulful rasp to his voice in this era, and you can tell he’s still really enjoying performing. Songs that I think eventually became “old hat” for him, like “See See Rider,” still sound really fresh. This is probably also my favorite version of “Polk Salad Annie,” with its very intensely energetic climax. The whole set list for this show is top-notch. “It’s Now or Never” where he instructs the band on what to do at the end? Perfection. And we get to hear him play piano on “Lawdy Miss Clawdy!” “Glen can I borrow your pian-uh for a minute?” If you have not listened to this show before, consider this your sign.

December 31, 1976 – New Year’s Eve in Pittsburgh, PA

I only just recently listened to this for the first time, and I am absolutely obsessed. Elvis is in a great mood for this show, joking with the audience and performing for an hour and a half. He really gets into the music, adding fun little ad libs (“there was nothing that could hold – hold – hold me – hold me…”). Some of the highlights for me are him playing guitar on “Reconsider Baby” and playing piano on “Unchained Melody” and “Rags to Riches.” (“While I’m at the pian-uh, I’d like to do another song, y’know, if ya don’t mind.” No we do not mind, sweet silly amazing man!!!) This is the only time he performed “Rags to Riches” live, and it is exquisite. I get chills listening to how full and rich his voice sounds on this. I know how much the touring was taking its toll on him by this point, but he really pulled something amazing out of himself for this performance. The sheer magnitude of his talent is just undeniable.

March 25, 1961 – Pearl Harbor benefit show

It was very hard to choose one show for this final spot (so many good shows in 1970, 1972, 1974, the list goes on and on lol). But I love this one because I think you still get a little taste of what his performances were like in the 50s with his corny little jokes and the girls going absolutely wild. It must have been such a thrill for him to see how much audiences were still clamoring to see him perform post-army. It’s such a shame that this was his last live performance for eight years. Be warned, there is a lot of audience noise in this recording, but it kind of sets the mood for what it must have felt like to be there.

https://youtu.be/VBLBJlP1L0w

There would be too many runners-up to name, so I’ll just leave it at that. I’d love to hear everyone’s favorites! There are so many shows to listen to, and I love getting suggestions for things I’ve never heard before. ❤️

@whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @vintagepresley @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @iloveelvis @argeriant18 @loving-elvis @alienelvisobsession @ab4eva @manebioniclegali @deke-rivers-1957 @rjmartin11 @elvisalltheway101 @devilsflowerr @missmaywemeetagain @cryingabtab @dreamingofep @animalloverthingsss @velvetelvis @everythingelvispresley @arrolyn1114 @claire-elvisgirl @vintage-leisure @blighted-star @queenncreole @basicpresleygirl @lllsaslll @elvissbabygirl @powerofelvis @ashtag6887 @sissylittlefeather @dkayfixates @peskybedtime @burnthheparaphilia @thetaoofzoe @mercsandmonsters @wildhorseinkansas @presleysweetheart @all-hookedup-on-elvis @i-r-i-n-a-a @pebbles403 @msamarican @ladelinee @jhoneybees @from-memphis-with-love @aliypop @theresalwaysep

[dissociativeangel]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 <3

౨ৎ i spend way too much time thinking

✯ my name is alesandra but you can call me angel

✯ lifeless, dreadful girl

✯ july cancer

✯ lana obsessed

✯ 5'4/5'5

✯ my mbti : infj

✯ get me the fuck out of my mind

✯ i love old men

✯ interests : reading, obsession, disappearing, yearning, academics, sylvia plath, the 60s, pinterest, ballet, poetry, if you lie down with me, hot showers, light blue eyeshadow, nectar of the gods, rereading the virgin suicides, light dull blue, warm pink blankets, blue banisters, 2021 coquette, cheap grandma perfume, library books

✯ music : lana, elvis, jeff buckley, the ronettes, radiohead, steve lacy, dominic fike, clairo, beabadoobee, the smiths

✯ tv shows : the vampire diaries, skins, ahs, gilmore girls, 13 reasons why, criminal minds

✯ movies : buffalo 66, grease, bones & all, american psycho, the virgin suicides, girl interrupted, little women, pearl

