#I stopped by the liquor store on the way home and have a drink with my dinner now

[an-aura-about-you]

ohhhhhh my god my last half hour of work was spent listening in horror to some White Woman Nonsense

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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[bwabys-scenarios]

Illumi stares at you often, and when I mean often, 95% of the time spent with him involves him staring at you at least a little.

His big, black eyes always seem drawn to you when you’re in his vicinity, pulling you into their dark depths. You’d think it would feel cold, considering his profession or cold personality, but looking into his eyes feels strangely warm and fills you with fuzzy feelings.

The dark haired assassin had never felt the way he felt about you before. At first he hated the way you made him feel, avoiding you at all costs. But the distance made his heart hurt, which again, is something he’s never really felt before.

If he hadn’t met you, none of this would have happened. Maybe… just maybe if he just took care of you and ended your life, that would make his heart stop racing every time he spotted you.

But he could never do it. You were full of blind spots, way too trusting, and much weaker than him, but still… he could never find the chance to kill you.

No… that’s not true. Just by walking past you alone, he could count at least 14 ways he could have swiftly ended your life within seconds, but when he moved to pull out his needles… he physically couldn’t. The needles heavy in his pocket, his heart thumping against his chest so fast that it made breathing difficult.

Killing was the only way he knew how to really interact with others. Killing them, killing for them… it’s all he really knew. So when you spotted him at a party for Hunters that he only attended so he could gather information on a target and invited him to join you for a drink… he couldn’t say no.

While the two of you talked, every little thing you did was noted down by him and stored away in his brain. The way you drilled your fingernails against the table when you were trying to remember something, the way you smiled softly when he occasionally spoke up, and even the way you breathed.

When you got up to leave, you gently patted his shoulder, saying that the two of you should ‘hang out sometime’.

And that single touch was the beginning of the end.

Just that small amount of physical contact made him feel way more drunk than the drink he’d been sipping on. The warmth of your touch reminded him of the first time he tried rum. The warm, almost scorching feeling of the liquor running down his throat almost matched the intensity of that little touch.

And he wanted more.

He had never gotten as hard as he did the night after you touched him. He found himself jerking off to pictures he found of you on your social media, imagining your pussy clenching around him instead of the touch of his hand.

As the months passed, you found yourself encountering Illumi a lot more than you had in the past. Whether it be on jobs, random bump ins at the bar or while you were shopping… it’s like you saw him everywhere these days.

Illumi felt no guilt over putting a small tracking device in your bag. After all, he killed people for a living, this was nothing.

He told himself that he was just fascinated with your ability, or perhaps even your knowledge on a specific subject. But that shouldn’t have been enough for him to be carrying you home from the bar after you had a few too many, his hands holding back your hair when you needed to vomit.

Illumi had never taken care of someone before, but when he attempted to leave you to your own devices, your hand held onto his sleeve.

“Don’t go…”

This is when he realized that he didn’t want anything you could give him that he thought. Your knowledge or your abilities meant nothing to him in the moment, what mattered is that he was curled up next to you, staring at you as you slept.

Illumi could go multiple days without sleep, so he spent the entire night just staring. Here you were, with your cheek squished against his arm, your hands clutching his shirt as you slept.

Could you ever even comprehend the things he had seen and done? Did you even understand that the man you had allowed into your bed ended other’s lives for a price?

You slept so soundly, as if you were not curled up with an experienced assassin. He couldn’t help but reach out and cup your cheek, squeezing the soft flesh between two of his nimble, pale fingers. This made to whine a bit in your sleep, but it didn’t wake you.

He was just… in awe of you. Everything you did had his heart racing. Even asleep, your actions could send him into cardiac arrest if he wasn’t careful.

As he caressed you, something he had been wanting to do for a while, his mind wandered.

What would happen if someone like him was sent to kill you? You were too trusting, too kind and naive for your own good.

He couldn’t let that happen.

That thought made him pause. For the first time in his life, he wanted to protect someone instead of use them for his personal gain. You weren’t just a means to an end or a stepping stone to his success… you were you.

And he loved you.

Love… the concept was foreign to him, but if that was the word that described what he was feeling for you… maybe he could somewhat understand the cheap romance novels he had read when bored on missions.

In the morning, you were sick again. He did his best to help you. Illumi had seen plenty of nasty things, he could handle some vomit and tears.

“Thank you, Illumi…”

He glanced to you as he put on his coat to leave. You were in your pajamas still, your face still a bit warm from embarrassment. The two of you barely knew each other, yet you had roped him into taking care of you.

“It was… no trouble.”

“B-but it was! Can’t I do anything for you to make up for it?”

He stopped, pausing by the door. “… be mine.”

The heat in your face increased tenfold. “What… did you just say?”

“I said be mine.”

Illumi was in front of you in no time, his hand was cold, but firm on your waist. “I want you, (Name).”

“Um…”

You laughed nervously, flustered. “How about a date?”

“Those terms are acceptable.”

As Illumi walked towards the car that had come to pick him up, he was already planning out how he’d bring up the prospect of marriage to his family. Of course they wouldn’t stop him, but he would prefer their approval.

Illumi opened his phone, seeing that you had texted him.

(Name): how about Sunday at 7 pm?

That was in two days. Would he be able to find a ring that suited you by then? Ah… but he really wanted to see you again as soon as possible.

Illumi: Sounds great.

He could feel himself get hard with excitement. As he looked out at the scenery passing by, he wondered if you wanted one or two kids.

‘Three or more would be best… but I’ll let her decide. She’ll be the one bearing my children after all.’

Unbeknownst to you, your entire future was being laid out for you. For the better or worse.

[twistersobsessed]

boone request !! i would love to see kate bringing along her friend from new york who’s like a girl version of scott !! maybe she’s a bit in love with scott but it’s one sided so she finds comfort in boones sweet nature and falls for him

His Warmth Melts Ice | Boone x Reader

Warnings: Weed, reader smokes

A/N: No one can convince me Boone isn’t a stoner.

You were in a bad mood. You were almost always in a bad mood but today’s mood was particularly foul. Because of a man. You cursed yourself for letting a man have this much of an effect on your mood.

It’s not like you were in love with Scott but he was exactly your type and the two of you basically had the same personality. So his cold indifference to you hurt. He was meaner to Kate though.

Scott was currently ignoring you both, in an argument with Javi. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” you mumbled to Kate. “Okay,” she patted your arm. You made your way to the convenience store, trailing behind Tyler Owens and his crew.

They all filed into the store but the last guy, Tyler’s camera man, you recognized him, caught a glimpse of you behind him. His eyes widened and he stepped back to hold the door open for you. His friend gave him a weird look.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, walking past him.

You were getting a slushie from the machine when the same guy sidled up next to you. “Hey,” he greeted you eagerly. “I’m Boone. You’re Kate’s friend, right?” You briefly wondered how Boone knew Kate’s name, but then remembered Tyler talking to Kate yesterday.

“Yeah,” you answered coldly. You didn’t offer your name. This didn’t deter Boone though. “What’s your name, honey?”

You side-eyed him. He wasn’t really your type, but you had to admit he was cute.

“(Name),” you replied after a minute.

“(Name),” he repeated, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “What a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You kept your face carefully blank and didn’t respond.

“Boone!” Tyler barked from the door. “Come on!” Boone gave him the finger before turning back to you. “Gotta go. See you around, East Coast!”

You watched him follow Tyler out the door. You rolled your neck before capping your slushie and paying for it up at the counter. Then you made your way back to Javi and Kate.

The second time you talked to Boone was at a local bar. Both Storm Par and the Wranglers had coincidentally chosen the location to unwind for the night after a day of chasing. You were sat at the bar, pounding back drinks. Maybe you had some alcoholic tendencies.

“East Coast!” A cheerful voice rang out.

You turned on the bar stool to face Boone. “Boone,” you greeted flatly. His eyes wandered over to the plethora of empty glasses on the counter in front of you. “Good lord, girl,” he whistled. “How are you not knocked on your ass right now?”

You shrugged.

“Wanna dance?”

“I don’t dance.”

“I can teach you.”

“I don’t dance.”

Boone shrugged, helping himself to the stool next to you. “That’s alright, baby, we can just sit here.”

You felt your cheeks warm. You blamed it on the alcohol.

“So tell me, East Coast, what brings you ‘round these parts?”

You sipped from your waterbottle. “Javi brought Kate on board to help track storms because she’s a natural at predicting all things tornado. I came for moral support.”

“Aw, what a sweet friend you are,” Boone beams at you. “How long have you and Kate been friends?”

Normally you’d be sarcastic until he stopped asking questions, but the liquor loosened your tongue and lowered your defenses. “Five years. We met her first week in New York.”

Boone seemed genuinely interested. “Tell me about you, East Coast.”

It had been a long time since anyone wanted to hear anything about you. You didn’t know what to say. Boone seemed to pick up on how the question stumped you. “What’s something you love?”

“The ocean,” you answered in a heartbeat.

Boone blinked. “The ocean?”

You nodded, getting a far off look in your eye. “I’m at home when I’m near the sea.”

“Well you’re a far way from home, East Coast.”

You shrugged.

“Any siblings?”

“Two younger brothers.”

Boone hummed. “That’s nice, I always wanted a sibling growing up.”

“You’re an only child?”

“Yup!” Boone exclaimed. “But Tyler’s like my brother.”

You both looked over to Tyler, who was currently in a staredown with Javi while Kate stood between them looking uncomfortable.

“Oh lord,” you muttered. You stood to go intervene, but Boone stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Let it play out,” he encouraged. “That lil love triangle is their problem.”

It was true, you really didn’t feel like getting involved. “Yeah, okay,” you grumbled, turning back in your seat. You flagged down the bartender for another shot. He set it down in front of you and you knocked it back while Boone watched you.

“Well it was nice talking to you,” you told Boone flatly. Although while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d enjoyed it. You stood on shockingly steady feet, and Boone mirrored your action. “Aw, you leavin’?”

“Yup.” You stood awkwardly, unsure of the right way to end this interaction. Something felt wrong about just walking away.

Almost like Boone sensed your inner turmoil again, he held out his hand. You took it reluctantly, and Boone raised your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” Boone winked, before turning and making his way back to his group. You watched him go, caught off guard by the move. You shook your head like the physical action would clear your thoughts before tipping the bartender and going back to your motel room.

The third time you talked to Boone was in a much more intimate setting. It was late, real late, late enough that the tailgate outside the motel was packing up as everyone headed to bed. You’d been stargazing in a field, so you were late coming back to your room.

You spotted him before he spotted you this time. Tyler’s truck was parked right next to the stairs you’d need to take to your room. Boone was sitting in the bed of the truck with one of his crew members, the girl with short hair who you always saw in the RV. The rest of his crew wasn’t around, you assumed they’d gone to bed.

You didn’t say anything nor look at him as you went to ascend the stairs, but despite that…

“Hey, ocean girl!” Boone’s friend called to you. You don’t think she’s talking to you at first, but there’s no one else around.

“Sorry?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Come talk to Boone, he’s been missing you!”

“Dani!” Boone scowled and hit her lightly in the arm.

You felt a smile creep onto your face and turned it into a smirk. You walked over to them, standing in front of the truck bed and crossing your arms.

“Booney baby,” you cooed mockingly. “Did you miss me?”

Boone’s face turned bright red and you accidentally giggled. A grin spread across Boone’s flushed face at the sound. Emboldened by a show of your real emotions, he responded, “Maybe I did.”

Dani glanced between you two, smirking before standing and jumping out the bed of the truck. She motioned for you to take her place. “I’m going to bed. You two have fun,” she winked.

Reluctantly, you did end up taking her place in the bed of the truck.

“You smoke?” Boone asked, pulling out a bong. “I do.” Who were you to turn down free weed?

Boone grinned, setting the bong between his feet and pulling out a grinder. As he began packing the bowl, you asked, “So why’d your friend call me ‘ocean girl’?”

Boone didn’t look at you as he continued to pack the bowl. His cheeks turned pink but you could hardly tell in the lighting. “I might have mentioned you.”

“What’d you say?” you asked curiously.

“Ask me later.” Boone handed you the bong and pulled out a lighter. He lit the bowl for you and you took a hit. You passed it back to Boone. Boone took a hit. “So what are you doing coming back to your room so late?” He passed you the bong.

“I was stargazing in a field,” you answered before putting your lips to the bong. Boone watched you intensely as you took a hit and blew the smoke. “That sounds nice,” he finally said. He took the bong when you offered.

“It was.” You’d only taken two hits, but as large as they were and as good as Boone’s weed was, you were feeling pleasantly relaxed.

“Why are you up so late?”

Boone blew smoke. “Oh I’m always the last one to go to bed, I smoke before I sleep every night.”

Boone continued lighting the bowl for you every time it was your turn.

You finished the bowl and you were both perfectly high. The conversation flowed as you both relaxed in the truck bed. Time flew by and before you knew it, you’d been there for an hour.

“Hey,” you said with a smirk. “Guess what it is.”

Boone looked confused. “Huh?”

“It’s later,” you drawled. “So what did you tell your friends about me?”

Boone was high enough that he actually answered you truthfully.

“They been askin’ bout you since I held the door open for you at the gas station. Cause they noticed how interested in you I was. Then I learned a little about you and of course they demanded to know what…”

“Why were you so interested in me?”

“I thought you were real pretty,” Boone said simply. “And I’m loving every second of getting to know you.”

You blushed, thankful it was dark out and he probably couldn’t see it. You didn’t know what to say now though. “...Thank you,” you eventually managed. “It’s been… nice to get to know you too.” Weed made you too honest.

Uncomfortable with how intimate it had become, not because of Boone but just because of your anxiety, you clambered out of the truck bed. “Goodnight, Boone. Thanks for the sesh.” You didn’t know what to do to let him know he hadn’t done anything wrong, so you just reached into the bed and patted his thigh. Then you turned and went to your room.

