#oc: patrick summer

[koushirouizumi]

(My Digi-Advs Inter-national Chosen Child O.C. Shane's profile is up!)

{These are re-done profile pages for a revival of my 02 web-shrine!} [Which will include profile pages for my O.C.s still actively in use!]

(Shane originally didn't have one at time, so Shane's page is new!)

[cloveroctobers]

THE STRANGERS: SINNERS ON COURT

A/N: the point? I’m highly disappointed with the new release of the strangers and the summer is the perfect time for the horrors and THAT was just not it for me. I’ve also been strongly debating if I even want to dip into writing for challengers since it’s very layered but also MESSY and who wants to flop if you drop something but you don’t know unless you try right? So here’s me serving something since chapter 1 gave us…not much? I’m blaming the writers and not the actors ofc so they need to hire me for chapter 2 ASAP. So this is for my horror and challengers lovers I guess! I might have to do a trilogy myself depending how this turns out.

In short: Challengers meet The Strangers.

WARNINGS: mostly oc x art pairing with a hint of Tashi x oc! Language, slow burn/slow start? Slight graphic violence + animal brutality?—Not overly described but hinted + a LENGTHY read!

SYNOPSIS: Andromeda, “Andra,” Cove has always been the secret double to Tashi’s game even when Andra claims that is far from true. Although their friendship has been on and off since Andra transferred out of Stanford…everything always comes back to the court. Andra seeks out Art’s company to attend her grandfather’s birthday party back in her hometown in Virginia Beach not expecting Tashi and Patrick to show up as well considering the confirmed secrets the three have recently spilled. After the events at Andra’s grandfather’s birthday party, the four decide to take a trip up to Andra’s cottage to get reacquainted but soon find three more guests at the door who release nothing but terror that surely ruins the weekend.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

“I just remember the knife plunging into him and the amount of blood that spluttered from his mouth as they flung his body to the floor…” Andra hears the intake of her breath before she continued, “his eyes still locked on me as if—as if he was imagining during his last moments what our life as a married couple could be like and I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t stop them from hurting the man I wanted forever with. They took that from me and I still feel that knife, shoving its way through my body every time I think of him. My forever husband.”

The host of the podcast speaks now, “Not long after Maya honored us with this virtual interview, she was found brutally murdered in her shared home with her late fiancé, Ryan. The case of the road-trip lovers still remains unsolved till this day.”

A nudge to Andra’s bare upper arm makes her flinch, bringing her back to reality as she glances to her right to see her good friend, Art Donaldson staring at her, freshly awakened from his nap. Andra allowed him to be her passenger princess since he had to take two flights to get here, which she was thankful for.

After he received more frustrating than devastating news: that Lily was biologically Patrick’s, Art fled to London to take a much needed break from his two opponents. Art held Lily so tight and even thought of taking her with him but had no energy to fight Tashi who made little noise at his departure. She knew he would be back. Andra received a text from Tashi before Art ended up calling her and it was so laughable that Tashi acted like she had everything so figured out.

[~From: Tashi Duncan.

I fucked up and it’s finally caught up…you’ll probably be hearing from Art soon. I know you’ll do me a solid and watch over him for me, won’t you Meda?

Purposely leaving Tashi on read, Andra didn’t engage in a conversation because not even three minutes later, Art was in fact calling her phone—which led to a two hour call.

“What the hell are you listening to?” Art stretched his arms back around the headrest, a frown in between his brows.

Andra glances at him while rolling her stiff neck around in the driver’s seat, “A true crime podcast…about this couple that ends up having to stay in an airbnb and they basically get slaughtered by three sociopaths in creepy masks.”

Art squints, “and you feel that’s appropriate for us who are currently on the road alone surrounded by nothing but trees in this hillbilly state?”

“Hey! You wanted to see the cottage. I was—

Art interrupts his old friend, “Don’t say perfectly fine staying with your mom and step-dad because you and I both know you can’t stand those bastards.”

Which was not untrue…

Andra’s mother was big on living up to “the Cove,” name and felt that her daughter was the biggest disappointment (compared to her older brother Ahmed) although she kept a tight smile on her cheeks when speaking about Andra to family members. Andra’s mother’s side of the family came from a lineage of historians and archaeologists and Andra’s grandfather was also a well known tennis player in Ethiopia. Half of Andra’s mother’s siblings were also in the athletic field, her mother was once a gymnast and even made it to the Olympics multiple times until she suffered a severe neck injury on her third attendance ultimately ending her career—you can just guess how well she bonded with Tashi more than she ever did with her own daughter—later becoming a athletic sponsorship director.

Andra laughs with a nod of her head, “yeah, you’re right.”

Art hums already being aware, reaching for Andra’s phone pausing the podcast to search for a playlist for this late night morning drive. “This is a mood killer…no pun intended so I’m switching this but rest in peace to Maya and Ryan.”

You’re resting your head back against the headrest, eyes focused on the road, “You’re lucky I’m getting tired and don’t want to argue with you since there are rules such as: Driver always gets to pick the soundtrack.”

“So you were listening to this to scare the shit out of you and keep you awake?” Art states with a curious glance at the braided haired woman, “pull over and let me drive the rest of the way then.”

Andra twists her lips around, ready to debate on that since she loved her “little,” coupe and actually loved being the designated driver. When she transferred out of Stanford, she may or may not have gotten into illegally racing a few cars for extra cash, after her mother put a hold on her card until she declared a new major that was satisfactory enough to her. If anybody needed a ride and fast then Andra was your girl…just try to keep that on the low, although it was public record.

A yawn ripped through her lips before she can even stop it. She didn’t even want to dare a glimpse at Art who now sat up with a fold of his arms. He was being such a dad and Andra found this funny, laughing to herself while Art patiently waited for her to say something.

“You’re too cute, Art.” Andra tells him, lolling her head to peek over at the now dark haired blond, “looking like a scolding parent as if I didn’t get enough of that at the beach.”

Art sighs at that.

For as long as Art’s known Andra, she’s always been this humorous vibrant personality but it only ever shined when she stood on her own. It dimmed a bit whenever Tashi took over and Andra made herself small enough so her own mother wouldn’t find something to pick at but that never did her any good. Andra only came out here to celebrate her grandfather, since she was never sure how many more years the old man had left in him and he was much softer on her than the way he treated her mother, which was a cycle for what Andra endured. Her step-father refused to see it, comfortable in his rose colored lenses while she also often had a bickering relationship with her brother, Ahmed who claimed she played the victim game whenever their mother said something that basically teared her down.

It was a tale as old as time.

Andra thought inviting Art out here was to mainly help him wrap his head around what he was going to do and it would be good to see each other face to face after all this time but turns out it was him being by her side that made things a little easier.

“What do you need?” Art decided to ask, keeping his eyes trained only on her.

Andra chewed down on her bottom lip as she whispered, “…for you to drive.”

Art dipped his head at this, waiting for Andra to pull over to the side. They unbuckled their seatbelts and Art was out into the night while Andra climbed over to the passenger side with her fallen over zip up hoodie. Shutting the door behind him, Art adjusted the seat with a small teasing smile at the bronze skinned woman who scoffed at him in return.

Before he switched gears he says, “for what it’s worth…I think you’re brilliant at whatever you do and the only thing that matters is what you’re comfortable with when you look in the mirror. Be proud of that.”

A watery smile goes his way and Andra lightly reaches over to shove his shoulder, “you’re disgustingly sweet and I’m glad you’re in my life.”

“I love you, you know that?” Art sends a lopsided grin back.

Andra breathes, “I love you too.”

And that keeps Art warm in the sixty-five degree summer night. He runs his fingers over the door and cracks the window open, allowing the air to brush against the side of his new do, loving to hear the sound of that. It felt good to hear sentiments being reciprocated verbally and Andra never had a problem letting it be known. The pair connected in that kind of way, the whole words of affirmation was huge in the way they wanted to be loved and can always count on each other to be so reassuring.

“Now how many more hours do we have to go?”

Andra who’s balled up on her side, peeks at her glowing phone that was plugged into her car informs, “just a hour and nine minutes.”

Art puffed out some air as he switched gears, then checked over his shoulder before pulling back onto the road, “It’ll be sunrise by then so…hopefully a gas station will grant us with it’s presence and we can fill up, grab some shitty coffee or energy drinks and be on our way to your fancy cottage.”

Andra rolled her eyes, “it’s nothing compared to your California barbie dream house.”

“Please,” Art snorted, “it’s far from that and just a place to lay our heads and raise Lily in…” He clears his throat, “it’s just a house.”

Andra knew Art was still coming to terms with it all. He already went off about it and what he thought marriage should be despite spending years in one. Art claimed he wanted a divorce but the next thing Andra knew, Tashi and Patrick were showing up without her invite. Art didn’t invite them necessarily but he did let it slip to Patrick where he was over texts and that he didn’t know when he was coming back. Art needed some time and he always felt like there was never enough in this world.

The next few moments consisted of Andra dozing off, her phone buzzing with notifications as Art got off the next exit after driving nine miles and headed to the gas station. Art grabbed his own phone, tempted to wake Andra but she looked so at peace with some much needed sleep. He quietly exits the car and makes his way to the dingy gas station, greeting the grunting old man with the Santa Claus beard at the counter before searching their inventory. Art decides against the coffee that has a few dead flies floating at the top and circled back to the fridges.

Once he finds the little that he wanted, he slides the objects onto the counter at the man with the unkept beard. A small smile graces Art’s lips in a attempt to be friendly but the man doesn’t budge.

“That’ll be it, thanks.” Art urges as he holds open his wallet, also hoping to get the strange man to get a move on so he can get out of here quickly.

The man grunts, reaching forward from his spot on the stool to bring the few items closer to his view before he slowly starts punching them into the register. Art’s patient as the man takes his time and before he can start looking around his gruff tone comes out, “that’s a pretty one you got out there, don’t ya?”

Art blinks, easily picking up at what the man is hinting at and chooses to ignore him, “I’ll need some gas too. $25 on pump three.”

The man hums to himself, reaching over some more to punch his dirt stained fingers into the buttons although his eyes keep darting out the window. This time Art follows the old man’s stare but only to check on Andra to see that she is still in fact asleep on the passenger side.

“Y’all not from around these parts are ya? Headin’ north might not be the best choice ‘round this time of year.” The man tells Art who feels his brows coming together in a frown.

He wasn’t concerned about how the man can figure out if he was from here or not. It was the same as visiting any place and Art’s been to many considering his status. It was what the man, Walter (according to his also grimy looking name tag) said afterwards.

“It’s a week before the holiday, I think we’ll be okay but thanks for caring.” Art keeps his calm, small smile still on his lips as he pulls out two twenty bills, noticing the: CASH ONLY sign, “keep the change and you have a nice upcoming morning.”

Art doesn’t bother engaging in more conversation, shoving his wallet back into his jogger pocket, and scoops the items into his arms; not asking for a bag either. Art half expected the man to latch onto his wrist and deliver another unsettling line. This time Walter just goes back to being silent and Art’s not sure which one was worse, as he steps away and exits the store.

The pinging of his own phone, doesn’t stop Art in his tracks as he continues back to the coupe. Opening the door, he dumps everything into the driver’s seat for now before moving quickly to the nozzle. The minutes feel long as Art darts his gaze from the changing numbers on the pump, to Walter’s stare from the store, and back to Andra whose body gently rises and falls with each breath.

With a click, Art brings his attention to the nozzle to place in its original space, then moves the drinks into the holders and tossing the few snacks onto the floor by Andra’s sneakers on the floor. He searches the glove box for some sanitizer, but no amount of alcohol can erase the internal feeling of something going wrong.

Art laughs to himself as Walter holds up a hand in their departure, feeling that he was just being paranoid since his nerves were already out of whack way before he got to this state. Art shrugs it off once the gas station is no longer in sight and feels his phone ping some more.

“Not now, Patrick.” Art bites with a scratch to the back of his head.

He doesn’t have to look at his phone to know that it’s Patrick. He’s been the main one sending texts at all sorts of times since Art left the country. Art was already irked before but now that he brought Tashi to impose on his time with Andra was just another thing to tick off the list. Andra was great at distancing herself from the two and was always vocal on her distaste for Patrick but this was still a process for Art.

You can only be on the court by yourself for so long according to Art Donaldson.

Andra Cove strongly felt different.

“Hey,” Andra’s raspy voice is followed with a grasp to Art’s shoulder, catching him off guard which makes her widen her half lidded eyes at his flinching, “…everything good?”

Art scoffs, “what? Oh yeah! I just thought southern people would have the best manners.”

Andra clenches the tiredness from her eyes, trying to comprehend what the blond was saying to her, “…what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Art says, “take a look in the holder, I got your favorite.”

Peeking at him with one eye, Andra glances down at the yellow bottle and reaches for it with a smile that splits over her lips. “Pina colada Fanta? I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How can I forget? You talked about it all the damn time back at Stanford and would throw a fit every time the campus never had it.” Art briefly looks at the woman from the driver’s side.

Andra laughs as she squeezes it to her chest before placing it back in the holder, “appreciate you, bub.”

“Sure,” art replies, “try not to chug it all down for breakfast later and then complain about a tummy ache afterwards.”

“Are you this bossy with Lily?” Andra questions while getting ready to roll her body to face away from Art again.

She freezes a bit, wondering if it’s a sore subject to even mention the child’s name but Art just shakes his head with a snort, “I’m actually the fun parent, believe it or not.”

“Oh I do.” Andra’s turned back to the window again, reaching a hand back to squeeze Art’s thigh in comfort.

He watches Andra’s hand: her gel nails a combination of a summer orange sunset and magenta. Her pretty fingers are inked with delicate designs and Art finds that her touch radiates a warmth that he’s not used to. A touch that is gentle but firm enough that lets him know that perhaps this gloom season doesn’t have to last forever.

There’s some instrumentals playing throughout the car now but Art doesn’t seem to mind it. Andra’s hand is now back to her own lap as she catches up on another round of a nap and Art is left to his own thoughts and this horrible energy drink that tastes like battery acid.

“Jesus,” Art mutters to himself as he feels himself gag balling a fist up to his mouth, in hopes of settling his stomach on his own.

He glares down at the drink momentarily before his eyes connect with something in the road, which makes him tap on the brakes. They squeal some, which makes Andra pop up in bewilderment, hood to her hoodie sliding right off.

“Damn,” Art comments as Andra grips onto the dash, leaning forward to get a good look at what’s in the road.

Andra sighs, “it’s a deer.”

“Yeah but…it doesn’t just look like roadkill.”

