#Has Elvis Presley really left the building?

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 1: Breeding Kink

How the Web was Woven: Epilogue

A/N: This is a follow up to my series How the Web was Woven, but you don't have to read the whole thing to understand what's happening here! All you need to know is Elvis has time travelled to 2027 instead of dying in 1977 and he's living his best life with the reader who he has been with off and on, traveling back and forth in time, since 1957/2007.

If you haven't read the series, you can find it HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also mentions of erectile dysfunction drugs

Word count: ~1.1k

Kinktober Masterlist

Somewhere around his 44th birthday, Elvis sits on the couch with his reading glasses low on his nose as he scrolls on his phone. He has his feet on your lap as you watch tv and the kids are in bed. He's been in your timeline for about a year and a half and in that time he's discovered something called fanfiction. One of his favorite pastimes is scrolling tumblr to read what people are still writing about him over fifty years after his “death”. Some of it shocks him, some of it makes him blush, but a lot of it tickles him and gives him a taste of the joy he used to get interacting with fans when he was still Elvis Presley. You've never really been that into it, having had the real thing for so long, so you usually let him read on his own until he finds something he has to tell you about.

“Hm.” He makes a quiet contemplative noise and you turn and look at him.

“What?”

“Oh, I just… honey, have you ever heard of a breeding kink?”

“No, why? What is it?” He giggles a little bit.

“You definitely have a breeding kink.”

“What does that mean? Elvis!” You lean over and try to grab his phone, but he moves it away from you.

“It means that you like when men cum inside you because there's a possibility that you might get pregnant.”

“I don't have that!” He looks at you over his glasses.

“Honey, we've been together for 22 years. You have never once let me cum anywhere but inside you.”

“Yes I have!” He shakes his head and takes his glasses off.

“Think about it.”

“Haven't I? Oh my god.” He erupts in laughter, sitting up and slapping his knee.

“I told you!” You blush thinking about it and realize he's exactly right. The vague possibility that he might knock you up, even if you were on birth control, always turned you on.

“Hey, honey, there's nothin’ wrong with it.” He sees your embarrassment and softens. “It's apparently pretty common.”

You shake your head and bury your face in your hands. He moves over to you on the couch and wraps you in his arms, the same arms he's loved you with since he was 22 years old. You snuggle into him and his hands start to roam a little over your body. Whatever he was reading has him all riled up and if he's being honest, the breeding kink thing turns him on too.

“You want daddy to take a pill and put a baby in you, honey?” He whispers in your ear. Another thing he's discovered since coming to your time period permanently: erectile dysfunction drugs. Excited is an understatement. He is absolutely in love with the ability to fuck like he's 25 again. And with his heart healthier than it has been in years, he’s living his dream in the bedroom. You aren't exactly complaining either.

“Mmm… will you judge me if I say yes?” You giggle and kiss his cheek and he shakes his head.

“Not a bit, mama.” He jumps off the couch and goes to take his pill. You spend the next half hour or so snuggling and petting and making out like teenagers. The heat begins to build and before you know it, he's grinding his hard-on against you and kissing all over your chest.

“Bedroom?” He asks breathlessly.

“Bedroom.” You both roll off of the couch and make your way to your room, giggling and kissing and stripping off clothes left and right. When you finally make it to the bed, you're both naked, and he pushes you backwards onto the mattress, pulling you to the edge and getting on his knees between your thighs. He licks up your slit and you moan loudly as he begins to make circles over and around your sensitive bud.

“Mmmm… ” You moan as he licks you, the pleasure beginning to build in your hips. He moves his tongue on you passionately, reveling in the taste of you. Twenty-two years and he still loves every minute of eating you out.

“You gonna cum for me?” You nod your head and grasp at the sheets, sweating and panting. He sucks lightly on your clit and then pushes his tongue into you. “Come on, baby. You're so close. Just let go for me.”

You do as you're told and just like that, your orgasm slams into you and you writhe and pulse in his mouth. He licks you through it and then pulls back, wiping his face with his hand.

“You want daddy to put a baby in ya, honey?” You nod frantically and move back as he crawls on top of you and kisses down your neck. “God, I'll never get tired of this, no matter how long I live.”

It dawns on you that he might live for a really long time and you almost cry with joy. He really is here. Alive. He starts to press into and groans as he fills you. You moan as you're reminded of his vitality.

“Baby, it's so good.”

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Mhmm… yes…” You whimper as he picks up a steady rhythm, pounding you over and again. This isn't even close to the first time you've had sex since he's been here, but for some reason it feels meaningful. Like you're realizing for the first time that he really is here for good. The places where your skin meets are hot and your sweat mixes together in a blend of passion and love.

“You want me to roll you over, baby?” He kisses you deeply and then wiggles his eyebrows. You giggle and nod and he pulls out as you roll onto your stomach. He slides into you from behind and kisses your shoulder. “Mmm, your pussy is so good. I love you.”

“I love you too! Oh!” You moan as he slams into you and you feel his thrusts get more erratic. You arch your back a little to change the angle and he grunts.

“You want daddy to put a baby in you? Fill you up with cum?”

“Fuck!” You moan, surprised at how much it turns you on when he says it.

“Gonna give you a baby, honey. Are you ready?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” He rams you one last time and shudders as he shoots you full of his release. You pulse around him, finding your climax too as the liquid pleasure enters your veins like a drug. He relaxes against you, pressing his lips to your back as you collapse face-first on the bed. Eventually, he slides out and lays against the pillows, pulling you onto his chest. He sighs deeply and kisses your forehead.

“I have a confession.” You look up at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“You're not the only one with a breeding kink.” You giggle and kiss his cheek.

“I'm so glad you're here.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @lustnhim @angschrof @msamarican

Anyone else want a tag everyday for Kinktober?

[dreamingofep]

At Ease

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: kinda🤭

Prompt: Today is the day Elvis comes home from the army and you’re waiting for him with open arms. He wants to show you how much he missed you. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing/ tension, SMUTTT, oral sex, fingering, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

I love some army Elvis and he looks way too damn good to not write about him! Like who gave him the fucking right I hate it. This idea came with the help of @loving-elvis when we noticed how beautiful he looked in this interview and what fun could be had on that desk🤭 I purposefully put that bottom left picture on here for good reasons 🫣 Thank you @cryingabtab for the title name🩷

Again this man has me weak, I’ll never get over him so I hope you enjoy this little one shot and let me know what you think!

I also mentioned earlier that I'm also posting my fics on Ao3 so you can read my stuff there too if you want! The link is on my masterlist. Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

March 7th, 1960

Excited nerves rattled your body as you waited for the white gates to open to Graceland. These last two years have felt like a lifetime since the last time you saw Elvis. He left your life in such an abrupt fashion and you couldn’t believe they shipped him off to Germany so quickly. 

You had only been seeing each other for a few months before he was shipped off so it wasn’t a serious relationship by any means. You both did have a really nice connection though. One that was so easy you didn’t need to think about being a certain way with him or do anything that you didn’t feel was right. He just had this presence that calmed you, but also left you on edge with a tingly sensation running down your spine. 

He was just as heartbroken about the news of the draft as you were. His career was taking off and he was doing what he loved. Couldn’t help but feel he was cheated of the opportunity to do more, but he’s coming back home today and you know he’s going to make a big impact with whatever he does next. 

On his last day here in Memphis, you clung to his shoulders, not wanting him to go so soon. You had hope that things could go further with him but the draft might spoil those chances. 

“When I come back, if you don’t already have a man takin’ care of ya, will you be here waiting for me?” His voice cracking with emotion. 

You gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, trying to memorize how they look into yours. 

“Yes honey, I’ll be here,” you whisper. 

He cracks that crooked smile you love so much and kisses you passionately, flames building inside you. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you in closer to his warm body. You feel your heart gallop in your chest, your body wanting him like never before. But it’s all too late, and the wonder of what could have been will haunt your dreams for the next two years. He pulls away and looks at you breathlessly. 

“If you want, will you be good for me? Stay untouched and everything,” he asks innocently with a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You nod your head, squeezing his hand assuredly. 

Within these last two years, no guy has caught your eye, not the way Elvis Presley does. Your friends would set you up on dates with some guys but they always fell short compared to Elvis.

His daddy let you know a few days before that Elvis was coming home and he wanted you there if you weren’t busy. You were thrilled Elvis told him about you, giving you a glint of hope that he still has feelings for you. You knew you were playing a dangerous game though. Elvis could have found a new love in Germany and forgot all about you or he might want you again. 

The white gates slowly open and the black Cadillac makes its way up the winding driveway. Everyone that gathered on the steps of Graceland buzzed with excitement to get a glimpse of Elvis after all this time. 

The back door opens and out comes that tall, blue-eyed boy you’ve missed so much. He was wearing all black, his tan chest peeking out from his dress shirt that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. A gold medallion hung from his neck and he flashed that million-dollar smile you had seen so many times in newspapers and magazines. His hair perfectly styled and drooping down onto his forehead when he moved. You couldn’t imagine a better looking man.

He gets rushed with hugs and kisses from his family members and you can’t help but feel the excitement grow inside you to get a hug from him next. His eyes dart up to meet yours standing there on the stoop of the entryway and he looks at you in awe. He politely parts from everyone and makes a beeline to you standing there. He looks you up and down, his eyes lingering places on your body longer than he normally would and it makes you blush. Elvis bites his lower lip as he smiles and shakes his head at you, “well goddamn. Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. He wraps his arms around your torso and picks you up, giving you a big hug. You can’t help but squeal as he squeezes the air out of you. You giggle as you breathe again and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. He places a soft kiss on your cheek and sets you back on the ground, taking another look at you. 

“Is it possible you got more handsome?” You ask coyly. He grins down at you, not letting go of your waist. There’s an intense heat radiating through him, his eyes boring holes into your entire body.

“No honey I’m still just me. You on the other hand… my God you look so gorgeous. I really missed you,” he smiles. 

You can’t help but reach for his face, caressing it with your thumb, and look into those mesmerizing eyes. 

“I missed you too Elvis,” you say shyly. 

He reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. He looks back to the crowd forming and pulls you into the house, closing the door hoping no one will notice his absence. 

“Where are we going?” you say in a hushed whisper as he’s pulling you swiftly to the back of the house. 

“Away from everyone. I just want a second with ya before I get bombarded with people,” he says as he opens the back door and rushes into the back office outside. He closes the door and the stillness of the office brings a chill to you. Not only that, but the way Elvis feels around you is something you hadn’t experienced before. He feels so comforting and at the same time, dangerous? You can’t really put a finger on what it is but something has changed about him. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing either, it’s just overwhelming and makes you want to sink to your knees. The confidence that he carried now shined through him like never before. When he left, he was still trying to figure himself out, the fame blinded him and he was still a little shy kid from Tupelo. But now, the confidence he carries is so… attractive. You don’t want to get away from him.

Elvis’ hands find your waist once more and pulls you in to hug you, leaning down his face into the crook of your neck. A chill forms all over his body as his skin touches yours. 

More… your body screams. 

Your brain races a million miles per second and you try to calm yourself down. 

He sighs softly and looks back at you, almost unsure of what to say. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want anyone else waiting for me,” he coos, tucking your hair behind your ear, showing your face to him. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it, honey. It’s been too long,” you say, your hand snaking up to his soft hair. 

A new tension forms in the room and your heart pounds because of it. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye the more he looks at you. A look of want? Need? No, lust. Raging, burning, lust when he stares at you. He parts his lips and subtly licks them, his eyes looking like they’re intoxicated. 

“Baby?” He murmurs. 

“Hmm,” you say dreamily. 

“I need to kiss you,” he says as his breathing starts to hitch. 

Your hands grab onto the front of his shirt and pull him in closer. 

“Well what are you waiting for,” you whisper, pulling him into you and reaching up to kiss him. 

His soft lush lips press into yours and you could swear this is what heaven feels like. He breathes in deeply as he goes for another kiss, heat coming off of him in abundance. Your hand wanders over his chest, feeling the soft little hairs that lay there. His lips continue to devour yours, putting his hand on the back of your neck, making a soft airy moan slip from your lips as he deepens the kiss. 

Elvis likes this response from you, letting a moan of his own come out and he pushes his hips into your body. Your heart dances wildly, relishing in this new sensation he’s giving you, feeling his member grow hard with need. You gasp when you feel his bulge and your core begins to throb. 

You look up at him breathless, needing more of him but not too sure what to do next. 

“Oh honey,” he mutters, his hands grappling at your dress, scrunching up the pretty tulle fabric. 

“Elvis… I-I-I want you… you feel good,” you stutter out. 

A cute coy smile appears across his face. 

“You feel even better baby.” He says cutely. 

He walks you back toward the desk, lifting you up and sitting you down on the cold surface. He steps in between your legs, causing you to spread them apart more than you normally would. 

“Baby uh,” he stammers. 

“What honey?” 

“Have you been good? Staying a good little girl for me?” He asks. Heat rushes to your core as you realize what he’s asking of you. 

“Mhmm, yes honey. Been on my best behavior,” you assure. 

A little smirk forms on his face and he grabs a hand full of your dress up, moving it above your knee and stopping there. 

“Can I see? Can I feel how good you’ve been?” He says low, his voice dripping with temptation. 

Wetness pools in your panties and there’s nothing more enticing than having Elvis touch you. You want it so bad it feels like you can’t breathe properly without his skin on yours. 

“Yes, you can touch me,” you squeak out. 

He lifts your dress up higher, exposing your white cotton panties that now had a wet stain on them. He sees the stain and his eyebrows shoot up and he hums to himself in contentment. 

He loops his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lift up your hips to help him get them off of you. 

You’re left exposed there on the table not sure what the state of your pussy might be looking like but based on the way it feels, it has to look a mess. He crouched down to get a better look at you, spreading open your folds with two of his fingers and seeing the wetness spilling out of you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Someone’s been a very bad girl,” he tsks. 

Your whole body feels on edge and a bit embarrassed, but you know Elvis wouldn’t make you feel bad about this sort of thing. 

“I’ve only been bad since you drove through those gates,” you stammer. “Just the sight of you has me dying…”

“Oh I see honey… can I feel how bad… how bad this pussy needs attention” 

Your heart thumps wildly and you are so magnetized to him and his gaze. You never want him to stop looking at you like this. 

“Yes, please touch me,” you whimper. 

He leans into kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth and tangling against yours. You pull him in again by his collar and moan. He slowly pulls away, his eyes looking at you ravenously. 

Elvis places his index finger on your lips, rubbing it along your bottom lip. 

“Open your mouth and lick,” he instructs. 

Your breathing hitches and you nod your head, opening your lips apart and letting him push his finger in your mouth. You lick his long finger, swirling it like a lollipop, getting most of it wet with your saliva. You grab onto his wrist and continue the motions as he watches you intensely. A deep guttural growl comes out of him as you look up at him with pleading eyes, watching him come undone with this one small act. 

He slowly pulls his finger out, traveling down to your wet heat. His finger gets in between your slick, wet, folds and he cusses when he feels how soaked you are. He rubs it back and forth a few times, giving you a new shocking feeling and increasing the throbbing sensation that has formed there. His fingertip finds your entrance and he carefully plunges it into your core. You gasp, never having been penetrated before and unaccustomed to anything being inside you. His finger feels so long inside you and your walls hug it taught. Your mind races with the thought of what his dick could feel like inside you. If his fingers were long… surely he had something to hide in his pants. 

Elvis moans when he gets knuckle deep inside you, grabbing onto your thigh and squeezing it with his other hand. 

“Fuck honey, this pussy feels perfect. I want to be inside you so bad,” he moans, his finger curling up and pushing up against this spot inside you that could make you scream. 

“Mmm, oh god yes,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. He gives a pleased chuckle as he watches you grind more, figuring out what feels best. 

Suddenly, a group of voices start to get closer to the office and their footsteps become louder. You freeze, your heart sinking to your stomach as you don’t know what to do.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself.

He carefully pulls his finger out and licks all the slick that’s gathered on his finger. He moans when it hits his tongue and his eyes roll back slightly. 

“Mmm, taste so sweet honey. We’re gonna have to wait though, the reporters are coming, I need you to hide,” He says controlled. 

“What? Right now? Crap, where should I go?” You say in a bit of a panic. 

He pulls your dress down as the voices become louder, “get underneath the desk baby. Don’t make a sound,” he says as he leads you to the back of the desk and covers the back of your head so it doesn’t get hit. You crouch down and get in the corner of the desk, bending your knees up to your chest and try to control your breathing. 

The door bursts open and a bunch of men’s voices fill the small office. You hear camera bulbs flash and everyone trying to get Elvis' attention. 

“Elvis right here!”

“Elvis how’s it feel to be home?!” 

“Elvis turn to the left please!”

You hear his father’s voice telling them to calm down and ask questions one at a time. 

Elvis is quiet as they snap a few pictures and then he goes to sit down behind the desk. You see his legs move the chair aside and sits down, spreading his legs open and pulling his slacks up. 

You stare at how he’s sitting like he’s just teasing you in your helpless state. He leans forward on the desk, waiting for the reporters to get organized before they ask their first question. There’s little light coming through but your eyes get drawn to his crotch. There you see the outline of his hard member, pressing against his leg. You have to place your hand over your mouth from the gasp you wanted to make. He was so much longer than you could have ever anticipated and that growing need of having him inside you grew immensely. 

The throbbing grew inside you and you squeeze your legs together, needing some relief. You pray that this interview isn’t an hour long or something because you’re going to be in agony by then. Elvis starts answering questions very nonchalantly, his smooth deep voice bringing a zing to your core. His southern inflection on certain words makes your heart leap out of your chest. How can he be so sexy just doing the bare minimum?

His foot rubs against your leg, rubbing it up and down as he sits back and swivels his chair side to side answering the questions. 

Your hand snakes up his pant leg and you squeeze his calf. His leg tenses when he first feels you but then relaxes. Your fingers rub slow soft circles on his toned leg and he starts to move it. You’re not sure if he’s moving it out of nervousness or out of distraction but you can’t keep your hands off of him. 

The next question has you at attention and you stop rubbing his leg. 

“Elvis, did you find anyone special over there?”

He chuckles amused by the question, “No no I didn’t. I did meet this one girl… but it was no big love affair or anything. They just took some pictures when I was getting on the plane that’s all.”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful he wasn’t madly in love with someone else overseas. But right now it honestly didn’t really matter, he wanted you and was wanting to make love to you and your body craves him. He scoots the chair in some more, leaning on the desk waiting for more questions. Your hand travels further up and finds his still hard length. The heat radiates off of him and it makes your mouth water. You rub it gently, up and down, feeling his body stiffen when you put more pressure. He clears his throat as he answers the next question and pushes the chair in even further under the table, giving you better access. 

His hips subtly rut into your hand and your need for him grows when he does this. You never thought you could make him feel like this but you have him all in your hand and based on how he’s moving, he’s loving it. 

You feel your wetness seep out of you and run down your leg. You were turned on like never before and needed him to pour all of his attention on you.

More…. Your body continues to scream. 

Your hands move up further until you find the button of his pants and slowly slide down the zipper. 

He puts one of his hands on his thigh and scrunches the material of his slacks in a frustrated manner. 

You make sure not to move too quickly to not give any attention to what’s happening behind the desk. Your hand reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard length. You press your lips together to hold make the moan you want to make as you stare at his cock. 

He was much longer than you thought and part of you is nervous to have all of that inside you, but on the other hand, you are so unbelievably horny for him, wanting him to stuff you to the hilt with it. You feel the tip of him leaking with a clear fluid. Your thumb swirls it, spreading it along his head and his hips jolt forward, making it seem like he was just adjusting in his seat. 

Your hand starts to slowly jerk him, feeling the heat of him in your palm like a hot rod. You feel so dirty for doing this but love that it’s with Elvis and it seems he’s enjoying it. Another really bad idea comes into your mind. One that you’ve only ever heard of from other girlfriends and right now, it seems like a really good idea. You want him in your mouth. 

Your heart continues to gallop, almost sure that everyone can hear it in this room. You decide to go for it, and pull back his foreskin and swirl your tongue on it. The clear fluid tastes salty but your mouth waters for more. You wrap your lips around him and put more of him in your mouth. You hear him take a deep breath in as he answers the last question and try to maintain his calm stature. 

Your wetness continues to pool more and the throbbing becomes almost insatiable. You try to not make any noise with your mouth but it is difficult. You have to take it slow and based on Elvis’ hip motions, he’s liking it. 

The reporters thank Elvis for his time and people start to file out. A few of them hang back trying to get another question in but his daddy escorts them out and informs them the interview is done. 

“Daddy, please let me be alone in here. Don’t let anyone in. I need a moment to myself,” He says calmly as your mouth takes more of him. You hear his audible gasp and clear his throat again. 

“Sure son, no problem,” He assures. 

The click of the door closes and Elvis stays still, making sure no one is going to come in. He moves his hips away from you and you release his length from your mouth. He stands up and swiftly goes to the door, turning the top bolt. You hear his footsteps come around the desk and he pushes the chair away from it. He reaches his hand underneath the desk and finds your arm and pulls you out from underneath. 

He has fire in his eyes and looks so unbelievably intense. Taking the back of his forearm, he wipes the desk off clean. Papers fluttered into the ground and paperweights made a loud thud when they hit the carpet. 

He picks you up underneath your arms and sits you down firmly on the desk. Your eyes wander down to his open slacks and see his length in a better light. You softly moan when you see it, veins protruding from his shaft and the head of it peeking from his foreskin, red and glistening with your spit. 

He places his hand on your chin, making you look up into his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ woman, look what you’ve done to me,” his head shoots down to look at his length. He doesn’t let your head move and you just have to wait for what he wants to do next. 

“That stuff you were doing was very bad… I liked it a bit too much,” he says devilishly. 

“Oh yeah? I wasn’t sure but… I’m glad you did. I really liked it too,” you say timidly. 

His hands squeeze your thighs, spreading your legs open and pulling up your dress to rest his cock on your folds. You gasp at the sensation and he moans deeply. He takes his cock in his hand to rub the tip of it on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp and claw at his arm, cussing underneath your breath. 

“God you’re so wet honey,” he groans as his length gathers more of your arousal on him. He watches you intently, seeing how your eyes cannot be taken away from his length. He chuckles inwardly and continues to tease you. 

“You see something you like?” He asks deviously. 

Your breathing quickens as you continue to watch him rub his length through your folds. 

“Y-y-yes Elvis I umm… oh God,” you pant, letting these euphoric feelings wash over your body. 

“What baby, what is it? Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he tantalizes. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet with what you’re about to say. “I just… umm… I didn’t expect you to be so… so big,” you mutter, looking back up into his eyes. 

A soft smirk forms on his face, “it’s gonna feel even better inside you,” he coos. “Are you ready for me? You want me to take care of you?” 

Your head feels like you’re on a cloud and drunk on him at the same time. 

“Yes please,” you mewl. 

He pulls your dress up off your body and pushes you back on the desk to have you lie down. The cold surface hits your back and sends chills through you as Elvis looms over you. His hands squeeze your breasts and another bolt of lightning travels through your body to your core. 

He lines himself up and pushes the tip in, making you cry out. He grunts when he tries to put more inside of you. 

“Fuck honey you’re so tight. You need some help taking me.” He says pulling out of you and placing two fingers on your clit and rubbing there. You let out another needy moan as he works you. He coats his two fingers in your wetness and carefully pushed them inside you. 