Boone was weird after that. Your message hadn’t gotten across, because Boone one hundred percent believed he had scared you off.

You felt awful, for some reason, and even Scott had noticed the absolute drop in your mood. Kate was worried.

You found yourself seeking him out after a week because he hadn’t sought you out. You couldn’t get a chance to get him alone, but you knew you had to talk to him. So you boldly approached his entire group at a tailgate a week later.

Boone looked excited to see you, to your relief.

“East Coast! You comin’ to see me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “I did. Could we take a walk? I wanted to talk to you.”

Boone jumped down from the top of the truck, eagerly following you. You both fell into step side by side next to the empty road.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” you said quietly.

“Aw, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

Boone looked at you but you looked away.

“I just got nervous.”

Boone was silent for a moment. “Yeah?” His voice was quiet.

“If you were saying that you like me, I like you too.”

Boone stopped walking, grabbing your shoulders in his hands. “Can I kiss you?” He almost whispered the question. You nodded eagerly. Boone cupped your face in his hands and kissed you sweetly.

You felt your heart start beating faster.

You clung to Boone’s shirt as he kissed you. His mustache tickled under your nose, but it was soft.

When Boone pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. “So do you maybe wanna go on a date?”

You smiled genuinely, purely happy.

“Definately.”

[lunarimagines]

ATEEZ REACTION TO THEIR BFF HOOKING UP/BEING FWB WITH ANOTHER MEMBER

anon said: Hii, can I please request an ateez reaction to his crush (who's also his best friend) being friends with benefits with another member? Thank uu

warnings: sexual themes, language

A/N: you can now support me on Ko-fi! click [here]

Seonghwa: Seonghwa likes to pretend he's above playing truth or dare, but he's four shots in and sitting in the circle almost giddy as he watches the bottle spin to land on the next person. Wooyoung had just gone, daring San to drink a tablespoon of hot sauce and San was spinning the bottle.

"Y/N!" San yelled, words slurring together ever so slightly. The glazed look in his eyes was enough to know he was truly drunk. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth." Your last dare had been to dunk your sock in the toilet so you stood to loose a lot. Like your other sock.

"Okay, um. Have you ever... hooked up with Seonghwa. Be honest. You two are friends so..."

Seonghwa nearly choked on air. He coughed dryly, eyes going wide as he tried to signal San to shut the fuck up before he told everyone Seonghwa was one smile away from falling in love with you.

"No, we've never hooked up. But Hongjoong and I have when we were friends with benefits." Okay, maybe you were drunk, too.

Hongjoong giggled and Seonghwa felt like he was going to throw up, and the liquor couldn't even be blamed for it.

"But! I like someone else," you whispered, leaning closer to Seonghwa. The image of the two of you have sex, you riding him, replaced the horrific image of you having sex with Hongjoong in his head.

Needless to say your second time having sex with Seonghwa was when he was your boyfriend and you were both sober.

Hongjoong: Hongjoong like to pride himself as the perfect gentleman and someone who knew how to woo the person he liked. He bought little trinkets or treats he found on his way home from schedules in convenience stores or subways stations because he kept finding things that made him think of you. He remembered special events and days, always asking how things went after a presentation at school or a tough day at work. He would have done this simply because he was your best friend, but he also did it because he loved you as something more.

So when Yunho called him, frantic, at 2am one morning to tell him the two of you had hooked up and he maybe sort of probably liked you, Hongjoong felt first happy that you were getting some and then something like terrified and frustrated - terristrated? - that he wasn't the one to give you everything.

"Yunho, call down, my God. It's okay. Did Y/N say anything?"

"No, no. Called a taxi. Work tomorrow or something." Hongjoong knew. He had your schedule memorized after accidentally calling you during a work meeting once. "But I think Y/N likes someone else."

"Oh?" Hongjoong tried, and failed, to sound neutral. Yunho didn't offer more and Hongjoong simply told him to sleep it off and think about it tomorrow after he was rested.

After the phone call from Hell, he texted you.

hongjoongie joong: yunho? woof

you: rude as hell

you: but no, not yunho anymore

hongjoongie joong: you don't have to tell me

you: damn and here i was going to confess to you in the most romantic moment after i fucked your best friend and band mate

hongjoongie joong: you have me blushing and giggling and kicking my feet fr

you: take me out on a date and i'll really have you giggling and blushing and kicking your feet

hongjoongie joong: seriously?

you: yes

you: unless you don't want to

you: but when I was thinking of you the whole time i was with Yunho it was a sign from the universe or whatever

you: i'm off at 5:30

hongjoongie joong: i know. i'll be there to pick you up for our date!

Your first date with Hongjoong was like every other time you went out with your best friend, but this time you could kiss him. He would still be your best friend first but now, he would be your boyfriend second. He also never stopped giving you shit for it taking having sex with Yunho to realize you liked him, forever destined to be "cliché loser" in his phone.

Yunho: Yunho had picked you up from your apartment for your monthly "terrible cooking show remake" where you would try and make the recipe as seen on a cooking show. No rewinding, no saving the recipe, no looking it up. The food was pretty hit or miss, but watching you frustrated, chewing on your lip with furrowed brows was worth eating even the worst recreations.

Currently he was trying to goad you into doing karaoke in the car with him. His favorite pastime was teasing you and trying to get you to roll your eyes at him. God, you were cute.

You were distracted, though, your phone buzzing incessantly in your lap. You had been ignoring it until now.

"Fuckboy is an outdated term now, isn't it?" you asked Yunho, locking your phone after turning off the ringer.

"Yeah it totally is, you old hag," he joked, reaching over to squeeze your arm to show he really was only joking. "Why?"

"I hook up with Wooyoung once, drunk, and he keeps trying to hook up again now that he knows I'm coming over today."

Yunho nearly crashed the damn car. His hand jerked involuntarily before he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He lifted his arm from the center console where it had been resting to grab the wheel with both hands. You may be his best friend but he also desperately loved you.

"Didn't know you were that good at sex," he mumbled, going for joking and sounding much more hurt.

You furrowed your brows at his comment. "Why? You asking for a demonstration?" Part of you was joking but the other part seriously meant it. You may have hooked up with Wooyoung but it was purely sex. With Yunho you felt nervous that any move to show that you liked him as more than a friend would harm your friendship. But you swore that he was... jealous. Jealous that you'd slept with Wooyoung.

Yunho's grip had tightened impossibly more on the steering wheel after your comment. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I meant it. Mean it."

Your monthly cooking was put off. You also found out just how well Yunho could fuck you. Best friend-turned boyfriend Yunho knew exactly which buttons to push to make you moan.

Yeosang: Yeosang was one step away from buying noise cancelling headphones, and if he had to listen to San's bed frame smack against the wall one more time he was going to use San's credit card to buy the headphones. He wasn't expecting the others to be celibate but he was asking for a little respect.

yeo yeo: guess who is fucking again!!!

you: not you based on the fact that you're texting me!!!

yeo yeo: i'm blocking u :)

you: do it :)

yeo yeo: he can't seriously be that good

you: he's okay

Yeosang shot upright in bed as he read your message. There was no way you, his best friend and the light of his life (and his crush but whatever), had had sex with his friend and bandmate AND HADN'T TOLD HIM.

yeo yeo: you're so fake

yeo yeo: when?

you: few months ago

you: we were fwb for a while but it was nothing to write home about so I didn't tell you

Yeosang called you, paying no mind to the slamming on the wall.

"He's got a good rhythm," was all you said when you picked up.

"Y/N..."

"Yeah it was for about and month and that was all it needed to be. I dunno... It was kinda weird because he's your friend and I didn't have any feelings for him. I'm not sure he and I are even friends so it wasn't truly "friends with benefits". And I learned I don't do casual hookups."

"Oh, so not a waste, then," Yeosang teased. He felt mildly ill at the thought of you having sex with San, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. He tried to push the feeling down knowing he had no right to be upset.

"But," oh, God, why was he still talking, "I could do better."

Your heart jumped to your throat. "I'm not sure why you're not at my place right now."

Yeosang was totally better than San ever was. No offense to San...

Mingi: Mingi had watched for a whole year as you pined after Yeosang. It was hard, especially when Mingi was pretty sure he was in love with you. But he was your best friend, and you were his, so he listened to you whine and complain that Yeosang didn't like you back even when Mingi assured you he did. He had also had the duty of getting the two of you together for a first date.

You and Yeosang had gone on a grand total of three dates before the dates stopped and you and Yeosang just hung out at the dorm or with the others. The pining and crushing had seemed to end, but you never told Mingi why. You just said that it hadn't worked out but that you found you liked Yeosang as a friend. Not a best friend, of course. Nobody could replace Mingi.

Mingi never pried, but he wondered. He wondered when he saw Yeosang and you together, as the two of you laughed, and he wondered when he was overly tired and lacking a filter. Which is probably why he finally asked Yeosang.

"We didn't really have romantic feelings. And we weren't sexually compatible."

Sexually compatible... Mingi probably should have left it at that but he'd texted you instead, despite it being three in the morning. It woke you up.

light of my life: you and yeosang hooked up?

you: it's not hooking up if you were dating at the time right?

light of my life: but it didn't work?

you: obviously not

you: why?

light of my life: why didn't it work?

you: idk mingi probably because your name in my phone is light of my life and i thought about you the entire time

you: goodnight

Not even thirty minutes later the doorbell to your apartment rang incessantly. You pulled yourself out of bed and opened the door to find Mingi, eyes slightly drooping with sleep but otherwise alert.

"You're mad at me?"

"It's not how I wanted to confess, Mingi. Yeosang was helping me plan how to confess to you."

"He knew?" Mingi sounded slightly pained at the idea.

"Yes, Mingi. We went on a few dates but the romance wasn't there. We had sex but were on completely different rhythms. He called it before I did. We're lucky he's our friend, Mingi. He deserves so much."

"We'll send him a thank you card, then."

And then he was kissing you, warm lips pressed against yours and tongue swiping at your lips.

"Can I come in?"

San: San knew what made his friends tick. He knew what foods everyone liked, their favorite colors, he had birthdays written down, and he knew their fears. He knew their partners and he knew their crushes. Except yours, he didn't know who exactly you liked but he took you telling him as a good sign for his own chances with you. He may be your best friend but he also hoped to be your boyfriend eventually.

What he didn't know was that you and Jongho had hooked up once. Jongho wasn't planning on telling anyone but when the boys were teasing him about being a virgin (they knew he wasn't) and San joined in (to be a little shit) Jongho couldn't help but tease San back.

"Ask Y/N. Y/N knows for sure I'm not a virgin."

San stopped immediately as the other boys "ooh"-ed and giggled like prepubescent boys. No way. No fucking way. Did you have a crush on Jongho and that's why you didn't tell him.

The thought stuck in the back of his head, but he couldn't figure out when to bring it up. It's hard to casually say "Hey, Y/N is the reason you haven't told me who you like is because you like Jongho and you're afraid I'll tell him and it's not that you secretly like me and want me to be your boyfriend, right?" Best friend or not, it's a little off-putting to say all of that, bordering on deranged.

But it did come up when the two of you were tipsy and watching reality TV. And it wasn't classy at all.

"Why didn't you tell me you hooked up with Jongho," San practically whined as he draped himself across your lap.

You laughed and carded a hand through his hair. "It didn't mean anything."

"It's because you know I like you."

Your hand nearly stilled, your nails scratching his scalp distractedly as you took in what your best friend and the one you loved most said. You hadn't known he liked you before, instead harboring your own romantic feelings for him to yourself.

"Tell me you like me in the morning and we'll go from there," you replied, turning your attention back to the TV.

Exchanging confessions sober was much more exhilarating. So was the sex that came after.

Wooyoung: Wooyoung often cooks while you prep veggies or sit and watch him and catch him up on all the gossip from your workplace. He never has any idea who any of these people are but he's always enthusiastically listening as you describe the ridiculous email someone sent you or the time your boss let everyone go home early because he was hungover and wanted to go home.

It's a weekly tradition. You've only missed it once when you had a date, which he tried not to feel jealous about. He liked you, as more than a friend, and he always felt the cooking nights were dates in their own right. Your date the one time must not have gone well because you never went on a second or, now that he thinks about it, any other date ever.

The thought occurs to him as you recount the horrifying first date details your coworker had shared with you - including a terrible drunk-induced serenade on the sidewalk - when he blurts it out.

"What happened to that guy you went on a date with that one time? What was his name?"

You clicked your tongue and sighed. "Seonghwa."

"Seonghwa. As in the Seonghwa I know and live with?"

"Do you know another Seonghwa?"

Wooyoung shook his head and put aside the spoon he was stirring the broth with. He lowered the temperature on the stovetop and stared at you, wiggling his eyebrows. "Details please."

"You want me to give you details about... sex with Seonghwa?"

"No way he put out on the first date!" Wooyoung shouted as you shushed him laughing.

"He did! I'm just that hot! It was good sex, but it wasn't what either of us wanted."

Wooyoung tried to catch on to your words but he was trying not to imagine you having sex period because then he would think about he and you having sex and then he would probably pop a boner and damn that would border on embarrassing probably.

"Oh my, God," you totally clocked him, "you're thinking about me having sex right now aren't you!"

Wooyoung didn't blush, but maybe he turned a little pink. "What, my best friend's hot..."

"You've already wined and dined me... just ask me out," you said lowly, not at all teasing.

Wooyoung saw it in your eyes, the way they turned soft and slightly hooded.

"Y/N, will you go out with me? As in a romantic date?"

You and Wooyounng were much more compatible.

Jongho: Twenty questions was for losers according to Jongho. Thank god you and Jongho were losers.

It had started out with you jokingly asking him to play, rattling off three questions before Jongho finally jumped in to make you stop asking him what his credit card number was, what the expiration date on his card was, and if he could tell you the CVV on the back. He made sure to tell you you were a loser for playing, but he asked questions back, too. He would do anything for you as your best friend. Oh, and also because he was in love with you.