The way its head is bent back is unnatural along with the amount of blood that stains the gravel. There’s traces of glass the decorate the ground which indicates it could have been hit, which was not uncommon. It was the way that both sets of eyes locked on the deer with squints in their eyes that they noticed multiple wounds on its backside that appeared blunt and not accidental.

Andra exhales, her side eye going to the sides of the car before her hands went to check that the doors were locked, “nope. Art, if you don’t float this shit, then I will.”

The glance Art shoots Andra’s way, confirms that twisting feeling he felt back at the gas station. He crosses his hands over the steering wheel, turning the car to go around the deer and picks up the speed just as the navigation system speaks telling the two which direction to continue in.

That was enough to keep Andra awake for the rest of the drive.

6:46AM

The old friends are pulling up to the Olive green and white cottage. Equally they both rest their heads against the seats, just measuring the amount of energy it was going to take to collect their things and bring them into the home.

“It’s nice.” Art compliments while Andra who rolls her head to meet his tired stare with her blank one, “what? I’m not bullshitting you, honest.”

“Uh huh,” Andra answers as she grabs her Fanta staring at it a bit with a smile, “c’mon Ken, let’s get inside before the bugs start chomping.”

Art teases with his own nickname, “can we check our surroundings first, Belle? I’m getting some red flags?”

It was the way he actually had a rose by one of his own personalized nicknames for Andra in his phone—the only one with a emoji by her name truly—that reminded Art of how much he missed their friendship.

“Is this more about the Santa Claus cashier or the stabbed up deer?” Andra asks with her hand on the door.

Art scratches at his brow as Andra’s phone dings, “uh…both?” He muttered while she deeply inhales, eyes going to the phone she was about to leave behind in the holder. Pulling it free, she unlocks the phone and reads the message with a scowl.

Holding the mic on the bottom right of the device, she speaks into it, “thanks for letting me know last minute, dumbass. Send.”

Shoving the phone into her hoodie pocket, she meets Art’s eyes, “Ahmed gladly let me know that the front porch light is still broken from the last time he snuck up here to use my place for who knows what.”

“I’ll take a look at it, just set a reminder.”

Andra nods, quickly doing so before pushing the door open followed by Art. He breathes in the fresh air which smells of pine and salt from near by water. It’s quiet besides the light chirping from some birds and there’s not many cars near by at Andra’s neighbor to their left.

“The Triplett’s come here in the winter months, they’re Minnesota natives if you can believe it.” Andra informs as she swings the strap of her duffle bag against her shoulder and moves the seat back into place.

Art nods, “so what you’re saying is…we’re actually alone?”

Andra shrugs, “that’s kinda what the cottage life is all about, babe. Don’t worry though, that’ll be ruined once your two favs decides to grant us with their presence.”

Art watches as Andra slams the door, leaving Art behind as she crosses the pathway towards the front porch. He’s scrambling a bit now, grabbing his own bag and locking the car. He jogs up the steps just as Andra is unlocking the door. “Did I mention that I’m sorry about that?”

Andra fans her hand as Art steps into the home, being met with the grand view of the water out back. She’s locking the door behind him and then responds, “you sure did but nothings changed.”

She hoist the bag on her shoulder as she breezes by that, “alright little house tour since it’s still early and we could both use some more sleep. Dining table is here, kitchen in the corner, sitting area to a pretty great view is up ahead with the best deck in this sleepy town right beyond those doors, bathroom is right by the last set of sliding doors leading out to the deck, and your room is right around that wall. Around from there is the actual living room and my room is upstairs. Please keep your shoes by the door.”

Art breathes out a laugh, “if I didn’t know that you were once a careless tennis athlete who chose cross country instead—out of all things—then went on to sports journalism later turned kinesiologist, I’d say real estate might be your true calling.”

Andra rolls her eyes with a laugh, “thanks for the whole run down of my résumé, you’re a great guest so far.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He winks as he moves to start unlacing his sneakers while Andra shakes her head, moving towards the couch with her back to the sliding doors.

She jokes, “I’m not on your salary so I don’t have a personalized chef or anything—

“Shut up, Andie.” Art playfully aims his shoe at the braided woman who grins at him with a wink, “I don’t need that special treatment shit, especially when it’s going to be over by next year anyway. I already know I’m gonna be taken care of by you.”

Since Art got his friendship with Patrick back, he seems to believe that he’ll be retiring soon and he wasn’t anywhere near forty just yet.

She shrugs her shoulders, “…all depends on how good of a guest you are.”

“I think I’m the best you’re gonna get…compared to your brother anyway.”

“Don’t even get me started on his bobble head!” Andra yells before continuing, “Now I have to check the house to make sure he didn’t ruin anything and try to hide it but at least he was honest about the light. The bare minimum! Please let me know if anything seems off in your room?”

Art laughs a little, knowing just how much Andra went at it with the older guy. Art never had any issues with Ahmed, he had an award winning smile and was definitely a charmer. The only thing Art didn’t get was why he didn’t have his sister’s back when it came to their mother? Probably because he got all the credit of being the “good” kid and didn’t want to ruin that but that was selfish. Art didn’t know what it meant to be a sibling but he figured it should be some sort of union, even if you had to Duke it out from time to time.

Blood was supposed to be thicker than water is what they say.

Art was an only child so he’s always been on his own but he felt like his late nana was the closest thing he’s had as true family.

Art zones back in on Andra stepping back into his view, “…what I was meaning to say before my mind goes all over the place is the kitchen should be pretty stacked although we’re only going to be here for a day or two. I had someone make sure of it so we don’t have to make any special trips but if you want to later—

“Andie,” art calls out to her making her blink and realize that she’s talking a lot, something she does when she’s stressing or needing some rest, “we’re good, get out of here.”

Her hands are on her hips now, “Are you trying to bully me, Donaldson?”

“No?” Art blinks.

“That’s what I thought. See you in a few hours and holler if you need anything.” She starts to walk off but Art follows her.

“…you do have weapons here right?”

She glances at him over her shoulder, “duh, who the hell do you think I am? Oblivious?”

“…what’s your middle name again?”

“Good night, art!” She waved her fingers in the air while Art is smirking.

“It’s morning!”

“Then tweet, tweet, bitch!” She calls back over the wall before she disappears and heads up the stairs.

Art can’t help but to let the bubbled laughter fly past his lips, heading to the right where the bedroom is waiting behind the sliding barn doors. Dumping his bags on a near by chair, he plops down on the side of the bed, resting his hands on his knees as he soaks in the stillness.

Flinging his body sideways to lay down, after staring out at the view for some time, he pulls out his phone to see a few texts from no other than Patrick.

The most recent says that Art’ll be seeing him and Tashi by the early or mid-afternoon at the latest, depending on when Tashi was ready to go. All Art did was like the message, placing his phone back on his belly before he closed his eyes.

Art is awakened by the stench of food and the goosebumps that decorate his skin. Rubbing at the new texture on his skin, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and peeks through his slumber eyes to get a sense for what time it is.

11:52AM

He gets to his feet, rubbing at his eyes and leaves his phone behind face down on the bed. Leaning in the doorway he looks both ways before stepping out onto the dark wood floor and heads back towards the front of the cottage. He spots Andra immediately facing his direction in the kitchen, leftovers of a sandwich in her hand while she’s sipping at some sort of smoothie.

“Morning sunshine, how did you sleep?”

Art leans against the counter from the opposite side and grins, “like a baby.”

“See the magic of this place yet?”

“I still need some convincing…maybe the last bite of that sandwich will help?”

“Oh you mean this one? That’s full of grease and has the potential to clog arteries? Aren’t you an athlete?”

Art gives a straight face, “doesn’t mean I can’t have cheat days and when did you become my trainer exactly?”

Andra pops her lips at the taste, leaning forward to mockingly toss the rest of the sandwich into her mouth.

Art leans away from the counter, “alright, okay. Your hospitality actually sucks and I rate this establishment zero stars.”

“You can’t chop me.”

“I just did.” Art states matter of factly as he starts making his way into the kitchen.

Andra scrunches up her nose, “always such a little baby! There’s one waiting for you in the toaster oven and I’ll be reporting this to the blogs.”

Art argues, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Classic answer,” Andra circles around Art now in her flowy white skirt to plop on the couch dramatically with a hand tossed against her forehead, “I thought you said you loved me, Arthur?”

“Oh c’mon, not the whole government name drop, Andromeda!” Art drags out her name around stuffing his face while Andra laughs laid out on the couch.

He preferred “Art,” over his full name any day and that’s what everyone’s known him as before he even made it big. That of course didn’t apply to his own parents who felt it was foolish to call their son by a nickname rather than what they gave to him at birth. They were less hard asses than Patrick’s parents but when it came to titles that’s where he and Andromeda related.

“I’ve been added to the group chat thanks to your side piece.” Andromeda waves her phone in the air.

Art takes her leftover smoothie and plops down beside her, sipping at and ignoring her raised brows, “what side piece?”

“Mickey mouse.” Andromeda tells as she shows the dark blond her phone, “Patrick says him and Tashi are now on the road so we should see them around 2 at the latest.”

Art slowly finishes chewing, elbows on his knees as he’s in thought, nodding at this information. He can’t exactly say he’s thrilled to have them here—as bad as it sounds considering 1/2 of the pair consists of his wife but he’ll keep that to himself.

Andra sits up then, shuffling to sit thigh to thigh with Art as she nudged his shoulder, “Take a minute and get ready, I’ll be outside enjoying the sun until I give you the rest of the tour.”

He questions with a lopsided grin, “there’s more?”

“Always.” She flashes her teeth at him, leaving Art to peer down at her lips briefly before she turns her head to look at the waterfront for a bit, leaving Art to analyze the profile of Andra’s face. The little chocolate chip mole by her hairline of her straight backs is something he always found cute no matter which way she wore her hair. Just like her finding the spec of honey brown on the side of his dark blue hues in his right eye.

She gets up, using his shoulder for leverage before she breezes by him smelling like caramel, peonies, and pink pepper—a mixture of many scents that matched her body chemistry quite well. Art lets out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch after she slides the door closed but that doesn’t stop him from watching her walk across the deck to sit pretty on the wicker egg chair.

Some time later Art makes his way out to the deck, freshly changed and dressed for the remainder of the day. He meets Andra out on the deck, leaning over it just as she’s getting off the phone.

“I don’t care when you bring it, Ahmed. All I know is that it better be back here by the time I come out here again. Yeah, yeah. Bye!” Andra ends the call while there’s amusement on Art’s face while he takes a spot right next to her.

He glances at her before looking back at the view, “are you out here tearing your big brother a new one?”

“Nooo, what gave you that idea?” She’s sarcastic although her smile is as sweet as can be.

She spins to rest her elbows on the banister, eyeing Art’s appearance. He meets her stare, raising his brows in question as she says, “The facial hair is a good look on you. What’s next? Growing your hair back out?”

Art snorts, “nah, I think that’s over for me. Too much maintenance.”

Andra hums as she waves him along, “let’s see the dock…wait did you put your sunscreen or bug spray on?”

“Uh no?”

“Not on my watch, Donaldson.” She charges right by him to the egg chair, coming back with a dropper, “hold out your wrists.”

“What is it?” He asks but complies as the oil is dropped right on his skin.

“Now pat it against your neck and ankles then finish with your wrists.” She instructs, “the mosquitoes are devils by the water and hate lemongrass.”

Art shakes his head with a smile, “whatever you say, mom.”

“That’s okay, clown me all you want but you’ll be thanking me by the time we’re inside for the night, free from bites.” She pats his waist on her way by to put the dropper back.

Together the friends make their way down the set of stairs to the lower level. They walk across the grass where Andra points to their left, showing where the shed is full of equipment for water activities.

“Paddle boarding?” Art quizzes as he caressed his facial hair, “I can’t picture it.”

“What? I can’t have other hobbies?” Andra asked, hands on her hips while staring at the man underneath her eyelashes.

Art shrugged, “course you can. I just remember a certain lake party where you were lounging by the lake instead of being in it.”

Andra shields her eyes from the sun as she turns up her glossed lips at the memory, “I’m surprised you remember that when you had your tongue down Divinia Alonto’s throat.”

“Did I?” Art inquires, “I was honestly so worried about my new friend not having a good time.”

“And keeping Patrick from getting his ass beat by one of those guys that’s probably a linebacker now.” Andra chuckles as she leads the way up the small hill towards the dock.

The air is warm just as the light breeze while the two travel some more together. It was funny thinking about it all, how Andra became acquainted with the pair, first watching them at the US open since she was visiting Ahmed who recently moved out to Queens, New York. She would later end up at Tashi’s match a week later, sitting on the bleachers not far from Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. She ended up introducing herself to the two prior and congratulated them on their win just for Patrick to invite her to a lake party they were attending that night.

Andra said she would think about it just as her pink LG chocolate phone was ringing. It was Tashi. Art even took it further to round off a number Andra can reach them at, leaving her to just stare at them in amusement.

“Aren’t you gonna type that in? Or do you need me to do it for you?” Patrick attempts to flirt but Andra just peers at him from underneath her oval purple and black glasses.

Andra laughs, “I’ve got it but if I need someone to lift a finger for me, I know just who to call. Later.”

“Later.” The boys echo as they watch her walk away.

“She wants me, dude.” Patrick leans back into Art’s shoulder as they both watch her hips sway, doing a signature spin while answering the phone.

“Yeah right, in your dreams!

“Hey,” Art speaks, his eyes were off to the right, “you never mentioned a court.”

Andra deeply exhaled as they both face it now, “that’s because I try to forget it every time I’m out here. After I purchased this property, my mom made it her mission to have one put out here as some sort of gift to me? Honestly it feels like torture porn to me but I shut my mouth and never use it.”

Art turned his eyes into slits, “if you don’t use it then somebody definitely does. What do you get up to out there in Alaska?”

It still shocked Art to hear that Andra settled out in Alaska these past few years. Of course she still traveled all over working with the most popular athletes, this he knew because he seemed to get the runaround whenever he mentioned her but Tashi deemed it as Andra still holding a grudge with her cutting Andra off after she transferred.

Art believed it was possible but eventually they reconnected instead.

“Lots of things,” Andra answers, “but you’d have to come out there and see.”

Art hums, “that another invitation?”

“As if you need anymore.” Andra looks at him and he holds her stare.

“…I think,” he starts as he leans towards her a bit, “I’d like to see if you still got it.”

Andra scoffs, “I don’t need to prove a damn thing.”

A smile twitches onto his lips, “sure you don’t but we’ve got nothing but time?”

“And we can enjoy that time by the dock underneath the sun. I know you like to get a little tan for the summer.” Andra argues with a cross of her arms.

Art rolls his eyes, “if you’re a chicken shit just say that.”

