#my hand hurts but hey I got it done lmao

[judebelle]

jude being protective over reader when a guy tries to hit on her at a bar omfgfjgfbhgsjb

didn't think so - j.b. x reader

a/n : this took me so long to write cus i got my nails done and ughhhh

cw : smut, swearing, annoying guy at a bar LMAO, unprotected.. wrap b4 u tap, semi-public sex, dom!jude, possessive!jude

pairing : jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc : 2.2k

---

"so, you from 'round here?"

the foreign words hung low in the throbbing atmosphere of a crowded club. the bass reverberated through the floor and neon lights pulsed to the rhythm.

you stopped moving to the music when a stranger approached you. his eyes fixed intently on you. you were left alone in the club when jude had excused himself to go to the restroom. you would've never expected this.

you felt a discomfort in his demeanor, instantly trying to put room between you and the strange man. a smirk played on his lips and his eyes scanned over you, his intentions on full display.

politely, you rejected his presence. "i appreciate the company, but i'm actually here with my boyfriend,"

he dismissed your mention of jude with a wave of his hand. he began to lean in closer, his words becoming increasingly invasive. you scanned the crowd, eagerly and hopelessly awaiting jude's return.

the man grew impossibly more insistent. "come on, sweetheart, we're all here for a good time. loosen up a bit,"

you finally decided on a more direct approach. "really, i'm not interested. i'm here with my boyfriend."

with a sly grin, the persistent stranger continued. "your boyfriend doesn't have to know. let's get out of here, just you and me."

just as you felt his words creep down your spine, jude finally emerged from the restroom, instantly sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere. he quickly maneuvered through the dancing crowd, his eyes not leaving you and the strange man.

he shot the man a piercing stare as he approached the table with long strides. "what's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the club's music with an edge that you'd never heard from him.

"hey, man, we're just having a good time. no need to be so uptight," the man flashed a toothy grin at jude, who was not having it.

jude's dark eyes flashed with anger, a look so intense even you felt the pressure. he placed a firm and dominating grip on your waist, visibly claiming what's his. "she's not interested. you need to back off and respect that," he commanded.

the stranger looked seemingly amused by jude's words. "oh, come on, don't be such a buzzkill. she seems to be enjoying our conversation just fine."

jude's jaw clenched even tighter. "how about we ask her?" he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. "babe, are you enjoying this conversation?" when you didn't respond immediately, his grip tightened on your waist. "are you?" you quickly shook your head 'no'.

a cocky smirk broke out on jude's lips. he turned back to the man, "didn't think so," his smirk growing when he saw how intimidated the man was.

"you're testing my patience. i suggest you find another spot in this club. now," jude ordered, his tone sharp.

the man reluctantly walked off to another side of the club. jude kept his dominating hold on your waist, his anger visibly coursing through his features. without turning to face you, his hand switched from your waist to your wrist. his knuckles turned white from his harsh grip. you winced.

"jude, stop! that hurts-"

ignoring you, jude pulled you towards the club bathroom. he kept his painful grip tight. pulling you through bunches of people with a clenched jaw, you were left to mutter excuses and apologies to them. "jude, can you relax? where are we going?"

your questions fell on deaf ears when his gaze was set on the bathroom door. finally reaching it, he opened the door to see no one. he yanked you inside before following. jude shut the door behind him and locked it.

you looked at your wrist that he had stopped squeezing. it was red and tender. "babe.. what's going on?" his eyes flashed down to your wrist, and his gaze softened slightly before hardening again.

he looked back up at you, and there was something different about how he was looking at you. his eyes were glazed over with something... foreign. there was a hunger in his demeanor. in the way he slowly stepped towards you. in the way his hands held onto your waist. in the way spun you and pushed you against the door. in the way his head dipped into the crook of your neck.

his lips pressed hot kisses onto your skin and your eyes shut tight. you gasped out when his soft kissed turned to passionate nips and bites. "jude... not here."

jude's possessive grip softened slightly, his hands now sliding sensuously up your sides. the atmosphere in the bathroom shifted, the air thick with desire.

his mouth left your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear. he whispered, "i can't stand the thought of anyone else trying to get your attention. you drive me crazy. i need you to know you're all mine."

your heart raced at the proximity, breath hitching as jude's words sent shivers down you spine. the muffled music wasn't so loud behind the washroom door, giving your ears a rest. the dim lighting over you illuminated his features in a way that had even you crossing your legs a little.

despite his convincing words, your hesitation was evident. jude's hand slithered to find the end of your dress, but it was so long that by the time he reached the end of it, he was on his knees.

your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of your boyfriend on the floor. jude's big brown eyes peered up at you. "please, y/n. let me show you how much you mean to me." he was... begging.

a quick nod from you was all he needed. you saw his expression change immediately from pleading to dominant. he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and your hands fell to his shoulders to keep you upright. he moved your skirt to make room for his head, but paused to look up at you, smirking.

"try not to scream."

before you could register jude's words, he had pushed your panties to the side and slotted his mouth on you. everything but profanities erased themselves from your mind. one of your hands found his hair and tugged, hard. jude's lips spread you open as he sucked your clit with fervor.

you found yourself whining when his movements slowed, gradually becoming gentle. you could see jude's occasional peaks up towards you, watching you melt at his touch.

"jude, i can't take it. please..."

you could feel him grin against you. "you look so hot when you're desperate, y/n." the way his name fell from his lips had you biting yours. he finally decided to stop teasing and fully indulge in you. he pressed his mouth flush against your warmth, allowing his tongue to explore every nook and cranny.

the feeling of him forcing you back onto the cold bathroom door sent trembles down your body. you began feeling that familiar feeling of tight heat start unravelling in your stomach. before you knew it, you were practically yanking jude's hair. "please, don't stop."

gasps were flying from your plump lips so fast your heart was about to fly out of your chest. "fuck, jude, don't stop!" unwillingly, your arms were flying around, trying to grab, to hold on to something.

thump, after thump, you helplessly clawed for anything to ground yourself. you ultimately ended up with your hands pulling jude as far as you could between your legs.

he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. if anything, he sped up, his tongue lapping at your juices. "jude, jude," your vision went white and your back arched against the smooth door. the muted music was overpowered by an unfamiliar ring in your ears.

jude looked up at your chest heaving over him. the sight of you all fucked out had him smirking, his ego only growing. he gently licked around your clit, cleaning up any mess you left for him.

he hummed as your sweet juices sat on his tongue. you finally opened your eyes that you didn't realize were screwed tight and let go of his hair.

"i told you to try not to scream." he smiled as he got up off his knees, keeping his eyes on you even when he was towering above yours.

"that was me trying."

his eyes fell to your cleavage and he couldn't help but lean in and press hungry kisses to your collarbone. "not done with you yet, sweetheart."

the excitement of not knowing what was going to happen next had you pooling for him again.

jude's hands dropped to your hips for the nth time tonight before he abruptly spun you around and pressed your chest to the door. your hands slammed against the door to stop your face from smashing into it.

you felt jude pushing your dress up hastily and pulling your underwear down. you didn't move, waiting for his next move patiently. although much patience wasn't needed since jude was moving as fast as he could.

you could hear jude unzipping his own pants and you couldn't help but bite your lip in anticipation. as gross as it might've been, your right cheek was pressed onto the door. you couldn't care less, though, not when jude was pulling himself from his pants behind you.

a groan fell from his mouth so quiet the music almost drowned it out. he stroked himself behind you even though he was already rock hard. he leaned against your back to whisper in your ear shamelessly,

"i know i told you not to scream, but this time i wanna hear you. i want everyone in this fucking club to hear how good i make you feel. maybe then those fucking pricks'll back off."

his hand moved some of your hair from your nape.

"think you can do that for me, princess?"

you eagerly nodded against the door, mouth too dry to speak. he smiled, "good."

jude pulled himself back before his hand grazed over the curve of your ass, his other resting against your lower stomach before he pushed himself in. he went so deep he could feel himself in your stomach, against his own hand.

it was as if he was hitting your vocal cords the way not a single sound could be heard from you despite your mouth being open so wide. jude's pelvis met your ass and he couldn't help but shudder. "fuck..." he whispered out against your back.

he finally started to move slowly, more so for himself than for you since you were squeezing his cock so tight.

jude dropped his hands down to your hips to keep you firmly pressed to the door. "don't move." he growled out. you had never seen this side of jude, but you weren't complaining. you found obeying him to be more enjoyable than expected.

jude's hips sped up, sending jolts of pleasure through your bones. strangled gasps and pants shot out of your mouth, your hot breath fanning over the door.

"that's a good girl, yeah? taking this cock so well." one of jude's hands left your hip to grab your hair and tug. he pulled your neck back until he had access to your neck. he dipped down and sucked marks on the soft skin. your moans turned raspy and you found yourself once again searching for something to hold on to.

your back was arched against his torso as he fucked up into you. you could feel every part of his cock and it was driving you dumb. your mouth was left agape as moans ran from your lips and into the thick air.

"tell me baby, y'think that prick from earlier could fuck you like this?" you gasped as jude's thrusts grew impossibly more rough. "no! god, no... only you can do this to me." he sent a harsh smack to your ass before smoothing it over gently. the pleasure and jolt of pain send your neck flying back further.

"jude, i'm close." you warned and jude kept his antics up. he whispered in your ear. "fuck, i am too..." he groaned out and let go of your hair. he straightened his back and went back to holding your hips in place.

you clenched around his dick, whimpers falling from your mouth. jude's thrusts faltered for the first time tonight. his hand slid down to rub your clit and bring you to your second high of the night. your breath caught in your throat and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

"god, jude, i'm gonna.." you couldn't even finish your sentence so jude did it for you. "cum, y/n. want you to cum all over my cock, shit!" obeying him once again, you finally let that string inside you snap, fully surrendering to the pleasure.

your vision clouded black this time, and you came with a sharp cry, "jude!" screaming his name, you trembled under him. the feeling of your release and juices all over his cock sent him over the edge himself. "fuck!" he groaned out and came with a final thrust. he buried himself deep, sending his seed as far as he could.

both of your pants and gasps were lost in the thumping music of the club. jude helped you stand straight before fixing his clothes. you pulled your panties back and tugged your dress down. you heard jude zip up his pants and you turned to look at him.

he was already looking at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham angst x reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham smut fanfic #jude bellingham smut x reader #jude bellingham fluff x reader #jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham series #jude bellingham x fem!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #football x reader #football #fem!reader #football smut #neybelle #football fanfic #smut #angst #fluff #football oneshot #football fanficiton #futbol #soccer

[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 2 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (this is part 2 to the birthday girl angst blurb! i changed the title for the series so it was more appealing)

cw: mentions of drug use, angst, nothing crazy (yet lmao)

wc: 1.2k

notes: i'm excited to write this since its my first series! lmk if there's anything you guys would wanna see in future chapters :)

previous chapters: part 1

You wake up to your alarm droning on annoyingly and feel around aimlessly with your eyes closed to turn it off. Once you had finally woken up on your own accord, you realized you should talk to Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him or left your house the last few days. Obviously, you missed him, but you just felt so hurt and angry with him.

After getting ready and using makeup to look a little more alive and less blotchy from crying so much, you decided you'd go up to Tannyhill to try and talk to Rafe. You left your house, hopped on your bike, and started towards the estate. The whole ride there, you just kept going over what you wanted to say but nothing seemed right. Before you knew it, you were at the front entrance.

You walked inside and heard voices in the distance coming from upstairs. Once you made your way upstairs, you heard the voices more clearly coming from Rafe's room. It was Rafe and another person whose voice you couldn't pinpoint.

"Come on, man you gotta understand where I'm comin' from. I've just been stressed out. Nothing a good time won't fix."

You looked into the room and saw Rafe sitting with some guy you've never seen. There was a table in between them that had some rolled-up bills and coke sitting on it.

You walked inside the room, still unnoticed until you spoke. "Hey, Rafe."

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, and Rafe immediately shot up, walking towards you.

"Shit... I uh- I didn't know you were coming over." He looked back at the man who just sat there unbothered. "Barry, can you uh give us a minute..."

"So let me get this straight, you went to a party and got high, missed my entire birthday, and after I tell you I'm pissed off your next line of action is to get high again with your drug dealer, right?"

Before Rafe could speak, Barry grabbed his stuff and started walking out. "A'ight man hit me up when y'all are done dealing with this shit."

Rafe waited until he thought Barry was far enough before closing the door and speaking, "Can you blame me? I don't hear from you for days so I assumed you didn't wanna be with me anymore! I tried to talk to you and you straight up ignored me."

"I was angry Rafe! I just needed some time to myself. That doesn't mean I'm breaking up with you and it doesn't mean you should start doing drugs again when that is quite literally what we fought about." 

This definitely wasn't how you imagined this conversation going. You didn't want to argue with him but your pride wasn't going to let you just back down.

"If you wanted space you could've told me," he sighed. "And I am sorry that I got high at that party and I'm sorry I missed your birthday okay? I want to make it up to you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down for a moment with your head in your hands. You loved Rafe, you really did. But you didn't want him falling into his old habits and lying to you about it.

You both sat there in silence as you thought about what you should do and what you should say.

"Rafe I... I think we should just take some time apart. Get our heads straight and figure out what we want-"

He walked over and sat next to you his eyes wide. "Baby I want you, I want to be with you."

"I wanna be with you too, Rafe, but I have conditions. I don't want you doing coke anymore. I don't like the person you are when you get like that. I know you get stressed and feel like it's your only option but you have me. Or maybe try weed and see how that works for you. I also don't want you hanging with Barry anymore. Non-negotiables."

He nods "I swear I'll work on it and I'll talk to Barry. I swear."

You stand up from the bed getting ready to go out the door. "Rafe... I'm gonna go stay with my parents on the mainland for a few days. I'll be in contact but please try your best to just leave me be. Get clean, for good, and I'll let you know when I'm back and we can figure everything out. Okay?"

He shakes his head. You can see that he's angry and confused, your heart just aches. "The mainland? What- why? Just stay here, I don't understand-"

"Please, Rafe. This is what we have to do okay?"

He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay... okay. When you get back, I'll have made it up to you. Just promise me we aren't over." 

You could see the tears that formed in his eyes and had to fight back your own. "We aren't over just yet." You gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving his room and heading home.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were finally off the ferry and on the mainland to stay with your parents. You really wanted to talk to your best friend to get advice so you asked her to pick you up. By the time you reached your house, she was all caught up. Your parents weren't home so you both went straight up to your childhood bedroom.

"Damn... I didn't think he got down like that." Niki looked at you slightly surprised. "Honestly though, it sounds like does care about you, even if he did fuck up."

"Yeah, I know he cares I just... I don't wanna have to worry about shit like this. Whenever he's all coked up he makes irrational and bad decisions. I'm just worried he'll do something and end up in jail or worse."

"You just have to let him know that. Make sure he knows your anger comes from a place of care. If he feels like you're just judging him, it'll probably piss him off."

You sigh and groan into your pillow. "You're right, thanks Niki."

"Don't mention it. Now, let me catch you up on the mainland gossip!" she squealed.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Niki had gone home and you were getting into bed, ready to sleep after what felt like an exceptionally long day, when your phone chimed. You looked and saw you had a text from Rafe.

Rafe: hey I just wanted to make sure you made it to the mainland safely.

You: yes I did, i'm at my parent's house, thanks for asking.

Rafe: of course, goodnight

You: goodnight

Placing your phone on the dresser, you're thankful he doesn't push the conversation further. You decide you'll only stay here for three days before going back to the island to figure things out with Rafe. You just hope he can work on staying clean and that you can go back to being together like normal. 

As you closed your eyes, ready for sleep, you heard another chime from your phone. You groaned before picking it up to check.

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

part 3

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe

#rafe cameron #obx x reader #rafe x reader #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks rafe #outer banks #obx smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #black!reader #black reader #divider by: plutism #black writers #angst

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fluff #reader insert #female reader #deaf reader

[darylsfavoritegirl]

hey pookies

Summary: Yall remember that episode where Daryl and Beth stay in this cabin after losing the prison (season 4, ep 12 to be exact) and thet play games like i have never.... and spend such a quality time and it's one of my fav episodes EVER! so it's fem!reader and Daryl but they play truth and dare and sort of open up about their feeling towards eachother because they're again friends with benefits lmao but it gets tense somehow👀���😭 they find themselves in the midst of an argument etc etc and it goes on

This was requested by @duffmckagansbandana but ive also been fantasizing about this idea forever!! kalp kalbe karsiymis eheheheh

Warnings: Daryl being a dick because he is drunk and kinda slutshames the reader. Daryl grips the reader's wrists and it kinda hurts (?) a little bit of suggestive content. mentions of domestic violence/abuse

You held a glass of moonshine that Daryl found when you entered the wooden cabin. You were observing him securing the cabin incase something would occur.

