#clapton davis x y/n

[joshfutturman]

"you have me, you always have"

oneshot (request) - you and clapton have been in a 'will they won't they' type relationship for years, you're best friends - but is that all you want? (2.3k words) pairing - clapton davis (detention) + reader (gender neutral) tags: making out / kissing, moans (oops :3), feelings realisation, will they won't they, suggestive scenes, no use of y/n, vague alcohol mention, cursing

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was SO much fun!!! thank you so so much for the request @rhilove1234 ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵◌₎♡ - you're officially the first request of this account! i hope this was alright for you ٩( ´◡` )

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

it was actually kind of poetically perfect that you two had applied to the same college together and had been accepted, a miracle too. clapton had the lowest gpa you'd ever heard of, but with his interest in music and the passion he clearly had for the history behind it - the college took kindly to that. you wondered if he offered to create a mix-tape for the assessors. there must have been some sort of bribe involved.

there was a time when he'd told you of his fear of the future, how he'd rather stay in the present. you remember this moment vividly, the two of you sat on your front lawn, stars sprawling above you as the world grew quiet. clapton nervously fidgeted with a blade of grass and you watched on. "the present is good, what's so wrong with wanting to stay here?" he spoke quietly, as though he knew that he didn't really believe what he was saying.

"well, yeah, the present is pretty cool," you smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours - this earned a smile from him, "but. . . don't you wanna see what's out there? who's out there?"

his eyes perked up from the blade of grass and settled on you for a few moments before darting across the street. his smile turned softer, shyer. clapton had all he wanted, right here.

the journey towards the college would take a couple of hours and clapton offered to give you a ride. your hands shook as you packed your belongings into his trunk. he watched from the side, eyebrows furrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek. once you were both settled into the small red car, clapton set off. but not before he reached his hand over, giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

he didn't let go for the entire journey.

the dorm room was pretty much what you were expecting, cramped, but decent. your roommate, damon, offered a smile to both of you as clapton helped you inside with your luggage. with a warm, tight hug and a small cheeky kiss on the cheek that you laughed off and so did he, clapton left. not before he sheepishly eyed your roommate, though. they exchanged a look, and it made your eyebrow raise as you gingerly rubbed the skin where his lips had been.

as soon as that door closed, damon piped up. "your boyfriend?"

a laugh erupted from you. clapton? your boyfriend? you hadn't even kissed, how could you possibly be dating? was it the kiss on the cheek? that doesn't count. you were best friends. there were no feelings there. clapton davis? dating? never. that damn skateboard had his heart. yeah. it wasn't like you had feelings for him that were bubbling below the surface, threatening to escape after every interaction. it's not like you wanted to ask him if this was something more. and it definitely wasn't like you had thought about pushing him against the lockers every day and kissing him like time was running out, or that you imagined him taking his hand in yours, for real - nah.

best friends. that's all it was.

but that comment remained firmly in your mind. it had been a few weeks and you couldn't shake it. was this really something more? could it be, even?

clapton was the kind of guy who could win anyone around, practically everyone he had ever met had fallen in love with him in some capacity. sure, he could be an ass when it came to his music opinions and that adorable sting fixation could be grating - but not to you. it was exactly that, adorable. he was like this with everyone, right?

even in class, you found it hard to focus. he'd insist on sitting behind you or beside you so he could pester you. in this particular lecture, he was behind. clapton leans back, swinging in his chair as he eyes the back of your head, caught in a daydream.

he sighs, deeply. clapton often looked at you like this when you weren't looking. he would desperately try to think of something to say to make you laugh, to catch your attention, to have your eyes fall on him even just for a little while. he flips open his little black notebook and peers at the bullet-pointed contents. 'say something funny, say something witty, wear their favourite colour, tell them you like them.' he hastily shut the book.

leaning over, his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. you immediately felt goosebumps spread across your neck and a tingle ran down your spine like lightning. a blush burned deep in your cheeks. "do. . . you got a pen i could borrow?" clapton whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

with a hard swallow, you passed a pen backwards and offered him a quick smile before looking straight ahead again, gritting your teeth to firmly push those thoughts from your head.

best. friends. that's all it was.

these thoughts led to you avoiding him, avoiding one on one time. it was better to stay in a group when you were with him, or was it? damon wasn't the last person to ask if you guys were dating. and you saw clapton's face when he was asked, the laugh he gave people - clearly he thought it was a joke too.

it was fine, it was going to be fine. one of your classmates had invited you to a house party that night, this would surely take your mind off things. you'd get some space, more space from clapton and maybe you'd find someone new. maybe he'd find someone new.

your stomach churned at the thought.

walking inside, you relished the sound of conversation from all sides. there wasn't any space to listen to your thoughts in here and that's exactly the kind of escape you wanted. shoulders rising and falling with a sigh of relief, you find the kitchen. a drink in hand and you definitely feel more relaxed. yeah, things were going to work out. things were-

clapton.

your eyes fixate on him from across the room. he's on the sofa, surrounded by people. they're chatting to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. you notice when he laughs, they do too. they're hanging on his every word and they love it. they're too far away for you to make out their conversation, but you can tell that clapton is enjoying telling the story. he always did like attention - and not in a conceited way, he just naturally attracted people.

and then, his eyes met yours.

eyes widening, you look away and down the rest of your drink. a few seconds later, you started to leave the kitchen area to retreat towards the cramped hallway. clapton called out to you, telling you to wait, to 'come join him'. you didn't listen, but if you'd stayed a few seconds longer, you might have heard that the story he had enjoyed telling so much was about you and him.

in the hallway, you gathered yourself and ran your fingers through your hair. it wasn't long before you heard clapton approaching too, though, and you let out a soft grunt of frustration. "trouble in paradise?" someone muttered and you shot them an icy glare. the door to the backyard ahead, you left and slammed it behind you.

the cold atmosphere hit you and your cheeks were hotter than you realised. it felt as though you could actually breathe in the night air. but when you heard the door handle turn and clapton exit, you felt just as tense again.

"what the hell is going on with you?" he speaks in a firm but confused tone, there was a hint of hurt in there. the brunette approached you from behind and stopped just shy of you. "you've been acting weird for weeks, ignoring me, rejecting every single offer to hang out - did i do something wrong?"

that last sentence hurts you, it hurt to think of him wondering if he'd upset you. "no." is all you manage to say.

night envelops you both, the quiet thumping of the music from inside fills the silence in between your words.

"then, what?" he asks and you can hear him almost stomp his feet.

"people keep asking me if we're. . . a thing and i thought. . . well i thought it would be better if we kept some distance, that's all." you said with a shrug, folding your arms firmly.

silence falls around you both for a few moments. you wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating in your chest, as though it were threatening to escape.

and then you could feel his presence behind you, his head near your shoulder, lips close to your ear. ". . . is that what you want?" clapton asked, his breath shaking slightly.

the closeness was almost too much to handle. your stomach in knots, it trips over itself, desperately trying to untangle the anxious mess inside. of course distance wasn't what you wanted.

he mutters your name softly into your ear, placing a hand on your hip and you snap, turning quickly with clenched fists. you want to yell, you want to ask him what you both are, you want to tell him to piss off - you want him.

fuck, you want him.

clapton raises his hands slightly to give you space and looks rather defeated, those hazel puppy dog eyes veering to the left to avert your heated gaze. but he then stands still, slowly his eyes return to yours and he can see conflict behind your eyes. gaining a little more of his confidence back, he puffs out his chest and takes a step closer. you noticed how his hands still shook though, despite that secure stance.

you held his gaze as he approached, your own hands shaking in turn. he almost commanded your attention with those eyes. and you realise in that moment that clapton sees you. he really sees you. he always has. you crave him, like it's been years since you both touched, his soft skin against yours.

"is that. . . what you want?" he repeats, bringing you out of your thoughts and he's firmer this time. you are inches from one another.

his hand snakes towards your neck along your supple skin, cupping against your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. you can't help but let out a small gasp in response as your hand comes up to rest on his wrist. your cheek nuzzles into his touch, warm, safe.

"i want you." you finally admit, words trembling from your mouth, a short laugh following suit as if it was so silly to hear it out loud.

clapton's eyes sparkle and stare back into yours. you notice how his whole face lights up, unable to hide the smile pulling on his lips. "you have me, you always have." he admits with a soft chuckle like it was so obvious.

and then he kisses you, he kisses you like he's hungry, like he's starving. your lips collide, your eyes close and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. you come undone. clapton wraps an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and you trail a hand up the back of his neck to grip that messy, adorable hair. his tongue slips into your mouth and you welcome it, feeling warmth rise in your belly.

you never wanted to let go, you never wanted to stop. his hand firmly on your neck and a strong hand on your back, he held you tightly. though you tried to suppress it, a little sigh of pleasure escapes and you can feel him smirk proudly through the kiss. it causes him to hold you tighter in response and your other hand grips his shirt for stability.

the cold air nips at your skin but it's a welcome sensation against the fervency of the kiss. his hand slides around your neck to the back of your head, his fingers lacing into the back of your hair causing ripples of tingles across your shoulders. you whisper his name into his mouth and it comes out in a pleading tone - but you're not sure what you're pleading for.

he gives you what you want, despite you yourself not knowing what that was. a gentle tug on your hair and his firm hand trailing down your side to tug at the bottom of your shirt cheekily. a giggle erupts from your lips as you pull away just enough to let it out, eyeing him with a smirk.

before you know it, your hand is in his and your eyes are drawn to watch your hands tangle together. it amazes you how perfectly they fit, his digits sneaking into yours with a thumb caressing your skin. it felt right. this was exactly what you wanted. it felt different from the other times, more tender, more meaningful. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you meet his gaze once more.

"so," he speaks up, breathless, "is our anniversary now or is it when i thought we were actually dating all those years ago?"

you can't help but laugh, breathless too. "oh my god," you roll your eyes, "shut up."

[this-aint-massachusetts]

I need to eat him out rn or i might starve

[xcherryerim]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pinned down

for jhutch promptober prompt 23: Bowling

David x gn!reader | short smut

You leaned back in your chair, observing David as he eagerly sent the ball rolling down the lane. The clatter as all the pins were knocked to the ground echoed throughout the entire building, followed by a cheer from him. Watching him celebrate with such an adorable reaction, an amused giggle escaped your lips.

Tonight marked your fifth date together, and surprisingly, he was taking things slow. Despite his profession of running a club with not so legal activities happening behind the scenes, David seemed cautious, preferring to savor the anticipation rather than rushing into things. You found it a bit unusual, but his patience piqued your interest nonetheless.

David's smirk widened as he sauntered towards you, his gaze challenging. "Are you gonna play, or are you afraid of losing?" he teased.

In response, you grabbed the ball from him and met his gaze with a coy smile. “You know what they say?” you stated, your tone playful. "Men are either good at bowling or good in bed."

Your eyes darted to the screen, revealing his score surpassed your expectations. "You seem good at bowling,"

David chuckled nonchalantly, his confident demeanor unwavering. "Oh, alright," he replied, seemingly undisturbed by your earlier remark. "We'll see about that."

And oh, you were so wrong.

Your fingers clenched the sheets of his bed, your knuckles turning white as you felt the intensity of his every thrust against your body. There was an urgent need to prove your previous statement wrong.

“You still think I can’t be good in bed, sweetheart?” He teased, his fingertips tracing a path across your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

You tried to respond, yet the building friction between your bodies stole away your words. "I think you're better at bowling," you managed to utter, trying to goad him.

He nodded, a cocky smirk playing on his lips before he effortlessly turned your body, your back now pressed against the soft mattress. The unexpected movement made you gasp, a mix of surprise and anticipation.

“I wanna see that pretty face of yours while I fuck you.”

Maybe men can be good at bowling and in bed.

