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ckret2 · 5 months

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On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

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Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble.

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow.

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you."

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub."

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly.

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

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(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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silverynight · 13 days

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Support class

Izuku is quite happy in support class; when he was a child and found out he was quirkless he thought he wasn't going to be able to enter UA. Now he's in support class and if he's being honest, he absolutely loves it; he's really excited whenever someone comes to him or sends their suits to the lab for Izuku to repair them or improve them.

Although he always manages to convince them to improve them.

Hatsume is one of his friends and she and Izuku are constantly trying to come up with different kinds of gear for the students in the hero courses.

It's true, they have made a couple of things explode and some of their classmates get slightly nervous when they're around, but they have managed to learn a lot from their own mistakes.

Usually, the students from class A and B send their suits, except for Iida, Yaoyorozu and Monoma (although he's certainly a pain in the ass) and the first two are always very nice to Izuku.

Since their work means their clothes are constantly getting ruined or tainted with grease, the professors are more willing to let them wear different kind of clothes.

Izuku prefers to wear thank tops and tight pants for mobility, although his classmates are constantly saying it's distracting; he doesn't know what they mean by that.

The only problem is that his childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki, goes to that school too (he's in a hero course) and they didn't part on good terms. Katsuki started to be mean to Izuku in front of his other friends, but at the same time got upset when Izuku decided not to speak to him anymore.

However, Bakugo doesn't visit the lab often and when he does, Izuku is conveniently elsewhere. Besides, they say he usually goes there to complain about his suit.

Izuku doesn't touch his suit, although if he's being honest, he'd love to because he has a lot of ideas for it.

One day, Hatsume is not there, and Izuku's classmates forget to tell him about the explosive boy. He stomps his way inside the lab, followed by a very embarrassed Iida.

"Oi, you nerd!"

"His name is Midoriya!" Iida starts moving his arm up and down, scolding his classmate.

"Hah? Midoriya?"

There's no point in hoping he doesn't recognize his last name, because Izuku is tired of hiding. He turns around and pushes his safety goggles up.

"How can I help you?"

The moment their eyes meet the scowl disappears from Bakugo's face; he can't hide the surprise on his face.

"Deku?"

"It's been a while, Kacchan... sorry!" Izuku stammers, blushing to the tip of his ears for his own mistake. "I mean... Bakugo!"

"No!" The blond says immediately, startling Izuku. "I'm sorry... I mean... I don't mind the nickname, you can call me Kacchan if you want."

"Oh," honestly, this Baku–Katsuki is quite different from the child version of him Izuku remembers. He's more kind and Izuku likes it.

"Is it okay... no, that was an awful nickname..." Katsuki turns slightly pink and he starts rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Behind him, Iida is watching everything with his jaw dropped. "Can I call you Izuku?"

For some reason, Izuku thinks it'd be weird to hear Katsuki address him by his last name, so he nods, smiling shyly.

"Izuku is fine."

Katsuki smiles, a soft, very subtle smile that makes Izuku grin from ear to ear in return.

Maybe he can have his childhood friend back after all.

"I wanted to... uhh... talk about my hero suit."

"Great! I have a lot of ideas for it!" Izuku says excitedly, walking back inside. "Follow me! Oh, I'll be with you in a moment, Iida!"

They become friends again; Katsuki goes to the lab almost every single day and although Izuku's classmates don't like it that much, they can't kick him out either.

Then, more students from class A start visiting the lab, too, instead of just sending their suits.

"Midoriya! Who's Midoriya?" A pink girl asks one day, followed by a guy with bright red hair, one with yellow hair and a brown haired girl.

"Mina, stop!" The other girl grabs one of the girl's sleeves to pull her back outside.

"What? Don't tell me you're not curious about the guy who clearly tamed Blasty?"

Turning slightly pink, Izuku walks towards the group that looks back at him in awe.

"I don't think tamed is the right word," he mumbles. "I'm Kacchan's friend."

"Kacchan?" The one with yellow hair chuckles at the word. "Do you always call him by that cute name and he doesn't explode your face?"

"Why would he do that? Kacchan is very kind and gentle."

"WHAT?"

Izuku doesn't understand their shocked reactions, but he's glad they seem to get over it quickly and they introduce themselves.

"Wait here," Uraraka says then, as the others finally begin to ask questions about gear. Izuku is honestly very happy about the change of topic. "I need you to meet someone. I'll be right back!"

Todoroki turns out to be a very shy boy; he introduces himself to Izuku, but after that he doesn't say much.

He just stares at him.

Then, when Izuku is telling everyone he'd be happy to discuss modifications and new designs for their hero suits, Todoroki suddenly blurts out:

"You're cute."

"Oi, all of you, BACK OFF!"

Katsuki storms in the lab, growls at his own classmates and then moves Izuku behind himself. Which is honestly, ridiculous, it's not like they're dangerous or anything; Izuku has no idea what he's so worried about.

"It's okay, Kacchan!" Izuku smiles, putting a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Your friends are really nice! I like them!"

"I like you too, Midoriya."

"SHUT IT, HALF AND HALF!"

Turns out Katsuki can be grumpy and loud like he was when they were kids, although he doesn't actually hurt his classmates; he just has that kind of personality. They're used to it.

Although it seems he's extremely careful and soft with Izuku in particular, according to what Ashido and Uraraka tell him later.

Maybe it's because he still feels guilty about his behavior when they were kids.

Izuku can't find another explanation for it.

***

It seems Katsuki likes to watch him work because he always stays with him at the lab, whenever he has free time. At first it made Izuku really flustered to have Katsuki's staring at him intensely, but he has gotten used to it.

He comes running whenever he finds out there's been an explosion in the lab and always looks for Izuku first.

"Are you alright, Izuku?" He usually pulls the green haired boy into his arms first before making sure he isn't hurt.

"I'm fine, Kacchan! Look!" Izuku pushes a button on his new belt and an invisible shield activates around him. "See?"

Katsuki blinks a couple of times, fascinated. He tries to press his palm against Izuku, but he can't touch his skin.

"Where did you get this?" He asks, still surprised. Although he asks Izuku to deactivate it because Katsuki likes to touch him.

"I made them!" Izuku says happily. "For myself and my classmates!"

Katsuki blushes to the tip of his ears and pulls Izuku into another hug again.

"You're way out of my league, huh?"

"What?"

"It seems you really are a nerd!" Katsuki clears his throat, cheeks still pink. He doesn't repeat those words and Izuku is not sure he actually heard right, so he doesn't ask again. "Let's get lunch together..."

***

When Izuku wins a contest with one of his suit designs, Katsuki is the first one to congratulate him. He buys Izuku flowers and takes him to a cafeteria to celebrate.

They hang out with class A a lot, although Katsuki likes to spend time with Izuku alone.

When they start training together (Izuku uses a special suit he designed for himself) and sees Katsuki shirtless for the first time, Izuku realizes that he doesn't see Katsuki as a friend anymore.

He panics and starts avoiding him as a result; suddenly Izuku needs to focus on his work and needs to be alone, no, he can't hang out with Katsuki because there's no time for it.

However, Katsuki knows him too well and he realizes something's wrong right away; so despite all the negatives, he goes back to the lab and decides to confront Izuku.

Hatsume, because she's actually a traitor, leaves them alone.

At first it looks like Katsuki is pissed and is about to yell at him, but the blond just sighs and turns his head up, looking hurt.

"What did I do?"

"What?"

"Please..." Katsuki almost never uses that word, but he looks desperate and in pain. Izuku hates to see him like that: "Tell me what I did wrong... why don't you want to spend time with me anymore?"

Izuku hurt him. And that's the last thing he wanted.

It's time to stop being a coward.

"You did nothing wrong, Kacchan," Izuku assures him, grabbing his own arm in order to give himself courage. "It's... I realized I had a crush on you and I didn't know how to deal with it. I'm sorry. It's alright if you're uncomfortable, I unders–"

Katsuki kisses him on the lips before he can finish. Then, before Izuku can even say anything, he presses their foreheads together and stares into his eyes.

"Crush?" Katsuki chuckles, amused. "I win, nerd. Because I'm in love with you. I have been for a while now."

Izuku's face will stay permanently red at this point. He blinks, part of him thinking that he's dreaming.

"Would you go on a date with me, Izuku?"

Not trusting his own voice, Izuku nods, before kissing Katsuki back. Hatsume comes back in and clears her throat, reminding Izuku they have a lot of work to do.

It's alright, Izuku can kiss his boyfriend later.

***

Patreon

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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norrisleclercf1 · 2 years

Text

I’m Claiming You

Pairing: Toxic!Charles x Bestfriend!Reader

Rating: R

Warnings: SMUT, toxic, possessive, fuckboi Charles, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), p in v (wear a condom people), you slap Charles, rough sex, improper portals of sex, improper portal of Charles, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, slight breeding kink??, unhealthy relationship, red flag behaviour

Synopsis: you push Charles too far, way too far

It was well known that Charles was gorgeous; you knew that, having grown up with him most of your lives together. Charles held no shame to his looks and body, loving to show them off at the appropriate times. But, it still made you stare at him when you two were together on his yacht, especially since he was tan and looked so damn good smiling and laughing.

You kept it to yourself, but you always had feelings for Charles, feelings you knew you couldn't tell him. He’d never gone for you; you weren't the easy girl who didn't care who she was with, unlike you. You weren't like the girl who always hung around the guys, just wanting to brag about sleeping with an F1 driver. Charles didn't say he wanted to take advantage of the women who made it easy, but you knew whenever you saw a new girl on his arm and was gone after a couple of days.

You kept silent about the girls as you just laid out in the sun enjoying the warmth until you felt a shadow over you; with a slight eye-opening, you saw your friend's teammate, Carlos Sainz. Charles had invited Carlos, Pierre, Max, Lando, and a couple of other friends to join on the yacht and enjoy their break together.

“Can I help you?” A slight smile shows on your face, which has Carlos mirroring the smile.

“Nope, I saw you by yourself and figured I'd come by and see what you were doing.” Carlos sits down next to you, taking note of the way Charles and some of the other drivers are watching.

“Now?” You ask, sitting up. Carlos's eyes can't help but land on your chest and your confidence flaring up and purposely angling, so they look fantastic.

“Yeah, Charles seemed busy, and you were up here alone. Thought I'd keep company.” he pulls his eyes away from your chest to look you in the eye.

Carlos’s eyes were gorgeous, like warm pools of brown sugar and honey mixed into one another. You notice how Carlos moves closer, which has you biting your lip and thinking about tanning without some tan lines.

“Carlos, I was just about to take my top off to tan. You sure you want to stay?” You tease not being severe.

The Spaniard looks up at you and down before breaking out into a giant smile and shaking his head, and leaning over to kiss your cheek, which has their flame.

“Easy, y/n, trying to make me jealous? Or someone else?” He asks, which has you turn your head slightly to see Charles's eyes connect with yours.

No wonder you felt the need to squirm, Charles was full-on glaring at the both of you, but you knew it was simply because Charles hated when the other drivers would talk to you. You didn't think much of it since Charles has always been overprotective of his childhood friend.

“No idea what you're talking about, Carlos.” you try to brush it off but start to shift under Charles’s stare.

“Really? Because the glare im receiving makes me want to die.” He moves closer, and you do too.

Carlos was the first driver to approach you, not afraid to push the limits, you two never got together, but whenever you were lonely and Charles had a girl, you'd go to Carlos. It wasn't right to him; he was a sweet man who was supportive and didn't judge you for your choices. Of course, arguments have broken out over Charles; some time ago, Carlos figured out your feelings for the man.

“Carlos, leave it be; he doesn't care for me, see.” you point out, a blonde girl climbing into his lap and mouths messed together, making you cringe slightly.

“Easy, Amorcito, im just saying you deserve better.” He mumbles, leaning in his nose and bumping yours.

You can't resist and kiss the Spaniard back; his hand trails up your neck, fingers weaving into your sunkissed hair. Melting into him, you pull away and peck his lips before laying your head on his chest.

“I wish-” but he cuts you off by leaning up and kissing you again.

“Don't Y/n, I know already.” He lays back down as you both talk, hands drifting once in a while to your top, making you giggle.

Your laughter floats down to the deck, which has the guys looking up once in a while, one of those moments was when Carlos leans down to kiss you again, which has the guys slightly look at Charles.

They could tell he was slowly reaching his breaking point, the girl on his lap long forgotten about as his jaw ticks tighter and tighter with each giggle and touch. The girl whines, trying to get his attention, but he keeps his eyes on them the entire time.

“Carlos and Y/n are cute together,” Lando mentions having not seen Charles's reaction to what was happening on the sundeck.

“What?” Charles snaps, making Lando look up, utterly clueless about the issue.

“Yeah, they're cute together. I was wondering when they’d be open about their relationship, considering they been sneaking around with each other for a while.” Lando shrugs and cusses, having lost at ping pong against Max, who laughs and serves again for a new game.

Not caring, Charles shoots up the girl, falling into a pile of yelps.

“What the fuck, Charles!” she snaps but doesn't get a response watching the driver bolt upstairs, not even caring anymore, seeing red at the thought of his girl with someone else.

Charles moves up to the sundeck and stops seeing how your top was slowly being untied by Carlos and losses it. Grabbing a towel, he throws it on top of you and yanks you up.

“Fucking hell, y/n, stop being a damn whore.” He snarls, not even giving Carlos time to react before you tumble down below into a private room.

“Let me go, Charles, right fucking now!” you say, slapping him across the face, the both of you frozen. You had let go of the towel, your bikini top now on the ground, but you didn't care at the moment.

“How dare you touch me like that? Im not your fucking property. Don't you ever touch me again.” you move to get past him, but Charles pushes you back onto the bed, fury burning in his eyes.

“You think it's cute to fuck around with my friend? Teammate? Touching, kissing, he was ready to take your top off and almost fuck you in front of us; you're lucky I was there to stop it.” Charles spits and pins your arms down, trying to escape his grasp, but his weight prevents you from ever getting out from under him.

“So what? You fuck anything with a pussy, but caring who or what is around. Honestly, Charles, you are nothing but some fuckboi who doesn't care who he hurts; it's pathetic. Maybe I wanted to fuck Carlos! At least he pays attention to me!” you scream and start to squirm your arms, trying to break his hold.

“You’ll never fuck anyone else; you're fucking mine. Mine.” He growls and pins you down again before kissing you.

