#she is number one on my hear me out cake

[saninmint]

doodles of the last couple of weeks

[etherealily]

𝔹𝕀ℝ𝔻𝕊 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽𝔼𝔸𝕋ℍ𝔼ℝ // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

based on this ask <3

Here's part 2 : Particular Something

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. I love him.

Warning: Cuss words .

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : bitter truths and blobcakes.

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It's hard to recall his first tribute. He'd had to begin quite early. Maybe in some twisted way, he was jealous of you for being able to be twenty and mentor. He'd had to be seventeen. Well, that was until he found out that you knew one of your tributes. His initial sharp inhale of breath upon the realisation didn't even begin to cover the turmoil he knew you must be facing. The jealousy evaporated out of him expeditiously.

He'd first seen your little tribute at the Tribute Parade with her little overalls and laurel crown. The boy seemed to have a better chance. But this little girl, good god, she was younger than Finnick had been during his own Games.

He'd seen you around quite a bit, too. I mean, how could he not? A couple years after his own Games, you'd won yours. Absolutely obliterating the competition. You weren't particularly strong, definitely not Career-level, but you'd definitely got the smarts to make up for it. You relied on geurilla surprise-attacks.

He'd always wondered what happened to you. You were oddly composed after your Games, which meant you were internally chaos personified. He knows this, because he personally knows someone else who was eerily calm after their Games. Him.

Now you were back. Same anxiousness as you'd exuded at your own Tribute Parade, but now, with the anxiousness for two others.

After spending far too much time gnawing on the inside of his cheek watching his tributes train in the Center from an obnoxiously large screen - they were talented, of course, they were Careers, but it was just not enough - he decided that he'd actually take advantage of the Capitol treating this like a party and help himself to the food laid out for him and the other mentors.

And then he saw you. He wasn't exactly sure if you'd remember him.

You were attempting to (utilise your evidently limited knowledge of) sign to the Avox behind the counter, who gave you a small menu in response. Looking up the item number on the menu, you tilted your head. "Cupcake?", you questioned, brows furrowed.

"Yes, Sugar?", he asked, leaning his elbow on the counter, grinning. With all his perfectly pearly white teeth. "Sorry, I had to.", he chuckled, watching as you curiously turned to look at him. "You don't think that's a cupcake?"

"It doesn't look like one."

"It's a District 1 delicacy. Don't let them hear you say that."

"It doesn't look like anything. It's a blob. Plus, I think that's gold on it."

"It's edible gold. It's fine. She'll have two. Trust me, if the Capitol's good for one thing, it's knowing the best materialistic stuff to have. And gold-dusted-cupcakes are iconic. We have 'em every year."

You nodded as you begrudgingly took the two cupcakes from the Avox attendant, handing one over to him.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am.", he replied, tipping an imaginary hat. "I'm Finnick."

"Yeah, I know."

"You remember me? And I don't mean from any ads or TV appearances. I mean, me, from the last time you were here at the Capitol."

You shrugged. "Kinda? Sorry, I was more focused on the Games."

"No doubt, no doubt.", he nodded, watching as you gently unwrapped the bottom of the blobcake. "What are you doing?"

You gestured at the blobcake. "Eating. You said it was good."

"You gotta lick the icing off first. That's how you eat it. It's a law."

"It's a law?"

"Well, not a-- yeah, basically."

"That's disgusting."

He spluttered. "The icing is the best part!"

"So save it for last!"

"Wow. Uncultured.", he muttered, running his tongue along the icing, shooting you a triumphant look. "Mm-mm, it's better when it's eaten right."

Defiantly, you took a bite of the cake-part, mirroring his look, to which he mock-gasped. "Blasphemy."

You laughed. He was glad. "So. You really don't remember me? I was standing right next to your mentor when you came out of the Arena?"

"Wait, aren't you the one who told your tributes to try to psych me out--"

"I nudged them in the direction of psychological--"

"Warfare."

"Not- not warfare, more... teasing. You killed 'em, anyway, so, I guess we're even.", he muttered, offhandedly as he took another lick of the icing, cleaning his lips with the back of his hand. Your silence made his head snap up.

"Right. Sorry." It was so quiet, he almost screamed to counter it.

"No, no, that was a joke- well, not a joke, I'd never joke about that, I just... it didn't mean anything.", he rambled, nudging your shoulder with his elbow, only letting up once you nodded.

Clearing his throat, he continued to lick the gold dusted icing off his blobcake, now sort of understanding your point of how disgusting it must look. But it felt right, and he'd long learnt that things feeling right was a rare emotion these days.

"So, your tributes. Quite the age difference, huh? Can't really push the whole star-crossed-lovers thing that Abernathy's doing with the 12 tributes, can you?", he asked, looking up at you taking another gentle bite of the blobcake.

You shook your head, instinctively glancing up at the screen, where, like clockwork, 11's tributes were displayed, along with a ranking.

"Seven.", you whispered, setting your blobcake down slowly, causing him to raise a brow before his eyes dutifully followed your line of sight. Oh. Wow.

"A twelve-year-old got a seven?", he muttered, resting his elbows on the counter behind him. "You trained her well."

"No, she's always been like... this insanely talented kid. Back at the District, right? She'd manage to squeeze her way into the Victor's Village to come see me. Peacekeepers never see her."

"Squeeze her way? What, you're not allowed to see the others?"

You gnawed on your lip, shrugging as you picked at your blobcake. "I mean, you guys haven't heard? The Peacekeepers said that the whole of Panem knew and that's why they look down on 11."

"Knew what?"

You looked down at your cake and he huffed. "C'mon, let's cause a scandal.", he mumbled, dragging you by the wrist to a secluded corner of the room. "Now, tell me."

Exhaling softly, you glanced around for a moment before nodding. "11's been trying to get our own Training Programme. Like you Careers have -- because it's an unfair advantage. The Capitol doesn't like that. It prefers you guys, obviously. So Snow calls me over sometimes, being the most recent Victor from 11, because he thinks I'll be loyal to him and snitch."

"Do you?"

"Would you?"

Touché.

"And that's why he has you guys separated from the rest of the District? So you can't give them tips?"

You nodded. "I try my best to help people out. I know it's stupid, that at the end of the day, there will be two tributes chosen every year anyway, but I donate some of the annual income I get as a Victor to families with eligible but very young kids. Y'know, like Rue. So that there's no need for Tesserae."

Whoa. So it was true, what the other mentors had been whispering about. You had personal attachment. Yeesh.

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"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course, Rue, c'mon."

You allowed her to settle down in your blankets before you stroked your fingers through her hair. "You have pretty hair."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Rue-bird." You'd been told by her mother, while she was clutching your arms with her trembling hands, to call her that if she needs it. No promises were demanded of saving her. No promises were given, either.

"How did you win your Games? They didn't tell us."

They wouldn't have. Doesn't go with the image of the badass, merciless Victors.

"Well, um, I was in an alliance with someone from 2. Which, I know, is odd, because usually, the Careers band together, but she was weaker than the rest of them. And somehow, it had just come down to four of us left."

Rue hummed, playing with her fingers as they rested on your stomach.

"So, we'd gone our separate ways to look for food. I found a, uh, a District 3 boy bleeding out. Some muttation, I think, had got to him. He didn't have much time left. He reached out his hand. But all that went through my head was my little baby brother. I had to know him. I--", you exhaled, licking your lips as you looked up at the ceiling.

The worst thing is that you've always been incapable of tears, when asked about the brutality of the Games.

"What did you do?"

"I turned back around. I went past our meeting spot, to where she was, the 2 tribute. And then...", you sighed. Fuck. "I literally stabbed her in the back as she was aiming at a squirrel for food. Well, not stabbed. I shot her. With an arrow. Both of their cannons went off at the same time. Hers and the boy's. I didn't have to mercy kill him."

"That's how you won?"

You nodded, lips pursed.

"You said there were four of you."

Oh, right.

"The other one was my fellow 11 tribute. I hid from him. The Gamemakers tried their best to force us together, but I managed not to."

"So he was looking for you?"

"I couldn't handle killing him, too, Rue. Someone from my own District. But he started believing I was dead and he just kept missing it on all the nightly announcements. He thought the Capitol was messing with him, that he was alone in the Arena. Wouldn't put it past them. But he went mad. He ended up killing himself."

Rue's silence was expected, and strangely enough, welcome.

"You won by default."

"Yes. They didn't see it that way, though. The Capitol's so used to brutal murders that they thought this was an 'innovative psychological strategy', not that I couldn't bring myself to kill him. But for my brother, I couldn't bring myself to let Heath find me."

"Heath?"

"The other 11 tribute's name."

"Did you say sorry to his family?"

"I haven't been able to look them in the eye since. They forgive me, though, they've sent letters on numerous occassions."

She fell asleep, then. Good. After this reliving of trauma, at least one of you should.

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If you could loop this week for the rest of eternity, you would.

One week went by so quick. One second you were on a train, watching Rue and Thresh's knees bounce as they looked out the window on the journey to the Capitol, and the next, you were sitting in a swivel chair marked '11', with Haymitch Abernathy to your right, mindlessly offering you a bottle for the fifth time after you'd declined.

But this time, you said okay. Because the countdown had just begun.

You bit the inside of your cheek, taking a sip, but your eyes stayed trained on the screen. If those two kids can't close their eyes, neither would you. You'd avoided watching any of the Games since yours so far, but now, you had no choice.

Your biggest worry was that some Career jackass would set off one of the landmines and that would set off Rue's or Thresh's.

But no. That didn't happen. Instead, a goddamn massacre painted the screen and the reflection on everyone's eyes was an angry, bruising red.

"It's a motherfucking bloodbath. I mean, it always is, but goddamn.", you heard Haymitch mutter from next to you. You looked down from the big screen back to the little one you'd been personally provided - the one you could zoom into, use map tools and whatever the fuck else the Capitol had cooked up - to locate your tributes. But fuck. You couldn't find her.

Thresh, of course, survived the bloodbath almost effortlessly. Well, no, that would be wrong. He used a lot of effort, but his training worked well. And plus, finding that he's hidden himself in the ginormous patch of tall grass - forestry district, baby! - you weren't too worried. But fuck, fuck, fuck, where was Rue? Where the hell was Rue? You heard cannons upon cannons and you just clenched Haymitch's bottle tighter with each one.

You were allowed to try to find your tributes on the screen, allowed to navigate through landscapes in the arena, but you weren't allowed access to the tracking tools used on them, or any other districts' tributes. Because what if you sent in a sponsor gift with a coded message of other tributes' locations. Wouldn't be fair, would it? At least, that's what the asshole Gamemaker Crane had said. As if sending kids to fight to the death was fair.

"She's a fuckin' idiot. An actual goddamn idiot."

For a split second, you didn't even care that he's possibly insulting your tribute. "Where?" You realised all too quickly, he was talking about his tribute.

"This girl, she's...", he groaned, slapping his forehead as he gestured to her, the one who got an eleven - Katniss, you recalled - running with an almost fluorescent orange backpack. "He was smart, he hid. And she was supposed to, but she just fucking-- she's this lucky. This goddamn lucky.", he muttered, pinching his fingers together.

"I can't find Rue."

Hey, you'd take all the help you can get. He's more familiar with this computing system, anyway.

"What, the tiny one? She's probably up in the trees or something.", he mumbled, waving you off.

"But we don't have access to those cameras."

"Yeah, I know. You just gotta keep waiting till it shows up on the big screen, I guess. Man, how the hell am I supposed to push this whole star-crossed-lovers schtick if one of them keeps trying to get herself blown up?"

Your eyes ran back to your screen, trying to scour the arena's locations for any hint of Rue. He was right, actually. She could be in the trees.

"You gonna hog that, or what?"

Eyes still on the screen, you absentmindedly passed the bottle back to him. Your blood pressure was rising with every cannon you heard.

Hands rested on your shoulders, and it shot even goddamn higher, as though it was you in the Arena again.

"It's me." Well, it's good Finnick decided to announce himself, because there was no fucking way you'd have taken your eyes off the screen for a moment, even if it was Snow himself trying to slit your throat from behind. "You find them yet?"

"I saw Thresh. I can't find Rue, we don't have access to the tree cams."

He nodded, leaning over your shoulder. "Shh. I know an override."

As silently as possible, while occassionally raising his brows (and eyes) to look around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he typed out something complex that looked almost like what you'd expect only people from Three were capable of.

"Did you find yours?"

"My boy died at the Cornucopia. My girl's still alive. She's with the other Careers.", he murmured, his eyes still focused on typing. "There. You won't get all the tree cams, 'cause they'd notice that. I've lowered the range to near the Cornucopia. She can't have gone that far."

You nodded. "Thank you, Four."

"No problem.", he muttered, squeezing your shoulders before sneaking back to his seat, seven seats to your left. You almost frantically navigated through the tree-cams, until finally, finally, you saw a flash of her hair.

"See? I toldja. All the Eleven ones do it every year. If there's trees. Never fails."

You could both hug and stab Haymitch at that moment.

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"Yeah, this is weird as hell."

Your head whipped around, and you raised a brow, watching as he moved closer to you, arms crossed.

"What is?"

"No one does this shit, man. You know that, right? You'd get notified if your tribute died."

"I'm just making sure."

You watched the night sky of the Arena light up with the names of the fallen. The two of you stood in silence as the big screen shone with eleven bright announcements, Finnick's jaw clenching as the District Four boy was announced.

He inhaled deep and long, tilting his head as the screen went dim again, the cameras showing split screen shots of the faces of the thirteen remaining tributes. "You didn't ask me what I was doing here."

"I didn't really care."

He nods. "Fair. You wanna know now?" You shrugged. "I kinda figured you'd be here."

"Capitol darling, expert hacker and now psychic, too?"

"Everyone hates triple threats.", he grinned, resting his elbow on your shoulder. "I figured you'd be like me and not trust the Capitol on your first Games as a mentor. Ergo, figured you'd be here."

"How so?"

"I remember during one Hunger Games - can't remember which one, but this kid thought he was all alone, and he was going insane. And the Capitol fucking taunted him. Let him goddamn believe it. They started displaying all the dead in a list and once or twice, the other tribute was shown although they were alive."

You didn't respond. How could you? You were reeling from the new information that Heath had got a tiny display of the deceased list all to himself that you hadn't been privy to, and the Capitol had fucked with him by adding you in sporadically.

"So, yeah, I figured you might have seen that Hunger Games. It was more recent. So. No Capitol trust."

"Those were my Games."

His elbow slipped off your shoulders as his hand slipped into his hair. "Fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you, uh, relive that.", he rambled, clearing his throat. How many fucking times is he going to put his foot into his mouth in front of you? He's pretty sure a hundred more.

He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Hungry?"

"No."

"Blobcakes?"

You raised a brow, and he raised one right back. "That's what I thought. Come on, Eleven."

----

He'd never seen anyone look as delicate as you while licking the icing off a blobcake. "Man, I don't know if I'm going to keep my end of the deal up. You're just making my way look so appetizing."

"Hey, whoa, I'm being disgusting and eating it your way. You gotta do it my way."

"What, a bite with cake and icing?"

"Uh huh.", you nodded, wiping icing off the corner of your mouth with your thumb. "Go."

Begrudgingly, he took a bite of the whole thing. Whoa, okay, whoa. He'd never fucking admit that it was perfect. But it motherfucking was.

"Hey, I saw that, I saw that!", you exclaimed, pointing at his eyes.

"Saw what?"

"That! That look in your eyes. You're awe-struck! It's the golden ratio of cake : icing. You know it!", you laughed, scrunching up your nose as you jabbed your finger in the air in front of his eyes.

"It's average. It's not that great."

"Oh, please!"

"What'd your district bring to this metaphorical potluck, then?"

You shrugged. "Nothing much. It's all out, now, anyway. No one wanted it, so I snuck it all back for Rue and Thresh, so they had something to eat to remind them of home." That was a week ago.

"What was it?"

"We have this special kind of bread, y'know? Like, it's... the most delicious thing ever. We have it on birthdays and when Victors come back."

"How long's it been since that happened?"

"A good couple years, besides me."

He nodded, setting down his blobcake and leaning against the counter. "You find any sponsors yet?"

You threw the wrapper of your blobcake away, before patting your hands together, clearing any crumbs off as you accepted the glass of water he passed to you. "For Thresh, yeah. For Rue, uh...", you trailed off, rubbing the ridge of your brow.

"She's hiding. She probably will do so for the rest of the Games. They won't really see much of her potential, will they?", he reassured.

You furrowed your brows, sucking on your teeth for a moment before shaking your head. "Yeah, thanks, man.", you mumbled, attempting to shoulder past him.

"It's just the truth.", he told you, his hand on your shoulder again. "Okay? I have no reason to hurt you or 'psych you out'. We're not the ones competing."

"Can you stop doing that?"

He removed his hand from your shoulder. "What? The hand? 'Cause I'm sorry, it's insti--"

"No, asshole, I mean the whole, like... 'you and I are birds of a feather, you can trust me, soft-as-fuck-look' in your eyes! Seriously, it's getting old.'

"What's getting old? Me caring?"

"No, you acting like you do! You're Finnick Odair! It doesn't matter to you whether your tributes live or die, because if they live, you get the glory, and if they die, you get the sympathy!"

"Whoa, HEY!"

Silence. He hadn't meant to snap.

"Do NOT fucking go there."

"I'll see you around, Four."

Good that you walked away, 'cause he'd have beat you the fuck up if you'd doubled down.

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Three days later.

He didn't think of what had happened between the two of you as a fight - he'd long learned that a disagreement and a full-fledged fight were vastly different - but he'd pretty much expected lack of any further conversation. Not that he wanted to talk to you and your half-baked knowledge of who he was.

But that's not to say he didn't check on you. And he just could not handle watching you take to Mr. Abernathy's methods.

"I think I'm cutting you off. Yeah?", he whispered in your ear, a hand on your shoulder to stop your inevitable jump of surprise as he gently pried the bottle off you.

"You have one.", you replied as you allowed him to drag you to the corner of the viewing room as you gestured at his glass.

"Yes. One. My first and only one of the night.", he informed, before tipping it towards the screen. "You're not checking up on them?"

"I just did. Thresh is still fine, and Rue's in an alliance with Haymitch's tribute."

He hummed, pulling you from in front of him to his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders after pushing hair off them. "And sponsors?"

"I have enough for Thresh. I can't find any for Rue."

"Have you tried talking to the bettors?"

"What?"

He leaned his face in towards your hair, whispering once more. "It's inhumane, but you could convince them to help you out with Rue."

"Finnick. I'm not going to talk Rue up to get people who are betting on her life to put in more money, no fucking way."

He licked his lips, before sighing, placing a soft, seamless kiss on your temple. "Okay. Can I help you out at least? I know some Capitol patrons who have a thing for helping underdogs. You'll have to talk her down, though. They're the same people who bet on Johanna, when she pretended she was weak so no one would go after her."

Sighing, he relinquished his grip on his glass of champagne and watched you gulp. "Just 'cause Katniss and Rue are in an alliance, doesn't mean you and Haymitch have to share supplies, too."

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Two days later.

Fifth day of the Games. His girl's doing fine. Career pack.

You? No, you're frantic. Thresh is getting herbs and knives and Rue's getting Katniss-scraps.

He doesn't come up to you, though, you who's spinning in half-arcs in your little swivel chair, eyes on the screen. He can't, not when the Capitol patrons devote such unnecessary attention to him, especially now that they're sure one of his tributes is valuable, having not been killed by the bloodbath nor by the other Careers (yet).

"What did they expect, her being trained by Finnick Odair? The fourteen year old victor himself?" They think he's flattered? They're sorely mistaken.

Yeah, well. Maybe you weren't particularly wrong about the fact that no matter if his tributes lived or died, he'd still be adored by the Capitol. It was so sickening, he'd have clawed his skin off if he could. Just to get their paws off him.

He watches from across the room as you slam your screen closed, shouldering through the crowd of patrons, bettors, mentors and gamemaker assistants alike, muttering "space, please" and "excuse me" too many times to count.

Fuck. He wished he could apply his 'not my circus, not my monkeys' motto here. But he couldn't. He'd almost made the same mistake and he'd been helped out, so.

It'd be a hard task, though. Sneaking away from the Capitol patrons would be fine, but sneaking past the Avoxes and the Peacekeepers would be a hassle. Nevertheless, he grabs your screen, tucking it under his arm, before he slips out of the viewing room as seamlessly as possible.

Now the real hard task.

