#whisk(e)y

[well-seasoned]

@phantasmalwordsmith

this is it. this is the funniest scooby doo clip

[chiveraccs]

Whisky: Lagavulin 12 Special Release 2022

Estaba un poco escéptico sobre este whisky antes de abrirlo, porque una amigo con quien la tomé me decía que si fuera tan bueno, por qué Lagavulin no lo hace un producto regular. Sobre todo si ya existe un Lagavulin 12 de producción regular. Además, con la intensidad que normalmente caracteriza al Lagavulin 16, me llamaba mucho la atención lo que se podría lograr aquí, sobre todo embotellado sin…

[therangersrespite]

Tonight we have Jim Hough of Liberty Pole Spirits on to talk about their latest spirit release! Their oldest whiskey and their first American Single Malt Whiskey!

[rabbitcruiser]

International Whisk(e)y Day

Whiskey has a long and venerable history as one of the most recognizable forms of distilled spirits in the world.

The name for Whisk(e)y comes from the Gaelic language, where it was referred to as Uisce na Beatha, which means ‘The Water of Life’. It wasn’t long before the name was shortened to Uisce (Merely “Water”) and then the pronunciation slowly changed over time from Ish-Key, to Whiskey. And that pronunciation has remained ever since.

Now, it’s time to enjoy, share, and celebrate this day that is all about Whiskey!

History of International Whisk(e)y Day

The history of International Whiskey day is intrinsically tied to the history of the beverage, so that seems like a good place to begin. Whiskey is the result of a distillation process, a chemical/alchemical process known as far back in history as Babylon. While no one quite knows if they created a beverage quite as wonderful as modern-day whiskey, historians have confirmed that the process was available to them.

All whiskey starts with a ‘mash’, which is a mixture of grain and water that is slowly heated in order to break down the starch into sugars. The kind of grain that the maker uses will determine what kind of whiskey comes out as the end result. The result of this process is then known as wort and is just the beginning of this amazing drink’s life journey.

Aging in a barrel is usually part of the process as well. But the amount of time spent in the aging process is certainly worth it!

Here’s a quick rundown on the different types of grains that result in all of these unique types of whiskey beverages:

Bourbon starts from a mash that is 51% or more corn base, though it becomes a Corn Whiskey once it reaches 81%.

Malt whiskey is made from 51% malted barley.

Rye is 51% plain rye.

Wheat Whiskey, as one might suspect, is made from Wheat.

So where did International Whiskey Day come from? Well, it was first announced in 2008, and subsequently celebrated in 2009 at the Whiskey Festival in the Northern Netherlands.

This was all done in honor of a whiskey (and beer) connoisseur and writer, Michael Jackson. (No, not the King of Pop.) He was a man who was well known for his writings on Whiskey and who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. His whiskey-loving friends wanted to not only celebrate his love for whiskey but also help find a cure for this difficult disease. Since Michael’s birthday was March 27, the date is a nod to him.

So, the purpose of Whiskey Day isn’t just the raising of awareness of whiskey and its charms, although that is certainly a great reason. The purpose is also to spread awareness for Parkinson’s, a disease that whiskey aficionado, Michael Jackon, suffered from in his later years.

How to Celebrate International Whisk(e)y Day

The most obvious and practical way to celebrate this holiday is to either imbibe a favorite variety of Whiskey or to try a new one! Check out these ideas for celebrating Whisk(e)y Day:

Try a New Kind of Whiskey

Even better, get together with friends and introduce each other to your favorites, and maybe check out a few new vintages or styles. Look into these, for example:

Irish Whiskey. Smooth, made from a mash of malt, caramel-colored, and must be distilled for at least 3 years in a wooden cask.

Scotch Whisky (also called ‘Scotch’). Made with either malt or grain, must age in an oak barrel for 3 years.

Canadian Whisky. Light and smooth with a high amount of corn, must be aged in a barrel for 3 years.

Bourbon Whiskey. Made from at least 51% corn, aged in a new oak barrel, and must be 80 proof or higher. (Tennessee Whiskey is a sub-type of bourbon with special filtering step.)

Japanese Whisky. Methods and taste are similar to Scotch, often used with mixed drinks.

Learn How to Spell Whisk(e)y

It seems strange, but there are actually two correct ways to spell this word, depending on the context. Originally, Irish Whiskey included the ‘e’ and Scottish Whisky did not. Ultimately that carried out so that Americans adopted the ‘e’ version for their whiskey, but Canadians and Japanese Whisky makers did not! Thus, the correct, inclusive spelling is: International Whisk(e)y Day!

Grab a Whiskey at a Pub or Bar

Many different bars and pubs have gotten on board with celebrating Whisk(e)y Day. They’ll often provide drink specials, food specials, and possibly even opportunities to win door prizes–such as a special bottle of whiskey. So grab a friend and head over to the pub for a drink of whiskey (or beer will do just as well)!

Introduce Whisk(e)y to a Newbie

What could be more fun than opening up the world (and a bottle) to someone who has never tried whiskey before? Although it might be hard to imagine, many people are out there who are new to whiskey and have no idea how to enjoy it. Grab one of them, open a bottle, and reveal to them the myriad of reasons why Whisk(e)y Day is absolutely worth celebrating!

Donate to a Parkinson’s Disease Charity

Don’t forget to make a donation to your favorite Parkinson’s charity while you’re at it! Team Fox, the charity created by actor Michael J. Fox, who lives with early-onset Parkinson’s Disease, often teams up with various Whiskey Day folks to build momentum for celebrating the day and raising funds for the charity.

While you’re at it, be sure that everyone gets home safely. The best way to celebrate International Whiskey Day is drinking responsibly, and making sure everyone can talk about it again tomorrow!

Source

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

RUN RABBIT, RUN RUN RUN. ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: DARK! King Aegon ii Targaryen x Common Folk! Reader prompt: Aegon has been watching you from years. Now that he is King, he intends to make his intentions clear. key: Y/n = Your name, R/n = Random name, E/C = eye color word count: 1, 000+ words

He was six and ten when he first met you, well more of, he saw you from a distance. You were a pretty little thing⎯well, for some common folk girl, you were pretty. From what he saw from a distance, you worked as a barkeep, cleaning tables and sometimes serving ale or whatever shitty drink they served at that tavern. 

You were pretty, maybe growing more so in a few years, but enough for the other drunks to take notice as well. He didn’t like it. Even though he had never spoken to you, or really interacted with you at all. You were his pretty little barekeep to gawk at.

It took everything in him to not set Sunfyre upon all of them, burning the shitty little tavern up in flames. So then, he could take their charred remains and show what happened when others touched what was his. But, he digressed. For now. 

Slowly sauntering into the tavern, he searches for you in the crowd of common folk, his gaze predatory and determined. Since his coronation as King, he had been busy, far too busy to leave the Red Keep to go to Flea Bottom. All he wished for now was to have a drink and watch you as he had done a dozen times before. He was sure if he was going to speak to you yet. It wasn’t that he did not have the courage to speak to you. 

He was a Targaryen, and now King, he had nothing to feel ashamed of or worried about. But rather he liked the way you squirmed under his gaze. He liked the way you would grow stiff and then blush a soft pink when you realized that it was just him. It was adorable and a good ego boost to know that he could get you all flustered without even needing to speak. 

“All hail the new King!” Some drunk slurs aloud, “From the King of Flea Bottom to the King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

“Aye!” 

“All hail!”

Rolling his eyes at the drunken babbling that filled the tavern, he sits down at his usual table, kicking his feet up on a chair. Drumming his fingers against the table, he looks around for you, growing wary as he doesn’t see you in the tavern. Clenching his jaw tightly as his temper starts to rise, he holds back at lashing out, his mind running a million miles per hour.

“Where the hell is that damn girl?! Y/n!” A barkeep behind the bar rants, “Oi! You, go get Y/n.”

Not even the other barkeep’s knew where you were at. You weren’t here. You were always on time. Why the fuck were you not here? Where the fuck were you at?

Feeling his temper bubbling with each second that he doesn’t see you, the loud slamming of a door fills the tavern, nobody paying any mind to it. Seeing you walk inside all soaked from the rain, he instantly calms down at sight of you. 

Slowly trailing his eyes over your soaked figure, you look ethereal like this. Hair all soaked and clothes sticking to you like a second skin, accentuating  your curves. Feeling a presence beside him, he snaps out of his daze, seeing some other barkeep trying to speak to him.

“Can I⎯” 

“No, no, her. I want her.” He orders, pointing at you. 

Watching as you dried yourself off with a rag, he smirks at how your linen underskirt was practically sheer. He wondered, if he spilled his seed in you, would a bastard grow in your belly? Would then he be able to whisk you away to the Red Keep, far far away from the drunks and fools that surrounded you both? After all, you would be so grateful for him to do such a thing. You, some lowborn common folk girl, getting the luxury of carrying his child in your belly. 

“Bring me her. I will take nothing but what she brings to me.” He orders.

Feeling a familiar pair of predatory eyes on you, you slowly turn around to see the now King, watching you. He sat at the same table as always, in the center where he and those silvery locks could be gawked at. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you watch as R/n walks away from the table, rolling her eyes hard with a scowl. Cocking her head to Aegon, you didn’t even have to ask to understand that he had rejected her. 

Wiping your hands dry with the rag, your eyes locked onto Aegon’s, e/c meeting predatory violet eyes. Shivering at the gaze, R/n motions for you to go to him with a cock of her head, her iration clear as day at not getting any coin from him. Mustering up your courage, you walk over to him, coming face-to-face for the first time ever. He was a lot more handsome up close. Alluring violet eyes, silvery white Targaryen hair and pouty lips. 

“Do you wish to make your King happy?” He asked, his voice rough and low.

“I do, your grace.” You nod, “ How can I be of service to you?”

“I can think of many ways.”

Growing tense at the lewd comment, you shift in place, unsure if he was jesting with you or if he was being serious. You have never spoken to him up to this point, just watching from afar or in passing. You could not tell. Chewing on your bottom lip a little nervously, he places a hand on your waist, letting out a full belly laugh. Weakly nodding unsure, he slowly trails his hand down to your hip, not quite inappropriate but not appropriate at the same time. 

“Can I get you some ale, your grace?” You ask, attempting to change the subject.

“No.”

“Or mayhaps some bread from the kitchen?” You try again, “I am sure we can find something for you if that is what you desire.”

“No.”

Blushing under his intense gaze, he slowly stands up from his seat, looking like a predator stalking its prey. Tilting your head up as he towers over you, you resist the urge to cower, not wanting him to see your fear. In your time working here you learned men tended to like seeing women cower, it was like a game to them. Softly gulping as he digs his nails into your hip, a voice in the back of your head tells you to run away, that he was dangerous. But, your legs would not let you move. 

“Your grace?” You whisper, your voice weak. 

“Then you will not scream, cry, or protest as I take you back to the Red Keep.” He whispers, “I would hate to have to kill you when I have just gotten you within my grasp. Now walk, my little rabbit.”

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[theyluvlyss]

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 & 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲...

my head is all but consumed with thoughts only of wade wilson, logan howlett, and remy lebeau. they're all I can process in my head (besides shazam, but that's a given considering no one loves shazam the way I do, so🤷🏽‍♀️) and I y e a r n desperately for an influx in "wade x y/n x logan" fics and the "remy x y/n" fics... dare I even ask, humbly ofc, hear me out... for a splash of "wade x y/n x remy". genuinely, I'd kill for some of that ngl.

and I bet you're wondering, "lyssa, why not do it yourself🤔?"

short answer: I am swamped with requests, and even if I wasn't, I'm not ready yet lmao I fear I do not possess the skills to capture them in my writing perfectly😔 ... yet😈.

in the meantime, tho *😈evil little laughter😈* may I plz suggest the following prompts and pairings to and for anybody willing to work with them or wanting ideas (begging any writers that see this to please write these and tag me plz plz plz plz plz 😭🙏🏽😃plzplzplzplzplzplzplzpl-)...