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

[stylespresleyhearted]

what’s the secret project you posted 👀

oh gosh i keep meaning to answer this and then i keep forgetting or pushing it back for reasons unknown to me i think im just unaccustomed to having any asks lol but anyways this is something that actually started because of a certain thing me and marina yell about when it comes to austin and then as our love for callum grew it came to something else grand and beautiful. now it’s only something that has been discussed in the chat, it has no doc or nothing official to it, it may never even come to fruition (marina is already gifting us with so much goodness in the fic worlds she dabbles in)

but i will share some of it and feel free to come further talk about it if it interests you 😘

Warnings: nsfw below the cut, open relationship, threesome, guy x guy, guy x guy x girl

So we’re all aware of how Austin put his blood, sweat, tears, and soul into his Elvis role. This man gave it his all and I’m truly so grateful to him for it because in my opinion (and most importantly in Lisa Marie’s opinion) he did Elvis Presley justice.

• Bree is a famous and highly esteemed guitarist, singer, and lyricist. She’s won multiple Grammies and written for and with Lana Del Rey, Arctic Monkeys, etc., that’s more her vibe. Baz hires her on during the making of Elvis movie so she could help him modernize the soundtrack and help with the choosing of songs. Maybe she’s even there when Austin gathers all the people from the record label and has them ridicule Austin after his first run through.

• But she’s there before filming and she’s there during filming and her and Austin even shack up together for a while during the first COVID lockdown, spending time with him in his apartment and staying up at all hours of the night to help him get certain scenes right. The bed sheets are tangled, kisses are shared, breakfast is eaten in bed not in the kitchen and there are multiple walks on the beach taken together.

• Bree tries her best to be there for him through all of it. She can sense he’s about to sky rocket and rightfully so, she doesn’t think anyone around can currently measure for his talent. She tries to be a soundboard and a friend and a girlfriend of sorts and a co worker and he’s got her playing all these different roles to keep up with him but keep in mind he never asked her to do any of that. She’s doing it because she loves him, maybe she isn’t in love with him or if she is she isn’t aware of it yet but she does love and care for him.

• And he’s going through his shit. He isn’t sure where Austin begins and Elvis ends and he isn’t in the headspace for a relationship, especially with Bree who deserves the world so when he’s sick as a dog and bed ridden before heading to London he makes sure to have the conversation with her. They were never official. Never went public or had rumors swirl. It’s better to end it on a good note and leave it how it is.

• So consider his surprise when a few months into filming MOTA, Bree shows up on Callum’s arm being introduced as his girlfriend. It’s supposed to be a lads night and Barry dragged him out and now someone who he calls one of his closest friends is introducing Bree as his current girlfriend. A close friend who he goes on walks in the parks with, who places kisses on his cheek after a few drinks, who places his hand on the small of Austin’s back when he approaches him, who pinches his cheeks and welcomed him with open arms. Dating someone who was there at his worst and gave him her heart and stayed up entire nights talking him down when his anxiety was too high and made him do self care when he forgot he was supposed to be his own person.

• and see, Callum and Bree are both Brits so they run in semi same circles and they knew of each other and were friends but Callum was with Vanessa Kirby and they were in love and for a while Bree was with Alex Turner and them afterwards there was Austin. So Callum and Bree were already friends and when they run into each other at a record shop and then head to lunch after and maybe Callum gave her a kiss goodbye when they went separate ways - it all just grew from there.

• so maybe Austin feels a green jealous monster growing inside his chest but who he’s jealous of he’s unsure and a larger part of him is actually happy for both of them. They’re good people, they love each other and both deserve each other.

• they’re suddenly everywhere. She accompanies Callum on set and it’s clear to everyone how in love they are and one time when they’re filming the POW scenes and everyone’s on lunch Austin is looking for peace and quiet so he wanders into their “bunks” but there right in front of him - Callum holding Bree up against the wood panel walls, pounding into her as she moans his name so prettily, his sheepskin jacket still on and making him sweaty. Callum’s eyes open and he catches Austin walking, Austin who trips over his own feet to back away but Callum just smiles and winks at him.

