pintrestgrl

[pintrestgrl]

this is a public service announcement:

this is the most important thing i will say on my account, if you take anything about characterization away from my blog, let it be this; dallas winston would not be a cop. he wouldn’t want to, not in a million years. even if he did my brother’s criminal record is so fucking bad he can’t even get a job at the local 7/11 let alone working as a COP.

thank you.

[pintrestgrl]

why do you always find a way to bring down ‘white’ girls 💔. it’s sooo weird, every 7 or so posts it’s “character would NEVER date a white girl..” , “celeb looks like every other white girl” and blatantly making ur readers only for WOC. its understandable to wanna be represented in ur own work and on ur account but why do u feel the constant need to bring other girls down ???

woc have been brought down foreverrrrrr , first of all. but me saying a character canonically wouldnt date a white girl in my opinion isnt wrong

also, there is an abundance of authors who dont blatantly state it, but it is very obvious their readers r catered toward white woman. me not representing white woman on my account specifically, when they are so represented everywhere else, isnt bringing other woman down. its simply me not adding to the already overwhelming amount of white media.

also dawn, one of my first oc’s, is literally white ??

[pintrestgrl]

this might sound like a weird question but how old ru ?? :)

i turned 19 a little less then a month ago c:

[pintrestgrl]

linecook!barry gettin a buzz before the baby comes— offically in dad mode

wow im cumming

[pintrestgrl]

send me reqs for linecook barry n waitress reader i beggg i cant get them out of my head

[pintrestgrl]

Heyy! It's theonottbabygirl again! I want know If you make one shot with kpop idols? Cuz i would one with sunghoon form enhypen with a comfy night in the NYC apartment with charcuterie boards, you know? sorry if you don't, it's just that I love your fics! *Sorry If u can't understand, cuz My english isn't My First language*

hiii love , unfortunately i know like nothinggg ab kpop and dont write for them :c so so sorry

[pintrestgrl]

waitress!reader tells linecook!barry that shes pregnant

you catch him between smoke breaks— back in the break room, shirt clinging to his chest, sweat at his temples from the lunch rush. he’s got that pissed-off look already, like someone breathing wrong might set him off.

you don’t say anything at first. just stand in front of the table where he’s leaning, arms crossed, jaw tense, tapping one boot heel against the tile. he glances up, then down. “the hell’s this face for?”

“i need to tell you something.” he stubs out the cigarette in a cracked little ashtray someone probably stole from the waffle house down the road, then leans back with a sigh.

“if it’s about the fryer again, don’t. not right now. swear to god i’ll walk.” you open your mouth, then close it. you didn’t plan this part. didn’t plan any of it, really. he squints. “you good?”

your throat tightens. “i’m pregnant.” he freezes. no smartass comment. no sarcastic exhale. just still. his brows furrow like he didn’t hear you right. “…what?”

“it’s yours.” silence. his face doesn’t move at first. his mouth twitches like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. he shifts his weight, standing a little straighter, arms falling from his chest. “you’re serious?” you nod. your fingers are cold now, and your knees feel hollow.

he rubs a hand over his face, looks away, mutters under his breath, “fuck.” and you know him well enough to know what’s coming. the shutdown. the blame. the version of him that makes everything harder just so it doesn’t have the chance to hurt.

“i’m not askin’ you for anything,” you say quickly. “i’m just—i didn’t wanna keep it from you.” he doesn’t respond. not right away. but his face is different. not angry. just— scared. unreadable. like his brain’s moving ten miles a minute behind his eyes. finally, he mutters, “how far?”

“seven weeks, maybe eight.” his eyes flick up. “you okay?” the question catches you off guard. your lip parts. “i think so.” he stares at the wall for a moment. then he nods, slow. you think maybe he’s gonna walk out, like he usually does when shit gets too real. but he doesn’t. instead, he says, “you tell anyone else?”