“Ohmygod,” you cry out and your head pops up off of the desk to watch him finger you. He curls them and feels out your fluttering walls. 

“Yes baby that’s it, keep nice and relaxed for me,” He beckons. His fingers reach places you haven’t even known about, making the slick between your legs grow even more. You begin to rut into his hand, letting your instincts take over and get the most pleasure out of it. 

He groans when he watches you, almost looking envious of his fingers with how good they’re making you feel. 

He quickly pulls them out of you and you moan with feeling so empty. 

He lines himself up again against your weeping hole and looks at you, he sees your pleading eyes wild and lust-filled. 

He pushes himself in and groans heavily, your wet heat wrapping tightly around him. You cry out for him, feeling the searing pain and pleasure filling your body. He keeps a slow pace, pushing in more of his length with each thrust. You watch as he pulls out his cock and see your wetness cover it, then get buried back inside you. It’s all too much, the sensations that he brings to you are like nothing you’ve ever experienced or thought you could experience. 

Elvis hisses as he moves faster, “goddamn honey, feeling so good. Squeezing my cock so tight already,” he slurs. He grabs onto your hips and starts to drive into you like this. You moan louder, feeling the pain sear through you. 

“Elvis please,” you cry. He rubs one of his thumbs on your clit and moves it in fast circles.  

“You’re doing so good honey. Almost there,” he says as he pushes the rest of his length inside you making both of you groan. 

“Oh god Elvis yes,” you moan. Pleasure slowly starts to seep through your veins and tightens the coil in your belly. He moves his hips faster, hitting all the right places and making you feel so good. 

His face looks gorgeous like this, so concentrated on you but so lustful. He makes the most delicious noises when he takes you, grunting and panting for air as he stuffs you completely. His eyes are glued to his length going in and out of you and how each snap of his hips makes you moan even louder. 

The pain subsides and all you can feel is mind-blowing satisfaction. You sit up on your forearms to look at him fuck you, your coil tightening by the second. His hips pound into you harder, rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, bringing you closer to orgasm. 

His eyes drink you in and suddenly stop when he looks at your belly. He cusses and places his hands on your lower belly, putting a new pressure there making you feel so full. Every snap of his hips drives you wild and you’re so close to screaming his name. 

“Look baby, look how deep I am inside ya,” he grunts breathlessly. He lifts his hand and you can see the poking of his head pushing up on your lower abdomen. You moan deeply, unable to take much more. The squelching coming from between your legs makes Elvis take you faster, wanting to take you to the edge. 

“Fuck Elvis, that’s so good,” you gasp, placing your own hand on your belly to feel him inside you. 

He growls, too far gone with lust raging through him, “Oh honey, takin’ me so good. You’re gonna make me cum,” he groans. 

He leans down to suck on your breast, licking and biting at your nipples. Your walls flutter and you know you’re going to cum. He sees the panic and pounds into you harder, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“Come on baby, let yourself go,” he pleads.

You throw your head back and scream for him as your walls squeeze around his girth. Your entire body radiates with pleasure and you can’t catch your breath with how he’s taking you. 

He moans your name too, barely able to contain himself while he’s inside you.

“Goddamn baby, I need to cum…” he grunts through his teeth, his hips becoming sporadic and his strides uneven.

He abruptly pulls out of you and jerks his cock in his hand. You watch as white-hot spurts come shooting out of him and into your belly. You watch in awe as he comes undone in front of you, probably one of the single most hottest things you had ever seen in your life. The way his eyebrows furrow together and opens his mouth before letting out the most satisfying-sounding moan you’ve ever heard.

Elvis pants over you, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning onto the desk with one hand. You look up at him in a daze, unable to comprehend what has happened within this last hour. Your body feels weak yet floating on a cloud. You have no idea sex could be that good let alone it being your first time. Those famous hips put in the work and left you breathless. You look down at the pool of his arousal sitting on your belly, and back up to him.

“Was that okay for you honey? Did I do a good job?” He asks innocently. You nod your head yes quickly, almost laughing that he even had to ask you that. 

“Oh yeah honey, you were… God I have no idea what to say, It was so damn good,” you gush.

A smile forms on his face as he looks at your body again, “Good baby, I loved it too. I couldn’t get enough,” he teases, wiping your belly off with a tissue.

“Well umm… I’m free for the rest of the day…. If you decided you wanted some more of me,” you tease.

He lets out a little chuckle and his eyes light up, “I might just have to take you up on that,” he coos.

•

•

•

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticlOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7

[the-ravenist]

That's my wife

Steve Binder x Fem!Black!Reader

Reader and Steve are married, they share both of their last names, reader is somewhat tall, reader is a boss ass bitch, reader is implied/mentioned to be infertile, reader is female(sorry), Steve is a simp for reader, suggestive dialogue(no smut), reader wears pants, reader and Steve match accessories, and protective!Steve(I think)

The smell of cigarette smoke fills the sound room, multiple eyes focusing on Elvis on the stage below, the young man's voice blasting through the speakers. The abrupt sound of the door slamming gains the attention of people in the room, yet a pair of blue eyes stay focused on the act below. Those pairs of blue eyes belong to the amazing Steve Binder-(L/N), a great man, producer, friend, partner, and husband, yes husband.

Steve had the opportunity to work with the infamous Elvis the Pelvis Presley, to produce his Comeback film. At first, he was hesitant to accept the offer, but he could see that Elvis's career wasn't doing...well. But Bones had convinced him, there could be a possibility that old Elvis might come back.

Steve can feel a headache beginning to form, a dull pounding at the back of his head and the slight twitch in his left eyebrow gave it away. If the Conole didn't shut his yapper soon, Steve was gut him like the fat fish he was.

"Kennedys' been shot!"

That definitely broke him from his thought. The backtrack of Elvis's song continued playing through the pen-drop silence throughout the studio.

Dancers, makeup artists, hairdressers, singers, and others alike were piled in the small dressing room, the dialogue of the news lady sounding like white noise besides a couple words Kennedy, shot, and dead stick in the brains of the listeners. The decrease in volume catches the attention of the grieving, Steve stands in front of the TV eyes slightly red and glistening with tears.

"Listen I, uh, I just want to say that," a sad chuckle breaks through his lips. "This nation is hurting, it's lost you know."

A couple of nods and sniffles ring throughout the group.

"It needs a vioce right now, to help heal it," he nods towards Elvis. "You, you have to a statement EP," said man's eyes lighting up.

"Mr. Presely doesn't makes statements." Eyes snap to the colonel.

"He sings here comes Santa Claus", he walks towards Steve menacingly. "And wishes everyone merry Christmas and good night", he continues with a sharp glare on his face.

A beat of somber silence passes by, anger and frustration build up in Steve and Elvis. Steve knows that the Colonel could care less about the president's death and Elvis, he was The Snowman, after all, he was cold in all ways.

"This tragedy, a tragedy yes," fake sympathy is plastered on his face. "But it has nothing to do with us."

At that Steve had calmly stormed out of the room, Bones and Jerry following. Everyone else had walked out of the room slowly after, all going their separate ways to dressing rooms mostly or back to the stage. Steve had walked, well stomped into the sound booth, lighter lighting the cigarette in his hand.

He takes a deep inhale of the toxic smoke, holding it for a beat. He knew that he had a show to run he knew it but during this time, nobody was really in the best mental state to work. As he exhaled the smoke the phone on the best corner rang, he let it ring for two more rings before his shaky hands picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweets, you okay?"

At the sound of your voice, his body instantly slacked. He was glad you called, but that's not what he's worried about at the moment.

"I'm fine puff," he had called you that due to your afro, rather than a halo of curls on top of your head reminds him of a puff of smoke. I know weird comparison.

"'M just a little tired, how about you?"

" 'M not gonna lie to ya sweets," your voice shakes a little. "I'm a lil shakin' up."

Steve puts out his cigarette as he exhales the last bit of smoke. He can feel the dull pounding get a bit louder, now trust me dear reader it's not because of you I promise.

"Yeah, this...event has everyone shakin' up," a small sigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if the damn whole country stopped functioning." A small laugh was heard through the speaker.

"Honestly, I'd believe it," A huff escaped your lips. "Damn near got into a fuckin' car accident when I heard it."

"What?"

"It's nothing though, I'm fine the cars fine," you murmur softly. "And so is my fro." Steve couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

The line is silent for a moment, it's somewhat comforting in a way. "Even though neither of you is facing the other in the comfort of your shared bed, it seems as if you were standing next to one another.

"Hey, puff?"

"...yeah?"

"How do you feel about getting creative again?"

"I'm on my way."

Elvis, Bones, and Jerry are watching Steve pace in the small room. Elvis laying on the floor by the piano, Jerry lounging on the black couch on the wall, and Bones leaning on the crisp black piano watching his friend stress out.

"What's he stressin' about," questions Elvis.

"I don't know E," Jerry says eyes narrowing on the nervous man.

"He's nervous about his dames," Bones speaks up from his spot.

"Wait his girl," Elvis questions. "Why is she comin'?"

"I guess-"

Steven turns around quickly startling the men in the room. He seems calm, yet his eyes give him away; they're wider than normal.

"I'm sorry boys," a hand runs through his hair. "This might seem completely out of character of myself," and was it ever.

"Yeah, we can tell," Jerry mutters. "Why does your girl make you nervous?"

"Huh?"

"Bones had said that your girl was coming," Elvis had said from his spot on the floor.

"And we want to know why you're actin' a nervous mess," Bones continued.

"Well if I'm being honest boys," Steve reluctantly starts. "I'm worried how she would think of y'all, minus Bones."

Well, it's not like you were a judgmental person or anything like that. It's just that you're kind of intimidating in a way.

"What," Elvis says through a small laugh. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Now listen EP," Steve's is laced with seriousness. "This woman is very important to me, she's the best out there for this operation."

"So please behave," he slightly begs.

"But still be yourself, and don't say anything stupid," Bone adds.

"Don't worry my mama taught me better than to disrespect a woman," Elvis says as he sits in a crisscross position.

"Good, 'cause she'll," he takes a glance at his watch. "She'll be here any minute now."

Just as he says that the door is pushed open, with a dark brown heeled boot. And those boots are paired with brown high-waisted pants, a white turtle neck, and a pearl necklace.

"Sorry that I'm late, sweets," the woman closed the door with her heel.

"I had to speed back home to get the stuff that I thought we could use, but then I realized that I had no fuckin' scissors," she dropped the bags full of supplies on the couch next to Jerry.

"So, I had to drive to the store to get scissors, and I realized that we'd might be here a while so I bought myself a silk scarf cause why the hell not, and-"

Steve grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you a bit, to stop her rambling. She had stopped talking as she looked at Steve with wide (e/c) eyes.

"Puff, I'm glad you're here but we have company," his eyes dart to the people behind her.

"Shit," she looked at the men behind her. "Right, my bad y'all." She coughs to clear her throat. "Hello, my name is (Y/N) (L/N)-Binder, and I'll be helping y'all 'cause y'all desperately need it."

"Now excus-"

"And you, white and sideburns," you point to the boy on the floor. "You must be the big Elvis the Pelvis Presly," the boy smirks a bit. "Now I'm not a big fan of yours but I have to admit you have some hip swingn' songs." The woman demonstrates as she moves her hips a bit.

"Well thank you," Elvis trails off, not sure if what the woman had said was a compliment or not.

"It's no problem," she dismisses, she puts her attention on the entire group.

"Now what have we gotten so far hmm?"

Silence

"Have y'all at least started on a song?"

"I mean," Jerry bravely speaks up. "We sort of do," (Y/N)'s sharp (e/c) eyes are basically pinning him to the couch.

"All right let's hear it."

And then the construction begins.

"Alright, the song is done," she sighs in exhaust. " And let me tell you, y'all are by far the hardest people I've worked with."

Jerry and Elvis gawk at the confidence of the women in front of them.

"Now E," the switch from sarcasm to seriousness throws off the boys. "It's quiet obvious to anyone with an IQ of a basic human being, that your career has been nothing but a pile of flaming shit lately."

Steve chokes on a bit on the smoke of his cigarette.

"But with this song and a killer outfit by my design," you can see a child-like excitement spark in Elvis's blue eyes. "You'll bounce back in no time."

"Now," you snap loudly. "How does everyone feel about leather?"

.

.

.

"Good night boys, I'll see your show tomorrow m'kay," you say as you watch the guys leave. Leaving you and Steve in the small room.

You plop your body down on the dark green couch, body slacking once it hits the cushion. A sigh leaves your mouth and your eyes begin to close.

"God, I'm getting old. I've never been that tired in a hot minute," you mutter as you grab your head scarf from your purse.

Steve nonchalantly kneels before you, hands reaching for your boots.

"You're not getting old, you need to stop saying that," he mutters as he unzips your left boot and gently slides it off your foot, hands moving to unzip the right one.

"Oh right, I'm not getting old. I'm aging," your speech is sarcastic. Yet Steve ignores it and places your boots next to the piano.

Steve plops himself on the couch next to you as you wrap your hair with the scarf. The scarf in which looks similar to the ascot that you're husband is wearing around his neck. Once finished you wrap your leg around his waist and your arms around his neck. As if automatically, he wraps an arm around your waist and slides a hand into your back pocket.

"You know what else ages," Steve croons teasingly as he locks eyes with you. You hummed in a curious tone.

"Wine, wine ages," he leans his head forward, lips grazing yours.

"'nd you my darling puff, are some very fine wine~" His lips finally touched yours. Once your lips touch you fight back a smile as his comment registers.

"Oh, Mr. Binder you are the devil in disguise I swear," you're able to say through the onslaught of kisses you're receiving.

"If I'm the devil, you're my angel in disguise," he purrs as he continues his trek of kisses to your neck.

"Okay, now you ruined the mood," you snort as you push his head back slightly.

"Aw whaddya mean," he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"... he's so young sweets, too young."

"I know."

"He looks like a young man but has the eyes of a man who works at an office 9-5. Tired, stressed, yet yearning."

You begin to play with Steve's fingers as you begin to ramble.

"He misses his mama Stevie, he stuck to me like glue. Kept looking at me, as if he was looking for affirmation. Like a child would."

"God Stevie, why do I want someone to look at me like that again?"

Your eyes begin to water as you subconsciously rub your stomach.

Steve frowned at your sadness, he knew you wanted kids. The both of you did. The thought of having a little bundle of y'all's creation running around the house made him smile. Of course y'all have tried but when you went to a doctor the worse news has erased that dream. As an interracial couple adopting a child was harder than it looked, so in the end it was replaced with two fur babies you have at home.

Oh, Harley and June, two energy filled great danes. They're probably sleeping in your shared bed, drooling all over the sheets. The thought of them brings a small to your face.

You look at Steve's blue eyes. Oh, how you love those blue eyes. You cup his cheek, he leans into it, it makes you snort. You peck his lips, once, twice.

"Let's go home Stevie," you hop off his lap. You bend over to grab your boots and bags. Steve of course can't help but take a glance at your ass. Those pants accentuated everything. You pop right back up and turn to Steve, who still sits on the couch looking up at you. "I have to go home and sew a leather suit for a 6'2 man."

Your husband groans as he reluctantly gets up from the couch, standing in front of you.

"Do you ever rest?" His hands grip your hips as he sways them a bit.

"Yes, but only during a full moon," you tease with a smile.

"That tracks," you let out a squeak of a shock. He turns you around and carries you bridal style.

"I'll have you know that I'm working because I want to," your arms automatically curl around his neck. Steve takes the bags from your hands and puts them as far up on his arms as possible.

"Mhmm, puff y'know Harley and June don't need set after set of pajamas, he remarks as you begin to walk out of the office.

"But they're cute~."

[vintagepresley]

Elvis accidentally grabs readers boob (who he has a crush on) he goes bright red and is awkward. It is also noted that he felt readers nipple as she has a thin shirt on no bra.

Thank you for the request! ❤️

You had moved to Lauderdale Courts with your mother just a few months back and you had caught the eye of Elvis Presley, who was working hard to become a musician, but he was a shy young man and didn't really know how to approach you, but he had the biggest crush on you. Sometimes he would watch you from his apartment window when you were leave or be hanging out with some of the girls you made friends with at the apartments and they would always tell you that they heard Elvis had a crush on you and sometimes you'd all see him peeking his head out the window and staring at you. They'd all joke and tease him a bit for being so scared about talking to you. You didn't really know how you felt about him. Sure he was cute and you heard him sing for some of the people in the neighbor and you loved his voice, but you never really thought much else of him.

You thought it was cute he had a crush on you, but with the way he watched or avoided you because you made him nervous you were sure he would never ask you out. Sometime you pass by one another and you'd try to say hi to him but he would just turn red and rush right past you. He was a strange guy. One day you were outside just enjoying the fresh spring air of Memphis and he was coming home from recording a few songs at Sun Studios, his guitar in hand and he when he caught the sight of you sitting on the steps of the apartment building, he was in awe of how pretty you looked wearing a white blouse with a pink poodle skirt, he stood there for a moment as he grew nervous. You saw someone standing straight ahead of you practically stopped in their tracks, but the sun was in your eyes and you didn't know who it was, so you placed your right hand above your eyes to shield some of the sun away and you realized it was Elvis. You slowly stood up trying to give him room to walk by, knowing it was going to be another awkward interaction.

He began to walk toward and now he was growing shy, his eyes looking down at the ground as he was approaching trying to avoid eye contact, but because he wasn't looking where he was going he ended up bumping into you. "Oh.. I-I-I.. I'm sorry." he stuttered. "It's okay, Elvis.." you mumbled, trying to move to the side but you both ended up moving at the same time trying to get out of each other's way but only ending up bumping into one another again and he reached his free hand up to just move you but the two of seemed to be so clumsy that you bumped into other again and by accident his hand that went to grab your shoulder ended up grabbing a hand full of your left boob. You let out a soft gasp and when he looked down to realize what he was grabbing his face turned bright red, but for some reason his hand lingered on your breast, unintentionally giving it a squeeze and now he was blushing even harder when he realized you had no bra on.

"Elvis!" you shouted when you realize he was squeezing it. Forcing you to back away from him so he would let go and his hand released your boob, gently brushing up against it and feeling your harden nipple against his fingertips. He licked his bottom lip getting slightly turned on. Now his stutter was worse than ever. "I-I-I-I... I didn't mean to! It was an accident!" he exclaimed. You furrowed your brow at him and now you noticed the tent that had formed in his pants because he had gotten hard from touching you. "Oh my gosh!" you said softly. When he heard your words and saw you looking down he glanced down as well, noticing he was hard. He was so embarrassed that he hurriedly rushed past you to get upstairs to his apartment. You turned to watch him stumbling up the stairs with his guitar, trying to hide his boner. You giggled softly to yourself, thinking it was sorta cute, you had to admit... You kinda crush on him too now. Which only prompted you from that day forward to find ways to easily turn him on as a little game.

**

This was so cute and short and sweet. ☺️

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 23rd Of June In 1973.

Elvis Presley Nassau Coliseum Uniondale Long Island New York Afternoon Matinee 3pm Show June 23rd,In 1973

On June 23, 1973, it was unusually cool and very rainy in the New York City area. Yet I was feeling warm and 'sunny' inside as I was on my way to Long Island, New York to attend another Elvis Presley concert. Having seen Elvis Presley deliver amazing action-packed shows in 1971 (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) and 1972 (Madison Square Garden, New York), I was really anticipating this one. Fresh off of his 'Aloha from Hawaii' triumph, I couldn't wait to get to the Nassau Coliseum. Since I was still too young for a drivers license a friend of the family drove us the 2 + hours from our home to Long Island, New York. Once inside we were treated to the Sweet Inspirations, Elvis' Presley's traveling comedian and then the Intermission. At every concert I attended before and after 1973 we always let out a loud 'groan' with the announcement of the Intermission. I had seats about 16 rows from the front of the stage on the side where the Sweet Inspirations, The Stamps, and Kathy Westmoreland were seated. I wasn't going to move during the intermission. I stayed right in my seat. Elvis Presley did a setlist on songs but said to the audience theres a song we want to play for you as we have been doing it in vegas and now on tour now ladies and gentleman and we hope you like it folks to a tremoundous ovation from us all die hard Elvis Presley fans he said and did an outstanding version of the song " help me make it through the night " before we new it the show performance and concert was coming to an end but what an awesome! show when Elvis Presley comes to town everybody knows so it was a great hour to watch the master showman at work doing what he said to the audience entertaining especially for us y'all. he said to us all in is southern accent with a great laugh he has.

Elvis Presley then said he'd 'like to sing a song from Blue Hawaii' and thus started into 'Can't Help Falling in Love.' What I remember most was the sincerity with which Elvis Presley sang it on this afternoon. He greeted a few fans as he sang, but just kept looking a round the building. He ended with his trademark high note ending, dropped to a knee and spreads open a cape. Everyone was on their feet applauding wildly. As the band played the closing vamp, Elvis Presley walked side-to-side on the stage greeting us fans. Elvis Presley even paid homage to the fans sitting behind the stage, like he had done several times throughout the concert. Elvis Presley again turned to the front of the stage, bowed one more time, and then rushed to the back of the stage and to several men waiting to receive him. They whisked Elvis Presley off of the stage and to a waiting car, I'm sure. Soon the sound no Elvis Presley fans wants to hear filled the Nassau Coliseum; by AL Dvorin 'Elvis Presley has left the building, Thank you and Good afternoon.

a True fans audience members review of Elvis Presleys Naussa Coliseum Show Performance Concert at Uniondale Long Island New York On The 23rd Of June In 1973 Who Attended This Show In Person. Rare Is Unseen Till Now! B/W Elvis Presley Live in Action! Candid Photo's From This Show Performance Concert Elvis Presley Wearing The Orange StarburstJumpsuit Matching Belt.

[an-aura-about-you]

ok let's see what more I can get through on Handbook for Mortals

Chapter 10 part 2:

when we last left our hero, Scheherazade was talking about how it's bullshit that she has to make a choice and not get an answer directly from her tarot cards and I flipped a table.

-time for another round of When Is This Story Set? Dela is apparently a fan of the Monkees, a band who was known and relevant back in the 1960s. this doesn't necessarily mean Dela was a teenager in the 60s, but I'm kinda guessing that she was, which could track with Zade being 25 in 2011. this is assuming Dela was in her late 20s or early 30s when Zade was born. that or it could be later if Dela got into them later, which certainly isn't unheard of.

-random anecdote related to that because if Sarem and Zade can do it so can I: when I was in high school one of my friends was the biggest fan of Elvis Presley. like she LOVED the King, had a bunch of Elvis merch, and was just unapologetic about her interest in him and his music. she was also unapologetic in the way she stood up to protect the unpopular/bullied kids and was a dear friend to my sibling as a result because she would NOT stand for anyone picking on him. sadly, she passed away young due to a health condition. shortly after, I had the opportunity to go to Graceland, and I took it thinking of her the whole time.

-so apparently the Monkees thing has a point because that is somehow the source of what appears to be Zade's philosophy: where there is choice, there is misery. I could not disagree more. in fact, I know the perfect literary example that serves as the antithesis to that thought, and that's Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine.