He'd just have to hope the people already in the elevator were from 1, 2 or 3, so they wouldn't see him press the 11th floor after they left. That was a slim chance. The chances of that were, what? Three out of ten, excluding you and him? Phenomenal odds.

Luckily, it was goddamn Johanna Mason. District 7.

"Odair, as I live and bleed."

"Hey, Johanna." Thank fuck.

She nods, her eyes trailing down to his arm. "You're going to watch the Games in bed, eat popcorn or something? You're around Snow too much. He's rubbin' off on you."

"I'm returning this."

She raises a brow, gently gesturing for him to turn the device over, reading the huge '11' sticker on the back. "The new mentor? Really? You're all buddy-buddy now?"

"Uh huh."

"Fucking ace, man. But you know you can't visit other floors, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"No, like you can't. You'll be stopped."

"How do I--"

"There's stairs. Not the staircases, take the stairwells. Get off on your own floor, then make two rights."

He snorts, watching the elevator climb up past the floor for District 2 and get to District 3. "And you know this how?"

"You think I don't have midnight business with the other floors?"

He chuckles once again, hugging her by the shoulder. "Man, I missed you."

"Tell Eleven I said hi. And good job on keeping both her kids alive. See you next year."

He salutes, watching the doors open on the District Four floor, before disappearing to the right. And then another. And sure enough, there's a door that looks just right enough to hold an abandoned secret stairwell.

He shuts it gently behind him, before sighing. Seven more fucking floors.

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The thuds on your door are loud enough to elicit a frustrated groan from you, spitting out your toothpaste and gargling before slamming the bathroom door shut behind you. "I said I didn't FUCKING want dinner! No dinner, no dinner, I said no dinner!"

There's no Avox in front of you.

There's a goddamn Finnick Odair.

"Sorry, so, did you say you wanted dinner, or...?", he muses with a grin, raising a brow and showing you just why the Capitol was so obsessed with his eyes. They were his district. Ocean. Water. Beauty.

You can't exactly do anything but scoff, and he tilts his head knowingly. "Johanna says hi. And congrats."

"Johanna Mason?"

"Yeah, why? You need proof before you let me in?"

Oh, right, you hadn't even let him in.

Moving to the side, you glance at him walking in, whistling lowly. "Sweet suite.", he mumbles, flicking the end of a leaf on a potted plant near your bedside before placing the device on your bed.

"You can't be leaving this shit down there, you know?", he scolds, hands on his hips as he points at it and then you.

"Why not?"

"You don't want to know what happens? You only get the notification if your tributes have died or got sponsors if you have the goddamn device on you, do you realise?"

He flops on your bed, hands behind his head as he watches you disappear into the bathroom again, presumably to floss.

"Did you talk to the Underdog-bettors?"

A soft "mhm" gently floats out the bathroom.

"They didn't go for her?"

"No."

"Did you tell them her age?"

"I told them everything. I even used her fucking family for pity points."

Your voice sounds odd, and his head gently lifts off his arms, as he sits up. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

He bites the inside of his cheek, flicking at the comforter mindlessly. "Hey."

"Mhm?"

Okay, that's your third 'mhm' of the night. He knows what that shit means.

"You okay?", he asks, but he's already up and stalking towards the bathroom.

You don't respond, and he knows he needs to go the fuck in. He knocks, his knuckles lingering on the wood to softly push the door open. It creaks weakly, and he tilts his head.

Hands on either side of the sink, you're looking down at it, as if it contained all the money you'd need to send Rue mentor-gifts. The tap wasn't open, but the sink wasn't dry.

Tears.

Fuck.

Now, Finnick has little to no experience comforting people. That's his biggest flaw, he'd wager. He could light up a room, but not a person.

"Hey." It's as soft as he can bear to go without sounding patronizing. It's a gossamer-thin line, and he's pretty sure he's crossing it.

You don't respond, shaking your head, and he almost, almost makes the grave mistake of thinking that's you saying you don't want him there. However, he mentally flips off that thought, and instead, reaches a hand out.

It's almost like he's taming a bear or something. But. But when his fingertips graze the skin of your shoulder as timid as the first snowflake to ever fall, you immediately move, and he's found himself in the new, unfamiliar position of holding you, your face -and tears- on his chest, and his hand in your hair.

He doesn't tell you to 'shh', he doesn't say 'it's okay', because it's goddamn not.

"Why won't they help her? And why won't they let me use some of the money for Thresh on her?"

Your voice is barely heard, constantly overshadowed by trembles and sobs and gasps.

"Sweetheart.", he breathes out, attempting to pull you to the safety of air when you buried yourself harshly into his chest, so harshly, he's half sure you're breathing in zero oxygen, just 100% tears. "Hey. You're gonna have to look at me. Yeah? Yeah?"

His thumbs rub arcs into your cheek as it slowly untethered itself from his chest, and he sighs. "There she is.", he smiles softly. He's not going to give you any illusion of Rue and Thresh's miraculous saving.

"I don't get it."

"Look, she got a seven, which is impressive for her age, but--"

"No, I don't get the whole thing! District 13 rebelled, and so we gotta send our children to this shithole to die?!"

He really wasn't prepared for a worldview analysis.

Pressing fluttery kisses to your hair and your forehead, he hums, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense, you're right, but we're here."

"If one of them doesn't win, I'm starting a rebellion."

That was treason. He should recoil, tell you to shut the fuck up, to never goddamn say that.

But instead, he kisses lower. Your cheeks. Your nose. Your chin. "You're right. We should." He's humouring you, but Johanna's already been talking about this, grumbling, more like. He's also got one of those gut feelings, y'know? He can feel something big happen.

"I might start a rebellion either way."

"I'll back you up."

"I'm not joking!"

He takes the shove like a man. "Yeah, I know, I'm serious, too. I'll join you."

You glare at him for a moment, before shouldering past him to the bed again, turning the screen on. "I wish they both would survive."

"Two Victors?" Maybe that's the 'big thing' that he feels will happen.

"Uh huh."

"I tell you, sweetheart, that will be the day the rebellion actually starts.", he tells you, scratching at his chin before he closes the bathroom door, and eases himself back onto the bed in front of you, of the screen.

Your eyes are still red, your lip still quivering, as you navigate first to the tall grass field, to check that Thresh isn't in any immediate sort of danger, and then back to the rest of the Arena to search for Rue. You do it monotonously, as if you've already resigned yourself, and honestly? You might have a point. He won't tell you that, though.

"If you say I'm still only pretending to care, I don't know what to tell you.", he muses, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Listen, I'm not going to pretend to know what you feel. I've never... I mean, my fellow tribute in the Games was someone I never knew, and I've never personally known any of my mentees, so, what you must be going through? Unimaginable."

"I don't need pity."

"It's not pity. It's concern. It's sympathy. It's... it's caring."

You nod. "Thank you. Greatly appreciated." Sarcasm? He'll never know.

"See, you're saying that, but you're not really easing up on the comforter there, sweetheart."

Your hands, gripping the cloth like the talons of the mockingjays in the trees back in Eleven, loosen on reflex. It leaves a mark on the bed. "What do I do, Finnick?" Your voice chokes off into a tired exhale. He tries not to focus on the fact that you've just used his name for the first time.

"What's that?", he asks, tilting his head as he reaches to turn up the volume. You frown for a moment, biting your fingernail, before your brows relax in recognition, and you lean back onto the pillow, sighing.

"Her song. Four notes. They've been using that as a signal, her and Katniss."

"Why does she sing it?" Anything to get you to forget the fact that this girl could die.

You smile, softly. "She sees the end-of-day flag go up, because she's the highest up in the trees."

"'Cause she's the smallest."

"Exactly. So she whistles that, and the mockingjays carry it back. Lets us know the working day's over."

"Mockingjays? Whoa, never seen one. Thought they went extinct."

You shake your head. "They prefer staying in our District. High trees where they can hide. They don't like the electric fences, though, of course."

"What do they look like?" He's on one mission. Keep you talking. Distract you. Maybe this is how he should have approached comfort before.

---

It's been hours.

The screen's long forgotten now, though he sees a flash on your screen saying his tribute has died from trackerjack stings. He'll have to rewatch how the hell that happened. "Fuck."

"Oh. Oh, Finnick, I'm sorry.", you murmur, your hand on his arm. See, you're better at this comforting thing than he is.

"The sponsors didn't prefer her, either. Coral was, uh...", he groans, rubbing his hands over his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Not the strongest. Not the most charming. She was just a Career. Just there."

"Will you have to go home? To pay your respects? I think Johanna had to, I heard Haymitch talk about it."

He shakes his head, pushing some hair from your shoulder before chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Usually, yeah, that's the procedure. But, uh, not me. I just go home. I have one here, in the Capitol."

"You have a house in the Capitol. Not a home."

Yes, yes, yes! Fucking exactly! He nods, earnestly. "Yes."

Silence, as you both watch Katniss and Rue speak.

Their conversation is short, but the Capitol will eat it up.

"Do you really not want dinner?"

You shake your head, and he kisses your temple as he stands.

"Then let's just go get blobcakes."

[alittlebitofsainz]

- he kissed me right in front of my friends -

prompt: “i threw a party, he kissed me right in front of my friends, i felt so far from the cliffs.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: if you could have one birthday wish granted, it would be that you no longer had to hide your relationship.

a/n: lyrics from track #89 there it goes by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“hey, happy birthday baby!”

you couldn’t help but let your lips curve into a soft smile as lando pressed a kiss to your cheek, holding out a bag full of presents as he stepped inside your apartment. you accepted it graciously, eyes wide at the sheer number of gifts.

“lan, you really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “for my special girl.”

he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, but you quickly batted him away.

“careful, lan, people might see!” you giggled, looking up at him like he’d lost his mind. it had been eight months of keeping your relationship under wraps, and while you both understood why it had to be that way, it still didn’t make it easy. it was moments like these where you yearned for a normal relationship, one where your partner wasn’t in the spotlight, one where he could give you a kiss on your birthday and it wouldn’t be plastered all over social media the next day. but it was worth it, you thought as you looked up at lando’s face, eagerly waiting for you to open your presents. it was worth it to call him yours, even if it was only in secret.

yeah, it was worth it, you thought, as you watched lando laughing uncontrollably at something max had said, the two of them stationed behind the dj booth you’d hired for the party. in general, lando didn’t go much on drinking, and he’d sworn off djing for the most part, but he was willing to make exceptions for your special day, and you smiled to see him enjoying himself. your best friend followed your gaze, noticing you phasing out of the group conversation you were in, and nudged you.

“you’re staring, y/n. you totally fancy him.” she teased, and for a moment you almost slipped up, you almost replied with yeah, I really do. but you caught yourself, instead laughing it off with a sharp shake of your head, elbowing her right back.

“knock it off, we’re just mates.” you protested, but your friend arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a way that suggested that she didn’t quite believe you. she opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the lights shut off and the music cut out. you instinctively glanced over back towards the dj booth, eyes searching for lando, confused to find him gone. but the confusion only lasted for a moment as a glow of light emerged from the kitchen; twenty lit candles pressed into a cake, held up by lando as he brought it across the room towards you, all your friends joining in and singing happy birthday to you. you grinned, feeling tears prick your eyes. god, you’d never been happier. there was only one thing that could’ve made this day more incredible, and you sighed to yourself as you watched lando bring the cake closer, lowering it slightly so you could blow out the candles. his eyes locked on yours for just a moment, and you swore you felt your heart stop.

“make a wish.” he murmured.

you blew out the candles, earning a cheer and a few hip hip hoorays from your friends gathered around you. lando set the cake down on the table, another friend stepping in to help cut and distribute it to guests, allowing you just a moment to talk whilst everyone was distracted.

“what did you wish for?” he asked, voice low, making you lean in to be able to hear him above the music which had started up again. you arched an eyebrow.

“if I tell you, it won’t come true.” you retorted, the corner of your lips curving up into a wry smile. it always gave you butterflies, flirting with lando in public. something about it made you feel like you were still in that stage where anything could happen, like you were just starting to get to know him all over again. his expression changed slightly as he reached into his back pocket.

“now don’t yell at me, but I got you one last present.”

“lando!” you protested; you’d already admonished him earlier after you’d opened all your gifts from him. you could tell he’d spent a lot of money, more than you believed you deserved, on anything you’d ever mentioned wanting. shoes, a nice handbag, a designer coat, expensive earrings. but it wasn’t just material things, he’d got tickets to than gig you mentioned you wanted to go to, taken out an annual membership for the gardens you always liked going to for some peace and quiet, donated money to the shelter your parents adopted the family dog from. it was far too much, yet lando insisted it wasn’t enough to show you how much he loved you.

“I said don’t yell at me!” he replied playfully, producing a small wrapped item and holding it out to you, “it’s not an expensive one. it’s just… well, just open it and see.”

you peeled off the wrapping paper with gentle fingers, the package feeling so delicate in your hands compared to all the other larger gifts he’d showered you with. it revealed a gold necklace, with a single ‘L’ hanging from the chain. you looked at it, awestruck, running a finger over the gold letter.

“lan, this is beautiful.” you murmured softly.

“to remind you how much I love you, even if I can’t always show it.” he explained softly, and you felt a lump form in your throat. it was so bittersweet, you thought, as he took the necklace from your hands and instructed you to turn around so he could fasten it round your neck. the necklace was like some sort of twisted metaphor for your relationship, always there but often hidden. you turned back to face him, glancing down to admire the jewellery for a moment. if people saw this, it wouldn’t take them long to join the dots, to make the connection, especially if you were next to lando. you sighed, reaching to take the ‘L’ between your fingers and tuck it under your top, to hide it away. but lando’s hand was on yours in an instant, holding it in place, his fingers clasped round yours, clasped round the golden letter. you looked up in surprise.

“don’t hide it.” he said softly, “fuck it. I want people to see it. I want them to know.”

the confidence with which he had said it startled you, but in the best way. you barely had time to process the words before his hand had snaked around your waist, pulling you to him, his lips on yours in an instant. it wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a kiss that let everyone know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were his, and he was yours.

you pulled away for a moment, eyes on him, but in your peripheral vision you clocked a few of your friends watching the two of you, mouths open, slices of cake forgotten about. your best friend had a smug grin on her face, one that said that she knew all along. you saw max begrudgingly slip pietra a ten pound note. lando saw it too, and laughed. and then you laughed. and then you kissed him again.

“happy birthday.” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours.

“I got my birthday wish.” you murmured in reply.

a/n: and thus concludes the little ‘just friends’ mixtape! check out the previous tracks below:

told her you were just a friend | just don’t want your friend to see

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (aegon has a cold)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: aegon in love

- Next part: aegon is jealous

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995

Aegon lounges pathetically in his chamber, propped up by an unreasonable number of pillows, surrounded by the evidence of his misery. The usually bright and playful gleam in his eyes is dulled, his silver hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. A crimson flush colors his cheeks, but not from wine this time—no, it's from the fever that’s had him whining and moaning for hours. He coughs dramatically, letting out a moan that echoes through the chamber as if he’s on the brink of death.

Alicent stands at his bedside, her expression a mixture of concern and deep irritation. In her hand, she holds a small vial containing a thick, unpleasant-looking tonic, brought to her by Grand Maester Orwyle. She tries to smile, though it’s clear she’s struggling. “Aegon, you must take this tonic,” she says, her tone firm but coaxing. “It will bring down the fever.”

Aegon grimaces, turning his head to the side as though the very sight of the tonic might poison him on the spot. “No,” he mutters, voice muffled against the pillows. He pulls the blankets up to his chin like a petulant child. “It smells like the dungeons.”

Alicent’s smile tightens, and she takes a breath, clearly summoning her patience. “Aegon, you must be sensible. You’ll feel better once you take it. Orwyle says it will—”

But Aegon interrupts her with a dramatic groan, throwing an arm over his face. “No, Mother, I don’t want *Orwyle’s tonic! It’s foul, and it will probably kill me faster than the fever!” He opens one eye to gauge her reaction and, seeing her unimpressed look, he lets out an even louder groan. “Why don’t you just let me die in peace?”

Alicent's patience snaps, her voice growing sharper. “Aegon, stop being ridiculous. It’s just a tonic.”

Aegon, however, is already gearing up for a proper scene. He shifts dramatically under the covers, clutching his chest with a moan that would rival a dying knight on a battlefield. “I’m going to die, Mother, I can feel it. The fever’s too strong. I can barely lift my head. The end is near!” He pauses for dramatic effect before adding in a pitiful whine, “And if I am to die, I want Y/N here with me!”

Alicent blinks, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Y/N?” she repeats, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “Aegon, you need medicine, not—”

“I need Y/N!” Aegon insists, reaching out to grab his mother’s hand with a feverish desperation. “She knows how to take care of me. She’s warm, and she’ll make me feel better with her presence. And she’ll bring honey cakes!” He glances at the tonic in her hand with a scowl. “Not that awful sludge Orwyle calls medicine.”

Alicent pulls her hand back, her lips thinning into a displeased line. “Aegon, Y/N isn’t a healer. She’s not going to make your fever go away.”

Aegon, determined to be as difficult as possible, shifts to stare up at the ceiling, adopting a pitiful, far-off look. “Then let me waste away. Alone. Unloved. Without the touch of my sweet lioness by my side.”

Alicent pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “Aegon, you are not going to waste away. You have a cold, not greyscale.”

But Aegon is already in his own world of dramatics, ignoring her entirely. He clutches the blankets tighter, his voice dropping to a rasping murmur as if his strength is ebbing away. “Tell her I need her… Tell her it’s my last wish.” He glances sideways at his mother, his lips trembling with a pout that might almost be convincing if it weren’t so exaggerated. “You wouldn’t deny a dying man his last wish, would you, Mother?”

Alicent’s eye twitches, and she takes another breath, visibly trying to keep her composure. “You are not dying, Aegon. You’re being overdramatic.”

But Aegon ignores her, already raising his voice to the empty room. “Someone fetch Y/N!” he calls out to the ceiling. “Bring her here, or I shall succumb to this fever and perish before the day is done! I can feel the darkness closing in…”

Alicent looks heavenward as if praying for patience. She sets the vial of tonic down on the bedside table with a decisive thud, her expression turning steely. “Fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “I will send for Y/N, if it will stop you from this nonsense. But you will take the tonic when she arrives.”

Aegon’s face immediately brightens, his sudden smile undermining all his previous complaints. “Oh, thank you, Mother! You won’t regret it. Y/N will make everything better, you’ll see.”

Alicent gives him a tight smile that looks more like a grimace. “Yes, I’m sure she will,” she mutters, turning on her heel and leaving the chamber with an air of resignation. She doesn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her stride, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the hall as she goes to find the only person capable of soothing her impossible son.

As soon as she’s out of sight, Aegon relaxes back into the pillows with a contented sigh, a satisfied smile curling his lips. He reaches for the goblet of water by his bed and takes a sip, already picturing the way you’ll fuss over him and bring him sweet treats to “help with his strength.” For Aegon, being pampered by you is the cure to any illness—no tonic required.

You sweep into Aegon’s chambers with a swirl of your golden skirts, exuding the warm energy of someone who has absolutely no idea how to take care of a fever but is determined to make a show of it. Aegon, who is propped up in bed like a tragic hero, immediately brightens when he sees you. He looks as pitiful as ever, a blanket draped over his shoulders and a dramatic flush on his cheeks. The moment you step through the door, he gives a loud, exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re finally here!” he croaks, though his voice is suspiciously more robust than it was when Alicent was present. He reaches out a hand to you, his expression one of desperate longing. “I feared I would perish before you arrived.”

You smile indulgently, sitting yourself on the edge of the bed and taking his hand in yours, patting it as if he’s a fragile, wilting flower. “Oh, Aegon, don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure you’ll make a full recovery,” you reply sweetly, though there’s a teasing glint in your eyes. “But I brought honey cakes just in case.”

Aegon’s expression lights up immediately, and he clutches your hand even tighter. “See? You understand me better than anyone. You know exactly what I need.” He leans back against his pillows, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “I’ve been telling Mother that you are my cure.”

You cast a look over your shoulder, catching Alicent’s displeased expression as she lingers by the doorway, but you offer her a serene smile. “It’s only natural for a wife-to-be to tend to her betrothed, Your Grace.”

Alicent’s expression tightens, but before she can respond, there’s the sound of footsteps approaching, and Aemond strides into the room, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. He takes in the scene with a raised brow, his single eye sweeping over you and Aegon in bed, with Alicent hovering nearby looking thoroughly exasperated. Aemond’s lips twitch in what might have been amusement, though his tone is as dry as ever.