“no.” he nods again, just as slow. “you plan to?” you shrug. “eventually.” he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, jaw ticking. his voice is quieter when he speaks again. rough. “you thinkin’ about keepin’ it?” you nod.

he nods back, like he’s still trying to catch up. you’re not sure what to say next. you’re bracing for him to get cold. cruel. start saying things that’ll hurt on purpose, like he always does when he’s cornered. like this isn’t already hard enough.

but then his eyes flick back to you— and this time, they stay there. dark and unreadable, but not empty. not mean. “you should’ve told me sooner,” he says. “i was scared.” he swallows. “of me?” you don’t answer. his face twists. a second of regret flashes across it. maybe guilt. “shit.”

he rakes a hand through his hair. exhales hard. “fuck.” you watch him— barry, the same guy who always has a short fuse and no filter, who rolls his eyes when you talk too much and calls you a pain in the ass more than your own name— and for once, he looks like he might actually be thinking before speaking.

you clear your throat. “you don’t have to be involved. seriously. i know this wasn’t part of anything. we weren’t even—”

“don’t.” his voice cuts sharp, but not angry. just final. you blink. he looks up at you again. this time there’s something real behind it. tired, but real. “don’t talk like i don’t fuckin’ care.” your breath catches. he shakes his head. “i don’t know what the hell this is. you ‘n me. i didn’t think it was— more than what it was.”

“i know. me neither,” you say. “not really.”

“but you’re— he shrugs. “you’re not just some girl i screw in the walk-in. you’re not. i swear.” it’s quiet. so quiet. you step a little closer, heart beating loud. “then what am i?” he looks at you. just looks. and for once, the sarcasm’s gone. the mask. all of it.

“you’re the only person i care about,” he says. your chest aches. he blinks hard, clears his throat. “if this kid’s mine, if it’s really happening— then i’ll be there.” your eyes burn. “you don’t have to say that.”

“i’m not sayin’ it for you,” he mutters. “i’m sayin’ it ‘cause i will be.” you stare at him. at this man who’s never said anything real without barbed wire wrapped around it. and for once, he’s not running. he glances at the clock on the wall. “i gotta get back on the line. they’re probably burnin’ the place down without me.”

“yeah.” you turn to go, but before you reach the door, he says your name. not harsh. not teasing. just soft. you pause. he’s watching you. fidgeting with a cigarette he doesn’t light. “you eaten today?”

you shake your head. he gestures with his chin. “go sit at booth three. i’ll make you somethin’. something real.” your throat clenches. you nod once, quickly. “okay.”

you walk out, heart pounding. and even though nothing’s solved— not really— you feel a little less alone than you did ten minutes ago. and in the kitchen, barry ties his apron tighter and starts the grill with shaky hands. he doesn’t say anything, but in his chest, something’s shifted.

he might not know how to love. but he knows he wants to keep you safe.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s a start.

a/n : should i write an intro for this au even tho i already have wrote two drabbles for it 🥹

tags : : @enchantedstarfish @cameronsbabydoll @battybaby111 @iwishiknew-69 @alinavalentine @kittyreposts @littlelamy @heavenlyangelbaby @faitthhhhh @pointocean

[pintrestgrl]

donald trump will die on july 20th 2025 at 1pm pacific standard time

[pintrestgrl]

get to know the blogger

anonymously (or not) ask me any question you’d like to know about me

[pintrestgrl]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[pintrestgrl]

u will send johnny angst reqs i repeat u will send johnny angst reqs

[pintrestgrl]

fanfic writing culture isn’t “oh dang! I wanted to write about this prompt with this character but someone else already wrote it, so now I can’t”.

fanfic writing culture is always “two cakes is better than one. the more the merrier. there can ever be enough fics of this character with this prompt!”

[pintrestgrl]

HII!!! I love ur writing and saw you were asking for recs so I’m at your service!

BASICALLY Johnny and reader (y/n?) are like best friends, but reader is always trying to get his attention in a romantic way. All her attempts at flirting go over his head and it ends up eating her alive, leaving her all sad n depressed. Then at a party, she dresses up extra pretty in the hopes Johnny notices, only for her to see him talking to some other girl. She ends up yelling at him a little, before she leaves, tearing up, and Dallas sees. He goes to Johnny, talks some sense into him, and then they have a cute little faint confession.

hehehe 😈🔥

bsf!johnny n sweetheart!reader

(readers outfit)

it starts in your room— warm yellow light spilling from the vanity bulbs, your favorite elvis album humming low from your record player, and a quiet little buzz in your chest.

your bed’s covered in rejected outfits. dresses that felt too clingy, skirts that didn’t quite sit right, tops that didn’t make you feel pretty enough

but when you pull on the soft pink top— the one that dips just enough at the neckline, hugging close without trying too hard. then pair it with that little white skirt covered in faded rosebuds, everything shifts. the skirt flutters when you walk, all lace and air, brushing the tops of your thighs just right.