You freeze, eyes growing round, feeling Charles's lips on yours. Your brain kicks up, and you moan, relaxing in his hold, feeling his bare chest against your chest. He pulls away, his pupils now wide and chest heaving up and down quickly.

“Char-” but your mouth becomes covered again as his tongue moves slowly in your mouth. You always heard the rumors of his skills, but fuck, was it intoxicating to taste him.

Charles moves, pressing his body more into you, your squirming having made him hard; he pulls back slightly and nips your lips before going to your neck. Biting into your skin, a hiss parts your lips arching up into his body, grinding more into him.

“Gonna mark your skim, let Carlos and the others know damn well who you belong to.” He whispers in your ear before biting your ear lobe and sitting up, staring down at you.

You were a mess, hair messy, skin flushed, and lips bruised and red from the kisses. Charles scans your body before settling on your tits and smirks, his forefinger and thumb pinching one of your nipples, making you arch up, choking on a moan.

He loved hearing those sounds; he's cummed to your sounds before. There was a night he came over without telling you and caught you in the shower, the shower head pressed tight against your pussy. You were whimpering his name, almost like you were picturing his face between your legs, and you were.

He left soon after watching you cum; skin flushed from the high heat of the water; now he'd be able to bring that go a reality.

“Charles,” you whine, trying to rub your pussy against his obvious boner.

“Shhhh, baby, im getting there; we aren't going to rush this.” he groans, arching down, watching your bottom form a little wet spot as he rubs himself between your slight folds.

“Please...please, it hurts,” you whine, not caring if you sounded pathetic; you needed this, you craved this, fuck, it was your drug.

“Beg some more.” he groans, his fingers skimming both sides of your hip, goosebumps raise, his fingers cold. He chuckles, seeing your tits perk up even more, and watches as he pulls your bottoms off.

He groans lowly, seeing his wet and tan you were, fuck your skin glowed compared to the small patch of skin that wasn't kissed by the sun, but it was about to be kissed by him.

“Charles, please, fuck, I need you. Please, you my drug, and I want my high. Please, fuck me into a mess, make me yours.” You whimper, and Charles smirks and dives down, hooking your kegs over his shoulders.

You could've cummed right then with the sight of his face buried between your pussy. His eyes are burning into you, his golden skin making him look like a Greek god. Charles's tongue wastes no time splitting you open, his lips sucking in your clit, not caring if he was messy; he needed you, wanted to taste you.

“Charles!” you gasp, arching up into his mouth, bucking as if you've never had an orgasm before. His large hands push your hips down and pull away, kissing your thigh.

“Don't rush me; I've wanted to eat you for years, don't take this away from me.” He kisses your clit, before going back to work.

He feels a burn-in sensation on his scalp and smirks, your fingers pulling his hair as you grind harder against his tongue.

“M close.” you whimper, head spinning and body unable to handle the pleasure he was giving you.

“Cum for me.” He whispers and sucks your clit before scrapping his teeth against the sensitive bud, bringing you over the edge. You shake, hips still rubbing against his lips coming down from the high. Charles pulls away and discards his swim trunks, his hands massaging your legs.

“Y/n, I don't have a condom.” He cusses in French, which has you huffing and weighing your options.

“I'm clean,” you whisper, which has Charles's eyes snap to yours, that lust and hunger burning brighter now.

“What?” voice caught in his throat, not believing what he was about to do. He always dreamed of fuckin you, how you’d be warm and coil around him, sucking the very life out of him.

“I'm clean; if you're clean, then I don't care, Jesus; just fuck me as you own me, Charles,” you whisper, sitting up, legs wrapping around his waist. You feel him twitch between your legs and smile, loving the way you affect him.

“I do own you ma salope.” You shiver at his word choice.

Charles smirks and pulls you closer before slowly positioning himself to enter you. You swallow thickly and feel yourself freezing up, making you stiff in his arms. Charles stops and looks up seeing the fear in your eyes and pulls away hands soothing your hair.

“Dont leave.” you humble catching him off guard, he catches himself and looks you dead in the eye.

“I won't leave, once I enter you, you're mine, body, soul, heart, pussy.” he whisper the last part kissing your neck. “You’ve always been mine, trust me, when I fuck you, you’ll never get rid of me.” he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he slides into you, with one single stroke.

Charles wasn't necessarily significant, but he was of average size, but his girth was no joke; you felt that burn of the stretch, breathless from the slight pain.

He gives you a moment before he feels the way you melt and starts with a quick stroke, he moves standing up and moves and enters you quickly again. He can't help but stumble backwards holding you against him.

“I'm gonna fuck you against the wall ma salope, like the dirty girl you are.” he groans and flips you around the leverage having him start slamming into you.

“Fuck! Yes!” With your legs around his waist, he can angle himself perfectly into you. His thrusts are harsh and quick, but he moves, to drop you before shoving you down on the bed. Your back is arched as he stares at your swollen pussy wet from his mouth, your orgasm. He moves and slams back into, you and reaches around pulling you up by the neck hand squeezing it making yin see stars with the way his hand engulfs your throat practically claiming you.

This time his thrusts are deep but slow drawing it out of, you, the whines, whimpers, the begging of wanting to cum. He tried too hard to draw this out, but you held onto him tight; he loved how you felt, never wanting to leave.

“Cum in me, please, Charles. Claim me, im yours, only yours.” you cry, unable to hold off the orgasm much longer, which has Charles groan, picking up his pace yet again, slowly losing control.

He falls, his body wrapping around yours as he fucks into you like a starved animal; he freezes, feeling your pussy clamp down on him as you cry out, muscles spasming from the intense orgasm. When you let him go slightly, he fucks fast and feels his release, his powers locking up as he spills into you, loving the way you shake from the way he cums in you.

You are his, no matter where and who you were with; at the end of the day, he was the only one to claim you.

“Charles.” you groan, feeling sticky and exhausted.

“I'm not leaving.” He whispers, refusing to pull out, wanting to keep you here. He moves you slightly and lays down next to you.

“You're still inside me.” You mumble, shifting around.

“Damn right I am because at the end of the day, im the only one who'll fuck you like the whore you are, remember that.” He whispers, kissing you deeply.

This was going to end poorly, you knew this, but right now, you didn't care for the signs of how dangerous this was going to be when it all ended, one of you weren't going to survive this, you just weren't sure which one it would be.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 2022 #charles leclerc #f1 scenario #formula one #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x reader #ferrari charles #f1 charles leclerc #charles x y/n #charles x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles imagine #charles lecrelc

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jjasen · 1 year

Text

truth or dare, princess?

summary: playing truth or dare with JJ leads to something more than just a game, kook!reader

warnings: alcohol, sexually explicit, 18+, minors do not interact!

a/n: usage of the nickname “Sare” is used for Sarah, fyi ❀

word count: 2.2k

You sighed, shouldering your tote bag filled with bags of Sarah’s favorite brand of popcorn and cans of sparkling water as you made your way towards the Chateau, your sandals dragging against the sparse grass of John B’s lawn. “Please tell me why I’m here again, Sare,” you groaned, leaning your head back, stray strands of hair escaping from your claw clip.

“Because you love me,” she said matter-of-factly, walking backwards to face you, a grin tugging on her lips.

“And why, exactly, does that mean I have to meet John B and his friends? I already know who they are,” you said, wrinkling your nose and swiftly re-twisting your hair into your clip. “Especially JJ. I cannot believe you roped me into spending time with him.”

“Babes, is there something wrong with me wanting my best friend to establish a friendship with the other people I hang out with?” Sarah sighed at you. “I just- you know feel trapped around the other people at the Eight.”

“I know, I know,” you said, reaching the porch, “but you so owe me if JJ hits on me again.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll tell him to keep it in his pants,” Sarah rolled her eyes at you, lightly rapping on the door, which swung open a few moments later. John B stepped out, squinting and running his hand through his sun-streaked russet hair. “Hey,” he smiled widely, slotting Sarah into his side and kissing the top of her head, “you must be the infamous best friend.”

He extended his hand and shook yours firmly, and you appreciated his genuine grin. “And you must be the infamous boyfriend,” you said smoothly, smiling lightly and removing your sunglasses.

“That I am,” he said, and gestured inside. “Shall we?” You followed him into the Chateau, glancing around and noting its scruffy interior, couch cushions worn and surfaces littered with half-full beer bottles. However, both John B and Sarah seemed at ease in the casual, ramshackle atmosphere.

“Is everyone here yet?” Sarah asked, setting down her bag on what you presumed was a kitchen table under a layer of crumpled napkins and empty soda cans.

“Nah, it’s just JJ right now, Pope and Kie are finishing up a grocery run for Heyward,” said John B from the kitchen, turning on the faucet for a glass of water.

“JJ!” Sarah called. “Come and meet my best friend! And make sure you’re wearing a shirt!” You grimaced.

The blond pogue strode towards you from the hallway, adjusting his faded red baseball cap, thankfully wearing a thin muscle tee. He nodded at you and gave you a slow once-over, whistling lightly at the short hem of your sundress. “Hey there, princess,” he greeted, winking at you, then turned to John B. “Yo, where’s Pope? I need him to help me with my bike.” He sank down onto the sagging couch and grabbed a beer bottle off of the table.

John B checked his phone. “Pope actually just texted me asking to pick him and Kie up,” he said, glancing at you and Sarah. Swiping his keys off of the table, he tossed them up in the air and caught them, then looked back at Sarah. “Coming?” he grinned.

Sarah turned back at you, silently asking if it was okay for her to go. You gave her a wide eyed look that said don’t you dare leave me here with him and crossed your arms, not thrilled at the prospect of being alone in the Chateau with the shameless flirt that was JJ Maybank. She pouted her lips slightly at you and gave you puppy-dog eyes, and you sighed, waving your hand at her.

“Yep!” Sarah chirped, throwing her arms around John B as they walked out of the Chateau towards his beat-up brown van, which you were sure was absolutely not safe to be driven. Sighing, you plopped down on John B’s couch and unlocked your phone to text Sarah.

you: sare i swear to god if you left me alone with him here so you could go and make out with john b

sarah: ...so what if i did

you: come back i need you plsss

sarah: you’ll be fine you’re a big girl now babes

You scoffed and set your phone down, shaking your head slightly. JJ turned towards you. “So...guess it’s just the two of us now, princess,” he said, drumming his fingers on the worn couch cushion.

“I suppose it is.”

He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Wanna play a game?”

“Not really,” you replied, wishing that you had brought a book or something, anything, to distract you from the person sitting next to you and his casually crooked grin.

“Truth or dare, princess?” He turned his head to focus his languid blue gaze on you.

You sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Fine. Truth, I guess,” you said, pursing your lips slightly.

“Why’d you and Evans break up?” He was surprisingly quick to think of a question, and you blinked rapidly, slightly shocked by the immediate intensity of his inquiry.

“I- I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Maybank,” you said drily, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I just made it my business by asking,” he pointed out, a playful lilt in his voice. You frowned and fidgeted with the hem of your sundress.

“I guess Noah and I just didn’t see eye-to eye,” you said finally. “And it definitely didn’t help that someone would always hit on me at parties. He didn’t like that very much.”

JJ did not look the least bit ashamed. “I’m a charming guy, you’re a pretty girl, what can I say?” he shrugged. “Besides, I would have stopped if you asked me to.”

You flushed and looked away, ashamed that a part of you had liked his attention, ashamed that he was right: you never told him to stop, despite the fact that you had had a boyfriend. Despite the fact that you were a kook, and he was a pogue.

JJ nudged you with his elbow, his voice soft. "Hey, it's your turn to ask me now."

You turned to look at him, an amused smile playing on the corners of your lips. “Truth or dare, Maybank?”

“Truth,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you.

Surprised that he had chosen the somewhat tamer option, you had to contemplate for a moment to find a good question to ask him. Biting your bottom lip, you asked, “Why do you call me princess?”

“You’re pretty,” he said. You’re beautiful and gorgeous and way out of my league, was what he truthfully wanted to say. “And everyone likes you.” I like you, and I like the way you blush when I call you princess, and I want to pamper you, like royalty, the way you deserve, better than Noah Evans ever could.

“I’m pretty and everyone likes me,” you repeated, shaking your head with a laugh. “That’s it? Do you like me, JJ?” you teased.

JJ followed your every movement as your teeth flashed pearly white, as your eyes sparkled when you laughed, and he chuckled, a faint flush rising up his neck. “That technically counts as another question, princess.” He maintained that same intense, burning gaze, and a shiver ran down your spine. You felt vulnerable, almost naked with the way he watched you; it was as if he could see the worst parts of yourself, and yet still he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“Alright. Truth or dare?” he asked.

“I’m scared of what you’ll make me do, Maybank,” you smiled honestly, “so I pick truth.”

JJ chuckled and leaned back as he swigged from his beer bottle, his arm draped behind your seat on the couch but not touching you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body. He hummed, thinking for a moment, then nodded to himself. “You into pogues, princess?”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t be,” you replied easily, smoothing out the skirt of your linen sundress over your thighs, a little shocked by his forwardness. He set down his beer on John B’s coffee table.

He leaned into you, whispering conspiratorially. “Yeah? Would you fuck one?” He was so close that you could see the divot of his cupid’s bow and his individual eyelashes that gleamed like spun gold in the sunlight, his breath hot and heady on your cheek.

“That technically counts as another question, Maybank,” you parroted, smiling. “But...” You turned your head towards him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Yes,” you breathed suggestively, cheeks burning, surprised at your own brazenness.

JJ hardened almost immediately, intoxicated with your proximity to him, the scent of your shampoo making his head spin. He gazed at you, eyelids hooded with desire, not breaking eye contact with you. He reached out with his hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his forefinger.

“Truth or dare, princess?” He mumbled.

Your stomach was warm, tingly, and your skin felt electric as he brushed his fingers on your jaw. You barely managed a whisper with how breathless you were. “Dare.”

“I dare you to fuck me right here.”

He looked down at your lips, flitting his gaze back up to your eyes. Under your breath, you mumbled, "Oh, fuck it," grabbing his jaw and crushing your lips to his. JJ responded eagerly, his rough, calloused palms sweeping over your thighs, pulling you on top of him to straddle his lap, kissing you hard, desperately, as if he would drown if he wasn't touching you. He tasted slightly of beer and mint toothpaste and something else, something that was entirely JJ.