• and later Callum approaches Austin with a high five and a cheeky, “see how good I was giving it to her, mate?”

• and fuck, Austin gets hard thinking about it. Gets hard thinking about Bree’s moans and Callum’s grunt and his sweat and her breasts bouncing against his chest.

• then filming wraps and Austin’s free of them. Doesn’t have to be in there presence every day anymore and he meets someone, a nepo baby who’s beautiful and kind and he’s in a place where he feels he can be with someone so he goes for it and he falls in love.

• and MOTA press isn’t until 2024 so it’s two years of only a handful of run ins with them but then press starts and news break: Callum and Bree are engaged. And the entire cast and crew are happy and they all celebrate.

• She didn’t join Elvis press because she was touring.

• so now Austin is around his engaged friends and he has mixed feelings regarding both of them. See he’s happy and he loves his girlfriend and his career is good but if he’s being honest something is missing and when he wants to torture himself he admits he knows exactly what it is. And he’s doing interviews and Bree is backstage and Callum’s always so touchy and so kind in his words in regard to Austin and one day Callum admits Bree told him what went down between Bree and Austin and Callum’s a confident guy, he assures Austin it’s all fine.

• But maybe it’s the first screening of MOTA, and Callum and Bree are tired of Austin’s sad puppy dog eyes every time they catch him watching them so Bree corners Austin backstage. Gets close and starts palming him through his pants, assuring him Callum wouldn’t mind, in fact Callum has been purposely teasing Austin during interviews trying to get him to cave.

• Callum and Bree both decided if they all wanted it how could it be wrong? Why not go for it?

• And Bree’s falling to her knees and taking Austin in her mouth, pretty pouty lips wrapped around him as she takes him all the way in and suddenly Callum is there, watching them, talking her through it.

• “Isn’t she phenomenal, mate? Had to work with her to get rid of that gag reflex and now she can deep throat me.”

• and Callum waits until Austin mewls his name and calls him over, begging him to be a part of this somehow, to please hold him. So Callum is joining them, Bree so pretty on her knees between them and Callum is flicking Austin’s nipple and letting Austin let his moans out in his neck.

That’s all we have more to come soon if ya’ll wish 🌚

• oh yeah there’s a scene where Bree holds Austin’s hand the first time Callum fucks him because she’s aware of the pain of how large Callum is.

@precious-little-scoundrel

[deathandthesoul]

Hey you! Do you like LA by Night and NY by Night? Want to branch out into watching more VtM actual plays? There's a few I really enjoy that I'd like to share. They are all 5th edition

Blood on the Grand Strand/Are We Dead Yet? from Huddyvonschland Coterie clans: Ravnos, Tzimisce, Salubri, Tremere, and some more regulars who swap in and out. And then also oops all Thinbloods! The tourist town of Myrtle Beach enjoys a vibrant nightlife. An eclectic Anarch coterie must contend with the Camarilla (and later Sabbat) making moves in their city while the Second Inquisition begins their operation. There's funky cults, a suspicious drug operation, weird Thinblood stuff, and a lot of juicy worldbuilding which sometimes brings in other elements of the World of Darkness. The players are an absolute delight, Huddy's storytelling is fucking delicious, and the table has a ton of chemistry. The atmosphere is moody and it's a very chill time. I consider this my comfort chronicle

Vegas by Night from Mayday Roleplay Coterie clans: Ravnos, 2 Malkavians, 2 Gangrel, Warrior Salubri, Lasombra This show is nuts. It has everything. Vividly gritty ST narration, occult mysteries, a coterie of forcibly Camarilla kindred in way over their head, wacky Vegas hijinks, lifelike and captivating characters, a meat house, Lake Mead being terrifying, so much buck wild combat. A gospel singer Ravnos who sounds like Elvis and the world's horniest Malkavians. Every plan goes haywire. They always pick the solution that will create the most consequences for them. It's super high energy but man it's fun. Caleb has spread such a wide web of plots that all somehow interconnect. It's really impressive seeing it all gradually unveil and all make sense together in the greater scheme of things. His brain is seriously huge