you glance at your reflection, tilting your head, nerves twisting low in your stomach. your heels click gently on the floor as you step back to look. pale pink, strappy, with just enough height to make you feel elegant.

your perfume is something floral and light, the kind of scent that lingers softly in the air when you pass by. your lips are glossed, your lashes curled, and your hair falls just the way you hoped it would. he’s gonna notice tonight. he has to.

that thought has been stuck in your head all day. it’s not like this is new— you’ve been trying to get johnny’s attention for months. flirting with him in the quietest ways. brushing your fingers against his when you passed him things, laughing at every dumb joke, wearing his favorite color. and every single time, it just floated right over his head. like he didn’t even know you were trying.

but tonight, you’re done with subtle. you’re done playing it safe. if dressing up and showing up with your heart practically beating out of your chest is what it takes, then so be it.

the party’s already full when you get there. dim lights, music shaking the walls, the smell of perfume and smoke and cheap liquor clinging to the air. people are dancing, drinking, shouting over the music. you step in slow, smoothing your skirt with your palms, scanning the crowd for him. your heart is beating so hard you’re sure someone can hear it.

and then you see him.

he’s across the room, leaned against the wall, sleeves pushed up and his hair a little messy. god, hes so pretty. for a second— just a second, you swear he looks your way. your breath catches.

but he’s not looking at you. he’s looking at her.

some soc girl is standing beside him, leaning too close, laughing too loud. she touches his arm and he doesn’t pull away. he grins at something she says. you freeze where you are, your fingers tightening around your bag strap, lips parting in disbelief.

you don’t even think. your heels carry you toward him before your brain can catch up. the noise of the party fades into static. your voice comes out sharper than you intended.

the girl must’ve walked away at some point, but you didn’t notice. you were focused on chewing him out.“you didn’t even notice me.” he turns, surprised. “what?”

“i got dressed up,” you say, heart lodged somewhere between your ribs. “i tried. i always try, johnny. and you don’t see it. you never see me.” he blinks like he’s processing, but it just makes the ache worse. “you look—” he starts. “don’t,” you whisper, stepping back. “just don’t anymore.”

you spin around and walk away, fast, pushing past shoulders and drinks and laughter that suddenly feels a hundred miles away. the cool night air outside hits you like a slap. you stumble a bit on the curb, slipping your heels off and sinking down, wrapping your arms around your knees. the lace of your skirt presses into your thighs, and your eyes burn.

you don’t cry pretty. not the way girls do in the movies. your mascara’s probably smudging, and your lip gloss feels tacky now, but you don’t care. you just want the earth to swallow you whole.

you don’t realize anyone’s near until a voice drawls out, smooth and smoky. “what happened to you, kid?” you glance up, and dallas winston’s there, leaning against some rusted old car with a cigarette in his fingers. “johnny happened.” you mutter. he doesn’t say anything more, just watches you for a second before pushing off the car and disappearing into the house.

he finds johnny still standing by the wall, eyes vacant. “you’re a damn idiot, you know that?” dallas says. johnny frowns. “what?”

“she looked like a damn doll when she walked in. sweet little skirt, heels and everything. for you. and you don’t even say nothin’? you’re over here chattin’ up some whore who won’t remember your name tomorrow.” johnny’s face goes still, like it finally hit him. hopefully straight in the face.

“go fix it before she decides she’s done waitin’ around.” and johnny doesn’t even hesitate. he finds you exactly where dallas said— sitting on the curb, shoes tossed beside you, hair falling around your face in soft little waves. you don’t look up, but you hear him. you feel him.

he sits beside you, not too close. “you look really pretty tonight,” he says. you feel small, embarrassed. “little too late for that, jay. “i know,” he murmurs. “i didn’t get it. not until dallas said it out loud. but he was right. you’ve been trying. i was just too damn slow to see it.”

you glance at him, and the look on his face isn’t the soft, clueless johnny you’ve been used to. it’s serious. sincere. “i care about you,” he says, voice low. “like— more than a friend. i think i always have. i just didn’t realize it until i thought maybe i lost you.”

your chest stutters, hope cracking through the haze of hurt. “you mean it?” he nods. “yeah. i mean it.” your hand finds his without thinking. he squeezes gently, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“you still gotta make it up to me,” you whisper, teasing— but your voice wobbles. he smiles, eyes soft. “i will. starting now.”