"Looks secured enough to me." You mumbled spiritlessly. You took a sip of your moonshine as Daryl turned to you with a weary gaze.

"Ya really think dis the best time to get hammered?" He uttered in an evident blaséd tone. You ignored his question as he went back to securing the walls, windows. You wanted him to join you, drink booze with you, speak with you. The glass in your hand got warm before you could even consider to drink one more.

You observed his biceps flexing as he was fixing a hole on the wall. He was finally done. He turned to you, took a deep breath. You could see the sweat droplets on his forehead. His sleeveles black tshirt had damp spots around the neckline.

"You went the extra mile there." You said, failing to hide the waggish smirk bearing your face. He didn't respond to your statement but you saw the curls of his lips going upward.

He sat across you on the floor. His eyes were glossy, faint. You smiled softly as you poured him some moonshine. He gaped at you, anticipating you to stop. It was moonshine after all, God knows how long it had been sitting in this junk.

"Hey slow down." He uttered thinking you were gonna gulp down it yourself.

You saw his eyes following your motions when you passed the glass of moonshine to him.

"What? It's for you."

He didn't look at the glass once, his eyes were fixated on you

"Someone's got to keep watch." He spoke

You rolled your eyes in a cheeky way.

"No harm in drinking one glass."

"Go on." you added. Your eyes were pointing the dusty glass that was infront of him.

He gave in. He put the glass near his nostrils, sniffing the drink before taking a sip.

"That's a real drink right there." You said in a jolly tone.

" 's warm." He grumbled. He enjoyed drinking with you. The way you looked so content only made him cheer inside.

"Meh tha's a drawback." You said. You were popeyed. He couldn't deduce the basis of your zeal, yet he didn't question it furtherly.

You two spent a few minutes there, studying the cabin, studying each other when you decided to come up with something.

"You up for playing truth or dare?" You said in a hush that only left Daryl with a confounded face.

"What? Like kids?" He tittered lightly.

"You got a better idea?" You said with a significance of rebelliousness in your voice. You glared at him, waiting for a response.

"I'm worried about the others too but we can't spend this time just stressing one another." You muttered, avoiding an eye contact with him as you looked down at your drink and tapped the glass with your index and middle fingers. It was the reality. You were worried about the others, maybe even too much. However the best thing you could do at the moment was to hope for their well-being until you and Daryl started looking for them. He must've read your mind, he always did.

"Fine. Yea go first." He mouthed. Your mood shifted into a cheerful one by with just 4 words coming from him. You leaned forward slightly.

"Truth or dare." You queried. He leered at you in a gloomy way. You knew he was gonna end up savoring the game, one way or another in spite of feeling childhish at that moment.

"Truth.'' His tone barely above whisper.

You both took a sip from your drinks consecutively whilst you went on a ride in your head to come up with something to ask.

"What was your first impression about me?" You asked, not being able to hide the eagerness in your voice.

His eyes watched you cautiously. His gaze shifted somewhere else, trying to reckon the first day you met. A subtle smirk appeared on his face.

"Thought yea wer' cocky. Too cocky, even." He scoffed softly. You both stayed in quietude to remember the very first day you encountered with eachother. You chuckled.

"That was my coping mechanism. Confidence."

"Cocky." He opposed you in a childish manner, his eyebrows furrowed lightly at you.

You leered at him for a minute. You knew he was also thinking the first days when they took you in. You were drawing too much attention to yourself, pretty much everyone thought you'd be dead in a fortnight, though you didn't.

You sighed. Neither of you enjoyed thinking about any day in prison, it ached you in deep down. Neither of you could envision what your next move should be, spending this time in a wooden cabin in the middle of the woods didn't make it any better. You were in the midst of a chaos and it felt as if all your efforts were in the aim of lightening your agony.

Daryl reached for the moonshine jar that was sitting near you. He started pouring himself another drink. He almost filled the glass to the brim, peeking at you clandestinely incase you'd tried to stop him. You caught his leer and softly shrugged your shoulders indicating that you didn't mind.

He leaned against the wall of the cabin as he grunted. He took a big sip from his drink. You heard his gulp, the booze going down from his gullet. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sound, maybe you chuckled a little more than necessary. Gosh, you were getting lit; you thought to yourself.

Daryl guzzled up his second drink in less than a minute and poured himself another.

"Easy." You managed to say between your slowly-fading chuckles.

"And it's your turn." You hinted.

"Truth." You uttered without him having to ask.

He clattered an "Ahh." sound between his sips to imply he was notioning for a question. His eyes were locked on the ceiling, thinking, you glimpsed at his narrow, blue eyes. His gaze met with yours.

" 'S there sumthing ya didn't tell me 'bout the person ya wer'?" You looked dumbfounded, not catching what he could've meant by that. He must've read you like an open book. He scoffed " 'Fore all dis. 'Fore the world went to shit."

You couldn't fathom his question. He knew so much about you. He knew about your family that you stopped seeing after you moved to USA. He knew about your favorite childhood cartoons. He knew about your days as a school girl. He knew how you ended up in Georgia. He knew so much about you. Although he had never been the type to corner you with your life before the apocalpyse, you acknowledged that there must've been a lot of things you didn't tell him whether it was due to your choice or you never felt the need to do so.

"Yes." You said in cynicism. He remained silent. It was rather explicit that he wanted to investigate more; that he wanted you to elaborate.

Yet, you didn't. If he wanted to know more about you, he should've asked you more bluntly. You didn't avoid his piercing gaze. You could feel your nerves and brain going number with your increasing sips from the moonshine.

"I'm pretty sure there are atleast dozens of things I haven't told you about the person I once were."

He echoed a nonchalant glare. You, once again remained silent. You knew he'd always turn into an impossible and preposterous person to read whenever drunk. You questioned yourself. You questioned if this was a good idea after all.

He sighed. His eyes were narrower than before. He is getting wasted, you thought to yourself. You shifted your position wretchedly, grabbing your drink with both hands. You tried to put a constrained smile on your face.

The silence was unbearable so you spoke up. Your voice was raucity.

"So truth or dare?" You asked.

He gazed at you with a piercing look. You played the game not more than 5 minutes and the air had already started to feel stuffy due to intensity between you two. You couldn't understand why.

"Truth." He grunted involuntarily. He was only playing the game to pass time, to investigate and even corner you. His gaze was stern. Your smile faded away lightly. You thought of asking something private, asking something that was just about you two. Before you could even debate on that idea, you uttered

"Have you ever seen me as someone more than this?" You got hot. The alcohol was hitting you. You couldn't think clear, you spoke before giving it a second thought. You could feel your cheeks blushing. Your cheeks would never blush out of embarrassment nor humiliation. They would always blush when you did something extra, futile, stupid.

You didn't need to elaborate it. He knew exactly what you meant. He knew you had been wondering if he ever thought of you more than an appealing teammate whom he'd share a warm bed now and then. He had asked similiar questions to himself, always leaving them unsettled. He didn't want to give in, ever. He had to have a demenour where he wouldn't let anyone get too close. That was Daryl. Those were the obstacles he'd build towards anybody. You lifted your head only to meet his blue eyes. Daryl spoke the second he locked his eyes on yours.

"Ain't much of a world to keep your mind busy with that kinda stuff." He grunted. You got even hotter inside of your head.

"So, no?" You gawked.

"Didn't say dat." He looked at you with blank eyes. He didn't even get defensive whilst you were going nuts and trying your hardest to not make it plain. It was the intoxication. You were never like this. It was safe to say you did care about his feelings but you weren't a fool. You knew exactly how he'd close up, how well he'd hide in his shell.

"OK. It's your turn." You huffed as you darted away your eyes. Your temper highly depended on booze at the moment. You didn't need him to think that your mind was way too preoccupied with his words, the words that came out of his mouth with such ease. You hated the power he had on you sometimes.

He grunted with vexation as he shifted his position and leaned against the wall a bit more. Daryl rested his elbows on his knees, swinging his glass that had a little drink left in it in a motion. He kept eyeing you, so did you.

It was apparent that you both were bored to death, yet no one put forward the idea to stop it.

"Ya ever think 'bout the old world?" He grunted.

You raised your head, his eyes were squinting right at you.

"Didn't say truth." You hissed.

"Ya ain't gon' say dare neither."

"Right." You mumbled. He was biting on his pinky's nail out of lack of interest.

"Don't do that." You said as you grimaced.

"Ya gon' answer?" He insisted, his brows were slightly furrowed as he, not surprisingly, kept biting on his finger nails.

This game was all about you two finding something to bicker. You sighed. You were not looking at him but you could feel his eyes roaming all over you.

"Sometimes."

"Wish I could go back to those times." You whispered looking at the floor. Daryl's face darkened. You knew his life before the fall wasn't the greatest and perhaps this new world of silence, isolation was a jackpot for him. You caught his leer. Both of you remained in serenity.

You took a sip from the moonshine and asked the first thing that came to your mind.

"OK Daryl. Have you ever stolen something? like something big?" You begged with wide eyes. Only his eyes made you question yourself and your foolish question.

He kept swinging the glass in a slow motion as he narrowed his eyes at you. He wasn't offended. He wasn't angry.

"Ya know I didn't." He remarked. You sensed a sense of sorrow in his eyes yet you didn't step back, you never could when you were drunk.

"That's what you told me." You spoke, emphasizing the word "told" as if you were making it obvious that you didn't believe him. You kept your wide-eyed gaze. An undertone of exhilaration was on the surface of your voice.

"And after all, we barely knew eachother when we talked about this, right?" Stupid you, still couldn't make out what his gaze could've meant.

"Maybe you weren't being honest." You uttered.

"Come on. You must've done something with Merle." You insisted.

His gaze never left yours. You drank too much, you lost your basic human decency. Yet he responded spiritlessly.

"Was bein' honest." You could perceive that was the moment he lost all his interest in the game.

"Ain't no reason not to be, Merle was an ass."

He sighed. Great, now you reminded him his dead brother; at a time like this, in a place like this. Your smile and exhilaration vanished. Drunk you was never stable, you sighed as you looked down at your drink.

You lifted your head only to see him getting up, throwing his glass to the floor only for it to shatter in pieces. You flinched and leered at the pieces. You couldn't dare to look to his side. He grabbed his crossbow on the broken wooden table, slunged it over his shoulder.

"Imma take the first watch. Rest." He demanded. He breathed out before he left the cabin. You stayed there, not being able to move an inch. It was like you froze. You leered at the pieces of glass on the floor once again

"Fuck me." You groaned. You exhaled audibly, looking around the cabin. That was the moment when it hit you, he was drunk; way too drunk. God knows how he was holding up outside.

You immediatly got up, going out of kilter. You had been sitting for a long time, your body was cramping and you kept hitting to the dusty tables and chairs that were sitting in the middle of the cabin. Your head was spinning. You sauntered towards the door, grabbed the door handle. It made a squeaking sound that left you scrunching your nose.

"Come inside." You quaked, not looking at him. You were exhausted, maybe from the moonshine or maybe you were just, exhausted.

" 'm fine." He grunted. His back was facing you.

"Your drunk as much as me." You huffed with withered eyes. You were leaning against the door frame, your hand still gripping the door handle lightly.

Daryl scoffed.

"Your actin' like a child." You muttered under your breath. The alcohol was getting the best of you. His back was still facing you.

You leered at his messy hair, his vest, his arms gripping the crossbow. He was swaying in a slow motion, resting his weight on his right leg now and then.

"Just hate tha' ya still think 'm sum kinda redneck asshole." He muttered. He sounded rather disappointed, fed up with this whole situation.

"I don't." You whispered. Your eyes were wide, you couldn't process his words. He remained silent, typical Daryl.

"Daryl, I don't." You hissed as you grabbed the side of his vest, forcing him to face you.

He looked at your face with blank, stern eyes. You couldn't recognize the Daryl you knew in him. He didn't change his position, gripping the crossbow firmly as ever.

You were getting sentimental at his demenour. Your eyes were getting watery, you couldn't find words to utter. Nothing changed in him, in his cold stern stare that would make you hate yourself. He could never hurt you, that's what you told yourself but even a gaze of his could make you shatter inside. He got too close to you to a point where you could smell the booze from his breath. Deliberately, he rested all of his weight on you, cornering you against the door frame. You couldn't breath. He leered at your eyes with his blue piercing eyes for a hot minute when he spoke

"Ya'd be crumblin' 'n all if I spoke to ya 'bout your past." He hissed.

His glare was fixated on you as he got inside of the cabin. You breathed out quickly and wiped a tear that was to fall down on your cheek and looked at the woods.

"What the hell does that supposed to mean Daryl?" You turned to him. He was going through his backpack.

"Think ya kno' what I mean." He mumbled under his breath.

He grabbed a canned food and sat on the edge of small ladder. He wasn't looking at you but your gaze was at his fingers trying to get the canned food open.

"What if I don't?" You said calmly but at alert, waiting for his respond.

"I dun' kno'. Sellin' yer body for attention. Ring any bell?" He snapped, lifting his head to meet with your gaze. You stood there with complete silence, trying to process his words. His voice was pretty tall, which made you flinch.

"That's really low Daryl." You scoffed. You weren't offended, you were just astonished that he'd bring up your past as a barmaiden to hurt you.

"Right." He mocked. He was still on the small ladder, trying to open the canned food. He sighed as he threw it to the floor. He got up, completely ignoring you.

"Atleast I wasn't drifting behind Merle's ass, doing whatever he'd told me to do." You barked. You had lost yourself. You didn't care what your words would mean to him.

He turned to you, his arms flexing due to his firm grip on his crossbow. He got closer to you, his face was reddening. You could see his vein on his neck throbbing, he wasn't taking his eyes off of you. He clenched his jaw, lowering his eyebrows and leering at you with narrowed eyes.

" 'S tha' what'ca think?" He fumed.

"That's what I know." You uttered as you pout your face. You ran your hands through your hair to take a deep breath.

"Ya know nothing." He barked. He wasn't blinking.

"You were nothing." You whispered. Your eyes were getting red. You could feel them sting. Your vision blurred. Yet his rage was full of spitefullness. He gritted his teeth

"Pickin' up lonely dudes to get 'em pay ya was sumthin'?"

"Sumthin' yer dam' proud." He shouted as he pointed his index finger right at you.

You swallowed slowly. You were not looking at him.

"Just leave me be." You managed to mumble between your shaky, shallow breaths.

"No, I ain't gon' do dat." He boomed. He threw his crossbow on the mattres you two incompetently tried to turn into a cozy bed. He got closer to you, immediatly grabbing your wrists with his hands.

You looked at his hands grabbing both of your wrists quakingly. You weren't sorrowful nor furious. You were affronted at his grip on your wrists that left you in discomfort and almost, pain. You raised your head to meet with his hard-nosed gaze. You shook your forearms fiercely several times, hoping he would free you but he didn't. How could he do this do to you? Out of all the things out there, he chose to grip both your wrists. That was something you'd always highlight when you'd talk about the abuse you had to go through back when you lived with your family. How your father would grip your wrists and squeeze them thightly until you'd feel like passing out. You always told him how small it made you feel, how worthless. Didn't he say "What a dick" referring to your father. Now there he was, doing the exact same thing. You wouldn't believe it.

"Can't run yer mouth now, can yea?" He spat out. His voice was growing taller and taller. You tried to get to your other wrist with one hand only he would not let you;

"Daryl, you're hurting me." You panted, quickly exhaling. Your chest was going up and down rapidly, leaving you all panicked and crumbling under his brawny, firm grip. You looked directly into his eyes, looking for mercy; hoping this night would end without either one of you dying. His hard-nosed gaze not shifting into a softer manner at all.

You were still numb from the moonshine, so many thoughts pondering your head. You wanted to kiss him, end whatever this was. You were highly influenced by booze. You didn't care. You wanted to kiss him. You didn't know what the outcome would be.

So you did, you got on your tiptoes; your bodies were already too close. You closed your eyes and kissed him harshly on the lips. His grip on your wrists loosened, you almost toppled onto him which he didn't let it happen.

His strong hands grabbed the both sides of your face, pressing his lips onto yours like he pleaded for more of you. It all happened so swiftly that he shoved you on the wall harshly. He waited for a split second, his lips brushing yours. You could smell the pungent odour of alcohol mingled with the smell of cigarattes you smoked earlier that day. You didn't care. You wanted all of him. He panted rapidly against your lips. You stayed like that for a moment, his hands flawlessly placed on the temples of your head; the only thing you could hear was eachother's shaky breaths. You pressed your lips onto him once again. A tear that you had been holding so long fell down your cheek, you didn't mind. It was a joyful tear. You were both taking eachother breaths away that left your heart ponding like crazy. He rested all of his body weight on you, which you didn't complain this time. You could feel him growing under his jeans.