Legacy of Bulls from Adventure Tavern Coterie clans: [Spoiler], Hecata, Brujah, Toreador A Birmingham coterie inherits the grudge of their forebears and has to race against the clock to solve a mystery and prevent any damage. I'm in love with CT lmao he's my favorite representation of that clan I've ever seen. The chronicle has elements of the occult/magic, investigation, and an atmosphere that is often moody and tense with the occasional chaos. I love the drama in this one

ATL by Night from the Facility Productions Coterie clans: Brujah, Tremere, Ventrue, Gangrel. And some more regulars who swap in and out. In later seasons there is a new coterie: Lasombra, Thinblood, Hecata, Tremere, Gangrel, Ravnos After taking heavy losses during the Final Nights, kindred society in Atlanta must rebuild. Many were hastily embraced during those confusing times and the coterie is tasked with bringing those lost childer into the fold. There is a focus on character development and kindred Politics with heavy Second Inquisition involvement. All in all I find it to be very cozy and intimate, it's really relaxing to watch

The Rook and the Rascal: Montreal by Night from ThreeKingsLoot (audio only) Coterie clans: Tremere, Toreador, Nosferatu It's been a while since I listened to this one so I forget a lot but I remember there were werewolves, Pentex, and a lot of over the top violence. And something about a cult leader, I think? But it's also very cozy and has themes of community and friendship. They utilize True Faith in a novel way and the characters and narration are very charming. They don't follow the game mechanics exactly but it makes things way more high stakes and dangerous and interesting. I had a good time listening to this

[capuccinodoll]

The Holiday

Before the sun hits (chapter two)

Summary: You spend an interesting morning with Joel drinking hot chocolate.

-

DECEMBER 19TH

When you got up from bed, your parents were gone. You looked at the clock on the living room wall. 8:20 am. Outside, the snow covered almost the entire ground and the sun had barely finished rising completely. You'd been awake for at least thirty minutes and at no time had you heard them leave, so surely they had gone out earlier. Where had they gone?

You didn't think too much about it and approached the window that overlooked the entrance to the cabin. The scenery took your breath away. You and your parents arrived yesterday afternoon after a five-hour flight, and you fell in love with the place from the very first moment.  It was high tourist season, you saw them last afternoon when they'd fleetingly strolled through downtown, you being a tourist too. The quaintly decorated cafes gave off a delicious aroma of coffee, cinnamon, chocolate and apple, and all sorts of events were taking place in the local bookstores and galleries, such as movie showings at the local theater. Your mother mentioned them to you the night before; all kinds of Christmas classics would be playing and after eight o'clock, the occasional Christmas horror classics. The last part really caught your attention - seeing Black Christmas in a cozy theater in Canmore? Yes, sounded like you. 

You moved away from the window as your feet began to cool. The smell of the coffee was still fresh in the air and it didn't take you long to fill a cup and sit down at the kitchen counter.  The whole cabin looked like a fairy tale. The ceiling, with exposed wooden beams, was high, giving a sense of spaciousness without losing the intimate feel. The large windows that dominated the front walls allowed natural light to flood the room and offered a breathtaking view of the snowy outside. Through them, you could see snow-capped mountains, fir trees with white flakes on their branches, and a pale blue sky that promised a sunny day. In the living room, an L-shaped sofa upholstered in soft, light gray fabrics sat in the center, accompanied by red pillows and wool blankets. In front of the sofa, a rustic reclaimed wood coffee table held a tray of empty coffee cups. Your parents, you thought. A cozier corner was created to the side by an antique leather armchair and a floor lamp with a warm glow. Maybe you could sit there and cry a little.