-speaking of that, now's as good a time as any to discuss who this book is for. it showed up on the NYT Bestsellers List under the Young Adult category. Sarem has flip-flopped on whether this book is YA or not with the one soundbite I've personally seen has her saying it's technically not a YA book because the protagonist is in her 20s. if that doesn't sum up how inaccurate Sarem's understanding of literature and its classification is, I don't know what will.

but, judging by the book and not what the author says, who IS this book for?

it's too juvenile for older readers with the way the author dumbs things down, explaining things that should be plain in context (like "the T's" being a nickname for the Plain White T's), explaining things that don't need to be explained because they don't enrich the story (like mentioning a Game of Thrones character and then explaining that he is a character from Game of Thrones), and even re-explaining things that she's explained before (like showblacks and the EDR).

but it's also too mature for the tiniest babies with its sexual content. aside from the innuendos, the fact that Mac had a one night stand with Clara who then broke his heart is a crucial element of the love triangle plot. there's also a weird incest vibe that comes up if you see the twist coming, which is easy to find because, and I will give this to Sarem, at least she IS building in hints to it. but the hints are on the level of that one Where's Waldo? gag in The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror III:

so the only thing I can really conclude is, in spite of what the author says, this book is most suitable for young adult readers.

-also, another random note that I'm not sure where else to fit in, allegedly the author of My Immortal spoke up to confirm they are not Lani Sarem and did not write Handbook for Mortals. I don't remember if that was the person who was going to have the memoir and it turns out they didn't write My Immortal or if it was someone else, but isn't that a wild thing to even contemplate?

-back to the book, a guy starts hitting on Zade, and she takes the time to tell us she's not the "get picked up at the bar" sort of girl. it's perfectly fine not to be but with the constant juxtaposition of this kind of attitude and how the Mean Girls behave, I'm getting really sick of this looking down on girls having fun. what are you trying to do, kill Cyndi Lauper?

-in spite of this, Zade says she likes how he's fawning over her. once again the narration indicates that the only thing Zade cares about in a relationship is being desired.

-Mac goes to intervene and the guy's like, "Is this your boyfriend?" and Mac chickens out and says, "Coworker." good job keeping up the status quo, buddy.

-Mac tries to invite Zade to join him and the others to do shots and Zade's thinking, "Doesn't look like they're waiting on me to join in." for once in this book, people are doing something absent of Zade! it's a goddamn Christmas miracle!

-oh wow, we've got a violent action tally mark but NOT for Zade this time! the guy grabs Zade's arm to try to pull her back when she tries to go with the group.

-Mac grabs the guy's arm back to force him to let Zade go, and I will let this one slide a little since it is a defensive action.

-and after a bit more escalation, the altercation ends before it even gets started in the most cartoony manner: Mac sidesteps out of the guy's way and he slams into a metal support beam.

-Zade takes the time to mention that the girls at the bar aren't paying attention to Mac and Tad's conversation about what just happened because they're too busy talking about shopping at the mall.

-Tad is of the mindset that the only reason a guy would defend a girl in that situation is if they're dating. damn, that's douchy.

-oh wow, it's possible we're about to get some actual friendly conversation between Mac and Jackson.

-Jackson says he's sure Zade appreciates Mac "defending her honor," which. yeah I guess that's the term? idk, it doesn't seem like the right way to describe what happened even if it technically is.

-so, Tad and Jackson have to be the ones to tell Mac that Zade can make her own choices instead of Zade. yeah, this tracks.

-Pearla, one of the girls near Zade, tried to get her in the conversation they've been having, but Zade was just zoning out after Mac's conversations were done. and Zade's thinking, "I'm just no good at this girl-bonding stuff." but the thing is Pearla did it by asking Zade what her favorite clothing store is. this, to me, is obviously an emotional bid. Pearla is already doing the work to try to make the connection. the ask is so small and Zade is still complaining about it.

-another girl complains about how one manufacturer only sells online now and how she wants to try on clothes before buying them, and the narration says she declares this "very passionately, as if we were talking about world peace or something." girl, you know people are allowed to care about little things too, right? you know people are allowed to get worked up about small annoyances? I know you will a bit later and will have a Totally Proportional Response to it.

not to mention wasn't there a chapter earlier when you tried on like 28 dresses to find the right one to wear to Jackson's show?

-for once Zade is glad about not being the focus, though I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. Lambo Girl had said that some women can't stand Zade because of her magic, but these women all seem pleasant enough to Zade. in fact, all the women seem pleasant enough to Zade except for Sofia, Mel, and the girl from Hot Dog on a Stick. Sofia has good reason to be pissed at Zade, Mel is going along with it because she's Sofia's friend, and the girl from Hot Dog on a Stick is just a kid who doesn't know any better. and that is all of the women.

-and if all of that wasn't enough, the chapter ends with Zade excusing herself from further conversation with the girls "so that I could leave before I started banging my head against the table." it is unclear if the banging her head against the table would be from her knowing she needs to decide on who or what she wants or from the girls' conversation. at this point it could be both.

it's kind of amazing watching Zade carve all these exceptions for herself. she's not the kind of girl who gets picked up in bars but revels in the attention of men there all the same. she treats the girls who talk about shopping with disdain when she had the written version of the trying on clothes montage that is totally gonna be in the movie they are definitely still making. to give you a little taste of the next chapter, it's gonna start with Zade doing her makeup and basically playing around with whatever's available to see what she likes, which MUST be for her own personal use since professional shows have, y'know, professional makeup artists who do stage makeup. I mean I'm certain there are performers who can do their own stage makeup, but there's no indication that's what Zade's doing. Generally Pooky's got this great bit about Zade's makeup in her video on the chapter in question and I definitely recommend her stuff in general and that video in particular.

but on the upside, we have just finished Chapter 10. counting starting from Chapter 0 and knowing it ends with Chapter 21, we have finished the 11th chapter out of 22 and have made it halfway through the book!

[septembersghost]

Sometimes idk if I can believe everything that’s written about Elvis in books, even by people who knew him. Do you feel that way too? There are so many conflicting accounts you know.

for sure. personally i don't think we should believe everything. there have been people who are very much out for themselves or have their own agendas, or sensationalized (or fabricated) things on purpose, because unfortunately spicier content generates attention and sales, so when there are discrepancies or conflicts in those accounts, i think we have to be very careful and circumspect in what we believe, and weigh who's saying it and what they might have to gain against everything we definitely know to be true. stories about his key character tend to line up whether it's from people who knew him or people he only interacted with briefly, and it's easier in a way to build a picture from that, where those aspects of him really connect and are very clear, than to try to pin together stuff that's more like gossip and intensely subjective. my friend JUST sent me audio of kathy talking about him and something she said stood out to me: "no matter where he was, there was laughter, and i don't care what any of the guys that write all of these negative books or whatever - that's what they miss too, that he was fun, he was a fun person..." and then she talks about his kindness, and says, "i wish the world were full of elvis presleys," and it's like...he was a unique soul, a complicated and dazzling person, and he sought those connections and had different dynamics with different people, but every one of those people has had something to gain in using those pieces of him to tell their story, whatever their intent might be, loving or disparaging. we learn what we can and we feel what's still shared and vivacious from what he left behind, but having certain things filtered through secondhand accounts can feel disorienting and even unfair, i know what you mean. he isn't here to tell us himself, to set the record straight, to still exercise that seemingly boundless kindness the way we know he did in life. there's so much extraneous noise, but there's one clear voice, and it's his alone. we have to decide for him (and for ourselves) what information has value and what reflects his true spirit, and take whatever means the most to us.

[myhauntedsalem]

Has Elvis Presley really left the building?

 At 2.30pm on 16th August 1977 an urban legend was born when a real life legend was discovered lying on the floor of his luxurious bathroom at Graceland. An hour later, the King was pronounced dead… but was he?

 Some claim the body in Elvis Presley’s coffin wasn’t even human.

 When the shocking news first broke, it was inevitable that fans refused point blank to believe it. Some went as far as to insist that they had seen him beyond the given time of the announcement. The majority of those were considered to be honest mistakes or even wishful thinking on the part of the witnesses. At the time of Elvis’s recorded death, he was just 42 and had spent half of his life up to that point firmly in the limelight. The official cause of death was given as heart failure, but there are some that believe that part of the cause had something to do with the prescription drugs that Elvis was taking towards the end of his life. On the day of the funeral itself, hundreds of thousands thronged the streets in an effort to catch a glimpse of the cortege. Among all of these people were fans, celebrities and the media. The funeral was one of the first red flags for many fans and believers of the conspiracy. The huge gravestone prominent at Graceland actually has a typo upon it. Presley’s middle name was Aron but on the gravestone it is embossed as Aaron. Opinion on this is divided even to this day. On the one hand are those that swear Aaron is the correct interpretation of his middle name; on the other hand are those who believe that this is a deliberate message or signal.

 Buoyed by this possibility, over the last 30 or 40 years, numerous sightings of Elvis Presley have been reported from all corners of the world. Among the more famous of these was a particular fast food restaurant in Michigan. One of the many pilgrims to Graceland took a snapshot of one of the windows to the mansion. Clearly seen inside was a middle-aged man resting on a chair. This man was dark haired and looked suspiciously like the former resident. And then there was a photograph taken of former Heavyweight World Boxing Champion Muhammad Ali. Exactly who is that man in the background?

 When Elvis was lying in state prior to his funeral, some who saw him at the time went on record to state that many of the features were wrong. Main suspects were the eyebrows, chin and fingers. Others who had to rely on photographic evidence, namely the famous National Enquirer image that, allegedly, cost the magazine $18000 paid to one of Elvis’s cousins, insist that the occupant of the casket wasn’t human at all. They surmise that what was put on display was a waxwork dummy designed to mimic the King. As well as that, an air-conditioning unit was required somewhere inside the coffin to combat the sultry Memphis summertime and made the entire coffin weigh close to a ton… literally.

 Who could also forget what Colonel Tom Parker said in a press conference shortly after Elvis’s death was announced. “Elvis didn’t die. The body did. We’re keeping up the good spirits. We’re keeping Elvis alive. I talked to him this morning and he told me to carry on.” Comments such as those could have been interpreted any number of ways. Could one of those ways have literal meanings?

 As late as 2001, a new album of Elvis material went on sale. Released on an independent label, this album was called Kingtinued and featured a host of cover versions of songs such as Tears in Heaven (Eric Clapton), Livin’ La Vida Loca (Ricky Martin), Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen) and the Princess Diana version of Candle in the Wind (Elton John). As music fans know, many of these tracks were released long after 1977. The Producer of this album denied the claims of many conspiracy theorists that Elvis was back in the recording studio and said that the voice of Elvis was actually provided by impersonator Doug Church.

 Even if what was reported was actually true, there are still many questions left unanswered. Elvis was supposed to have been readying for a new tour but for some reason did not request items, such as costumes, considered to be standard for an upcoming tour. According to some reports, Elvis was said to have fired several old friends from their roles within his entourage. These individuals were rumored to have been working on a book based on their time within Elvis’s inner circle. Another possibility was that these were actually part of what is alleged to have been the Memphis Mafia and were dismissed by Presley’s father.

 On 17th August at Memphis Airport, a man calling himself John Burrows bought and used a one way ticket to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Not only did he look and sound like Elvis Presley, but Burrows was the pseudonym that Elvis Presley tended to use when booking hotel rooms etc.

 Whether or not Elvis grew tired of his fame and decided to assassinate his public self, there can be little doubt that the aura of his legend has more than taken over. His music and films still live on and are as popular now as they have always been. Elvis was such an icon that even those not among his legions of fans cannot help but be admirable for his status as the cultural revolution that helped usher in the era of rock and roll. He came along when history needed him most and burned brightly for over two decades.

 Perhaps even today, Elvis Presley is sunning on a beach on an island somewhere with his trademark “Thank you! Thank you very much!”

[allbark-no-bite]

Yours || Elvis Presley x reader

summary: Elvis makes good on his promise that he’d court once you were older, but now that he’s back in America, you’re worried about where his heart lies

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none really, illusions to age gap but nothing major

authors note: everyone thank my obsession with Elvis Presley for making me consistent with writing. i finally managed to spit out something that isn’t terribly sad and honestly, i’m in love with this one

Photographers and news reporters mill about the grounds of Graceland like ants, chattering excitedly. It's March, and the air is cool, a typical Sunday afternoon in Tennessee.

Except it's not a typical Sunday because it's March 1960 and my boy is coming home.

Elvis was arriving back from Germany, and the entire world was celebrating. Just about very reporter in the state had flocked to the gates of Graceland to get a shot of him. The Colonel had set up a press conference to make a spectacle of the event, and someone had even sent up a cake for the occasion.

Although I was over the moon to see him again, a part of me was anxious. Though we talked daily, the time we had spent face to face only amounted to a handful of hours and only ever under the watchful eye of my father. And in addition, he was returning to the life he had left behind; the rockstar life with music, expensive cars, and girls—thousands of them. I feared that I was going to become a thing of the past; once again just the little girl he had met in Germany.

But still he insisted.

"Come live with me. Darlin', you would love Graceland. When I get home, I want you there. I want you there waiting for me when I walk through the front gate," he'd pleaded to me the last time I had visited Germany before he was discharged.

At first I was dumbstruck. We had both known that things could soon be coming to an end of the two of us. My dad had been permanently stationed in Germany and had intentions to move us there, destroying my chances of seeing Elvis anymore than I had when living in America.

But what would my mother say? Hell, what would my father say? Surely he would skin both of us alive if we proposed such an idea.

Before I could even begin to form some sort of coherent sentence, Elvis intercepted the reluctant argument on my tongue.

"Before you go arguin', I already talked to your daddy. With you moving to Germany and all, he thought it a decent idea. He knows just as much as I do that you don't wanna to move here. You've got a whole life waitin' back in the states. We've got a life back there waitin' for us."

And so when the time came, I tearily said my goodbyes to my parents and moved back to America, into a big house with a white picket fence and Cadillacs parked in the driveway.

During the few weeks that I spent waiting for Elvis to return from deployment, I got to know his parents, bonding with his mama over stories from Elvis' childhood and tending to the chores outside the house with Vernon. In a way, they became my parents too.

"Here he comes!"

The declaration pulls me from my spiral of thoughts.

Reporters and their heavy cameras buzz to life as the jabbering of the people clustered at the iron gates turns into frenzied screaming at the sight of the train of black cars turning down the drive.

Standing in the front yard with Gladys and Vernon, I smooth down the soft fabric of the dress that I'm wearing. I wanted to look presentable not only because his return was being broadcasted, but for Elvis. He always made a point to look his best, and in turn I wanted to look like the girl that belonged by his side.

As the line of cars comes to a stop in the driveway, I feel a prickle of the anticipation that has been building within me for days. Jerry glances back at me and sends me a wink.

With a dozen reporters crowding the second car in the line up, it's not hard to distinguish between which vehicle he's going to get out of. The door swings open and out he steps, greeting the reporters and smiling politely as he skillfully avoids the cameras being shoved in his face. Sonny and Red, as well as the rest of his entourage, do their best to move him along, flanking him from being bombarded worse than he already is.

He catches sight of his parents first, and Gladys hurries off of the porch to greet him, Vernon trailing not far behind.

He's taller, I think to myself, staying back as he covers the distance of the yard in just a few strides to embrace his mama. However, he quickly releases her, turning his head left than right to scan the crowd of people waiting to welcome him home.

I see his mouth move as he asks his mama something along the lines of 'Where is she—Where's my girl?"

My heart races within my chest as Elvis' searching eyes finally land on me and he breaks into a smile. Next thing I know, I'm running as fast as my dress will allow me across the yard. In an instant, I'm in his arms, colliding into him with such force that I'm amazed I don't knock him down. Instead he grabs ahold of me, swinging me around and lifting my feet from the ground. The flashing cameras and news reporters dissipate around us. Nothing exists outside of the soft velvet of his black coat against my cheek, his large hands on my body, and the musk of his cologne. His grip on me is crushing, but I would let him hold me like that forever if it meant he'd never let go. 

"God, I missed you, mama," he sighs into my ear. "You got no idea how bad I've been needin' ya."

Our moment doesn't last forever though, and soon enough, Jerry is ushering Elvis along, breaking us apart. "Sorry, EP, but we've got to move this thing along. The Colonel already has you set up for the press inside," he says above the shouting of the reporters.

Elvis nods, but he doesn't release me, instead keeping one arm around my waist, tugging me to his side as he walks.

While the reporters set up their mics in Vernon's office, a cake is brought out in the meantime. A gift from the Memphis Press, the guitar shaped cake reads 'Welcome home Elvis!' in black frosting. With Elvis seated behind the cake for a couple of photos, his cousins waste no time in formally inducting him back home with their usual shenanigans. While he's distracted, Billy smashes a plate of cake to his face, and Elvis almost manages to escape it, the cake instead only catching the lower half of his face.

The press roars with laughter and the flashes of their cameras go off rapidly, catching the moment. Soon enough he's laughing too, cake smeared across his face as I lean over to kiss his cheek, all the while sucking from his thumb the frosting he had wiped from himself.

The look on his face for the rest of the day is jubilant, and he's all smiles and laughs as he answers the reporters' questions. Elvis doesn't let go of me for the entirety of the afternoon, either keeping his palm pressed against the small of my back or going as far as to sit me on his lap while the press interviewed him.

Now that Elvis was home, he had no intentions of letting me go. Of this I had absolutely no complaints. Even well after the reporters had left, taking their cameras with them, he was attached to my side.

"Let's go for a drive," he mumbled as I laid beside him later that night, attempting to get him to fall asleep. With the excitement of the day, I had assumed he would be exhausted, and he was, but as I had learned a while ago, Elvis often struggled with insomnia. We had spent many nights driving the empty streets of Germany until well past my bedtime.

I relent, and minutes later we are pulling out the gates of Graceland in his pink Cadillac.

We drive for probably a hour, chatting on and off, singing along to the quiet mumble of the radio when a good song comes on. It was as if we had not spent a single moment apart.  I would have been content to drive around until the early hours of the morning with him—I would have been content doing anything with him—but finally he selects a spot to park.

With the car stopped, he eases back the seat until he's reclining back. Elvis pats his thigh, motioning his chin in my direction. "C'mon, mama."

And so I'm crawling over the seats of his pink Cadillac, until I'm settled comfortably in his lap, my knees bracketing his hips. Once he's content that I'm situated, he rest his hands behind his head, fully relaxing into the seat.

For a while we sit in silence, Elvis just staring up at the stars and me admiring him. Eventually his blue eyes become slits, narrowing until they flutter closed. At first I think that he has finally fallen asleep, but then he yawns, and his blue eyes crack open again.

He hums imploringly, looking at me through his dark eyelashes.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Again, his eyelids fall closed, and he hums again. Only this time, negatively. "Uh mmm."

I gasp, grabbing his jaw out of reflex to get his attention. "Elvis Presley!!"

His eyes snap open, and he pulls my hand away from his face. It's then that I catch his smirk of mirth that was hiding beneath my palm.

"You were only seventeen."

My daddy had been an officer stationed at home in the states, but he was going to Germany for some business. At farewell party held for draftees, I'd met Elvis just before he too, was shipped to Germany.

At seventeen, I was young for my grade and almost out of high school. Left alone at the party while my father chatted with his old comrades, one of his soldiers, who happened to be a family friend of ours and a mutual friend of Elvis', introduced us.

Almost immediately, I was swooned by his charm. Elvis, on the other hand, was not convinced.

"Little girl, you're just too young," he had eventually confessed to me at the end of the night. "Maybe when you get outta school, I'll write to ya, but not now." And he had left it at that, disappearing to Germany for an entire year without making contact with me.

The following summer, he sent me a letter.

Dear Miss [L/N],

I am pleased to write to you that your daddy is doing well. We are stationed not far from each other and have become close confidants. Our main topic of conversation is you. I promised to you that we would talk again after you graduated from school, and I am a man of his word. I hope this letter finds you well and open hearted.

yours,

Sgt. E. Presley

After receiving his letter, we kept in close contact for the remainder of his deployment; even making calls when letters were not enough.

"So sweet," Elvis recalls. "With a mean streak." I squeal when he roughly grabs hold of my hips.

I blush, swatting him away as I protest. "I was not!"

Admittedly, he wasn't wrong. We did get to see each other between the time he left for Germany and when he came back. My dad would fly myself and my mother out every so often to visit him, and we would attend the military balls in the evenings.

Often the soldiers would avoid me at all costs. My dad didn't have to worry about me attending such gatherings because he knew what a spitfire I was. I had a mean reputation amongst the soldiers stationed in the area. It was mostly the young recruits who often walked away from conversations with me, licking their wounds after making some vulgar or sexist comment. Because he too was a man himself, Elvis was sometimes on the receiving end of such interactions. But he was respectful and able to hold his tongue around me for the most part.

Elvis chuckles and pats my thigh, wrapping a large hand around the back of my knee, tugging me further onto his lap. “C’mere, mama. It’s been too long since I’ve held you.”

Like putty in his hands, I allow him to embrace me, tucking me close into his chest. He hugs for a second time today, just the same way he did in the front yard this afternoon. It’s the same way he’s hugged me since the first time we had to say our goodbyes in Germany years ago and every time since then. It’s not tender or gentle, but bearish and consuming, as though he’s putting his entire being into the embrace. I never ask him to let go, always willing to wait in his arms until he decides that we can’t stay that way forever.

The temperature has dropped a few degrees but the heat from his body and his half open velvet coat are enough to warm even my insides. As our bodies slowly become one, I hear his breathing even out against my ear, and his heart slows to a patient thrum between our bodies. Still dressed in our clothes from the previous day, we fall asleep together under the stars in the drivers seat of his car.

[writersarchivex]

The Bathroom Pt.2

elvisx reader

imagine austin elvis or the man himself whatever floats your boat.

part two to the bathroom:) I'll link it down below. enjoy , or not. completely up to you

word count: 1438

Part One :)

I took Elvis' hand and walked as quickly as I could over to my desk. I collected a few things, eyeing over my shoulder every few moments.

People were staring obviously, because I got fired, and because I was literally holding Elvis Presley's hand. I would stare too.

I would definitely stare too.

I threw what I could in my purse, and I decided the rest could go to hell.

You didn't let go of the man's hand until the both of you stepped outside of the building.

Your nerves were worse than you though, and adrenaline was coursing through your veins.

"Holy shit how am I gonna pay the bills!" You cursed, turning to him as if he would have the magic answer.

His face was blank, but he only held eye contact for a moment before he was looking around.

"Darlin' let's talk about this somewhere private. I can already smell the reporters."

You nodded and followed him to his car. His gorgeous car.

The windows were dark, so the setting was a bit more private, and personal.

"What just happened." You said, not really knowing if you were looking for the answer.

He laughed and turned to you.

You realized that it's probably been a very long time since he's had to worry about this kind of thing.

"Sorry Mr. Presley, this probably wasn't your plan for the day,"

You were feeling a bit humbled. The reality of your situation had set in.

This man made what you made hourly every five minutes. He has been beyond famous since you could remember.

He was bigger than you, and better.

"Don't call me Mr. Presley, makes me feel old. An' don't worry bout it mama. I ain't got nothin but time." He offered.

You shook your head, feeling guilty for consuming his time. Guilty for taking up space in his car. For breathing the same air as him even.

He saw how hard you were thinking, and that you were getting more and more uncomfortable.

He sighed, starting the car.

"You got two options now, either I can drive you on home, or we can get somethin' to eat."

You smiled at his kindness. You felt a bit more comfortable in his presence, and you were trying to remind yourself that he was very much still just a man.

"Food, would be nice. Yeah."

----

He took you to a diner, that was much farther away from home than you were used to.