[jealousjersey]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖”come home”⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆ tags // mike schmidt x reader, loser!mike x dom!gn!reader,

☆ mentions // mike is a needy loser who begs for your attention, dick sucking, edging, cum drinking, reader doms mike, angst, fluff, smut, needy and desperate mike, reader has like wrapped around their finger., missionary, unprotected p in v (wrap it) minors dni 18+

☆ a/n // i still love writing for mike schmidt this is heaven ty lou

your work has been consuming you, working long hours, barely coming home on time, sleeping all until your next shift and just being busy. your boyfriend, mike, hates it. he hates that you’re never home, he hates that he never sees you, and he hates that you two haven’t had sex in weeks.

he’s been a brat about it ever since you took more hours, and he never took the time to realize that you’re only working so hard to provide for things he’d want, i mean, you are the house breadwinner. ever since his pizzeria secrurity job ended you’ve had to work since he couldn’t get hired anywhere.

as you’re working you get texts after texts from mike. “are you gonna be home on time?” “i miss you.” “i need you it’s been so long” he spams you.

god, he’s so needy. you roll your eyes at the text. if he doesn’t chill the hell out for atleast 3 more hours you’re going to loose your mind, does he not know that it’s hard for you too?

as the hours go by you think of ways to surprise him. maybe some lingerie? maybe a new toy for you two to experiment with? maybe some flavored lube? the possibilities are endless. you count down to the second you get off your shift, simply texting mike “wait up on me, i have a surprise.” as you clock out and go to your car.

you arrive at the nearest mall and get a cute lingerie set from the Spencer’s located within. a black lacy bra with a golden heart charm between the breasts, the bottom piece is a black and lacy with “baby” on the butt written in rhinestones. you knew he would love it but you didn’t expect him to like it as much as he did.

as you’re getting back in your car to drive home, you get a sudden rush of excitement. wondering how he’ll react at the site of you. you even put on red lipstick to top it all off. as you arrive at home, you change into your new set in your car, it fit perfectly around your shape. you swiftly but your work clothes back on. you still need this to be a surprise.

you enter the house and throw your keys on the kitchen table. you walk into your room and mike is waiting patiently for you, god his bulge is showing just by the thought of you coming home.

before he could say anything you strip as soon as you get through your door, watching his eyes gaze at your body in your new set. giving him a spin around so he could see your rhinestone covered ass.

mikes eyes widen at the site of you, a wet spot already forming at the tip of the tent in his sweatpants. “oh my god” he says softly as he stares at your figure.

you stand in your set in front of him, your fingers dancing across your chest, driving him crazy. you get on your knees in front of him and bring his sweatpants down, followed by his boxers. pulling them down just below his balls. his dick springs out of his pants, hot and red at the tip with precum pooling out.

you leave one kiss on his tip as your lips take in his precum. leaving the red lipstick kiss mark on his dick. he immediately groans at the sensation, feeling better than he has in weeks just by the expectation of you giving him head.

but you’re not giving in that easily. you kiss and lick around his shaft, but never long enough for him to get a release from it, your lipstick leaving red stains all around his hard on.

“please suck, i’ve been thinking about it all night please” he pleads with almost tears in his eyes from the overstimulation. it’s so cute seeing him like this but who are you to say no to his request?

as per his request you start, you wrap your red lips around his tip and his hand pushes your head down, it’s almost insulting but god, it’s so needy of him and that drove you crazy. you fully emerge yourself around him and he lets out a sore whimper.

you gag on his dick as you��re sucking, he throws his head back and keeps his hand on the back of your head, gripping on your hair. his dick twitches in your mouth signaling he’s close to cumming. “m’gonna cum” he moans, only the whites of his eyes showing. as his words hit your ears you stop, red lipstick covering the shaft of him.

he looks devastated at your action. “please let me cum, i’ve been waiting so long.” he begs. it’s almost cute how desperate he is for you. you want to keep going for him but you stop yourself. “now is it really fair if you get to get off and i don’t? is that fair? i’ve been waiting just as long as you have.” you say

you push him back on the bed, his dick springing up, tip still red and sensitive. you wrap your hands around him, feeling the warmth of him.

you basically rip your panties off of yourself, positioning yourself on top of him, sliding his dick inside you, grinding on him as you look him in the eyes. “you look so pretty when i’m overstimulating your dick. so, so pretty.” you say as you place a hand on his cheek

he moans your name as he places his hands on your hips, so tightly that you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. you want that, the pain would be a reminder of this amazing night.

your hair flips around your neck, your face flushed with a pink tint and sweat beaming off your forehead. his dick assaults your walls as his tip brushes your gspot causing you to let out a soft moan of his name. his fingers make their way to your clit, moving soft circles along it, making you pant soft sounds.

mike almost cums on contact with your body, but he knows he has to stop himself. he has to make this good for you. he has to make this last as long as he can. “fuck, i’m gonna cum mike.” you whimper. he speeds up, hitting your gspot with each thrust he leads you to bounce on.

“m’so close” you whimper, his fingers bring themselves to your chest, god he loved it so much. especially in that new bra. his teeth graze your nipples, biting them so softly but it feels so much more intense this way. so intimate, yet so dirty.

“can i cum now? please” he moans. how could you say no? “cum in me, please cum in me” you say, and he does. leaving thick white pools in you, the warmth making you shake as you finish, as you remove yourself from on him, you pour out a mix of both of your releases. he brings a finger to your wetness and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on them. he loves the taste of you.

please come home earlier next time.

[freak-accident419]

i love you guys 😌😌

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔟𝔶𝔢

Josh Futturman x gender neutral reader

Note: This was requested from a really nice person on wattpad: "I would definitely like to see some smut and fluff, either one is perfect. Since his character is like a janitor by day and a gamer by night, I think I would like to see this whole thing be, where Josh is getting ready for work but the reader is bothered by it because he never says goodbye and just lets the reader sleep in. It'll turn into a small argument but then turn into smut. Like slight fluff but mostly smut." Added in a personal idea at the start to create the ground for the request.

Warnings: You and Josh playing video games together! Long discussions about video games. Josh being a scaredy cat. Very minor gore moment. Argument between a couple. Smut. Make-up sex. Blowjob (r giving). Submissive Josh. Riding.

Words count: around 4000

Can also be found in wattpad and ao3

You and Josh have been inseparable for years, ever since you first crossed paths in the virtual realm of "Biotic Wars." Your relationship, which began with playful banter and late-night gaming sessions, has grown into something deeply meaningful. Josh's quirky humor and your mutual love for video games have always been the glue holding you two together.

Today was supposed to be a special gaming day. Both of you had been practicing tirelessly to finally conquer Biotic Wars, a challenge that had eluded you for months. Josh, with his expertise and quick reflexes, often led the charg, while you provided backup with your strategic mind and occasional bursts of brilliance. The game was notorious for its unforgiving difficulty, requiring not just skill but also perfect coordination between players.

As the game loaded, you felt a familiar thrill course through your veins. The virtual world came alive with its intense graphics and pulsating soundtrack. Josh, sitting in his well-worn gaming chair, wore a reassuring grin. "Ready to finally take down these biotic beasts?" he asked you through the headphones, his voice brimming with excitement.

"Absolutely. Let's show them what we're made of" you replied, tightening your grip on the controller.

The battle began with an explosion of colors and sounds as you maneuvered your characters through the treacherous terrain. Josh, as always, took the lead, deftly dispatching enemies with pinpoint accuracy. You followed closely, providing cover and eliminating threats as they appeared. For a while, everything was going smoothly, and you could feel victory within reach.

Then came the final boss.

You were both in sync, executing strategies and dodging attacks with near-perfect precision. But just as victory seemed assured, a split-second lapse in concentration caused your character to fall into a trap.

"No!" you exclaimed, watching helplessly as your health bar plummeted. Josh fought valiantly to cover for your mistake, but the boss proved too powerful, and soon both your screens flashed the dreaded "Game Over" message.

You sighed heavily, disappointment washing over you. "i'm sorry, Josh," you said, genuinely frustrated. "I messed up. I should have seen that coming."

Josh, ever the optimist, chuckled softly. "Hey, it's all part of the game. It's hard to follow a master, I get it." he added, his voice dripping with playful cockiness.

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone. Despite his jesting, there was no malice behind his words, just an attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh, you think you're so great, huh?" you challenged, grinning at him.

"Well, I did just carry us through most of that level," he replied.

"All right, Mr. Video Game Prodigy," you retorted, your competitive spirit ignited. "How about I challenge you to a game I'm actually good at?"

His interest piqued, Josh agreed immediately, his confidence unshaken. "Bring it on," he said, leaning back on his chair with a smug look. "I'm ready for whatever you've got."

An hour later, he arrived at your place, his energy and excitement palpable. The moment you opened the door, he enveloped you in a warm hug, peppering your face with kisses until you were both laughing uncontrollably.

"Okay, what's this mystery game of yours?" he asked as you led him to your gaming setup.

You handed him the CD case, watching as his confidence wavered slightly upon reading the title.

Friday the 13th: The Game.

The look on his face was priceless.

"You've got to be kidding," he muttered, examining the cover with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"You can back out if you're scared," you teased, knowing full well that Josh would never back down from a challenge.

His expression shifted to a mask of determination, resignation in his eyes. "Scared? Me? Never. Let's do this."

Settling into your chairs, you loaded the game. Friday the 13th was a stark departure from Biotic Wars.

The horror game was designed to be tense and thrilling, with players taking on the roles of camp counselors trying to survive the night while being hunted by the infamous Jason Voorhees.

As the game loaded, the iconic and haunting music filled the room, setting the stage for the tense and terrifying experience that lay ahead. Josh's character, one of the playable camp counselor, appeared on screen, standing alone in the dimly lit forest of Camp Crystal Lake.

The objective was simple yet daunting: survive the night while being hunted by Jason Voorhees, the relentless killer.

Josh's initial confidence waned slightly as he adjusted to the slower pace and eerie setting of the game. The dim light flickered on the screen, casting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

The game's mechanics, designed to induce fear and suspense, were a stark contrast to the fast-paced action he was used to.

Every sound, every rustle of leaves, seemed to put him on edge.

"You got this," you encouraged, trying to stifle your laughter as you watched him nervously guide his character through the woods.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers tense on the controller.

Josh carefully navigated his character through the cabins and open areas, occasionally stopping to collect useful items like health sprays, maps, and weapons.

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, it was clear he was fully immersed in the experience, jumping at every unexpected noise and shadow.

"Okay, this isn't too bad," he said, trying to maintain his bravado as he directed his character to a nearby cabin, securing the doors and windows.

"Just wait until you hear the music," you teased, knowing full well what was about to happen.

Then it happened.

The screen flickered, and the ominous glitching effect announced Jason's proximity, triggered by his shift ability.

The sudden distortion, a signature move that allowed Jason to cover ground quickly and catch players off-guard. Josh flinched, his entire body tensing up as Jason seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Whoa!" he yelped, his voice a mixture of surprise and nervous laughter as he instinctively mashed buttons to make his character sprint away from the unseen threat.

As the character's fear level spiked, eerie music blasted through the room, and the screen darkened, mirroring the rising dread of its player.

You burst out laughing, unable to contain your amusement at his reaction. "Run, Josh, run!" you hit rapidly on his arm, tears of laughter in your eyes.

"Why didn't you warn me about that?" he protested, his voice rising an octave as he attempted to escape Jason's clutches.

"Because this is way more fun," you replied between giggles, thoroughly enjoying his startled expressions and frantic button-mashing.

"He's behind you, Josh!" you shouted, adding to the tension with a mischievous grin.

"I know, I know!" he replied, his voice laced with mock panic as he desperately tried to maneuver his character to safety.

Despite his attempts to evade Jason, the chilling music intensified, signaling the killer's approach.

"No! No!" Josh exclaimed, trying to break free the second he was grabbed by the killer, but it was too late.

The screen erupted in a blaze of light as his character's head was violently severed, sending it spiraling through the air. His jaw dropped in shock, mirroring the dramatic fall of the counselor's head.

You were laughing so hard that tears streamed down your cheeks, your sides aching from the hilarity of the situation. Josh joined in, his initial fear giving way to the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, that was terrifying," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I wasn't expecting it to be that intense."