You connected your phone into the TV and opened Spotify in search of the perfect song to brighten up your morning. Suspicious minds by Elvis started playing through the speakers and suddenly your body began to feel light, as if the weight of the last year was no longer in your veins. Your movements were loose and carefree, letting yourself go with the infectious rhythm of the song. You turned and jump on your heels with a wide grin on your face, arms raised, as if there was no other concern in the world but to warm up. As the music increased in intensity, your steps became bigger, almost theatrical, emulating the style of the 60's, with little hip swivels and a light laugh that escaped your lips. You moved your shoulders in a carefree manner, improvising as you sang along with Elvis' voice. Suddenly your steps stopped and you placed your hands on your chest: Oh, let our love survive, you sang, i'll dry the tears from your eyes, let's don't let a good thing die, when honey, you know i've never lied to you. 

Your feet began to move animatedly again as the pace quickened, and a cold breeze began to blow across your back, but you ignored it. Until, after a few seconds, as you turned back toward the archway leading into the hallway, you saw your parents standing in the doorway, watching you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. And right behind them... Joel, with his coat in his right hand and a suitcase in his left, looking at you in surprise. Time seemed to stand still. Your eyes widened and the music, which had been the main character before, suddenly seemed very loud, too loud. You stopped, frozen in a strange pose; your arms still raised and your legs slightly bent, completely out of place in the middle of the room. 

You straightened up and were suddenly very conscious of how you were dressed: in your Snoopy pants and an old Soundgarden t-shirt.  Your parents exchanged an amused look, trying to contain their laughter, as one of them says in a soft but playful-sounding voice: 

You quickly dropped your hands, feeling acutely aware of your Snoopy pajamas and worn Soundgarden t-shirt. Your parents exchanged a look, smirking like they couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer.

“Are you rehearsing for a show, darling?” one of them teased, their voice a gentle mockery that only made your cheeks burn hotter.

You fumbled for your phone, fingers clumsy as you turned down the volume, then retreated to the kitchen counter. Sipping your coffee, you tried to feign calm, but the cup trembled against your lips. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Hi, Joel,” you finally managed, aiming for casual, though you worried your voice betrayed just how rattled you felt.

He gave a slight nod, dropping his suitcase beside the sofa. He moved toward the kitchen with a familiarity that caught you off guard, turning on the faucet to wash his hands as if this were just another morning.

You hadn’t expected him to show up, and your attempt to keep cool faltered. “I thought you weren’t coming,” you blurted, trying to play it off. “I mean, it’s good to see you… if you wanted to be here.”

Your mom appeared beside you as if she’d been eavesdropping from the next room. Her sudden presence made you tense. “Your dad talked him into it, you know how he is. And don’t be rude, honey. Nobody should be alone this time of year,” she added in that gentle tone of hers, the one that left no room for argument.

You glanced at Joel quickly, worried that he might think you were upset that he was there. That wasn't the intention, but you didn't want him to misunderstand.

You glanced at Joel, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret your words as unwelcoming. That wasn’t how you meant it, but you couldn’t help the awkwardness that slipped through.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry…”

“S’okay,” Joel cut in, waving his hand dismissively, like he hadn’t noticed your clumsy words. “I know what you meant.”

But then his eyes shifted down to your pajama pants, lingering just a little too long. Of course, this was how you always ended up—making a fool of yourself in front of him. Did he have to look so good while doing it? He was wearing a dark green flannel, black jeans, and leather boots that seemed perfectly suited for him. His hair was a little messier than it had been last night, a hint of silver in his beard catching the light. He looked unreasonably handsome, like he’d just walked off the cover of a magazine for outdoorsmen.

You noticed a small heart-shaped patch between his chin and jaw, a detail you hadn't seen before, and suddenly felt an absurd urge to reach up and press your thumb there.

When your gaze flicked back up, you found him watching you—his eyes lingering over your face like he was memorizing every feature. The air between you seemed to thicken, your pulse quickening as heat rose to your cheeks. And yet, you couldn’t look away, and neither did he. For a few moments, everything felt suspended, like you might say something—anything—to break the silence. But then, your dad called out to him from the doorway.

Joel broke eye contact first, the spell snapping, and straightened up. “Coming,” he replied, and as he walked past, you caught yourself following him with your eyes, feeling a pang of something you couldn’t quite name.