Your hands reached the collar of his vest and helped him take it off. You grabbed his bare shoulders and digged your fingernails into them. His hands shifted to your waist from the sides of your face. There was that void feeling in your stomach once again. How small you were compared to him, how you were like an insect which he could've crashed with his fingertips seconds ago.

You gasped when his hands went under your t-shirt, grabbing your hips and waist and stroking your skin. It became a sloppy kiss but you both liked it. Your whole body curved into his body, small moans escaping your mouth. He started going down on your neck from your plumpy lips. Your grabbed a fistful of his hair gently with your right hand, softly pushing his head down on your neck as he kept pecking on your soft skin.

You made up.

FOOTNOTE

Why is it actually so awkward do write even a basic kissing scene. it was painful. idk much about this fanfic it was way better in my mind but idc

@duffmckagansbandana deserves some credits too!! we exchanged so many thoughts during this :))

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon one shot #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #twd imagine #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon gif #daryl dixon fanfiction #fanfic

[rottmntsimp]

Donnie x (gn) reader, where the reader is feeling particularly self concious? feeling as tho they don't contribute enough to the team due to not having mystic powers or not knowing how to fight, maybe they feel as tho they get in the way a lot? I know donnie isn't always great with feelings but I feel like he would relate to this problem and would know how to solve it in his own special way?

Much needed reassurance

Donnie x Insecure!Reader

TW: A bit of cursing (projecting cuz it's just smth i do when feeling a strong emotion lmao), using the lord's name in vain ( bro im atheist idk if this is a tw?), uh light jealousy (APRIL MAH QUEEN <33), mentions of stitching up cuts ig, light angst with fluff end <3 Oh and a pretty rushed ending lmao. Plus some slight ADHD projecting?? [Yes I got this req in September. Shh-] Thanks to @sleepytime-fics for title inspiration <3 /p

Donnie

You wince, letting out a hiss, as your cut stung in pain. Peeking out from in between your fingers, you see Donnie’s frown, not processing any of the words he rambled on to you. He let go of your hand, putting down the bandages, before moving onto your face to disinfect the scrapes along the side of your face, making you flinch in pain, listening to him chastise you for how careless you were.

“-I thought I’d told you to stay in corners. They can’t sneak up on you, if your back is against a wall.”

Sinking deeper into the mattress of the bed, you sigh, running a finger over the bandaging on your forearm, only for Donnie to slap your hand away. Rolling your eyes, you let him patch up your face, avoiding eye contact, because you knew as soon as you did, shit would hit the fan.

After what seemed like hours of nonstop admonishing and multiple rolls of bandages (which in all reality was only a few minutes), Donnie finally packs up the first aid kit, having finished patching you up. You stretch a little, before reaching for your phone, which lay on the far end of the mattress. Just as you were about to pick it up, a metal arm suddenly swipes it off of the sheets, holding it up.

“Hey-”

As you go to reach for the phone again, he just brings the phone higher up, farther out of your reach.

“So…” the mutant started, busying himself with putting supplies back into the first aid kit. “Leo informed me you, uh…got jumped-”

“Please, don’t remind me-” you sighed, the memory of being unable to defend yourself flashing behind your closed eyelids. Not only had Leo been struggling to take care of his share of the ninjas, he had to make sure you weren’t getting hurt too.

 Opening your eyes once more, you frown at the floor, listening to Donnie go on.

“Scoff,” Donnie scoffs, voicing his actions, “Well, if you let me finish, you would've heard me say ‘-you got jumped, are you feeling ok?’ It’s unlike you to get taken advantage of like this in combat.”

“Stop it,” You mumble, not wanting to hear about how you were unable to help, frustration rising as Donnie went on, not having heard you.

“I mean, it was just a couple of foot ninjas, and statistically speaking, you’ve done better before-”

“Donnie-” You frown, speaking a bit louder, but your words went unheard as Donnie’s rambling went on.

“I’m just thankful Nardo was there for you, don’t tell him I said that though-”

“Donnie!”

He freezes, facing you as his rambing comes to an abrupt end. Seeing the frown on your face as you shifted in your seat, your head held down, Donnie was riddled with guilt. “Were you,” he clears his throat, “Were you about to say something…?”

Silence.

That’s all he got in return, before soft mumbles could be heard, “It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve told me, it just won’t get in my head alright? I’m not a ninja, I’ve never gotten training-,” you muttered, as Donnie stopped what he was doing, focusing on your words- “Hell, I don’t even have a proper weapon!” you scoff, gesturing to Donnie’s tech bo, which lay messily on his desk, piles of unorganized blueprints and tech scattered around it. “Even April has one! April!” 

“Well, that is an issue can easily be resolved by simply paying a visit to the local sports store-”

Donnie’s words were cut short by the glare you gave him, as you went on. “But that makes perfect sense, since she’s just…so perfect,” you chuckled dryly, jealousy creeping into your voice, or maybe it was just self-pity.

Running a hand through your hair, you pause to take a deep breath, knowing you’ve already said too much; but fuck it, if you were going to get reprimanded for something out of your control, might as well let out some of those pent up feelings…right?

The only noise that could be heard was the soft whirring of the vents filtering air, and the sound of you guys’ breathing. The silence was eating you up from the inside, uneasiness hanging in the air. After a whole two minutes of silent torture, Donnie lets out a sigh, biting his tongue so that he doesn’t say anything he might regret, before finally speaking again.

“Where…where are you going with this?”

“Fucking christ, Donnie-” you snap, your head in your hands, as you let out a strong exhale. Looking up at him, you took a deep breath, trying to stabilize your voice, as a lump formed in your throat.

You mumbled under your breath, trying not to break down as tears of frustration formed in the corners of your eyes, your vision slowly going blurry. Why? The hell if you knew, all you could process was the fact that you were practically useless, and if that wasn’t enough to make you break down…

“I’m not as strong as you guys and I sure as hell don’t have any mystic powers,” you say, as a tear finally falls. One turns to two, and two turns to four, and before you know it, tears streamed silently down your face, as you tried to stop; but you both knew it was pointless.

Panic flashed behind his eyes as he noticed you crying. What was it you do when people cry? Talk to them? No, no, he was pretty sure you give them space.

“I always need at least two people out with me when I join you guys for patrol, and I always get hurt, and end up being more of a burden than a help…” You clear your throat, cursing at yourself as your voice cracks.

Once again, silence.

Looking down at the floor, you sniffled, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your tears away. White floods your vision, looking up, you see one of Donnie’s mechanical spider arms holding a tissue out in front of you, his eyes averted to the side.

Nodding your thanks, you blow your nose, as quiet ensued once more. You both sat there, your minds occupied by your own racing thoughts respectively.

After what seemed like hours, Donnie spoke up, his voice soft, but firm, as though he were deep in thought, “I…apologize, for not realizing how you felt earlier. I should have been more observant, I should have been able to notice how you felt about all of this much earlier on… I’m sorry for being a terrible partner-”

“Donnie-” You just sigh, the adrenaline from earlier wearing off, as a wave of exhaustion washed over you. “I’m not calling you a bad partner, I’m just saying that…maybe I shouldn’t go out on missions with you guys anymore. I’ll just hold you all back, and-” 

“Hold us back?-” Donnie interrupts, his face going from that of understanding and thoughtful to utterly flabbergasted. Standing up from his seat on the mattress, he has a robotic arm shoot out of his battle shell and yank a chair over, as he took a seat across from your place on the mattress. He faced you, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, renewed confusion apparent, “You believe that you’re…holding us back?”

“...Well, yeah-”

“SCOFF! Never have I heard such malarkey- Oh Y/N, you are anything but deadweight!-”

You could only listen as he went on, giving up on trying to get your point across as he never gave you the chance to. Yet despite the affirmations, a nagging feeling stuck in the back of your mind, refusing to leave as he rambled on about your strengths, physically and intellectually.

His voice became nothing but a soft hum in the background, accompanying the buzz of the vents, as you spaced out. Why was he doing this? You aren’t worth the struggle, the effort… He’s always had to help you catch up, get up to speed on things. Homework, fights, hell- even simple things like staying on task, giving you something to do, to think about…

“-And just because you don't have mystic potential, doesn't mean you aren't a valuable asset to our group. There are plenty of other ways you make up for it..."

The nerve of this hypocrite; saying you’re useful while still in doubt of his own abilities.

"I mean," Donnie went on, putting a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him, "It's not like you're the only human in our little posse. April's our friend too, and she's just as important as the rest of us-"

"She doesn't count-" You snap, your voice raising to a higher volume. Donnie flinched, his hand retracting in shock. Wincing, you mumble a quiet apology, feeling a wave of disappointment and regret wash over you before going on.

"April's been training with you guys since she’s met you, she doesn't count…" You mumbled, trying to keep control of how loud you spoke. “She’s been there since the beginning, basically on you guys’ level. She’s known you all since you were young, grew up with you guys, trained with you guys, fights with you guys…all while kicking ass and looking good…all I do is stand in the back and cheer you guys on…”

“Oh my sweet Y/N,” Donnie sighs, looking up at you again. “What will it take for you to understand that moral support is better than no support whatsoever?” The pleading look in his eyes, the desperation in his voice for you to understand just how valuable you are didn’t go overlooked by you, as you just sighed in response.

“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, darling. You are as valuable to our bunch as any of us are. Learning to fight takes time, time which you never gave yourself, which I’m gladly willing to change.

“And as for getting hurt…” Donnie put a hand on yours, making you look at him as he let himself smile, “I guess we’ll just have to start training.”

Taglist [ask if you want to be added!]:

@lemme-be-cringe-damnit @sleepytime-fics @ray-of-midnight-storm @hamthepan @charismakat

#simps fics #rottmnt x reader #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #2018 donnie x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt x reader #rise of the tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2018 x reader #rottmnt #save rottmnt

[the-milk-monarch]

hello hello! I really like your writing! can I request a Mal x autistic reader but all good if not. Have a nice day/night!

☣︎ omg yes I wanted to write sth similar but I felt like it'd be too self-serving lmao I hope you don't mind I added Mike in there as well

[𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲 𝚂/𝙾]

Summary: Mal pretends to be Mike but Reader picks up on it. After the reveal, Reader has to spent a cold night out with Mal as a challenge + dating headcanons.

☢︎ | Total Drama | 6k words | gender-neutral reader ♡ | Mal | Mike ⚠ | Mal being an ass, reader having a meltdown

[𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎]

Ever since you joined the Total Drama show, you knew you had to get an ally if you were to win.

Your social skills weren't the best, but you had your good problem solving skills to make up for that. At least you hoped so.

You were a little anxious while interacting with other contestants, hoping they wouldn't notice your a bit different approach to conversations.

But there was one boy who didn't seem to mind your awkwardness. On the contrary, he was a bit awkward as well, which filled you with adoration.

Mike was always so kind and respectful you never felt anxious around him, even with your quirky way of speaking.

Or the fact that you avoided eye contact while you spoke.

And when you cringed at yourself whenever you tripped on the flat ground, he didn't think of you any less, he was just worried whether you hurt yourself or not.

You could say you caught a small crush on Mike because of how comfortable you felt with him, but you knew he was interested in Zoey.

Although you were unsure about some small gestures received from him. "Was he just nice or is it his interest?" played in your head, although your mind told you to assume the worst and not hype yourself up.

That didn't stop you from simping from afar though.

What you loved the most about Mike was his willingness to listen to you ramble about your special interest.

You were really worried about being annoying around other people, knowing you might get a bit too excited the stuff you like and it'd be "inappropriate".

But Mike seemed to be into it, asking follow up questions and overall being engaged with you talking.

Your trust towards Mike was put to a test once you got a bit too overwhelmed in the middle of a challenge.

This particular day you seemed to have extra clumsy coordination which pissed you off a little, as it was important for you to win this time, given how strict the criteria for losing were this time.

"God, I have enough-" You desperately and a bit irritated announced while trying to tie a knot.

The challenge Chris McLean decided to do today was a scout obstacle course. Each person had to partner up with someone and do some scout activities, which included tying knots into various shapes shown on the picture.

The rope fell out of your hands for the 5th time while you were almost done with it and it made you forcibly exhale in irritation.

Mike had just finished his part of the activity and he noticed you had some troubles.

"Um, what is it?" He asked carefully, looking at your closed off body language.

"My hands don't listen to me and I can't tie these damn knots-" You tried not to make a scene, hating how much a simple, stupid task made you upset.

Your breathing got slightly heavier as you tried to suppress your rising emotions. You knew you had the right to express it, but not now. Not in front of Mike.

You took a step back from the ropes laying on the ground helplessly and given up, wanting to get some space from the irritating item.

Mike had noticed your change of attitude and immediately sensed you were losing it a bit.

"Hey, it's fine- I'll do your part." He suggested quickly, hoping to give some reassurance. "I-it's just ropes, right? We can still win!"

You felt a bit silly but you had no power to complete the task. You meekly nodded.

You stood there, just looking at his hard work until he finished.

"Okay, let's go!" Mike announced as he was done with your both parts.

At the end of the day, you and Mike managed to avoid elimination and after the challenge ended, you had some alone time to yourself.

Once you had a chance to be alone for a second, you quickly escaped the large crowd of people, wanting to get some space after such tiring situation.

You were chilling on a bench until you noticed a familiar face appearing on your radar.

Mike had managed to find you.

You quickly changed your way of cross legged sitting on a bench due to fear of being perceived as weird, even though you knew Mike probably wouldn't bat an eye on that.

You politely smiled as he approached you.

"Hey, there you are-" Mike reciprocated your smile a bit nervously.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I noticed you kind of- disappeared from the rest earlier, did something happen? Are you alright?" He asked with worry on his face which made you soften your expression. Did he really care about your wellbeing so much he came after you?

"No, no, you're not disturbing-" You said, halfly honest. You wanted some time alone for yourself, but you couldn't say you didn't appreciate him coming here.

He came up to the bench you were sitting on and sat beside you, keeping a respectful distance.

You didn't even notice when you started slightly bouncing your leg as you spoke.

To a keen eye (or even not so) it was clear that even though your face was calm, you had some bottled stress inside.

Mike was mindful enough to notice it, so he proceeded carefully.

"So- you're fine, just wanted to- chill out alone for a second?" Mike gently asked, looking at your face, even though your eyes avoided his.

"Yeah. You know, people overwhelm me a bit sometimes-" You admitted a bit bluntly.

"Oh, yeah, it's fine, I get what you mean-" He assured you with a smile. But then his smile faltered a little in worry.

"Wait, since you wanted to be alone, aren't I a bother?" He asked again, ready to stop bugging you in case it wasn't welcomed.

You softly smiled at his politeness.

"No, I said you're not a bother. I don't mind you being here, and- I like that you came here, actually." You admitted with a bit awkward and coy smile. You weren't used to speaking your mind freely like that, in case something came out wrong, but you concluded your response was acceptable.

Mike grinned bashfully as he remembered your previous words.

"Right, right, sorry heh." He scratched his neck as he showed a toothy grin.

"So..." He started after a few seconds.

"Tell me if I'm crossing any boundaries here, but I felt like there was some shift from you since that, um, knot situation." He carefully said. "...Are you- mad at me? Did I do something?"

You cringed internally at yourself.

"Oh, eh- no-" You quickly chimed in. "No, I'm sorry if I came off that way-"

"I just got a bit overwhelmed because I'm so clumsy- But I'm alright now." You assured him with a half smile while your leg continued to bounce. Until you noticed the movement and promptly stopped.

Mike had noticed all of your quirks but never commented on them.

"Hey, it's alright- I didn't mind helping you." He gave you a warm and a calm smile.

You waited a bit before thinking about saying something.

"I- I dunno if you know what a 'meltdown' is...?" You carefully started. You never explicitly stated you're autistic, nor you wanted people to treat you like a child whenever they found out, but you trusted Mike wouldn't do that.

Mike blinked once before tilting his head slightly.

"A meltdown... Uh..." He looked at the ground, trying to think about it.

You explained before he could say anything else, saving him from an awkward silence.

"It's an autism thing, I just kinda shut off for a moment there. I know it's not really useful in a competition." You bluntly admitted, waiting for his reaction.

Mike then seemed to get the idea "Oh, right! Yeah, yeah I know what is it." He nodded to emphasize.

"You- You don't have to worry about that! I know how it is to get overwhelmed sometimes-" He chuckled nervously.

"Just so you know, it doesn't change anything." He showed yet another reassuring smile which made the corners of your lips move up as well. "I'll help you whenever you need it!"

"...Thanks." You hoped the shine in your bashful eyes didn't expose your feelings too much.

["𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎"]

After several days on the island, you noticed something changed. Mike seemed off to you.

Others didn't seem to notice, but your eyes caught some discrepancies in the way Mike acted.

His whole demeanor changed in an uncanny way.