"Welcome to the world of horror games," you teased, still catching your breath from the laughter. "Do you want to go again, or should I show you how it's done?"

Josh handed you the controller with a dramatic flourish. "Please, show me the ropes. I clearly need some pointers."

Taking the controller, you settled into the familiar routine of the game, your confidence evident in your posture and movements. As your character spawned in the same erie campgrounds, you immediately began to strategize, quickly gathering supplies and coordinating your escape plan.

Josh, sitting beside you, was eager to learn the ropes, hoping to match your skill level and make the experience even more fun and collaborative.

His curiosity about the game was endearing, but you knew it would be a challenge to focus on playing while fielding his barrage of questions.

As the game began, you immediately focused on your objectives, guiding your character through the dark, foreboding campgrounds.

Your mind instinctively strategizes the best way to survive the night.

Next to you, Josh leaned in, eyes glued to the screen, a mixture of awe and determination on his face.

"So, what's the first thing you should do when the game starts?" he asked, his voice eager and slightly urgent.

"You want to search cabins for supplies, like maps and weapons," you replied, deftly moving your character toward a nearby cabin.

He nodded, absorbing the information before firing off another question. "What's the best weapon to use against Jason?"

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The shotgun is the best one, but it only has a bullet loaded. Anything you can find to slow him down will help, like a baseball bat or a wrench."

You hear the ominous music indicating Jason is nearby. Your heart races as you move to the opposite direction, seeing from afar how he hasn't noticed your presence yet.

Josh, oblivious to the tension, continues his questioning.

"What's the best way to escape?"

"There are a few ways: fix the car, call the police, or survive until time runs out," you say, finding a map and showing it to Josh. "There is also the boat but it's way too risky since Jason moves very fast in the water."

Josh nods, scribbling notes mentally.

You entered a cabin and began searching for items, listening intently for any sign of Jason.

Josh's curiosity seemed endless "How do you know which counselor to choose? Which one is better?"

"Counselor stats matter" you replied, still concentrating on your character's actions.

"Each counselor has different stats like speed, stamina, repair skills and stealth. It affects how well they perform certain tasks," you explain, dodging a trap set by Jason to start repairing the phone box.

"What's stamina do?" Josh asks, genuinely curious.

"It's that yellow circle around the mini-map. Stamina affects how long you can run or perform some actions before needing to rest," you reply, keeping an eye on your stamina bar as you sprint inside the cabin to call the police.

"How do you regain stamina?"

"By standing still. It's crucial to manage it well, especially when Jason is chasing you," you say, watching intently as your character called the police.

"All the stats can work for you, but right now if you have someone with high speed you'll definitely will have a much better chance of survival" you explained to him, noticing a red dot on the mini-map.

He was near.

"Speed, huh?" Josh pondered, watching every movement of your finger in the controller. "What exactly does speed do?"

You paused, momentarily distracted by the abourdity of the question. Turning to him, you couldn't help but laugh. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement

Josh realized his mistake and burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. "Okay okay, dumb question" he admitted, shaking his head at himself.

The shared laughter was a welcome break from the tension of the game. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you enjoyed spending time with Josh. His ability to find humor in even the most stressful situations and his genuine interest in learning something new, even if it meant asking silly questions.

"You know," you began, the excitement in your voice unmistakable, "one of the things I love most about this game is how well the maps are designed. They're so detailed and true to the movies. It's like you're actually there, experiencing the terror firsthand."

Josh nodded, his interest piqued by your enthusiasm. "Yeah? I didn't realize they were so accurate. That's really cool."

"It is!" you continued, a sparkle in your eyes. "Each map is a nod to the different movies. The developers included all these little details that only true fans would recognize. It makes the game so immersive, like you're living out your own horror movie experience."

He watched you intently, captivated by your passion. You rarely had the chance to dive into these nerdy discussions with others, but with Josh, it felt natural and safe.

"And the counselors," you said, leaning forward in your seat, "they're all inspired by characters from the films. Each one has their own unique stats and strengths, which makes it interesting to figure out who matches your playstyle and I just love how it all comes together."

Josh listened, a soft smile playing on his lips. You could feel his attention solely focused on you, and it made you feel appreciated, like every word you said mattered.

"And the chase," you added, your voice tinged with excitement. "The burst of adrenaline when Jason is right behind you, the music intensifying, your heart pounding—it's such a rush. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I love that feeling of being on the edge, trying to outsmart him and survive."

Josh chuckled, seeing how animated you had become. "I can tell you really love this game. It's amazing to see you light up like this."

You paused, feeling a bit self-conscious now that you had rambled on for so long, but his expression reassured you. There was no judgment, only admiration and affection in his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on and on," you said, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he replied softly, reaching out to take your hand. "I love hearing you talk about things you're passionate about. You know, the way you dive so deeply into something you care about, it's one of the things I adore most about you"

His words warmed your heart, and you squeezed his hand in return, grateful to have someone who appreciated you for who you were. Josh had always supported your interests, and his genuine curiosity about your hobbies made you feel seen and understood.

"Thanks, Josh," you said, meeting his gaze with a smile. "I'm glad I can share this with you."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm just happy to be here with you, learning about all the things you love. It gives me more reason to play the game and try to keep up with you. You make it look so easy," Josh commented, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

"It just takes practice," you replied.

At one point, Jason burst through a door just as you slipped out a window, narrowly escaping his grasp. You then led him on a merry chase through the forest, conserving your stamina to buy time and regroup with other players.

"Wow, you're way too good at this," Josh said, his eyes fixed on the screen as he watched you lead your character to safety.

"It's all about keeping calm and thinking ahead," you explained, enjoying the chance to showcase your skills in a game you loved.

As the game progressed, you managed to evade Jason long enough for the police to arrive, signaling the end of the round.

With one final sprint, you guided your character to the safety of the police line, successfully surviving the night.

Josh was beaming, clearly impressed by your performance. "THAT WAS AMAZING."

Raising your hands in the air in victory while your boyfriend hugs you tightly. Both of you were shouting with joy from the success. "I know, I know. It's nice to finally have the upper hand for once."

The rest of the evening was filled with more rounds, tension and horror while Josh's continued flinching and surprised yelps kept the mood light and entertaining. Each round, he improved, guided by your expertise and encouragement.

By the end of the night, as you both settled back into the couch, Josh turned to you, his expression one of genuine affection. "Thanks for introducing me to this. It was nice taking a break from Biotic War, even if I was terrified half the time."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And hey, you're getting better. We could play this sometime together if you want"

Josh laughed, pulling you close for a hug. "Only if you promise not to laugh at my screams."

"Deal," you agreed, snuggling into his embrace, grateful for the shared experience and the deepened bond it had brought.

You turned your face towards Josh, a victorious smile on your face. "As a reward for winning, I have a couple of requests," you announced playfully.

Josh raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might those be?" he asked with a smirk.

"First, a kiss," you said, leaning closer.

He obliged happily, pulling you in for a gentle, lingering kiss that melted away the exhaustion of the night. "And second?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Carry me to bed?" you requested, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

Josh groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. "Really? You beat me in one game and now I'm your personal chauffeur?" he teased. "Alright, fine, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

With exaggerated reluctance, he scooped you up into his arms, grumbling under his breath about your apparent weight. He took comically slow, deliberate steps, exaggerating every movement as if he were carrying a ton of bricks. "Why are you so heavy? Did you sneak rocks into your pockets or something?" he joked, pretending to struggle as he navigated the hallway.

Every few steps, he'd stop dramatically to catch his breath, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I might need to call in reinforcements," he quipped, pausing to pretend to call for backup. You couldn't stop laughing, the combination of his theatrics and your helpless position making the journey to the bedroom an epic adventure in itself.

"Almost there," he declared, as if conquering a mountain, taking unnecessarily wide turns and pretending to stumble. You kept giggling, holding on tight as he continued his overly elaborate trek.

Finally, he reached the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed with a mock sigh of relief. "There you go, your majesty," he quipped, wiping his brow in mock exhaustion. "Next time, I'm getting a forklift."

You pulled him closer, your hands looping around his neck as you whispered, "Now, don't think you're getting away. Stay with me."

Josh didn't hesitate, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm. Together, you drifted off, surrounded by the comfort of each other's presence.

The sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you slowly stirred awake. You turned, expecting to find Josh next to you, but instead, the bed was empty and slightly cool where he had been lying. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sat up, only to find Josh fully dressed for work.

Josh noticed you were awake and turned with a smile, walking over to the bed. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said warmly, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

You leaned into the kiss, but something gnawed at you, a small feeling of frustration. This had become a familiar scene: Josh up and ready to leave without waking you, never saying goodbye properly. It seemed minor, but it had been building up over time, and today it felt like more than you could brush aside.

"Morning," you replied, trying to keep your voice light but unable to completely mask the tinge of irritation. Josh pulled back, noticing your tone.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice, his brow furrowed as he looked at you.

You hesitated, not wanting to start an argument but feeling the need to voice your thoughts. "Josh, you always leave without saying goodbye. I know you want me to sleep, but it feels like...I don't know, like you're sneaking out," you admitted, looking down at the sheets, feeling a bit shy about bringing it up. Your heart fluttered with nervousness, unsure of how he would respond.

Josh's expression softened as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing you. He reached out, his hand gentle as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I just thought it was better to let you sleep," he explained, his voice sincere and filled with understanding. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding a goodbye."

His words were like a balm, soothing the frustration that had been building inside you. "I know you didn't mean it that way," you said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of earnestness, and you could see that he genuinely wanted to make things right. "But I want to feel like I'm part of your morning, too, even if it's just a quick kiss before you go."

He nodded, his eyes earnest and apologetic. "I get it. From now on, I'll make sure to wake you. I didn't know you felt left out."

A small smile tugged at your lips, the tension in the room dissipating "Thank you. I just want to be part of your routine, that's all."

Josh grinned, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering and soft. "Consider it done," he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, the warmth of his lips on yours was reassuring.

As Josh moved to stand, ready to leave for work, an idea popped into your head. Without fully thinking it through, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the bed.

"Hey!" Josh laughed, caught off guard as he tumbled back onto the mattress beside you.

"What's this?"

Feeling a mix of shyness and boldness, you looked at him, your cheeks warming. "I was thinking...maybe a little extra time together before you go wouldn't hurt," you suggested, your voice soft but inviting.

Josh raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but delighted. "Oh, really? I thought you'd want to go back to sleep," he teased, his voice playful as he shifted closer, his hand finding yours.

"I think I'm already awake enough," you replied, feeling more confident as you met his gaze, the familiar warmth and love reflecting back at you.

He chuckled, pulling you into his arms as you settled against him. "How can I say no to that?"

You found yourself on top of him, your bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time guided by instinct and desire. His touch was gentle, occasionally squeezing your hips and buttocks with a playful possessiveness that made you laugh softly against his lips.

The sound of your laughter mingled with the quiet gasps and sighs, creating a melody of love that filled the room.

Josh's voice broke the comfortable silence. "I really didn't mean to upset you, you know," he said softly, his eyes sincere.

"I know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "I just miss being part of your morning routine. Even a small goodbye would mean a lot to me."

light filtering through the curtains wrapped around you both like a warm embrace, casting a gentle glow that seemed to mirror the feelings swelling in your heart.

As you leaned in, the first touch of his lips against yours was electric, igniting a spark that raced through your veins.

His kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration, as if rediscovering the familiar contours and taste that he cherished so much.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting and teasing, drawing out a response that was both immediate and fervent. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed you, a blend of passion and tenderness that made you feel cherished and desired. It was as if he were savoring the very essence of you, each kiss a promise and a testament to the love you shared.

Your lips met again. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but soon deepened, a dance of tongues that communicated what words could not.

Josh's hands traveled over your body, fingers grazing your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers up your spine. Occasionally, his hands would rest on the curve of your hips, squeezing gently as if to reassure himself that you were real, that this moment was happening.