“I heard that my brother was on his deathbed,” Aemond says, a slight edge of mockery in his voice as he crosses his arms and looks down at Aegon. “But it seems he’s found his miracle cure.”

Aegon, never one to miss a chance to exaggerate, clutches your hand to his chest with renewed fervor. “Oh, Aemond, it was terrible. The fever—it was like dragonfire coursing through my veins. I thought I wouldn’t make it through the night!” He glances over at you, batting his lashes in a way that he probably thinks is charming. “But now that Y/N is here, I feel hope returning to me.”

You play along with a sympathetic look, pressing a cool cloth to Aegon’s forehead as if that might truly stave off the fever. “He’s been so brave, Aemond,” you say, though there’s a teasing lilt to your voice. “But I think he just needs a bit of pampering. And perhaps a few more of these honey cakes.”

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly unimpressed by the theatrics. He looks from you to Aegon with a resigned expression, then sighs. “Brother, you’ve caught a cold, not the Grey Plague. Surely even you can endure a little discomfort without turning it into a full-blown tragedy.”

Aegon shoots his brother a wounded look, releasing your hand to point accusingly in Aemond’s direction. “You just don’t understand, Aemond! You’re all… stoic and serious. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to suffer through this kind of agony.” He lets out another dramatic sigh, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “But Y/N understands. She knows how to take care of me.”

You pat Aegon’s hand again, your smile turning a little smug as you glance at Aemond. “Well, I can’t fault him for wanting a little comfort in his time of need, can I, Aemond? Surely you wouldn’t begrudge him that.”

Aemond’s gaze flickers with barely concealed amusement. “Oh, I don’t begrudge him anything, Y/N. I merely question whether he is truly in as much peril as he claims to be.” He arches a brow at Aegon, who is now picking at the edge of a honey cake, nibbling on it like a spoiled child.

Aegon, catching his brother’s skeptical look, scowls and quickly adopts a pitiful expression, pressing the cloth to his head as though that might convince Aemond of his dire condition. “You see? Even now, my head is pounding. I’m practically burning up! Feel my forehead, Y/N. It’s like touching the sun.”

You humor him, pressing your hand to his forehead with the most serious expression you can manage. “Hmm,” you murmur thoughtfully, as if considering a grave diagnosis. “Yes, it’s very warm indeed. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long, Aegon.”

Aegon beams at your attention, thoroughly delighted by your pampering. “See, Aemond? Y/N understands. She’s the only one who truly cares about me.”

Aemond, however, just rolls his eye again, his expression one of long-suffering endurance. “If you’ve truly caught a fever, brother, then you should rest and stop talking so much.” He glances pointedly at the untouched vial of tonic on the bedside table. “And perhaps actually take the medicine that Orwyle prepared for you instead of relying solely on sweets.”

Aegon makes a face, shoving the tonic aside with a weak swipe of his hand. “I told you, that stuff is poison. I won’t drink it.” He turns to you, eyes wide and imploring. “You wouldn’t want me to suffer through that awful stuff, would you, Y/N?”

You offer Aegon a conspiratorial smile, tapping a finger to your lips. “Well, perhaps if you’re very good, I’ll bring you something that tastes better. A little wine, maybe?”

Aemond’s eye narrows at you both, clearly exasperated. “Yes, because what you need right now is more wine,” he mutters under his breath, though you catch the faintest twitch of his lips.

But Aegon’s already nodding eagerly, looking far more animated than any feverish man has a right to be. “Yes, yes, that’s what I need. Wine and Y/N. The two best remedies in the realm.”

Alicent, who has been silent but watching the entire exchange with a tightly controlled expression, finally speaks up, her voice clipped. “Aegon, please. Stop behaving like a child.”

Aegon gives her a wounded look, but his grip on your hand tightens as though you’re his only tether to this world. “But Mother, Y/N is taking such good care of me. Can’t you see how much better I feel already?” He turns his gaze back to you, his voice dropping to a more pitiful tone. “Y/N, don’t leave me. I need you.”

You give Aegon a reassuring pat, your tone soothing. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you, Aegon. Not until you’re feeling better.” Then, casting a look over your shoulder at Aemond, you add with a playful smile, “Besides, it’s not every day I get to dote on a king.”

Aemond meets your gaze, his mouth twisting into something resembling a smirk. “Indeed. Though I can’t say it’s doing wonders for his dignity.”

Aegon ignores the jab entirely, snuggling deeper into his blankets, content to have you by his side and blissfully unaware of the thinly veiled amusement on Aemond’s face—or the deep irritation on his mother’s. And you, for your part, settle in for what promises to be a thoroughly entertaining afternoon.

[mydrink-n-my2step]

YANDERE FARMER x TWITCH STREAMER READER

A/N: Howdy! I'm back again with a new series. My first ever fanfic series. I hope y'all enjoy, strap that cowboy of yours down and read this.

TW//: Smut, Bathtub masturbation, original character has you jorkin' his peanits, age gap (OC is 20, you are around 25), knives, spiders, teasing

5.8k words

“Fuck!” 

Today was supposed to be a lovely day for you. After you had gained 2,000 followers on Twitch, you wanted to celebrate your win with your number one cheerleader: your grandmother. She had already bought you a celebratory cake and some balloons for your little party. Followed by a little gift from her. She had a charm bracelet from James Avery crafted for you with a gaming console and a little heart that says “I love my granddaughter!”

You had left her house over 45 minutes ago. She warned you about leaving at night into the woods. However, you reassured her that you would be fine. The car ride home was somewhat okay, until you saw the car battery light flash. Your car had alerted you as well. You were scared because you were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest Autozone was an hour and thirty minutes away. Shit! 

A minute later, you could hear your car sputtering like crazy. It scared you when the car stopped on its tracks, leaving a tire imprint in the dirt road. You punched your car horn in a fit of rage, unaware of the fact that you might let someone or something dangerous know where you were. You retracted, remembering that your ex-boyfriend is a mechanic, and somehow you still had his phone number. Though it was a rocky relationship, you two did come to terms with remaining friends, so having his phone number seemed normal. 

Okay, you dialed his phone number, waiting for him to pick up. “Hello?” He responds, sounding tired. You felt bad for calling him at such a late time. Though on the other end, he was busy bumping uglies with another girl he had found at a bar. “Hey, could you come help me? I know it’s on such short notice, but my car broke down in the middle of the woods.” For a moment, the other line went silent. Then, you heard someone click their tongue. “Girl you know how far you are? I’m not going to leave my bed at 11:34 at night to pick your dumbass up!” 

“Well fuck you to then!” You said out loud for him to hear you. Then you heard a giggle on the other line. “You wouldn’t help your friend because you’re too busy fucking some other chick!” 

“We’re not friends Y/n, I don’t befriend my ex.” was all he said before hanging up on you. Ouch! You wanted to rip your steering wheel of and throw it across the dirt road. Break something or whatever! You were so fucking pissed off at the piece of shit man. But not for long. 

Behind you were blaring white lights from a truck that was coming by, you could hear the bass that was boosted, the person behind the wheel was playing Luke Bryan. You were in enemy territory. Pack it up.

Or so you thought? When the person parked in front of you and hopped out of his red and white 1990 Ford-250. Fear instantaneously overwhelmed you. You, a girl in the woods in a broken down car, with a random hooded man walking to it ever so slowly like he was plotting for your death! Okay Y/n, calm down. He’s probably wondering why you’re blocking the road. Maybe he is here to help you, be more optimistic��

Knock Knock! 

The man’s gentle knocks still startled you out of your deep thinking. You were scared to roll your window down and talk to him. But the fear decimated a bit when he removed his hoodie. Only his hat covered his eyes and dirty blonde hair, which looked like it wasn’t taken cared of, but who cares. 

“Are you lost?” He spoke, however his voice was faint from the window and the sound of his loud ass truck. You furrowed your eyebrows, you were seriously about to cuss this man out right now over your stupid ass ex. The man pointed his fingers down, indicating that he needed you to roll your window down. So you gave up, holding onto the pocket knife you had stolen from your grandma underneath the wheel by your knees, preparing to use it against him. 

“Can I help you?” 

“I um, see that your car has broken down. Do you feel comfortable coming with me while I tow your car to my place? I can get her fixed for free.” 

“Uh, no, that’s ok, sir. I have a tow truck coming for me right now.” You lied, and it was pretty obvious too.

“You sure ‘bout that? Because there are no tow services for 65 miles onward. And nobody normally gets lost in our neck of the woods. Please, you don’t have to lie to me, just let me tow your car, I can get it fixed.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. He had noticed and was close to saying something but bit back his tongue. You exit the car, he held his hand out for you to take, hesitant, you looked at him. He seems to be genuine with his gestures. He took it anyway, walking you to his pickup truck to sit in while he hooks your car up to his truck. Once he was done, he climbed into his truck. 

Something about this man calmed your nerves a bit, but at the same time, you wouldn’t let your guard down. Your left hand was still holding onto that pocket knife you took from Grandma’s. Your eyes wouldn’t leave his eyes, his auburn eyes that were finally visible and locked on the road ahead. You, a southern girl, weren’t too shy around country folk, however, you felt intimidated by this hulk of a man. You assumed he was around 6 feet 4, you were pretty tall yourself, and he seemed taller as well.

“What’s on your mind? You’re staring an awfully lot.” He asks, glancing at you for a brief moment before returning his attention to the dirt path. “Oh, um, nothing,” you said, placing the knife by your leg. It was pretty stupid of you to do so, and it was proven stupid when he hit a bump on the road, causing your knife to slice through your pants and skin accidentally. It wasn’t gnarly, but it was enough to bleed through your clothes.

“Shit,” you swore, causing him to stop on his tracks. The tall man faced you, noticing your hand was covered in blood. He sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the truck. A few seconds later, you saw him on your side of the truck. He had opened the passenger door, and then he pulled his hoodie over his head, also taking his plain white t-shirt off. He folded it vertically. Wrapping it around your thigh and tying a knot around your thigh. When he was finished, he shut the door on you before you could thank him. He hopped into his seat for the last time, sighing in with an attitude in his tone. As if he told you himself that he wasn’t going to make any more stops until he made it to his house. 

The minute he turned his way out the dirt pavement, he pulled into a driveway that led him to his garage. He had pressed a button that opened his garage. When the garage was opened, he drove straight inside, stopping his tracks when he hit something. The taller man had switched his ignition off, taking his seatbelt off to exit his car. You reached for the door and attempted to open it, unbeknownst to you, it had a child safety lock on it. Now you felt like an idiot for deciding to hitch a ride with him. Though you thought it was the end, the end of you, you heard someone open the door to the house: A child.

“Elizabeth, help me unload the trunk.”

“I won’t help unless you say please,” the little girl said, crossing her arms and turning her head away from her likely brother. He rolled his eyes, scoffing at her, “Please, Eliza?” 

The girl finally complied, going to the back of the truck to help. When you would see them again, Elizabeth would make eye contact with you. She tilted her head with her eyebrow arched up. “Tannie, who is this girl in your truck tryna get out?” 

“Fuck!” the tall man cursed, running to let you out. “You’ll have to forgive me, I have the safety lock on for Douglas.”

“Oh, is Douglas your son?”

“Um, you could say that.” Coincidentally, Elizabeth had opened the door, allowing a big dog to run towards you as you were climbing out of the truck. You nearly screamed when it barked at you. “Dougie, don’t scare our guest like that!” Elizabeth scolded, rubbing her free hand through Douglas’s blue and white fur. Douglas had twirled around and rubbed his wet snout against your hand. He wanted you to pet him. So you did, and were smiling at your action, lying on the floor to allow you to rub his belly. 

“Oh, hi sweetie, it’s nice to meet you–um,”

“That’s Douglas, our Blue Heeler.” 

“Ah, ok, I thought you had kids.” 

“Tanner? Kids? No, he’s too shy around people,” the girl teased, laughing at her brother while he was glaring at her. “Elizabeth, get inside!” The tall man named Tanner said, walking off to tote your bags into his house. You hesitated to follow him inside. Not knowing what your next move was. Would you leave and find someone to take you home? Would you offer to sleep in your car instead of the house?

“Hey, whatcha standing there for? We have to get inside before the coyotes come getcha.” He teased, keeping the door propped open as he closed the garage and left. You had no other option, so your feet started moving, leading you inside the sibling’s house.  

“Tanner, where the hell have you been?” A raspy old man’s voice spoke on your left. You turned around to see who it was. Another tall man who, this time, looks roughly in his mid-fifties, had black hair with silver streaks on the side, a thick moustache, and a jaw that screamed Stan Smith looked you up and down. Tanner set your bags on his side, going up to his father, whispering something to him. You noticed how tall the father was, he was merely a few inches shorter than his son. Elizabeth tapped your shoulders, she told you she would take your items into the guest room. You were relieved when you heard “the guest room”, your stressed-out mind finding some peace. 

When Tanner was done talking to the older man, said man had walked up to you, apologizing, “My apologies my dear, you’ll have to forgive me, my son here often brings his friends over without my knowledge, but I see that you’re a hitchhiker looking for somewhere to stay while your car get fixed?” You nod, “Not much of a speaker, aren’t ya?”

“I’m very sorry, sir, it’s just been a long day, it’s a little scary being alone on the road in the woods.” You respond, taking in his features and trying to size him up a bit.

“I understand, it’s pretty dangerous out here. Hey Tanner, take the rest of this lady’s bags into the guest room.” The older man walked next to you and placed his arm around your upper back, leading you into his kitchen. He directed you into the dining room, where you assumed his wife was in, couponing. “Amelia, we have company.” He says to his wife. Amelia looked at you, a smile across her mouth. 

“Hi there, stranger, nice to meet you!” She said, coming off as teasing. She had stood up, taking you in her embrace. Not wanting to leave her hanging, your arms snake around her back. “What’s your name, dear?” Amelia asks.“It’s Y/n, Y/n L/n.” You heard a gasp behind you. The older adults looked to see who it was, but you didn’t seem to care. 

“Son, while you’re over there gasping, why don’t you direct Y/n to her guest room. My name is Dale, if you need anything, Tanner will be willing to assist you. We’re going to turn in, have a good night’s rest Y/n.” Dale says, leading his wife upstairs. Leaving you with Tanner, who only stood there with his mouth wide open and eyes dilated. 

“Are you *insert Twitch Streamer name*?”

“Yeah, is there something wrong?”

“I love watching your streams!” He spoke, walking next to you.

“It’s an honor to meet you finally. You got me through high school!”

“High school? I just started streaming a year ago. How old are you?” You jokingly ask, but in all seriousness, you genuinely believe he was up there in his twenties. 

“I’m 20!” 

“20?” He nods, taking your hands into his bigger, callous hands. 

“Yes, I’m 20. It may not seem like it, though. Y’know, you’re entertaining to watch.” He says, taking up the space between the two of you, his amusement at finally meeting his favorite Twitch streamer was making you uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry, I think I should lie down. Where’s y’all’s guest room?”

“It’s down the hall, but you don’t have to sleep in that dingy room. You can sleep in my room, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s necessary, I can sleep in the-“

“It has termites!” He spoke in a hasty tone, he obviously wanted you to sleep with him.

“No, look, I’ll be fine in the guest room. I will only be staying for one night anyway, then I’ll be out of y’all’s hair.”

“Ok, good night then,”

When you entered the family’s guest room, you surveyed their overly decorated room. It had a cute aesthetic that you felt comfortable with as it reminded you of your Grandmother. From the mahogany vanity with cute family collections, to the family portraits that hung on the ribboned wall. Her house is nicely decorated too. One of the first things you had done was remove your bra and stow it in your suitcase, then, you got undressed by their huge mahogany vanity. It was not rare for you to admire yourself in the mirror while you are bare. In fact, it has become a quiet ritual—those still, in-between moments when the world faded and the only gaze upon you was your own. Sometimes, it felt like a kind of worship, not of vanity, but of presence. Of being. You enjoyed seeing yourself in mirrors—not just to catch a glimpse of your shape or the curve of a shoulder, but to witness yourself as you truly are, unguarded and real. And only your eyes could see the true you, not another person. 

    Until—you noticed a peeping Tom entering your room. Why haven’t you closed the door? 

Douglas entered your room with a tennis ball in his mouth. When you acknowledged him, you immediately shut the door behind him. Maybe it was ok for the dog to see you, it’s only a dog. And…on a second thought—maybe not; you hurriedly rummage through your suitcase for your nightgown. Instantly throwing it on. Douglas hopped on your bed, still chewing on his ball. You sat beside him, running your hand through his coat. Looking back at the vanity mirror, you saw that the door was ajar, seeing a pair of auburn eyes watch you watch him.

“Tanner, what are you doing?”

“I umm—-was looking for Douglas. He ran off from my room. There you go Dougie!” He lied, taking the wet ball from him. Douglas cried, rubbing his wet nose against you, signaling that you tell Tanner to give him his ball. “Hey, why don’t you give your puppy his ball back?” Tanner obliged, but only threw the ball out of the room, the two of you watched Douglas scramble through the door, running as if he was a Scooby Doo character. 

“I hope you know, I’ve been a subscriber since you were at only 100 subscribers.” He spoke with pride on his tongue. You only cringed at his words, but immediately changed your face when he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. 

“Thank you so much, I appreciate your honesty.” You half fibbed. Cheesing so he wouldn’t see how uncomfortable you were. You really wished at that moment a country bumpkin had picked you up instead of  him. “Could we stay up, I want to learn more about you.” He asks, leaning his shoulder against yours before resting his head against yours. “No, actually, it’s pretty late. Why don’t we continue this tomorrow morning when you’re fixing my car.” Tanner sighs in a disappointed tone. He got off of the bed, walking to the door abruptly. He bid his goodbye and told you to sleep well, you told him the same, peeling the covers to crawl in bed then switching the lights. 

A little over three hours later, Tanner couldn’t sleep. He had stayed up watching your previous streams on his laptop in his boxers. His fingers dangerously close to his groin as he watches you play your most recent game, Class of ‘09. Normally, he’s not a fan of vulgar content. Matter of fact, he despises vulgar, dark content, often watching your more tame content. As a streamer, you always make sure to check on your 200 viewers, making sure they aren't uncomfortable. One time, he had replied to your comment section, after you had asked what everyone was doing. Tanner mentioned that he was milking his cows while watching you. You, not believing him, merely laughed. He didn’t find it funny, though he loved seeing you laugh, even at him. 

    When he watches your streams, he feels as though you and him are the only people in the chat. You’re talking to him and ONLY him. As a fan, he felt prideful of having you at his house, sleeping in his guest room too. And maybe you will warm up to the idea of sleeping in his room. You will have to, he’ll make sure of it. Growing bored, he decided to go downstairs to pop his head in your room. Seeing your body rise and lower as you sleep. He wanted a closer look of you, so he creeped inside, making sure to avoid bumping into anything. As he walked closer, he felt a stir in his boxers. Oh God, not this!

He had instantly turned around, walking back into the light. Unaware of you turning to your side to face him. “Tanner?” you spoke, your morning breath prominent. He turned to look at you, you switched the bedside lamp on. Now you were scared again.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” 

“I-I, I left my…book in here. That’s why.” He lied straight to your face. He picked up his book, a family bible that was older than you and him combined. You were too tired to argue with him, so you switched the lamp off and went back to sleep. Tanner shut the door for you, his mind begging him to go back inside, even though you were so close to calling for Dale or Amelia. So he ignored his greedy mind, taking himself upstairs to go back to sleep. Later on today, he has some work to take care of on your car. 

You for sure saw his pecker.

When you woke up, it was 9:30 am. Your nose could smell hotcakes on the stove. When you turned to the other side, you nearly punched the daylights out of Tanner. “Rise and shine! Mom made some breakfast for you.” You signed, eyes rolling as you sat up in your bed. Your fingers gripped the bridge of your nose, glaring at Tanner as he only smiled at you. Your glare was eating him up.

“I know this is your house, and that you are a big fan of me, but all I ask from you is that you give me some personal space, please, Tanner?” Tanner’s smile faded, his arms crossed as he–pouted at you? Why was he pouting at you?

“Okay, I’m sorry about last night. It wasn’t right for me to bombard your privacy.” 

“Or enter the room unannounced twice,” you mumbled, “All I want from you is to fix my car and let me go home.” 

“Okay, I’ll get onto that after breakfast.” Tanner leaves the guest room, keeping it wide open so everyone could see you. Elizabeth was in the kitchen with her mom, she noticed you exiting the guest room a little peeved. “Good morning, how did you sleep last night?” She asks, giving you a plate of hotcakes and bacon. “I slept fine, I just kept having a few visits at night.” You didn’t tell her who, so she assumed Douglas wanted to sleep with you. 

