#because you decide the pacing of the scene yourself. mostly.

[5-pp-man]

I dont think I wouldve enjoyed mashle as a series as much if I had only watched the anime.

[fairlyang]

Summer Lovin’: We Go Together 🕷️

w/c: 6.9K

pairing: greaser!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. infamous dance scene w mig proving himself (better ending), his friends are instigators, drive in, groping, exhibitionism, fingering, stroking, praise, teasing, finally fucks you, riding, missionary, sweet ending

a/n: AHHHHH after 10 months my beloved part 3 is done!!! a year ago i first thought of this au and wrote it just for fun bc i love grease, now i’m happy to close this lil chapter after putting it off so long. honestly one of my favs series i’ve written :’)

part one — part two — the dress/tl of events

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Four weeks had passed and Miguel had taken every opportunity possible to take you out and practically show everyone that you were his.

It was a different sight to see for everyone, especially his fellow T Birds with the exception of Danny, who was really happy for him.

Kenickie also didn’t really care, mostly because he found himself in a predicament just like yours but unlike Miguel, he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself yet.

Unfortunately the younger three T Birds couldn’t believe it and started bickering to Miguel as soon as he broke the news to all of them.

While he got wide grins and bats on the back from Kenickie, and Danny, on the other hand he just got eye rolls and scoffs from the other three who couldn’t fathom thee Miguel O’Hara was finally living down his playboy ways.

They couldn’t believe one of their leaders, who taught them how to be the way they were, was just done with fooling around with a handful of girls at a time.

The girls on the other hand were shocked, with the exception of Frenchy and Sandy who somewhat had an idea where his head was at but the other three were not expecting that from him.

They didn’t believe it at first until the first week passed and it was so obvious to anyone with eyes that he was finally done with his bullshit.

Finally having pure happiness and tranquility with him by your side was all you could really ask for.

So after a bunch of cute dates and shared kisses, it was finally the day of the dance. You ended up going shopping with Frenchy and Sandy the day after the diner date because you just couldn’t wait and were so excited. They said you had to buy a new dress, one that Miguel would love.

And you found it.

You decided on a red cocktail dress that had a black ribbon around the waist and around the neckline as well, to tie behind your neck. It had some white ruffles underneath for more volume and Frenchy said it’d work great for the dances.

You thought it was so pretty and would impress Miguel.

And it did way more than that.

His jaw was practically on the floor when he picked you up and you had to drag him to his car before your mom forced you into taking pictures as if it was prom because he wore a matching red dress shirt with a black jacket.

Plus surely the cameras would capture good ones since the whole country was gonna see everyone dance live.

Somehow this university was picked out of all the other ones.

Some kind of miracle.

Or maybe a curse.

But the T birds claimed the principal must’ve slept with the host or something to consider Rydell.

You just gave them a side eye while Miguel scolded them for being dumbasses and always thinking in the gutter.

Both friend groups were together with the exception of Rizzo and Kenickie who split up and were nowhere to be seen.

Everyone was gossiping and judging people’s outfits or people’s dates but you just made yourself comfortable in Miguel’s arms while minding your business.

You felt so happy everything ended up working out and now you could truly be yourself with Miguel without the fear of him acting like a piece of shit.

Because if you were affectionate or doing some kind of pda, he’d just follow your lead.

It was the perfect change of pace after everything that’s happened and you owed it to yourselves to be so smitten in public.

You sighed and hugged him a little tighter when finally one of the professors tells everyone to form a circle and that the cameras will run shortly but that they wanted to do a warm up dance with the band.

Everyone ran inside the circle as soon as the tune of “Rock And Roll Is Here To Stay” started playing. All the couples were already hand in hand while the singletons sat off on the benches off to the side.

You and Miguel started just by dancing next to each other before he was in front of you, grabbing your hands, moving them side to side with his. He then gave you a quick spin before lifting you up, your legs going way up almost hitting the professor, who was keeping an eye out.

Miguel then somehow lifted you over his back and maneuvered you so you’d land straight up in front of him.

The professor was nodding his head before walking away while you continued being in sync with Miguel.

Some of the couples unfortunately couldn’t do that, one guy dropped the girl he was partnered with which resulted in her yelling at him for spoiling her chance to be on national television.

He walked around the circle observing who would still be in and who he’d have to cut short for raunchy actions which turned out to be quite the handful.

He found his way back to you guys when Miguel picked up up again, your legs were around his waist then you’re back in the air before he carefully drops you to the ground and you’re underneath him.

He turns around, grabbing your hands before he picks you back up. You do little bunny skips for a few seconds before picking you up once again, your hands holding the back of his head right. He then dipped you down while your legs cling onto his waist for dear life and he luckily didn’t drop you.

And it caught the eye of the professor who was taking some notes down. Frenchy and Doodie were watching you which had the prof assume they knew you.

Course they did.

But only would Doodie’s dumbass lie when asked about your names, claiming it’s Fred and Ginger. Frenchy scolded him but he just waved her off while the prof wrote those names down.

Meanwhile you and Miguel went to sit at the benches, just to catch your breath for a bit when something came to mind. “What if I get camera shy?” You ask making him laugh.

“I’m sure you’ll be alright. We’ll be good, right? Hm?” He says and you nod.

“We’ll be good.” You answer and he grins.

“Thatta girl. Now come on let’s go.” He says and grabs your hand, pulling you up and going back to the dance floor.

Meanwhile the next song was playing, a little slower one but on one corner of the gym was Rizzo and her new boy toy because she had a pregnancy scare with Kenickie and had no choice but to drop him.

Which only resulted in Kenickie getting Rizzo’s boy toy’s ex girl as his date.

A whole mess but it should’ve been expected with the amount of toxicity Kenickie and Rizzo have shown towards each other.

Rizzo saw them and gasped before stepping in front of her new man so he wouldn’t see but it was hard not to see with Kenickie giving this girl one of his so called “rare souvenirs”.

Jan and Putzie were also dancing. Or attempting to. Jan has only ever led while dancing which had them both in position to lead which only made them look stiff.

Frenchy was asking Doodie if he could at least spin her but he was counting his steps and trying hard to concentrate. It only looked like he was marching on the floor over trying to dance.

Danny and Sandy were off slow dancing, whispering in each others faces while they ignored everyone else around them. He’d occasionally spin her then pull her towards him to snatch a kiss from her.

You and Miguel were dancing back and forth until Miguel started just going backwards while attempting to sing like the singer of the band. “You have such a beautiful voice Miguel.” You tease making him continue at a lower octave.

You laughed and you somehow landed right where half your friend group was. He stops when he sees Kenickie’s date, and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close while your arm was around his waist, not questioning a thing.

“‘Hara meet my date, Cha Cha.” Kenickie introduces him to her but he just shrugs and leans his head against yours.

“What’s up ‘Hara baby?” She says making you scoff but Miguel pulls you even closer to him.

“Who is she?” Doodie asked making Frenchy scoff as well.

“They call me Cha Cha because I’m the best dancer around.” She replies with a cocky smirk making you roll your eyes.

Great.

“With the worst reputation.” Frenchy mumbles making you and Sandy snicker.

He ignored her completely and lets go of you to grab your hand again, leading you back to the dance floor. “Do I wanna ask?” You mutter under your breath making him sigh.

“Ex…. Not girlfriend.. or fling.. we’ll go with dancing partner.” He says, stopping in the middle of the dance floor and pulls you close.

“Past is in the past.” He whispers and places his hands on your waist while yours wrapped behind his neck.

“I only care about my future with the girl I’m going steady with.” He adds and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That’s good to hear.” You say relieved.

Not that you already didn’t trust his promising words to you but because you could tell she was trying to cause something. A reaction out of either of you which she didn’t get.

The song ended and the band stops until they play the next song which has everyone sprinting to make two straight lines, one for the girls and one for the boys.

The couple at the very end walk through the middle of both lines until they get to the other side by the stage and go to the front of the line meanwhile there’s another couple a few feet from them already dancing

Miguel made sure you were directly in front of him while the rest of the guys directed their girls next to you.

The first few couples you didn’t recognize but from your group was Kenickie and Cha Cha followed by Danny and Sandy. Then it was you and Miguel followed by Frenchy and Doodie.

Then it was Jan and Putzie with Sunny by himself behind them because Marty was too busy flirting it up with the host and uninterested in his flirty attempts towards her. And lastly it was Rizzo and her man.

The song ends and the assistant principal climbs up on stage and yells, “The Rydell fight song!!”

Suddenly the principal and coach make their way through the middle of the line and as they moved the lines disappeared because people were so bumped for the cameras to finally roll.

They climbed on stage and the band stops playing their music while everyone cheers. “When you are finished.” The principal says into a mic and everyone quickly quiets down.

“You will be happy to know I am not judging the dance contest.” She says and the loudest of cheers were immediately screamed from the whole gym.

The coach grins and tries to quiet everyone down, which works out because everyone loves him.

She then goes on what seems to be a lecture to be on the best behavior because national television and blah blah blah, it was going on one ear and directly out of the other, no one gave a shit.

Then finally she introduces Vince Fontaine who was a radio dj and somehow was judging this contest.

All the girls screamed and everyone’s looking around but he was nowhere to be seen until finally he heard his name and stopped flirting with Marty. He ran off from behind some float they had at the back of the gym and ran into the crowd.

Everyone bombarded him and the guys moved him forward, carrying him until he got to the front of the stage. Kenickie and Miguel lifted him up to the stage and he immediately started thrusting into the crowd.

The coach then explains the rules which included couples for some reason had to be boy-girl, if you’re tapped on the shoulder you have to leave the dance floor, and lastly no vulgar movements.

That for some reason had people looking, pointing, and laughing at Rizzo which you found weird and oddly specific they all thought of her but there was no time to question that.

Suddenly the professor from earlier runs on stage and says, “forty seconds.” then scrambled off.

Vince then took the mic and started hyping up the crowd and telling everyone to not worry about the cameras and to just be themselves.

Then the cameras are on and he puts on his professional voice when introducing the band then student body before the band starts playing Hound Dog and all hell breaks loose.

Everyone scrambled to be in a good position, dancing in sync while holding their partner by the waist or hand.

But they stopped as soon as Doodie spotted a camera and called it out making literally the entire floor to try to be at the very front of it.

Guys were carrying their girls up on their shoulders and everyone was waving or blowing kisses to the camera.

But some of the professors were demanding the guys to put the girls down and to get back to dancing again or they’d be disqualified.

Everyone went back to dancing when Miguel grabs your hand and leads you to the very front where all the cameras would be pointing towards.

You danced in front of it and you were glad your nerves didn’t come in otherwise this would’ve been a mess.

Miguel picked you up then spun you around before dancing back and forth to the music.

The camera moved along the front and captured everyone’s excited faces as the song was coming to its end.

One of the other cameras pointed to Vince and Patty and Marty that were on either side of him while they were in the back of the gym.

He hyped up the crowd once again before randomly asking, “Hey does everybody know Marty?”

The T Birds of course yelled that they did and all kinds of stupid things before she made faces at them forgetting just for a second that she was directly on frame.

The next song starts and so many couples were already out. All the couples were in sync with the little hand motions for this specific song and Vince was walking through, now able to look at every couple.

He started off with Kenickie, who was pretending he was slapping Cha Cha while she pretended she was getting hit before thrusting towards him with Kenickie behind him.

He walked away and looked at you and Miguel while you remained eye contact, not stopping from doing the hand jive like everyone else was doing.

He walked around some more before ending up with Marty but he got distracted by Doodie’s horrific dancing in front of him he had to tap his shoulder.

He then walked to the center of the floor where he found Rizzo and her man dancing, vulgarly. He was on his knees as if he was about to eat her out and she was thrusting back and forth.

Vince instantly tapped the man’s shoulder and walked away. Rizzo and her man walked off only for her man to walk past Cha Cha and thrust in front of her which only resulted in Kenickie to jump him.

He started throwing punches and they were thrown right back making the singer of the band shout, “break up, break up, what is that?!?”

Rizzo and Cha Cha tried to break it off but it was hard until Cha Cha led Kenickie back to the dance floor to stay center stage.

That was until there was a circle of the couples that were left and everyone had a chance to be in the middle to show off what they got. Some were of course vulgar because how could they not be?

Some were very impressive and others not so much.

Patty was at the very front with Tom when suddenly Kenickie runs then slides down to Patty before standing back up while lifting her dress up.

She ran away embarrassed and Kenickie dropped to the floor and started thrusting up which prompted the assistant principal to come up and yell at him. But right after someone picked her up and shook her up and down, taking her away.

Just then Miguel pulled you to the center and you started off with more synchronized dances you’d talked about during the week. Everyone cheered and by this point most of the couples were out which was a good sign.

That was until Sunny tried to be sneaky and pull you away from Miguel when you were skipping along behind him but you stepped on Sunny’s shoe and went back to Miguel quickly.

Cha Cha was about to swoop in and take Miguel but luckily you were faster and he grabbed your hand, never a doubt in your mind that he would have picked you over her.

He led you to the very middle and you started grabbing the ends of your dress, twirling it out while you both danced in sync. You used the entire circle that formed around you and ignored everyone besides each other.

Focusing on looking good and not fucking up any of the moves but it all went perfectly and smoothly.

The chemistry through the dances was intense and very clearly unmatched when the principal came down and handed you a plaque which made you cheer and grin at Miguel who had the widest smile yet.

He was so happy and if this wasn’t enough proof to show his growth and how he now didn’t give a shit about his reputation, he didn’t know what would be.

He twirled you around a couple times before giving you a big hug in front of everyone. There were loads of cheers and screams but you only focused on him and kind of just ignoring everything else.

As if you were the last two people standing and there weren’t so many eyes on you. Even the ones from the cameras in front of you.

He pulled away first and left a kiss on your forehead but then brought a hand to your chin, lifting it up before softly pecking your lips. Even louder screams erupted but you zoned them out.

Suddenly the lights turn off and everyone who was around you dispersed, while Blue Moon started to play. Someone grabbed your plaque and you didn’t even see who it was because your eyes were just locked on him.

He stuck his hand out and you grabbed it, you spun inward into him, grabbing his other hand earning some cheers because of how smooth it looked.

Miguel then led, moving you around swiftly, one hand holding yours and the other on your lower back. He spun you in a few circles before dropping you in to a dip which you knew you had to stick a leg out.

Louder cheers echoed through your ears when he picked you back up and spun you around again slowly.

Suddenly the younger trio of the T Birds jump in front of the main camera, their jackets covering their faces, they lean over and pull down their pants and boxers leaving them bare naked, showing their asses to the whole country.

Everyone laughed but you and Miguel didn’t notice, just continued with your dancing while the lighting person focused on their asses over you two, who had won the contest.

The dance ended as soon as that happened. The cameras cut. The lights were turned back on and the “Mooners” were already long gone.

You only noticed because as soon as the lights turned on Miguel grabbed you and ran off to the exit along with the rest of your friend group. Him, Danny, and Kenickie began smacking the other three T birds and scolding them for being dumbasses.

There was chaos all over the place because the professors were trying to see who had the audacity to singlehandedly ruin the university’s reputation further.

Practically everyone went to the drive in after the dance considering it ended so early and no one was trying to go home to their parents at 10pm.

It wasn’t too packed with cars until everyone from Rydell was piling in and parking in whatever spot they could get.

Given you and your friend group were the first ones to get to their designated cars at the uni parking lot and quickly knew where you’d all go to hang and luckily got decent spots.

The girls parked in the lane behind you and Miguel, and the guys were next to them. Luckily there was still enough space between lanes in case Miguel wanted to leave and there’d be no chance of accidents unless one of the T birds did something stupid, which was highly likely.

Kenickie came up to Miguel’s window to which he rolled it down, (because Miguel finally decided to have the top of his convertible back on) and he asks, “do you want some snacks or somethin’?”

Miguel turns to you and you shake your head making Kenickie nod. He leaned in close to the window prompting Miguel to lean in, assuming he had something to tell him.

You tried to mind your business, twiddling at the end of your dress, listening to the hums of the acapella group on the radio, looking straight ahead at the large screen displaying a zombie movie they always play.

Anything to not seem like you were snooping but somehow you didn’t hear a thing when Miguel suddenly scoffs, then laughs before waving Kenickie off.

Kenickie gave him a wide grin before walking away, most likely off with the rest of the gang making you wonder what on earth just happened.

He didn’t say anything and only wrapped his right arm over your shoulder while he rolled his window up but left a tiny bit of space to at least hear the movie.

But that wasn’t top priority in his head.

Top priority was something he’s been thinking about for ages.

A long while since those days you had spent together at the beach.

And what better time to follow through with his dirty ideas than now?

So he brought his hand lower, inching closer and closer to just full on grope your right breast. You could almost sense a change in the air and that was confirmed when his hand didn’t stop it’s movements and indeed did grope you. “Miguel!” You squealed and he laughed before leaning his head down to kiss your neck.

You bit your lip as he squeezed your breast softly but left quite a mark on you. “I-It’s the way we just got here Miguel-“ you stammer as he hums against your skin, sending shivers all throughout your body.

“Do you really care about the damn movie darling?” He murmurs making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Well….”

“That’s what I thought.” He teases and pulls away, now looking at you directly.

“Now.. I had something in mind for tonight.” He says softly before taking his arm off you too.

“And what would that be?” You ask and tilt your head to the side.

What was he plotting?

“Maybe going all the way?” He suggests and you widen your eyes.

“Here?” You ask, making him nod as you laughed.

“You gotta be joking right?” You say and he shakes his head.

“Do you think I’m joking?” He murmurs before going back to kissing your neck.

You breathe in and squeeze your legs together, this man cannot be serious.

“You don’t have tinted windows-” You say but interrupt yourself with a moan leaving your mouth as his right hand went back to groping your right breast.

“Don’t worry, no one’s watching.” He murmurs nonchalantly but it didn’t make you feel any better.

“You have perverted friends Mig, be serious!!” You laugh making him snort.

“Do you want me to remind you how we met-“ he teases, making you groan.

“Fuck-“ you curse and realize it’s practically the same thing.

“This is sort of different- there’s actually people around.” You mumble.

“Kenickie will put ‘em in check and look around this is a hot spot.” He mutters and you could only hum.

It was true.

People wouldn’t exactly be peeking because they were most likely busy themselves.

And you’ve been needing him to fuck you…

So why not after he proved himself to you?

You lightly nod and he grins, “was an offer you couldn’t refuse huh?”

His teasing only made you roll your eyes but he was right. After practically dreaming of it for so long, how could you not?

And after such an overall amazing night, why not?

“You’re such a horn dog you know that?” you tease and he shrugs.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” he murmurs and pecks your lips.

he slowly brought his hand down, just placing it on your thigh and inching lower so he can bring his hand under your dress. “you looked so beautiful tonight.” he murmurs making you sigh.

“you don’t look too bad either.” you teased as you pulled your dress up for him and his hand started squeezing your thigh.

“gonna have to only use my hands because the car’s a bit small..” he murmured and you just nodded, “it’s fine.”

you spread your legs apart, putting your left leg on top of his right and his hand makes it way down, reaching your inner thigh, “y’know i had a whole plan for this, after a nice date, maybe some rose petals and candles…”

“changed your mind?” you asked and he shook his head.

his hand went up until it touched the waistband of your panties and whispered, “you just look too fucking good, i got impatient.”

you felt your face grow warm and you looked at him, a sparkle in your eyes and a sweet smile on your face, “so romantic.”

he fought back a smile but seeing your pretty face, he couldn’t help but smile along with you. “our second time can be special.”

you chuckle and shrug, “this is more like us.”

he grins, leaning in and letting his head rest against yours while his hand went down, now over your clothed pussy. he lightly rubs your clit with two fingers, feeling you relax as you lay your head on his shoulder. “it’s felt like ages since the last time.” he whispered and you let out a sigh.

“a whole month.” you whined, making him groan, “a month and three days.”

“someone’s keeping track.” you tease then let out a moan when he starts to rub your clit faster.

“that’s it.. let me hear you doll, i’ve missed you.” he purrs and you hold onto his arm, bucking your hips up to grind against his fingers.

“missed your touch baby.” you whisper earning yourself a moan from him.

“let’s never go this long again.” he mumbles and you quickly nod.

“it’s been torture.. but maybe worth it.” you say and he hums, “whys that?”

you tilt your head up to look at him and he looks down at you, “because it’s gonna feel so good when you’re finally inside me…”

he takes a deep breath and you move your left hand, putting it on his thigh then slowly trailing it up, “you’re actually going to kill me.”

“and you are too with how slow you’re movin’” you whine, making him scoff.

“sorry for trying to set the mood.” he says fake defensively and gives you a pout.

“mood is set, c’mon we’re doing this.” you say, moving your panties to the side with your right hand.