His touch was both tender and assured, as though he were an artist and you were his masterpiece. He explored with an intimacy that spoke of familiarity and affection, mapping every curve and line with the skill of someone who knew and adored every inch of you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as you pulled him closer, deepening the connection.

You let out a soft moan, a sound of pure delight that only encouraged him further.

Your hands moved over his chest, tracing his happy trail and the lines of his muscles.

Lips departed from yours, embarking on a tantalizing journey along your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying kisses in their wake. The heat of his breath against your skin sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, drawing you closer to him, as if pulled by some invisible force.

"I want..." Josh started, breathing unevenly, "I really want your tongue..."

You smiled softly with a nod, happy with Josh's request.

"Shift up, then," you suggested, sitting up to allow Josh to move, and he obliged, moving up on the bed to give you more space to home yourself between his thighs. Josh moaned softly as he watched you crawl up between his legs until your face was in line with his cock.

You leaned down to press a kiss against the throbbing, leaking tip,

Josh bit his lip and held his breath as your tongue peeked out between your lips to greet the sensitive head, lapping up the precum that was already collecting at the tip following your incessant teasing.

"You're teasing me," Josh stammered, screwing his eyes shut as you gazed up at him, tongue still running up and along the firm ridges of his length.

He pouted at your cruelty before you winked and wrapped your lips around the head, sinking your hot wet mouth down until your nose was flush with the base of Josh's cock.

He was beyond devastated. He grunted as you swallowed around his length, stuffing your face with his size. The scorching vision that had only ever existed in his imagination was now a breathtaking reality.

You slid your lips off after a pause, gasping for air as a string of saliva kept your lips connected to Josh's meat.

"I like this," you giggled, ducking down to leave open-mouthed kisses along Josh's length from the base, up the side of it, then to the head again, sucking the tip into his mouth once more. You loved the way his thighs shake after doing such things.

Josh shut his eyes again, avoiding your eye contact as you bobbed his head up and down, afraid to come way too soon and disappoint you.

Relentless as ever, your assault left him no respite. His fists clenched the blankets with a vice-like grip, knuckles white with tension.

"Pull off," he shouted, hips twitching when you moved your mouth away from him and looked at his face perplexed.

He sat up on the bed to restore your old position on top of him.

Josh's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your sides before settling on your hips.

His fingers lingered there, a gentle pressure that pulled you closer until your bodies were perfectly aligned.

Your hips moved together, a slow, deliberate motion that mirrored the rising and falling of your breaths. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the line of your spine before settling on your shoulders, drawing you down to him.

His lips found your neck, planting a series of soft kisses that made you shiver with delight. You felt his breath against your skin as your bodies moved together

His hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing gently as you rocked together. As the tempo of your movements increased, so did the intensity of the sensations, each one building upon the last until you were both lost in the shared rhythm of your bodies.

His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a reflection of the bond you shared.

You lost track of time, caught up in the whirlwind of sensation and emotion that surrounded you.

Pressing your forehead to his, you feel the sticky sweat that binds you. Josh's heaving breath mixing with yours as you both come down from the intensity of your releases.

He followed almost immediately when your hole clenched around him, making you even tighter. He whined loudly and after a few more hard thrusts, he came.

Josh's brown eyes shine bright with pleasure- a contented sigh spilling from you both before you slowly disengage.

It's filled with lasting touches, long looks and warm smiles.

"Do you want to play a bit of your game before I go?"

The sound of your intertwined laughter, punctuated by soft gasps and sighs, filled the room.

"Won't you be late for work?" you asked while still panting, sweat starting to drip down your forehead, but you remained tight against his side.

"They never notice my presence anyway," he replied, panting and still trying to regulate his breathing.

You couldn't help but smile at his laid-back attitude, already in the process of reaching for the controller.

Note: Sorry if the start was boring and I probably went off-topic from the request. I just saw the chance to talk about something I enjoy as a personal video gamer and couldn't resist. :)

If you liked this story, please leave a comment. I love reading them! <3

[zxoaii]

Lovers from the past

fem! reader x Peeta Mellark

Summary: From childhood friends to lovers, Peeta and Y/n are reunited after the games.

WC: 2.9k

Prologue: Peeta Mellark, the sole victor of the 74th Hunger Games became a star in the capital for his small town love story. The world watched as a once gentle man turned into a remorseless killer in an effort to return to his lover.

[ Y/n ]

The anxiety that has been suffocating me for the past 20 days comes to an all time high as I stand on the train platform surrounded by Peacekeepers and capital cameras.

The warm summer air hugs my skin, urging me to try to relax. I have been pampered and made out to look like a completely different person. Makeup is caked up onto my face. It’s unnatural feeling urges me to wipe it all off. Though that would only mean having it reapplied. And there are more important things at hand than makeup right now.

There’s a faint hum in the distance. The woman urges the cameras to start rolling. My posture straightens as I search between the trees for the sight of the train.

Within the blink of an eye it appears. Coming toward us so quickly I’m unsure if it will be able to stop in time. Bile sits in the base of my throat. Tears well up in my eyes. Despite my concern, the train comes to a steady halt in front of us.

It feels like an eternity for the doors to slide open. The air seems to come rushing back to me as I see him. Peeta stands hollow eyed by his games mentor and the capital woman.

I make the move for him, running onto the train and into his embrace. Peeta’s fingers dig into my waist and my hair. At first I’m at a loss for words. What do you say after enduring unthinkable horrors?

“I love you.” I let my tears fall as I squeeze my eyes shut. We had said the words a million times over to one another in our lives. But this time was different. Raw and passionate. “I love you too.” His voice shakes as he holds me.

“Alright you two let’s get this over with.” The gravely man places a hand on Peeta’s back. We reluctantly pull away from each other all too soon. This close I can see the marks left by his time in the arena. Cuts and bruises litter his once perfect skin.

“Y/n, how does it feel to see Peeta again?” A camera is shoved into my face. The lights burn my eyes. “It’s… A relief. I feel like I can breathe again.” Peeta’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me to his side. I accept this closeness, never wanting to be an arms length away from him again.

“How did you feel during his brawl with Cato?” My heart drops into the depths of my stomach. The memory of watching Peeta come so close to… The question feels insensitive.

“I was terrified. Completely… Terrified.” My hand finds his on my waist, feeling the warmth of his skin for reassurance. Reassurance of life.

They feign sympathy for me. Like they could ever know that kind of fear. “Peeta, what were you thinking as you went through the games?” They turn to him.

“Y/n. I just thought about her every second.” I can feel his eyes on me but when I turn to meet them he looks back at the camera. If you didn’t know him you might think he had come out unscathed. But here, looking at him now, I can see every falter. Every wince at the thought of what just happened. Every tiny detail that gives away his hurt and fear.

The safety of Peeta’s room feels infiltrated with foreign knowledge. Foreign feelings. He sits on his bed completely silent. Just staring at the wall in front of him.

I unbutton the pressed dress shirt he wears and push it off his arms. “Here.” I slide the soft worn cotton tee over Peeta’s head. Bruises and bloodied injuries invade the once so familiar landscape of his body.

It takes effort to hide the sadness in my eyes. Pitying wouldn��t do anything to fix this. No, I needed to watch the world burn to right this wrong.

“Are you hungry?” My question falls on deaf ears. “Peeta.” I take a seat next to him after a moment of no response. He turns to me, those hollow eyes sparked with an unfamiliar look. Before I can get another word out his lips crash onto mine.

I brace myself against the bed, eyes wide with shock. Peeta’s sweet taste intoxicates me. Slurring any rational thoughts I have. The unsaid feelings all come out now in this heated kiss.

“I thought I’d never feel your lips again.” He holds my face gently, contrasting with the roughness of his skin. The capital broadcasted our story every waking moment.

Childhood best friends devastatingly in love with each other. A couple torn apart by tragedy. And then a boy turned primal for the chance to see the girl he loves again.

Not a human fighting for survival. No, our lives have become a story the capital can’t get enough of. Our love consumed by every person watching. Capital citizens hungrily begging for more, more, more.

“I was so afraid.” The shake in my voice exposes me for how devastated I really am. My fingers desperately find his neck, holding him close. The faint beating of his pulse against my palm brings me over the edge.

Peeta won the games but I can’t help but feel completely devastated. Anger and sadness spill out of me pathetically.

His comforting touch lingers on my face. “I’m never leaving again. I’m not leaving you again.” The certainty in his voice is somewhat new for him. The once unsure and timid Peeta was slaughtered in the arena. Replaced with a hardened and certain version.

Still, his softness showed through for me. Carefully wiping my tears from under my eyes, pressing comforting kisses onto the crown of my head, whispering sweet nothings to me.

I shouldn’t be the one being comforted. Just as quickly as I started, I pull myself together. “I’m okay, thank you… I’m just so relieved.” My hands clasp over his.

“Y/n.” Peeta draws my eyes up to his. The warm sun turns his blonde hair a honey gold. He takes one of my hands in his, pressing my knuckle to his lips. “Marry me.” The whisper is so quiet I almost don’t believe he said it.

I wonder if it was just a figment of my imagination. “Nothing could keep me from you. From coming home to you. Marry me. Come live with me in the Victor’s Village. We can leave our parents behind. Just have each other.”

The idea of it seems insane. Though, nothing that has happened seems sane. There’s nothing left for us here but each other. “Yes.” My answer breaks the anticipation.

Peeta smiles, a genuine smile. His eyes momentarily sparked with a familiar look of happiness. “Good. Yeah, we can… We can find someone to wed us in the back markets. We can go tonight.”

People’s eyes follow our every movement. No on speaks. The heavy silence is only broken by the loudness of their thoughts. Visible on all of their faces.

He’s a monster and she’s his muse. We watched the way he killed. I wonder how many of them noticed the look in his eyes. Fear. There wasn’t a second in that arena he wasn’t consumed by it.

Fear weaponized can be just as lethal as anger. Peeta finally stops walking, looking around at the crowds. They don’t bother to stop looking but still, no one speaks up.

“We need someone to officiate a wedding. I can give half of my meals for a month to whoever helps us.” That piques interest among the crowd. Still, it seems people were too afraid to come near us.

“I’ll do it.” Peeta whips his head around. I follow his eyes, looking behind us. At the front of the crowd is the drunken man from the train. The only other victor from 12.

“Haymitch.” They exchange a small nod of agreement. We leave as silently as we came. Eyes burning holes into my back.

“If you’re trying to do something in secret, announcing it to the public isn’t the way to go. Even if they’re a secret society.” My eyes trail across his disheveled appearance. I should probably thank him. I doubt Peeta would have gotten any gifts if he hadn’t done his job.

Wet leaves carpet the gravel road. The sound of soft rain eases the tense silence. Filling the night with the melodic sound of wet droplets falling against the wooden roofs of 12.

We don’t bother to rush. Peeta looks up at the darkened sky, letting the rain fall against his face.

The walk towards the very back of the district is long; purposely isolated from the derelict of the main town. I stare at the two rows of grand houses. They stand in almost perfect condition. Unaffected by the rot that plagues most homes.

“Come on. This one is mine.” Haymitch leads us to the second house on the right side of the courtyard. Peeta slips his rain soaked hand into mine.

We follow behind him, I pull Peeta to hurry out of the rain. As we step inside I take note of the darkness of the house. The interior is not as well kept as the exterior. The stench of alcohol consumes the sweet smell of the rain outside.

“Alright. Let’s do this over drinks. Really all you need to do to be wed is go down to the Justice Building and file the paperwork to be married. That’s going to draw a lot of attention with the cameras so go before the sunrise. But I can say a few words and give you some bread for the toasting.”

It’s traditional to do the toasting after the wedding. Though, I suppose it’s also traditional to rent an old wedding dress… And share a meal with your family. None of which we will be doing I assume.

“Yeah, that sounds good. What do you think?” Peeta breaks me from my thoughts. I turn to look at him, a warm smile on my face. “I’m ready.”

The bruises that were earlier only small red marks on his face have now started to blossom into dark shades of purple and black. The earlier glint of happiness in his eyes has since died out.