You asked yourself if he would ever consider mentioning to your dad what was going on with you. Or, if at some point during his flight, the thought would have crossed his mind. But you forced yourself to stop thinking about it almost instantlyy. He had assured you that he wouldn't say anything, and, for some reason you didn't fully understand, you chose to believe him. 

*

Your mother tapped lightly on your bedroom door before pushing it open without waiting for a reply. The door creaked, her silhouette appearing in the frame with a cheerful familiarity that was always both comforting and a little intrusive.

“We're heading to the market to get some stuff. Need anything?”

You were sprawled out on the bed, limbs loose, staring up at the ceiling like it might reveal something new. It was hard to remember when you'd started doing that, letting your thoughts run away with you, drifting without purpose.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright. We’ll be back soon. Don’t fall asleep,” she added with a gentle warning as her face disappeared back into the hallway.

A few moments later, you heard the rumble of your father’s car starting up, the low murmur of their voices mingling with the crunch of snow as they left. You knew they’d come back with arms full of holiday cheer—sweets, wine, things that seemed to make their eyes light up. You understood their excitement; you weren’t so different. Canmore at Christmas was magic wrapped in snow, each corner dressed in gold lights and bright red ribbons.

Who wouldn’t love this? Only someone heartbroken, you thought dryly. But then, you almost caught yourself sounding like your mother.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Ally:

I think this is your chance to find a hot Canadian to flirt with. I've heard the rumors, y'know.

You chuckled to yourself, though the suggestion wasn’t entirely unappealing.

Just got here, lol. Haven’t met anyone yet, but we’re going out to dinner later. I’ll keep you posted.

For a moment, your mind drifted back to Liam, to the last photo you saw of him, fingers entwined with his new girlfriend’s. And the words he’d left you with before your final day at the office. Strangely, the memory didn’t sting as much anymore—it had dulled, becoming something you could almost look at from a distance.

You exhaled, pushing yourself out of bed, and rummaged through the suitcase you still hadn’t bothered to unpack. Swapping your pajamas for a white turtleneck, a soft cream sweater, and black pants, you kept your slippers on because, well, you could.

As you opened your bedroom door, you nearly collided with Joel stepping out of the room directly across from yours. You hadn’t processed this arrangement earlier—your rooms were exactly opposite, separated only by a narrow hallway.

He had just showered; damp hair brushed back in a way that was somehow both careless and careful. His beard was neatly trimmed now, taming the stray grays you'd noticed earlier. He wore a gray flannel shirt, dark slacks, and practical boots, his look somehow fitting with the cabin’s rustic charm. You, by contrast, shuffled in your slippers.

You gave him a small smile and moved down the hallway. He followed, his steps deliberate and heavy. By the time you reached the stairs, he had already turned back towards the bathroom, the echo of his footsteps fading behind you.

In front of the television, there was nothing interesting, or at least nothing familiar to you. You switched channels without much enthusiasm until a sigh of satisfaction escaped your mouth. The Holiday was on the screen, right at the scene where Cameron Diaz throws her cheating boyfriend out of the house, yelling at him from the window while throwing his clothes from the second floor. Perfect, you thought. The Holiday. The only thing you were missing was a nice cup of hot chocolate.

You moved into the kitchen, feeling a little thrill when you found the chocolate bar your mother had insisted on buying at the airport. Maybe she’d been right after all. As you heated the milk, you glanced back at the couch, where Joel had reappeared, watching the movie with an unexpected intensity. You hadn’t pegged him for the rom-com type—more of a Western or noir guy, maybe. But he seemed to know the film, his eyes following the characters across the screen.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head slightly, his expression serious. “Too sweet, usually.”

“I can make it less sweet for you,” you offered, adding a faint smile to soften the words.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and then gave a small nod. “Okay, I’ll trust you on that.”

You poured the warmed milk into two mugs, adding three squares of chocolate to yours and just one and a half to his. You skipped the sugar—no way he’d go for that. You stirred until the chocolate dissolved into a rich swirl, then carried the mugs back to the couch. He took his with a quiet, “Thank you,” and you settled beside him, leaving a cautious space between your bodies.

“Do you like the movie?” you asked after a moment, your curiosity winning out.