You were used to being very chatty around him due to his always reciprocative stance, but recently Mike started to seem annoyed.

Worries flared up immediately once you noticed he might get bored of your ramblings, so you decided to ask him about it.

"Hey, uh, Mike? Can I ask you a question?" You tried to casually introduce the topic.

"Hm? Yeah, sure. Go on." He answered with fake investment in his voice, smiling.

"Am I talking too much? You can tell me to stop if you got bored or something-" You awkwardly informed him, hoping you weren't a bother after all, waiting for the confirmation.

He stopped for a moment, showing an unsure but cheery smile.

"Oh, no, no- Of course I love listening to you- But I'm just a bit tired today, so maybe you could tone it down a little today?" He tried to be as gentle as ever while shutting you up.

He wasn't very disrespectful but it kind of hurt you. Even though you knew he had the full right to politely ask you to stop, you thought he enjoyed the discussions with you.

You tried once again a few times, but all you were met with was subtly seeping annoyance from his responses.

"Oh my, that's interesting- But tell me, do you have anything else to talk about?" He asked while smiling and pretending to be invested.

"Uh- yeah. If you want I can-"

"Cool. Then talk about something else." He abruptly cut you off.

So with time you slowly shut up with the ramblings, which Mike seemed to be happy about.

You couldn't believe he just changed like that, as if it wasn't him. But you also felt like you had any right to force him into listening to you.

The changes in his behavior didn't stop at that, as you also noticed some remarks coming his way, which you had trouble deciding whether it was sarcasm or not.

He also seemed to get a bit more demanding, not being as keen to help you with things now.

You didn't take Mike's kindness for granted of course, but you knew something changed.

You had a bad feeling.

Your logical thinking made you come up with theories on what happened.

You knew about Mike's D.I.D. and wondered if it was maybe someone else. But you also knew Mike's alters well enough to know it wasn't any of the ones you were acquainted with.

Only thing that stopped you from outright asking him about it was your common decency. It would be rude to just assume.

So you decided to test something.

You once again started your favorite topic, one that Mike had a lot of questions and discussion about while he still acted like himself.

"Hey, Mike, I recently thought about that one tv show we talked about recently and I forgot to tell you some trivia. Wanna listen to the facts about [character] or [character2]?" You asked with halfly casual tone, wanting to check his reaction. You mentioned Mike's favorite action movie, so you believed he would reply with some enthusiast about it.

"Wow- um- Yeah, [character2] sounds good." He responded with pretended interest but you caught some annoyance from him, "per usual".

"...I thought you didn't like [character2]?" You asked a tricky question. The character in question was his favorite one. At least Mike's favorite. You purposefully asked an untrue question.

"Eh- I mean- Hate-listening is a thing, right?" He tried to get out of the hole he fell in due to not listening previously to you. His attempts at trying to be casual were obvious to you now.

You stopped for a moment to look him briefly in the eyes.

"Actually, you mentioned [character2] being your favorite." You tilted your head and raised your brow a bit accusatory.

He looked to the side, as if caught in a lie, but still tried to save face.

"Well tastes change, don't they?" He crossed his arms in a bit of annoyance because of you poking holes in his story.

"That's really rude of you." He furrowed his brows in slight irritation as his patience was running out.

That was it, you knew Mike wouldnt' just tell you that! Or, at least you hoped you were right about it.

You took a leap of faith as you also crossed your arms in a defensive state, staring at him.

"You're not Mike are you?" You asked bluntly.

He got a bit surprised at your boldness.

"What?" He chuckled a bit patronizingly, as if you said something stupid. "Of course I'm Mike. Why do you say that?"

"Well- I didn't wanna assume, but looking at your behavior recently I noticed you got a lot less enthusiastic about spending time with me. So obviously something's up." You concluded, still sticking to your belief. You hoped you weren't wrong.

"God you have to overthink everything, do you?" His tone changed to a slightly deeper one.

You noticed him gracefully swish his hair in a way which made his bangs cover his eye.

"Are you usually this annoying? How did Mike even managed to deal with you?" He expressed his thoughts freely now while you were under his judging eye.

Your eyes widened a little - you were right, it wasn't Mike.

"Wow, okay- Who are you then?" You asked now without any restriction.

"I'm Mal." He responded with arrogance.

"And if you tell anyone I'm not that nerdy freak, you're done." He added with an undertone of threat.

"Hey, what's with that hostility?" You tilted your head and asked a bit bluntly but still remaining polite.

"I am simply direct. I don't have the time or patience to deal with any of your foolish questions." Mal's cold and serious persona was quite intimidating, but you managed to stay calm.

"Okay- I'm direct too, but I don't have to threat you while at it." You pointed out calmly.

"I'm not threatening you. I'm simply telling you what will happen if you reveal my true self to anyone else." Mal's words echoed a threat without any hesitation.

You sighed, sensing some mixed messages from him. "Alright- Uh, so- Why don't you want me to tell others you're not Mike?"

"It's not your business." Mal's face displayed no change in expression, still remaining as firm and strict as ever.

You waited a bit before shrugging. "...Fair enough."

Mal stared at you, showing no reaction whatsoever. "Anything else?"

"Uh- Since you're obviously not Mike, why don't we start again?" You tried to make something out of this unusual situation.

Mal raised his brow skeptically, trying to sense your intentions with that question.

"And what do you mean by that?" Mal's demeanor stayed unchanged, keeping a sharp and indifferent look on his face.

"Like- I know nothing about you, but- I'm opened to still hold an alliance, you know?" You shrugged, hoping he'll agree.

"I'm not looking for any kind of alliance with you." Mal's words sounded harsh and blunt. He never cared for any relationships, especially with people he doesn't even know.

"Okay, harsh." You bluntly put it, a bit awkward he wasn't keen on it. "But- uh, why not?"

"Because there will never be any mutual benefits here." Mal's statement was short and concise, showing no further interest in their current conversation.

"Uh- How so?" You continued.

"You have nothing worthwhile to offer me. No one else has anything worthwhile to offer me either. It's why I'm alone." Mal's words sounded as cold and harsh as ever, as if you weren't even there.

"…Isn't it a bit lonely?" You didn't wanna push the matter further, but without Mike or anyone else in an alliance, you felt lonely yourself. That's why you tried to save the situation you had before.

Mal stayed silent for a bit. "Lonely? Yes. Do I care? No." Mal's face showed no visible change of expression, staying as cold as ever.

"It doesn't matter to me if I'm alone. I can survive on my own, I don't need any friends. I never have and never will."

Your face showed a bit of concern as well as mixed emotions.

It was hard to get to him, but you still had some hopes.

"Well- I'm not saying you need them, but- since I already know you're not Mike, why can't we be at least on a positive terms?" You tried your best to seem an appealing friend.

Mal stayed silent for a bit, considering your words. He remained indifferent and unamused, but your words at least reached his ears.

"You don't even know me, yet you want to be on positive terms with me… Are you that desperate?" He looked at you patronizingly amused.

"I'm trying to be nice here." You bluntly said, a bit discouraged by his unwillingness to cooperate.

"Nice, you say? Do you even know what 'nice' means? To my knowledge, 'nice' is something you do to manipulate people and get their trust. I'm not interested in those kinds of games." Mal's words were cold and sharp, as if challenging you to answer him.

You stood there a bit dumbfounded at his definition of "nice". "No- And I'm sorry you had this experience if that's what you think it means. But I hold no malice towards you, really."

"Well you're either lying, or you're just a fool. I haven't decided yet." Mal didn't make an effort to hold back his words, just letting them slip with his usual bluntness.

You rolled your eyes slightly, but you were determined to change his mind. "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, like me, or even believe me, but- let's say it makes us even then? We get to be in an alliance, and I don't tell your secret?" You didn't like blackmail, but you had to save yourself somehow.

"…Let's say your offer interests me… What would be your goal of this alliance?" Mal's demeanor changed slightly, becoming noticeably more analytical and entertaining the possibility at least slightly.

"Well- First off, a buddy is always nice to have on the competition, second reason- I like Mike. And you're a part of Mike So- I also wanna be friends with you. And- I hope that's reasonable?" You put it in a honest way.

Mal chuckled out loud before looking at you entertained and looking as if he was about to burst your bubble. "But I'm no Mike. If you think I'm gonna act like him then you're mistaken."

"No, I don't." You quickly disregarded his words. "That's why I suggested a fresh start."

You waited a bit before elaborating more. "Yes, I know that probably sounds stupid, but I'll be blunt. I just wanna make a friend and stay in the game. And I suck at social interactions." You knew how desperate you probably were to him, given his indifferent approach to you, but you had no other idea what to do.

Mal was clearly entertained by your responses. He couldn't help but chuckle at their naivety and the sheer persistence of being his 'friend' or something similar. "…You're one odd individual. I must say."

Mal stood silently for a moment, pondering the possibilities for an alliance between you two. He sighed before responding. "…Very well" Mal's face looked serious now, having a proposition in store.

"Should you fail to respect my boundaries, or try to manipulate me in any way… you're dead meat." Mal's tone of voice changed a bit too, now sounding as if he weren't joking anymore.

"And I also want you to not interfere with any of my plans. Understood? I can tolerate working with you for the time being, but only for the sake of mutual benefits." Mal's words were harsh and intimidating, but there seemed to be a slight tinge of… skepticism.

That was a good thing, you thought, because at least he was considering your request.

You nodded.

[Mal at the confessional]

"I can't decide whether they're planning something I didn't give them credit for, or are they that stupid to think I'm really gonna be in a real alliance with them." Mal chuckled to the camera. "Probably the latter." He added with a smug smirk. "That naive pawn… it's too easy to manipulate them. All that talk about "friendship…" nonsense." He obnoxiously mocked your words with a hand gesture as his look held entertainment. "As if that mattered to me… or anyone." Mal thought to himself out loud. "No one ever mattered to me, and they never will. People are merely tools in my eyes, and I will use them to get what I want..." His expression seemed to stay serious and pondering for a moment before the video cut off.

[𝙼𝚊𝚕]

You had very mixed feelings about the situation.

You were very well aware Mal probably didn't respect you and only agreed to it for his benefit, you weren't stupid.

But you also had some hopes he would come around with time.

Your relationship proceeding further was very rocky, as Mal didn't really treat you with kindness, which you kind of expected, but weren't happy about.

Still, he didn't try to vote you off, and for the time being it worked.

You were a bit lost about what to do, but the days on the island didn't let you have a break to think about things, and the challenges proceeded as usual.

Today's challenge was a camp-out one. People in the team had to partner up with someone and then spend a night outside, in the forest.

"Easy enough", you thought, but you noticed some eye-roll from Mal.

Obviously you and Mal ended up being partners, due to the "mutual" alliance you had.

Once the teams had chose their respective campsites and you were alone, Mal swooshed his hair so it fell on his eye once again without a comment, seemingly more comfortable with this hairstyle instead of Mike's usual standing hair.

"So- How about this place?" You pointed out to a simple area that didn't have a lot of pinecones on the ground, offering a softer ground to set a tent on.

"Whatever, can be." He briefly acknowledged your words without any further interest.

You were a bit tired of his apathetic demeanor but you let it slide.

You placed your backpack on the ground, preparing to take out the necessary equipment.

Mal sat on some available tree root, expecting you to do all the work.

It took you some time but you were determined to set out the tent properly, even under Mal's judging eye.

To no avail. Without an instruction, it wasn't your strong suit to just "wing it".

Mal raised his brow unamusedly while crossing his arms.

"God that's pathetic." He commented without any hesitance.

"Okay then, you do it." You crossed your arms as well, now looking at him.

You heard a "tch-" from him. "Really? You're that helpless?" He smirked.

"It would appear so." You just bluntly admitted, gaining some surprise from Mal, which quickly disappeared after a moment.

"Weak." He murmured to himself, making sure you also heard him. He walked up to the tent, setting it up without much resistance.

You plopped down on the tree trunk Mal was previously sitting on, watching him work.

After he was done you didn't want to be useless, so you got up with an idea of gathering some wood. What's a camp without a camp-fire, eh?

Mal saw you leave but didn't comment anything, choosing to go sit in the tent he just set up.

You were really trying to be nice and respectful to Mal, but he was slowly draining your willingness to do it.

As you were collecting random twigs from the ground you were thinking about him though.

No one was mean without a reason, and given Mike's situation, he probably went through lots of stuff to get to his current behavior, which made you feel sympathetic towards him.

You came back to your little campout, noticing Mal lazily sitting inside the tent, holding a knife in his one hand that was carving the wood he held in the other. You wondered where did he get it from?

"I brought wood." You announced, letting the twigs fall onto the floor.

"Congrats, you made yourself useful." He commented briefly, but mostly ignoring you.

It was a start at least.

Soon enough the air became colder, forcing you to make a fire.

You gathered some rocks and formed them along with several pieces of wood, trying to set the fire with 2 rocks, as you had to do with Mike on scout-type challenge, until Mal took out a match with unamused expression and started the fire.

You blinked as you saw the fire appear, then looked at Mal. "How did you get a match?"

"I stole it." He replied carelessly without a hint of shame.

"...Okay, that works." You only managed to say.

You both got near the source of warmth in a careful distance away from each other, you sitting on the tree trunk nearby, him sitting in the tent.

The challenge was going pretty smoothly, until it began to pour.

The rain quickly took out your fire, making Mal groan in irritation.

As you felt the droplets of water on your clothes, you quickly went into the tent where Mal was taking most of the space, but he reluctantly moved to the corner once he saw you coming.

You stayed silent as you observed the aggressive change of the weather, with Mal not making a peep either, only keeping his outward display of annoyance towards the rain visible.

It was getting dark and cold, with the weather having no plans of going back to the sunny afternoon it previously was.

Mal backed out into the tent, sitting quietly and looking outside with an upset expression on his face.

There was a long, awkward silence that got to you internally, but you didn't want to risk annoying Mal with bringing up "annoying" topics to talk about, as you had no other ideas.

You came to the show with quite a thick jacket with a hood on, so the cold didn't bother you that much, but you observed Mal pressing his bent knees to his stomach in attempt to keep warm.

There was no sign of struggle from his side though, as he made a good job of sitting still, acting like it wasn't bothering him, with the exception of subtle trembles of his body once in a while.

It was obvious he felt cold with only a short-sleeved shirt to keep him warm.

"Are you cold?" You asked hesitantly, even though you knew the answer.

He shot you a death glare. "I'm fine."

You waited a second, looking at him briefly and thinking about your options. You decided to press further.

"You have short sleeves though." You pointed out, looking at his face getting agitated.

"So fucking what? My fault this moron can't dress properly?" He barked at you with hostility, as if you were pointing out his misfortune.

"No." You responded a bit taken aback by his tone, but you remained calm.

"But- We can share." You made your intentions clear as you took off the jacket, handing it to him.

He looked at you with skeptic and confused eyes as if you had some hidden intentions behind that move, but he accepted the gift without any comment.

You noticed his grumpy expression soften slightly but still keeping that distrustful glare, avoiding your eye as he put the jacket around his back.

You judged his reaction as a positive one though.

After a moment you scooted closer to him, touching his side with yours, to which he raised his eyebrow at your "audacity".

"What are you doing?" He muttered, looking at your movements with mixed feelings.

"You're not the only one cold here. I'm also freezing." You explained a bit lightheartedly, hoping to ease the thick tension between you two.

Mal only briefly looked at you and let out a "hmph" noise as an acknowledgement as he looked away from you, yet he didn't move away, letting you stay in this position.

You sighed contently for the first time in a few days now.

You watched the rain fall in silence, but at least it wasn't as overwhelming now.

Finally the exhaustion caught up to you both as a product of several hours of walking and doing stuff.

Mal let out the first yawn and so you asked him whether he wants to go to sleep.

He shrugged, still keeping his indifferent behavior but accepted. "Sure, whatever."

You both moved to the far away corners of the tent and layed down, feeling the fabric of the tent soften the hard ground halfly. Chris didn't pack you any sleeping bags, that would be too easy.

All you had was your jacket as a make-shift blanket.

You noticed Mal laying on his side, in a way that wouldn't make him face you.

You offered him a part of the jacket but his ego didn't let him accept this time.

"I'm fine. I don't need it." He harshly turned down your offer.

You sighed. "Fine."

Mal remained stubborn, even though the cold was biting his ass, he managed to fall asleep.

You however couldn't, due to the uncomfortable place of sleeping.

You laid on your back for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling of the tent, before deciding to take a look at Mal.

His breathing let you notice he was asleep, although his shaky body was visibly cold.

You didn't have the heart to let him freeze, so you very carefully moved near him, putting a part of the jacket on him to cover him up.

You pressed your back very slightly against him, craving some additional warmth from his body that would benefit you boths

Fortunately he didn't wake up.

You managed to fall asleep after some time as well.