“If you wanna see me in a skort just say that.” Andra fired back, standing on her toes a bit to match his height.

Art presses his tongue into his cheek, looking off to think about it, “fine, you caught me! I’d love to.”

And the way he’s speaking to her makes Andra bite her bottom lip and Art knows he’s got her. He’s smirking as he tries to reach for her folded arms in attempt to hug her but she playfully slaps his hands away and points at him in warning.

They’ve worked up a good enough sweat on the indigo blue court. Art’s serving with the ball at the neck of the racket before he sends the ball over. Andra has no issue matching Art’s rhythm, he’s found his spark again but Andra knows he’s been tired of professional tennis. It just took him much longer than it did Andra. She knew right from the beginning that it wasn’t her sport although she was phenomenal at it.

It was a shame really because it seemed effortless. So causal she swung but it was always fast, her brows remained turned inward while the rest of her face remained calm despite the usual routine of pulling her bottom lip underneath her teeth. Art is so lost in the swing of things, picking up on Andra’s own tics that he tries to go for the ball at the last minute. Andra pulled another one of her moves, almost like a ballet twirl spinning just as she smacks the ball back to Art.

Stretching his arm just too far, Art hisses as he feels his shoulder sting almost like static radiating down his arm followed by a burning sensation. Andra sharply inhaled, eyes widening as she tosses the racket to the side. Moving around the net she’s down on her knees as Art lays on his back panting.

“Hey,” she speaks touching his shoulder which he lightly grips, “Let me.”

Carefully he moves his fingertips out the way, choosing to stare up at the sky for a while as Andra feels around. Art groans as she touches just at the crease of his armpit, surrounding by his old wounds.

“It’s a muscle spasm,” Andra informs as she digs her fingers along his skin, “breathe through it, Art.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, doing as instructed and croaks out, “my shoulder stood no chance, I should have known, you still got it and do that famous spin of yours.”

“Whatever,” Andra dismisses, “now look at you, all messed up, old man.”

Art huffs, “well I wouldn’t pick anybody else to look after me.”

Andra shakes her head with a small smile as she raises Art’s shoulder while still pushing back at the stubborn spasm. When Andra shakes his shoulder out to help relax it, she goes to raise it again but he’s sitting up now with a wince. With one hand he slips against the small of Andra’s back, making her inhale as she looks over at him.

“Am I hurting you?” She softly inquired, quickly checking in but Art shakes his head.

He’s pushing her to his lap and whispers into the summer air, “Never that.”

Before his lips are placed right on her’s.

Their noses are smashed together as their lips work together. Andra makes the move to grip Art’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He rubs at her back and squeezes her hips, matching her speed as if time is all they had.

Abruptly she pulls back, holding her lips while Art peers at her in alert. His eyes are even darker now but the spec of gold in that one eye is bright.

It’s such a pretty sight with his lips pink and panting.

“Art…what was that?” She questions behind her hands.

His hands don’t leave her frame as he breathes, “that was something I wanted to do since I hugged you for the first time in years at your grandpop’s party.”

She tilts her head at this news and moves to sit beside him against the hot court, “You’re married, Art.”

“I don’t think Tashi knows that.” Art mutters while Andra sighs.

“So this is about revenge?”

Art shakes his head, “no. It’s about finding what’s missing and you’re it.”

They both lock eyes and Andra doesn’t realize she’s leaning in until Art is kissing her again, pushing her back onto the court which burns her bare back in more ways than one. She hisses and Art pulls away and sits her up immediately as he cups her face, “…can we go inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Their grins are wide as they scramble to their feet like two old friends secretly up to no good. The excitement was real, doing something that most would frown upon but the pair were not the only two that moved to their own drums.

Andra’s helping Art remove his shirt, he playfully whines more than needed as she pulls it over his aching shoulder but reveals he’s just messing with her and it’s not anything he can’t handle. His hands find comfort right on her ass, pulling her lips right back to his as he lays back against the couch. It’s when he starts bucking his hips against her’s after she slips her tongue into his mouth that Art knows he’s in trouble.

“I’ve missed you, Andie.” He tells her as she presses kisses down his neck.

She pulls back, “how much?”

He managed to flip the two over, sliding his hand up her leg brushing her white skirt all the way up as he presses his front against the only cloth that’s left covering her. “That much.”

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” She quizzes, holding his face in her hands again.

His lips are pressed to her’s and she nips at his bottom one and just as he’s reaching to shove down his own pants, there’s knocks at the door.

Both of their gazes turn to the door and Art sits up.

“Special delivery!” A familiar voice screams behind the door.

Art clenched his eyes shut while Andra sits up on her elbows to pull her skirt back down.

“Sorry,” Art kisses her cheek while Andra just secured the satin pearl colored tie around her braids before handing him his shirt back.

Art can already see Andra closing up and he hates to see it. She waits for him to fix his shirt again, this time with the tag in the right place, and wipes the gloss from his lips before making her way to the front door.

Yanking the door open to stop the pounding at it, she spots a grinning Patrick with shades on leaning against the door. “Mickey! You don’t have to kick my door in to announce your arrival, we can hear you from up the street.”

“You sure? Didn’t want to startle your quality time, sweetheart.” Patrick clicks his teeth with a wink as he leans forward to smack a kiss to her cheek before squeezing his way by.

Andra yanks Patrick by his backpack and scowls at the back of his neck, “Take your shoes off in my house, asswipe.”

“Yeah, whatever you want. Got it.”

Andra steps onto the porch now, spotting Tashi with her phone pressed to her ear pacing back and forth. Patrick snickers as he makes his way over to Art, arms held out ready for an embrace but Art just gives him a side eye before choosing to move into the kitchen.

Tashi lifts her head just to meet Andra’s eyes on the porch. They watch each other, Tashi half expecting Andra to send her a Princess wave like old times but she doesn’t. Once Tashi starts crossing the lawn towards the steps is when Andra turns her body to lean her back against the front door. She sees Tashi’s mountain of bags resting on the porch and raises her brow at them.

“Hey,” Tashi greets shortly as her heels click against the porch.

Andra dips her head, “Hi, Tash. Have a nice ride up here?”

“I never would have picked this hick town for you even if it’s part time, what were you thinking?” Tash asked as she begins moving her bags into Andra’s home herself.

Once Art comes over, he silently grabs the last bag to bring in before putting space between him, Tashi and Patrick.

“I was thinking, my money, my choice.” Andra replies as she closes the door.

Patrick lets out a low whistle, arm stretched along the back of the couch, “easy with the claws ladies.”

Tashi glares, “Shut the fuck up, will you?”

“Don’t start.” Andra warns the dark haired man who just shrugs, peeking over at Art with his tongue out in silent laughter who’s shaking his head at him.

Tashi surveys the cottage, heading to the waterfront view while looking left and right. “So what’s the sleeping arrangements?”

“Art’s on this level, I’m upstairs, Pat and you can have the couches.”

Patrick bounces on the one he’s sitting on now, “cool.”

“Right,” Tashi snorts, “So the room with the barn doors? Got it.”

Andra sends a look to Art who just moves the tension from his jaw. Tashi picks up on this and says, “what have you two been up to?”

“Yeah! It’s a nice set up you got here, Andra! I’m sure there’s plenty and nothing to do.” Patrick’s fishing but they’re not taking the bait.

Art decides to change the subject, “have you two eaten?”

“We stopped at that one place for breakfast before we left but I’m always down to decide what’s for dinner.” Patrick admits while Tashi rolls her eyes.

The now blonde haired woman brushes by Andra, “I’m going to bring my things into the room while you guys figure out how to entertain yourselves.”

Andra follows after Tashi as she’s going back and forth, bringing her things and arranging them and Art’s things. Andra sits on the edge of the bed waiting for Tashi who raises a brow at her. Art lets out a long exhale as he listens to the door slide closed and Patrick gets to his feet to place his backpack on the floor. Stretching his arms above his head, he moves towards the wall where the front door is to mess with the record player.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Art mutters to Patrick as he flicks through some records and picks a random one to place down.

Patrick shrugs, “what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for you to talk to me?”

“You’re lucky that Andra even opened the door.”

“What is this? You finding a new team member to replace me? Don’t forget that I’m always your number one.” Patrick leaves the needle off as he burns his stare into Art who’s resting his hands on the counter.

“Are you fucken serious right now? No way are you saying that to me when you did what did behind my back, again.”

Patrick rests his hand on his chest, “you’re acting as if I knew, which I didn’t, and what we’ve been over already! I would never try to take Lily away in the first place, I’m fine being uncle Patrick and I’ll still love her regardless.”

“Well shit, thanks for your permission!”

In the room, Tashi has now taken a space on the bed, arms crossed while Andra stands in front of her. “…Do you really think being here smothering him is the best choice?”

“Smothering?” Tashi scoffs, “Art fucked off for two weeks and he folded right into your arms. Whether you like it or not, I’m his wife and he’ll always need me.”

“Tashi…you had him believing that lily was his—

“She is!” Tashi exclaimed, “you honestly think Patrick would be a good father and god forbid a husband? They’re not children, they’re men and should start acting like it. Those white boys wouldn’t be shit without me and you know it, which is why you walked away.”

Andra frowned, “I don’t have anything to do with your relationships with Pat and Art so I don’t appreciate you trying to wrap me into your bullshit. I’ve been out the mix, sis. You’re already in my house, which takes a lot of balls from the both of you after you did Art dirty.”

“Art, art, art, art, art! Jesus! Did you fuck him already? Was it even better now than back when you were nineteen?”

One thing about Tashi, she knew how to be so disrespectful. However it had no effect on Andra as a smile split over her lips at the blunt short haired woman. It wasn’t a secret that Art was Andra’s first before he decided to start going after Tashi. They were each other’s flings and that was good enough for Andra as long as he wasn’t screwing anybody else that didn’t deserve him. It was her mistake then and maybe it would have been her mistake now if they had more time on that couch.

She didn’t need Tashi picking at scabs.

“Would that make you feel better?” Andra asked with a tilt of her head, “voluntarily giving us a pass for what exactly? To even the score?”

Tashi smirks, “You were always my greatest weapon and I don’t get even, I win.”

Patrick stands on the other side of the counter, taking Art’s glare, “I don’t know what you want from me, man. We were back to normal, great even! I’m at my best and you’re going out with a bang, don’t let this ruin how far we’ve come.”

Art huffs, “I’ll decide.”

“Fine, whatever you want but don’t make it another thirteen years.” Patrick snaps, “…where’s the booze?”

Andra pats at her scalp in frustration, “if you have any respect for me as a past friend, you’ll do right.”

“What’s your definition of right?” Tashi rolls her hands around trying to understand, “Leaving when it gets tough and having unrequited love?”

“What’s yours?” Andra debates stepping to Tashi who gets up in her face, “Cheating on your husband, having a baby on him, lying to him for years, and still walking around like the mean girl you are? Let me tell you something Ms. bob, we’re grown now and it’s tired.”

Tashi sizes Andra up, “it’s cute that you think you have a back bone now. Took you long enough.”

“Keep trying me and you’ll see just how that back bone works.”

Tashi kisses her lips at Andra who steps back, “great talk.”

“You haven’t changed and I don’t think you ever will. I’m glad I walked away from this friendship years ago, you make me sick.” Andra snips over her shoulder as she reaches for the handles.

Tashi fans her hand, “oh fuck you and your excuses. You’re just looking to point the finger at every bad guy to make yourself feel better about your lack of drive for anything.”

“What?” Andra whips around, “You’re the only miserable one I see here. At first I thought it was ambition but that turned into greed and then control. You’re just mad that I would no longer let you diminish my voice. I’ve had enough of that with my own mother! I’m not tennis, I’m more than that, which you’re not and that bothers you so maybe you’re the one that’s really sick.”

Tashi claps it up while Andra stares up at the ceiling, “glad you finally found your voice and told me how you really feel in person, instead of laying it out to the public like you should have. Only took you forever.”

Andra shrugs her shoulders, “if I have something to say, I’ll say it to your face.”

Tashi hums as she steps to Andra this time, brown eyes scanning over her features,“Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to do this with you anymore, Tash.” Andra’s hands are up in the air, “I removed myself from the situation long ago and after this weekend here, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We just don’t mesh and that’s okay, I have boundaries and you have crazy standards that you expect everybody to follow. Art and I were cool before you came into the picture—

“Aht, don’t do that. We were high school friends before Art. Why should some man come between us?”

This was true, Andra and Tashi were the best of friends anyone can have as teenagers starting from their junior year. This wasn’t their first fight and wouldn’t be their last. They were in different groups by the time Andra came along since she was from Virginia but her family moved out to California when she was fourteen. They knew of each other since they had gym class together but didn’t get the chance to form a friendship until they were sixteen.

“You don’t get it,” Andra sighs, “it wasn’t just Art. It was everything for me and it would have killed me so I chose a different path. If you wanna be mad at me still over that, fine. We can’t change each other.”

“You honestly think that’s what our relationship was?” Tashi pries, “it was about challenging each other and shaping each other into the best of the best.”

Andra tightens her stare, “So tell me Tash, do you like the result?”

Tashi inhales, thoughts wandering as there’s more harsh knocks at the door. Andra deeply frowns figuring it’s Patrick who locked himself out as she looks away from Tashi, sliding the doors back to peek out. She can’t see from the doorway but she also doesn’t hear Patrick or Art talking.

The knocking sounds again and Andra steps out, followed by Tashi. Andra sees Art walking over to the door while Patrick brings his attention away from tinder on his phone.

“I thought it was you,” Andra tells Patrick, shoving his shoulder, making him lift his head to peek up at her.

Patrick snorts, “nah. My serve is more baseline.”

Tashi walks along the path between the couch and sliding doors, peering at the view of the afternoon sky turning lightly yellow against the blue. There’s birds in the sky but they’re flying further away. All of their heads turn back to the knocking, leaving Art to unlock it before Andra tells him to ask who it is.

Her attention is pulled away as Patrick starts carrying a conversation about dinner but she’s curious to who’s at the door. She see’s Art standing up straight before closing the door, locking it while holding a piece of paper.

“Who was it?” Patrick examines as Art makes his way over to the three still holding onto a fallen paper.

The blond shrugs, “some girl looking for some other girl.”

“God, I hope it didn’t slip to the paps that we’re out here.” Tashi actually seems uneasy about that, perhaps this news was more damaging than she was letting on.

Art replies, “Yeah that would not be great.”

“I mean…would it be the worst?” Patrick sits up on his elbows, “The press is hot right now and I’m the hottest topic—which I should be.”

“Yeah mainly for having a kid with your coach, who happens to be my wife.” Art retorts, “You should be so proud.” He flicks the paper into the air, leaving Patrick to reach up and snatch it.