“Go sit on the couch. I’ll pour you the drinks.” Haymitch turns on his heel towards the large open room behind him. We follow as he makes his way through the house.

To our left is a large worn couch. It’s nicer than anything I have ever seen here. I let go of Peeta’s hand and rush around to sit down. My hands press into the cushions, feeling the softness below. “It’s amazing!” I whisper, turning to Peeta.

He walks around the couch and takes his place next to me. “Wow…” He fakes awe for me. I realize that he must’ve already felt things like this before…

My smile fades away into a small frown. The weight of knowing what to say to him drags me further into the cushion. This is hasty? We should take a few days for you to come out of shock? Are you ok?

None of the words even make it past my throat. Nothing is right. I’ve dreamt about the day Peeta and I were married since we were kids. Dreamt about toasting bread with him. Dreamt about how it would feel to share a home.

Now it’s all coming true under such grim circumstances. Marrying to avoid the possibility of being away from each other for more than a few minutes. Marrying to hold onto the only thing we have.

Peeta had everything ripped away from him so violently. I can’t imagine how afraid he must be. I want to reach up and tell him I can relate, that the same fear consumed me. But it’s not the same. Both fear, yes. Separate in their manifestation and origin.

Before I can fall further into the spiral of depressing thoughts, Haymitch hands me a glass of whiskey. In the dark the liquid looks completely black.

“To love.” Haymitch raises his glass. Peeta raises his as well and I follow. They both down the contents. I instead let the glass rest in my lap.

“I’m not going to make this long… I’m just going to say, you two have something special. I’ve never seen anything like what you have. Unconditional love. It’s rare so hold onto it.” Haymitch looks down at his empty glass.

“Yeah… Now you two go on and say your part.” He stands and leaves the room. My eyes trail him as he walks into the kitchen then fall back to Peeta.

“Y/n, you have been there for me since before we could talk. I have only ever known one thing and that is that I love you. That I can’t imagine a life without you… Or a death without you either.”

The last words cut through me, urging me to cry. To crawl into his embrace and cry until it pains me to continue. The way I had the day he left me.

“I love you Y/n. I would do anything for you. Anything.” His voice becomes such a low whisper the rainfall almost covers it. I fight against the tears in my eyes, stopping them at my lashes.

“I’m the luckiest man alive to get to marry you.” Haymitch rejoins us in the room. This time he brings the entire bottle of whiskey. Peeta’s hand reaches up to hold my cheek. As I close my eyes to lean into his touch, the tears fall.

His thumb wipes them away with such familiar gentleness. I’m unsure how to put into words what I feel for him. How to describe all the feelings inside me.

“Peeta…” I finally start, completely unable to hide the shake in my voice. “I will never know fear like that again. The fear of losing you.” My sobs choke me up. Peeta quickly scoops me up in a tight embrace.

I tuck my head into his collarbone, trying to contain my tears. It’s not fair for me to cry. It’s not fair for me to be comforted right now.

“I need you, Peeta. Nothing has ever been so clear to me. I need you like I need air. To be able to marry you and hold onto you… I’m never going to let you go again. I swear.”

His hand carefully caresses my hair. Every part of us is so tightly intertwined. Our lives are exactly that. Ours. Not Peeta’s life or Y/n’s life. Our life. There isn’t a memory I can think of where he isn’t there.

“The bread.” We carefully part and look over at Haymitch. “If… You’re finished.” He drops his hand with the slice of bread. “No, we’re ready.” I answer, wiping my tears onto the back of my hand.

Peeta carefully takes it, looking over at me with a small grin. Haymitch’s feet cause the floorboards to creak as he makes his way to the large fireplace in front of us. He strikes a match and tosses it in, carefully blowing to ensure the wood catches.

We leave our spot on the couch and kneel in front of the fireplace. “I have a poker.” Haymitch offers. The flames are still small, flicking in all directions. “It’s fine.” Peeta slowly sticks the bread into the fireplace. I watch as he carefully avoids the flames. It only takes a short moment for the bread to toast.

He pulls it back and passes it to me. “Be careful.” His warning pulls at my heartstrings. No one has ever cared for me the way he does. I reach my hand in, only holding a small edge of the slice.

The warmth sears my skin. Threatening to cause damage if I come any closer. The short moment drags on for a lifetime as I wait for the bread to toast. I try to conceal my wincing as I retreat my hand.

“Congratulations. You two are now unofficially married. Don’t consummate it in my house. Any of the others should be furnished.” He waves his hand at us as he takes a swing from the bottle.

I take a bite from the bread, looking at Peeta with a childish grin. It happened. In my basic leathers over a white dress and celebrating with a man I don’t know. But it happened.

Peeta takes the bread and takes his bite. That faint smile reappears on his face. Happiness through devastation. We lean in and meet in a heated kiss.

The bread falls to the floor with a dull thunk. Our arms wrap around each other to keep the other close. “Ok.” Haymitch pulls himself out of his chair and leaves us alone in the room.

The fire lights up Peeta’s face in the darkness. Despite the newfound injuries and hollowness to him, he remains my Peeta. Gentle, caring, and so full of love.

I lean back in and press another short kiss on his lips. The peacefulness of secrecy will likely be lost by sunrise tomorrow. We will face the cameras as a newlywed couple for the capital. Fed to people we’ll never know like rabbits to a fox.

But tonight no one knows but us. No one will hear the sweet nothings we will speak and no one will ruin this moment.

Tomorrow we will face the wolves. Together.

[solarissun]

Intro/Masterlist

About me: 

❥  Hi, I’m Lucy! I’m 20 years old, and my pronouns are she/her. I’m helplessly in love with Josh Hutcherson and Milo Manheim.

❥  I’m not exactly new to fan fiction writing, but i’ve never ever posted my works until I made this account. Ever since I started writing fics, it’s been my dream to have other people read and enjoy my work, so every comment and repost means the world to me!

❥ Also, please feel free to leave me any questions or requests! I’d love to write out your guys ideas.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Who i’ll write for:

Josh’s characters: Clapton, Mike, Derek, Sean, Futturman, Billy and maybe Peeta

Milo’s characters: Ryan, Wally, Zed, Nico (This is mainly a Jhutch account, but I also have some Milo fan followers.)

(I have over 20 celeb crushes but I’m trying to keep this account to my two main ones…)

╞═════════════════

Things I WILL write: 

• Smut, fluff, angst, oneshots

Things I WONT write:

• extreme/downright nasty kinks or fetishes 

• immoral/illegal kinks

• I will not write for real people. It’s just something I feel uncomfortable doing.

I’ve only written for female characters, but I am 100% open to writing gender nuteral and male characters! 

My works

Mike Schmidt 

We are never, ever getting back together. (18+)

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 6.8k (so far)

type: fluff/smut/angst, fem!reader

pt 1 pt2

╞═════════════════

Clapton Davis

We are never, ever getting back together. (18+)

type: smut, fem!reader

(first chapter only)

✩✩✩✩

Teenage dream

Summary: You have a crush on your best friend, Clapton, and soon he finds out. (request)

WC: 1k

type: fluff, male!reader

Read here

╞═════════════════

Derek Danforth

Bad idea, right? (18+)

Summary: You drunkenly bump into Derek at one of his parties.

WC: 2.5k

type: smut, fem!reader

Read here

[hutchersonsgurl]

UPCOMING Fics

A Date Night - Mike Schmidt

You mean everything to me- Daryl Dixon

Oh professor- Mike Schmidt

Devil Wears Prada- Negan Smith

Somethin about you- Shane Walsh x reader

Darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream- Rick Grimes

You are gonna wish you were dead -Clapton Davis

Hella good- Clapton Davis

You are going to be the death of me, Sean Anderson

Mr Jealous - Mike Schmidt

Do I listen to my heart? Clapton Davis

[vanyatas]

omg hii !! can you write a clapton smut where the reader (a girl) turns him into a pathetic whiny mess ? like overstim or violently riding him im begging you 😭 ik he seems to talk a lot when hes around ppl but i think he would be sooo obedient during intimate moments 😵‍💫

no ur so true say it with UR CHEST !!!! FUCK !!!!!!!

EDGING.

Clapton davis x Fem.Reader

tags: Whiny Clapton (😋), Blowjob/Handjob, Dom Reader (MUAHAHAHAH), Edging, Overstimulation, Begging, Cum eating.

Always let me know if i forgot anything!!

Clapton Davis was probably the most popular guy in school, Already naturally gorgeous, Laid back hipster with no fucks to give, Kind and charismatic, it’s hard not to be when it comes to him naturally, Bold and optimistic, usually just confident all around.

He knew all of this about himself but. Here he is out of breath, tears threatening to leak out of his eyes, gripping onto your forearm as you’re repeatedly swiping your thumb across his already pleading cock head. Whines and whimpers, Pleads and cries for you to just let him cum as he’s doing everything in his will not to twitch and thrash around.

He remembers how he got here, he remembers hearing the teacher praise you about how you have the highest test scores of everyone in the class. How his ears rang when Mr.Kendall said Clapton should start taking after You.

At the time he was too busy trying to make Ione laugh and trying to impress her. Lighting the beaker in front of him, just for the fire alarm to go off and soaking the entire class in water.

At first he just laughed. It was a bit silly even if he knew something stupid, Then a bright smile etched his features as their teacher placed the graded test on his soaking wet desk. A blocky A was shining directly in his eyes. “Woah an A, Thank you!!” However as soon as he spoke those words the teacher leaned down to erase it into an F.

A defeated look replaced his features. His eyes lingered over to you as you try to wring out your jacket and save your homework and papers.

Another smile fell onto his face, The bell rang and he skipped his way over to you, a slightly startled expression he was met with.

Conversing with you, his mind was stuck on one thing. This was going to be too easy.

Yet here he is, Notes and practice tests scattered across the bed and floor as he’s staring directly at you. His mouth was completely soaked from his own drool, No matter how bad he wanted to cum it felt so fucking good being edged.

You’re cooing in his ear about how good he was doing and how gorgeous he looked being this slutty mess for you, your free hand wiped his drool away placing a kiss on his mouth and on his face.

Immediately he had reciprocated but stuffed his face in your neck, gripping onto your waist and your arm. “Mmmfmf Fuck Please. I wanna cum. I wanna cum so baddddd! Please please p-please let.” interrupted by his own loud whimper hiding his face deeper into your shoulder. “Y/N. Please ffuck. Please let me cum.”

His voice was strained, his neon teal shirt was soaked in his sweat. You’ve been at this for hours. He genuinely can’t believe he’s losing his mind over someone who he initially wanted to convince to cheat off of. You were pretty, You had the nicest voice ever, You were sweeter to him than any other girl he’s met. Easily he was slipped into this sort of submission after he kissed you. Felt your hands gently pawing at his chest and arms. Which lead you to your current situation.

“Clapton you’re doing so well for me.” You purred into his ear. Another swipe at his tip and he gasped grabbing at you tighter, if he even could. “You’ve held out for so long I think I can spare a bit of mercy.” you teased which made him feel even more light headed if he even could.

He felt you remove your hand off of his dick and he whined softly at the loss of contact. You gave him a small kiss on his nose and whispered. “Lay on your back.” he was at the start but he has found himself on his side trying to buck his hips into your hand.

Doing as he was told he felt his face get hot. He was still hard. It didn’t help to see you moving between his thighs which made him whine at just the sight. His body shivered as you started to place kisses against his length. One of his hand moved to hold your head very softly, just petting your hair and moving it out of your face. You were very pretty and he couldn’t help but bend to anything and everything you did.

Your hot mouth had encased itself around him and he let out a loud yelp. Your tongue softly flicked and moved around his weeping tip. “PleasePleasePlease Fuck.” he cried covering his eyes with his arm as his grip on your hair tightened. Tears spilled from his eyes, This feeling was too much but he didn’t want it to stop.

Your head bobbed lower taking in a majority of him in, with every move of your own he let out loud moans and pants, he doesn’t know how much more he could take.