Mal woke up after several hours, thoroughly confused about the state of his being, as he expected to wake up cold, but he was quite- cozy.

His expression changed as soon as he noticed you very close to him.

He cringed at your proximity, with your front facing him in a blissful state of sleep, hair over your eyes as if in rom-com movie.

He was about to forcefully shake you off him, but he decided against it for some reason.

Perhaps it was his self-preservation finally speaking, instead of ego getting in his way of survival. Your position was both comfy and warm, after all.

He only turned to lay on his back, letting out a heavy sigh, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as it was now his turn to look above without any particular reason, just to think over the situation.

As soon as you started to wake up, he immediately backed off, putting the whole jacket on you.

"Finally you're awake." He said as if it was a big bother.

You softly rubbed your eyes, yawn escaping your lips as you done so.

"When did you wake up?" You asked with a bit of haze still.

"Doesn't matter." He sharply shut down your question, although his tone was just slightly different than his usual bitterness.

After you both past the challenge timer of staying and ready to leave the place, you noticed Mal taking down the tent, without you having to ask him for it. Huh.

[Mal at the confessional]

Mal stared at the camera with crossed arms for a longer moment, having an ambiguous expression on his face. After some time he finally decided to open his mouth. "God, they're so helpless. They can't even set up a damn tent." His scornful tone made it obvious he was making fun of you. "How would they even make it so far without me?" He once again made it clear to the recording device that he was needed for your victory. Yet another few seconds passed by before his thought was said out loud, this time his face turning less arrogant and more figuring out what he's gonna say. "...They're so naive." He reiterated once more, as if to reassure himself what to think. "But- Maybe with my help I'll be able to use them to my advantage." He finally found the correct direction of his further words. "I'll make sure no one gets between me and Y/N getting a chance at winning the money." "Of course, just for me to forcefully take the victory away from them, later." He said confidently, but he felt the need for a clarification on that last part. He lingered in the confessional for a moment more, before getting to his final words, looking straight at the camera. "And if anyone plans to interfere with that, they're gonna go down."

[BONUS - DATING HEADCANONS]

Of course if you and Mal become a thing, he'll be more keen about tolerating your quirks and listening to you ramble about your hyperfixations.

He won't be as invested in them, but he'll treat you in a way he'd treat a cat enjoying it's favorite toy - "You do your thing sweetie. It's stupid but adorable to look at."

Once he gets used to your true thoughts and trust you, he'd also think your honesty is refreshing.

He thinks neurotypicals play too many complicated emotional games.

He can also play them as a form of manipulation, but if it comes to trusting each other he appreciates you always being blunt when it comes to what you think.

It's obvious Mal most probably has ASPD and Narcissistic Personality Disorder, so he's not a stranger to people not liking his attitude and way of thinking.

He might be a bit too harsh on you at first, not used to having someone caring about him (or vice versa) but with time he'll learn to not go as hard on you.

Like with your 'special needs', not tolerating some textures and foods, your obsession about only on topic at a time, or stimming, which might be distracting to him.

He might panic a bit inside once you have a meltdown first time around him though, not knowing how to act around you in that state, as only thing he knows it's hostility, so don't expect him to be much help.

He might listen to your requests how should he act later on, though.

He will also be more straightforward around you when he notices your "denseness".

"Do you- want my jacket again?" You asked, looking at Mal. "No, let me freeze to death." He remarked sarcastically, expecting you to pass him the jacket again, but you just blinked, unsure if he wanted it or not after your previous similar encounter with him being reluctant to accept it. He looked at you a second more, now elaborating a bit annoyed. "Yes, I want it."

Even more so after Mal became less insecure about showing his interest in you.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked, looking at you expectantly with a hint of tease in his voice, obviously wanting you to come closer to him so you'd need him as a source of warmth. "Kinda-" You responded casually, yet still did nothing. Mal waited a moment before finally sighing and pulling you closer to him in a smooth manner, making you a bit surprised. "That means come here." He reiterated slightly more greedy about your presence. That amount of possessiveness made you a bit stunned, but in a kind of positive way. He wasn't negative towards you anymore, after all. "Do I really have to spell out everything for you?" He asked halfly serious. "Well- apparently." You admitted a bit embarrassed at your lack of clue. He rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. "Okay then. You're mine now."

#total drama #total drama x reader #x reader #headcanon #imagine #gn reader #gender neutral reader #mal #td mal #total drama all-stars #mal x reader #total drama mal x reader #td mal x reader #ask #request #autistic reader #autistic!reader #mike x reader #td mike x reader #mike #td mike

[aventurinemybeloved]

Summary: You have eagerly been awaiting your boyfriend's arrival after getting a text that his work was cut short, when you didn't expect to see him not even a second after reading it.

gn!reader, fluffy fluff again because I don't want to add anymore angst to this man y'all, he almost got german suplexed lmao

Happy Aven day guys!

Seems today is my lucky day, we got the job done quicker than anticipated, be prepared to see me soon~

Reading his message made you excited, it's not everyday that his line of work ended that quickly, more often than not it was the opposite, going days, weeks months even with having minimal contact with your lover due to how engrossed he is with his work, having a high position and all, but he never forgot to send at least one message a day to you, both to ease your worries and also quench his desire to talk to you again.

Your mind raced with ideas on what activities to do with the man once he's finally back home, of course you plan on making sure he's rested up first before doing anything but that still doesn't stop you from imagining date ideas, maybe a trip to a nearby planet that you've been eyeing of going to, or perhaps just a normal romantic dinner, the possibilities are endless when you're together with him.

So engrossed in thought, the looming figure behind you went unnoticed until it was far too late, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, as your fight or flight response activated right away, ready to beat the crap out of whoever dares to-

"Hey~ I was wondering why you weren't replying, only to see you standing here with that goofy look on your face"

Speak, or well think of the devil and here he comes, your eyes must be playing tricks on you, or so you think because there's no way in hell he's actually here so quickly, standing there wide eyed as the blonde just stared back at you without saying anything, but that sly smile tells you all you need to know.

And so, like the logical person that you are, you hit him on the chest, not that hard, but also enough to make him fake being hurt by the sudden attack.

"Ouch- come on what gives, is this really how you treat your boyfriend after he comes home?"

"I'd treat him much better if he didn't come home with the intent of scaring me to death!"

You exclaimed loudly, pouting as Aventurine merely laughs at the silliness of this situation, taking your hands in his, he gave it a soft peck as those eyes looked at you with such longing.

"Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you."

It was now your turn to give him some much needed affection, as you kissed him on the cheek, chuckling at his surprised expression.

"It's okay, Welcome home Kakavasha."

His gaze softened at hearing that name come out your mouth, the feeling of pride and love in his chest at the fact that he has someone like you here now, and he's never been more grateful for it, maybe it was his luck that brought you together, perhaps it was fate, or an aeons doing, whatever it may be, he's just glad to be home with you.

"It's good to be back."

#aventurine honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #belle writes

[bruisedboys]

hey, congrats!! totally deserved AND your celly theme is super cute!! So so so sorry this is super long

SPIDERHEAD, drabbles ─── send in a thought/headcanon you have about a character and I’ll expand on it in a drabble!

This is totally self indulgent but!! Hobie is such a craft guy. It’s totally punk, obviously, DIY that shit!! He maybe won’t call them dates out loud, because labels or something, but he invites you on crafting dates, he’s got boxes of materials and trinkets—beads, buttons, bottle caps, sewing supplies, glue, you name it. Crafting dates are the greatest because making things with/for people you really like can be so intimate

I’ve also been spending my last few days making pins, and tonight, I accidentally sliced my fingertips with an exacto—I think Hobie’s crafting supplies and his suspiciously well-stocked first aid supplies are near eachother for convenience when crafting and totally not because he has a super secret spider-man alter ego

no because ur so right anon

hobie brown is such a crafty guy!!!! you would think he thinks it’s lame and nerdy cos he’s such a cool guy but honestly he thinks it’s totally punk. he for sure is always cutting up his clothes, adding pins to them, making them look better and more unique because why would you want to dress the same as everyone else? he has a bunch of unfinished projects around his place, a vest he was adding patches to or a pair of jeans he was drawing spiderwebs all over in permanent marker but never got round to finishing. sometimes he��ll buy something just for the sake of cutting it up and ruining it (aka, making it better).

when he finds out you’re into crafts too — maybe he compliments a piece of jewellery you’re wearing and you beam, all thanks!! I made it!!! — hobie is immediately smitten. he’s like woah! that’s sick, can you teach me? (cos he’s totally smooth like that. he’s been watching you from across the pub all night and this is the perfect excuse for a ‘date’), and of course you say yes — if a pretty boy like hobie is asking to spend time with you you’re not gonna deny him.

you end up going to his place, and you bring some of your own supplies of course, but he surprisingly already has so. much. stuff. beads and wire, buttons and string, scraps of fabric, a janky old sewing machine that was probably second-hand but it does the job!! you teach him how to make earrings and you both end up making a whole bunch of them and then when you’re done he gives you his favourite pair, claiming pretty jewellery needs a pretty face to go with it :))

after that, craft dates become a regular thing with you and him. you make all sorts of things together, taking turns teaching each other the skills you already have. or sometimes you’ll be doing your own separate projects but in the same room, hobie’s music playing in the corner while he works on a pair of patchwork jeans and you work on a crochet top. after a few of these ‘dates’, hobie asks you out with a handmade necklace that holds one of his guitar picks on the chain. of course you say yes and keep the necklace forever and ever!!!!

also yes he absolutely has a first aid kit on hand. not so much for himself, usually when he cuts himself or pokes himself with a sewing needle he’ll just let it bleed lmao. but once you start coming over more he’ll make sure it’s always fully stocked. and when you hurt yourself, even if it’s just a tiny paper cut or something, he’ll dote on you, kiss it better, and wrap it in a spiderman bandaid <3

#★ mal writes! #hobie brown #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown fic #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown blurb #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown drabble #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown au #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x y/n #spider punk #atsv hobie #atsv hobie x y/n #atsv hobie x you #atsv hobie x fem!reader #atsv hobie x reader #⟡ 4k celebration!

[thebookbutterfly]

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

#bbrequestlist #sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #got #game of thrones #sandor clegane x you #the hound #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #no use of y/n #hurt/comfort #whump #request #banners by cafekitsune

[willowrites]

Can you one about Y/N asking elvis if he can be submissive for the first time but elvis is used to being dominant and Y/N is used to being submissive so is kinda confusing for them but they get through it together (also can Y/N be called mama and Elvis be called baby boy) ANYWAYS THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!! HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE LMAO!!

such a good boy

PAIRINGS. elvis x reader

SUMMARY. y/n and elvis try to experiment and it goes in both of their favors …

WARNINGS. fem reader, sexual implication, begging, sub!elvis dom!reader dynamic, handjob edging, overstimulation.

TROPE. loversss

AUTHORS NOTE. thank you for this request! i’m sorry it took ages to work on but i’ve been so busy with college and my photography career…i hope this will help u forgive me. i have something similar to this so be sure to check out my masterlist!

You were waiting for Elvis in his dressing room about ready to head home. Your hand moved in a rhythm across the velvet couch you were sitting on anxiously waiting for Elvis's arrival.

His performance today was beyond what you ever expected to happen. The whole time he kept making eye contact with you, his moves making you feel goosebumps arise all over your body.

The way he moved on stage had you weak at the knees. You always felt like you needed him after one of his shows but today you felt the need stronger.

You realized that in the midst of your and Elvis's long relationship, you felt as if you've never really had control in the relationship when it came to the bedroom.

You didn't really care but for this once you wanted to see what it was like to make Elvis beg for you. You wanted to see his eyebrows furrowed while he was on his knees eyes welled up pleading for a taste of you or him lying on his back with you on top begging for you to taste him.

As you dozed off looking straight at the wall in thought, you didn't notice Elvis had walked through his dressing room door until he said something. "Hey, baby."

You looked up meeting Elvis's sweaty figure. You internally moaned at his appearance acknowledging how hot and sexy he looked in his outfit from tonight.

Once your head turned toward him a bright smile made its way across his face and beamed at you which was contagious and caused a bright eye-to-eye smike to come across yours.

"Hi." You said shyly to him feeling as if he could've read your thoughts.

You stood up ready to give him a little welcoming kiss.

"You ready to go?" He asked making his way towards you. He pulled you by your waist towards him kissing you on the lips. "Cause I'm ready to go." He kept kissing you making his way toward your neck. "M'tired and wanna get in bed with you kissin' all over you."

"I am so ready to go." You sighed feeling relief to have Elvis close to you but with exhaustion as well because your feet were hurting from standing and jumping cheering for Elvis.

"Alright, mama well let me just finish up collecting the things I brought, and well be on our way yeah?" He said caressing your face and kissing you all over.

You nodded letting him do his thing while you sat back down on the couch waiting for him to finish.

A few more minutes past of Elvis shuffling all over his dressing room trying to collect his things and he was finally done.

"Alright honey, let's roll." He stood beside you handing his hand over to you for you to take. You gladly accepted accompanying him to the door to exit the dressing room.

You guys had finally got home pulling into the driveway of Graceland. You were about to exit the car when you saw Elvis speed to your side opening the door for you.

You thanked him taking his hand and stepping out of the car. He placed his hand on your lower back to guide you all the way to the front door, through it, and on your way to your shared room.

You both settled in getting ready for bed but you were feeling some type of way. You had to admit you felt needy. Ever since you had daydreamed what it would be like for Elvis to be on his knees for you. The thought alone got you extremely wet.

You called out to Elvis and told him that you were going to take a shower. He hummed in understanding finishing getting ready for bed. You grabbed all your things for after the shower including a black with red accents set of lingerie.

You sped walked to the connected bathroom and shut the door in the excitement of the events that tonight await. You showered, shaved, and touched up in the shower and exited feeling nice and refreshed. You then rubbed some lotion on anywhere you felt that you needed on your body.

You then moved on to your skincare routine accidentally rushing yourself. You combed through your hair caressing it with some oil on your hands making it smell nice and feel soft.

Once you were done with all your post-shower prep you felt ready to go. You had your lingerie on as well as a nightgown, ready for Elvis's eyes to make their way all over your body, and by the way he had performed tonight, he deserved a reward.

You turned off the bathroom light and slowly walked out suddenly feeling nervous about it. Elvis was with his shirtless back turned fixing something behind the TV which you were very thankful for because you put your stuff away and just sat on the bed.

You didn't know how to make it clear to him that you wanted to start something.

It seemed as if all your confidence drained out of your body as soon as you entered the room, not because of Elvis, but because you've always been shy about this sort of thing.

"Honey, you ready for bed?" Elvis yelled across the room most likely assuming you were still in the bathroom.

You didn't respond back still feeling your nerves in the middle of your stomach.

"Oh, baby why didnt you say anything.” Your head turn towards him feeling your response stop at your throat. You clenched your thighs. He looked so good. “I didn’t know you came in. Thought you were still in the bathroom.”

He put whatever he was doing to the back of his mind and started walking toward you. “Had to fix the tv really quickly just in case you wanted to watch something before bed.”

You nodded as if you were trying to comprehend something but it was only because you didn’t know what else to do.

“You okay?” He asked, his hand finding it’s way to your chin tilting your head up so you can look at him more specifically his eyes.

Intimidating. You thought.

You didn’t know how you were supposed to be more forward and dominant when you struggled to make eye contact with him.

“Yeah.” You whispered stuck in his trance becoming more needy by the minute.

He slowly started sitting down letting his eyes trail down your body. “Cute nightgown.” He whispered.

Your breathing halted. You were trying to contain yourself as his hands moved toward your shoulder trialing down your arm.

“You look a little dolled up for bed don’t you think?” A smile played on his lips. You didn’t notice what was happening until Elvis’s hand landed on your thigh and pull up your nightgown a tiny bit enough for you to move your leg wider in desperation. “Already needy baby?” He asked trailing his hand back and forth on your thigh.

Just do it. Take charge. You told yourself.

You can do it.

“Are you?” You finally had the courage to say.

His brow raised. You felt lightheaded all of a sudden but you decided what’s the harm in continuing. Elvis would never make you feel bad for judge you for anything.

You removed his hand from your thigh and placed yours on his shoulder starting off tame.

His breathing pattern changed you could hear him holding back his heavy breathing.

You moved your hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck then to the back of his hair while you scoot yourself closer to him making your thighs barely touch.

You pulled his hair slightly and heard a whimper escape his pretty lips.

“I asked you a question.” You said a little sternly.

You saw his adams apple bob up. Your eyes searched his eyes for any sense of discomfort and just as you were about to back out you heard him reply.

“Yes.” He whispers leaning closer to your face.

As he was about to kiss you you leaned away. “Yeah?” You let out a breath of belief.