“yes ma’am.” he says and brings his right hand to his mouth.

he sucks on two fingers just for your viewing pleasure then gathers his saliva onto them to ensure you’re nice and wet whether you already are or not. he then pulls them away and a string of saliva connects his finger and his tongue making your brain turn to mush.

he looked so fucking good. he had no business looking so hot doing something so dirty.

he then brought his hand down between your legs again and let his fingers rub gently against your folds. your pool of slick and his wet fingers combined together, perfect for the idea in his head.

his fingers go to tease your entrance for a solid two seconds before actually slipping them inside. your walls immediately clenched against them and you moved your hand higher until you felt his bulge. he opened his mouth to complain when you suddenly started to stroke him through his pants — you both moaned, unable to hide how good it feels.

you’d only just begun but felt like you’d be able to come fast just because it was finally him touching you. you weren’t relying on your own fingers after a month and it was surreal.

it was like his touch ignited something in you that only he was able to do. you usually felt it when he held your hand or waist but this time it was stronger.

you stroked him faster as he pumped his fingers deeper, still keeping a slow pace. he was paying close attention to the wet noises, it was like music to his ears. you were slightly distracting him but he was luckily good at multitasking.

you attempted to undo his pants with one hand but struggling miserably so he helped you with his left hand. he stood up the tiniest bit just to pull his pants down over his ass and kept them by his thighs.

he went back to focusing on the pace he set but as your stroking was starting off fast, he matched your pace instead. your eyes fluttered and you laid your head against his shoulder again to be more comfortable.

you let out some deep breaths, already on the verge of asking him for more but knowing he’d make you wait. he on the other hand thought you’d need this and didn’t want to be too pushy or accidentally be too greedy so he figured he’d stretch you out with his fingers.

you let out quiet moans as you slipped your hand inside his boxers and take it out. his cock springs up and you quickly take hold of it, leaning over to spit on it then stroke it. he groans as you went back to your previous position and pumps his fingers faster, “fuck baby-“

“feels too good-“ you murmured, making him grunt, “yeah? feel good doll?”

you nod and grind your hips up, “need more.”

“you sure?” he asks and you eagerly nod.

“please.” you murmur, and he practically melts.

he slips his fingers out of you and you quickly let him go as he motions for you to get on top, “c’mere, c’mere.”

cock already out and ready for you, you nod and sit up, swinging your right leg over until you’re straddling his lap. you grab the ends of your dress and bring it up to your stomach, “hey, we’re gonna take this slow okay?” he says as you hover over him.

you pout and he just brings a hand to your face, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “don’t worry, i won’t keep you waiting too long.”

“better not, been waiting three months.” you whine and he pouts, “you have been so patient huh, baby?”

you bit your lip and nod, “slip it in and take your time.” he murmurs as you lift yourself up and line his cock up to your entrance.

just the tip teasing it alone was insane. after all you’re both finally getting what you’ve been craving the most.

“fuck please.” you whine as his tip slips to the side because you were extremely drenched.

he then helps you and you slowly feel it going in. you gasp and cover your hand over your mouth, “oh fuck-!”

“shhh, you have to be quiet baby, I don’t want these perverts to hear how good my girl sounds for me.” he says, making you whimper. you’ll never get tired of hearing that.

you then grip onto to his shoulders as his hands are on your waist, patiently. you slide down and more whimpers erupt from your mouth.

he was so thick.

maybe it was a good thing he fingered you first otherwise you would not have been anywhere near prepared.

“take your time baby.” he whispers and you nod.

you straighten yourself up and just stay like that, only having the tip inside, to get use to it. after a few seconds you feel fine and slide down some more slowly. you both moan and his grip on your waist tightens.

“miguel please just fuck me.” you whine and he shakes his head.

“I need you to get use to it before I do.” he says, making you groan.

“need you.” you whine and he shakes his head again.

“you’re doing so good already baby, just keep going until you can fit it all.” he murmurs and you sigh.

you know he desperately wants to fuck you, and you want the same but he also didn’t want to hurt you. he wanted it to be completely enjoyable for you so he thought having you take it in cowgirl was a good start because you had full control.

“c’mon baby, you can do it.” he murmurs as you pull yourself up then right back down.

you were able to take a tiny bit more but it was still a lot. you already felt so full and you were probably about halfway. this was a problem you never thought you’d have but apparently anything can happen.

“just like that angel, doing so good for me.” he purrs and look down at your pussy slowly taking him in.

it was quite the sight. he wasn’t so sure how he had been able to control himself around you because you were both horny people but somehow kept your hands off each other. mostly just to not rely on sexual things for your relationship.

it helped. your relationship had been thriving but now it was finally time to go all the way.

“i didn’t think i’d need to fucking practice.” you whined, earning yourself a laugh from him.

“baby you’ve got eyes, you already knew.” he murmurs and you shrug.

you lower yourself down, now feeling pleasure over slight pain so you full on sat on his lap, his length fully inside you now. you both moaned and his fingers dug into your skin, “so perfect baby-“

“so big..” you murmured and leaned your head forward towards his.

he moans and that’s when you decide to start moving. you pulled yourself up then bounced your ass down until you could feel him all inside you. “fucking shit- fuck baby.. gonna make me come so quick, just so tight.”

your eyes lit up with his words and your gummy walls clenched against him, making him twitch. he took a breather and pulled your hips up then helped you go down. he helped you for a few more minutes until you got the hang of it and began doing it yourself.

he watched you in absolute awe. he never thought he’d gain feelings for someone, let alone such strong ones that filled his every waking thought. and those feeling always seemed to keep him up at night as well.

he didn’t realize how badly he needed you like this until he looked down to watch how your pussy took his cock in. it’s exactly what he’s been desperately needing.

and it was like he fit perfectly inside you, like a missing puzzle piece. like you belonged together.

he thought it was enough teasing for the night so he quickly grabbed you tightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he then sat up before bringing your body down so you could lay down whilst still inside you.

“you ready?” he asks and you nod.

without another word he starts to properly fuck you, pulling your legs back which had you thinking to hold on to them so you did.

his thrusts were fast and messy, already feeling he could explode because you felt incredible. he swore he’s never felt pleasure this god-like until he met you.

he could’ve sworn you amplified the feeling when you touched him. it was all he could ever ask for in life, someone who drove him crazy in more ways than one.

your eyes fluttered shut as he relentlessly thrusted into you, the sweet melody of your moans filled his ears and it was the only noises he’d ever need.

“fuck miguel- god- filling me up so good.” you moaned and he swore he could feel himself twitch already.

“gonna fill you up alright..” he murmurs and holds onto the back of your thighs to help stable himself.

you moaned his name and watch how he fucked you to perfection. the way your pussy took his cock in was mesmerizing and if was such a pretty view. it was all you had been wanting and you finally got it, and it was better than anything you could’ve imagined.

he lowered himself down until he got right in front of your face and he starts going harder while he leaned down to kiss you. you instantly kissed back, moaning in his mouth with nearly every thrust.

he slid his tongue into your mouth and explored every crevice as you brought your hands up to his hair. you run your fingers through it, messing up his style just because you needed something to play with.

you tugged on them, making him moan into your mouth which just had you grinning ear to ear. you pulled away and he went down to your neck, kissing and licking every inch he could before he sucked a love bite into your skin, “fuck mig- p-please don’t stop-“ you whimpered out and he took your words to heart.

his thrusts were now the perfect combination of fast and hard, making sure you’d let out any and all the noises your heart desired. the car was moving back and forth and you could only pray that everyone around you was doing the same.

“too fucking perfect doll- god you’re amazing-“ he murmurs against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

he pulled away from your neck and looks into your eyes as he feels himself already getting closer to the edge. you could feel him twitch inside you again but this time it was enough for you to clench against him. he swore under his breath then watched your face perfectly.

your eyes were fighting hard to stay open and he was having a hard time keeping it together. but with each passing thrust he felt you getting close to the edge along with him. your face contorted and he knew you wouldn’t be able to lie so he fucked his hips into your repeatedly, desperate to cum.

he felt his orgasm building and he looked at you with pure joy in his eyes, well it was more of something else that he had never felt before, and there was no better time to admit it than now, “I love you.”

you snapped out of your hazy world and blinked, wondering if you really just heard that. his eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed into a pretty red color while you remained speechless. his thrusts were going deeper and you were glad he didn’t stop, otherwise you were going to assume this was all a dream.

you brought a hand up to his cheek, slight tears welling in your eyes as you smiled, “I love you.”

he grinned, tears threatening to fall out of his as well because he was just filled with so much love. so much love that he didn’t think was possible to feel.

you single-handedly changed him and had gotten him wrapped around your finger. the best part was he didn’t mind one bit.

right at that moment you both reached your orgasms and sealed the magic words with a loving kiss that you didn’t want to pull away from. he spilled his load as deep as he could go as you shook beneath him, holding onto him for dear life as he kissed you softly.

he slowed down and let you ride out your highs as you continued your sweet, sloppy kiss with tears running down both your cheeks. he pulled away, bringing a hand up to wipe them away while you did the same to his.

you let out a choked laugh, feeling so happy like you were on top of the world. he smiled and gave you a peck before pulling out of you then getting off you.

you fixed your panties then pulled your dress down as miguel helped you sit up then pulled you into his arms. you embraced him and cling onto him tightly to ensure he’s real. once you heard him let out an exaggerated cough, you knew he was.

and now there was no doubt in your mind that you made the right decision. that you were right to forgive him. and that you were truly, madly, hopelessly in love with miguel o’hara.

[xjaylyn]

Heyyy . Thank you for opening your request. How about the reader finding out Armando being on the run with Mike and Marcus, has been secretly following them to make sure they're safe (mostly mando) .

Here you go love🤭

This was too cute ahhh...I cant lie I kind of dragged it....reader stood on business bout her man😌

From the tent, y/n looked around the scene. Cops were everywhere, looking to identify the bodies of the crash. It was a mess.

"Keep tracking, y/n. See if you notice any disturbances… we need to know if there are any survivors," your advisor pats your shoulder before walking off into the crowd.

'Who hijacks a police helicopter?'

Typing away on the computer, you continue to run scans and check surveillance for anything to help the team. Hearing a truck pull in, U.S. Marshall Judy Conrad steps out of the vehicle to meet with Captain Rita and another marshal.

"You ID the bodies?"

"Roger, we got three unaccounted for… Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas."

Stopping your motions, you look up as Judy calls out to pay attention, deeming the three as suspects on the case.

'Of course… only they can involve themselves in shit like this.'

Shaking your head, you get up from the computer and walk over to Rita, still standing where Judy left her.

"Cap."

Sighing at the girl in front of her, Rita shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips. "Not now, y/l/n… I can't afford any more close relations to the suspects," she sighs, turning around.

"Captain, come on. Suspects? You really believe they would do some dumb shit like this?" you ask, putting your arms up with your brow raised.

"Y/n, I-" she stumbles over her words, staring at you with a solemn look on her face.

"I-my job isn't set on what I believe personally… it's set on facts, and the fact is Mike, Marcus, and Armando are on the run for something, and right now, evidence says they are the ones to kill the pilo-"

Rolling your eyes, you look at Rita one more time before walking away back to your station.

"I can't believe this shit."

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

Pacing back and forth in your living room, you've been, illegally, using surveillance of nearby cameras surrounding the crime scene all night trying to locate the boys.

Knowing everyone in the field is dead set on them being suspects, you decided to use your own skills to find them without notifying anyone. It wasn't to involve yourself in the situation but more so to make sure everyone was okay. Falling 10,000 feet in the air in a helicopter crash, someone was bound to be hurt, right? And it's not like anyone could check into a hospital to get treated because then they would risk getting caught, and it's just too much to think about.

Hearing a beep come from your computer, you quickly make your way to your couch and set the device on your lap, eagerly looking at the screen for what popped up.

"The Pony?" you mumble, confused at the location the boys found themselves.

"After all this, they go to a nightclub," you scoff, watching them walk into the building. Looking ridiculous, might you add. Closing your laptop, you quickly run into your room to change.

Stumbling to put on your jeans, you hear a small meow come from your bed. Looking over at your cat watching you rush, tilts their head at your actions, meowing again.

"Don't worry, mommy is going to get daddy and smack grandpa across his head for dragging him into some bullshit," you smile, running your hand across her fur, earning another meow.

"Sorry, bad language, dragging him into a mess," you say before grabbing your keys off Armando's end table.

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

Pulling into the lot, you watch as police and ambulances surround the area. Looking around, you notice a car in flames and some men getting taken into custody.

"What the fuck…" you mumble in awe.

Noticing Judy and a team behind her, you quickly turn off the car and duck down to avoid being noticed.

"They escaped, make sure you cover all ends of the road. They can't be too far," you hear her yell out to the crew.

Looking up, you check for any traffic cameras. Noticing one in the alleyway, you grab your laptop from the front seat and hack into it. Watching them run off before the footage cuts off, you look up at the direction they ran to. Noticing the docks are that way, you think of one place they would think to go.

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

Hearing a knock on the door, everyone looks up, then looks at each other.

"You expecting company?" Marcus asks, looking at Dorn, who has a confused look on his face.

"No… no one comes by here," he says, slowly getting up.

Kelly gets up, grabbing her gun, and slowly signals to Dorn to open the door. Everyone else stands clear and defensively just in case they get attacked.

Grabbing the knob, as soon as Dorn turns it, the person on the other side busts through, causing Kelly to aim her gun.

"Whoa, whoa, it's me!" you scream out, putting your hands up.

"Jesus Christ, y/n, don't do that," Kelly sighs in relief, placing her gun on the table.

"Y/n?" Armando says, noticing your figure from the doorway.

Turning around, you look over at Armando, still dressed in the hideous Bud Light shirt that he somehow manages to pull off… actually, he pulls it off really well, but forget that, that's not important right now. Glaring at him, you make your way to the desk he was leaning on.

"Are you dumb or are you dumb?" you ridicule.

"What?" he asks, scrunching his face.

Rolling your eyes, you hug him in relief, prompting him to wrap his strong arms around you without any hesitation.

"As long as you're okay," you sigh, leaning into his embrace. It's been so long since you were able to last hold him, let alone touch him, so the bashing could wait.

Pulling back, you bring your hands to his face and look him up and down to check for any injuries.

"I'm okay, mi amor," he says softly, looking down at you analyzing him. He squeezes your hands holding his face.

"Jesus, did you catch on fire or something? What happened to your pants?" you ask, looking down, noticing some burnt pieces on his jeans.

"Should've seen it, your man was el fuego," Marcus laughs, causing you to quickly turn your head towards him and glare at him.

"Why would you say that?" you hear Armando say behind you.

Making your way over to Marcus, you slap him across the head, making him step back and draw his hand up to his head to soothe the ache caused by your hand.

"Owww, what you do that for?"

Hearing Mike try to stifle his laugh, you quickly smack him across the back of his head too, causing him to straighten up in his seat and look at you, holding his head.

"That's for involving my man in your bullshit, Mike."

Hearing Armando chuckle, you look back over at him and cross your arms.

"I don't know what you're laughing for? I'm not done with you," you say, raising your brow.

"amor..."

A/N: They better stop playing with readers man🙂‍↕️… he gotta come home safe without a scratch, or there's going to be problems...

[tiredofthehumanlife]

More bestfriend!Luke please. 🙏 Just the idea of reader knowing exactly how Luke feels about them and using it to their advantage. I’ve been thinking about them since I read your post abt him taking the underwear and reader knowing.

Warnings: don't treat real people like this it's weird, can you tell I watched saltburn, it's basically the bath scene but like a window and this Felix doesn't die at the end, sorry this took so long I wrote one story And then I didn't like it so I restarted, lmk if this doesn't satisfy, mostly not proof read, too many commas, enjoy

You knew Luke extremely well. You knew his favorite color, his favorite food, his thinking face, his feelings for you. All the basic bestfriend knowledge. You also knew he got nightmares fairly frequently. When he did he was always welcome in your cabin. First, Luke would sneak behind the bushes that grew up against the outside wall of your cabin. Second, he’d peer in through a window that had your entire bunk and side table in view uninterrupted. Finally, he’d tap the window and you’d come to his rescue, letting him in. Your warm bed was always seemed to wash away Luke's fears instantly. Or maybe it was you. You also knew sometimes he’d just come to your cabin because he missed you. Sometimes you just got wrapped up in your camp counselor duties. You would just get so busy you couldn’t even squeeze in your valuable Luke time.

That was your most recent situation. A new camper had arrived, to your cabin nonetheless, and you needed to make sure they were comfortable. Which takes a lot of tours and explaining and so much time. You had no problem with that but you missed Luke. You knew Luke missed you too, so you had a sneaky feeling he would be coming to visit you tonight. You were a bit of a scheming little nuisance. You decided he had missed a lot of time with you, therefore to make up for it you were going to give Luke a show. Your cabin was mostly silent, except for the occasional snore and sleep talking. All the lights were off keeping your cabin mates sleepy. The only light was coming from your curtain-less window and the small candle sitting on your side table.

You had tossed your blankets to the end of your bed. Knowing Luke was on his way to tap on your window, only to find the sight of your naked body illuminated by the small candle, was making you very very excited. You moved your hands against your own body reaching between your thighs.

Out of the corner of your eye you recognized Luke's head popping up. He seemed to be frozen for a second, questioning his own morals. Luke ducked his head back down leaving his eyes peeking over the edge. You smiled to yourself and quickly turned your head in the opposite direction so he wouldn't see that you were smiling.

Your breathing picked up with the pace of your hand. Your body's mounting buzz makes you pick your back off your mattress, pushing your hips and head further into the sheets. You squeeze your eyes shut, furrowing your brows together. You turned your head to face the window, keeping your eyes shut so Luke wouldn't find out you knew he was there.

You imagined Luke dragging his hands over his own body once he returns to his cabin tonight. Whispering your name over and over again. You knew he would. You knew he'd think of you. You wanted him to. You let your jaw hang open as you reach your peak. You mouthed his name, staying silent as to not wake anyone. You needed him to know you were thinking of him the whole time. You needed him to watch his own name fall off your tongue with your hand shoved down between your thighs.

As your breathing slowed you sneak a glance out the window to see Luke's curls still peeking out over the frame of the window. You relaxed your body. Stretching your back with your hands above your head. You sat up and leaned over towards your side table. Giving your Luke a full frontal view before blowing out your candle. You laid down and curled up under all your blankets and heard the very soft scratching of the bushes on your window as Luke ran back to his cabin.

The next day at breakfast you asked Luke if he did anything fun last night. He sputtered and choked on his drink. You slapped him on his back before he finally answered you saying no and asking why you brought that up. You shrugged, played dumb, and said you were just making small talk. You slipped into telling Luke you missed him over the last few days, mentioning you should catch up. Luke agreed to which you quickly added that he should come over to your cabin tonight so you can catch up and have a sleepover. Luke shrugged, face bright red, and said sure. You gave him a time and left him with a kiss on the cheek.

You opened your window and leaned on the frame. Your cabin mates thought it was a bit out of character but ignored it, assuming you had a bad nightmare last night and wanted a bit of peace before bed. As time went on and they all fell asleep, you watched the stars. When Luke finally parted the bushes and stood next to you, you smiled down at him. Luke pointed inside at your cabin. You shrugged. You told him to wait, you wanted to tell him something first. His heart was beating rapidly. You were going to call him a creep and a weirdo and a freak and tell him to never speak to you again. Luke was going to lose his best friend all because he was freakishly nosey. You reached out and grabbed one of his hands, intertwining your fingers. He couldn't run away even if he wanted to.

"I know you watched me last night." Luke's face dropped and his chest heaved. He shook his head and decided the best route to saving your relationship was to apologize immediately.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to it just kinda happened I saw you and then I just got captivated and I have no right to make excuses I crossed a boundary I shouldn't-" you smothered his rambling with your hand. You shushed him gently. You moved closer to him and brushed your lips against his. Luke chased after your lips as you pulled back.

"I liked it." You muttered, keeping your mouth just a few millimeters from his, keeping him tethered. Luke pulled back giving you a confused look. You smiled, pulling him back in. You tilted your head, opening your mouth for him. Just as he pressed his tongue into your mouth, you pulled back. Luke whined and deflated obviously tired of chasing after you.

"I thought it was hot, I was thinking about you. You know that?" He hummed in agreement, his eyes glued to your lips. You shook your head giving him a quick kiss. He looked up at you, puckering his lips out at you. You patted his cheek and dropped his hand.

"maybe I should reenact last night but this time I use your hand, hm?" He quickly looked back to your eyes staring at you to figure out if you're being serious. He quickly nodded, happier than ever to be your best friend at this moment.

[be-my-ally]

The Lisa-Marie

Big Bunny + The Return Flight (in case you want to catch up!)

Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism (public rehearsal, but no-one else is watching/or sees), elvis is a panty thief for no reason other than it’s now totally canon in my head that he continually stole knickers, fingering, mentions of drug use + abuse, oral (v receiving, p mentioned), jealousy, p in v sex, the briefest mention of a gun threat, references to elvis’ ill health. this is somehow the least-bunny fun + plottiest, while also the smuttiest so uhhh enjoy the angst at the end?

Director Elvis is linked where the scene goes in the middle of this, however there have been some minor adjustments to the opening + closing paragraphs to make it fit *just right* and so they’ve been inserted here. 

wc: 12k

Pls forgive me for the longest author note ever:

I went waaaay too far into attempting to make the timeline totally accurate; to the extent that I was noting down what city each night when i wasn’t even referencing them but honestly it was stressing me out so much that I gave up and removed a lot of the references - so this is *mostly* accurate in the general tour dates and vibes but not entirely because … this isn’t a biography, it’s smut with a lil teeny weeny bit of plot. 

Confession time! I was and am super unhappy with The Return Flight, there was so much in it that I was excited to share but I think my writing is off and I’m not super sure why, which affected my motivation for this A LOT so apologies for the fact this took a literal months. But hopefully you’ll all think it was worth it! And hopefully a lesser wait for the fourth and final part. 

Anyway, I might return Elvis onto the Big Bunny plane for a little spin-off fun but for now, enjoy bunny still being referred to as Bunny even though, by half-way through this, she is no longer a bunny. 

October 1974. 