The nicest part was that it was completely empty.

I mean, at least he would be able to eat in peace for a while.

The two of you walked inside and were sat immediately. You could tell by the looks of the three workers that they could've passed out on the spot. You chuckled lightly.

This is his life. Everyday.

The thought of that was unimaginable.

The food had been ordered, and you were left at the table with Elvis by yourself.

"So why journalism." He spoke, eyes fixated on his glass.

I smiled at his quickness.

You understood that your career choice wasn't interesting to some, even most. It was yours though, your passion.

"I used to interview mama when I was a girl. Notepad and everything. I don't know just something about it,"

You looked up at him and smiled.

"So why music." You copied earning yet another laugh.

You decided that would be the end goal. If neither of you took anything from this situation, at least you got to hear his laugh.

"Instinct. Always loved it. Been told I'm pretty good at it,"

The conversation continued throughout the meal. You learned a lot. Everything from his favorite color to his favorite room at Graceland.

"My favorite song?" You suddenly felt pressured.

He had asked what your favorite song was. Not just in general but of his.

You pretended to think for a moment, but you knew the answer the second he asked.

"If I Can Dream." You smiled.

You remember the performance like it was yesterday, it was the most memorable song you've heard. The emotion he had put into the lyrics, the performance, and the message behind it meant everything to you, and to what you believed in.

"Always wanted that one to be the favorite. Not too many people worried 'bout music havin' a message though." He took a sip from his drink

"I think it's important that all art has a message." You stated earning a smile.

He was a bit more in his element now, he wasn't sweaty and nervous, and he was obviously passionate about what the two of you were talking about.

The two of you talked a bit more about his music, you notice his meek attempt to be humble. It kinda worked.

Kind of.

He stared at you for a moment. Observing your beautiful features.

You somehow looked kind. He hadn't met a person that was that kind to him in a long time.

"Come work for me-with me darlin'. "

He offered quickly before he could think much about it. Did he know what you could be doing for work with him? No. Did he want you with him? Yes.

"Excuse me?" You questioned the kind offer, not that you weren't grateful.

You looked him, his face was sincere.

"They did you wrong by lettin' you go baby,"

You felt your cheeks grow hot at the name.

"I'm sure they'd all love to have you over there at Graceland."

He was serious. Like dead serious.

"Oh, I don't know Mr. Presley,"

He coughed.

"Elvis. What would I even do?"

He shrugged and took a look outside at the cars beginning to pile in.

"Darlin, I bet you all the money I got I could do great with having a personal assistant. Now let's go out the back alrigh? Not feelin' up to sign anything at the current moment." He threw a couple of large bills on the table, making you eye him closely.

Money was really nothing special to him huh.

The two of you made it to the car and were on the road before you knew it. He said he wanted you to at least see Graceland. You were honored, I mean despite it being famous it was indeed this man's home.

He designed it. Bought it when he was just getting big. It had to be important to him

The house was gorgeous from the outside. The yard was kept in perfect condition and the house itself was beyond the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

He brought you inside.

You were to amazed to even speak. Somehow you were more starstruck by the house than you were him.

Funny.

"This is. This is-"

You were dumbfounded, and you had no idea what to say. This world was beyond crazy to you.

Sure, you worked around celebrities every day, and you did nothing but write and think about their lives.

Living that life directly though? Never something you thought you would be doing.

Even though you were full of doubt and your brain was telling you no.

Something out it, him, made you want to say yes. You wanted to know him.

"Here darlin calm it down a little, let me show you around."

He began to walk, expecting you to follow. Your house could fit in this one five times over, maybe even six.

The living room was gorgeous, and the kitchen was something to behold.

The upstairs was just amazing as the downstairs, and it was even more him. The hallway was lightly decorated, and it smelled wonderful. Like cologne and fresh laundry.

He shows you every room, some of them belonging to someone.

Then you stopped at a door, the only one that was closed.

He opened it and it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Not your taste kind of beautiful, but beautifully his.

The room was covered in red. Black, and there was a huge tv sat right in front of the bed.

"Your room?" You questioned, as he took a step inside.

"That obvious mama?" He smiled.

You didn't realize how close you were until now.

Every part of you wanted to kiss him, but you know how inappropriate it would be.

"It smells good in here," You said before you could truly think.

Your voice was soft, and shaky even.

"Hm?"

He took a step in your direction, and you copied the action.

"You are just about the prettiest damn girl I've ever-"

You cut him off, placing your lips against his.

His ring clad hand found its way to your waist, and the kiss was growing deeper by the second.

This kiss was unlike any you've ever experienced. It was truly intimate, but not in a hungry way.

It was like he cared about your comfort, just like you cared about his. He was already so important to you.

Much to your dismay he was in need of air, and he pulled away.

"I think I'd love to be your personal assistant."

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - I bet i love you

Gif if not mine, but i swear she looks prettier every time i look at her.

Summary: Prompt based from @ecruzsalaz: The one where Wanda is popular, and Reader is a nerd. The popular kids do a bet that Reader will fall in love with Wanda. Everything will be reveal after their trip. 

Warnings: Light angst, kissing, teasing, underage drinking, lies, Vision being an idiot completely out of canon.

Words:  13.446 k /// Read on AO3

Notes: I don’t even know what happen here. I’m been busy and this took a lot of days to be done, but it’s finally here, hope @ecruzsalaz will be satisfied haha. Good reading everyone and apologies for any typo, it sucks to translate so many words. There are a few pop culture references, i wonder if anyone will catch those.

Marks (if i forgot your name tell me i’m lost):  @mionemymind @abimess

In your last year of high school, you just wish things would be peaceful.

The previous years hadn't exactly been ideal, since you were surrounded by assholes, but you are optimistic.

Your small, select group of friends, consisting of exactly two people, who you could swear were probably the only decent human beings left in West View High School, were currently the only reason you still wanted to go to high school.

Right now, for example, you were sitting in the outer cafeteria, a book of historical fiction to escape reality plus headphones with some old rock music that you weren't really listening to, since you were so focused on the story you were reading. And then someone pulled on your headphones, and you looked up ready to complain, but the mischievous smile of your best friend Bruce Banner was all you could find.

- I've been calling you for five minutes. - He said, sitting down on the stool in front of you. You smiled, apologizing, and put your cell phone on the table. - No problem, you always do that.

You laughed awkwardly, closing the book while Bruce put his backpack on the table.

- Where is Mon? I haven't seen her today. - You tell him, but Bruce shrugs. 

- Maybe her mother changed shifts again. - He comments, and you make a noise with your mouth of agreement. Whenever Maria, your friend Monica's mother, switched shifts at work, she would be late for first periods. It has been like this since primary school.

- You still haven't let me see your schedule. - You told Bruce with a slight frown, and he laughed, going through his pockets. Then he took out his cell phone, fiddled with the screen for a few seconds, and then handed it to you. You read the attached class schedule with a frown. - Bruce! You didn't sign up for half the classes you took last year?

He shrugged, running his hands through his hair.

- Yeah, I think I'll focus more on what I want for college. - He explained a little shyly. - I was getting too anxious about all that stuff. And honestly, you should have done the same.

You made a grumbling sound with your mouth, and started biting your thumbnail as you finished looking at the schedule. You would barely have any classes together. And then you handed the cell phone back to your friend.

- I would do it if I had any idea what I wanted to major in. - You tell him. - It's better to have several interests on the curriculum, so I'll have more course options.

- You can also develop burnot. - He remarked with mild irony, and you laughed, looking away.

The bell for the first class then rang, and the two of you exchanged a look before getting up. Bruce kissed you on the cheek before heading in the opposite direction, and you grumbled lightly as you picked up your book and walked to the chemistry labs.

In the hallway of the main building, a few meters before the entrance to the lab, someone bumped into you. It was one of the boys from the team, who was laughing at something his colleague said. Your notebooks fell to the floor, and the boy looked at you with contempt.

- Watch where you're going weirdo. - He warned and you rolled your eyes.

- You're the one who bumped into me, you brute. - You grumbled angrily. The boy just laughed and walked away.

After picking your books, you stood up. The athletes at your school were jerks, but you didn't blame only them for their arrogance. The rest of the school, including the faculty, treated them as gods, so they behaved as such.

Sighing with impatience, you entered the chemistry labs, wishing that the day wasn't long.

Darcy Lewis had been your chemistry partner for three years. You smiled as you greeted her and sat down next to her. You were not friends, but she was very kind and extremely intelligent. You really thought you were very lucky to have her as your partner, and then, as if the universe would like to laugh at you, Professor Nakia announced that she was switching partners.

The whole class let out a chorus of dissatisfaction, and one student asked aloud.

- Please, Professor Nakia, we have been working with the same people for three years. Why change now?

- Excellent question, Miss Quinn. - Nakia said, smiling. She was at her desk, finishing putting her materials on top. - Three years is more than enough time for you to create tricks to cheat on my exams. 

The room exchanged complicit and guilty looks, and the teacher kept a serious posture.

- The school board found evidence to indicate this. - She explains. - I was very disappointed to learn that there were students cheating on the evaluation method not only in this class, but in several others. You will notice that all teachers with fixed groups will rotate them from now on. This was a decision made by the principal.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you would lose your amazing partner and were running the chance of ending up with someone irresponsible or slacker, just because some kids were careless at cheating. The room let out a chorus of understanding, and everyone began to move around as the teacher indicated the new groups. You ended up sitting with a guy named Vision, who you didn't really know, but you knew was quite popular because he was class speaker, and head of the fencing club.

- Hello, dear. - He greeted you as he sat down, putting his coat on the chair. Vision dressed very well; he was part of the group your classmates called "preps”, even if he was usually hanging out with jocks.

You made a noise with your mouth in greeting, but he didn't seem to mind your lack of sociability. 

Fortunately, Vision was a decent chemistry partner. Although he was bossy, and had a habit of interrupting or explaining as if you were stupid, he was intelligent and knew how to do the experiments. You thought that was enough, since you would only have to put up with him in this class.

Feeling a glance at you, you raised your eyes from the notebook, and were slightly startled to notice Vision looking at you with amusement and curiosity, you frowned ready to ask what's wrong, but then he let out a dry laugh.

- I knew I knew you! - he declared. - You're the Presley freak!

Vision laughed lightly nostalgically, and you felt your face flush, turning your attention back to your notebook. He was talking about the Halloween party in freshman year, where you dressed up as Elvis Presley and the track team decided to nickname you "Presley Freak" for the next whole year. The teasing died down after a while, but Vision brought it back as if it were a good memory.

Fortunately he just shook his head with amusement, and didn't mention it again. When class was over, he didn't say goodbye on his way out, but you didn't care.

//-//

The story that all the teachers followed the new norm of switching partners was true. In History, you lost your partner Bucky Barnes to sit with Natasha Romanoff, equally quiet and intelligent. For the most part, you are satisfied with the partners you got. 

But then in fourth period, biology class, you ended up partnering with someone you never imagined.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the most popular girls in school. You didn't really know her. You were classmates during elementary school, and you even became friends with her twin brother in elementary school, Pietro Maximoff, before he became a complete idiot. But other than that, you didn't know much about her. Although you had a strange sympathy for the girl. Unlike the group of girls she hung out with, Wanda never tormented you at school. Or your friends. She was probably fake and sneaky like the others, but she left you alone, so you had nothing against her.

You were pulling your biology book out of your backpack as the teacher announced the new pairs, and you stopped in mid-motion when she said Maximoff and your name.

Wanda sat down beside you the next moment, smiling politely. You shook your head slightly, dropping your backpack on the floor.

Wanda was surprisingly nice. You didn't talk about anything unrelated to the subject, but she was quick enough to catch your ironic glances when Professor Darkholme made an inappropriate comment or a funny remark, and match it with a smile or a look. 

As the class came to an end, Wanda nodded slightly at you, and you smiled back before gathering your materials.

It had been four months since classes had started, and you were already used to your new partners in class. 

Vision was inconvenient in many comments, as if he took pleasure in recalling your most embarrassing moments in high school, but you learned to change the subject quickly whenever this happened. All you had to do was pretend you didn't know about some subject he mastered, only to hear him explain it to you in the most arrogant manner possible for the next few minutes, effectively distracting him.

Natasha Romanoff was exceptionally sarcastic and ironic, and you sometimes you felt that she was a more aggressive female version of your former partner Bucky Barnes. She was quite individualistic, and you had to make an effort not to get left behind, or you had to constantly remind her that you were a duo, but otherwise she was a good partner, and you were happy to invite her to lunch with you, which eventually became a habit after a week.

And then you had Wanda Maximoff. You weren't friends, but you had a strange kind of complicity as biology partners. You never would have guessed that Wanda would have a sense of humor so similar to yours. Two classes in a row, and you already had inside jokes about the way Ms. Darkholme caught the attention of her students. Two weeks in, and you two knew how to cheat your way through assignments. You didn't know how to make friends, and judging by the history of who Wanda was hanging out with, you had the impression that she wouldn't want to develop any kind of relationship with you. And honestly, this was your last year, you wouldn't see these people again, so you were more than satisfied to have just one good lab partner.

With the mid-winter vacations approaching, you were looking forward to getting some rest.

Non-Reader Pov

- God, Wanda, why are you talking about that weirdo again? - interrupted Vision impatiently. His girlfriend blinked in confusion, looking away awkwardly.

- I'm just commenting on a joke we…

- Really, Wanda? - He interrupted again with an accusing look. - It seems like all you do lately is "comment" on your little jokes in class. - He sneers as he settles down on the sofa. The two of them stand together outside the school, their group of friends watching the discussion with amusement. - I don't know why you talk to her at all. She is so silent and awkward with me in chemistry class.

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, looking forward. 

- I think your girlfriend has a girl crush. - Tony Stark sneered next, making everyone laugh. Wanda frowned, feeling her heart race.

- You are an idiot. - She grumbled impatiently, crossing her arms. Vision looked at her curiously.

- Honey, don't tell me that you actually appreciate that girl? - he asks ironically, and Wanda rolls her eyes without looking at him. Vision laughs. 

And then Tony is holding out a craft-paper covered bottle to Vision, and he takes a sip, coughing slightly afterwards. Wanda frowns at the scene, but none of her friends seem concerned that they are drinking during school hours, as the bottle continues to pass in everyone's hand.

- You know, I think it's sweet that you have sympathy for that freak. - Tony comments a moment later and Wanda tells him to fuck off, making him laugh. 

- I think we are witnessing a beautiful love story. - Mocks Pepper, Tony's girlfriend, approaching the three of them as she sits on Stark's lap. Wanda rolls her eyes, as the group laughs. And then Vision has a thoughtful expression.

- I have an idea. - He says slightly drunk, as he throws his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. - Let's make a bet.

Tony and Pepper let out excited exclamations, while Wanda frowns.

- What kind of bet?

- Well, you guys remember when the weirdo dressed up as Presley for Halloween, right? - he asked, and Tony and Pepper laughed, agreeing. - And then Pietro saw her kissing that girl who hang with the bikers, Jones something.

- Jessica. - Pepper clarified before taking another sip of her drink. 

- Then we know she's a dyke. - Vision says, but Tony frowns.

- Wasn't she dating that guy with the long hair and the angry face? 

- Barnes? - Vision asked and Tony nodded. - I don't think so. Anyway, she is into girls. - he said and the group nodded in agreement. - I mean the bet is this: I can prove that she is just like everyone else in this school. Give her a bit of our attention, and she will be completely obsessed.

- Vis, what are you talking about? - Wanda asked, and Vision laughed ironically.

- It's very simple, love. - He says. - You are hot. Everyone knows that, and even someone like her, who pretends not to be part of the social circles of this school, can see that. - He clarifies, and the group looks at him intently. Wanda doesn't say that she doesn't like being objectified, swallowing the bitter feeling in her stomach. - So my bet is that you win her over. It should take what, one or two dates for her to be completely in love with you.

The friends laugh in irony and Wanda thinks she should follow, but only a forced laugh escapes. Because of the alcohol, no one notices.

- This is ridiculous. - Wanda comments and then Vision looks at her with irony.

- Unless you're getting attached to the girl, dear. - He sneers, and the group laughs. Wanda swallows dryly, shaking her head in denial. - So, what's the problem? You'll just prove me right. And you will realize that there is nothing special about her. 

- I think we can make this even more fun. - says Tony with a wicked smile. - I bet you a hundred bucks that Wanda will fall in love too.

Tony sneers and the group laughs with irony.

- As if anyone would even like that girl. - Vision declares, accepting another drink. 

- How do we make sure it's working? - Tony asks and Vision bites his lip thoughtfully. Then he lets out an exclamation.

- Our trip! - he says, and then turns to Wanda. - Love, invite the weirdo to the cabin! We can watch you work.

Wanda frowns, but then the group is suggesting ideas of conquest, and laughing, and debauchery, and she hates it. But she smiles, and nods in agreement, accepting the liquor as the bottle comes into her hand.

Reader Pov

You intended to study during the winter vacations. And maybe get out of the room a little if Bruce or Monica visited. Your surprise was genuine when in your last biology term, Wanda Maximoff started talking to you about something other than the subject.

- Hey, are you doing anything this holiday? - she comments amiably. You didn't notice the looks Tony Stark was giving you two from the front seat. 

- Huh... No?

- Are you asking me? - She replies with a smile. You blush, looking away at your notebook. Wanda bites her cheek, and it takes a moment for her to speak again. - I wanted to invite you to something.

You blink in surprise, looking at Wanda. She looks away from the board for a moment, as she wiggles her fingers against her own thigh.

- My friends and I are spending the holiday in a cabin. - She clarifies. - There's all this winter activities, you know. Skiing and stuff like that. I'd like you to come.

- Why? - The question slips out a little harshly, but you can't help it. Wanda looks away, and you almost apologize. But then Wanda smiles, shrugging.

- I'd like to get to know you better, I guess. - She says. - I think it would be fun if we could be friends outside of class.

You look at her suspiciously for a few seconds. But then you sigh, looking down at the notebooks.

- Alright, Wanda. - you say after a moment, ignoring the growing anxiety in your stomach. - Is it okay if I bring a friend?

- Of course! - She confirms excitedly. - You can take whoever you want, it's a big place. 

The teacher gives a warning for side conversations next, and you shut up. You blush when Wanda approaches you to write down her phone number in her notebook. You are distracted enough not to notice her blushing slightly when Tony Stark gives her a mischievous look. 

//-//

- So you actually said yes? - Bruce asked with surprise when you told him about the biology class, while you were having lunch together in the cafeteria. Monica had the same expression.

- Yes, and I would love it if you would go with me, because I think I am close to completely freak out. - You ask with mild desperation and your friends laugh. And then Monica is looking behind you.

- Look, I would be too. They are so... - She starts and you turn around, looking at the group of Wanda's friends a few meters away. The kids are sitting at the table, making noise with their loud laughter. One of them was throwing a football up in the air. A short boy walked past them and was pushed slightly. - I can't even define them.

You let out a grumble, laying your head on your arms on the table.

- This was a bad idea, wasn't it, guys? - you ask. - They're going to eat me alive.

- Why the long faces, nerds? - Natasha asked as she came over to the table, placing the tray of food next to Monica, staring at you. 

And then your friends explained it to her, and you groaned in dissatisfaction when she started laughing.

- You've lost your mind, haven't you? - she asked wryly. - It's a trap, I'm sure.

- There's no reason for it. - You retorted, trying to eat a little. - Besides, it was Wanda who invited me. She said she'd like us to be friends.

- Look, I know that Maximoff is the least worst of the bunch. - Nat began as she opened her soda. - But she still hangs around with those idiots. 

- Yeah, I know. - You agree with a sigh. And then you remember your classes. - I just... She has been surprisingly nice, you know? I think she was being sincere. It's just a trip, it's not the end of the world.

- Good to know you think that. - said Bruce. - Because I won't be able to go.

- What? - You then exclaim.

- I applied for an internship at S.H.I.E.L.D. Labs. - He remarks and you let out a grumble, remembering.

- Shit, it's true. - You say. - I completely forgot about it.

- Girl, I can't go either. - Informs Monica with a guilty expression, and you let out an exclamation. - I'm going to spend the holiday with my father.

You bury your face in your hands. And then you risk a glance at Natasha, and she laughs wryly.

- Don't even try. - She says. - Even if you paid me I wouldn't travel with Tony Stark.

- I'll pay you.

Nat laughs at your desperation, and stops eating, looking at you with surprising kindness.

- You, girl, are adorable and kind. A nerdy cute dork, and I'm sure that if that's not enough for those idiots, they're the problem, not you. - She assures you, and you smile wryly. - Don't worry about pleasing any of them, you're going to become friends with Wanda, aren't you? Try to enjoy the trip, and if anything happens, call me and I'll finish them all off.

You laugh, nodding slightly. You don't want to think so much about this trip, but you know it's going to be the only thing on your mind for the next few days.

The week ended quickly. And you were very anxious when the weekend arrived, and you received a text message from Wanda saying that she would pick you up at home on Saturday morning. You would spend the holiday at the Stark family's winter cottage, a property big enough to fit the whole group. Wanda said it was somewhere with mountains, near a lake, and you bit your lip, wondering if you should bring a bathing suit. Since it was snowing, you figured you wouldn't try to swim anywhere.

On Saturday you were up bright and early, your bags packed. You kissed your parents and your younger brother on the cheek before you left, finding a pickup truck parked in front of your house.

Wanda hugged you when you said good morning to her, and to the boys. Vision and Pietro were in this car, and she said that Tony was in the second car, and had gone for gas.

Vision drove towards the cabin next, and he tried a little small talk before shutting up. Wanda was in the passenger seat, and Vision let his hand rest on her thigh, and you didn't understand the bitter feeling in your stomach.

- God, put on some decent music! - asked Pietro, scrambling up on the seat beside you to reach for the radio.

- Leave it, Pietro! - complained Vision pushing the boy backwards. - You only want to play that emo shit!

Pietro laughed, not insisting. And Vision looked at you through the rearview mirror.

- Let's let our guest choose the music. - he said with a smile. You cleared your throat. 

- Okay. - You agreed, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. You turned on Spotify next, and when Vision asked if it would be any longer, you bit the inside of your cheek. And then you put on some pop rock.

Nobody said anything, and you thought that somehow you had just passed some kind of test. But then your set list started, and when the classic rock song from the 50's started playing, Vision burst out laughing.

- They don't call you Presley Freak for nothing. - He scoffs, switching to the radio next. 

- I like it. - Wanda comments surprising you, but neither Vision nor her brother change their debauched posture.

- Yes, yes, your taste is terrible too. - He replies with irony. You bite your lips as you watch Wanda roll her eyes and look away to the window. Vision lets Pietro choose the music next.

The cabin was really very big. 

You guys met Tony's car on the way, but he didn't stop. It didn't take long for you to arrive. You smiled in appreciation at Pietro when he carried your bags inside.

You looked at the structure impressed. Tony Stark really was very rich. Hugging your arms lightly after feeling the cool breeze, you smiled politely at Wanda's other friends as they greeted you.

- I am Pepper Potts, and this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. - says the blonde girl cheerfully, as she waves to the other boys. - You must have met Tony by now.

- I think I've seen all of you at school. - You say feeling out of place, but they smile as they walk into the cabin. Tony hands the bags to the other boys, and then is throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you want to push him away for the inappropriate contact.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetie. - He says, and you blink when you feel the alcohol. - Who knew that nerds hid pretty girls with them?

