#lime is good at picking out when she does this

[musubiki]

the feeling of twisting knots in your stomach

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 2)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3122

(Part 1)

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“When you said you got me a t-shirt,” you sigh, once again adjusting the hem of the jersey Mor provided you. Notshirt; jersey. The bottom of the Velaris Bats uniform has been trimmed—startlingly low. Or is it cut too high; you wonder with a swallowed curse. The damned thing nearly shows off your entire midriff. “I thought you meant, like, a normal fucking shirt and not whatever this is.”

Mor scoffs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she weaves her way through the throng of people towards your seats. Her long strides in her black heels hard to keep up with. “That is a Mor Original, and I only made it cuter,” she huffs indigently, like your discomfort is the sole inspiration behind her “designs.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve allowed Mor to pick out your outfit, but it’s definitely going to be your last, you try to remind yourself. The handful of times you’ve thought this exact thing before is laughable, and you’ve never once remembered. She’ll continue to cut the hems of shirts and alter skirts into even shorter skirts until the end of time, probably.

She’s been the crafty type since you first met her. Anything that she could add personality to was subject for a good old shot of “Mor’s Touch:” clothing, home décor, even the cocktails she mixes—which often go from something as simple as a Dirty Shirley and turning it into a cherry-passionfruit with a hint of lime drink, mixed with tonic instead of Sprite and garnished with a frilly umbrella stuck through three Maraschino cherries because “one is simply not enough.”

You agree, and you’d never admit to your eccentric roommate that it’s the most delicious drink you’ve ever had. Goes down like lemonade and has you going from a corner-stander to someone in the center of the dancefloor in two drinks flat.

You wish you had one right about now to get you through the night.

Your mind wanders to Gwyn back at the dorms, wondering what she’s going to be getting up to tonight. You don’t need to wonder, you know how your red-headed roommate prefers to spend her nights, curled up on the couch beneath a thick blanket, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels within reach, and her laptop in her lap, creating fantasy worlds for her characters to live in some day.

A surge of pride for your roommate fills your energy tank. Sometimes people truly do find exactly what they were made for in life, and Gwyn was born to write. You’ve only read a few snippets she’s been willing to share, but you can’t fathom forming sentences the way she does, creating worlds and characters from her mind alone, seeing a vision in your mind so clear that it would be a crime not to share it with the world.

You’re not sure you’ve ever loved something that much, but Sports Medicine is pretty damn close. Psychology, is not.

You shiver as the cold of the arena hits the sliver of skin that’s exposed itself once again while you were taking a sip of your drink. Goosebumps pebble in response, coursing over the entirety of your body within seconds, causing you to shiver.

You should’ve fought Mor harder about bringing your jacket, but at least she left you sleeves, her shirt has been cut into a tank that hardly reaches the bottom of her ribs, and there’s a deep cut down the collar, creating a perfect ‘V’ that shows off her incredible tits.

You’d know, you’ve seen them before.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You two look so good,” a girl gushes, steps into you and Mor’s path, halting you from your first steps down the stairs to your seats. She’s chipper, a camera poised in her hands, the thick strap around her neck. He shiny, chestnut hair is braided into two tails, draped across her shoulders.

Behind her thin-framed glasses, her bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she peruses you and your roommate up and down, admiring your outfits.

“I told you,” Mor murmurs, elbowing you in the side before raising her voice to answer. “Thank you so much! I spent all day on these, and this one doesn’t appreciate my hard work at all. It’s a refreshing change of pace to hear a compliment instead of ‘Mor, don’t you think this is a little too much?’” You scrunch your nose at Mor’s terrible impression of you. Too nasally, too annoying.

The photographer laughs like it’s her full-time job, and you scowl.

Way to throw me right under that speeding bus, Mor.

“Do you mind if I take your picture for the team’s social media account? You two would make a great first slide in a carousel for school spirit,” she gets this faraway look in her eyes as if she’s picturing it now. “The interaction you’d get us,” she sighs dreamily. “I might even get promoted.”

You groan internally when Mor perks up even further. “I think I love you,” she blurts, pupils heart-shaped. “Do you want to sit with us? We have an extra ticket.” She’s bought one for Gwyn, hoping she would join in on this sporty girl’s night, but your other roommate had been adamant about her dislike of the sport, and had gotten a pass while you were dressed up like a doll and dragged out of the dorm.

The girl’s laugh is like a windchime, soothing and melodic. “I wish I could, but duty calls,” she waves her camera around in answer. “Maybe I’ll catch you at one of the after parties, though. Here, you can give me your Instagram and I’ll DM you after tagging you in the photos.”

She and Mor exchange socials and names. Feyre. It’s unique and suits her well.

After adding your own Instagram on her phone, you hand the phone back, posing with Mor. Of course, knowing your roommate as you do, it’s not just one picture that Feyre takes. They’re both beaming, and one picture turns into ten. Ten poses, nine sips of your drink because you don’t know what the hell else to do. Eight frantic smiles, seven internal sighs, and six side-eyes from passerby, trying to find their seats. Five giggles from friends, four embarrassed blushes, three warnings that you are so done with this, two people ignoring you, and one announcement overhead signaling the start of the game in a few minutes.

“So nice to meet you, Feyre,” Mor calls as you begin guiding her away. You have no clue where you’re going, but any movement closer to any empty seat is better than the photoshoot you just had in the middle of the walkway. With a parting smile at the photographer, Mor continues, like she’s all for standing there all night instead of supporting her cousin on the ice. “Message me!”

“Clingy, much?” You grunt at the poke to the arm that gets you.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m going to replace you,” she scoffs with a brush of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. You swear, the guys sitting in the front row swoon. “Besides, you can never have too many friends. It’s not possible.”

You’re pretty sure it is possible to have too many friends, but you keep that thought to yourself. You suppose you have one more spot in your life for a friend, but if the pictures turn out terrible and are blasted on the Bat’s Instagram, that spot might disappear. You’re already feeling mortified enough from the public display of taking photos.

“Yeah, yeah,” is what you decide to go with. “Now, where are our seats?”

“I don’t like the look of that,” you mutter wearily, squinting to see what’s happening on the ice. You might not know anything about hockey, but you know malicious intent when you see it. It’s in the way that the Penguin’s player leans closer to the Bat’s center, nudging his shoulder as he speaks, his slimy grin growing with each jab.

The game’s been fun so far, much to your surprise. The crowd surrounding you is all for the team, chanting songs that you need to learn immediately because they’re so much fun. The music that blasts around the stadium during every break is on-point, not too old of songs and not too overplayed like at the one football game you’d been dragged to last year (also by Mor, but not because of a family member on the team, because of an entirely different member.)

“Is that my cousin?” She asks, brown eyes sharp as she examines the players. Their fronts are to you, no seeing the names painted across the back of their jerseys. You refrain from mentioning how Mor should at least know her own cousin’s number—since their written on the sleeves—but you keep that thought to yourself when her red painted nails tighten around the box of popcorn, crushing the flimsy cardboard. The strain of the muscle in her jaw matches the boy on the ice’s, you notice with a fleeing glance at your roommate.

Tension coils your gut. You find your fingers wrapping around the edge of the seat you’re perched in, gripping the bleachers so tightly that you swear you feel the cool metal warming and warping.

You’re not the only two who have noticed the shift in the moods of the players on the ice, parts of the crowd are beginning to rise from their seats, cheering growing from a low rumble to a thunder of screams, caws, and jeering.

The puck is barely a millimeter from the referee’s hand before sticks are thrown to the ice, gloves following as the two players slowly begin to circle each other. It looks like something out of an animal documentary: two predators about to snap at each other’s throats in a fight for the territory.

The anticipation of them going blow for blow lights a fire deep within your belly, your core perking up for attention.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t get getting turned on by the idea of two boys about to knock each other’s teeth out. Should be thinking about your best friend’s cousin like this at all.

Shooting a guilty glance at your roommate, you breathe a soft sigh of relief that’s swallowed by the shouts of the crowd when you see that Mor hasn’t picked up on your sudden shift in mood—both mentally and physically.

All the players on the ice slide back to make room for the brawl that’s about to break out and a sick feeling bubbles in your stomach, almost overpowering the arousal as you wonder why no one is attempting to stop them.

There isn’t time to voice your concern, isn’t time to do anything except bolt to your feet with a gasp so harsh it sears your lungs when the Penguin’s player is the first to swing. Your heart is lodged in your throat, your breathing holding in your throat as you watch in anticipation. He lashes out with a curled fist so fast that by the time you blink, it’s over.

His hit doesn’t land.

There’s no time to feel the relief trying to rush through your veins because the Bat’s center is retaliating, throwing himself forward after swiftly dodging the attack. He grabs the other boy by the collar of his ice blue uniform and hauls him into his closed fist.

His opponents helmet goes flying off with the snap of his head backwards. He stumbles, but manages to stay upright, snagging a handful of the Bat’s jersey to try and steady himself.

You look to the benches flanking the ice, wondering why no one is joining the fray. It’s now that you realize it’s not that they don’t want to help their teammate who is quickly ducking away from another fist, it’s because they can’t.

There’s a boy standing nonchalantly, hazel eyes pinned on the scene before him. He looks eager almost, leaning so casually against his stick, chin propped on the edge of it like he’s watching the newest action movie from the best spot in the house.

Even the goalie seems to be unconcerned, taking the few moments he has to take a swig of water and adjust his helmet, squatting low and shooting side to side in his box, as if trying to keep limber for when the game resumes.

One of the refs is attempting to hold back a burly boy who seems much too large to be skating at all. His helmet has also been shucked off, revealing long, shoulder length wet hair that clings to his face and neck like a bee on honey. His gloves are abandoned on the ice too, and his stick has skidded to a stop upon hitting the sideboards nearby. You can’t make out the words he’s shouting, but with the feral grin you make out, you know they’re fighting words. With each bark he seems to be inching closer, like the full-grown man in the stripes trying to hold him back is nothing more than a soft breeze, and his is a twister barreling right through.

When he shakes his head, you catch sight of a bloodthirsty grin that has a shiver sliding up your spine. He’s enjoying this?

“Mor,” your worry tries to escape, only for the words to stick in your throat as more noises join the fight, loud as gunshots. Both the Bat’s and the Penguin’s players are rapping their hockey sticks against the boards separating their benches from the ice, war cries falling from their lips.

They’re all enjoying this.

“That is my cousin,” Mor screeches, her perfectly plucked brows pulled tight as she tries finally makes out the number on the back of the jersey that’s gripped so tightly in the offending players grip that you’re pretty sure the stitches are popping with the force. “Kick his fucking ass, Rhys!”

Casting a frantic look to your roommate, you realize that not even she seems to be fazed by the fact that her cousin is in the middle of a fight that could very seriously end badly, especially with the knives on the bottoms of their feet.

But, if everyone’s rooting for their player to win this battle, you can too.

As gruesome as the scene before you is, you wish you had a better seat, somewhere with a better viewpoint than all the way on the other side of the ice. You can’t to be able to hear the threats they’re growling at each other, your attention completely enraptured now that you’ve shoved your worry to the wayside.

With his newfound hold, the Penguin’s player strikes again, and this time, his hit slams across Rhys’ jaw. His head snaps to the side with the nasty hook and his helmet slips to the ice, the sound eaten up by the goading of the crowd.

They swing around, unsteady on their skates as each of the boys tries to topple the other over. You catch a glance at his face. It’s hard to see, and his shaggy black hair is splayed across his face like a spiderweb, keeping you from making out his features. You catch the blood dribbling down his chin, the anger etched in the clench of his jaw as he grits his teeth, managing to twist himself into a position where he has the upper hand on the Penguin’s player: a headlock.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Rhys pound his fist into the other boy’s face once, twice, three times before his opponent’s feet fall out from under him. Rhys releases his hold, allowing the boy to slip lamely to the ice.

“Atta boy, Rhysie,” Mor shouts, once again shoveling popcorn into her mouth with a grin so bright it could melt the ice in the rink before you. She turns to you, golden brown of her eyes glowing with excitement. “Our parents would be so proud.”

She turns back to the scene before you can voice your confusion on that statement, tucking away the information that if you win a fight in hockey, it’s a great accomplishment.

You watch Rhys as he’s escorted by referees who guide him towards the penalty box. He’s examining his knuckles, not caring that he’s abandoning his equipment as he goes, grimacing as the adrenaline begins to fade. He pokes at them, frowning at whatever he feels.

You pray they’re not broken.

The rest of the players seem to be getting back to the game, like one of their teammates isn’t being casted away on an island across the ice. Okay, so it’s just another bench and he’s not that far from them, but you’re shocked that this is the end of the fight, both players carted into separate timeout boxes away from their teams.

Rhys plops down on the bench, pulling a water bottle from a hidden holder, washing the blood from his knuckles before examining them for a second time. You watch him flex his fingers, twist his wrist this way and that. You can’t seem to keep your eyes off him, even with the game picking back up and Mor shouting cheers when the Bat’s manage to steal the puck right from the drop, carting it down the ice with a speed that rivals a racecar.

He must be satisfied with his examination because Rhys is throwing his head back, and it’s almost as if he’s squirting the water from the bottle directly onto you with the way that the apex of your thigh’s wet at the sight of him. He sips the water, holding the bottle a few inches from his face, and you watch the water cascade down his chin and over his throat, bobbing with each swallow. It mixes with the blood from his split lip and slides into the collar of his gear.

You swallow harshly, suddenly parched.

When he’s had his fill of the drink, he moves the bottle further back, using the spray to wash his hair away from his face, and your breathing shallows. It’s as if the hand he’s using to squeeze the life out of the bottle is constricting around your throat, because suddenly, you recognize the sharp of that jaw, the curve of those eyebrows and the straight of his nose. All his angular features come together in the perfect picture of hotness, knocking the breath fully from your chest when he straightens his chin, looking out onto the ice to watch his teammates score the last goal of the second period.

He's the boy from this morning: the overachiever, the one who called you darling.

Mor’s cousin.

Rhysand Cunningham.

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Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125

[hazbinshusk]

playing around with husk x reader because @irkimatsu and @monstrousvoice have destroyed my brain and I want to thank them for it. just pure fluff; i'm working towards the smut for my grumpy ol' bartender. first attempt at writing for hazbin/husk, so please, all feedback is welcome and wonderful.

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You could feel the thrum of the bass echoed through your body, your skin stained by the club’s multi-colored lights. The tequila burned your throat as you swallowed, and you grimaced, sucking gratefully on the slice of lime Cherri thrust into your hand. You might not love most of Angel’s job, but you’d come to appreciate a few of the perks – namely the access granted to you to the VIP section of any club this side of the Pride Ring, so long as he was by your side. Or at least, in your vicinity. He was currently putting in the ten minutes of dedicated schmoozing among sinners to talk up the hotel – which he’d promised Charlie to do in order for you all to skip out on another bonding night in the lobby.

“Rounds eight, nine and ten, bitch!” Cherri Bomb declared, slamming down another collection of shots down in front of you moments later. She ignored the way your brows creased, shoving you playfully in the shoulder. You rocked precariously on your stool as the gesture threw you off balance, grabbing hastily at the side of the bar. “Let’s goooo!”