You’re awake before him, gently shaking his shoulder as he groaned into the fur comforter that he didn’t want to wake up yet. He eventually shoves you hard enough that you decide it’s probably safer just to leave him as he is, pulling yourself together and redressing instead - he’s still got his eyes closed when you slip out. Ten minutes later you get a note passed to you with details about where to meet them for the pre-show rehearsal but you don’t actually get the chance to see him again, too distracted with dealing with all the matters of the disembarkation and cleaning. After you’re done you change as quickly as you possibly can, ignoring the questions from the other girls about where you’re going - practically sprinting to catch a cab.

He’s already on the stage when you walk in, pacing about - blocking the show as best they can in preparation to allow for the lights crew to have some idea of where he might be at any moment. He looks marvellous - absolutely gorgeous, his hair back but essentially left to do what it likes, all fluffy and soft looking. Eyes bright underneath his tinted glasses. He’s dressed in a white shirt, cuffs like a pirate, damp see-through sweat patches evident when he raises his arms, filigree studded belt, huge against his stomach, blue stones glinting in the lights. You feel your mouth water and tummy start to flip just at the sight of him. He smiles when he sees you, with your tiny little halter dress on, chilly in the cold air of the auditorium at the venue. The breeze causes you to wrap an arm around yourself a little self-consciously as he waves you closer to the stage. You're practically leaning on the edge when he kneels down in front of you and you get a sudden flash of what it must feel like to be a girl at his concert. Someone who hadn't had the luxury of falling asleep beside him, or the feel of his palms against theirs. The feeling of being forced to look up at him, his head backlit by the lights, a halo like he's the goddamn messiah. That feeling of desperately pining for a single moment of his attention. 

“Ah-ha! lil Bun-Bun! C’mon up here,” He puts an arm down before retracting it, looking you over more carefully, a note of stern shock in his tone,

 “Good lord! That might be more r’vealing than your lil bunny get-up. Uh - here!” He gropes around the floor for his jacket before he thrusts it at you, and you look at it with amusement, it’s a rainbow. Rainbow fringe. It’s truly one of the most preposterous things you’ve ever seen in your life. He grumbles as he holds it out, 

“Don’t need every man in here to be starin’ at you. Got work to do - don’t need ‘em bein’ distracted.” You don’t think you’re particularly scantily clad, you’re certainly showing a fair amount of leg but you’re far more covered up than Playboy enterprises would like you to be had you been on shift. But still, it was chilly, so you shrug it on gratefully. The soft leather caresses your arms, encasing you in his thick scent, it’s heavy on your shoulders and big enough that the fringe tassel tickles your thigh. 

“Uh Hi, Where-“ You wonder if you should even ask, “Where’d this come from?” You shake your arms out, making the fringe dance. 

“Oh - it was a gift,” He grins at you, lips all crooked in his sheer delight, “You like it?” He clearly loves it. So you lean into the absurdity and realise that what you’re about to say wasn’t even really a lie. 

“Uh. You know what, yeah I do,” You giggle as you shimmy a little making the strands swing. “I love it.” He looks at you fondly before he leans over the edge of the stage, tugging you up with a grunt. 

“Glad you could make it doll, been waiting for you.” You smile back at him, pleased as anything that he’s laying on the charm but that underneath you can still sense the sincerity in his voice. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” He pulls you close to him and you brace yourself with a hand on his belt, feeling the weight of the buckle against your fingertips. He reaches down to grasp your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss against it. It’s intimate and gentlemanly and you feel like you’re in a period drama, feeling your chest heave as your breath catches in your throat at the movement, and you’re helpless to do anything but gaze into his eyes. You glance down, eyes catching on the wide white band on his wrist, just above his diamond encrusted ‘Elvis’ bracelet. 

You stroke his wrist gently before looking up at him with a questioning brow raised. He kicks his foot out to show you that beneath his gently flaring trousers there’s a matching white band on each of his ankles. 

“It, uh, it mimics the weight of the ‘suit, gets me used to it for the performing.” He flicks a wrist, “And, uh, gotta try and get some of this weight off.” He pats his stomach, gripping the side harshly, “No-one wants to see a big doughy ol’ Elvis.” He shakes his wrists at you, and you’re mortified at the fact that it makes you squeeze your thighs, drool pooling in your mouth forcing you to swallow hard. Something about the way the rings on his fingers glint under the stage lights, the way the buckle makes the tiniest little metallic clang, feels akin to being shown a hidden sliver of skin. Makes you think all sorts of things. Of the weight of them around his wrists, of the possibility of them around yours, weighing you down, wrapped around your ankles too, making you heavy and pliable. Or his belt around your middle, the huge buckle pinning you in whatever position he chose. You don’t realise how low your eyelids have slid at this line of thinking until he laughs, 

“God - you got them dirty thoughts written all over your face Bunny, this is a respectable r’hearsal, don’t you go getting any ideas now.” He wags a finger at you, you feel like you’re being hypnotised watching it.

“Go on now - hop over there for me, sit yourself down, just watch the show baby.” He slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as he catches your bare thigh, while he grips your upper arm and ‘helps’ to lower you down gently, almost missing his huff of laughter in response. You have to take a second after you're on the ground forcing a deep breath feeling your heartbeat between your thighs. 

You take a seat where he’d pointed, content to try and settle down and watch him practice. It’s gorgeous to watch, he struts about the stage, breaking into gospel every now and again, making you smile at the clear little flashes of joy on his face. You’d considered if it was going to be boring, contemplated even bringing a magazine with you but now you were here you can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything but him.  Every now and again he cracks a joke, changing the lyrics to something dirty and tossing you a wink, laughing back at the boys who all join in like a pack of wild hyenas. It’s different to how he is in private, yet shockingly the same - there’s flashes of the insecurity you caught on the last flight, a quietness to him while he waits for a song to be set up or a wire to be fixed. But also an exaggerated boyishness to him, playing the jester for men who don’t seem to be aware he’s putting it on.

He calls a break after you’ve been there about an hour, and he slides himself off the stage to walk over to you. You were going to try and play it cool but you can’t stop yourself from gushing at him; 

“You sound wonderful. I can’t wait to see the show tonight.” He smiles, a little bashfully, 

“Yeah? I can see you wigglin’ your yittle hips from all the way over there,” He narrows his eyes at you, crinkles forming as his high cheekbones move, “ ‘just wonderful’, ‘s that all I am?”  

“Well you’re not - ” You squirm a little under his line of questioning and consistent stare, suddenly feeling a bit too hot in his jacket, “- not bad to look at. You’re so different out here than on the plane.” 

“In a good way?” You hum back a non-committal noise and though his brow wrinkles a little he lets it go. Instead leaning back on the chair in front of you, feet crossing between your legs. He folds his arms across his chest, your eyes track the bands on his wrists again and when you look up he’s smirking at you watching him. You can’t take it any longer and his smile grows wider watching you shrug his jacket back off, letting it hang over the back of the chair, fringe tickling your arms as it falls, 

“Let’s make this more interesting for you huh, must be boring having to wait for all this - ‘n I can see you’re all fired up for me doll.” You look around, but he’s blocking your view forcing you to focus on him even more, as if he wasn’t already the only thing you could see. 

“Oh no, it’s plenty fascinating enough El honestly,” He shakes his head, magnanimously as if he’s doing you a favour, 

“No, no, must be boring for an exciting lil girl like you.” He taps his chin almost pantomime-esque in its overdramatic nature. 

“Hmm… what shall we do to keep it entertaining.” You squirm silently begging him to stop drawing your attention to his wrists. He bends down, unstrapping the weights from his ankles, 

“They’re gonna be a bit big on you. But still,” He kneels down, like he’s the prince and you’re Cinderella, tapping your foot to make you lift it up for him. He slips it onto your ankle, letting it fall down over the top of your foot as the weight drags it down. You wiggle your foot - it’s not particularly heavy, you could definitely still walk and run in them - as was probably their intended use. But they made you feel very … aware, made you notice whenever you wanted to move your leg. He grabs your right leg now, doing the same, placing it back down when he was finished, your legs wide. You glance down at him, realising that your dress was certainly too short for this. You try to close your legs but he stops you with a hand to your knee. 

“No, no, darlin’, leave ‘em where they are. That’s gonna be your job ok baby? You’re gonna keep these yittle legs spread, and when you try to wiggle around again these-“ He taps one of the weights “ ‘ll remind you to keep still.” You hiss back at him, 

“Elvis - someone’s gonna, you gotta get up - they’re all gonna think we’re up to no good, don’t want - I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He grins up from between your legs, spreading them further. You cringe a little, feeling the air now brush against your uncovered underwear, feel your wetness start to drool onto the fabric despite the embarrassment. 

“Ain’t gonna be no trouble ‘round here little one. ‘Member I’m in charge.” He takes a second to leer at you, and your thighs twitch at him staring straight up your skirt. Finally, he stands up, using your thighs for balance, clutching at them on his way up, you gasp at the firm grip. He leans down over you, one arm bracketed on the back of your chair, and the sudden scent of him, stronger than what was lingering on his jacket almost overpowers you - his cologne almost too much, like walking past a men’s locker room. He leans down to murmur in your ear, his other hand going down to brush against your hip, feeling through your dress for the waistband of your panties.  

“C’mon Bunny slip ‘em off, let me have ‘em as a good luck charm. I haven’t got any of yours yet.” Your legs slip a little closer together and while he looks down and smirks he allows it, 

“You got a collection?” You ask shocked, tilting your chin up at him, he grins back at you, boyishly and amused ignoring the question. 

“C’mon! Hurry up, gotta get back to work in a second baby, want you all bare - so its nice and easy for you to slip a lil hand up there, want you to rub yerself every time you like what ‘m doin, ‘till you’re all silly with it. Okay doll?” He says it like its a totally sane request, and you have to wonder if he’s of completely sound mind. You glance around, double checking that the building is practically empty, and where there are people that they’re all preoccupied with the stage rather than glancing back at you sat in the middle of the row a few lines behind the mafia. You roll your eyes, heart going almost a little too fast, but still obediently lift your hips up to tug your panties down and off, they catch on the weight on the way down, 

“No need to be shy doll, I’ve seen it all before.” He winks, as he bends down to pick them up, glancing straight up your skirt as he does. You flinch a little at the sight of them in his hand, if you’d known Elvis was gonna be taking them home you’d have put on something a little sexier, but you can’t imagine that any change could have made his face more gleeful, as he stares down at the wet spot on them before slipping them straight into his pocket.

 “You ‘member what you’re meant to be doin’ now.” He whispers in your ear, pressing what would look like an otherwise fairly chaste kiss to your cheek, before sauntering back up to the stage.

 You nervously fumble the hem of your dress, delicately sliding a hand up, trying not to noticeably flinch as your fingers brush over yourself. You wonder if it wouldn’t have made more sense to slip your arm down the side of the wide arm-hole of the dress, more subtle perhaps? But all you can hope is that the the way the chairs are placed in front of you obscures your actions should anyone look back. From anyone that wasn’t up high on the stage. You can practically feel his laser focus up your skirt, you’re far enough away that you’re sure he can’t see anything in detail, perhaps not even the way your slickness glistens against your skin, but just the gentle motion of your fingers teasing yourself. There’s a clang as the metal inside the cuff on your ankle knocks against the chair leg and you freeze, anxiously glancing around to check no one had heard. Elvis’ head had whirled around at the noise from where he’s been talking to someone at the side of the stage and you can see the way his face contorts into a knowing smirk. 

You didn’t think you’d be into this level of wanton exhibitionism, but the sudden fear that had jumped through you had translated straight into excitement, and you could feel the pulse of arousal swirling with the butterflies in your stomach. You brush your fingers more confidently, rolling your hips with the motion, not even really aware of how much your body was moving, but simply going with it. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you rub a singular finger down your self, trying to build the anticipation, but you can’t resist moving your hand to play with your clit when your vision clears and you witness him moving about the stage - dancing, thrusting. He pauses while they reset something - the mic perhaps, or the lights, and you can feel the thrum of your climax growing; the fear of being spotted, the sheer desire for him, the feel of your feet firmly planted on the floor, weights holding them down, enough to bring you closer and closer. 

He starts singing again but if someone had had a gun to your head though you wouldn’t have been able to tell them what, and as you start to move your fingers again you make eye contact with him, swallowing a moan as you watch him attempt to surreptitiously adjust himself. You should feel embarrassed, you think, but instead a sudden boldness creeps over you at the evidence of his undivided attention, and you instead spread your legs wider, your skirt riding into the little roll of your stomach, completely exposing yourself. You run your fingers against yourself, feeling them slip as you gather wetness and drag it up, reducing the friction on your clit when you finally let your finger brush over it again. 

Elvis is stood still now, ostensibly staying put so they could manually hold the lights for him to sing a ballad, but in reality in the perfect position to watch you. You watch his face flush as he misses a note, watching you finally dip your finger into your practically dripping entrance. You’re made away of the weight on your feet when your legs try to jerk and your body compensates by crunching in on yourself a little. Making it startlingly obvious to anyone watching, hopefully just Elvis, what you’ve just done. 

You let his voice wash over you, and your eyes close as you go to add a second finger, thumb moving to tease your clit with little circling touches. Your climax comes over you suddenly and unexpectedly, a slightly unplanned harder touch directly over your clitoris and the combination of your fingers curling inside yourself sending shockwaves down your spine and belly. You continue to touch yourself through it - dragging it out for a moment. Until you just know that if you push yourself any further you’re going to scream and you have to slow the pace, gently stroking yourself as you slowly come down from the high. Your head had fallen back and with a little effort you manage to bring it back around, shifting yourself upright as you do. 

When you make eye contact he winks, mimics licking his fingers, and you look down at your own sticky pair, before following his mimed instruction. You meet his eyes again and watch him trail off mid-sentence as his chest heaves taking you in, squinting under his glasses to try and focus on your fingers leaving your mouth. You make sure for a second that you let your tongue peek out, watching him gulp in response.  Before hastily rubbing your hand against your dress, thankful for the colourful pattern that hides all sin. He sets the microphone back onto its stand, slowly, deliberately. Then, he motions you to the stage, and when you make no attempt to move, fear shooting through you that you’re going to be leaving a wet patch behind, he makes the request vocal. 

“C’mere Bunny, can’t see you all the way over there.” You rapidly close your legs, weights knocking against each other, and sit stock straight as several of the boy’s heads spin to look at you. Elvis breaks into song, “C’mon and be my little good luck charm.”  While pointing to a spot in the front row. You swallow hard, trying to make your limbs cooperate again, but it just looks like pure defiance, and he’s frowning at you when you try to plead with your eyes. 

His tone changes, “Ain’t gonna ask again honey,” You flinch as several other heads in front of you turn around to stare. You trip a little as you stand, forgetting about the extra weight on your ankles and when you look up Elvis’ smirking straight at you. 

“Can take them off now baby, leave ‘em on the chair, someone’ll clean it up later.” He winks and you suck in a gasp as you do as he directed, the implication of someone having to clean up both the weights and the seat of the chair. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at the complete lack of secrecy, with your mind all muddled you don’t have the capacity to consider that the other people in the room wouldn’t understand the double entendre. 

 “There we are, right there Bunny,” He points at the same spot again and you gratefully stumble down there, collapsing into it. You can feel your cheeks blazing and you clasp your thighs together, trying to tell yourself to just watch Elvis and not pay any attention to how wet you still are, or the embarrassment of being ordered around in front of everyone. 

You sit there primly, for the rest of the rehearsal, ignoring your newfound nakedness under your skirt - unable to draw your eyes off of his wrists, his waist, now you know how those innocuous little white bands feel. Waiting to be dismissed, sent home - although you hope that you might get another invitation. He finishes, stripping off the weights as he’s laughing and thanking the sound guys - although shouting back at them as he stalks across the stage to where you’re sat to the side of the front row.

“That interference needs to be cut by tonight, it’s messin’ with my ears, I don’t care if you have to go out and buy a whole new fucking system - just get it done.” Despite his harsh words by the time he’s kneeling in front of you he’s smiling slightly bashfully. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he mutters to you - 

“Don’t know why I keep ‘em around.” He offers you his hand, pulling with his suddenly weightless feeling arms to yank you up with him, clearly overcompensating without the weight, causing you to stumble with the force of it. His arm comes around to steady your waist. He stands there, legs spread and solid, holding you to him, brushing your hair off your neck to whisper in your ear. 

“Wanna come back with me, honey? C’mon baby,” He’s pleading with you, entreating you to follow him, babying tone convincing you as if you even needed encouragement. “How - How’d you feel about, I got some things we could watch, we could, could - I sure would love to tape ya, baby.” You lean back, brow furrowing as your mind runs through what he’s suggesting. 

(Director Elvis + Model Bunny)

But still, after some consideration you agree, and before long you’re relaxing on the bed with him, taking in the moments of quiet before he’s got to head out into the screaming crowds, performing for the pleasure of the girls and women. He’s magnificent in the flesh, masterful in his ability to command the ultimate attention of the audience. But still, as wonderful as it is to watch him, rhinestones glinting in the stage lights, you have to admit to yourself that you much preferred him in the somewhat faux intimacy of the rehearsal. 

By the time you’re all filing up the steps to the plane once more it’s night again, looking forward to a short day-break for you all after the busy past couple of days. Elvis is exhausted, and though he’s gentle with you still you can tell he’s had enough. He wearily waves to the other girls, calling you over to ask for some food before disappearing.  You push the cart into where he’s ensconced himself in the bedroom to discover him in the bathroom - door open, and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes catch on the little pill bottles lined up on the side, the man himself shaking seemingly every bottle possible into his palm until there was a little cocktail of medication contained in his hand. He takes them with a swig of water and jumps when he makes eye contact with you in the mirror. 

“Jeez honey, make a noise next time.” His tone isn’t harsh, it’s not annoyed - but it is solid, serious. You frown, the floor was carpeted but the rickety wheels of the cart still made some noise. 

“Oh, uh, sorry - didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh a little bit in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, I’ve got, there’s hamburgers, and sandwiches and uh-“ He’s wiping his hands on a hand towel when he comes out of the bathroom, throwing it back onto the floor behind him when they’re dry. 

“S’ok Bunny, that’s good. Just-just leave it over here.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pointing to a spot within arm’s reach. He’s in the tracksuit again, out of the jumpsuit from the show, out of the the sharp outfits you were now used to seeing him in. But he still looks appealing, if not moreso now. Soft, approachable and above all else - cuddly. He’s evidently exhausted, face pale after removing the stage makeup, and he shuffles back on the bed. He’s starting to slur his words a little as he reaches for a sandwich, 

“Come. Come sit here baby… come sit here with me.” He pats the side of the bed next to him as he shuffles further up. You do so and he tucks a hand into the crease of your stomach and thigh, thumb brushing in circles, a gently squeezing grip. 

“Here.” He holds out a sandwich for you and you take it gratefully, “Gotta…feed you up while I got the chance.” His head is starting to slip forward as his eyes fall closed. You pat his arm, leaning over to take the parchment out of his hand. He grips your wrist, forcing you to put your sandwich down too as he slides down the bed to lie down, tugging you into him. 

“S’ok El, just, just close your eyes. You did so good today.” He hums, a little pleased noise like he’s somehow not used to being praised still. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping under and around you, pulling you tight to him. 

“That’s it Bunny, that’s it, just - just gonna rest my eyes for a moment, doll. Be…be ready for action in a mo’ - just, ju-“ You shush him, his eyes were fluttering closed, arm clenching around you and you felt it relax a second later as he drops off into sleep. 

There’s a few more flights scheduled, but they’re busy ones - short flights with barely enough time to get the men fed and watered, let alone enjoy any other kind of extracurricular activities - there’s a hasty blowjob and an attempt for the world’s quickest round of intercourse and that’s it.

There’s a break for a little while before he cancels the next flight on Big Bunny so you only see him once more, and that time he barely acknowledges you; exhausted from a show he locks himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until the plane is touching down. You wave goodbye to him, a little melancholy and hating yourself for wishing that he make some grand gesture to prove it had all meant something, instead he winks at you as he leaves down the steps, whispering a

“Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Bunny.” As he went. 

That’s the last you hear from him. For little over six months you hear nothing else. You’re almost immediately thrust back into the reality of the normal world and you’re kept busy enough that he doesn’t pass through your mind too often. 

Occasionally, when you see a tour announcement pop up in the tabloids, or from a fan-club membership that you totally didn’t take out in a pitiful attempt to keep up-to-date with his life, you wonder about him. About whether you were a bit of fun to flirt with, to tease, to sleep with for a couple of days - a distraction from the real life, like all the bunnies were intended to be, or if he’d meant any of what he’d said. The thing is, even if you were curious, you could never know - despite being so intimate, so close to him; had he lied? Did he help every girl through a panic attack with meditation? There no longer felt like six degrees of separation between you, no longer like you were travelling in similar circles, there now felt more like a hundred degrees; what were you supposed to do; ring the operator in Memphis and ask for Elvis’ number? Pull Hef aside on the next flight and ask him? Don’t be so ridiculous, so clingy you tell yourself, disgusted at your inability to let it go. 

Time passes, as it does, and though you somehow feel like you can’t escape him, ultimately you have. Months have passed and you’re busy - being promised a promotion, training a couple of new girls and it means that you don’t get to go home for what feels like weeks.

 You finally get back to your apartment, relieved to be there for at least a week, with a stack of mail waiting as tall as your arm. You take your time enjoying the peace and by the evening it feels like you can relax for the first time in a long while, glass of wine poured, comfortable little short pyjama set instead of the bunny-approved corset or dress. You’re just starting to open the first of what looks like several catalogues of clothes you’ll never get a chance to wear when the phone rings. 

You glance over at the clock, surprised that anyone would be calling you at half eleven at night, when as far as you’re aware none of your friends or family even know you’re home yet. You consider not answering, too content with your night, but it rings insistently so you drag the handset closer, accepting the call. 