The joke makes the group laugh, and you look around uncomfortably. Tony then releases you as you enter. 

Pepper is the one who shares the rooms, and you are happy to know that you won't be sharing with anyone. 

While you are unpacking upstairs on your bed, Wanda joins you.

- Hey. - She greets me as she enters and closes the door. You're folding your clothes.

- Hi, Wanda.

- Is everything okay? - she asks and you nod in agreement. - They can be a bit much sometimes, and I don't want you to get uncomfortable and... Do you like "Bewitched"?

The sudden question startles you and you blink in confusion. Wanda nods at the item in your hands. The T-shirt you are folding has the logo of the old sitcom you used to watch with your parents.

- Oh yes. - You sigh in agreement. - It is one of my favorite shows actually.

Wanda laughs in surprise, crossing her arms.

- Wow, I didn't know that. - She says. - I love this stuff. Vision thinks the jokes are stupid, so don't tell him I'm talking about it.

She jokes and you let out a wry exclamation.

- Why would I tell Vision anything? - You ask and Wanda hesitates slightly, but then smiles.

- No, it was just a figure of speech. - She clarifies as you fold your shirt.

- Right. - You say, not really understanding this conversation. - If you want, we can watch it together anytime. I think we'll have time to do it here.

Wanda looks at you with surprise and excitement.

- Really? I'd love to. - She confirms, and you smile as you finish packing. 

The redhead clears her throat afterwards.

- I just wanted to check on you anyway. - she says. - I think Steve is cooking dinner tonight, so join us when you' re ready.

- Okay, Wanda. - You say. - Thanks.

She smiles before leaving. You stare at the Bewitched's T-shirt on your bed for a few moments before you leave.

Steve tries to cook some chicken breast. And he almost burns the kitchen down. So you are on your feet, investigating the cupboards, and although cooking is not your favorite activity, you don't mind making some chili for everyone. 

- I love Mexican food. - Wanda comments excitedly as she stands next to you and watches you cook. The rest of the group is in the living room, the boys being very noisy as they throw a soccer ball around the room. You smile at the redhead next to you. 

- God, did you see the picture that Tabitha Smith posted on instagram? - Pepper asked aloud, staring at her cell phone. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, a look of disgust on her face. Wanda approached her and quickly looked at the screen. - She put on silicone, I'm sure of it. 

Wanda made a noise of agreement, exchanging a quick glance with you, clearly not caring one bit about the topic, and you smiled, turning your attention back to the pot. Pepper didn't notice and continued making comments about her classmates' social media posts.

- It's ready. - You announce. Your breath catches in your throat as Wanda puts her hand on your waist, leaning behind your back to taste the food. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you feel her cheeks flush.

But then she walks away next, and you struggle to disguise yourself as the boys are joining you, announcing that they are starving. 

- Wow, this is delicious. - said Pepper as soon as you sat down at the table and started to eat. The group agreed, and you blushed with embarrassment. Soon they started talking among themselves, and you tried to keep up as best you could, but the topics weren't really of interest to you.

When you got back to the room, Tony proposed that you all play a game, and then he went through the storage room and came back carrying monopoly.

At first you thought it would be innocent fun, then there were drinks and gambling. 

- It's a four! - shouted Tony excitedly. - That's my property, Wilson! 

Sam let out a grumble of dissatisfaction as he moved his figure around the board. Tony laughed mischievously.

- So, how do you want me to pay the rent?  - Sam asked and Tony made a thoughtful face. 

- With a question. - Tony announces maliciously. - Among the people in this room, tell me who would you have sex with?

Sam laughs in surprise, as the group gives a chorus of excitement. You swallow dryly, uncomfortable with the direction of the questions. So far, the questions and challenges had been innocent and slightly awkward, but after a few beers, the group was clearly getting more excited in other respects.

- Careful with your answer, friend. - Vision warned, putting his arm possessively around Wanda's shoulders. You looked away to the board.

- That might be shocking for a straight guy, Vis. - Sam remarked with mild debauchery. - But not all of us are looking at the girls.

The group laughs in surprise, and Vision rolls his eyes. 

- I would do Steve Rogers for sure. - Sam declares the next moment, and the group lets out a celebratory chorus. Steve laughs too, slightly surprised. Sam just smiles playfully, shrugging his shoulders. Then Steve steps forward, amusing himself by pretending to kiss him, and the group laughs. You smile awkwardly, not really understanding what everyone thinks is funny.

The game continues, and you are doing very well. You laugh when Pepper has to tell you all about the worst sexual experience she has ever had, but you are slightly uncomfortable when Steve has to demonstrate on a pillow his first time. A few rounds later, you grumble in dissatisfaction when you take a five and end up in jail.

- Whoa, that's has a punishment. - Tony announces when he sees your move. You look at him, and he looks excited. - Finally, Presley, your moment has come.

- Tony. - Wanda scolds him for his nickname, but Tony doesn't listen.

- Let me think about it. - He continues with a thoughtful expression, and then a mischievous gleam takes over his gaze. - Have you ever heard that shy girls are the biggest freaks in the room? 

You swallow dryly, feeling your face heat up as the group lets out a laugh. 

- I will not...

- Don't even start. - Tony interrupts your denial with a smile. - Don't spoil the fun. I'll give you a simple challenge.

You bite the inside of your cheek, frowning as you fight the urge to get up.

- Your sentence of freedom will be to give a hickey to the person who gets a six on the dice. - He declares, and the group lets out a chorus of excitement.

And then everyone is rushing to throw the dice and you cross your arms, feeling your face hot.

- If more than one person gets six, you'll give them both a hickey and win immunity for a round! - Tony laughs as he makes up the rules.

Pepper is the first to play, and lets out a despondent sigh when she draws two.  And then Steve plays next, and complains when the die lands on four. Sam and Tony don't get six either. You hold your breath when Wanda rolls, and feel your heart race when the die stops.

- This should be interesting. - Vision comments with mild irony and mischief as he takes his arm off Wanda's shoulders, picking up the die stopped at six. Tony laughs and you can't keep your eyes on the redhead.

Vision gets a four. And then Pietro gets a six, and you grumble.

- I can't believe you're going to get both of the Maximoffs! - Wilson comments with amusement and you swallow dryly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

- Finally some action. - Pietro jokes as he approaches. He kneels in front of you, and you take a deep breath. - Come on, Y/N, it's just a silly challenge.

He tries to reassure you with a smile, and you try to ignore the staring eyes on the two of you. You think the boys are laughing as you bring your face closer to Pietro's outstretched neck, and land your lips on his skin. He smells like aftershave lotion, but it's just embarrassing to be so close. Pietro lets out a breathless chuckle as you begin to suck on his skin, and he clenches the support of the couch.

You stop quickly, and he pulls away. The red skin glows on his neck. He flashes you the seductive smile, and you look away, listening to the group celebrating. 

- Next, please! - Tony says clearly intoxicated. You feel your racing heart echoing in your ears. Wanda gets up from the couch, and unlike her brother, she completely short-circuits your brain when she sits on your lap. You think someone whistled.

- Wanda, what are you doing? - You mumble clumsily, and she just smiles as she puts her hands on your shoulders.

- Don't you like this position? - she asks and you swallow dryly.

- Come on, girls! - Tony tells you between laughs. Someone knocks over the vodka bottle on the floor, making a mess. You think the group is barely paying attention to you, fighting among themselves to save the rest of the board and Tony's expensive rug, but you're not really taking in anything other than the girl on your lap.

You move forward, sinking your face into her neck and inhaling Wanda's scent. When you let out your breath, she trembles and squeezes your shoulder lightly, making you swallow dryly.

You let your lips kiss her skin, watching Wanda's chest rise and fall, indicating her unregulated breathing. And then you lick her skin, and she chokes. When you suck on her skin, she bites her lips hard, stopping herself from moaning.  And then you let go.

Ignoring the urge to kiss the red dot again, you throw your back against the armchair, moving away. Wanda lets out a breath, and before you can say anything, Tony is complaining that the game is over because the board has been ruined, and she rushes off your lap. 

Your face is very hot when Sam makes a snide remark to you, and then you are all saying goodnight. You don't have the courage to look at Wanda when you go up to your room.

//-//

The next day you go skiing. 

You absolutely suck at it, but so does everybody else, so nobody really cares. 

You don't want to think so much about Wanda's hands on your waist when she teaches you how to do it.

You also don't want to be so annoyed when Vision insists on getting a kiss from her while you are walking back to the cabin.

During the afternoon, you are distracted by a video game with Pietro, extremely surprised that he has invited you to do something. After dinner you go back to your room to read a little, and are astonished when Wanda appears at your door a few minutes after you have gone upstairs.

- How about we watch a sitcom together? - She invites you in, and you shrug as you smile, making space for her to enter your room. She giggles when she notices the open book on your bed. - Of course you brought a book.

You laugh awkwardly as you close the door. Wanda throws herself on your bed, opening the laptop she has brought with her. You take the book out and place it closed on the dresser, before joining her, trying to keep a respectable distance.

She ends up putting on Bewitched, and you are distracted enough by the program.

- Wow, that's kind of wrong. - You comment between giggles. And Wanda laughs lightly, turning the program's attention to you.

- What?

- The joke. - You clarify. - The way they imply that it's okay for boys to behave like that.

- Yeah, I know. - She agrees, turning her attention back to the screen. - But we're still laughing.

- Yeah. - You agree, laughing. - I guess it's okay as long as we don't find it funny in real life.

Wanda makes a noise of agreement with her mouth and then you are silent again. 

Two episodes later, Wanda suggests that you eat something. Then you go downstairs to the kitchen, and find the room empty. 

- Pietro had called the boys to play soccer. - She says. - And I think Pepper and Tony are in their room.

You nod in understanding, following her around the kitchen. Wanda starts preparing a snack for you two.

- What is it? - You ask as you observe her choice of ingredients. She smiles mischievously.

- My masterpiece. - She says. - Just trust me, you'll like it.

You laugh, nodding. When she warms the bread rolls, and starts to pour oregano on top you let out an exclamation.

- Wanda, are you sure you know what you're doing? 

She laughs, shaking her head slightly.

- Trust me on this. - She asks with a smile, starting to cut tomatoes. You cross your arms, not believing that you are actually going to eat that.

And then the sandwich is ready, and Wanda assumes a cheerful posture. She puts the bread on a plate and turns to you, leaving the object on the counter beside you.

You take a piece while she takes another, and together you taste the sandwich while Wanda looks at you expectantly.

It's surprisingly good, and you blink in amazement when you feel the taste, looking away from her to the food.

- Wow, that's good. - You comment before taking another bite. Wanda smiles.

- Really? I'm glad you like it. Vision doesn't like it very much, he says it tastes strange.

You grumble lightly, continuing to eat. Wanda pours you two some soda. You are silent for a moment and when she leaves the phone on the countertop to wash the dishes, your gaze runs quickly across the screen as you reach for your glass.

- Hey, are you into poetry? - you ask as you look at the open Instagram post.

Wanda smiles, nodding.

- That's cool, I think we follow the same page. - You comment quickly pointing to her unlocked cell phone. Wanda looks surprised.

When she finishes washing the dishes, she asks to borrow your cell phone. You spend the next thirty minutes laughing and joking as you compare your Instagram feeds and follower list. You don't want to overthink on how many common interests you have with Wanda.

//-//

On the penultimate day you want to build a snowman.

There is a Hockey game on TV, and everyone seems excited to watch. So you just walk out of the cabin while Tony hands out snacks and drinks to everyone.

You are just finishing assembling the body when you hear footsteps.

- You are very antisocial. - Wanda jokes as she approaches, hands in her pockets. You don't want to think about how adorable she looks.

- Yeah, I know. - You comment with your attention on the snowman. - It's not your friends' fault, by the way, I'm just not a big sports fan.

- All right, I don't see what's so funny about it either. - She says as she stops beside you. - Can I help you with him?

- Let me see your hands. - You ask, and she looks at you in confusion, taking her hands out of her pockets. You deny it. - No gloves, no playing. I don't want you to get hypothermia.

She laughs lightly, putting her hands back in her pockets. You turn your attention back to the snowman.

- We can go for a walk. - You suggest after a moment. - Since we're not going to watch the game.

Wanda smiles, looking away to the cabin.

- Okay.

You finish your snowman in silence. It's decent you think.

- I used to do it all the time. - You tell her as you stand up, putting your hands in your pockets. Wanda looks at you curiously. - But then I grew up and my parents thought it was a kid thing.

- Yeah, I know how that is. - She agrees as you stare at the snowman. - One birthday is all it takes for the treatment to change completely.

You nod in agreement, and then you look at her, signaling for you to go the other way.

You walk side by side in the opposite direction of the cabin.

After spending the whole way talking about the most random subjects, you end up at a small pier, at the edge of the lake that covers the entire back stretch of the cabin. You and Wanda sit side by side on the wood cross-legged.

- We should have brought something hot to drink. - You comment with a smile, hugging your arms for a moment. Wanda nods.

- So, are you enjoying the trip? - Wanda asks and you look away, smiling at the lake.

- I suppose so.

- You suppose? - She replies with amusement, making you laugh.

You clear your throat before speaking again.

- I enjoyed the time I spent with you. - You confess, looking forward. Wanda wiggles her fingers nervously, looking away from you to face the lake as well. - Don't get me wrong, Wanda. Your friends are... nice I guess. But they're not the reason I'm here.

You look at Wanda, and she nods frantically. Your heart is racing, but playing games isn't exactly your thing. You want to know what's going on.

- And you? - you ask, studying her face. - Did you enjoy the time I was here?

- Yes. - Wanda confesses breathlessly, her face flushing slightly. 

Swallowing hard, you look away to the lake again. And then you slowly move your hand against the wood, reaching for Wanda's hand next. You give it enough time for her to move away, or to strike you, and she does neither. Feeling your heart soar, you intertwine your hands, holding back a sigh at how good it feels even when wearing gloves.

Several minutes later, you let out an excited exclamation when you hear a noise in the nearby forest. Turning your head, you confirm your suspicions. A small white fox is looking at you curiously. 

You help Wanda to get up quietly and slowly so as not to startle the animal.

- Hey. - You say softly to the animal, walking towards it. The fox looks at you wide-eyed, but your posture doesn't frighten him. You smile when he lets you pet him.

- He is so cute. - Wanda comments softly, kneeling down beside you. The fox lies down on the grass as the redhead strokes his head.

He tires of the attention quickly however, and the next moment he gives you a look before running back into the forest. You and Wanda laugh lightly as you two stand up.

You walk back to the cabin in silence, a tension in the air that makes your stomach turn. You don't hold hands, but you walk very close together. 

When you are almost to the cabin area, you stand in front of Wanda, pushing her by the waist against a tree. You both sigh breathlessly, but you lose the courage. It's not right, not yet. Resting your forehead on hers, resisting the urge to kiss her, you close your eyes.

- Leave him. - You say and Wanda squeezes her hands in your arms.

Wanda lets out a sigh, closing her eyes like you did, and your faces come closer together.

- I won't share you, Wanda. - You whisper against her lips. - Either you're with me, or you're not.

Resisting the urge to close the distance, you sigh and turn away. Wanda's pupils are dilated as she looks at you. You lock your jaw, putting your hands in your pockets. And then you turn around, and disguise it nicely when Pepper comes out of the cabin, asking where you were, and you just smile and say you went for a walk.

//-//

Vision and Wanda argue on the last day at the cabin. 

You frown as your awakened by the volume of the argument. But you decide not to pry, and when Pepper signals for you to join her on her morning walk, you agree.

- You know, you are surprisingly nice. - She comments as you two take a break for some water.

- Thanks, I guess. - You mumble, and she laughs.

- What I mean is that nerds are usually know-it-all types and not at all sociable. - She explains. - You're quiet, but you're fun.

- Who says I'm not a know-it-all. - You retort with amusement, and Pepper laughs as you walk back.

- I'm just saying that it turned out to be nice to invite you over despite everything.

- Despite everything what?

Pepper laughs awkwardly, shaking her head.

- The differences between our groups I say. - She quickly clarifies. You don't perceive the lie. - Maybe there is a chance for us to remain friends after here.

- Why wouldn't we? - you ask confused. Pepper seems to be talking as if it is impossible for you to continue talking to each other after the trip is over, and you don't understand why.

Pepper blinks in embarrassment, and then pats your arm, hurrying her steps.

- It's nothing, I'm just overthinking it. - she says. - I'm sure it will all work out.

You don't ask any more questions because she's walking too fast, and exercise isn't really your thing. You're struggling to keep up.

//-//

After your walk with Pepper, you agreed to let Steve teach you how to play a bit of hockey. And then you all had lunch together, and Wanda avoided all your attempts to start a conversation with her. You figured she was upset with her boyfriend, so you didn't press her.

Later in the afternoon, after you played snowball wars with everyone, and perhaps laughed more than appropriate when Wanda kept hitting Vision in the face, Steve made a fire in the backyard area and everyone gathered around.

- Let's tell some horror stories, please? - Pietro asked as he sat down, and Tony slapped him on the head, laughing. 

- You are such a baby. - he sneered, holding out a bottle of whiskey to Steve. You rolled your eyes, impatient with Stark's annoying mania for proving his maturity.

Then he began to share sex stories, and the group seemed happy to join in. The bottle swirled around, and you let it pass you by without taking a sip. It stopped at Wanda, and she drank much more than anyone else.

- And you, Y/N, don't you have any sinful stories to share with the group? - teased Tony ironically, and you rolled your eyes.

- I prefer to be silent.

Tony laughed at her hostility.

- Now all that's left is for you to say you're a virgin! - he sneered, causing the group to laugh. You exchanged a quick glance with Wanda, who didn't even seem to be listening, the whiskey bottle still in her hands.

- I'm not, but if I were that wouldn't be your business - You retort impatiently. Tony whistles impressed.

- Tell us how it was! - he asks excitedly. - I bet it was Jessica Jones who fucked the weirdo!

You stand up abruptly as the group laughs.

- You're drunk, and you're talking shit. - you say angrily. - But if you ever annoy me again, I will punch you right in the face!

Tony seems slightly impressed by your attitude, but he is clearly drunk so he shrugs his shoulders. You then leave, returning to your room.

Non-Reader Povs

- What is your problem? - Pietro complained as soon as Y/N entered the cabin. Tony blinked surprised and alcoholic.

- It was just a joke, it's not my fault she's weird. - He retorted with a wry laugh.

Pietro let out an irritated exclamation.

- You know what? - He spoke angrily, looking at everyone. - What we're doing is wrong.

- What was that? - Vision sneered, but Pietro looked at him seriously.

- You heard me. - he said, getting up. - She's a nice girl and she's been fun to be with. That bet was stupid.

The teens exchange guilty glances, but then Tony and Vision are laughing.

- One hickey and you're in love, Maximoff? - Vision sneered and stood up, as Pietro clenched his jaw. 

- You're an asshole. 

- Oh, I'm an asshole? - Vision retorted ironically. - This little scene of yours is absurd, treating your friends as if we were the villains of the story. - he says laughing. - The girl is a weirdo who must be absolutely fascinated that people like us even talk to her!

Pietro looks at him impatiently, but Vision does not lose his debauched posture.

- Shut up. - Wanda's drunken speech startles the group. Vision turns to her in surprise, but then he laughs.

- That's excellent. - He says. - Both Maximoffs teaming up against the group.

- You're full of shit. - Wanda exclaimed angrily, getting up, and Vision shook her head. - She's not...

- She's not what dear? - He interrupted. - You know I'm right. In fact, I bet if you go up to her room right now, you won't even need to ask twice and she'll fuck you.

- Vision! - Pietro exclaims angrily, but he stares only at the redhead, who has her jaw clenched.

- Everyone just wants to fuck you, Wandy. - He says. - There's nothing worthwhile beyond that.

Wanda holds back the tears in her eyes, bumping into Vision as she leaves, and the boy laughs, shouting between giggles that he was only joking, but the redhead doesn't turn around. 

- That was cruel. - Potts then said, and Vision let out a wry laugh.

- It was just a joke. - He says and sits back down. - You girls are so sentimental. 

Pietro then leaves, and Vision rolls his eyes. Steve and Sam exchange a look with Pepper.

- You can't really think it's okay to say something like that to your girlfriend. - Steve said annoyed. Vision laughs, incredulous at Steve's insinuation. - What is it, people? - he replies. - I just said she's hot, how is that a bad thing?

- You know, Pietro is right. - Steve said as he got up. - This whole story is absurd. - Steve, come on. - No, he is right. - Sam then agreed. And then Pepper stood up, exchanging a look with Tony. - Good, then. - Vision exclaims angrily. - Be my guests! I suppose you'll start hanging out with the school's weirdos on Monday then. You guys are a joke. Hypocrites. Vision grumbles before exiting angrily, walking towards the trail. The group exchanged a guilty look.

Reader Pov

You had just finished showering and putting on your pajamas when Wanda came into your room. You frowned in surprise, and let out an exclamation when she pushed you onto the bed and sat you on your lap.

- What are you doing? - you asked, and Wanda just grumbled, trying to unbutton your pajamas, but clearly too drunk to do so. - Wanda, stop. Wanda!

- That's what you want, isn't it? - She retorts with irritation, but her eyes are filled with tears. - Everyone wants to fuck the hot girl.

- Wanda, what are you talking about?

But then she's crying, falling against you. You let your arms go around her, trying to calm her down. She only stops crying when she falls asleep.

You don't know what has happened, but you feel your heart clench. Moving to the bed, you lay Wanda down on the mattress, then cover her with the blanket. 

When you consider going to sleep in the living room, she takes your hand and whispers "stay," and you obey her.

//-//

You wake up with Wanda entwined with you. It is warm and comforting, and you smile shyly at the sensation. 

The redhead starts to wake up next, grumbling as she buries her face in your neck, making you smile.

- We have to get up. - You whisper to her. - We're leaving.

- In a minute.

She says and it really only takes a moment for her to open her eyes, and be startled by the position. She awkwardly pulls away from your embrace, but still lies there. You turn on the bed to look at her, resting your face on your hand.

- I'm sorry about last night. - She says embarrassed, looking down.

- No problem. - You say. - But what was that about anyway?

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair as she stares at the ceiling, her back on the mattress.

- Vision told me some stupid things, and well, I believed him. - She says and you look at her curiously. With your silence, she clarifies. - It was just some comments he used to make about my body, okay? Things like, people are only interested in me because I'm hot.

You frown, surprised and annoyed. 

- That's bullshit.

Wanda looks at you, surprised that you said something. You look into her eyes as you speak again.

- Your boyfriend is an insecure scumbag who uses your body insecurities against you. It's sick. - You tell her seriously. - You, Wanda Maximoff, are completely passionate for a thousand reasons other than your looks. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You smile at Wanda's surprised expression, letting your fingers wander across her features. 

- Do you really mean that? - she asks insecurely, and you give her a tender look.

- You're sweet. - You start, letting your fingers caress her cheek. - Smart and sincere. You have this different energy, like you never fit anywhere and you're absolutely magnetic. - You tell her. - And of course, you also laugh at my jokes, which suggests that you are as sarcastic and perceptive as I am. 

Wanda smiles and closes her eyes for a second, and then looks at you with almost guilt.

- Can I ask you a random question?

- Sure.

- If someone needed to apologize to you, what would be the best way?

- This is a very specific question, Wanda. Should I be concerned? - You retort with mild amusement, and Wanda quickly denies it.