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⚠️trigger and content warning btw lol -

mentions of fighting/violence/bloodshed, death, gore, (like c'mon,,, bffr, look at who you're reading about😐🤨), anxiety/panic attacks, harsh words/themes/elements/physical injuries, abuse and/or negelct, separation anxiety, mental disorders, brief mention of sickness/illness, drugs (just 🍃 and painkillers), age gap (nothing illegal, chill out🤨✋🏽), use of a derogatory term (not used in a negative sense tho lol), and some semi-common smut themes that I won't list here, but be wary if that stuff makes you uncomfortable :)♡. also, these are all under the pretense that the reader is a cis girl, she/her/hers pronouns (so ig you could think of this as one, big, mass request to all writers willing from me lol🤭🥴🫶🏽).

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 :

- reader having a panic/anxiety attack and ofc being comforted (causes my vary; maybe right after a fight/battle, or because of over-worrying or too much pressure, maybe after a fight with another loved one, etcetc). definitely wanna see this with all three of them, but separately, tho. like, one fic or list of "preferences/headcannons" for logan, one for wade, and then one for remy.

- near death or death (followed by resurrection swift after). it could be reader almost dies or dies (then gets resurrected, get creative with it/how, fr, yk?) or the reverse; the POI (person of interest) dies, although given two of the three's abilities, y'all might have to get creative if you want it to translate for logan and/or wade so this one would be mainly for a remy x reader.

- I personally love a good "POI says sumn mean/outta pocket, hurts reader's feels, stuff happens idk, but they eventually kiss and make up" trope. I'd eat that up, especially cuz OHHH,,,, wade taking a joke or playful argument or something too far? logan being a little too mean/angsty to you for comfort?? remy saying something that gets lost in translation, so it comes out harsher than intended??? 😫😫😫‼️‼️ AND IF YOU WANNA GET MESSY WIT IT, RUNNING TO ONE OF THE OTHER THREE FOR COMFORT🙈🙈⁉️⁉️⁉️.

- a classic; reader getting injured (mildly or worse, doesn't matter), needing to be taken care of, but is stubborn about it?? always a good one.

- getting a little crazy and silly here, but I like a good "abusive and/or negelctful ex/current partner" trope. like hell yeah, one of you big, strong men get over here and save me, whisk me away and show me what I really deserve😻‼️. NOT romanticizing/glorifying it obvs, like no, I mean that wade, logan, and/or remy would not be the red flags in this scenario, they're the one(s) doing the saving FROM the red flag ex/current partner lol.

- getting a little crazier and sillier with this one, but one where reader gets snatched up🙂? oouuuu, miss girl got kidnapped?! once again, somebody come save me, and if "somebody" is not wade, logan, and/or remy, then don't bother, I don't want it. matter of fact, just gon' on ahead and leave me, I'll figure it out myself🙂✌🏽. I think I'd want these separate, actually, bc I wanna take in the individuality of their reactions, like,,, logan going feral?? pretty predictable tbh lmao but still hot. remy?? idek ngl, y'all gon' have to figure him out. BUT WADE BEING SERIOUS AND NOT AS TALKATIVE FOR ONCE UNTIL HE KNOWS YOU'RE SAFE???? OOOHOOHOOOOOOO, GIMMIE🖐🏽👹🖐🏽✊🏽👹✊🏽!!!

- ig this could be put in the panic/anxiety attack category, but I also feel like this might be it's own separate thing, so idk, but... separation anxiety on reader's part. whatever the circumstances may be to breed it, reader is just (not in a unhealthy way) attached to the POI(s), so them leaving for whatever reason is pretty hard on her (and the POI(s), too, because hello, they don't wanna make their reader upset, but things gotta get done fr yk😫🥲),,, lots of reassurance, comforting, and maybe distractions ensue??

- reader with an alter ego/inner beast, whether that be a result of her powers or a mental disorder (think like,,, split personality or maybe DID or something like that, but I do wanna say, if you're gonna go the mental route, make sure you do your research so that you're representing it - not only accurately - but you're not dehumanizing or dumbing it down as well) or just anything that would cause the reader to, as I said, have a different side of themself,,, werewolf type deal, yk? "normal" for the most part, but then has her moments where she be on demon time and then when she's back to herself, she's just like "???" while everyone else is like "!!!". I suppose this could then be followed up/solved with a "the sun's getting real low" typa thing/moment from the POI(s), but that's neither here nor there, do what feels right fr♡.

- reader (just barely) escapes cassandra nova??? that could be cool (a.k.a. very, very angsty bc surely the encounter has messed the reader alllll the way up both mentally and physically, especially knowing what typa timing cass be on lmao😃). love a good hurt/comfort, I can't get enough, actually. this one (given the movie context) may or may not work with wolvie and/or pool (again, up to the writer to get creative), but gambit?? he's been in the void his whole life, he knows cass, sooo it'd make more sense for him to have a higher understanding of the situation in full, but do what y'all want, I'm just the idea woman🤷🏽‍♀️.

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 :

- morning cuddles and softeness and ughghfhfhdjd♡!!���!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!! and then the opposite, night/bedtime cuddles and softness and uugjfjdkwkfke♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!!

- height difference teasings and shenanigans. we can always stick to the classics, ofc, short reader, tall wade, logan, and/or remy. maybe its an advantage in fights - fast, lethal, and small + big, shielding, and strong - but sucks in more domestic/calm cases like reaching for shit on the top shelf or wanting to kiss somebody. but I'd also love some tall gworl reader type shit, miss strong, lean, runway model energy, stepping on any heads and wooing any men that are in her path🥴😻. bending down with a smile so she can hear him, mindlessly playing with his hair, occasionally makes a quip here and there on the difference without thinking lol and he haaaaateeees all of it (but he looooveeeessss all of it🤭).

- reader being THAT GIRL, literally being in a 1v26 or sumn crazy like that and she's just kicking ass and shit the whole time, and then there's the POI(s),,, gawking and in love like "damn that's MY GIRL fr\😻/!!".

- *imagine a vine boom after every bolded word, okay, go* teen/minor/young PLATONIC NONSEXUAL NONROMANTIC (literally I can not stress this enough) NOT DATING AT ALL EVER reader and one/two/all of them. I think it'd just be silly seeing them (wade, logan, and or remy) working/paired with/having a bond with this little gremlin yet sweetheart of a reader who's somehow able to tolerate/put up with/ignore/maybe even indulge in their craziness lmfao. maybe just as or is even more crazy than they are, chaotic and desensitized type shit. you could even get ansgty with it, have this teen reader need saving or something like that, yk?

- sparring match and reader BEATS POI(s) in said spar cuz she's cool, awesome, and mega baller like that. lots of tension and goofiness, especially from the reader, cuz she knows damn well she's the shit. or, a different route!!... total dumb luck that she beat him/both/all of them, and is very obviously playing it off/acting like she won on purpose lmfao, cockiness ensuing.

- can't go wrong with a sick-fic lol. who doesn't wanna be taken care of?

- reader needs/wears glasses🤷🏽‍♀️. it can be the discovery of actually needing them, reader always squinting tryna read/see shit, or nearly getting herself in and out of danger bc again, she blind lmao. or it's just the case of reader never wears them out and about, but in calmer moments (where she doesn't run the risk of breaking them) she'll put them on, so she decides to bust 'em out one day and it's just the POI(s) being like ":O...😻😻!!".

- *olivia rodrigo voice* JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY, YEAA-aAAH😫😫‼️ ... reader who just,,, she don't play that shit, man, lmfao it's called you can prove yourself either friend or foe,,, stay tf away from my man or get your ass beat. pick one. and it's the POI(s) just absolutely flattered and amused with this energy from reader lmfao, reassurance ensuing quick after ofc. or, if you wanna get silly with it (and by silly, I mean violent♡), reader with a girl who can't take a hint😀 *eye twitch* so she finally makes shit clear one way or another (one way; does sumn with the POI(s) that makes the girl uncomfortable so she fucks off. another; reader pretty much beats that girl up and it's the POI(s) laughing but also trying to pry reader off of her cuz "stop it, I'm yours, I promise, you don't have to kill her, she didn't know any better😭!"). or just completely switch it up, vice versa, role-reversal POI(s) get jelly and it's reader having to deal with whatever may happen after/due to the fact lol.

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 :

- shameless flirt reader!!!! she's not obnoxious or out of character/proper timing with it, but definitely a reader with helllllaaaaa rizz. is mainly on some "is somebody gonna match my freak?" type shi. wade would find it very silly and he'd match the freak ofc. logan,,, maybe he'd start off annoyed by it, then get used to it, only realizing you've actually grown on him once you start to pull back a little/stop completely? REMY WOULD LOVE AND BE AMUSED BY IT, so all I'm gonna say here is this: rabbits🐇🥰. iykyk♡.

- a smoke sesh leading to some good, old fashioned high/sleepy sex🥰. that's it, that's the prompt♡.

- lord, free me from my sins🙏🏽, plz don't judge me y'all😔 ,,, age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

- that moment when reader is a whore and is actually literally prancing around without a care in the world, fucking three different guys (wade, logan, and remy obvs) because "they're hot lol" - not necessarily behind their backs - but no one's saying anything or telling her no, nor does anyone seem to have any issues with it/are opposed, sooo😗🤷🏽‍♀️.

- do y'all think,,, because wolverine is yk...wolf-like-ish-whatever.... do y'all think that he,,,, that maybe he goes thru... a rut🙂?? lmfaoGDHAKXKPQPRR okay that's enough, that's enough🥴✋🏽-.

- you know how some smut has certain labels/themes/tags that are gonna be, yk,,, in said smut?? well, cuz I'm out of any specific ideas for smut, I'm just gonna leave some here, m'kaaaay, and whatever y'all wanna dooooo is up to youuuu, just as long as I get to seeee😗☺️🫶🏽~...

⚠️ also don't say I didn't warn y'all, I mean, there's literally a whole ass trigger warning at the top, so do not start fckn trippin' because you disagree with me or saw sumn you don't fw, cuz tbh, I don't care and you can honestly block me if it's that serious♡.

dom-sub, daddy/praise/breeding/spanking kink, knife/gun/blood play (and/or just mutant/power ability play in general hehehe), food/wax play, cnc (I don't suggest full blown non-con seeing as none of them seem the type to do such, no matter the circumstances, plus it's just not my thing personally but hey, I'm not currently writing for pool, wolvie, or gambit rn, so that's up to whoever is🤷🏽‍♀️), hunter-prey (y'all might see this and immediately think wolvie, which is understandable fr, but I beg y'all to get creative and let remy and/or wade hunt reader down, it can be done and done right, I promise, plz, I need it, 😫PLEASE!!-), friends with benefits,,, OHHH ENEMIES with benefits🫢🫢!!, overstim, jealousy/possessive/yandere, unprotected/creampie/oral ... that's all that comes to mind lmao wow what a crazy note to end this on, anyways-

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yeah, so, do with all of this what you will (and plz spread this around, I genuinely do wanna see these get written and myself tagged like I am PINING for these fic ideas to be turned into reality😭🙏🏽), I just had to get my thoughts out before I forgot (at least in the fanfic department), because if someone were to ask me my thoughts on the movie itself !!!!! OMG I could run my mouth forever, but I don't wanna do that (lazy) so lmao for now, that's all lol byeeee~ /ᐠ-˕-マ!!