“Fuckin’ finally,” You’re immediately taken aback by the annoyed exasperation of the voice on the other end of the line, 

“Where’ve you been?” You start to protest, to question who on earth is questioning you and explain that you’ve been working but the voice doesn’t give you the chance. 

“Listen, Boss’ got a new plane, he’s uh, calling it the Lisa-Marie,” he shouts to someone on his end, “I don’t know man, thought it would sweeten the deal if she knew he’d already named it! Like - ain’t that what you’re supposed to do if you’re negotiatin’ - let ‘em know you have a name?” Right. So, Elvis. Someone is calling about Elvis’ plane. You’re trying to comprehend that when he continues,

 “Sorry. Anyway, he wants you on it. He won’t hear otherwise.” He pauses, “Permanently. On call whenever and wherever he needs to fly,” As if he can sense this isn’t the most attractive prospect, “but you’ll uh, all expenses paid for, apartment in Memphis, the whole shebang, you’ll be well taken care of.” You take a second to process that, 

“Uh, I don’t quite know what to say - do, do you need to know right away?” He chuckles down the phone at you, 

“Well - uh, no, but, he’s goin’ on tour soon and we need the flights staffed by then so….” He trails off, and you know from your limited experience with Elvis and his methods that this means, actually yes, we do need to know right now, and we’re not actually giving you a choice. You take a deep breath, still confused as to why you’re getting this call out of the blue, thinking that you’re going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don’t. 

“Oh, uh, ok fine - look I’ll be at one of the offices tomorrow; I’ll give you a call and you can fax me over the information for the dates and things?” 

“No need, we need you by July.” You pause, that’s… barely a month away, 

“Ok, I’ve got a three week notice period though, I can’t just -” 

“We’ll take care of it with Hugh direct.” You laugh incredulously - is that how they think it works? 

“Hugh Hefner isn’t my boss - how high up do you think I am? I’m a jet bunny for god's sake.” There’s silence on the other end of the line as if they'd expected you to feel cowed, or awed by their famous friend. You can hear them whispering before the voice returns, just as confident as before; 

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” You frown but you’re not sure what else to do but agree - at least this way of something falls through you can claim you had no clue about any of this. 

“Ok, but you’ll have to ask for Ellen at the office and I’ve got a notice of -“ You’re cut off by him, 

“We’ll make it happen.” Well, you couldn’t say more than what you’d said - you’ll just have to hope they do enough that it all gets sorted somehow, and without totally burning all your bridges. 

“Right, well then, -” 

“Tickets for your flight on the 26th June to Memphis will be waiting at the airport. Someone’ll pick you up there.” 

“Uh ok, um, well then that’s -” 

“Thanks again, you’re a doll, bye!” The phone hangs up and you’re left holding the receiver wondering what on earth you’ve just agreed to. 

—— 

It turns out you’ve agreed to a stewardess job pretty similar to any other. You’ve got a cute new little uniform, and it was indeed little, sleeveless and hem skimming the middle of your thighs but Elvis had indeed fulfilled his promise - it was stretchy. With a scarf around your neck and tall boots it almost didn’t feel much different to your bunny outfits. In fact it all would have felt quite similar if it weren’t for the sudden increase in responsibility you were facing. There was another girl who worked on board here and there, but whether as a cost-saving measure (although you couldn’t fathom the necessity considering the gold sinks on the plane) or simply the knowledge that one stewardess and the pilots were enough for a plane of this size you weren’t often put on the plane together. It meant that you were often working alone and solely responsible for the cabin. It was certainly an adjustment, you’d been safety trained before - of course - but you’d never really had to use it; the focus of your jet bunny role had pretty much been to cater to the whims of the people on board. Like a Barbie doll you’d had too many jobs to count, and the responsibility to look good while doing so. On the plane you’d had to be waitresses, dancers, chefs and bartenders but less so a safety officer. 

And it’s so strange, you’d not been expecting much but you had been anticipating at least an acknowledgement, or something? But instead on the first flight Elvis collapses in a seat, clearly out of his mind and ignores you completely, There’s this, somewhat odd, hierarchy evident and you somehow just know that you shouldn’t approach him like this - trusting that his needs are being catered for by his entourage. But you can’t help but glance over at him, inspecting that he looks paler than before - almost sallow-like in comparison to the fit tan of the first time you’d seen him in the flesh. So you do your job, and see them on and off the plane with nary a word exchanged between the two of you. 

You fall into this habit pretty quickly, flight after flight. When he’s awake his eyes skim over you, unfocused and never stopping for long. You hate yourself for how upset it makes you, he hadn’t owed you anything and yet you still feel like you’d signed up for something under false pretences. It keeps you up at night, wondering how you could have been so stupid - you’d given up a stable salary, a life and an exciting one at that, for this - for him. With every month that passes you’re more and more aware that you’re creeping towards your next birthday and the chance to return to Playboy in any capacity is dwindling. They aren’t shy about declaring there’s an age limit. You feel like you’re trapped, in a never-ending cycle - flight, sort the plane while they’re at a concert, flight, fitful sleep in a hotel, flight, flight, flight. 

But then, like magic, two weeks before your birthday - two weeks before the deadline you’d come up with in your head to quit he notices you. He’d been looking better for a few days, on an upward swing or so it would seem, and seems significantly more aware than he had been.  He almost does a double-take, as if seeing you for the first time. It’s then that, suddenly, Georgia - the other girl, starts to come on board with you a lot more frequently - taking care of the other guys while Elvis not so surreptitiously pulls you into his excessively decorated bedroom.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in there, you clean the damn place after all, but it’s the first time that you’re able to look at it with fresh eyes, through the lens of the awe of a girl being invited back there as a guest. You feel the bend of the fibres of the plush carpet underfoot, against the smooth sole of your boot. 

He sits down, patting his thigh, “Give me your lil footsie baby, them little footsie sooties, put ‘em up here.” You look at him slightly askance, fondly, but still do as he asks, putting first one foot up on his lap, letting him unzip your boot, tugging it off and then your other one when he taps your ankle. He looks up at you, as he holds onto your foot, and you know you’re both getting flashbacks to that first flight, when he’d tugged your heels off, got caught in your pantyhose, the joy of that first time. He grips your wrist, forcing you to kneel onto and then shuffle across the bed as he tugs you while sliding back himself.  Pulling you're both placed far enough to the headboard that he sinks down into a lying position and drags you down with him. 

“Elvis - I, I, I don’t know what -“ 

“Shhh baby, don’t worry about anything, just, just feel it with me - you feel that?” He shifts to hold your hand, “Feel that energy? ‘S right between us darlin’ girl, right there.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, but you had been feeling the thrum of a connection, willing him to pick up on your silent desires, so you can’t deny a strength of feeling there. 

“I feel it.” He hums at you, happily, still holding onto your hand, threading his fingers through yours and pressing his nose against your cheek. He nuzzles at you for a moment, starting off gentle and slow, before rolling you into him and catching your mouth with his. He’s sure of himself, pressing himself skilfully against you - you’re more than aware that this is a skill he’s nurtured, learnt - been judged upon, almost as much as his singing and it shows, it feels no different to the first time you’d kissed. A masterclass in the right moves, just the right amount of bite, just the right amount of tongue, and it makes you buck into him. You’re suddenly desperate for him to break out of the cultured practiced mould, feel him lose control and slip. You gasp, trying to provoke it in him, biting down on his lip a fraction too hard. He shifts his grip to your neck, clutching it to pull you back a little, 

“Careful, honey, careful.” You can feel his lips move against your skin as he murmurs and it makes you shiver a little at the tickle of his breath. He kisses across your jaw, little sucking presses, before he returns once again to your mouth. 

It’s hard not to assign more feeling or meaning to it than what it is, when he seems to do everything with such feeling. Not for the first time you wonder how it would be possible to be kissed at a concert and then have to continue to go about your life, acting as if nothing huge had happened, as if something totally earth-shattering hadn’t taken place. But then, you imagine, it’s probably not that different to what you have to do. 

He pulls back a little, pushing himself up to be more on his knees than lying back, before he slips a hand down between you, pushing underneath your dress to pull at your panties, rubbing a finger on the outside. He pushes them against your folds, circling with his finger until a little damp patch is forming where he’s touching. He pulls them to one side, shimmying his hand underneath, a ring knocking against your thigh and catching on the fabric and your hair as he cups your mound. You reach a hand down yourself, brushing it over his trousers, but you’re slightly surprised to feel him still soft inside. He jerks his hand off of you, gripping your leg instead, shoving your hand away with his other. 

You pat his face as it peers over the top of you, the creases in the corners of his eyes a little scrunched up in disappointment and his lips in a slight pout; as if he were trying to stop himself being upset.

“‘S ok El, You’ve still gotta perform tonight too -“ You go to tug your dress back down assuming there was no need for you to remain bare but his hand flies out, gripping your forearm and pushing it against your stomach.

“Take it all the way off,” You look nervously over at the unlocked bedroom door but obediently wiggle down a little, as best you can with his arm still locked over top of you to slither out of the dress. He shifts back down into a horizontal position, sliding himself further down, shirt crumpling with the motion, before gripping you with one hand on an arm and one on a leg, to hint at where he wants you to move to, tugging you until you’re in position, straddling him.

“El - seriously, I don’t think, it’s fine, it happens all the time it’s noth-“ He cuts you off by sharply pulling, with hands gripping right on your hipbones, you closer to him - forcing you to stumble on your knees even further up his body. 

“‘Nough of that.” In that wonderful growly voice only he seems able to achieve, he lifts his chin up to press a kiss against your inner thigh. “Can still, still make you feel good Bunny, baby. Still make that pretty yittle cunt o’ yours feel good.” He yanks you so you’re perfectly placed, hands gripping the navy velvet headboard to hold yourself steady. “Just gonna have a lil taste, ok darling? Just needta give me a little more time. Let, let it kick in.” You nod frantically, although you’re not 100% certain what you’ve got to let ‘kick in’. 

“Yes, god, yes. Sure.” The kiss, and his brief touches had been enough to turn you on, and you jerk as he holds your thighs to press a kiss against your now bare cunt, 

“Oh, fuck.” Elvis laughs against you, and you can feel the vibration up your spine, thetickle sending sparks straight into your stomach. The sheer level of arousal makes you feel almost a little nauseous but you’re distracted by the feel of his tongue moving again, holding you tight to him with his grip on your thigh when the feeling makes you try to thrust out of his hold.  You can feel twin bruises form from the thick bands of the ring on each of his hands and the twinge of pain when he lifts the pressure makes you gasp, 

“Oh, Christ - Elvis, need, need you to,” You’re not sure if you were planning on asking him to let go, or hold you tighter - but you’re distracted by him shifting to suck down directly on your clit, briefly, just enough to make you choke on your own spit, before he releases, flattening his tongue and moving it down. Every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in and you can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth and against his tongue. He pulls away, and you shift your hips slightly so you can look down at him, and your head tips back with a moan as he quirks a little grin at you. It’s utterly filthy the way his chin and mouth is glisteningly sticky and wet.

“You like that honey?” You nod, and he returns, surging forward to renew his efforts, your hips circling in response. 

“Oh god, yes, don’t, oh, holy fuck, - don’t stop,” You can’t stop moving your hips, and part of you is briefly concerned that you might be suffocating him, but the larger part is more concerned with making sure he keeps licking right there until your building climax hits. His tongue is flicks between lapping at your vagina and your inner folds. Your hips are constantly moving and you grip the headboard even harder, feeling the fabric pile shift and flatten under your hold as he finally captures your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard, reaching up to slip a finger inside you as he does. 

Your lower back is starting to ache, thighs beginning to cramp but you can’t think about that, reaching down with one hand to comb through his hair, clutching at it as you thrust up and back, finally your climax rocking through you. He licks you through it, holding you open still, feeling you shudder around him, until you finally insistently tug on his hair enough to make him come away. 

You dread to think what it must have sounded like on the other side of the door, the wet smacking having been all you could hear past the blood rushing through your own ears and you’re sure you couldn’t possibly have stayed silent. You watch him wipe his mouth with a sleeve, blushing the whole while before he slips out of the shirt. Fully exposing his bare chest and, finally, reaching down to unzip himself. 

You’re sticky and soft when he reaches down, running a finger against you, opening you up to bump against you with his now, hard, cock. You’re not quite sure when it had happened, if it was a delayed reaction to a pill he took earlier, or if he simply was that turned on just by licking you to completion, but you’re not about to complain feeling how his head slips against your wetness, nudging at your clit before he angles himself down, bumping against your entrance. 

“There he is, Bunny, got Lil’ Elvie here just for you baby, for my sweet lil - ah, bunny bun,” 

Elvis pushes into you, a hand straying to stroke your labia on its way up to clutch at your waist, feeling the way you open up around him - for him. You groan at the sensation - it’s been a while, actually it’s been a long while; the last man you’d been with was the one currently pressing inside of you. He takes a moment to allow you to adjust, although you suspect it also allowed him a moment or two, either to calm himself down or encourage himself up. 

“That’s it, honey, there we are, there we go, Oh Lord, here we are, I got you, gonna, gonna do such a good job, you just lie back. I got you, got -“ 

He’s fucking into you now, slowly, sweetly, accompanying each thrust with his mouth joining onto yours, and sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. He’s trying to get the angle right, you can tell, but he’s decidedly less sure than he ever used to be, or least how you remember him. Taking longer to hit the right spot, and then almost immediately slipping away and losing it.

“Ah, that’s - that’s it, right there,” You almost cry out as he moves again, begging him in your mind to return to where he was. 

Still, he’s not totally unskilled, and the motion of his body against yours, of the feel of his hand reaching down to play with clit, combined with the growling curses and praises falling from his lips, southern accent coming out harder as he loses himself in it, is enough for you to feel yourself start to shudder your way towards a second orgasm, clenching down onto him. That is, apparently, enough to set him off and he takes some time firmly rocking his hips into you, before, with a hand splayed on your tummy for balance, withdrawing fast to shoot across your stomach. He collapses there for a moment, lips in a pout and eyes closed from the sheer pleasure of the minute before. 

He rolls off of where he’s pressed against you, where you’d welcomed being crushed under his weight, tummy pushed against yours, hairs tickling your own bare skin to flop onto his back. You watch his chest heave, eyes drawn to his tight little nipples, as he catches his breath back. You take a moment to swipe the cum off your belly with the edge of the bedspread, noting in your head to send it to the laundry later. You know you should be getting up to pee sooner rather than later but he’s holding out an arm to you, and you can’t bear the thought of refusing his offer. Instead curling into him with a sigh. He smells the same as you remember now, that same heady mix of sweat and sex, woodsy heavy cologne combined with the tint of smoke, and you hate how it sends flutters down your tummy again at how you feel a sense of familiarity from it. He murmurs into the top of your head, lips catching on your hair, 

“You been here all along Bunny? Hopping around my plane?” You nod and you feel him grimace, “Didn’t recognise you without your ears, or your yittle tail.” You don’t mention that you very rarely wore ears on Big Bunny, and that he had in fact seen you both on and off the plane without them too. He tips your chin up to look at you and you make eye contact with his pair of guilt tinged blue eyes. Your nose wrinkles and he taps it with a finger, “Twitchy lil thing though still ain’t ya?” He pats your cheek, “Still gonna be my bunny? Ain’t got another bunny, got, got,” He stumbles over his words as he takes a breath in, clearly struggling to stay lucid enough to have the conversation, “got other girls, not got ‘Cilla no more, but got, got Linda … and, and - I got a whole list, baby, but no - you’re my only bunny.” 

The thing is though, it’s never for long. You prefer the flights after a show to the ones before, he’s more awake before but he’s panicked like a tiger in a cage. It’s still difficult to tell what kind of Elvis you’ll be dealing with on any given night. There’ll be one flight where he’s perfect, drowsy from a show but awake and alert, flirty and fun, and then another where he sleeps for so long and so deeply that you worry he’ll never wake up. The worst are the ones where him and Dr Nick, his father or one of the other boys with that damned black bag disappear into the bedroom for the flight. He stumbles down the stairs after in a daze, clearly half out of his mind. The alternative - that you have to listen to his whimpering cries, that his body aches, that sleep won’t come to him - why won’t anyone listen to him? That he wants his mama, that everyone leaves him, “even my yittle yisa.” Is worse, it makes you wish for when he’s sedated or so over the top in his exuberance that you know his ‘vitamins’ have a lot to do with it. You don’t know how much longer you can silently pick up the pieces - cleaning up when he’s trashed the room in a rage, or left pill bottles littering the floor. Going in to him when he calls for you, acting as his waitress, nurse and on-call girlfriend all at once. 

Linda accompanied him often, and you’re shooed out of the way of her keen eyes as they watch you a little too knowingly. She’s sophisticated and classy though, more than you would be in the situation. More than you are. You take the opportunity to swap with Georgia as often as you possibly can when you know she’s coming with him. 

You’d avoided her too at first, often being the only one working on the little plane, not usually that many people on board - maybe ten at most, well within the capabilities of a single girl and the pilots. You hated that you felt the sting of jealousy, of worry that he was fooling around with her too, to the extent that when she, unprompted, had reassured you that she had not slept with him and nor would she ever sleep with him you had laughed it off. Pretending you had no idea what she was suggesting. 

Linda though proved difficult to ignore. She was a presence - even when she wasn’t physically there - he was swearing to the boys they were through, broken up, done, and then would spend hours on the phone to her. He’d swear he didn’t give a shit about her anymore; just had to keep his promises to take care of her - but then a week later she’d appear on the plane with him. They’d sit cuddled together half the time, shouting and screaming for the other half. You had no idea how to react when she called you in to the bedroom, Elvis’ head pillowed on her thighs, dead asleep. She doesn’t ask you for much, a coffee and some water to be brought to them. You do so, still slightly surprised to be invited to intrude on what seemed like an overwhelmingly private moment. But then, a large part of your job is being invisible when necessary. You don’t expect to her acknowledge you when you return, but she does - she’s polite and courteous, but quiet, eyes never leaving his relaxed forehead. A cynical part of your brain wonders if it wasn’t intentional, if she didn’t purposefully call you in at that moment to prove she was different, but that line of thinking gets you nowhere. It’s not your place to be jealous.

Occasionally there’s other girls with him, you burn when Sheila comes aboard - you’d given up your cover dreams for this, and it feels like she’s the new kid in town - replacing you in every way. Better than you in every way, she’s pretty and lithe and young; you’re young and pretty too but you’re feeling it less and less. She’s above you - in the privileged position to sit at the side of the King while you have to settle for serving him and her. She had the cover, you had gotten pouring the drinks into branded glasses.

Elvis didn’t help how you felt - the first time she came on board he took it upon himself to personally introduce the two of you. He was sat with his legs spread wide, Sheila’s own legs over the top of his, an arm tucking her tight against his side out in the lounge area, the public display of affection almost too much for you to witness. 

“Here she is!” He called out when you came around the corner of the half-dividing wall, and you balk a little before steeling yourself to walk over, 

“Here I am.” You respond, flatly. He’d been particularly difficult recently, and your patience was wearing thin. 

“Looksies - this here is my Sheila,” He raises her arm, she nods politely, “She’s - she’s a bunny too, she was on the cover.” You smile, what else can you do? 

“Oh - wow, congratulations.” You nod at her, she’s silent. 

“Two bunnies on the plane! My two bunnies together!” He laughs, and the tone and words immediately make you smart. There’s a cruel edge to it that you don’t quite understand, it’s not like you’ve ever turned him down or refused him, not like you’ve done anything to be treated second best - to have her paraded in front of you. 

 It makes your skin crawl, furious with every decision that led to this point, cursing those pretty blue eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Makes your skin crawl that he’d sworn you were his only bunny; and as ridiculous as it might seem, the evidence that that wasn’t true at all, that it was an empty promise makes you cry yourself to sleep for too many nights in a row. The first time you’d found a notelet, tucked under the bed having perhaps fallen out of a pocket or book, 

“To Sheila, 

Love you allways, 

E.P.” 

You take two weeks off, and debate whether you should even return, if it’s worth how it makes you feel. You don’t have time to see anyone else, and you’re not dating him. But then in some ways it makes sense all your emotions would be put onto him, you weren’t physically seeing anyone else, in general, exclusively cocooned in the Elvis Presley Show bubble. There is, you think after three glasses of red wine at home in your fancy new Memphis apartment, nothing else in your life. There is only Elvis. You wonder if you can use that as the excuse on your notice. You make yourself go back though, determined to get a grip of yourself, of your feelings, give it one last try. 

It’s short-lived with Sheila, at least from your perspective up in the air above the reality of the ground below. Ultimately, you feel you somehow won. And although he may, every now and again, bring some pretty young thing up into the air with him or have Linda come on board during some of the tour he’s fundamentally alone again - the same group of men his only constant companions. You form your own opinion of them, watching two of them cringe at the sight of the little black bag of pills and needles and two others writing his signature out on blank cheques. 

You’re horrified, making eye contact with Charlie, you think, you know their names now you need to start to use them. You open your mouth to say something, but uncertain about what, but he catches your eye, shaking his head and you wonder if there’s anyone on this plane willing to stick up for him.  You’re forced ot consider if it’s something you can do too - turning a blind eye to all of this or if you’re going to be forced to leave because you were unwilling to do so.