Patrick turns his attention to Andra who’s sitting on the other side of the lounging shaven man, “…you never told us this was some religious town.”

“What?” Andra frowns, trying to not dissociate.

Patrick holds the paper up in the air as if it’s show and tell, “Latter-day saints? Don’t tell us you invited us here to join a cult?”

“I didn’t invite you!” Andra declared while Patrick flicks the paper to the ground and raised his hands in surrender.

Tashi asks Art, “what’s the name of the girl she said she was looking for?”

“It wasn’t Tashi.” Art notifies, “don’t worry.”

Tashi breathed out a laugh, “me? Never.”

Art moves to sit at the dining table glancing at the three in the room. Andra’s gone quiet, Patrick’s humming a tune while he’s messing around with his phone again, and Tashi is burning her stare into him. He knows they’re going to have to talk at some point during this trip but for now?

“Andie and I ate not too long ago but nows a good as time as any to decide what to eat for dinner. So…any suggestions?” Art questions, eyes moving around the sitting room.

Tashi mumbles that it doesn’t matter, arms crossed as she also seems to have a lot on her mind. Patrick is sitting up against the arm of the couch now, blabbing about many options that most likely wasn’t in the fridge or freezer. Art’s eyes are on Andra as she moves to pull the large curtain over the sliding doors, which makes Tashi eye Art watching her as well.

Andra moves back to the kitchen, pulling out some already prepared items from her assistant to rest on the counter. Patrick’s back at the record player and Tashi has now taken Patrick’s spot on the couch.

The braided woman flinches as she feels hands lightly grip her hips. “Hey, are you okay?”

Andra nods, “yeah…I think so. You?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” Art whispers into her ear.

Andra utters, “just need to get through tonight.”

“Yup. Perhaps slow and steady wins this race?” Art guesses as he swiftly presses a kiss to Andra’s hairline by her personalized chocolate chip.

When he leaves her side, Art catches Patrick’s eyes who has his brows raised at that exchange, waiting for Art to tell him something with Art’s own eyes. Art just shifts his blues, leaving the main area to take a minute to himself. That doesn’t last as Patrick shortly follows after Art, seeking answers about what his plan was with Andromeda.

Tashi turns to Andra as Patrick disappears into her shared room with her husband.

“Guess it’s our turn to be fucking housewives, huh?”

Andra leans her elbows along the counter, feeling a cramp in her stomach while she breathed through it, “the real ones just exited the scene.”

Tashi laughs at this as she pushes to her feet looking for a drink. She wouldn’t exactly call this, “happy hour,” but it’ll do for now. Andra knows it’s bad luck not to cheers and Tashi Duncan was one of the last people she wanted to do so with but Andra had a feeling that she didn’t want anymore bad luck.

So the glasses clinked while Patrick and Art hashed it out behind the barn doors. Outside of the cottage by the water, stands a darkened silhouette underneath the slight shade of a dogwood tree, just lurking and waiting for the right time to rally.

Dollface would soon be ready for the next task once the hours passed with some friends to bring to the match.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

[spacestation-l7]

Uhhhh this won't get the same attention as SFTBH but me and my friend have been having some SZNZ brainworms and I thought I'd share the AU/OC :)

[resetting37]

Splinters and spice vs. my Headcanon voices for them (I think it’s a fun coincidence that they have cartoon character voices !)

Though since 2/3 of them sing, I’d say ambers singing voice is tkay maidza and Meghan’s is Sophie powers

[kumkaniudaku]

Smooches

Summary: First kisses are on the menu for Terry and Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: None

First kisses were as integral to young people's lives as their first words and first steps. In all their variations, they carried memories to keep for a lifetime if one was sentimental enough to tuck them away deep in the recesses of one's mind. 

When Terry was 8, he kissed a girl named Carmen during a summer in New Orleans. He couldn't pick her out of a lineup at 18, but he would always remember how her lips tasted spicy as if she'd just finished a bowl of jalapenos before she found him at the park to play house. He didn't want to kiss her, but he was the daddy, and she was the mommy. They had to make the game realistic. Carmen later told anyone who would listen that she was his girlfriend, and for about two weeks, he went along with the bit until she found some other boy to make the daddy, and he was just a memory. He didn't mind. Her lips were too spicy, and he was going back to Fayetteville anyway. Her loss.

Patrice's first kiss came years later and as a deliberate choice during day camp the summer before high school. Anthony was a tall, slender, biracial boy who was as close to Patrick from B5 as she could get. They both volunteered as counselors in training and found the one window of unsupervised time to touch lips behind the slide while they were supposed to be watching a group of six-year-olds play. While Patrice found the experience magical enough to begin dreaming of wedding dresses and fall ceremony dates, Anthony considered the quick peck a blip on his radar. The next day, he kissed another girl he later made his girlfriend. Her first and last kiss as a budding teenager was clouded in devastation. She couldn't allow it to happen again. 

On a charter bus cruising down the interstate toward Orlando, Florida, full of rowdy teenagers and not enough adult supervision, Patrice sent text messages to her best friend, Napheesa, while seated next to her boyfriend. Boyfriend. A week later, the reality of dating Terrence Richmond still hadn't set in. Not even as he held her free hand while staring out of the window at nothing in particular. In random spurts, his thumb would gently caress hers, sending the butterflies making a home inside her belly into a frenzy. She had to get that kiss. 

PheePhee: Y’all shld do it @ the park tonite!

Patrice considered the proposition before turning her head to look at Terry peacefully enjoying the scenery. He hadn’t said much outside of morning pleasantries and asking if she wanted a snack from his bag, which she declined for the moment. The rest of their three hours inside a rolling daycare were spent in relative, content silence. She turned back to her phone and smiled. 

Mizz Richmond: ok. but we gotta get far away from ms. peterson. she’ll tell my mama. 

PheePhee: Tht wont b hard. She cnt walk dat fast lol

A giggle slipped from Patrice’s mouth, drawing Terry’s attention from the world beyond rows and rows of talkative high school students. He watched her type with her free hand with a smile, admiring the sun’s insistence on making her even brown skin glow in early afternoon light. Girlfriend. In only a week, referring to Patrice’s new place in his life became as easy as saying his own name. What hadn’t come easy was pretending he didn’t daydream about the second they could turn middle school cheek kisses into the real thing. 

Sneaking away from the crowd was nearly impossible. Their parents were getting wind of a new kind of relationship, which left little room for privacy. He couldn’t liplock in five measly seconds of his mother turning her head to answer the phone. Terry wanted—no, Terry needed—the freedom of time to satisfy an urge he’d been keeping at bay since his junior year. Two hours and counting on a bus moving painfully slow gave him ample time to plan his approach. 

Scooting closer, Terry tried to take a peek at Patrice’s phone to no avail. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, curious about what kind of silly back-and-forth she and Napheesa were into from two rows away. 

“You’re so nosy.” Patrice admonished with a playful smile that invited Terry to mirror her expression. Her hand squeezed his tighter. For a moment, Terry considered taking his chances right then and there. “We were just talking about our outfits for tonight,” she lied. “We’re gonna wear pink.”

“That’s cute. I like you in pink.” And blue. Red, green, yellow – she encompassed the entire spectrum of light like no one he’d ever seen before. 

Terry offered Patrice his full attention, his gaze intently focused on the curve of full lips into an innocent smile before his eyes drifted up to meet hers. She shook her head and giggled. “You like me in every color, TJ. Last week it was blue! Make up your mind.” 

“It’s both. It’ll be something different next week, too.” 

Had Terry’s friends been privy to the googly eyes being exchanged two rows ahead of their loud-talking, crude, joke-telling boys-only club in the back of the bus, they would’ve added him to their roast session. Fortunately for him, only Napheesa was aware of their love fest. She sent a cheeky wink in Patrice’s direction before turning in her seat to rattle off one more text. 

PheePhee: yll so cute :). If you don’t do it tonite, u lame

Lame was a step too far. Shy? Maybe. Nervous? For sure. But, in high school, earning a reputation as "lame" could linger long after your four years came to their natural end. For a girl finally climbing out of the doldrums of relative obscurity, Patrice might squander all of her social cache if word got around that she was lame. Napheesa considered her playful taunting a success once they settled into their shared budget hotel room to plan pink outfits to cover for Patrice's earlier fib and plot a first kiss.

On the boy's side of the building, Terry listened to a room full of unwelcomed occupants concoct schemes for a weekend meant to reward good behavior. Borrowed cologne left a light sheen on his favorite gold chain as he studied himself in the mirror, trying to anticipate what Patrice might find worthy of a compliment and tuning out something Nate was saying about buying Napheesa a gift with a day of his food money. He didn't notice the stir his spritz of mature and aquatic smell good had created until the jeering started. 

"We got fuckin' Chris Brown over here," one boy commented, earning snickers from the others. 

Nate chimed in. "Nigga swear he somebody daddy!" 

"Uncle Terry, face ass!" 

Racing thoughts and a belly full of nerves turned typically calm Terry's ears bright red as a signal to all in his vicinity that a latent volcano was primed to erupt. Sensing the tremors of a blow-up, Corey stepped in to diffuse a situation going south as Terry turned around to dole out choice words.

"Man, chill out," he interjected, trying to laugh off the slow clenching and unclenching of his best friend's first. "Y'all niggas about to go play like a bunch of kids. Terry got plans for tonight." 

Nate cocked his head back in confusion. "We all got plans. We're going to the same place."

"You ain't planning to kiss your girl tonight. Y'all not cultured enough to…to capture the romance of such a time like this. You niggas don't read books and shit. Watch movies. Just hand in your pants all day being weirdos." 

"Nigga, that was one time!" 

Quick wit and a silver tongue helped wiggle Terry out of an explanation he didn't care to share. He'd thank Corey with a monetary reimbursement at the earliest opportunity. He had other thoughts on his mind. The last time he showed affection, they drew a crowd that lasted for days on end. This time, he'd move like vapors in the wind – barely perceptible until they're right in front of your nose. 

The conversation never returned to Terry's business; instead, they hopped from harmless jokes to their plan for when their entire senior class was dumped on sacred Disney ground and allowed to roam the park with other students from around the world. Shoddy blueprints for meetup spots, the perfect place to evade attention, and how they'd rub five nickels together to make a five-star meal followed them out of their hotel room, to the charter bus, and into a few rows at the back of their shuttle. 

Terry went in and out of listening to crane his neck, hoping he could catch a glimpse of Patrice. And that he did. A pastel pink tank top covering sunkissed brown shoulders gave him thoughts of a strawberry sundae on the hottest day of the year. Ms. Peterson's lack of attention allowed a slightly too short tennis skirt to bypass detection by everyone except Terry, who couldn't help but get a look at mile-long legs. She didn't break lively chatter with Napheesa and a few other girls, leaving Terry to stare shamelessly as she engaged without care. He had to kiss her. Through hell and high water, tonight was the night. 

Though seemingly distracted in a world of gossip and matching outfits, Patrice was on the same wavelength. She'd seen Terry well before he saw her, thanks to a keen eye from her best friend. The gold chain caught her attention first. It was her favorite accessory of his, especially when paired with an irresistible haircut and a white t-shirt that highlighted the deep tan of his late spring skin tone. A visual to pair with the fantasy made all the preparation worth it. 

As the bus careened to a stop with neither of them hip to the other's plan of attack, Terry watched Patrice file down the aisle behind Napheesa, still laughing and smiling without a clue in the world. 

Perfect, he thought to himself. The less time Patrice had to prepare and worry, the better. 

Corey regarded Terry's intense stare and impatiently bouncing knee with a laugh before pushing an elbow into Terry's arm. "You ready, man? You got until 2 in the morning to make it happen. How you gon' do it?" 

"Uh…" Terry hadn't considered much of the mechanics. He'd kissed before, but not with this much built-in pressure. He shrugged innocently. "I don't know. I guess I'll just…do it." 

A chuckle caught him off guard. "A'ight man. Not gonna lie, the thought process is kinda shitty, but you do you," Corey conceded. "You good?" 

Fear tensed every muscle in Terry's body, forcing him to respond to Corey with a stiff, unconvincing nod.

"Yeah, yeah," Terry offered too quickly to be anything close to the truth. "I'm ready. Yeah. I'm…good. I'm good." 

Long seconds passed as Corey examined Terry's eyes darting around and teeth leaving an impression in lips bitten to a near swell. "Right." He thought to leave things alone but couldn't help but offer advice. "Aye. Take a breath, bruh. Just like…" Corey's words tapered as he mimed an inhale and exhale for Terry to follow. 

Terry pulled in air and released it in one shaky whistle, nodding his appreciation for Corey's assistance before standing to his full height to exit the safety of private wishes into the uncertainty of action. 

Any sense of serenity Terry had worked to obtain and maintain was once again washed away when he saw their regular crew mixing and mingling as a singular blob of almost adults. Terry cursed to himself as he searched the group for a familiar high ponytail and gold hoop earrings. 

"TJ! I'm over here!" A sweet voice calling out his name produced goosebumps on Terry's skin. Again, she'd found him before he could find him. 

As he took long strides to join Patrice, all sense of time and space turned into a void with only her face as a guiding light. Terry gravitated toward her like a pirate to gold or precious metal to a magnet. He tried his best to look alluring during a journey that felt like a grueling walk through the Egyptian desert, not the short trek across aging asphalt.

Patrice stood wondering why Terry looked so focused and sleepy at the same time. Was he tired? Was something in his eye? Had he just woken up from a nap on the bus? And why was he looking at her mouth like–

"Oh, damn." 

Napheesa's astonished slip of the tongue spoke for Patrice, giving words to lips caught up in the rapture of sweet affection. She forced her eyes closed as Terry pulled her closer by the hips to add more pressure to an unexpected but welcomed peck. Her hands soon found his growing biceps, gripping softly to hold her steady in his embrace. 

They stood there, suspended in a moment that felt like forever despite lasting but a few seconds. Napheesa kept watch, soon joined by Corey, who used his slight body to shield them from rubberneckers too far outside their business. Napheesa scanned the immediate area, and once she noticed a chaperone seemingly headed their way, she loudly cleared her throat to alert the lovebirds. 

Slowly, Terry pulled away, leaving Patrice to hold her pucker with eyes still closed and a still buzzing, fuzzy brain that hadn't quite registered the moment's end. He chuckled before using his thumb to clean up errant lipgloss on the sides of her lips. He laughed while watching her eyes slowly flutter open. "Hey." 

"Hi." Patrice's greeting came in an airy sigh carrying a dazed smile like she'd just been knocked out and brought back into paradise. "Oh, you got a little," she started, pointing at the sticky strawberry gloss sheening his lips. "Let me get it." 