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How will your pregnancy go ? (18+)

Just reminder ... that ... I AINT THE ONE !

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

SONG : THAT GUY - Tyler the Creator

P H Y S I C A L

Chariot, 3 pentacles (reverse)

First thing, first Pile 1,you don’t understand the impact that your pile had on me. When you are going to be pregnant you are still going to achieve everything you set for yourself with great happiness. You are going to be so lucky pregnant, you have no idea. Everyone that will rub your stomach, if you allow it, will whisk a bit of luck their way. All this because you understood a very important soul lesson from the very beginning of the journey. Your breast is going to be so full, y’all may jump 2 cups bigger but Lord are they going to be extremely sensitive. Your nipples are always going to be hard. Y’all we suffer from extreme hunger (that’s what I call it) like if you don’t eat, you will actually lose your mind. The uber better not be late because you will blow up their phone with no shame. The craving are so weird and are not just in the privacy of your house, you will have the audacity to ask restaurants to fix their dishes to your weird liking. If a restaurant refuses to change, then you are leaving and throwing a fit in your car until the next food stop. You guys may develop asthma in your pregnancy or have frequent asthma attacks. When I make a list of everything that’s going to happen to you, you may look at your screen with a stank face. The reality is you are not going against your body. You know it is useless. You know there's a price to pay for everything and you are ready to pay the price necessary for your ultimate miracle. You don’t hate your body nor do you get mad at yourself for reacting. There's no such a thing as over-sensitivity or over-reacting, there's no such thing as too intense or moody or even too horny. Everything is good to create the greatest gift given to you. You don’t waste your time comparing, hating or sad, you prefer finding innovative ways to deal with your sensitive tits, your food cravings and bad breathing habits. Breaking any obstacles in our way, achieving so much and radiating love every step of the way. 

L I F E S T Y L E 

Devil (reverse), knight of wands 

You have an extremely cut-throat energy with people around you. You won’t mind blocking anyone that does not understand your boundaries. No warning, they fuck up, bye bye. People that didn't support you during pregnancy but are trying to find their way in when the baby is born … are going to hit a closed door. You don’t play this game. From day one, any older person trying to come in and tell you what's up better be ready to be disrespected because you don’t need people's opinion to weigh you down in the most vulnerable moment of your life. The midwife wants to get smart, not only is her access revoked but if you have time you may press charges ( as you should because there are too many mean nurses in this world). Your man is even scared of you as he should. He eats too loud, looks at you the wrong way or even eats something that makes you sick … the lethal tone is coming out. Your tone is so soft but your words actually annihilate. I heard : You: ‘’ Can you please chew even louder maybe then I will found my 14 reasons since you are my 13 one ?’’ all in a calm tone and a killer gaze. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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PILE 2

SONG : Tranquility - Jack Harlow

A completely reading was necessary for you guys. Don't worry, Chérie d'Amour is nothing bad.

Full of love reading

PILE 3

SONG: Hello,Hi - Little Smiz

P H Y S I C A L

8 swords, page of swords (reverse)  

You're going to find out you're pregnant with a sneaky link. You know damn well, they ain't ready for the commitment and so is you. So you are not mad. You are not even stressed when you are going to find out because you know you have options and it’s not really a baby until you choose it to be. You are going to announce it to them and they are going to have a panic attack and still be extremely polite and kind with you while telling you they can’t be a father.  Which you know … you just wanted to tell them. I have a vision of someone sitting in the dark and actually analysing what your life has become. Then suddenly a change of perspective which is weird because you never been nothing but pessimistic in you life. I hear the script of Alice in Wonderland: ‘’ They can always paint them red

What an odd thing to say’’. 

You are going to keep the baby. Is important to note that your finances are excellent, you have your degree, you have your own car, like you are set. The reality is you have been set. The only thing stopping you is yourself and you are going to realize that once again when you are starting to live your dream life. The only reason you are stuck in the same place is because you don’t want to leave. You are like a chain animal. Is not because you cut the chain that they will actually leave. I see you moving, changing jobs, everythings happening quickly and nothing is chaotic. Which makes sense since you have had the plan. You know what to do but you refuse to take the leap for yourself but you did for your child. You will meet somebody new that’s going to be your dream partner. The fact that you are pregnant is a blessing and not a burden. They are going to jump quickly in the father role. Y’all may not live together at first because you will have signed the lease before meeting them but I see an organized agenda regarding the baby. They will stay over for weeks to take care of the baby. The baby will forever know them as their dad. Y’all are going to have an amazing and active sex life. He’s going to put you to sleep. You guys will often fuck twice a day. 

L I F E S T Y L E 

8 pentacles, Hierophant

The reason for why you're having your dream life after a baby or while pregnant is because you are the one late. Life has been waiting for you to make a move. The perfect friend group, the perfect job, the perfect partner, they all came because you made the final decision and followed through with it. So all your blessings are going to fall upon your life at once. You have unlocked a door that’s been waiting for you. That’s why everything goes extremely smoothly. Also there's no self doubt coming from you since you are so focused on creating the perfect cocoon for your bundle of joy. Self doubt breaks the flow of blessings. All’s well that ends well ( tout est bien qui finit bien). 

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2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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[bvbygrl-writes]

Unmasked

Pairing: Astarion x Elf!Princess! Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After years of growing up feeling unattractive in her sisters' shadows, (Y/n) is made aware of how beautiful she actually is.

A/N: I didn't proof read this and I have not written in months so if it's a flop, it's a flop

Warnings: Astarion is a bit OOC here but shh lemme imagine

All her life, (Y/n) had been ashamed of her looks. Growing up in an elven kingdom, with six other sisters, it was obvious she never compared to them. At balls and galas, she watched from the sidelines as some of the most handsome men she had ever seen bowed before her sisters, whisking them away for a dance on the floor. Those rare times when she was afforded a chance with a suitor, it was almost always cut short by one of her sisters becoming free for another dance. It hurt her deeply, knowing she was the fallback choice every time.

When she was taken upon the mindflayer ship, although it was mostly a tragic thing to happen (given the parasite wriggling around in her mind) for the first time, she felt peace. She was away from the palace that had become like a jail overtime. There were no servants to overhear comparing her to her siblings, no balls she was forced to perform at. She could truly just be herself for the first time in a very long time.

In a situation as bad as the one they were currently in, things were almost perfect. She was a leader, using all the teachings her mother had bestowed on her to navigate situations to the best of her ability, managing to avoid fights when possible. She had companions, friends even by her side to fight when necessary. Friends who felt comfortable enough to discuss their problems, their stories, and their past. But there was always a sinking feeling of guilt she held in her stomach for one reason: Not a single one of them knew what she looked like.

Everywhere she went, (Y/n) always kept a stone mask on her face. Whether she was in battle, or preparing to end the night at camp she kept her mask on without fail. She’d eat her meals alone in her tent and only bathe once everyone had fallen asleep for the night. Her insecurities with her appearance ran so deep that she feared if anyone were to see her, they’d treat her differently. All they could see were her (e/c) eyes through the holes in the mask.

Tonight was a celebratory night. Everyone sat around the campfire, laughing and getting along. Whether it was the excellent meal Gale had prepared or the expensive wine they managed to steal from Cazador’s mansion after he was slain, spirits were high. Everyone was having a delightful time with each other. Everyone but her.

(Y/n) moved the fabric of her tent back a bit to see things more clearly, a smile hidden from the world behind the marble on her face. Her eyes were fixated on her heart’s desire, a certain undead elf who looked happier than she had seen him in ages. The crinkles by the side of his mouth as he laughed, clearly inebriated quite a bit, his defenses down. It was a rare sight to see. He looked radiant, beautiful even. She quickly pulled the ties on her tent, darkness surrounding her. 

It was stupid to even let herself dream, to let herself think she could ever be with him. He had been alive for centuries, bedded many people and with his newfound freedom, he was pleased to be with whoever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. She was lucky that he even chose to stay by her side for as long as he had, that she was the one he opened up to. After hearing of his past, the horrors he had been through, the scars on his body that would be a constant reminder of it, she found herself harbouring affection for him. It was a small thing that had grown to be more overtime. 

Many nights, when neither of them could sleep, the pair found themselves sitting up with one another, watching the sky till the sun rose. She’d observe him in awe, a silent worship as he’d stand shirtless, allowing himself to feel the sun on his skin, a luxury he hadn’t been afforded in at least a hundred years. Most of these nights were spent wordless and in many ways, they weren’t needed. They had an unspoken connection, one that she found herself always wishing to be more than what it was. Yet, she couldn’t get over that fear. The fear if she was to remove her mask, that he’d see her face and be repulsed. The thought alone was enough to keep her from trying to advance their friendship into something more. She was fortunate he’d even afford her that.

Turning away from the front of her tent, she pulled at the ribbons allowing the cool stone to fall in her lap. Her hands reached up, massaging the stiff muscles of her face, stretching open her sore jaw. Her shoulders drooped, finally being able to relax. Her stomach lurched, protesting at her loudly for the lack of food she had afforded herself until now. Reaching for her cutlery, she began to cut into the pork, letting out a moan of approval at the taste of it. The woman was more than glad she had splurged at the market for the more expensive ingredients for once. 

“You know, it’s quite bothersome that-” without thinking, her head whipped around to look at Astarion just in time to watch his crimson eyes grow wide in shock. His mouth hung open slightly, and that was the last she saw before turning around, ducking her face down into her lap. Hot tears sprung from her eyes. If she thought there was even a sliver of a chance before, there was no way in hell there was now. He had seen her face. It would be just like it was with the others back home.

“Get out! Go away now, please…” she pleaded desperately, scooting further into her tent. She heard the sound of the fabric swooshing closed but not a pair of footsteps along with it. Her bedroll made a crinkling sound with the added weight of another, a cold hand delicately placed on her shoulder. Through the cracks of her arm she could see her mask placed next to her on the right side of her body. “You’ve seen me, just go ahead and say it. Tell me how repulsive I am, that I’m unsightly.” she sniffled, sitting up with her hands covering her face.

The sound of laughter caused her to peek through her fingers, just in time to see Astarion wipe a faux tear from his face. “That truly can’t be the reason you’ve been hidden behind that mask all these months, right? You- you think you’re grotesque?” he laughed out, his eyes opening in time to see the woman drop her hands, tears in her eyes. His demeanor quickly changed to a more serious one. “Dear gods, you’re being serious, aren’t you?” Their eyes locked on one another for a moment before she quickly looked back at her lap.

“Back in my kingdom, I was the ugliest one of my six sisters. Their beauty was otherworldly, even for elves. I was constantly looked over for years of my life. They always tried to comfort me, to tell me my time would come, but it never did. I spent most of my life like a forgotten doll on a shelf.” she confessed, picking at the skin around her nail beds anxiously. 

