#enemies to friends to lovers is my bread and butter

[rainbow-beanie]

After watching the sonic 3 movie, the hyperfixation is consuming me. If y’all have any recommendations for any fics, comics ect then feel free to let me know!

[rose-maidenn]

🔸️Pick a card 🔸️

1-2-3

♧Let me describe the way you speak

♤What do people think of that

◇ A tip

Hi guys so nice to see you here I hope life's been extra sweet to the sweet angel that you are ❤️✨️ for this reading choose a picture from the above intuitively, take what resonates and leave the rest , enjoyyy ✨️

Images via Pinterest, dividers by @enchanthings

Pile 1 :

♧Let me describe the way you speak

What I get is that your voice is kinda breathy and you speak like an ancient wanderer who has seen a lot of the world, I feel like you're someone to whom people come for advice , also one of your friends is forwarding your voice messages to a secret lover omg 😂 don't worry this isn't creepy because that can be someone from your friend group . Your prime aim of speech seems to be motivating people, though you don't claim to know a lot but whatever you know you know it by your heart and that's what makes you loved among your friends and feared among your enemies

♤What do people think of that

People think you're the light to their shadow no really you sound like an angel like a billie eilish , lana del vibe really 💌 it screams a bunny like maiden energy but also a very wise women by the way you speak , I feel like some people are naturally inclined to ask you for directions the visitors in your city , you might have a mole on your face that's so attractive . People might wanna set your voice as a lullaby .

◇ A tip

Okay so get that you might stutter at the pronunciation of a certain letter in the alphabet , I get that you should observe the mouth movement of the people who talk to you it will help you a lot , Avoid cold foods if you have migrane issues . Elevate your knowledge to about some recent social or celebrity news as well because soon you're gonna find a group that's gonna help you go far ahead so win the world my little angel 🎀

Pile 2 :

♧Let me describe the way you speak

I think most people here are people who are contralto , alto or husky voiced , more men might be here as well , your voice seems like the one in those youtube audios all I can say is your voice is ultra s**y it's silky like butter on fresh bread or water , your voice is versatile you also might be into beat boxing or rapping . You have nice breath control . The prime aim of your speech is to keep your thoughts to the world , you're up to date in studies and social affairs .

♤What do people think of that

People down right want your voice ❤️‍🔥 you're like an husky Ariel .you have nice pronunciation, because of having a deep voice if you rap often people find it so attractive and want to learn they literally mimic how to speak like you but it's actually so natural to know you don't even try . You're someone who might be able to talk to a room full of people and make them listen to what you have to say because of how much emphasis you can put through your voice .

◇ A tip

Though you're good at sentence formation, you often mess up a little on how to say a certain word in a sentence like " I think a bird is meant to be free " here if the subject is the bird your voice might put more focus on the meant and it's very subconscious so try putting more emphasis on what you want to get through to the people. What a good life to be as amazing as you ❤️‍🔥

Pile 3 :

♧Let me describe the way you speak

You have a very indigenous voice, a voice that reeks of mountains or ancient voice very beautiful sultry or gorgeous✨️ , a very country or folk song oriented voice , a voice that reaches the blood of the people your larynx seems to work like an instrument, some of you might have learned music as a child like doremifa or saregamapa you're a great singer . On the other hand some people in this pile might also have a very shrill feminine voice that's loud but commanding very unique voice like 2000s Paris Hilton vibe .

♤What do people think of that

You remind people of their roots I feel like your political stances are very appreciated they like the way you speak about your art and the instances of your life almost like poetry in motion. You might be good at selling things because of the way you passionately speak about the things you wanna Market . You will make a great youtuber because you know how to cater each audience you're very street smart . The prime aim of your speech is expression .

◇ A tip

One tip for you might be to focus on speaking up more you have so much art inside you but also you're an introvert but you know you'll do more good to the world by speaking more than keeping it to yourself , ofcourse take your time as to be comfortable around your setting to let your true thoughts flow from your heart to your throat , it's more like this because you're a little scared also a blockage in your heart chakra work on it I'm sure you're a rock star ✨️

Thanks for being here ❤️ dm to book a personal reading ✨️

[joelscurls]

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 

“Ah — that’s alright.” 