- Come on, answer me. - She asks, and you giggle.

- I don't know, Wanda. - You say laughing, and roll your eyes slightly. - I guess it would depend on what the person did. - You explain, and Wanda looks at you with a frown. - What's that face, what would your answer be then?

- Food. - She says and you look at her with confusion. - The person would only have to buy me food and apologize and I would forgive them.

You let out a laugh, and Wanda follows. And then you assume a thoughtful posture.

- Honestly, I don't think if there is a right way. - You tell her. - I would like the person to be honest with me, and explain to me what happened. - You say, and Wanda nods with a serious expression. - That, or a really cheesy apology act.

- What? - Wanda asks with amusement.

- Yes, like in those old movies. - You clarify with a slight laugh. - If someone apologizes in the rain, or with a serenade at my window, I would probably forgive that person for the shame they are going through for me.

You and Wanda laugh and then your alarm clock starts to ring, signaling that it was already time for everyone to get up and go home. You sigh slightly.

As you sit up in bed, throwing your feet out, Wanda hugs your back, surprising you.

- Thank you. - She says against your ear. - Don't give up on me yet, okay?

You frown in confusion, laughing without understanding Wanda's seriousness. You squeeze your hands together, but then she lets go. 

- Is everything all right? - you ask as she turns around on the bed and stands up in front of you. Wanda swallows dryly, nodding. She smiles before she leaves, and you ignore the strange feeling that has settled on the pit of your stomach as you stand up toward the bathroom.

//-//

The way back to your house is strangely silent. It seems that all of Wanda's friends have changed their personalities overnight. Pietro gives you a quick hug across the shoulders as you get out of the car, and Wanda kisses your cheek. Vision doesn't look at you.

You call your friends as soon as you finish packing your things in your room. And everyone is extremely surprised when you share what has happened in the last few days.

When you return to school the next day, you are feeling excited. 

Your first class is Biology, which means that you would have some time alone with Wanda, and while you wait for the starting bell, sitting on the benches outside with your friends, Wanda's group passes you by. 

You frown as you notice Vision with his arm around Wanda, and she quickly looks away when she notices you watching. You clench your jaw at the childish attitude, and then you are getting up and walking toward the table they have chosen.

- Can I talk to you? - You ask the redhead directly, who seems to have trouble keeping her gaze on you. Her friends also look awkward, as if they are almost embarrassed, and none of them look at you for very long. Completely unlike Vision, who has a smug posture and a wry smile.

- Leave my girlfriend alone, freak. - He then says, and you blink in surprise.

- What is your problem? - You retort in irritation and Vision lets out a wry laugh.

- What is your problem? - He repeats, getting up and facing you. You don't hesitate, but you don't understand why everyone just stares at you. - What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you would start hanging out with the cool kids?

You look at him in confusion, and then he crosses his arms.

- I just want to talk to Wanda.

Vision laughed, looking mocking.

- You're so stupid. - He accused and you took a step back. - The bet is off girl, Wanda has nothing to say.

You blink in confusion, and the redhead is getting up, pulling on her boyfriend's forearm, but you look at them feeling your heart racing.

- What are you talking about?

Vision laughs, releasing Wanda's grip. You think she whispered "Please don't," but you are trying to understand what is going on.

- Oh, your dear friend didn't tell you? - he asks debauchedly. - We had a bet. I was sure you'd be completely obsessed with Wanda by the end of the holiday, and look at you! Here you are. I don't blame you though, Wanda is hot.

You choke in surprise, taking another step back. You risk a glance at the rest of the group, and they have their heads down, guilty looks on their faces. And then you look at Wanda, eyes watering as she clenches her fists. Feeling your heart break, and your stomach clench, you nod.

- Y/N, I can explain. - Wanda starts and you laugh, running your hands through your hair.

- I've always defended you. - You say, putting your hands in your pockets. - When people told me you were false and deceitful, I defended you. I really thought you were different from them.

- I....

- I can't believe I trusted you. - You say. - Never speak to me again, Wanda Maximoff.

You turned around walking away, ignoring the times the redhead called your name as you held back your tears. 

//-//

Your mother told the school that you were sick.

That's how you felt anyway.

It had been three days since you had left your room. Bruce, Monica and Natasha were sending you all the school content you were missing, and you struggled to keep your focus on that and not on the heartbreak that seemed to take over your whole body.

The weekend arrived again, and you decided to get some fresh air. You were on your balcony, sipping hot chocolate when Nat came into your yard.

- Hey, stranger. - She greets you with a smile, sitting down on the seat in front of you. You give her a sad smile.

- Hi, Nat. 

- How are you?

You shrug, and she sighs.

- It will pass, I promise. - She says and you drink some of your chocolate. - By the way, I'm suspended.

- What? - You ask in surprise, and she giggles, showing you the bandage on the fingers of her right hand.

- I punched Vision in the nose shortly after you left the cafeteria. - She tells you, and you widen your eyes in surprise. - I didn't say anything before because I didn't want you to feel guilty.

- Nat! - you exclaim, slightly upset, looking at her hand. - You didn't have to do that.

- I know. - she says with a slight laugh. - But you are my friend, and he is an idiot. You're a dork who doesn't have the strength to hurt a fly, but I have a feeling you'd do the same for me.

You laugh, nodding.

- I would probably get beat up in reality.

Nat laughs in agreement.

You are silent for a moment, until Nat speaks again.

- I hate to see you like this. - She comments, and you sigh, leaving the coffee mug on the table. 

- I hate feeling like this too. 

Nat sighs, opening her arms. You accept her invitation to hug her, and sit down next to her on the bench, letting her wrap you in a side hug.

- You'll come out of this, dear. - She starts to say as she strokes your hair. - Next year you'll be in college, with so many people wanting to get into your pants that you won't even remember who Wanda Maximoff was.

You laugh shyly.

- I hope you are right. - You grumble, closing your eyes.

- I always am.

//-//

You go back to school the following week.

Your body always seems to notice that Wanda is in the same room as you, even though she is meters away, but you learn to deal with the feeling.

You talked to the biology teacher on Monday morning. Apparently, the news quickly spread throughout the school, and she did not refuse to change your partner. 

It wasn't an ideal scenario knowing that everyone in the school was feeling sorry for you, but at least you wouldn't have to talk to Wanda in class.

And so two weeks passed.

You were almost getting used to the feeling as you walked towards the main building, after stopping by the library and returning the physics books you were using, when you heard a commotion in the courtyard.

There was already a circle of students around, and you were considering turning around, because fights are not really your thing, but you had a feeling you should check it out. 

As you slipped in among the students, you let out a surprised exclamation.

- Bruce! - You shouted as you threw the bag on the ground and lunged forward, but the boy who was fighting with your friend just turned around when you jumped at him, breaking free of your grip and laughing with irony and anger. He slapped you in the face that drew a surprised chorus from the crowd. You staggered back with the impact, feeling your face burn. But you stepped forward again, but he gave you a hard shove that knocked you to the ground. As you got up to go forward again, someone grabbed you around the waist. - Pietro, let me go! Help him!

You let out another exclamation when the boy punched Bruce in the face, but Pietro pushed you away from the fight, and Steve held you by the arms in the crowd. Pietro lunged at the boy next, while Bruce fell unconscious.

You broke free of Steve's grip and ran to your friend, and then there were teachers all around you, and you were all being led into the principal's office.

The counselor motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs to wait your turn, and you used this moment to send messages to your friends. Monica told you that she heard about the fight, but that she was in the history room when it happened. Natasha didn't answer, and when she appeared in front of you, you frowned.

- Nat, Bruce he...

- I know. - She interrupted seriously with an almost tearful expression. - He was fighting for me.

- For you? What?

Nat shook her head, looking toward the direction door.

- I told him not to get involved, but he is stubborn. - She says and then takes a deep breath. - That boy over there, his name is Clint. He's my ex. He... he hit me.

- Whoa, what?

- I know, it's too much to explain. - She says. - Me and Bruce, we... we've been going out for a few weeks now. And Clint wasn't happy when he found out. I told Bruce not to get involved but…

- Hey, Nat breathes. - You interrupt by seeing her eyes filled with tears. - This is not your fault.

You hug your friend, trying to calm her down. It doesn't take long for Monica to reach you two.

Soon the director calls you to give your side of the story, and you just tell him that you arrived in the middle of the fight. As you leave, the principal asks you to go to the infirmary and only then you remember that you were beaten.

You give up the idea of getting a bandage when you find Pietro and the group of friends, including Wanda, in the infirmary, but as soon as the nurse lays eyes on you, she pulls you in, sitting you down on one of the free beds.

She starts grumbling that the students have decided to behave like savages as she rushes over with the first aid kits to attend to all the students who were in the infirmary. You don't quite understand what happened, but it seemed that some kids had made a mess in the pesticide gardening class, so there were several students with red spots on their arms complaining of pain.

- It's okay, I can do it. - You tell the nurse as soon as she approaches you with the first aid kit. She looks at you suspiciously, but then a student at your back lets out a complaint and she sighs, handing the items to you as she leaves. You get up to look in the small mirror on the edge of the bed. There is a small cut on your cheek. That guy really hit hard.

While you were preparing the alcohol swab, Wanda walked over to you. You stared at her reflection in the mirror.

- I can help you with this. - She said about the bandage.

- I don't need your help. - You retorted harshly. Wanda looked at the floor. 

- I am sorry. 

You blinked in surprise, and turned away in irritation.

- No.  - You warned, and Wanda swallowed hard.  She looked at you, ready to start talking again, but then you shook your head. - Don't you dare.

- Please…

But you left right away, bumping into her shoulder.

Almost four weeks, and your chest still hurts just the same. 

You think the nurse has called you, but you keep walking towards the exit. 

When you reached the outer courtyard, you collapsed. 

Sitting on the floor, and trying to control your breathing and your crying, you were startled when someone touched your shoulders. Monica didn't ask questions, she just hugged you.

- I can't do it, Mon. - You said between sobs. - I love her so much it feels like I'm going to suffocate.

- Shh, it's okay. - Monica tried to calm you down as she ran her hands down your back.

- Why can't I move on? She hurt me, why can't I stop loving her? - you asked in desperation. Monica just kept calming you. 

- I know it feels like the end of the world now. - Monica says. - But I promise it will pass.

You cried for a few more minutes, trying to push or smother the pain away. It wasn't fair the way Wanda had your broken heart in her hand.

//-//

Bruce did not suffer any serious injuries.

You visited him in the infirmary as soon as he was released from the principal's office. He was worried about your swollen crying eyes, but you assured him that everything was fine.

And then he told you that he was in love with Natasha, and that Clint had been expelled. You shook his hand, saying that everything would be all right now. Soon Nat was in the room with you, hugging Bruce, while you went out with Monica to get something to eat.

The week passed quietly after this. 

Your friends started the "Moving on squad", and they did everything to keep you distracted and well cared for. It was sweet and caring, and it was enough to keep your feelings well under control.

A few days after that mess, you needed to buy tomato sauce for your mother and found Pietro Maximoff in the supermarket checkout line.

- Hey. - He greeted you politely. You felt your heart race at the possibility that he was with his sister. 

- Hi, Pietro. - You answered in the same tone.

You were checking around for signs of the redhead, but Pietro was alone. He said something about the prices, and you just grumbled in agreement, and then it was your turn.

In the parking lot, while you were unlocking your bike, he approached you again.

- I want to apologize to you. - He announced as he approached, and you let out a sigh.

- Look Pietro...

- No. - He interrupts with a quick smile. - I meant it. I'm really sorry. You're a nice girl, and we were idiots. 

You stare at him for a moment, then go back to picking the lock.

- Is that all?

- Yes. - He confirms with a wry smile. But when he turns around, you call out to him.

- I... Thank you for that day. - You say. - You pulled me out of the fight. I probably would have got hurt if... what I mean is... 

- It's all right.- He interrupts with a smile. - It was nothing. 

You nodded and he smiled, turning again and walking away. You finished unlocking the lock and got on your bike.

//-//

The next week you were surprised to find a box of chocolate in your closet.

Nat exchanged a mischievous look with you, and you rolled your eyes absentmindedly, opening the package. It didn't have a name on it, and only said "you are cute". 

- I can't believe you have a secret admirer. - Monica commented excitedly when you told her during lunch. Bruce and Natasha were sitting next to you, laughing lightly as they talked among themselves.

- Neither do I. - You comment with humor. - But the chocolates were good at least.

- I think it’s sweet. - She comments with a smile, and you shrug, blushing.

- It's weird. - You say with a slight laugh, and Monica squeezes your red cheeks lightly, saying that you're adorable, making you laugh. - Damn, I'm terrible at these things.

You start talking about the upcoming exams after that, and then the break ends.

It is in the last period of PE that you speak with Pietro again several days after you saw him last.

- Hey. - He greets you with an excited nod. You smile politely as you tie your shoelaces. 

- Hi. - You say as he joins you.

- Are you going to the game on Saturday? - he asks, causing you to frown. 

- I'm not...

- My god this guy never gives up. - He interrupts with a scowl, looking at something behind you. You turn your head to see what it is, and notice Vision talking to Wanda several feet ahead, near the bleachers. The redhead looks impatient, and you feel your heart ache just by looking directly at her. Shifting your gaze back to Pietro, you notice that he is still grimacing. - They've been broken up for over a month and he still keeps insisting.

You blink in surprise and Pietro looks back at you.

- They broke up?

- I thought you knew. - He quips, slightly surprised, and then shrugs his shoulders. - They broke up that day in the yard. Wanda slapped him in the face in front of the whole school, everyone talked about it for weeks.

- I'm not really into school gossip. - You comment and Pietro laughs.

- Of course not.

You stand up next, your gaze quickly shifting to Wanda, but you disguise it by looking at Pietro, who has an expectant expression on his face. Then you remember the question and let out an exclamation, running your hands through your hair.

- I'm not into sports, Pietro. - You tell him and he nods in understanding, looking upset. - But I like the food. And Natasha loves the games, so maybe I'll show up with my friends there.

Pietro lets out an excited exclamation, and gives you a pat on the shoulder, saying he hopes you can make it, before heading out onto the court. 

You ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach when your gaze meets Wanda's on the other side of the court, and you quickly turn away, starting to do your exercises for class.

//-//

You were slightly surprised by Natasha's outfit. She was covered head to toe in school colors, down to a commemorative hat and matching socks. You looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she just smiled as she pulled you by the hand to Monica's truck.

- How is the story about the secret admirer going? - Nat asked as you sat in the back seat, and Monica drove to school and Bruce fiddled with the radio.

- I received flowers on Wednesday. - You tell with a smile. - And a collection of special gift vouchers.

- What are these? - She asked curiously, and Monica laughed lightly as you felt your cheeks flush.

- It's a special kind of ... eh ... vouchers for hugs, kisses, that sort of thing. - You mumbled clumsily and Natasha laughed.

- My goodness, look at your face! - She laughed. - You are loving how corny this is.

You grumbled with a hot face, turning your gaze to the window. Bruce chose a very good song next, and your friends started singing along. It didn't take long before you joined them.

//-//

The school stadium was quite crowded. Senior year games always had scouts from universities, so you weren't surprised by family members, and well-dressed strangers in the stands, as well as faculty. 

- Wow, Mom is going to have fun today. - Monica commented as two you walked to the bleachers. She was looking at her cell phone, and showed you a picture of two glasses of wine that Maria had sent her. - She has a date.

- Have you met them? - you asked curiously, and Monica made a noise with her mouth of agreement.

- She's from the Air Force. Very pretty and fun, and she treated me very well. - She told you with a smile. - I hope everything works out between them, Mom deserves to be happy.

You nod in agreement and then you find empty chairs. Bruce and Natasha join you many moments later, carrying the food. 

- Yay, fries. - Monica says excitedly as Natasha distributes the food among you.

The band then enters the stadium. And the crowd seems excited, you and Monica laugh at Natasha's excitement.

As soon as the band makes their formation, the cheerleaders enter the field and the crowd cheers. You try not to look at Wanda so immediately, but that is exactly what you do. When they are all in the center, and finish the performance with lots of applause, the director gets up on the stage and starts announcing the game.

- And without further ado, West View High let's...

The principal is interrupted abruptly by one of the students. You and the audience watch intently as Pepper nudges the principal on the shoulder, and he turns around confused and surprised. She smiles innocently as she quickly takes the microphone from his hand.

- We had a slight change of plans, West View. - she announces, smiling. And then the band is moving on, and you recognize the music quickly. It was an old rock song. The audience sings along excitedly, surprised and in shock, but still happy with the music. 

As the music plays, Pepper turns back to the director, and they discuss something. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, and she gives an excited little jump, and then is joining the cheering team again.

When the song ends, it is not Pepper who comes up to the podium with the microphone, but Wanda, which generates a lot of comments from the audience.

- Is that? - Natasha starts and you feel your stomach turn.

- Yep.

- Hello West View. - Wanda begins looking nervous, the audience looks at her in anticipation. - Many of you must think me a complete bitch after the rumors that surfaced a few weeks ago.

- Oh my God. - You mumble clumsily, feeling the stares of some people on you. 

- I think I should explain what happened. - Wanda says tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and ignoring the comments from the audience, she continues talking. - My ex-boyfriend and my best friends decided to make a bet. - She explains, and you clench your jaw. - He bet my friends that if I gave even the slightest bit of attention to our colleague, Y/N Y/L/N, she would become obsessed with me in one weekend. - The audience seems shocked by the confessions, but Wanda was looking at you. - The funny thing is, it was the exact opposite. Y/N is this amazing girl, sweet and caring, and I can't stop thinking about her. It must be because I am completely in love with her. - She confessed, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. - But I blew it. I was mean and cruel, and I'm sorry. I'm here to apologize to you Y/N, and you don't even have to forgive me. I just wanted you to know.

The audience erupted in murmurs at the confession, and you were in shock to react. Wanda was also teary-eyed. 

A mixture of "forgive her" and " start the game" and various other comments began to grow louder, and then Director Fury was approaching Wanda, and asking for the microphone back. She took one last look at you, before bowing her head and walking off the field. The audience let out a mixed chorus of celebration and sadness, and then Monica was pushing you slightly, and you waved frantically as you hurried to catch up to Wanda.

- I can't believe you did that! - You shout at her as soon as you reach her in the gymnasium hallway, the noise of the game starting muffled by the distance.

Wanda turns around in surprise, wiping away tears.

- I just...

- When I said the perfect apology would be like a cliché, I can't believe you took it seriously. - You comment as you approach laughing lightly. Wanda looks surprised at your friendly posture. - You are such a dork.

And then you kiss her as you bring your hands to her waist, and she sighs in astonishment, but responds the next second, trembling as your tongues touch. 

You push her against the wall of the hallway, and she slips her arms around your shoulders, melting into the kiss. You separate your mouths for breath.

- I'm sorry. - She asks again with her eyes closed. - I'm really sorry.

- I know. - You agree breathlessly. - Just... don't ever do anything like that again. 

She nods in agreement, kissing you again. It's delicious the way your tongues feel together, making your head spin. You are blushing because Wanda is sighing and making a warm tightness rise in the pit of your stomach.

- I love you too, Wands. - You confess against her lips and she opens her eyes in surprise, you look at her with a smile. - I guess ever since you laughed at my joke in biology class.

Wanda lets out a short laugh, her eyes sparkling with joy.

- I love you. - She answers by kissing you quickly. - I love you. - She repeats and starts depositing kisses all over your face, making you laugh. She repeats and repeats until you kiss her again, intensely this time.

You stay like this for several minutes. Exchanging not-so-innocent kisses against the gymnasium wall. Until the first half of the game is over, and you hear the sound of the players returning to the locker room, and then Pietro is reaching for you, making a false threatening posture when he notices your swollen lips, and Wanda's lipstick on your face.

- Please get a room. - He then jokes, continuing on his way to the locker room. 

You and Wanda agree to leave the stadium, wanting to enjoy some time together without the stares of the audience on you.

You two end up in the back of Monica's truck, staring up at the stars, your hands entwined.

- So it was you who sent the presents. - You conclude by looking at Wanda quickly, to catch her blushing cheeks.

- I was trying to find a way to talk to you. - She explained, turning to you, releasing her hand only to stroke your cheek. - That's why I made the voucher “worth a conversation”.

You laughed lightly, looking at her fondly.

- I liked the kiss coupon. - You say with amusement and she raises her eyebrow, smiling. 

- Yeah? - She replies, bringing your faces together and stealing a lingering kiss from you.

- Best one.

Wanda laughs, pulling away a little. You swallow dryly, watching her carefully. 

- What happens now? - you ask, and Wanda looks into your eyes.

- I don't know. - She says. - But I hope we'll be together in the end.

You smile, nodding. 

- We will. - You assure her before adjusting your position to embrace her. Wanda snuggles against you, enjoying your warmth.

[scorpio-marionette]

Streetlight Diner

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!reader

Rating: PG13

Warnings: mentions of/implied physical sexual harrasment, mentions of physical assault, swearing

Summary: Working late means you get to eat at your favorite diner, but what happens when someone thinks they’re beyond the rules? What happens when an FBI agent is there to witness the whole thing?

First Three Words: Pancakes, arrested, love

 

A/N: Be gentle with me guys. I’ve been out of the writing game for a couple years now and I’m still fairly new to this fandom. I wrote this after seeing one of those first three words pictures on Twitter and after seeing those three words I immediately thought that I could write a short story to it. It then became a Marcus story.

    Working until one, two in the morning wasn’t really anything anyone wanted to do these days. Everyone you’ve ever known has always wanted to go out to bars or clubs, to drink their nights away and party. You never really agreed with that. Instead, you opted to go to movie premieres, late dinners or early breakfasts, or to just stay in all together. Once you landed your latest part time job however, you found a lovely little diner that was open 24/7; perfect for when you got off at 12:30 a.m. and were famished. 

    Streetlight Diner is a quiet mom and pop place across the street from your job where you spend your evenings packing handmade pottery. It’s been around since the 50s so there’s a lot of that old charm still present in the building, from the red, almost sparkly plastic booths to the extra side cups for the rest of your milkshake. There’s vintage pictures of Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe everywhere. A little window lets you see who’s cooking for you if you take a seat at the counter. Quiet jazz plays from hidden speakers. It’s a great place to unwind and fill up before walking home to go to sleep.

The end of your shift rolls around and you clock out for the night. You bid Mrs. Constance, your employer, a good night and she sees you out. You practically run to the corner, eager to cross because you’ve been craving chocolate chip pancakes all week. You know Nick is in as cook; he makes the best pancakes. As the light turns to let you cross you notice tonight feels a little different. You brush the feeling off, not wanting to ruin your mood. As you open the door the smell of freshly made coffee immediately perks you up. You take quick notice of the others in the diner, only mildly upset that you don’t have the place all to yourself as you usually do. One man on your left sits in a booth by himself, a plate of pancakes and a folder in front of him; he’s clearly burning the midnight oil tonight. A woman to your right sits with a cup of tea and a rather depressed look on her face. Hopefully she’s okay. Two men sit at the other end of the diner. They’re loud and boastful, almost annoying. You hope they either quiet down or leave. Just so long as they keep to themselves.You hop up onto one of the stools at the counter, a little away from everyone. Your best friend here, Maya, smirks at you as she approaches. 

“Hey babe, had a good shift?” Maya asks.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause packing porcelain is so exciting” you reply sarcastically.