He shrugged, but there was a softness to the gesture. “It’s... got its moments. Used to watch it with Sarah.”

You nodded, the detail fitting more easily than you expected. It made sense now, why he seemed a little drawn into it.

“I love the neighbor part,” you said. “The little old man.”

“I love the neighbor storyline,” you admitted. “The old writer."

“Yeah, the writer’s good,” he agreed, then fell silent, watching the TV again.

But you couldn’t help yourself, his presence pulling at something inside you. “Joel,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. His name came out unbidden, and you almost regretted it when he looked at you, brows drawing together slightly.

“I—thank you, for not saying anything to my parents. About what I told you.”

He considered this, then nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. “Wasn’t mine to tell, don't worry” he said simply, but something in his tone held a weight that made your throat tighten.

Don't worry. He looked you straight in the eye as he said it, and for some reason, it made you freeze for a few seconds longer than necessary. 

“Anyway, thank you,” you said, breaking the silence. “For listening to me, too. I'm not usually like that.”

“How?” he asked, without looking away. There was something about the calmness of his posture -chocolate mug resting on his lap, one hand resting on the armrest of the couch- that contrasted completely with the stiffness of yours: straight back, both hands clutching your mug, feet tangled together as if trying to keep yourself anchored.

“Emotional, in an exaggerated way.”

He straightened a little, taking your answer seriously.

“I get it,” he murmured, ”though I'm not sure you were exaggerating.”

“What d'you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual as you watched him bring the cup to his lips. The fact that he took another sip made you feel an unexpected sense of relief, as if the success of your chocolate was somehow relevant to that conversation.

“I mean your motives make sense,” he replied, before the television screen drew your attention. Kate Winslet was sobbing on screen, her character’s heartbreak mirroring your own too neatly. Joel’s gaze lingered on your face, his eyes scanning you as if searching for something beyond words.

Joel looked at you, pursing his lips slightly, almost as if he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it.

You tried to make a joke out of it. “It’s funny, right? The timing?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, but he looked down as if to hide it. “Yeah. It’s a little funny.”

“I don't want to butt in too much,” he began cautiously, ”but I get the feeling that boy doesn't deserve the crying.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, surprised by his unexpected statement.

“I just feel it.”

"How?"

"I just do."

“You could try to convince me,” you said, half joking, half serious. “I've been feeling ridiculous about this for the last whole month.”

Joel let out a deep sigh, sinking back into the couch, his shoulders loosening. He raised the cup to his lips, the steam curling up between you, almost like it created its own fragile barrier. His usually guarded eyes seemed a little sharper, as if he was sorting through his thoughts, deciding which ones to share.

“How long were you two together?” he asked finally. His voice was softer than usual, but steady.

“Seven months,” you replied, bracing yourself for his reaction.

He frowned, his expression crinkling with something close to concern or frustration. And it struck you then, how natural that look seemed on his face, like it belonged there.

“And when did you break up?” He held your gaze, waiting for you to continue.

“Three weeks ago.”

He paused, considering this, then asked, “And how long had he been seeing the other woman?”

You hesitated, feeling a familiar sting in your chest, but you pressed on. “I found out about a month ago. But honestly, I’m not sure when it started.”

His frown deepened, shadows settling in the lines of his face. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger, maybe, or some unspoken frustration on your behalf. And despite the ache that came with telling him all of this, you couldn't deny the small, guilty satisfaction that he cared enough to be bothered by it.

“When did he get engaged?” His words came out slower now, like he was struggling to keep his disbelief in check.

“Last Friday,” you murmured, the memory fresh and bitter on your tongue.

“Last Friday?” He blinked, eyebrows knitting together, genuinely thrown. “You mean... like, right after you broke up?”

You nodded, watching him as he processed the timeline. He dragged a hand over his mouth, then licked his lips, as if trying to choose the right words—ones that wouldn’t be too harsh, even if they probably deserved to be.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone quieter but no less direct. “He doesn’t deserve any of those tears, you know. No one does.”