Terry allowed Patrice the privilege of cleaning up their happy accident, feeling so electrified by her undivided focus that he hadn't realized his hands were still glued to her waist. Not that either of them minded. He'd hold her close for the rest of the night, and she'd gladly find comfort in his arms if circumstances were different and his status as a student on a school trip didn't come with constant surveillance. 

They foolishly put all the rules out of their minds. Careful touches working to erase evidence of their eventful greeting drew attention to the known couple as Ms. Peterson walked closer to begin her speech on appropriate behavior. 

She adjusted her glasses and shook her head before speaking. "Terrence and Patrice, let's try to keep our hands to ourselves this evening, hm?" 

A deep skin tone kept the evidence of total embarrassment off Patrice's face as she sheepishly stepped out of Terry's grip. "Yes ma'am. Sorry." 

"Will do," Terry answered, not feeling guilt or shame for his actions. "Won't happen again." It wouldn't happen again in front of her or any other adult. But to say he wouldn't jump at the chance to turn a simple kiss into something even more exciting if given the space and opportunity was a lie.

"Thank you, kindly," Ms. Peterson answered, her curt smile daring either of them to step out of line again. "Now, let's get into a few rules. Number One: don't act a fool in here. Number Two: Refrain from acting a fool inside these people's park." 

Rules 3 - 10 were more of the same; variations on how not to embarrass a staff already running on fumes to finish another tiring school year and reminders to remain vigilant if some unrecognizable face attempted to lure them away from the group. Terry and Patrice tried to look engaged, nodding as if deeply concerned about remaining perfect pupils and not imagining the next opportunity for an all-consuming kiss. 

Pockets of chatter from uninterested teenagers antsy to get inside Magic Kingdom's gates cut Ms. Peterson's droning speech short, resigning her to the fact that someone would end the night in deep trouble no matter what she said. 

She sighed and dropped her arms in defeat. "Just…please don't die or get abducted. Come back with all your limbs or at least a really good excuse for us to tell your parents. Stay close until we get through the turnstiles."

Terry, Patrice, and the Francis High 2010 senior class could agree to those conditions. 

Side by side and giddy as pigs cooling their skin in mud, blossoming lovers fought hard to maintain a healthy distance within the crowd. Their respective friend groups, an uneven but familiar group of boys and girls, made plans without consulting the others. They only realized their mistakes once they stopped to regroup just beyond the gates. 

"Wait, we're going to see the castle first then Fantasyland to get gifts. Where are y'all going," Napheesa asked in confusion. 

Nate chimed in. "Don't nobody wanna see no damn castle, girl. We goin' to TomorrowLand." 

"They're literally right beside each other." Katrina's intrusion earned confused looks that momentarily ended the bickering. She kissed her teeth and shrugged. "I'm just sayin'." 

"Don't say nothin' else," Corey chided before redirecting his attention to the rest of the girls. "Look we got all night to see the castle. Why can't we catch the rides while the lines are short?" 

Alexandria, a late entry to the group, kissed her teeth. "Because don't nobody care about Space Mountain! That shit lame!" 

Another round of infighting drew attention from other teenagers, leaving Terry and Patrice as the two mediators for the group. They sighed in tandem. 

"Alright, alright. Let's just split up." The bass in Terry's voice startled everyone into submissive silence, waiting for him to elaborate. Patrice shot Napheesa an annoyed look to convey how badly she'd mangled their carefully thought-out plan. Her friend mouthed an "I'm sorry" as Terry continued. "We'll do all the Tomorrowland stuff by ourselves, y'all do your thing, and we'll meet up in the middle for food and fireworks in two hours. We can figure out the rest after that." 

"Yes, sir, Major Payne, sir," Robert joked, earning laughs from the group and a tense side eye from Terry that he did his best to ignore. Tensions still ran high between them. If he wanted to return to the hotel without knowing what the ground felt like, he knew that was his one pass for the night. 

Napheesa giggled her way back into the spotlight. "Okay, cool. Let's meet at the Winnie the Pooh ride at 11:30. Y'all know how to tell time, or y'all need a reminder?" 

Laughter from the girls elicited annoyed grumbles from a group of guys who had had enough of intelligence jokes at their expense. They quickly waved her off and started in the opposite direction, leaving Terry behind to say goodbye. 

He leaned in for a kiss on Patrice's cheek, murmuring, "I'll see you later," before turning to join the boys with an easy jog. 

Patrice watched her Prince Charming disappear into throngs of fantasy loves and thrill seekers, reclaiming her earlier daze with a wide grin that made her girls coo 'awww' in chorus. 

"Y'all are so cute," Alexandria commented after a soft sigh. "When y'all get married, can I be the flower girl?" 

"You'll literally be like 20-something," Katrina retorted. 

Napheesa scoffed as she began walking toward the castle. "You really think they gon' wait that long? She already misses him now. Let's go before she chases after him." 

Chasing after him was a fleeting thought Patrice elected not to satisfy in favor of following her friends off toward the closest fairytale. The urge she couldn't push away was the unrelenting thought of his lips on hers. 

It followed her to a spirited photo in front of Cinderella’s Castle when Katrina’s hand on her lower back brought back the spark she felt when Terry’s fingers trailed along the single bits of exposed skin on her sides. When she shook the flashes of electricity away, they left only to come back stronger with the stomach-flipping experience that was the Mad Tea Party attraction. As her friends tested the limits of the spinning tea cup whipping ‘round and ‘round with reckless abandon, the flutter in her stomach, sure to induce vomit in any other circumstance, mimicked the butterflies reminding Patrice that she was alive to experience the culmination of her personal friends to lovers young adult novel. She’d flipped a page. She’d been kissed on purpose with no indication that the boy on the other end would run away from their hidden spot behind the slide and choose someone else. 

Terry wouldn’t dream of running away from Patrice. While she enjoyed the company of lively young women somewhere nearby, he was caught up in unshakeable daydreams about the next time they’d be face to face. In his attempt to surprise her and remove any possibility of doubt, he’d surprised himself. Terry had no clue he’d gripped with such desire to turn Patrice’s face into a monument to leave gifts of affection for all time. While she thought about him in every giggle and smile in her direction from a cute but ultimately meaningless boy, he couldn’t shake the need to have her around, not just for a chance to hold and be held, but also to have his best friend back. Jokes were less funny when she wasn’t nearby to share them. Screaming on Space Mountain missed a tinge of spark without Patrice joining him in excitement from the adjacent seat. The Carousel of Progress needed her historical commentary to cut through the mind-numbing boredom he experienced with a group of boys disturbing the peace for fun. Food didn’t smell as good without her pulling him toward the turkey wing stand. 

But, as soon as the longing began to overtake their ability to have fun, the clock struck fifteen minutes past 11 to release Patrice from the whimsy of Winnie the Pooh’s adventures and deposited her into the adjoining gift shop for her to search for Terry in every passerby. 

“If they don’t show up in 5 minutes, I say we go eat without them. They can call if they get lost.”

Napheesa made her announcement to a collection of Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore, and Winnie plushies without looking up to verify if Patrice was listening. 

Patrice twirled a necklace between her fingers, trying to play it cool. “Okay,” she answered with no conviction. “That’s cool. I guess we can do that and I’ll text them or something.” 

She hoped she wouldn’t have to. If the most magical place on Earth was real, she could wish upon a star and think Terrence into existence. While she did her best to clear her mind by browsing, Terry and his posse of goofy, loud, and silly friends clamored into the gift shop, causing a ruckus. Napheesa, Alexandria, and Katrina groaned their disapproval of the six boys pushing and shoving their way into the shop. Patrice might have joined them if not for the sight of Terry robbing her of any ability to find an angry bone in her body. 

Chaste hellos replaced the hug. They wanted to avoid extra eyes, so they jumped right into conversation. Terry wordlessly stepped next to Patrice while the others went to find victims to annoy and picked up a stuffed Winnie for inspection. “We gotta get my boy some pants.” 

His silly observation dissolved Patrice into sweet-sounding giggles that immediately invited him in. 

“Sometimes you gotta make space for all that food,” Patrice giggled. “You should know as much as you eat! You talking about yourself, Pooh!” 

Terry tossed the stuffed toy into the air and caught it with ease. “I’m Pooh, huh,” he asked, the wheels turning in his head. Patrice hummed her agreement. “Bet. Then you’re Piglet. You got that little squeaky voice and the whole liking flowers thing in common.” 

“You can never just say something nice. My voice is not squeaky,” Patrice laughed. 

“My bad, Piggy. We’ll keep it at the flowers, then. Cool?” 

Patrice mulled over the compromise and smiled. “That’s cool, Pooh.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Nigga can we eat!”

A tender moment shared in the center of the buzzing store was quickly cut short by an impatiently annoying Nathan itching to grab a meal that fit his dwindling budget. Twin screw faces flashed in his direction made the boy lift his hands in surrender. “My fault, I’m just say-” 

“Damn, Nate. We get it. We comin’!” Patrice’s attitude amused Terry and sent Nate scrambling away with a displeased mumble under his breath. 

When he was out of dodge, Terry placed the toy back on the shelf and extended his hand for Patrice to grab. “C’mon. I’ll pay for this one.” 

Their fingers slid together with ease and never separated. Not during a spirited late-night dinner at The Friar’s Nook, not as Mario sang Braid My Hair on the stage near Cinderella’s Castle, and certainly not during the beginning of a spectacular fireworks display capturing everyone’s attention. 

Bursts of blue, yellow, red, and purple light erupted across a pitch-black sky, turning the expanse of darkness into a colorful display of awe-inspiring magic over the castle’s highest point. While the others murmured ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at the sheer spectacle of it all, Patrice melded herself into Terry’s side, looking up at the show from his eyes. He was content with consuming the wonder of Michael Mouse until he found a dainty set of fingers turning his face away from the excitement. 

“Hm,” he hummed, smiling down at Patrice. 

She didn’t answer with words. Harnessing strength from some unknown source, Patrice used tired calves to push her body up on toes aching from overuse and press her lips against Terry’s. 

They fell into an easy rhythm like seasoned partners, maneuvering the ebbs and flows of physical intimacy like people twice their age with even more experience. A quiet back and forth of unspoken ‘I love yous” shared between bodies supercharged with emotion became wrapped in movie-worthy enchantment. Terry and Patrice wanted more of each other. They needed more. Even as Terry’s arms moved to hug Patrice closer and her arms found a home on his shoulder, they craved more. 

“Oh damn.” 

Napheesa repeated her earlier shock as she elbowed Corey to join in on observing all they’d worked so hard to orchestrate. 

Standing in a crowd of strangers and friends alike with fireworks bursting like friendly bombs overhead, Terry and Patrice locked lips for the second kiss of their young relationship. The need for oxygen paled compared to the need to taste each other. Fear and trepidation were long gone. With no room left for Jesus, Terry and Patrice had never felt more alive. 

“I love you,” Patrice whispered against his mouth, still trying to keep the sparks alive. 

Terry offered similar sentiments after two quick pecks. “I love you, too.”

Finally pulling away left them breathless and giggling as the end of the presentation neared. Their noses rubbed as a truce to take a break and enjoy the night without adding a third session to the list. 

Fortunately, promises of a romantic nature could be broken without consequence. A third kiss was too perfect to pass up while they waited in line for The Haunted Mansion. Then, the need to end on an even number opened the gate for a bevy of smooches before they returned to their respective hotel rooms high on life. 

The next morning’s excursion to a water park to escape the Florida heat, they picked up where they’d left off, finding time for quick pecks by the wave pool and in the lazy river while Terry pushed Patrice along in her lime green floaty. Dingy carpet, arcade games, and subpar fried cheese couldn’t keep them from each other between rounds of laser tag and pop-a-shot. Kisses skillfully hidden from authority figures before bed on their final night still couldn’t satiate their appetites. 

Though eight hours on the road forced them into a brief intermission, they emerged hotter and heavier after hurrying through conversation with Deidra and Marvin in hopes of borrowing the car keys to cart Patrice home. 

In the parking lot of a dimly lit McDonalds, they put aside lukewarm fries and spicy Sprites to add touches of tongue to their new favorite hobby. Back-to-back phone calls from Leon and Rosalyn separated them prematurely, pulling them away from their private oasis to begrudgingly end the best weekend of their young lives. 

Rosalyn heard the car roll into the driveway in the early minutes of another Law and Order episode and the Sunday sunset but chose to stay put in favor of resting for the first time all evening. The engine shut off, the booming bass from the radio went silent, and doors opened then shut without much fanfare. If not for the murmur of conversation with giggles peppered into the breaks, she would’ve stayed put. But curiosity got the best of her despite her attempts to stay focused on the television. 

Peering through the curtains with much of her body hidden in shadows, Rosalyn caught the beginning of renewed energy in what Terry and Patrice assumed was a safe moment. 

Excitement coursed through Terry’s veins as he pressed his body weight into Patrice’s torso to trap her against the passenger door and brought her hands to the back of his head. “Gimme a kiss,” he murmured into her collarbone as he kissed his way to her cheek. “I need another one.” 

“No, you don’t,” Patrice teased, intending to grant his request. “Come get it.”

Terry answered the tease on command, dragging kisses from Patrice’s cheeks to her lips without missing a beat. Soft pecks morphed into slow kisses teetering on the French variety until roaming hands gripped Patrice’s backside and caused her to yelp in surprise. 

Patrice giggled a girlish, “Stop it!” earning a laugh from Terry. 

“You really want me to?” 

“No,” she answered before leaning in to kiss him again. She pulled back and bit her lip. “I liked it.” 

From what Rosalyn could see, an intervention was necessary to keep two crazy kids from going too far in the driveway. She chose to spare Patrice the embarrassment of her mother appearing at the front door and flipped the porch light on as a warning. Patrice’s entire body tensed in Terry’s embrace before she wiggled out of confinement to collect her things. Terry took the hint and resumed his duties as a gentleman to carry her suitcase up the short flight of steps. 

“I can come pick you up in the morning if you’re still goin’ to school tomorrow,” Terry offered as he pressed the front doorbell for Patrice’s convenience. 

She smiled. “I call shotgun.” Her failed attempt at being flirtatious made them both laugh. “God, Napheesa might be right. I am lame!” 

“Nah, you’re perfect.” Terry’s compliment came with twinkling eyes filled with an emotion Patrice couldn’t quite place with her limited knowledge. He grabbed her hand for a kiss but stopped short when a squeaking bike announced Junior’s presence. 

He abandoned the two-wheeled vehicle in the yard before it could come to a complete stop and immediately assumed the role of younger brother and chief agitator. 

“Get a room or something. Gross.” His kiddie reprimand came with a grimace as he pushed between them to unlock the front door and enter the crisp air conditioning. 