Pulling back to gasp for air, JJ lazily opened his eyes, heavily exhaling and his hair ruffled. His gaze narrowed with lust as he took in your sundress riding up your thighs, your cheeks flushed, mouth parted slightly, your lips swollen and red and enticing. Panting, he latched himself onto your neck, his tongue sinful and sultry as he kissed down the column of your neck, grazing your collarbones with his teeth, and you were suddenly conscious of how achingly wet you are, how you had been rolling your hips back and forth over JJ’s hard length.

You knelt to unzip his cargo shorts, palming the thick member straining under the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs. Slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, you freed his cock from its confines, and it sprang out against his abdomen, heavy and impossibly warm.

You lapped at his pulsating tip, swirling your tongue over a bead of pearly-clear precum as you gently stroked the base of his cock. JJ moaned, throwing his head back in complete ecstasy when you swept over that sensitive spot under his swollen pink head. He curled his fingers into your hair.

“Do-” JJ inhaled sharply, pupils dilated in absolute pleasure and arousal; voice dropping lower, almost a whisper as he groaned, “Do that again.”

You maintained eye contact as you continued to stroke his heavy, throbbing shaft, JJ barely restraining from pounding into your mouth as you slowly lapped your tongue over his length, his tip kissing the back of your throat.

“Shit, princess, you better stop, or I’m gonna come right here,” he panted, jerking his hips back, his cock pulsating. He pulled you back on top of him and slowly stroked himself while you shimmied your cotton panties down your thighs. His hands grasped your hips and you sank down onto his aching cock, trembling as you ground against his pelvis.

“Shit, JJ!” you breathed, your back arched sensuously as you clenched around him. He thrust into you, filling you so completely, so absolutely deep inside of your warmth that you were breathless and couldn’t contain your sultry moans.

“You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder,” JJ groaned, pounding into you, reducing you into a whimpering, moaning mess. Pleasure radiated through your core, incandescently euphoric as JJ rasped filthy encouragements.

“You look so pretty like that, taking my cock like a good girl,” he uttered, fisting the fabric of your sundress. “Do I fuck better than Evans, princess?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered, almost sobbing with bliss. You could feel your slick arousal drip down your thighs as he stroked your clit with the pad of his thumb, every nerve ending in the sensitive nub throbbing. Burying your face in JJ’s neck, you pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to his skin. “I’m- oh, fuck! I’m so close, JJ,” you moaned, raking your nails across his shoulder blades.

His tip caught inside of you, tilting into a spot deep within, and you cried out, pleasure surging through your body in sultry waves. His breath hitched at the sound of your release, and, bucking his hips, you felt him spill into you, his chest heaving as you basked in the glow of your shared orgasms. Your legs continue to tremble around JJ’s throbbing length, and when he pulled out, it was with an obscenely wet sound that had his cock twitching hopefully for more.

You caught your breath for a minute, still feeling pleasantly warm and tingly from your orgasm, slumping into the couch cushions.

“I hope you know I still don’t like you, Maybank.”

“Mm, okay. Keep convincing yourself with that bullshit; maybe it’ll work one day, princess.”

#jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks smut #jjasewrites #jj maybank x kook!reader

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fortheloveofallthings · 2 months

Text

Steddie Florist AU - Part 2

Part 1

Steve watched in a haze as Eddie stepped out the front door with his new dahlia. Of course this mystery man gravitated towards them, he thought to himself. They stick out in a crowd, are revered for their beauty, often symbolizing kindness and everyone that loves dahlias is obsessed with their moody aesthetic. Perfect for Eddie. Thankfully Robin wasn’t here today to poke fun at his now blossoming crush. He continued his usual tasks, happily letting thoughts of the bartender fill his mind. 4 hours, he can stop by the bar in 4 hours.

Eddie practically skipped the remaining block from the Flower Shop to the bar. Chrissy was already pulling down chairs from the tops of tables as he entered. “I finally walked in!” He announced. Her blonde ponytail whipped around as she placed another chair down. “You walked in? Like actually step foot inside?” she questioned, excitement woven into her tone. Eddie nodded as a smile stretched across his face. He held out the dahlia with Shakespearean flare knowing it would be proof enough. “He gave it to me on the house, so I offered him a drink tonight,” he smiled walking past Chrissy towards the rows of liquor behind the bar hoping to find something empty enough to use as a vase. It didn’t take long skimming through the shelves before he landed on a Tanqueray bottle he could rinse out. Chrissy made her way towards him to start prepping the garnishes, “A flower on the house?” “Yes, on the house.” Eddie reiterated. “I can’t believe the first time you actually step foot in there, the florist who you’ve been eyeing for months, flirts with you within what? 5… 10 minutes of you being there! And you arrive with a dahlia of all things,” Chrissy says in almost disbelief. Eddie had already rinsed the now completely empty bottle of gin and carefully unwrapped the flower from its tissue paper to place it in and out on the bar in full display, “So? It’s just a flower, he’s a florist, it’s a flower shop. He’s probably given loads of customers free flowers.”

The statement was as humbling as it was disheartening. Eddie wanted the flower to be a special moment between the florist and him. But romance was never company, not for any of the Munsons. Romance was a daydream. So the realist in him crushed any hopes of love before they could take root. No one had won the key to his gated heart. “Oh come on Eddie!” Chrissy scolded as she placed the lime knife down, “Dahlias represent long lasting bonds, love, devotion. Flowers have their own language and meanings. This man thinks you’re beautiful and I’ll bet he also has a crush on you.” Eddie was struck, dumbfounded, “What do you mean flowers have language? You can tell all that by a single flower?” “Yes, Eddie, I can. Lesbians know a lot about Victorian flower language. It’s a whole gay thing,” she explained. He humphed in curiosity, contemplating this new information, “Well don’t get my hopes up too high. I barely spoke to him and I can only pray to whoever’s out there he’ll even make an appearance later.”

Steve wrapped up his shift soon enough. Thankfully a customer’s custom bouquet order held his attention for the last 2 hours making the time fly by. He left the keys for Vickie to lock up as she arrived and he ran out the door. He sprinted back to his apartment, and opened the door to the small studio decorated with plants, paintings Robin made for him, and photos of him and his step-brother Dustin. Steve rushed through his shower so he could spend a decent amount of time on his outfit and hair before racing towards the Red Dragon. After much deliberation and a quick FaceTime with Dustin and his girlfriend Susie he settled on his light brown bomber jacket with the olive tinted elbow patches, a perfectly fitted off-white button up with a small leaf pattern, blue jeans and his slightly worn down converse. Susie suggested most of his clothes which was new territory for them but Dustin reassured him he looked like himself and not the straight-passing jock he typically would anywhere outside the shop. Steve smiled in the mirror as he did a final fit check, laughing at the accuracy in which Dustin described him then was out the door without any further hesitation.

Part 3

#steddie fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #made it longer #look out for part 3 #florist au #steve is a florist #eddie is a bartender

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lovesodakid · 2 months

Text

sworn to secrecy 5

chris x fem!reader

1 2 3 4 6

summary: chris and y/n have known each other, pretty much their whole lives. y/n has always had a crush on chris. chris always viewed y/n as ‘nate’s little sister’ until one day, he realized, she wasn’t so little anymore…which nate sees..in which. he does not approve of whatsoever. (“brothers best friend trope”)

warnings: underage drinking. that should be it

____________________________________________

as we walk into the party, it’s everything i expected. drunk teenagers grinding on each other to some shitty rap songs.

“first party kid! how you feeling?” chris asks me as he shakes me in a playful manner.

“like i need a drink.” i say enthusiastically as i make my way to the kitchen.

“hey, stay with her yeah? nick and i are gonna go find some friends.” matt tells to chris as they matt and nick quickly slip away.

“why do i-“ chris tries to protest before hiving up and following me to the kitchen.

once i get into the kitchen, the counter is piled with all kinds of alcohol options.

“hey, this is your first time drinking,” chris begins as he makes his way to stand behind me. “you should probably take it easy, okay?”

i nod, acknowledging what he said. do i plan on listening?

no.

once my eyes land on a bottle of pink whitney, i immediately grab it. this is my dads ‘favorite drink’. in which, he would make sure there was a bottle of this stuff before there was food in the fridge when i was younger.

i grab a red solo cup from the stack right beside all the alcohol choices, as i fill the cup up with the alcohol.

chris takes notice of this as i shoot the drink down my throat, causing my face to scrunch immediately.

“y/n, im serious. ill take it away if you get too drunk.” he sternly speaks. “i mean, why are you wanting to drink all of a sudden? this is completely unlike you.”

i quickly spin around to face him. unbeknownst to me, is how insanely close we are.

“im-just,” i try to spit out. “i just wanna try something new.”

chris’s eyes furrow as he looks down at me. “what’s been with you the last couple days?”he softly asks me.

“i-,” i begin to speak. which is insanely hard to do, given the fact how he’s looking down at me which is turning my stomach like crazy.

“just don’t worry about it okay.” i finally get out.

i slightly push his chest to make way for me to walk away from him. to be honest, i don’t know why i’ve been acting like this either. my minds been going 90 miles an hour the last couple days. ever since that damn dream memory came back. the more i think of that, the more i want to not be able to. so i quickly down the full cup of pink whitney before throwing the plastic cup somewhere on the floor.

about 2 hours, and 3 full cups of pink whitney in my system later, im wasted.

im dancing with the crowd of people, laughing and singing with people i’ve never spoke two words to before tonight. liquid courage i guess?

“hey.”

i feel a hand on my shoulder which stills my movements as i turn around to come face to face with a blonde dude with brown eyes. beautiful brown eyes. almost like pools of honey-

“hey, what’s your name?” the blonde stranger asks.

“y/n.” i slur my words.

“nice, im christian.” he says, extending a hand out for me to shake.

i hesitate to shake it, before i do eventually. christian? where have i heard that name before?

“this is my party actually.” he proudly voices, looking around like he sculpted the party piece by piece.

oh. right. christian davis. this is his party. he is who im talking to right now.

“o-oh. well this is a nice house you have christian.” i drunkenly spit out.

“why thank you y/n.” he thanks me with a huge grin. “wanna dance?”

i barely have time to register what he’s even saying before i feel two hands on my waist, spinning me around so my back is pressed against his chest.

it’s like my body is reacting before my brain can even process what im doing, before im already closing my eyes and leaning my head onto his shoulder. allowing my hips to start swaying with his, almost in a rhythm.

when i start feeling light, opened mouth kisses on my neck. that’s almost exactly the same time i feel someone staring at me. which naturally causes me to open my eyes and look around the room to find the cause.

im looking around the room for a good minute until my eyes are met with the familiar icy blue pair. except this time, they’re more of a darker blue than usual. and this time, filled with pure anger as he begins to storm towards me.

almost in a second, im being ripped away from christian by chris.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing y/n?” he shouts at me.

“like you care.” i spit back, but grabbing onto his shoulder to stabilize myself.

“how much did you drink?” he asks, noticing my clearly intoxicated state.

i don’t say anything as i roll my eyes.

“dude. what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” christian speaks up.

chris’s attention turns from me to christian.

“what the fuck do you mean?” chris asks, clear anger present in his voice.

“i was obviously dancing with her. you can have your turn after.” christian voices as he crosses his arms.

this seems to spark something in chris. because in a heartbeat, christian is on the ground with a bloody nose with a pissed off chris standing above him.

“dude what the hell!” christian yells as he grabs his nose in pain.

“chris what’s going- oh my god dude.” matt asks, running over to stand beside us as he sees what obviously had went on. nate and nick standing behind him.

i stand slightly behind chris, a little dumbfounded at what just happened.

“y/n what the hell happened?” nate questions as he walks to stand by me.

“i-i don’t know.” i stumble over my words.

“are you drunk?” he asks me, closely examining my face and body movements.

i don’t say anything, instead just staring right at him.

“oh my god you are.” he says, letting go of me. “we’re leaving.”

“what-no!” i protest, crossing my arms.

“fine. then you can go home with the triplets. i wouldn’t take you home drunk anyways. dad would kill me.” nate turns to matt, “make sure you guys get her home.” and with that he’s storming out of the party.

“okay, come on y/n/n.” matt speaks softly as he gently grasps onto my arm to pull me out of the party. nick and chris following closely behind us.

as we leave, people part ways for us to make our way through. continuous whispers about chris punching christian fill the room as we exit the house.

____________________________________________

a/n: ngl kinda hate this chapter, but it’s okay🙏

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader

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chpsticklesbian · 11 months

Text

I Know

student!larissa weems x fem student!reader

notes: fluff, angst undertones, literally just a recreation of my old fic from my old acc, everyone is 18+

words: 1,147

1:45 AM.

larissa glanced at the wooden ticking clock with droopy eyes. she let out a heavy sigh at the ungodly hour. averting her eyes to the large room door, she finally let herself close the book she'd forced herself to read when no indication of a person, let alone you, there. maybe her roommate would be here when she wakes up. it was almost ridiculous that she was waiting for you anyway. you never did get back past three, after doing only god knows what.

after placing the book on her nightstand she pulled the covers a bit higher, but the sounds of knuckles being tapped lightly on the thick wooden door made her stop her movements. odd, she thought. you never knocked. you had your own key.

the blonde carefully took the cotton covers off of her and got off her bed. with careful steps she walked to the door. the knocks came again. a bit harder this time, but still an obvious weakness was behind it.

when she finally reached the door her hands gripped the handle and it opened to reveal you. larissa sighed in relief, but her relief quickly faded away as they came when she saw your face. the slice that landed a few inches below your hairline. the slice that started from the middle of your forehead and ended slightly above your left eyebrow. the trickles of blood kept seeping through the expanse of the cut. there was an obvious dried red stain on your eyebrows from where you tried to wipe the substance off.

larissa stood scared, worried, and upset. upset at you for constantly putting yourself in these situations and upset at who or whatever did this to you.

"couldn't find the keys in my purse" your slurred words broke her out of her trance. judging by the way you were talking, you were either drunk or dizzy from the blood loss. either way she let you walk in and closed the door behind you.

wrapping her arm around your waist she helped you walk after realizing the slight limp on your right foot.

after laying you down as carefully as possible on your bed, she quickly walked to the bathroom to grab a towel, a small bowl of warm water, and the first aid kit.

she sighed gratefully when she entered the room and found you still conscious. her feet made hurried steps towards you.

a heavy, tired sigh left her lips as she places down the bowl of water and first aid kit on your bedside table. towel in hand, she sat down on the bed space beside you. she dips the towel in warm water before placing it on the wound. she apologizes after you let out a wince at the first contact. you hum and let her continue.

a few minutes went by and by the time she was almost done clearing the blood off your face, she finally had the courage to speak.