“You’re gonna be the double death of me, Cherri,” you replied even as you threw back the next shot.

“And what a way to fuckin’ go!” she cheered.

You laughed, a little too loud thanks to the booze, and you stiffened slightly as a weight suddenly appeared against your back.

“No wonder I can’t get a damn drink in this place; two of you are bogartin’ the bartender.” Husk grumbled as he leaned past you, pressing further against you in order to swipe one of the glasses in front of you. “Gimme one of those.”

An amused smile touched your features at the gruff edge to his tone. You felt his hand touch your hip for balance, his claws ghosting against the sliver of bare skin at the small of your back. The gesture made color rise in your cheeks, and you picked up a slice of lime to offer it to him over your shoulder. He didn’t take it but you felt him pause as he set the glass down and began to pull away again.

“Huh.”

The warmth of his breath tickled against your neck. His voice was softer, velvety and low, and it sent a surprising heat shooting down your spine. You suddenly found yourself wanting to melt into that tone, all honey and whiskey, and you felt your face flush further. You could feel every inch of where his body rested against yours, his fur tickling wherever your skin sat bare. His face was so close to your throat you swore you could almost feel his lips ghost against your shoulder.

“You smell good."

He’s gone a moment later and you find yourself sitting wide-eyed for a long moment before your mind finally catches up with what just happened.

“Uh, you gonna tell me what the fuck that was?” Cherri laughed, her tone caught somewhere between amusement and bewilderment. “Since when does the old man like your personal space so fuckin’ much?”

You shrugged, reaching for another shot and avoiding her eye. “Let’s just dance, okay?”

“’Bout fuckin’ time, bitch!”

***

You relaxed back against the edge of the sofa, your legs curled beneath you on the floor as Angel cackled drunkenly at the television from where he was sprawled across another couch. You’d recently introduced him to 2000s stoner movies, and they’d quickly become one of his favorite ways to end a night out.

The two of you had stumbled home with Husk in tow – Cherri having found alternate company to spend the rest of her night with. The bar tender was now laying on his stomach on the couch behind you, his head in his arms and his tail waving lazily back and forth by your side. Each sway of it had it brushing briefly against your arm, the feathers tickling against your skin.

He groaned quietly at the pitch of Angel’s voice, shifting behind you. You were holding a tumbler of whiskey against your chest and lifted it blindly in offering. You heard him hum gratefully, his voice rough now with what was nearly sleep, his claws making a quiet tink against the glass as he took it from you.

“Too nice to me,” he muttered with what you could swear was affection pitching his voice. He slurred the next words, pressing the glass back into your hand. “Too fuckin’ nice.”

“Me?” you replied, catching the last few drops from the glass before setting it on the floor beside you. You tilted your head back against the sofa beside him. You smiled lazily. “Never.”

“Always,” he mumbled back, and your brows rose in surprise as you felt his forehead bump against your temple. “Still smell fuckin’ good…”

A shiver settled against your spine as his face moved lower, rubbing his cheek against yours and down to where the column of your neck was still stretched against the edge of the cushion. A deep, almost rusty sounding rumble rolled from his chest and you felt the sound of it filling you with warmth in the same way the whiskey had. His nose left dampness on your flesh, and each time his warm breath fanned across it you felt a shiver build in your lower back.

“Husk…?”

“Pretty thing you are,” his mouth was near your ear, his claws curling around your shoulder. You cast a glance towards the spider still stretched out on the opposite couch. He was currently drooling into one of the pillows, the film’s final scenes casting shifting lights over his fur. Husk’s purring grew louder as you reached up hesitantly to tease your fingers through the fur of his arm. “Never said…”

“Never said what?” you asked quietly, turning your head to face him better.

“Christ…”

You felt a smile tilt the corner of your mouth. “No, you say that all the time.”

He chuckled, eyes closed, his forehead bumping against yours. “Cheeky.”

You grinned, reaching up to run your fingers through the fur between his ears.  You could barely hear the credits rolling over the sound of his purring, his head pressing up into your palm. And when you made to move it away again, he chased it instinctively. It brought his face closer to yours, his nose bumping against yours.

Husk jerked back slightly, his eyes opening. He blinked at you slowly, that lazy, drunken smile still softening his features. His eyes fell from yours, and heat bloomed in your again as they settled on your lips. “Too fuckin’ nice to me…”

[samandcolbyownme]

CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE ZACH JUSTICE STORIES I NEED THEM SO BAD!!😭😭

Summary: Drunk reader gets a confidence boost, thanks to tequila.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of alcohol, lightweight Zach, fully willing/consensual drunk and unprotected sex, hair pulling, biting, scratching, hair pulling, dirty talk, creampie (oops), general filth

Word count: 2.5k | not edited

“Come on, Zach.” You plead, hand sliding up his arm to grip his shoulder, “Just one shot with me?”

His eyes scan over your hand and up your arm to your face, “You don’t really mean it when you say just one, do you?”

You smile, already feeling kind of tipsy, “You can’t say no to me.”

A smirk plays with his lips, “I can saw whatever I want to you.”

“Will you pleeease take a shot with me, Zachary?” You pout your lip, giving him your best doe eyes with the added batting of your lashes.

“Yes.”

“Wait, really?”

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “I just wanted to see you beg.” He goes to turn but stops, “You looked so hot doing it, too.”

You feel your cheeks turn warm, if you were sober, you would have walked away from him by now, laughing it off like usual.

“Oh yeah?” You look up at him, “Well, I think you’re hot in general.”

He looks taken aback by your words for a split second before he rolls with, “Of course you do, I’m Zach Justice.” He laughs and you roll your eyes, “If Zach Justice wants to come home with y/n y/l/n after this, I suggested ordering us a shot.”

His brows raise, “Huh?”

You chew on the inside of your lip as you smirk, “You heard me.”

“Did I?” He gives you a wink before turning to the bartender, “Two shots of..” he looks at you and you smirk, “tequila.”

Zach’s eyes about pop out of his head before he looks back at the bartender, “Tequila.”

He nods and Zach looks back at you, “Why do I let you do that?” You smile, playing it off, “What ever do you mean, Zach?”

The bartender places the glasses down and you hand him your card, “You can leave it open.” He nods and walks away.

“You know how to do these right?” You tease and Zach licks his lips, “I think, you should show me first, I’ll buy you another one to take with me.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?” You laugh and Zach watches as you lick the back of your hand slightly so the salt can stick to your skin.

“Kinda seems like you’re already there because you’re no longer the shy, quiet, tease. You’re just teasing me.”

“Shy.. quiet tease.. and now..” you look over at him, licking the salt off the back of your hand before you down the shot, a line wedge between your teeth quickly follows.

Zach stares at you and you smirk, “Did you catch that, or do you need to watch me do it again?”

“I picked up on it the first time, sweetheart.” He scoffs, biting down on his lip when you bring the back of his hand up to lick it before adding a dash of salt, “Your turn.”

He clenches his jaw from being slack, tilting his head as what you just did makes him want to take you home right now, “I see what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” You tilt your head and he smirks, “Living up to the nickname I gave you.” You watch as he licks the salt, knocks back the tequila, and finishes with a lime.

You bite down on your lip, “As soon as you take me home, I won’t have to be.” You stand up and Zach whines, “Wait, where are you going?”

You look at him, “Going to find the others.” You smooth your hands over your mini dress, “You coming?”

“You’re not going anywhere in here without me.” He stands up, hand immediately going to the small of your back. Zach doesn’t drink much, like at all, so he was classified as a major lightweight - he was feeling kinda good after that shot.

By the time you walked over to the other side of the bar, you see Tara’s eyes light up as she points, screaming, “No fuckin way! No fucking way!”

“What what what?” Jared asks and Tara laughs, “Did he do it?” You laugh, sitting down next to her as you nod, “Oh yeah, he did it.”

“Did what?” Jared asks, “What the fuck did Zach do now!?”

Zach whips his head over to Jared, “So I had one tequila shot, big whoop. Sue me.”

Jared eyes go wide and his mouth drops, “Tequila!? Oh my god. No you didn’t!”

You nod, “He sure did.”

“How did you get him to do that?” Alyssa asks and before you can answer, Zach cuts you off, “She batter her lashes at me and told me i was just soo hot to her.”

Your mouth drops open, “Thanks, Zach.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.” He smirks, giving you a wink and you smirk, looking away, “In my, defense. He could have always changed the order. Or said no, so.”

“Well, I guess we know who’s taking care of Zach.” Jared laughs and Tara leans in, “Fuckin’ get it girl. Hell yeah!”

You lean in, “Thank god for the liquid confidence boost.” She nods, “Totally get what you mean.” Zach leans over and looks between you and Tara, “I like secrets.”

“Yeah, and I bet you like y/n, too.” She laughs and he nods, “That’s only if she likes me back.” He says it like you’re not even there, making you laugh, “I need more to drink.”

——

An hour later, you’re on the dance floor, Zach holding your hips against him as you move to the beat of the music.

His grip tightens and you turn around, arms going around his neck. You look up at him, smiling as you see him smile.

His hands slide around to the small of your back, pulling you into him, “You ever pull an Irish goodbye?”

“A what?” You laugh and he slides his hand into yours, “I’ll show you.” He laughs and pulls you through the crowd, leading you outside and down the side walk.

You look back laughing harder as you lay your hand on the bed of his elbow, “So you just leave without saying bye?”

He nods, laughing, “Yes ma’am.”

You shake your head and giggle as he pulls you into him, taking a few steps forward with his arms around you. You smile, tilting your head as he kisses your neck, “You know..” he starts out, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Well, looks like you finally going to have me.” You say lowly, turning around to pull him with you as you walk backwards.

“You’re not just doing this because you’re drunk, right?” He asks, making you stop, “Do you really think I don’t like you?”

His eyes look from your eyes to your lips before you both lean in, having a heated, slightly drunken kiss in the middle of the city.

“Mkay. How far from the hotel are we?” Zach asks and you point across the street, “I don’t think we’re far at all.”

“Look at you navigating your way to pound town.”

You lose it, covering your mouth as you laugh loudly, “Zach! Theres people around.” You playfully smack his shoulder and he shrugs, “I feel bad for whoever on the other side of the hotel room.”

You smile, seeing the crosswalk turn green and Zach pulls you, running across the white striped walkway, laughing as he pulls you to him.

You were way more drunk than Zach was, he stopped after half of his third, he had you finish it.

You get in to the elevator and Zach pushes you up against the walls hands on your waist as his lips find yours.

Your hands go to his neck and you moan against his lips. He pushes his hips into yours, groaning as his cock rubbing up against you, “I need you.”

You nod, “P-please.”

The elevator dings and you’re being pulled into his hotel room not even thirty seconds later.

His lips find yours again as both of your hands travel each other’s bodies, unbuttoning buttons, unzipping zippers. You kick your heels off as you step out of your dress that’s pooled over them.

“You are literally so fucking sexy. C’mere.” He lifts you up, legs wrapping around his bare waist before he lays you down on the bed, hand going down to slip two fingers into you.

You gasp at the sudden feeling, back arching as you squeeze your walls around his fingers, “Fuck.” You breathe out, looking up at him.

His fingers slowly thrusts in and out of you a few times, curling upward which makes your roll your hips with a moan, “Fuck, Zach.. please.”

His lips find the skin on your neck, nipping and biting as he keeps working your cunt, gasping at husband thumb brushing over your clit every so often.

“I can already tell you’re going to feel so good around me.” He groans as you reach down, pumping his cock with your hand a few times, “Need you, baby.” You whimper, “P-please.”

“The begging, babe, fuck.” He kisses up to your ear, “makes me weak.”

He pulls his fingers out and you can feel his cock slowly taking their place. Your hands go to his shoulders, digging your nails in as you wrap your legs around his waist, “Oh my g-“

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, a gasp leaving your throat as you feel his hand slide up to squeeze your neck, “Feel so fucking good.”

His lips crash into hours, a heated make out underway as he slowly retracts his hips and slams into you. You moan into his mouth, nails dragging up and down his back as he brings you closer to climax.

“Fuuuck.” You whine loudly, walls clenching around him, “S-so close. So close.” You whimper out, laying your hand on his and squeezing.

He smirks, shaking his head as he squeezes harder, “You like that, hmm?” He gasps lowly in your ear, “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all it took, Zach’s command had you squirming, in a good way, underneath him. His cock guides you through your high, moaning when your nails lightly drag over the scratches that are already there.

He moves his hand from your neck, using it to cup your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours, “Should have made you mine a long time ago.”

You nod quickly, squeezing his cock as you feel another orgasm coming on, “Fuck, flip flip please.”

Zach nods and rolls over, pulling you with so now you’re on top. He throws his head back, hands gripping your ass tight as you slam your hips down, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Gonna cum for me again, huh?” His one hand slides up your back, pulling you down to him. You whimper against his lips, “Y-yes.”

He thrusts his hips upward, not knowing that his own release was right around the corner, “Fuck I’m not-“ Zach groans, throwing his head back as you cum on his cock again, “That’s it, fuck.”

Zach groans, sliding a hand up to the side of your neck as you keep bouncing, “Where do you want me to cum?”

Also thanks to tequila, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” You gasp out, one hand tangling into his hair as you cum with him this time.

He pushes your hips down, thrusting up into you as his cum floods into your satisfied cunt, “Fuck, fuck.” He groans, “shit.”

You let out a sigh, laying on his chest as it heaves you up and down, “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” You giggle looking up at him.

He shrugs, giving your forehead a kiss, “I genuinely didn’t think you actually liked me.” You laugh rolling off of him, “Well you can stop thinking that and come with me to get a shower.”

He up and walking over to you, “Marry me.”

“I’ll accept a blue raspberry ring pop and blue raspberry only.” You point to him and he raises his brows, “Noted.”

—

Your eyes opened, squinting at the sunlight peaking through the curtains. You slowly roll over, letting out a slow and quiet breath as you blinking a few times before staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room.

You were more or less convincing yourself not to heave up everything you consumed last night - which was a little bit over your limit.

You looked over at Zach, smiling slightly until you remembered what happened last night and just how many times.

Your body literally aches. You have a literal hangover from hell, and you needed to pee. You push yourself up slowly, grabbing his shirt from the floor before making your way to the bathroom.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out a sigh as you flick the lights on. Your all fall on the shower and what happened there, instantly replays in your head.

You let out a moan as he slips into you from behind, your pussy dripping from just a few minutes ago. You reach back, looking for his hand, his arm, something.

He pins your hand down to your lower back, leaning forwards as he pushes his cock all the way in, “You feel so fucking good.”

You moan out at his words, other hand sliding down the steam filled shower door, “Fuck, yes yes yes.” He sucks a mark into your skin, right where people could see if you moved your hair just right, “You’re talking me so good, baby.”

“Y/n?”

“Bathroom.” You call back out before finishing up. As you’re washing your hands, there’s a knock on the door and you look over as it opens, “Thought you left.”

You shake your head, drying your hands on the towel, “Pretty sure we’re a thing now right?” You glance over at him and smirk.

He smirks, nodding as he sees his shirt on your body, “Keep that. I like it better on you.” You look down, grabbing the hem of the shirt, “Are you sure?”

He nods, “Yes.”

