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redsrooftopprincess · 2 months ago

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I seriously love how you write Raph your depiction of him is so aligned with mine. Practically perfect and it really inspires me to expand on my own headcanons of him. I also just really like your style of writing!

I want to know what Raph would be thinking, how he’d react, to his muscular, androgynous s/o wearing a red sundress with their back out and thigh muscles peeking through the fabric

- 🌠

I hope this is okay. Red is feeling sassy today. 😈

Christmas in August

Gn reader x Raphael

August in the city is a special kind of hell. Between the reflections on the buildings magnifying the heat, and the asphalt trapping it, street level was more or less unbearable.

You don't wear short dresses often, you've always been a little self conscious about your legs, but you've been working out recently, with the world's hottest coach, and you're feeling a bit more confident about your body lately.

You turn and admire yourself in the mirror. Not bad. A vintage low-backed halter dress, coming to just above mid thigh, in fire engine red. A lucky find while thrifting with April. You smirk wickedly, thinking about your boyfriend.

You have a shopping date with April in about an hour, and when you didn't find your wallet in your apartment, you had an excuse to torture your beloved.

Grabbing a pair of black retro sunglasses, and throwing on a pair of keds, you make your way out of your apartment and into the oven that has become New York City.

You thank any and every possible supernatural force that Donnie had finished fixing the elevator in the garage last weekend, grateful you dont have to traverse the sewers in this heat, and make your way to the lair.

You step out into the garage, the sounds of the resident mechanics at work echoing off the walls.

"I got it!"

"Do you?!"

"I got it! Just grab the damn jack!"

Raphael holds the front end of the garbage truck aloft, while Donatello reaches under to grab the jack that has slid underneath.

You walk past your boyfriend with a wave of your fingers on your way into the lair, knowing better than to interrupt the mechanics at work. Donnie nearly doesn't make it out alive when Raph drops the truck.

You can hear Donnie yelling at him as you walk into the lair, a smirk turning your lip. Exactly the reaction you were hoping for. You head toward the kitchen and grab a soda from the fridge.

He takes a few steps towards the kitchen with a wicked smile. You are here, and you are hot, and you all his (at least until you have to meet up with April). But he stops, just for a moment, replaying your entrance in his head. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. There it was, that damn smirk as he dropped the truck. Okay, fine. You wanna play games? He'll play.

All day long, he acts as if nothing is different. Even when Mikey goes gaga over your dress, he only nods. "Of course they look good, they always look good."

When Leo nearly chokes on his coffee as you walk by and tells you how incredible you look, Raph walks by him to pick up his phone off the couch without a word.

He only comes close to breaking once.

You walk into the weighroom, pretty sure your wallet had fallen out of your bag yesterday. Crossing to the bench on the other side, you start looking around.

Spying it on the floor, you brace one hand on the bench, reaching over it with the other and fuck he almost takes you right there. Your dress rides high, giving him a full view of your thighs and just a little of your ass. He catches the black lace panties peeking out from between your legs and groans internally. You were hot before, let's be real, but you've been working out with him lately and it's paying dividends.

He licks his lips as you stand and his eyes trail up your spine, watching the way the muscles he helped you build move.

One deep breath and the mask is back in place before you turn around.

By the time you're ready to leave, you're trying not to show your disappointment. You were really hoping for *some* kind of reaction from your boyfriend. He almost feels bad for fucking with you. Almost.

He offers to walk you out, and he places his hand at the small of your back as you step into the elevator, deflated.

The moment the doors close, you're up against him with your back against his plastron and his thigh between your legs, braced against the door. His hand holds you against him just below your navel, and his head is buried in your shoulder.

"You really think you can show up wrapped up like a god damn Christmas present all for me and expect me not to unwrap you?" His breath pours over you like warm honey as his voice melts into your skin. "Baby, I'm just waiting till Christmas."

You can feel the rumble in his chest at your core, and he rolls his thigh forward, just to make his point, "I'll see you tonight," his voice drops into a growl you can feel inside your chest, "and don't you dare take that dress off."