"are you gonna tell me what happened?" her voice was laced with concern as she hovered over your face to get a better look at the wound.

you looked up at her with a look, signaling that you didn't wanna talk about it. she sighed but finished cleaning up the wound.

picking up the first aid kit, she took out a few band-aids and placed it on her lap, getting them ready.

"whatever happened, you should be more careful." she didn't have to look up at you to know you were looking at her now.

"i didn't-"

"it doesn't matter what you did or didn't do. this all could've been avoided if you were more careful." she finally turned her head up from the band-aids to look at you.

"you know i've never agreed or liked the things you do- but i care about you, y/n. the least you can do for me is to be careful." she glanced back down at her lap to pick up one band-aid, placing it on your wound.

"why do you do this?" your question confused her. brown eyebrows knitting together.

"why do you care for me? almost every other student would close their door on me or make me sleep it off." the look of pity that she held didn't go unnoticed by you.

"why do you always act like it's impossible for people to care about you?"

"hard to believe it's not when the people around you act like it is." larissa stayed silent at that, taking another band-aid.

"remember our first year together? it was potions class and some guys picked on me because i didn't have a partner."

"where are you going with this?"

"would you just listen to me this once?" you closed your mouth and let her continue talking as she finishes up placing the band-aids on.

"you saw them picking on me and partnered up with me instead, letting your friend partner with someone else. you messed with their potions, still don't know how to this day." she smiled fondly at the memory. she folded her hands on her lap and looked at you, finished with tending to your wound.

"i didn't know if it was something about me that made you do that or something about those boys that made you do that, but i'd like to think you did it out of the goodness of your own heart. it's stupid, but it's true." she looked you in the eyes, a sense of fondness lingering behind them.

"i care about you because i don't see you as this 'scary, rebellious' classmate.

i care about you because in my eyes, you're just y/n. the person that cares about everyone and everything but is too embarrassed to admit that. the person that isn't 'mean'. you just don't know her well enough." you couldn't help the pink tint spreading to your neck and cheeks as she kept talking. larissa would always have that effect on you. you whispered out a quiet thank you and she smiled, and god it was so warm i bet the sun would melt.

"now, promise me you'll be more careful next time?" you nodded slowly, then arched an eyebrow confusingly when larissa held out her pinky. you looked at her pinky then back up at her.

"come on, we used to make stupid promises back then too. just count this as one." you rolled your eyes teasingly but held your pinky out before securing it around hers.

"i promise i'll be more careful next time." she smiled thankfully at you before you both sealed it with a kiss on the back of your own thumbs.

you let go of her pinky but she didn't move from her seat on your bed. you didn't want her to. you never want her to leave your side.

"i love you." she smiled at that.

"i know."

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #gwendoline christie #principal weems #wednesday #gwendoline christie x reader #wednesday netflix #larissa weems fanfic #wedesday fanfic

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roeroe-world · 4 months

Text

zion.

starring: diamond white as tangie, nas as himself

set in 2000.

warning: sensitive topics, use of drugs and alcohol, mention of suicide, smut

There she stood. Her pearly whites being showcased, laughing alongside her girlfriends. A red cup in hand. All of her friends were dimes but she stood out. Bronzed skin adorned with hints of body glitter which glistened under the lights.

Tresses cut into a pixie cut. The blonde bombshell rocked her look uniquely and beautifully.

Diamond belly ring on display as well as her toned stomach with the exception of the sparkly golden deep v-neck crop top. A small ankh symbol tattooed between her perky breasts.

Plump backside accompanied by low rise Iceberg light blue denim jeans. Heels amongst her pedicured feet. She was fly yet mesmerizing, hips swaying from side to side as she began to dance to the music.

Confidence exuded from the woman and she didn’t need to try hard.

From afar, the bombshell caught the eye of a particular man. His attention had been focused upon the woman all night as he sat in the cut, remaining lowkey.

The rapper was in attendance due to being invited by a childhood friend. After almost an hour, he was on the verge of leaving— ready to go home, smoke yet another blunt and lay down.

But the blonde appeared in his peripheral, capturing his undivided attention. He found himself smoothly walking through the crowd, letting out occasional excuse me’s and dapping up a few individuals who spoke to him upon recognizing him.

Dragging his tongue across his plump lips, eyeballs trailing up and down amongst the woman’s frame underneath his naturally low eyelids.

Dancing, unintentionally she turns— her back currently facing the rapper. The beauty seemed to be having a great time, smiling brightly and shaking her hips to the beat effortlessly.

Connecting his palm amongst hers to gently spin the woman in his direction, “How you doin’, shorty? I’m Nas.” The brief expression of confusion and frustration immediately transitions into surprise yet fascination once she lays eyes on the male, instantly recognizing the rapper.

She analyzes his baggy attire and expensive jewelry, digging his style— especially his oversized red leather jacket. He looked even better in person. Smelled good too.

Jet-black liner surrounded her lip shape perfectly with a hint of brown and clear lip gloss. The rapper also caught a glimpse of the dark barb-wire tattoo amongst her upper arm and a Chinese font upon the other one.

“Tangie.” Their swirling dark-brown irises piercing into one another’s.

“What you doing after this?” His demeanor was suave, showcasing nonchalance.

His inquiry earns a chuckle and Nas returns it, watching her head drop slightly before she takes a good look at him yet again. “Going home. And not with you.”

Throwing his hands up in defense, “Oh shit.” He began, a chuckle passing his lips. “I ain’t even mean it like that.” That was a lie.

In actuality, as much as he’d been eyeing her… Nas really wanted the beauty to come home with him. But he isn’t going to be disrespectful about it.

“What did you mean then? ‘Cause you were pretty straightforward.” Crossing her arms, her head tilts to the side. Squinting her low eyelids in his direction as if she’s reading the rapper.

“I think you’re gorgeous. I’m digging what you got goin’, shorty. Know what I’m sayin’?”

Fighting her smile, she replies, “Uh huh.”

Tangie knows exactly who the male is. He’s a hip hop sensation whom seems to have it all; the money, the looks, the women. There’s no telling how many other females he’d said that to.

Looking off to the side, chuckling yet again at the sharp silence and the way her dark-brown orbs are piercing softly in his direction, “Can I at least get your number?”

“Nah, you good.” Mentally, Nas kissed his teeth yet physically his face grew slightly defeated yet stoic. “Nice meeting you though, Nas.” Placing emphasis on his name, the beauty began to walk away, a grin amongst her glossy lips.

She knew exactly what she was doing and so did Nas.

“Damn.” His irises watching her backside and hips sway side to side as well as her lower back tribal tattoo, clearly mesmerized.

When the word ‘damn’ exited his lips— it held two meanings. One is he didn’t know if he would see her again and the other as in ‘damn’ she’s a bad bitch.

But he would find a way. And that… he did.

He’d never sought out to find a woman, though for this particular one, he did. Having connections in Jersey isn’t rare for the rap star. It was rare that these connections had no absolute luck in search of the woman.

A month flew by, Nas found himself in Jersey yet again for shows and club hostings. Though, this particular day, he happened to be in a grocery store for snacks.

The rapper rolled his barely filled cart through the aisle, glancing at the stocked shelves behind his tinted Ray Bans shades. In the midst of tossing a bag of chips into the cart, something tells him to analyze his surroundings.

His eyes searches the aisle up and down, seeing as that it was practically empty with the exception of himself— the male immediately pauses in his tracks, watching a familiar captivating face turn and began pushing a half-full cart into the aisle he’s in.

“Oh, shit.” Speaking to himself lowly, the rapper instantly notices a toddler seated in the cart as well. He seemed focused on the toy car in his hand.

The woman hadn’t even caught him staring, giving her undivided attention to the stocked shelves.

She still looks as fly as ever. Dressed in figure-hugging denim jeans, a red bubble coat and black leather high heeled boots amongst her feet. It was chilly in Jersey so she dressed appropriately for the weather.

Mindlessly, the rapper pushes his cart further downward the aisle in her direction. “Excuse me? Tangie, right?” He makes his presence known earning the woman’s attention.

“Yeah…” She began, an unreadable expression amongst her brown skin. “You’re Nas. I saw you at that party.”

The rapper sends the blonde a light grin which she returns hesitantly. “What up, lil’ man?” He directs his gaze upon the little boy whom just stares at him. “This your brother?”

They practically had the same face and obviously the same skin tone. Undoubtedly, they were related somehow.

“No. He’s my son, Zion.” She beams down at the toddler lovingly.

He couldn’t lie. That caught him completely off-guard. But he isn’t mad nor upset. Why would he be?

“Can I hold him?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Before Tangie reaches to pick the adorable boy into her arms, Nas was already two steps ahead of her. He lifted him into his arms, “What up, man? You being good for your beautiful mommy?”

The toddler glanced around at his surroundings adorably as Tangie gently grasps his little wrist so he could wave at the rapper, “Say hi.” She smiles brightly which Zion returns, his eyes falling upon Nas. His chubby cheeks raising, showcasing his little teeth.

“He likes you.” Unintentionally, Nas and Tangie’s heads turn synchronously to lock eyes.

Tangie automatically breaks their eye contact. Meanwhile, Nas couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. “How old is he?”

“Three.” Grabbing the toddler out of his arms, she sits him right back upon the seat of the cart.

“I got a kid too. Her name’s Destiny.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and peeling out a small photograph. A grin amongst his lips, he shows the woman an image of his daughter.

“She six going on seven in a few months.”

A bright smile falling upon her face, analyzing the little girl’s facial features, immediately recognizing the similarities the two shared. “She’s gorgeous. That’s your twin, omg. No DNA test needed.” The duo exchanged chuckles, smiling at one another.

“Yeah, I know. I’m still tryna figure this fatherhood shi— I mean stuff out.” He corrects himself, not wanting to speak profane language around Zion. Placing the picture in its rightful position as well as his wallet— in his baggy leather coat pocket.

“I feel you. Parenthood is far from easy. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. He saved my life.” Tangie sends the toddler a loving smile yet again, adjusting his little bubble coat.

Silence began to rain upon the duo. Nas just stood there, admiring the woman’s beauty. A glint in his low eyes. This time, he couldn’t let her slip through his fingers without no way of possessing contact with her.

As the woman slowly glances upward, their alluring swirling dark-brown irises connected.

“I want to see you again.” Nas speaks, sounding more like a command.

Raising a brow, looking the male up and down very closely and slowly before staring into his orbs, “What’s stopping you?”

————

Sighing heavily, Tangie enters her two bedroom apartment. Upon waltzing into the living room and tossing her purse amongst the couch— something in particular catches her eye. It drew her attention.

“What the hell?” Her irises peered at the large vases of flowers, there had to be at least ten of them.

Follow the rose petals

The note hidden in one of the flowers read and instantly the beauty glances downward to the hardwood floor, lifting her heel slightly before doing as told. Her tongue sliding across the inside of her cheek, a smirk amongst her lips as she realized the rose petals lead her to the bedroom.

Her attention falls upon the bed, slowly strutting inside the bedroom in her heels. A purple, gorgeous silk gown laid across the queen-sized bed. Black red bottoms sitting on the floor neatly. A note sat next to the dress which she grabs without an hesitation.

Can’t wait to see that body in that dress. See you at 8, beautiful — Nas

Tangie began to blush uncontrollably, placing the card to her heart before catching a glimpse at the time. Instantly, beginning to get ready for her perfect night with Nas.

A month ago, the two ran into one another at the grocery store after she’d rejected him. The day they saw each other again was the day they exchanged numbers and grew closer from that moment on.

Now here they were, going on yet another date.

Zion happened to be at her homegirl’s house whom had kids as well. It was Friday, meaning he would be staying over there for the weekend. Tangie missed her baby but she could use a break.

Eight o’clock had fallen.

Nas’ jaw nearly dropped, the moment the woman steps outside of her apartment. Closing and locking the door, beginning to trail along the steps. Their eyes connected, sending one another shy yet mischievous grins.

Leaning on the side of his Lexus, his hands buried deep into his baggy jean pockets. Admiring the view of the beauty within his peripheral. “Damn.” He found himself staring intensely, loving how the gown hugged her curves.

“Look at you.” Grabbing a hold of her dainty hand, he began to spin her around for a complete 360. “You so fucking gorgeous. You ‘bout to make a nigga have a heart attack, shorty.” She smiles as she does so, giggling at his choice of his words.

“Mm.” He grunts lowly at the view of her cleavage while leaning in to plant a sensual peck upon her chest. “Smell good too.” His hands sliding along her clothed back before getting a good grip of her backside.

“Aight, aight. Let’s go before I end up taking you back in that apartment and bending that ass over.” Snapping out of his trance, he removes his hands and taking a step back to open the door for the woman.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Her response catches him off guard as he eyes her hips while she hopped in the passenger’s seat. A smirk grew amongst his lips, his head shaking from side to side.

In forty-five minutes, the duo made it to the restaurant and were seated without any issues. Tangie couldn’t help but to look around in awe of the place.

Nas’ arm sat onto her shoulder, the two sitting closely together in the booth. “This place is nice.” She speaks earning a nod in agreement.

“Yeah, it is. I knew you’d like it here.”

Glancing at him, taking a sip of her glass of Dom Perignon. “You’ve been here before?”

“Hell yeah. This my go-to joint whenever I’m in Jersey.”

“Well, thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for… everything.” She wouldn’t even have to ask him for things, he would just do it. Minus the lavish gifts and shopping sprees, Nas is a huge help for the single mother.

“It ain’t no thing spoiling my girl.” He replies earning a giggle.

“Your girl?”

Neither of the two solidified whatever it was between them. They were just two people whom liked one another a lot as well as enjoying each other’s company.

There was no sex. Was there a lot of kissing? Yes. A lot of cuddling? Yes. And so forth. They did things like couples yet weren’t exactly an actual couple.

The rapper drags his tongue across his lips, “What we waiting for?” His face only a few inches from hers. “I been ready to take this next level…” Their irises piercing into one another’s, Tangie’s top row of pearly whites digging into her bottom lip anxiously. “Only if you are.”

The beauty remained silent, glancing between his captivating lips and eyes. Her mind traveling to her son, Nas’ lifestyle and his daughter, her career, the things that came along with his lifestyle, more importantly her son.

Honestly, Nas comes with a lot. Though, she does as well but this is another social status.

“I need more time to think on that. I’m sorry, Nas.”

Sighing, he replies, “I understand. I ain’t tryna pressure you.” Looking away from the woman and taking a sip from his wine glass. “Take as much time as you need, shorty.”