“Well, I hate to say this, my dear, but you’ve been living a lie.” He spoke earnestly, gripping her chin to look up at him. His expression was soft, adoring even. A barely noticeable smile graced his face. “You are simply divine. It’s funny, even before seeing your face, I still found myself drawn to you. At first, I simply thought it was because there was something to gain here but after time, mainly those late nights we shared, I felt my motivations change. You set me free. Even though I was cruel and wicked to you, even when I pushed you away, you still risked your life to save mine.” his voice was raspy as he choked on his words, shifting his gaze away for a moment to collect himself. (Y/n) placed her hand over his own, squeezing it gently. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before pulling back. “The point I am trying to make here is that I cared for you already before you took that dreadful mask off, but now? Now I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay away. You should have rid of that thing ages ago. I…Iwant to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

(Y/n) smiled, her tears of sorrow now replaced with ones of a positive stream of overwhelming emotions. “I’d be honored. You have no idea how I’ve yearned for you to be mine, for me to be yours. We both have a lot of issues to work through but I know we can do so, together.” leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Astarion froze, the foreign soft touch catching him off guard. He hesitated for a moment before awkwardly wrapping his around her delicate frame.

“I hope you do know that I will be holding it over everyone’s head that I got to see you first! Even though it was an accident.”

“I expect nothing less from you.”

[maya-caffrey]

Human 101: Cooking

pairing: rk800 connor x reader

words: 2.1 k

warnings: language, self-deprecating humour, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov

summary: human 101 with (y/n) and Connor, a crash course on the basics of humanity, brought to you by sumo and a very sleep-deprived writer (comedy, fluff)

additional context: reader has a rampant crush on Connor, as established in Short Circuit, this could be treated as a sequel in spirit or just a standalone.

a/n: thanks for all the love for my previous fic, here's another one <3

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Unlike other deviants, Connor took his time to come to terms with his deviancy. Imagine you live your entire life (even if your whole life was barely a couple weeks) thinking your only purpose was to, say, hunt dogs. What would you do if you woke up one day to find you were the dog all along? This feels like a bad analogy. You get the point.

That kind of revelation would definitely come with its own baggage. I mean, I can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like. So even if Connor has finally made his peace with being a deviant, I have made it my life's mission to help him experience the highs and lows of being fully human. Call it Human 101.

Lesson one? Cooking. Sure "Love makes us human" Yeah okay but if you really think about it, it is cooking. Literally no other species cooks. Everyone fucks. Go figure.

"Cooking is fundamental," I told him, as we stood in my kitchen. "It’s like… the ultimate human bonding experience. Families, friends, lovers-" I stopped myself there, flustered, oops, but he didn’t seem to notice. "It’s about creating something from scratch, with your hands. Plus, we get to eat it after. Win-win."

"I should inform you that I already have access to an extensive database of recipes and culinary techniques. If required, I can prepare any dish with precise measurements and optimal timing. There is a less than one percent chance of error."

"Oh, no no," I laughed. "We can't follow recipes, God, no. Cooking is about spontaneity. About chaos. Screwing up is where the fun is."

His head tilted slightly, LED blinking yellow as though he were processing my statement. "You believe the experience is improved by the possibility of failure?"

"Absolutely!" I said, grabbing a whisk from the counter. "It's not just about the taste, you know? You need to spill flour everywhere, accidentally burn the sauce, or switch salt with sugar. That's the human way. You mess up, you laugh about it, and sometimes you end up making something even better than you planned."

Connor stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to reconcile my argument with his programming. "This is… counterintuitive. But intriguing."

"Exactly!" I said, pointing the whisk at him like I’d just solved world hunger. "Now, step one: forget the database. No looking up recipes. We’re winging it."

He blinked at me. "Winging it?"

"Yes. We’re going to use whatever’s in the fridge and figure it out as we go. Trust me, it’ll be great."

He looked at me like there was a loading screen inside his head. "Statistically, this approach has a higher likelihood of failure. That is... good?"

"Exactly." I grinned, tossing him an apron. "Let's get cooking, Wall-E."

Connor caught the apron mid-air, holding it up like it was a wet sock. "Is this truly necessary for the process?"

"Oh yeah, big time," I said, tying my own around my waist. "It’s part of the uniform. Cooking without an apron is like... running a mission without a plan."

That got a faint quirk of his lips. "I wasn’t aware cooking was so strategic."

"It’s not," I said, pulling open the fridge and gesturing dramatically. "It’s pure chaos. Okay, what do we have?"

Connor peered inside with the precision of someone scanning a battlefield. It may as well have been, honestly. "Tomatoes, cheese, leftover chicken, and... two peppers approximately three days past their optimal freshness." No, I am not embarrassed about how I ration. Okay fine, a little bit.

"Perfect. We’re making pizza."

He straightened slightly, tilting his head at me. "A pizza is typically constructed using dough as a base. There is no dough present."

"There will be if we make it from scratch. Flour, water, some yeast if I remembered to buy it... probably. Easy."

As I started rummaging through the pantry, Connor stayed rooted in place, watching me like he was making notes like I'd be quizzing him on pantry rummaging etiquette later. When I turned around, a bag of flour in hand, I caught him staring.

"What?"

"I was considering how often you engage in these… unpredictable approaches. It’s unconventional. Yet, it appears to bring you joy."

I paused, caught off-guard by how earnestly he’d said it. "Yeah, I guess it does. Life’s too short to stress about being perfect all the time, you know?"

Connor seemed to mull that over, but instead of replying, he reached for the bag of flour. "Allow me. The chances of you spilling that are statistically high."

"Oh, wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," I said, rolling my eyes.

He smiled then- an actual, honest-to-goodness smile that made my stomach do a weird little flip.

We started working on the dough together. Well, I started working on the dough, he was fighting demons. It was hilarious. It was like the dough owed him money.

"Dude, dude, relax. The dough isn't your enemy. You're not interrogating the dough. You need to be gentle with it. We like the dough. The dough is our friend."

"The same way Hank is our friend?"

"Hank is dough, yes."

"Well, Hank is not responding well to my kneading."

Wait. A joke? Was that a joke? Holy shit.

I blinked at him, eyebrows shooting up. “Did you just…?”

His lips twitched, though it was still subtle. “I’m capable of humor when required.” I nudged him lightly with my elbow, the warmth of the moment sinking in. He gave the dough another half-hearted punch, then added, “I don't understand why Dough Hank isn't cooperating.”

“Well, firstly, stop punching it like it owes you money. You have to be gentle. Dough requires finesse.”

He tilted his head, his LED spinning in thought. “Finesse,” he repeated, his hands hesitating awkwardly above the dough.

His struggling with the dough was honestly the most adorable thing I have ever seen. He was trying, he really was, but his confusion from the dough not reciprocating for all his efforts and him not being able to wrap his head around it made for a hilarious staring contest between Dough Hank and Connor. He held it up and stared at it closely, possibly with malicious intent.

Earth to (Y/n), I stepped closer until I was pressed lightly against his side. “Here, let me show you.” Sliding my hands over his, I guided his movements, pressing gently into the dough, folding and rolling it in a smooth rhythm. “See? You’re not fighting it. You’re working with it.”

Connor followed my lead, his hands relaxing under mine. His head dipped slightly, and when I glanced up, I realized he was watching me instead of the dough. I was hyperaware of the fact that I was so close to him and was very sure he could figure out just how nervous I was feeling.

“So, we negotiate with the dough,” he murmured, his voice quieter, almost teasing now.

“Exactly,” I said, laughing softly. “Negotiation is key. Be nice, and it’ll be nice back.”

I watched him start over with dough Hank, this time, more gently. Like he was getting the hang of it. "I think I’m starting to understand," he murmured.

I raised an eyebrow. “Understand what?”

"What being human is about," he said quietly, his voice almost contemplative. “It’s about embracing it. The mess, the failure, the laughter. The joy of not being perfect. I quite like the idea of not having to be perfect all the time."

In all honesty, I was not sure how to respond to that. He looked like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders like someone had just told him it was okay to breathe for the first time. And, for a moment, I almost didn’t want to ruin it.

His LED flickered a soft yellow, his eyes- those damn calm eyes- finally looking a little less... distant. It felt like I was staring at the kind of person you’d want to confide in, the kind who’d get it.

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. “You okay there, Connor?”

He glanced up, that soft smile still hanging on his lips. “I believe so,” he said, voice uncharacteristically light. “I think I’m finally making progress. With understanding humanity. And dough Hank.”

I snorted, quickly covering my mouth to hide the laugh. "Well, dough Hank was a tough nut to crack, but you did it, so good job."

He smiled, like he was proud of himself, and looked so damn cute. I shook myself out of my thoughts and grabbed the rolling pin, ready to get back to work. "Alright, now that we’ve figured out how to negotiate with dough, let’s make this pizza. We’re going all in."

Connor, still looking oddly content, glanced at the ingredients on the counter. "I assume we’ll be using the tomatoes, cheese, and chicken? I’ve been considering possible toppings. The peppers are not ideal."

"Connor, I have no regard for my safety and you don't have a digestive system. I think we'll be fine."

"Suit yourself, (Y/n)." Again. That damn lilt in his voice when he says my name. It's like he knows what it's doing to me. Asshole.

After about 20 minutes, Dough Hank had fully become Pizza Hank and it was finally time.

"Alright, Baymax. Moment of Truth."

"I must ask. What is with the various robot nicknames? Are they terms of endearment?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Noted. In that case, it only seems appropriate to assign you one in return... Sugar?"

"Oh wow, no. God, just, no."

"Sport?"

"Nope."

"Champ?"

"Worse!"

"I'm bad at this, aren't I?"

"Baby steps, C3PO."

I liked this. Banter, his company, this... the whole thing. Whatever it can be called. Watching him discover things I have known my entire life is such an enthralling experience. It's like that one revelation you have when you're like 7 or 8 when you realize that you are alive TM. Except this time, you're watching someone else have it. I don't know if any of this makes sense, but what I do know is that I don't want this to end any time soon.

"Wow, this is disgusting."

Pizza Hank was a pile of dog shit. It was like a troll and an ogre had a baby on my tongue. No self-respecting person would put that in their mouth a second time. My mouth hates me for this.

"I thought failure was welcome. Is it not?"

"Yeah, but this is straight-up nuclear, my guy. I wouldn't eat this if someone paid me money."

"Well, while I cannot taste food the way humans do, I am able to simulate the experience of tasting by analyzing the composition of the food. I could describe it to you if you would like."

"Really? What do you think?" he picked up a slice and confidently took a bite out of it.

"Yeah, this is awful."

I put my hands up in resignation. Cooking was a disaster. I am useless and do not deserve nice things. Pain is eternal and hell beckons.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, this is all my fault."

"Failure, as you pointed out, is part of the process. And it wasn’t a waste of time."

I groaned, dropping onto a stool and burying my face in my hands. "It’s not even edible. We can’t exactly bond over a pile of inedible sludge."

“I don’t think the goal here was actually to cook something edible, was it? From what I understand, it was about experiencing the act of cooking- and bonding with each other. By that measure, I believe we have succeeded.”

I was caught off guard. He thought we "successfully bonded". Please excuse me while I pass away.

"You really think so?"

He nodded while smiling at me reassuringly while putting the mangled remains of pizza Hank back on the plate. "Besides, per my observation, your shift in mood could be a result of hunger."

"Yeah, I haven't eaten anything all day, have I?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You wanna get good pizza and go to Real Hank's place?"

"I would love to. I have been meaning to see Sumo."

cut-scene from the car ride <3

"I just assumed the pizza would be edible. You know? I can call it optimism all I want but that's just a lack of planning."

"Is lack of planning an inherent human trait?"

"Oh, Yeah. Top of the list, actually."

a/n: now I liked Short Circuit more but here's part 2 <3 also yes I took the cooking makes us human bit from another popular tumblr post, i just thought it was hilarious

[not-magdi]

-let's bake some cookies! / lamine yamal

Warnings : None :)

Words: 906

Reading Time: 3min 37sec

A/N

Happy holidays everybody! ( I know it's a bit early but who cares), So this fic is a bit of an experiment, out of curiosity I asked ChatGPT to write me a christmasy fic, and at first I wasn't sure if I should post it but after some changes from myself, it was too cute not to.