The doors open, and he sets you down on wobbly legs, just outside the elevator. When you turn around to look at him as the doors are closing, the bastard is leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, looking you up and down and smirking like the devil he is. "Mmm-mm," he hums appreciatively, his voice laced with filthy promises, as the doors rattle closed.

.....

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy

#bayverse raphael #bayverse raphael x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader

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floralcyanide · 1 year ago

Text

𝑺𝒂𝒚 𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 ⚡️ 𝑬𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓!𝑨𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒓

Part One

Austin Butler x Reader

You have the opportunity to see the dazzling Austin Butler, a world-renown Elvis impersonator, live and in action. You become enthralled with him, becoming an avid fan and attending every convention and tribute concert he attends. Very quickly, you become a favorite in the crowd of Austin's. But will it go any farther than being just a fan? Or will you stay the person in the crowd who always gets a kiss and a scarf? (Will eventually have smut. Takes place in the mid-2000s) (Y/BF/N = Your best friend’s name.)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, kissing. nothing else, really.

word count: 2049

author's note: so I got an idea the other day and decided I needed to write it immediately. special thanks to Ally, @elvisabutler for confirming that this idea needed to be posted for the world to see. thanks everyone for responding to my poll btw! it was to see how many people would likely read this. this is the first part, so nothing too exciting happens quite yet, but I hope you all enjoy (: (I wrote this in like, 2 hours but wanted to post it asap so if it's dull I'm so sorry lol)

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

“I got the tickets!”

You lay the book you were reading down in your lap, raising an eyebrow at your roommate and best friend, Y/BF/N, “Tickets for what?”

You’re curled up in a chair in the sunroom, reading one of your favorite books. You’re off work this weekend and didn’t have much else to do. Y/BF/N had gone out to run errands for the day. You wonder when they had time to get tickets for whatever or wherever.

“The Elvis Impersonator Convention, silly!” Y/BF/N says, plopping down in the chair beside you and shoving one ticket in your face.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you ask boredly, eyes nearly crossing at the proximity of the slip of paper to your face.

Y/BF/N rolls their eyes, “You’re going too.”

“I probably have to work, plus, I don’t really dig impersonators that much,” you make a face as you pick up your book to resume reading.

“Trust me, I made sure you don’t have to work that day. And you never know, you might like it! There are some hot ones,” Y/BF/N giggles.

You peer over the top of your book at them, narrowing your eyes as you ponder it. It’d get you out of the house for once. If it was a Saturday, none of your shows came on TV that day, so nothing else would occupy you. With a sigh, you close your book and look over at Y/BF/N.

“Fine. When is it?”

“Tomorrow!”

“You’re kidding. Tomorrow? How on earth did you manage to get tickets so last minute? Especially at a big convention?” you ask, appalled.

“I’m a big Elvis fan, remember? I have my ways,” Y/BF/N grins.

You’re a big Elvis fan, too. It’s just the impersonators aren’t really your thing. And big events aren’t really your thing, either. So tomorrow is going to be interesting for you.

“Yeah, you and your ‘connections,’” you roll your eyes, motioning quotation marks as you speak.

“Exactly. Now, let’s pick out an outfit. It’s gonna be comfortable temperature-wise tomorrow, so keep that in mind,” Y/BF/N says, getting up from the chair.

“Alright,” you shrug, getting up and sitting your book down in your chair.

You follow your roommate down the hall to your bedrooms. If you’re honest, you don’t know what to wear. You want to look nice but also be comfortable. You wander over to your closet and flick through your clothes, spotting a dress you’ve yet to wear. It was a secondhand dress you got from a vintage thrift store, and it looks like it’s from the 60s or 70s, perhaps. It’s a soft pastel color with white details. The above knee-length dress is the only decent thing to wear, plus it’s kind of on theme. You find some white Keds to wear with the dress, quickly deciding that heels or uncomfortable shoes are a no-go.