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 

But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. 

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 

“Hey,” you announce. 

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades. 

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers. 

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just��� stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?” 

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.” 

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

[rochenn]

please im starving do you have any good dooku fic recommendations

BOY DO I HAVE SOME FOR YOU!!

I Pray My Mind be Good to Me by @purple-ant | Dooku/Sifo-Dyas | M | in progress | 40k so far | Set before the Prequels. Sifo-Dyas isn't killed by Dooku, but maybe this is worse—Sidious uses Dooku to torture him. Fascinating concept and GREAT execution and oh, oughh, my HEART. Tagged as "angst with a happy ending" and "dubious happy ending" and "friends to enemies to fucked up lovers" and I am absolutely hooked and in dire need of catching up!

Forward Motion by flute25 / @legobiwan | Dooku & Rael Averross | G | oneshot | 8k | In the moment between life and death, Dooku meets his first Padawan. And when I tell you this hurt me on a deeper level I really do mean it. Beautiful retrospective and reckoning of a mostly awful life, and beautifully written, too. A wonderful study of Dooku's character if you'd like to read something that makes you feel sad and even vaguely hopeful <3

Padawan by Peppermint_Shamrock / @jedi-order-apologist | Dooku & Asajj Ventress | G | Drabble | Dude I just fucking love a 100 word fic that fucks me up completely. I'll let the fic's summary do the talking here: "Dooku misspeaks." And, man, he sure does. I am UNWELL about Dooku's and Asajj's dynamic and this drabble captures it perfectly!!

the sparks that went dark in my gut by Icarus_is_flying | Dooku & Asajj Ventress | T | oneshot | 2k | Doomed master-apprentice relationships that could have become something wholesome if a Certain Someone wasn't a complete cunt are my bread and butter. Asajj's frustration with Dooku and herself, and Dooku's ways of teaching her... I already said their dynamic is everything to me and this fic ALSO does it so so so very well. Read this if you want to get feelsy about this utter disaster duo!!

Three Days of Thawing by @prahacat | past Dooku/Obi-Wan | T | oneshot | 15k | It's not a rochen rec list if this fic isn't mentioned. Dooku is in exile after surviving the Clone Wars in this absolutely GORGEOUS character study. Delicious prose and one of my favorite Dooku voices of all time working in tandem as we follow him through his hermit life and slowly unravel the canon divergence that led him up to this point. Incredibly stimulating to read. Obi-Wan is great in this fic, too, and it makes you burn with curiosity about exactly what happened in the past! Stunning descriptions of nature and human nature alike. Every time I think about this fic I go insane. HUGE HUGE HUGE recommendation even if you don't really go there, trust me it's worth it!

Lastly, I will be recommending some accounts for your browsing pleasure: anything by @charmwasjess (AO3), lots of great Dooku fics to choose from in a great variety of flavors!! Especially great if you enjoy Dooku/Sifo-Dyas. Same goes for @bolithesenate (AO3). So many fics I go 👀👀👀 at but don't have the time to get around to.

Enjoy!!

[astonmint]

bakery !

welcome to viv’s bakery, home to a variety of decadent and flavorful treats. peruse the menu and place your order by sending a message through my inbox! thank you for visiting <3

menu !

main desserts

cinnamon apple strudel : enemies to lovers

ripe banana bread : friends to lovers

wild blueberry muffin : academic rivals to lovers

dark chocolate fudge brownie : established relationship

sweet ricotta vanilla cannoli : grumpy x sunshine

strawberry swirl cheesecake : fake dating

semi-sweet chocolate chip cookie : forbidden love

brown sugar cinnamon roll : hurt/comfort

cinnamon crumb coffee cake : mutual pining

butter croissant : slow burn

vanilla with raspberry frosting cupcake : only one bed

cherry cheese danish : love triangle

maple glazed donut : amnesia

peach zest madeleine : forced proximity

pistachio macaron : secret admirer

chocolate chip muffin : he falls first, and harder

dark chocolate pain au chocolat : reunion

vanilla almond pound cake : second chance romance

cranberry orange scone : break-up

vanilla butter shortbread : friends-with-benefits

apple turnover : brother's best friend

additional desserts

chocolate custard éclair : college au

mixed berry fruit tart : royalty au

molasses spice gingerbread cookie : soulmates au

tangy lemon bar : parenting au

hazelnut praline : omegaverse au

pumpkin spice sugar cookie : rockstar band au

blueberry ganache : detective au

refreshments

caramel iced coffee : long fic (1k+ words)