Silence falls between the two. Tangie couldn’t help but to feel bad for seeming to ruin the vibe. She just couldn’t let up that easy. She needed time.

“I want to meet Destiny.”

The moment those five words exits her lips, Nas’ head turns in her direction. She had his full undivided attention at the sudden mention of his daughter. “Foreal? You sure?” It caught him by surprise for sure.

“Yeah. I would love to meet her.” She smiles softly. “If that’s okay with you…”

“Let’s make that happen then.” He sends her a grin, admiring her captivating canvas.

After dinner, Nas drove the woman home and opened the door for her. “You’re not coming in, are you?” His hands sat above her bottom, leaning against the side of his car.

With a head shake, he answers, “Nah, shorty. I got a show at ten.”

Childishly, she began pouting, “Shit. I forgot about that.” Her arms hanging upon his neck.

“Imma be back, aight?” He raises off of his vehicle, bending his neck to connect their lips into a passionate union. Tangie’s tongue slides into his mouth, their tongues dancing with one another beautifully.

A throbbing sensation grew between her legs and the woman couldn’t help it. Her dainty hands caressing his shoulders, moaning softly against his lips.

Nas could feel himself growing erect, though, he’d been aroused from the moment he saw her in that dress tonight. He wanted to so badly rip it off of her but she wasn’t all in, she wasn’t ready.

Disconnecting their lips, he peers down at the woman before tapping her backside, “Keep it tight for me.”

The rapper watched her walk away, shaking his head at the view and the undeniable sexual tension they’d constantly avoid. They both wanted it but Tangie was scared.

Upon seeing her enter her apartment, he pulls off into the night.

————

“Hi, Destiny. I’m your dad’s friend and I’ve heard so much about you.” The woman smiles brightly at the little girl whom returns it shyly, beginning to hide behind Nas’ legs. Sending Tangie a wave.

As desired, Nas allowed Tangie to meet his only child.

Chuckling slightly, the rapper grabs her tiny body and lifts her behind his head then onto his shoulders as she laughs uncontrollably. “Why’d you do that, daddy?” She starts to hit the top of his head repeatedly in a series of laughter.

He jogs further into the living room, holding onto her little legs and playfully slamming her onto the hardwood floor. He does the exact same thing to Zion. Making sure to not be too rough with either of the kids.

“Again! Again!” Zion lifts his arms into the air, jumping up and down.

“Yeah, again, daddy!” Destiny agrees.

Nas lifts both of them at the same time, gently slamming them yet again. Their infectious screams filled the air.

Tangie found herself smiling at the sight until the male looks in her direction, immediately coming for her. Her eyes damn near bulges out of her head, shouting, “No, Nasir, absolutely not!” Despite her protests, he lifts the woman into his arms with ease and playfully slams her to the floor as well.

“Get her.” The rapper orders and instantly the children began to jump her. “No, get him.” Their eyes connecting as they shared laughter.

Both of the adults took turns, playfully slamming the children. Nothing but laughter filled the area, enjoying one another’s company. They were having genuine fun.

“Miss T, can we watch Lion King?” Destiny quizzes, hopping up and down excitedly.

“Of course, baby.”

Though, eventually after growing tired of playing, they made a palate amongst the floor and had already ate.

“I got it.” Nas volunteers to put the vhs tape into the vhs player.

As soon as the movie began to play, Tangie laid her head onto Nas’ chest as the children laid between the two, growing engrossed into the film.

Silence filled the living room then soft snores came along. “Hey!” The blonde whisper shouts to the male, motioning to the bedroom earning a nod.

As quietly as the two could, the duo snuck out of the living area. Their hands connecting as Nas lead them to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

They began to lay in bed in the dark, staring upward at the ceiling. Nas caresses her back, considering the fact she’s laying on top of the male. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, on the verge of falling asleep, clearly relaxed.

“You wanna know something?” She quizzes tiredly.

“What?”

“I got knocked up at seventeen. I remember this and that person telling me what they thought I should do. What about college? What about your future? Blah, blah, blah, typical shit.” She began, growing comfortable enough to talk about her past. “I was in such a dark place with no absolute support from my so called friends nor my parents. They all turned their backs on me. One day, I decided I was sick of everything and everybody. So… I swallowed a bunch of pills.”

Nas immediately stops what he’s doing.

“That shit didn’t work. God said it wasn’t my time to go yet. It was a blessing and a curse. My parents tried to use my suicide attempt against me. Trying to make me believe that I wasn’t stable enough for a child. Truthfully, they were right. I knew they were right. So, I got in that car and sat back while they drove me to the abortion clinic.” A scoff passing her lips.

“But this particular radio station… began to play this one track by Lauryn Hill. To Zion. It was as if they knew my situation. I related to this woman so much yet I didn’t even know her personally.”

“I couldn’t get out of that car. I was frozen. I had been on my own since I made that choice. My parents didn’t want a damn thing to do with me and that was fine. I still don’t regret having my baby. Nothing compares to that moment of looking him in his eyes when I first laid eyes on him. His little cries. Those eyes that looked like mine staring back at me…” She trails off, nearly on the verge of tears. “From that moment on, I wasn’t the same girl. He changed me for the better. You would not have wanted to know me back then.”

He continued to caress her back, planting a kiss amongst her forehead. “You a damn good mother. Don’t you forget that.” She’d finally opened up but they had ways to go. Many ways to go.

“The way you interact with Destiny and Zion, I can tell you’re a good father.” The woman’s lips meeting the crook of his neck, planting sensual kisses. “I love that in a man.” Her tone of voice growing seductive, eventually their lips connecting for a good loving peck.

Tangie sat up on his lap, reaching over to her nightstand to turn the lamp on so she could see his canvas. The rapper’s hands palmed her backside, his dark-brown irises piercing upward into hers— ready for whatever.

Slightly bouncing on his clothed erection, she lets out a soft moan. The throbbing and wetness between her legs increasing each second. It had been a hot minute since she had a man in her bed, she was in heat.

She was tired of waiting and she was no longer afraid. He could tell.

“What you tryna do, shorty?” His raspy New York accent meets her eardrums, pink tongue dragging across his lips. He remained lying on his back, sensually analyzing the woman on top of his being.

Grabbing the rapper by his Queensbridge Finest Diamond chain, she replies, “I want you. I want all of you.”

Sitting up, the male instantly brings their lips into a passionate union. His hands sliding up and down her thick thighs. Tangie happened to be impatient and began to strip out of her clothes, now only in a pair of underwear.

“Damn.” Nas speaks in awe of the view, beginning to plant kisses along her exposed chest. He had never seen her like this before.

A plethora of low moans passing her throat but they start to grow louder the moment his right hand slips into her panties, rubbing her throbbing wet pearl in circles.

“You gotta be quiet, baby.” His tone low yet commanding, their low eyes piercing into one another’s.

Slowly, Tangie’s top row of pearly whites digging into her bottom lip as the rapper flips her onto her back. He peels off her panties, sliding the pair along her brown legs and practically groaning at the sight of how wet she is.

“Shit, I got you like this...” His gaze between her widened legs, gripping her thighs. It wouldn’t be long before his head was between them, feasting on the woman like his last meal.

Her manicured hands upon his head, caressing the rapper’s fresh fade. Lips set apart as she grinds against his gorgeous canvas. “Yesss.” Her soft tone of voice meeting his eardrums, encouraging him to keep doing what he’s doing.

“Oh, baby…” She looks down at the rapper in pure bliss, observing how he ate her nectar. The woman was doing her best to keep her voice down.

Softly, his head swayed side to side, licking and kissing his most prized possession. Eyes were shut, loving the taste she possessed. He found himself groaning as he ravished the beauty, his member hard as a rock.

Looking her dead in the eye, he sends a long lick to her center before suctioning his lips around it repeatedly earning yet another moan. Her eyebrows furrowing together, attempting to close her legs but Nas stopped her right in her tracks.

“Nah, don’t do that.” He goes back to work, her moans and whimpers grow louder. Profane language passing her lips, continuing to fuck his face.

Though the moment she became too loud is when he stopped. Nas takes off his baggy shirt, tossing it to the floor before climbing on top of the young woman and burying his face into the crook of her neck, forming hickeys amongst her soft skin.

Impatiently, Tangie reached to pull his baggy sweats and boxers down then dragged her tongue across her right hand— with that exact hand she grabs his thick phallus, leading him inside of her walls. A gasp passing her lips, eyes widening at the feel of him inside of her for the very first time.

“Ah, shit.” Nas curses aloud, his hands pressed into the mattress on each side of Tangie’s head.

His dick had been trapped within her compressed walls, immediately being thrown into a trance. It was as if he’d entered another dimension. He fell in pure bliss at the sensation she gave him. So much in bliss that he had to control himself from releasing so quickly.

With the grasp of both of her legs, he presses them into the mattress for more access. His hips moving in a circular motion, digging deeper into the woman beneath him. His pace slow and passionate.

“Fuck, mm…” Tangie caressed the rapper’s back, each stroke snatching her soul away. Her eyeballs rolled to the back of her skull, lips inches apart as her eyebrows furrowed together. “Oh, shit.”

Her attempt to be as quiet as she could began to fail, the moment Nas’ strokes grew rough. He held a tight hold onto her thighs, keeping them wide open and away from one another as he continued to hit that gummy spot. A plethora of squeals meets his eardrums, given that she’s trying to keep from screaming to the top of her lungs.

“You gotta keep it down, baby.” The young male sends multiple kisses along her jawline earning a whimper. “I know, I know. Fuck.” He groans, loving how absolutely soaked she is.

Tangie’s wetness became a track of its own. Her creamy essence creating a sticky mess as their skin slapped together repeatedly. His chain dangling in her face.

Glancing at where their bodies met, Nas licks his lips at the beautiful sight before analyzing her fucked out facial expression amongst her gorgeous canvas. “You look so fucking beautiful taking me. Shit… Shit…” She tightens around his phallus, creaming yet again while looking him dead in the eye.

Immediately, Nas pulls himself out, “Hold on.” Panting heavily.

Tangie wasn’t hearing it. She switches their position, currently on top of the male and sinking onto his phallus. “Damn, it’s like that.” He drags his tongue across his lips yet again, lustfully watching the beauty bounce on top of him with ease. He was hooked and so was she.

“Ouu, this dick is so fucking good. Feels so good inside of me.” Her breathy raunchy moans earns a smack to her backside, fucking the woman from underneath.

“Mm, fuck…” She drags out lowly, her head tossing backward. Her dainty hands lying upon his chest, beginning to grind upon his lap in circles but in the midst of her actions— she finds her spot. “Shit, Nas.” Legs beginning to shake, leaving more cream upon his groin area.

Tilting his head to the side, licking his lips at the view and admiring how sexy she looks on top of him. “Just like that, beautiful. You doing such a good job.” His thumbs toying with her erect brown nipples.

Suddenly, Nas sits up and grabs her legs, lifting the pair on each arm for more access. He immediately gained more control, passionately yet roughly thrusting in and out of the whimpering beauty. Between her whimpers, she couldn’t help but to let out squeals and little screams here and there.

Tangie couldn’t shout to the top of her lungs like she wanted to. Nas was fucking her so good that she wanted to cry. He was driving her insane, up the wall.

The headboard banged against the wall intensely as the bed shook violently, creating creak noises. Tangie’s wetness still making a track of its own, damn near an album at this point.

Their eyes connect yet again, “This pussy so good, mama.”

“Mm…” Was the only she could drag out before he plants his lips upon hers for a good, loving peck.

Nas switched their position, flipping her onto her stomach. Her backside in the air much to his approval as he analyzed her lower back tattoo. “Grab this.” He hands her a pillow before tapping his phallus amongst her throbbing center then gently pushing himself inside yet again with a groan.

His strokes were rough just how she liked it. When it comes to back shots, she didn’t know how to control herself.

“Oh, fuck!” She shouts aloud unintentionally, on the verge of tears.

In result, the rapper sends a harsh slap to her plump bottom. “You being too fucking loud, yo.” He continues to fuck her from behind, groaning loudly at the sight of her ass clapping back on him.

The woman buries her face into the pillow, crying out loudly into the material. Drool found itself trailing along her chin as she took every inch of him. She was too fucked out that she attempted to run, reaching to place her hand onto his lower stomach and trying to crawl away. But his grip was much too tight and it seemed to have gotten tighter, the moment she tried to run.

“Where you going, mama?” He quizzes lowly, grasping a hold of both of her wrists and pinning them behind her back as if she was arrested. “Don’t run. You can take it, baby. Fuck, you can take it.”

She had no choice but to take it. Tears of pleasure cascading along her cheeks due to how amazing he felt digging in and out of her tiny hole. He stretched her out so beautifully. She’d never had a man put it down the way he did.

“Unh, unh, unh,” Each back stroke, Tangie moaned in and out of the pillow. “Ouu, daddy. You’re fucking me so good. Oh, my—” A gasp passing her lips as her legs began to shake yet again, more of her cream leaking out of her tight hole.

“Ah, fuck!” Nas happened to be on the verge of releasing, still fucking into the beauty without a care in the world. He was so lost in her walls, so deep in a whole other world.

Digging her pearly whites into her bottom lip, her low lust-filled irises averts back at him, throwing it back like never before. “Don’t stop. I want to feel that dick come inside of me…” Her eyelids fluttering repeatedly, tone of voice high pitched. “Your pussy.”

His low eyes piercing into hers, “My pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, yes… I’m gonna cum.” Her thin eyebrows furrow together as she breaks their intense eye contact, burying her face into the pillow.

It wouldn’t be long before they reached their climax, mouths agape, riding their high. Nas found himself gripping the top of the shaking headboard in the process at the effects of the intense orgasm.

“Damn.”

#black men #black women #early 2000s #black love #romance #hip hop #black beauty #smut #nasir jones #90s #diamond white

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incorrectbatfam · 5 months

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What do the Goofy Gooners look like .. asking for a friend …

Rob is a tired dad with an inferiority complex. He doesn't put much effort into his appearance because basic hygiene already saps a lot of his energy. He has reddish-brown hair that he keeps short for convenience and doesn't shave as often as he should, so there's always a thin layer of stubble. I picture him to be around 33 but stress makes him look older. He usually wears the same basic t-shirts and cargo pants—a polo would be fancy for him. He's on the underweight side because he frequently skips meals so his kids and Milo have enough. He also has random tattoos scattered over his arms plus one on his leg and neck. They don't mean anything, just dumb stuff he got when he was younger, including a winking emoticon and the Pillsbury doughboy.