"What's your date of birth?" he asked, sighing over the phone loudly.

"You going to ask for my social security number next?" you joked. "Come on! Ask good questions. Ask juicy ones."

You could practically hear Jongho rolling his eyes over the phone. "Who was the last person you kissed?"

"Juicy!"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Mingi."

"What! When?" Jongho yelled.

"It's my turn. Who is the last person you kissed?"

"My mother on the cheek. When?"

"When we may or may not have hooked up last month."

"Oh my, God. You told me you were helping film Mingi's dance practice before you came to see me!" Jongho pushed down the jealousy in his chest. "Are you telling me not to touch the couch in the dance practice room now?"

"Yes and also it's my turn. Are you mad?"

"No." The answer was immediate.

"You sound upset."

"I'm not upset."

"You sound it," you replied softly.

"I'm just a little hurt you didn't tell me. You don't have to tell me everything but you're my best friend and he's also my friend."

"That's the only reason?"

Jongho stayed silent for a whole minute. "No. I like you Y/N. You know that."

"I didn't know. I just hoped you did."

"You can't say that over the phone. I'm taking you on a date tomorrow."

Mingi, when he found out you and Jongho were dating, begged Jongho to get him a gift for getting the two of you together. Jongho offered only a foot up his ass.

Respectfully, of course.

[thebisexualdogdad]

fic where Maddy Perez falls for East highlands resident bad boy and they hook up after a group project

Maddy Perez x Male!reader

Maddy certainly wasn't the only person in school to have a thing for you, in fact you had already made your way through most of the cheerleading squad but unlike them Maddy refused to let you know she was insanely attracted to you.

"Looking good Perez, when are you going to let me take you out," you asked her one day in history class when she was wearing her cheer uniform for that night's football game.

"Never gonna happen Y/N," she said rolling her eyes but really she was imagining how good your head would look underneath her skirt.

Then there was that time at a party when you surprised everyone by actually showing up.

"What are you doing here? Don't you prefer getting drunk on cheap beer behind the liquor store," Maddy jokes, finding you in the kitchen as you start drinking some very expensive whisky directly from the bottle.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you," you say, offering her the whisky, "you look hot by the way."

Maddy quickly grabs the bottle and chugs some of it hoping to hide the blush forming on her cheeks, "too bad I'm not interested in letting you get in my pants but I'm sure you'll find someone else to get lucky with."

"You're breaking my heart Perez," you say playfully.

"Didn't know you had one," she cracks.

"If you ever let me take you out on that date you'd see there's more to me than just being a devilishly handsome bad boy," you say leaning in close to her.

Maddy gulps, taking another swig of whisky to stop herself from fucking you right there on that counter.

You and Maddy continued this game until you eventually got partnered up for a history project.

How the hell was she going to retain her self control and not jump your bones when you were going to be spending so much time together alone in her bedroom.

Well technically you could have done this project at the library but Maddy was horny and thinking with her pussy, not her brain.

So here you are, in her room on day three of working on your project with Maddy looking at you like a four course meal after you drove her home on your motorcycle.

Her body was still humming from the vibrations and holding onto you so tightly.

"Maddy? Earth to Maddy," you laugh, snapping her out of her trance, "I think we've got enough research notes to start working on the essay."

"Yeah, right, let me get my laptop," she says, taking a seat at her desk and turning her laptop on.

You grab the small ottoman she uses at her vanity mirror and take a seat next to her, a little too close for Maddy to stay focused on the essay.

"You want me to type? You seem to be making a lot of typos there Perez," you laugh.

Maddy pushes the laptop in front of you and stands from her chair, "I need some water do you want anything?"

"Vodka would be nice," you grin.

"I'll get you a soda," she says before leaving her bedroom.

When she returns her glass of water is nearly empty from her trying to cool herself down and she hands you the soda.

You crack it open and take a drink, setting it on the desk as you keep working.

"Can you hand me the textbook, there's something I want to look up," you ask a few minutes later and when she grabs the book she knocks your dark soda over and it spills right onto your white shirt.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry," she says running to her bathroom to grab a towel to clean up her desk.

But when she steps out of her bathroom you're standing there shirtless.

"Mind if I wash this in your sink? Its sticky and I don't want it to stain," You ask.

"Uh, yeah, yeah that's fine," she says, glazing over your abs as you walk past her to her bathroom.

She cleans up the soda and hears the water running in the bathroom, she has to get it together.

She sits on the edge of her bed and puts her head in her hands, how the hell did you have this much of an affect on her.

"Hey it's okay, it's just a shirt," you chuckle when you come back into her room.

You left your shirt hanging in the bathroom to dry and now there's some stray water droplets running down your stomach.

Fuck.

You walk over to her and Maddy can't fight the urges anymore, her hands go to your neck and she pulls you down into an intense kiss.

"Woah, Maddy," you say in surprise, pulling away from her.

"You've been hitting on me since the sixth grade, you really don't want this?" She scoffs.

"I want this more than you know, I just want to make sure you want this," you say.

"I want this Y/N, I really want this," she says bringing you back in for another kiss.

You sink down to your knees in front of her, kissing down her neck and playing with the hem of her shirt.

"Take it off," she orders and in seconds her shirt is gone.

You keep kissing down her body until you reach the top of her jeans.

You look up at her and she nods her consent before raising her hips in the air so you could tug her jeans down her legs.

"God you're beautiful Maddy," you say, kissing along her thighs, "and so wet already."

"I hate that you turn me on this much," she groans right as your tongue licks her through her panties.

"If you want me to stop just tell me to," you say.

"Don't you fucking dare stop," she says sternly and you smile, pulling her panties to the side and tasting her directly.

You moan and Maddy feels it deep in the pit of her stomach, your tongue working her in ways no other guy ever had before.

One her of legs goes over your shoulder, giving you better access.

Her arousal drips down your chin and you slip a finger inside with ease, Maddy moaning above you.

A second finger enters her and you pump them slowly, using your other hand to pull the hood of her clit back and suck it between your lips.

"Holy shit," Maddy cries out, she had been holding this in for so long she can't even feel embarrassed about how quickly she came because it felt so fucking good.

"Damn Perez, I wasn't even down there for a full five minutes," you say cockily.

"Shut up and fuck me Y/N," she demands and you happily stand up, dropping your jeans to reveal the massive boner poking through your boxers.

"You got any condoms?" You ask, stroking yourself through your boxers which only turns her on more.

"Top left drawer in my bathroom," she says.

You go to her bathroom again and find the box of condoms, grabbing one and when you return her bra and panties are gone, leaving her completely naked and now in the center of her bed.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" You say, letting your boxers join the rest of your clothes on the floor and putting the condom on.

"Didn't I tell you to fuck me already?" Maddy states and you smirk, joining her in bed.

You settle on top of her, kissing her and she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue.

Reaching down you tease her with the tip of your cock, lathering it with her arousal before easing it inside.

Maddy clearly doesn't want to wait any longer so you quickly rock your hips in a steady rhythm.

Her nails dig into your back, her bed creaking underneath you.

You suck harshly at her neck, one of your hands going to play with her chest.

Maddy moans loudly when you roll one of her nipples between your fingers, legs wrapping around your waist so you can hit deeper inside her.

"Oh fuck me, right there, right there," she chants.

Once again it doesn't take long for her to cum, this one hitting her even harder than the first.

"Do you want me to pull out?" You ask her, slowing your movements giving her a few aftershocks.

"No, keep going until you cum," she says, grabbing your ass.

You smirk and pick your pace back up, she's squeezing your ass and within another minute you're cumming inside her.

"Fuck Maddy," you grunt, your hips moving more frantically through your release.

"That felt so fucking good," she says, groaning when you pull out of her and feeling so empty.

You roll over next to her, taking the condom off and throwing it in the trash next to her bed.

"So does this mean you're finally gonna let me take you on a date?" You tease.

"I'll tell you what Y/N, if we get an A on this project, I'll go on a date with you," she replies.

"You got yourself a deal," you smile, "now let's get back to work, we have an essay to write."

"Have you ever worked this hard on an assignment before?" She jokes.

"Nope but sex is an excellent motivation and it'll be even better at the end of it because I'm going to take you on the best date of your life."

[chaosandmarigolds]

Heyyyy so like...

(Drops Lil Wife!reader x Laswell fic)

BYE

You came home to a crime scene.

The living room looked like a hurricane had blown through: an empty vodka bottle on its side, two glasses sticky with what might’ve been cranberry juice, and a bag of pretzels half-spilled on the rug. And there, in the center of it all, was THE Kate Laswell, slumped against the arm of the couch with one leg dangling off the edge, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“...Katie?” you asked, stepping into the room and kicking a pretzel out of your way.

She turned her head toward you, her movements slow and deliberate, like the couch had suddenly become a black hole. “Hey,” she croaked.

You blinked. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly.

You raised an eyebrow and leaned down to grab the vodka bottle, turning it over in your hand. “Really? Because this bottle’s empty, and you look like you’ve been in a fight with it.”

Kate groaned and waved her hand dismissively. “It was a draw.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, setting the bottle on the coffee table and grabbing the bag of pretzels. “What even happened here? Did you try to reenact Die Hard with liquor?”

She didn’t answer, instead pulling a pillow over her face.

You sighed, moving into autopilot as you started picking up the glasses and the scattered pretzels. “I leave for one day—one day for a bloody-" You cut yourself off as you take in the scene, "and you turn into a walking public service announcement for binge drinking.”

“I don’t need a lecture,” she mumbled from under the pillow.

“Good, because I’m not giving one,” you shot back, dumping the pretzels into the trash. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should be mad or worried or both.”

Kate didn’t respond, which was unusual. Normally, she’d have some biting comeback, even when she was out of sorts. You frowned, glancing over at her.

“Seriously, how much did you drink?”

She peeked out from under the pillow, her bloodshot eyes meeting yours. “Enough,” she said vaguely.

“Yeah, no kidding.” You grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen and started clearing the coffee table, muttering under your breath. “God, it’s like babysitting a frat boy.”

“I heard that.”

“Good.” you snapped, tying the trash bag closed with more force than necessary.

Kate groaned and sat up, rubbing her temples. “Can you stop clanging around? My head’s already punishing me enough.”

You paused, taking a deep breath before turning to her. “Kate, you don’t do-" you vaugly motion around to the room, "This. Ever. So forgive me if I’m a little concerned that my wife decided to drink half a liquor store and camp out on the couch like a depressed college student.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her tone curt.

“Yeah, sure. You look fine. Definitely not like someone who’s been wallowing in vodka and bad decisions all night.”

Kate scowled but didn’t argue, which only made you more uneasy. You dumped the trash bag by the door and grabbed a glass of water, holding it at her. “Drink this.”

She took it reluctantly, sipping it like you’d handed her poison.

“Now, tell me what the hell is going on,” you said, sitting on the coffee table and crossing your arms.

Kate shook her head, setting the water down. “It’s nothing. Just a rough day.”

“Kate.”

She met your eyes, her expression unreadable. “Drop it.”

You stared at her for a long moment before sighing and standing up. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to turn the living room into a vodka crime scene again. Deal?”

“Deal,” she muttered, leaning back against the couch.

You grabbed the remote and switched off whatever grim playlist she had running in the background. “And no more Phil Collins. Seriously.”

Kate gave a half-smirk. “What, you don’t like a little In the Air Tonight?”

“For our wedding I loved it, not when it’s accompanying the aftermath of your drunken spiral,” you said, grabbing the last of the glasses from the table. “Next time, just… call me before you start raiding the liquor cabinet, okay?”

She didn’t reply, but the small, almost imperceptible nod she gave you was enough.

As you finished cleaning up, you cast one last glance at her. She looked exhausted, her usual sharpness dulled by whatever had driven her to this. You didn’t push—it wasn’t your style...though you wanted to..deeply wanted to.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of shuffling in the kitchen. You squinted at the clock—5:47 a.m. Too early for anyone to be moving in your very unhumble opinion.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the kitchen to find Kate standing at the counter, staring down at the coffee machine like it owed her money. She was in one of your hoodies, her hair still a disaster, and she was gripping the counter like the ground might betray her at any second.

“Morning,” you said, rubbing your eyes with a deep yawn.

She flinched, then turned to look at you with the eyes of someone fighting the reaper himself. “Coffee’s broken.”

You gave her a confused yet slightly amused look. “It’s not broken. You just need to press the button to turn it on. The machine isn’t intimidated by you like everyone else is.”

Kate gave you a look that suggested you were very lucky she didn’t have the energy to kill you.

Stepping past her, you hit the button, and the machine gurgled to life. “See? Easy.”

“Don’t,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

“Don’t what?” you teased, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. “Remind you of how I heroically saved you from caffeine withdrawal?”

“Don’t make me regret marrying you,” she shot back, but there was no heat in it.

You set the mugs down and glanced over at her. She looked smaller than usual, like she was still carrying whatever had driven her to vodka and Phil Collins last night. Without a word, you slid closer, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind.

She stiffened for a second, then sighed, leaning back against you. “You’re too soft,” she murmured.

“And you’re too stubborn,” you replied, resting your chin on her shoulder.

Kate was quiet for a moment, her hands resting over yours. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For last night. For being-for doing that to you.”

You frowned, turning her slightly so you could look at her face. “Katie, you don’t have to apologize for having a bad day. You’re human. Even if you sometimes pretend you’re not.”

Her lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “Still.”

“Still nothing,” you said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “You can’t be the rock all the time, I mean...you're great at be a supporter, being a person to lean on- and I love you for it. But it...it'll wear you down. That’s why I’m here—to pick up the pieces when you need it.”

She nods to your words, as if debating on if she would belive them or not, "Nonetheless-"

"Okay!" You clap your hands together, "That conversation is over, I am right, you Ma'am are wrong. I love you, I'm gonna go change."

You spun on your heel to start walking back to the bedroom, steps still sluggish from just waking-

"I love you too."

Okay, maybe your steps were a bit lighter.