“Douglas can be a handful. Come and sit with us, darling.” Amelia says, pressing her hand on your back and walking you to the dining room table. There, Tanner and Dale were talking about what work needed to be done on the car. You could tell it was their passion by how they were passionately arguing with each other on what to do to start your car battery. Once you sat down, the argument ended, Tanner had ignored his father while scooting his chair and plate to you. You gulped down your last remaining spit as your mouth was severely dry. Amelia had sent over a pitcher of orange juice for y’all to drink, so you immediately got a glass of that. 

“Oh, good morning Y/n, it’s nice to see you and Tanner have made acquaintances.” Dale assumes. Tanner smiled at you, his big hand taking yours. You hastily removed your hand from his. Though he was visibly embarrassed, he still kept his smile on his face. “When breakfast is over, we will start working on your car. Imma need your keys by the way.” Dale continued. 

“Thank you sir, I really appreciate the hospitality from y’all.” You really did. The family were extremely kind and were at access to your needs.  “Well we appreciate the company. It’s only been a couple of  hours, and you’ve already gotten Tanner out of his shell.” Amelia jokes, causing her family to laugh. You tried to ignore Tanner’s admiring stare at you, but your skin was burning from his stare. What was with this boy?

“Pop the hood, let’s see what we’re working with,” Dale told his son, watching Tanner open your car’s hood. He obliged, propping it open, being welcomed by the car’s problem. The fuse had blown. Not to worry though, the Jeffersons had plenty of unused car parts in their shed. 

“I’ll go grab the thing and my tools, go tell Y/n what the problem is.” Dale responds, leaving his son to go behind his house. Ignorant to what his son was going to do. 

Watching for his father, making sure he was leaving, Tanner had the opportunity to pull your pocket knife out. He stole it while you were asleep. He rubbed his index finger against the blade, making sure it was sharp enough to cut. He looked at his cut skin, seeing the blood threaten to trickle from his finger. He had to hurry, his dad knew where all the car parts were, he’ll be back soon. 

He pulled out a random red wire, cutting it with ease. Before he heard his dad’s boots against the crunched up leaves, he stowed your knife into his pants pocket. Dale returned, unaware of what his son was doing. Tanner was the car mechanic; he knew more than anyone, so Dale assumed his son was analyzing the situation.

“Dad, we’ve got bad news.”

“What is it, son?” 

“There’s a cut wire.”

“Damn, have you told Y/n yet? Or I’ll go tell her?”

“No, I’ve got it.” Tanner ran into his house. When he shut the door lightly, he tried to contain his smile, he was pretty proud of himself. Taking that risk so you could stay with him longer. His dad would assume that the wire was cut by a hooligan, and he’ll have to order a new wire and have another person fix your car. Now you’ll HAVE to stay with him.

*Knock Knock*

You opened your door, rolling your eyes when you saw Tanner again. You’re going to have to get over it soon. “How may I help you?”

“Y/n, bad news: your battery has blown a fuse, and there’s a cut wire. We currently have no spare wires so Dad is going to order one.” 

Damn it, you curse in your brain. Your hopes of leaving this weirdo fan forever squashed by someone who was a bitch enough to cut your wire. You couldn’t help but cry a bit. Like literal tears were streaming from your face. Tanner, obviously consoling you in his muscular arms, rubbing his hand against your hair. 

“I know you want to leave so bad. Leave me—to go back and make videos for us. But I’m sorry.”

You wrapped your arms around his thick torso. He felt as though the wind was knocked out of him because of you. What were you doing to him? He rubs your back, feeling your bare back, you still had no bra on. You still had no bra on! 

He prayed for his body to reject his arousal. Thinking of weird things to get rid of those lewd thoughts. When he felt secured, he let go of you, looking down to make sure it wasn’t there. 

“If it makes you feel any better, would you like to go visit some place with me?”

“Where, Tanner?” 

Tanner had stopped his truck by a log that prevented him from going any further. When he got out of his car, walking in front to let you out, he opened the truck door, letting you out. When your feet were on the ground, he took your hand into his, leading you to the little pond boardwalk. 

“I know you’re pretty tense right now, so I decided to take you to my favorite place to wind down. There’s no one around to bother us.”

“Oh, ok, thank you,” you said, sitting down on the boardwalk. Not aware of Tanner toting foldable chairs for you two. “I've got chairs if you want to sit comfortably.” He says, propping one open, then going for the next one. “You stood up, taking the chair next to him. Tanner leans back, his head hanging from the seat. You watch him, earning a smile on his lips. Something in you started to feel off. His juvenile smile, dusty blond hair, and his hulking build on a childish man. Fanboy behavior fighting his shy demeanor, his admiration towards you. Somehow, you didn’t abhor his admiration, you just wish he were less of a nuisance. 

You weren’t aware, but you were staring at his sleeping body. Watching him breathe lightly as he napped. You didn’t want to stoop to his level of “admiration”, so you pulled your phone out and scrolled through your notifications. You took another look at him, this time scared. 

“Tanner? Hey Tanner, wake up, hon!” Tanner’s eyelids pried open. “Something’s tickling my leg.” He says, disoriented. “I know, there’s a big ass spider on your leg.” Instantly, he jumped up, kicking the spider off his pant leg. You hopped out of your seat as well, your body shaking from the big wolf spider that was still crawling up his leg. The hairs on his body erected as the eight-legged heathen gradually crawled up his calf.  And suddenly, you did the unthinkable, you told him to stay still so the spider would get flicked by your phone. He obliged, not moving a muscle, not breathing while he stood absolutely still. When your phone picked the spider up, it crawled on your screen, and then you flicked it off, causing it to land in the water below. 

Without warning, Tanner wraps his bulky arms around your body and lifts you clean off the boardwalk like you weigh nothing. One second you were steady, the next your feet dangled in the air, heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness. His scent hits you–clean sweat, his mother’s linen softener, the wooden smell of his cologne, something warm and alive. His grip was firm, a little too tight, but not uncomfortable. Just present—unshakably there. 

Only did he realize that he was holding you in the air like he would to Douglas. Right hand on lower back, left on upper. He puts you down gently, clearing his throat as he is rendered uncomfortable with his actions. “Thanks,” he murmurs near your ear, voice low and rough with adrenaline. “For flicking it off.” 

You acknowledged how rattled he still was. His thick fingers twitch against your back like the ghost of the spider had climbed there, and his breath fans your neck–hot, uneven. “You saved my ass,” he adds, and though it was half a joke, there’s a real edge in it. Like for a second, the spider wasn’t the only thing crawling under his skin. 

“It’s okay, you seem tense, let me drive you home so you can take a bath. That usually calms my nerves.” 

In the guest bathroom, you turned the bath water on. Running your hand under the cold water as it gradually turned hot. Tanner had waited for you on the bathroom’s vanity chair. When you weren’t looking, he locked the bathroom door swiftly. Once the water became hot, you told him to strip off his clothing. You were about to leave the bathroom when he took your hand and gestured for you to sit on his chair. What you were about to see was not something you agreed to. Tanner unbuttons his flannel and removes it, then along came his white t-shirt, and before he could start unbuckling his pants, you stopped him by placing your hand on his. “Honey, let me go so you can undress.” 

“You’re still…coming back right?” You sigh once more, pinching your nose in shame. Do I really want to deal with this right now? 

“Yes, dear, I’ll be back.” 

When you returned, he was already in the bubbly water, waiting for you with that smug look you knew too well. His legs were hanging out of the tub, and the dusty blonde tips of his hair were wet. You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, arms lounging lazily along the rim of the tub.

You grabbed his washcloth and soap, dipping both into the water until the cloth foamed. He watched you with a smirk as you worked—first lathering his arm, then his chest. When you leaned in closer, he tilted his head toward your ear and whispered, “This is your idea of multitasking? Bathing me and torturing me at the same time?”

His teasing made you sigh and pull your hand away. He groaned dramatically—half-laugh, half-whine—and caught your wrist gently. “Hey,” he said, grinning, guiding your hand back. In the moment of tugging and half-resisting, your fingers slipped somewhere you hadn’t intended.

You both froze, then burst into awkward laughter. “That–I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” you muttered.

“Maybe it meant to happen,” he replied, eyes glinting, but his voice stayed soft, leaving the moment open—for you to decide where it would go next. When you continued your bathing, he stopped you, taking your hand and gliding it down into the bubbly water. You didn’t retract, only watching his molasses pupils take control of you. While your hand grasped his, y’know, you were shocked at how thick it was. He was a pretty big guy, maybe that’s why. 

Suddenly, the room grew silent—and hot. The hot water that caused his skin to sweat also turned it pink. But that wasn’t the only pink on him. While he had your hand on his shaft, the warm water lapped gently around you both. Tanner’s breath hitched when you started jerking him off, muscles tightening above and beneath your touch. When he had the courage, he leaned closer to your mouth, wetting his lips while you were still touching him. He let his hand maneuver your head to face him, and then, he pressed his thinner, cherub pink lips against yours. 

Tanner allowed his tongue to invade your mouth, teasing your slimy tongue with his. Your lips parted enough for him to play with your mouth with his pink organ. You had slowed your progress on his cock, distracted by the kiss. Tanner noticed right away, cupping your cheeks with his bear hands, “Please, don’t go anymore slower.” He had rested his forehead against yours, “I need you, Y/n, I need you so bad.”

What you were feeling wasn’t annoyance anymore. It was a mixture of multiple conflicting feelings. You were scared of being outed as someone who jerks off fans. And you feared that Tanner would tell people, even show it. But you couldn’t control your urges FUCKING hell you wanted this man and you can’t deny it anymore. From his chivalric behavior the other night to this, if your moral compass wasn’t the way it was, so conservative, so forbidding, you would’ve toppled this guy the night he came into your room. 

It was only day one of you staying over at the Jeffersons, who knows how long you will be staying with this family. But here you are, pleasuring the eldest child. What is wrong with you?

Tanner was almost close; you could sense it. From him tightening his butt to his head thrown back against the tile wall. He had unlocked his jaw to moan, damn he moans like a girl, you thought, causing you to feel a twinged down your south tinseltown. He had you in his clutch, figuratively and literally, his strong hands holding your arms. He nearly cried from his pleasure, his body tensing up. And all of a sudden, you felt warm juices on your fist. Then on your cheek, you saw his cum dribble from his cock, and then came the orgasm thoughts that became words.

“I love you, Y/n, always have!” You pressed your finger against his mouth, realizing that someone had entered the guest room. “Tanner? Ms. Y/n? Where the hell are y’all?” It was Dale. You scurried into the towel closet, hoping Dale wouldn’t persecute you for what you’d done. 

“Son, are you in here? I heard some weird noise, just say something so I can go back to what I was doing, I don’t want to confront you right now.”

“Yes, Dad, it’s me, I’m taking a bath!” Tanner yelled, taking the washcloth and finishing his wash. Dale responds with an ok, leaving the guest room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey, you can exit the towel closet now,” Tanner says, rubbing himself with the soap. You exit the closet, “You do realize that now you have to take another bath?” 

“Yeah, and maybe,” Tanner stood up, he leaned to grab his towel from the towel rack, wrapping it around his torso, “you’ll join me?” You scoffed at his response, opening the door and leaving the room. 

[loovser]

loser!ellie at hooters headcanons

synopsis loser!ellie meeting you at hooters

wc: 550

loser!ellie that met you when dina and jesse took her to hooters — where you worked at — on her birthday.

loser!ellie that couldn’t stop looking at you from the moment she saw you

loser!ellie that almost killed her friends when they asked you to get their orders, noticing the way she was staring at you.

loser!ellie that was blushing like crazy when you approached their table.

loser!ellie who watches you mesmerized, trying not to let her eyes roam your figure, eyes freezing on your face as jesse and dina make their order.

loser!ellie who gets so distracted with staring at your face that doesn’t realize it’s her turn to make her order.

“so… what would you like, ellie?” you ask, after her friends tell you her name.

she blushes even harder. you notice how hard she tries not to look at your body, being respectful and you flash her a smile.

hearing how pretty her name sounds coming out of your lips and seeing your smile makes her feel like she’s gonna pass out. you are one of the prettiest girls she’s ever seen and she really doesn’t know how to act.

“um… i- what do you recommend?” ellie manages to ask.

“well, my favorite is the twisted texas melt, if you are into burgers i’d definitely recommend that” you lean a bit closer to her, to show it on the menu she’s holding.

loser!ellie who can’t help but glance down at your boobs when you are this close to her, immediately looking back at your face and cursing herself mentally for not being any better than a man.

loser!ellie whose friends make fun of her after you leave their table because she’s so damn obvious.

loser!ellie who stutters a ‘thank you’ when you bring their order

loser!ellie whose wallpaper is some unfunny arcane meme and she almost dies when you catch a glimpse of it.

“oh, i love this show” you point out as she widens her eyes at you

“arcane?” she asks, dumbfounded and you chuckle.

she thinks that that is the greatest sound she’s ever heard. “yeah, i’m a bit obsessed with vi.”

“oh my god that’s so gay” it just blurts out of her mouth before she can stop herself. jesse and dina hold their laughs and she’s about to start apologizing — until you laugh. really laugh.

“that’s cause i am” ellie’s heart nearly stops. did she hear it right? at this point she might just start jumping out of happiness.

“me too, yeah, go lesbians” she facepalms herself mentally. her friends can’t even pretend they are not laughing anymore.

“figures,” you chuckle “but totally, go lesbians.”

loser!ellie who smiles widely as you wink at her and go to someone else’s table.

loser!ellie who definitely checks you out as you do.

loser!ellie who nearly faints when you bring a little cake over to her table.

loser!ellie who makes a mental note to kick her friend’s ass when she recognizes her favorite chocolate cake being put in front of her — by you.

loser!ellie who cackles as she reads “happy 20 years no pussy” written carefully with green frosting.

loser!ellie who blushes when you sing ‘happy birthday’ to her with dina and jesse.

loser!ellie who feels like she’s dreaming when you press a kiss on her left cheek and say “happy 20th birthday, els”

loser!ellie who is sure she is dreaming when you tuck a piece of paper with your number on it into her hand.

[rosenclaws]

patch up || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: After coming back from a mission Logan is a mess and he runs into you and Marie. The last people he wants involved with the more violent part of his world.

warnings: Logan is bloody and messy, angsty moments, happy ending stuff, fem!reader, logan is a total flirt.

a/n: So I missed Kitty and Marie and I finally figured out the best way to get them on their first date so this was born!! I just eat up Logan hating himself and being shown kindess anywassss

Kitty and Marie

Logan knew that when the TVA let him stay in Wade's world there would be some strings attached. One of those being listed number one on the TVA's security team. Meaning if there was an issue to arise in another universe, Logan and Wade got the call to fight. It's been a while since he had to put the suit back on and got properly fucked up but hey, old habits die hard don't they.

His healing factor has taken care of his wounds but he definitely looks like he's just had to fight another timelines Juggernaut. HIs suit is ripped and caked in blood. His arms and face have dried blood and dirt. He looks horrible. Wade has fucked off to who knows where leaving Logan to make his way back home.

He did stop for some cigars and had to ignore the many stares of the other customers. With the cigars in his hand he walks up to his apartment.

"Fuck!" Logan hisses as he slams his hand against the door. He doesn't have the keys. There's two options here. He can go hunt down wade and take his keys, or he can just break down the door and fix it later. He's leaning more towards the second option.

"Logan?" He freezes when he hears his name. He knows that voice, it's your voice.

Slowly he turns his head and sees you standing there with Marie in your arms. She was holding a drawing in her hands and looking at Logan with wide eyes. Fucking great.

"What happened are you okay?!" You rush over to him. Concern heavy in your voice as you take in his current state. Your stomach churns just seeing all the blood.

"I'm fine." He says shortly.

Logan doesn't want you to see him like this. To see what he's capable of. There's still blood on his claws and he doesn't need you to know the kind of rage and violence that simmers below the surface. He grabs the doorknob and shakes it roughly.

"Dammit." The door won't even budge.

"Logan why don't you come back to my apartment." You offer.

"No, I'll find my way in." He grumbles.

Once you leave he's just going to break down the door but he won't do it with you and Marie right next to him. Speaking of Marie, she hasn't even said a word to him. Staring at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

"So stubborn." You huff as you grab his wrist. He doesn't budge as you try to drag him away but he soon realizes you won't leave until he follows so he gives in.

"Go sit on the couch I'll be right back with some clothes so you can shower." You tell him and he just stands there. He doesn't know what to do. He's dirty and your couch is so clean.

Marie is watching him. He can feel a shift in the way she views him and it's killing him. She won't even say hi to him.

"Hey kid-" He takes a step forward and she bolts back to her room. Logan just sighs.

Of course she runs. Why wouldn't she? He doesn't belong here, not with you and not with Marie. Who was he kidding?

"I brought you some clothes, I think they'll fit but let me know if you..." You trail off when you see his face. He looks upset, angry, but above all, sad.

"Thanks for offering, but I should really get going." He turns to leave but you place a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Logan, what happened?" You ask softly. He just sighs, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"She ran away from me. Marie." He mumbles.

"Oh Logan that doesn't mean anything." You try to tell him but he's already made up his mind.

"I think it means a lot actually." He looks down at his messy suit. The carnage of today replaying in his head. You and Marie should be kept far away from all of this mess. From all of his mess.

"That's just not true." You tell him. You place your hand on his face, your thumb rubbing some of the grime off his face.

"You need to get out of your head and let someone else take care of you for once, just let me be that person." You plead.

You know Logan has a dark past. He won't talk about it but you know he's a mutant and that being a mutant is not an easy life. But you don't care what he's done, you care about who he is now and to you he's the man who will let your daughter paint his nails and play princess. He's the man who Marie feels completely safe with and you just can't ignore that.

Logan melts into your touch. Despite all the walls he's built up you just seem to slip through the cracks. A bolt of pure terror shoots through him as he feels those damn feelings again.

"I should get in the shower, I don't want to get blood on your floor." To your disappointment he steps back.

He takes the clothes that are in your hands. His touch lingering as his fingers brush over yours. Logan doesn't know what to say anymore, what to do with these feelings that keep bubbling up.

So he does what he does best and just walks away. The entire time in the shower he's beating himself up inside. He makes your kid cry and you're still being kind to him.

It's really fucking with his head, this whole thing. He scrubs the blood and dirt away until the water runs clear. The clothes you gave him are a bit of a tight fit but they'll work. He grabs his suit and the towel and walks back out to the living room. There sits you and Marie. She's in your lap holding that same piece of paper and a small box.

"I'll pay you back." He says as he sets his things down on the counter.

"Pay me back for what?" You ask, a lightness to your voice.

"The water bill?" Logan says uncertainty and you just laugh. You lean down and whisper something in Marie's ear.

"Go on sweetheart," You gently lift her off your lap and send her to Logan.

She walks up to him slowly and Logan just freezes. She's still cautious and Logan is at a loss of what to do. But Marie acts first. She practically launches herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his leg. Her arms are barely long enough but her grip is surprising strong.

"Woah there kid," Logan grunts.

His hand hovers over her back, unsure if he should hug her back but when she looks up with those big eyes he caves instantly. He reaches down and picks her up. She buries her face into his neck as she wraps her arms around his neck.

"She was worried because she thought you got hurt." You explain as you make your way over to the two of them.

See Marie could be a very sensitive child, something you loved about her and you know how much she cares about Logan so seeing him like before. She thought he was really hurt and it was a little too overwhelming for her.

"I'm just fine kid, see no scratches." Logan says, he can feel himself getting choked up but pushes it down. He shows her his arms and his face and she takes a close look, inspecting for any booboos as she calls them.

"I brought you my hello kitty band aids." She holds out the small box to him.

"Mommy puts these on me whenever I get hurt." She explains.

"These are my favorite but you can keep them for next time."

"That's very nice of you kid. I'll be sure to use them." He moves the box around in his hand. It feels silly to be brought to tears by a box of Hello Kitty band aids but Logan was very close to letting them fall.

"I also made you this!" She holds out the piece of paper. It's two crudely drawn stick figures. One in a dress and the other one has two big tuffs of hair and they're holding hands.

"Is this me and you?" Logan asks as he takes the paper from her.

"Yeah!" She looks so proud and Logan can't help but smile.

"She wanted to give it to you in person."