Blaise is 26 and you can tell he's a stoner from the get-go. He has dirty blonde hair that he grows out but hardly maintains, and the same level of effort goes for his clothes. He often wears things he finds in dumpsters or thrift stores and chooses comfort over style. His clothes have lots of hidden pockets for lighters, firecrackers, and weapons. He's tall and lanky, which makes living out of Milo's car in the parking lot awkward (Rob offered his apartment but he declined). Similar to Rob, Blaise also has a number of meaningless tattoos plus several piercings. He also plays the guitar and keeps his lucky pick on a necklace.

Kellin is a 20-year-old originally hailing from Thailand. Their assassin parents trained them in gymnastics, martial arts, and various weaponry from a young age in hopes that Kellin would follow in the family's footsteps and join the League of Assassins. That obviously didn't work out and they traveled around as an independent hitman (hitperson?) for a couple years before they landed in Gotham. They're always battle-ready—if they could shower in their assassin uniform they would. They changed their name and keep their hair just long enough to mask their face. They're fluent in English, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Arabic, but they prefer to let their actions speak for them instead.

Molly is a 25-year-old trans woman who incorporates her jobs as a drug dealer, team strategist, and nightclub DJ in a single look. She has long dark hair dyed with neon streaks but ties it up when fighting. She's not the most formidable combatant but she has basic fighting skills and is very calculative. Her primary weapon is a metal baseball bat, inspired by her favorite anti-hero, Harley Quinn. She also has a belt equipped with her experimental chemicals and smoke pellets. However, she's not allowed to pair up with Blaise on missions because it's an open secret that the two of them can't focus around each other.

Otto is a war veteran and car mechanic around the same age as Alfred, but that's where the similarities end. He's been wearing the same mechanic's uniform for the past four decades, the only differences between then and now being his hair thinning, a couple front teeth falling out, and acquiring a beer gut. His arms are covered in scabs and scars from the job and he's had trouble with his right knee ever since the army. On the surface he seems like a Boomer yelling at kids to get off his lawn, but he's more like a stern but well-intentioned grandpa who is disappointed to see nothing much has changed over the years.

Milo is your standard 15-year-old delinquent. He's slightly small for his age and doesn't pack that big of a punch on his own, but put him behind the wheel and he's a total menace. When he's not driving, he keeps himself stimulated with video games or his collection of keychains (his favorite is purple bat because of his puppy crush on Spoiler). His look is reminiscent of early 2000s skater punks, including a bright red mohawk and his trusty headphones. Everything he owns, minus his car, fits into a single backpack. His weapon, on the rare occasion Rob lets him on the front line, is a batarang he found on the street.

Gene is someone you would never expect to have so many issues because on the outside he looks like an average 40-year-old glasses-wearing office worker. He has short sandy hair and dark circles under his eyes from nightmares. His meds help a lot, but sometimes he's still seen pacing around and muttering to himself. He's not a danger anymore compared to the past, which is why Rob trusts him enough to share an apartment. Gene focuses his nervous energy into his research and tinkering instead, amassing a comedic collection of hyperspecific gadgets.

Mac is basically the guy in the chair. He's 30 and has thick glasses, thick curly brown hair, a thin goatee, and almost exclusively wears flannel. His nails are down to a nub because he bites them when concentrating. He's also often seen with chips or an energy drink in his hands and wears a jailbroken smart watch. Of the team, he has the least physical prowess but the most brain power. He doesn't see combat often but keeps a pistol in case. He turned an old ice cream truck into his home/mobile office so he can plug in anywhere. Like Kellin, he's also not from Gotham, but instead Fawcett City and has a distinct Minnesota accent.

Booker is a 19-year-old Gotham U student and the third member of the team's Glasses Trio. He's an intelligent guy slated to graduate a year early and thus needs his internship credits sooner. He's very polite (albeit a little socially awkward) and puts his best foot forward by coming into work with slacks and fun patterned suspenders even though he doesn't have to. His hair has a slightly uneven fade because his sister insisted on practicing on him for cosmetology school, so he covers it with a fedora. He carries his things in a laptop bag and has an enthusiastic bounce in his step that only newbies would have.

Jackie and Gunner are Rob's 6-year-old twins (Jackie being 8 minutes older) and are the babies of this hodgepodge family. Jackie takes after her late mother with frizzy black hair usually tied in pigtails. She loves wearing pink, reads way above her level, and is a horse girl in that she wants one to stomp on the people she doesn't like. Gunner looks more like his dad, though his hair is a little messier and overgrown. He hates school but loves dirt and monster trucks. Both of them have a troublesome streak but Jackie's a little better at hiding it. They quarrel like siblings do but at the end of the day, they always stick up for each other.

#see previous posts #original character #batman #batfamily #batfam #batman family #dc villains #gotham rogues #dc comics #character idea #character design #headcanon #long post #tw violence mention

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lemon-muncher · 1 year

Note

Denji with fem reader who pegs him,,, 🫣🫣🫣❤️ perhaps a bit of femenization even,,,let the boy feel pretty

Denji about to enter his girlypop era 😚

Denji's so pretty 😍

"Awww~ Denji, you're so cute! I need to dress you up more often!" You cooed to your blonde boyfriend. You dressed him up in a pink frilly dress, white knee high socks with the addition of makeup that brought out his eyes and lips. The boy squirmed under you as his wrists were bound by your hands. Mascara and eyeliner was smeared across his red face, pink lip gloss was smudged past the corners of his mouth.

"MO- Ah~ Mommy!" Denji squealed as you raised your hips and continued to thrust into him at a brutal pace. His legs were over your shoulders, hanging lazily as you abused his body. "Now now, Denji~ Tell Mommy what you want and I'll consider giving it to you." You couldn't help but giggle as brown eyes rolled towards the back of his head. "I- I want Mommy to keep fucking me! PleAse! Keep g-going~"

Humming to his request, you let go of his wrists. In a quick motion, you grabbed his legs off your shoulders and pushed them towards his frail body. " 'ts too deep! MoMmy ~ Too DeEp~" You readjusted your hips again, thrusting deeper into his throbbed hole. "Does my pretty girl want Mommy to keep going?~" You watched as your girly boyfriend attempts to nod his head at your question. The dress he was wearing was raised to his chest, revealing his abdomen covered in pre-cum.

"Mommy's gonna get you pregnant, Denji. Wanna see you full like this all the time~" You rambled through labored breaths as you put a hand on the small bulge that appeared on his stomach. Denji threw his head further back into the pillows. His grasps on you, tightened as his eyes slightly crossed and his tongue lolled out between his sharp teeth. Incoherent babbling escaped his mouth as he bucked his hips into yours, hoping for more stimulation. "My my~ I guess my pretty girl likes it deep! You're so dirty, Denji~ 'ts so cute!" You squealed as you continued to rock your hips against his.

"Do you think you can cum for Mommy?" As you asked a completely fucked out Denji, his girlish squeals and trembling legs filled your senses. "Be a good girl and cum, Princess~" Before he could completely comprehend your words his body violently convulsed under you. His grasp of you tightened and hid eyes crossed and rolled to the back of his head. His tongue was caught by his teeth, resulting in a pill of drool pooling in his mouth, eventually dripping out onto his cheek.

You looked down to notice his cock still hard as an unsteady stream of transparent fluid left his tip. "You can even squirt like a girl! You're just full of surprises, Denji~" Your remark went unnoticed by your loving boyfriend. His body still jerked as your hips never stopped moving at its rapid pace.

"Wanna see what else you can do, Princess~"

I had a lot of fun with this one! Despite being afab I have a hard time writing from that perspective so I apologize for the wait. Anyways, if you have any other requests, let me know!

#sub character #sub denji #denji x reader #sub chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #sub csm #dom reader #dom fem reader

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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Ur good 🗞 anon I don't have a problem with it :))) also I'm sending u a red eye (drip coffee w a shot of Espresso in it) it is the fuel that keeps blue collar guys going

ALSO ALSO IM STILL FERAL OVER GENDERBENT 141 FUCK WOMENNNNNN

-🔪

I love how you 2 are having a love affair in my asks

speaking of Genderbent!141,

Let me use highjack this ask to cook up something good:

Genderbent!Los Vaqueros (and everyone else).

(this is especially for @lyralein and their promise to draw me Alejandra and Rosario)

Alejandra Vargas has the longest, prettiest hair for someone who spends their time with it TIED IN A DAMN HIGH PONYTAIL???? She 100% wears SOOOO much hair gel to keep it slick and from having flyaways while in the field but that means it exposes her widow's peak and big ass fivehead. She's very used to being underestimated (just like Jane Price) but she has natural scary dog privilege and even her smirks and smiles look evil, so her subordinates Know Better™️. Also, she's tall as all hell, just like Simone. Fuck you mean she's 5ft10???? She serves cunt everywhere she goes when off-duty.

Rosario "Rosa" Parra has a curly bob and has the longest prettiest eyelashes. Does it pass regulation? No. But are you gonna go tell the Colonel's best friend to fix her hair, cut it? No. Exactly. Now get out of her face before SgtMj Parra makes you run drills. She and Alejandra have MATCHING tattoos that they got after the betrayal of their teammates who were on the cartel's payroll (like Valerio Garza). I'm entirely convinced her and Alejandra have gossip sessions over coffee when doing paperwork.

Valerio Garza is 100% such a fucking papi chulo. You know it, I know it. Man's got the most beautiful brown eyes, thickest brows, and the nastiest little smug smirk on his lips at all times. Has a shaggy little hairstyle that just makes him look like SUCH a fuckboy and a 5 o'clock shadow. Man's tall as all hell and I just KNOW he's got a fucking scorpion tattooed in his forearm. Just trust me on this.

Patricia Graves (yes I know Philipa exists but I don't like it for him bc it's not 'common' the way 'Philip' is common for men) is such a fucking bitch. I'm sorry, but she is. (to me, Philip's actions just become even more inexcusable when she's a woman like????) Anyways. Has the sleekest light brown hair but she gets it lightened to blonde because she can. Who's gonna stop her? Wears her hair cut into a lob (long bob) and unironically loves cowboy boots when she's out of uniform.

Alexa Keller is ready to fuck shit up at a moment's notice. Give her a time and a place and she WILL show up, drop some bodies, and leave without a word. Tall and strong, but not as beefy as Soap. Especially top-heavy. I'm convinced she binds her chest with bandages in order to fasten her vest on properly. Has a layered bob and carries bobby pins in her pack/pockets so she can keep pinning it back, on TOP of already carrying hair-ties around her wrists. At one point, Faris teaches her how to tie a scarf to keep it off her face.

Faris Karim is, I hate to say it, tall and on the skinny side. The ULF is a freedom fighting group and he's spent much time in prison, so, he's not as 'well developed' as many soldiers would be. Nonetheless, he's a good leader and makes up for his lesser build with determination. Has a beard that he cannot keep up with more often than not so he shaves it off when it gets too long, and keeps his hair in a combover or quiff.

Christopher "Chris" Laswell is, point blank, tall and slightly pudgy, used to being behind a desk, writing reports and fucking people up with words more than with fists. That being said, piss him off hard enough and he'll have you on your ass. Has an Ivy League cut with a side part and is either PERFECTLY clean-shaven or has the THICKEST beard you've ever seen. (I was gonna 'pick' a mustache only but then he'd look like Alex Keller too much)

Natasha is, I hate to say it, the most stereotypical Russian woman you've ever met... minus the blonde hair. She has the beautiful waves, she has the red lipstick and the heavy make-up, she has the expensive fur coats, and dresses and heels, and all the jewelry. Is it practical? No. But she's a CEO and a forced to be reckoned and there's nothing stopping her.

#asks #🗞️ anon #genderbent!cod #genderbent!141 #genderbent!los vaqueros

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winniemaywebber · 4 days

Text

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 3

featuring @ginabaker1666 's oc Valencia <3

part 1 part 2 masterlist

olive's playlist

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid

Kneeling down to greet the dog, Olive lets out a giggle as he sniffs at her face. “Was it you I heard?” she murmurs, hoping the man in front of her doesn't hear. The dog looks back at her with, somehow, a knowing look in his shiny eyes. “How did you bring me here?”

Olive begins to stand, making a nod towards Benny. “He likes you,” he says, now himself bending down to pet the dog. “That was fast.”

“That wolf likes everyone,” a blonde man pipes up from near the airplane door. “So long as they smell good or have food, he's their friend.”

“Hey, Gale, don't tell her that,” Benny replies through gritted teeth. Gale realizes in a second what he means.

“Oh–oh I mean, well….yeah, I guess he's taken a shine to her quicker than he did with most of us.” With that, he clambers into the plane, his cheeks a little flushed from Benny's sudden confrontation. Olive giggles at the exchange, stood there awkwardly.

“Well, I'd better go,” he says, letting go of Meatball's leash. “Go to Kenny, boy,” he softly commands as he gestures across the airfield to a young man, his curls under a woolen hat, much too hot for a day like today. The dog bounds off in the opposite direction, Benny shaking his head and smiling. “Ah, guess he wants to see his girl Tattie instead,” he pauses for a moment, his eyes coming back to you. “It was nice to meet ya, Olive.”

“Yeah, you too,” she smiles demurely, beginning to walk away.

“Will you be around later?” He shouts over the noise. “I'd love to take you for a drink when I'm back.”

“Oh, sure,” she replies, her face turning a little red. “I'd like that.”

“Okay. Great. See ya.”

Olive turns away and begins to show panic on her face. “What the fuck is going on?” She asks herself under her breath. “How on earth did I get here?” She begins to breathe in and out slowly, butterflies rising up in her stomach as she recounts the way Benny looked at her. ‘Not my usual type,’ she thinks, struggling to find a sense of direction. ‘But still, cute.’

Finding herself somehow still following the dog - if he led her there, she thinks, maybe he has a good idea of where to take her now - she comes across him barking loudly at a dark haired woman who can't quite seem to wrangle him and tend to her work. She stands at medium height in a blue fitted jumpsuit that is perfectly tailored in all the right places, the color of it bringing out the chocolate brown of her eyes. As Olive takes her in, Meatball begins wrapping himself about her legs, the leash basically tying her up.

“No, no! Darn dog, why don't you ever listen. Meatball, stop. Stop!” she yells, obviously exasperated.