--

Uhhh stepping into new territory. For a girl with a wife I've come to realize I write a shockingly low amount of Wlw fics. And by low I mean none....so...requests for any lovely ladies are open and I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear your thoughts on this please!

Toodles!!

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 2

A/N: Time for the second chapter in this time-traveling/soulmate AU! This is a reader insert Elvis x fem!reader. I had an absolute blast writing this chapter. I really hope y'all enjoy it!

PS- thanks, as always, to my besties @ccab and @elvisfatass for listening to me scream about this series and helping me when I ask!

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! Drinking alcohol, lots of kissing, cussing, erections, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie... I think that's all.

Word count: ~5.5k

Maybe he'll just stay with you forever.

******

When you get back to the dorm, Elvis is all in a tizzy over your music. He wants to hear more, so you give him your iPod.

"What is this?"

"It's music. Here." You put the headphones over his ears and push play.

"Your records must be tiny!" He hollers over the sound of the music and you laugh.

"No records. The music is digital."

"Digital?"

"Oh man. How do I explain this? Just trust me. All the music is saved inside this thing."

"How many songs are in it?"

"It holds, like, thousands, but I think I have around 500. I don't buy as much music as I should." His mouth drops open and he looks down at the iPod.

"Can I take this back with me?"

"Absolutely not. But you're welcome to use it while you're here." He has another wave of hoping he never leaves.

"I love this." You can't help but smile at how excited he is.

"Okay, I need to get ready. I'm going to a friend's house for a game night tonight. Do you want to come with me?" He can't hear you over the music pumping through the headphones. You tap on his shoulder and he uncovers his ear.

"Huh?"

"Do you want to come with me to a friend's house for game night?"

"Oh, sure. I don't want to stay here by myself." Truthfully, he doesn't want to spend a minute away from you.

He goes back to listening to his music while you get ready. Watching you fix your hair and do your makeup is endearing to him. You realize he's staring as you swipe on your black eyeliner pencil.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're just real pretty." You feel your cheeks get hot.

"Thanks." You smile nervously. They definitely didn't exaggerate about how charming he is. Still, his presence is comforting for some reason and you'll miss him when you finally figure out how to get him home. That'll be your project tomorrow, though. Tonight's challenge will be introducing him to your friends without him finding out too much about himself.

When you're ready, you look over him to make sure he's not going to stand out too much. You get to his hair and frown.

"We need to do something about your hair."

"I can tell you right now what we're going to do. Nothing. My hair is fine." He moves his hands to his head protectively. He used half of your can of hairspray this morning fixing it. He's not going to let you touch it now.

"Okay, but no one does their hair like that anymore. You need to make it do this." You gesture to a poster on your wall of Joe Jonas with his hair in his face.

"No. Not happening." You laugh and reach up to tousle his hair and he grabs your wrists, laughing with you and hollering, "NO!"

He wrestles your hands back behind your back and pins you up against him. When he looks down at you, breathing heavily, you both stop laughing. The air between you is electric and he starts to lean in. His lips are almost to yours when there's a knock on your door.

"Y/n! Are you ready?" Katie busts through the door and Elvis lets go of you quickly. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were still here."

"Yeah, he's gonna be here for a bit. Is that okay?" You look at her with an awkward smile.

"Fine by me, as long as you two aren't too loud. These walls are thin, you know." You and Elvis both blush and she laughs. "We better go. I need to stop by the liquor store on our way there."

You nod. Luckily, Katie is 21, so you never have to worry about how to find alcohol for your parties. She walks out of your room and you look back at Elvis.

"I don't really drink." He shrugs.

"I know. It's okay. I hope you don't mind if I do."

"No it's- wait, how do you know?" You smile awkwardly again.

"I might've understated how much of a fan my grandma was. I know... things... about you."

"Like what else?!"

"Don't worry about it." You try to ignore your almost-encyclopedic knowledge of him.

"Come on, lovebirds! Let's go!" Katie hollers from the living room. Elvis takes your hand and you head out there to her. He's nervous, both to meet your friends and because you seem to know more about him than he does.

******

"Guys, this is John. We met in Tupelo. He's staying here with me for a while. Be nice, please." You say sternly as you look around the room at your friends. They introduce themselves and shake his hand. Your friend Ashley doesn't waste any time noticing his appearance.

"You look just like Elvis. Man, y/n, you have a type, don't you?" You laugh awkwardly.

"Yeah, John is a big fan of Elvis too. Hence the hairstyle." Elvis soaks in how commonplace it is for these people to talk about him. How do they all seem to know him?

You quickly change the subject before someone says something about him that he doesn't need to hear.

"So, games? I need a drink." You walk to the kitchen with Elvis in tow to fix yourself a beverage. He watches as you look through the liquor bottles.

"What are you looking for?"

"I'll know it when I- ah ha!" You settle on a bottle of Malibu coconut rum. Then, you open the fridge and pull out a bottle of pineapple juice and mix them together in a Solo cup. You take a sip and revel in the sweetness and he just watches you curiously.

"Can I try that?"

"Thought you didn't drink?"

"It's 2007. I think I can live a little." You hand him the cup and he takes a gulp and then looks at you wide-eyed. "That tastes like dessert!"

"You like it?"

"Yes. This one is mine." You laugh and make yourself another drink. This could get interesting.

Katie calls to you from the living room that it's time to start the first game. The evening passes and you play through a board game and a round of charades. He has you make him two more drinks and you notice his laugh gets louder and he touches you more. He's not drunk, but he's certainly feeling a little relaxed. You're not complaining, though, because you've had the same number of drinks and he is looking more and more irresistible.

You settle in to be a team for a trivia game and he wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses your cheek. You giggle a little and lay your head against him. Katie watches the two of you and smiles. She knows how you've been alone for a long time. It's nice for her to see you happy, even with this stranger you picked up mysteriously in Tupelo.

"Oh, this seems unfair. It's a pop culture card." Your friend Brandon holds up a card with questions to ask the two of you. "Topic is Elvis Presley." Elvis whips his head toward you and laughs. He can't believe he's a whole card in this game. You don't think much of it when Brandon reads the first question.

"What year did Elvis buy Graceland?" Elvis sits up and hollers.

"1957!" Then, it hits you that there might be something on that card that he shouldn't know. Suddenly, you dive across the table and grab the card from Brandon, sending game pieces flying, before he can read the next question.

"Hey! What the hell?" Brandon yells.

"It's uh, an unfair advantage. Just pick another card."

"Seriously? Come on, y/n."

"Pick another card. Please." Elvis looks at you strangely and tries to take the card from you. You shake your head and put it in your pocket. The game continues and you try not the think about the fact that he almost had to answer a question about the year he died.

At the end of the trivia game, you decide it's time to head home. It's after midnight and you're not sure Elvis should have another drink. Katie agrees since she has to drive home. As you're walking to the car, Elvis wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek again.

"That was fun. 2007 is fun." He whispers in your ear. He's obviously a little drunk, but so are you, so you don't argue. Instead, you turn to face him and throw your arms around his neck, stumbling backwards.

"We have a good time." When you get to the car, he presses you up against it with his body and looks down into your face. He leans down and presses his lips to yours gently. It feels like someone has lit your insides on fire in the best way possible.

"Get in the car, lovebirds." Katie yells at you from the driver's seat. He backs off of you and opens the door for you to slide into the back seat together. It doesn't take long for him to pull you into him and kiss you again. This time, it's an open-mouth kiss and his tongue dips in to move against yours. You begin to make out pretty heavily, his hands moving over your body.

"Hey! No sex in my backseat!" You hear Katie holler from the front. You both start to laugh and he kisses down your neck, muttering.

"No promises." Luckily, it's a short drive back to the dorm, so he doesn't get much further, but the elevator ride is not very much fun for Katie. Finally, you're back to your room and you stumble in laughing and kissing in turns.

"Elvis, wait." He pulls back and looks at you with his heavily-lidded bedroom eyes.

"Yes, honey?"

"Nothing, I just... I'm gonna go to the bathroom." He sits on the side of your bed and watches you walk away.

In the bathroom, you go and then stare at yourself in the mirror. You have an opportunity here to live a dream you've had since you were old enough to know what sex is. But it feels wrong to do it like this, with both of you drunk. You steel yourself for how you're going to tell him no and then open the door.

It turns out you don't have to worry about it, though, because he's fallen fast asleep on your bed, fully clothed. You sigh and then go to take his shoes and his belt off. You change into pajamas and climb into the bed next to him, taking a minute to just look at him. He really is as beautiful as you thought he would be. Pictures didn't do him justice. You reach out and run your fingertip across his brow and down his nose. This is a miracle.

Just then, he rolls over and puts his arms around you, pulling you in close to him. He kisses your forehead and whispers.

"G'night, honey."

You settle in for another night in his arms. Tomorrow you need to try to find a way to get him home, but tonight, he's yours.

******

When you wake up in the morning, Elvis groans and pulls you in close to him.

"Good morning." You say quietly. He groans again and you realize he must be feeling his drinks from last night. You go to roll out of bed and he grabs you and holds you tighter.

"No, don't leave." He whines.

"I'm going to get you some water. It'll make you feel better; I promise." He nods and lets you go.

When you come back with the water, he's sitting up on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.

"Thank you." He takes the water and gulps it down.

"You'll feel better after some food. Take a shower and let's go get breakfast." He agrees and makes his way to the bathroom. You have a half-second fantasy of asking if you can get in with him, but you shake your head and get rid of that thought. You need to focus on trying to find a way to get him home.

******

After eating breakfast, you both feel a lot better. You start to brainstorm ideas for what to do.

"What if we go back to where you showed up?"

"That's an idea." He looks down at his hands. He doesn't want to tell you that he'd rather stay, at least for a little while longer.

"Okay, well, let's try that today. You'll need to put your suit from the concert back on. You can't wear these clothes in 1957." He nods and you notice how quiet he is.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just... I'm not sure I'm ready to go back."

"Elvis, you have to. You don't have a choice." He nods again and looks up at you, reaching across the table to put his hand on yours. He rubs small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Do I have to go today?" The way he feels about you makes him never want to go.

"We don't know how long we might have to get you back. We need to try."

"Okay." He gives you a sad smile, pats your hand, and stands up, stretching and yawning. You make your way back to the dorm for him to change before you head to Tupelo.

******

When you get to the fairgrounds, you go back to where you were when he ran into you, or at least to the best of your memory.

"Now what?" He looks at you anxiously.

"I don't know. I've never done this before. You're the one who time-traveled. What did you do?"

"All I did was come down the stairs of the stage and try to find a place backstage to... well... I was backstage."

"Okay, but was there anything different about this show that hadn't happened before?" He blushes and thinks about the massive erection he had when he came off the stage. Surely that's not related.

"Not really, no."

"Nothing at all?" He looks at you exasperated. You have to remember.

"There was one thing. You really don't know what I'm talking about? Please don't make me say it."

"Oh! Oh my God. Yes. I remember." You laugh out loud and he rolls his eyes.

"I don't think that has anything to do with the time travel." He mutters.

"We don't know that. What if it does?"

"That makes no damn sense, y/n." He puts his hands on his hips.

"Okay, but we need to try to perfectly replicate the circumstances. So, y'know, get after it." You gesture to his crotch and try really hard not to laugh as he stares at you.

"I can't just make it happen!" His face is bright pink and you're about to die from suppressing laughter. You stand and stare at each other for a bit, not sure what to do next.

"Well."

"You could help me." He gets a devilish look in his eyes and you shake your head frantically.

"Noooooo, that's, I can't..."

"You had no problem last night getting me there." Now it's your turn to blush.

"Elvis!"

"It's true! This is your idea!"

"Okay? Never mind. You're right. This has nothing to do with the time travel."

"Now, we don't know that. We have to perfectly replicate the circumstances. That's what you said." He takes several steps towards you and you feel the energy build between you. You look up at him as he gets closer and puts his hands on your hips. "We have to try."

He leans down and kisses you gently a few times before the passion takes over and you throw your arms around his neck and slide your tongue into his mouth. Before you know it, you're both locked in a tight embrace, kissing deeply with your bodies pressed together. After a few minutes you pull back, breathing heavily.

"Is it working?" He shifts his hips and presses his erection into you.

"What do you think?" He kisses you again with a new desperation. There's a big part of him that starts to get worried that this will work. It definitely feels like you're on the right track, even if neither of you can explain it.

But other than a slight electricity and buzzing sound, nothing happens.

You get to the point where if you keep kissing, he's going to lay you down on the ground and have his way with you right there, and he almost does, but another group of tourists comes into view.

"Shit." He hisses and fixes his dick so that it's up under his belt again. You breathe deeply and smooth your hair.

"Let's go. This isn't working." He says a silent prayer of thanks and nods. You head for your car before the group of tourists can spot him and ask to take pictures or something, assuming he's the most effective tribute artist of all time.

In the car, he looks over at you from the passenger seat and smiles.

"So now what are we doing?"

"I have no idea. I'm supposed to go out with my friends tonight. I'm not sure you should come."

"Why not? I promise I won't get drunk again."

"No, that's not it. I just... we're going to a club. I don't think it's going to be your scene."

"What kind of club?" A nightclub doesn't sound so bad to him.

"A hip-hop club."

"Hip what?" You roll your eyes and laugh. Sometimes he sounds like your grandpa.

You rifle through the cds on your visor and pull one down that's labeled "rap mix" with some doodles drawn on it in sharpie. When the bass beat hits, he looks at you with his eyes wide.

"Is this-"

"Music made by Black people, mostly." You cut him off before he can say something indicative of the time he came from.

"And you listen to it?"

"Oh yeah. We don't really... separate... like it used to be. Things have changed quite a bit..." His eyes light up.

"I wondered, since your friends were... not all white..." You forgot that it might've been a little shocking to him to see how diverse your group of friends was last night. Still, he seemed to take it in stride.

"Anyway, we're going to a place where they play this kind of music and people dance."