“Mhm.” He kept trying to lean forward towards you. You let out a little smile. "You have no idea how badly I want to take this cute little nightgown off your body right now."

His words sent butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"Only if you're good. You'll be good for me?" Your hand moved itself to is chin slightly moving it so that he locks his eyes on yours."

He let out a tiny breath.

"Yes, I promise. I'll be a good boy for you." He let out quietly and you could've sworn you heard a whimper.

You were caught off guard by what he responded to you with.

You then realized, he felt comfortable enough to become vulnerable with you. You wanted to take care of him.

You stood up and took his chin in your hand. You leaned down placing your lips on his. It was passionate with no tongue. You wanted to savor it.

He tried pulling you closer by placing his hands on your hips hoping to tug you closer but you stopped him.

“No touching baby.” You took his hands off and placed them on each side of him. “Later. Only if you’re good.”

He nodded eagerly.

“How bad do you need me. Tell me baby.” You brush a hand through his beautiful jet black hair.

“So bad. It hurts. Want you to do somethin’, please mama.” Your heart fluttered at the name. You always loved when he called you that.

“Ok baby, I’ll give you what you want.” You smiled gently. You kneeled down right in front of him. You’ve given him head a few times but more so when he was dominant. You didn’t know how to go about this when you had the upper hand.

As if your mind took the wheel, you palm him through his sweats.

His head drops back in relief. You can see him cleanching the blankets in caution so that he wouldn’t bring his hands close to you in case you stop.

“That feel good?” You asked wrapping your hand around his print.

“Mhm.” You can tell he was trying to hold back his moans. But you didn’t want that.

You stroked his print a little harder causing a sharp gasp to escape from him. His mouth opened wider but then quickly turned tight lipped.

You pulled your hand away from him causing his head to come back forward.

“W-why did you stop?” He whimpered. You’ve never heard him sound like that before but it you loved it. If made your stomach feel all weird inside but a good weird

“I want you to take off your sweats.” You expressed standing up to get a good luck at him. He was sweating. His black hair was sticking to his forehead and his erection…you could tell it was painful. “Can you do that for me baby boy?” You threw in the nickname. You’ve never used it before let alone on Elvis so you were anxious about his reaction.

He looked taken aback by it but a hint of a smile made its way onto his pretty lips. “Yes. I’ll do it just for you.”

“Lay on the bed for me afterwards, yeah?” You asked starting to fake the straps of your nightgown off your shoulder and let it fall to the ground revealing your lingerie.

You observed as he laid further into the bed rotating so he was laying his head on the pillow and his feet were close to the edge of the bed, removing his sweats leaving his boxers on.

“These too?” He gestured towards his boxers.

You shook your head no. “Mm, leave them on. Want you to see how much of a mess you’re gonna make.”

You started to crawl onto the bed towards him and sitting on top of his thighs, resting your hand onto his bulge.

“Tell me how good this feels.” You whispered palming him back and forth keeping a steady rhythm that caused him to move his hand to his face covering it.

The silence helped you hear his silent moans and whimpers as you kept palming his grown erection.

He lifted his hips wanting a harsher touch but you pulled back.

“Don’t move or I’ll stop.” You warned trying your best to sound demanding.

“Please baby. M’gonna lose my mind. Just make me come. Please.” He begged which was music to your ears.

“If you’re good i’ll make you come baby. All you gotta do is not move. That’s not hard, yeah?” You smiled reaching in his boxers and making contact with him.

He hissed at the contact and you could tell he was trying so hard not to touch you. Trying so hard not to show you who you belong to. Trying so hard not to flip you over on your shared bed and fuck you until you couldn’t even bear to walk.

But he liked something about not having control…or was it being taken care of?

“Imma touch you now okay?” You told but more so ask just to make sure he was okay with it. “Is that okay baby boy?”

He nodded, desperation written all over his face. “Yes mama. More than okay.”

Your heart jumped in excitement at the nickname once again.

After you got that consent you were looking for, you wrapped your hand around his hard erection and began pumping.

He squirmed in his place biting his lip to hold back the sounds that would escape his lips.

You put more pressure making him slam his handsfeet down on the duvet and squeezing it in his palm. “Mama, please. Let me touch you. You got me hot n bothered I need to touch you please.” He begged. You were stroking him faster knowing you was almost at the edge.

You stopped stroking him his tip looking irritated and red.

“N-no baby please. Keep goin’ M’sorry. Please.” His eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“If I let you touch me, will you come for me like a good boy?” You place your hand on his cock stroking painfully slow.

He hissed and nods his head. “Mhm. Always good for you. Always. Please. Please please please…” His pleading turns into a whisper as your hand moves in a faster place.

“That’s my beautiful boy. So good for me. Gonna come so hard for me yeah? You can do that right?” You wanted to clench your legs because of how wet you were. You wanted his fingers deep inside you but you had to stay strong. At least until you got to your plan of riding him until you couldn’t anymore.

“Yes…mhm. Yes gonna come.” He placed his hands on your thighs.

You could see he was about to reach his peak so you slowed down like the lovely girlfriend you were.

“How bad do you wanna come baby?” You saw how his facial expression changed so quick at your change of pace.

“So so so bad. Please y/n. Cmon please. I need it.” He tried bucking his hips up towards your hand to get more friction. “Mmm…please.” He whimpered. God did you love that sound he made. It drove you insane.

You obliged to his wishes picking up the face rapidly. “Mkay, i’ll give you want you want baby boy. Just for you.”

His breath quickened. It was short breaths. You could see how as seconds passed his grip on your thighs tightened. That’s how you knew.

His lips parted and your name slipped out of his mouth. “O-Oh my god. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yes, feels so good.” He moaned in a whisper.

As he was going through his high you kept the pace, overstimulating him at the same time.

“You said you wanted to come baby? I’ll give you exactly what you want. Even more.” You stroked him as fast as your hand would let you.

“F-fuck. Baby…too much.” His hand went to remove yours but he stopped himself. “Mmm.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop. You know the word baby. Let me know.” You reassured him still keeping that place.

“N-no. God, gonna come again. Gonna come again. Fuck baby.” His hips were squirming in pleasurable pain.

You saw as he hit his second high which you decided was the mark to slow down and help him ride it out.

As you saw he calmed down you smiled down at him.

“Wow baby. That was.” He blew out a breath. “Amazing. You’re so hot. C’mere.” He gestured for you to lay next to him.

“You should clean up.” You giggled at the stain on his boxers.

“Mm, I think I should return the favor.” He leaned and whispered in your ear and you felt his hand toying with your underwear in between your thighs.

This was going to be a long night.

this was not proofread sorrryyyyy!!

#elvis film #austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin x reader #austin butler angst #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis presley #elvis presley smut

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, lottssss of fluff cause u guys deserve some, lots of mentions of alcohol, basically a party lmao

A/N: I’ve got ideas for a mini-series with Lando and one-shots with Max but I need to finish this off before I get carried away elsewhere!! ALSO, super sorry for the late update but it’s been a hectic last few weeks with weddings (summers are BUSY) but yep, finally dialled down and ready to post!

Listen to 'Ho Hey' by The Lumineers during the dancing part, it's such a feel good song :')

Word Count: 3.4k words (12 mins reading time avg)

…

"Ow." You say monotonously as Lance rewraps the elastic bandage, then loosens it amidst your very nonchalant way of expressing agitation.

"The bruising's little better, you just gotta try and keep it straight." You nod, turning your attention to your sister who slid her chicken off of her fork by her teeth.

Lance turned to face his body forward again, tugging the sleeves of his blazer down. He watched as you directed your gaze towards your knee, carefully adjusting the bandage a couple of inches higher to prevent any itchiness.

"Can't believe you hurt it the day of the wedding." You shrug, fiddling with the hem of your dress and stretching your leg out, being careful as to not collide it with someone else's foot beneath the table.

"Just my luck," you settled on an answer and took a sip from your wine glass which desperately needed refilling if you wanted to let the thoughts of your damned knee waft out of your mind.

As if on cue, the waiter who was serving your group tonight popped open and poured a few inches of content from a fresh bottle into your glass. You refrained from asking him to hand you the entire thing. Once he'd began tending to someone else, you spared no moment in taking another sip, though this one was much longer than the previous one.

It didn't slip your notice how Lance leaned in, his words laced with a faint concern.

"You do know alcohol slows your healing down." You only give him a side eye, your lips touching the rim of the glass. Maybe you paused for a brief moment to register what he'd told you, but it didn't matter because you resumed consumption of the liquid seconds later.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else but his eyebrows raised in attention as his head whisked to meet your brother.

"Try some of the sushi mate," he prodded hospitably, but Lance brought a hand to his stomach, "I'm not a fan of it. I'm sure it's been well-made but I've tried it a few times in the past."

"Ah." He paused before your mum cut in, she was dabbing her napkin to either side of her lips. "Y/N, you should've told us. I would've asked for something else to be made." You really wanted to roll your eyes, she definitely wouldn't have. In fact, had she known, she probably would've asked for just seafood to be made.

"No harm done." Lance smiled, seeing the impatience with your mom already bubbling up evidently on your face. "Do you cook?" Your mother didn't stop there though as she recaptured his attention.

"I do sometimes, yes." His response took you by surprise, you'd never pegged him as the cooking type. Yet, the revelation only added to his allure in your mind.

"What, tea and toast?" She covered with a laugh though you knew it was a subtle dig, it didn't seem to occur to the man besides you as he only breathily laughed with her, assuming lightheartedness but there was nothing lighthearted about her.

"He can make plenty of things." You added, injecting a touch of seriousness into the conversation. Lance's eyes briefly flickered towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in a slight downward motion.

"Oh?" She sounded surprised, he was quick in interjecting to downplay the sudden admittance. "Y/N's hyping me up," he smiled then continued, "um no a-a couple of things sure. Just practical stuff."

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, noting his growing nervousness as he struggled to comprehend the atmosphere surrounding the conversation. You could sense the tension in the air, a feeling that lingered.

Releasing a sigh, you made a conscious effort to ease the growing awkwardness, forcing a smile as you lifted your gaze once again. "A man of many talents," you commented, aiming to lighten the mood.

Lance smiled at your compliment, remaining modest as he nodded appreciatively in your direction. It was evident that he was grateful you didn't let your mother's remarks affect your mood.

...

A few of the guests were beginning to leave the dinner table, the party now beginning to bleed on to the dance floor. You were slouched in your chair, going through your Instagram when Lance stood up.

"Where you going?" You asked him, though soon to be regretting it when his smile widened. "To dance. And you're coming with me."

Your eyes widen in horror, "I don't- no. I-" He doesn't let you finish your sentence, already tugging your hand up as you slide your phone flat on to the dinner table.

"My knee." You say in a matter-of-fact tone but you know it's not nearly as bad as it was earlier, the compression doing wonders for it.

Lance sees right through your lies because his grip on your hand doesn't loosen, "I'll be careful." You quickly join the assumption that he wanted to dance with you, not just have you up there to lessen his own embarrassment.

"I-" He tuts, "come on."

"Go have fun Y/N. It's not like this opportunity'll come 'round again." Your aunt wags her eyebrows suggestively, and Lance tilts his head towards her, wordlessly agreeing with the cheeky grin on his lips still very much prominent.

"You've definitely had more to drink than I have." He laughs, successfully helping you stand up and guiding you to the dance floor. He moved to the rhythm of the music, already grooving as he walked.

Suddenly, he tugged on your hand, causing you to turn towards him. Your eyes locked as his gaze swept over your body before returning to meet yours. With a playful smirk, he lifted your hand and drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

As the beat pulsated through the air, he began to shimmy his shoulders, a glint in his eyes. A smile adorned his lips when you instinctively started swaying your hips, matching his energy.

"I don't know where I belong, I don't know where I went wrong, but I can write a song," Lance sang along with the words, his voice as silky as butter. Oblivious to the effect he was having on you, he seamlessly continued on to the chorus, his energy contagious and captivating. You struggled to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings surging through your veins.

A genuine smile graced your lips as Lance playfully tried to engage you in the dance, guiding your arms and encouraging any movement. Laughter bubbles forth as he effortlessly twists you every which way. In the midst of the moment, the encounter with your mother fades into insignificance, and any lingering irritation dissipates.

You're overwhelmed with appreciation for the lengths your 'boyfriend' is willing to go to keep up an appearance.

Lance extends his arm, spinning you around before pulling you close, your bodies meeting. Your forearms align with his chest, and his hands firmly hold yours against his body as he continues to sing.

The lyrics escape his lips, "I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart," and in that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance that feels like pure magic.

You're already breathing a little heavier after the song had ended, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead but the man who'd constantly been spinning and twirling you around looked effortlessly handsome still. The perks of being fit, you supposed.

"I love this song." You listened a little closer then laughed when Lance began singing again, but messed up the lyrics a little.

"It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something stu- dumb to do." The note way off-key meant you couldn't help but chuckle, finding his imperfection endearing. Your head naturally found its place nestled in the dip of his collarbone as he joined in with your laughter.

Moments later, you lifted your head, resuming the dance with him. Once the chorus had begun, he quickly found his rhythm, the music guiding his movements flawlessly.

As the DJ continued to spin songs perfectly suited for a lively and exuberant wedding reception, a few guests eventually broke off from the floor to take a break or grab another drink.

However, you and Lance showed no signs of faltering. Fuelled by the atmosphere, you both remained in sync, undeterred by the fact that it'd been a while you'd been dancing. The music seemed to invigorate you, carrying you both through the night as you danced with unwavering enthusiasm, creating sparks of energy and joy on the dance floor.

As you settle onto a stool by the bar, your now sister-in-law taps you on the shoulder, holding a drink filled with clear liquid in her hand. Leaning down to ensure you hear her, she whispers, "you guys look great together."

Despite mustering a smile, a sour feeling comes over you. On one hand, it feels amazing that you and Lance have managed to convince everyone of your relationship, but you know it's not real. Your feelings for him are genuine, but he remains your colleague and friend — nothing more.

"I don't know how much it means coming from me, but he seems like a really good guy." You look up to meet her gaze, she tugs her dress closer to her legs to sit on the stool opposite you. "Can you tell my mom that?" She smiles, remaining cautious but you understood why. That is her mother-in-law now.

"I don't get the ex thing. The way you look at Lance, I don't know, you never looked at Thomas that way." She leans in to add convincingly, she was only dating your brother during the brief time you were seeing your ex, but the fact that she sees right through you makes you wonder just how obvious your attraction really is. To Lance especially.

You smile appreciatively nevertheless, at least someone's in your corner.

When you feel a presence come up behind you, you don't hold back a grimace when Thomas steps forward. You mouth 'save yourself' to your sister-in-law who chuckles, giving you a small hug before being whisked away by your brother, her husband, as he invites her to dance.

He takes her spot on the stool and you move to get up but he grabs your arm, "five minutes." You shrug his grip off of you and sit back down, pushing your stool a little back to maintain some distance. "Two."

"You're not serious about the F1 bloke, are ya?" You sigh, wiping the tip of your nose with your thumb to catch the tiny drop of sweat.

"I don't have to explain my life choices to you but just so you know, yes, I am serious about him." You state as if it should be clear, although maybe it was. In another reality far from this one, nobody would bring their partner to a family wedding unless they were truly committed to them.

"I know he's not your boyfriend, Y/N," Tom stares at you intently as he finishes his sentence, clearly anticipating any change in your demeanor or facial expression, causing you to suppress any visible reaction. But you're quite certain that your internal organs momentarily ceased functioning.

"What're you on about?" You question him.

He scoffs, as if you're just prolonging the inevitable truth. "At best, he's a friend. There's no way that dude's your boyfriend." You want to ask him how he caught on but didn't know how to word it so you chuckle instead, albeit a little nervously.

"You're funny." You say bitterly but Tom shrugs, a smirk on his lips, oozing confidence and surety in what he was saying as if he was aware this wasn't alcohol talking but the facts he'd built up since this weekend began.

"Come on. The air mattress in your bedroom, obviously has been slept in. On top of that, I haven't even seen you kiss the guy, just hugs and hand holding. People manage that with their mates."

You're beginning to get angry and you wonder if the two minutes you'd allowed him had grown to pass, "perving on my bedroom are we?" You suggest disgustingly through gritted teeth and Tom rolls his eyes, knowing you were stalling to gather a possible answer.

"I went to the bathroom, door was wide open. It's not like you tried to hide it." The smugness in his voice made you want to slap him but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister-in-law tap Lance's arm and point in your direction. You hid the relief washing over you, and swallowed your words.

"I couldn't give a shit about how you feel about my relationship." The anxiousness settling into the pit of your stomach caused you to feel a little nauseous.

"Mm-hmm, 'relationship'," he says, using air quotes with his fingers as he takes his hand off of his glass, followed by a playful wink directed at you. The feeling of nausea grows stronger, but you distract yourself when Lance places his hand on the small of your back.