Rosalyn made her appearance with a deliberate walk past the storm door, waving with a smile. “Good to have you home, P. I didn’t hear you pull up. Hi, Terry! Thanks for dropping my baby off. You’re so sweet.” Exaggerated happiness instantly piqued Patrice’s curiosity, but she remained quiet. 

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Terry answered, suddenly bashful. 

His last functioning brain cell reminded him of Patrice’s suitcase. He rushed to move the bag inside before hurriedly turning to the girl whose tongue had become his favorite dessert over the weekend. 

Terry reached out for a hug for Patrice to return, both of them making a show of maintaining the appropriate amount of distance to appease an amused Rosalyn. 

“See you tomorrow,” Patrice mumbled into Terry’s shoulder. 

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up.” Pulling away, he took one last look at her pretty face, resisted the devil on his shoulder clamoring for one more kiss, then turned to acknowledge Rosalyn again. “Tell Mr. Ellis my dad said the garage is ready for the playoffs whenever he wants to stop by.” 

She nodded. “I’ll let him now, sweetheart. You drive safe now.” 

Both ladies watched Terry hurry down the front porch steps to his car to avoid awkwardness in their conversation triangle. When he was out of the driveway, Patrice quietly closed and latched the door. 

“HeymamaIthinkI’mjustgonnatakeallthisstuffinmyroomberightback.” The entire sentence came out in a mess of words pushed together for one incomprehensible sentence. 

Rosalyn chuckled as Patrice rushed past her with all her luggage in tow. “Alright then, Petey. You want some red velvet cake? I can cut you a slice.” 

Patrice mumbled something that sounded like she could go for a bit of sugar with a trail of wind creating a gust of cool air behind her. 

Letting what she’d seen and heard go was an option for Rosalyn. She could allow her daughter to live in la la land for a little longer, peacefully thinking her mother hadn’t been privy to her displays of affection moments earlier. Or she could have the conversation she’d been putting off since she noticed two innocent teenagers shifting their relationship toward something more romantically involved. 

“P! How about I bring the cake to you?” 

A door down the hallway creaked open. “Okay. That works. Thank you!” 

Nodding, Rosalyn took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to God. She’d chosen the tough route and would need all the Lord’s support she could get.

------

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[prpfz]

💿 hello! i’m 23, in the central european summer time timezone, and go by she/her pronouns. i am looking for people 18+ to write over discord with! i like incorporating text messages and making it a full universe where we play several characters to make the plots more well rounded.

tropes / themes i’m currently interested in:

‣ angst (!!!)

‣ enemies to lovers

‣ friends/childhood friends to lovers

‣ forbidden love

‣ sunshine x grumpy

‣ hurt/comfort (!!!)

‣ forced proximity

‣ there’s only one bed!

‣ bully x victim

‣ love triangle (!!!)

‣ mutual pining

‣ slowburn (!!!)

‣ slice of life

‣ fake dating

‣ the dare or the bet

‣ unrequited love

‣ amnesia

‣ mental health issues (!!!)

‣ road trip

‣ boarding school

‣ small town romance

‣ sibling’s best friend

‣ best friend’s brother

‣ fluff

‣ secret identity

‣ coming out

‣ hates everyone but them x oblivious

‣ everyone can see it but they don’t

‣ major character death

‣ celebrity x doesn’t know/care (!!!)

current ships i’m looking for ( the one i prefer to write is bolded ):

‣ harry potter: draco + harry, draco + hermione, draco + male oc

‣ the marauders: sirius + remus, sirius + james, lily + james + regulus, james + regulus, james + sirius + remus, evan rosier + barty crouch jr.

‣ teen wolf: derek + stiles, stiles + isaac, scott + alison, stiles + male oc, derek + male oc

‣ the maze runner: newt + thomas, gally + male oc, newt + male oc

‣ the outer banks: jj + john b, jj + rafe

‣ shadow and bone: kaz + inej

‣ the summer i turned pretty: jeremiah + belly, conrad + belly, jeremiah + belly + conrad

‣ xo, kitty: min ho + kitty

‣ the vampire diaries: stefan + elena, damon + elena, damon + elena + stefan

‣ bbc merlin: arthur + merlin, gwaine + merlin, arthur + merlin + gwaine

‣ heartstopper: nick + charlie, nick + male oc

‣ my life with the walter boys: cole + jackie

‣ brokeback mountain: ennis + jack

‣ shadowhunters: alec + jace, alec + male oc, jace + male oc

‣ 13 reasons why: clay + tony, justin + zach, justin + jessica, hannah + clay, justin + male oc

‣ elite: patrick + ivan, patrick + ander, ivan + joel, ivan + joel + patrick

i am also looking to write oc x oc pairings in either a brand new or a pre-established universe, but would only be looking to do mxm for this. i love chatting ooc and would love to be friends with the person i am writing with as well as rp partners! open to nsfw and dead dove 🕊️ themes, but these aren’t necessary at all. i would also like my partner to use real life fcs and preferably tupperbox, but i can help with this! if you’re interested, like and i’ll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

[sqfewrd]

IS IT OVER?

A six part series coming soon!

note

patrick zweig x latina tennis player!oc

stevie soto x Patrick zweig moodboard

It’s the summer of 2006 when Stevie first meets Patrick. she’s wary of him at first. he’s like every other guy she’s met. He’s weird and rude and a bit sexist at times, And all she wants to do is avoid him at all costs! But what happens when she finds herself falling for his so called charm? And what happens when their ‘summer fling’ turns into a romance spanning 12 years?

🪷: a playlist !

part one: mastermind

part two: labyrinth

part three: i can fix him (no really I can)

part four: is it over?

part five: illicit affairs

part six: sweet nothing

AN: very excited about this!!!

divider by me!

[that-house]

can you tell us more about dronestrike & the campaign theyre from?

just read thhe post about it & immediately became obsessed

(context: Dronestrike is my warrior cats OC, an american imperialist robot cat the size of a horse and equipped with enough firepower to wipe out the clans if it seems like they're at risk of falling to communism. in the oneshot he accidentally fired a nuke at the city of LA and blamed "every other country" in a phone call with Bidenstar to avoid getting in trouble)

it wasn't a campaign, just an 11-person oneshot in the single most chaotic discord voice call I have ever been in. so i haven't played him since then, nor will i ever play him again

i can provide you a variety of facts about him i came up with after the fact though because he's a funny enough character that i can't stop thinking about him:

his brain is composed of three parts with an equal amount of control over his actions: the soul of a vietnam veteran, an AI replica of a cat, and every single super bowl halftime commercial

he comes armed with combat knives for claws, a machine gun in his mouth, a high caliber sniper rifle built into his spine, a pistol that he somehow uses with cat paws, and a douglas air-2 genie air-to-air unguided nuclear missile

transition could not save him because all trans people are godless communists who bully him on twitter

Dronestrike acknowledges every independence movement if only so that America has more countries to eventually colonize

he has read Marx so he can misuse quotes and flex on any marxists who haven't read theory

his greatest wish is for america to have won 'nam

doesn’t really have any physical possessions because he’s a cat who doesn’t have pockets or a permanent residence. he does however have $8.6 million in Shell oil stock

Dronestrike if he played League of Legends: only plays champs who have america-themed skins, but doesn’t actually own the skins because that would be giving money to a chinese company. plays all of them jungle to poor results. iron 4 two thousand games this season

has no mouth but wishes he did so he could taste the burgers that honest Americans have died to defend

Dronestrike's dream world is world war 3, with the stipulation that there is an american flag superimposed over EVERYONE'S vision instead of just his

if he had 24 hours to live he would start a “second american revolution” by attacking England

he isn't a good kisser: no lips, he's a cat, and also george washington famously said that romantic connections weaken your spiritual link with The State

response to being trapped in a maze of mirrors: breaks through the mirrors without noticing, but also can’t recognize his reflection. Thinks he has to fight these teleporting commie clones of himself to save the United States of America

he's on Santa's naughty list

on Halloween he dresses up as George Washington and “trick or disappears” journalists

Dronestrike hates the reds, the brits, women, and most importantly, himself

prefers fundamentals over schmovement

favorite board game is Monopoly because watching people go bankrupt or be imprisoned is one of his hobbies

his happiest memory is his first glimpse of an amazon packaging facility and the horrible conditions of the workers

favorite season is summer: 4th of July babey!!! the holiday where you're allowed to blow shit upppp!!! he also frequently sets off fireworks in the off season to scare dogs and people with anxiety

doesn’t date but he sends tech billionaires unethically farmed flowers sometimes

doesn’t play video games but he has a simulated CoD lobby’s chat going at all times in his head. they call him slurs whenever he misses a shot

relates strongly to Patrick Bateman

he was in ShadowClan. they picked which clan he would be deployed into by having him take the official "which clan are you" quiz

sometimes he doubts that he has the heart of a true warrior

[jeonqkooks]

obs drabble request for when jk and oc ditch class for the day to do something spontaneous 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

our beloved summer; a drabble

"I can't believe I let you talk me into ditching class."

"Y/N, it's an elective class. And you told me you handed in your midterm paper last week. You'll live."

"I would've preferred to maintain a perfect attendance rate!" You roll your eyes, but you still settle down next to him on a bench in the middle of this empty park near the store that Jungkook just dragged you to half an hour ago. It's a beautiful spring day, flowers blossoming all around you, painting everything in vibrant colors, eclipsing the residual melancholy of winter. Part of you is glad that you let him kidnap you from class; you prefer this to being stuck indoors for most of the afternoon anyway. "Whatever. Take your photo."

Your boyfriend grins brightly like a child in a candy store, admiring the ring on your finger before he kisses your hand. The fleeting feeling of his lips on your skin makes you soften, eases the harmless furrow between your brows that never held much annoyance in the first place.

The thick clay ring on your finger is heavy and uncomfortable, but you have to admit it's cute. Silly and might be more appropriate for a 7-year-old child, but it's cute. It's adorned with SpongeBob's face, two buck teeth and giant doe eyes and all. You would've loved shit like this when you were a kid.

He's wearing a matching one on his finger too, though his is pink instead of yellow, Patrick Star instead of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Jungkook holds his polaroid camera with one arm outstretched, while his free hand raises to fit into the photo, showcasing his ring for the shot. You scooch closer to him, mimicking his pose to display your yellow accessory. It takes him to a brief moment to adjust the angle, and before he snaps the photo, you press your lips to his cheek. You feel his bunny grin widen, and for a second you worry that the brilliance of it might just blind the camera.

The photo comes out a bit blurry, a bit out of focus, though it still managed to capture your happy faces and the rings, the carefree crinkle of his eyes and the pink tint on his cheeks. You know instantly that this is one of your favorite photos that you two will ever take.

"Okay, so what are we doing now?" you ask, watching him tuck the polaroid safely into his wallet.

"I don't know. What do you wanna do?"

"What do you mean you don't know? You abducted me."

He shrugs casually. "We could just sit here then. Enjoy the sun."

"You abducted me just to sit around?"

"Stop saying I abducted you. I'm your boyfriend."

You make a face, as if to try to weasel the last word in and argue that yes, Jungkook did abduct you today. Yes, he's also your boyfriend. Both of these things can be true.

Nonetheless, you still let your head rest upon his shoulder, still let his arm wound around your frame to hold you closer. You don't remember the last time you allowed yourself to be in the sun and enjoy a nice day out without worrying about getting ahead of schoolwork or internships. It's nice, like time has stopped for a while just for you to relish the feeling of warm sunshine on your skin.

"I get sleepy if I stay in the sun for too long," you say, already sensing it creeping up from behind your eyelids.

"Then sleep. Just do nothing for the rest of the day," he murmurs, angling his face to the right so he can press a kiss against your forehead. "I know you barely slept last night."

You didn't tell him that you did, in fact, stay up until 5:30AM, hunched over your notebook, trying to finish a piece that you wanted to submit for an internship application. The only person you did tell was Taehyung, when you texted him in the middle of the night with a bunch of keyboard smashes to complain about how tired you were.

You call his name softly, as gentle as the cherry blossom petal that sways in front of you before it falls to the ground. "Did you get me to skip class just so I would take a nap?"

Jungkook's reply is immediate, a half-steady No, but you know he's lying. He has a tell when he lies, one that makes the end of his sentences come out with a tiny lilt, makes his voice go just a note higher.

Looking down at your hands resting next to each other, you keep your lips pursed as your chest tightens. He'd convinced you to miss class because he knew you wouldn't do it on your own accord just to stay home and catch up on sleep. The rings catch on some light, the pit of your stomach catches on some butterflies. Jungkook is warmer than spring itself.

You intertwine your fingers and close your eyes, mostly because you feel them start to burn and you'd rather not dwell on that thought right now. You'd rather focus on the weight of the ring on your finger and how comforting your hand feels in his, how his thumb rubs over your skin back and forth like he always does.

The thought that Jungkook cares about you enough to make up a dumb excuse just so you would care about yourself more - you'll have to shelve it away for later, to mull over when you're alone.

"Love you," you say quietly, squeezing his hand once.

More petals fall. Another kiss pressed against your forehead. "I love you too."

[findroleplay]

hello! i’m 23, in the central european summer time timezone, and go by she/her pronouns. i am looking for people 18+ to write over discord with! i like incorporating text messages and making it a full universe where we play several characters to make the plots more well rounded.

tropes / themes i’m currently interested in:

‣ angst (!!!)

‣ enemies to lovers

‣ friends/childhood friends to lovers

‣ forbidden love

‣ sunshine x grumpy

‣ hurt/comfort (!!!)

‣ forced proximity

‣ there’s only one bed!

‣ bully x victim

‣ love triangle (!!!)

‣ mutual pining

‣ slowburn (!!!)

‣ slice of life

‣ fake dating

‣ the dare or the bet

‣ unrequited love

‣ amnesia

‣ mental health issues (!!!)