peach iced tea : short fic (under 1k words)

raspberry mint lemonade : smau

cookies and cream milkshake : headcanons

mango pineapple smoothie : texts

extras

sugar : sfw

spice : nsfw

list of spices (if nsfw)

bay leaves : dom!reader

cardamom : sub!reader

ginger : age gap (5+ years)

nutmeg : size kink

paprika : breeding kink

star anise : biting/hickies

served by

#2 : logan sargeant

#3 : daniel ricciardo

#4: lando norris

#12 : andrea kimi antonelli

#14 : fernando alonso

#18 : lance stroll

#55 : carlos sainz jr.

#81 : oscar piastri

#87 : ollie bearman

[viridianevergarden]

I dont know why but I feel like if we get azriel and gwyn, it would be just another acosf. like I love the warrior girls but can we just get something different?? 😭

I’m with you. It would be another ACOSF and yet no longer than Frost and Starlight tbh.

All that would need to be done is for Azriel to magically get over Elain who he is obviously more down bad and whipped for than Mor herself.

And then proceed to get closer to Gwyn and get feelings for her?

And if we really want to give people grace and even attempt to give that type of book some length and substance then we could somehow incorporate Gwyn as a savior of Illyria with Az? Somehow do something regarding Koschei and the prison? (Even though she isn’t Made and quite literally wouldn’t be able to do shit to help).

It is the absolute weirdest and the most diabolical, worst writing I could ever imagine with the way the current story is set up.

My thought is this:

People have a near criminal obsession with enemies to lovers and strong badass “I will cut you down with my sword” type of fictional women.

They think that because this has been SJM’s forte since the start of her writing career, that she’ll continue to recycle it Every. Single. Time. Same with mates always being endgame. And that’s wrong.

By all means, enemies to lovers and strong fictional women is my bread and butter but…

Elriel’s current relationship and potential that’s been built through the course of 4 books has been fabulous.

They are such a unique and completely different turn for SJM.

We need something new. Something that SJM hasn’t really experimented with.

And that’s elriel.

Almost every ship that SJM has written involves strong women + enemies to lovers in one.

Give us friends to lovers, give us that forbidden love trope, give us that miscommunication trope, give us that soft and traditionally feminine woman who is strong in her own femininity and ability to love softly and quietly. Give us a couple who defies all odds, the gods, and Fate itself just to be with one another.

[animation-is-my-jam]

girl I love your 20 dollar ring fanfic, I’m dying for chapter 13! I love the relationship dynamic between Tobey and Becky so much 🥹

Haha, thank you!!! Ahhhh!! (*´ω｀*)♥️♥️♥️💞💖 IM GONNA JUMP FOR JOY YIPPE

Chapter 13 is still in development, as I did a re-write of it, and it's long now, so ouch, but don't worry, it's more complete than incomplete. I was just lacking the motivation this month cause executive dysfunction and other factors like getting a new job, so my brain is just all over. Hopefully, I'll get on it, and you all don't have to wait too long since i did want the later chapters to take place in these holiday months because relevant timing, but as I said, it depends on a lot of factors which i unfortunately can't control. Ahh, sorry for the wait.

But also, yeah, I'm so glad people enjoy their dynamic! I'm so conflicted about if people either find it too OOC or boring. I'm just writing tobecky in my own view on how they would be as adults and if they haven't seen each other in years. But I'm glad that people do like them. I love writing tobecky like how they are in Canon, but if most couldn't tell, my bread and butter is writing them in different scenarios or "what if" situations where there is a change in their dynamic. Also, I hope i didn't mislead people into thinking it was slow burn enemies to lovers. If anything, this is just rivals to strangers to friends to lovers, but they're both oblivious.