"Can I go play now?" She asks and Logan sets her down. Nothing like a child to change their mind in an instant. She hurries off to her room leaving the two of you alone.

"See, I told you it didn't mean anything Logan." You say as you walk closer to him.

"I promise you're better than you think you are."

There are those damn feelings again. He just can't shake them and honestly, he doesn't want to shake them. He wants you. He wants Marie in his life. He wants to be happy but he's so afraid of hurting the two of you with his bullshit. He thought it was over after today but you're continuing to prove him wrong. Over and over you prove his doubts wrong.

So fuck it maybe he deserves to let some happiness into his life.

"Go to dinner with me." He blurts out.

"What?" You ask in disbelief. Logan gently grabs onto your wrist, pulling you closer. He smells like your shampoo and it's driving you mad.

"Go to dinner with me." He repeats, his heart hammering in his chest. It's been a while since he's done this and he hopes to god you say yes.

"Like a date?" You ask nervously.

"Yes, like a date." He confirms and you swear it's like the whole world has melted away, leaving just the two of you standing in your living room.

"You and Marie have showed me so more kindness than I could ever deserve. I..." He trails off. He can't put the words together but you could care less.

"Yes, I would love to go to dinner." You feel as light as air, like a teenager getting asked to prom or something.

"Perfect." Logan brushes his thumb across the palm of your hand.

"Mommy! Can Kitty come play tea party with me?" You both turn your heads to see Marie poking her head out of her room.

"Oh sweetie I don't-"

"Yeah I can, but no glitter this time." Logan cuts you off. He points his finger at her jokingly and she just grins.

"You need to stop buying that kid glitter." He says with a sigh and you just shrug.

"You try saying no to her."

"You have that same evil little grin you know that?" Logan brushes his thumb across your lips and whatever comeback slips your mind.

"By the way, wear the blue sundress. I like the way to looks on you." He says with a wink. He drops his hand and heads towards Marie's room, leaving you completely stunned. Oh Logan is going to be nothing but trouble.

Then again, you always liked a little trouble.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny!

Can I please have Belgian waffles, angel food cake and on the house ( hopefully that is the correct thing to say) with max or danny or both 🫶

Love all you have written 🫶🫶

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! it's great to hear what orders you come up with! as for this lovely request from @biancathecool thank you! and yes i can write for the other two drivers you sent in another message (their names escape me as i write this), but yes! hit me with it!! thank you! enjoy!

belgian waffles ("i cum in that every night.") + angel food cake ("if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you.") + on the house: coffee (rivals au) served by max verstappen & daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, threesome, maxiel + reader, rivals au, ferrari!reader, cock & pussy drunk, degrading language/dirty talk, mean!max, mean!daniel, rough sex, dom/sub, biting/marking, possessive beheaviour, hate fuck, facials & back shots, cum eating

sharing was caring, at least in daniel's eyes. he had shared a lot of things over the course of his friendship with max verstappen. there were normal things like food, plane rides, they spent weekends together even. he could even recall a night austin when they both shared the same girl for an evening.

so it only made sense that daniel ricciardo would share his favourite rival. the cute little thing on the ferrari team. lucky number forty-seven.

max was mad by the end of the dutch grand prix. one clip from you, another from leclerc. he was getting pummelled by the prince and princess of ferrari on his home turf. and that left a bitter taste in his mouth as he hit his helmet against the wall once the race was over.

you dressed in your ferrari red, beaming at charles who came in first. ferrari took first and second while the lion of the netherlands barely clung to fifth. as you and charles sprayed champagne on each other and laughed, max could feel the anger in his veins.

and daniel was like the devil in max's ear, "hey max, seem kind of pissed." he placed his hand on max's shoulder, "you know, i'm seeing her after this... in my hotel room. you're free to join us, maybe get some of that anger out." he patted the other man's shoulder.

max's jaw tensed for a moment as he got a full view of you on the podium, laughing and waving. max couldn't very well put you under his boot, but he could make a mess of your pretty insides.

"we have a guest tonight." daniel chuckled as he served you more wine.

you were in the hotel room robe with very little underneath. you were tired of wearing clothes after being in that stuffy uniform all day. you happily accepted the wine and brought the glass to your lips, "guest? you didn't."

daniel chuckled and put the bottle down back on the coffee table, "word won't get out. he's good at keeping secrets." he patted your thigh.

the wine tasted good, expensive in a way that you weren't accustomed to. you had your fair share of grocery store wine, but the more that daniel lured you in with the finer things in life. it was getting harder to go back to your old ways. money couldn't buy taste, but it could buy flavor.

there was a knock on the door and daniel got up. you took sight of his ass in those the sweatpants he wore. there was no use looking formal, you were both here for the same thing.

daniel didn't say who the guest of the evening was. but you almost spilled red wine all over yourself at the sight of max on the other side of the door.

"daniel." you said, "not max."

daniel looked over his shoulder and smiled, "c'mon, princess. i can assure you that he won't hurt you... too much." that gleaming smile of his always seemed to get you into more trouble.

you put the glass down and kept your focus on the two men as max entered the hotel room.

"she looks good." max said as if you weren't in the room with them. you swallowed when he looked at you, "she looks better without the uniform on."

"max..." you said.

"well you know, mate." daniel smiled "i cum in that every night." your arrangement had been going on for some time. it didn't help that you lived in the same building during the off season and he'd often visit you in your driver's room. often to get a taste of that soaked cunt he adored.

your ears went hot as you replied, "danny, what the fuck."

max took a step forward and got his shoes off. he stood there in a white t-shirt and jeans. his eyes gazed with hunger on you. it made you close your robe a little more.

"princess." daniel said as he went back to the couch and pulled you close to him, "i think you own max an apology. you've been fucking with him, toying with him. i see how you look at him, when i mention his name you get wet." his grip on you grew tighter, "it's only right you make amends for your team."

you were soon seated in the middle of the couch between the two men. usually the routine with daniel was that you two would have some wine, indulge in kinky and he'd often cuddle you until you made a hasty escape back to your hotel room before anyone caught on.

but there was a look in daniel's eye that had you worried. it felt like you were between two lions who wanted nothing more than to sink their claws into you. chew you up and devour you whole.

daniel started to undo the robe you wore, while max held you face in a tight grip. you weren't going anywhere fast. daniel's lips were on the back of your neck, in a sensitive spot and max was kissing you deeply

"are you going to be good for us, princess?" daniel asked before he made you keep eye contact with max by holding onto your hair.

you looked into the other's blue eyes and swallowed, "you two are sick."

max raised an eyebrow at you before his gaze looked to daniel, "seems you haven't trained her." he spoke about you like you were a dog, not the second place of this weekend's race.

daniel got a hand around your throat and held onto it tightly, he tilted your head back to look at him. he said in a soft voice, "you're making my look bad. i promised our good friend max here a good night tonight."

you swallowed, you felt something boil in your stomach. like it was all going to boil over soon. you were sandwiched between two men who honestly hated you after the grand prix.

you looked at daniel for a moment before you said, "sorry, sir."

"and you'll be good for our friend tonight? treat him nicely. no teeth, no attitude?"

you nodded like an eager puppy and daniel kissed you on the lips. you were pushed up further against the australian driver as max pressed further into you. further being squished between the two men.

when you stopped kissing daniel, max captured your lips once more. you held onto the back of the couch with one hand as a means of some sort of support.

you were stripped of your robe before daniel made you get off the couch and onto the bed in the other room. you scampered away on shaky legs, basically exposed to both men. you could feel their gazes on you.

"why not the couch?" max asked, it would've been easy for max to fold you in half or toss you over the couch.

daniel chuckled and slapped his friend on the shoulder, "it'll be more comfortable for us on the bed. she's pretty flexible, can fuck her about anywhere. but i'd love for us to have a little more comfort." then got off the couch to join you with the dutch driver close behind.

you knew that if you wanted to keep your underwear in one piece, you had to get them off before the other men came. your kicked off your panties and your bra was on the floor before you sat on top of the bed, one leg over the other.

this all felt so sick, it was almost degrading. their stares and their words pierced through you and left your brain running on carnal desires.

you watched them come in, and you tried to make yourself appear a tad smaller, but daniel's voice made you sit up straight once more.

"show them off, princess."

daniel was on you first, he clothes went flying as he smothered you against him. he weight on top of you kept you pinned down to the hotel room bed.

he kissed you with a fever, only breaking it to get his t-shirt off over his head. you felt the leg of his jeans grind against your soaked sex which made you whimper.

he looked over his shoulder for a moment to say to max, "come on in, the water's fine." before he went back to kissing you with a heated passion.

max was slower to get his clothes off. everything came off slowly as he felt a throb between his legs. watching his friend make you a debauched mess.

daniel was a good friend, letting max have a taste of you. letting him sink his teeth into you. and you were such a good little girl for letting max enact his revenge for your little stunt on the track. maybe that'll teach you.

you were meant to look pretty for ferrari, their logo plastered across your pretty tits, not to get in the way of men like max and daniel.

daniel got away from you and propped himself on the bed beside you. his expression was wild and his cheeks were hot. "c'mon there, maxie! don't be so shy!"

max was in his briefs and you swallowed at you looked at him. even so physically exposed, his gaze remained stern on you. you knew he could crack jokes and be funny. but your (almost) win left something searing inside of him.

you swallowed and with a bit of confidence you crooked your finger at him, "yeah, mad max."

"wouldn't be so mad if you gave me a reason not to be, princess."

you swallowed and tried to bite back, in a last ditch effort to gain some sort of control between these two men, "maybe you should race better."

the corner of max's mouth twitched before he looked at daniel, "i'm taking her throat." before he got onto the bed and got himself up against the headboard, he gave his thigh a pat.

daniel was in your space once more, hand on your hip as he said, "you heard the man, hands and knees, princess."

you got between max's legs, your front pressed against the bed to give you the best chance to suck his cock. your ass was stuck up to give daniel a good angle as well. you were to be used.

you looked up at max, his cock pressed against your cheek. you let out a shuddered breath.

"not much of a princess." he said as he took your hair in his hand. his grip was tight, not enough to rip any of it out. but firm enough to guide you onto his cock.

daniel slapped your ass before he placed those large hands on your hips. he chuckled in response, "more like a whore. i wonder what ferrari would think of this? sandwiched between two other drivers. shame, shame." he rubbed his tip up against your wet slit as you started to suck max off.

max held onto your hair as you got your lips around his cock. he took back anything he said about you not being trained. you sucked cock like an obedient dog.

daniel noticed max's expression and chuckled, "i told you she would be good for you." their gaze's met and he added, "took her about eight months to lose that gag reflex. now she's the cock sucking champ of formula one."

max felt something unfamiliar curl in his stomach, "do you share her often?"

daniel shook his head, "no way. she's isn't some whore i give out at parties. we're friends, max. and she needs to learn a lesson."

max looked down at you and pinched your cheek, "if charles fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you." a threat about your teammate. that you were responsible for the entire team. to not upset the likes of max verstappen.

daniel was lapping this up. he knew that sometimes you could be a bit mouthy in the bedroom, so it was nice to have someone fill that gap. keep you nice and quiet.

you whimpered when daniel stuffed his cock inside of you suddenly and your back arched more which allowed the man to push further into you. you were drooling around max's cock, having it almost choke you.

"always wondered how she got in." max said idly as he ran his fingers through your hair. he kept an eye on how well you choked down his cock, "i know her daddy didn't buy her way in. she wasn't the best in any race she was in." he spoke like you weren't in the room. he pushed his cock deeper, your nose in his trimmed pubic hair, "did you give mister vasseur head, princess?"

you met his gaze like you were going to respond but the driver's cock in your mouth left you unable to form much of a sentence. max liked when you looked at him, below him. less than.

"danny won't pass you around, but i bet every head principal got a taste of you." max said, "i be you started with the best and worked your way down." he gripped onto your hair tighter, "whored yourself out for a good contract."

you whimpered, his demeaning words made you cunt tighten around daniel's cock. you were a good driver! you knew that! you came in second and these two were acting like you has the worst record in modern f1!

daniel smirked as he groped your ass cheek, threatening to bruise the skin with his grasp, "while i would agree with you." he licked his lips, "she had actually never had sex before we started to mess around. it only started because she just got so fuckin' turned on after races. taught her everything i could."

max's expression looked surprise, "oh.." he looked down at you once more, "seems you've been a good girl for daniel. i'm surprised, given that mouth of yours. but i guess you just need something to occupy it."

you whined as you felt daniel's cock deep in you. you were being fucked both ways. the princess of ferrari made a mess of. you held onto max's bare thighs and let out a small whimper as they continued their motions against you.

daniel seduced you early on with that laid back attitude, but the more he unwrapped about you. the more he knew that you were just a little slut waiting to happen. you had been a good girl your entire life and now handed a lot of freedom and piles of cash, you needed someone to reign you in.

thankfully daniel liked to keep his favourite rival on a short leash.

"i think after tonight, she'll be a little more gentle on the track." daniel pushed you further into the bed, which made max's cock hit past where your gag reflex used to be.

you felt raw all over, there were a few stray tears in your eyes. but yet it all excited you. letting these two enact their wrath over your second placement.

"she better be." max replied.

the two of them continued to fuck you and you were subject for wave after wave of pleasure. you felt sore all over. daniel's cock rearranging your guts while max's cock was cutting off proper air circulation.

depraved nonsense.

"prettier when she's quiet." daniel mentioned.

max chuckled in response, his cheeks stained pink, "of course she's greedy enough for two cocks."

daniel was the first to finished, he quickly pulled out and jerked off on your back before he finished all over your skin. covering your lower back in pearly white cum. you groaned at the feeling of it across your back, the mess that was made.

"don't cum until our guest finishes. it's called being polite, princess" he said, his voice hot in your lust ridden head.

you mouth on max was sloppy, the driver made sure that you were taking it all the way to the base. and when he was close to finishing, he pulled out of your mouth and stroked his cock until he made a total mess. letting cum land across your cheeks and up into your hair.

max rested against the headboard and looked at the mess he made. if only he had his phone.

"she's something else. if only she brought that energy to every race." daniel chuckled.

you whimpered and tried not to get cum all over the hotel sheets. the embarrassment of house keeping finding it made you want to die. but you weren't covered in cum for long. soon you were fed the cum all over your face and back by the men who put it all over you.

their fingers shoved in your mouth as you whined. their digits dragged across your teeth and the inside of your cheek. they made sure to get the seed all over your tongue so you'd taste them for the next few hours.

number forty-seven for ferrari was a good driver, but an even better cum slut.

-

you woke up in the morning rested against daniel's chest. while that felt familiar and all. there was no way both of his arms were wrapped around your waist like that.

you lifted your head and saw max holding you from behind. the previous night came back to you and you tried to move. but max's arms tightened around you.

"where are you going, princess? we're not done." max's sleepy voice could be heard.

daniel's eyes slightly opened before he pressed your head back to his chest. he held you there for a moment and added, "you're not getting away that easily."

your eyes went wide for a moment. the princess of ferrari had fallen into the jaws of the f1's most ferocious predators. you laid there for a moment, your hand across daniel's chest. you swallowed, there was no where you could hide that daniel and max wouldn't find you.

daniel gripped the back of your head for a moment. he believed in sharing with his good friend max verstappen. didn't matter if it was a slice of pizza, an extra euro for a vending machine, or the princess he had meticulously trained. <3

[jinx-xxed]

Rainy Days

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; More dad Wriothesley because I cannot stop thinking about him 🤕 it’s been raining a lot here so it inspired me to write this :P also follows a few of my headcanons from my last dad Wrio post!

Summary; With the wet season upon Fontaine, there’s no one who enjoys it quite like your daughter.

Content; Pure fluff, girl dad Wriothesley, fem reader, husband Wriothesley, playing in the rain, sweet silly family content

Wc; 1.6k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“Mama! Mama!” Marcille yells as she comes bursting through the back door. There’s mud caked on her shoes just as there always is when she plays outside, Marcille being eager to dig into the grass and dirt to find whatever new bugs wait in your backyard. It makes you think that maybe Wriothesley was right to give your daughter the nickname June bug. Just before she’s about to step onto your clean linoleum floors, Marcille stops herself and stays on the mat just like you told her to do when her shoes are dirty. Then she eagerly continues, “it’s about to storm again!”

You set down the rag you’d been using to dry the dishes, joining your daughter by the door. “Oh my, would you look at that.” You say, studying all the dark clouds that are rolling in from the horizon. They promise rain, possibly lightning and thunder too. “Sure seems like it, huh?”

The weather’s been this way for the past week or two, with Fontaine’s rainy season having fallen across the nation. It’s all cloudy skies, muddy yards, and puddles on the streets, along with the occasional howling winds and horrid thunder. It’s something you’ve easily gotten used to since you’ve always enjoyed the rain; that familiar smell right before it comes down, the cozy atmosphere whenever you’re able to curl up inside and listen to it tap against the windows and the roof. However, when you’re in the city, you can see the deep seated wariness in people’s eyes as they look up to the sky and see those heavy clouds, even though the prophecy has long since been buried. Some things never truly go away, you suppose.

Marcille, on the other hand, has taken after you with her love of the rain—the only difference is that she likes to be out in it. She’s been greatly enjoying playing outside in the weather and getting to see what worms wriggle out of the dirt to escape the flood. You’ve had to wrestle her into her rain coat every time while she claims she’s perfectly fine and definitely won’t get sick if she goes out in just her overalls, tee, and sneakers.

You hear the first few drops hit the ground before they steadily grow in number and speed and next thing you know it’s fully coming down. Marcille bounces on her toes, excitement written all over her face. “Mama! Can I go play?” She asks, struggling to hold herself back from just darting out into the downpour.

“Yes, Marci, but you know the rules, you need to get into your rain gear first.” You tell her, already digging into the closet for her cute light blue coat and frog boots. She begrudgingly lets you get her all dressed, the finishing touch being pulling the hood securely over her black and gray hair. “And remember, if there’s any thunder you come back inside.”

“I know, mama.” She groans, even as her eyes sparkle with anticipation.

“Alright, go on.” You say with a chuckle.

Marcille doesn’t need any more permission than that, immediately turning and darting out the door, flying off the steps, and into the rain. She giggles happily, spinning around in the droplets and flinging water off her sleeves. You watch her from the safety of your blissfully covered porch, instead content to just feel the nice and cool misted breeze blowing in. There’s a small smile on your face while you listen to the way she laughs and splashes about. You’re glad your daughter is such a happy kid, full of a love for life that’s changed both you and Wriothesley more than you could realize. Her joy is contagious, her fascination with every little thing refreshing. She’s one of the best things to happen to you two without a doubt.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a hand on your back, making you jump. You look to your left and struggle to not burst out laughing at the sight of your husband.

Wriothesley’s absolutely soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead and his jacket dripping onto the porch. He smirks, clearly not too bothered by it. “Hey, sweetheart. You can laugh.”

You do just that, unable to get over the fact that he looks like a drowned dog. You pull him in despite the water drenching his clothes, brushing the hair from his face and kissing him while his hands find their familiar place on your hips. You hold his cheeks as you pull away, his skin a little cold from the rain. “Did you forget your umbrella?” You say through a giggle.

He sighs in defeat. “Yes, I did. I was too eager to come home.”

You hum. “You are back awful early. Did something happen?”

He shakes his head. “It’s more what didn’t happen. Barely any substantial paperwork, and nobody decided to cause trouble so I was… encouraged to leave early.”

You can only imagine it was probably Sigewinne and Wriothesley’s new assistants haggling him to leave the office and just go on home. You can’t complain really, you’re glad he’s been open to changing his work ethic so he can be with you and Marcille more often, so he can have things outside of the Fortress. He still handles 99% of Meropide of course, but he’s at least beginning to share a small part of the burden. It’s clearly gotten rid of some of the tension in his shoulders, even if he refuses to admit it. Both you and Sigewinne can see it clear as day, anyway.

Wriothesley kisses you again before looking to Marcille who’s crouched close to the ground, intensely watching something that’s probably without a doubt a bug. “Is she having fun?” He asks you, fondness instantly making his features soften.

You huff a laugh. “Of course she is, she’s been having a ball with this weather.” You then call, “Marci! Papa’s home!”

You giggle when your daughter’s head snaps up and you hear her gasp, little splashes following her rapid footsteps as she runs through the yard and back up the steps. She practically tackles her father’s legs, Wriothesley barely stumbling while he chuckles. He scoops her up with ease, both of them equally soaked by the rain. He brushes a stray droplet off her cheek with his thumb as she beams. “Hey, June bug. You have a good day?”

