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rafecameronssl4t · 4 months

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Tell ur girl || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Topper’s new girl being a bitch so you just have to remind her where her place is.

Warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 431

a/n: send me requests pleaseee 🫶

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

Posted up with my dogs, Scooby Doo type shit. She grippin’ all on my balls, I gotta move type shit. Diamonds, they cover my flaws, I got that brand new type shit.

You step into the dimly lit space of the party, left hand sporting a red plastic cup, your other holding your purse as you move amidst the chaotic atmosphere. The pulsating bass of Future’s ‘Type Shit’ reverberating through the air, the scent of alcohol and sweat mingles with the thrum of excitement, creating an intoxicating ambiance that electrifies the senses.

You navigate through the crowded room, your gaze fixed on Rafe, sat on one of the couches with a few people around, his presence commanding attention wherever he goes. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—like topper and kelce—their expressions a blend of excitement and indulgence, but your focus remains on Rafe.

He hadn’t noticed you as he was talking to a guy standing behind the couch, but Topper did, and he tapped Rafe on the shoulder and cocked his head to your direction. He watches you as you come closer with that grin you knew all too well. He let his eyes wander down your figure as you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burn up.

Without even setting down your purse or cup, you immediately leaned over to Rafe as his hand rests on your hip, your lips meeting in a kiss. All while this was happening, you could hear Topper ushering the girl beside him to move to his other side. Your eyes move to an unfamiliar girl, her blonde locks cascading around her shoulders as she’s pressed up against your boyfriend’s arm, her expression one of casual indifference.

Your eyes then flicker towards Topper’s hand resting on her thigh. So this must be Top’s new girl, Cassie I think her name was. “Yo Top, tell your girl to move over yeah?” Rafe leans back on the sofa manspreading as his eyes lock with Topper’s behind the blonde girl’s head.

You notice the subtle change of demeanour in Cassie as she looks down at her painted nails. “Babe, just move here,” Topper pats the free space on his other side as she scoffs. “Why should I? I was here first,” she scoffs, glancing at you as she dismissively tosses her hair.

Rafe watches Cassie with a measured gaze, his eyes betraying none of the amusement that flickers in their depths. “Cassie, right?” The blonde blinks up at you, “Could you just please move over? You’ll still be sitting next to Top,” You assert, your tone firm but composed. Rafe’s lips quirk up in a barely contained smile.

“Nothing,” She shrugs, “I’m just not moving,” she declares defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture of defiance. In your peripheral vision, Topper closes his eyes briefly before letting out a breath, “Cassie, it’s not a big fuckin’ deal, just move and let Y/n sit there.” His tone agitated.

Your patience wears thin at her stubbornness, frustration simmering beneath the surface. With a sigh, you shoot Rafe a pleading look, silently urging him to intervene. But Rafe merely watches the exchange with a hint of amusement, his lips quirking up in a barely concealed smile.

Before you can respond, Rafe’s deep voice slices through the thick tension in the room, calm yet imbued with an unmistakable authority. His eyes lock onto yours, his expression firm but not unkind. “Come on, Cassie. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says. His words resonate with a weight that leaves no room for argument.

“Fucking forget about it,” your voice cuts through the air as the three of them watch you set down your things on the glass table. Then, without missing a beat, you settle onto Rafe’s lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. Your boot-covered feet find their place on Cassie’s lap, causing her eyes to widen in shock

Topper stifles his laugh as Rafe smirks, his large hand resting on your exposed stomach. Topper’s laughs become audible, drawing a sharp glare from Cassie. “Fuck you all,” she snaps, pushing herself off the couch and shooting you a withering look before stalking off into the crowd.

“Jesus Christ, Top, where are you finding these girls? Bitch island?” You shook your head at him as he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the couch. “Fucked If I know. Maybe I should steer clear of blondes,” Topper grumbles. Rafe snorts, “That’s about the smartest think you’ve said in a long time.”

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greenorangevioletgrass · 4 months

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tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?”

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile. And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…”

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too.

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved.

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered.