Y/BF/N knocks briefly before barging into your room, “Did you find anything yet?”

“Yes, and thank you for knocking,” you say sarcastically.

“I wanna see!”

You show them the dress and shoes, and they nod in approval, “I’m wearing some bell bottoms and a white button-up. Simple yet effective.”

“Sounds good. Not sure what I’m gonna do with my hair, though. Maybe curlers?” you think out loud.

“You would look so cute with some body in your hair, for sure,” your roommate smiles.

“Thanks. Now that we’ve got our clothes settled, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“It starts at seven, and I want to walk around to look at merchandise and maybe get food or a drink beforehand, so I want to get there at five. And it’s an hour away, so we’ll leave at maybe near four o’clock?”

You take a moment to process your best friend’s train of thought, then nod in agreement, “That works.”

“Awesome,” Y/BF/N claps, “Let’s get started on dinner?”

That night, you sort of struggle to fall asleep. You won’t admit it to your best friend, but you’re a tad excited. You’ve never been to a convention of any sort, let alone an Elvis one. And you love Elvis, so it will hopefully be a pretty cool experience.

You’re standing off the side of the line at a food truck, waiting for Y/BF/N to finish ordering. You can’t help but hum to A Little Less Conversation, the last song on the Elvis CD you and your best friend played in the car before getting out. Admittedly, you’re distracted and not really paying attention as you study an interesting painting of Elvis at a merch booth nearby. Before you know it, someone runs into you accidentally.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention like I should’ve been,” the man who bumped into you says.

He has jet-black hair and blue eyes, just like Elvis. From how he’s dressed, you’d say he’s an impersonator. He’s not in costume but rather in a lace shirt and colorful pants. It’s something Elvis would’ve worn, for sure.

“You’re fine! I also wasn’t paying much attention,” you chuckle, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” the man smiles, subtly taking you in from head to toe.

“Sure,” you smile politely with a nod, and the man turns around and walks away.

“Who was that?” Y/BF/N asks as they approach you, food in hand.

“I’m not sure. Maybe an impersonator?”

“I didn’t see his face, so I’m unsure. I guess we’ll find out,” your best friend shrugs, grabbing a fry and offering it to you.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say.

“Where to next?”

The afternoon turns into evening, and you’re now sitting in your seat next to Y/BF/N with an alcoholic beverage in your hand. You’re front row, much to your shock. There’s a plastic bag with some new t-shirts and various merchandise items you bought stuffed under the seat. You’re anxious for the show to start and excited to see the different performers come on stage. Yeah, impersonators aren’t your forte like your best friend, but their costumes and song choices are always interesting to you.

The lights dim, and everyone begins to cheer as the first performer enters the stage dressed as 50s Elvis Presley. He’s pretty young, probably a teenager. He starts with Hound Dog, plays a few other older Elvis songs with his guitar, and waves goodbye to the crowd with a gracious smile. A few people toss roses and teddy bears onto the stage. You’re impressed with his performance and give Y/BF/N a look of approval as you sip your drink.

“That was Alex. He’s like, fifteen I think? He’s been impersonating since he was a kid,” your best friend says, “He’s getting so good that everyone wants him to perform at their parties and weddings.”

“Impressive,” you nod, “Fifteen, you say? That’s wild.”

An older man takes the stage, dressed in a Blue Hawaii outfit. He strums his ukelele as the band starts up behind him. He energetically sings some of the songs from Blue Hawaii, and you’re dancing along with the crowd. You’re having so much fun and are excited to see your favorite era soon. 70s Elvis. There’s something about the hair and the tight jumpsuit that gets to you. You swirl ice around in your drink, getting slightly distracted at the thought of Vegas Era Elvis.

“That was Steve,” Y/BF/N yells over the commotion of clapping, “Mom dated him for a little while, actually.”

You chuckle, “Of course she did. He was pretty good!”