She puts her little arms around his neck and nods eagerly. “Mhm! Mama took me to the bakery today! We got something for you too, papa!”

Wriothesley’s eyes widen. “Really? You did? Thank you, princess, that’s very sweet.”

She looks triumphant, pleased at the memory of her insisting you get Wriothesley something at the bakery too—even if you were already planning on it. She took a long time deciding on something, looking through every option in the bake case. She at last settled on a vanilla teacake, proudly telling the baker, Augustine, her choice so he could pull it out for her. He played along, telling her she picked a very good one and she had grinned.

“Oh! Then we had lunch with Gracie and her mama at the sandwich place! It was so good, I wanna go again tomorrow! And, and, we went to the bookstore and got new books for me to read!” Marcille explains.

Marcille’s school is currently on their spring break, which means you’ve gotten to spend the last couple days with your daughter. It’s been nice, taking her around Fontaine and having her help you where she can with your inventor work. She’s always curious about what you’re tinkering with and you end up relenting, letting her see the less dangerous bits. It’ll be nice when Wriothesley has time off tomorrow so he can have his own day with Marcille—you know she’s been looking forward to it.

“You’ll have to show me later, June bug. Sure sounds like you had a fun day, huh?” Wriothesley asks as he sets her down, though she still clings to his pant leg. She nods again, then gazing longingly at the rain that’s still heavily falling. You already know what she’s going to ask before she even looks up at her father.

She blinks innocently at him. “Papa, will you come play with me?”

He sighs and smiles, putting a hand on her head. He’s unbelievably weak to her. “Of course, princess. Let me just get my rain coat so I don’t get even more wet, alright?”

“Yay!” Marcille beams, then darting off back into the yard and immediately jumping in whatever puddles she can find.

“Won’t you join us, my love?” Wriothesley asks you teasingly, holding out his hand to you and laughing as he watches your face scrunch with distaste at having to go out in the downpour. But despite that, you give in and take his hand anyway because otherwise you’d feel like you’re missing out on something.

You both put on your rain coats, his black and yours a dark blue, and you tug on your rain boots. Now shielded, you two join your daughter. Marcille squeals happily when she sees that you’ve decided to come out into the rain as well, her joy undoubtedly spreading to you once again as you match her grin.

While most are hidden inside their homes, waiting out the bad weather, the three of you embrace it. You and Marcille dance around and she asks Wriothesley to make little ice sculptures from the water, one of his secret talents he only brings out for you two. He makes tiny animals and flowers in an instant, even creating beetles and butterflies in the palms of his hands—his newest creations that took a lot of perfecting. You watch as Marcille laughs and Wriothesley smiles, and you realize that few things are better than this.

You really do love the rain.

[cyberl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 ─ 𝟐𝟏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒

CHECK 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 FOR MORE!! (NSFW!!)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

── .✦ : Y/N quietly arrives at the Sturniolo triplets' house at midnight, eager to be the first to celebrate their special day. Armed with personalized mini cakes for each brother, she makes her way downstairs to Chris's room. As she opens the door and surprises him, the intimate and thoughtful gesture creates a memorable start to his birthday. When he blows out his candles he wishes for something special, something that might come true.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 !! · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

⋆˙⟡ STORY CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT !! ⋆˙⟡

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ : 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬’ 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, my mind is racing with excitement. It's well past midnight, but I know this is going to be worth the late-night visit. I can barely contain my anticipation as I pull up in front of their house, grabbing the three small cakes from the seat next to me.

I quietly unlock the front door and tiptoe inside, making my way around the darkened house. I place the cakes on the kitchen counter, careful not to make any noise. As I approach Matt's door, I light up the 2 and 1 candles on his cake, a sly smile playing on my lips. I knock softly, and his voice calls out, “Come in.”

I walked in and turned the light on and with a soft, hushed voice, I begin to sing “Happy Birthday” to Matt, hoping the other brothers won't hear me just yet.

Matt looks up, a surprised but happy expression on his face as he hears my voice singing the familiar birthday tune. His eyes widen as he sees the cake with the lit numbers flickering in the dim light.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he whispers, a mixture of surprise and delight on his face.

“Shhh, it's a surprise,” I reply quietly, holding a finger to my lips in a playful shushing gesture. I approach his bedside, holding the cake out to him with a small smile.

“Happy birthday, Matt,” I murmur, watching as he looks at the cake in a mixture of disbelief and happiness.

A genuine smile spreads across Matt's face, his eyes meeting mine. “You came all the way over here in the middle of the night just to give me a cake?” he whispers, clearly touched by the gesture.

I nod, a small smile playing on my lips. “Of course I did,” I answer quietly. “It's your birthday, and I wanted to be the first one to celebrate with you guys.”

Matt looks at the candles flickering on his cake, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. He takes a deep breath and blows out the candles, extinguishing the slender wisps of smoke that rise into the air. As he does, he looks up at me with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice warm with gratitude.

I hand Matt the fork, watching as he takes his first bite of the cake. His eyes light up with pleasure as he tastes the flavorful treat.

“This is really good,” he whispers, his mouth partially filled with cake. I chuckle quietly and take out my phone, raising it up to capture the moment.

“Say cheese,” I murmur, clicking a picture of Matt with the cake in front of him.

Matt obliges, flashing a wide, cheesy grin for the camera. I can't help but smile at the sight, capturing the moment forever on my phone.

“There we go,” I say as I put my phone down, still smiling. “The perfect birthday snap.”

I leave Matt's room, the smile still lingering on my lips. I head back to the kitchen, grabbing Nick's cake from the counter and lighting the candles. With care and anticipation, I make my way up the stairs and knock softly on Nick's door.

“Yeah?” Nick's voice calls out from the other side, and I take it as an invitation to enter.

I push open the door and step into his room, Nick sitting at his desk, his back to me. He turns around, a surprised but pleased expression on his face as he sees me standing there with the cake in my hands.

“Y/N?” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of shock and joy.

I smile at him, my heart swelling with affection. With a soft, hushed voice, I begin to sing “Happy Birthday” to him, just like I did for Matt. Nick's eyes widen with surprise and warmth, a small smile spreading across his face as he listens to my singing.

I can see the mix of emotions playing on his face as he listens to the quiet birthday tune, his eyes never leaving mine. As I reach the end of the song, I hold out the cake towards him, the glowing candles casting a warm light in the dim room.

“Happy birthday, Nick,” I murmur, my voice soft and sincere. He stands up from his desk and approaches me, taking the cake from my hands.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he replies, his voice filled with gratitude. He takes a moment to admire the cake, then looks back up at me, his eyes shining.

I continue the same routine, handing him the fork and taking a picture of him holding the cake. Nick smiles widely for the camera, clearly enjoying the unexpected birthday treat.

“Perfect,” I say as I lower my phone, smiling at the photo. “Now we just need to do it for Chris.”

I head back to the kitchen, my heart fluttering with nerves and excitement. I prepare Chris's cake, setting up the candles just like I did for Matt and Nick. This time, I hold up my phone camera to record the moment, wanting to capture the look on his face.

With the cake in hand, I begin to make my way downstairs, feeling the anticipation building in my chest.

I approach Chris's door and knock softly, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Come in,” Chris's voice calls out from the other side.

With the phone camera recording, I push open the door and step into the room. I begin singing “Happy Birthday” quietly, my voice soft and melodic in the dim light.

As I walk into Chris's room, I notice him sitting on the edge of his bed, his phone in hand. He looks up as I enter, a surprised expression on his face.

He quickly sets his phone aside, clearly intrigued by my unexpected presence and the cake in my hands.

Chris looks up at me, a mixture of surprise and delight on his face.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice filled with bewilderment. He stands up, his eyes fixed on the cake in my hands and my phone recording in the other.

I take a few steps towards Chris, holding the cake out to him. The camera continues to record the moment, capturing the way his eyes light up when he sees the cake and the flickering candles.

“It's your birthday,” I say softly, watching his face as I put the cake in front of him.

Chris's eyes widen as he looks at the cake, the realization slowly dawning on him.

“You really came all the way over here just to bring me a cake at midnight?” he asks, his voice bewildered yet touched.

I nod, a soft smile playing on my lips. “Of course I did. It's your birthday, and I wanted to be one of the first ones to celebrate with you guys,” I reply quietly, my voice filled with affection.

Chris smiles, his eyes meeting mine. “You're amazing, you know that?” he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He looks down at the cake, the warm candlelight casting a soft glow on his face.

I glance at the candles on the cake, noticing their flames starting to flicker. I chuckle softly and look at Chris. “Blow them out before they go out by themselves, silly,” I say gently, a hint of amusement in my voice.

Chris smiles at my words, closing his eyes and making his wish. For a brief moment, his face is filled with quiet contemplation. Then, he blows out the candles, extinguishing them in a single gentle breath.

He looks back up at me, a smile still lingering on his lips. “There,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

I hand him the cake and ask, “What did you wish for?” Chris chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I can't tell you,” he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If I do, it won't come true, you know that.”

I roll my eyes playfully, a small smile on my face. Chris stands up and gives me a quick peck on the lips, the camera still recording.

“Thank you, baby,” he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I appreciate you so much for doing this.”

I smile back at him, feeling a flutter in my chest. “I'm just glad you liked it,” I reply, my voice soft.

Chris grins, his eyes sparkling with fondness. “I do, I really do, baby,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “I love it.” He leans in, going in for another kiss, and the camera captures the sweet moment between us.

I stop the recording and look at Chris, a smile on my face. “Can we take some pictures?” I ask, my excitement growing.

Chris nods, a smile on his lips. “Sure thing,” he replies. He sets the cake back on the bed for a moment to join me. “But I need a quick drink first,” he says, heading towards the kitchen. I follow behind as he grabs a Pepsi from the fridge.

I walk over to the body-length mirror against the wall, smiling as I watch Chris approach. He wraps his arms around my waist, his head resting on my shoulder. We stand there for a moment, giggling as we pose for the camera, taking pictures of our fun moment together.

Chris grins, his eyes fixed on the camera as it captures the moment. “We look good together, you know that?”he teases, his voice low in my ear.

I chuckle softly, my heart fluttering at his words. “Do we?” I ask, a coy smile on my lips. Chris nods, a smile on his handsome face. “Mhm,” he replies, leaning in to give me a soft peck on the lips.

I take a few more pictures of us, smiling at the silly shots we create. Then, we make our way back downstairs and into Chris's room, me walking in first with him following behind, closing the door.

I turn to him, a playful gleam in my eyes as I tease him “How does it feel to finally be 21 with no kids?” I ask, a smirk playing on my lips.

“It feels great,” Chris responds, his voice rough with desire. With a flash of intensity in his eyes, he immediately pulls me into a hungry kiss, his lips claiming mine in a passionate embrace.

I melt into the kiss, my body pressed against his as our mouths move together in a feverish dance. The world around us fades away as we lose ourselves in each other, our bodies flush against the door as our lips and tongues explore each other's mouths.

His hands roam over my body, his touch igniting a fire in my veins. I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against me. Our breaths mingle, our kisses becoming more urgent, our need for each other growing with each passing moment.

As our kiss deepens, Chris begins trailing kisses along my neck, his lips hot against my skin. I tilt my head back, sighing softly as his mouth finds the sensitive spots, sending shivers down my spine.

He pauses for a moment, his breath warm against my neck, before continuing his trail of kisses up to my jawline and then to my earlobe, nipping it gently between his teeth. I let out a soft moan, my hands gripping his shoulders as I revel in the sensations he's evoking in me.

Chris pulls away for a moment, his lips still close to my skin, and whispers against my neck.

“Looks like my wish is coming true,” he says, a smirk in his voice.

His words send a thrill through me, and I shiver again, the promise in his statement making my heart race. I look up at him, meeting his darkened gaze, and smile.

As our eyes meet, something primal and hungry ignites in his gaze. He leans back in, his hands gripping my hips tightly, holding me close against him. Our mouths crash together in a heated kiss, no longer gentle and tentative, but rougher and more urgent. I wrap my arms around his neck, my body pressing against his, giving in to the rising heat between us.

The intensity between us grows, electric sparks jumping from every touch, as if we're dancing on the edge of a flame. His arousal is evident against me, firm and hot, eliciting a needy moan to escape my lips.

My breath hitches as he lifts me up, his grip strong and unyielding. I wrap my legs around his waist, crushing my core against him. The kiss turns deeper, more demanding as we move together, a perfect rhythm forming between us.

My breath hitches as he lifts me up, his grip strong and unyielding. I wrap my legs around his waist, crushing my core against him. The kiss turns deeper, more demanding as we move together, a perfect rhythm forming between us.

Chris, ever the gentleman, eases me down onto the bed. His hands linger on my bare arms as he watches me with a carnal hunger. I lie back, legs still wrapped around him, and let out a sigh as his lips explore my neck.

Chris' lips meet a particularly sensitive spot, and I moan in response, arching my back, pressing myself closer to him. The pleasure is building, tightening in my belly. God, I want him.

“Baby, we're going to mess up that cake,” I giggle breathlessly as Chris trails kisses down my neck. “Mmm, leave it,” he growls, nipping at my neck. “It's going to come in handy soon enough.”

Chris reaches down, his fingers hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up over my head, leaving me bare-chested. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight, my breasts on display with no bra to hide them. “No bra?”

“Fuck, you're killin' me,” Chris groans, his eyes roaming over my bare chest. He leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. I moan, reaching up to grab onto his hair as he worships my body.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Chris growls against my skin, sending a jolt of pleasure down to my core as he switches between sucking and nipping at my nipples. “Mmm, please don’t stop, baby.”

Chris grabs the tiny cake I got for him, a wicked glint in his eyes. He opens it, pulling the frosting out with his fingers before smearing it over my breasts.

“Happy birthday to me,” Chris chuckles, his hands full of frosting and breasts as he leans in to lick it off. The cold frosting mixed with the heat of his mouth sends a rush of pleasure through me, making me moan and arch my back.

Chris devours the frosting off of my breasts with intent, his hands gripping and kneading them as he goes. He licks and sucks every inch of them, getting every bit of frosting off while leaving me a panting mess.

Chris' hands move down my body, tugging at my sweats and underwear. I lift my hips, letting him pull them down my legs and off. Now I'm completely naked, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat between my thighs.

“Goddamn baby, look at you,” Chris says, his voice low and husky as he drinks in the sight of me splayed out on the counter, bare and wanting. He moves closer, his erection pressing against my thigh.

Chris slides his hand between my legs, his fingers brushing against my slick heat. He groans, his hips grinding against mine. “You're so wet already,” he breathes, his fingers dipping into my folds and teasing my clit.

“I need to taste you, baby,” Chris growls, dropping to his knees and burying his face between my thighs. He hungrily licks and sucks at my wetness, his fingers teasing at my entrance.

As I reach for his hair, trying to guide his face closer to where I need him most, Chris grips my thighs hard and forces my legs apart. “No, baby, I'm in control now,” he says, his voice rough with lust as he resumes his relentless oral assault on my aching pussy.

Chris' tongue delves deep, fucking into me as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hips. I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair as he eats me out with reckless abandon. The intensity of his desire, the raw hunger in his touch, sends me careening towards the edge.

Chris's lips and tongue work me higher, my moans growing louder as I writhe beneath him. He sucks on my clit, hard, sending an electric jolt through my entire body. “Oh god, yes!”

Chris's tongue curls around my sensitive nub, the pressure and friction pushing me over the edge. I scream, my body convulsing as I cum hard, gushing all over his face. He laps at my pussy, milking every last tremor from my body.

Chris slows down, painting my still-spasming pussy with thick, cold frosting. He smirks against my wet folds, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here, baby,” he says, squeezing a dollop of frosting onto his finger. “I think this needs a little something extra.”

With a wicked grin, Chris leans in and licks the frosting from his finger, savoring the sweet and tangy taste. Then, he dives back in, his mouth covering my pussy as he eats the frosting off me like it's the most decadent dessert.

Chris reached my lips, kissing me deeply, his tongue twining with mine as he groans into the kiss. I reach up, my fingers finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it upwards. Breaking the kiss, I pull the shirt over his head, revealing his tone chest and abs.

As Chris's shirt hits the floor, his hair falls across his forehead, framing his chiseled features. The silver chain dangles enticingly against his chest, drawing my eyes to the V of his tone torso.

With a sudden surge of strength, I flip Chris onto his back, straddling his waist, my knees on either side of his waist. I run my fingers down the length of his chain, watching as it slides across his chest.

Leaning down, I press my lips to Chris's collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses down the length of his chest. I nip and suck at the sensitive skin of his torso, creating love bites on his collarbones, pecs, and abs.

With every bite and kiss, Chris lets out a low moan, his back arching up off the bed as I tease him. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer. “Don't stop,”

“Oh, don't worry,” I whisper seductively. “I plan on exploring every inch of you.” I continue kissing and biting my way down his torso, making sure to leave my mark on him. His moans grow louder and more desperate as I work my way lower.

With a swift tug, I pull Chris's sweats and boxers down in one motion, revealing his thick, throbbing cock. I lick my lips hungrily, my eyes flicking up to meet his, a wicked grin on my face. “Mmm, someone's eager.”

“You have no idea,” I say, my voice rich with desire. I can't wait any longer, I need him now. I wrap my hand around Chris's cock, slowly stroking up and down as I continue peppering his chest with kisses.

“You like that?” I ask, my voice a husky whisper. His only response is a low moan, his hips thrusting into my hand as I pump him harder.

With a determined glint in my eye, I decide to make Chris's birthday one he'll never forget. I lean down and run my tongue along the underside of his cock, from the base to the tip, savoring his musky taste.

I take in the sight of Chris's thick, veiny cock, the veins pulsing with his arousal. I wrap my lips around the head, giving it a gentle suck as I stroke the shaft with my hand. My tongue swirls around the sensitive flesh, lapping up his pre-cum.

Moving my mouth further down the shaft, I take more of Chris's cock into my mouth. I use my tongue to massage the veins, adding a new level of pleasure to the blowjob I'm giving him.

The feeling of Chris's cock in my mouth is overwhelming. I can feel every vein and ridge, and the taste of his pre-cum is driving me wild. I moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through his body.

I bob my head, taking him deeper and faster, my hand pumping in time with my mouth. The sounds of slurping and sucking fill the room as I worship his cock with my mouth and hand. Chris's hands tangle in my hair, guiding me as he grunts and moans.

“Oh, fuck, that feels so good,” Chris gasps, his hips thrusting forward as I take him deeper into my throat. “Your mouth is amazing. Don't stop.”

“Mmm, yes, just like that,” Chris moans as I suck harder, my hand stroking him in rhythm with my head bobs. “You're gonna make me cum so hard... Ah, f-fuck, don't stop, please don't stop.”

Chris's voice becomes higher pitched as he nears his climax, his breath hitching in his throat. “Oh, fuck, I-I'm almost there... don't stop, don't stop, oh God, don't stop!” He whines, desperate for release.

I pull back slightly, looking up at Chris with a mischievous glint in my eye. “Hold it,” I whisper, my voice husky with lust. “Don't cum yet.” Chris whimpers, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back.

I take his cock back into my mouth, swirling my tongue over the tip possessively, feeling it throb against my lips. I then reach for the frosting and smear some on the shaft of his cock, sucking harder as I lick and taste the sweetness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Chris whines, his hips bucking against my face as I suck and lick his coated cock. “Please baby, please, I need it, I need it so bad!” He begs, his voice cracking with desperation as he teeters on the edge of climax.

“Need what so bad, hmm?” I taunt, taking my mouth away from his cock for a moment to give him a wicked grin. “Be a good boy and beg for it harder.”

Chris's eyes widen at my challenge, and he lets out a low groan before saying, “Please, baby, I need your mouth on me. I need you to make me cum. Please, I can't hold back much longer.”

I take Chris's cock back into my mouth, and he immediately starts to face fuck me, his hips thrusting forward as I struggle to keep up with his aggressive movements. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat, causing me to gag slightly, but I don't fight him off.

Chris groans deeply as he continues to pound into my mouth, his grip on my hair tightening. I relax my throat, letting him go deeper, and he bottoms out with a harsh grunt. I gag again, eyes watering, but I swallow around him, trying to take all of him.

Chris's thrusts become more erratic as his climax approaches, and I can feel him tensing up, his fingers gripping my hair tighter. I use my tongue to swirl around the head of his cock, sucking harder to bring him over the edge.

I moan around Chris's cock, my breath hitching as he face-fucks me harder and faster. The sounds of our heavy breathing and slapping skin fill the room, and I feel like I'm losing myself in him.