"I like to dance."

"This is gonna be dancing like you've never seen before."

"Everything here is like nothing I've ever seen before."

"You promise you won't get all weird and judgy?" He puts his hand on his heart.

"I promise. How bad can it be?" You think to yourself that it might actually be better if he has a few drinks first and then put the car in drive.

******

A couple of girls come over to get ready with you and Katie and pre-party before the club. They fawn over how cute "John" is and mix up some Malibu and pineapple. He looks at you sheepishly.

"Can I have one? I won't have as many as last night."

"I'm not your mother. Have as many as you want." You laugh. He grabs a cup and takes a sip, smiling. He stays in the living room on the couch marveling at how many channels are on your tv while you go in the bedroom with the girls to get dressed.

"Y/n, he is SO CUTE. He looks super familiar, though. How did you meet him?" Your friend Nicole remarks.

"It's because he looks like Elvis Presley." Ashley chimes in with her observation from last night.

"Yeah, I guess he kinda does in the right light. I met him when I went to Tupelo." You try to downplay how much he looks like Elvis because he is Elvis. Now it's Katie's turn to jump in.

"I'd love to hear the story of how you met. Because you were only in Tupelo for a few hours. And somehow you came back with this perfect guy."

"Oh, well, I went to the fairgrounds and we just sorta bumped into each other." You leave out the time-traveling bit.

"Shit, maybe I need to go wandering around Tupelo too." Nicole laughs and you pull an outfit out of your closet. You squeeze into the hot pink bodycon dress and slide the black vest over it, fastening the single button up under your boobs. You finish teasing your hair and put on a pink headband with a tiny bow. Your eyeliner is perfect and you're excited for Elvis to see you so dressed up. Once everyone is ready two drinks later, you make your way into the living room to grab Elvis and head to the club.

When he sees you, his mouth literally drops open. Up until now, you've had on jeans and a t-shirt or pajamas. This outfit shows off all of your assets and he's in awe. The other girls notice the way he looks at you and start to giggle. He sets his drink on the coffee table and walks directly to you, never taking his eyes off of you.

"This outfit is... wow." You look around at the other girls just standing and watching.

"Thanks. What?" He shakes his head a little.

"Nothing, you're just gorgeous, honey, that's all." You have the thought that you should just take him into your bedroom and let everyone else go to the club without you, but Katie speaks and shatters your daydream.

"Okay, lovebirds. Let's go. The club is waiting."

******

When you get to the club, there's a line outside but you can hear the thumping bass beat from where you stand. It's September, so the evening is chilly and you shiver in your sleeveless dress. Elvis doesn't think twice before wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm. You meet up with some of your guy friends and make it inside fairly quickly. You let your friends walk a few paces in front of you so that Elvis's reaction will go unnoticed. Once you get to a place where you can see the dance floor, you're glad you gave him some space.

"Holy shit." He looks around with his eyes damn near popping out of his head.

"Okay, you promised. No judgy bullshit." He turns and looks at you.

"This is amazing."

"Wait, really? I figured you'd get all shy and weird because, well, sex." He gives you a disapproving look.

"I've had sex before."

"Well, I know that, but still. I also know how and where and when you grew up."

"Looks like I finally know more about me than you do. Do you dance?" You're pleasantly surprised by his reaction.

"I do. I actually love to dance."

"Well, then, let's go." He grabs your hand and makes a beeline for the dance floor. Once you're out there, you turn to him.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Hell yeah." You turn around again and put your ass on him and begin to grind. He laughs out loud and puts his hands on your hips. It doesn't take him long to figure out how to move with you. This shouldn't shock you as much as it does, considering all the stage performances you've seen of his. You knew he could move his hips. The song ends and you face him, ready for him to say he's had enough, but the next song is one of your favorites. You put your hands on his shoulders and body roll into him.

"Yes, honey, I like this." He leans down and whispers in your ear as you continue to move together. You spend the next three hours either on the dance floor or taking short breaks at the table with your friends before he inevitably grabs your hand and drags you out to dance again.

By the time you leave, you're both so drenched in sweat that his shirt is soaked through and your hair is wild. On the way home, you sit in the way back seat of your friend's suburban and he wastes no time in wrapping himself around you and kissing you. Your friends laugh as you make out like teenagers and Katie hollers.

"Yeah, they do that."

Back at the dorm, you barely notice your friends as they continue the party in the living room and you tumble into your room with Elvis. You can still hear the bass beat from the music in the living room, so you push him into a sitting position on the side of your bed.

You turn away from him, putting both hands on his knees, and grind your ass against him. Then, you bend over in front of him and touch your toes, slipping your shoes off. He reaches out and puts both hands on your ass cheeks and grunts.

"Mmm, don't stop."

You turn to face him and unbutton your vest, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your cleavage, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your breasts. You unbutton his shirt and pull it off of his shoulders. Then, you pull your dress up and climb onto his lap, straddling him. You continue to grind against him to the beat from the living room, feeling his hard cock pressing against you as you do. He slides both hands up your thighs underneath your dress.

"Can I?" He looks up at you desperately and you nod. He tugs on the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your head and off. As he looks at you sitting on him in nothing but your bra and panties, he whispers.

"Wow." You lean in and kiss him deeply, skin pressed against his. He leans back until you're laying on top of him in the bed and then rolls over so that he's on top. He leaves a trail of soft kisses down your chest and reaches behind your back to try to undo your bra, but is completely confused by how different the clasp is from what he's seen before.

"What the hell is this?" You sit up and unhook it easily. He shrugs. "Okay, I'll figure that out later."

You laugh and he removes your bra, tossing it to the side. He goes back to kissing your chest, paying special attention to your nipples. You arch your back with the sensation of his warm mouth on you. He kisses down to your hip and then slips your panties down to your ankles and off. Going back to your center, he slides one finger into you and presses it in and out.

"You want me, baby?" He asks, voice dripping with lust.

"Use your mouth first." You respond breathlessly. He freezes and then sits up, looking at you.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry, I-I-I've never..." He stutters nervously.

"Shit, I'm sorry, never mind. I forget how young you are."

"Now, wait a minute. I'm older than you." You don't know how to explain to him that you forget he isn't who he will become yet.

"It's okay. Just keep going."

"Tell me how to do it." You sit up on your elbows.

"It's really okay. You don't have to."

"I want to. Tell me what to do." A thought comes to you. Are you really the woman that teaches Elvis Presley this skill?

"Okay, well, just put your tongue here and move it around like this." You put your finger on your clit and rub it in circles and over the top, pleasuring yourself. You moan softly at the feeling and he nods and leans down, pressing his mouth to you. He starts to move his tongue and you moan a little louder. You feel him smile and he starts to get a little more bold with his movements. He slides his finger back inside you and continues licking your clit. He sucks on it lightly and then goes back to moving his tongue on you. It doesn't take long for him to figure out how to read your body for signs he's on the right track and you feel the coil of your orgasm tighten.

"Oh, fuck, Elvis!" You cry out as the coil snaps and you feel the waves of pleasure crash into you from every angle. He laughs as you come hard on his hand, feeling your walls pulse around his finger.

"Ha! That's never happened before. That was... wow." He looks at you with sparkly eyes and you breathe heavily through the high of your climax.

You sit up and push his pants down his legs and off, letting his cock bounce free. You stroke him for a bit and he leans his head back with his eyes closed and mouth open slightly.

"You want to fuck me, Elvis?"

"God, yes, y/n, that's all I want." You pull his hips down to yours and line him up with your entrance. He pushes into you slowly and rests his forehead on your shoulder until he's filling you fully. "Mmm, goddamn." His voice is husky and deep.

You moan softly as he begins to pump in and out of you with more speed. His hips slam against yours to the rhythm of the music still coming from the living room. You fuck like this for a while with him on top of you, but eventually you push him onto his back and climb on top of him, sinking down onto his cock.

"Fuck, yes, Elvis." You start to grind your hips against him, pushing him deeper and deeper and he groans.

"'M gonna come, baby. You feel so damn good." You nod and keep going and he pops his eyes open. "Do I-"

"I'm on birth control."

"What?"

"I'll explain later just don't stop!" He pulls you down to his chest and fucks into you from underneath until he can't stand it anymore.

"Fuck, yes!" He shudders and pumps into you weakly a couple more times. You lay on his chest for a bit trying to catch your breath. Then, you slide off of him and settle in the crook of his arm. He turns toward you and kisses you fully on the mouth. "That was incredible! I've never done it like that before!" You giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Like what? With the girl on top?"

"Yes and without pulling out."

"Oh. Yeah it's a miracle of the modern age."

"Well, I love it. Goddamn, I'm in love with you now." He laughs and kisses you again. You're not sure he's kidding, even though he laughs.

That's when you hear it. The buzzing sound gets louder and louder and you notice that there's a spot next to your bed where the air looks wavy.

"Elvis, look!" He sits up and looks where you're pointing.

"What is that?"

"I think it's how you get home!" His face falls and his heart drops. He wasn't kidding about being in love with you. He can't go now, not after what you just did together. "Get dressed! You have to go!"

"No, I don't want to."

"Elvis, you have to. You can't stay here forever. You have to be... you." You jump out of bed and gather his suit. "Come on!"

He gets out of bed reluctantly and gets dressed, looking at the mysterious portal with disdain. You throw on your robe and sit on the side of the bed. Once he's fully dressed, he pulls you into him and kisses your cheek.

"I'm not ready to leave you." All of a sudden, tears gather in your eyes and a lump forms in your throat.

"I know. But you have to." He pulls back and looks you in the eyes.

"I wasn't kidding about loving you. Come with me!"

"I can't! Elvis, please just go. This isn't going to get any easier." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He grabs your face and kisses you one last time.

"I'll never forget you, honey." He caresses your cheek and then turns away, walking through the wavy air. He disappears and there's small pop as the portal goes away too.

You sit on the side of your bed and cry, tears falling into your lap as your shoulders shake.

You love him even more than you did before. Now he's real and you'll never forget the days when he was yours.

******

A year later, you go to Graceland for the anniversary of Elvis's death. You never stopped looking for him after he left, but you're starting to lose hope that you'll ever see him again. You do an evening tour and somehow manage to find yourself alone in a corner of the house. You break down crying, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. You miss him with every fiber of your being.

And then you hear it. The buzzing sound. And the air gets wavy in front of you. Could it be? It has to be. You jump up and walk slowly towards the portal, your heart beating wildly in your chest...

******

Chapter 3 coming soon!

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

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog

[lilgarbitch]

Can you write something about reader Noah walking back to his place, maybe on the way home from picking up more alcohol for a party the guys are having and reader comes up next to him, loops her arm through his and asks him to act like he knows her. He agrees after he looks back and see a guy following her. She explains that he won't leave her alone and she has been walking in circles trying to get him to go away. Noah immediately agrees and ends up taking her back to his place. Can do with this what you please ❤️❤️

Highly appreciate the request, especially how much info you gave me❤️ It’s short and simple, mainly just working out what you said, but definitely a story I could build off of in the future!

A groan escapes my lips as I shove my phone back into my pocket. Ruffilo sent me a text telling me to pick up a specific mixer for a drink he wanted to see if he could make since I was running to the store. But I already asked them what they needed before I left, and I was already halfway back to the house.

I paused for a moment, internally debating if I wanted to be the nice friend and go back, or tell him to suck it. I mean, it was only a 15 minute walk between the liquor store and our house, so it wouldn’t be a bother, but a mixer? Nah, fuck it. He can try it another day.

I start back up on my stroll, just taking in the view of the night as I swung the bag in my hand. The lampposts lit the street perfectly, and it was just warm enough that I could talk out here without a jacket. But what was that noise? It was like..a bouncing? Some repetitive noise? I couldn’t even tell which direction it was coming from, but it was getting closer.

Then, it stopped and turned into heavy breathing and softer footsteps behind me. I glance back, wondering what kind of danger I got myself into, but I just see a girl. She kept checking her phone and looking behind her as she walked. After seeing something as she glanced behind her, she instantly turned towards me, like she was about to run again, but she stood there stunned once her eyes landed on me. Looking me up and down, she picked up her pace, closing the distance between us.

She locked her arm into mine and stared straight forward. I gave her an odd look, but she didn’t look up at me, even when speaking.

“Please pretend like you know me,” She spoke in a hushed voice, not wanting her words to echo off the buildings around us, “That guy has been following me for the past 20 minutes and I swear he picks up speed every time I do.”

I sneak a glance back, and see a large older man trudging his way down the street, looking like he was searching for something. My grasp on her arm instinctively tightens, feeling the malicious aura he gave off as he searched. For her.

“I got you. We’re almost at my place. You can come inside until he leaves.” I whisper out. She nods, still not looking at me, almost as if too much movement would trigger the man stalking us.

I finally see the house and pull her in front of me, wanting to shield her from him just in case. With my hands on her shoulders, I discreetly pointed towards the house, signaling how much further we had to go. She just responded with a nod as we both picked up our pace.

“HEY! YOU! GET OVER HERE!” The man shouts from behind us, causing us both to jump. I glance back and see him moving towards us much faster now, so I grab her arm and pull her faster towards the house.

I pull us past the house and into our backyard, since the back door was always unlocked if any of us wanted to smoke, and I couldn’t take the chances of the mere seconds it would take to pull out my keys and unlock the front door.

We finally reach the back door and I open it and push her inside, quickly following lead, before slamming the door behind me and locking it. I lean my back against the door, both to catch my breath and feeling like I was the only other barricade I could use in case he tried getting in.

Footsteps came tumbling towards us, before the three boys stop and look at us confused.

“I asked for mixer, not a girl,” Ruffilo mumbled out, before getting smacked by Jolly.

“What’s going on? Who’s this?” Jolly asked, stepping closer.

“Guy. Followed her. Had to get her somewhere safe,” I answered, pointing towards the door I was leaning against. My heart was still racing and my brain was scattered as I relived the last few minutes.