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter, “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

#art donaldson #divorced!art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #divorced!art x reader #art donaldson fluff #eeeeeeeee im so h-word physically and emotionally for him #ava writes #challengers fic

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Hi! I absolutely love your work and I hope this week treats you well!💗 I was thinking of this Eddie imagine I don’t know if you’ve done something like this but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Ok here it goes: Eddie’s fucking you stupid, it’s raw, it’s passionate, it’s filthy and in the midst of it all he says, "marry me". You think nothing of it, so you say yes obviously cock drunk and Eddie starts to fuck you even harder. Cut to the next morning you wake up stark naked next to the love of your life with a pretty engagement ring on your finger

I'm such a sucker for fluffy smut, and this is no exception 🙃

WC: 717 Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, pet names (baby/baby doll)

The night is still, save for the sound of bed springs creaking and panting breaths that you and Eddie exchange into each other’s mouths. Strong hands pin your own wrists to the pillow as he thrusts into you, moaning as he sucks a bruise into the crook of your neck. A bead of sweat trickles down his sparse chest hair and lands between your cleavage, another way your bodies are joined tonight.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he groans just under your earlobe. “How d’you always feel s-so fuckin’ perfect? Jesus Christ!” You can feel him tremble as you clench around him, already indebted to you simply for letting him see you like this. Small, crescent-shaped indents mark his bicep from where your fingernails dug into him earlier, a piece of you left behind. They’d eventually fade, but Eddie would always remember them being there.

He’s deep inside you, his wiry patch of curls brushing against your clit with each piston of his hips. You bite your lip to suppress a moan.

“Nuh uh.” Eddie briefly lets go of you, bracing his body weight on one forearm as his other thumb peels your lip from between your teeth. “Wanna hear those pretty noises loud and clear, baby doll.”

You nod and whimper, “yes, sir,” which only makes him increase his pace. He lowers his body so that your chests are pressed together, and slips an arm around your waist when you arch your back.

“This body…this perfect—fuckin’—body,” he grunts, thrusts accompanying each word. “Want this body forever.”

“‘S yours,” you manage, breath hitching in your throat as he grows even harder inside you. “All yours, Eddie. No one else’s.”

He leaves nipping kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. “Marry me,” he murmurs, surprising himself. It’s something he’s wanted for an absurdly long time, but he hadn’t planned on asking you mid-fuck. “Let me worship you for the rest of our lives. Please, baby.”

“Y-Yes, fuck—fuck, Eddie,” you cry out, and your affirmation has him bucking his hips without much precision. Still, he hits your sweet spot over and over again, throaty yeses emanating from your diaphragm.

Yes, that feels good.

Yes, I’ll love you forever.

Yes, I’ll marry you.

You chant it until you’re both cumming, your release creaming his cock and his release filling you entirely. Harsh breaths make way for giggles as he flops down next to you, falling asleep with his tattooed arm draped over your torso.

His sleeping form leaves no way to discuss his marriage proposal—if that’s even what it was, and not just something he’d spouted out in the heat of the moment. Exhaustion overtakes you soon after, and you don’t wake until you hear Eddie pattering around the kitchen the next morning.

It’s not until you wipe the sleep from your eyes that you catch a glimpse of something new: a shiny diamond ring on that finger. It’s beautiful but modest; nothing flashy, but you’ve never been the type for over-the-top jewelry. It’s perfect.

Eddie comes into the bedroom, a bowl of cereal in each hand. He’s in just his plaid boxers, exposing the soft happy trail below his belly button. Heat blossoms in your core at the sight of him.

“Hi, fiancée,” he grins, placing your breakfast on the nightstand. A bit of milk sloshes over the side of the plastic bowl, but you don’t care. You’re too busy frantically kissing him, morning breath be damned. “I guess that ‘yes’ of yours still stands?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, fingers dipping below his waistband. He’s always at least half-hard in the morning—he claims it’s because of you, but you know it’s probably just basic biology. Your hand easily finds what it’s looking for, and Eddie chuckles.

“Don’t you want to eat first?” he teases, but he’s already putting down his bowl and climbing on top of you. He takes your left hand and kisses just above the ring now adorning it.

“I love it,” you tell him, noticing that you’re wearing matching smiles. “I love you.”

Eddie presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you, too.” He slides a hand up your still-naked body, cupping your breast and gently sucking on a pert nipple. “Y’know what’s better than morning sex with your boyfriend?”

“Hmm?”