[silshinobii]

tag game: pick your tropes

ohhhhh tagged by the wonderful @strawberrypinky who gave me the inspiration for mercy killing Emmrich.

coffee shop or florist | au or fix-it (au has very much become my bread and butter... you will pry it from my cold, dead hands)| enemies to lovers or childhood friends | angst and fluff (give me the angst every time)| love at first sight or pining (did someone say angsty pining...)| modern au or historical au (i'm sorry but modern au Emmrich has my heart)| break up & make up or proposal & wedding | get together or established relationship | soulmates or unrequited (i don't know that i have the mental fortitude to write unrequited love... i'm weak at heart)| fake dating or secret dating | obvious pining or domestic fluff | hurt/comfort or crack (i'm sorry, was that more angst people asked for...)| meet the parents or meet cute

NSFW version:

outdoor sex or hotel sex | consistent D/s dynamic* or switching | rough oral sex or tender hand stuff | exhibitionism or praise kink | consensual somnophilia or bondage | hate sex or make-up sex | ex sex or stranger sex | orgasm control or multiple orgasms | dirty talk or body worship | threeway or mutual masturbation | aphrodisiacs or s&m | making love or power dynamics

tagging (only if you want to): @ollypopwrites @bankabb @crimsen-khalessi

[bg-sparrow]

ask meme: 🛒✨🍷🤯

Woo! Thanks for the ask! Here's what's up: 🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

• Humor. In this stupid, stupid world, nothing makes me happier than giving people the opportunity to laugh and forget it all for a while. It's integral to our survival—and it's so, so fun! So you'll find lots of banter, sarcasm, absurdity, and snark in a lot of my stuff! • Small gestures that mean Everything. I love zooming in on mundane moments that can be significant for two people. They are my bread and butter, and I live for what blossoms in those moments! • I like to recontextualize the same line within the same story. It'll pop up somewhere as a joke and then land like a hammer at the end. I love it. It's a fun reminder that perspective matters. • Trust—between unlikely friends, enemies, lovers, bffs, family. Those moments where you have no choice but to trust each other and how easily/ difficult that comes to a character. It's the foundation of every relationship ever, so there are lots of angles to explore! • I am a hopeless romantic with giant heart eyes, so I have a weakness for scenes with music, dances, and/or eveningwear. My little brain was fed the idea that two people could fall in love over the course of a shared dance, and it's still peak intimacy/ romance in my book. Kill me. I love it. • In the same vein: giving flowers. It's old school, it's chivalrous, it's overdone, and I DON'T CARE, GIVE HER THE FLOWER. Make her blush. Good boy.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I am a stickler for accuracy when it somes to the littlest details, so my works are well-researched. Sometimes this is bad because I'll get roped into hours of research for one line, but it's so worth it to me. I want my stuff to feel grounded even if it's fantastical. Makes it feel like there's a chance it could be real. :)

🍷 Do you drink and write?

Rarely, because I'm afraid I'll do something stupid like accidentally delete half my document and save it that way (I am so not speaking from experience 🙃). I don't drink much or often, but when I do, I tend to reread/ edit what I already have more than writing additional content. This is also genre-dependent, though; I have no issues writing my silly stuff under the influence, but if I'm mapping out a crucial plot point or an emotional/ technical scene, it needs me at 100% to keep the info/ tone straight.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Struggle with? Probably horror? I don't write much horror. I've done some psychological thriller-type stuff, but no true horror genre stuff. I also LOVE action/adventure, but choreographing the action sequences and The Big Fight are super draining on my sanity. I also struggle to get myself to explore explicit NSFW stuff because I just get self-conscious, so I don't know if I'm actually good at it or not, because I have that hurdle to overcome first. Maybe someday!