Something about the way he said it landed with you—his voice so matter-of-fact, so assured that it cut through the dull ache in your chest, striking deeper, in a way that was both comforting and disarming. It wasn’t a question or a gentle suggestion; it was a statement, one that left no room for doubt.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. It felt as if any sentence you might have tried to form would have crumbled halfway through. And he seemed to understand that immediately. He held your gaze, a faint crease of worry settling into his brow. For a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something else, maybe push further, but then the front door flew open, and your parents’ voices filled the space.

The moment broke, and he glanced away as if the sudden noise had snapped him back to the present. You felt his fingers graze your arm, just barely, as he shifted on the couch. You glanced at the spot where his touch had lingered, not sure if it had been a gesture of comfort or just an accident. But when you looked back up, he was still watching you, his concern barely masked.

You forced a smile, and he returned it, though his expression remained unconvinced.

Your mother swept into the room like a whirlwind, her laughter echoing against the walls as your dad set down bags of groceries on the kitchen counter nearby. She glanced between you and Joel, her eyes lighting up with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction.

“I love seeing you two hanging out together!” she said brightly, her excitement bubbling over. “See, honey? I told you we needed that chocolate.”

You gave a small nod, taking the last sip of your hot chocolate. Joel did the same beside you, his cup now almost empty.

“What do you guys say to taking a walk around town later? The fair is in full swing, and there are all kinds of goodies,” your mother suggested, practically bouncing on her toes.

A pair of hands rested on your shoulders, your dad’s familiar warmth pressing into you, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head. It was a gesture that grounded you, something solid amidst the mess of emotions.

“Sounds perfect to me,” he said, glancing over at Joel. “And Joel and I can finally get those beers he promised me. What do you say, Miller?”

Joel tilted his head, offering a faint smirk—just a hint of something roguish in his expression, and it sent an unexpected shiver through you. How did he manage to stir so many conflicting feelings in you, all at once?

“Sounds good to me, Evans,” he replied with that casual tone that always seemed to catch you off guard.

You got up from the couch, slipping away under the pretense of putting your empty mug in the sink. As you moved into the kitchen, you busied yourself checking the contents of the fridge, smiling at the sight of your favorite foods, thoughtfully picked out by your parents. And some things you didn’t recognize—probably Joel’s, adding a new layer of domesticity to this strange new dynamic.

With them still chatting, you stole a chance to slip back upstairs, seeking the quiet of your room. The familiar comfort of your bed wrapped around you as you lay back, staring out the window. The view was breathtaking: the snow-covered mountains, the trees standing tall under the clear sky. It was the kind of beauty that tugged at something deep inside, something that made you want to cry, but in a different way than before. A better way. Joel’s words echoed in your mind. Maybe the mountains deserved your tears. Maybe the snow. The sun, absolutely. And the moon, too.

A soft knock broke the stillness, and you peeled yourself off the mattress to answer. The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing Joel leaning against the frame, closer than you’d expected.

“Joel? Did something happen?”

He hesitated for a beat, then shook his head. “No,” he said, voice low, almost sheepish. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I feel like... maybe I was a little insensitive earlier, down there.”

You stared at him, taken aback by the admission. A warmth spread through your chest, seeping into every corner as you realized he meant it. A smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it.

“It’s all right, really. I promise,” you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

“You sure?” He narrowed his eyes, studying you, and there was something about the way he looked at you then—like he was trying to figure out if you were telling the truth.

From that angle, you could get a good look at him, the way his dark eyes studied you. From above, and you below. His gaze moving as it did in the kitchen; slowly across your features. What could be going through his head? You didn't know. But you did know what was going on in yours, and it wasn't anything pure. So you looked at his lips and felt that extending that attention for more than a second was daring, but you did it anyway. And something throbbed in you.

“So sure,” you said, managing to sound steady.

He nodded, pulling back ever so slightly. His gaze flicked over you one last time, as if memorizing the way you looked at that moment, then he stepped back.

“Okay,” he agreed at last. “See you in a bit, then.”

As he left and you closed the door, a strange sensation began to form in your entire body and suddenly, Canmore began to take on a very, very different tinge.