You walk over, “Oo. My boyfriend’s first stolen clothing item. Oh, no wait..” Zach looks at you confused, and you smirk, “I have that black knit looking crew neck. It’s in my suitcase actually.”

“I’ve been loo-“ he scoffs with a smirk, “When, how, and why did you?”

“I was going to wear it to the podcast one of these days. See if you noticed.” You smile and he just shakes his head, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

He huffs, laughing as he pulls you in for a kiss, “So you are my girlfriend right?” You kiss him again, “Only if you’re my boyfriend?”

He smirks, nodding his head, “Yeah, I think I can do that.” He smiles up at you and you bite your lip, “How much time do we have before they’re banging on your door?”

“Our door, this is your room now, too, babe,” Zach corrects you and you smile, “Sorry, how long do-“

“I don’t care.” Zach says as he lifts you up, “They can wait.”

——

I really loved writing this for some reason, I have no idea, but let me know what you think! As always, thanks so much for reading! I love you all so much!

Also, I’m sooo close to 3k followers! Thank you all so so much, again!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[canadianfangirl-95]

Window of Opportunity 

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader 

Summary: Years spent with the wrong guy leaves you desperate for true love and single again. Will Frankie be able to squeeze into the window of opportunity and confess his feelings, or will he miss his shot again?

Warnings: swearing, deadbeat boyfriend, talks of infidelity, drinking, friends to lover’s, fluff, kissing 

Picture is just for the banner, does not indicate readers appearance.

Word Count: 6k+ 

“Alright it’s Thirsty Thursday guys, what can I get you?” You say with a smile spread across your face, staring at your favourite customers and some of your best friends, Santi, Will, Benny and Frankie. They themselves have been coming into this bar for 6 years, after they were all discharged from the army and relocated to Fort Lauderdale. You’ve worked at this bar for almost 8 years now, having gotten the job in your mid-twenties to make some extra cash. It was only supposed to be temporary but here you are all these years later, still with an apron wrapped around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear and shuffling around behind the old wood bar, illuminated by the neon beer signs. 

Santi offers you a kind wink as he settles onto the bar stool across from you, “Just a Rum and Coke sweetheart.” His effervescent smile shining as bright as always.  

Nodding, you begin to make the drink, while Benny and Will offer up their orders. Finally, Frankies sweet brown eyes meet yours and your lungs feel a bit lighter. “And what about our pilot?” you ask sweetly.  

He grins just enough for some of his teeth to peek out below his mustache and tucks his hand under his chin, “Surprise me Skip.”  

Smirking, you begin to whip him up your favourite and slide it over to him on the bar.  

Taking it, he smiles, “Should’ve guessed it’d be a Whisky Sour.” 

“Hey, pick your own drinks if you don’t like my favourite.” You say with a huffed laugh, knowing that despite them not being his type of drink, he’ll sip it down anyway. “How has your week been?” 

“Good, picked up Camila from JK on Monday so now she’s with me until next week Friday morning. She’s having some much-needed Abuela time right now.” 

“That’s good, everything still good with Liv?” You ask intently. 

He shrugs, “Yeah I’d say so, we’re doing pretty well at the whole coparenting thing now that negotiations are over.”  

You reach over and pat his hand that rests on the bar top, “Good, you’re a good dad Frankie. I’m glad you’re able to enjoy her again.”  

His ears and cheeks grow red, and his eyes soften, he whispers to you, “Thanks Skip, couldn’t do it without you.”  

Pulling your lips into a tight smile, you bat your lashes a bit to relax and turn your attention back to the rest of the group, “So, Will, how was the trip? Did you pick a venue?” 

Will nods, “Yeah, Orange County is really beautiful. It was tough picking just one place to have the wedding at, but we put a deposit down on a winery, so now we have a date which is great.” He says with a smile plastered across his face.  

“Oh, that’s great, Wendy must be so excited. Especially since it can be so close to her family.” You say before you notice the server drop down some chits on the other end of the bar. “Oh, I’ll be back guys.” You say before departing down the bar to work on the new orders.  

Later, you are standing cutting limes in front of the men, talking and laughing causally when the bell on the door chimes again. You look up, seeing your boyfriend Marcus step through the door and scan the room for you. The rest of the group turn their heads slightly to see what has caught your attention.  

Frankie grumbles to himself as he peers over his drink to see your boyfriend strutting towards the bar. His overbuilt muscles and $50 hair cut speak volumes about his personality. “Why’s Marcus here?” 

Will nudges his shoulder with a shush, Frankies eyes widen slightly realizing his voice was a tad bit higher than it should have been. Luckily for him, you had already moved down the bar towards Marcus. “He’s here to see his girlfriend, idiot. Why wouldn’t he be here?” Will says sarcastically.  

“He only visits her at work when he needs money.” Frankie states matter-of-factly under his breath.  

“That’s none of your business man, play nice.”  

With that Frankie rolls his eyes and stares Santi down the bar with an annoyed look on his face. Santi nods and takes his hint. Standing from the stool he calls over to you, “Hey Skip, we’re gonna be at the pool table.” The rest of them follow his lead and stand with their drinks to head over to the other side of the room.  

You nod and smile at them before turning your attention back to Marcus.  

“Why do they call you Skip anyway?” Marcus asks, leaning his body weight on the bar top.  

You shrug and smile to yourself, “One time, they were the only ones in the bar, like it was completely dead, and so we played Uno. The guys were such assholes every time it was one of their turns before me, they played a skip card. I swear I got every skip a turn card the whole night.” You say, laughing slightly until you see the utterly unamused face of your boyfriend staring back at your explanation. Swallowing your laughter quickly you clear your throat, “Um, and so yeah, they just call me Skip now because of uh…’cuz of that.”  

His face hangs low with uninterest, “Huh, guess you didn’t get many tips that night huh?” 

Pulling your face tight you reply, “No, I guess not.” 

“Does that happen often? Maybe you should find a different place to work where you can make more money.”  

“Um, no it doesn’t happen a lot. I think there was a storm that day.” You say quietly before stepping to the side to grab your wallet. “So, uh- how much did you say you needed for this football thing again?” 

He rolls his eyes exasperated, “Babe, it’s my fraternity brothers NFL fantasy league, it’s not just some football thing. And the buy in is $200.”  

Your eyebrows pop up, “Geeze, that’s kind of steep, isn’t it?”  

“It’s not about that, it’s about the networking I do with it, alright?” Marcus says. 

Nodding, you hand him the cash from your wallet, and he takes it with a giant smile, “Thanks babe, you’re the best you know that right?” He says before leaning across the bar and planting a kiss on your cheek.  

You say your goodbyes and wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans, letting out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding.  

Across the room, Frankie watches you fidget after your uncomfortable meeting with your boyfriend. He stands near the pool table holding his stick standing straight up and leaning some weight on it. “What is she still doing with that guy?” He asks the group. 

Benny huffs, “Wish I knew. Every time we hang out it’s always Marcus did this, and Marcus won’t do that. It’s like she’s his mom”  

Will steps up to the table and leans forward to take his shot, “He seriously doesn’t mind the two of you hanging out as much as you do?” 

“Nope, she even asked him before the first time we went to the movies if it was okay, and the guy is so fucking full of himself he said there’s no way she would ever find better than him, so he doesn’t worry about her cheating at all. In fact, one time he even thanked me for “listening to all her bull shit” so he doesn’t have to.” He says with air quotes and a sarcastic tone. 

Santi shakes his head, “What a dick. Why won’t she just end it with him?” 

Benny steps up to the red-felt pool table and eyes his shot that his brother has set up for him by accident. “Oh, she’s still holding out hope that he’ll man up and pop the question and then things will be better. Not gonna happen though, I think he’s cheating.”  

With that Frankie straightens up, “Why do you say that?” 

“He’s shady as shit, she works evenings and a lot of weekends, you think an asshole like that is really just waiting around for her watching Game of Thrones by himself every night?” 

“So, you don’t have any proof then?” Will comments. 

“Well, don’t tell her I told you this. But a few months ago, she got a DM from a girl that she knows, claiming he was hitting on her at a bar across town. But this girl knew Skip and recognized him from her social media, so she turned him down and messaged her. When Skip asked him about it, he said he wasn’t hitting on her, he was just trying to make some female friends, since you know, she has so many male friends.” he says, pointing around the pool table at the group of them and shaking his head at the obvious lie.  

They all groan in response and look over at you at the bar, working tirelessly to pay for yourself and your deadbeat boyfriends’ lifestyle. All the while he’s probably sneaking around behind your back and then dipping in to steal a kiss and some cash. 

 

Behind the bar, you stare blankly at the faucet on the sink, seeing your angled reflection in it. Your face looks sad, your eyes tired and your heart sunken. All you want, all you’ve ever wanted, was a relationship, an engagement, a marriage, a house and a family. It’s what you grew up in, it’s what your sister has. The white picket fence, the husband that kisses her at the door when he gets home, the two beautiful children she chases around all day. In your early twenties, it seemed like something that was guaranteed. Then it was just disappointing man after another until you finally found yourself on a date with Marcus 6 years ago. He was handsome and charming, and after a year you settled into a nice routine. But year after year you asked for a ring and never got one. One thing you could control was the house, so you saved everything you had to buy both of you one, thinking that would kickstart the conversation again. Yet here you are, a cold finger and your love for a man long gone, but 6 years too long invested in the relationship to bow out now.  

Grabbing a washcloth, you decide to take out your frustrations through cleaning up the bar top, using all the bent-up anger you felt towards your life to scrub off that damn stain you’ve never been able to get off. You peer up through your lashes and see the guys at the pool table, seemingly in deep discussion. You wonder if they’re shit talking your boyfriend. You wouldn’t blame them if they were, you wish you could join them. Frankie rounds the table and bends over to take his shot. His t shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, his curly locks peeking out from underneath the baseball hat you loved to see him in. Frankie, a man who actually talked about wanting a marriage one day but lost it all when his girlfriend fell in love with someone at work. He says they were mostly together for their child that they had accidentally gotten pregnant with and that he could move on. Not seeing his baby girl every day was by far the hardest part for him.  

Frankie was different than the others to you. Santi was your advice guy, always offering his words of wisdom. Will was your hands on guy. Need your breaks done on your car? Will’s got it. Need an Ikea cabinet put together? Will’s on it. Benny is your bestie, your movie and sushi date guy. Your talk shit about your boyfriend guy. But Frankie, Frankie is your if things were different guy. If you weren’t with Marcus, if he was ever even interested in you. Maybe, he could be something more, just by the way you talk so earnestly with one another, you knew he would never treat you the way Marcus does. And boy was he cute. You wish you felt bad when you would find yourself thinking about him late at night instead of your boyfriend laying a foot away from you. You figure after his failed relationship he is probably done with anything serious, maybe just date casually for the next few years and then settle down with someone as a companion. Surely, he wouldn’t be interested in learning about how lovesick you are over him and ruining your friendship and his favourite hangout-. 

A hand suddenly grabs yours to hold it still as you look up and see Frankie looking at you with concerned eyes. You look back down at the bar and see that during your whole internal monologue, you had still been scrubbing the stain and now the pain in your wrist was starting to register just how aggressive you were being with it. Pulling your hand out of his grip you toss the rag into the bucket and slowly rub your wrist with your hand, avoiding eye contact with the man across from you.  

He breathes deeply out of his nose and grabs some of the paper towel you have on the counter to wipe up the soap and water on the spot. He pulls a half smirk and looks at you, “Looks like you finally got that stain huh?”  

You peer over and see that it is indeed gone, certainly needed some elbow grease.  

“You okay?” he asks. The very last question you want to answer right now.  

Doing your best impression of a girl who is going to be okay, you nod and suck your teeth before muttering out, “Yeah, yeah just, - really fucking hated that stain.”  

Frankie can see the tears that want to spill over your eyes, knowing you the way he does, he knows very well that you do not want to lose it right there behind the bar. “Alright well, could I get another delicious Whisky Sour please?” he says with a boyish grin on his face. 

Looking up at him through your lashes you let out a chuckle, “I thought you didn’t like them.”  

“People change.” He states.  

His words dry your throat, and you do your best to nod and go on making his drink. Hoping his statement to be true.  

The night wears on and you say your goodbyes. You close up shop and head home to Marcus, playing every moment of the night through again in your head and hoping to make that people change statement a reality, whether it be you or Marcus.  

Sunday is your day off, and you and the guys planned a backyard BBQ at Will and Wendys to commemorate the end of summer. 

Frankie steps through the patio doors into the backyard. A red and white striped umbrella is stretched out over the patio table and chairs where Santi is seated comfortably talking with Wendy while Will works on the grill. He moves to sit down across from Santi and says hello to everyone.  

Wendy excuses herself to go work on the salad for dinner, and Frankie stares at the door she exits through, hoping you may come through it. Alas, you still don’t show up after another ten minutes, so he turns to Santi. 

“When are uh, Ben and Skip getting here?” Frankie asks, urging his voice to sound less eager than it does.  

Santi gives him a knowing look, “Ben told Will yesterday they may be a bit late cuz Ben had to go out of town this afternoon to pick up some stuff from their moms, she went with him for the drive.”  

Frankie nods and brings his cold beer to his lips, excited at the notion that Marucs won’t be joining them after all.  

A half hour later, Frankie, Santi and Will are seated at the patio table as Wendy finishes up in the kitchen. Their attention is pulled from their conversation when they hear Bennys boisterous voice call out to her as he moves through the kitchen and to the sliding patio door.  

“No Skip?” Santi calls out, as he notices Bennys lonely walk towards them. Frankie and Will look up from their plates of appetizers to observe your apparent absence for themselves. 

The younger man has a surprisingly pleased look on his face as he slides into the chair next to Will. “You’re never gonna believe this. They broke up.” He states with excitement burning behind his eyes.  

The group looks perplexed for a beat, Will asks to clarify “Who broke up?” 

“Skip and Marcus.” Benny says, popping his eyebrows up and down and nudging Frankie’s shoulder.  

Frankie’s eyes blow wide, unable to believe what he was hearing. His ears ring and before he knows it, he’s lost part of the conversation, gripping his beer bottle tighter he tries to focus on the flow of questions coming Bennys way from Will and Santi. 

Santi leans forward on the glass tabletop, “What happened?” 

“She finally had enough. I guess she tried to talk to him again last night about getting engaged and just like all the other times, he made up shitty excuses, so she dumped him right there on the spot. Took all her shit and is staying with her sister right now until they get the house sold and her money back. She called me this morning to tell me she couldn’t come today.” 

“How’s she doing? She okay?” Will asks, concern growing in his voice.  

Shrugging, Benny replies, “As good as she can be, I think. They were together a long time, and she feels like it was all wasted. He’s such a jackass.” He says before shoving some chips from a bowl on the table into his mouth. 

Will glances at Frankie, “So Fish, girl of your dreams finally single. What do you think about that?”  

His eyebrows almost get caught in his hair line and he stutters, “I uh- what. Don’t know what you’re talking about Will.” he says, trying to slurp down his beer before he puts his foot in his mouth instead. 

Shaking his head he dives deeper, “Don’t give me that shit man, we owe nothing to that guy. You’ve always liked her, you’ve been respectful, but now she’s fair game.”  