But then, there’s a few months where he behaves differently, and he looks different - his face brightens up, and though you don’t dislike how he looked before you can appreciate that he’s slimmed down a little, looking less bloated than he had before. A renewed interest in the happenings of the group. Suddenly, he’s interested in you again - ensconcing you in his bedroom, telling the boys to stop telling you what to do or asking you for things,

“It’s not her job - her job is looking after me.” And you do, distracting him as best you can when that’s what he’s after - reassuring him when it’s not. You have to talk him down from a panic at one point and you’re thankful to have the memory of him calming you down to use as your guideline, even if you find irony in being the one trusted to provide the measured breaths. 

The sex though, is still almost non-existent; he apologises constantly, and at one point you try to have a conversation about it, lying with him in the bed, cuddled together. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, E, you don’t needta explain yourself to me,” He hushes you, 

“You’re my girl as much as any of ‘em.” It’s your turn to stroke his cheek, 

“I don’t need to be, you don’t hafta say that to me.” He just hums at you, tucking you further under his arm and cupping your face to his chest. That’s when the gifts start rolling in, before you’d even arrived back at your apartment for a few days off, finding on the doorstep a gift bag filled with lingerie. You smile when you see it, but you’re a little puzzled - he’s not even seen you in your underwear in months. Was this a hint? Were you meant to be the one putting out? You took it as you thought he intended it, picking out and wearing the little white set you found in there, but you were unsurprised when nothing came to fruition on the flight. You tentatively bring it up the next time you’re curled up next to him - the flight not really long enough to justify a nap but happy to be tucked up in his chest.  You’re drawing circles with a fingertip through the gaping neckline of his shirt, absentmindedly thinking of how best to bring it up. 

“El, what’s -, not that I’m not appreciative but you don’t needta buy me things - especially, especially if you’re not gonna get anything out of it.” You refuse to look at him, anxious for his response. 

“Wasn’t that what you told me before? That you don’t dress for me?” You can feel him already grinning at you in anticipation of your reaction and you laugh, surprised he’d even remember that conversation from a year and a half ago. 

“Well, You weren’t really my boss then.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you, 

“Oh-ho, so I can have my wicked way with you now huh?” He squeezes you hard against his side. You giggle, and he continues - his tone turning more serious; “Honey… - Bunny,” he laughs when you squirm at being called bunny still, “I’m just, I can’t, can’t do more at the moment but I uh, I do still - I like thinking about you all pretty for me unner that tiny little scrap of a dress.” He flicks the hem, leaving his hand grasping the back of your thigh and your respond in playful outrage. 

“Scrap! You picked out this dress!” You smile into his chest as you feel his tummy move with his laugh, “Elvis - you don’t owe me anything, I don’t need to be bought things, you don’t need to feel like we have to do anything. I just, just want you to take care of yourself.” He hums at you, as non-committal as one can be. 

He shifts a little so he’s lying on his side, brushing his hand down your body, fingers fumbling as they graze over your core, he seems remarkably less sure of himself than the last time he’d touched you, and you have to wonder if, despite all these girlfriends hanging around, he hadn’t actually been doing it with them either. Whether it’s because his fingers are a little thicker than before, or his skills are simply rusty,  or maybe this is all some new technique he’d thought he’d try, he seems to take a while to do anything. He slips a finger between your folds, gathering the wetness you’d started to feel drip as a pavlovian response to his fingers anywhere near you, and rubbing it up your pussy but when he reaches the apex he seems to struggle, fingertip roving around, rubbing down but not quite finding your clit. You squirm as he continues to rub around just a bit too low, his finger making you pant simply from the virtue of it being Elvis’ finger, but not because of success with his ministrations. You panic, eyes flying open, wondering if you’re gonna have to fake it with Elvis beforehe pulls his hand away with a grunt. 

“Ain’t no good little, my hands are hurtin’ too much tonight, got them, got them shakes again.” You nod even though you know it’s at least partially untrue - his fingers not in the least bit unsteady, if anything they’d been a little too solid. 

“Just, it’s fine to just cuddle El.” He’s silent beside you for a few moments, 

“One sec doll, lemme just -“ He shakes his arms out, staring at the curvature of the plane ceiling as if he’s trying to talk himself up. “Ok, ok Bunny, lets, lets give this another go.” He captures your mouth in his, sucking gentle little bruises across the bottom of your jaw, and lowering himself down to your neck. He concentrates there for a moment as he dances his hand back down your body, shifting your dress up again. His touch this time is more sure, more similar to how he’d always felt, the confidence appeared to be back.

He circles your clit just right, the two fingers curving inside you hitting just the right spot, and he moans with you, 

“C’mon darling that’s it, oh that’s your lil button isn’t it - let me, just relax into me baby, relax, I’ve got you.” He crooks a finger, and your hips jerk, his other hand reaching over to pin you firmly against the bed while he takes the opportunity to brush directly over your clit once again. You squeal, panting, as he whispers into your neck, 

“Such a good girl, good little baby Bunny, c’mon now,” He croons into your ear, voice unmistakable, “C’mon - for me.” His words, the sight of his face, the feeling of his fingers, it all combines so that in mere moments your back is arching off the bed, clutching at his arm as you tip over the edge. 

When you’re back into the land of the living, and your breathing is starting to ease up a little, you’re able to sit up. You get onto your knees for him, expecting to reciprocate but he shakes his head at you, “Just, just lie with me, mama, let me cuddle, ‘s that alright? No-one lets -  everyone wants somethin’ offa me.” You frown, standing up, his words manipulating you into believing you’d even asked him for something, 

“Sorry El- there isn’t, there’s no pressure from me, I just thought because -“ You gesture to his still clearly wet and sticky fingers, “Just wanted to give it back to you.” He huffs, lying down again, and looking over his shoulder at you. Betrayal written on his face. It softens when you clamber back under the covers with him, and he tugs you closer. 

It goes downhill fast, the tours just keep coming, and the random, sudden desires for trips here and there. You’ll be home for a scheduled three, four week break and get maybe 60 hours before a call comes in - he wants to be taken to Colorado, California, to Vegas. Before you know it you’re careening into 1976. He swings like a pendulum from happy to angry - the emotions impossible to keep up with. He wasn’t ever wholly staid before but everything seems suddenly emphasised and the erratic nature of his personality is making you wonder if you can do this job much longer. It’s worse without a girl on board. Linda and he may have argued but he was almost always easily soothed. But she’s coming on less and less, and he’s telling tales about her more and more with the boys. Expressing how he hates her shopping now, how she deserves it but doesn’t earn it, how he can’t stand her nagging. He seems to have more girls than ever before, one or two picked up for him in every city, but they never seem to make it onto the plane.

Without the settling presence of a girlfriend that role falls to you, and although you’ve now spent countless hours with him it’s different; the fits and starts with which you get to see him is completely different to being a girl who’s able to be with him in his home - you find him almost overwhelmingly difficult to manage. The first time he’s brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot you for attempting to put him to bed, you laugh - not expecting to be essentially thrown off of the plane for weeks for such an indiscretion. It doesn’t get mentioned again - not until a while later; simply brushed over, forgotten about. There’s no apology, just suddenly one day, a bashful joke gets made with Elvis tucking his chin to his chest to look at you shamefacedly but almost immediately he cracks a laugh, and you’re forced to laugh it off with him.

His health swings like his moods, it seems to be entirely dependent on a number of factors that all seem to change within a minute’s notice. It’s a combination of his mental health, the exact cocktail of medication at any given time, the number of shows he was doing, how often he was getting to see Lisa, whether he’d been home recently, the financial situation or whether he’d recently liked how he’d looked in the mirror. As soon as any one of these changed it would either send him crashing into lengthy highs or a period of lucidity. 

You didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid - it wasn’t the role you were expecting to fill but as time goes on it seems the only form of relationship you can have with him. You don’t truly mind, although you do wish for more, if he’s going to let you have this part of him - the part of him that’s sad and lonely, the part of him that he’s ashamed of - even if just for a few hours on a plane where he can pretend to be distinct from real life, then you think you deserve the same relationship back on the ground. But you would never broach that with him, not even when he’s alone, or when he brings a girl on board who doesn’t even make it to the next city. All you can do is stay. 

The last part of the year is particularly hard. He looks awful, you only really get to see him directly after a show, the schedule doesn't allow for more spare days in each spot, and the sweat pores off of him. You can’t say he doesn’t look appealing in some ways, you wouldn’t mind  licking him clean, or crawling onto his sweaty chest. But in other ways, his face growing paler and yellower, it makes you cringe away from him. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him, or that you’re disgusted - a fear he’d mumbled into your stomach one night recently, it’s that it’s so difficult. Difficult to watch a man, so otherwordly virile to succumb to earthly decay. It’s almost painful - and it’s made all the worse by the fact that you’re only given the choice to witness it in fits and starts - over a tour you watch him, keeping a close eye, spending hours alone with him. But then, as you land back in Memphis, or Vegas, or California you lose him again - with no idea of how he’s getting on physically or mentally, no idea of how he’s feeling. He grows distant - and all you want is to make his journey easier, although the destination at this point is unclear. 

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TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last two chapters - there’s one last chapter to this ‘verse coming soon(ish) so lmk if you wanted to be added or taken off the list before then :)) 

@ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1

[esoteric-joke]

Interview with BoosBabycakes

(#Interview2)

Welcome to the next interview of The Dear Writer Project. This time I had the pleasure to interview the wonderful Morgane/BoosBabycakes.

Morgane about planning out her works, working with deadlines and more:

What does your writing process usually look like?

Well, usually it’s always kind of the same process for me, whether I found a prompt on fest’s list or if I have an idea of my own popping in my head.

When I’m drawn towards a prompt, I then have to write down ideas for the story as they come to my mind. Like I will write them randomly in my notes and then, when it’s time for me to start writing, I have to lay out a plan. I can’t go in blind, that’s not how I work. I need to lay my plan, the number of chapters, what will happen in each chapter (not very detailed, but ideas for example).

I also can’t write two stories at once, so I have to fully focus on one before I can start a new one. I usually write when I have the time obviously, when I’m not working and so it can take more or less time for me to write one chapter.

When I’m done with a chapter, I reread it and then I send it to my betas. I have two that read the chapters when they’re done. They mostly help me with the grammar and syntax. I have one or two other betas (depending on their availability) who also read the chapters right away, but their mission is to help me with the story itself, if there are plot holes, inconstancies and such.

Then when the story is done, I have proof-readers that read the entire story and correct things that might have been left out.

After that stage, when they’re both done, I reread the entire story myself one more time and then put them out.

How much time do you invest in writing?

I definitely can’t write everyday and I can’t really sit down and write knowing I’ll only have an hour. I need to know I have time.

I like to write scenes entirely if I can, and not cut them in the middle. But sometimes I don’t have a choice. So it’s mostly on the weekends when I have a full day I can dedicate to writing.

On which of your stories did you write the longest?

I don’t really remember but I think You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime did. It usually takes me a few months to write a longer fic, and when it’s for a fest and you have a deadline there is a bit more pressure so you have to kind of push yourself to write sometimes.

You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime is also Morgane’s longest fic to date.

Does the aspect of having a deadline make it easier for you to write?

I don’t think it does.

Sure it gives a goal and it can help with the motivation, but sometimes it can also be stressful because you know you have to put out a fic in a certain amount of time, and that adds pressure.

It’s nice to also have no strings attached and be free to write and go at your own pace when you’re not writing for a fest.

Do you have an idea which of your works came together the fastest?

I honestly don’t know.

I want to say Invisible String, because I wrote it outside of a fest and the story just came to me so fast in my head.

What work of yours was the hardest to write?

I have to say They Say That Time’s A Healer for obvious reasons.

I don’t think any of my other works were hard to write, but this one is very personal and some chapters were very difficult to write and not cry at the same time.

If you’ve an idea in your head, how do you decide if it’s going to be a oneshot or a longer story?

I mean some prompts speak for themselves and I know if it’s going to be long but for others, I’m convinced it’ll be a one shot… and I end up with over 40k… Just like the one I’ve written for the blff.

I’m really awful at planning the number of words, because I always end up writing more than what I originally thought I would. As I write I often get inspired and add things or I write a scene and it is way longer than what I had in mind but I go with it.

What inspires you most while working on a story?

Sometimes it’s music. For some fics, they are inspired by a song. One that I heard in my car and had the idea popping into my head. That’s the case for Love In Slow Motion and my next fic which will be for the angst fest next year.

Apart from that, I get inspired by movies/tv shows or just my own head.

Morgane also often gets inspired by things she sees in real life and sometimes even searches for places while she travels that she could potentially write about.

For Clear Blue Water she chose an actual painting that exists in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It’s called La Trahison des Images (The Treachery of Images) also known as This is not a pipe.

The rooftop cinema is also a real place in West Hollywood, California and it’s called the Melrose Rooftop Theatre.

Also, the Cité de l’Espace (City of Space) in Satellite is a real museum in Toulouse, France.

Did you ever experience writers block?

I’ve never experienced it really.

I’ve had moments where it has been harder to get in front of the computer because in my personal life it was kind of hard as well at that moment, but it was never a moment where I couldn’t write at all. I’ve never had that.

Are there things you find frustrating, annoying or just really difficult to write?

Oh for me it’s the smut part. For reasons that I will keep to myself, I find it very difficult to write smut in a way that I always think it’s not good enough. I feel very insecure about those scenes.

Also the scene where there are a lot of characters at the same time, like OT5 scenes for example, are fun to read but man they are hard to write.

Finding the pace, the banter, it’s very hard.

Is there anything you can tell me about any future projects of yours?

Oh well, I have a fic coming soon for the blff, and I registered for the angst fest for next January.

I also have a couple of ideas for potential sequels… I won’t say more about this hehehe.

I also have two ideas that I don’t know if they’ll ever see the light of day, because I easily get caught up in fests.

In the next part of the interview, Morgane answered my questions that were more specifically about her works.

Morgane about processing grief through writing, experimenting with different tropes and weirdly named ice cream flavours:

What work of yours is your personal favourite?

I love all of them and I have a few personal favorites I’m not gonna lie.

Though if I had to choose one, I think I’d say Invisible String. This one was such a “love at first sight with the prompt” kind of thing. For the little story, I had registered to the blff in 2021 and saw the prompt that will later become Invisible String, but at that time, I wasn’t ready to get into such a story and I also fell for another prompt. So the next year, I registered again, and the Invisible String prompt was still there… But I fell in love with the prompt for Satellite and took that one.

However I couldn’t get the other prompt out of my head, it was stuck in there. So I waited for the registration to be over and asked the fest if I could write the story outside of the fest.

They accepted and while I was writing Satellite, the entire story for Invisible String came to me. I threw it down in my notes. Ideas, moments, plot lines, and when I was done with Satellite, I threw myself into it. It was just so much fun and complicated to plot and plan at the same time. I don’t know I just have a soft spot for this story.

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who isn’t familiar with any of your works at all and why?

Oh god that’s tough as well, um…

I wouldn’t recommend an A/B/O because not everyone likes that dynamic, but if they did I would recommend either Invisible String or War of Hearts. Invisible String for the story in itself and War Of Hearts because it deals with an important theme in my opinion.

A/B/O aside, I think I’d recommend Satellite. It’s a very fluffy one and I think it represents my writing quite well.

But I really think this question should be asked to the readers really, I think they’d know better which one to recommend than I do.

Is there a work of yours that was planned to go completely different than it came out in the end?

No, I don’t think so.

How did you come up with the idea for Clear Blue Water, Came And Brought You In and the unusual characteristics for their species?

This was a prompt for the rom com fic fest. It was specified that Louis should be a vampire and Harry a mermaid and that they had to hide their identity to the other.

After that, it’s kind of hard to explain because usually it just comes to me.

I had the prompt and the ideas came and I knew I had to have them in a place where there is water of course and where it doesn’t rain that much, but then I had to come up with ways for Louis to be in the sun, and so it just follows after that.

I inspired myself with characteristics from the vampires in Twilight, The Vampire Diaries and my own mind.

As for Harry, I searched on the internet the characteristics of mermaids and I kind of made up my own traits for him and his species in this story. I thought: Well, it’s my story and it’s a fantasy so I can do whatever I want with the characters.

I didn’t want Louis to be the bloodthirsty vampire stereotype, I wanted him to be different and so I was a bit scared of the reaction of the readers because I usually see people asking for lust and vampire Louis biting Harry and all that and for me it wasn’t even an option in this fic.

Then I came up with this kind of legend about the two species and the rest is history.

Morgane also told me in a conversation outside of the interview that she wanted to show that Louis didn’t have a choice and that he had to struggle a lot with his new identity after he was turned. She didn’t want it to look like being turned into a vampire was a blessing in this story.

Clear Blue Water, Came And Brought You In is your only fantasy-themed fic (if we let the a/b/o ones aside). Is anything fantasy-themed like that planned for the future or if it’s not planned, would you just like to write another one?

No other fantasy fic is planned for now, but I’m not opposed to writing another one if a prompt in a fest or an idea appeals to me.

They Say Time’s A Healer, How Long Is This Burn Supposed To Last? is based around your own horse’s story. Why did you decide to but your pain and your experiences with grieving a pet in a story?

I think at the time I hadn’t really dealt with what had happened and it felt like it would be therapeutic in a way for me to put it down in writing. It was a way to externalize those feelings.

Not a lot of people feel the same or understand what it means to lose a pet so I also wanted to show the relationship between a horse and their rider, so people could understand a bit better, maybe.

[🚨big spoiler alert for people that haven’t read the story🚨]

How much of that story (besides Kartoon being sick and passing away) actually happened?

Harry’s fall and injury happened to me exactly like it did in the story. Except that for me it was only about two years after I got Kartoon. I also couldn’t ride for three weeks after that.

The moment where in a flashback, Harry takes care of Kartoon’s abscess happened as well. He really had one and it was hell to treat.

The time where he got stuck in his stall happened as well. He had scratches on his hips and all, my poor baby.

Also, the part where Harry learns about Kartoon’s condition after the party and everything that happened after that to the final moment of Kartoon, happened exactly that way to me.

I described it exactly as I remembered. The call, the chase on the road, the moment he came down and out of the truck, inside the warehouse and being by his side, saying goodbye and finally the waiting room and the final decision. I didn’t have a partner, but my Dad was with me, so that part is different obviously.

The box in which Harry keeps the plaques and the hair of the tail is real as well, I have the box on my nightstand. I never really open it but it’s there.

When Harry cries in Chapter 9 after getting the bill for the operation was a real moment as well.

The river spot is a real location and of course Kartoon did some competitions, but never at a national level like in the story, so I changed that too for the purpose of the plot.

The aftermath and when Harry tries to ride another horse, it was what happened to me as well, the name of the horse was the same and I couldn’t go through with it. The end of the story, regarding Harry’s feelings and his journey through grief and towards riding again is what I’m feeling.

Morgane never felt ready again to ride another horse and so, even if people told her that they would’ve loved it if Harry took that step of riding another horse in the end of the story, she decided to not do that. She wanted the story to represent her feelings and her grieving even if her readers would’ve preferred it differently.

The story does have a bittersweet ending.

After the interview, Morgane told me that Ice Tea and Dusty the cats are also very much real and sent me a few very cute pictures of them.

How did you come up with all the ice cream names in Summer Sun, Something’s Begun?

I searched for weird ice cream flavors first, then I searched for puns around the flavors.

As you know I’m French and English isn’t my first language so finding puns can be a bit tricky.

Morgane’s favourite ice cream flavour is a classic creamy strawberry. Bonus points if it has chunks of strawberry in it.

In Invisible String Louis writes his own book at the end to tell their story. He mentions it’s going to be a trilogy. Is that supposed to be a little spoiler for two more parts that are maybe coming in the future?

I’m going to disappoint a lot of people but no it’s not…

But never say never I want to say…

In my mind, Louis was writing his journey without Harry in the first book, the second book was Harry’s story without him and the third one, my fic, is their journey to coming back to each other.

So yeah maybe one day I’ll be brave enough and will do it, if people are interested to read that…

Morgane told me that if she’s ever going to write another part, it wouldn’t be about the villain of Invisible String coming back.

You don’t stay in one trope or genre but rather experiment quite freely with them. Why is that?

I just like to challenge myself and experiment.

I want to write different things, different tropes, so there is a bit of everything for anyone who wants to give my stories a try.

I also think, it’s more interesting to change things up and not stay in one particular trope, but that’s completely personal as some other writers might feel more comfortable with sticking to something they mastered.

What was your favourite trope you wrote to this day?

I don’t know…

I love a/b/o for sure but otherwise I don’t think I have a favorite one.

Is anything completely new planned genre or trope wise?

I’d say that the angst fic I’m planning is something different because it will deal with heavy bullying and homophobia.

Also I’ve always wanted to write a fic where Harry is a ballet dancer and this one will be it.

Satellite is your most popular work. Why do you think it got so popular?

I have absolutely no idea.

I was genuinely, and still am, surprised by the love and enthusiasm this fic generated. I honestly didn’t think it would have this success.

It’s a moderate success compared to other writers and popular fics of course, but for me it was pretty big when the story hit 1000 kudos. It was my first and my only fic with that amount of kudos.

Maybe it is the link between Louis and his son, or the growth of Harry and also the growth of his relationship with Adam that appealed to people. I don’t know.

Is there a work of yours that you’d like to get more attention than it has right now?

My new fic is just getting out there so I will give it some time.

But otherwise, obviously They Say That Time’s A Healer is one that I’d like people to discover but I have to say that I’d really like for Clear Blue Water to be a bit more noticed.

Is there a work of yours that you would have rather not published in hindsight or have you already deleted one of your works because you didn’t like it anymore?

I’ve never deleted any of my fics and I don’t think there are any that I regret.