“Hey, hey,” Olive says, trying to bring the excited dog to a stop. “Stop wrapping yourself around this nice lady, huh?” Olive gently begins unraveling the leash from the woman's legs, the woman looking down at her gratefully. “There we go,” she says, fussing with the dog's ears as he pants in her face.

“Gee, thanks,” the woman begins with a sigh. “I can never seem to control him. Only Benny seems to know how. You must be some sort of dog whisperer.”

“No, ma'am,” Olive responds, laughing. “He just seems to have taken a shine to me.”

“You can say that again,” she grins, her red lips smooth and shiny. “I'm Tattie. What's your name?”

“Olive. Olive Lewis,” she says for the second time that day. Tattie turns her head to the side slightly, looking her up and down.

“Don't suppose you want a job for the day? I'm a girl down. Helen is sick in bed with God knows what and I can't take care of this dog and make sure these boys are placated when they get back. Wanna help out?”

“I'd love to,” Olive responds keenly. “What do I need to do?”

“Can ya pour coffee?”

“Sure can, with a pretty smile too,” Olive says, remembering her hellish shifts as a barista between acting jobs in London's busiest coffee shop.

“Well, then. There we go. Come on, I'll show you around.”

“Here's our little Clubmobile. The boys usually come here before making their way over to the hardstand. They can grab coffee and donuts here. They've probably already eaten breakfast, but it's a little bit of home, isn't it? Lord knows these fellas need some normalcy in all this.” Olive nods, understanding. When living in London, Olive loved nothing more than recreating Pearl’s steak pie, eating it while watching her favorite soap opera. A little bit of home.

Tattie then gestures over to the other woman in the truck. The brown haired, green eyed beautifully made up girl nods politely at Olive as Tattie introduces them, Olive seeing a little scowl as she does so.

“Valencia can take it from here. I'll be back.”

Valencia walks up to Olive, her red lips pursed a little. She reaches a hand out in greeting and shakes Olive's, who is a little taken aback.

“Tattie introduces me as Valencia, but please call me Val.”

“Alright, Val,” Olive replies, winking. The scowl seems to melt away instantly, her pretty face softening.

“My gosh, you're English,” she giggles. “You may be the first American Red Cross girl from England. Boy, aren't we special!”

“Only for today, apparently. Let's not celebrate it quite yet, Val.”

“No, you'll be back. I'll make sure of it.” She nudges Olive playfully. “I like you already.”

—

“So, you can see we’re not exactly rushed off our feet here when the boys go up,” Val says, sat on a chair with her legs up on a table, fiddling with her perfectly manicured nails. “I sometimes help Chick with some secretarial work to pass the time. Typing records, that kind of thing.”

Right on cue, a man comes bursting through the door of the hut, making Val jump. “Talk of the devil,” she murmurs, standing up quickly. “Jesus, Chick. Almost jumped outta my skin.”

“Then you best start being on your guard a little more. Less relaxed. We're at war!” he laughs. “Be a doll and grab me a coffee?”

“I'll get it,” Olive says, her eyes darting between the two nervously. Chick's eyes seem to narrow when he hears an accent that is not American, his head jerking back a little in surprise. “How do you like it?”

“Cream and sugar, please, Miss, uh–”

“Lewis. Olive.” She departs the hut, making her way into the truck to see Meatball finally resting, his head on Tattie’s legs as she reads the newspaper.

“Who's that for?”

“Val told me his name was Chick?”

“Oh, shit,” she says, putting the paper on the counter.

“Hey, don't worry,” Olive says, pouring the coffee into a paper mug. “I volunteered.”

“It's not that I'm worried about,” she says as she sees Chick walks slowly up to the door of the Clubmobile. “Watch the dog.”

Olive places the cup of coffee on the serving hatch of the truck, eavesdropping on the conversation between Chick and Tattie.

“What in God's name is an English girl doing here?”

“I'm a girl down, Chicky–”

“Ms Tattie, you know I hate that nickname–”

“And I need an extra pair of hands while Helen is sick in bed.”

“You wouldn't need that if Demarco ever tried training that damn dog of his.”

“Chicky, come on,” she pleads. “Let me keep her on. She's delightful, already great with Meatball - can you believe he listened to her the first time she asked? - and she gets on so well with Valencia already. Please, Chick. Just this once.”

“Fine,” he relents, his Southern drawl really coming through on the exasperated word. He collects the coffee from where Olive set it and takes a sip, his face a picture of surprise.

“For a Brit, you make a damn good cup of Joe, girl.” Tattie looks at Olive through the hatch and winks knowingly, Olive winking back and giggling.

—

“Come for a drink with us, Ol,” Val asks. “You can meet my guy…and maybe one of your own.” Before Olive can answer, Tattie throws a knowing look over to Val. “She already has, Valencia. Fell at Demarco's feet this morning from what I heard.” Olive's face suddenly turns a light shade of red, giggling under the gaze of the two girls.

“Oooohh!” Val says, poking at Olive. “That was fast.”

“What can I say? Some Brits do work quickly when it comes to romance.”

“I get it. He's cute!”

“Oh, absolutely. Just not my usual type.”

“Who is?” Val asks, a twinkle in her eye.

—

Surveying her as they're about to enter the hut, Val looks her up and down. “You okay if I dress you up a bit? You can borrow one of my dresses. We're about the same size, Ol. Just until you get a uniform tomorrow.”

“Sure, I'd love that. I probably look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards.” Opening the door quietly so as not to wake Helen, Val begins to tiptoe in until she sees the lights are on.

“Oh, hey, girl! This is Olive. She came to the rescue while you were sick today. Seemed to appear from thin air, Tat said.”

“Hi,” the pale, dark haired girl says with a hoarse voice. “I'm Helen. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too. Feeling any better?”

“Sure am. Nurse Tattie's orders to stay in bed despite my insistence actually helped. I'll be back out there with you both tomorrow.”

“You are staying, right?” Val questions, already pawing at the scarf Olive had tied on her head this morning.

“If you'll have me,” she smiles. “I'm sort of in between things right now. I'd love to be with you both, if that's okay with you.”

“Uh, of course, girl!” Val replies, nudging her playfully. “Welcome to our little family. Now, let's get you dressed up.”

—

Val dabs at Olive's face a final time and sighs contentedly. “There, all done. Take a look.”

Olive opens her eyes and gasps softly, a totally different person looking back at her in the mirror. It's exactly how she's always wanted to look: soft pin curls that had been twisted perfectly by Val's deft fingers, the subtle pink blush, brushed gently on her cheekbones, the flawless eyeliner upon her eyelids. The dress Val had picked, a soft blue shade that brought out the light brown of her hair and her hazel eyes fit perfectly, just as she had thought. Val smiles gently at Olive's reaction, reaching down one last time with a lipstick brush in her hand.

“This is my favorite shade,” she grins, those red lips standing out underneath her green eyes. “Let me try it on you.”

At the final smudge, Olive looks at her reflection once again, and grimaces. “Eugghh,” she scowls. “Val, I think this shade only looks good on certain people. And by certain people, I mean you.”

“And Everett,” she says wistfully, her eyes twinkling as she dips a wash cloth in a bowl of water and begins to wipe at Olive's mouth. The two girls make eye contact and giggle, knowing exactly what she means. “Let's try this one,” she says, once again digging around her makeup box. She holds a more pink-red shade up to Olive's face and nods, dabbing at the stick with a new brush. “There, much better.”

—

“Helen, are you sure you're not coming?” Olive asks as her and Val stand up to leave.

“No, dolls. I'm almost at the end of this dang flu though, so I'll see you tomorrow? Olive, I'll make sure your bunk is ready for tomorrow night.”

“Did anyone change the sheet since Curt was in here with Nurse Itchy?”

“Eugh, no! I'm glad you reminded me. I don't want Olive sleeping in that.”

“Nurse Itchy?” Olive squeals, slightly confused but giggling nevertheless.

“Nurse Itchy,” Helen nods, sniffling slightly as she laughs along. “She'd been getting everyone, uh, sick, which I think goes against some sort of code. Anyway–”

“Anyway,” Val interrupts, overlapping Helen. “I was fixing Curt's shirt - you may meet him tonight, he's been my best friend since we were sandbox kids - and he came by to pick it up. He decided to bring company and in return, probably caught the clap.”

“Yeah, him and five others,” Helen titters, shaking her head.

“Oh, minging!”

“Eeewwww, ming-ing,” the other girls playfully mock in a faux British accent. “That's such a great word, I need to keep that in my pocket.”

“Minging,” Helen repeats as she lays her head on her pillow. “That's excellent!”

—

Entering the club, Val grabs Olive by the hand and pulls her towards her ‘usual’ spot, right by the bar.

“Jesus, Valencia,” Olive grumbles. “Almost pulled my elbow out of its socket.”

“Oh, don't be a baby,” she winks, pulling off her jacket and placing it on the back of her chair. “Anyway, had to rush for the perfect spot before Itchy and Co came along and took it. Look,” she points across the room to two men sat at the bar, deep in conversation. The taller one, with light brown hair looks over and winks. Val giggles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That's my Ev. Everett Blakely.”

“Oh!” Olive begins. “He's very handsome.”

“You got that right, doll. There, next to him, is his best friend. James Douglass.” Olive tries her best to look behind the tall Blakely, and as she does, she makes eye contact with James. It's as if the world stops turning for a second, her breath caught in her throat. “Fuck me,” she chokes out, pretending to fan herself. “That's one handsome bastard.” He pats Everett on the shoulder, his mouth agape. As smooth as silk, he winks at Olive and goes back to his conversation.

“Ohhhh,” Val teases. “More your type, huh?”

Right on cue, Demarco sidles up to the table, Meatball at his side.

“Hi,” he smiles, a hand outstretched. “Can I get you a drink?” Leading her to the bar, Olive turns around and nervously glances at Val who nods, egging her on just as Ev perches on the seat Olive just abandoned.

“That'd be lovely. An Old Fashioned, please.”

“Sure.”

“And how's my new best friend doing?” she asks, crouching to pet the dog. “Huh? You doing okay? Tired from running Miss Tattie ragged all day?”

“Ah, he's really no trouble.”

“Don't hear Tattie hear you say that,” she grins. “He tied himself up around her earlier and she was not pleased. Not to mention the fur on the donuts.”

“It's just an extra sprinkle of love!”

“It ain't love,” a voice calls from behind Olive. “I don't like hair in my mouth at the best of times as it is. But on my donut? Come on, Benny.” Olive turns to see Douglass, cheekily smiling at Benny, who, in turn, has clenched his jaw.

“Come on, man,” he says, patting his shoulder. “You know I'm kidding.” Within an instant, Demarco's jaw has relaxed and he's laughing along with James, them playfully shoving each other.

Demarco leans over the bar to order their drinks as James remains beside Olive.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, not making eye contact.

“Oh, Benny's actually just getting me one. Maybe you can get me the next one. If you get there in time.”

“Oh, I see,” he teases. “Well, I'll try my best to keep an eye on you. The second I see that glass empty, I'm on it.”

“Sure,” Olive giggles. “I'll be waiting.”

—

True to his word, the second Olive drains her glass, another is put in front of her. James is stood in front of the table Olive and Benny are sitting at, his chest slightly puffed out. “Told ya,” he said, clicking his tongue as he winks. Walking away, he joins Ev and Val at their table, pointedly pulling out an empty seat next to him. Pretending to join their conversation, he sips from his drink, his eyes dragging their way up and down Olive's body in such a way that she feels her stomach seize up in such a way that it makes her knees weak. She is glad to be sitting down, her thighs squeezing together as if they have a mind of their own.

“Right,” Benny says, putting his whiskey glass down louder than intended. “I gotta make sure Meatball gets outside before I get to bed. Will I see you tomorrow? I could walk ya home if you like?”

“No!” Olive blurts, panicking slightly. “I mean, no thanks. I'm good, I got it. But yes, you'll see me tomorrow. I'll save a donut for you and Meatball.”

“Perfect,” he says, standing up. “Goodnight.” He leans forward and kisses her gently on the cheek. Nodding at her, he leads Meatball out of the bar, Olive turning and puffing her cheeks out in some kind of unknown relief.

She's alone for a millisecond before James is back beside her, handing her a cigarette. “You smoke?”

“I do. Can you believe I forgot mine in my purse at home?”

“At home? Don't you live here with Val and Helen?”

“Not yet. As of tomorrow, yes.”

“Can't wait for the prettiest girl in all of East Anglia to hand me a donut and a cup of coffee every morning.”

“Oh, stop,” she grins, the cigarette between her lips, feeling her cheeks grow pinker by the second.

“Bet I can make ya laugh in one second.”

“Really?” She says, eyes narrowing. “Go for it.”

“What's the difference between a hippo and a zippo?”

“I don't know, James. What is the difference?”

“One is really heavy,” he begins, pulling his own zippo from his pocket. “The other is a little lighter!”

The cackle that leaves Olive's body has her instantly clamping a hand over her mouth, the other on her stomach. “That's a great laugh,” he says, lighting her cigarette for her as her hand leaves her mouth. “Don't cover your mouth when you laugh, though. You have a pretty smile.”

“Thanks,” she giggles, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Come on,” he says, his own cigarette between his teeth. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she instantly cozies up to him. “Come sit with us. Saved you a seat.”

Val smiles up at the couple as they sit down, James's arm only leaving Olive's shoulders for a moment.

“Ev, this is Olive, who I was telling you about. She'll be joining us on the Clubmobile as of tomorrow.”

“Hey, Olive. I see you've already met my pal Dougie here.”

“Sure have. With a terrible joke, too.”

“Not the hippo zippo one again!”

“She laughed her ass off, Ev.”

“She's just being polite.”

“No, seriously. It tickled me,” she interjects, winking at Dougie. He grins back, lighting another smoke.

“Another drink, sweetheart?” Ev asks Val as he gets up.

“Yes, please, honey,” she smiles.

“Olive?”

“Yeah, go on then.” He nods.

“Dougie, come give me a hand, bud.”

As soon as the boys depart, a shorter man with perfectly slicked dark hair slinks up to Val.

“Valencia, my best buddy,” he says, setting his beer on the table. “Who's ya new friend?”

“Curtis, you're a pain in my ass,” Val says through gritted teeth. “Get!”

“Alright, fine,” he laughs, winking at both the girls.

“I don't want you to catch his itch,” Val laughs.

“Honestly, I don't want to itch either, girl.”

The boys return, Val instantly making heart eyes at her man. Dougie plonks down heavily next to Olive, his hand finding its way to her thigh.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

“What do you wanna know?” she asks, sipping her drink.