Santi nods along, “Yeah, we all know man. It’s pretty obvious.” 

Benny and Will nod along to Santis’ statement as Frankie looks around flabbergasted. “Seriously? Does she know?” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. She’s been too caught up in her own shit to notice.” Benny confirms.  

“But now’s the time to make a move, alright? Don’t let the window of opportunity close. Girls like that don’t stay single long.” Santi comments, giving Frankie a stern look.  

Frankie nods, “I can’t just ask her out the day after her relationship ended, she needs time to process this. I don’t want to be a rebound. I’ll let her sell the house, get her shit together, and then I promise I’ll talk to her.” He says defensively.  

“You better, because I’m not listening to her complain about another shitty boyfriend for half a decade.” Benny says, tapping his hand on the table and peering up at the sky, thinking about all the nights he’s had to hear you cry about how Marcus wouldn’t commit to you, even your house was bought by you, him not wanting to invest too much of his savings in case it didn’t work out between the two of you.  

“I don’t think any of us want to see her go through that again, and Frankie man, you’d be perfect together. I hope it works out for you.” Will says, reaching over to pat Frankie on the chest.  

Frankie nods, “How do I do this without looking like a total jackass who just wants to take advantage of her vulnerable state though?” he asks inquisitively.  

Santi shakes his head, “Frankie, Frankie, always counting yourself out before you get in the game. Any girl would be lucky to get a man like you, just have some faith in yourself alright?” 

Before they can continue the conversation, Wendy waltzes up to the table with salads in tow. “Alright everybody, time to dig in.” 

Thursday comes around again; you have switched shifts with the other bartender for a very exciting reason. Each of the guys had reached out in their own ways after they got the news on Sunday, simple texts and calls here and there, all trying to be as delicate as possible. 

Skipping through the door, you make your way over to the booth the guys are situated at. Santi spots you first and gestures to you for the rest of the group to turn and look. They all grin when they see your smile, your hair done exactly how you like it best, a white sundress with brown flowers and brown sandals finishing off the look. Frankies eyes light up seeing your sunny appearance and blossoming self-confidence.  

“Whoa, what are you all dressed up for?” Santi whistles, taking in your ensemble. 

Smiling brightly, you stand in front of the booth and state, “I have a date.”  

Their faces drop entirely, and Frankie can swear you could hear his heart fall to the floor and roll down between the booths like a child dropping candy in church.  

Will is the first to pick his jaw up from his chest and stutter out, “A date?”  

Nodding you reply, “Yep, I’m meeting him soon for drinks and appetizers but I needed to swing by here first for my pay cheque.”  

Santi waves his hands casually in the air as he formulates a question. “Don’t you think that’s a little soon, I mean, you and Marcus broke up last week.”  

“I know, I know trust me I’ve heard it already from my sister. But I’m not really grieving the relationship ‘cuz to be honest, I fell out of love with Marcus a long time ago, but I just had already invested all that time and energy, so I wanted to make it work. But, since he’s a total asshat, I have now had no choice but to move on and there’s no time like the present. I don’t want to have wasted 6 years with him and then 6 months waiting for the “right time” to start dating again and then another 2 years trying to meet the right person.” You take a deep breath, trying not to get too worked up over your current situation and pinch your eyes closed for a moment. “I just want…. All I’ve wanted this whole time is a marriage and a family and I’m frankly running out of time. So, I hopped on the dating apps and met this guy Sean, and now we’re going on a first date and then I guess we’ll see what happens from there.” You finish your sentence out of breath and out of options. If Marcus wasn’t your person, and you were too scared to see if Frankie would be interested in you, then this would have to do. 

Frankie can’t believe his ears. He’s already missed the window of opportunity. You’re going to go on a date with this guy, he’s going to fall madly in love with you, because how could he not and whether you like him or not, you’ll stay with him another 6 years just like Marcus. You just want it so badly, that you’ve grown careless with your heart. His stomach is turning in his seat as he tries not to look at Santi, whose eyes he can feel burning into him with a plea to stop this madness.  

The uncomfortable silence finally creeps through your skin and makes you eager to leave. Their shocked and unapproving faces with no acknowledgement of what you have said has you unsettled and honestly kind of annoyed. Looking over your shoulder, you spot your manager and nod to her briefly. “Well, um, I’m gonna go get my cheque and then head out.” Turning quickly, you miss the way their heads all spin to Frankie whose mouth still lay low.  

Benny finally speaks once you are out of ear shot, “What the fuck?” He throws his hands into his hair and looks around the table dumbstruck.  

Will is shaking his head and chewing his bottom lip, Santi is still looking at Frankie as if trying to use secret superpowers to control his body and make him rush after you. Frankie is silent, picking at the label on his cold beer as the condensation loosens the adhesive on the fish picture laden across the front.  

Santi finally breaks his stare and leans in closer, “You gonna do anything about this Fish?” 

Frankie shrugs, “Nothing I can do. You heard her, she’s moving on.”  

“From Marcus, not from you.”  

“Same difference.” He sighs, blowing all the air and joy out of his lungs.  

Shaking his head Santi straightens up in his seat. “No, it’s not the same man. She has no idea you have feelings for her and I’m willing to bet if you told her to cancel that date, she would in a heartbeat.” 

Shaking his head he sighs, “You don’t know that man, what if I fall flat on my face with her. There’s no going back.”  

Will leans his elbows on the table, “Fish, you gotta start believing in yourself more. I know what happened with Liv was really hard on you but-,” 

“But it wasn’t.” Frankie states. Upon being met with the confused eyes of his comrades he continues with shaky breathes, “It wasn’t hard. I liked Liv, felt something similar to love at times when it was easy, but it wasn’t hard when she left, because she wasn’t Skip.” His voice trails off with his confession.  

The familiar sound of your sandals hitting the hard wood floors snaps the group out of their trance, they turn to look at you with desperate eyes, unsure what to say as you stop for a beat in front of them.  

“Alright well, got my cheque.” You say awkwardly, raising the envelope up slightly in your hand. “You guys have a good night.” You tuck your chin down and don’t wait for their goodbyes. They’re being completely weird after all, gawking at you with open mouths like it’s the worst mistake of your life to go on this date.  

Stepping through the bar door you’re hit with the humidity of a late summer night. The sun was already setting leaving a low glow across the sky. You stand for a second, squeezing your eyes and urging the thoughts of Frankie out of your mind in an effort to stop the trickle of tears that would surely flow if you let yourself convince yourself that this wasn’t a mistake. Convince yourself you should go back in that bar and put it all on the line, even if it meant you’d fall with no safety net and lose him for good. That just wasn’t your style though, you didn’t free fall, you didn’t trust the universe. You needed certainty, and right now, the only certainty was that there was a handsome guy, who actually expressed interest in you waiting at a different bar, ready and willing to give you a shot. Taking one last look over your shoulder, you let your breath out and head to your vehicle.  

Frankie and the guys sit in silence, unsure what to do now. He watched as you left, desperate to follow and grab your wrist to spin you around and plant a seething kiss to your luscious lips.  

Benny takes a deep breath in and out, settling his head against the back of the booth. “That girl, Frankie, is worth the ifs, ands or buts. You know that, I know that, and I’m willing to bet she would agree.” 

Before Frankie can respond, the bartender that is covering for you, Tasha, hurries up to the table with a black notebook in hand. “Hey, did she leave already?” 

Santi nods, “Uh, yeah just. Why what’s up?” 

Tasha huffs, “She forgot her day planner again, would one of you be able to drop it off? I know she needs it before her next shift.” She asks. 

Frankie clears his throat and nods, “Yeah, no problem, Tash I’ll get it to her.” He says, leaning forward and taking the book out of her hands.  

She says thank you and swiftly heads back to the bar to greet the hoard of customers who have just stumbled through. 

Frankie stares absentmindedly at the worn book, pages from old day planners ripped out of their books and stuffed into this one instead of rewriting all the phone numbers and addresses you have in it. Quietly he passes it back and forth in his hands, a million thoughts running through his mind when it slips and falls down onto the table, some of the pages slipping out and exposing themselves in front of him. The guys look on with confused faces as Frankies face falls while he reads one of the faded and crinkled pages in front of him.  

Santi is the first to express his interest, “What’s that?” 

Taking a deep gulp, he picks up the piece of paper to examine it closer. Upon being sure that it says what he thinks it says, he slowly turns it around and slides it into the middle of the table for the guys to read. They all lean in and fall silent to see what has their friend so shocked.  

Frankie 555-666-7777 

baseball hat  

bar 

cutest guy ever?  

Update to self- definitely cutest guy ever 

He looks down at the book on the table, and thinks to himself, would it be wrong to go through it. Yes, it definitely would be, but he has to know if there’s anything else you’ve written about him it.  

Before the guys can get their “heys” and waits” out, he is opening up the cover and sifts through the pages. His ears start to ring as week after week contain the same notations. 

Lunch with Frankie <3 

Taking Frankie shopping to get news boots <3 

Borrowing Frankies truck <3 

No hearts beside Bennys name, Santis, Wills, or even Marcus’. He keeps flipping through the disheveled pages until he finds himself at the end of the book where the note pages are. “Fuuuck me.” Comes out of his mouth quietly as his whole world begins to spin, seeing a daily checklist you wrote out for yourself.  

Getting through the day, one step at a time. 

drink your water  

eat one vegetable, spinach dip doesn’t count 

do your morning Pilates, even though you hate it 

talk to Frankie <3 

He drops the book ceremoniously for the others to peer over and read as well. A grin spreads across Wills face as he pats Frankie's shoulder. “Alright man, no more excuses. What are you gonna do now?”  

Staring straight ahead with a sense of determination and wonder Frankie mutters, “I’m gonna go get my girl.” 

“Yeah!” Benny sounds as the others clap along and smile with Frankie.  

He thinks for a second, “Shit, did she say where she’s going?” he asks in a panic. 

Santi’s eyebrows pop up, “Oh, check todays date in the planner.” He says, pointing back to the book, seemingly the solution to all their problems that night.  

Frankie points his finger at his friend to acknowledge his good idea before grabbing the weathered book back into his hands and flitting through the pages to today’s date. He scans the week to Thursday and taps the page when he finds the notation. “9pm drinks with Sean, The Green Door.” He smirks to himself at the notice of no heart once again.  

“Green Door? That’s over on Park Street, right?” Benny asks. 

Will nods, “Yeah like a 5-minute drive, you better get going man.”  

Letting a deep breath out Frankie blinks quickly, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Okay.” He pushes past Santi in the booth and quickly pats his pockets to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Okay, I uh, I guess here I go.”  

“Go get her Fish!” Santi calls as Frankie begins to step away. Before Frankie suddenly finds himself turning in his spot and standing desperately back at the booth. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” He asks with eyes wild.  

Benny scoffs, “Just say whatever you’ve been practicing in your head for the last 6 years and I’m sure it will be fine. Now go or I’ll kick your ass!” He swats at him playfully.  

With that Frankie gives them one last look of gratitude and jogs out the bar towards his truck, throwing it in gear and peeling out of the parking lot as quickly as the law will let him.  

After leaving work, you stop at a gas station to fill your tank. Standing at the pump you lean against the cool metal of your car and sigh. This new chapter of your life was daunting to say the least, no matter how optimistic you tried to feel about it, no matter how many fake smiles you had to put on for your sister, no matter how many cute guys messaged you on the app. You hear the click of the full tank signal and finish up, sliding back into your car and putting on some Taylor Swift to hopefully boost your mood on the drive over.  

Stepping out of your car, you look up at the neon sign above the green door. Sean had texted you on the drive over that he was there and grabbed a quiet table at the back. You smooth out your sundress to make sure it’s not sticking to the back of your thighs, thank you humidity and leather seats for that, and make your way over to the entrance.  

You hear the sound of a vehicle door slamming shut heavily and then the sound of boots sprinting against the pavement just as you are about to pull at the handle.  

“Skip wait!” 

Turning you look back and see none other than Frankie jogging up the sidewalk towards you nearly out of breath.  

“Frankie? What are you doing here?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed as you peer over his shoulder to see if he is alone.  

Stopping in front of you he tries to catch his breath, “You can’t, - you, - you can’t go on this date.” He stutters out, trying to pull his shoulders square as he calms himself down.  

Feeling utterly bewildered by his statement you ask, “Why not?” 

He takes a deep breath and stares down directly into your soul. “You can’t because, well, I’m in love with you.”  

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your face and your breath hitches, unable to speak.  

He continues, noticing your shock. “I know, I know. This is probably not something you expected, because I’ve done my best to keep it locked away while you were with Marcus, and I was with Liv. But you’re not with him anymore, and I was never in love with Liv. I couldn’t have been, not when you were already taking up so much room in my heart. My heart is split right down the middle. It’s Camila, and it’s you. Has been for years now, there’s just no room for anyone else right now.” Gesturing to the green door beside you he continues. “This guy, I’m sure he’s nice or whatever, but I know you. I know you better than I know myself and I just, I love you. I do, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, but I just need you to know, before you meet someone else. Before I miss that damn window of opportunity.” 

Taking a big gulp of air he finishes, looking down and embarrassed at his confession, fearing to look you in the eyes and see nothing but pity.  

“Frankie.” You whisper.  

He looks up to meet your gaze, and his heart thumps harder in his chest when he sees the tears welling up in your eyes and the way you have to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from breaking into the biggest smile he’s ever seen.  

Clearing your throat, you find the courage to speak. “I love you too Frankie.” You say, finally allowing the smile to crack your cheeks.  

Frankie's grins goofily and his eyes light up, “Really? Since when?” 

Shrugging you admit, “Since I fell out of love with Marcus. So, years ago.”  

“Huh, never thought I’d want to thank that son a bitch for being such a useless boyfriend.” He jokes.  

You giggle and nod before noticing his face has suddenly changed into something of longing and he inches closer to you.  

Bringing his hands to your warm arms, he slides them up and down and looks down earnestly at you. “Can I kiss you baby?” he whispers.  

Looking into his deep brown eyes you part your lips and nod, “Yes, Frankie, please. I’ve waited too long for this.”  

He slowly leans down, his hands trailing up your arms to cup your face before gently pressing his lips to yours. His lips are plush and soft and move with such care. You bring your hands to his back and pull him slightly closer. He grins before encapsulating your mouth again in a seething kiss, poking his tongue through your teeth to lick into you. A moan vibrates through your throat.  

Before you can really get out of hand, a sound of “Whoops” and cheers sounds from the parking lot beside you and you both break to turn to look at the commotion. A large black truck with Will, Benny and Santi hanging out of the windows and sunroof with devilish grins on their faces is what your shocked and embarrassed faces are met with.  

“Oh gosh.” You laugh to yourself as you turn your body into Frankie's, he instinctively pulls you in close and wraps an arm around your back to shield you from the eyes of your obnoxious friends.  

“Seriously guys? Can’t you let me do anything on my own?” He calls over to them with his free hand raised. 

Santi laughs and retorts, “Had to make sure you didn’t bitch out man! Looks like we came at the right time though otherwise we would’ve been picking you two up from the jail for public indecency.”  

Will and Benny laugh before Benny calls out, “Alright guys, I think we’ve embarrassed them enough. We’re going back to my place for pizza if you two love birds wanna join.” 