I hope you enjoy it !

Love you guys Magdi <3

The apartment was warm and cosy, filled with the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background. Snow fell gently outside, blanketing the streets in a shimmering white coat. Inside, the glow from the small, slightly crooked Christmas tree lit up the room, but the real warmth came from the two figures cuddled up on the couch.

Y/N was wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, her head resting on Lamine’s chest as they shared a bowl of popcorn. His arm was draped around her shoulders, holding her close, and her feet were tucked beneath her to soak up as much warmth as possible.

“This is nice,” Y/N murmured, her voice soft as she traced small circles on the fabric of his hoodie.

“Yeah,” Lamine agreed, his hand absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I could stay like this all day.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “But… I have an idea.”

Lamine groaned playfully, already sensing her tone. “Uh oh. What now?”

“Let’s bake cookies!” she said, sitting up slightly and grinning.

“Cookies?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Like, from scratch?”

“Of course from scratch,” Y/N said, her enthusiasm growing. “It’s Christmas! We can’t just buy cookies; that’s boring.”

“I don’t know,” Lamine teased, leaning back against the couch. “Buying cookies sounds a lot easier.”

“Lamine!” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, don’t you want the apartment to smell all nice and festive?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, her smile widening.

With a dramatic sigh, Lamine pushed himself off the couch, extending a hand to help her up. “Alright, fine. Let’s bake cookies. But if we burn the place down, it’s on you.”

Y/N laughed, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. “Deal.”

They headed into the kitchen, where Y/N immediately took charge, pulling out ingredients from the cupboards and fridge. Lamine leaned against the counter, watching her with a fond smile as she moved around with excitement.

“Okay,” she said, placing everything on the counter. “Flour, sugar, eggs, butter… I think we’ve got everything.”

“Do we need, like, a recipe or something?” Lamine asked, eyeing the growing pile of ingredients.

“Nah,” Y/N said confidently. “I’ve got this.”

“You’ve got this?” he repeated, skeptical.

“Yes,” she insisted, grabbing an apron and tying it around her waist. “Trust me.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing a second apron and putting it on. “But don’t blame me if these turn out terrible.”

As they started mixing the ingredients, Lamine quickly realized that Y/N’s definition of “winging it” involved a lot of guessing. She measured the flour with a rough estimate and poured sugar into the bowl without bothering to level it out.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” he asked, pointing at the sugar.

“Trust the process,” she said, grinning.

He shook his head, laughing as he picked up the whisk to start mixing. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Not with that attitude,” Y/N said, playfully nudging him.

Their playful banter continued as they worked, with Lamine eventually taking over the task of cracking the eggs. He managed the first one fine but fumbled with the second, a small piece of shell falling into the bowl.

“Lamine!” Y/N exclaimed, laughing.

“Hey, it’s protein,” he said, fishing the shell out with a spoon.

They dissolved into laughter and continued to mix everything together, sneaking a few kisses in here and there. It wasn’t long before the kitchen turned into a complete mess, with flour and sugar dusting the counters—and each other.

At one point, Y/N turned to grab the vanilla extract, only to feel a light puff of flour hit her cheek. She froze, slowly turning to see Lamine holding a handful of flour, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You didn’t,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, I did,” he said, laughing as he threw another handful at her.

Y/N grabbed a fistful of flour from the counter and retaliated, hitting him square in the chest. What started as a simple baking session quickly devolved into a full-blown flour fight, their laughter echoing through the apartment.

By the time they called a truce, they were both covered in white powder, their faces and clothes unrecognizable.

“We’re a mess,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter to catch her breath.

“You look like a snowman,” Lamine teased, brushing flour off her nose.

“And you look like an avalanche victim,” she shot back, laughing.

Despite the chaos, they eventually got the cookies into the oven. Exhausted but happy, they flopped onto the couch while they waited, sharing a blanket as they sipped on hot chocolate.

“Next time,” Lamine said, leaning his head against hers, “we’re buying cookies.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Maybe. But this was fun.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his hand finding hers under the blanket. “It was.”

When the timer went off, they returned to the kitchen to find that the cookies were… less than perfect. Some were burnt, others were misshapen blobs, but neither of them cared.

“They’re unique,” Y/N said, picking up a particularly lumpy one.

“They’re awful,” Lamine said, taking a bite and grimacing.

They both laughed at their imperfect cookies somehow making the evening even better. It wasn’t about the end result—it was about the memories they’d made together, flour fights and all.

-------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome ! ❤️

[spiderfunkz]

✧.* FLOUR N COOKIES.

— summary : when baking cookies with natasha turns into a flour fight.

— word count : 0,6k

— warnings : fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, nat & reader live together, flour fights, pet names, nat being a tease.

a/n : it's october so the autumn-y fics r here !! also i am a firm believer that nat struggles to do basic cooking.

baking was something you've always loved to do, since ever. you loved the process of buying the ingredients, picking the flavours, toppings, decorations, everything.

you especially loved baking for other people. it's your way of showing that you love and care for them, a love language sort of.

and it's always been a tradition for you to bake fall cookies for your friends. today, you were baking them for clint.

it was the perfect time to bake. the weather was perfect, it was foggy but not too foggy since you could still see the reflection of sunlight. the music was playing in the background, and nothing could possibly ruin this you thought.

tying your apron, natasha walks in to help.

"you look good in that apron." she smirks.

you ignore the comment as you grab the eggs from the fridge. "stay focused, we need to finish these cookies."

"well, i'm more or so thinking that you should wear that apron more often." she teases. "these cookies are for clint. realistically, you should be taking the lead." you reply.

"i've never baked before."

"ever? in your entire life? not even once?"

"i'm pretty sure that's what the word never means." — "do you at least know how to crack open an egg?"

you were met with silence. is she serious?

"just crack these eggs to that bowl, please." you point. "like this?" she asks.

you stare at her in disbelief. she seems confused, possibly wondering what she did wrong.

"you know, maybe, without, the eggshells."

she looks down at the bowl, "i think we should leave it. crunchy cookies, you know? it adds more protein, so it's healthy." she awkwardly smiles.

"whatever, i'll just pick the eggshells out." you carefully grab the slippery shells.

"soooo.. what's next?" she wipes the egg residue on her pants. "i'll whisk the wet ingredients, you can help me by grabbing the flour and baking soda."

natasha nods, as she grabs the ingredients you asked for from the cabinets above. "you know i've always wanted to do this with someone." she says, toying with the bag of flour.

"yeah well, this feels more like a me effort instead of a team effort." you state. "there's no me in team." natasha replies.

"yes there is. there's an 'e' and an 'm'." you stated.

"you're so smart, detka. keep blabbering. see what happens."

was that a threat? you look up from the bowl to see her grab a handful of flour. "put that down. don't get closer." you commanded.

"or what?" — "or the cookies won't get done, and clint will have over-floured cookies."

natasha shuffles forward.

"nat. i swear. i just cleaned the floor this morning."

"i'm not even moving."

"i can see you shuffling towards me."

"i'm standing very still. actually, here, catch!" she throws the flour to you. your clean apron was now covered in flour.

"oh you are so gonna regret that, natasha."

you swiftly grab a handful of flour from the bag, throwing it right on her black top.

natasha gasps, before throwing another handful to your direction.

this went on for a good minute before natasha finally stopped it by grabbing the bag from you.

"okay, okay! time out. i've got to take a picture of you, you look like a ghost!"

"really? because you should really look in the mirror, natasha. i can barely make out the red in your hair right now."

she glances at the reflection of the fridge. "that's. rude."

"who looks like a ghost now?"

"you still do. if i poured the mixture on you with chocolate chips and put you in the oven, would you become a cookie?" she jokes.

"don't you dare mess with the mixture."

"don't worry, love. i'd still love you if you were a cookie." natasha smiles.

[chiveraccs]

Whisky: Talisker 11 Special Release 2022

Este es uno de esos whiskies que siempre he querido probar, pero viviendo en Venezuela lo veía muy difícil. Sin embargo, hace poco tuve la oportunidad de organizar una cata de whiskies ahumados y apareció la posibilidad de incluirlo. Este Talisker pertenece a una edición especial que hace Diageo para muchas de sus destilerías anualmente. Algunas tienen la oportunidad de hacer productos para…

[therangersrespite]

I am so excited for this whiskey, two of my favorite things in whiskey; peat and rye!

[rabbitcruiser]

International Whisk(e)y Day

Whiskey has a long and venerable history as one of the most recognizable forms of distilled spirits in the world.

The name for Whisk(e)y comes from the Gaelic language, where it was referred to as Uisce na Beatha, which means ‘The Water of Life’. It wasn’t long before the name was shortened to Uisce (Merely “Water”) and then the pronunciation slowly changed over time from Ish-Key, to Whiskey. And that pronunciation has remained ever since.

Now, it’s time to enjoy, share, and celebrate this day that is all about Whiskey!

History of International Whisk(e)y Day

The history of International Whiskey day is intrinsically tied to the history of the beverage, so that seems like a good place to begin. Whiskey is the result of a distillation process, a chemical/alchemical process known as far back in history as Babylon. While no one quite knows if they created a beverage quite as wonderful as modern-day whiskey, historians have confirmed that the process was available to them.

All whiskey starts with a ‘mash’, which is a mixture of grain and water that is slowly heated in order to break down the starch into sugars. The kind of grain that the maker uses will determine what kind of whiskey comes out as the end result. The result of this process is then known as wort and is just the beginning of this amazing drink’s life journey.

Aging in a barrel is usually part of the process as well. But the amount of time spent in the aging process is certainly worth it!

Here’s a quick rundown on the different types of grains that result in all of these unique types of whiskey beverages:

Bourbon starts from a mash that is 51% or more corn base, though it becomes a Corn Whiskey once it reaches 81%.

Malt whiskey is made from 51% malted barley.

Rye is 51% plain rye.

Wheat Whiskey, as one might suspect, is made from Wheat.

So where did International Whiskey Day come from? Well, it was first announced in 2008, and subsequently celebrated in 2009 at the Whiskey Festival in the Northern Netherlands.

This was all done in honor of a whiskey (and beer) connoisseur and writer, Michael Jackson. (No, not the King of Pop.) He was a man who was well known for his writings on Whiskey and who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. His whiskey-loving friends wanted to not only celebrate his love for whiskey but also help find a cure for this difficult disease. Since Michael’s birthday was March 27, the date is a nod to him.

So, the purpose of Whiskey Day isn’t just the raising of awareness of whiskey and its charms, although that is certainly a great reason. The purpose is also to spread awareness for Parkinson’s, a disease that whiskey aficionado, Michael Jackon, suffered from in his later years.

How to Celebrate International Whisk(e)y Day

The most obvious and practical way to celebrate this holiday is to either imbibe a favorite variety of Whiskey or to try a new one! Check out these ideas for celebrating Whisk(e)y Day:

Try a New Kind of Whiskey

Even better, get together with friends and introduce each other to your favorites, and maybe check out a few new vintages or styles. Look into these, for example:

Irish Whiskey. Smooth, made from a mash of malt, caramel-colored, and must be distilled for at least 3 years in a wooden cask.

Scotch Whisky (also called ‘Scotch’). Made with either malt or grain, must age in an oak barrel for 3 years.