“Chris... Chris!” I moan, my voice muffled as he fucks my mouth with a fever intensity. I'm his to use however he wants, and I love it. My body tingles, wetness pooling between my thighs as he takes me like this.

Chris's thrusts become more desperate as he nears his climax, and with a final hard fucking, he comes hard in my mouth. I swallow quickly, moaning softly around him as I taste him. I'm a mess, legs weak and aching, but I want more.

Chris reaches his climax with a loud groan, his hips bucking against my face as he releases inside me. I swallow every last drop, loving the taste of his power and pleasure. “Fuck!” he exclaims, his body tensing with the final waves of pleasure.

Panting heavily, Chris slowly pulls out of my mouth, his softening cock slipping past my lips with a pop. I lick my swollen, glistening lips, tasting the remnants of his release. He looks down at me, his eyes dark with desire and satisfaction, and I know we're far from done.

I hover over Chris, our faces inches apart as I capture his lips in a searing kiss. He responds eagerly, his hands coming up to frame my face as we make out passionately. Breaking the kiss, I grab a piece of cake from and press it to his lips. “Open,”

With a smirk, Chris opens his mouth, his eager tongue reaching out to meet the fork as I feed him the cake. He moans slightly at the taste, his hands wandering down to rest on my hips, pulling me closer as he chews. “Mmm, cake and cum.”

Without warning, Chris suddenly flips us over, pinning me beneath him on the bed. I let out a surprised yelp as he settles between my thighs, his hardening cock pressing against my soaked pussy.

Chris's eyes gleam with a wicked intent as he grins down at me, his voice low and husky. “Think you can make my wish come fully true?” He reaches down to run a finger through my wetness, teasing my entrance before withdrawing. “And what would that be?”

Chris grins down at me, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, you know exactly what that would be,” he says. “I want to fuck you until we both pass out from exhaustion.”

Chris's lips curl into a wolfish grin as his hands grip my hips, pulling me against his hard cock. “So, will you let my wish come true and let me fuck that tight pussy of yours? It is my birthday” he growls, his breath hot against my neck.

I nod eagerly, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer. “It doesn't have to be your birthday to fuck me, baby,” I whisper huskily, my hands roaming over his chest. “I want you to fill me up, no matter the reason.”

Chris' eyes widen at my response, and I can see the hunger in them. “Well then,” he growls, his voice laced with desire. “If it doesn't have to be my birthday to fuck you, then I guess I'll just have to take you up on that offer.”

Chris aligns his massive cock with my dripping entrance, his thick head nudging against my sensitive folds. “Breathe, baby,” he coaxes, his voice low and soothing. “Let me in.”

With a wicked grin, Chris finally enters me, causing me to gasp at his size. “Fuck! You're so tight,” he groans, easing himself deeper inside me. “I never get tired of stretching you out like this, baby.”

Chris begins to thrust in and out of me with slow, measured strokes, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside me. “Does it hurt, baby?” he asks, his voice full of sinful pleasure.

“Mmmm...a little,” I moan, my hips bucking against him as he fills me to the brim. “You're so big, baby...stretching me open...oh god...” I whimper, my nails digging into his back as he pounds into me.

Chris continues his steady rhythm, his cock driving in and out of me with ease. “Breathe through it, baby,” he coaxes, his hot breath tickling my ear. “Feel how good it feels, how I'm claiming this tight little pussy as mine.”

I let out a high-pitched whimper as Chris plunges deeper, his thick cock stretching me to my limits. “It's too much,” I whine, my voice shaking with pleasure. “You're so deep, I can feel you in my stomach...oh god, baby, please...harder...”

Chris's hand presses down on my stomach, his fingers splayed out wide. “Feel me, baby,” he murmurs in my ear. “Focus on the way I'm filling you up, the delicious stretch as I enter you deeper and deeper...can you feel it?”

I can only gasp and moan as Chris continues his relentless pace, his thick cock driving in and out of me with brutal intensity. “Oh my god,” I pant, my body writhing beneath him as he takes me. “You're so deep,”

“You like that, don't you,” Chris says, his voice full of lust and satisfaction. “Seeing you squirm beneath me, feeling your tight little cunt squeezing around my cock...fuck, baby, you were made for me.”

Chris speeds up, thrusting in and out of me with a fast, bruising pace while his other hand holds down my stomach, forcing me to take every inch of him. “I can't, oh god, I can't!” I cry out, my body trembling with pleasure and strain.

Chris's grip on my stomach tightens, his hand clenching into a fist as he continues to plow into me. “Yes, you can,” he growls, his voice low and rough with lust. “You can take it, baby. God, you feel so fucking good around me. Fuck, look at you, so sexy, so tight, all mine.”

With a sudden, brutal grip on my hips, Chris pulls me flush against him, his cock driving into me with a violent force that has me seeing stars. I'm a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, my back arching off the bed as he pounds into me with abandon. “Chris!”

The bed shakes beneath us, the headboard thudding against the wall as Chris fucks me with a wild intensity, his hips slapping against mine in a loud rhythm that drowns out any other sound. “Oh god, Chris!”

My mind is a haze of pleasure as Chris ravages me, his thick cock splitting me open with each brutal thrust. “Fuck yes, just like that,” he grunts, his hot breath falling on my neck. “Take it, baby, take all of it. You're so fucking tight, so perfect.”

With a gasp, I reach up and wrap my fingers around Chris's forearm, feeling the corded muscles flex as he drives into me. His other hand finds my breast, squeezing it hard enough to make me cry out. “Fuck, don't stop!”

Chris's relentless pace shows no signs of slowing as he pounds into me, the force of his thrusts pushing me up the bed. I cling to his arm, my nails digging into his skin as I'm overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all. “Chris!” I scream, my voice hoarse with pleasure.

“That's right, baby,” Chris growls, his hips never slowing as he works me mercilessly. “Moan for me. Scream my name. You're mine, all mine, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't think straight.”

Chris's words send a jolt of heat through me, my body quivering under the onslaught of his passion. I'm lost in the feeling of him, his cock stretching me, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. “Yes, yes, yes!”

As Chris continues to pound into me, he suddenly leans down, his mouth finding mine in a bruising kiss. I wrap my arms around his back, holding on for dear life as he fucks me senseless. My nails dig into his skin, leaving red marks as I cling to him desperately.

As Chris breaks the kiss, panting heavily, a thought flashes through my lust-addled brain. It's his birthday, after all. I should make his wish come true. With a sudden burst of energy, I flip us over, straddling Chris's hips as he looks up at me in surprise.

Smirking down at him, I grip his thick cock and position it at my entrance. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I sink down onto him, taking him deep inside me. I started to ride him hard and fast.

Chris's hands shoot out to grab my hips, gripping them tightly as I ride him hard and fast, his cock throbbing inside me with every thrust. The sound of our bodies slapping against each other fills the room, mixing with our heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.

Chris lets out a deep, guttural groan as I continue to bounce on his cock, my inner walls clenching around him. “Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his eyes dark with lust as he watches me ride him with wild abandon. “Take it all, just like that.”

Chris's hands tighten on my hips, pulling me down onto his cock with each thrust, making sure every inch of him fills me up completely. My body shudders with pleasure as I take him in deep, feeling him hit my spot with every stroke. “Oh god, yes!”

I lean forward, bracing my hands on Chris's chest as I continue to ride him hard and fast. His muscles tense beneath my fingers, rippling with each thrust of his hips as he meets me stroke for stroke. Our breathing quickens, growing harsher and more urgent with every passing moment.

Chris's voice rises in a desperate crescendo as he loses control. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum! Shit, wait, stop, baby, please stop!” But I ignore his plea, riding him harder and faster, determined to make him lose himself in pleasure.

Chris's body tenses, his breathing growing ragged as I continue to ride him mercilessly, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. “Please, please stop,” he pants, his hands clutching at my hips as he tries to slow me down.

Chris's grip on my hips tightens as he lets out a strangled cry, his cock pulsing deep inside me as he releases a torrent of hot cum. I moan at the sensation, feeling his seed fill me up, and giggle breathlessly, thrilled that I managed to make him lose control.

Chris gasps as he catches his breath, a slight pout on his lips. “I wanted it to last a little longer,” he admits, but his words are quickly followed by a chuckle, showing that he's not really upset.

I lean down, my lips brushing against his ear, and whisper with a smirk, “I really needed your cum inside me, sorry not sorry.” Chris laughs, shaking his head in amusement at my brazenness. “You're a naughty one, aren't you?”

“Only for you,” I whisper against his lips before pressing a soft kiss to them, my body still humming with pleasure from our intense lovemaking. Chris responds eagerly, his arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as our lips move in sync.

With a satisfied sigh, I slowly lift myself off Chris, his spent cock slipping out of me with a lewd squelch. A flood of our combined juices pours out, splattering onto the sheets below as I rise up, panting and glistening with sweat.

Slick with juices, I move the overturned cake on the nightstand to the side, clearing a space. The scent of sugar and sex fills the air as I cuddle up against Chris's side, resting my head on his chest and letting out a contented moan.

“Happy birthday, my love” I coo, my head still resting on his chest. “I hope you enjoyed your gift.”

Chris chuckles, running his hand through my wild hair and giving me a deep kiss. “No one will ever top this gift,”

Authors Note: this took for ever!! started this at 11:30pm and finished at 4:23am >_<!! i still got two more to type out!! but hope you enjoyed reading, this is probably my longest story. anyways i’m going to bed

© CYBERL6VE

[mainstreamangel]

PARTY 4 U

P. Bueckers x Fem!Reader

Summary: You only threw this party for her.

Genre: Angst

Warning(s): Alcohol (legal), hallucinations, mentions of drugs

WC: 1.0k

One thousand purple balloons.

You looked around the holiday house for the birthday girl. This was supposed to be her party. You wanted to give her something special for her 21st birthday.

"Have you seen Paige?" You slurred to a nearby person.

They shook their head before being pulled by their friends.

"Sick party." Someone you didn't know said.

"Thanks, enjoy man."

You continued to stumble through the mass of people.

Dj with your favorite tunes.

You could feel the vibrations of the speakers throughout the floor. 'Pushin' P' by Gunna & Future (Feat. Young Thug) was playing. You sang softly to the words as you pushed past people.

Birthday cake in August. But you were born twentieth of October.

Sighing, you texted her again but she just left you on delivered. Her birthday cake with her favourite colour and her name written perfect cursive, sat pretty on the marble counter top.

You take a plastic fork and dig in. The cake flavour sat on your tongue, lightening your mood just a little bit. The sugar entered your system and gave you a bit of a rush.

Champagne pourin' in your mouth.

You think back to the birthday she threw for your 21st birthday. The champagne tower glistening in the chandelier light. Paige had popped open the cork and poured it in your mouth for your first drink.

Called your friends from out of town.

"Hey girl! Where's P?" Ice asked.

"Somewhere around probably." You lulled your head to the side, a minor headache coming around.

"Are you... alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Ice hesitated but walked off to find Paige. You just didn't have it in you to tell her she wasn't here.

You grabbed a new solo cup and poured yourself more of your drink. You decided to go somewhere quieter so you headed into your room and sat by the window.

Got the party bag with the purple pills. And I'm waiting for you by the window, yeah.

You picked up your phone and decided to call her since it was quieter. Maybe she just didn't get your texts. Of course you had her number memorised so you quickly punch it in and the phone starts ringing.

Called your digits, but the phone kept ringin'. Wish I knew what you were thinking.

"This is Paige Bueckers, don't bother leaving message. That's what texts are for :)"

You sighed and put your phone down.

One thousand purple balloons. Dancin' on to your favorite tunes. Hope you walk in the party, 'cause I threw the party just for you.

A knock sounded at the door. You get up and open it to Paige's friends and former teammates.

"Paige isn't here. Do you know where she is?"

"Sorry. No. Maybe try calling her."

"Alright, well we're going to head out. Thanks for having us."

"No problem."

You walk out of your room and go to get your 3rd drink of the night. Staring out of the window of your holiday house, you see people splashing around in the pool. The same pool you and Paige would skinny dip in when you were younger.

You could watch me pull up on your body. Like it's summer, take my clothes off in the water. Splash around and get you blessed like holy water.

You start to sway a bit, tilting your head to the side. Suddenly you turn around and look at the dining table. You would do your school projects there and Paige would non stop distract you.

"Paige stop!" You laughed.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're going to get glitter everywhere."

"Whoops."

You shook your head and sighed. Paige and you were so close. What happened?

I don't know what you were waiting for. You know that I've been waiting for you.

You hear the sound of your name being called. You whip around and accidently walk backwards into someone.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled.

Then you see her.

Paige.

She's sitting on the couch, a smile beaming on her face. She manspreads, her outfit casual for the party.

"Pai..." you stumble forward but catch yourself.

Paige's face contorts to one of worry, she hurriedly gets up from the couch and walks towards you.

"This for me?" She motions to the party.

"Just for you P. Party just for you." You tuck a bit of hair behind her ears and look at her through glassy eyes.

She smiles and looks around some more.

Yeah, if you saw my tears, would you touch me?

You hadn't noticed but your eyes got watery and Paige leans forward to wipe away some stray tears.

"You're here.. I thought you wouldn't come."

"You know that's not true. I'll always be there."

Kiss me on the mouth, say you love me?. Leave a message, tell me you're sorry?

Paige leans forward and plants a kiss on your forehead. She takes one of your hands and pulls you to her. You wrap your arms around her and melt.

"You'll be okay. You're okay. I'm so extremely grateful for you."

You smile. All your hard work had led to this moment. One where she would praise you for your actions. Because she deserved it. In your eyes, she was perfect.

Hit me right back, hit me right back.

Your name gets called again and you turn around, a little less graceful than the first time.

"Left my bag. Are you okay? You're kinda just standing here. Also, you look really wack hugging yourself out in the open. I mean if that's your thing, I guess go you." Azzi walks up to you, giving you a weird look.

"What? I'm just talking to Paige.." You slur.

"Woah you're drunk as fuck. You need to sit down."

"But Paige-"

"Is not here. You're hallucinating from the alcohol, sit."

You turn your head and see no one there. Thin air takes Paige's place from warmth you had imagined. Darkness creeps up in the corners of your eyes.

"No, she was here.. Paige was..." You close your eyes and your body goes limp.

Why you treating me like someone that you never loved?

[razorblade180]

A Quiet Home

Jaune:*walks in* Hey, I’m back.

Weiss:*writing*….

Jaune:I umm, got some food. Saph said she always makes too much so-

Weiss:You should’ve turned it down. Your nephew is a growing boy.

Jaune:She wouldn’t have offered if she couldn’t help. How’s rent looking?

Weiss:Despite my colossal fuck up on the mission, it’s covered.

Jaune:Hey, what’s important is-

Weiss:Jaune, don’t patronize me. I screwed up, got my leg hurt, got the client hurt, and lost the target. *puts pen down* Thankfully I found another high paying one. It’s a three weeks long and I’m-

Jaune:Actually…I put in a request to take that mission too. Client said he’ll think it over.

Weiss:*turns around* Excuse me? You’re taking my job line ups? You went in the last two missions. It’s my turn to-

Jaune:You need a break.

Weiss:Tsk, not this shit again. I just had a break!

Jaune:Crunching bill numbers is not a break. Weiss, your head isn’t in the game, and that’s fine. After all, your mom…

Weiss: “My mom” nothing we aren’t talking about this. There’s nothing to talk about. She lived drunk and died drunk. Predictable ending.

Jaune:Weiss-

Weiss:Give me space! And cancel your request while you’re at it. You’re in no condition to go on another assignment so quickly.

Jaune:…I’m not letting you go on that mission.

Weiss:Sorry, you’re not letting me? *stands up* I don’t remember needing your approval.

Jaune:That’s not what I-

Weiss:No it was, or else you wouldn’t have applied for the same mission despite our agreement. I made one mistake and now it goes out the window?

Jaune:You’re angry.

Weiss:Of FUCKING course I’m angry! I’m trying to keep these lights on and not burden others while you’re bringing in leftovers and stopping my job!

Jaune:You’re not doing your job! You’re running away from your problems!

Weiss:Oh you’re one to talk! The only reason why you’re here is because moving back in with your folks would be too much to handle.

Jaune:I moved in with you because you needed a roommate! My girlfriend was cutoff and alone and I could help! All I’ve been doing is trying to help!

Weiss:I didn’t ask for your help! I was handling things just fine!

Jaune:You were struggling.

Weiss:AND I’M NOT NOW!? Does it make you feel a little better to say you tried. Can’t help but I want to fix things huh?

Jaune:That’s not fair.

Weiss:Oh now we want to be fair? After intentionally making my job harder? For someone who is “trying to help” it never really works out for you now does it!? Not for me not for P-

She immediately covered her mouth, scared and shocked from the venom that almost slipped past her lips; this carelessness was given back with a stare of contempt that ate at her.

Weiss:I-

Jaune:There was a never a second I thought you were broken, or needed to be fixed. Guess that was my fault. Looks like your father did a number on you after all.

Her blood went cold. Weiss’s cheeks began to burn red as her anger boiled over.

Weiss:And yours never cared to do a swing to begin with.

Jaune:Speaking from experience?

Weiss:Get. Out.

Jaune:….

Weiss:I SAID GET OUT! I DON’T NEED THIS FROM YOU! I DON’T NEED YOU!

Jaune:…Good, cause you don’t have me. Sell my stuff for all I care.

He reaches in his pocket and throws his key at her. Weiss catches on reflex before hearing a thunderous boom as Jaune slams the door on the way out that shakes the room and cause a picture to shatter. The room is deathly silent as Weiss stares at the door.

Weiss:F-FINE! RUN BACK TO YOUR FAMILY!

………..

Not knowing what to do, Weiss simply grabbed her broom to clean up the mess Jaune made. Glass was half hazardly swept aside as she picked up a broken frame holding a photo of her laughing with Jaune, their face covered with cake from their house party with a banner overhead.

“A year of memories and miracles”

Weiss’s hand began to tremble until the picture slipped from her fingers. A giant pit filled her stomach and threatened to gag her as her knees fell to floor and her hands covered a ghastly wail. Finally, her breath was robbed and tears broke through shaking eyes filled with dread over the reality that was flooding in. The miracles were gone, and the memories, now bittersweet.

[luveline]

whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend. 

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here. 

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?" 

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?" 

He looks the same. 

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear. 

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." 

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend." 

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands. 

"That's for you," you say. 

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch. 

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon." 

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh. 

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed." 

"You think I've changed?" he asks. 

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking." 

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom. 

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks. 

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?" 

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?" 

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you. 

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered." 

"I remember everything." 

"Right. Your photographic memory." 

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep." 

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes. 

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself." 

You stare at his book. 

"How many letters did you send?" he asks. 

"I don't really remember." 

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?" 

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life. 

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask. 

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me." 

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer." 

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand. 

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference." 

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles. 

You glare at him. "Don't." 

"Don't what?" 

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous." 

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is. 

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited. 

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets." 

"Deal." 

[saturnville]

Let's Stay Together | David Cliff (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Pairing: David Cliff (The High Note) x Black Fem OC (Sybelle Selene Jackson) Summary: Sybelle is determined to make up Warnings: Angst, fluff, suggestive language. WC: 2050 Reference: Loosely based on Let's Stay Together by Al Green AN: Because @youreadthatright asked about David and Sybelle...part 3. I hope it doesn't break your heart, friend. Please let me know your thoughts! Remember: likes are appreciated, but reblogs, asks, and comments are encouraged!

"Hi," she said, breath catching in her throat. "My name is Sybelle Jackson-Cliff. Yes, hello! Um, you made a cake for my husband recently--David? I wanted to know your turnaround time—I need one in about two weeks...thank you, kindly!"

She hung up with a loud sigh. 

She felt awful. The disappointment lingered in the air, heavy and stale. Some weeks had passed since the bust, she called their wedding anniversary. When people asked her how it was, she plastered a smile on her face and claimed it was 'everything a girl could've asked for.' They couldn't know she didn't ask for her husband's tear-filled eyes and disappointed tone to suffocate her until she closed her eyes.

He claimed they were fine, but things didn't feel fine. He was present, but distant. He responded when she spoke, but there wasn't anything behind his eyes. No excitement. No flare. No...David. He stayed on his side of the bed at night, resisting the urge to turn and wrap her in his arms. They ate together in silence, save for utensils scraping against thrifted china. He hadn't touched her much, either. Sure, a kiss before he left for the day, but she'd yet to be reminded of what it was like to be pressed into the mattress and chest to chest with the man she called her lover and friend. 