You peel your face off Frankie's warm and firm chest and shrug, “I could go for some pizza.” 

He smiles and nods, before taking your chin in his fingers and pulling you closer for one more sweet kiss. “Sounds good to me, I’ll meet you there, okay?” he says once he has sufficiently sucked the smile off your face. 

“Okay.” You say and break apart from his hold. He swiftly takes your hand and walks you to your car, opening and closing the door behind you with a boyish smile on his face.  

You settle into your car and watch him as his tight little butt saunters over to his truck. You bite your lip before pulling out your phone and bringing up your messages. 

Sean: Hey just checking if you’re alright. 

You: Hey, I’m so sorry, I’m gonna have to cancel. Something came up, and I don’t think it’s gonna work out between us. It was nice chatting with you. Have a good night.  

Your phone pings before you put it back in your purse, you’re expecting it to be a disappointing text from Sean, but your eyes light up when you see the name on the notification.  

Frankie: *photo of the checklist in your day planner* 

Getting through the day, one step at a time. 

drink your water 

eat one vegetable, spinach dip doesn’t count 

do your morning Pilates, even though you hate it 

talk to Frankie <3   kiss Frankie <3  

Check! 

[superblysubpar]

My dear. I had a dream where I was at a bar with friends and a very nondescript male friend was getting majorly territorial but trying to be nonchalant about it when someone was chatting me up super casually and my friends were all like 👀 uhhh!!! Helloooo!!! and...I'll spare you the details but it was giving MAJOR midnight city Steve so I immediately have inserted *that* picture into my brainwaves and now I'm ready to have a good day.

Thank you for your service and for listening.

💋

This is just a little blurb about midnight city!steve (modern!steve), you don't have to read Midnight City first for it to make sense, but can do so here. It was one of my first fics 💛

Steve fiddles with the cherry stem in his drink, jaw tense as he watches the bar.

"Jesus, who burnt your toast?"

Steve's brows furrow at the honey haired best friend sitting next to him who slurps something pink and sugary out of two lime green straws.

Robin’s blue eyes blink at him. She picks up one of the straws, she twirls it in his face, tone matter of fact. "It's a saying. People say that."

"No," Steve argues, his attention back on the bar, "They don't."

"Damn dude, who shit in your socks?" Eddie pokes at Steve's frown as he slides into the booth next to Robin.

Steve swats at the ring clad finger like a gnat as Robin snorts a laugh around her straws.

"I can't stand either of you."

Your head tilts back in a laugh. His jaw tenses.

Robin and Eddie let out a unison and drawn out, "Ohhhh."

"Aww Stevie's a little jealous. Cute." Eddie chuckles.

"So tall hunky model man shit in your socks and burnt your toast, huh?" Robin offers unhelpfully.

Tall hunky model man leans in and says something and you snort, hiding your face behind your hands as your body shakes with laughter.

The cherry stem snaps in half between Steve's fingers.

What the hell is so fucking funny?

"Steve, seriously," Robin begins, actually serious for once, "She's head over heels for you. You're being such a-"

Steve pushes out of the booth, and Robin speaks to the empty side, as Eddie gags on the brown liquid in his cup.

"Guy." She sighs.

"Fuck, this is disgusting. I hate whiskey. When will I learn." Eddie steals Robin's drink.

Meanwhile, you listen as Brody, a friend from college you've just ran into, tells you all about his daughters and the shenanigans they get into.

"But anyways, enough about my kids, Sarah says I need to re-learn normal conversation topics. What's new with you?"

You smile, patting his arm in assurance, "Please, I loved hearing about them. Nothing much I-"

Fingers scratch across your lower back and you turn, Steve stands next to you with a tense jaw.

"Hi," you smile, "There you are, this is-"

"Steve," his tone sharp, "The boyfriend."

He sticks his hand out politely, his manners not totally gone. Except the shake is a firm grip, dominating, before the hand finds its home on your lower back once more.

"Sorry, I've totally been monopolizing you, I gotta get back to my group too. It was so great seeing..." Brody goes in for the hug but falters when he sees the look on Steve's face, the way his fingers curl around your hip and pull you into his side. Brody does a sort of awkward wave instead and walks away.

"What the hell was that?" You laugh as Steve spins you to face him.

Your hands land on his chest as he swallows. Your eyes trace over the pout on his lips and the tense jaw dotted with stubble. The furrows forming between his brows.

Steve shrugs. "What are you talking about?"

"Steve," you mimic a man's voice, dropping yours to an amusing level, gruff, "The boyfriend."

Steve's lips twitch, but he shakes his head.

"I didn't-"

Your thumb swipes over his pout, fingers curling around his jaw so he'll look at you. Your warm smile melting him a little bit.

"Steve Harrington, were you a little jealous?"

His hands that had been fiddling with your belt loops slide around the curve of your waist, they drop to your ass, slipping into your back pockets and squeeze.

Your lip pulls between your teeth at the territorial grab. Your heart flutters in your chest as he hides his face in your neck, embarrassed and speaking softly against your skin. "I don't like how much he made you laugh."

His lips press a soft kiss to your throat, they linger, brushing over your skin as he speaks. "That's my laugh. My smile. My girl."

Your throat is dry at his words, thighs pressing together at the claim despite his ridiculous and unnecessary worry that you'd ever look at another man the same way as you do him.

Steve's breath is warm on the sensitive skin below your ear, driving a shiver up your spine when he presses a soft kiss there, waiting.

"Yours," you acknowledge as his tongue swipes over the spot, making your fingers curl in his shirt.

You've forgotten where you are, that you're not alone. And both of you freeze as a loud, unison call echoes across the fairly quiet bar.

"Get a room!"

[miniwheat77]

Lime Green. (Soap.)

!CW! NSFW, fluff, flirting, babiessss (sorry if I missed any.)

Lime Green is the mix of apple flavored liquor that sat in your glass, it was sweet, almost too sweet. His eyes have been drawn to you since you came inside the bar. He’s been eyeing you all night. It takes a good buzz for him to finally approach you, needing the liquid courage. You’re sat at the bar with your friends when he comes up to you, and the flirty smile you give him as he comes over tells him everything he needs to know already.

Lime Green is the color of marker you’d written your number on his hand with. He sees it the next morning, waking up with a pounding headache. You weren’t the type of girl to take someone home on the first night but didn’t hesitate to give him your number. He waited until mid day to call you, which caught you off guard. You figured he’d text you. He talked sweet over the phone, convincing you to go on another date with him. This was going to be the first of many dates, but you didn’t know it yet.

Lime Green is the color of your fluffy socks he’d bought you. They’d come in a pack of 5, all different neon colors. They were meant to be a joke but you actually wore them. Not knowing just how much it meant to Johnny. Although, your tone of voice when you called him over had him worrying, rushing to get to you. Only to find you standing in the doorway, tears streaming down your face. Grief too much to handle after having lost someone close to you. Johnny was there by your side for every single second of healing. Picking you up and bringing you up to your bedroom so you could cry it out with him there.

Lime Green is the bright keychain attached to the keys of your new house, the realty company printed in bold white text over the green. The countless hours of moving the both of your houses into one, starting your lives together officially. You’ll never forget the way he picked you up and spun you around in the empty living room. Excitement too much to handle for him. “This is so amazing.” He smiles, looking around. “Yeah, it really is. I can’t believe this is happening.” You laugh.

Lime Green is the color of that dreadful maternity shirt his mum had gotten you to wear for your baby shower, hearing Johnny complaining about how his shirts are always dirty because none of your own clothes fit you. You cried when you put it on. He tried not to laugh, it doesn’t look bad, but you think it does. After the baby shower, you stood in the mirror, picking apart your outfit. “Come here, lass.” He rolls his eyes, sitting at the end of your bed. You waddle your way over to him. “I think you look perfect. You could wear the most awful color out there and still pull it off.” He smiles. You roll your eyes. “You’re so full of shit Johnny.” You sigh. He pulls you in close, running his hands down your pregnant belly. “You look beautiful. I mean I prefer you in nothing, but..” he laughs when you punch his shoulder.

Lime Green is the color of the Halloween Costume your son sprints around in, you’re sweaty and tired. You’ve got a baby on your hip and a little boy that keeps tripping you up, leaving toys all over the house. “Johnny! Come on! We have to take him by your mums house or she’ll be upset.” You yell out to him, he emerges from the stairs, wearing a costume similar to your sons. “Dad!” He yells, slamming right into Johnny’s leg. “Steamin’ Jesus, you’re gonna take out a knee my boy.” He laughs, lifting him up. You turn away to finish dressing your daughter. When you turn back, you hear your son laughing hysterically and Johnny is holding him by his ankles upside down. “Good god, you’re gonna kill him.” You roll your eyes. He sets him down. “No, but. Look at you.” He smiles, taking your daughter out of your hands and looking at her. “Look at you, my little princess.” He smiles, rubbing his nose over hers, hearing her giggle. “A lil ladybug hm?” He smiles, setting her down. She waddles off, your son nearly knocking her over. You sigh. “You look beautiful too.” He smiles. “Thank you, you look.. amazing.” You poke his toned stomach through his superhero costume. “Yeah right. I gotta be doing something right, no way we’d have two of these little ones running around if it wasn’t true.” He winks, seeing you roll your eyes. “Oh yeah. The costume just does it for me.” You roll your eyes. And actually.. I think you mean three.” You laugh, looking down. It takes him a second. “Wait… what?” He asks. “Are you serious?” He moves closer, seeing you nod. He pulls you in for a kiss, rubbing a hand over your stomach. “We should be the incredibles next year.” He smiles. “Oh my god Johnny!” You roll your eyes.

[shortnotsweet]

growing pains

It’s only been nine years. They’re not in their thirties yet—and won’t be for a while—but it’s worth noting that things are different. Maybe it’s them, maybe it’s the boardwalk, or maybe—well. Logan is a different person than when he was a high schooler. He’s less assured than he was. That could be it. Louise is almost certainly different than she was then, but even now she still hates his guts. Maybe some things don’t change after all.

Notes Transcription

Main Episode Outfit Variations

Louise would be into layering, I think. She’s multifaceted, practical, and resourceful. Harsh structure in conjunction with more layered pieces; tendency towards color blocking, but she keeps it sharp. She’d be into casual, pragmatic clothes. If not very structured, she has loose-fitting, draped fabrics like sweatshirts or heavy pants (cargo material, corduroy, denim?)—draped and bulked, but not baggy. Something easy to run and move in; sneakers or combat boots.

Not opposed to dresses. Keeps it compact, simple lines. No frills but does lean into triangle shapes or rectangular blocks. Color blocking => neutrals will take up negative space, highlight colors are accented.

Sticks to main colors (green and pink) for consistency, but relies on neutrals like beige, black, and brown. Less cool-toned than Tina, either spring or autumn coloring. Bright colors are muted with exception of a highlight, usually pink (hat or laces). Green varies from lime to olive to sage to forest, etc. whichever tone is appropriate.

Occasional purple or blue in reference to the snowball fight/sled episode with Logan (he was in blue, Louise was in purple). Louise could lean into purple (imposing, mysterious, feminine but still intimidating) for off-episodes. Not frequent, though; too similar to Tina’s color palette.

Hairstyle options include braids, pigtails, or just loose. I’m growing partial to braids; they feel utilitarian, almost boyish, useful. Could emulate the bunny ears under the cap.

Beanie vs. Baseball Cap. I like the beanie, but to me it lends to this aspect of laziness? Not the worst, but i like the structure and sharpness of the baseball cap. Also obscures the eyes occasionally, or could be worn backwards.

Timeline + Basis

Loosely, 9 years post-canon timeline (ambiguous). Louise is 18, Logan is 25. The age gap is too big for them to feasibly be in high school together, so the second storyboard shot by the lockers is him visiting the high school for some errand (maybe Cynthia needs him to deliver something, maybe he’s got a younger sibling by now?), Louise passes by him in the hallway and doesn’t move to accommodate him (almost slams into his shoulder) and he almost looks back at her but continues on. He recognizes her when he visits the diner, which he later frequents because it’s one of the closest places in town that has good food that’s affordable and keeps him out of the house.

That’s one of the reasons, anyway. He isn’t conscious of it, although Gene picks up on it early on an often gloats to either Louise or Logan, both of whom are baffled or irritated at first. Linda is overly supportive of the idea to the point of humiliation, Bob doesn’t want to think about it and refuses to see it, and Tina writes extremely detailed romance novel drafts about it.

Logan becomes ‘aware’ in the following year, then feels really gross about it and avoids the diner for months until confronted (member of the family is up for debate). Realistically, nothing ‘tangible’ happens between them for three years (kiss? Weird face touch? Jealous outburst? Freudian slip? Something fun, idk [Louise: 22, Logan 29]).

I think Louise regresses at this point, and tries to distance herself like that episode of iCarly when Sam realizes she’s in love with Freddy and literally institutionalizes herself in a mental ward. Very much LALALALALALALALALA I can’t hear you, that didn’t happen. Logan is not feeling great at this point. Heart-to-heart with Bob snaps her out of it.

One more year of slow burn, actual relationship starts (Louise: 23, Logan 30).

Logan gets married, eventually, in his early thirties. Gene is an unintentional omnipresent narrator.

Additional Notes

Keep Logan in primary colors (mostly red or blue), but keep him out of dark neutrals/monotones (no black or charcoal gray), because it’s too heavy of a countermeasure against Louise’s color blocking—too unbalanced.

Decent height difference, although it varies depending on Louise’s shoes (sneakers or platform boots, she’s usually in sneakers in the restaurant). She’s right over his shoulder (?)

Concept comparison of them both around the ages 14-16 are for comparison only. Their ages do not coincide.

Occasional pet names, always mockingly derogatory.

Montage shots of her leaning over the counter while they talk. He used to sit in the booth seats but eventually began sitting at the counter instead. No reason. It means he can talk to her more easily and bother her with less effort.

They’re the kind of couple who publicly argues over the pronunciation of ‘egg’ type beat. Bickering keeps it exciting for them, but they make it a point to apologize in any serious disagreements, usually by the end of the episode. Similar difficulty in admitting when they’re wrong, often attempt to compromise by sharing/taking on blame in some equal capacity. Sometimes this is healthy, sometimes it’s more de-facto.

Mother-in-law beef goes crazy

[cauldron-of-oddities]

I bring fluff! Sugar and spice. I make no apology for this (hopefully not, too) cliche pile sweetness.

I'll stop now.

Have Your Cake and Eat it too

They're at a tiny hole in the wall of a pastry and ice cream shop. No bigger than a single market stall and three tables and six chairs all mismatched. A neon sign flickered nothing but the word “Sweets'' in cotton candy colours. It's in a hidden corner of the Entre Sol, and only by the grace of Jericho did Jinx hear of it after she had an impassioned lament about the lack of desserts to be found in Zaun to the cook.

Jericho had given them directions said something about taking your girl for dessert, which Jinx had completely missed, already thrilled at the prospect of a sugar rush and had Ekko saying thank you with a grin at his girl's antics.

So here they were at this tiny, softly but colourfully lit place, smelling of sugar, butter, fruit, and 6 according to Jinx heaven. As far as Ekko was concerned, it was hell. Sweet, seductive, torturous hell. Why? Because of Jinx.