Thanks again for the ask! I had a blast doing one of these again! :D

[wolfofcelestia]

so THATS why he made that snide comment about mc’s family in LAR… sylus is also a victim of EVER and josephine… and since he’s a little older than caleb and mc (he was 14 y/o i think, while they were 8 and 10?), he must’ve been even more aware of the extent of cruelty and exploitation. damn :(

(also i think the central theme of all the LIs is that they have long term connections with mc. all of them know mc from childhood. even xavier, it’s just… his childhood was centuries ago with a different incarnation. he just hasn’t died so technically he’s still got a childhood connection)

They've definitely been building up the boys' history with her and I'm really glad they did the same for Sylus too because as a demi, this is my bread and butter

Now that it's been almost a year since Sylus's release, I'm fine with him now, but if they led with Sylus being MC's childhood friend too, I probably would've liked him more from the start. But I guess that would've ruined the whole enemies to lovers thing

They played me like a fiddle in that regard 😔

[mlmarcmarquez]

top 5 writing tropes?

i did pairing tropes and fic tropes so :D

pairing tropes:

soulmates - this is my bread and butter. soulmate AUs never go wrong for me. you cannot upset me by feeding me slice after slice of (happy ending) soulmate au tbh

childhood friends to lovers - im a soft bean, okay? i wish i had a love like that, but alas... nothing.

"it's you. it's you i should go for." - idk the name of this but basically its the trope of character a getting their heart broken and character b comforting them, only for character a to realise character b is who they want like... i eat that shit up every time

mutual idiots - the pining, the yearning, the fear of ruining their friendship, all of it just MWAH (but they're idiots who are obviously in love with each other to literally anyone else)

best friend's brother - GAHHHHH I THINK ABOUT THIS TROPE ALL THE FUCKING TIME OMFG I EAT THAT SHIT UP LET ME FUCK YOUR BROTHERS, THANK U /silly

honourable mentions (in no particular order):

friends to lovers - simple, cute, mwah

rivals to lovers - god, yesssssss

grumpy/sunshine - such a good dynamic (bonus for cool & badass x pathetic loser)

enemies to lovers - a classic for a reason, but not a personal fave

"they're together, they would never like me" - again, not sure of the name, but polyamory where C is convinced A&B (who are a couple) will never like them back but A&B are fucking tremendously down bad

fic tropes:

secret relationship - whether it be an actual secret or a badly kept one, i love a good secret keeping moment in fics

only one bed - fluffy? smutty? gimme it all. i fucking love the tension.

accidental first kiss - when one gets too excited and kisses the other person and it creates that delicious tension MWAH fucking love it

touch starvation - there's something so tender about watching a character or person who is touch starved finally receive the touch they so crave, makes me fuzzy

non-famous au - less of a trope and more an au, but i love it when people explore this au, especially in rpf spaces so :D

no honourable mentions bcuz my brain is stuttering lol

thank u for asking !

[sailor-hufflepuff]

Trope Rating Game

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don’t care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it’s a hard no and you’d never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you’d insta click out of the fic if it wasn’t tagged. Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it’s conditional.

Thanks for the tag @pookaseraph !

Age Gap: +5

This is a relatively new one for me, before Darklina it was a squick, but now I’ve found several pairings in other fandoms that I like.

Codependency: +10

Yes, please. I want them totally wrapped up in each other and unable to function alone.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +7

Love it, with ☝️the caveat: it must be mutual. Not the extremism, but the emotions must be mutual. If the feelings are not requited then it’s just creepy.

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +10

This is my favorite dynamic of all time! Light/dark, fire/water, warrior/diplomat, grumpy/sunshine, pragmatic/idealistic…. It is my bread and butter.

Enemies to lovers:+5

I like it, so long as they’re truly enemies. “I like and respect you, but we are on opposite sides and thus can’t be together…until one or both of us realize we’re on the wrong side” is absolutely amazing, heart wrenching, and rewarding. “We got off on the wrong foot/had a misunderstanding when we met, and now use our antagonism to excuse absolutely abominable behavior until something makes us realize we were wrong/the other person is human after all/actually we want to bag” makes me want to set my computer on fire out of hatred.

Enemies with benefits: -nope

I’ve never understood the appeal of hate sex. Someone could be objectively the most attractive person on the planet, but if they’re a jerk then the thought of touching them makes me ill.