“Uh..I’m Y/N.. I’m sorry to intrude. Some freak was following me for the past 20 minutes and I had to ask him for help..” She answered, sounding a lot less freaked out than I was. The boys took a moment, looking between us and the door, terrified.

“Oh. Uh.. No, you’re not intruding. Come in. Stay as long as you need. Do you need us to call someone? 911?” Jolly rushed out once all the thoughts settled in his head.

“No, it’s okay. But if I could borrow a charger, that’d be nice,” She answered, holding up her dead phone. Nick took off into the house, searching for a charger for her.

“Um. I’m Joakim, but you can just call me Jolly, and that was Nick,” He pointed back to wherever Nick took off, “This is Nicholas, but you can call him Ruffilo so you don’t get confused.”

She nodded and gave a weary smile to them, before turning to me.

“Oh, fuck. I’m Noah. Sorry,” I scrambled out, making her laugh a little.

“Nice to meet you all, despite the circumstances.” Jolly gave her a smile.

“Come on. Let me get you a drink and get both of you, or mainly Noah, calmed down,” He said as he walked into the house. She followed, so I did as well.

Once we reached the living room, I set down the bag I had been carrying and fell onto the couch. I’ve never been so tense in my life. Nick came back, holding a charger and plugged it in, before holding his hand out for her phone. She handed it to him, so he plugged it in and set it down before joining us all.

It took her a minute to feel at ease, being surrounded by 4 unknown men, but eventually we all started getting a good conversation going. She soon got comfortable and it seemed like she completely forgot the events of the night as she joined in on our little ‘party’ (just us four guys drinking and being idiots). The night went on and it was almost as if she had been a part of the group the whole time.

[vyorei]

I found a post about Palestine and olive trees about a week ago, this reminded me of it so I'm gonna post the text below.

This was posted on Facebook by Dima Seelawi on the 29th of October 2018, it just happened to find its way to my newsfeed:

"When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli settlers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that."

And this picture was attached:

Link to the article in the header image:

[hbyrde36]

Chapter 2: Into My Heart

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art below and here by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 4371 | Chapters: 2/2 | AO3 Link

CW: Smut

Eddie tucked the bottle of whiskey, concealed in its nondescript brown paper bag, under his arm—freeing his hands to unlock the apartment door. Wine just wasn’t going to cut it tonight, he’d decided on his way home. Disappointment to this degree called for something stronger, and as luck would have it the liquor store was a convenient stop on his way.

“Honey! I'm home!” He called out, kicking the door closed behind him hard enough to shake the walls.

Chrissy startled, jumping about a foot in the air from her seat on the sofa. “Do you have to do that every time?”

He grinned, tossing his keys on the little table they kept by the door. 

She flipped him off.

Their apartment was small, its entrance, living room, and kitchen all essentially one big room, and he could feel her eyes tracking his every movement as he crossed the space. Wordlessly he took a rocks glass out of the cabinet and sloshed about a shot and a half's worth of amber liquid into it from his newly acquired bottle, and downed it all in one go. 

Could he have just used a shot glass? Probably. But this way was classier, and he liked the feel of the heavy bottomed cup in his hand. He’d drink the second one a little slower, maybe even add some ice.

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Hard session?” Chrissy asked.

Hard.

A manic laugh bubbled up from his throat as he thought back to the beginning of his appointment with Steve. “You could say that.”

“That’s… concerning.” She mumbled, upending her wine glass to catch the final drops before setting it down on the table. “Might as well just bring yourself and that bottle over here. Come sit, tell me all about it.”

Eddie was too keyed up to sit. He paced back and forth in front of the couch as he went through the whole thing detail by detail. He wasn’t sure what the ethics were of recounting the entire interaction for her, particularly the sensitive bits—about Steve's sensitive bits, but he supposed there was no such thing as tattooist/client confidentiality.

“Maybe she’s just like, a really close friend?” Chrissy said when he was done.

“No, Chris. I'm telling you, he basically called her his soulmate. You should have seen the way he glowed when he talked about her. It was like his whole stupidly-fucking-pretty face lit up from the inside.”

Chrissy groaned, taking a swig directly from his bottle, like a heathen, and slumped down in her seat.

“I want thaaaaat.” She whined.

Eddie plopped down hard next to her, heaving a sigh. “Don’t we all.”

In an attempt to put it all out of his mind and enjoy what was left of his Friday night in peace–-without being plagued by thoughts of cute little moles and dazzling hazel eyes, Eddie changed into comfy clothes, queued up the next episode in their Drag Race rewatch, and cuddled up next to Chrissy. Unfortunately, as hard as he tried to concentrate on the queens and the drama unfolding on the screen in front of him, he couldn't stop thinking about Steve. Not even the Snatch Game could hold his attention. 

Apologies to you Jinkx Monsoon, Eddie mused regretfully. It’s not you, it’s me. You were wonderful.

After much hemming and hawing, and one too many woe-is-me sighs from his side of the couch, Chrissy yanked the remote out of his hand and hit pause.

Rude.

“Did you have something you needed to say, princess?”

Eddie grumbled. “I just wish I didn't have to see him again.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“What if you did it for me?”

“What? The tattoo?!”

“Come on, I'll owe you one—a big one. Just, I dunno, we'll let Steve show up for his appointment and then you’ll tell him I’ve got, like, food poisoning or whatever, and didn’t want to have to cancel on him at the last minute, so you’re going to finish up his color. I’ll show you the sketches—It’ll be great.  It's more your style than mine anyway.”

Chrissy raised both eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, Munson.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on.” Eddie slid down to the floor, falling to his knees in front of her and lifting his hands in prayer. “Please?”

“No! This is ridiculous, Eddie! I can’t believe you’re even considering… What's the big deal anyway? So you thought he was cute, you both flirted a little, so what? Now you can’t even face the guy?”

She narrowed her eyes, staring down at his, admittedly, pathetic display. “You didn't do something embarrassing did you? Is there more to this story than you're telling me?”

“No.” Eddie reared back, giving up his wide-eyed begging which was clearly not working on her—damn lesbians and their immunity to his boyish charms—and pulled himself back up into his seat. 

She hummed suspiciously.

“You don’t understand. He’s like, perfect.”

“Aww,” She cooed, wrapping him up in a one-armed hug. “You really have it bad for him don’t you?”

Eddie leaned into her, pouting. He couldn’t even argue. 

She flicked his bottom lip. He flinched away. 

“Ow!”

“No pouting!” 

She huffed a laugh, but when he didn’t crack her mouth turned down into a sympathetic frown. “Are you absolutely sure there’s no hope?”

“Chris, he’s covering up one woman's name with a bird to represent another. He’s taken—and an idiot. A very hot, very sweet, kind to kids and old ladies, idiot. It’s over, that’s it, no chance.”

-

As if to mock the way he was dreading their upcoming appointment, the next six weeks flew by for Eddie in a blur, and before he knew it the day had arrived. It was another Friday afternoon appointment, apparently the only time Steve was available between his work schedule, spending time with his D&D loving adoptive brother, and whatever other altruistic endeavors he got up to in his daylight hours. Probably saving kittens from trees and shit. 

At least he wouldn’t have to go through it alone this time, Chrissy had promised to stick around whether she had a client or not, though, he wasn't naive enough to think she was doing it solely out of the kindness of her heart. Oh no, she wanted to get a look at Steve with her own eyes and see what all the fuss was about. 

Eddie paced back and forth in his studio, arranging and rearranging his supplies and setup as he watched the clock tick down to Steve’s arrival. 

“Oh my god, since when did you become so high strung?” Chrissy gaped at him from the doorway.

He wondered how long she’d been watching him freak out.  

“I don’t fucking know, alright?!” Eddie hissed, sitting down heavily in his desk chair. He picked up the color mock up of Steve’s tattoo, the one he’d be using as a reference, and ran a finger along the edge. “He just… I dunno, he weaseled his way inside me and now I can’t shake him.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

The bell above the front door dinged, the sound carrying into his room, and Eddie peered back at the clock. Ten minutes early—the boy was punctual, he’d give him that.

Chrissy smiled mischievously, darting back out to the lobby. Eddie raced along behind trying to catch up, knowing full well it would be a bad idea to leave her alone with Steve for any length of time. She’d probably try to interrogate him or something.

Eddie locked eyes with the man of the hour the moment he slid around the corner, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum. An easy smile spread across Steve's face. He looked genuinely happy to see him, but that was probably due to the prospect of finally getting his tattoo finished.  

“Eddie,” Steve released his name like a sigh of relief. “It’s good to see you.” 

It sounded like he meant it, and If Eddie didn’t know better he’d think Steve had also spent the last 6 weeks pining, and thinking of their time together obsessively. 

Until this moment he had held out hope that maybe somehow this time would be different. That maybe going into it knowing that Steve wasn’t available would make it easier to deny the pull he felt, but then he cast his eyes down and realized Steve was wearing those same fucking Levi’s again. 

It’d been weeks. It could easily have been a coincidence, just the next clean pair of pants in his rotation, but there was no way Steve didn’t know what he looked like in those unholy jeans. Had he done this on purpose?

Either way, Eddie didn't know whether to be grateful for the view, or throw himself out the window into oncoming traffic. 

Chrissy cleared her throat loudly. 

Shit. He’d been staring too long again.

Eddie shook himself mentally. “Steve, this is Chrissy.”

“Nice to put a face to the name.” She said, giving a little wave.

Steve's eyes slid briefly to Eddie, narrowed and curious. Probably wondering why he’d told her about him at all. 

He was gonna kill her. 

“You too.” Steve said with a quirk of his brow. “Eddie told me how you two met and opened this place together. Must be great to get to work with your best friend everyday.”

“Could be worse I guess.”

Eddie cut her a hard look. “Don’t you have some cleaning to do?”

With a smirk, Chrissy winked at Steve, then mercifully did head off towards her own studio. 

“We should go get started.” Eddie said, leading the way to the back to his room. “Sorry about her.” 

Steve chuckled. “She seems nice. I think Robin would like her.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, turning away to hide his scowl. “I’m sure she would.”

Steve knew the drill now and took off his shirt without being asked, getting comfortable in the chair while Eddie slipped a pair of gloves on and pulled his stool over, examining the healed lines of the half-finished tattoo. 

He hummed, impressed. “You did a good job taking care of it.”

Steve shrugged, but Eddie noticed the way he preened a little at the praise. “I did exactly what you told me to do.”

Fuck. 

There was just something about a man who followed directions.

Eddie took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his nose. He was going to give himself whiplash at this rate.

He prepped Steve’s skin in silence and got right to his task, trying to focus on the thrumming of the machine, instead of the rise and fall of the other man’s chest under his gloved hands—thankful that Steve didn’t seem to be having the same reaction to the initial pain that he had before.

“I told Dustin about you.” Steve blurted out after a while. 

The sudden sound of his voice, as well as the words themselves caught Eddie off guard. 

“What?”

Steve’s body flushed and Eddie flicked his eyes up, finding a matching shade of pink spreading over his face. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure he thinks you're the coolest guy in the world now. A tattoo artist and you play D&D? I had no chance.”

“Oh.”

Eddie went quiet, not sure what he was supposed to do with that—with any of this. He got back to work, hoping Steve would leave it there. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to play whatever game this was anymore. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “You seem… I don't know… different today?”

Eddie could have said, how would you know, you’ve only met me once? Or, we spent a few hours together, why do you care? Or something else equally passive aggressive, but… Steve wasn’t wrong and Eddie wasn’t in the business of gaslighting people. 

Telling a little white lie though? That was fair game.

“I have a headache, that’s all. It’s fine.”

It was fine. He just needed to do his job and get this over with. 

But of course, Steve had to be perfect and sweet about that too. 

“I’m sorry. I get migraines sometimes, so I get it. Doc says it’s from getting knocked in the head one too many times playing high school sports. I was very dedicated.” 

Steve laughed a little at himself, and Eddie couldn't help but look up again to see the way his eyes crinkled with it. Steve tilted his head, mouth turned up at the corners as he gazed down at Eddie.  “Doesn’t seem worth it, in hindsight.”

Despite trying not to, Eddie smiled back and could feel himself getting drawn in again. 

He forced himself to turn away. 

“Are you sure you're alright, though?” Steve continued. “If you're not feeling well–”

“I’m fine. I'm not going to mess your ink up or anything, don’t worry.”

“Hey,” Steve said tenderly, waiting until Eddie had stilled the machine again to lay a tentative hand on his upper arm. “I wasn't worried about that.”

“Oh.” Eddie swallowed a gasp, feeling like his skin was on fire under the touch. 

“We can reschedule if you need to, it’s okay.”

Fuck, Steve was entirely too thoughtful. 

And what was Eddie even doing? Trying to be cold and aloof, pretending to have a headache to explain why he wasn’t talking? It wasn’t fair to the guy. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he’d developed an extremely inconvenient crush—that he couldn’t handle a little innocent friendly flirtiness without losing his mind.  

“No. I promise I'm–”

I’m just an idiot. 

“I, uh, took some ibuprofen before you got here. I’m already feeling better.”

Finally, Steve let it go, allowing Eddie to get back to work without disturbing the quiet between them again. At least now the silence was almost comfortable. 

Art by Glitterfang

The time went by quickly. Eddie did glance up every so often to make sure Steve was okay, always surprised to find the other man’s eyes fixed on his face, rather than the tattoo, making Eddie’s stomach flip each time. 

The finished piece was beautiful, and honestly Eddie thought it might be some of his best work, even if it wasn’t his usual style. After a thorough cleaning he held a mirror up so Steve could see it better. He teared up a bit as he inspected his reflection. 

“It's even better than I could have imagined.” Steve turned away from the mirror to face him, smiling and looking so sincere it made Eddie’s heart ache. “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad you’re happy with it.” Eddie bit at his bottom lip. “Well, you already know your care instructions, so i’ll get this wrapped up and you’ll be good to–”

Steve cut him off abruptly. “Do you… um, I mean, could I get your number?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve.” Eddie said, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't do this. He didn’t want to only be Steve’s friend, and if somehow the other man wanted his number for more than that, well, he didn’t want to be a homewrecker either. 