You could tell, the way his hips bucked into your mouth out of instinct and his dick twitching and leaking unholy amounts of precum against your taste buds wasn’t unnoticed. You pulled your mouth off of him for just a second, soft kitten licks against him. “You can cum anytime you want gorgeous.” you whispered loud enough for him to hear, your mouth instantly wrapped back around him.

Clapton wasted no time, Gripping your head with both of his hands his eyes shakily stared at you as his bottom lip quivered, “Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Oh my god!” he basically shouted out as he finally was able to finish. he threw his head back and let out a soft whimper almost filling your mouth too much.

Wiping away your drool you swallowed before pushing yourself up to lay right next to him. He was still breathless. you wrapped your arms around him which he, without a second of doubt shoved his face between your chest and curled into you.

This made you giggle softly, stroking the back of his hair you kissed him all over his head which he leaned back to let you kiss his face, placing a million everywhere he just smiled at you lazily obviously exhausted from the relentless teasing you gave him.

“Can we study tomorrow? I’m so tired dude.”

Another giggle.

“Of course Clapton.”

————————

i need him so fucking bad chat i want him to skate across my mouth with HIS.

[joshfutturman]

ੈ♡˳ imagine clapton davis is your boyfriend

♡ he offers you riding lessons, taking you out to the skatepark when the sun is high in the sky. he's packed snacks and created a playlist specifically for your hangout. clapton is gentle with you, making sure you're comfortable and he only makes fun of the way you wobble on the board half of the time.

♡ every year on your anniversary he makes you a mixtape with brand new songs, each one with a special meaning. he wants to be there when you listen to it so he can explain the meaning to you, rambling on endearingly about memories he has of you both over the songs.

♡ clapton davis isn't shy, but when it comes to his sketchbook? he's tried to hide it from you so many times. little do you know he sketches you when you're too preoccupied with college work to notice. one day he sits you down and hands you his sketchbook in silence, his cheeks flushed beetroot red.

♡ if you need him? he'll be there. it's late at night, one of those nights where you know you need comfort. clapton is over in a heartbeat, skating as fast as he can until he climbs in awkwardly through your window with his backpack filled with essentials. music, snacks and earphones for you to share.

♡ he's carved your initials onto the deck of his favourite board so that you can be there with him on every ride.

♡ when he first tells you he loves you, you're on the front of his board as he pushes you both along. he's too shy to say it to your face, this is as close as he can get with his breath against your neck. you can feel his flush, the heat emanating from him. you think it's the sweetest thing in the world. you stop the board with one foot and turn to him, telling him you love him as you stare into those stupid big hazel puppy dog eyes.

jhutch promptober day 3 - skateboard

[this-aint-massachusetts]

I’m feeling touch starved as hell right now so ima project onto my favorite Jhutch character for relief

Touch Starved!Clapton x Male!reader hcs

CW: slightly suggestive

𖤐 Clapton, who will literally follow you to the end of the earth. He knows it can drive you up the wall sometimes and he looks like a dumb lost puppy while doing so but he just wants to be near you all the time.

𖤐 Clapton, who will toss and turn in bed and not sleep at all until he’s in your bed with his arms wrapped around you as he cuddles you close to his chest. The gentle huffs of your breathing calming him down.

𖤐 Clapton, who hates it when your hand isn’t on his thigh while you’re driving. If your hand isn’t on his thigh his leg will shake crazily, so much it rocks the whole car.

𖤐 Clapton abstained loves it when your hands are on his cheeks. If he’s really sleepy he’ll just cradle his head into your hands. But it really makes him melt when you kiss his forehead or rub his cheeks.

𖤐 Will beg you for hours on end for you to just touch him if you’re busy. Yet if you ignore him he’ll just act like a sad puppy. He’ll just cry once you’re done doing whatever and just beg you to finally touch him.

𖤐 When having sex he constantly wants your hands on his body. Not in the normal way but more in a way where he never wants you to let go till you’re both done. Red handprints will be left on his body for weeks from how tight he wants you to hold him.

𖤐 When horny, he doesn’t always want something intense. He’ll just want something light like giving you and handjob or vise versa. And cockwarming, his favorite is cockwarming because it just feels so great when you’re inside him.

Yes this was short and prolly cringe but I’m stressed out and in desperate need of attention and touch so here the fuck you go

[sleepyhutcherson]

while we were getting high

“how many special people change? how many lives are living strange? where were you while we were getting high?” — ‘champagne supernova’ by oasis.

pairing: clapton davis x gn!reader

word count: 1.1k words

summary: where clapton and you get high almost every weekend except this time some words are exchanged.

tags: fluff, smoking, underage smoking, marijuana use (not mentioned though), honestly the smoking part isn’t really in detail but they’re high, best friends to lovers, oasis being praised and blur hate (i do not condone!), use of y/n, feelings being confessed sort of?

author’s note: i should be working on requests but i really had to urge to write for clapton since there is barely any content for him. why am i writing a fic about smoking when i have asthma. there’s brief discussion/debate about which of two bands are better (the bands being oasis and blur) but is that worth tw? like i feel like some people (by what ive seen) can take that stuff really seriously but i really don’t mean any hate towards oasis nor especially blur, i simply think that clapton would definitely be the type of guy to get into a debate over bands, or which band is better in this case, but don’t take anything seriously!

Your focus is not on Clapton’s rambling, instead you’re drawn to the familiar glow in the dark stars that stick to his ceiling within the many band posters he stuck up there. You’ve counted these stars several times before as this wasn’t your first time getting high in his bedroom.

You groan when you hear the same song start again from Clapton’s Ipod. He was the type of person that would obsess over a song and play it nonstop until he grew tired of it. His latest victim: ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis. You don’t know how he hasn’t grown tired of listening to it on repeat, I mean, you have already! “Do we really have to listen to it again?” You whine, shifting around uncomfortably in his twin sized bed. The two of you were pressed up against each other, it was incredibly uncomfortable and yet you both always ended up in his bed for some reason.

A dumb smile curls up on his lips that you manage to catch briefly before returning your gaze back at his stupid ceiling. You don’t know why your heart quickens but you blame it on the amount of weed you smoked. I mean, it was probably that. “Yes, come on, Y/N, this is music! Real music.”

“‘Real music’?” You question, only to piss him off. A part of you liked seeing him angry, honestly. And you knew just how to push his buttons.

“Yeah. Unless you can name a better band.” Clapton challenges with an arrogant voice.

You could name so many other bands that have had a better discography than Oasis but you choose to name the band that you knew would rile him up. With a grin on your lips now you answer with what he would consider the worst band to name in this scenario.

“Blur.”

The words strike Clapton. Maybe he was being dramatic but honestly he found your choice offensive. He props himself on his elbows, no longer laying down completely. His face is scrunched up with slight disgust and confusion, an expression that resembles a child who’s just had a taste of a lime. “Blur?” He says with disgust in the word.

“Yeah,” you reply with a calm attitude. “They’re pretty good.” You continue to look up at the ceiling but Christ would you love to see the look on his face. “Better than Oasis.” You add for good measure.

You don’t know what reaction you expected from him, or well you did. You figured he would go on a long rant you wouldn’t be able to escape about how Oasis was in fact better than Blur. You did not, however, expect him to get on top of you, it’s so swift and sudden that you don’t even know how to respond. He pins your hands on either side of your head, your eyes now meeting his dark, mischievous eyes. Was he…grinning?!

Now you’re confused.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he teases, his body pressed up against yours. This is…not good. It feels good, sure, but Clapton was on top of you. Clapton, your best friend who you’ve known since grade seven. “We both know you’re just saying that to get a reaction from me.”

His hands grip onto your wrist, holding you in place. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe you just liked how he held you down. “Am I?” You play along, acting dumb.

His grin only deepens, his eyes frantically flickering from your eyes to your lips, your own eyes glued to his pretty pink lips. Fuck this wasn’t good. “You are,” his voice is deep now, a tease in his tone.

Before you know it, he’s inching closer to you. His fucking grin mocking you. “Clapton, we—“ shouldn’t, you think about saying but fuck, fuck, fuck his lips were grazing the skin of your neck now, his warm breath tickling you a bit. And that stupid song was still playing!

His thumb softly traces circles around one of your wrist. A part of you wishes your hands weren’t restrained down so you could tangle one in his hair. “We what?” He asks, his breath hitting your delicate skin.

“We—“ you can’t even finish. He doesn’t let you, his lips gently pressing a soft kiss against your neck, one that makes you tense up. Such an innocent kiss and yet that locked you. He continues to pepper gentle kisses on your neck, it’s so pure and sweet, especially when you feel his smile in each kiss.

“I’ve wanted this for so long now,” he admits before continuing to kiss your neck, his thumb continuing to trace around your wrists.

“You have?” You ask. A part of you thinks about telling him that you’ve secretly wanted this too for a bit now.

He stops to look at you now, his cocky grin replaced by a gentle smile. He nods with such a soft expression on his face. “Mm-hmm. I thought about what it would be like to kiss you every day, even while we were getting high.”

A crimson colour tints your cheeks. Clapton smiles more at that. God, you look so lovely now: flustered and underneath him, his hands wrapped around your wrists, your eyes boring into his. He would gladly count every eyelash, memorise every colour that paints your eyes.

“You’re high.” You giggle trying to play it off, though you don’t try to move away. Not that you could due to how he was holding you down.

“Yeah, you are too,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes don’t leave yours, he desperately wants to hold your gaze for as long as he can, honestly. “But even when I’m not high I still adore you.”

Fuck.

Your eyes widen a little, your mouth slightly hanging open due to his words. Clapton grins at that and before you can say anything else, he leans down to kiss you. Your lips move with his, not resisting his lips. You honestly don’t think you’d be capable of resisting him after all of this.

One of his hands laces with yours, the other still pinning you against the mattress. He continues to kiss you and he really doesn’t want to stop. He’s desperately craved this for so long now. He smiles in the kiss then, realising he has the privilege of kissing you.

His smile felt so great against your lips.

After some time you both pull away, a huge dumb smile on Clapton’s face that makes you smile at how adorable he looks. He plops down, laying his head against your chest, wanting to be near you for longer. You don’t even have to kiss, you really don’t have to do anything but be close to him. That’s really all he wants. All he’s ever wanted from you.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @ploty-twist @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @sofiehutch @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka @jhutchissupercool ♡︎

[hungerhutch]

PURPLE

Clapton Davis X Best friend!GN Reader

Summary: Red + Blue = Purple 😉 (literally the title)

Tags: fluff, making out, best friends to..?, no uses of Y/N, my first fan fic!!

wc: 2.498k

Notes: ahhhh my first time writing! tips are appreciated<33

-------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶------------------------------

You were with your friend Clapton and his friends, Sander, Riley and Ione, bowling.

Riley and Ione, as always, were arguing.

“Cinderhella wants to kill me more. I’m hot. Your house sucks. You lose.” Ione argues and scoffs. Riley just rolls her eyes and scowls.

“Why do you both always feel the need to argue? There’s a literal killer on the loose and you two are fighting over who's gonna die first! You’re totally wrecking my vibe!” you groan and walk away to refill your slushy.

You hear Ione call you a bitch but you just ignore her and walk over to the concession stand.

You take your cup and place it under the bright red cherry flavor, pushing the button down to fill it up with the artificial, cold goodness. When you’re done filling it, you turn around to walk back to the group when you see Clapton right behind you. He grins at you and reaches for the blue raspberry flavor.

“Hey.” you smile back at him and put the lid back on your cup.

“Hey to yourself.” he chuckles and fills his own slushy up.

“God, have they finally stopped arguing yet?” you roll your eyes playfully and glance back at Ione and Riley.

“Nope. Still going at it about Cinderhella.” he groans and sticks his straw into the round lid.

“Damn. I really can’t stand their arguing sometimes.” you shake your head and take a sip of it. It's so sweet that you almost grimace.

“Too sweet?” Clapton laughs and raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah.” you laugh with him and smack your lips together.