I mean of course I’m a bit embarrassed or rather insecure of my first ones because I was a baby writer back then and I’d like to think that I’ve improved since then, but I’d never delete them because they are part of my journey.

Now we’re at the part of the interview where I asked Morgane a few personal questions about her becoming a part of the fandom and her preferences when it comes to fics she likes to read.

Since when are you in the fandom and what made you become a fan?

Okay this is a long story…

So obviously I knew about 1D when I was younger but I never really listened to them because I thought I was too old… I know it’s ridiculous but yeah.

One day I was on YouTube looking at videos and I stumbled upon a video that was about Harry and Louis and Larry Stylinson. I got really intrigued with it all, these two boys and the band itself and I started to listen to 1D a bit, and I realized I kind of liked their music.

After that, I got very curious about Harry and Louis and typed Larry Stylinson on YouTube and that was the start of the downfall, you could say.

I found Freddieismyqueen and well, I never came up the rabbit hole after that.

I also got curious about their solo music and tried Harry’s, then Louis’, then Niall’s and here I am.

I officially came into the fandom in 2018, so rather late compared to some OG fans.

Did you ever got a weird/funny comment under one of your works or other social media about your works and if yes, what did it say?

I don’t think I’ve ever got a really funny one but the majority of the comments I get are so sweet and loving really.

I got a harsh one one day, which wasn’t really a comment but a note someone put on their bookmarks… But I can see them…

It was about They Say That Time’s A Healer and let’s just say that it made me cry and definitely not in a cool way…

Did you ever get a good/sweet comment that stood out and that you still have in mind sometimes?

The comments that say that I’ve somehow helped them or made them feel better just for a little while always stick with you.

Harry or Louis?

I often get the question, even with my friends. They usually ask me, but I genuinely can’t choose between them.

I know some people will say that there must be one you love more than the other, but I really don’t. I love them both so much, for who they are, and I can’t imagine choosing one over the other. I’ve loved Harry first, but then I discovered Louis and they just have a place in my heart.

Your favourite Harry era and your favourite Louis era?

My favorite Harry era is long hair Harry and for Louis the Made In The A.M. era I would say.

Morgane also told me that if she could, she would absolutely write all of her fics with LHH.

Your favourite movie with H?

My Policeman of course.

Who’s your favourite writer in the fandom?

I would say seducedbycurls because my favorite fic is from them.

Morgane’s favourite fic is Cold Little Heart.

Is there a fic that is not necessarily your favourite or from your favourite writer but is still kind of stuck in your head?

Take Me To Church by wickedarcher_08

What makes you want to stop reading something?

Oh I don’t read sad endings in fics, in books (like outside of the fandom) I don’t really mind but for Harry and Louis I can’t.

I also can’t read a fic where Harry and Louis cheat on each other or are abusive towards each other, it’s a no for me.

Your favourite Song and your favourite artist at the moment?

I’m a swiftie (sorry everyone) and the last few months I Can Do It With A Broken Heart is kind of the soundtrack to my life and in general I’ve been listening to Taylor a lot and Louis’ live album.

You do mention the series Friends and the movie Love Actually a lot throughout your fics. Are those your favourite movie and series?

Yes! Sorry about that, haha.

Friends is my comfort tv show and it’s the same for Love Actually. I watch it every year at Christmas and I rewatch Friends every year, too.

The most unusual thing that inspired you?

Huh… I don’t know if this can be considered as unusual, but I often get inspired by real life things. If I experience something or I’m just doing something random and then, bam! Something pops up and I’m like “wait a second, this could work”.

For example not long ago I was on a plane back from Louis’ festival and right there in the plane I had an idea for the fic I was writing. Nothing happened particularly, just the context inspired me.

Morgane also told me that she often gets inspired by little videos she sees on TikTok or Twitter/X.

I’ll Reach Out My Hand To You, I’ll Have Faith In All You Do, the second part of her Ballet Recital Series was inspired by video she saw on Twitter/X where a dad went onstage to help their child with their performance.

Her little canon series It’s A Larry Life was inspired by a few TikToks that her best friend sent her.

Who would you most like to read an interview from?

Oh, maybe stylinsoncity. They said they were leaving the fandom but still, their fics are simply iconic.

I also asked Morgane to give every fic of hers a colour and a season. Here is the outcome of that:

Welcome to Scotland: I picture it blue and in Winter

You Are My Dancing Queen: It’s black and white for me obviously and Winter as well

I’ll Reach Out a Hand For You (the entire series): I picture it powder pink and Winter

With My Body And Soul I Want You More Than You’ll Ever Know: I picture it Yellow and Spring

Summer Sun Something’s Begun: I picture it turquoise and Summer of course

You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime: For me it’s yellow and purple, I don’t know why and Winter, too

They Say That Time’s A Healer, How Long Is This Burn Supposed To Last: For me it’s brown and black (Kartoon colors) and Summer

Love In Slow Motion: It’s Gold and Autumn

Satellite: It’s purple and Winter (the fic goes over more than six months but yeah)

Under The Paris Sky: Light pink and Summer

Invisible String: Gold and brown and autumn/winter

My Arm Might Be Broken, But I Won’t Be Broken Down (the It’s a Larry life series): Royal blue and autumn

War Of Hearts: Red and autumn

Love Me If You Dare: Mint green and Winter (the fic happens over several years but winter is an important part of their lives)

Clear Blue Water, High Tide Came And Brought You In: Pink and blue and Spring

You’ve Taken My Heart By Storm: Orange/gold/silver and Summer

A huge thank you (again) to Morgane, who was just the sweetest person ever.

I really appreciate that you wanted to participate and therefore support this project so much.

Thanks for being so patient and curious throughout the whole process.

[bleach-boyz]

Chapter 3: Poo Diving

prev. // next

In the weeks following the party, you and Dico slowly got more furniture, and soon your apartment was almost resembling one that real adults would live in. Almost. 

That apartment became one of the most common places to go for hangouts due to almost everyone else still living with their parents. You’d occasionally host parties there too, but you’d insist on moving all the breakable furniture to yours and Dico’s rooms before people got there. 

You’d planned to invite your downstairs neighbors again to the next party you’d thrown, but in the weeks leading up to it, you’d noticed a woman entering and exiting their apartment almost every day. Dico later found out after talking to the other neighbor that the one you’d slept with had a girlfriend, and that was the woman who was there all the time. You felt so ashamed and annoyed by this that the next day you waited outside for the woman to show up so you could tell her what happened. Needless to say, you never interacted with that guy again beyond an awkward pass on your way in or out of the apartment building. 

You begged Dico not to tell the guys about that whole situation, but the group wasn’t very good at keeping their lips sealed over another person’s embarrassment. The crew teased you for a while, but soon everyone forgot about it. There was always something new to make fun of someone for. 

The rest of 96’ and 97’ was mainly just a blur of partying and the same shit y’all always got up to. You’d finished a full year at West Chester University and immediately decided to drop out, not finding any fulfillment in your time there. You didn’t aspire to be a doctor or lawyer or anything that required a degree; you were totally fine having a day job and spending the rest of your time having fun with your friends. Your parents didn’t really care either, because you were making enough from the record store job to support yourself, and they trusted your judgment, which you were extremely grateful for. 

1998 was the year that things started ramping up for the crew because that was the year that Jess officially formed his band, CKY. A new member of the band and friend group was a guy named Chad, whom you actually started dating after hanging out for a few weeks. He was six years older than you, which was a little weird at first, but you clicked really well. Plus, you’d never had a serious partner before, so you thought you might as well try it out. The boys would occasionally ask you inappropriate questions about your sex life because they couldn’t help themselves, but surprisingly, they mostly left you alone about it. It was just the new normal. 

In terms of everyone else’s relationships, that same year Bam started dating Jenn, who you got along with easily. Jenn had actually been a friend of your older brother’s back when they were in high school, so you recognized her immediately when you first met. The two of you would go out to dinner or the movies every now and then to have a more normal, chill night without the boys. The rest of the crew were just sort of in and out of random relationships, none of which were particularly noteworthy. 

Bam had also decided to take on an extremely ambitious project in 98’, which was to make a film compiled of the crew’s skate tricks and stunts while featuring CKY’s music. It was basically just a longer version of the videos you all had been making for years, and you spent a large chunk of your free time helping film and edit material for the project. You made it into the film a few times, including a stunt where you skated down a tiny half pipe straight into a brick wall, but admittedly you liked working behind the scenes a little bit more. You particularly liked sitting with Bam at his desk, going through hours of footage, and helping him execute his fast-paced editing style that would become unique to all his future videos and films. 

It was the first CKY film’s release in early 1999 that really ushered you and the crew into a new, crazy chapter of your life. Instead of just being stared at on occasion in West Chester, people were starting to come up and talk to you all at random places and even buy you drinks. The popularity of the film, in combination with Bam’s steadily rising level of fame as a skater, also meant that he was getting sponsorship offers and calls from all sorts of people wanting to work with him. But it was after the more widespread release and popularity of CKY2K the next year that he was approached for MTV’s Jackass. 

After Bam had been flown out to LA and talked to the creators behind the show, it was no question that you’d all be participating in its making. Bam had explained that it was being made by people who worked at Big Brother Magazine, which you were all already familiar with and fans of ever since Bam had been featured in it for his skating. That, combined with the fact that you’d be getting paid not only with money but with exposure, was enough to get you on board. You’d made an okay amount from CKY2K’s sales, and MTV wasn’t exactly promising to pay you much, but getting money and recognition for the thing you enjoyed doing the most was all anyone could really ask for. Bam was the only one who was really getting paid good money, but that didn’t really bother you; his fame made him a lot more important to the project. 

The commitment to the show meant that you all had to make a ton of content quickly, which was different from how it was in the past when you’d just film whenever you wanted. It was the pressure that came from knowing you were about to be seen by such a large audience that drove everyone to come up with and participate in the most gruesome and disgusting stunts any of you had ever done. 

The most memorable day of shooting for you was for a stunt called "Poo Diving" in which Ryan would be swimming in a pool of sewage and shit at a treatment plant. 

-

You wake up with a raging headache and an overwhelming feeling of nausea. You groan and look at the clock to see that it’s already the afternoon, and you and Dico had to be at Bam’s house in an hour to film. 

Yesterday, you and Chad had broken up, and you’d spent the night getting drunk in an attempt to feel better about it. You two hadn’t been spending enough time with each other lately, with him touring with CKY and you now working on the show. You’d just drifted apart, and although you both agreed to end it on good terms, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset. After all, you'd been together for almost two years.

Your hangover in combination with your grief would have probably resulted in you staying home on any other day, but today was the first day you’d be filming with the camera crew from LA, including the creator Jeff Tremaine. Also, you knew you would never forgive yourself if you missed seeing Ryan swim around in liquid shit, so you down a few ibuprofen and get ready for the day. 

You roll up with Dico at Bam’s house an hour later, and based on all the cars in the driveway, you can assume everyone else is already there. You two walk through the front door and see Bam, Ape, and a few other strangers who you assume are the LA crew standing in the kitchen. 

"Well, look who’s here!" Ape says and pulls you into a hug. 

"Hey Ape." You hug her back and then turn to the unknown people. 

"I’m Jeff. This is Trip," Jeff says as he points to the guy next to him and shakes your hand very professionally.

You get introduced to everyone, and soon after, Ryan shows up, acting way too enthusiastic for someone who was about to do what he had to do. 

"Excited for the air time?" You ask him as you buckle your seatbelt for the ride over to the treatment plant. 

"Damn right." 

Once you get there, Ryan strips down to his underwear, and the boys start taping the fabric to his legs so that no sewage can get into his ass. It’s very legit. 

"So he just has no problem doing something like this?" Jeff asks you. 

"Well, some people lose their dignity, and some are born without it." You respond, and Jeff laughs. 

Ryan puts on his floaty and positions himself above the sewage. 

"Don’t forget your snorkel buddy." Dico says to Ryan and tosses it to him. 

"Right, that was almost a disaster." Ryan sighs as he puts on the snorkel. 

As soon as Jeff makes sure all the cameras are good to go Ryan jumps into the tank, much to the disgust of everyone else around him. After a few seconds, he pulls himself out, and Bam informs him that they didn’t get the shot and he has to do it again. You hold back a laugh, knowing there’s no way they didn’t get the shot the first time, and watch as Ryan jumps back in for a second time. 

After he gets out for the second time, Ryan runs around, trying to smear some of the sewage on anyone close by. He nearly grabs you, but you manage to dodge him quick enough, so he sets his sights on Bam instead. The smell of shit and sewage coming off his body combined with the nausea you were already feeling from your hangover causes you to dry heave, and unfortunately, someone on the crew catches it on camera. 

Bam soon sprays Ryan down with a hose, getting most of but not all of the sewage off of him. On the car ride back to Bam’s house, you roll the windows down all the way to try and minimize the smell that was still coming off of Ryan. 

"It’s kind of an improvement on how you usually smell." Dico teases. 

Once you get back to the house, Ryan presents himself to a horrified April, who insists that he must eat the dinner that she made for everyone outside. You watch her take a plate of food out to Ryan, who is sitting on the side of the road with a tiny table in front of him, and you laugh at the absurdity. 

You have a good time at dinner, telling funny stories and cracking jokes with everyone, but you decide to cut out right after and head to the local bar. Thanks to the fun you had with everyone, you are feeling a little better than you did yesterday, but you still want some time alone to indulge in self-pity. 

After you have a few drinks, you step out for a cigarette, and it is then that you see Ryan, Dico, and a couple members of the camera crew get out of Ryan’s car. They walk up to you, and you’re immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of perfume that Ryan had clearly doused himself with in order to try and mask the shit smell. 

You cough slightly. "I think a shower might have been more effective." 

Ryan shrugs his shoulders and pulls out a cigarette from his own pack. 

"We’re gonna get a round." Dico says as he and the other dudes they showed up with head inside the bar. 

"I heard about you and Chad." Ryan says after a few moments of silence. You sigh. 

"Yeah.. what are ya gonna do?" You say and take a long drag from your cigarette. 

"Well, I’m here for you if you like—need to talk or whatever." Ryan says, and you smile a little. 

"I’m sorry it’s hard to pay attention to anything you’re saying when you reek of poop, Ape’s perfume, and now cigarettes." You joke, and Ryan scoffs. 

"Hey! I’m trying to be genuine over here, so you better cherish it." He says, and you laugh. 

"I know. Thank you. I appreciate it." You reply. "How are things going with you romantically?" 

"Well… I’m not sure we need to get into all that." He says. 

"So, unsuccessful?" 

"Definitely." 

"What happened to that girl that you brought to the last CKY show here?" You ask. 

"We’re on a break right now; I’m pretty sure she was cheating on me with her ex." He says and shakes his head. 

"Oh shit, I think I remember Dico telling me about that. I’m sorry, man." You say and go to put a comforting hand on Ryan’s shoulder before remembering where he was a few hours ago and retracting it. 

"It‘s all good; I only broke like three pieces of furniture raging about it. And I don’t know; I’m supposed to get dinner with her this week, so we’ll see." He explains. 

"Well, good luck, I guess." You say and put out your cigarette on the wall behind you. A few quiet seconds follow, where you can tell Ryan is debating saying something, and you cross your arms, wondering what it could possibly be. 

"You know, a few years back, when you and Dico first got that apartment, I had a bit of a crush on you." Ryan finally admits, and you raise your eyebrows in disbelief. 

"Oh really? Why didn’t you ever say anything?" You ask. 

"Well, I was gonna try to put the moves on you at your housewarming party, but then you disappeared with your neighbor, and after that, I just assumed you weren’t interested." He says and then stamps out his own cigarette. 

"Hmm.." You think back to that time, which was now almost four years ago. You’d admittedly never thought of Ryan in that way, but you honestly might’ve said yes if he’d asked you out. You obviously got along really well, and you had kind of noticed him slowly getting cuter as he got older. 

"Why are you telling me this now?" You decide to ask. It’s not that you don’t appreciate the honesty, but you are desperately hoping that Ryan isn’t bringing this up to try to make a pass at you the day after you got out of a long-term relationship. You don't know if you'd be able to handle it.

"I don’t know; I think it’s a bit funny now, I guess. It was so long ago, I thought you might get a kick out of it." He smiles, but you’re not entirely convinced by his answer. 

"Yeah," you say, feeling a bit awkward and weirdly nervous for a moment before deciding to try and crack a joke. "Wait, so you were gonna put the moves on me? What moves do you even have?" You tease. 

"Oh, come on, I have moves; watch." He says and puts his arm against the wall behind you so that his face is close to yours and he’s blocking you in. You might have blushed if it weren’t for the horrible smell that wafted toward you when he got closer. You duck under his arm and head to the entrance of the bar. 

"The move you need to make is towards a shower." You say and signal for him to follow you. He rolls his eyes and comes with you, and you spend the rest of the night drinking and laughing with the others inside. 

During the following days, your mind would occasionally drift to Ryan’s confession, and you’d ponder why he’d decided to tell you about it then. Maybe he really just thought it was funny, and the intention was sincerely to make you laugh, but the tone in which he said it just felt a little off. You thought you’d detected some longing or something. 

A week passed, and you’d decided to believe that you were just overthinking it after finding out from Dico that Ryan’s dinner with his ex resulted in them getting back together. 

Regardless, though, the conversation made you reflect on your entire friendship with Ryan. It was weird; you hadn’t really noticed how much care and attention he’d been providing you with since the beginning. It made you feel like a bad friend for not appreciating him, and it also brought up some other, more confusing feelings. You didn’t think you could say you’d become attracted to him, but you could say that you’d maybe developed more of an affinity for him. 

It made you want to pay more attention.

———————

Actually driving myself crazy trying to keep this is accurate as possible to the real life timeline of events- sorry if I mess anything up. There was just so much going on lol.

Thanks again to everyone who is reading 🙏 I feel bad that I can’t follow people back or engage as much as I want to because this is a secondary blog 😢 but know that I appreciate it soooooo much hehe.

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

AAAAAAA ur reading house of leaves??? im buying that next week thats so cool! do u have any book recs? or recs in general shows movies etc

I AM!! I'm several chapters in and super enjoying it, although reading it alone in a tiny hotel room in the middle of nowhere was a Distinct Mistake.

As for recs! I'm going to specifically go for stuff that isn't super mainstream, in the hopes that I'll recommend you something you have never heard of before. Here's some stuff for you!

Podcasts

Dreamboy - one-season podcast from Night Vale Presents, definitely one of their less-known ones. Explicit in places, what I would describe as AO3 M-rated sex scenes. A worn-out musician ends up embroiled in inexplicable events in a small town, and also there's a murderous zebra and fossils that want to fuck. It's a musical cinematic podcast masterpiece, I'll always be sad there's only one season.

Apocrypals - nonfiction. Two non-believers read through the Bible and try not to be jerks about it. If you're interested in theology and apocryphal texts but have no idea where to start, this is such a good place. The hosts are delightful, and have a really nice way of taking you through all the various layers of Biblical scholarly nonsense. Considerable backlog of episodes, but worth listening through from the beginning. Weirdly, there's continuity.

Til Death Do Us Blart - five poor fools watch Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 every Thanksgiving from now until the end of eternity, and report back yearly on their mental state. You may think to yourself 'wow, that doesn't sound like a good time'. It isn't, to the hosts. To anyone listening along, it's fucking hilarious. Nine episodes so far, and it's a single episode per year, so plenty of time to catch up.

Web Series

The Monument Mythos - Several seasons. surreal analogue horror alternate history of America told through a series of videos of varying format. Brilliantly absurd, fucked up, and horrifying by turns (sometimes all at once).

No Evil - ongoing animated series, made mostly by a single person. Please don't immediately wave it off because of the colorful anthropormorphic animals. The mythology is amazing, the animation is sublime, and the music is haunting. The pacing is a bit strange at first, and you may be confused at the way the plot moves, but you have to understand that it's all part of its charm. I think about No Evil way too much.

Dances Moving - you may know Brian David Gilbert from his work at Polygon, and his more recent absurdist Youtube ventures. This is from way before that! It's a fun and gradually heartwrenching musical exploration of a local dance group and what it means to move away from home. Seven short episodes.

ENA - this one is a bit more mainstream, so you may know it already. Who knows what's going on in the world of ENA? Definitely not me. Absurdism at its finest. Bizarre architecture, strange characters, if it's a metaphor I don't know what it's about, but the vibes are immaculate. Three actual episodes of varying length, apparently there's a video game set to come out soon-ish?

An Unauthorized Fan Treatise - serialized story. If you're a fan of internet drama a la Msscribe, you're going to adore it. It's a fiction story about a fictional fandom, and one massively messed up person who decides that two of the lead actors in her favorite show are secretly dating and sets out to prove it with a cited multi-chapter essay. And then it gets wild.

Comics

The Property of Hate - a wonderfully dynamic and colorful webcomic about a young girl getting chosen to become a make-believe world's Hero. Puns and wordplay galore. Absolutely delightful characters and worldbuilding. Ongoing.

Eat the Rich - a young woman goes to meet her boyfriend's extremely rich family, and learns their horrifying secret. Warning: cannibalism. 5 issues, complete.

Beanworld - impossible to describe, but I'll try. An absurdist semiabstract musing on the nature of life and cycles and community, set in a world where the rules are weirdly two-dimensional and you as a reader get weirdly invested in the routines and cycles that the inhabitants follow. And all of the main characters are cute lil bean guys. If you read anything on this list, do this one. (Linked is the only online version I could find, and it's not up-to-date. I own all the omnibuses in print. If you liked what you read here, I recommend tracking them down too.)