‣ road trip

‣ boarding school

‣ small town romance

‣ sibling’s best friend

‣ best friend’s brother

‣ fluff

‣ secret identity

‣ coming out

‣ hates everyone but them x oblivious

‣ everyone can see it but they don’t

‣ major character death

‣ celebrity x doesn’t know/care (!!!)

current ships i’m looking for ( the one i prefer to write is bolded ):

‣ harry potter: draco + harry, draco + hermione, draco + male oc

‣ the marauders: sirius + remus, sirius + james, lily + james + regulus, james + regulus, james + sirius + remus, sirius + male oc, remus + male oc, regulus + male oc

‣ teen wolf: derek + stiles, stiles + isaac, alison + scott, derek + male oc, stiles + male oc

‣ the summer i turned pretty: jeremiah + belly, conrad + belly, jeremiah + belly + conrad

‣ xo, kitty: min ho + kitty

‣ the maze runner: newt + thomas, gally + male oc, newt + male oc

‣ the outer banks: jj + john b, jj + rafe

‣ the vampire diaries: stefan + elena, damon + elena, damon + elena + stefan

‣ bbc merlin: arthur + merlin, gwaine + merlin, arthur + merlin + gwaine

‣ heartstopper: nick + charlie, nick + male oc

‣ my life with the walter boys: cole + jackie

‣ brokeback mountain: ennis + jack

‣ shadowhunters: alec + jace, jace + male oc, alec + male oc

‣ 13 reasons why: clay + tony, justin + zach, jessica + justin, hannah + clay

‣ elite: patrick + ivan, patrick + ander, ivan + joel, ivan + joel + patrick

i am also looking to write oc x oc pairings in either a brand new or a pre-established universe, but would only be looking to do mxm for this. i love chatting ooc and would love to be friends with the person i am writing with as well as rp partners! open to nsfw and dead dove 🕊️ themes, but these aren’t necessary at all. i would also like my partner to use real life fcs and preferably tupperbox, but i can help with this! if you’re interested, like and i’ll reach out!

-

[koushirouizumi]

Meanwhile with DigiAdvs 02 O.C.s

Shanes' Mon: ... SHANE: ...(FLOATING...) {FLOATING...} {Eyes Closed} SHANES' MON: (Shane.) Shane: ... {Sigh} Yeah? Shanes' Mon: ... You've been here a while... Shane: (I was resting.) Shane: Are you concerned for me? I'm fine. Shane: I have these (*holds up Taichi+Daisuke's GOGGLES*) now, so... and Koushiro-...san really upgraded them well. So I can actually SEE where I'm going now when I need to. Shanes' Mon: (It's like you've 'accomodated' yourself.) SHANE: ... (M aybe.) Shane: At the same time, the colors sometimes give me a headache. But Koushiro-san did add in an option that can dim them... but then it's harder to see the signals for "distortions". Shanes' Mon: (But at least, you can still somewhat tell them apart based on the vividness.) Shane: ... (Yeah...) Shane: ... Well, I'm up now, so... Shanes' Mon: (Where are you going from here?) Shane: I don't know. (Mostly I just wanted to "sleep".) Shanes' Mon: ... Shanes' Mon: (But you said, 'want{ED}'.) Shane: Yeah. There's people I want to see again... SHANE: ... But I know they'll wait for me where they can, so there's no major rush. Shanes' Mon: (Are you going to go back to "sleep"?) Shane: (It depends.) Are you going to be there when I open my eyes? SHANES' MON: ... (If you reach out to me.) SHANE: ... Shane: (Yeah, I know.) Guess I gotta wake up then. Shanes' Mon: (As you know, I cannot leave "the Void". But you know how "to communicate" with me.) SHANE: ... Right. (And you know how "to listen".) Shanes' Mon: (You might want to put those goggles back on.) Shane: ('Heh') Honestly, I'm surprised I got this much use out of them, but as said, they're... functional now. SHANE, ADJUSTING GOGGLES: Ready. Shanes' Mon: (Time to 'wake up'.) SHANE, SEEING Darkness ... and Signals: SHANE, OPENING EYES: (*in a bed*) ... ?? ? PATRICK (Shane's sibling): Huh, I thought I heard something...!! ! W-wait, SHANE??? SHANE, Awkwardly raising hand slowly: Um, hi PATRICK, IN AWE: You're at my place--!! ! Shane, nodding: I'm ... home? PATRICK: SHANE: ... (I'm solid.) (I'm not glitching out.) PATRICK: ... Do you still need to rest? Shane: ... Maybe a bit. But later... we can see? PATRICK: That's fine. Just... let me know when you're feeling better. (*closes door carefully*) SHANE, CHECKING GOGGLES: (Still here.) SHANE, CHECKING DIGIVICE: {STILL... Here.} Shane, sighing in relief: (I guess it'd be {REALLY} Bad if even the most powerful 'Mon in all the universe got caught up in 'that'.) SHANES' MON: (They don't Know the half of it.) SHANE: {LAUGHS} ... Hey. Shanes' Mon: (Say hi to Patrick for me.)

[roleplayfinder]

hello! i’m 23, in the central european summer time timezone, and go by she/her pronouns. i am looking for people 18+ to write over discord with! i like incorporating text messages and making it a full universe where we play several characters to make the plots more well rounded.

tropes / themes i’m currently interested in:

‣ angst (!!!)

‣ enemies to lovers

‣ friends/childhood friends to lovers

‣ forbidden love

‣ sunshine x grumpy

‣ hurt/comfort (!!!)

‣ forced proximity

‣ there’s only one bed!

‣ bully x victim

‣ love triangle (!!!)

‣ mutual pining

‣ slowburn (!!!)

‣ slice of life

‣ fake dating

‣ the dare or the bet

‣ unrequited love

‣ amnesia

‣ mental health issues (!!!)

‣ road trip

‣ boarding school

‣ small town romance

‣ sibling’s best friend

‣ best friend’s brother

‣ fluff

‣ secret identity

‣ coming out

‣ hates everyone but them x oblivious

‣ everyone can see it but they don’t

‣ major character death

‣ celebrity x doesn’t know/care (!!!)

current ships i’m looking for ( the one i prefer to write is bolded ):

‣ harry potter: draco + harry, draco + hermione, draco + male oc

‣ the marauders: sirius + remus, sirius + james, lily + james + regulus, james + regulus, james + sirius + remus, evan rosier + barty crouch jr.

‣ teen wolf: derek + stiles, stiles + isaac, scott + alison, stiles + male oc, derek + male oc

‣ the maze runner: newt + thomas, gally + male oc, newt + male oc

‣ the outer banks: jj + john b, jj + rafe

‣ shadow and bone: kaz + inej

‣ the summer i turned pretty: jeremiah + belly, conrad + belly, jeremiah + belly + conrad

‣ xo, kitty: min ho + kitty

‣ the vampire diaries: stefan + elena, damon + elena, damon + elena + stefan

‣ bbc merlin: arthur + merlin, gwaine + merlin, arthur + merlin + gwaine

‣ heartstopper: nick + charlie, nick + male oc

‣ my life with the walter boys: cole + jackie

‣ brokeback mountain: ennis + jack

‣ shadowhunters: alec + jace, jace + male oc, alec + male oc

‣ 13 reasons why: clay + tony, justin + zach, justin + jessica, hannah + clay

‣ elite: patrick + ivan, patrick + ander, ivan + joel, ivan + joel + patrick

i am also looking to write oc x oc pairings in either a brand new or a pre-established universe, but would only be looking to do mxm for this. i love chatting ooc and would love to be friends with the person i am writing with as well as rp partners! open to nsfw and dead dove 🕊️ themes, but these aren’t necessary at all. i would also like my partner to use real life fcs and preferably tupperbox, but i can help with this! if you’re interested, like and i’ll reach out!

.

[manyfandomocs]

New OC Introductions

Okay, literally months in the making between fancast issues and ocs issues but I now have Gravity Falls as a fandom! One of my favorite shows when I was younger and some of these are remakes of those ocs when I was a kid. Also!! As a note for my fics (since idk when I'll get around to posting the fancast tbh), everything is the same plot wise I've just changed the kids ages to make it easier to find faces for them so instead of turning 13 at the end of the show, Dipper and Mabel would be turning 18 and such. I’m so excited for these guys bc I already have ideas for them for the classic Gravity Falls aus it's insane. Anyways ramble over lets meet them (shoutout to @randomestfandoms-ocs for hearing me talk about my fancast issues and ocs for months)

Holly Townsend (Rachel Zegler FC), Dipper Pines ship. A native of Gravity Falls, Holly is all too familiar with the weirdness of the town and the fact that no one really talks about it. Honestly at this point she brushes off a lot of the weird stuff too, if no one else talks about it then it must just be normal. She hangs out with Wendy and her friends occasionally, usually at the Mystery Shack, and overall is just chill with the ongoings of the woods. But when Stan’s great niece and nephew are staying with him for the summer, when they find some journal all about the weird stuff she’s always just accepted as her existence, she’s more than ready to go on some adventures and finally talk about it.

Corinne Pines (Maude Apatow FC), TBD ship. Corinne grew up vaguely aware of her cousins in California, but she never really thought she’d meet them. After her mom had dropped her off at the Mystery Shack her unexpected dad has been doing his best to watch over her and raise her best he can. So she spends her days at the Mystery Shack and tries to pretend she hasn’t noticed her dad disappear into a secret basement, mainly because all of her assumptions for what’s down there add up to “Do Not Need To Know About Your Old Dad”. But then her cousins are coming for the summer, her first time meeting them, and it seems like her town holds even more than she thought.

Holden Bishop (Logan Lerman FC), TBD ship I’m stuck between Wendy, Pacifica, or maybe Dipper. Holden has always been a skeptic in life. He’s heard some whispers of weird things in town occasionally, but they usually come from Wendy’s friends or Lazy Susan, and Holden just doesn’t believe it. The only weird thing about Gravity Falls is the townsfolk, and they’re not weird in a supernatural sense. So when the new kids come to stay with the tourist trap guy, when Wendy tells him about a journal full of the supernatural that Dipper found, he has to come check out what Mystery Shake publicity stunt he’s sure this is. Except then there’s actually a monster there. And now his world view is being shattered in one night but he’s definitely totally handling it well

Persephone Northwest (Peyton List FC), Wendy Corduroy ship. Persephone Northwest, the older sister of Pacifica, is the one that's taught her everything she knew about how to be popular and keep their name in line. Of course, she had to be the one to do it since her twin Peyton seemed utterly uninterested in the family name. She was close to Pacifica, making sure she knew the expectations their parents have for them and to keep good company in their little town. Which means once he hears that the Mystery Shack's owner has a niece and nephew visiting, she is quick to tell Pacifica to not bother. But as various incidents bring her closer to the Pines family and by extension, Wendy Corduroy, the girl she has tried to ignore her whole life, she wonders how much the Northwest name really matters

Peyton Northwest (Owen Patrick Joyner FC), probably Dipper Pines ship. A Northwest man by birth should have been everything someone in Gravity Falls wanted. Descended from the town's founder and the richest family in town, there was nothing else that Peyton should have wanted for. Except the other side of the famous Northwest family was the constant pressure to be the best, the anxiety that grew inside of him and as a result, he tries to be as distant as possible. He still goes to every event and does every extracurricular that's expected, but if he can ever get out of anything he will take that chance and he does not spend time at home if he can help it. Which is why his family mostly writes him off. And why Peyton was at camp for the first part of the summer, but when he comes back he meets the Pines twins and, for once having the opportunity to pretend he isn't a Northwest, lies about his name. He's hoping to make actual friends, and as long as the weird supernatural like things in town don't kill him or worse, his sisters call him out, maybe he can succeed.

Cecily Gleeful (Liana Liberato FC), Mabel Pines ship likely. Gideon Gleeful is the one known throughout their little town of Gravity Falls as the best child psychic around. Only a few know that his powers aren't exactly genuine. His older sister Cecily is of course one of them, but she's also the one that unintentionally gave him the idea for the Lil' Gideon show, since she actually is psychic. A mind reader with minor level telekinetic abilities from birth, Cecily never wanted this life. Her brother though, he clearly did. It was only made worse after he came into the possession of a journal detailing more spells and mystical artifacts and people, so the show was born. Cecily helps the show and him occasionally, she can't help it, she loves her little brother even if the power has started making him grow more and more selfish and cruel. But when he starts becoming obsessed with newcomer Mabel Pines, she decides to put her foot down.

[thestalkerbunny]

If you got any more serial killers oc I would give them death game powers.

Oh let me share some of my little SCAMPS.

Sue. E is a sort of Carrie-esque slasher, instead of just getting blood dumped on her-she had a whole pig head shoved on her head. Her name is a pun on Sooey, which is the noise you make to call a pig.

Calvin Black is also known as Prom King; he was a queer teen who was voted Prom King and then brutally murdered by the Prom Queen's infuriated boyfriend and his crew thinking Calvin's plan was to fuck the Prom Queen. He comes back as an undead revenant hell bent on revenge for his brutalization and torture. Calvin Black is just the masculine form of 'Carrie White' (I like the movie Carrie.)

Ephriam is a relatively harmless slasher. He lives on a pig farm with his parents and a violent accident involving a shot gun is what destroyed his face and ancient power on the property near the woods made him akin to a Shape-a semi-immortal,borderline mute creature with supernatural strength. He accidently wanders onto a porn film shoot and is persumed to be the 'hung talent' they were waiting for. No. He's just the local farmer's son who is very eager and amicable. He's a reference to Vincent from House of Wax and Bubba from Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Mortimer isn't a slasher himself. But he is a happy accomplice to one as well as the enabler. His girlfriend is the sack faced Jackie who essentially is a homeless girl who welds a supernatural talking blade called Slashy that has passed hands of hundreds of 'Jacks' in history. Mortimer is her eager enabler, supporter, and number one fanboy.

I tragically have no proper art of Undead Ted because I can't settle on a design for him. But he's a Camp Ground slasher. He was once the grounds keeper of a Summer Camp and was well beloved until while trying to intervene on some councilors horrifically abusing a camper resulted in his death and his body being hidden on the property. Now he's violently hunting them down now the summer camp has reopened.

A new one that came up tonight is a Model whose face was corroded by toxic skin care products and as a result, she goes around killing people and harvesting their skin to give herself DIY skin grafts and her named is Scarlet; she's a reference to female rage movies as well as Patrick Bateman. No art of her yet. Maybe later.

[ferrariswiftiespace]

chapter 2

busy woman - art donaldson x fem!oc

faceclaim mikey madison as emma zweig

warnings no tashi duncan; nsfw +18; my first story; a little of patrick x art but it’s not reciprocated

summary emma zweig always got what she wanted—except for art Donaldson, the one person her brother, patrick, had forbidden her from pursuing. that only made him more intriguing. but emma always get what she wants.

2004.

zweig’s house.

emma zweig.

patrick’s room smelled faintly of cigarettes and the cheap cologne he’d been obsessed with all summer. the window was cracked open, letting in a faint breeze that barely masked the smoke curling from the lit cigarette in his hand. art stood next to him, mirroring the same motion—fingers tapping ash out the window, the occasional puff—while i lounged on patrick’s bed, flipping through an issue of vogue

patrick was talking, as he always did, about something from the academy—probably a new drill or some coach’s advice. i wasn’t really listening. i could feel art’s gaze on me, though, like a warm weight against my skin. every now and then, i’d glance up from the glossy pages to catch him quickly looking away, pretending to focus on patrick’s words. it made me smile, though i kept it to myself.

minutes later, art excused himself to the bathroom, and patrick immediately flicked his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and flopped down on the bed beside me.