Maya smiles at your response. She was the first person you met when you started eating at Streetlight. You had come in on your day off to try the food and found her to be rather depressing. She would tell you that the owners were moving her to nights and that she’d be losing her regulars. You would disclose to her that you work across the street and that you would be happy to stop by after work. Let’s just say you’re her new favorite.

“Are you getting your usual?” she asks, going back to being professional though she doesn’t have to with you.

“I’m here to bug Nick for a stack of his delicious chocolate chip pancakes.” 

You give Maya your best innocent grin. She giggles, knowing you’re anything but. 

“And here I thought you were here for me” Maya jokes. “Let me go see if those guys need anything else and then I’ll go bug Nick.”

You nod and she leaves. You peek around at your fellow patrons. The world feels so peaceful at this time of night. Almost like nothing could ruin it… well, almost.

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

    Marcus had just gotten out of his office for the night when he decided to try this little diner he had heard whispers about. Apparently the pancakes they made on Fridays were the best in D.C. and that was a claim Agent Pike wanted to test. Also, there’s only so much you can get done when looking at the same four office walls. Now, Marcus sits in a classy diner booth looking over his case file with a stack of buttermilk pancakes. His mug of coffee sits half empty, but it’s been refilled at least twice by now, not that he’s been keeping count. 

    The little bell above the door chimes as another starved stomach comes in looking for nourishment. The agent looks up to see who else he’ll keep tabs on in the back of his mind, per his training. What Marcus sees is nothing short of beautiful. Clad in a black leather jacket that he has half a mind to be jealous of, you walk with an air of confidence but with a gentleness about you. You look like you own the place and like you’re seeing it all for the first time. Your eyes seem to sparkle in the fluorescent light as you glance his way. He’s getting distracted from his case.

Shaking his head, forcing himself to look away from you, Marcus turns his attention back to his file. Rumors are swirling that there’s going to be a huge black market auction of stolen works of art somewhere in the D.C. area. The only problem is that the FBI can’t figure out where. Every lead they’re tried to follow has been a dead end. They’re running out of options and time.

He can hear your voice talking to the nice waitress over his own thoughts. He wants to listen in, but he needs to focus. That notion is thrown out the door however when he hears yelling from the other end of the dining room. Marcus’ head turns to the commotion. You have one of the two guys who had been sitting at a table pinned with his arm behind his back. The man curses and grunts at you which only makes you twist harder. You yell at him to shut up.

Marcus quickly gets up to try to defuse the situation. He mentally notes that the waitress looks visibly shaken by what has happened. Whether she’s scared of you or the man, he’s unsure. Marcus merely moves over to you to try and talk you down. He places a hand lightly on your shoulder.

“Miss, what’s going on? Maybe I can help” Marcus persuades.

“This asshole thought that Maya was something for him to touch,” you state through gritted teeth. “He thought he could grab my friend’s ass without asking.”

You twist the man’s arm further and he cries out. His friend sits in shock at the scene in front him. Marcus’ brow furrows at the new information. He kneels to look at the man.

“Sir, is this true?” Marcus asks.

“What’s it to you?” the man grunts. “I was only showing my appreciation- ah!”

The man cries out again as you bend his wrist backwards, scoffing at his statement. Marcus looks back at you. Your once lovely face is scrunched up in anger and he doesn’t like it.

“Miss, you need to let him go,” Marcus says gently. “You can’t hold him down like this forever.”

You glance up at Marcus, your height difference making itself known. Your eyes are dark pits, your lips a straight and firm line. You have no plans on moving willingly.

“I’ll let go,” you start slowly. “When he apologizes properly.”

Marcus is about to respond to you when a couple of police officers arrive. None of you had even heard them pull up. One officer places a hand on Marcus’ shoulder, asking him to stand back as his partner moves to remove you from the man you had pinned. The guy sits up, bringing his arm around to rub his sore wrist. 

“Thank god you showed up,” the man exclaims. “This bitch came out of nowhere and tried to assault me!”

“Stop lying, you asshat!” you screamed at him.

The waitress, Maya according to her name tag, steps up to the officer that wasn’t holding you.

“Officer, please!” she pleads. “Y/N was only trying to defend me. That man groped me as I tried to check to see if they needed anything. She was and reacted, that’s all!”

The officer looks at her, at you, and then at the man. He reaches to his belt, pulling out his hand cuffs. He motions for the man to stand. He hesitates for a moment before huffing and complying. The officer begins stating the man his rights.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbles.

The officer then moves the man outside to their car and into the back seat. Marcus finally releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Looking around, he sees the woman who had been nursing a cup of tea since before he arrived. She looked pale and had her phone out on the table top. Behind her, Marcus can see another cop car pull up. Two more officers come out and enter the diner. One goes to the woman.

“Ma’am, are you the one who called the police?” the officer asks.

The woman nods her head and the officer begins to question her. The officer’s partner moves to him.

“Sir, did you see what transpired between the two individuals involved?” the officer asked.

“No, I didn’t. I heard a commotion and when I looked up she had the guy pinned to the table,” Marcus explained. “I tried to talk her down, but she was very upset and refused to relent.”

The officer nods, writing every word down. He moves away to talk to the officer that pulled you away. They speak quietly as you ask Maya if she’s okay. She looks relieved that the situation is winding down. After the officers finish, one of them pulls out a set of cuffs and turns to you.

“Miss, put your hands behind your back,” they say.

You comply without question. Maya looks upset again and Marcus is in disbelief.

“Why are you arresting her?” Marcus asks. “She stopped a case of sexual harasment.”

“Sir,” the other officer starts. “She wasn’t the one being harassed, therefore we cannot treat this as a case of self defense. While it was courageous of her to stand up against him, she did still assault him.”

Sighing because he knows it’s true, Marcus looks on as they take you out to their car and leave. The woman who called the cops left shortly thereafter, leaving a wad of bills on the table. Marcus turns to Maya.

“Are you alright at least?” he asks.

Maya nods. “I just hope Y/N is okay.”

“I could probably find out for you,” Marcus offers.

“How?” she asks.

“I’m an FBI agent, so I could probably find out whether or not they’re going to try and charge her,” Marcus states almost casually.

“Wait, if you’re FBI you could’ve stopped them from taking her!” Maya exclaims.

Marcus shakes his head. “That wouldn’t have been possible-”

Marcus stops for a moment, an idea crossing his mind.

“But I can bail her out.” Marcus smiles.

“Please do,” Maya pleads.

Marcus nods his understanding and leaves. He hops into his car and drives to the nearest precinct.

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

How you’ve managed to sleep is beyond you, but hey, shut eye is shut eye. After hours of sitting in your holding cell you know it has to be about late morning if not already after noon. You hold no regrets for what you’ve done, mostly because this isn’t the first time this has happened to you or Maya. This is just the first time the cops have been involved. You sit up just as an officer comes to open the cell door.

“Y/N, your bail has been posted,” they say. “And your boyfriend is here to pick you up.”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of a boyfriend because you’ve been single for a while now. However, you don’t openly question it wanting to leave as soon as possible. You stand and stretch before following the officer out. When you get out to the lobby you see the man from the diner. The one who tried to get you to stop hurting the douche who groped Maya. He smiles a dazzling smile at you and you can feel yourself melt a little.

“Hey love, you okay?” he asks, holding his arms out to hug you.

You return his smile. “I’m alright, love,” you reply warmly.

His arms encircle you carefully. He holds you like you might break, but he’s firm like he doesn’t want to let go. You pull back just enough to look at this man and suddenly feel warm, a blush creeping up your neck. He’s ridiculously handsome even though he’s still in his suit from the day before. His eyes are soft and inviting. You could stare at them forever. His touch is careful, mindful of your boundaries though you’ve only recently met. You’re grateful he came to get you.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

You nod in agreement, taking his open hand and walking out the door. He leads you to his car in the parking lot, but before doing anything else he stops.

“Do you want me to wait with you while you call for another ride?” Marcus asks.

You’re taken aback by how considerate his question is. You half expected him to just drive you home or back to the diner and leave, or to just leave you here at the precinct. Though you know you shouldn’t trust anyone you just met, whether they got you out or jail or not, you find yourself wanting to trust him, to be around him. 

“Actually,” you say. “If you could drive me home, that’d be great.”

His eyes widen, but then crinkle at the corners as he sends you that gorgeous smile again. 

“That’d be no problem at all,” Marcus obliges.

Like the gentleman he has been proving himself to be, Marcus unlocks his car and opens the passenger door for you. He takes your hand to help you inside and closes the door. He jogs over to the driver’s side and gets in.

“Alright, where to?” he inquires.

You begin giving Marcus instructions to your apartment building. You don’t live too far from the diner so your instructions are fairly simple. You and Marcus make small talk as you go. Starting with what happened at the diner and ending with your favorite movie. As Marcus pulls up outside of your building, you realize you never got his name.

“Thanks for driving me home…” you drift off.

“Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he finishes.

“Thanks again, Marcus, you didn’t have to come bail me,” you assure him.

“I couldn’t just leave you there after what happened,” he replied.

You blush at his sweetness. If only more of the men in your life were like him, perhaps you wouldn’t be so rough. You nod to acknowledge his statement and get out of the car. You close the door and Marcus rolls down the window.

“Hey!” Marcus calls to you. “Maybe I’ll see you around the diner.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree.

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

    Two and a half weeks have passed and you haven’t seen the handsome stranger who bailed you. The officers who arrested you called to notify you that the asshole who you pinned was not going to press charges against you and that he will no longer be a patron of the Streetlight Diner. While you and Maya are happy about this, you both can’t help but still be shaken by the event. That shouldn’t have happened, but it did. You’re dealing with it by being strong. Maya is dealing with it by playing matchmaker.

    The next night when you came into the diner on her shift, she asked if you had seen the sweet man who had offered to bail you. You told her that he had in fact bailed you and that you had a nice conversation on the drive home. At this information she squealed loudly, promptly insisting that you tell her more. She then refused to believe that it led to nothing more, claiming that she could see he was taken by you. You merely shook your head at her. Ever the hopeless romantic. Every day since then Maya has asked if you plan on reaching out to Marcus. You keep telling her that you have no means of contacting him. 

    “All he said is that we might see each other again here at the diner,” you repeat to Maya.

    At this point you’ve lost all hope of seeing him again. Why you thought you would is beyond you. He was probably just being nice. He probably has a girlfriend. Hell, he’s probably married with kids. There’s no way he’s single. A hand snapping in your face takes you out of your thoughts. 

    “Hey!” Maya calls to you. “I know that look. He’s going to come back.”

    You shake your head at her, not saying anything else. You don’t want to get your hopes up. At least your milkshake won’t let you down.

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

    The paper work for the case Marcus had been working on is finally finished and filed. After the diner incident, his team had gotten another lead on the auction and the information had turned out to be good. They spent a week preparing for the take down. Then it all went down in the middle of the following week. Since then his team has celebrated, paperwork has been filled out, and new cases ran across Marcus’ desk. He’s been trying to get back to the diner in hopes of seeing you again, but he’s been heading home exhausted. He hopes tonight will be different.

    Marcus waved off the rest of his team as they invited him out for drinks. While the thought is nice, you’re the only thing on his mind. After they pile into the elevator, Marcus packs up his papers into his briefcase, collects his phone and keys, and heads out. He thinks of his promise to see you at the diner after he dropped you off. He regrets not asking for your number. He also hopes he hasn’t disappointed you by essentially disappearing after making said promise. He gets into his car with an air of nervousness.

    When Marcus parks outside the diner, he can see you and Maya talking at the counter. A light smile crosses his lips. He gets out of his car and makes his way inside. Over your shoulder he sees Maya light up at his arrival. You perk up at her change in behavior, turning to look behind you. A look of surprise makes its way onto your face.

    “Hey, long time, no see,” Marcus greets the two of you.

    “Hi, Marcus!” Maya welcomes him.

    “Hi,” you say in disbelief. You didn't actually think he’d come back.

    “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Marcus jokes.

    You can’t help but smile. “No, you’re just in time.”

    Marcus gives you that same amazing smile the afternoon he bailed you and you melt into a puddle. He’s so sweet and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s flirting with you.

    “Now if I recall,” Marcus begins. “You didn’t get to have your pancakes that night that we met. Would it be too bold of me to offer to buy you a stack of your choice?”

    You blush. “How did you know-?”

    “I told him,” Maya jumps in, placing chocolate chip pancakes in front of you and buttermilk pancakes in front of Marcus.

    “Honestly, I’m surprised Marcus didn’t contact you sooner,” she continues.

    Your brow raises. “Why is that?”

    “He’s an FBI agent!” Maya exclaims.

    You glance at Marcus. He looks sheepish, like he wasn’t ready to tell you that just yet. You shake your head and make a note to ask later, not wanting to put him on blast right now. Instead, you pick up your knife and fork and begin cutting into your stack of long awaited pancakes. Marcus follows suit. The quiet consumption of carbs is not uncomfortable. Eventually, lighter conversation flows between the two of you. As you finish, you turn to Marcus pleasantly full.

    “Thank you for the pancakes, Marcus,” you say with a soft smile.

    “No problem,” he replies.

    For a second he’s quiet, like he wants to say something. You tilt your head to try and re-establish eye contact. 

    “Are you okay?” you ask.

    Marcus opens his mouth to speak, but then quickly closes it. This draws your attention to his lips. While you’ve always noticed his smile, you didn’t notice until now how soft his lips looked. You’d kiss them if you could.

    “Um,” Marcus hesitates. “Would you like to have dinner with me? A proper dinner, I mean, when we both have a day off?”

    “I’d love that.”

[bubblegump-1-nk]

Jealous Prick

Ok, so this is my first story but I hope y'all like it. I don't know if it's any good but...

Summary: You're a famous actress who has been cast as Priscilla Presley in the new Elvis movie. You and your co-star Austin have been getting very close and your boyfriend Timothee is a bit jealous - ANGST

"Ok, that's a wrap for tonight. Sorry for keeping you all here so late but we made a lot of progress! Go get some rest tonight." Baz says, finally wrapping up on the days filming.

I look down at my watch, 2:23 AM, it reads. I get up from the chair located behind the camera I've been sitting in for about an hour and I start to walk over to Austin. He's chatting with Baz about his scenes for tomorrow so I stand awkwardly to the side. His eyes flick over to me and without breaking conversation with the director he holds out his left arm. I quickly bring myself next to him and he curls his arm toward himself, bringing me towards his chest and holding me in a side hug.

"So tomorrow we're probably going to film Suspicious Minds and the hospital scenes, so just come prepared for that. But you two should go get some rest it's really late." Baz says, finishing the conversation with Austin.

"Ok, thank you Baz. See you tomorrow." Austin says, then finally looking down at me.

I give Baz a sleepy smile and a small goodnight as he walks away.

"What are you doing here so late? Your scenes ended an hour ago." Austin asks me, finally releasing us from our hug.

"I wanted to wait for you to finish. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye or anything." I say to my best friend

Austin flashes a big smile. "Well how about we go grab a quick dinner? My treat."

"Yes please, I'm starving." I say, as we start walking over to the parking spots.

We talk about the day of filming until we reach Austin's car. He opens the passenger door for me and waits for me to get in. I can't help but think how sweet it is that he noticed I took an Uber to set today.

"So where to? Your choice mama." He says, entering the drivers seat.

Oh god I love it when he calls me that, "Hm I don't know. I think I'm carving burgers."

"Perfect, I was craving burgers too." He says, making me giggle.

He starts driving with the radio high, the streets empty, and we talk about everything and nothing up until he pulls into a deserted parking lot to a tiny diner.

"Trust me, these are the best burgers you'll ever eat." He says, getting out of the car to open my door for me.

"Thanks Aus, my mouth is watering just thinking about it." I say laughing, which makes Austin chuckle.

----

"Thanks AB, I had fun." I say, calling him by the nickname I gave him early on in our friendship.

"Of course (y/n/n), I love going out with you." He says, stopping the car in front of my apartment building.

"See you tomorrow!" I say, getting out of the car.

"Bye (Y/N). See you tomorrow." He says, waiting for me to get inside safely before driving off.

I get in the elevator, still smiling from the fun night, and press Floor 35 to take me to me and Timothee's shared penthouse apartment. Shit, I think, I should have texted Tim. Whatever, he was probably asleep anyway. The elevator dings, pulling me out of my thoughts, as I walk over to the door. I look through my purse until I find my keys and start to open the door. I step inside and take off my shoes and place my purse down on the bench next to our door. I start to walk over to the kitchen for a glass of water when I nearly jump 30 feet into the air when I see Timothee sitting on the living room couch watching The Office.

"Tim, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing up so late?" I ask, walking over to him.

Theres a few seconds of silence until he responds. "What are you doing back so late?" His tone is sassy.

I stop at the end of the couch, not knowing what to say. "Well, uh, filming ended late today and then I went to go grab some dinner." I explain.

"Well you could have texted me? I called you 3 times." He says, his voice still holds the same sass.

"Oh, I'm sorry Timmy, I didn't see them." I say, fully sincere.

"Right, cause you were with him." He says, quietly but still loud enough for me to hear.

I'm taken aback, "What?" I say in confusion.

"Oh don't even act stupid. I know you were with Austin." He says, saying Austin in a disgusted tone.

"I know I was with Austin. But how is that a problem?" I say, not understanding the situation.

"You're always with him (Y/N)!" He says standing up abruptly. "Its always about him! Austin this, Austin that, Austin everything you can't even send me a fucking text telling me where you are!"H is voice rises to an almost yell.

I'm completely shocked at the situation. "Are you kidding me right now Timothee? What are you going on about?"

"Don't start with that. All you do is be with him, I barley see you anymore."

"Tim, that's because of filming, not because of him. You know that." I say, walking over to him.

He takes a step away from me. "I don't know what I know anymore (Y/N). The way you look at each other. And I've seen you filming, the way you kiss each other.."

"Oh my lord Timothee you are not starting with that. You of all people should know what fucking acting is! It's for a fucking movie! Why are you being so jealous right now? I've never said anything about any of your girl friends, so why is Austin a problem." I say, practically yelling at him.

"Because this is different (Y/N)! I see it in your eyes! He looks at you like your his, but you're not!" He yells back.

"Oh right, that's my bad. I forgot I'm your goddamn property!"

"No, (Y/N), it's not like that! The nicknames you have for each other, how touchy you are with each other, it's not fucking normal!"

"He's my friend! Friend, Timothee! What is wrong with you?"

"You don't understand (Y/N)! At least my girl friends and I understand normal fucking boundaries!" He yells.

I stay silent for a few seconds, taking in the situation.

"You know what? I'm done with this conversation, we can finish it when you grow the fuck up." I leave the living room, leaving Timothee standing there.

I go into Tim and I's shared bedroom and grab a pair of pajamas and I start to walk over to one of the guest rooms we have.

"Wait, (Y/N), please. Please, I'm sorry." He says, stopping me on my way to the room.

"Please move Timothee. I can't do this right now."

He stands there, visibly hurt, but quickly moves out of the way.

I walk into the room, close the door, and immediately break down crying. I stay there, on the ground, for what feels like centuries until I force myself to change and get into the bed. I lay there, crying, thinking about the argument. I hug my pillow closer and fall asleep to the sound of my own sobs. I hear the turning of a door knob and a quiet shuffling into the room. Suddenly I feel a warm body and a fluffy head of curls wrap me into a hug.

"I'm so, so sorry (Y/N). I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry." Timmy says, his voice sore from crying.

I pull myself closer to him, hugging him tighter. "You have nothing to be sorry for baby. This is my fault, I am so sorry." I say kissing the top of his head.

"It's not your fault angel. I'm sorry for being a jealous prick." He says burying his head further into my chest.

"You're not a jealous prick Tim," I say with a light giggle. "I love you. And I love Austin, just in a different way ok? Remember that."

"I will baby, I will." He says, kissing me sweetly.

And that's how we fall asleep, wrapped in each others arms, with nothing but each other on our minds.

[ikroah]

The strangest gal I ever had never happy ‘less she’s mad. Oh, I got a woman mean as she can be, sometimes I think she’s almost mean as me. —“Mean Woman Blues,” Elvis Presley (1957)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #16 - Crimson Caravan

Collaborative Issue! Guest Artist: Esseress

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

Girls’ night! Girls’ night!

I want this issue to speak for itself so I’m going to cut right to gratuitously thanking our latest guest artist, Esseress, who did a completely phenomenal on these five pages. We’ve been working on it for a long time and I’m over the moon to finally bring it to you now on this blog. I love writing this comic, and I loved doing the lettering and composition for it, but my goodness do I love Esse’s art. It was a real privilege to have that art as part of It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’, especially since the artist was such an immaculately pleasant collaborator. If you’re reading this, thank you again for such a fun project (and talking about Naruto with me lol).

Original Pencils (click for full size):

This issue was one of my most fun composition challenges yet because something that you want to avoid in comics as much as possible, I think, is talking heads. You want to avoid shots that are static, overly repetitive, and uninteresting. Now the challenge is, how do you do that when your whole comic takes place in a small storeroom and is nothing but a conversation between two characters?

Playing with angles and expressions, and using repetition intentionally with the percussive referent of Agnes cutting into the floorboards, made for some really suspenseful page layouts that complemented the script in a major way. I’m especially proud of the third page, with its quick cutaway to the exterior of the office and the cutting continuing beneath Agnes’ dialogue. Also, did you notice that you only ever see Agnes’ left side this issue? You never get to look her in the eye this issue, and given how cagey she’s acting, that evasiveness was an intentional compositional choice. It was satisfying to pull off, but hear me, it took a lot of planning in the thumbnail stage to pull off well.

The other fun challenge of this issue was lighting. When you’re in a closet a night and don’t want to be seen, how do you see? The delightful answer was to have Agnes actually use that damn flashlight she wears on her shoulder; attentive readers will notice that this is the second time she’s used it in the comic, with the first time being back in Boulder City at the end of Volume 1. Hmm…guys, I wonder if it’s a bad omen that she only seems to turn it on when she’s about to commit or assist in a murder…

Speaking of lighting! One last fun hiccup about this issue was the final page. The script I wrote called for it to transition from night to morning between the first and second panels, but in a case of unforeseen and magnitudinous pedanticism, it was while coordinating the lighting on that page with Esse that I looked up the actual time of sunrise in the Mojave Desert for the time of year this issue takes place, which is November 5th if you’re curious. Turns out the sun shouldn’t be rising until after 7:00 AM, which hardly makes McLafferty the exceptionally early riser her planner says she is. That’s not to say it’s actually 7:00 AM in the comic…go ahead and play the CinemaSins ding for the wrong sunrise time, or whatever. And it’s not like any of you would have known or cared if I didn’t say anything! It was just too weird of a writing quirk to not bring up. The lesson, folks, is to always remember your temporality when writing. It’ll help you sleep a lot easier.

Transcript:

EXT. CRIMSON CARAVAN, night. The lights are out and everyone in the caravan compound have retired to their barracks for the night. From inside one of the compound buildings comes a soft sound.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

INT. CRIMSON CARAVAN OFFICE. AGNES SANDS is bent over on the floor of a storeroom, carving into the wooden floor with her bootknife. ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY leans against the door behind her.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: So…have you ever killed anyone before?

AGNES continues cutting into the floor without looking at CASS as she speaks.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: And I don’t mean a raider or fiend or something, nothing in self-defense. I mean in cold blood.

CASS: You mean like you killed those Khans?