Steve deflated, looking hurt, which was a little ridiculous considering he was the one with a whole-ass girlfriend. “But I thought maybe… since we’re done now, and I’m not a client anymore–”

“Look,” Eddie interrupted. “It’s sweet that you want to be friends or whatever, but–”

“No, I–”

“Knock-knock” Chrissy sing-songed, appearing in the doorway rapping her knuckles on its frame. “There’s someone here to see Steve.”

Saved by the bell. 

“We’re about done if you want to tell them to just–”

“Great, I'll send her in!”

Her?

Eddie was gonna kill Chrissy, for real this time.

Worst. Friend. Ever. 

A very cute girl with a chin length bob bounced into the room. Eddie got as far as noticing the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks before he had to look away, using cutting down a square of Saniderm to the correct size as an excuse.

She wasn’t quite what Eddie had pictured as the girlfriend of a gym bro—okay, Steve wasn’t exactly a gym bro but Eddie was allowed to be salty about it in his own mind if he wanted to—but to his dismay, they made a nice looking couple.

“Hey Dingus, how’s it going?” She said.

Odd term of endearment, but okay. 

“Eddie, this is Robin.” Steve said.

“Yeah I figured that one out all on my own, thanks.” Eddie muttered, rolling back up to Steve on his chair with the bandage in hand.

Steve furrowed his brow, staring from Eddie over to Robin and back again. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “My roommate, Robin.”

“O… kay?” Eddie shrugged, ducking his head to start covering the tattoo. Weird fucking way to refer to your live-in girlfriend, but whatever. He was over it. He just wanted to get the happy couple out of his tattoo shop so he could go home and–

Eddie sucked in a breath as Steve lightly gripped his arm again. He looked up, ready to be annoyed—the audacity of this guy to keep flirting with him, right in front of his girlfriend, but stopped short when he saw the soft pleading look in Steve’s eyes. 

“My best friend, platonic with-a-capital-p, lesbian roomate, Robin.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?!” Eddie nearly shouted.

He whipped his head around to look at Robin again. He’d only glanced at her before, not noticing much more than her hair and denim jacket, but on closer inspection he saw her neatly trimmed manicure, and the fact that she was wearing men’s jeans with a carabiner holding her keys hanging from one of the belt loops. 

None of those things were a guarantee of course, plenty of straight women also kept short nails and had masculine leaning senses of style, but when he spotted the pink, white, and orange stripes of the lesbian flag stitched into her lapel, he figured that was as sure a sign as any. 

“Oh.” Eddie breathed, turning back to Steve.

“Yeah, oh.” Steve parroted back softly, his mouth spreading into a tentative smile. 

“B- but I thought… and the tattoo!” Eddie stuttered.

“Is that why you were acting so weird? Because you thought Robin was my–” Steve shook his head as if that very idea were unthinkable. “You thought that I was covering up my ex's name with a new girlfriend?”

Eddie squirmed. “...No.”

“Eddie?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?!”

“Oh shit, were you jealous?!” Robin blurted out.

“Robin!” Steve hissed.

“Oh I'm sorry,” she said, tilting her head side-to-side, the words absolutely dripping with sarcasm. “Was I supposed to pretend the tension in here wasn’t thick enough to choke on?”

Eddie bit his tongue, locking eyes with Steve. Steve broke first, letting out a loud but very adorable snort of laughter.

Robin’s face went bright red, realizing what she’d said. 

“Birdie, can you just give us a minute?” Steve asked her, when he’d regained control of himself.

“Fine,” She sighed. “But I'm only going because Chrissy said she’d pierce my nose for free.”

“Slut.”

“Shut up.”

Robin moved to leave but paused on the threshold, looking back at them over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She called out, taking hold of the knob and pulling the door to his studio shut behind her. 

Eddie wasn’t sure it’d ever been closed before.  

“So, when you asked me for my number?”

Steve nodded. “It was because I wanted to ask you out.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

Steve reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Does that mean maybe you’ve changed your mind about me calling you?”

Eddie eyed up the now closed door and let himself do what he’d wanted to since the first time Steve sat shirtless in his chair, and climbed up onto it, straddling the other man’s lap.

“Is this okay?” He asked, hovering his mouth over Steve’s, close enough that a hard thought would have their lips brushing. 

“Yes.” Steve whispered, leaning in to close the almost non-existent space between them. 

It was tentative and unsure at first, the way Steve’s lips moved against his own, testing—tasting, but then he whined, a high-pitched and needy sound deep in his throat that went straight to Eddie’s dick, and opened his mouth wide. 

Eddie took it for the invitation it was and licked inside, their tongues sliding together as their bodies did the same, grinding and making out like a couple of teenagers in the backseat of a car, both growing hard.

Suddenly Steve broke the kiss, panting, “Wait, wait, wait.”

“Shit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have–” Eddie tried to climb off but found himself held firmly in place by Steve’s broad hands on his waist.

“No, please. I just need to know… is this only a hookup for you?” Steve asked once he’d caught his breath. “It’s okay if it is,” he added quickly. “I just hoped–”

The rest of Steve’s words were lost to a gasp as Eddie ran fingers through his hair, gently tilting his head to the side for better access to the other man’s speckled neck. Eddie scraped his teeth gently over Steve’s pulse point, licking up the column of his throat to speak low and close to his ear. “While I do fully intend on sucking your dick here and now, if you’ll let me–”

Steve whined again, hips thrusting up and into Eddie of their own accord.

Eddie shuddered, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind Steve's ear and finally sat back, looking him in the eye. “I’m not really into hookups, not anymore, and I would love to take you out after.”

Steve's eyes fluttered, watching heavy-lidded and open mouthed as Eddie slid down his body until he was eye level with the obvious bulge in his pants, nosing over it. 

“Not before?” Steve croaked out, struggling to speak as Eddie teased him mercilessly. 

Eddie rested his cheek against Steve’s denim covered cock, looking up at him through the thick curtain of his lashes. “Sweetheart, I've been dying to get my lips wrapped around you since the first time you got hard in my chair. If it’s alright with you, dinner can wait.” 

“Fuck.” Steve bit down on his bottom lip and wound a hand into Eddie’s messy bun, nails scratching at his scalp. 

“So, what do you say?” Eddie asked, smoothing his hands up Steve’s luscious thighs, resting them on either side of his fly as he waited for an answer. 

Steve brought his other hand down to cup Eddie’s face running a thumb over his cheek. “It’s a date.”

Eddie grinned, making quick work of Steve's button and zipper, working his pants and underwear down just enough to let his hard length spring free. 

Fuck it was pretty.

Not that that was a surprise. Everything about Steve was pretty.  

Eddie flicked his tongue out, tasting the tip of him, dipping his tongue into the slit to capture a bit of precum that had spilled out. 

“I’m not going to last very long.” Steve rasped.

“How long has it been since someone touched you?” Eddie asked, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the pink head of his cock. 

Steve whimpered. “Too long.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fix that. Just sit back and let me take care of you, okay?”

As much as he wanted to take his time and enjoy the feel of Steve sitting heavy on his tongue, for hours or days, those thighs pressing in on either side of him, Eddie was acutely aware that Robin and Chrissy were within earshot, and the door Robin had so helpfully closed did not have a lock. Quick and dirty was probably for the best. 

Hopefully he would have many more opportunities to enjoy Steve at his leisure, assuming their date went well. 

Eddie sank down, keeping his lips tight around Steve’s shaft as he took inch after inch of him inside, until he was nose deep in coarse curly hair.

It’d been a while for Eddie too, since he’d been with anyone like this, but it was like riding a bike, once you’ve mastered the art of taking a cock down your throat—you never forget.

Steve gripped the back of his head harder, not quite holding him down the way Eddie really wanted him to, but enough to let him know he was there. Eddie moaned around him as he began to bob his head, setting a rough pace that had Steve making the most debauched sounds above him.

“God, m’so close already, Eddie.” Steve cried out in warning, taking his hand away to give him the option of moving back. As if he’d waste the opportunity to taste him.

Eddie doubled his efforts, nearly choking himself for how deep he took Steve down, swallowing around him over and over again until finally he came—hot and thick and a little bitter, but oh so wonderful.

He didn’t pull off until Steve was soft in his mouth and writhing from oversensitivity.

Steve immediately pulled him back up into his lap, crashing their mouths together, moaning into the kiss when he undoubtedly caught a taste of himself on Eddie’s tongue.

Eventually Eddie broke the kiss, helping Steve tuck himself away and wiggle back into his jeans. He ignored his own arousal, content with this moment being all about Steve, anxious to keep his promise about taking the other man out on a real date.

“So, where would you like to go? What’s your favorite restaurant in the city?” He asked, settling himself back down into Steve’s lap once his clothing was back in place.   

“What if instead we went back to my place,” Steve began, pulling him in close, dragging his lips over Eddie’s collarbone as he spoke.  “I cook for us, you let me return the favor, and you can take me out to dinner next time.”

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath as Steve palmed him where he was already so painfully hard in his own jeans. “Already planning a second date?” 

“And a third and a fourth. Is that okay?” 

“Sounds perfect.”

[libraryofloveletters]

Something Doesn't Taste Right

Kevin Magnussen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of, kevin is determined that he can do this, he's also got a heavy hand, (think 'just two shots of vodka' meme lol), something seems to go wrong every time, some friendly teasing.

Word Count: 680

Author's Note: those of you that have been around for a while know that I loveeeeee k-mag so if you don't, you're new so welcome to the madness.

--

Your husband convinces you that he knows how to make eggnog, no need to buy it from the store. His father’s recipe is the best of the best.. that’s if Kevin can figure it out.

"Are you sure?" You asked your husband, glancing over your shoulder at him.

You and Kevin have gone to the store to pick up a few things for your Christmas party this upcoming weekend. You stopped in the refrigerated section to get cheese and eggs and you came across their giant selection of eggnog; peppermint, cinnamon, gingerbread - you name it, they had it.

The carton in your hand, you showed your husband. "We should just buy it, it'll be easier. You just add the rum to it after."

Kevin waves you off, "it's fine babe, I can make it."

You were a bit sceptical of your husband. Kevin was insistent that you didn't buy the eggnog because he knew how to make it. He had watched his father do it every Christmas holiday growing up, he practically knew it like the back of his hand, or so he said.

"We have everything at home to make it. It's better homemade, trust me."

Your brows furrow but you give in, setting the carton back on the shelf. "If you say so."

The trip at the store concluded, you and Kevin arrived back at home shortly after. As you pack away the groceries, your husband begins making his eggnog.

You watched from the counter as Kevin mixed together his ingredients in the pot on the stove. You were still a bit skeptical, but it seems like things are coming together, so you figure what's the worst that could happen ?

"Now we wait," Kev tells you, setting it into the fridge after a while.

The two of you busy yourselves with some decorating for the party in the meantime. You and Kevin return to the kitchen a few hours later, Kevin putting the now cooled pot of eggnog on the counter.

"Is it done?"

"No, I've got to add the vanilla and the liquor but you can taste it before if you'd like."

Kevin puts some into a glass for you, letting you take a sip of it. You make a face, "that's really sweet, is it supposed to be that sweet?" You hand the glass over to him.

His brows furrow, taking a sip. "Oh.. I must have put too much sugar, the vanilla will balance it."

You watch as he pours the vanilla extract into the pot, his heavy hand in play. You've never made eggnog but by the looks of it, it seems like way too much.

Kevin stirs the pot, pouring some more into the glass for you. "Okay, try it now."

The overwhelming smell of vanilla hits your nose and as you take a sip, it covers your taste buds. "Uh.. I don't think this is right either, babe."

You hand the glass to him, Kevin seems confused but he takes a sip.

"Okay yeah, I see where I went wrong, too much vanilla."

"Yeah," you nod, drinking some water to cleanse your mouth of the taste.

Kevin turns to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of bourbon. "This one?"

"It's your recipe, babe. Your choice."

He nods, undoing the cap on the bottle. Kevin's heavy hand comes into play yet again, pouring just a little over a quarter into the pot and begins stirring it.

He adds some into a new glass for you, "okay final one. I think I got it right."

You're still skeptical, taking a small sip. At first, it was fine - the bourbon seems to have balanced out the vanilla and the sugar.

It was like you spoke too soon, the back of your throat burning when the bourbon finally kicked in. "Holy shit," you rubbed your chest, setting the glass down.

"What?" He takes the glass.

"That's so-" you stop, watching as Kevin takes a sip of the eggnog. It takes him a second but his face mirrored yours. "That's strong."

"Yeah," you laughed, "I think we should make a trip to the store."

Kevin nods, "store bought eggnog for now, but I will get it right." You pat his chest, "sure baby, just not when we have guests coming over."

[hooked-on-elvis]

[STORY TIME] 🤢🍹 DRUNK ELVIS (1968)

Story told by Charlie Hodge.

Next to him are Joe Esposito and Larry Geller. All men, Memphis Mafia. You can hear the story on the video above, if you prefer, or you can scroll down and read it (Charlie is the way to go, press the play button). But before the story, just wanted to say: Charlie was so funny! The "huey" joke! LOL! I adore him. ♥ Rest in peace, sweet Charlie, also Joe. God bless your souls.

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[STORY TIME] 🍹

Well, as we know, Elvis was not a drinker. Hardly he'd get interested a few drinks, but that's the thing: when a person like that drinks and gets carried away, he goes all the way, not knowing his own safe limits; in reality it doesn't take that much alcohol to make 'em tipsy. As any person who didn't drink often, Elvis' tolerance for alcohol was very low - taking from the stories told over the years. Sometimes disasters happen when one not used to drink have too much drinking, other times just funny things take place. Charlie is talking about one of those moments for Elvis, a funny one.