He grins wickedly. “Morning sex with your fiancé.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #requests

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klipkillakai · 8 months

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your alarm rings through your room and you open your bleary eyes, you lazily grab your phone, nails clackaling against against the screen to press stop, and you yawn as you open instagram quickly tapping through people stories.. you heart your friends story and decide that’s enough and you drop your phone on the bed and get up—

you scratch your hair through your bonnet and slip on your slippers as you make your way to the bathroom.. you look in the mirror and inspect your face… and deep down you don’t like what you see.. you look at your body with slight displeasure but you try to no to think about it.. you shake it off and start brushing your teeth.. you walk out your bathroom and turn on your tv, quickly going on the youtube app and turning on your playlist…soon after sza starts playing in your room and you’ve officially started your day—

you finish your repeated routine, skincare, hair care and finally some makeup.. just so you can feel okay enough to leave the house..

with headphones slipped over your ears you get off the bus and start walking into the school, you try to look down you try to avoid people’s gaze, you turn the music up all the way to block people out.. but you still feel the states you still catch the whispers.. and that makes you feel other.. alienated even..

“last year” you think to yourself.. a few months until you graduate..

while your at your locker you feel a presence behind you, you ignore it but you feel a tap on your shoulder and it’s johnathan.. a boy you’ve known since middle school and the same boy who’s made your life a living hell since then..

“whats up y/n” you stare blankly at him as you try to collect your stuff.. “why you gotta be like that..?”

“leave me alone fr” you say not in the mood today..

“nah i just wanted to say my boy likes you”

you know that’s a lie.. his boy comes up to him while he’s standing there and jonathan says “right you like y/n?” the friends face cringes in disgust “ew no nigga tf is wrong wit you?”

that sends a pang in your heart.. are you really that ugly? is it that impossible for someone to like you?

you simply close your locker and walk to class leaving behind both boys laughter and a piece of your pride..

you get to class siting in your seat in the back, you slip your headphones on and you look out the window..you want to cry, you want to leave, you want to crawl out your fucking skin if you could.. every diet you’ve tried.. every workout.. but it never works.. this how you are and you so desperately wished someone thought it was beautiful..

as class is going on, the door opens..

connie springer..

he walks in looking down at his phone, he has a folder tucked under his arm and he slowly walks through the desks not seemingly paying any attention to anything other than his phone..

he looks up for a sec looking for a seat and you realize the only one left is the desk next to you, you make eye contact with him and you quickly look away, he walks down the row of seats and slips into the desk, leaning back a bit and spreading his legs and he continues to type on the phone..

you inwardly think he’s cute and you keep that inwardly because you’ve never perused any crush that you had in fear of the rejection that you unsolicitedly receive daily..

you take the handed back worksheet and begin todo the work, and you softly nod your head to the beat of the music constantly playing in your ears,

you feel a tap.. you softly look up and see connie looking at you, you pull out one of your airpods and look at him..

“you got a pencil?” you nod and lean down and open the front zipper of your backpack and hand him one of yours, you hand him the pencil and he mumbles a “thank you” and you turn back and put the airpod back in your ear and continue on your work..

getting bored of the mathematical equations on your sheet, your eyes wander around the room and eventually land back on connie, you look at his buzz cut seemingly freshly cut, the diamond stud in his ear and the tattoos all over his arm, the rings on his finger and his relaxed nonchalant posture..

“he’s fine” you think to yourself..

catching you staring connie looks up at you, and you awkwardly smile and your about to look away until he speaks..

“is the pep rally tonight?”

you think about it

“umm i’m not sure but if you follow the school on insta it should tell you”

“what’s the @?” he replies and you pick up your phone and your open instagram, nails clacking against the screen while you look for it..

you feel him looking at you and you try not to squirm under it, there’s no point.. he doesn’t like you like that and never will, but you gon let yourself be delusional regardless..

“here it is”, you turn your screen towards him and he leans closer a bit, typing the @ in his phone..

“you going?” he says, you think about it,

“mm prolly not, you?”

“i might pull up ion no yet, jus checking”

“oh okay” you smile, and you look down at your phone thinking the conversation is over..

“what’s your name?” you look up..

“oh y/n” he looks at you and nods.. “i like that name”

“thank you” you say with a slightly bright smile..

he smiles back a bit, a bit and says “im connie”

“i know” you say.. “we’ve been in the same math classes for like 2 years now” you laugh a bit..