He takes a sip of his own and sticks his tongue out playfully. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, minus your blue tongue.” you giggle and point at it.

He snickers and slips it back into his mouth. You take another sip and stick your tongue out.

“What about mine? Is it red?” you ask, slightly muffled from your tongue sticking out your mouth.

“A little.” He laughs again before continuing. “Hey, wanna try a science experiment?” he smirks mischievously and raises his eyebrow.

“Since when have you been into science?” you tease and laugh.

He rolls his eyes and pouts playfully. “Pleaseee? Just one experiment!”

You sigh and nod hesitantly. He rests his hand on the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. You gasp in surprise before slowly kissing him back. He tugs your bottom lip with his teeth and slithers his tongue into your mouth. He intertwined his tongue with yours before pulling away breathlessly.

“What was that for?” you breathe and raise an eyebrow.

“I was testing color mathematics!” he grins and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“You mean color theory?” you laugh and shake your head.

“I don’t care what it's called! I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.” he rolls his eyes playfully and flicks you on the forehead.

“Ow! Why didn’t you, I don't know, just ask?”

“Cause that was more fun.”

You laugh again and walk away to sit back down with the rest of the group.

You sit down and they look at you.

“What's with the.. Purple lips? I thought you hated grape flavor..?” Sander points at your lips and raises an eyebrow.

“Uh-” You glance at Clapton and then back at them. “Whoops!”

---------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶-------------------------------

[lexxspark]

Greened Out

Clapton Davis x reader

Overall gn!reader gender isn’t really specified here :3 lmk if I missed anything though!

A/N : hey guys thanks for reading! First fic since the damn renaissance (2015) this is also heavily inspired by Tednivisions story time about when he ate a 400 milligrams nerds rope💀

‼️mentions of the use of pot and smoking

Not proofread🙌🏻 wrote this this morning I think a ghost whispered this concept in my ear while I was sleeping.

A good night’s sleep. You’d think that’d be easier when you’re home alone but associating with Clapton Davis? Yeah idk about that. You were in the middle of drifting to sleep, wearing just some shorts and a band T-shirt you haphazardly grabbed last minute as something to sleep in, when you hear knocking at your window.

Normally this would be reason for panic, but when you look over to see a boy in a bright blue t-shirt, sunglasses dispute it being 11pm, you only sighed and walked over to the window to open it.

“Clapton what the fuck are you doing?”

“Listen, listen y/n okay? I’m-“ He paused and kindof stumbled a bit literally and over his words, but began again, “I need help ion- I don’t feel right.”

Then he gave you those eyes. Those stupid pleading puppy eyes.

You opened the window more to allow him to climb into your room. He did but almost fell flat on his face after his foot god caught in the window pane. He stumbled but fixed himself, standing straight and looking at you.

“What did you take Davis?” There was concern in your voice as you knew Clapton well and he didn’t do anything hard ever, nothing other than the occasional pot with his friends.

“Y/n im telling you all I took was an edible I don’t know what’s going on I’m like- I’m like aching every-time I touch something I can still feel it after and, and it feels like the room is spinning. It just I don’t feel right I think I was laced im telling you.” He said that last sentence while weakly pointing at the window, presumably at his friends.

“How many milligrams was it?” You asked, a very slight chuckle in your voice as you highly doubt someone had the brains to make a laced edible in the entire city of Grizzly Lake.

“Milligrams? Uhh what are those?” He furrowed his brows and squeezed his eyes shut making it look like he was really trying to remember what milligrams are.

“Oh my god.” You said under your breath as you walked over to Clapton and checked his pockets for the wrapper to his edible and to your surprise, you found a nerds rope wrapper crumpled up in his left shorts pocket.

“Wooah y/n” Clapton chuckled between his words, “Take me out before you get so handsy like that huh?” He gave you that big smile that may have made you blush, but your room was too dark to notice so you rolled your eyes instead.

“Relax Clapton, go sit down before you collapse on my floor okay?” You pointed to your bed as you started examining the wrapper.

“Yes ma’am.” Clapton said pouting and shuffling to your bed and plopping down at the foot of it, across from where you were standing.

That made you smile, the pout in his voice and the ma’am, he was such a sweetheart. However you and Clapton were on borderline opposite social circles. You only had a couple close friends where as Clapton was friends with practically everyone in town. Of course except for law enforcement. You liked him, of course you did. But everyone liked him and you just kind of figured that one of these days he’d meet someone cute and bubbly just as he is and forget about you. You were, however in your stubborn sarcasm, completely oblivious to Clapton’s shared fear. He thought that someday you would find some mature, older, more smart man to take care of you and forget all about him. So in return he followed you like a puppy everywhere, ensuring that you never would.

“Oh my fucking god Clapton.” Your eyes widened at the package.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it coke? Uh uhh what’s the one called? Oh my god Is it a Perc?” He was genuinely scared that he just took a Percocet nerds rope.

“No it’s still just weed but it’s 400 milligrams of it. Jesus Christ, Clapton it says ‘meant to be shared’ right on the package.” You pointed at it and handed it to him to read, all he did was squint you knew he didn’t even try to read anything on the package.

“Wow 400? That’s a lot. That’s prolly not a good thing is it?” He shook his head as he looked up at you, your brows furrowed with concern as u looked down at him.

“No, no it’s not.” Your eyes softened and shoulders dropped as you remembered he was still incredibly high and you were his only sober friend right now. “Have you eaten? Had water?”

“I ate an entire bag of family sized Cheeto Puffs, andd I also had a coke.” He smiled.

You tried your best to ignore his smile, “Okay well you need water, you definitely need water.” You walked over to your nightstand, Clapton’s eyes following your every move. You handed him the glass of water and he took a sip, realized how much he needed water, and proceeded to drink the entire thing.

“Jeez y/n do you have the air on blast in here? It’s like 40 degrees dude.”

“No, no you’re just cold, weed chills Clapton. Here.” You put the blanket around his shoulders and you saw him relax a bit into the blanket, still shivering though. This didn’t last however when he crawled up to where you were peacefully sleeping earlier and curled up into your pillows.

“Really?” You walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, looking at him at first with annoyance, but then it caved as soon as you saw how cute he looked in your bed, looking up at you. You sighed in defeat, looking at the calendar on your door, and then back at Clapton. Your parents were away for the weekend, some thanksgiving thing with friends so you had the entire house to yourself for a while.

Clapton’s eyes never left yours and in your head you swore they would be your downfall. “Alright, Alright fine. You can take my bed I’ll just crash on the couch.” You smiled at him, breaking eye contact as you grabbed a spare pillow and started to turn to walk out of your room.

This made Clapton’s stomach drop. “No, nono, please.” He grabbed on your wrist, softly in a pleading hold, like if he let go he’d vanish into dust. “Please stay with me. I really don’t want to be alone like this.” There was genuine concern in his voice almost anxiety.

He gave you those stupid eyes again.

Before you could even realize what was going on you got into bed with him and laid down, Clapton Davis laying in your bed agonizingly close to you. However you could still feel him shivering. He studied your face, his expression never changing as he looked at your eyes. God he loved your eyes.

You looked back at him and gave him a soft look, looked up at the ceiling, and opened your arm so he could lay on your chest. He didn’t waste a second curling up to you. You felt your heart race and Clapton’s shivering subside. Part of you wondered if he was even still shivering or if he was faking it to get you to hold him, you didn’t really care either way.

Your hand found its way to Clapton’s hair, playing with it in a soothing way to get him to sleep off the edible for two he just took. Chances are he’ll wake up high in the morning. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Holyy fuck.” Clapton melted into your arms as u played with his hair almost whining at the contact.

“You okay Davis?”

“Yes, yes m fine just that feels really fucking good Jesus Christ don’t stop.” He whispered and mumbled at the same time, you felt his hands rub on your back and bunch up your shirt as someone to grab and hold on to.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You smiled as you felt him calm, soon the shivering stopped. You and him lay in comfortable silence for a few moments until Clapton breaks it.

“Have I told you how beautiful I think you are?”

This caught you by surprise, all you could get out were a few “umms” before he started again, “You really are you know? You’re so smart and you’re funny. You deal with me and my stupid jokes. You’re just, you’re just you. And I really love that.”

He pulled away to look at you, meeting your eyes. You had no idea what to say to that. Even with him in your bed, you never thought that anything like that would come out of his mouth ever.

You paused, trying to come up with something to say, usually you’d have something smart or snarky to say but your entire mind blanked. All you could think about was him.

Even the 400mgs of marijuana in Clapton’s body couldn’t stop him from being cocky.

“Are you gonna let me kiss you orr?” He smiled again and you rolled your eyes opening your mouth to say something but he placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you before you could say anything else. You both sank into the kiss as it melted away years of anxiety that both of you had built up over each other.

As you pulled away his arms held you closer and he sank back into the crook of your neck leaving little peppered kissed on your collarbone.

“You don’t know how long I was waiting for you to do that.” You finally said, smiling while returning your hand back to his hair.

“You don’t know how long I was waiting for you to do that.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes again but smiled, kissing his hair. “Can I, can I be your boyfriend? You don’t know how much I care about you and I just- I want to be here for you always. Take care of you like you always do for me.” He mumbled that last sentence, thinking about tonight when you didn’t even hesitate to open your door, or window, and take care of him when he needed you. When you stayed without hesitation when he pleaded with you not to go. He wanted to treat you and show you how much he cared.

You wanted to say yes but you remembered he was high. A sudden fear flashed over you that he would wake up in the morning and not remember anything from tonight. You faltered when you said, “Clapton you’re high, are you sure you really mean that?” Fear of this all being an elaborate prank came across you, no way this was real.

It was like he could read your mind, that’s kind of how it’s always been. “I’m serious y/n. High words are sober thoughts right? If I wasn’t high I would never have the courage to ask you, or even tell you anything I just did. I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

You sighed in relief, holding him closer.

“Let me be here for you like you are for me?” He pulled away so he could look you in the eyes, have gave you that pleading look again. “Please?”

You nodded and said, “Okay Clapton.” In such a whisper you weren’t sure he heard you, either way he kissed you again, this time you holding his face and running your hand through his hair. He loved it. He loved you. And you truthfully loved him. But you both on your own decided that a kiss was enough for the night and you were going to save the I love you’s for when Clapton’s sober.

He fell back into the crook for your neck and soon the both of you fell asleep like that. Finally getting a good nights sleep with each other in your arms.

A/N: congrats on reading my first tumblr posted fic!! might write a smut alt ended to this if it does good who knowwws:3

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔅𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢

Clapton Davis x gn reader

This was requested from an anon on tumblr: "Hii! I enjoy your stories on wattpad and I was hoping if you take requests, if not that's okay! There's barely any Clapton Davis oneshots and you're really great at writing and I was wondering if you could make one!... Maybe a suggestion could be like you and Clapton are like enemies that hate each other and you go to a party and both have too much to drink. You both forget about your troubles between each other from the drinks and getting along maybe. Sorry I am not that creative lmao. Thank youu!" To whoever you are, dear anon, I truly hope my writing met your expectations <3. Already posted this on my wattpad a couple of weeks ago but did some edits now that I had time.

Prompt number three of the jhutch promptober made by @joshfutturman <3 “Skateboard”

Tags: no pronouns used towards the reader so everyone can read. No use of Y/N. fluff. Very small angst. Enemies to lovers fic. Clapton secretly pinning for you.

Words count: 2000 words

You're moving through the crowd of the school hallway with practiced ease, already mentally preparing yourself for another day of monotony. It's not that you hate school, but lately, everything has felt heavier, more tedious.

And then there's the added complication of Clapton Davis.

As you reach your locker, you spot him down the hall, leaning against his locker like he has all the time in the world.

He's talking to someone, one of his many hangers, no doubt. His attention seems half-hearted, like he's only going through the motions.

His gaze flicks over to you briefly, just a split second, before he returns to whatever casual conversation he's pretending to be interested in.

He's always been the kind of guy who breezes through life without a second thought, always with that infuriating smirk on his face like nothing really matters.