According to Hodge, he and the guys (Memphis Mafia) were with Elvis in Palm Springs, on set while he was filming a movie during the 60's. Charlie recalls it as being 'Live A Little, Love a Little' — for which filming began on March 13th, with principal photography ending in May 1st, 1968, so that story happened in early 1968.

Elvis and Michele Carey on scene from 'Live A Little, Love A Little" (1968)

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Charlie says Elvis was filming one of the scenes he's in the sea, when he complained the water was too cold. He then asked his guys if they happen to have anything to drink, so could use the liquor to help keeping his body warm while he was filming that sea scene. They didn't have any, so they sent Charlie to buy some. Charlie bought a peach brandy and rum, so he came back with it and Elvis drank it... but it turns out he liked the peach liquor, a little too much.

Normally people who don't drink they go ease with sweet tasting liquor and they don't stop drinking, simply because don't feel getting drunk... until they are hammered. This happened to poor Elvis a few times.

When he finished the one peach brandy drink he had, on their way home after shooting day was over, Charlie mentions how Elvis was already slurred speech/swaying drunk but he said he liked the drink and wanted to go buy some more. The guys stopped by a liquor store. There, silly Elvis enters the store and absentminded goes walking around, calmly checking the options as if nothing was happening around, while "poor Joe", as Charlie says, was desperate to get him back in the car, in fear some mob took place if people found out Elvis was there.

Well, they got home safely after all, and El had all the drinks he wanted until everybody heads to their own bedrooms. Charlie says Elvis was wearing his blue nylon jammies and, he jokes about it, saying all the guys too were wearing blue nylon jammies that night, actually; in his words, "because we figured, if Elvis looks good in blue nylon jammies, we do too!" 😆

Scene from 'Live a Little, Love a Little' (1968)

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Shortly after, Joe Esposito hears a knock on his bedroom door. He opens the door and sees Elvis standing two-hands leaned against Joe's bedroom door frames, ill looking (clearly sick from the drinking).

El looked at Joe and said,

"Joe, I'm dying."

Esposito tried to calm him down, telling him he was alright and he should go back to his bedroom and just lay down and sleep, but Elvis ignored.

"Call daddy" (Vernon)", he said to Joe.

"Tell him to sell Graceland. He doesn't need that big old place... and sell all the cars, he don't need them too."

Joe continued trying to calm Elvis down, ignoring the nonsense the man was saying, but El (as any good wasted person who thinks he's in perfect clear estate of mind), insisted,

"I'm not kidding, I'm dying!"

Finally Joe got to send Elvis went back to his own bedroom, but soon EP was back repeating the same things. "I'm dying." According to Charlie, this went on for about three times. On the third time, as soon as Elvis said, "I'm dying" again, he threw up right in front of Joe. 🤢

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Can you picture drunk Elvis? (LOL) Those little anecdotes of Elvis Presley's life are just so fun to hear about! That bring him closer to us, making that god-like looking man feel like any friend of ours, or even ourselves. I love hearing those "hammered Elvis" stories, don't you?

Elvis in scene from "Wild In The Country" (1961)

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What kind of drunk person you think our sweet El was?

I think he would get extra affectionate, mellow and even needy, which makes me crave to be right there with him. ♥

[zhongster]

Nanami discovering his S/O is into burps and teasing them?

Hi there anon thanks for supporting my Nanami bender ily 😭

This is a part two to my last nanami fic 🤭

There isn’t a toooooooon of teasing but i put some in there I hope you like it :)

Also the reader is afab in this one as this is highkey self indulgent and I’m afab, I usually try to keep it as ambiguous as possible but there are some specific elements that I wanted to include in this one for my own enjoyment 😭🤚

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

‼️NSFW WARNING‼️

Neither you nor Nanami had mentioned what’d happened just three days prior. That night he had simply risen from the bed to clean you up and then rejoined you under the sheets to allow you to fall asleep with your hand resting on his softly gurgling belly.

You weren’t entirely sure what’d happened yourself. It was as if your body had hijacked your brain and you were pretty certain that you would have found anything he had done in that moment unbearably attractive. That being said, you were more than eager to repeat the experience and explore more of this new interest you’d found yourself wrestling with.

You were trying to work up the courage to broach the subject with him but he beat you to it when he arrived home from the liquor store with a high-end bottle of champagne and eyed you inquisitively. He didn’t speak as he stretched his arm up to the kitchen cabinet and grabbed one of the pristine champagne flutes. He caught your gaze as he popped the cork out of the bottle and poured the carbonated alcohol into the flute without breaking eye contact.

He slowly raised the glass to his lips and drained the entire thing in one go. He placed the glass back on the counter and raised a hand to massage at the mounting pressure behind his sternum. His chest seemed to hitch for a moment before he brought his hand up to cover his mouth as a long, wet belch rolled out of him. He blew the air to the side and finished with a “please excuse me.”

He continued to watch as sweat began to bead at the back of your neck and you squirmed in place. Arousal curled deep inside your belly when he finally spoke: “I thought as much.”

That caught you extremely off guard. “You what…?”

“I just wanted to confirm something.”

His eyes scanned over your body for a moment before he reached for your hand. With his unoccupied hand he grabbed the neck of the champagne bottle and the stem of the flute before leading you into the bedroom. “Help me?” He asked.

You didn’t need any more encouraging. You began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one until the garment was hanging completely open, exposing his bare chest and stomach. You then turned your attention to his waistband and deftly unbuckled his belt before sliding it out of his belt loops.

You gripped the waistline of his dress pants and boxers and gave a sharp tug until they were left in a pile on the floor. Only moments later, your underwear joined the ever growing pile and you pushed him into a sitting position at the end of the bed.

You pulled the champagne bottle from his grip and carefully filled the flute as he held it out for you. Setting the bottle down on the nightstand you climbed into his lap, straddling his hips. You gently intwined your fingers in his soft hair and tipped his head back, bringing the teeming glass to his lips as he began to drink.

He went to pull away for a moment but you stopped him. “Drink it all honey” you urged.

He dutifully obeyed and finished off the glass before his eyebrows drew together in a look of discomfort. You knew what was coming and immediately captured his lips in a kiss.

The champagne bubbles made their way back up his throat and he belched openly against your lips. You pulled away with a heavy pant as he breathlessly excused himself and got up to fill the champagne flute once again. On your way up, however, he grabbed your wrist “just bring the bottle.”

You obeyed and left the flute abandoned on the dresser as you settled yourself back on Nanami’s lap. You brought the neck of the bottle up to his lips and urged him to drink. He managed to swallow a good quarter of the bottle before pulling away and wincing.

He gave a startled hiccup before a small strained burp escaped him. He braced his hands on your hips and ducked his head against your shoulder as a much longer burp shook him. He seemed to recover from this brief fit after a moment and looked back up at you with bright red cheeks that matched your own.

You ran your thumb over his cheek as he let an equally long burp echo in his closed mouth. “Do you think you can manage a bit more?” You asked.

He nodded and you lifted the bottle up for him once more. He only managed a bit more before he pulled back. “I don’t think I can drink anymore.”

“That’s okay honey, you did so well.” You praised.

Setting the bottle on the ground, you carefully slid yourself onto him. You began to slowly oscillate your hips as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

The carbonation finally began to make its way up as Nanami buried his face in your chest, face pillowed on your breasts.

You felt more than you heard him let out a heavy belch against your skin, causing you to let out a sharp gasp in response.

You moved your hips faster, the straps of your dress falling around your shoulders. This increase in movement resulted in your body bumping up against his packed stomach and forcing an even more aggressive belch into your chest.

You roughly grabbed onto the back of his shirt with a whine as your orgasm overwhelmed your senses. This seemed to push him over the edge and he too went rigid against you with a wave of pleasure.

The two of you sat in one another’s embrace for the moment, attempting to catch your breath. Eventually, you eased him back onto the bed and captured his mouth with your own in a gentle kiss.

He apparently wasn’t done, however, as he gave a small hiccup and released a deep burp into your mouth. He seemingly hadn’t been expecting it as he immediately pulled back with a look of embarrassment.

You snorted, “You trying to go for round two already?”

He just lightly chuckled and pulled you back into his embrace.

[ultimateaclrecovery]

Japan Day 11 (from my trip last November, but this is the last one!)

Last day in Tokyo and travel home!

Started the day with some more temple and some cute bridges with a bunch of koi

And then it was mostly shopping for last minute souvenirs and things that are cheaper in Japan. So here are some more fun Disney pictures!

Ended the trip by finally getting the panda cream puffs from stand right by our hotel transit stop, and then it was homeward bound! I celebrated being home by using my new bear shaped pancake maker to keep the cute food going.

What a wonderful trip!

Overly long travel diary (read if bored)

Day 11

Started our day fairly early with free hotel breakfast and then took the train to see tokyos temple. It had a cool pagado and a garden with a bunch of koi but I admit to being a little templed out at this point. We spend the rest of our morning time before the airport shopping. We start at the little stall market by the temple that is just starting to open. I get a bird shaped custard to eat right then 80 yen. And a box set of fun ct character custards to eat later. And a little lantern that I will make a Christmas ornament, best part I get a 500 yen coin so now I have the full set.

We then go to a grocery for snacks and then a don Quito for more snacks and weird things. I get some snacks and some socks for my brothers girlfriend.

Then we go look at fancy tea and dish ware for my bf. He gets a sake set and a tea set and a get a little heart shaped mold for making rice balls. We then go to Tokyo station for ramen and back to the character store so I can get the penguin in a Christmas tree that I’ve been thinking about all week. It’s smaller than I had built it up in my head but it’s still so cute so I get it even tho it is over priced and silly. It’s cute and makes me happy. I look for other things I might want but don’t really find anything.

We then head back out to do more shopping and whatnot at a normal mall. Anthony gets normal things like socks and underwear because they are cheaper here and we find our dads matching Japanese shirts. They are nicer than ones we’ve seen at the souvenir shops. I really want a womens cut shirt but I don’t think they have any. They have some fun womens graphics and I find one I really like but it’s only in large. We realize you can print the designs on different shirts or design your own but can’t quite figure it out. I try asking the guy working there if I can get the one I like in a medium and luckily he knows enough English to figure what I’m asking and sets it all up. I then have to go buy the medium shirt and then get it to printing people. I manage to do it successfully but only because the workers know some English. Although they keep trying to explain things to me in Japanese before giving up and pointing at their English signs or trying use what English they know. I worry as I get printed that maybe I should’ve gotten a small but it’s cotton so it will shrink a little so it should be fine.

We head back to towards the hotel and get vending machine drinks on the way, can’t believe I made it this far without using a vending machine. I use some of what’s left of my ic card for a 180 yen grape Fanta. I love me some things that are purple even tho I don’t normally like pop. I got my ic card down to like 200 yen so I did pretty good job there.

And then it’s off to buy panda custards! They’ve been selling them at the train station nearest our hotel and I’ve wanted them since we’ve got here.

Then collect our bags from the hotel and head to the bigger train station to get tickets for the train to the airport. It’s a special one so can’t just use your ic card.

At the airport we mostly breeze through security except I forgot a tiny water bottle in my backpack from the flight out here oops. And then we go to the liquor store so my bf can get fun liquor and I buy one of the bottle for him since the us it’s only one tax free per person.

We stop by at another store just to see and I find the cutest howls moving castle tote bag. It’s a little over priced (ghibli plus airport) but it’s the cutest tote bag I’ve seen here so I get it.

I then get ice cream with my remaining, non souvenir coins.

The flight is uneventful and then his parents give us a ride back to his place my first time meeting them which is a little overwhelming after traveling for so long. I take a 20 dollar lyft back from his place and then it’s home sweet. I crank my heat back up to normal and start to unpack.

General thoughts.

The toilets here can be so fancy. Minus the one public restroom one just in the street that was just the hole in the ground. But any western toilets have bidets and a lot of them are fancy enough to lift up their kids when you walk into the room. My favorite tho is the public restrooms with little speakers that can play water music at the push of a button. Anthony thinks this is to cover the sounds of peeing or pooping but I think the rushing water is also to help you go.

[thebisexualdogdad]

💖 Imagine Perez Reader showing up to comfort Maddy when she calls him upset

Maddy Perez x Sibling!reader

● Maddy tried her best to pretend like Nate and Cassie getting together didn't utterly hurt her

● her best friend dating her shitty ex? Of course that would sting

● you were at college three hours away when Kat had texted you telling you what happened between Maddy and Cassie

● Maddy goes radio silent for a couple days which is odd because you guys talk every single day even if it's just sending each other dumb memes

● you send her a few texts letting her know you're here for her if she needs someone to talk to

● it's Sunday afternoon and your phone buzzes with Maddy's name popping up on the screen

● you immediately pick up and Maddy is sniffling and her voice cracks

● "Y/N I need you"

● "I'm on my way"

● it didn't matter that you had classes in the morning, your sister was hurting

● when you get back to town you make a stop at the liquor store before heading to your childhood home

● once home Maddy opens the door and she's in a fluffy robe, hair in a messy bun with smudged makeup you only assumed was days old

● "I got booze, junk food and whatever these pills are"

● it's the first time she smiles in days

● your parents don't even question why you're home

● "good to see mom and dad are as attentive as always"

● you spend the next few hours drinking, snacking and talking shit (Maddy opted out on taking the mystery pills you got from Fez but is saving them for a rainy day)

● "I can't believe that fucking bitch like seriously dating Nate after everything he did to me!"

● "Maddy look at me, you are way too good for Nate fucking Jacobs and if Cassie is going to ignore all the bullshit he put you through then that's her problem"

● "but she's supposed to be my best fucking friend"

● "trust me, when you go to college you are going to make way better friends than the fucked up people in this town"

● "God I miss you why did you have to go to school so far away"

● "Mads I'm always going to show up when you need me no matter how far away I am"

● you get absolutely wasted and pass out in Maddy's bed

● when she wakes up you're holding her and she actually feels like everything is going to be okay