Canadian Whisky. Light and smooth with a high amount of corn, must be aged in a barrel for 3 years.

Bourbon Whiskey. Made from at least 51% corn, aged in a new oak barrel, and must be 80 proof or higher. (Tennessee Whiskey is a sub-type of bourbon with special filtering step.)

Japanese Whisky. Methods and taste are similar to Scotch, often used with mixed drinks.

Learn How to Spell Whisk(e)y

It seems strange, but there are actually two correct ways to spell this word, depending on the context. Originally, Irish Whiskey included the ‘e’ and Scottish Whisky did not. Ultimately that carried out so that Americans adopted the ‘e’ version for their whiskey, but Canadians and Japanese Whisky makers did not! Thus, the correct, inclusive spelling is: International Whisk(e)y Day!

Grab a Whiskey at a Pub or Bar

Many different bars and pubs have gotten on board with celebrating Whisk(e)y Day. They’ll often provide drink specials, food specials, and possibly even opportunities to win door prizes–such as a special bottle of whiskey. So grab a friend and head over to the pub for a drink of whiskey (or beer will do just as well)!

Introduce Whisk(e)y to a Newbie

What could be more fun than opening up the world (and a bottle) to someone who has never tried whiskey before? Although it might be hard to imagine, many people are out there who are new to whiskey and have no idea how to enjoy it. Grab one of them, open a bottle, and reveal to them the myriad of reasons why Whisk(e)y Day is absolutely worth celebrating!

Donate to a Parkinson’s Disease Charity

Don’t forget to make a donation to your favorite Parkinson’s charity while you’re at it! Team Fox, the charity created by actor Michael J. Fox, who lives with early-onset Parkinson’s Disease, often teams up with various Whiskey Day folks to build momentum for celebrating the day and raising funds for the charity.

While you’re at it, be sure that everyone gets home safely. The best way to celebrate International Whiskey Day is drinking responsibly, and making sure everyone can talk about it again tomorrow!

Source

[presleyslilbaby]

~Sweet Sugar~

(60’s!Elvis X Reader)

Elvis and the Reader bake together.

“Baby, if you put the flour in like that, s’ gon’ get everywhere.” Elvis chuckled, shaking his head as he steadies the more delicate, more petite hands of Y/n, allowing her to slowly pour the flour into the bowl without making a mess. "Mm, I know what I'm doing!" She giggled, leaning her head back against his chest, feeling his large and calloused hands sliding down to her hips, rubbing reverently. "You do? Looks to me like you're jus' guessin'." He teases, leaning his head down to press a soft kiss to the skin of her neck, closing his eyes as he soaked in all of her in his arms. "My li'l beauty..." Elvis whispers. Smiling from his words, Y/n checked the recipe before reaching for the sugar- Or what she thought was the sugar. "One cup of sugar," She says, taking her measuring cup and filling it up, multitasking with adding some other ingredients, albeit a little messily. "Do you think it'll taste good?" She wondered, whisking all of the ingredients together. "'M sure it will, Sweetie...What makes you doubt yourself?" Elvis had responded, sounding so relaxed and rather tired. "Well...I'm not doubting myself. I just want this cake to be good for you, you know?" "I know, Y/n. But you're a little perfectionist that worries her pretty li'l head off over the smallest things. I'll love it regardless, because I love you, and you made it." Hearing such beautiful and heartfelt words coming from her Boyfriend's lips, Y/n feels comforted, knowing that regardless of what the cake turned out to look like, or even taste like, he'll love it anyways because she herself made it with love. As cheesy as it was, it was just the way they were.

__________

The bell on the oven rang insistently through the kitchen, bringing in the attention of persons nearby. Excited, Y/n jumps up and rushes into the kitchen, swiftly pulling on her oven mitts and opening the oven. Elvis watched on with a smile, following along in a casual stride. "It rise properly?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side. "Yep!" She responds, setting the tin gently on the stovetop, turning off the oven after removing her mitts. "Do you think I can take just the tiniest piece and give it to you to try?" Y/n batted her eyelashes up at him, wearing a sweet smile on those lips he sure liked to kiss often. "Mmm. Well, Darlin', it's your cake. Jus' be careful, yeah? It's still very hot." "I know." Heading Elvis's advice, she was careful to take off a small chunk of cake with a knife, cooling off the spongey delicacy with her breath for a few moments before turning back to him. "Okay, ready?" She asks. He smiles down at her, taking the decently cooled cake-piece in-between his slender index finger and thumb, examining it for a second. "Ready." He echoes, putting the cake in his mouth. Elvis chewed for only a few seconds before he suddenly gave pause, his body instinctively turning in the direction of the trash bin. "Elvis...?" Y/n softly murmured his name, unsure if he liked it or not. He walked over to the bin, spitting out the piece of cake, wiping his mouth. "That's...That's a LOT of salt, Honey..." He critiques gently, not necessarily wishing to hurt her feelings. "Baby, did you put any sugar in the batter?" She thinks for a moment, her expression falling as did her shoulders when she realised- "I mistook the salt for sugar..." She whispers in shame. Elvis immediately drew her in his long, loving arms, rubbing her shoulders, down her back, and around to her sides, all done out of comfort and love. "Baby, Baby...Hey...None o' that shameful stuff, y'hear? We all make mistakes." He soothes, tipping her chin up with the side of his finger. "Pretty Girl, don't frown...I'll find the sugar, and we'll start again." Y/n peered up at him with her sweet e/c eyes, ones that he found so beautiful and that he could get lost in. "You will...?" She queried, observing the way he nodded. "Mhm. Of course. It's right here." "Where?" "Here!" Elvis picked her up and spun her around, hearing her gleeful bouts of laughter, setting her back down and pressing his plump lips against her own, drawing her in a kiss. Pulling away just barely, he whispered to her, foreheads resting against each other's. "My li'l sugar-cube."

~

Hello! This is my introduction per se to the Elvis fandom on Tumblr. I've been into Elvis for quite a while, but I was just a little too shy to put myself and my ideas out there on the internet. I'm really inspired by the talented writers I've seen here, and I hope that I make at least someone smile with my work!

[laurfilijames]

Breathe

Part 4

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Nightmare and anxiety attack. Unprotected intercourse. It's very, very sweaty 💦💦💦

Summary: You stay for an eventful night with Will, helping him through an anxiety attack brought on by a nightmare, all while learning more about each other and taking advantage of his amplified energy and restlessness.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

---

The room was completely dark aside from the faint glow of silvery moonlight shining in through the blinds, allowing you to see some of the things that occupied it, although your sleepy gaze was focused on Will.

It was unclear what had woken you up; the feel of a heavy body cast across yours that you weren't used to, the foreign sounds of a different house creaking as it settled into the subtly cooler temperature of the night, or simply every part of you rousing to tell you it needed more of him.

You were sure you wouldn't have fallen asleep if your body wasn't so exhausted, your mind buzzing from everything that had happened in the span of a few hours and what was meant to be a typical night at the gym, and although you knew you needed more sleep, there was no way it would come back to you now.

Feeling half-tempted to reach for Will's arm to check the time on his black watch still secured around his wrist, you decided against it, not wanting to wake him when he seemed so peaceful on top of you. To be honest, you would vow to never sleep again if it meant for nights like this, and you prayed there would be plenty of opportunities with him so that you wouldn't feel the need to stay awake in order to make the most of what time you were sure you did have.

You tried not to think of all the 'what if's' and questions about what this was or what it could be, but part of your mind couldn't help but remind you of the reality that Will likely wasn't ready to jump into another relationship any time soon, making you wonder what his earlier confessions of going all-in included.

Were you even ready to consider any form of relationship if that was what it turned into? Knowing Will came with some emotional baggage, could you put your heart at risk of being whisked away so easily while hanging on in anticipation of it being broken?

Will stirred slightly, his muscles twitching as he dreamt, his brow knitted tightly together while his breaths grew shallower and quicker.

Yes, you told yourself, smoothing your hands across his broad back, hoping to grant him some relief from whatever was going through his afflicted mind.

Terrified as you were to let yourself become so vulnerable, you also felt a sense of excitement at what was to come, your heart, body and mind all tingling in tandem that maybe you and Will would trust each other enough to explore everything possible together.

Your fingers idly traced patterns over his shoulder and at the nape of his neck, catching in his golden hair as you did your best to calm your own breathing, letting your eyes close in the process.

Somehow in the midst of your racing thoughts, you managed to succumb to sleep again, your body winning the war in prioritizing the exquisite comfort of Will's warmth and embrace over your restless psyche.

Will slowly blinked into awareness, differing from all the times he startled awake from a nightmare or the sensation of his sweat soaking his bedding until it became too uncomfortable to tolerate, a sigh of relief passing his lips the second he registered the cause for his rare, restful sleep. A weak smile formed on his lips, seeing you sleeping beneath him, your chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm at his sightline as he lifted his head up off your stomach.

He grunted quietly as he shifted, worried he would no doubt have made your legs fall asleep from the weight of his body trapping them for so long, the sticky mess left behind from earlier clinging to his lower abs and tangling in his pubes while the same coated all between your legs.

Christ, he needed to shower.

His skin was tacky, the sheets below you that remained undisturbed too hot to be under, the humidity from outside creeping into the house even though the temperature had dropped since the sun had disappeared. His workout alone had warranted a shower, and now with two rounds of intense sex on top of it, he was hardly able to handle the smell of himself. Had you been awake, he would've suggested taking a cool one together, but seeing as you were still sound asleep he moved to lay beside you, resting on his side so his front was facing you and helped guide you onto your own side where your bum nestled comfortably against his cock.

Will wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you closer to him, a lazy smile dressing his lips when you reciprocated by holding onto it with your hands. He buried his face in your neck; Fuck, do you ever smell good, he thought, no longer wanting to shower with you in fear your scent would be replaced by whatever body wash he had on the shelf.

A quiet hum passed your lips as you settled against him even more, warranting a kiss on your neck, and then another, and as he covered even more of your body with his, nudging your legs apart for one of his thighs to nestle between, he thought how a shower could never trump this.

The sound of a door closing somewhere in the house startled you awake, unused to hearing it and always fearing you would since you lived alone, but quickly found calm again in feeling Will's body still draped over yours, only on your back this time, making you smile at having found such a comfortable position in your sleep.

Your mouth felt dry, and you tallied how little water you had actually drank that day, remembering you hadn't had any after your workout on account of the distraction sleeping on top of you.

Able to see the time on Will's watch, you decided it best you get up to get a drink, fearing you would lay there thinking about how thirsty you were for hours since dawn was still a few away.

Will only stirred slightly after you slipped carefully out of his hold, leaving him sprawled out on top of the covers, taking a moment to admire how even in his sleep his limbs and especially his ass were still perfectly shaped.

With one glance around the room you remembered your gym clothes had been left discarded somewhere in the front of the house, and you weren't about to trot naked through the Miller's residence with Benny home.

As quietly as possible, you pulled open the top drawer of the wood dresser against the wall, finding it full of precisely folded t-shirts just as you hoped you would. You slipped one over your head, inhaling the smell of his detergent that somehow smelt fresher than yours ever did, now in need to find something to cover your lower half.

The next drawer over kept his boxers - again, with each piece neatly stacked - and you chose one of many navy blue pairs to slip your legs into.

Checking again to make sure Will was still asleep, you opened the door and walked down the hallway, following the sound of the tv coming from the living room.

It didn't surprise you that Benny had sharp hearing, having immediately looked over as you approached, watching his face change from confusion to amusement.