But there's something in the way he glanced at you that lingers in your mind, something almost... hesitant.

You shake it off and focus on getting your books out of your locker. You're already running late for class, and the last thing you need is to get caught up thinking about him.

But as you're closing your locker, you feel a presence beside.

A familiar one.

"Morning," Clapton says, his voice casual with his beloved skateboard resting comfortably on his shoulder.

You glance at him, and there it is again that look, that flash of something in his eyes that you can't quite name. He's got that same lazy grin on his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It's like he's trying too hard to appear indifferent.

"Morning," you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you close your locker.

"You ready for that history test?" he asks, leaning a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. It's a small gesture, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

"More or less," you answer, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his proximity. "How about you?"

He shrugs, the movement almost too casual. "I'll wing it. I usually do."

There's a pause, a beat of silence where neither of you says anything. You're not sure what he's doing here, why he's suddenly so interested in small talk with you. It's not like the two of you are friends, not by any stretch of the imagination. But he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

"Well, good luck with that," you finally say, turning to head to your first class.

"Yeah," he murmurs, and for a moment, you think you hear something like disappointment in his voice, but when you glance back at him, his expression is as unreadable as ever and he is already skating away in the hallway.

Later that afternoon, after a particularly dull chemistry class, you're gathering your things when you notice him again. He's lingering by the door, pretending to be engrossed in his phone.

"Need something?" you ask as you approach him, your tone a little sharper than you intended.

Clapton looks up from his phone, and for a second, he almost looks... hurt. But then the mask is back, and he's grinning at you like nothing's wrong.

"Just wondering if you wanted to grab something after school," he says, shrugging like it's no big deal. But there's an edge to his voice, a note of uncertainty that he's trying to hide.

You blink, caught off guard by the question.

"I've got plans," you lie, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You don't know why you said it, but something about the idea of spending time with him outside of school makes you nervous.

"Right," he says, his smile faltering just a bit. "Maybe another time, then."

He walks away before you can say anything else, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest. You watch him go, feeling a strange mix of regret and relief.

And then there was yesterday.

You'd been sitting in the library, working on a paper for English class, when Clapton had appeared out of nowhere. He'd slid into the seat across from you, flashing that grin of his that always seemed to set you on edge.

"Mind if I join you?" he'd asked, not waiting for an answer before he started pulling out his own books.

You'd raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious. "What are you doing here, Davis?"

"Studying," he'd replied, but there'd been something playful in his tone, like he knew exactly how much he was throwing you off. "It is a library, after all."

"Since when do you study?" you'd shot back, trying to ignore the way your heart had started to race.

"Since I decided I might actually want to pass this class," he'd said, his eyes locking onto yours with a seriousness that had taken you by surprise. "And maybe because I figured you'd be here."

That had been the first time he'd really admitted to seeking you out, and it had thrown you off balance. You'd tried to play it cool, to pretend like his presence didn't bother you, but the truth was, it did.

It bothered you because it made you feel things you weren't ready to deal with.

You don't understand why Clapton is suddenly everywhere, why he's acting like he cares about you. And worse, you don't understand why it's affecting you so much.

The night hangs heavy with the threat of rain, the dark clouds above swirling like they're trying to decide whether to break.

You're not sure why you came to this party, really.

It's not like you enjoy being crammed into some stranger's living room, surrounded by people who barely know you. But here you are, hoping maybe this time will be different.

The music thumps in time with your heartbeat as you step inside, the bass reverberating through the walls and into your bones. The living room is packed, bodies pressed together, moving in a rhythm dictated more by the sheer lack of space than any real desire to dance. You push through, grabbing a drink from the first table you see, the liquid sloshing over the rim as someone jostles you from behind. You don't even look at what's in the cup before taking a sip.

It doesn't matter.

It's been a rough week, the kind where everything that could go wrong did. School's been a drag, the same monotony grinding away at you day after day.

You're tired of the routine, tired of pretending that any of it matters.

And then there's Clapton Davis.

You don't know what it is about him that gets under your skin. Maybe it's the way he always seems so indifferent to everything, like the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't even blink. Or maybe it's the fact that, despite his detached demeanor, he's one of the few people who's ever really seen you.

You scan the room, looking for a familiar face, and that's when you spot him.

Clapton, leaning against the wall, one foot propped up behind him. He's got that damn smirk on his face, the one that makes you want to both punch him and kiss him at the same time.

He catches your eye. There's a flicker of something in his eyes again, but just as quickly as it appears, it's gone, replaced by that irritating, lazy grin that drives you crazy.

But it wasn't long before your luck ran out.

"Ah, just my luck," he called out loudly enough for you to hear over the music. "Didn't know this party was open to everyone."

You narrowed your eyes at him, already feeling the familiar tension building. "I could say the same about you, Davis. Didn't think a party like this was lame enough to attract you."

He chuckled, pushing himself away from the counter and making his way toward you. "Careful, someone might think you've been waiting for me."

You clenched your jaw, already regretting engaging with him. "As if. You're the last person I'd waste time on."

"Is that so?" Clapton was closer now, his smirk never leaving his face. "Then why can't you seem to take your eyes off me, huh?"

Before you can respond, someone bumps into you, nearly spilling your drink. You stumble, and suddenly Clapton is right there, his hand on your arm to steady you. It's such a small, simple gesture, but it sends your heart into overdrive.

You hate that he has this effect on you, hate that you can't just ignore him like you do with everyone else.

But tonight feels different. Maybe it's the alcohol starting to hit, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, like he's seeing something he didn't expect to find.

Whatever it is, it makes you reckless.

"Why do you always do that?" you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Act like nothing matters?Like you’re better than everyone?"

Clapton's hand drops from your arm, but he doesn't step back. Instead, he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat.

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't act like I'm better than everyone. I just... I don't care as much as you think I do. About all this high school drama."

"That's the problem," you counter, words tumbling out before you can stop them. "You don't care. You never care. About anything."

For a moment, Clapton's face shifts, something flickering in his expression that you can't quite place. He looks at you, really looks at you, in a way he hasn't before. It's almost unsettling.

"Maybe I care more than you think," he says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes you pause.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, the kind that made your heart race. You knew you should get up, walk away, and pretend that whatever was happening wasn't real. But you didn't. You stayed there, frozen, as Clapton's gaze drifted to your lips, his smirk fading into something more serious

"I'm gonna do something stupid," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

Before you could ask what he meant, Clapton closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both unexpected and inevitable. For a split second, you were too stunned to react, but then something clicked, and you found yourself kissing him back, your hands tangling in his hair as the weight of everything that had come before melted away

The kiss was heated, desperate, fueled by the alcohol and the unresolved tension that had been simmering between you for who knows how long.

It's all a blur of movement. His hands gripping your waist, your fingers tangling in his hair.

It's rough, messy, a tangle of emotions that you've both been holding back for too long.

When Clapton finally pulled away, his lips still hovering close to yours, you were both breathless, staring at each other as if trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

"Okay," he breathed, his voice rough, "that was definitely stupid."

You laughed, though it sounded more like a gasp. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Well," Clapton said after a moment, a small smirk returning to his lips, "at least now I can say I've kissed the one person who hates me most."

You rolled your eyes, still trying to catch your breath. "Shut up, Davis."

"Let's get out of here," he said, his voice low and teasing, "This party is lame"

You hesitated for a second, your brain still catching up with everything that had just happened. Leave the party? With him? But before you could fully process it, Clapton had already grabbed your wrist, leading you through the crowded house with his usual nonchalance. He didn't even look back to check if you were following. He just knew you were.

Outside, the night air hit your face, cool and refreshing compared to the stuffy heat inside. Clapton slowed down as you both walked to the edge of the driveway where his skateboard was propped up against a wall, waiting for him like it always did.

"Oh, great," you muttered, eyeing the board with a mix of amusement. "You're not seriously thinking of skating around after everything that just happened."

Clapton shot you a sideways glance, that infuriatingly familiar smirk curling at his lips. "Why not? Thought you could use some excitement, considering how thrilled you were in there."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against a lamppost, watching him pick up his skateboard. "Right, because watching you break your neck on that thing sounds like a blast."

He chuckled, stepping onto the board with practiced ease and starting to roll back and forth on the driveway, his balance perfect. The wheels made a soft grinding sound against the concrete as he moved effortlessly, gliding in circles around you with an almost lazy grace. His movements were smooth, casual, like he had no care in the world. For a moment, it was almost mesmerizing, watching how he balanced himself so easily.

"C'mon," Clapton said after a few moments, pushing off the ground and circling back toward you, the grin still plastered on his face. "You're not just gonna stand there, are you?"

"You think I'm getting on that thing? No way."

"Oh, come on," he teased, stopping right in front of you and holding out a hand, his eyes sparkling with a challenge. "Don't be such a wimp. I won't let you fall."

You stared at his hand, then at him, trying to decide whether or not to trust him. It wasn't that you didn't believe he could keep you from falling, it was more about the principle of it. Getting on a skateboard with him after all this time of hating each others? It sounded ridiculous.

But then again... tonight had already been ridiculous in more ways than one.

"Fine," you muttered, taking his hand before you could change your mind. "But if I fall, I'm taking you down with me."

"Deal" Clapton said with a grin, pulling you closer as he shifted his weight on the board, giving you room to step on. "Now, just relax. I've got you."

His grip was steady, surprisingly gentle as he helped you onto the skateboard. You were tense at first, your legs stiff as you tried to balance, but Clapton kept one hand on your waist, guiding you as the board started to move beneath your feet.

"I swear, if we crash..." you began, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing, but Clapton just laughed.

"We're not gonna crash," he said, his voice light and teasing. "Just keep your balance. You're doing fine."

You weren't sure if he was right about that, but you let him guide you, his hand never leaving your waist as you rolled down the driveway, moving in slow, lazy arcs. The world felt different from up here, the ground moving beneath your feet in a way that was both unnerving and strangely fun. You glanced at Clapton out of the corner of your eye, half-expecting him to mock you or say something sarcastic, but he was just smiling like he was actually enjoying this.

"Don't get too cocky," you shot back, though there was no real bite to your words. "This doesn't mean I like you."

"Sure," he said, his grin widening as he spun the board in a gentle curve. "You hate me. Got it."

"Exactly," you replied, though the smile on your face gave you away.

The two of you kept gliding down the street, Clapton still steering, his hand never leaving your waist as the conversation flowed easily between you. It was almost like you'd forgotten about the months of animosity between you, as if the kiss at the party had reset everything, leaving you both in this in- between place where you could laugh and joke, even as you kept up the pretense of hating each other.

"Remember that time you almost got me detention for that stupid prank you pulled?" you said, glancing over at him.

Clapton chuckled. "You mean the prank you fell for? Yeah, I remember. Pretty sure you're still mad about that."

"I'm not mad," you lied, though you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "I just think you're an idiot."

"An idiot who saved you from a boring party," Clapton countered, his smirk never fading.

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for that," you replied, crossing your arms even though you were still balancing on the skateboard.

"No, but you didn't complain either," Clapton teased, his eyes glinting in the dim streetlight as he pushed the board a little faster, making you grip onto him a little tighter.

“Maybe I just didn’t have a choice,” you shot back, your cheeks hurting from how much you were smiling.

You both slowed down, eventually coming to a stop near the end of the street. Clapton stepped off the board, still holding your hand as you found your footing again on solid ground. You looked at him, and for the first time all night, neither of you said anything sarcastic or biting. You just stood there, in the quiet.

Clapton tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "So... still hate me?"

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it. "I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Fair enough," he replied with a grin, pulling you a little closer. "But if tonight's any indication, I think you might be warming up to me."

Clapton leaned in after that, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one that felt completely different from the heated one earlier. When he pulled back, his smirk returned, though this time, it wasn't annoying. It was almost... endearing.

"I hate you," you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. But there's no venom in your voice, just a soft, aching truth that you both understand.

"I hate you too," he replies, but there's a small, crooked smile on his lips, and his thumb is brushing against your cheek in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.