“Everything. We got all night.”

22 notes · View notes

swiftgreatest · 1 year

Text

Daylight | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

request by anon: "Heyy i loved the eddie oneshot you made!! So i wanted to ask if i can request another eddie roundtree x reader inspired by daylight by taylor swift, especially this part " And I can still see it all (in my head)/ Back and forth from New York (sneaking in your bed)" ?? Thank uu, love your writing <3"

a/n: hello!! I'm so happy to write a one shot based on taylor swift song, I LOVE THIS WOMAN!!!!! i love her lyrics she's fantastic. so thanks for request, hope u like.

words: 3.5k

Drowning your sorrows with alcohol in a random bar in Los Angeles was not what you expected for the weekend. In fact, you expected much more. Being with the one you loved and who claimed to love you was what you wanted, watching random movies, kissing, comforting each other was all you wanted. But he didn't want that, in fact he didn't want only you.

You were cursing yourself for never noticing, all the times he ran away, ignored calls, made excuses, it was all in your face and you couldn't see it. You thought this was the one, your happy ending, the one you would love until the last day of your life, the one with whom you would share every part of your life. But it wasn't.

He betrayed and abandoned you, put you in his sea of illusions and lies, only to find someone else and abandon you. The love that you thought would take care of you and love you, the famous red love, romantic love, was actually a pack of lies, pretenses and betrayals.

You have never felt so used and hurt as you do now, it's as if you were trapped in a 20-year dark night, with no way out, no light, nothing to help you or guide you out of this darkness, everything was black and white for you.

As you were about to order another drink for the barman, a man sat down on the stool next to you. He was tall and handsome, his hair was a shade of blond with a bit of brown, his brown eyes watched you and with his slightly reddish mouth he smiled at you, he already had a beer in his hand and asked you for another, you arched your eyebrow in confusion and he finally spoke to you.

"Sorry I didn't even ask if you like beer.

"No problem, I like this stuff a lot" You pointed to the bottle, you were a little drunk but still understood what was going on around you and were aware of your mind.

"Well, my name is Eddie, Eddie Roundtree." He held out his hand and you shook it back, the way he introduced himself was different like he was used to people recognizing him or something, you even stopped to think for a moment and analyzed him. Who he was or who he could be.

Being an actress, working mostly in plays and musicals, you knew many famous people in various fields, actresses, actors, musicians of all styles and even other types of artists, so you tried to think if he was one of those artists. The style was typical of the rock movement, but many people followed that style.

"Y/N L/N. Have we met before?"

"No, but I think you may have heard some of my band's music" So he was a musician but that didn't help you "You know, The Six..." Oh so you recognized it.

"Oh, Daisy Jones and The Six! I remember that" You met them with Honeycomb, that song stayed in your head for months and when Aurora was released you were quick to buy a record for yourself. "Oooh we can make a good thing baaad" You sang, it was a bit of a disaster because you were a bit drunk, your voice was better than that but you allowed yourself to laugh at yourself singing like that to a guy you just met.

Eddie laughed at that, his voice came out a little slurred with the music and he loved that, he even sang the next part with you, and you both ended up laughing together at each other. You clicked very quickly. You started talking to him, about the band, the songs, and the current Aurora tour.

After that Eddie started telling you about his career, how he was a guitar player in the beginning of the band and then a bass player, he also told you about music, how it was something important in his life and how he intends to work with music forever.

"But I talked a lot about myself, what about you? Tell me about you?"

You told him all about yourself, every little detail, and Eddie listened to everything with excitement and curiosity, he saw you in the bar and thought you were the most charming woman he had ever seen, there was no way he could resist, and now each thing you said he was more fascinated by you.

From your life as an attendant in a market to the stages of Broadway and other theaters, you told your whole story to the bass player. He was surprised that you were an actress and was dying to see you perform, he was sure you were amazing.

With every word you said about your work, Eddie could see how passionate you were about your profession, passionate about what you did, and you had a great passion that he found beautiful as well as everything about you.

Between talking about your lives and other things, you and Eddie talked about the most varied subjects, it was as if you were old friends who had met and already knew each other's life story. The conversation was wonderful, you never felt so caught up and excited in a conversation with someone as you did with Eddie and you had only known him a few hours. You spent so many hours talking that the bartenders had to kick you out because they had to close, and you were the last ones to stay.

The musician and you left the bar laughing, who could imagine being thrown out of such a place? Nevertheless, this event didn't spoil the evening, nothing could. And who knew that you would have so much fun on a night that began full of sadness and disappointment. You were so happy that you met Eddie, he was like a light bringing clarity and joy to your evening.

After you left the bar, Eddie called a cab for you because neither he nor you could drive after drinking alcohol. You got into the cab and he leaned out the window to talk to you.

"So when will we see each other again? You were surprised at yourself for saying that sentence, it was so fast you couldn't even think, it seemed strange, you had just ended a relationship and were already going out with a guy? But this is your life, so you make the rules here and live as you like.

"Whenever you want, for you I am always at your disposal..." Roundtree smiled as he stared at you, he looked at your mouth, then at your eyes and you did the same to him. But he couldn't do that yet, you hadn't even had a decent first date and you had been drinking a lot and he wanted to do it sober.

You took a piece of paper from your purse and wrote your phone number "Call me, I'll be waiting for you rock star" You kissed the paper before handing it to him. After that you told the driver to go and waved to Eddie as the car pulled away. And if you had looked back any longer you would have seen Eddie kissing the paper with your number on it and looking at it like a winning ticket.

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

Many months passed after that, there were many meetings, kisses, moments, jokes and conversations, but you remember everything in your mind. From your first meeting at the movies to when Eddie introduced you to his friends, the guys in the band loved you, everyone was kind and polite and you liked all of them, except Billy. Eddie told you some things about Billy before you met, but you left it to your own opinions without influence from anyone. So in your own judgment you didn't like Billy Dunne, nothing about him pleased you, his arrogant and smug air made you feel sorry for those who had to live with him every day.

But apart from that, you and the band created a good relationship, you became very close to Karen and she even revealed to you her relationship with Graham, you were happy but not surprised anyone could see how much the guitarist liked the keyboard player and you think they are cute. You also became very close to Warren the drummer was very happy that his friend had found a girl, especially one as special as you, so you became friends and you even saw Rollerball with him once.

Between the trips you had to make for your job to perform in theaters around the country, Eddie also had to travel for the Aurora tour, so from one city to another you would meet up when your schedules matched or you got a break and when you couldn't Roundtree would call you every day after the shows, this was like a rule to him, he wouldn't sleep or rest without talking to you, in fact he doesn't even know if he could because your voice calmed him down and talking to you made him forget about the problems of the tour.

On one of your days off you joined the band to go to Pittsburgh. Eddie was very excited about this trip, he talked about it for weeks and his joy was contagious. He really wanted you to see the city where he was born, and to meet his family, especially his grandmother. The bassist talked a lot about his family and all he wanted was to introduce the person he was completely in love with to the most important people in his life, his family.

The trip to Pittsburgh was good, you talked with Lisa, Warren's girlfriend for a while until you felt tired and you and your boyfriend went to sleep, you were in armchairs close to each other so he only had to put his arms around you and you put your head against his chest to sleep. You slept soundly feeling safe in each other's company and didn't even notice that Camila took a picture of you. She gave the picture to you a few days after the unveiling saying how cute you both were. And now you carry that picture with you everywhere you go.

The days in Pittsburgh were the best, Eddie was so happy, you fell in love with his family and the city, it was all so comforting, everyone was so kind to you. Eddie's family loved you, they were very loving, you spent the days talking to Eddie's grandmother, she was very kind, you formed a great friendship and Eddie was very happy about it. To see you with his grandmother at the show in Pittsburgh was very important for him.

But not everything was perfect, in the show Billy Dunne stole Eddie's part in Daisy's solo. In front of everyone, your whole hometown, your friends, your family, you. You spent the whole night after the show consoling your boyfriend, after the show was over you realized how upset he was, you were spending the days at his family's house so when you came back and went into Eddie's old bedroom, where you were sleeping, you hugged him and he started to cry.

He was so tired of being belittled, manipulated and used, he had so much talent but all he got was depreciation. Being in the band was a dream for him, but he never imagined that a dream could become a nightmare. You knew about what Billy was doing, about re-recording Eddie's basses and how he always belittled the bass player and other members of his own band, you were disgusted by that man.

"He couldn't have done that, not here in Pittsburgh, in front of my grandmother, in front of you. You sat on the bed as you continued to hold each other, his face was on your neck and you felt his tears on your skin, you were moving his hair trying to reassure him, it broke your heart to see him like that.

"He's an asshole. I know how much you want to prove to people how talented you are, but you don't have to prove anything to anyone, it's not your job." You pulled his face away from your neck to look him in the eyes "Your grandma knows how talented you are, your family knows it, your town knows it, and I know it Eddie, we're all proud of you.

"I know my love, but I can't understand how such a horrible person as that guy can get anything he wants, or do anything he wants and nobody says anything. I wish I could make him feel the same way, excluded, despised, ignored, he deserves it."

"Don't let this bad feeling consume you, it will only break you, or worse, it will make you just like Billy, a person who is so broken inside that he needs to belittle and break the people around him to feel better or superior. You are not like that Eddie, you are bigger than that, your music and passion is bigger than all that.

And it was looking into your eyes at that moment, inside your childhood bedroom, with the curtains open where the window allowed the moonlight to shine on you, that the bass player had an epiphany, a confirmation of how everything you had was something so precious and unique, that he wanted it forever, to be with someone who supported and loved him the way he was with all the flaws and faults, a love that told the truth but would never say good-bye

You once told Eddie that he was like daylight, that he brightened your days, cleared your thoughts and brought you out of a dark night of twenty years, and that now with him you could only see daylight with him. He had never understood that, until today.

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night

And now, I see daylight

I only see daylight

Sometimes life changes so fast that when we stop and look back we think how real was it? How much we felt and all that we experienced. It's crazy how fast the night can change. And that's what happened in your life and in Eddie's life.

After the Pittsburgh show the tension in the band increased, everyone was uncomfortable and in trouble, except Warren. Eddie was at his limit and you knew it, when he told you that he was leaving the band, you were sad for him, because you knew that this was his dream and he dedicated so much of himself, but you respected his decision and supported him in it, all you wanted was for him to be okay.

And your boyfriend really admired this in you. In the beginning he was afraid to tell you that he was leaving the band, he was insecure, the band was the only thing he had, he was afraid that you would see him in a different way now that he was not part of one of the biggest bands in rock. And he was relieved when nothing changed, you still believed in him and his talent.

You still remember the day after the Chicago show, you were at your home in New York. Last night Eddie didn't call you as usual and you were very worried, you called but he didn't answer. Then in the afternoon when the thoughts were troubling you, your apartment doorbell rang and you answered. At the door was Eddie, with a suitcase and a black eye, the only thing he said to you was "It's over" and you understood everything. You cared for him that night, you loved him, supported him, and cared for him.

In the months after the breakup, Eddie surprised you. He bought a new apartment, a bigger one than you had, a place of your own, where you could be who you were and love each other the way you wanted. Starting to live with Eddie was amazing, you had a great life, waking up with daylight shining on you, cooking meals together and making messes, sneaking in your bed, Eddie helping you rehearse lines for the plays you were in.

It was so funny, he was always so dramatic in his lines and so expressive, you laughed at him most of the time and it made the work lighter. Roundtree went back to playing guitar, he went back to writing, making some songs and meeting new bands, labels and musicians. And this is how Eddie slowly entered the world of music production. He got a job at a record company and became the producer of a hard rock band that was starting up.

After the first album, the band took off and Eddie's work was recognized, so the record company called him to produce other music and other artists and this is how he established himself as a popular and good music producer. You couldn't even describe how happy you were, you were so happy that Eddie would continue with his dream, you were afraid that he would quit music after the band and when he started producing music you could see how excited and happy he was, so you were happy too.

You accompanied him to all his events and he did the same with you, without the touring life he had more time now, so he went to all his shows and was your biggest fan as his co-workers said. His job remained the same and that's why you still need to travel.

And I can still see it all (in my mind)

All of you, all of me (intertwined)

I once believed love would be (black and white)

But it's golden (golden)

And I can still see it all (in my head)

Back and forth from New York (sneaking in your bed)

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

And that's what you were doing now. Sitting in front of a dressing table in your dressing room, you were getting ready to go on stage. You were in Arizona performing your new play that was showing in several states. It had been a month since you had seen Eddie and it was so hard for you, you spent so much time together, it was like the time he went on tour, you kept calling and even exchanging letters. In some of them Eddie sent you some lyrics he wrote about you, writing music was something he never gave up and you were proud of it.

Now looking in the mirror, you think back to all the moments you remembered, the first time you saw each other, life with him in the era of The Six, building a life in New York. And you could only feel grateful and happy to have built such an amazing life next to someone you loved so much and who loved you with the same intensity. Real love, with difficulties and battles, but together you overcame everything and grew to become what you are today.

You smiled at the thought, and were so thoughtful that you didn't even notice when a production employee walked into your dressing room.

"Miss Y/N L/N, this came for you" He handed you a bouquet of flowers, they were yellow daffodils, they were beautiful.

"Oh, thank you so much, do you know who sent them?"

"No, but this note came with them" He handed you a small envelope "And you go on stage in 5 minutes" You nodded your head in agreement and he left, then you opened the note.

"I have traveled a long way just to see my star shine with my own eyes on this stage. Greetings from New York."

The note was unsigned but you already knew who it was from, you cracked a big smile, kissed the note and put it away with the bouquet. Then you came out of your dressing room and ran onto the stage. Lights were turned on and the curtains opened, and when you looked out into the audience there he was.

In all his glory, he was standing in the front row applauding you and smiling at you proudly, the man who changed your life, who taught you that love was golden, that love is about good things and not about making the other person feel belittled, the love of your life, your daylight.

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you (I can never look away)

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

(Things will never be the same)

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

(Now I'm wide awake)

And now I see daylight (I see daylight), I only see daylight (Ah)

— — —

I LOVE WRITE THISSSS, HOPE U GUYS LIKE

masterlist

#eddie roundtree #djats #daisy jones and the six #eddie loving #request #swiftgreatest's write #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving x reader #eddie roundtree one shot #eddie loving x you #eddie loving imagine #eddie loving one shot #eddie roundtree imagine #eddie roundtree x you

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