"Hello," he drawled, trailing out the word longer than it needed to be before taking a sip of the beer he held in his hand.

You gave a slightly awkward wave, suddenly feeling coy, before opening your mouth to back up your reason for walking around in his brother's underwear.

"I just need a drink," you explained.

"Help yourself," he permitted, glancing back at the MMA fight on the tv. You skirted around the couch, moving into the kitchen that had a partial wall separating the two rooms, allowing you to still have a view of where Benny sat as well as the tv.

His arm rested casually over the back of the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen as you opened a few cupboards in search of a glass.

"Far right," he advised, knowing you were struggling in your task without needing to look.

"Thanks."

Filling up the glass and downing it quickly, you glanced around, taking in the slightly outdated, but well-kept and tidy kitchen, beginning to feel guilty that you had made a mess of the entryway by leaving your sweaty, sex-stained clothes strewn about.

After refilling it, you started walking back through, taking another sip as you passed by behind the couch.

"Looks like you two had fun," Benny quipped, disguising his grin with his beer as you nearly choked and spit out your water. "Where's Will?" he asked, saving you from having to respond to his friendly jab.

"Sleeping," you answered, pausing in getting back to his room.

"Really?" he glanced over his shoulder at you, quizzically.

You nod and give a slight shrug, unsure why he seemed so shocked.

"You must've really done a number on him," he said slyly, his eyebrows raising on his head and his blue eyes strikingly similar to his brother's with how they held a playful glint in them, his grin nearly glowing in the light from the tv.

"Why do you say that?"

"Will doesn't sleep all that much."

Benny was so matter-of-fact in his statement, making you pause even longer than you intended to. He held your gaze, one side of his mouth turning upward in a smile that you thought might be in thanks before he turned back to the fight and put the can back up to his lips.

You forced your feet to move, hesitating for a moment again when you heard Benny's loose voice sound out again.

"Get some sleep."

His comment held some implication, and you matched his chuckle, continuing on your way and stooping to pick up both yours and Will's mess of sweaty gym clothes as you went, feeling your heart beating a little faster in hopes you would find Will still sound asleep.

You smiled when you opened the door to see him in the exact position as when you had left, flat out on his stomach with one leg hooked up, the moon highlighting the perfect curve of his ass and capturing the soft fuzz covering it, turning the tousled hair on his head silvery. Without sound, you carefully folded and placed your clothes on top of the dresser, gathering from how well the rest of the house was kept that he would appreciate the gesture, and slowly slipped back on top of the covers beside him.

Without missing a beat, Will draped his arm over your waist and pulled you into him, his leg falling heavily on yours to keep you there, his torso once again covering your back like a shield. The steadiness of his breathing helped settle you back to the same level of comfort you had experienced prior to getting up, making you close your eyes with the hope morning didn't come too soon.

He knew it would happen despite how much he prayed it wouldn't; the feverish temperature of his crawling skin making him jar awake, his breathing sharp and laboured as he struggled to get air into his lungs quickly enough, the sheets sticking to him uncomfortably. Will bolted upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed where he hung his head between his legs, running a hand over his forehead to collect the unbelievable amount of sweat that made it seem like someone had dumped water over him and flicked it down onto the floor.

He didn't flinch when he felt the mattress dip and your hand rest on his shoulder that managed to be burning hot and freezing cold all at once, sighing a shaky exhale in frustration that he'd woken you up and you were seeing him like this.

"I'm okay," he grumbled, clenching his teeth to try to feign away the flourishing panic attack; its persistence as steady as ever.

His hands gripped the edge of the bed so hard his arms shook, his inhales quickly turning into wheezes as he lost the battle against calming them, the sweet sound of your voice gently urging him to breathe like a distant echo in his ringing ears.

Even with his eyes open he couldn't focus on any single thing; the floor beneath his feet blurry, the visions of what had woken him up in the first place swirling about like the begrudging nightmare they always were.

"Will, look at me," you spoke, your words firm and coming in a little more clearly to him. You cupped his face and forced his head toward you, moving to kneel beside him, the sight of you in one of his t-shirts and pair of boxers confusing him and helping to bring him out of his head for a second.

"Breathe," you requested, exaggerating your own inhale with your lips puckered slightly, his eyes drawn to your chest that rose as it inflated. You exhaled slowly, and like he was participating in a fucking lamaze or yoga class, he mimicked you, the pain in his chest deminishing with each series of breaths.

He had never come down from a nightmare followed by a panic attack so quickly before, amazed at your ability to help without hesitation, his eyes finally able to focus on your face and the look of concern and understanding it held. Grabbing under your thighs, Will pulled you onto his lap, looking up at you wearily, but appreciatively.

"Thank you," he whispered, resting his nose against your collarbone through his shirt.

“Of course,” you assured, wrapping your arms around him once you knew it was okay to, feeling his tensed muscles flex as they attempted to relax the strain held in them.

In all the years Will had suffered these panic attacks and nightmares, no one but Benny or one of the guys ever comforted him as easily as this. His lips moved against the cotton covering your skin as he recalled all the times his ex would leave the bed in a huff and go sleep on the couch, upset with him for disrupting her sleep for yet another night, resulting in a blow up in the morning that he eventually couldn't see the value in taking the energy to fix.

The steadiness of your hands rubbing all along his slippery back held just the right amount of pressure to help him focus on that rather than the grief in his head, your respect in not asking if he was okay or what had triggered it making him feel inclined to share it with you anyway. The stark difference in how you didn't shy away or grimace as you carefully touched your lips to his sweat coated forehead compared to how his ex would immediately tear the drenched sheets off the bed was enough to make his heart warm and swell rather than increase its pounding speed that racked the top of his rib cage; her reaction causing his anxiety to climb rapidly as if he had any control over how his body responded to the terrors his mind provided while he slept.

Even if this was the one and only time he had you to see him through a nightmare, Will knew he would hold onto this comforting feeling as long as he could to help him through the ones that would inevitably come in the future.

He sighed deeply, his breath coming out hot against your chest as he held his face directly on it, inhaling the scent of your skin more so than his laundry detergent when he drew in another long, slow breath, the sound of your heartbeat now louder to him than his own. Rubbing his nose back and forth a couple of times before lifting his head from the asylum of your body, he looked up at you and smiled easily, seeing the worry on your face disappear.

"When did you put this on?" he asked, his fingers plucking the excess material of his shirt from the center of your chest.

You smiled back, a sense of relief in your voice. "I got up to get water a little while ago."

Will looked over at his nightstand, seeing a half-full glass sitting on a folded tissue, making him aware of how dry his mouth felt.

You leaned over and grabbed it, holding it between you for him to take where he downed it quickly, and lost in awe of him, you reached out and let your fingers trail down his neck where his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Do you need more?" you asked, allowing your hand to rest on his chest.

"I'm okay," he said simply, extending his long arm to place the empty glass back on the table. He looked at you seriously, his blue eyes full of emotion, making you wonder just how much hurt lay beneath them, his gaze falling to your lips as his head tilted to the side. "What I do need is you."

He swallowed your small gasp of surprise when his mouth slotted with yours, his tongue delving into your mouth in a gentle, but confident demand. You arched into him as his hands carded up your back and beneath his shirt, the heat from his palms radiating onto your tacky skin, the sensation making you deepen the kiss and roll your hips on his bare lap. Growing quickly from your touch, his cock pressed up against your core, allowing the thin material of his boxers separating you to rub against your refreshed wetness.

You moaned into him, losing yourself in that craveable sensation, your hands moving more desperately on each other at the same time breathing became an afterthought.

Will whisked his shirt off of you, capturing your lips again to resume where he had left off, his beard feeling scratchier now on your chin that was already raw from too many aggressive passes of it. You couldn't care less, hoping he would burn the skin right off of you and steal your last breath if it meant him continuing on like this, his eagerness to taste you like a drug you would let consume you.

You reluctantly removed yourself from his lap, needing to feel his wanting flesh against yours, hurriedly peeling his boxers down your legs while maintaining the movement of your lips on each other. Strong hands gripped around your legs and guided you back onto him, your cry breaking the seal of your kiss as he seated you down on his length.

Will's chest rumbled beneath your palms as he growled in restraint before beginning to move his hips upward into you, feeling the strong muscles in his quads strain under your bum as he used them to power his thrusts. One of his arms supported him on the mattress while the other wrapped securely around your back, keeping you as close to him as possible and aiding in forcing you down onto him so your clit rubbed on his golden pubes.

Everything had you building up so quickly; the feel of his lips on your neck, his hand gripping you tightly, his cock berating your pussy that took him like it had already committed every inch of him to muscle memory, your body submitting to his every touch that made you almost feel weak for not being able to hold out longer before you were clenching around him.

"Will…" you whined, attempting to steady and slow yourself by bouncing up and down off of him instead of grinding, only to result in him bucking up into you harder to coax out what you tried to delay.

"That's it, come for me," he panted, putting out even more energy into ending you.

The way his voice spoke those words made you stop all efforts in preventing yourself from coming, finally giving in and letting your body sit heavily on his, riding him hard until that blinding, white heat barrelled through you and took control over every nerve in your body and your orgasm racked through you like electricity.

"Fuck, don't stop," he shouted, the roughness of his tone and the way he clawed at your back with his hand and nipped at your neck and shoulder signalling he was close to filling you up again. You didn't dare disobey him, desperate to feel him spill inside your walls, exhausting all your efforts to prevail in riding him until he told you you could stop.

"Keep going, baby - Fuck!" His growling demand and increase in pace threw you into a second climax, the feel of his cum slipping out of your tingling pussy and lubricating your swollen clit making you scream through it as he remained unrelenting in his fucking of you.

Still pulsing inside you, Will grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you to his mouth, roughly claiming yours and stealing your air before you were able to take another panting breath.

Your rocking movements eventually slowed to nothing despite your kisses increasing in fervor, instead squeezing him in a torturous rhythm that had him tug at your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away.

"We need to shower," he stated, his eyebrows rising on his forehead as he looked up at you.

You giggled softly, "Hmm, yeah I think so," your hands slipping over his skin that was coated in another layer of sweat on top of all the other ones that had barely dried.

Staying inside you, Will wrapped his arms around your body and stood, holding onto you securely as he moved through the room, your head resting on his shoulder with your arms locked around his neck and legs snaked around his torso like a vice.

As you entered the bathroom, you could feel him begin to slip from you, and noticing the same, Will shifted and pushed you closer to his body to try to keep himself locked inside.

Reaching in the shower to flick on the taps, he wasted no time in stepping in, not bothering to wait for warm water to make its way out of the showerhead, using his body as a barrier as he placed himself between you and the water.

It came as a shock when you didn't hear a sizzling sound when the cool water hit his back that was still aflame, the blatant relief he felt from it coming out in a long sigh as he let his head tip back into the stream.

Realizing he was out of you now, you let your toes hit the floor of the shower, barely trusting yourself to stand on your shaky legs, admiring the relaxed expression on the face of the worn man in front of you.

Feeling his cum seep out of you and down your thigh and not caring to do anything about it, you reached for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge and squeezed some out in your palm, rubbing your hands together before lifting them up to lather it into his blond hair that was now darkened by the water and laying flat against his head.

After a few minutes of indulging in your nails running back and forth across his scalp, Will did the same for you, his blue eyes alight and vibrant again as he watched your skin react in a fury of goosebumps while suds rolled down your body.

Even though he was working on treating you, you couldn't stop touching him, roaming all across his porcelain skin languidly, your hands on him making him feel as if he hadn't had enough already, his veins still coursing with a lingering adrenaline that only seemed to grow the more your bodies contacted.