Sybelle wasn't the type to bring others into her relationship, but she couldn't resist wailing like a child to her best friend once David had gone to sleep that evening. 

"I'm the worst wife ever! Like...he did all this and I was..." Her words could hardly be made out over her sobs and heaving breaths. "I messed up so bad; what if he decides he doesn't want to be with me anymore?" 

Her friend, the trusted Kayla Marie, sighed deeply on the other line. "I don't think it'll go that far. But, this is a wake-up call, B. You cannot marry someone and still be in an unhealthy relationship with your job."

Sybelle sniffled. "I don't want to choose."

"You don't need to choose--David has made that clear. But, he shouldn't be second behind the stuo. Let him know you're trying. Intentionally trying. Do it because you mean it and because you value him and your marriage."

It hit her like a ton of bricks. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but what she needed to hear. How could she become one with a man and treat him like he was number two, three, four, five, and six? She couldn't blame him for his distance, but she didn't like it. She despised it, truthfully. He'd forgive her, eventually. Hell or high water, they'd be okay, she was determined. 

It started simple. He'd been going on and on about a new microphone for a while, but was stuck on which one to choose. She'd understood how he may have assumed his comment had gone over her head from lack of response, but he hadn't known that she'd been in communication with some of the best music technicians, engineers, and instrument productions companies to find the one to suit his needs the best for their home studio,

It was meant to be a Christmas gift, something she hid under their bed and forgot about until eating turkey and drinking hot cider transitioned to eating ham and drinking hot chocolate. She determined now would be the perfect occasion. 

When he was out for the day, she called a series of technicians to install the microphone in their in-home studio. It was quick process, thankfully, as he'd returned just 30 minutes shy of their departure. 

He hadn't noticed at first. But when a shiny logo, unlike the one he was used to seeing, caught his eye, he was intrigued. David's fingers traced over the microphone softly, like it was the finest piece of china he was afraid to break. His eyebrows furrowed. "Slim, you been in here?" He called loud enough for her to hear over the clamoring noise she made just a few feet away in the living area. 

"Slim...?" He said, unsure.

"Wasn't me," she replied. "Had some folks come by."

"This...this is new?" he asked.

The sound of her heels against the laminate floor had his head turning toward the door. She was half dressed--nothing but a black bra, black slacks, and her favorite stilettos. In her hand was a blazer. He exhaled slowly. 

"You're the singer.  You got a new mic. Hope you like it. I've got the dinner soon. Do you want anything?"

David, gobsmacked by her appearance like he'd never seen her before, and by the new microphone that she gifted (though she tried to act like she didn't). It wasn't what he'd expected for a Tuesday afternoon. He swallowed thickly and shook his head, glancing over at his new music equipment. 

"No, no. I'm okay. Enjoy the dinner." 

He turned to press a kiss on her cheek, oblivious to the way her smile faltered just slightly when he intentionally missed her lips,oblivious to how her smile wavered when he chose her cheek instead. She stood straighter and nodded. This was only day one. She still had more time...she hoped. 

-

David sat at the dining room table, soothing sounds of jazz filling the atmosphere. His fingers moved swiftly across his laptop keyboard as he finished scheduling studio time for the next morning. His eyes cut toward the electronic clock on the stove. 5:05. The handle of their front door jingled. His eyebrow raised. "Slim, is that you?"

The click-clack of expensive heels against laminate answered for her. She huffed lowly and peeled her sunglasses off her face when she came into view. Breathtaking as ever, he noted. She donned straight leg pants that did wonders for her figure, a white tank top, a pink blazer, and tan heels. She smiled shyly. "Hi."

She dropped her keys and phone in the small bowl on the side table beside the couch. "Gonna shower. Anything you want for dinner?" 

David's eyebrows furrowed, and he stammered, confounded. She walked through the door at 5:05, which meant she left the studio at 4:45 PM, before the workday officially ended. Her phone joined her keys in the designated bowl. He noticed. And now, she was showering and ready to make dinner.

David blinked, mouth agape, as he tried to piece together what he was witnessing. Had his prayers been answered? He reminded himself to mark his prayer as complete before he went to sleep. 

"No," he called after her, voice hoarse. "I'm good."

She didn't respond, but the soft thud of the bathroom door closing was enough. A few moments later, he heard the water running. He sat back, brows still knitted, and glanced toward the bowl again. 

Her phone lay in the bowl. Abandoned. Silent. A part of her he often had to compete with. But it was there. Along with her keys. Like she wanted to be here. To be present, not just at home. That alone told him more than any apology could. 

His eyes returned to his laptop, the blinking cursor on the unsent email now an afterthought. He didn't want to get his hopes up. He couldn't afford to. But he couldn't ignore the strange feeling pulling at his chest. Hope. Hesitation. Confusion, for sure. He shook his head. 

"How was your day?" Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. David cleared his throat and sat up. His eyes followed her as she moved gracefully around the kitchen. Her work attire had been traded in for one of his shirts and her college sweatpants. Her dark hair was clipped back, and her makeup had been washed away. Sybelle, the woman you are. 

"It was good," he said carefully. Sybelle hummed and leaned against the counter, her eyes trained on his despite her phone buzzing in the bowl. His eyes cut toward it, then back to her. She remained unmoving. "Not gonna get that?" 

She shook her head and shrugged. "I told them I was leaving at 4:45. They can leave a voicemail. Decide what you want?” She turned on her heels and started toward the fridge, rummaging through the neatly organized shelves, racking her brain for recipes. “I can make sausage and peppers…”

She rattled off a list that seemed never-ending, but he couldn’t focus. 

“Sybelle.”

She paused. “Yes?” 

David tried not to sound suspicious and accusatory when he asked, “What is this about?” 

Sybelle shrugged a shoulder and rummaged through the drawers for a can opener. “I was putting everyone else above you. It wasn’t fair, and it’s not right.” Oh. His heart fluttered. “Sausage and peppers or something else? Work with me here.” 

David smiled slightly and nodded. “That works.” 

They ate dinner together that night. Nestled side-by-side as they murmured about the highs and the lows of their days. For once, undistracted and undeterred. 

-

David stared at the closed studio door. A note was taped to it in her unmistakable cursive: "Dress nice. Trust me. Love you."

He spent the drive home racking his brain, searching for explanations on what she could have up her sleeve. Things had changed recently. Lately, he felt like a priority. The number one on her list. Yet, he struggled to embrace it. 

Sure, she could do all these things now. And when things got rough, when work got busy, when the going got tough, he'd slide down the totem pole and be back at square one where he began. 

But when he opened the door and was ushered into the ambiance of the candle-lit dining room, a dining table lined with a full-course spread, with a small heart-shaped cake in the middle, all his hesitation and suspicion went away with the wind. "What is this?" 

Sybelle smiled shyly and shrugged. She exhaled shakily and said, "I saw the way you looked at me across the table—like I was a stranger. I hated that. And...our first anniversary was supposed to be grand and magical just like you planned, but..."

Pause. 

Sybelle twiddled her thumbs nervously, then pitched the side of her light blue sundress."I messed up. I can't take it back. I can't turn back the clock, even though I've tried. I can’t undo that night. But maybe… you’ll let me try again?” Her voice slid an octave as her confidence dwindled and her statement turned into a question. 

She stilled under his gaze, unable to read his expression. His lips were pressed in a line. His eyes darted between the table and her. His hands clenched and unclenched like he was fighting an internal battle. And her anxiety was through the roof. It was her last chance, she felt. He'd put up with so much for so long; she couldn't be angry at him if he decided to throw in the towel. 

He didn't. 

Instead, he beckoned her over with the nod of his head that made her weak in the knees when they crossed paths in the studio two-and-a-half years prior. Sybelle stood in front of him. She raised her head slightly, damning her lack of heels for their lack of eye-level contact. 

The corner of his lips raised, and he raised his hand to trace her chin. She leaned into his touch. Sybelle had done many things. Some of which he didn't like, others of which he adored. She had to fight tooth and nail to make a name for herself in the industry, and some of those tendencies bled into their relationship. And her heart. Her big, beautiful heart softened somewhat to recreate what he thought was lost. 

"I appreciate you, Slim," David said lowly. "Can I show you how much I appreciate you, baby?" She whimpered and nodded. He bent down to press a kiss against her cheek, which marked the beginning of a trail of marks being left on her neck, collarbone, and chest. She'd complain about it tomorrow. All she could do was bask in her husband's hands around her thighs as he hoisted her into his arms and marched up the steps. 

Well, she thought. At least she wasn't the one who forgot about the dinner this time. 

-

Tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @youreadthatright

[loveanddeepspacestuffforfreaks]

"Coffee without sugar is a crime."

Loveanddeepspace stuff for geeks, Coffee date~ It is my mission in this community to pump out as many Zayne fics as possible. Call me the Zayne fic factory- (no, actually don't...)

Zayne x reader, gender neutral reader.

Summary: Cafe date with Zayne, the waiter gives you to wrong drink assuming that you're the one with the sweet tooth. (Couldn't be further from the truth. Hehe)

I didn't proofread this- It's my fatal flaw, I know... ✋😔

GODDAMN I LOVE WRITING THIS STUFF

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The smell of roasted coffee beans fill the space as the two of you entered, walls decorated with an array of posters, plants and flyers bringing a sense of joy to your face as you step further inside.

Zayne follows behind, observing the surrounding as you approach the counter, greeted by a young barista as she writes down your order of a small black coffee, one sugar no cream.

She looks up expectingly at Zayne.

"And for you, sir?"

"Oh, may I please have-"

Without skipping a beat he begins to chant out his order.

"A mocha caramel latte chino made with skim milk, extra whipped cream. Please put that in a medium cup but use the same amount of coffee that you put into a small that way there's about an inch of extra room on top to stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all." (Yes, this is a reference.)

The young women gawked at him, failing to write anything down as she stared at him, utterly baffled.

"Along with your- my lord that print is small- Chocolate monster shortcake." He spoke, adjusting his glasses as he squinted like an old man at the board.

"Oh you aren't writing anything down." Looking down he notices that she has failed to write. "Do you need me to repeat that?"

The young barista gives him a small nod and you leave a smile planted on your face. Headed off to find a place to sit as you hear him restate his order in addition to a couple more things.

"I would also like whipped cream on the cake along with the addition of chocolate syrup... That costs extra? -What an odd thing to charge extra for... a bit of syrup and cream? What is the economy these days...- Yes that's fine, thank you. Yes, it's for here."

In your search, you found a corner spot, perfectly shaded from the invading sun yet positioned in a way that made it easy to turn and look of the window and into the busy street.

Zayne would find you looking out the window of your seat and sit across from you, lightly placing the plastic card with the number 'fifteen' on the edge of the table.

Reaching for his hand, you would place your hand over his. Smiling adoringly at him as he met your eyes.

"You're so handsome~"

His brow twitch, as did his verdurous eyes. Turning his hand so that he could gently brush the tips of his fingers against your palm.

"What has led you to say that?"

Your smile would turn silly, intertwining your fingers with his before giving him a light squeeze.

"You just are~ oh so pretty and handsome~"

A chuckle would rumble in his throat as his hand pulsed against your skin.

"Well, that is due to the Hunter dotting on me left and right."

"You sure are lucky~"

His brow and the corner of his lip twitched a look of amusement forming on his face.

"Is that so?"

"Oh absolutely, who else what treat you like a king? Spoiling you with delicious treats huh?" You mused, resting your face in your hands.

Zayne leans back in his chair, one of his eyebrows lifting in a questioning manner. "I believe I'm the one that paid-"

"But I'm the one that took you out, no?" You interrupted; a triumph smirk plastered on your face.

A breath of air brushes your face as he sighs, conceding to your argument. "I guess that's true, hm."

You notice the waiter coming with your drink order and sit up, ready to receive your drink.

"Well hello there, thank you for joying us at the Luna Cafe! I'm Randy, if you need anything. Just give me a holler!"

You giggled at his silly mannerisms.

"Alright, I have one small black, one sugar no cream- Oh I bet that's for you, sir."

You had to bite back a laugh as he placed your drink in front of Zayne, who immediately looked down at the drink, giving, Randy a rare side-eye. Looking him up and down with a look of disdain through his dark eyebrows.

"And one a mocha caramel latte chino made with skim milk, extra whipped cream. Oh, that sure looks yummy!"

The waiter giggled placing it in front of you and politely nodding trying to desperately hold in your laugh.

"And one chocolate monster shortcake. Aw, are you guys sharing? how cute~!"

It was like a kick in the gut for you, a snort escaping your lips before covering it with a cough as the corner of Zayne's lips frowned.

"Alright you folks enjoy!" Randy ran off.

"Thank you~" You teased in a sing-song manner. In comparison to Zayne's curt. "Thank you."

One the two you made eye contact; it was over for you. Practically bawling your eyes out from laughter.

"Bahahah! Ah haha! oh, my goodness! That's hilarious!" You wipe a tear from your eye.

Zayne rolled his eyes, as you pushed the latte towards him.

"Switch?" He shots you a glare before passing you your order.

"Do you even need to ask?

"No you're right~ it's obvious!"

The two of you successfully make the switch and begin to chug it down as sip on yours. Placing your hand over his you smile once more.

"Zayne, you're such a cutie~"

He frowns, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. "In what way?"

You chuckled. "You looked so disappointed when you got the wrong order but you handled it like a big boy, I'm proud of you."

Zayne huffed. "Well of course I did. I'm grown. I can handle a slight mix up."

"Then do you want a sip of mine?" You tease, bringing his knuckles to your lips.

"Absolutely not." He says with the utmost certainty.

"Why not?" You coo, amused.

"Coffee without sugar is a crime to my body."

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Did you enjoy that? Pls give me more suggestions in the comments! what would you like to see next? Let me know, love ya!

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"First." Mickey Altieri X FEM! Reader.

So for those unaware, it is the amazing @mrsaltieri-real 's birthday! She didn't ask for this, but I wrote her up a little Mickey birthday fic, she has a personalized version but for posting it I made it reader insert friendly, it's been too long since I wrote Mickey so I figured why not. Enjoy this sweet entry for our boy Mickey!

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Length. 1.3K. Rating. Soft To Start, Explicit To End. Mickey Altieri X FEM! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Established Relationship. Mickey Is Your Boyfriend. Breaking And Entering. Teasing. Fluff. Softness. Sleeping Together. Cunnilingus. Vaginal Fingering. Talk Of Sex.

---

It’s late, and you are dead asleep, today had been a beast, and you were frankly exhausted, totally dead to the world. You were so deep in slumber that you didn’t hear the cracked window slide open fully, nor did you hear the body enter the sacred space of your dorm room, part of it could be attributed to you being so beat, but the rest can be accounted for how well practised he was at breaking and entering. His boots are heavy, his steps light, he takes a brief moment to look over your sleeping form, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth before he glances at your nightstand, the red glowing numbers on your alarm clock read 11:59, perfect, he couldn’t have timed this better. 

He reached into his pocket, fingers close around the desired item, and he gets ready to follow through on his deeply desired intent, the entire reason he was here. The sensation of your mattress shifting causes you to stir, slowly rousing you further is the sound of your name being called, in a singsong kind of tone,

You start to move, but your eyes don’t open yet so your name is called again, drawn out a bit more, and finally you realize this isn’t some dream, you aren’t alone. Eyes flying open, hands push so you are half sitting up, and your eyes focus to see in the light of the streetlamp outside and the pale moon, Mickey Altieri. The wash of fear that had overtaken you waned, the icy grip on your heart loosening, he grinned wider and said, “Hi.”

You exhaled, half amused, “Fuckin’ Hell, Mickey, what are you doing here?”

“This.” He stated simply, and he clicked the silver zippo lighter on, with the added light you could see the full picture, Mickey on your bed, with his hands full. He is in his favoured blue sweater and jeans, holding in his opposite a small two layer cake, his first hand bringing the lighter to the candle sitting dead centre in the top layer. Mickey lights the candle and flicks the lighter closed, pocketing it as he says, “Happy birthday baby.”

You have only one reaction, you laugh, a small, shocked sound that leaves you as you sit up fully. “Are you serious?”

“What?” He asked, head cocking to the side, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. 

“Mickey.” You deadpanned, eyebrows raising, “I love you, so much, you know that, but breaking into my dorm room to-”

You looked at him, and he filled in the blank, saying as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Be the first one to wish you a happy birthday.” 

The words that were going to finish your sentence, “-is completely unhinged.”, die on your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to say that. So instead you smile, correcting your thought, “Breaking into my dorm room to be the first one to wish me a happy birthday is impossibly sweet.”

“Damn right it is, besides, you left the window unlocked and cracked open, hardly breaking and entering, you were practically asking for it.” He teased, and you laugh, “Okay stalker, I already told you this was sweet, don’t make me regret my words.”

He concedes with a nod before telling you, “I’ll take what I can get. Now c’mon, blow out the candle, make a wish before the wax drips all over this cake and ruins it.” 

Happiness bubbles in your chest, and you smile anew as you decide to do just that, you blow out the candle, plunging the room back into darkness. It seems darker than before, eyes needing to readjust to the lessened light, once they do you see Mickey still looking at you, features behind the smoke curling up from the snuffed out candle. 

Mickey is a guy who goes after what he wants, and since being with him, you find yourself doing the same more and more often, so you go with the feeling and lean over the cake in his hands, breaking the path of the blue dissipating smoke, kissing him. He hums, leans into it, deepens it for a moment before pulling back, his mouth still nearly pressed to yours as he asks, “So what’d you wish for?” 

Pulling back you sigh with a playful roll of your eyes, “C’mon Mick, can’t tell you that, then it might not come true.” 

“Ahhh, don’t tell me you believe in that.” He teases, and you reply, “Can’t I have the occasional silly superstition?”

“Baby, it’s your birthday, you can have whatever you want.” 

Dangerous, pretty, lovely words. You decide to test him on it. You pull the blankets aside, “Put the cake down, take your pants off and get in bed then.”

Eyes widen momentarily, and he stands up, he sets the cake on your desk before opening his belt, unbuttoning his pants and unzipping his fly while saying, “Yes ma’am if that is what you really want.” 

“A sleepover with my boyfriend? Getting to wake up with you? Sounds like a pretty great start to my birthday.” You lay back down, his sweater comes off too, and he joins you, pulling the blanket back into place. 

“Gotta say I agree, but what else can I do to make this the best birthday ever?” His arm is thrown around you, tugging you closer, you enjoy the warmth and firmness of his body before telling him, “How about some more sleep than we can go out for breakfast and talk about what else we are gonna do with our day, other than ditching class.” 

“I’m at the mercy of your every whim.” His tone makes you cuddle closer, eyes falling closed as you tell him, “You really know just what a girl wants to hear.” 

Sleep manages to claim you with surprising ease, mind full of the potential of the day ahead, you always sleep better with Mickey there too. Really, you think life can’t get much better, but Mickey always finds someway to simultaneously prove you wrong and one up himself. You wake up not to the feeling of his arms tightening around you, nor him whispering your name in your ear or his lips dragging over your bare shoulder as he is spooning you, but instead to your legs over his shoulders and him, tongue first in your cunt, effectively making you his first meal of the day. 

The window is still open, the morning light is soft, gentle, warm, just like the feeling and the movements of his tongue against you, his lips wrapped perfectly around your clit. You have no clue how he got your sleep shorts and panties off, but you aren’t in a place to question or complain. 

He is looking up at you, locking eyes as he sucks indulgently, the view of the blankets and sheets pooled around his hips, all of his skin on display, his hands cradling your hips, the heat flares inside of you, the groan of his name tears from your throat. He hums in response, your thighs tighten and head falls back, mind still struggling to wake up as you are consumed with what he is doing to you, hips squirming, grinding against his mouth, the pleasure rising, sensation curling up your spine as he eats you out, fervent, generous and passionate. 

Mickey doesn’t stop until you are clutching the sheets, clitoris throbbing against his tongue, walls of your cunt clenching around his fingers, back arched, cumming and nearly sobbing out his name. 

He works you through it, lets you down slowly, his fingers pull out, his mouth lifts and your back touches back down onto the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, chest heaving. Finally, you gain enough air in your lungs to tell him, “Okay-fuck, revised plan, recover from cumming so hard, ride your dick till it nearly breaks off, then breakfast.”

Mickey responds with a laugh and a kiss tainted with the tang of you, his fingers run down your sides, “Whatever the birthday girl wants.”