“can you do me a favor?” he asked, his voice low, almost conspiratorial.

i raised an eyebrow at him. “what kind of favor?”

patrick shifted uncomfortably, propping himself up on one elbow. “stay away from him.”

my smile faltered. “what?”

“you know what i mean. it’s fine if you’re friends or whatever, but don’t... you know, don’t mess with art. he’s my only friend.”

for a moment, i just stared at him, trying to process what he was asking. patrick had always been the center of attention—charming, confident, the guy everyone wanted to be around. it was strange to hear him admit, even indirectly, that art was the only person he really had.

“you’re out of your mind,” i finally said, my voice sharp with disbelief. “go back to mom’s vagina and get born again if you think that’s going to happen.”

patrick rolled his eyes but didn’t back down. “c’mon, emma, i’m serious. just stop flirting with him.”

“it’s just how i am, patrick,” i shot back, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “what, you can flirt with all of my friends, but i can’t even *exist* around yours?”

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, it’s different, okay? art told me—”

but before he could finish, the bathroom door opened, and art stepped back into the room, looking between us with a curious expression. patrick and i both froze, like kids caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

“what?” art asked, his confusion deepening as he glanced between us.

“nothing,” patrick said quickly, the kind of nothing that was obviously *something*. “we were just talking about how emma’s got a boyfriend.”

my head snapped toward patrick, disbelief and fury flashing in my eyes. “what are you talking about? i don’t—”

“she does,” patrick insisted, cutting me off with a pointed look at art. “she’s just embarrassed to admit it.”

art’s brow furrowed as he looked at me, something unreadable flickering across his face. “you do?”

“no!” i said firmly, my voice rising in frustration. “patrick’s full of shit.”

“don’t believe her,” patrick added casually, taking a long drag from his cigarette like this was all some harmless joke.

i couldn’t take it anymore. i shot up from the bed, the magazine tumbling to the floor as i stormed toward the door. “you’re such an asshole, patrick,” i spat over my shoulder.

as i stepped out into the hallway, i heard patrick mutter something to art, his voice low but not low enough. “c’mon, man, she’s just got this little-girl attitude still. ridiculous.”

the words stopped me in my tracks, cutting deeper than i expected. little-girl attitude? patrick, my brother, the person i thought understood me better than anyone, had just dismissed me like i was nothing. like i didn’t matter.

i didn’t turn back. i didn’t want to see art’s reaction, didn’t want to give patrick the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had hurt me. instead, i headed straight to my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

i sat on the edge of my bed, my heart pounding in my chest. patrick’s words played on a loop in my mind, each repetition twisting the knife deeper. he didn’t want me to take art away from him—not because he cared about me, but because art was more important to him than i was.

tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but i blinked them away, swallowing the lump in my throat. fine. if patrick wanted to act like i didn’t matter, i wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

2006.

stanford university.

emma zweig.

the days at stanford were moving faster than i’d expected. between classes, figuring out my new routine, and meeting people in passing, it was easy to lose track of time. still, there was something thrilling about it all. for the first time, i felt untethered, free to make my own choices without patrick hovering over me.

patrick had always meant well, but his protective nature sometimes felt suffocating. and now? he wasn’t here to give me disapproving looks or warn me off the “wrong” people

it was late friday afternoon when a girl from my psych class approached me as we were packing up. she was petite with a sunny smile that seemed almost too perfect after a long day of lectures.

“hey! you’re emma, right?” she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“that’s me,” i said, smoothing my hair out of my face and giving her a polite smile.

“i’m naomi. i think we have, like, two classes together?”

i nodded, even though i wasn’t entirely sure.

“so, i’m hosting a party tonight at my place—just off campus. you should totally come! it’ll be fun, and you might meet some interesting people,” she added, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

for a moment, i hesitated. i didn’t know her that well, and i wasn’t exactly in the mood to make small talk with strangers. but then again, what else was i going to do? sit in my dorm and scroll through my laptop

“sure,” i said, letting a small smile creep across my lips. “why not?”

“awesome!” naomi said, clapping her hands together. “it starts around nine. i’ll text you the address.”

i waved goodbye as we parted ways, slinging my bag over my shoulder as i made my way across campus. the evening sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. my boots clicked against the pavement as i walked, my mind drifting.

the idea of a party sounded fun—maybe even necessary. i hadn’t really put myself out there yet, not the way i wanted to. and who knew? maybe i’d run into someone interesting. someone familiar.

when i reached my dorm, i tossed my bag onto the bed and took a moment to stretch, glancing around the room. it felt emptier than usual, the silence pressing in.

walking to the mirror, i ran a hand through my hair, thinking about what to wear. if i was going to this party, i wanted to make an impression—not that i ever minded turning heads. settling on a black skirt that hit mid-thigh and a fitted red crop top that hugged me in all the right places, i paired the outfit with my favorite combat boots. a spritz of my signature perfume—warm, a little spicy—and i was ready.

the walk to naomi’s house wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes. the streets were alive with students heading in the same direction, their voices and laughter filling the evening air. i could hear the music long before i arrived, the bass thumping steadily as i approached the house.

stepping inside, i was met with a wall of sound and heat. the living room was packed, bodies moving in sync to a pop remix blaring from a set of speakers. i weaved through the crowd, offering polite smiles to a few strangers, and made my way to a makeshift bar in the kitchen.

“vodka ice,” i said to the guy manning the drinks. he handed me one without hesitation, his eyes lingering a little too long.

i gave him a polite nod before stepping back into the living room. for a while, i danced on my own, letting the music move through me. but soon, a group of girls invited me into their circle, their energy infectious. one of them, an asian girl i vaguely recognized from class, introduced herself. the rest of their names slipped past me in the noise, but i didn’t mind.

time passed in a blur of music and laughter, but eventually, the heat of the room started to get to me. my drink was long gone, and i felt the need to escape, to breathe.

i slipped out the back door and into the cool night air. the backyard was quieter, a stark contrast to the chaos inside. a large pool reflected the glow of string lights strung overhead, and lounge chairs lined the patio. i made my way to one of them and sank down, pulling out my phone.

1:32 a.m.

a message from patrick lit up my screen: “i’ll be visiting soon. just a heads-up.”

i stared at it for a moment, my thumb hovering over the reply button. i left the message unread and leaned back against the chair, letting the silence settle over me.

the sound of footsteps broke the quiet, and i looked up to see art donaldson walking toward me, a beer in hand.

“i didn’t know you were going to be here,” he said, his voice warm and steady.

i tilted my head, a grin playing on my lips. “i didn’t know i was coming either,” i said. “what about you? here alone?”

“with some guys from econ,” he explained, taking a sip of his drink. the movement lifted his shirt just slightly, exposing a hint of his toned stomach. my eyes lingered for just a second too long, and when i looked back up, he was watching me, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“enjoying the view?” he teased.

i laughed softly, leaning forward. “maybe. you’re not bad to look at, you know.”

his smirk faltered, just slightly, and i felt a flicker of satisfaction. art was always so composed, so steady—it was fun to push him, to see how far i could go before he cracked.

“you always this direct?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“always,” i said, letting the word linger. “why? does it make you nervous?”

“not at all,” he replied, though the way his hand tightened around his beer bottle said otherwise.

i stood, brushing invisible lint off my skirt, and stepped closer to him. the height difference between us was stark—i had to look up to meet his gaze—but i liked the way it made me feel.

“so,” i said, my voice low, almost daring. “wanna come to my dorm?”

for a moment, he didn’t reply. the question hung in the air between us, bold and unapologetic. i saw his jaw tighten, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to figure out what i was really asking.

“your dorm,” he repeated, his tone careful.

“unless you’re scared,” i added with a grin, stepping back just enough to give him space to decide.

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “i don’t scare that easily.”

“good,” i said, brushing past him toward the house. “try to keep up.”

the walk back to my dorm was quieter, but the tension between us was anything but. every step, every glance felt charged, like we were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

when we reached my door, i unlocked it and stepped inside, leaving the door open behind me. “well?” i said, turning to face him.

art hesitated for just a moment before following me in, closing the door behind him.

“nice place,” he said, his eyes scanning the room, leaning against the edge of my bed. “so, what now?”

i tilted my head, crossing my arms as i leaned against the wall. “you tell me. you’re the one who followed me here.”

the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and for the first time, i saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something bold, something that matched my energy.

“maybe i was curious,” he said.

“about?”

“you,” he said simply.

for a moment, we just looked at each other, the silence stretching between us like a taut string. and in that moment, i realized that whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t just in my head.

i didn’t know where this was going, but i wasn’t about to back down. and from the way art was looking at me, i could tell he wasn’t either. he proved me right when he took a step closer, then another, until i felt my back press lightly against the wall of my wall. his movements were deliberate, slow, as if he wanted me to know he was giving me time to stop him—but why would i?

“you don’t know how many times i’ve thought about having you like this,” he said, his voice low and rough, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

the boldness of his confession scratched my brain in the best way, and i couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at my lips. he leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. i could see the hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty that only made me want to close the distance myself.

so i did.

i tilted my head and kissed him, cutting through the tension in an instant. his response was immediate, his lips parting against mine as his body pressed fully against me. his hands found their way to my lower back, pulling me closer, while my fingers threaded through his hair, soft and slightly damp from the dorm’s humidity.

the kiss was needy, an unspoken acknowledgment of everything we’d left unsaid over the years of teasing. he tasted like beer and a hint of mint, his mouth warm and insistent against mine. i wasn’t thinking about patrick, or stanford, or anything else—just this moment, just the way art was kissing me like he’d been waiting for this as long as i had.

his hands slid down to my hips, gripping them firmly, and i felt the cool texture of the wall at my back contrast with the heat of his body. i smiled against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“is this what you’ve been thinking about?” i teased, my voice breathy.

“more than you’d believe,” he admitted, his forehead resting lightly against mine. his eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, and i felt a thrill knowing i’d gotten under his skin.

“good,” i said, trailing my fingers down the back of his neck and letting them rest on his shoulders. “because i’ve been thinking about it too.”

he groaned softly, his grip on me tightening as if to keep himself grounded. “you’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

“maybe,” i said, smirking. “but you’ll enjoy every second of it.”

“we can’t—” he started, his voice strained, but i cut him off with another kiss, silencing whatever excuse he was about to make.

“you’re thinking too much,” i murmured against his lips. “and i’m tired of thinking.”

he laughed softly, a sound that vibrated against my skin. “you’re impossible,” he said, but there was no fight in his voice, only surrender.

“you’re just figuring that out?” i teased, pulling him closer.

his response was another kiss, deeper this time, his hands sliding up my sides going up under my top sending shivers down my spine. i helped him take it off, leaving me in my bra.

he grabbed both my legs and carried me to the bed, him sitting in the bed while i was on top of his legs. making his hands a way under my skirt, i take off his shirt moving my hands over his chest, softly scratching him with my nails. art’s hand hooked on my underwear and quickly pulled them down.

once they slipped off, i pulled down my skirt and his hands cupped my bare ass, squeezing and kneading my soft flesh. he shifted me lightly, allowing his hardened bulge to grind against my now exposed sex through his jeans.

"jesus" art moans against my neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin there. his calloused hands leave trails of fire as they move from my ass up to my back, unhooking my bra. the straps fall away, exposing me fully to his hungry gaze.

i looked at him, moving my hand to his face “you have too much clothes” art smirks at my impatient words, his eyes darkening with desire. with a quick motion, he grips the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, along with his boxers. his impressive erection springs free, throbbing and ready.

my hands wrap around his length. the sensation is overwhelming - my firm grip coupled with the soft stroking motion drives him crazy. his hips buck slightly involuntarily as a deep moan escapes his lips. "fuck..." he mutters.

art helps position me, gripping my waist as i straddle him. my warmth presses against his shaft, making him throb against my wetness. i look down at him with hooded eyes, biting my lip in a way that drives him wild.

the room fills with the sounds of our passion - heavy breathing, moans, and the gentle slap of skin against skin. as the night progresses, we lose ourselves in each other, our bodies moving in sync on my bed.

chapter 3

[fernikart57]

Alfonso Salazar

Finally! After eons! I have the honor of showing all of you my OC! I'm also thankful of showing all of you how he looks with color! I'm also thankful to @rolkstone for helping me in some details! Here you also have a drawing of Alfonso I drew in paper! I hope you love this!

Some headcannons I didn't mentioned sbout Alfonso are:

Yes, Alfonso didn't found odd that despite being a hobo, somebofy like Chester was capable of of getting a Rocket Car.

Alfonso without wanting ended humilliating Coach Krupt, to make things worse, he's unable to pronunce his name properly, do he keeps midnaming him, you know, when you're nice and do wrong via stupidity. Yes, Alfonso still has no idea why it affected him so much.

The only person Alfonso has ever came to hate is Bildorf, the worse part he DID tried to be his friend.

Alfonso works in Itchy & Scratchy Studios, he got work there, because Chester felt bad that Alfonso failed to get jobs and decided to "convince" Roger into hiring him. Alfonso is still unaware of all of this.

Alfonso has always wanted to be a voice actor, he has the uncanny ability to mimic any voice he hears with precission, normally he keeps that power for himself, because he doesn't consider "good enough".

Alfonso circle of friends:

Roger Meyers, Jr.

Chester J. Lampwick ("The Day Violence Died")

Dr. Zander ("Love Is A Many Strangled Thing")

Chase (Pyro) (Luann's boyfriend from: "A Divided Milhouse")

Julian ("Desperately Seeking Lisa")

Dr. Lund ("Screenless")

Walt Warren ("The Bob Next Door")

Clint (Surgeon's fianceé, "A Summer Christmas For Christmas")

Arthur Fortune ("Monty Can't Buy Me Love")

Ernie (Cowboy Accountant from "Write Off This Episode")

Slava ("The Fabulous Faker Boy")

Aristotle Amadopolis ("Homer Defined")

Father Ben ("Treehouse Of Horror XXVIII")

Patrick Farrelly ("Sex, Pies And Idiot Scrappes")

The Parson ("Wedding For Disaster")

Chloe Talbot

Elijah Hooper ("Pulpit Friction")

Mason Fairbanks ("Homer's Paternity Coot")

Dan Gillick ("Penny-Wiseguys")

Wayne Slater ("The Falcon And The D'ohman")

Chett Englebrick ("The Great Wife Hope")

Strawberry (Milo's wife, "Husbands And Knieves")

Well... these are some of his friends. And some headcannons...