When he was finished washing your hair, he stepped behind you, pressing his body up against your backside to urge you forward into the water so your face came out on the other side of the stream and your hair was in direct line with it. His fingers carefully ran through your tresses to rinse the shampoo out, watching intently to your body's response to his caressess, your head leaning into his hands heavily as you tipped it to the side, letting the water fall onto your neck and shoulder where his gaze followed the rivers down your breasts.

Unable to resist, he attached his lips to the column of your neck, licking and sucking at your skin that still held a remnant of salt, his hands sliding down your sides to distribute the soap all over your body.

Peeling his hands off of you before he wouldn't be able to, Will grabbed the body wash and dispensed some in his hand, roughly lathering it all over his front and around his cock before pressing up against your back once more. He groped at you again, sliding his body up and down against yours, the way the soap made your ass slick making it difficult for him to keep a leisurely, controlled pace and not simply ram into you and start fucking you mercilessly. He was hard again instantly, his dick too easy to fall between your cheeks and threaten to slip into one of your holes, his freshly settled heart rate increasing rapidly and sending blood pulsing to his head that rubbed all along your soapy flesh.

Will growled against your shoulder, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses over to your neck, his hands alternating between squeezing at your hips and ass and up to your tits, pinching your nipples to make you moan and arch back into him. He felt wild, unable to focus less now than he had through his panic attack, his only mission to see how much your screams would echo in the noise of the shower.

Fueled by that thought and the way you ground your ass against his aching cock, he let his hand travel down between your legs, driving his index finger as far as it could inside you before adding his middle finger too, pumping them in and out only a couple of times until you were writhing against him, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulder. He knew you would be over-stimulated, your tight pussy already having taken a beating three times from him now, but the Captain in him was set on testing your limits. His fingers moved from between your folds up to your clit, harshly pressing on it as he stroked the swollen bud with brisk motions, causing you to shudder involuntarily and him to chuckle beside your ear.

"You gonna be okay, baby?" he asked, the tone of his voice betraying the genuinity of care in his question.

Your quick nod and the way you ground down onto his hand gave him all the permission needed to continue, and putting use to all the buzzing energy still going through his system, Will removed his hand from you and spread your cheeks apart, slamming into you in one brutal go. Adrenaline fed his pace, his thrusts quick and purposeful as he dragged his length in and out of your tight walls so forcefully he knew he would be making you sore, your wails of unhinged pleasure encouraging him to sink further into the space in his mind where he saw nothing but red.

Despite his barbaric treatment, you took him so well, begging him for more, your sweet voice calling for him to go harder while your body fit and molded to his like a missing piece, accepting each blow so well.

Sending him into a tailspin, you grabbed his hand that was tearing at the flesh of your breast and guided it down so his fingertips settled on your clit again, instantly making you rock your hips more to take even more pleasure from him, allowing him to feel your climax build as you clenched around him like a vice. He worked even harder, fucking through your tight pussy to reach your deepest point and back out again, his assault only progressing as he became intoxicated by your screams and the squelching sounds from both the water on your skin and his cock ramming into your soaked cunt.

Using what remained of the energy he had pent up from his anxiety attack, Will pulled out of you and turned you around, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, his cock driving back into you as he pressed your back against the shower wall. He was desperate to kiss you, needing to feel your lips on his in a way that made this feral handling of you feel more intimate, even though he didn't let up on his pace. Your hands found his face and held it more tenderly than he deserved, deepening your kiss more, prompting him to growl into your mouth almost frustratedly as he gave his final thrusts and came with an exhausting force.

Will felt like he would crumble apart if it wasn't for your limbs wrapped around him as if you were holding him together, the slow roll of your tongue giving him something calm to keep his racing mind fixed on. He carefully pulled out of you and helped you stand on your own, still kissing you as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling sharply. Pivoting his body slightly so you were both back under the stream of water, he let it rain down to wash you both, his hands massaging your skin in soothing patterns that was more for his own benefit to relax.

You jolted when his hand grazed your sex that was beyond sensitive now, his fingers stilling as he registered the hesitation in your kiss.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly, his brows knitted together as he looked at you seriously.

"No, of course not," you reassured, "I'm just very sensitive and a little sore." Noting the guilt on his face you continued, "A good sore."

"Okay," he smiled weakly, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. "I'll be gentle."

He made good on his word, washing you with a tenderness that made your heart sing, the way he held your chin with his other and stroked his thumb along your cheek making you vow to give this man the world.

Out of the shower and depleted of all energy, Will sauntered back to his room with you, not bothering to wrap himself in a towel or even dry off, his only goal now to hit his mattress and try to get some sleep in before the sun crept up with the passing hours.

The smell of sex and sweat filled the room, revealing just how much effort both of you had exuded in your time together, and seeing the dark stains on the top cover from his profuse sweating, Will tore it off the bed and crawled in on top of the lesser-tainted sheets.

You stood at the end of the bed, gently running your towel through your hair to soak up the excess water, watching as he settled in comfortably with his legs slightly spread, sighing out loudly when he put his arm above his head.

"Are you joining me, or what?" he asked, his eyes closed and voice hoarse, a loose smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

"Do you still want me to?"

Your question forced his eyes open and made him prop himself up on his elbow, looking at you both seriously and a little confused.

"Why would you say that?"

You shrugged, regretting saying it based on the wounded expression on his face. "I just don't want to overwhelm you, Will, I don't want to make you feel…suffocated, or like this is all moving too fast."

He scoffed, his smile and shake of his head worrying you.

"Do you want to go?" he challenged, the steeliness of his blue eyes making your mouth feel dry.

You shook your head no, offering your hand to him when he extended his out, allowing him to pull you closer to the bed where he continued to hold your gaze. "To be fair, I haven't checked if you needed to get home for any reason, and you don't have your car…"

You laughed when he did, letting yourself sink onto the mattress where you kneeled beside him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Will," you whispered, your words holding more promise than just being for the rest of the night.

His thumb smoothed over your knuckles, and looking down at the connection of your hands, he spoke freely.

"I may not be sure of a single fucking thing in my life right now, but I do know that being with you sure feels damn right." He looked up at you, the creases on his forehead brought out as his eyebrows rose up, the boyish look in his eyes and his crooked smile making your heart flutter wildly. "It doesn't mean I'm not scared shitless, though."

Appreciating his honesty, you gave his hand a firm squeeze before bringing it up to your lips where you kissed across his knuckles, not wanting to over-do it by telling him you would never hurt him but needing to show him in some way. You trailed down his arm, peppering your lips slowly across the one that bore his smaller tattoo of the eagle, feeling his eyes sear your skin as he watched you worship him, your tongue threatening to tell him how you thought every piece of him was a work of art and not just the parts decorated by his tattoos.

He settled back into the bed, his long exhale sounding like one of contentment to your ears, prompting you to slide your body down to rest beside him, your mouth traveling from his arm to his chest until you were face to face.

"I'm still all-in," he murmured, his nose nudging yours as he gathered your hand and placed it between your chests.

"Me too."

The sound of Benny messing around in the kitchen was unmistakable and undoubtedly what woke Will, his eyes adjusting to the bright morning light when he forced his eyes open. He groaned and peeled his heavy arm off the mattress to check his watch; 8:12.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself quietly, thinking how he hadn't slept this late since he was a kid, the reason behind it still sleeping peacefully beside him.

With a smile that he tucked between his teeth, Will got out of bed, keeping a watchful eye on you to make sure he didn't wake you up as he grabbed the towel you had used and wrapped it around his waist and moved toward the door.

He smiled again, noticing the pile of neatly folded, but dirty clothes on top of his dresser, and grabbed them before heading out the door.

The smell of something warm and sweet greeted him as he stalked down the hallway, his muscles feeling leaded with each step.

"Yo, Benny," he called, reaching the kitchen, but his brother was nowhere to be found.

A stack of freshly made pancakes sat on a plate beside the stove, a handwritten note left behind to explain them.

Chocolate chip protein pancakes

Heard you two burnin' a lot of cals…

Gym rats who fuck like bunnies gotta replace that lost protein.

Eat up.

Will’s stomach rumbled at the same time his chest did as he laughed, picking up one of the still-warm pancakes and folding it in half to shove in his mouth. The last time he was this hungry had to have been on a mission, but he thought how he would happily trade food any day for all the things he did with you last night.

Glancing around the kitchen in search of his phone, Will finally spotted it on the opposite counter where he usually kept it, no doubt having been placed there by Benny after finding it discarded on the floor along with everything else, his truck keys beside it.

You're a good man, Benny, he text after grabbing it, thankful to have his little brother around to look after him more than ever.

Making his way around the corner to the laundry room, Will lifted the lid on the washing machine and tossed his gym clothes in before sorting through yours and carefully checking the washing instructions on them. He dispensed the cheap, discount brand detergent into it and hoped the low quality wouldn't ruin anything, never really having to care too much about what would happen to his or Benny’s clothes.

Back in the kitchen, he reached for two mugs out of the cupboard beside the sink along with two water glasses and filled them up, once again appreciating Benny's generosity and attention to detail for putting a fresh pot of coffee on before leaving.

After rummaging through all the cabinets for a suitable tray to carry everything back to his room on and coming up empty, Will settled on a shallow cardboard box Frankie had brought fresh oranges over in the week before, placing the plate of pancakes, syrup, cutlery and drinks in it, and made his way out of the kitchen.

His phone buzzed as he passed it, and pausing to check the text displayed on the screen, he grinned and continued down the hallway.

Benny: I know

The towel around his waist hung loosely on his hips by the time he reached his door, pushing it open gently with his elbow and smiling when he set eyes on you still sleeping and all curled up in the spot he had been. The sheets were twisted around your bare body, tangled with your limbs and scarcely covering you, the way the cotton material cradled your skin looking so inviting and making him wish it was him.

Forgetting his hunger, Will set the box down on his dresser and untucked the portion of towel barely holding it on and let it fall to the floor, feeling the mattress dip to his weight as he kneeled on it and framed your body with his.

Unable to resist, he lowered himself until his face met your exposed thigh, pressing his lips against it once, and then again, ghosting them up until he reached your hip, having missed the sensation of your skin on his lips even though it hadn't been long since he last felt it.

He breathed in slowly, his eyes closing as your scent swam through every part of him, awakening his most primal needs once again.

Another kiss, another deep inhale, his lungs working to consume the smell of your slumbering arousal instead of taking in oxygen to calm his charged libido.

A split desire between wanting you to continue sleeping and needing you to wake up raged within him, his mouth watering with each kiss, his chest feeling constricted as his breathing grew more ragged even though he was desperately trying to control it. Reaching your waist, he let his tongue swipe out to lick up to your ribs, feeling your side contract as he tickled you, your sleepy moans and quiet whines resounding in his ears as you fought to stay asleep.

Slipping one of his hands between your legs, he slowly let it glide up along your inner thigh, your skin warm against his palm and impossibly smooth, his lips and tongue continuing to tease beneath your breasts and stomach until you eventually rolled onto your back.

Your eyes remained closed, but Will watched as a drowsy smile formed on your lips and your hand reached up to card through his hair, a contented sigh being his official greeting.

He needed you more than ever, set on making you feel as good as he possibly could, craving to taste every part of you.

Pushing your legs apart until they were flush against the bed, he settled between them, his lips marking a path upward that had you squirming beneath him already, and once he reached his destination, paused and looked up at you with a wildness in his blue eyes.

"Mornin', sweetheart."

---

Part 5

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