Short Stories (in no particular order, and certainly not all my favorites - just the ones I had bookmarked and on hand)

Bride, Knife, Flaming Horse - a young Indian woman looks for marriage in the fantastical, and finds several suitors

Fish (in 13 sections) - an obsessive unpacks a bewildering insult. Just, really fun.

Fandom For Robots - a robot discovers anime, and definitely doesn't have big feelings about it

Informed Consent Logs From The Soul-Swap Clinic - two people decide to swap bodies, for somewhat murky reasons.

The Magician's Apprentice - a young girl learns magic from her mentor. This one's about grooming. But not like that. But also a lot like that. But also it's so much more fucked up than that. (This one is a MEGA favorite, it's by Tamsyn Muir. Who you may recognize as the author of the Locked Tomb series - I'd rec that too here, if it wasn't definitely too mainstream for what I'm going for. Read this. And also read the Locked Tomb.)

The Tale of the Foolish King Who Banished Music - it's a snippet of a longer Doctor Who audio drama, but stands so nicely on its own. Unnerving little fairy tale.

The Spider - 1908 horror story about a man trying to figure out why so many men have spontaneously committed suicide in a specific hotel room. It's basically a TMA statement, in more ways than one.

Video Games

What Did Veronica Dream Of? - strange little rpgmaker puzzle game. Obtuse and weird, and I adore it. I wish I could explain why.

Secret Little Haven - point-and-click about being a trans girl on the internet in 1999. Completely nails the tone it's going for. Period-typical homo- and transphobia.

Linelith - a short (1-hour) puzzle game with no plot and no characters, and yet it contains one of the greatest plot-twists of all time. I'm begging you to play it immediately.

Lingo - puzzle game about linguistics, words, non-Euclidean goemetry, and figuring out an endless series of rules in a constantly expanding world. RIDICULOUSLY clever and good, and I've been playing it almost continuously for the last few months. It's got so much content for such a reasonable price, and the community-made maps add even more content (and are also excellent). If English isn't your first language, you may struggle, but otherwise - grab a bunch of friends and stream it. It's better with friends helping you out, I can guarantee it.

For A Change - a 1999 interactive fiction game about raising the sun in a world where words do not mean what you think they mean. If you're familiar with old text-based games, go ahead and play it - otherwise, you may want to read this transcript of a group of people playing it together instead.

Other Things

Carmilla - the classic 1800s lesbian vampire novella. I read it very recently, and it's extremely good. Absolutely delivers on the lesbian vampire premise in full gory detail, although do be aware that it was written in the context of homophobic fear.

Alberio - very fun light musical about two siren brothers reconnecting under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Mosquitoes - stage play about life and families and physics (theoretical and practical both). Very heavy topics, pulls no punches. The Boson's final monologue always wrecks me.

Ghost Quartet - musical/song cycle/experience about love, death, alcohol, and (of course) ghosts. Lots of cyclical stories and time travel weirdness. All of the songs are incredible.

Yankee and the Foreigners - music group that performs delightful upbeat covers of songs in animal onesies. Their Bare Necessities cover is a favorite of mine.

I'm sure there's lots more things I could rec (not a lot of books or movies here, huh? sorry about that. I immediately forgot everything I've ever read and watched) but these were the things that came to mind when I sat down and wrote this list, so hopefully there's something new and good for you in here!

[kandismon]

Do you have any tips for those who wish to create a webcomic?

I do apologize if this has been asked before!

this is a pretty big question that would probably be easier to answer if you had any specific things you'd like to know about!

but i can give you a summary of general things i've learned over the years!

disclaimer: these are my personal experiences, if any of this sounds like something that doesn't fit your workflow or preferences, please disregard!

if you've never made a webcomic before, i would personally recommend starting small. do a short oneshot first to see how it feels instead of diving right into your multi-season 2000 pages big epic story, because i feel like the workload can get really overwhelming really fast if you go from 0 to 100 right away. some creators thrive on that but it was definitely not for me. i have a lot of failed and unfinished projects sitting around because i was too ambitious and didn't know what i was getting myself into. later on i started drawing short comics for various fandoms & ships i was invested in deeply, and those got progressively longer until i suddenly felt ready to seriously tackle one of my original stories again. which was when i finally started working on #MUTED!

don't worry about sticking to the strict 60+ panels weekly schedule that you see a lot on platforms like webtoon for example. unless you've signed a contract, you make the rules and decide how much and how often you post. i've seen a lot of creators burn themselves out over that when there really wasn't any need because no one was forcing or paying them to churn out so much all the time T -T) you can still find an audience and success with a slower pace (for example #MUTED was released with 2 episodes a month, 1 ep usually had around 20ish panels iirc)

finished is better than perfect. if you're a perfectionist this can be difficult to accept, but i promise most people won't look at your panels for longer than 1.5 seconds. some wonky lines here and there don't matter much, it's more important to get the feelings across imho.

vector layers (for inking) are your best friend \o/

imho having a pretty clear outline for your story can be really helpful and take away some stress, knowing where the story is going without having to constantly sit down inbetween chapters to come up with more plot is a blessing and i wish i had been better about doing that with #MUTED. i did have a rough outline but a lot of holes in between chapters and in the end some things i would have liked to explore more never got touched on because my planning was bad and i wasn't able to find the room in the story (like some emma back story, more about jasper's family dynamics, also a bit more of a deep dive into kai's relationship with his family) (also towards the end i felt pretty burned out and just wanted to move on haha) [i'm not saying to plan every scene right from the get go, there's always room to adjust and remove or add stuff while you're working on the project, but a few important anker points here and there are important, at least for me!]

shortcuts are also your best friend, use all of them. 3d models too!

when you start publishing, don't get discouraged by algorithms and statistics and numbers (i say as that's something i still struggle with daily LOL), agonising over these things is pointless because they're mostly out of your control, focus on things you can actively do to be proud of your work. also instead of comparing yourself to others, instead compare yourself to past you! look how far you've come compared to the you from last year :>

i hope any of this helps, sorry for rambling lol if there's ever any specific questions, my asks are always open and i'll do my best to try and help out!! i'm also still learning and don't consider myself to be a person who really has anything to teach to anyone, but i can share my progress and experiences and hype you up if needed, hehe

good luck with your comic!!

[itsclydebitches]

We can agree that the tonal dissonance is the worst part yes because why did they come out of that good ass smoke confront yourself scene with Ruby making a hilarious meme face at us 😭 can they decide if they want serious or slapstick or at least make said slapstick feel more cruel/surreal, like go for a tone where the characters are suffering but the inherently ridiculous world is constantly fucking with them. I feel like that'd land better than 'hehe Weiss is going grrr and making anime bubbles! Ignore Ruby having a panic attack! This is irrelevant!'

Thanks for responding to the other thing as politely as you did and I hope it didn't come off as a personal attack. You do seem nice and you make a good point I just kind of feel bad for you slogging through this show you hate KSHSKSHS

Nah don't worry about it, anon. Idk how to really explain it, but for me a "bad" show isn't necessarily a "slog" show. I like waking up Saturday morning to watch RWBY, knowing I'll get to write a recap later, engage with other fans throughout the week, etc. It could feel overwhelming at times given the previous one day pace I had set, but not a slog (no matter how much it might sound that way in recaps because, as established, there's A Lot of problems to cover that obviously color my tone). But the moment this project actually becomes an uninspiring slog I'd just... drop it? I mean, no offense to anyone here who likes keeping up with these posts, but I'm not a Content Creator℠ in the sense of this being a job. Tumblr doesn't pay me lol. Whenever/if ever it's no longer enjoyable, it's no longer something I'll do. Simple as that.

Anyway, YEAH. Tone. I had the same sort of, "Wait, huh?" reaction to Ruby's exaggerated panic over losing the Cat (complete with more stylized, manga-esque animation cues) immediately after she's reminded that Salem is two steps away from destroying the whole world and they have no plan to stop her. It's truly jarring. You know what I was thinking about the other day though? How although it's obviously weird, frustrating, and sometimes dangerous, Ever After should also be beautiful. Creative. Inspiring. An astounding, impossible experience! We got a little bit of that with Ruby walking through the garden, but leaning into the girls' amazement could be a good way of lightening the otherwise dark Volume. I mean, they haven't just landed in a fairy tale, but a beloved childhood classic complete with favorite characters, gorgeous scenery, unlimited magic where before they've only seen bits in combat... Do you have any idea how fucking STOKED I would be if I suddenly found myself in Narnia? The Shire? Hogwarts? Or yeah, Wonderland? Even if I knew that there was danger here and even if I had something traumatically important to get back to in the real world, there would still be a part of myself simply giddy at the prospect of exploring my favorite story. If Blake spent more time gushing over meeting her favorite characters, if Weiss stood in awe at the architecture, if Yang was Ooo-ing over the cool creatures here, if Ruby took a breather to look at sentient toys and go, "That's awesome" we could add a lot of lightheartedness without interrupting the primary tone. Right now, the girls' attitude is primarily "Wow, this world is the worst" rather than "Wow, this world is a wonderland." And true, that is (mostly) accurate to Alice's experiences, but it's not helping me enjoy the setting when the girls so clearly hate being there.

[farity]

The Debt, part 3

Part 1  -  Part 2  

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC - non-canon

Warnings - Starts off dark, smutty smut

Summary - Lucerys manages to flee with Arrax, his sister decides a debt is to be paid

“What in the seven hells were you thinking?”

Aerys looked down at her feet while her mother walked aimlessly around the room, ranting about the scene she had just witnessed.

“Why, Aerys?”

“Because I am tired of our hypocrisy, mother!”

Rhaenyra shook her head.  

“I am tired of the lie and pretending to be offended when anyone calls us Strong!”

“It is treason, child!”

“Is it treason if I say it?” Aerys looked at her mother.  She didn’t think she would ever forget the look on Rhaenyra’s face when she walked in, following Daemon, into Aemond’s bedroom.  “I want to see him.”

Rhaenyra let out a harsh breath.  “You have done many a thoughtless thing in your short life, Aerys, but letting Aemond Targaryen take your virtue is irredeemable!”

“Having his eye cut out by Luke because he said we were Strong must seem irredeemable to him.”  Aerys chose to ignore the look from her mother.

“And what now? What happens now, Aerys?  Please tell me what happens now that you are ruined.”

“The debt is paid.”

“Child,” Rhaenyra placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.  “I am asking what you think happens next.  We go back to Dragonstone and you are-”

“No!” Aerys began to realize she hadn’t quite planned anything beyond getting to King’s Landing and hoping her plan worked.  “I’m not going back.”

Rhaenyra looked into Aerys’s eyes, let out an unsteady breath.  “You think you’re staying here.  You think . . . what, you are going to stay here with him?  Oh Aerys.  I know you are not stupid, my sweet girl.  You think a man like Aemond Targaryen is going to marry you because you offered yourself up to him?”

Aerys pressed her lips together.  She could feel the hot tears behind her eyes and they were mostly because she probably had been stupid and rash about it.  It had all been too much.  The excitement of leaving Dragonstone, the fear when she arrived, the terror when she thought she thought she was about to lose her eye, the confusion when he rejected her.  And then his mouth was on hers and she had wanted him, she had finally known what desire was and all she wanted was him.

She thought he wanted her, too.

You’re mine now, Aerys.  No one else, not ever.  Mine.

He had meant it, hadn’t he?  She couldn’t help it, she crumpled into her mother’s arms.

* * * * * 

“One.  One reason,” Daemon said, sword still pointed at Aemond.  “Give me one reason not to gut you right now.”

Daemon had been pacing like a caged animal since Rhaenyra had hastily slipped Aerys’s shift over her head, wrapped her in a cape, and taken her to the rooms next to Aemond’s.

“I will marry her.”  Aemond finished lacing up his shirt sleeve.  “I want her.”

Daemon let out a loud bark of a laugh.  “Why, was she your first, too?”  He glared at Aemond, who glared right back at him.  “I will have Caraxes burn you to cinders for this.”

Aemond said nothing.  He could hear Aerys and Rhaenyra arguing in the next room.  He couldn’t make out what they were saying but then he heard someone start crying and he wanted nothing more than to wrap Aerys in his arms and take her away from all of this.  

“The only reason you are still alive is because of Rhaenyra.  If you’re still alive by the end of this, you will kiss the ground she walks on and beg her forgiveness for defiling her only daughter.”

Daemon lowered his sword and stalked out of the room.

* * * * * 

“My girl,” Rhaenyra’s anger was dissipating, and a sort of sad longing was slowly taking its place.  

She had always considered Aerys to be the child who was most like her.  She adored all her children, but there was a special bond between her and her only daughter.  And in this, she is like me, too.

Aerys had started crying and Rhaenyra could only hold her and rub her back.  As much as she kept trying to erase from her mind the scene she had briefly witnessed when she followed an enraged Daemon into Aemond Targaryen’s rooms, she couldn’t help but remember the way Aerys had clung to Aemond, her hands wrapped around his arm and him trying to shield her with his body.

When she’d grabbed Aerys’s discarded shift and begun to slip it over her daughter’s head, Rhaenyra had seen the proof of her daughter’s destroyed virtue staining the sheets.  

She thought of Harwin Strong, the man she had loved, the man with the same hair and the same stubborn look in his eyes as his daughter.  What would he say about all this?  Would he call Rhaenyra a hypocrite?

Daemon walked in and Aerys turned.  “Where is he?”

When he said nothing, she raced out of the room, still only in her shift.

“He wants to marry her,” Daemon said quietly, stopping his wife from following.

Rhaenyra simply stared at him.

“It could solve a lot of problems.”

“You are truly saying this,” she asked, incredulous.  “You came here ready to start a war and now you-”

“It is better than any match we might have made for her.”  He sat down, exhaled.  “You know many lords are disdainful of her . . . looks.”

She did.  She did know it.  

“She would be a Princess of House Targaryen, the ruling house.  Her children . . . “ he trailed off.

“Would be legitimate,” Rhaenyra finished for him. 

“She is stubborn and determined.  Just like her mother.”  He kissed his wife’s forehead, wrapped an arm around her when she sighed.

* * * * * 

Aerys ran around the corner, stopping when she stepped into Aemond’s bedchamber, and closed the door gently behind her.

He turned, walked over, embraced her.  “I told him I want to marry you, Aerys.”

She felt the weight of the world easing off her shoulders.  “You did?”

He kissed her, “I did.  I do.  If you will accept me as your husband.”  He opened a drawer on his desk, pulled out a box.  “I found two of these a long time ago. This is the smaller one.”

Cradled in what looked like four dragon claws rested a sapphire.  The setting was attached to a simple gold band.  “Will you take me as I am, Aerys Velaryon?  I hope you do because I don’t think I could ever be anyone else’s.”

Aerys laughed softly.  “Yes, of course.”  She watched him slip the ring on her finger, turned her hand this way and that to admire the way the stone caught the light.  It was too big on her, but she loved it.

“I will have the jeweler size it down,” he murmured, but when he reached out to take it back, Aerys pulled her hand back.  

“It’s beautiful, Aemond,” she said, still enthralled.  

The door opened again and he instinctively stepped around her, pushing her behind him.

“Come on, both of you,” Rhaenyra said from the doorway.  “We need to talk.”  

Aemond wrapped an arm around Aerys’s shoulders as they walked past a gauntlet of stern faces. Rhaenyra, Daemon, Alicent and her father, Otto Hightower.

Once in the library, Otto closed the door and walked over to Aerys.  Again, Aemond stood in front of her, staring down at his grandfather.

“How can a little scrap of a girl like you cause so much trouble in a matter of hours!” he bellowed.

“You will not speak to my betrothed like that,” Aemond said quietly.

“Your betrothed?” Otto snapped, “you do not have a betrothed unless I say you have a betrothed!”

“Father.”

Alicent placed a hand on her father’s arm.  

“Aemond,” she continued, “we can make all of this go away.  Only the people in this room know about Aerys spending the night in your room.  No one else need know.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to protest, but Aemond spoke first.

“No.”

He stayed where he was, shielding Aerys.

“Princess Aerys has accepted me as her future husband.  I will marry her today, and if you cannot accept that, then we will not live here.” He turned to his mother, “good luck keeping Aegon in check without me.”

“You are welcome to live in Dragonstone.”

Alicent and Otto turned to Rhaenyra.  Daemon merely smiled at his wife, and added, “your dragon is welcome, too.”  He stared at Otto.  “Reconsidering yet?”

“Aemond knows where his loyalty lies, he will not act against his family,” Otto shot back confidently.

“What could be better than a match between our families?” Aerys said suddenly, stepping around Aemond.  “You are welcome to save face, Ser Otto, I know that matters to you, and present it as the long overdue payment of a debt.  If you could only see past your own schemes and plans and realize how our marriage solves problems that are threatening the entire realm.”

“How wonderful of you, saving the realm by spreading your-”

There was a pop and a crunching sound. Otto fell back, holding his nose, and looked up at Aemond, who was looming over him, fist ready to go again.  Behind him, Daemon laughed.

“Aemond!” Alicent rushed to her father.  “Father, please, come here.  Let’s consider our options.”

“Your options are accepting this marriage and not accepting this marriage,” Daemon said calmly.  

* * * * * 

“Aemond.”

He looked down at her, taking her hand in his.

“You said there were two sapphires.”

Aemond tensed, but merely removed his eyepatch, and after a moment, turned to face her.  He waited for the horror, the disgust, the fear, but she simply looked up at his scar, and the stone in his eye socket.

“Gods, I am sorry,” she whispered.  “I am so sorry.”

“I gained Vhagar,” he said quietly.  “And now, I have you.  It was worth the trade.”  He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

She looked over the scar for a long time.  Where it started, where it cut into his eyelid, where it carved across his cheekbone.  Then she looked back up at the sapphire.  “You’re almost otherworldly, Aemond.”  She reached up to touch his cheek but stopped an inch away.  “Would you rather I not touch it?”

“As my soon-to-be wife, you may touch whatever you wish,” he smirked down at her.

He had lost feeling in parts of that side of his face, but felt the warmth from her fingers as she gently traced the length of the scar, then rose on her toes and kissed the bottom edge.

“Otherworldly?”

He saw the wash of pink spreading across her cheeks.  

“I didn’t mean anything-”

“I’m not offended,” he clarified.

Aerys smiled at him.  "We should go, before they send an army for us.”

* * * * * 

Aerys touched her fingertip to her lower lip.  The bleeding had stopped after the wedding ceremony.  She had always known what the rituals of a Targaryen wedding were but it was still a shock to get cut and to drink blood.

Otto Hightower had decided that Aemond, being a second son and not next in line to the throne meant his wedding was no longer so important, and no notices would need to be made.  When he told his grandson about his decision, Aemond merely replied, “good,” and pointedly looked at Otto’s swollen nose before walking away.

"I have something to discuss with you, and I do not need your answer right away, but I believe it is time to settle some things,” Rhaenyra leaned over to face her daughter and Aemond during dinner.  She noticed how Aemond immediately placed an arm around Aerys’s shoulders, and smiled at him.  “I don’t know where Luke is, and I don’t know if he will ever return, but even if he does, he made it quite clear that he does not wish to be heir to Driftmark. I know things are not resolved between him and you, Aemond, but I plan to propose to Ser Corlys and the Princess Rhaenys, that you, Aerys, be heir in his stead.  Once it is time, the two of you would rule over the Tides.”

Aemond looked at his wife, then back at Rhaenyra.  “I believe that is Aerys’s decision to make.”

“As I said, I do not need your answer now, but think on it and let me know when you have made a decision.”

* * * * * 

[redotter]

Thought on ASOIAF and GOT

Some background: I own the books since 2014 but I didn't care much for them when I first gave them a try so I stopped after a couple chapters. Then the show was a massive hit, yet I remained uninterested and rather annoyed at how popular it was. But then I watched some tiktoks with best scenes and it really sparked my curiosity so I picked up the books again last year and it was a much more enjoyable read - for once I already knew the characters and the main plot beats from social osmosis so it felt like a reread (I mean this in the best way possible; I could actually focus on the details and make little head-cannons and theories instead of trying to keep up with all the names).

Long story short, sometimes things that are popular... are good. I love the books! GRRM is a good writer and all the negative reviews I've heard about them are not founded imo. For example, while the world is sexist, the narrative is not sexist at all. It has some really well written, strong and complex female characters, and that was in the 90s (I know, the bar is low but I'm giving credit where credit is due)! Now that I'm currently reading the forth book, I decided to also watch the show instead of piecing it together from gifs and... I'm mildly disappointed? Don't get me wrong, it's still a very good show so far, and it must have been mindblowing back when it was still running, I'm just less invested in it that in the books. And I wanna rant about it :^)

Aging up the characters

I entirely understand why this choice had to be made from a myriad of practical and ethical reasons. But it seems like they aged the characters, then kept a couple details from the books that work the way they work because of the age. For example, a lot of Sansa's lines and behavior are written for a preteen girl (her getting her period for the first time, her not understanding Margaery... just generally being naive and child-like). Then there's Jon being a virgin while looking like an attractive dude in his 20s (how could that even happen?). Or the tragedy of Robb fighting a war while so young (at least they changed the wife story, because an adult Stark would never fuck a woman while his odds of winning the war depend on him specifically not doing that). Or the horrible situation Dani is in at such a heartbreakingly young age, stuck between her brother and Drogo. Or Arya being confused for a boy while looking like a woman. All of these characters are also very idealistic and ambitious and have that teenage-y The Power of Believing in Yourself. They all make some extreme choices that a more seasoned adult would be way more cautious with.