She was digging into a piece of peach crumble and cardamom ice cream, humming and making a noise he could only call a moan. He swallowed thickly. He almost failed to notice the tall chirean place a slice of lime flavoured cake in front of him, with a great dollop of cream on it. It does look pretty damn good, he had to admit as he takes a forkful. And quite fancy for Zaun. He wondered briefly how their host gotten all her ingredients. Before he could ask the question, let alone take a bite, he saw Jinx zeroing in on his fork.

“Lemme taste!” It's a demand, a non-negotiable aspect of being (boy) friend of Jinx. You will share your sweets, or she may bite you instead. He found out the hard way when he'd tried to keep a bag of caramels hidden.

It's for his own safety he gave in and held it out to her. The noises of delight had previously been bad enough, but her closing in around the bite and the full “Mmmm, ooh, that's sooo good.” Has his mind short circuiting. She looks delighted at the taste and damn if he doesn't imagine going places they've only skirted before with way less clothing at the sound.

His cheeks were hot, and his pants felt tight, and then her tongue peaked out to lick the last bit off. It's hell, sweet glorious hell, and he wants to take her home and to his room and..

“Runterra to Ekko, hey, you ok?” She looks worried. “Don't like your cake?” He hadn't even tasted it yet, quickly shoving a piece in his mouth with the very fork she'd licked.

“I'm fine.” he mumbles and then “You're right it is really good.” Sitting here side by side, with admittedly a tasty dessert and her so joyous makes him want. He shook himself from his thoughts as she told him resolutely. “We are definitely getting dessert here again.”

He was in trouble.

It turns into a new thing at her insistence. After a night out on the hoverboards, a meal at Jericho, they go back to the little hole in the wall for dessert. They go twice more before he's at his wits end. The sounds she makes at first taste, the cursed sensuality with which her mouth devoured the treats, was torture.

The last time they'd picked ice cream cones, and he'd been so distracted by her humming and delicate likking, he'd failed to notice his own ice cream had melted over his hand. Great. With a huff, he'd tried to move his hand to lick it off when Jinx licked from his wrist to pinky in one smooth move. "Good choice!” She said, licking her lips. Before giggling at his expression. “Careful little man wouldn't want you dripping all over the place.”

His clean hand moved to cover his face, and he stifled a groan. She must know what she's doing, right? No, she didn't as he looked at her, having another laugh at his expense and happily occupied by her own treat again. He felt like a coil wound too tight, caught between something bright, bubbling by his heart at her joy, and something hungry and wanting below. Though all the desserts had been cold, he went home burning.

…

He spends a week practically locked in his workshop. And he really does have lots of repairs to catch up on. Jinx, though, seems to think different. “You've.” A pointed finger poking him in the chest. “Been avoiding me.” Followed by another jab for good measure. Jinx has set herself on his work table, blocking him from the disassembled hoverboard. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Do I need to kidnap you again for you to take a break?” At the mention he can still feel her hands running over his back, it still sends pleasant shivers down his spine.

Jinx crosses her arms, and her lips form a pout at his lack of reply “I thought you enjoyed our dates?” Shit, now she looks dejected.

“I do!” He scrambles out. “It's just there's so much to do, and I can't just go off hoverboarding and snacking,.."

“Yes, you can.” Her tone states it like it's the most obvious thing. He's about to protest again. “I'll go get Scar.” It's a threat, and one she means too. How those two had made peace still baffles him.

“No! no need, just let me finish this board?” He already feels wound up a few minutes to ground himself surely weren't too much to ask?

“Just. This. Board. I'll be waiting.” With that, she slaunters off, and he takes a steading breath.

One flight and two fozen dumplings later they're back at the tiny little pastry shop and no sooner than walking in, Jinx's eyes had gone wide as saucers when she'd spied a new cake, tinted pink with white frosting with swirls of bright pink through it, and copper colour sprinkles on top.

“That one!” She's practically leaning into the display case. Ekko lets out a snort at her antics and picks a little fruit tart for himself.

“Back I see.” The chirean behind the counter greets. “I was wondering where you were, wouldn't like to lose my new best customers or entertainment for that matter.”

“Lady, what's entertaining about watching people eat?” Jinx sounds a little incredulous and Ekko's hoping the shopkeeper wasn't implying she'd noticed his discomfort.

“Oh I just enjoy people indulging in my creations.” The way she says indulging has him tossing that hope right out. Grinning at Ekko, she preps their order “Do enjoy.” Embarrassment doesn't begin to cover what he's feeling right now.

Jinx, luckily, is completely preoccupied by her desert.” “It so pretty, like the clouds at sunset! She’s quiet for a moment, and thrn Ekko has never been so thankful for her whims when she blurts out her idea. “Let's go see the sunset!”

“Shall I box that, then?” Seems the shopkeeper is more aware than he is. With a sheepish shrug, he takes the offered box. Jinx quickly pulls him to open space to take off.

They find themselves on one of Zauns highest structures, perched on a ledge, looking at the sky tinged with pink and orange and the dessert box between them.

Jinx's pink eyes glitter, as picks up her cake and takes a bite. Ekko can only call the noise she makes, a moan. Low, drawn out and speaking of nothing but pleasure and then her expression, he swallows thickly at her completely blissed out look.

It's downright sinful, and he's starting to think desserts should be banned from all existence.

He's jolted from his thoughts as Jinx nuges her elbow into his side. She's holding out a finger a dollop of raspberry flavoured buttercream with cinnamon candy sugar flakes on it up to him.

“Try! Is so goooood!” She practically sings. It's too cute, the excitement bouncing off of her, it's infectious, it's the highest honour, Jinx sharing her dessert, and it's the last straw. He blinks, and caution gets flung out the window as the sweetest opportunity for vengeance presents itself.

A slow grin curls his lips as his fingers gently circle around her wrist, rubbing his thumb up and down a few times. Might as well build the tension some for all that she put him through. A breathy “Ekko?” has him looking in her eyes, with a wicked grin, his lips wrap around her finger and languidly runs his tongue over the tip, licking and sucking the icing off. She's right it is delicious, it's sugar and spice, just like her. With a soft plop, he released her finger. Her mouth is slightly open, and he can feel her pulse increasing under his fingers.

She looks like the gears have run stuck in her head. Ekko has to stifle a laugh. “Hmm, missed a bit.” He mumbles, kissing her fingers for good measure. Something like a gasped squeak escapes her, and there's red blooming on her cheeks and going down all the way down her neck and deeper. It's a treat to see.

“Your right. It's really good.” He won't admit just how affected he himself is or how he's enjoying her squirming, trying to stammer something out.

“What?... What was that for?” Jinx finally gets out.

“For sharing.” It makes him feel special. He's probably the sole person on the planet she'd share her sweets with, but he won't say that yet. Instead, he goes for a little payback “It's only fair after all the times you've made me share and watch you enjoy.”

He sees the lightbulb go on. A breathy “oh” leaves her lips, and an awkward little giggle morph into a pleased grin. “You can try some more, if you want” She looks rather hopeful saying that.

He looks at her with a raised eyebrow. Taking a dollop of icing on his finger, he daps it on her nose and kisses it off. He repeats the action, only this time holding up his finger to her lips. Jinx, never one to turn down a challenge, suckles off the icing. No wonder she'd looked so dazed when he'd done that. He feels too warm, and then he's done with all the teasing.

He moves closer to her, and when feeling the box between them, he quickly moves it. (It won't do, to break the spell by Jinx mourning ruined cake.) Hand free again he puts it on her waist pulls her towards him, the other hand goes to the back of her neck and he closes the final few inches between them.

The kiss is sweet release, soft and ardent and with raspberry, and cinnamon on her lips and tongue. His tongue chases and traces hers, all those sweets have left him with a hunger, and finally, it's being satiated. One of her hands tangles into his hair, and the other leans on his thigh. There's an anticipation to it all, and he'd pull her onto his lap if they weren't on a ledge. Eventually, they need to breathe, and it has them pulling apart.

Wide eyes look up at him, “Wanna go home and share some more cake?” She whispers at him.

Fuck, yeah, he'd love to share a whole lot more.

[k8-marsh]

life is strange characters if they lived in england and were doing their gcses i guess???

im english and ilove life is strange so .why not. not entirely sure what the hell this is but loving it!!!

(also in hindsight a lot of these probably work for american skewl too.)

chloe price

hate to say it but she would vape in the school bathrooms

does not care about uniform restrictions; dyed hair, never tucks her shirt in, piercings and painted nails... the whole lot

wears trousers even in summer because she thinks shorts look stupid (to be fair, they do... i would know)

in isolation 90% of the time

hijacks a lime bike to get to school

judged but really chill and smart

sleeps in and is late

all the teachers know her (just because she always gets detentions)

mates with the lunch staff!!!

max caulfield

neek

was petrified of everything in year 7

always says 'good morning' instead of 'here' during the register

perfect uniform but she wears cute badges!

relentlessly bullied for her weird shoulder bag

only detention was for doing 'graffiti' in her book (doodles)

takes the bus to school

kate marsh

overly attached to her english teacher

perfect uniform! (except for her crucifix necklace :)

all the work gets handed to her in group presentations because she's the only one doing it

trembling 90% of the time

walks to school (the bus is too stressful)

picked combined science gcse so she could do music, psychology and art!

most teachers love her

never got detention

always half an hour early (gets up at 5am)

probably would break down crying if she did

warren graham

disregard what i said about max this guy is the ALPHA neek

does science club (even though he doesnt have to)

picked triple science and computer science (and ENJOYS IT.)

honestly his parents probably drive him to school

spends most of his lunchtimes in a science lab

always points out when the gas taps are open

big. ass. backpack.

victoria chase

heavy make-up, but really good at it!!!!

earrings + nails even though they are not allowed

always making diss tracks about some girl that looked at her funny (kate)

m to the b core...

cba with the uniform restrictions

'miss i didn't even say anything'

carries all her stuff in a chunky handbag

constantly suffocating the classroom by spraying body spray

it made the fire alarms go off.

cackles at all the year 7s running with their big bags (warren included)

[c4fin4t3d-f1sh]

Limelight Basics

It's finally finished! I would love to see if anyone makes art of it or wants to make our bots friends- Idk, I want to be more prominent in this community, PLEASE... I promise I will draw more,,,

ANYWAYS, HERE, TAKE IT.

LIMELIGHT

Pronouns: He/It/She

Gender: Aboy

Height: 5’ 8”

Body type: Slim, muscular

Job: Dancer/Performer

Where were they born? Performance Robotics, 1892

What were their childhood experiences like? Pressured, made to be perfect, secretive, was constantly being “repaired” which caused it to malfunction more often

What significant events have shaped their life? Performing in 1915 in a collaboration with Walter Robotics at Balboa Park, traveling the carnival with mostly humans, being put in the spotlight an overwhelming amount as he was the first carnival bot, being scolded after failing to do tasks

What does your character want? To spread joy through dance and lead a more lowkey life after over a century of performing

Strengths (Physical, mental, emotional) Dancing, mobility, comfort, staying calm, grace

Weaknesses (Physical, mental, emotional) Physical malfunctions that cause him to tic, can’t handle criticism, gets angered easily, sensory sensitive

Are they introverted or extroverted? Ambivert

Shy or outgoing? Kind or selfish? Outgoing, king

Create a list of traits that describe their character. Kind, creative, silly, persistent, loyal (specifically after WR bought her), flexible

Do they have a specific way of speaking, It speaks normally, a little quiet

A unique fashion style, 20th Century carnival

Or an unusual hobby? Laying on cold floors

What are their relationships like with family, Very strong now that he doesn’t live primarily with humans

Friends, Loyal and kind, he likes messing with people/bots, but is quick to apologize if he hurts them

And enemies? Forgiving through time, mostly spiteful and angry, though

What inner struggles does your character face? The fear he will never be good enough, fear of abandonment, grudges against Performance

How are they around new people?

Hesitant, but tries to be nice and make a good impression

Do they speak in an accent?

American

Have they tried learning a new language?

Never had the time to, might eventually? Probably Russian or Dutch

How many languages do they know?

One, English

What is a song that will always make them cry?

Average - Sushi Soucy, I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski

How do they cry? heaving? silently? sobbing?

Silently when angry but heaving and loudly when sad or overwhelmed

What is the first thing they notice about a stranger?

Posture and stance, it likes to mimic confidence

What is their humor like?

She would try to match other’s humor, but it’s usually dry and out of pocket

Who would they quote?

He likes to quote his family, especially The Spine as it is very attached to him as it has experienced similar things as him

What could make them change their mind?

Guilt tripping

Who is the first person they'd call?

The Spine (for reasons above) or maybe Whirligig? (Still trying to decide if Whirli and Lime would date)

How are they around animals?

It LOVES animals! Begged Peter VI to get a dog and grew up with a border collie that worked with Lime at the carnival

What is something they've never told anyone?

His memories of being disassembled (Performance didn’t know she could see it happening)

What are habits they've picked up from other people?

He mimics stances and also quotes shows he likes (∞ autism)

What are their guilty pleasures?

Extremely vulgar and loud music

What is something they're staunchly against?

Victim blaming, gaslighting, animal abuse, discrimination, etc.

Do they speak a certain way?

It expresses some signs of vocal tics, like mimicking ambulances (“weewoo!”) and sometimes small things he’s picked up from shows or games (games with Spine and some of his fanbot friends, has specifically picked up the Talking Ben “no” noise)

Can they fall in love?

Uhhhhmm, maybe Whirli, gay robots kissing yay

What would they rather die than do?

Go back to Performance Robotics

What is their biggest mistake?

Traveling the carnival

CABINET FILING FACTS

Found his abandon prototype in the basement one time after hearing metallic clicking, was so disgusted by the sight he didn’t come up for 3 days

Yeah, uhm, I’ll develop this lore more eventually with the whole Performance shit and stuff eventually.

[onyaki]

I don't like sharing

quanxi: pretty, hot, good with her words, good in bed, high stamina, gorgeous, fine, and whatever other sexual, and nice comments and describing words you can think of. she's pretty popular among the lot of women who gloat and shit talk about her. when getting a drink from the bar, you a employee who's usually not here on nights like this ends up serving her.

"what can I get you quanxi?" she's seated in the middle of the bar right where the limes, and lemons and other mixers and mix in's are put, and right where you're serving. at the other end of the bar stands your coworker

"you know me?" she smiles slightly "get me a shot of whatever you'd like." she answers

"you're very popular ms quanxi, especially among the women." you turn to the wall of liquor behind you, picking out your favorite from it. "I mean from the things I hear, who wouldn't go gloat to their friends about it?" you sit a cup in front of her with a lime at the bottom of her cup, and the rim of her glass glazed with sugar. you take your time to talk to her before pouring her drink.

"i'm good but I don't think i'm that good." she attempts to dumb herself down, trying to make her seem less of what you've heard about her. "so what have you heard about me?"

"i've heard you're hot, which I believe and can see too," she loves confidence, and that's exactly what you're giving her. "i've heard, you're good with your words, and good in bed too, high stamina and all that." you pour her drink and she drinks it down quicker than you can put the bottle away.