A very tall man in the ‘68 Comeback leather suit makes his way to center stage as he sings the songs from the Special. His performance of Memories was spot-on, and you couldn’t help but sing along. After he finishes his last song and leaves, someone comes on stage and announces a “special guest” named Austin Butler, and the crowd erupts. You look around, confused.

“Who’s that?” you furrow your eyebrows, elbowing your best friend in their side to get their attention.

“Oh my god, no way! They didn’t have him on the roster! Austin Butler is, like, the best impersonator in the world, no exaggeration.”

“Really?” you shout over the crowd, “Is he cute?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Y/BF/N says, “He’s around thirty like us.”

Before you can respond, the lights dim, and the intro music begins. You can vaguely see Austin enter the stage in the dark, shaking himself out before the lights come on. He’s in the iconic white jumpsuit, and it hugs him everywhere it needs to. You squint at his face, realizing he’s the guy that bumped into you earlier.

“That’s the guy who I was talking to earlier,” you shout in Y/BF/N’s ear.

“No way, are you serious?” they gasp.

You nod.

“Did you get his number?” they yell.

You shake your head, and your best friend frowns momentarily before going back to cheering.

The notes of C. C. Rider begin to blend into the music as Austin bounces his leg, his eyes scanning through the crowd. He begins to sing, and god, he sounds just like Elvis. He looks fairly similar to him, too, with the sideburns added to his look since earlier. Girls begin flooding the barrier to the stage, reaching their hands out to the impersonator. Y/BF/N grabs your wrist, dragging you toward them.

“Are you crazy?” you ask, trying not to panic at the thought of being right up front.

Yeah, you’re already at the very front, but not so close that the stage is right there at you.

“Of course! Come on!”

You reluctantly let them drag you up front and center as you down the rest of your drink. The two of you fight to the makeshift barricade, your best friend gleaming at Austin. You can't help but laugh at them and their excitement, but you quickly turn your head back to the stage as Austin stands right before you. He starts to sing Polk Salad Annie, and the women around you go nuts. You do, too, admittedly. You begin dancing to the music and screaming the lyrics like a crazed fan. Chills cover your body at the energy Austin is putting off in his voice. You decide you absolutely must see him do a complete set.

Austin pauses his singing for a moment, talking to the crowd.

“How are y'all doin’ tonight?”

Everyone cheers and whistles, clapping as well.

“Good, good. I see a lot of pretty women out there tonight,” Austin winks, and the girls around you squeal.

“This next one is called Wonder of You.”

Austin walks along the stage, singing his heart out as he wipes his sweat with the various scarves around his neck. It’s kind of gross, but you also find it somewhat attractive. A part of you hopes he hands some of the scarves out. And then he does. Austin leans down and kisses an older woman on the cheek, wrapping a baby pink scarf around her neck. She’s so delighted even after he pulls away.

Y/BF/N nudges you, “You should try and get one!”

You shake your head, “I am not doing that.” You definitely want to, though. But knowing many people would be staring at you makes you nervous.

Austin makes his way to the center stage where you and your best friend are, and he gets down on one knee, singing right to you. You’re looking directly up at him, eyes full of wonder as you stare into his bright baby blues. Austin leans forward, placing a pastel scarf that matches your dress around your shoulders, pulling you toward him for a quick kiss right on the lips. You blush as the alcohol starts kicking in full force, wiping your nose that got a bit of his sweat on it. You fight the giant smile that fights its way to your face as Austin gets up to finish the song.

“Oh my god,” Y/BF/N screeches, “He kissed you!”

“I know,” you say, brushing your fingertips along your lips.

Was it so wrong that you wouldn’t have minded if the kiss was a little longer?

taglist:

@anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @austinbutler17 @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @amiets2 @mrs-butler @ari-nicole @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhore @mavericksicybabe @bobthefishiesworld @myguiltypleasures21 @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @cryingabtab @kaitaesupremacy @ash-omalley @tom-whore-dleston @every-dayiwakeup @butlerslut @rosepresley @fangirl125reader @dre6ming @edgeofrealitys-blog @cobra-kaii @butlerettes

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