Without wasting another moment, Tom leaves when Lance glares at him, leaving the two of you alone. He immediately redirects his attention towards you, his gaze fixed, wordlessly asking if you're okay.

"He knows," your voice shakes as you meet his eyes.

"Who?" He asks.

"Tom. He - figured it out. He knows we're not dating, he knows about the extra mattress in my room, he knows." You find yourself repeating, your mind in a frenzy as you whisper whatever you recall of the situation to the man currently hovering over you.

Your eyes glance behind Lance's body as you watch your ex go over to Kevin, interesting him in a conversation that you have no doubt is about his recent discovery.

"He's going to tell my brother, he's going to tell everyone-" You cut yourself off when Lance pushes his hand into your back, forcing you to meet his eyes again. Though this is not the time for it, the contact causes somersaults to erupt in your body.

"No he's not. He's not going to do anything, don't let him fuck with you." He reassures you, advising you to try and forget the encounter but it's all that is playing on your mind. You can't have him unwrap this entire weekend like a present waiting to be opened and showcased to everyone.

"Come on, it's the slow dance." You huff, finding right now a pretty stupid time to join your date for a dance. He sensed your hesitation, pulling you up by the hand much like he did a while ago.

"Isn't now a good as time as ever to convince everyone we are in love?"

You think about his question for a while then realise he had a point, you nod and let him guide you back to the dance floor, in a crowd full of many other couples doing the same thing.

You interlock your fingers around his neck, his hands finding their rightful places on either sides of your waist. You both begin to sway and you can see Tom standing just off of the floor, his eyes obviously trained on you and the F1 driver.

Lance looks down into your eyes to break your concentration, there was a subtle softness in them that you knew you could only claim as your own.

"What if he does tell everyone?" You whisper to him but he only smiles, contrasting you massively. One thing that differed between you was the lack of anxiousness in him and the load of it inside of you.

"A mattress can easily be explained, and he has nothing to prove that we're not dating." You swallow, remembering the other point Tom made in the short conversation.

"H-he said we haven't-" Lance's eyebrows furrow as your speech falters so you decide to rephrase it. "We only hug and stuff, to him couples do more than that."

"And to you?" You meet his lingering gaze, "what?"

His eyes fall to overlook your expression before catching your stare again, "what do you think couples do?" You subtly shrug when Lance tugs you closer to him. "I-I don't know. Traditional couple stuff." You curve around the obvious answer and he chuckles, nodding his head.

His eyes flicker to your lips and you could swear your heart skipped a beat, or maybe multiple beats. Your heart was fluttering vigorously within your chest, its rhythmic pounding so intense that you wondered if Lance could hear it if he focused hard enough.

You gazed at him, momentarily lost in admiration without any specific thoughts occupying your mind.

He observed you attentively, analysing you with deep contemplation. There was obviously something playing about his mind, but you couldn't decipher it, he'd never been one to read easily. He tucked in his bottom lip.

No words were exchanged but your chest was conveying more than enough, just as Lance's was. His emotions seemed to be a mix of nervousness, anxiety, and perhaps even panic. He couldn't understand why, this would only be a justifiable favour.

His gaze again shifted from your eyes to your lips, and the agitation in your body reached such a level that you felt your ribs may explode from the sheer feeling pent up inside of you. Raw emotions surged, unearthing feelings that perhaps you hadn't been sure about before. They were springing to life, blooming ever so confidently.

But so were you, every new sensation coursing through your veins made you feel alive, but frightened you too. It was powerful, overwhelming and a sensation that had never quite been matched with previous boyfriends.

You noticed the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. In response, you leaned in closer. You didn't want him to retreat from this proximity, despite the anxiousness gripping you.

You couldn't help but wonder the potential consequences that could arise. Any platonic friendship you'd built up until this point would be shattered. Lance sensed your distraction and squeezed your waist in response, "how's the knee doing?"

You sigh out an unsteady breath, "g-good." Your gaze was darting between his eyes, barely formulating a clear response to his question, obviously lacking confidence. You knew the song was only a couple of moments away from ending, though there was no countdown, everything felt perfect enough for it to happen now.

Your face began to warm up, "I-I'm not the only one who's having all these feelings, am I?" You asked ambiguously, half-fearing his response.

Lance knew exactly what you meant, it seemed a little inconclusive to make assumptions on such an open-ended question but the breathless look on your face and the glint in your eyes both served as hints.

"No," the ends of his lips curve slightly into a smile, only to serve as assurance that he wasn't answering for convenience but because he was telling the truth and he too was sick of having to hide it.

Lance moved maybe a centimetre or an inch closer to you, his proximity was so close that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, causing your eyelids to flutter. His hands slid slowly from either sides of your waist to your back, interlinking.

Your lips parted instinctively, your mind becoming clouded, and any trace of logic vanishing from your thoughts.

His bottom lip skimmed over your top one and you could've sworn your body had turned into jelly, you could feel him smile faintly before his mouth closed around yours. For a moment, neither you or Lance breathed.

Perhaps to give the other ample time to process this was really happening. A blush crept on to your cheeks, his lips began to move, enticing you to join him in an illusive dance.

You released a content sigh through your nose which only offered Lance more assurance, continuing to kiss you with eagerness you didn't know he had. You toyed with a few strands on the back of his head, gently tugging at his neck to urge him closer.

He hummed in response, happily complying with your unspoken command. You pulled away to catch your breath, he allowed you to step impossibly closer to him as people began curving you to go back to their seats as the next song began.

You took the minute you had to appreciate just how good he looked, his eyes light, his lips pink, and his fair skin glowing even under the DJ's overhead spotlights.

You met his lips again, remaining there for a few seconds before he moved against them, kissing you a few times. "God, you're amazing." He whispered when you detached for the final time, blushing but making no effort to conceal it anymore.

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Two more parts to go!

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @rd14 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @secretlyangrymagazine @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @nikki01234 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

#lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll fic #lance stroll oneshot #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one fluff #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one oneshot #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula 1 #formula one fic

[euphoriaasthings]

"wait until you like me again..."

Hey guys! I've been pretty much a silent reader on here since forever but I decided to write this lmao. It's also my first time putting any of my writing out there so pls be niceshjsbh🥹

Loosely based off of that one lyric from Ariana Grande's "we can't be friends."

"You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again..."

Warnings: None, just some angst.

Word count: 1.0k

Miguel lay sprawled on your couch, bored to death as he stared up at the ceiling, a half-eaten donut in one hand, a bottle of Jarritos sitting on the floor close to his outstretched arm. You weren’t too far away, seated at your dining table that was just fit enough for two. You had a deadline to meet. One of your professors had assigned you a project for class, and albeit small, you were working on a time crunch since you decided to procrastinate. 

A loud sigh from the couch caused your eyes to snap upwards. You see Miguel sitting up, looking at you. “Are you done yet?” he asks almost agitatedly.

“I’m almost done, I just need about three hundred words left,” you said before taking a sip of your iced coffee. “Three hundred?” he groaned before sinking back into the couch with a deflated look. 

“I told you I was busy but you decided to come over anyway,” you chuckled. Miguel couldn’t help but concede to that. It was true that he wanted to hang out at your place even though he knew you were busy. He said that he didn’t mind which, in honesty, he really didn’t. He liked being in your presence. There was something about your aura that was comforting and addicting in a way. Even when the two of you would sit in silence, it was that kind of comfortable silence that he loved. Maybe that was one of the reasons why the two of you had been friends for so long. 

You’d both met in your freshman year of high school, had graduated together, and were now living on campus at university. You had always been there for each other throughout the highs and the lows. You had been there for every messy breakup he’d had, and for every mental breakdown you went through after a failed exam, he was there for you. 

It hurt high school you to see him sad each time a situationship or relationship failed. You cared about him a lot. So much to the point that you had caught feelings for the guy. It frustrated you too, seeing him with another girl, knowing that he’d never look at you like that, or that you were probably not even his type. 

It wasn’t until the early part of your senior year of high school that you confessed to him. He didn’t feel the same way and it broke your heart. Despite him letting you down gently, it was a heartbreaking and equally as embarrassing experience and it took you a while to heal. But the two of you stayed friends which you were grateful for.  

Now, you had moved on and the two of you were in the middle of college, pursuing your individual majors. 

You continued to slave away at your laptop, totally oblivious to the way Miguel was staring at you. You looked breathtaking. The way your hair cascaded past your shoulders, tired eyes behind those blue-light lenses that were now sliding down your nose, the way you chewed on your lip as you focused on the screen typing away, the ambient lighting of your dorm casting a warm glow on your features making your skin look absolutely radiant. 

He would never admit it out loud but lately, he was beginning to see you differently. He’d been thinking about all the times you had been there for him, seeing how each vulnerable moment tore him down yet you never judged him for it. He recalled how he had broke down one time in front of you, completely heartbroken over the fact his first girlfriend had cheated on him. You held him as he cried his guts out. Or when his parents got a divorce and he refused to leave his room for days. You never shied away from him when he showed emotion. You were his rock, support system, and the fact that he hadn’t realized what he was looking for was right in front of him the whole time was absolutely mind-boggling. 

He wanted to kick himself in the shins for being so stupid for rejecting you (his past self really set him up for failure smh). Looking back at that moment made his heart ache with guilt and regret. The way your face fell, eyes glossy with hurt and embarrassment. If you had confessed to him now, he would have swept you in his arms in a heartbeat, pressing his lips against yours before saying how he was just as much in love with you as you were with him. But that was years ago and you’d moved on. 

His heart broke a little each time you mentioned a guy, or talked about a date that you’d been on. Each time you complained, saying how they were such boring, douchey guys, the urge to tell you that he would treat you so much better would threaten to slip out his mouth, but he held his tongue. 

He wanted you to be the one he’d wake up next to, to make coffee and pancakes for, to stay in on rainy days cuddled up on the couch, watching sappy rom-coms with. He craved that domesticity but the only woman he could ever picture it with was you. But he had no right to swoop in and take you as his. Not after he broke your heart back then. 

He sees your eyes snap up once again, locking eyes. You immediately took note of the way he seemed to be staring, getting lost in thought. “You okay?” you asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Miguel replied, slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught gawking at you. “Alright, I’m done,” you announced as you stretched your arms out, letting out a big sigh. “You wanna get something to eat?” you asked him. “Food sounds good right about now,” he replied as he watched you saunter over, plopping down next to him so comfortably before grabbing the remote. He felt a type of warmth blossom from his chest, a sliver of that domesticity radiating from how close you were to him.

He gazed at you again, his eyes wandering from yours to your lips. Oh, how badly he wanted to press his lips against yours, to pepper your pretty face with sweet, small kisses, and to say how much he loved you. But he couldn’t. So he sat there as you picked up the remote, letting you pick which show you wanted to watch, waiting for the day you’d like him again. 

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x y/n #spider man: across the spider verse

[blood-mocha-latte]

so i made a quiz a minute back and there was a question about my guinea pigs and a lot of people. followed up on that and wanted to know more lmao. AND if you've been here for even .5 seconds you are aware that i. love talking about my pets so let's get into it

i. Perdita Sue

name: -- perdita for 101 Dalmations (since she's black and white) -- sue for Sue Hendrickson (a world renowned paleontologist)

fun fact: as stated by the quiz she fucking. loves her water bottle. when she was a baby we were worried she had a blockage in her throat because she kept slamming it back against the wall of the hutch REALLY LOUDLY and her sister didn't do that. so we took her to the vet. nothings wrong. maybe it was just a thing when she was a baby no. no she just really fucking loves her water bottle and likes making it really loud

worst experience: she cut her paw open on a piece of hay when she was about a year and a half old and was bleeding SO FUCKING MUCH i almost missed a class final to stay home with her. she was fine lol

best experience: she likes to shake hands. i have a photo of this somewhere. if you put your hand down in the hutch she'll run over and put both her paws in your palm so you can "shake" them it's the funniest fucking thing

ii. Mei Rosalind

name: -- mei for my fiancee's middle name lmao (lenora-mei) -- rosalind for Rosalind Franklin (biochemist who discovered the structure of dna)

fun fact: again as in the quiz, she likes sunbeams. a whole fuckin' lot. like, too much. it was about noon and i walked into the room they're in and she was on her back. lil paws in the air. and i thought she was Fucking Dead but no. she was just sunbathing

worst experience: she once sneezed in my mouth and i thought i was gonna die

best experience: when i was studying for my organic chem final she slept on my desk the whole time and just generally kept me from Flipping The Desk and giving up lmao

iii. Meg Helen

name: -- meg for meg jay (clinical psychologist on adult development) -- helen for. helen keller. bc she's blind

fun fact: the only guinea pig we got from a pet store, who we weren't actually going to get. but she was curled up in the corner of a too small cage and was obviously miserable, so we ended up biting the bullet and adopting her. took her to the vet, vet told us she is The Most Blind Animal she has ever had the pleasure of meeting. take that as you will

worst experience: we got her when she was just a little over a week old and she had to be quarantined from the others. we ended up having to switch off and sit with her at night because she'd cry the whole time and she has the saddest fucking wheek

best experience: she has the croakiest voice of all time. we're pretty sure it's the same genetic inbreeding problems that made her blind, but it doesn't hurt her and it sounds Hilarious. when she finally got out of her quarantine hutch and to her real one (which is 45 feet squared lmao) she didn't stop popcorning and squeaking for fifteen minutes. i cried my fiancee cried i took a video and sent it to my parents and they cried it was a day

iv. Piper Florence

name: -- piper for the pied piper of war because she's the leader and the others follow after her like she's the. the pied piper -- florence for florence nightingale because again if you've been here for more than .5 seconds you know that i am a. healthcare bitch

fun fact: once jumped out of the hutch and then just stood in the middle of the room because she didn't know where to go. is Best Friends with meg and shows her where everything is in the hutch when we have to change it/replace objects. she does not like sue and ignores her. just doesn't like her there's nothing to be done

worst experience: we thought she had ovarian cancer about a year ago because she was lethargic/sick/swollen etc for a long period of time. tracking her poop what she ate all of that etc etc. turns out that she had a cyst which was still a fucking nightmare, but hey at least it wasn't cancer

best experience: when my fiancée got really sick a few years back piper would just sit on her chest and purr. it was cute and needed and she's fuckin BEEN there man she's basically our dog

anyways that's it. congratulations if you got through it all lmao. i also have four cats (i am. not good at fostering) and a dog so maybe i'll make a post about them idk. ok bye

#rie talks #actually have a post kinda like this in my drafts that's my fiancees experiences watching band of brothers because she is So Fucking Funny #anyways nothing else to tag this? #guinea pigs #i guess #ok bye lol

[lovincherries]

yeah i am going to need part 2 of just the tip omg

Just the Tip Pt. 2

summary: part two of my other imagine, Just the Tip, kind of angsty but not really. reader comes off obnoxiously pure, i know. BUT it’s to go along with the innocent theme

A/N: omg you read my mind!!! I still haven’t edited the first one lmao, so there are still grammatical errors; however, someone has to write Elvis smut. I’m not gonna lie, I have no plan, I just make stuff up as I go along. NOT PROOF READ! Sorry I just wanted to make sure I got it out today.

Warnings: maybe dubious consent? kinky, dirty, nasty, freaky, all the good stuff! breeding kink

Part Three

It had been days since you had last seen Elvis, since he took your innocence. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t hurt a little at the thought. You understood he was working on some songs at the Sun Studio, but you wished you could meet up for even just an hour. You had been walking around with this guilt in your chest, that you had done the worst thing imaginable in the world. He said he would marry you, said he would love you for the rest of his life. Could he though? His career was just beginning and there’s no way a girlfriend could be good for it, let alone a wife. 

It was 12 am and you were wide awake with your thoughts in your room, you missed Elvis dearly. There was a faint knocking sound coming from your window that distracted you, you looked over and of course it was him. Although you were happy to see him, you were angry too. He didn’t even call you, didn’t even ask you how you were the next day. Nonetheless, you let him in your room. That was something you would always do, let Elvis in no matter what.

“Hey baby, I missed you more than anything in this world,” he said, reaching in to grab your hips and kiss you on the cheek. “I love this little night dress number you’ve got on, can make a man go week in the knees.” He smirked, that god damn smirk, you just looked away in disbelief. 

“What’s the matter baby? How are you feeling?” He cupped your cheeks in his hands, engulfing your face. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you thought of how you’ve been feeling.

“I can’t believe you, now you ask? I was in pain the next day and there was no one there for me,” you managed to choke out, your voice cracked but you were not going to cry.

“I’m so sorry darling, I know I messed up. I should’ve called, should’ve been there for you. I’ve been working so hard so I can put a ring on the pretty little finger,” he said, pulling you into a hug. You felt guilty now, he had been working so hard for you. He promised he would marry you after taking the one thing that society deemed you valuable for, your virginity.