(NOTE: *IKROAH #14—Lou.)

CASS: Hmmm…no, I guess I haven’t. When it comes to bloody vengeance just for myself…

CASS: …be gentle, it’s my first time.

AGNES doesn’t react to CASS’ joke. CASS becomes equally serious.

CASS: …I’d imagine this ain’t your first rodeo, the way you asked.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: I mean…this Benny guy, in Vegas. When we catch him, which notch on your blood-spattered bedpost is he?

AGNES stops cutting into the floor, raising her knife. CASS’s expression tightens with concern. The silence is uncomfortable.

AGNES: Second.

CASS: Oh, thank God.

AGNES: What?

CASS: No offense, but the way you got all serious, I worried for a second you might be some kind of serial killer nutjob.

AGNES: No, no, I’m sorry. I was just…thinking. I really know how to meet the wrong men, apparently.

CASS (smiling): Dead men, right?

AGNES frowns. Her knife plunges back into the wooden floor.

SFX: SKRITCH, SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: Wanna talk about it?

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: Not like we have anything else to do.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH… 

AGNES: I really don’t.

CASS: Fine. That said, though, I did imagine this whole revenge thing being a bit more…exciting. Can’t say I like being stuck in a closet.

AGNES (smirking): You get used to it.

CASS: Why, though? You picked the lock to her fucking office like a cheap office toy. Why not break into her barracks and we shoot the bitch now?

AGNES: First, because that’s a great way to get us both killed.

AGNES keeps cutting as she speaks, deeper and deeper into the floor.

AGNES: Second, you want her to know it was you, so we have to get her awake and alone.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: Third, her planner on her desk confirmed what I already suspected—that she’s an early riser—so we’ll see her sooner rather than later, while the rest of the company is still asleep.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: Fourth, we want to send a message to everyone else. So it has to be at least a little spectacular.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH...

CASS: Oh…you’ve really thought this through.

SFX: SKRIT-

AGNES stops cutting. She slowly lifts her knife out of the floor.

AGNES: Yeah.

CASS: Where’d a medic get so good at murder?

AGNES rises from bending over the floor to a kneeling position, turning back towards CASS and frowning.

CASS: Sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about that, either.

AGNES: Maybe another time. For now…

AGNES leans back, kneeling over an intricate cross-hatch, about three feet in radius, of deep cuts and gouges into the floorboards in front of her.

AGNES: …just trust me.

EXT. CRIMSON CARAVAN. Night turns to early morning, and ALICE McLAFFERTY, the boss of the caravan, walks up the steps of her office and enters.

AGNES (from inside, whispering): Alright. Now. Quickly.

From inside her office, a door is kicked open.

SFX: DTHUMP

ALICE: What the hell, who are you—!?

CASS: Rose of Sharon goddamn Cassidy, of Cassidy fucking Caravans, you bitch!

ALICE: No, you’re—

SFX: KABLAM

The sound of a shotgun going off in the middle of the compound wakes up the whole caravan. Crows scatter from the courtyard while guards start rushing towards the office door.

AGNES: Alright, now let’s go! Shoot the floor here where I—

SFX: KABLAM

The guards close in on the office while wooden shrapnel falls from a new hole in the floorboards of the office, and AGNES and CASS drop through to the ground outside, and crawl away from the caravan guards under the hut just as they reach the McLAFFERTY’s front door.

[clouditae]

First Love | 07

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | swearing

Word: 2.1k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

The car ride is awkward for you. Hoseok and Ari are chatting away while you and Yoongi sit in the back in complete silence. This is not what you expected, but it seems that Ari has something else in mind and drags Hoseok along, waiting for who knows how long until the two of you left the shelter. You open your bag, pulling out your camera. Turning it on, and going to your pictures, you begin to browse through all the photos you took today.

“Did they come out good?” Yoongi asks, voice just loud enough for you to hear. 

You look to him, surprised that he’s interested, but his eyes are on your camera. Trying to see how the pictures came out. “Yeah. I got some good ones,” you tell him, showing the screen as you browse through the pictures together. The two of you browse through the photos you took. The photos you took capture the moments of joy for the animals. When they played with Rory, when the dogs ran around the fenced area, not wanting to go inside. Even when Charlie came up to you, sniffing the camera; you got a perfect picture of his big brown eyes and the round of his snout. You then reach the photos of Jasper, you’re clearly aware of Yoongi leaning in close to you. When you reach the photos, you try your best to not linger on the photos of Yoongi and Jasper. 

“Wait,” Yoongi murmurs, and you stop, glancing at him. “Go back.” You click back to the previous photo of Yoongi petting Jasper. “Can you send me that one?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze.

You’re fully aware as to how close the two of you have gotten. Swallowing hard, you reply with a small voice, “Yeah.” 

“We’re here,” Hoseok bellows, making you jump away from Yoongi. 

Turning off your camera, you look out the window to see a building with blue shingles, a big sign running along the wall, and a jukebox like entrance, with different colors. “Mary Ann’s?” Ari asks as Hoseok pulls into a parking space. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok beams, putting the car in park and turning the engine off. “I heard this place is great. Great burgers; amazing shakes. Plus, everything inside is a 50s theme.” He exits the car, giving the three of you no time to say anything. As you close the door, Hoseok is already reaching for Ari’s hand. “I’ve always wanted to go on a double date—or I guess date and two friends tagging along,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly at you. 

“Well I for sure am hungry. Let’s go,” Ari exclaims, walking with Hoseok towards the building, but not before grabbing your hand and dragging you along. You stumble a bit until you finally match her pace, looking both ways to make sure no car is going to hit you since Ari didn’t even bother looking. 

Entering through the blue pastel double doors, you’re immediately hit with the smell of burgers and a song you don’t know but can tell the singer is Elvis Presley. The inside of the diner is your typical diner; booths to the left and right, a counter running along the middle with stools, and a waitress or two wearing blue dresses with their hair up in a bun. The floor is checkered, walls pink with photos of people you recognize and don’t while the seating is blue. You’re pretty sure if you look up a 50s diner, this is it. Hoseok, who is still holding Ari’s hand, who is still holding yours, drags the two of you past several booths occupied by people before finding a booth at the end.

Ari lets your hand go, gesturing with her head to enter the booth. As you get in, expecting Ari to sit next to you, you’re shocked to see her sitting across from you. You shoot daggers at her as she smirks in response as Hoseok occupies the seat next to her and Yoongi slides into the booth next to you. You look to the side, staring at the photos on the wall, only recognizing the photo of the cast from I Love Lucy. Your dad would always drag you into the living room to watch it with him. 

“It’s a family thing,” he would tell you every time you would question him. 

“Welcome to Mary Ann’s,” a voice interrupts, placing four menus on the table as you look up at her. “My name is Irene. Can I get you started on something to drink?” Irene is wearing the blue dress like everyone else, a white apron tied around her waist, and a small white hat on top of her head. She’s pretty, and you can’t help but imagine her living in the 50s. As you all give her your order for drinks, she smiles, writing it down and leaving the four of you. 

“So what’s your project about, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, folding his arms on the table. 

You’re caught by surprise by his sudden question, but quickly recover and answer. “The project is to convince the audience to buy or participate in your project by capturing moments of what your project is about.” 

Irene appears with a tray full of drinks. She hands them out to you, tucking the tray under her arm as she pulls out her notepad and pen once again. “Would you like to order now or do you still need a few minutes?” she asks, eyes meeting yours briefly. You quickly glance at the menu, finding what looks the most appetizing as Hoseok and Ari agree to tell Irene their order. 

After everyone has said their order, Hoseok turns to you. “So your project is to convince people to adopt animals through pictures?”

You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “There are a lot of animals in the shelter that need homes. Especially the older ones.” 

Ari sighs. “I don’t like going to the shelter because all I want to do is take every animal home. My dad wants another dog, so maybe I can convince him to adopt one of the dogs here,” she says, tapping her chin in thought. 

“Is there a way to convince your dad to adopt an older dog?” you ask in a hopeful tone, sitting up straight. 

“An older dog?”

You nod quickly. “There’s an older dog named Jasper. He is such a sweet dog. He loves resting his head on your lap and sleeping.”

Ari laughs, “He’s just like my dad.” Pulling out her phone from her bag, she is typing away at her phone for a few seconds before she locks her phone and puts it back in her bag. “Knowing my dad, he’ll be out here on his day off to look at the animals. Which should be tomorrow or the day after.” She smiles. 

You can’t help but lean back in your seat in relief. Ari’s dad may take Jasper home and he can live the rest of his days in a happy home being loved and taken care of. He won’t be sad and alone when his time comes. You’ll have to send Ari’s dad a big basket of his favorite things if he takes Jasper home. 

“So,” Hoseok chimes in. “Ari and I were thinking about the four of us going camping during break.” The way he looks at both you and Yoongi tells you that he’s not going to take no for an answer. Hoseok seems dead set on getting the four of you to go together. One couple and one person who has major feelings for the other. This is bad.

“No,” Yoongi says blatantly. You turn to Yoongi completely shocked by how quickly he denies the request. 

“What’s your excuse?” Hoseok challenges, a daring look on his face. 

“I’ll be working most likely,” he states, grabbing his glass to take a drink. 

Hoseok sighs, “You can’t be stuck in the studio the entire week.” 

“It won't be the entire week. I’ll be in the shop from time to time, too.”

“How about this”—Hoseok adjusts himself in his seat, pointing a hand in Yoongi’s direction—“I help you with whatever you need if you’ll just come with us.” 

“I’ll probably—” 

Hoseok interrupts Yoongi, “Listen Mr. Producer, I’m gonna convince you no matter what. Every year you spend break either in the studio or shop. I get being in the shop, but I bet your boss will let you go on vacation.” 

Irene appears at the table with a tray of your food. She places your plate in front of you before plastering a smile and saying, “Enjoy.” 

You grab a fry, ready to dig in when Ari speaks up, “Are you going to come with us, Y/N?”

You look up to see both Ari and Hoseok staring at you. Lowering the fry from your mouth, you answer, “Yeah, I’ll go.” You can see the joy in Ari’s eyes and Hoseok’s smile grow. Your original plan is to stay in your dorm since your parents are going on their anniversary trip that week. You could have gone home and stayed there, but it seems like a waste of time when you have everything here. 

“We’ll have lots of fun,” Ari tells you, smiling as she takes a bite out of her burger. 

“What exactly is the plan?” you ask, finally taking a bit out of your food. God is it delicious. Everything about this burger is amazing. From the patty to everything they put on it. It feels like taking a bite out of heaven. 

“We rent out a cabin. Since there may be snow it’s best to just get a cabin so that we don’t die out there,” Ari explains. 

“How much will it be?” you can’t help but ask. You don’t have a nine to five job, and that only means saving up like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. A friend of mine owes me,” Hoseok tells you. 

Now you’re really curious. “How much are they usually?”

Hoseok stares at you for a moment before glancing away and clearing his throat. “A couple hundred per night,” he mutters, but you hear him loud and clear. 

“A couple—” Ari starts but can’t finish. You look at her. Clearly she didn’t know about this either based off of her shocked expression. “And he’s okay with this?”

Hoseok meets her eyes. “Yeah. He owes me big time.” 

“Did you save his life or something?” she asks, clearly not letting it go. 

Hoseok chuckles. “Not that drastic. I just saved him from failing class.” 

“That’s it?” you and Ari ask in unison, but she was louder than you. 

Hoseok smiles triumphantly. “That was the last class he needed to graduate.” 

It takes a while before Ari finally lets it go. For the rest of the dinner you eat in silence, listening to Ari and Hoseok talking to one another, then you, and Hoseok mainly talking to Yoongi and receiving a few words from him. You want to ask Yoongi questions about his major, but you don’t want to be ignored by him in front of Ari and Hoseok. From how protective Ari is about you, and how friendly Hoseok is, one of them will say something and the drive back will be awkward. 

Maybe you’re just blowing things out of proportion. Maybe you’re not. 

“Is there anything else I can get you guys? Desert?” Irene asks as she begins to grab the empty plates. 

“I want ice cream,” Yoongi requests, not even looking at any of you. 

“Guess we’ll have some shakes,” Hoseok says, suppressing a laugh most likely from Yoongi’s small request. 

After finishing your shake, letting Ari try yours and you trying hers, and paying for your dinner, the four of you leave the diner, making your way towards Hoseok’s car. You can’t deny that you enjoyed today. You finally start on your project, you surprisingly spent time with Yoongi without him questioning you or analyzing you openly, and you had a great dinner with your friends and Yoongi. 

By the time Hoseok drives into the parking lot of the dorms and finds a spot, it’s already past nine. Thankfully you have class at nine tomorrow so you can stay up late to get everything ready for your paper and presentation on your project. You follow Hoseok and Ari through the route towards your dorm from the outdoor stairway. 

Before you turn the corner to pass the staircase leading down to the rest of the dorm building and enter your hall, you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn around to meet eyes with Yoongi. Letting go of your arm, he says, “Meet me at the back parking lot Friday.” 

“O-okay,” you stutter. 

He nods in acknowledgement before walking past your and towards his room. You follow, feeling both happy and dreading meeting with him on Friday.

[mrepstein]

The Beatles Book Monthly (No. 5, December 1963)

‘A TALE OF FOUR BEATLES’ by Billy Shepherd

PART IV (PART I // PART II // PART III)

Part IV opens in June, 1961 and charts Brian Epstein's early involvement with the Beatles.

And so the Beatles, with two experience-garnering trips to Germany behind them, got back to Liverpool. A swingin’ scene... and they were very much a part of it. It was the end of June, 1961.

But though they liked having more money to spend, they hadn’t the foggiest idea of just how much they were worth. The offers came in. Anything between £6 and £14 was the pay-packet, to be shared between Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and drummer Pete Best.

“We just didn’t know,” admits George. “We loved the work, the excitement. We didn’t realise we were often being exploited. But it was hard work and somehow we didn’t seem to have much money in the kitty after we’d kept our equipment up to scratch...”

July, 1961, could go down as a summit meeting in Merseybeat history. A steamy, summery, shimmery night at Litherland Town Hall. A young promoter named Brian Kelly announced his attraction: The Beatmakers.

George Harrison was on lead guitar. Paul McCartney on rhythm. John Lennon on piano. Drummers were Pete Best and Freddie Marsden. Les Maguire operated on saxophone, Les Chadwick on bass guitar - and Gerry Marsden nipped on and off behind a big grin to take the vocals.

Gerry and the Pacemakers and the Beatles had linked up. For one night only and for a fee which is the smallest fraction of what they’d command for such a show now.

It led to friendships between the group members... but it didn’t seem to be leading to that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for the Beatles.

Says John: “We went on knocking ourselves out night after night but somehow there was a bit of frustration creeping in to it all. It didn’t seem to be leading anywhere.”

But the audiences were greatly appreciative.

Says Paul: “We started accepting dates further south. We got pretty near London on some of them. No change of material for us - still the stuff that went down so well in Germany. But we were veering away from the leather gear. Don’t make this sound big-headed, but the fact is that a lot of other groups were copying the way we looked on stage. So we changed to more ordinary clothes for a while.”

But in September, depression set in. Paul and John took themselves off to Paris for a holiday. They remember being flat broke. Remember having to search through every pocket to rake up enough francs for a Coke. Now, of course, they can go where they please and not count the cost.

And George and Pete stayed on in Liverpool, virtually lost to the Beat scene. Ray McFall, owner of the Cavern Club remembers seeing Messrs. Harrison and Best around the lunch-time sessions but they seemed dispirited. They took a lot of persuading even to join in on the impromptu roar-ups.

Let well-known Liverpool show compere Bob Wooler fill in the background to this black spot in the Beatles’ history.

“I’ve known the boys since the early days. I’ve been a long-time admirer. What they really needed was a manager in those far-off days. They seemed content not to argue about the fees they were offered. And they didn’t seem to realise that they were pulling in crowds on the strength of their own name and performance.

“After all, they had to live. They had to look after their equipment - and they often had travelling expenses to pay. It’s all very well being popular and enjoying your work, but you should be paid what you’re worth as well.

“Ray McFall at the Cavern was different. If the crowd was good, he upped the fee. That’s why the boys have always been so loyal to the Cavern. But you can understand them being puzzled at the lack of hard cash from their other venues where they were so often doubling the attendances.”

Paul and John were meanwhile spending a lot of time on their song-writing. You’ll see how much they’d already achieved in this direction as the story pushes on to the first recording days.

John and Paul could never sit down and simply write a song to order. They admit: “We have to wait for the ideas to arrive. It can happen anywhere. On a bus, or a train, or backstage at a dance-hall or theatre. Sometimes the title suggests itself first. Then we get going on the words and music. Sometimes we’ve finished a very successful seller in less than an hour.”

But their most pressing need was for a manager. Paul has told me “When we first started on paid jobs, we honestly thought we weren’t manageable. We thought nobody would want to bother with us. We were a pretty off-beat bunch of characters, to say the least. And we had a sense of humour which somehow involved us all and which was hardly in the interests of discipline. So, for a long time, we just didn’t take any notice of the advice that we should be properly handled. ‘Who’d WANT US,’ was the way we thought...

“And that’s where we were wrong...”

A MANAGER. Liverpool man Allan Williams took on the chore for a while... he now runs the Blue Angel Club on Merseyside.

But the man who was to make show business history with the Beatles knew nothing about the group in that September of 1961. That man, of course, was Brian Epstein, one-time drama student, member of a family which owned a chain of furniture and radio-TV stores in Liverpool.

He was not exactly WITH the beat scene. But he WAS in touch with the public taste through his work in the record department of the stores. He’d been there for five years, building up the business, enlarging the staff roster and increasing the turnover.

And in September, 1961, he was a puzzled man. Fans kept approaching him with: “Have you any records by the Beatles?” Brian mused. Pondered. Wondered. One young lad was particularly persistent in his demands. Brian dug deep into the record-lists. And found reference to that “My Bonnie” single, recorded in Germany, on which the Beatles played a strictly supporting role to guitar-star Tony Sheridan.

“I became Beatle-conscious for a while,” he says. “I always tried to work on the theory that the customer was right - and if they wanted the Beatles, well... I’d do my best to supply the Beatles. Eventually I traced the source and ordered some 200 copies for the record-stores. They sold quickly...

“Then out of the blue I heard they were Liverpool boys, had a rapidly-growing following - and were actually playing in a club near the store. It was a place that I’m sure I’d visited before, a sort of teenage gathering-place, but I really didn’t know much about it.

“After a while, I thought I’d better pop down there and see what all the fuss was about.”

Brian Epstein went to the Cavern. Met the Beatles. And things really started happening for the ambitious but not-too-sure group.

There are two ways of looking at this near-historic meeting. Brian Epstein’s. And the Beatles’ viewpoint.

Beatles first. Said George: “He started talking to us about the record that had created the demand. We didn’t know much about him but he seemed very interested in us and also a little bit baffled.

“He came back several times and talked to us. It seemed there was something he wanted to say, but he wouldn’t come out with it. He just kind of watched us and studied what we were doing. One day, he took us to the store and introduced us. We thought he looked rather red and embarrassed about it all.

“Eventually, he started talking about becoming our manager. Well, we hadn’t really had anybody actually VOLUNTEER in that sense. At the same time, he was very honest about it all - you know, like saying he didn’t really know anything about managing a group like us. He sort of hinted that he was keen if we’d go along with him...”

Brian, quite honestly, thought that the Beatles looked a mess. He wondered what exactly they thought they were trying to be. Their strange jackets, the rather scruffy jeans, the hair-styles, which could only have been styled on something called “chaos.”

“But there was something enormously attractive about them,” he recalls. “I liked the way they worked and the obvious enthusiasm they put into their numbers. People talk about the Liverpool sound but I sometimes wonder what exactly they mean. These boys put everything into their routines but they didn’t use echo. That struck me as being a very good thing.

“It was the boys themselves, though, who really swung it. Each had something which I could see would be highly commercial if only someone could push it to the top. They were DIFFERENT characters but they were so obviously part of the whole. Quite frankly, I was excited about their prospects, provided some things could be changed.”

And Brian told his friends: “This could easily turn out to be the biggest show business attraction since Elvis Presley.” It’s a tribute to his foresight and intuition that that is precisely what has happened.

Brian decided to get the boys together at a round-table conference at his store. A time was fixed and the boys agreed. But Beatles are not always the easiest of people to organise. Brian sat waiting... and waiting... and waiting. He was trying to cope with the vastly complex figures of Christmas orders for the store and minutes were precious to him.

Eventually THREE Beatles arrived. George, John and Pete. No Paul. Story goes that Brian got George to ring through and see what had happened to the left-handed guitar-star. And that Paul admitted he was still in the bath... but wouldn’t be long!

Brian was rather on his high-horse. He felt it was not the right thing for someone who wanted to talk business to be kept waiting. He pointed out that Paul, the cherubic one of the four, would be extremely late. “Yes,” said George, forcing back a grin. “But he’ll also be extremely clean.”

Says Brian: “That sense of humour is invaluable. You could hardly feel annoyed at their lack of business ability. They were just four individual and off-beat characters.”

Prior to Brian taking such an interest, there was great concern among Cavern people that there was a chance of the Beatles packing in all thoughts of show business careers. Bob Wooler had tried hard to get BBC television producer Jack Good interested in the group. Jack had produced beat shows, like “Six-Five Special” which had been the stepping-stone to success for artistes like Cliff Richard. But Jack was also in demand in the States... and he’d gone there to further his own career long before Bob could get any decision from the telly-folk.

Brian, having eventually assembled all four Beatles in the same room, put his propositions to them. He went through a process of brain-washing, though he did it all very tactfully. He didn’t like their manner of dress. Wasn’t knocked out by the unruly hair-cuts. Was singularly unimpressed by the way they casually drank tea on stage while in the middle of shows.

He pleaded with them rather than ordered them. He knew they were a valuable property and he was knocked out at the way their personal following was growing through the Merseyside area.

Said John: “He’d tell us that jeans were not particularity smart and could we possibly manage to wear PROPER trousers. But he didn’t want us suddenly looking square. He let us have our own sense of individuality.”

He added: “We respected his views. We stopped champing at cheese rolls and jam butties on stage. We paid a lot more attention to what we were doing. Did our best to be on time. And we smartened up, in the sense that we wore suits instead of any sloppy old clothes.”

It was a master-plan. A long-term plan if necessary but it was aimed at making the most of four young men who clearly had that star quality in them... even though a recording contract was still more than nine months away.

Obviously, Brian Epstein’s main job was to get the group on record. He knew the strength of their popularity in Liverpool and he felt it wouldn’t be a hard job to interest some of the London companies. But that was where Brian was wrong.

He even delayed any sort of action until the results of the 1961 “Mersey Beat Poll” were announced. That came up at the end of the year. And the Beatles were high and dry in top place in this important survey of how the public felt about the myriad groups operating in the scene. Said Brian: “I thought this was the ‘Open Sesame’ to the recording scene. I felt that Liverpool was important enough to have London executives falling about to sign the boys. I was wrong...”

Brian, though technically still in charge of important parts of the family business, threw himself into the job of getting the Beatles known nationally. He had the backing of the Beatles’ parents and it was to be no holds barred for the major break through.

He started visiting London. Hopefully. Optimistically. But record executives showed an alarming tendency to register non-committal gloom. Brian had to keep reporting apparent failure to the boys - by now riding higher than ever in popular acclaim in Liverpool.

Cont’d next month in No. 6