you don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his until he gives them the gentlest tug and says, “lemme walk you home.” you just nod. your voice feels too fragile to trust.

so you walk— quiet at first, your heels dangling from your hand. his hand stays in yours the whole way, like he’s scared you’ll slip away if he lets go.

the night feels different now. softer somehow. the streets are mostly empty, quiet except for the buzz of far-off traffic and the chirp of crickets. the kind of quiet that lets your thoughts speak louder than they should. you steal glances at him under the yellow streetlights, wondering how long you’ve been waiting for this version of him— the one who looks at you like he finally sees you.

“i kept thinkin’ you were just bein’ sweet,” he says eventually. “i didn’t think someone like you could..” he trails off, shaking his head a little, like the words are too big in his mouth “someone like me?” you ask, brows raised gently.

he glances at you, a sheepish look tugging at the corner of his lips. “you know. you’re soft. good. you bake cookies for people who don’t even ask. you tell me songs you think i’d like. you always look at me like i matter.” you swallow around the lump in your throat. “you do matter.”

“i didn’t think i was someone who got picked,” he says, voice quiet. “i guess i didn’t realize you already had.” your chest aches at that— at how long you’ve wanted to hear something just like this. at how badly it hurt thinking he’d never notice. and now here he is, heart open, finally catching up.

you reach your porch too soon. you almost don’t want to go in. he shifts awkwardly, thumb brushing over your hand again. “can i see you tomorrow?”

“you better,” you murmur, trying to keep it light. “you’ve got a lot of making up to do.” he smiles, just barely, and steps closer. “then i’ll start now.”

and then he kisses you, right there on your front step. not rushed, not hidden behind a party or a crowd or some half-buzzed moment. just him and you, under the porch light, like it means something.

because it does.

and when he pulls back, he lingers close, forehead brushing yours. “goodnight,” he whispers. you nod, heart beating way too loud in your chest. “goodnight, johnny.”

he waits until your door closes to leave. you peek through the curtain and watch him walk down the street— his hands in his pockets, head tilted down, like he’s carrying something precious.

and he is. finally.

a/n : listen to ‘can’t help falling in love by elvis presley’ for the full experience <3

tags : @cadescig @cades-outsider @enchantedstarfish @heavenlyangelbaby @cameronsbabydoll @johnnycadesthoughts @johnnycadesslut @1tsjustj @harajukub4rb1e @browneyebby @avroravia @r0seb100d please let me know if u want to b added to the outsiders taglist !!

[pintrestgrl]

Ugh, obx fandom is like this person copied my idea, this person copied my concept, that person’s writing is too dark and sexist, this person’s writing is too immature, that person’s Rafe character breathes like the way my Rafe breathes, can you please stfu no one gives afck LMAOOO stop gatekeeping concepts and writing

[pintrestgrl]

hi, i have a question. as a hispanic woman, i was wondering if it isnt my place to write a specifically black reader. i have had her in the works for a while but dont wanna step out of line if it would make others feel iffy about it. i understand the abundance of writers who write their readers to be specifically white, and how frustrating it can be to poc readers. i want to help all ff readers find a reader they resonate and connect with, n feel this could perhaps help.

again, i completely understand and take no offense if this isnt my place to write.

she would b paired w pope (obx) and obviously would never be written in a discriminatory manner in any way, shape or form.

if you are not black, please do not share your piece on this as it isnt your place to say whether it is okay or not.

just looking for guidance, totally okay if it isnt my place.

(mistagging a bit just to get this out there, so sorry.)

[pintrestgrl]

https://x.com/lusstxxx/status/1919989815216386193?s=46&t=Sf04z-eaR2eIfJCSv4IWtg

bigbrorafe antics

link !!

also this nonnie said she mistyped n it was giving her dawnjj n not bigbrorafe !!

but i agreeee !! this is very dawnjj coded but also could b like dad!barry … i see a vision

[pintrestgrl]

Sweetheart!reader + mean!rafe having sex.. but rafe is so caring with her.. not wanting to hurt her or make her uncomfortable. He’s always complimenting her etc..

babe idk how to write this cs if he was mean he wouldnt b all caring w her 😭😭 do u mean likee he has a soft spot for her n her only ?

im sorrryy