"another one please pretty lady?"

"i've heard you can drink a lot too." you set another drink down in front of her.

"I guess some of the rumors are true."

"which ones do you think are true? I mean you are the one people are rumoring about." you smile, putting away the bottle of liquor. the clock hits 11pm your shift being over, your boss promised you that you wouldn't have to close tonight and that she would. so it was almost her time to come in

"probably that I can drink, and that i'm good in bed but I haven't really had anyone be the real judge of that."

"hm, I guess you really are good with your words. alrighty quanxi, my shift is over, so i'll see you another time." you write her check, leaving it in front of her, slipping your apron off and heading to the back to get your things and leave.

as the back employee door opens, and you spot a trail of smoke from the side of the building.

"came back here to smoke? even after having liquor?"

"came back here to see you, you didn't even ask me your final question. your coworker said you always ask your final customer if there's anything else you can get them." she takes another puff of her cig.

"well, is there anything else I can get you?"

"a kiss? maybe even a date?" you inch towards her, your shoes hitting the freshly wet cement from the rain that had just stopped.

you do what she asks, kissing her, lips stained from the taste of liquor and tobacco. slipping your hands around her neck, deeping the kiss, only for you to pull back right when she was about to charm you even more, slip her hands around your waist and to top it off share a drink with you but you wouldn't let her.

"ah, quanxi. you are a good kisser, it's too bad though i'd love to keep seeing a fine lady like you but I don't like sharing."

"confident, sweet, a good kisser too, and a tease. so you are the other woman i've been hearing about. the woman who sounds perfect for me." your secret is out, well it was out before yet quanxi hadn't caught on. you were rumored about just as much as she was. you don't do what she does though, you seduce.

"I guess I am the other rumored lady aren't I?" as you're just about to break from your grasp around her neck, she takes your waist into her hands.

"you are."

"it's too bad though, this rumored lady doesn't like sharing, she thinks it's tacky, especially when it comes to ladies i take a liking too. if you really want me, just remember I'll have to be the only one you'll have."

[sexualtensiongrowing21]

As The Sun Set // Amortentia // Part Three

TW: Physical abuse

Part Four

In the beginning of Slughorn's lecture I am standing next to Hermione in the front of the class. A loud bang comes from the door to the classroom Slughorn abruptly stops to address the two boys making the commotion, Harry and Ron come stumbling into the room. Making their way to the book cabinet they are fighting over the last two books. Hermione rolls her eyes next to me as I start to snicker.

“Now, as I was saying, I prepared some concoctions this morning. Any ideas what these might be?” He asks searching around the classroom for an eager student. Of course Hermione is the only one raising her hand. Swot. “Yes, miss…”

“Granger, Sr.” she clears her throat. “That one there is veritaserum. It's a truth telling serum.” She says matter of factly.

“Yes Miss Granger, That is current. How about you miss….” he points to me

“Oh uh, Johnson, Sr.” I stutter over my words. Why on Crices name did he pick me?

“Ah Miss Johnson. Go on. Do you know what potion this one is?” He gestures to the cauldron on the right. Pink mist slowly evaporating out the top.

“Yes. This one here is Amortentia. Terribly tricky to create. It is the most powerful love potion in the world.” I look around me. Hermione is smiling in my direction indicating that I took the words right from her mouth.

“It is rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them.” I lean over just a step to be able to smell the potion. “For example, I smell fresh limes, violets, and tobacco.” I blush while taking a step back to aline with Hermione.

“Very good Miss Johnson.” He claps his hands together. “This last one here is Felix Felicis. Otherwise known as liquid luck. The rest of the class you will be brewing an acceptable Draft of Living Death. Recipes can be found within your textbook. You may begin.” He dismisses us students back to our table to proceed with the brewing of the potion.

Getting all the necessary ingredients to my table next to Theo I start to brew the potion. Typically am great in potions. It is one of my favorite classes. Draco, Hermione, and I are the highest scoring students in our class. But for some reason these instructions seem off. Looking around the room I see that both Hermione and Draco are also having issues brewing this particular potion.

“Scar, are you having some trouble?” Theo asks snidely from next to me. My forehead is starting to sweat. Theo has a huge grin on his face next to me.

“This just doesn't seem right… I cannot get it right.” I am frantically looking around the classroom.

“Maybe you're just not as good in potions as you thought” He laughs.

I shoot a death glare at him. “Well if that's how you feel you’re more than welcome to get a new partner.” Theo is a great potions partner. Though I'd rather work with Draco or Hermione, Theo listens to my instructions and does what I say. So I cannot complain much.

“No, no. I would much rather keep you as a partner. You are much nicer to look at all of class compared to Drakey over there.” He snickers. I blush as my glare softens as I continue to try and brew my potion.

Fresh limes and violets. Adrian smells like grass…. so that doesn’t makes sense. But I have never been around him when he smelled like limes or violets. Theo though.. He smells of limes. Is it possible for my Amortentia to smell like more than one person?

“So, Pans told me she found you and Adrian in bed together last night. Does this mean you two are back together?” Theo asks as he stirs his potion.

Damn Pansy. I knew she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “Of course she did.” I say rolling my eyes. “I think so? He apologized and said he loves me. I love him too, you know. It's just hard to forget those feelings.” Talking about my relationships with Theo has always been sort of uncomfortable. Not because I am uncomfortable around him, but because of the crush I have had on him the past couple of years.

“Well, If he makes you happy love, then I am happy for you… Even though I hate the git.” he smiles at me as he grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I will not hesitate to curse him if he hurts you though” I laugh, protective as always.

As the class ends to everyone's surprise Harry is the one who finished first and received the vial of liquid luck. I walk up to Harry confused but I congratulate him nonetheless and make my way to my next class with Draco giving Theo a smile goodbye as we walk the other direction.

“Scarlet, I was wondering… Would you be able to help me tonight? With my DADA assignment.”

Draco asks as we are walking towards herbology. He has his hands in his pockets staring straight ahead.

“DADA assignment? I didn't remember Snape assigning any-” I stop myself mid sentence. Snape did not assign anything for DADA. Draco was referring to the task that the Dark Lord gave him. I told Draco before we left the manor I was going to help him with his task. “Of course I will.” I say putting my hand on his shoulder trying to be comforting. I know he has been stressing himself out over this task since he was given it. Fix a broken cabinet so that the Dark Lords lunatic followers may invade Hogwarts and potentially kill our professors? Sure why not?

“Okay, after dinner maybe? I don't have practice tonight. Blaise and Theo are going to help Pansy with her flying so they will be busy.

“Oh, uh can we meet in the common room a little after dinner? Like an hour or so… I have plans to study in the library.” I have plans to snog my boyfriend for a good hour after dinner.

Eyeing me suspiciously, “I guess so. Who are you studying with? Maybe I can join and we can go after?” Damn Draco is really trying to cockblock me right now.

“Uh…” Quick who would Draco hate most to study with. After a second or two I finally respond “Hermione. I am studying with Hermione.” I say as my green eyes graying slightly as I increase the locks on my occlumency doors.

“Scarlet… You forget that I know you more than anyone else. I know when you’re lying and when you are occluding. You can’t hide it from me.” Draco can always tell when I'm lying. I've never been able to keep a secret from him. All of a sudden he stops and pulls me into an alcove just before we reach the Herbology classroom.

“You're meeting Adrian.”

Not a question.

A statement.

Extra locks.

I try to pry his hand from around my forearm. His grip only tightening. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

Another statement.

Eyes dull. Fully gray now.

“He’s a prat Scarlet. He cheated on you once, what makes you think he won't do it again?”

His grip is hurtful. He is hurting me though it isn't his intention, but his fingers are digging into a burn that has yet to heal properly. I wince away from him and his entire demeanor changes. He lets go of his grip on my arm, to wrap around my shoulders pulling me into a hug.

“I love him, Draco. He's the only other boy who has loved me besides you. I forgive him.. Why can't you?” When he finally lets go he notices all emotion leave my face, his own walls come down a little and his face gets softer.

“He will never be good enough for you Scarlet. But I will not say anything more about him. I do not like him and never will. We are not friends. But, I will tolerate him. For your sake. But if he hurts you again. He will answer to me.” he says with one last squeeze of my shoulders and a slight smile on his face.

“Loud and clear.” A smile creeping back on my face. As Draco walks to the class room I quickly fix my make up and the puffiness of my eyes and follow behind him. Draco doesn't like Adrian and that's okay. At least he can be civil.. I hope.

—————————————————————————————

Tonight's dinner is roasted chicken, carrots, broccoli, mash potatoes, rolls and salad. As I am putting food on my plate I spy Adrian walking in and wave him over. Now that all my friends know we are back together might as well try to integrate him back into the group.

I scoot closer to Pansy allowing him to sit next to me. Draco, Theo and Blaise are across the table from us. All of them are wearing a similar face of disgust. I kick Theo under the table and give him a look that says ‘play nice or I will kick higher next time’. He seemed to understand as we whispered to the other two and the looks morphed into disinterest.

“Hello Angel” Adrian says as he plants a kiss on my head while sitting down next to me.

Theo continues his conversation of the ridiculous potions assignment while Adrian starts to pile food onto his plate.

“You should have seen her hair! It grew 4 times bigger than usual! Scar was getting all flustered and Draco! He looked as though he was going to tell the cauldron “his father would hear about this’. Best class ever!” Theo says, clutching his side as he laughs.

“Oh whatever. I am just glad that Slughorn didn't make me smell the Amortentia. No Idea what I would have said but I rather not have my deep secret crush be revealed.” Draco adds, quirking his eyebrow up at me, as if he is insinuating something.

“My amortentia would smell like grass, broom polish and sugar quills.” Adrian says as he is shoving his face with his chicken.

Pansy eyebrows are furrowed in confusion as she looks around the table. “That’s funny. Scarlett doesn’t smell like any of those things” She says matter of factor.

“What did your amortentia smell like Scar?” her face now turned into a smirk as she studied her nails.

“Oh. Uh it smelled like fresh limes, violets,, and tobacco.” Pansys’ eyes grew wide as she looked at me. I quirk a brow up at her as she starts to silently giggle and she makes a quick look towards the boys.

“Those smells sound awful together. I don't smell that bad do I?” Adrian asks as he snakes his arm around my waist to pull me closer. I rest my head on his shoulder. “Of course not darling.”

As dinner continues they are all talking to Pansy about her flying lessons. Draco's eyes are fully gray. He's occluding. Does he really hate Adrian that much?

As dinner starts to wind down and everyone is getting ready to leave we wave the group goodbye and make our way down to the dungeons to be alone in his dorm.

—————————————————————————————-

Draco is spread out on the black leather couch in the common room. Potions book perched in his hands. Fully immersed in the section that he is reading.

I walk around to stand in front of him. “Nice to see you can pull yourself away from sucking face to meet me.” he says not looking up from his book.

I roll my eyes and put my hand on my hip tapping my foot against the hard stone floor. “Well I'm waiting.”

Adrian and I started a heated make out session which then led to him trying to shag me. Seeing as I had to meet Draco soon we didn’t have enough time. This sent Adrian into a right fit.

Which, incidentally led to me fighting back tears the whole way down the hall to the common room.

After a minute or two he finally finishes whatever section he was reading and puts the book in his bag and leads us out of the dungeons.

“How was flying lessons with Pansy?” I ask as we make our way to the room of requirement.

“She's getting better. Still trying to figure out who she is trying to impress. I bet 20 galleons on Goldstien.

I snort at his answer. “Why would it be Goldsien? He's a Hufflepuff!”

“Well I know it's not me. I do not think it's Blaise, and it's definitely not Theo. No one else would make sense.” He says as we round the corner at the end of the hall.

“I don’t know. Maybe I will ask her.” I say following behind him as we near the door. “She originally asked to keep you boys distracted while I talked to Adrian, but I have no idea why she is still making you all help her.”

I am lost in the thought of who Pans is actually trying to impress with flying skills, as I wait for Draco to make the door to the Room of Requirement. As soon as it did he put his hand on the small of my back guiding me inside. Only once the door shuts do I stop to take in all the room has to offer.

While looking for the cabinet I keep talking. “Wait. Why ‘definitely not Theo’? He's cute and funny. Plus he loves to fly!”

“Theo is very complicated. Unfortunately, his thoughts are very loud. Pansy believes he fancies another, and I agree.” Draco says while walking in front of me searching for the cabinet.

“What? I didn't know Theo fancied someone? Since when? Who is it?” I rush out as I am trying to keep my cool.

Theo hasn't fancied someone in a long time. He's had hookups every now and then and is very flirtatious with loads of girls but hasn't fancied anyone for two years, and even then he wouldn't tell anyone who it was. He was quiet for most of last year. Distant. I really missed my friend.

“Look, over here.” Draco says while ignoring my question and leading me to the reason we came here in the first place.

Pulling the sheet off, a large oak cabinet with brass embellishments stood in front of us.

For the next two hours me and Draco spend our time trying to understand the spells that are written within the structure in order to try and figure out why it's not working.

After Draco nearly pushes the thing over while slamming the door closed out of frustration. We take a break and try to come up with a plan for killing Dumbledore..

We decided on cursing a necklace we found in the room and wrapping it neatly in parchment to be delivered. As much as Draco wants to please his father and Voldemort, he doesn't have what it takes within him to kill someone…

Once we finish cursing the necklace and he carefully wraps it in brown parchment and places it in his bag we head back down to the dougeons.

Being so exhausted once I finally reach my room I put on my pajamas and crawl into bed. Finally, allowing myself to fall asleep.

Outside the air feels warm. Letting the sun shine on my face as I lay in the garden with Ditty the house elf. It took alot of coercing for him to come lay out here with me. But father and mother are away god knows where, so I decided that Ditty can take time off and just relax. Letting the smell of the grass and the violets flood my nose. Ditty is giggling at the shapes of the cloud above us. All of a sudden his giggle stops and I feel the pull of magic as he apparates away.

“And what is it that you are doing here on the ground little girl?” Bellatrix asks as she sneers at me with her yellow crooked teeth.

“I'm sorry. I was just… Um, enjoying the sunset.” I say as I hurry to my feet.

“Rodolphus requests you in his study for your afternoon training.” She says as she watches me very closely. “NOW.” Pushing towards the house.

In his study, father is sitting at his desk. Cigar in hand. “Scarlet. It has come to my attention that your occlumency is weak.”

With shaky hands I look down at the ground. “I am working on it, father.”

He lifts his head up to look at me “It's pathetic, just like you.” He slams his chair back when he stands up. “Maybe I just need to give you some motivation”. “Give me your arm.” He holds out his hand waiting for me.

“No... Please father...Please don't…” I choke out holding back a sob.

“Look at you already shaking and I haven't even begun. Pathetic. You can never get a hold on your emotions. Now I will NOT ask again. GIVE. ME. YOUR. ARM.” he roars.

In one swift motion he takes ahold of my arm, and slams it down on his desk. “Now hold it in.” Slowly he takes his cigar and presses it in the crook of my elbow. I internally hiss. He picks it up again, takes a drag and presses it into another spot on my arm. This repeats for 5 more burns.

Finally when he's satisfied and I have made no noise he lets go with a forceful push. I pull my sleeve of my cardigan down and stand there and wait for further instruction.