“ah my fault” he says with a slight laugh and rubs his jaw a bit.. “no your good, it’s okay”

you hate how he’s making you feel, this is the longest conversation you’ve had with a boy without him calling you a name.. or making you feel other..

connie on the other hand is just looking at you, all of you.. to be fair he’s noticed you before but not in this way, you were always sweet to the teacher, soft spoken and quiet.. but he’s never really seen you.. he looks at your body and your curves and your soft belly, he looks at your dark skin and nice lips.. he looks at your pretty hair and edges.. and fuck that smile.. that pretty little smile..

he wants to see it again, and again and again..

he smells you, sweet and clean, just like you are..

he’s heard the shit other people have whispered about you, comments on your weight.. he’s never understood it.. so what.. your gorgeous, he can’t believe other people can’t see that.. he wonders if you can see that..he knows he wants to talk to you more…

“what’s your insta” he says and you pause for a second, why does he want your insta? “ u-um here”

you open your insta and show him your account and hand him your phone, he types it in and follows you and hand it back, the bell rings and he gets up..

you grab your back and headphones and you start to walk out, he walks with you and you give him a small smile and before you walk out the door he holds out his hand and you dap him up before he smile and, walks out.. catching up with his friends and walking down the opposite end of the hall..

it’s lunch time and you grab a sandwich and a juice and you hold it in one hand as you look down at your phone and follow him back while walking through the cafe.. his profile is seemingly barren except for one highlight showing his car, and few faceless pics of him..

you swipe out his profile and you tap through your stories until you feel something snatched out your hand and your head snaps up..

it’s jonathan again and he’s letting out his dumbass laugh

“bro stop fr, that shit is not funny your always on my dick”

he smacks his teeth “you don’t need it anyway, your not gonna miss it”

“i payed for that bro, if your broke just say that”

that’s seems to anger him and he steps closer to you

“shut the fuck up”

“back up” you say angrily and you try to grab the juice back, he jerks his hand away and you push him, and he pushes you back nearly making you fall

“the fuck is your problem!” you say your voice cracking and you look around realizing you have an audience.. and you immediately want to cry and feel embarrassed.. he steps closer to you and before he can reach you you see connie walk up and shove jonathan to the ground with so much force you thought the floor broke..

jonathan quickly scrambles up and tries to punk connie, but connie towers over him, you watch as connie’s eyes darken and there shoving each other, a crowd starts to form around them and you start feeling hot.. and dizzy and you feel like your about to suffocate..

you hate when this happens, your eyes gloss over and your heart palpates and you start looking for a way out.. the teacher is here trying to separate connie and him and you start pushing through the crowd to leave..

“i just need to get out” you say to yourself.. “l-let me out” you think again.. at this point tears are rolling down your cheeks and your stumbling out into the hallway.. you need to go outside or something.. you feel trapped and you don’t know what to do..

connie realizes your gon and slips away from the drama in search of you.. he wonders if your okay, he say the sadness and anger on your face and he never wanted to see that again, he finds you walking down the hallway, broken sobs leaving your lips and his heart almost breaks, he catches up to you and places a hand on your shoulder..

“hey.. cmon it’s okay” he mumbles and he rubs your arm and looks at you, “don’t cry mama”

he cups your face and makes you look up at him, you avoid his gaze not wanting him to see you cry, and he simply uses both his thumbs and wipes under your eyes.. “don’t wanna ruin that pretty makeup” he mumbles and you finally look up at him with your teary eyes.. “there you are” he whispers

he pulls you into a hug and you hesitantly wrap your arms around him, you sniffle a bit and he smiles softly

“you wanna take a ride wit me?” you softly pull away..

“mm, y-yea” you say after thinking about it and softly smiles and nods for you to follow him..

he leads you out to his car, a shiny black hell cat with fresh raindrops all over it, he opens the door for you and you slip in, looking around at the inside and smelling his musky fresh scent, with a bit of weed..

he slips in with a sigh, and he puts his phone in the cup holder before turning the car on and reving the engine, and pulling off..

“where we going?” you ask with a soft rasp..

he softly looks at you “mm you hungry?”

you feel your face heat up and even tho he can’t see it he can tell that wasn’t the best thing to say

“you don’t have to worry about eating wit me mama”

“i want you to eat, that shit is important, don’t let anyone let you think otherwise”

you look up at him and almost cry at his words..

“so? you want sumn to eat?”

“y-yea” you say with a shy smile

“there you go” he mumbles and smiles before turning up the music a bit and he pulls into a chick fil a—

you feel a bit sad about what happened and you bite your lip in thought..

connie watches you, and hates how jonathan has affected you, he feels so sorry for the sweet girl next to him.. how long has she been bothered like this? how long has she felt this way? how many times did she cry like she did a few moments ago..

he pulls up to the drive thru and looks at you

“watchu want?” you look up and look at the menu

“ummm can i get the tenders and mac and cheese?”

he nods and hums before pulling up to the speaker, “lemme get 4pc tender and a medium mac and cheese, and a delux chicken sandwich meal large, with two large lemonades”—

he pays and he pulls off into the parking lot..