2. The sex

Again, I get why it's there (it sells), but the show somehow has more sex scenes that the books? Or is it just me? There's also this weird focus on Renly being gay, which in the books is very subtle. The show also has some sexual violence scenes not present in the books, whose purpose I didn't fully get. Meanwhile, Daenerys goes "all men must die but we are not men *smirk*" as if the creators gave themselves a feminist pat on the back in-between nude scene #30 and a rape scenes #12. I've heard that it gets worse too.

3. The actors

I love all of them, but I feel like some characters are so beloved because of the charisma of the person portraying them. I hated Drogo's guts until he died, same with the Hound. Can't believe they have such a fanbase. Even Daenerys, I like her as a character but her POVs are some of my least favorite. On the other hand, Sansa comes of as more sympathetic in the book, mostly due to the age thing I mentioned. I love Jaime and Brienne just as much in both and I care for Bran just as little in both.

4. The pacing

I have brain rot from fast media consumption, FINE, but some of the scenes move so sloooow. If you put together all of John's POVs, I bet half of it is snow scenery.

5. The setting

Why is everything beyond the wall a dessert? The book has woods, fauna and flora well into the north. Every time I see them march through Antarctica I can't help but wonder what do all of those people EAT. I know that humans can live in harsh conditions, but there's also no fishing options so???

There's some other smaller things (like Stannis being into the Red Woman for some reason) but there's no main category for it. Overall I'll continue watching it cause I'm curious how it will get worse (I already know that it does). And hey, if you've only watched (some of) the show and didn't like it, you might enjoy the books.

[someonefantastic]

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” For vacation au cangel 💗

This took forever to finish because for some reason instead of writing a, you know, drabble for some reason I chose to write the entire first date scene which turned out to be over 2k words. I swear I'm nearly incapable of writing something short for this fandom smh

Anyway this is a sequel to this fic and basically the premise of this au is that everyone is human, there's no supernatural elements, and Cordelia and Angel meet while on respective vacations

___

The flurry of butterflies in Cordelia's stomach have officially upgrades to bats--and she's pretty sure they're waging a war. To say she's nervous for her dinner date with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Frosted-Tips is an understatement; she's been jittery all evening prompting some lighthearted jabs from Faith and Fred. It's like she's in high school, except Queen C never really got nervous on her dates so maybe it's more like she's about to do an audition for a very successful producer. Either way, she's nervous and she's not really sure why.

The elevator dings and she takes a deep breath, smoothing out the long light gray skirt of her dress. Giving herself one last glance in the elevator's reflective surfaces, she pulls her shoulders back and strides out into the lobby.

She spots Angel almost immediately and her heart immediately picks up it's pace. She could never forget how pretty he is but if she did, the sight of him standing there in a navy button up that hugs his form perfectly and dark jeans is a very good reminder. The smile that spreads across his face as he spots her threatens to turn her insides to jelly and she gives him a wave as she crosses the lobby.

"Hi."

"Hi," he greets back, eyes leaving her face for a moment to scan down her dress. "You look beautiful."

She feels her cheeks grow warm. "Thank you. And you look very handsome yourself."

His smile simply grows and she decides that it's right up there with the sunset and the Grand Canyon for most beautiful sights she's ever seen.

He offers her his arm and she automatically takes it. "Shall we?"

"Oh yes please. I'm starving."

He chuckles as they head to the resort's dining area.

___

Dinner goes off really well. Cordelia can't remember the last time she had this much fun with a guy but they've barely stopped talking since they sat down. Well, to be honest, it's been mostly her talking and him listening but he's been asking her so many questions about herself that it feels sort of unavoidable--after all she is chatty. But he seems to be enjoying himself and she certainly knows that she is so she really hopes this is going well by all accounts.

"So, Angel," She says when there's a lull in the conversation, "We've talked so much about me but I want to know more about you. Like what do you do for a living? Or what brings you here?"

He swallows the steak he's been chewing--he likes it rare and to be honest, she finds that a little weird, but it's definitely not a deal breaker. "I work at a law firm, leading the security team. I don't love it but it pays the bills. And I'm here because my friend--you might've not noticed him but he was playing basketball with me. Was wearing orange shorts." An amused smile pulls at Cordelia's lips as she thinks of Fred. "He knows a guy who works here and managed to get us a good deal." Picking up a knife, he starts cutting into his steak. "I've been so busy with work and felt like I wasn't around Connor nearly enough so--" He stops mid sentence, knife halfway through the meat and gives her a guilty look. "Oh."

Eyebrows creasing, Cordelia puts down the wine glass she was about to sip from. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I just... I never know when or how to bring this up. I'm still so new to this and..." He trails off and Cordelia's brain fills with countless worst case scenarios. Angel takes a deep breath. "I have a son."

The scenarios freeze and dissipate in the blink of an eye. "Oh?"

He nods, a little uncertain. "His name is Connor, he's five." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and flips it open to reveal a picture of him--sans frosted tips--and a little boy with dirty blonde hair and a grin that reminds her of Angel's.

Cordelia feels a smile spread across her face. "He's adorable."

Angel nods his head, practically beaming with pride. "He is. He's going into first grade this year and he already knows all of the alphabet and is starting to read!" His eyes light up as he talks and Cordelia finds herself captivated. "He's really smart and he's athletic too. You should've seen him on his junior hockey team, one game he scored three goals." Stopping himself, he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away."

"No, don't apologize." She gives him a soft smile, covering the hand he has resting on the table with hers. "Your son sounds wonderful and it's really sweet hearing you talk about him. You really love him."

"I do," He says fondly, his eyes going far away. "His mother and I... well we were never good together and it didn't end well. She's no longer in the picture."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was for the best. And well, Connor? He's the best thing to ever happen to me."

Scratch his smiles, the sincerity and love in his voice and written across his face is absolutely breathtaking.

"That's why I'm on this vacation," He continues, "I wanted to spend more time with Connor and give him cool experiences. It's what he deserves."

She squeezes his hand. "That's really sweet." A thought strikes her and she frowns. "Why are you here with me then? You should be with your son."

He ducks his head. "Is it bad if I say I needed a break from him?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "Not at all. This girl at work has kids and she once told me a big reason why she chose to return to work was to get out of the house every once in a while, so I get it." A playful smile dances across her lips. "Is that your only reason though...?"

With a smirk, he grasps her hand and lifts it to his lips. "Not at all. I saw you sitting by the pool and nearly got hit in the head with a basketball." She chuckles at the image, her stomach flipping, though not unpleasantly. "I'm very glad you agreed to dinner."

"So am I," She says softly, warmth bubbling inside of her. Tearing her eyes away from her face, she returns to her meal, cutting off a piece of her scallops. "So, if you're on this date with me, where's Connor?"

"He's with his uncles." She glances at him, prompting him to explain, "I came on this trip with a few of my friends. There's Gunn--it's his last name--he's the guy I mentioned before. He works security with me. Then Wesley, it's a long story how I know him but he works at the museum where I'm from archiving old books or something. And then Doyle, who's like my brother. Youo might've seen him on the court as well, Wesley was watching Connor during his nap time." He takes a sip of his wine. "They all agreed to look after him so I could be here with you."

"Well tell them I say thank you. They sound like great guys."

"Yeah I really appreciate them." His glass clinks softly against his plate as he sets it down. "What about your friends? They seemed interesting."

"That's one way of putting it," She says with a snort. "I met Faith in high school through a girl we both knew but we didn't really become friends until later on in our lives. She did time a few years back, it's not really my story to tell, but once she got out she started a non-profit helping kids to get off of the streets. I help her out." Taking another bite of scallops, she continues, "And then I met Fred when I accidentally signed up for what I thought was an all inclusive retreat but turned out to be five days in the mountains taking care of some woman's farm." They both laugh. "We certainly bonded."

"Seems like it," he says shoulders still shaking.

"They're good friends even though Faith has less of a filter than I do."

He hums around his bite of steak. "Good to know."

They lapse into comfortable silence, eating their respective meals and occasionally sneaking glances at the other. But a tightness wraps itself around Cordelia's spine, fear manifesting itself physically at the possibility of vulnerability, at the realization of how relaxed she feels around this man in such a short amount of time. She doesn't know him, not truly, and yet she wants to with such a fierce desire that it scares her. Not only that but she wants him to know her as well, to let him strip her bare of her defenses, allow him to crawl inside her skin and know the parts of her she's kept on lock from everyone else.

It's a terrifying thought to realize how much she wants this and more importantly, just how much he could hurt her if she let him.

Swallowing down her anxieties with a gulp of wine, she levels her gaze at Angel. A smile slips across her lips at the crease in his brow as he concentrates on cutting his steak, her heart fluttering at the tensing muscles in his hand. And she decides right then and there that she won't let him hurt her--but she also won't let her fears get in the way of getting to know this beautiful man.

___

By the time dinner--followed by dessert and a walk around the resort--is over, the moon is high in the sky and those still awake have gathered at the bars and other places with nightly activities. The hallway to Cordelia's suite is quiet though, the only sound is the soft elevator ding and the scuffing of footsteps as Cordelia and Angel make their way to the door.

They walk hand in hand, bodies so close together that their shoulders bump occasionally. The door gets closer and the bats in Cordelia's stomach become tiny vampires, gnawing away at her insides. Part of her doesn't want this night to end, to be honest it's the most enjoyable date she's had in a very long time. Talking with Angel feels like talking to an old friend; there's an ease and a comfort to their conversations, a rhythm that they found so quickly that just feels natural. She genuinely enjoys being with him--something she can't say for very many of her past relationships.

As they stop in front of her room, the other part of her waits in nervous anticipation for how this night is going to end.

"Well, this is me," She says, glancing at her room number as her body turns to face him. "How much do you want to bet my friends are in the living room just waiting to ambush me?"

He chuckles. "My friends probably will do the same."

"Why do we put up with them?" She asks teasingly.

He laughs again and ducks his head. A silence spreads between them, tense and exciting, wrought with anticipation and the pounding of Cordelia's heart. She watches him study his shoes, shift back and forth, as if gathering up the courage. It's cute how shy he's being but the silence stretches on one second too long and she can't help the sigh she heaves.

"Well? Aren't you going to kiss me?"

His head snaps up and his cheeks go red, one hand moving to run through his frosted tips. "Well-I-I didn't want to assume. I really like you and I didn't want to mess--"

He's abruptly cut off as Cordelia surges forward and firmly presses her mouth against his.

Angel relaxes almost instantly, his hands finding her hips and gently holding on. She palms his face, kissing him softly, tenderly, but without an ounce of hesitation, like walking into a pool for the first time and feeling the cool waters slowly warm. His skin is soft beneath her hands, lips like ambrosia and when he parts them slightly her head spins.

She pulls back before it can go any further, before she breaks all carefully crafted defenses and invites him in for something she hasn't done on a first date since high school. But she already mourns the loss, her mouth tingling with the ghost of his kiss and she steps back, letting her hands drop from his face before she can give into the temptation to press her lips hard against his and never come up for air again.

His hands remain on her hips for half a second more, thumbs running slow circles against the satin of her dress and then he lets go, looking at her with wonder and warmth, his cheeks pink.

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” She teases gently, voice coming out soft, nearly breathless.

He smiles, not a large beaming grin or a gentle quirk of his lips but a soft curve that she longs to run her fingertips across. "I hadn't realized just how much I wanted to kiss you."

She feels warmth bloom in her chest and spread up her neck, flushing her face. "Me too."

"I should let you get some sleep," he says hesitantly, like it's the opposite of what he really wants. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." And then, without thinking, she presses up on her toes and kisses him once more. "Goodnight, Angel."

His voice sounds breathless, wistful. "Goodnight, Cordelia."

[sholiofic]

@cuppatealove asked:

I've been sort of wanting to ask you something similar, but I can't quite frame it. I've been devouring a lot of writing advice, because I'd like to grow as a writer, but get torn between the urge to streamline my writing, have good pacing, trim the fat and make the story really pull the reader along, and the fandom urge to shun the rules and shamelessly dwell on all the moments that conventional storytelling doesn't have time for! (1/2)

(2/2) I guess if I were to try and turn that into a question, it would be: do you find you can let yourself indulge with fic a little in taking a bit more time over things, or do you think the trained writer in you is always going to pace stories the way you (forgive me) "should"?

Oh, no, you can absolutely indulge!

I’m not going to say it’s always true that readers will like what you’ll like, or that nothing should ever be cut. But actually, the one thing that I think has made me a better writer than anything else is a thing fanfic has taught me, which is to lean wholeheartedly into whatever it is that I’m writing. If there’s an emotion, go for all the emotion; if there’s a setup that could lead to [fun thing happening], then write the fun thing.

Romance (what I mostly write outside of fanfic) is particularly good for this because readers absolutely *love* long scenes of characters interacting with each other. You can have them spend all the time in the world going for walks and shopping and making out. Non-romance readers might be bored, but who cares? They’re not who the book is for.

Now, analytically speaking, every scene should do *something*. But where I think a lot of classic writing advice is wrong is that it doesn’t have to be strictly related to the plot, or doing 10 different things at once to be valid. “Being fun” is a perfectly good reason for a scene to exist all on its own. So is “showing the character’s personal life” and “delivering more interaction between two characters who are fun to write together” or “revealing that this character is afraid of snakes.”

Now, if you want to go for a stripped-down, lean, “every word counts” writing style, that is perfectly fine and valid, and in some genres (e.g. thriller) or for writing some kinds of scenes (e.g. an action scene in a fanfic) it’s practically obligatory. And at some point in the writing or editing process you’ll ideally end up looking at your fiction analytically and deciding if you really need three scenes of the character shopping, or twelve different aunts, and deciding to eliminate or combine some.

But you know what? Sometimes you DO need all those shopping scenes, and all those aunts because the chaos of the protagonist’s home life is part of the fun. You can always eliminate something because it doesn’t work for the story you’re trying to tell, but you should never eliminate something you want to write because it goes against some axiomatic piece of writing advice.

My fanfic is indulgent to the max, and I have consciously tried to teach myself to bring some of that indulgent attitude to my original writing as well, because I feel that it makes it better. I do certainly look at other advice as well - I read tons of writing books and articles, it’s not like I’m just “welp, I already know everything there is to know about writing!” I learn new things and practice them all the time. But I assess each new piece of advice based on whether it works for me, keep what’s useful, and discard a lot of it because it doesn’t work for the kind of books I like to write.

Frankly, since I write romance and a lot of professional writing advice is actively antithetical to writing the sort of slow, lush, detail-rich books that romance readers like, I throw out a LOT of writing advice because it’s actively anti-useful for me.

So basically I would say, if you find that following a piece of writing advice feels like it’s making your writing better and tighter and stronger, then keep doing it; if it feels like it’s pushing you away from the stories you want to write, then ignore it. Absolutely no advice works for everybody all of the time, and absolutely no writing advice applies to every instance of writing even if it sound like it.

EDIT: Oh yeah, and you know what’s great about throwing in all the extra stuff? Sometimes four books later, or six chapters down the line in a chaptered WIP, you’ll realize that there’s an absolutely GREAT way that you can make use of an otherwise irrelevant scene that you put in earlier, and make yourself look smart and prepared. 😂 If you went and wrote that scene making a character afraid of snakes, and now you can put a snake in, then everyone will go “Ooooh, she’s so brilliant, look at that foreshadowing!” when actually it’s just that you saw an opportunity and already had the earlier scene written to allow you to jump on it.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

An Introduction to a New Project

Well, this is a change of pace, isn’t it?

Hello one and all! Whether you’re a previous follower of my blog, are not a follower but still actively sought out this post, or just came across it by sheer accident somehow, I welcome you to my very first screenshot Let’s Play!

What’s a screenshot Let’s Play? Well, it’s exactly what it sounds like: a Let’s Play, but done through text and (most importantly) screenshots instead of recording a video. I’ve watched Let’s Plays for as long as I can remember, even wanted to be a Let’s Player at one point- I’ve long since left behind that particular idea, since I have neither the time nor resources to record full-on YouTube videos of gameplay. Still, the idea of playing through and commentating on the experience at the same time- it’s continued to pique my interest, even to this day.

Then, just within the past week, I discovered screenshot Let’s Plays. Specifically, I found one such playthrough of the infamous Pokémon ROM hack Pokémon Snakewood (the less said the better, this isn’t about them), posted by Rainbow Chara X (which can be found here, if you’re curious about reading it yourself) on the PokéCommunity forums. The format of a Let’s Play using screenshots had me by the neck immediately- it was fascinating. I enjoyed reading it, and it was because I enjoyed reading it that I had an idea.

I may not have video recording/editing software, but I do have a Tumblr blog and enough time to take screenshots as I play a game and at least write about my experiences as if I was doing a Let’s Play. Besides- I enjoy writing, and I think I’m pretty good at it too (I mean, I did write an entire Danganronpa fan story, which anyone reading who’s interested should totally check out if given the chance, more info in this post)-

Shameless plugs aside, I have decided to do my own screenshot Let’s Play, needless to say. And what better game to start out with than with one from the same source material as the one featured in the playthrough that inspired me to do this? But this one’s no ROM hack, no- it’s a full-on fan game. None other than:

Pokémon Reborn! If you’ve never heard of this game, allow me to regale you with the game’s synopsis (as told by its very own website):

Black smog and acidic water garnish crumbling structures along the city skyline. Alleys fester with disaster and crime amidst the metropolis, a blemish over the once-vibrant region. Reborn City is ready for a hero.

Pokémon Reborn is an Emerald-styled downloadable game featuring all content through Generation 7. Experience a never-before-seen layer of strategy with the all-original Field Effects, using the terrain to outplay and overwhelm your opponent! Collect, train and battle with all 807 Pokemon available in-game and take on Gym Leaders of all 18 types as you fight to restore Reborn to prosperity!

I love Pokémon, played it ever since I was a little kid, and I’m certainly no stranger to its fan game scene- if I love something enough, I consume and/or make fan content of it (like Danganronpa). I even had plans to make a fan game of my own- which I might still do, if/when I get enough time and motivation. I’ve played Pokémon fan games before, mostly Pokémon Insurgence, and I’ve looked into Pokémon Reborn in the past, but only now have I finally decided to play it as well.

And you all, however many are perceiving this post now or in the future, get to come along for the ride! I can’t promise a regular schedule for updates, I am a college student with other responsibilities (and hyperfixations) to focus on, but I can assure anyone who’s listening that when I do update, they will be filled with some amount of comedic value.

So sit back, grab a snack and/or a drink, and follow me as we have some completely normal, totally professional, and non-scuffed adventures in Reborn City!

You don't have to wait long, either- the first part will be sent out at some point soon after this is posted, so be on the lookout for that!

FUTURE EDIT: it's over here actually

[garbria]

8, 17, 24, 27, 28, 68, 72, 77 :P

8 Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

He blinked at the sight in their kitchen. Pelna was at the stove, stirring something that smelled familiar. Crowe was loading groceries and what looked like containers of some of Libertus’ food, already made. 

“Come on, sit.” Libertus guided him to the couch and pushed until Nyx sat. He was still staring at Pelna and Crowe in the kitchen.

“They made the official announcement today.” 

Nyx looked at Libertus, letting out a sharp breath as the words hit him. It was real.

“Don’t just come out with it like that!” Crowe smacked Libertus on the back of the head as she leaned on the arm of the couch. “Ignore that idiot,” she said as she punched Nyx on the shoulder, more gently than usual.

“We’re here to keep you company, and make sure you take care of yourself.” Pelna sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. “Darya wanted to come, but she had to look after the kids.”

“We brought you food, so you’re not allowed to just not eat, understand?” Crowe poked him in the shoulder with her finger.

Nyx nodded, ignoring the sudden burning in his eyes. It was nice to not be alone in this house. 

17 Do you have a writing routine?

I do not. I probably should, it would probably help me finish things, but mostly I just hope I’m not too tired after I get home from work and eat dinner to try and get some words down.

24 How do you choose whose POV to write in?

It depends on whose perspective I’m most interested in exploring the events through. I write mostly in third person limited pov, so I’m in the head of whoever is narrating it. If Nyx is the one driving the action I want to cover, that’s the pov I’m most likely to cover. That said, more than once if I get stuck, it’s because I need to change povs, and writing from a different pov moves the narrative along.

27 What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Dialogue. Snappy banter isn’t just one of the things I enjoy writing most, it’s one of the things I feel like I do best. I may just be amusing myself, but I am my most important audience. 

28 What area of writing do you want to improve in?

So, so much. Description is one of the things I struggle with most, describing where people are and what they’re doing in a satisfying manner without dragging everything down. Action scenes, trying to convey where everyone is and what they’re doing drive me crazy. Much respect for the authors that are so good at it.

68 Are there any fics that influenced you to write the way you do?

All the fics I read influence me on some level, through characterization, word choice, pacing, and the like. There are so many talented authors in this fandom, I learn a lot from reading fic by better authors. Even if the style or execution isn’t for me, I can take something away from having read it. All the wonderful talented detail oriented worldbuilding out there has given me something to aspire to.

Some of the talented writers whose fic have influenced me are @ertrunkenerwassergeist, @yuzukimist, and @caparrucia

With a special shoutout to my friends and enablers, whose fic and advice have definitely made me a better writer: @awlwren, @whumpwriterforlife, @whostarlockeda03, @meissashush, @starjunco

72 What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

I love and appreciate all comments, but my favorites are the ones that say I’ve made their day a little better. It warms my heart that my silly little stories can have a positive impact on someone I’ve never met.

77 Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

There wasn’t enough content that catered to my tastes, so I caved and decided to be the content I wanted to see in the world. XD

I enjoy finding out what happens to my blorbos when I put them in situations, and exploring the results. Also, making them kiss.