“Really?” you asked, looking at him through your eyelashes. 

“Yes, I wanna give you my last name. Y/N Presley has a pretty nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He asked, looking down at you. You nodded your head in agreeance.

You sat with him and talked for an hour listening all about his songs, letting him lay his head in your lap. He was letting his hand get dangerously close to your private parts again, a part of you longed for him to touch you there but the other part of you knew it was bad news.

You moved his hand away from you, letting the moral part of you win.

“C’mon darling, it ain’t nothing we haven’t done before. It felt real good for you the first time, right?” He asked, but it came out as more of a statement. 

“But, Elvis, you know I wanted to save myself for our wedding night. Plus, if we do it again, I could get pregnant,” you countered. He had convinced you that since you never had sex before that night, you couldn’t get pregnant. Your parents had guarded you from everything, you knew bits and pieces but all your information came from him. And you trusted everything he had to say fully. He lied straight through his teeth; he didn’t want you to worry with the very real possibility. 

“We have to practice to get good, I want our wedding night to be perfect. Don’t you?” He rhetorically asked, he knew it would only take a little convincing. Deep down you wanted it just as much as he did. “Plus, I won’t finish in you. I promise.” Another lie, he just couldn’t help himself. You looked down at his pants and you could see his penis rising. You now knew what that meant, he wanted you. It felt good for him to want you like that.

His hand was under your dress now, his fingers playing with the hem of your underwear as he talked. As he convinced you.

“Okay, but we can’t wake up my parents,” you demanded this. If they walked in on you and Elvis, you would never be allowed to see him again and you would probably be sent to live with your aunt who never got married.

“They won’t hear a thing,” he smirked again, you knew that look on his face. It was always trouble. He kissed you, grabbing the back of your neck and bringing you in. It was a slow and passionate kiss, so very different from the other night. You don’t know what came over you, but you moved so you were sitting on top of him. Your most sensitive part placed on his. He deepened the kiss now, his hands finding their way to your hips. He used them to guide you, to grind on to him. You let out a moan, you could feel him through his pants. Your shear underwear had no real coverage, he just kept bumping your clit.

His hands now moved to grab your butt, gripping it harshly as you now mimicked the movements. “So perfect, Y/N. Never in my life,” he said as he flipped you over, so he was now on top of you. It felt all too familiar like this.

He hovered over you as he began to lift your night dress up over your head, you weren’t wearing a bra, so your nipples were hard as they felt the cold air. The bruises he left on your breasts were still there from last time, marking you as his. 

“When we’re married, you won’t wear clothes around the house. Want to see you like this all day, every day,” he whispered as he was kissing down your neck. He pinched your nipple in his hand and it caused you to squirm. You felt bold now, and you began unbuttoning his shirt with shaky hands. Despite last time, you were unfamiliar with everything like this. You knew it felt good, but you knew it was so, so wrong. His tan skin was smooth to the touch, just seeing him like this was so erotic. His dark hair fallen over his face, his lips swollen from kissing you.

He began to kiss down your body till he was face to face with your prívate parts, something to obscene. You didnt know what he was going to do next, but you knew no matter what he did it would feel good.

He slowly took your underwear off, and his face lit up like he was looking at gold. “Such a pretty pussy baby, can’t believe you kept it from me for so long,” he mumbled as he got closer and closer. You gasped once his lips reached your clit sucking on, lightly tugging at it with his teeth.

“T-that’s a bad word,” you managed to moan, it was the nastiest word out there and he said it. He just smiled and continued on, but he brought his finger to your entrance. It was still slightly sore from last time, it was such a big stretch in such a tiny hole. He began to slowly push one finger in, pumping it in and out slowly. Making sure you were accustomed, that you could fit him this time too. You were more tense this time, you knew what he was going to do.

He pulled away from you clit, “so tight baby, holding onto my finger for dear life,” he joked. Joking did not seem appropriate to you in a time like this, it wasn’t funny.

“O-oh my god, Elvis,” you moaned as he continued pumping his finger into you, faster and faster. He began to play with your clit as well. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this feeling, the pleasure, or the feeling of being invaded. You began to buck your hips as he continued to press harder into your clit. If you could open your eyes, you know what you would see, a smug look on his face. And then, all of the sudden he stopped.

The sudden absence of his finger cause you to open your eyes, you were slightly agitated if you were being completely honest. He was off the bed now, and he began to unbutton and unzip his pants, god in that moment you felt just completely in awe of him. That smug look he has on his face, how he looked so hot with no shirt on, and just how dominating he looked. He was unbelievably attractive.

He was completely nude now and you were able to really look at his penis. Only one word came to your mind, beautiful. You had no clue what anyone else’s looked like, but surely it would never compare to his. It was unbelievably, intimidatingly big. You hadn’t had time to worry the last time you and him did the do, but now you do.

He began to slowly crawl on the bed, kissing up your body as he did. Peppering you with his love. Once he reached your ear, he whispered, “jus’ aching for ya.”

He had no idea how you were aching for him, you had never thought you would feel this way for anyone, ever. How could you resist him though?

You watched as he guided his shaft between your folds, letting his tip meet your entrance. Your breathing picked up, nervousness arising.

He began to kiss you as he entered, both of you releasing a gasp from the feeling. He had only put just the tip in, giving you a moment to adjust before continuing.

“It was like you were made for me,” he moaned in your ear as he pushed in more, it was still stinging as he continued. Your walls were engulfing him.

He soon bottomed out, staying in the position for what feel like hours but it was just mere minutes. It was a sting, but nothing compared to the last time.

“Elvis,” you whispered.

“Hmm,” he replied, eyes closed tight in concentration. He was trying not to move, “tightest pussy I’ve ever had. never in my life, feels so good,” he rambled.

“Start moving,” you interrupted, bucking your hips trying to push him to start moving.

He did, slowly he pulled out so he was just barely in you, and then he thrusted back in, hard. You gasped as his tip hit your cervix, it was a crazy, full feeling.

He reached down between the two of you and continued to play with your swollen, sensitive clit. The feeling combined caused you to see stars, it was overwhelming and powerful. It was so overwhelming you didnt even hear what he was saying, “gonna be my wife and have all my babies, want you to be full of me. Let all those other boys know youre taken,” he murmured mindlessly, drunk off of you.

He kept thrusting harder and faster, continued to play with your clit just the same. “Talk to me baby, how you feeling?” He cockily asked, he knew how you felt. Your head thrown back in pleasure, you truly couldn’t talk. Thank god your bed wasn’t loud or else you would be screwed.

“I-i,” was all you could manage, you wanted to tell him this was even better than last time but you couldn’t.

“Tell me or I’ll stop,” he thrusted harder, played with your clit more if it was even possible.

“A-amazing,” you breathed out, you were stuttering and barely managed to form a sentence. He just kept going, and going. You began to squeeze him with your walls, milking him, tempting him. This threw him off his high horse.

“G-god,” he moaned as you continued to squeeze the life out of him. You both looked down to see how you were connected, how easily he slid in and out of you, how it looked like you were made for him.

A ball was forming in your stomach, just like last time. This was a feeling you wish you could experience all the time, how you lived without it before you didn’t know.

“Gonna fill you up, try my best to make you a mama. You’d be such a good one, tend to my babies,” he whispered in your ear. You were too into your own pleasure to even begin to acknowledged what you were saying. You felt him quickening his pace, you were on the verge of spilling over.

He started thrusting harder too, hitting you at just the right spot. He began moaning in your ear, you knew he had to be close. You forgot about your parents, your parents be damned. This felt too good to stop.

“Bout to bust,” he grunted. Sweat was dripping off of him onto you. You pulled his face to kiss you down to you, both of you moaning as it continued. It was dirty, raw, and messy. Everything you came to love about Elvis, he was the polar opposite of you.

“I-I’m, bout to finish,” you managed to moan as he kissed down your neck. Sucking at your skin, lapping at it.

Then it hit you, a raw, pleasurable feeling. It was like you were seeing stars, totally, blissfully unaware of anything. You were just moaning uncontrollably. You were so into your own pleasure you didn’t even notice Elvis had finished as well, didn’t even notice the warmth overflowing. He had promised not to, so why would you think otherwise?

He collapsed on top of you, head laying against your breast. You didn’t even think about him finishing, the thought never crossed your mind. He stayed inside of you, making sure nothing escaped.

You played with his hair as he slept, you knew you couldn’t stay like this. Your parents were bound to come in your room in the morning, and if they found Elvis in here, it would be the end of you and him.

You could no longer keep your eyes open either, blissfully unaware of what the love your life did. Now you were bound to him, nothing could come between you. Not your daddy, not your momma, and certainly not your morals. Your ring laid in his pocket, which is what he came over to give you; however, he got a little distracted.

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@kittenlittle24

#austin butler elvis #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #Elvis smut #Austin butler smut #Austin butler #Austin butler imagine #smut #dubious #hottt #hot #sexy #steamy #Elvis Presley smut #Elvis imagine #Elvis Presley imagine #elvis movie

[ynbabe]

Lockwood & Co. Incorrect quotes, pt.6

Before Lucy 

Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks! Anthony: Why would I do that? Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*The Squad is eating dinner* George: Can you pass the salt? Anthony: *throws Y/n across the table*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George, after Anthony did something stupid: You should have realised, Anthony, if Y/n didn't kill you, I would have.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk? Anthony: The final boss. George: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right? Y/n: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, in love: How do you do that? Y/n, after having done something dumb: I'm fearless. George, having introduced the idiots and now regretting it: When we were kids, I saw you run from bees. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad. Y/n: I'm mostly fearless.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: My aesthetic is "would be sentenced to the chair by DEPRAC."

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Who hurt you? Anthony, always on the edge of a mental breakdown: *snorting* What, do you want a list? Y/n, pulling out ALOT of iron/silver weapons: ...Yes, actually.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?! Y/n: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long line of violence. Anthony: Oh... George, from across the room: *from across the room* I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch. George: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with. Y/n: Lmao, @Anthony.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: I hate you. Y/n: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, after a fight with Y/n: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing her name to Y/n.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, grave-robbing: I’m going to hell. Anthony, there for a case: Probably. Y/n: I'll pick you up? Anthony: *nodding* Carpool.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, pissed : Y/n! I thought you were dead! Y/n, back after running away for a year: No, just in deep cover. Anthony, about to lose his mind: ...But it was an open casket. Y/n, little scared now: It was very deep.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Hold on, I can explain! Anthony: Really? Can you now? Y/n: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Since Lucy

George, trying to joke: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon. Y/n, expecting a ‘delivery’: Cool. George: Do you know who Joe is? Y/n: JOE MAMA! Anthony, not even looking up from his phone: Damn, that backfired.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, just back home: Do you cook? Lucy: I made a cake once. Anthony: Yeah, it was good. Lucy: Really? Anthony: Don’t make me lie twice, Luce.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, back from sneaking around for state secrets: Anthony! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover. Anthony, pissed at her: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: For most of human history, vehicles had automatic collision avoidance and could even take you home if you were asleep or drunk. But then we got rid of the horse. George: You complete moron. You stupid fucking idiot. "Cars would be better if they could bite and shit" – that was you just now, dumbass. George: "Wouldn't it be cool if cars could piss? Wouldn't it be cool if cars could fuck?" Fuck off. Y/n: It would be cool if cars could fuck. Lucy: We... We still have horses.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, to Y/n, since they’re sharing a room,: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your side of the room for food. Clean your side and you will find it.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lucy: It’s funny how well you and George get along. Didn’t they hate you at first? Y/n: George hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I just found out from Lucy today that when I ‘died’ and George threw my weapons in the grave, Anthony said, “You should aim one at the coffin to be sure.”

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I give up. I am so tired. George: Get the emergency supply! Lucy: *carries Anthony and throws him in front of Y/n* Anthony: *smiles* Y/n: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lucy carlyle #George Karim #lockwood & co #x reader #lockwood x reader

[swifty-fox]

After reading all the sexy clegan asks, I would pay some good money to watch their OF 😵‍💫. I feel like this is a more polite way of saying I want to be the fly on the while while gale gets twisted into a pretzal. Or while John gets bent over the dinner table. Swifty, my dude (slides a case full of money across a table), how do you feel about an AU where two beautiful entrepreneurs take agency of their body's and their sexualities and make some good, honest money... together 😉. (I feel like I'm turning into Barry in Saltburn. I would drink the bathwater. SEND HELP. I need psychiatric care now!)

John Gamer Girl Bathwater lmao.

but!! your mind anon lmao. I got to spend a fun night with a couple aussie SW's a few years ago after a cancelled festival (not in THAT way. had a mutual acquaintance and offered to hang out with them since we all suddenly had no plans) and It was fun picking their brains about their lives. They were both primarily dancers.

John starts an only fans after graduating college with a degree in sports management. It's not that he CAN'T get a job but he's suddenly like 'fuck just because i like sports do i really wanna make this my career???' kinda lounges around a bit until the bills poke him on the shoulder. He's like hmmmmm wow if i go into the service industry i'll kill someone. I'm hot I got abs and a mustache and I'm six three I can probably do this. Starts off with a lotta POV handjobs and general thirst traps. He doe's great, its John Egan so he's just got that natural charisma and his voice is deep and shoulders broad and he's real good at dirty talking so he does custom audios for a price. Gets into the collab world on twitter and kinda shoots up in fame real quick. More of a top, bi asf like all my au's so he's kinda going across the board. He's pretty open about what his job is and the people who have a problem with it he kindly tells to fuck off

Gale starts one to put himself through his masters degree then finds out it kinda just.... makes a lot more money with a much looser schedule LOL.

He takes a long while to get good at it. He's hot as hell and has all the creepy dom top accounts all over him but he's shy and takes him a long time to figure out how to sell his content properly. He can't quite get into the cock hungry bottom bitch slut role that people wanna shove him into and it hurts him a bit. But he does manage to get a decently sized following pretty quick. King of the moaning clips, great fuckin one-on-one vidoes of him riding a toy.

John stumbles across Gale as everyone does: scrolling the porn tag on twitter looking for a lil somethin somethin. Those pretty lips wet and flushed as if they've been thoroughly used and those soulful eyes looking up at the camera as Gale hangs his head off the edge of a bed ready to be a perfect sleeve for his dick.

He wrings one out real fuckin quick, drops him a follow and a DM in that order introducing himself and asking if he's ever done a collab.

of course Gale already follows John. He thinks he's handsome but hes got no interest mixing business and pleasure (lmao just wait pookie). He's also never done a collab, never fucked another person on camera. But. but.

John is handsome.

And he knows the guy is legit and safe, has seen him ALL OVER (certified bicycle John Egan always) and knows he's had good reviews.

Gale's had many DM's asking for collabs. This is the first he accepts.

How can he not when John is in there saying "Hey man great content. Would to love maybe have you fuck me" as casual as can be.

Gale's never thought to FUCK someone on camera. Sure he likes both but like I said people want a certain image from. So that in of itself is appealing.

He agrees wholeheartedly

He puts John on his knees on a mattress and pulls his hair until his eyes water, presses him down with a hand between his shoulderblades for that perfect fuckin arch and and spanks him until John is jumping away from even a brush of his hands and whimpering, camera angled to get the perfect shot of his tear stained cheeks.

"Come on darlin," gale croons in that drawl "The people wanna see you break for them, give it all to me."

He fucks John, ass still stinging so he flinches every time Gale bottoms out but damn does he love it and damn does it make for good content.

John comes out of that session already in love.

and of course collabs usually film a bunch of content. gotta capitalize.

So after some rest and recuperation John does exactly what he's fantasized about and lays Gale over the edge of his bed and fucks his throat. Loud and wet and noisy. Spit and pre-come and tears dripping down Gales face into his hair; onto the floor. John takes a little break to rub it all over his face and tell him he makes such a good pocket pussy. Gale's gunna come just from this if Johns not careful. He doesn't have to worry though because once John goes back down his throat he reaches over and gives Gale a nice handy.

Spins him around and fucks him while he's too sensitive and screaming, half cringing away from it but also grinding back because fuck is does John know how to fuck.

John gripping gales hips in his big hands and telling him "Now you're not running away from me yet sweetheart haven't rode you raw yet"

They fuck a lot more. a LOT more. For the content of course. And then theyre like hey maybe we should move in together as colleagues and friends. Except??? maybe?? they start fucking off camera. And maybe they cuddle on the couch. and hold hands. and kiss and go on dates. And maybe they get married?? As colleagues of course.....or not

#swiftytalks #lore drop alert #buck x bucky #mota #i gotta go to the gym in a bit so send your Q's now! #OF AU #i really wrote this all out at 7 am i aint even had my oatmeal yet #if you wanna ask me about smut i AM going to be nasty