“wanna eat here?” you nod softly not really caring and he parks and grabs the bag from your lap and gives you your food..

y’all start eating at talking, getting to know each other.. while your talking connie reaches back and grabs a tin and opens it and pull out a blunt..

“you smoke?” “only carts” you say, which is true, your friend usually gets them for you when you hang out.

“mm- he hums starting to light up “you wanna try it?” you smile a bit “you trynna get me high?” he laughs throwing his head back a bit “nah mama it jus helps with anxiety nd shi.. jus to relax you”

you roll your eyes a bit, “yea ill try it” he takes his hit first and softly smoothing down the lifted ends and hand it to you.. you take it, taking a small hit than you usually do cause your not used to it, you ghost and connie almost feels his dick twitch watching you do that..

“you like it” he says and you nod “it’s smooth” you say with a smile and you hit it again..

after a while you both loosen up, the highs are hitting you and you both vibe to the music and talk, until you hear a phone ring and connie picks up with a slight annoyed look..

“yo” he says with a harshness in his voice that you haven’t heard before..

he silently listens before running a hand down his face and starting the car.. he looks at you and silently mouths “seatbelt” and you quickly start putting it on and he puts his on while pulling out..

“tell him to wait his ass there, do not let him leave that fucking house trey, i swear to god” he hands up the phone and plops it in the cup holder and speeds a bit..

you stay quiet mot knowing what’s going on, and he looks at you

“sorry mama, i’m gonna have to take you home”

“oh okay um.. do you need my address?” “yes ma’am, he mumbles and he hands you his phone and you type it into the map.. he speeds there and you softly hold onto the seat, but you trust him enough to know what he’s doing, he finally pulls up to your house, and he gets out the car.. you unbuckle your seatbelt and go to open the door but he beats you and does it for you, you grab your bag and your drink and he shuts the door and looks at you..

“did something bad happen?” you sweetly ask

“you don’t have to worry about that mama, im gon handle it.. aii?” “mhm” you hum and he nods

“gimme a hug” he whispers with a soft smile and you hug him shyly before he gets another call and you pull away..

“i gotta dip, you aii right?” you nod.. “words please”

��yes” you say and give him your best smile, “there you go” he says and presses a kiss to your cheek and picks up the phone and gets in the car, you walk up the steps to your house and notice he doesn’t leave until you step foot through the door..

|a/n|

y’all! that was the first installment of “young thug” im very excited to start my first series with y’all! i obviously choose connie since that was the winning vote and i’m so excited for y’all to read it, please forgive any misspelled words as my eye tend to skip over words when i proofread! i really hope you like it and comment some things you wanna see in the series! i really wanna hear y’all! i do this for y’all as much i do it for me! i wanted to see more fics with black girl! readers so i’m here to come through!!! ily 🩷

#black fem reader #black reader smut #connie x black reader #connie springer x black reader smut #connie springer x black!reader #connie springer #connie smut #aot connie #aot x reader #aot smut #aot #connie x black y/n #black reader #black fanfiction #black y/n #plug!connie #black writers #black women #black tumblr

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inkblot-inc · 2 years

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Jeweler!Wanda’s assistant totally thinks Skitch is the best. Not rando chick at the front desk, but the personal assistant Wanda probably has. Like they just get so use to seeing Skitch around and Skitch is nice! If Skitch is bringing Wanda coffee they bring something for her assistant too. Same when it comes to food. Not to mention Wanda mellows out when Skitch is around. So yeah, Skitch would be popular around Wanda’s company.

Oh for sure yeah

Wanda's personal assistant, who I'm going to call Mandy, definitely gets along well with Skitch. Wanda and Mandy have been in the same dynamic for years and they consider each other good friends, and it makes sense that Skitch gets on nicely with the person who looks out for Wanda at her job when they aren't there, and vice versa in Mandy's case.

Skitch has Mandy's usual orders remembered as well so they can drop off her food when they visit Wanda.

Bruh after getting familiar with each other, I can see Mandy being down at the front most times when Skitch is expected to come by just so something like the Hannah incident doesn't happen again. She'll even encourage the idea of Skitch having their own guest badge made😌

(if you can already guess who Mandy is, I appreciate you like, and extra 20% bud)

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

Text

Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.

You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.

If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.

The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.

“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”

Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”

His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”

You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”

“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”

To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”

He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”

Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—

You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin #yandere dottore #dottore x reader

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