Suddenly I hear another presence in the room. When I look over I see bellatrix. Her grin is wide as she holds an old knife between her fingers I've never seen before.

“Is it my turn dear? I have something very special for her.” She says trying to be sweet but her eyes are filled with hatred.

“Of course. Let's see if she's as strong as she pretends to be.” He says using a spell to throw me to the ground.

My head slams on the floor, pain blurring my vision. I feel the hem of my dress is pulled up just enough to expose my right upper thigh.

“What were you calling her love? Pathetic?” The tip of the knife digging into my thigh. P “That's fitting.” A “Aching for our love.” T “Our approval.” H “Nothing you do will be good enough.” E “You’re worthless” T “Nothing but a useless whore” I “You are path-----”

Gasping for air I spring out of bed. Looking around the dark room I see no movements so I try to ground myself. I see Pansy in bed. I see my wand on the ground. I see a grindylow swim by. I hear the lake hum against the window. I hear the light inhale of pansy across the room. I hear footsteps of students walking by. I can move my fingers. I can move my legs. I can move my hands.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Once my breathing has settled I slowly pull off the blankets and look at the word marked onto my skin “Pathetic” I trace over every letter. Severe distress or pleasure causes the disillusionment charm to wear off. I charm away the cut that goes across my left eye and the light bruising on my right eye, wrap the rest of my body under the blanket Molly made me and get out of bed to head outside.

While walking to the lake I see another figure sitting by the water. Familiar curly brown hair and broad shoulders sit with their legs spread out in front of them. Smoke rings floating above.

“Fancy seeing you here. Dracos snoring keeping you up?” I say, as I settle in next to him, ensuring my blanket stays closed. “His snores are the worst. Can hear them across the hall back at the manor.”

“Well hello to you too, bed head.” He bows from his position on the grass making me giggle. “Our little Dracy was quietly sleeping when I slipped out. Though, that more than likely isn't the case anymore.” Walking around him to sit on his left he continues

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” Theo asks while looking at me with a smile.

I try to smooth my hair out while keeping the blanket wrapped around my body. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Couldn't sleep huh? Looks more like you woke up from a nightmare.” I furrow my brows confused. How would he know that?

“Your eyes. They aren't as green. You’re occluding again.” he points at my eyes the cigarette gently nestled between his index and pointer finger.

“Right…Um yes I guess you could call it that..” I gestured for him to pass the cigarette to me.

“Want to talk about it? You know, instead of locking it up?” He gave me a sympathetic smile. Theo had known about my system of locking up my emotions ever since he had asked me to help him learn occlumency.

“I'd rather not… I'm fine though, really. Just a silly dream.” I say trying to give a reassuring smile back but it faulters some. Placing the stick between my lips and inhaling the smoke.

“So, where do you stand on the whole Pansy Goldstien debate?” I ask Theo, changing the subject from me and before handing him back the stick.

“Draco got you on his side too? I think it's a female. Or rather I want it to be.” He raises his eyebrows seductively. “Weslette is rather fit nowadays and a fantastic flier.” He says while smirking at me.

“While it wouldn't surprise me that pans would swing both ways, I think it's someone closer to our group. Perhaps a certain curly haired brunette?.” I say while giving him a wink.

“It is not me. Trust me Scarlet. Besides, I would be a horrible boyfriend. ” He chuckles lightly.

“Any girl would be lucky to call you their boyfriend, you're a great guy. Even if you don't think so. I have met a lot of terrible guys.. You, Theodore Nott, are not one of them. You're one of the good ones.” I grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, he blushes a little at my comment.

Once the cigarette is put out I reach over his lap to grab the pack and pull out another one. While lighting it the movement causes the blanket to shift some.

Unbeknownst to me, my right thigh is visible now along with the inside of my arm through a crack in the blanket. From the corner of my eye I feel him tense with his vision on me.

Taking an inhale I hand him the stick as I joke “I have heard that you fancy someone as well. Are you gonna tell me who this time? You must know, they need my approval to date my Theodore.” While bumping my shoulder into his.

Looking up to his face I see that he is staring straight ahead. Vision unmoving. His jaw tensed. His fist is clenching and unclenching.

Clearly my question made him uncomfortable. “Hey, I’m sorry Theo. I was just joking. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” I say watching him take a large inhale.

Holding it in some before finally letting go. His entire demeanor changed within a matter of seconds… Did I do something wrong? We always joke around. I try to back track but before I am able to say anything he hands the stick back to me before standing up dusting off any left over grass from his trousers.

“You're not pathetic Scarlet.” He says barely a whisper as he looks directly at me then down towards the ground where my wand rests in between my legs.

Did he just say pathetic?

How-

Wha-

Eyes wide at what he just said trying to ask him where that came from but my voice is caught in my throat. I follow his line of sight to see that my entire right thigh is out in the open as well as my arm. I didn't disillusion any of it as I planned on being alone and was covered by the blanket… I rush to cover myself once again.

Slamming the doors shut.

Locking them.

Adding extra locks.

“Yes. Yes I am.” I whisper back, so quietly I know he didnt hear me as he started to head back into the castle.

Fuck

[bunnymajo]

Time to fill out that OC questionnaire but for Thistle this time!

He'll be in the @sonic-oc-showdown so be sure to give him a vote!

Name: Thistle the Tenrec

Species: Highland Streaked Tenrec

Home: Central City

✨How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Since he’s inspired by Amy I wanted to pick another prickly flower name. Thistle flowers can have a lot of negative connotations in flower language just as much as positive ones (aggressiveness, unwanted intrusion). If roses are known for being noble and lovely, thistles are more wild but pesky, they’re also hard to let go if you end up stuck by one. The image of thistle flower suited him the more I thought about it.

🌼  - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Same age as Surge.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Currently Surge and only Surge. He’s had previous partners but they usually don’t last very long. Current record is 1 month.

(The only tragic thing about Thistle is that he's not trying to be the worst boyfriend ever. He really wants to do good but he's too self-centered and stupid to realize that he's the problem)

🍕  - What is their favorite food?

Key Lime Pie, he likes anything tart but sweet.

💼  - What do they do for a living?

Works part time at a flower shop in central city, he’s actually quite popular with customers. 

🎹  - Do they have any hobbies?

Flower arrangement and astrology charting. Loves reading romance novels and watching old classic movies even if he gets the meaning of them completely wrong. He’s good at baking and also spends a lot of time online on social media. He’s a jack of all trades and always ready to learn something new to get closer with people in his life. He’s here for you. What more could you want from a guy :)

🎯  -What do they do best?

Anything that’s considered traditionally feminine Thistle excels at. Baking, shopping, event planning, crushing your enemies. But even with all of that he’s incredibly good at finding information. Does his new crush have a favorite band? Well Thistle just doxxed every band member and knows the rest of their schedule for the next 3 months.

🥊  -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Thistle likes doing anything that will get him lots of compliments and attention, especially if it’s something he already finds fun. He’s the type to get really wrapped up in tedious side project so probably mapping out his and Surge’s life together via astrology 

Hates doing something that doesn’t serve him in some way, like doing volunteer work for strangers. He also isn’t much of an adventuring type unless it’s to chase Surge down, he’d rather not though, he’d rather keep her tied down close to him and they can live a cozy domestic life.

Running around beating up robots getting sweaty and gross and for what? just to protect the masses? Awful, blech, Sonic can have that. 

❤️  - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

One time he and Surge accidentally shared a soda, therefore doing the incredibly scandalous “indirect kiss”. She vaporized the soda can to destroy the evidence and then punched him in the gut when he told her. He passed out for about two days.

✂️   - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

His first relationship was an online one where the other person ended up blocking him and then publicly warned other people about his creepy behavior.

Thistle made one of those “am I the asshole?” posts about their relationship and everyone in the forum went “yeah, you were totally the asshole.”

Thistle deleted all his accounts and started over. He learned nothing. “It’s the forum that was wrong, they were all just jealous.”

🧊  - Is their current design the first one?

There’s a few initial sketches I did to get the overall idea going and there’s a few minor tweaks but he’s basically the same design as when I started.

🍀  - What originally inspired the OC?

It was a bumblekast question asking about what a glitch Amy would be like and I liked the answer so much I wanted to develop it into a real character. 

I really like aggressively-in-love characters like this in media actually, something about them being not shy at all about the person they’re in love with leads to a lot of funny or interesting situations, also since Surge is my favorite sonic character at the moment it’s fun thinking about how she would react to someone like this too. It’s a win-win situation for me lol.

🌂  - What genre do they belong in?

The villain in a shoujo romance manga

💚  - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Identifies as male, Pan, he/him/they pronouns

🙌  - How many siblings does your OC have?

Zero. Probably for the best because he’s terrible with children.

🍎  - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

He’s an absolute mama’s boy when she’s around. (It should be noted that Thistle doesn’t really have a tragic backstory or bad childhood. He really is just like that for some reason.)

🧠  - What do you like most about the OC?

Thistle can be a lot of things I like about male characters (a goober in love, not afraid to appear “feminine”, a polite good boy, twisted priorities) and also be the worst person I’ve ever wanted to write thoughts for. He’s a very fun punching bag.

✏️  - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Probably too much haha, I don’t usually write a lot of actual terrible people so he’s a refreshingly fun rom-com villain.

💎  - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

It’s funnier if he stays alive imo. If Surge ever changes her ways in canon or something drastic happens to her he might lose interest in her and move on to his next victim, that’s about as close as I’d ever get to “killing him”. It would have to be a very drastic personality change though.

💀  - Does your OC have any phobias?

Whatever the fear of being unloved is. 

To him, being loved by someone is the ultimate goal. “I can love so easily, why is it so hard for someone to stay in love with me? I must not be loving hard enough, I need to love someone who craves love just as much as I do. Yes, then it would be the ultimate romance”  - is basically the rationalization here.

🍩  -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

I mean probably Amy, not just for Surge’s sake, Amy will fight anyone she finds being a selfish creep in the name of love.

In Thistle's mind anyone who even smiles in Surge's direction is a rival. She's spoken for, who do they think they are??

🎓  - How long have you had the OC?

A little over a year!

🍥  - What age were you when you created the OC?

33

[musubiki]

Lime having accumulated a small collection of frogs and other small magical creatures during his time at the M34th. He just grabs them out of habit during a mission and when he gets back home he remembers Mochi isn’t there and it rips his heart open again!

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA!!!!!!!! he has a little garden or something (???) somewhere where the frogs and lizards and whatnot can live, especially if theyre super rare. imagine he lifts his hat and theres just a frog under there. "Why are you keeping that frog??" and he just goes "Shut up."

AND THATS SO LIME!!!!! eventually the other officers come up with conspiracy theories like "Ah smart....if we grab these then there's less here for a witch to use, good thinking" when in reality hes saving it for mochi.

also sad to think that eventually these critters and plants die or waste away but he keeps collecting them anyway, because he could run into mochi any day and when he does he wants to have something to give her right away ;w;

(also clarinette thinking its actually LIME into these things. "Such strange interests, ive never seen this side of him" she thinks. sometimes she picks up a piece of reed and gives it to him and lime (knowing its a useless spell ingredient) goes "What are you doing?")

[orphika]

A Maschine of Loving Grace

Here is how it happens.

Lot 404 has picked up a kind of reputation. It's a punk house. It's an all night studio. It's a long dark party where the smoke rises higher than high, and if you knock on the right door at the Santa Teresa or ask the right doorman along Electric Avenue they'll tell you there's a payphone you can call from and the old man always answers.

Sometimes the people that show up? They're people the master of the house recalls.

Three months ago - six months ago - nine months ago - somewhere in the year of last-ditch madness that's gone by, three monsters hit up the Troubador and caught this local band. Schöne Maschine.

They weren't ready for the Trouabor. They weren't ready for outside their fuckin' garage. The singer was so drunk she couldn't stand, the drummer was older than the rest of them put together and dropped his goddamn sticks twice in one song, and by the end of the set Orpheus had their so-called manager outside on the balcony, sucker-punched mid-cigarette and bitten while he was too empty to scream. Deep. Ragged. Tongue driving into the wound; this has got to look good when they find him, 'cause they're gonna find him, jaw deep on the railings.

Nobody gets the Bite that don't deserve it. A guy who puts these half-cut kids on stage and sets them up to crash and burn deserves it. Orpheus' morality has a softer centre than you'd think; a lot of room to decide that tonight, actually, this or that is bad enough.

They hadn't played since. They hadn't been paid. They hadn't had a goddamn drummer: they'd fired Leo after Sammy turned up with a hole in his jaw. They'd known they'd played a shit-ass show and they'd dragged their asses back to school and now, summer in the sky and the livin' easy, they were just about ready to play again, and they'd asked around.

So they walk up the Venice Canals, this slice of the old world on the ragged edge of the new, between one-two-three-four million dollar mansions. 404/402 squats on a corner near the southern edge; high palisade walls, steel gate, no smoke that Laura or Mikey or Peter can see - but there's a rich floral smell, and someone's guitar doesn't so much weep gently as snarl with a certain elegance. Choke chain. Whoever's playing is pulling up tight and hard, keeping control.

When they touch the bell there's a distorted squeal of feedback, and a voice; deep but nasal, a SoCal drawl with a hint of elocution in it. Expensive voice. They look at each other. Peacock blue and green spikes, bleached flat top, sideshave; striped socks and holed combats and T-shirts that were new when their parents bought them. They look at each other, and they say hi, hesitant, and they heard this was... a place to go if you wanted to make it underground, keep it real, play music the way it was meant to be played and even, God willing, get paid for it.

Footsteps. For a second, heavy, then ratta-ta-ta across gravel. The gate opens. There's a drive, with a glossy black car; there's a cypress tree, blooming lemon-and-lime in the soft evening light. There are big, loose, mauve flowers planted dense and deep along the insides of the walls. There's the house itself, white stone and low colonial lines below, pale wood and dark glass up above. And there's a man.

Faded chestnut hair falls around a lean, hollow face. The lips are thin, but mobile, quirking at something he finds amusing about all of this. The look is all black everything - leather and lace, Chelsea boots, mirror shades. Silver gloss stares back at them. Peter swallows; this old man's giving him a bad vibe. He holds out a hand, palm up, and asks them: what's occurring? And it all comes out of them in a gush: no manager, no drummer, no shows, but they want to try again: double or quits, right?

They're young, and they're pretty, and they're real cut up about it, and Orpheus can practically taste bittersweet melancholia rolling off their skin, crystallising there like salt. So he does what any good producer does, when a desperate band shows up begging for a second chance. He invites them inside.

There's a spoonful of sugar for each of them, a faint lavender tinge in the jar, thank you Beetlej- never mind - and a graceful demurral from him, he's already halfway there, he'll catch them up later. The acid's good shit, home-made, and Laura's laughing and smiling by the time he coaxes her and Mikey into the hot tub and runs his razor down her wrist. Kisses down the inside of her arm - clean cut, warm and ocean-salty, drifting drifting drifting back out onto the Pacific deep - and Orpheus lies back with them and purrs: sure. Sure, he can help them out. Now they're taking this shit seriously. There'll be a price, of course. There always is. Nothing they can't afford.