Friends with benefits: -nope

“Love is being sexually attracted to your best friend” is an adage that has always resonated with me. FWB in fics is just people in denial of their feelings - or worse, lying about not caring.

Sex to feelings: -10

If I love the author, I’ll give it a shot; but in general it’s a no for me.

Fake dating/relationship: +3

Can be fun, especially if they’re more or less strangers and the ruse is how they fall in love. Hard pass if they’re already in love but just pining instead of owning up to their emotions.

Friends to lovers: -4

I used to love this one, but have started to avoid it because they all seem to involve sexual double standards. “Boy is in denial of his feelings, sleeps around. Female kisses one person and boy gets ridiculously jealous and realizes he’s in love with his best friend, tells her she can’t be with anyone but him.” Shoot me now.

Found Family: +10

Yes please! Give me team mom/dad, give me group bonding activities, give me friends protective of each other, give me ride or die, give me “you can’t hate your asshole father but I can and will on your behalf.”

Hurt/Comfort: +7

Back in my day we called it “whump”, and it is soooo cathartic.

Love Triangle: -10

Despise them. I could write on essay on why I hate them but I won’t subject you to that. If I love the author, and the triangle is minor, I’ll grit my teeth and overlook it.

Poly, open relationships: -0

I have several OT3s that I’m quite attached to, but it must be a stable, closed circle. Open relationships are a hard no for me.

Mistaken/hidden identity: -0

Not a fan of mistaken identity because I don’t like the false drama of misunderstandings, but a deliberately hidden identity can be really good.

Monsterfucking: -7

Not my thing, but I’ll make exceptions for favorite pairings and authors or an interesting premise.

Pregnancy: +5

I love babies after, though I’ve had to back click too many times when the author CLEARLY has not taken even a basic sex ed class.

Second Chance: -7

Only acceptable if two things are true. First, there must be a valid reason they broke up (no stupid misunderstandings), and second that reason must no longer apply (so if they moved across the country but they’re back now that’s great, but if one of them cheated then they’re still a cheater and that’s not acceptable).

Slow Burn: -nope

I met my husband on valentines, had my first real conversation with him on Easter started dating in June, got engaged in July, and got married in November. I am PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE of slow burn.

Soulmates: +10

Yes, always, every time. I especially adore ones that are almost like an arranged marriage - “here is the person you are destined to be with, the two of you are complete strangers, how are you going to make this work?”

Tagging @orlissa , @plightofthecentipede , @ncarnesir , and @purplesigebert !

[findroleplay]

── 🗡 a little about me » (20F writer. gmt tmz. adv.lit-novella). hello!! i'm an experienced, adv.lit–novella (with replies spanning to multiple discord messages) writer, currently on the look out for other 18+ writers that may want to collaborate in a dark romance 1x1 rp featuring a variety of darker themes and tropes!! to express a little about myself, i strongly prefer playing F roles in *mxf rp* and writing with other F writers. admittedly, i do reply slowly (once or twice per week), but i'm quick with OOC. plus, i do engage in lots of headcanoning and planning for rps, including sharing aesthetics & tiktoks. just don't be dry, contribute, and we'll get on well! complex, imperfect, twisted and flawed ocs are my bread and butter— all my girlies are very far from cliche and they're often decently messed-up, so i love when i feel love&worry for your ocs cuz that's how you'll feel about my crazy darlings. i am fine with dead-dove & darker themes, while specifics like limits/triggers can be discussed in dms.

── note » this is unashamedly a plot call for my beloved rambly writers. i can plan & write for pages!! partners who give the same energy back, and CONTRIBUTE have my heart. my policy is that i will give as good as i get, so if i'm providing pages of ideas and getting nothing but one-word replies in return, then my interest will die. please try to have a similar energy to me cuz that's everything to me!!

── current tastes » i am dying to write rps inspired by some booktok favourites, especially their college dark romance picks. DEVILS NIGHT by pen douglas and LEGACY OF GODS by rina kent are two of my favourite series, and i would die if plots similar to these series were utilised!! it's not necessary to have read either, i am open to just describing the plots & providing snippets of my favourite scenes, but i do need to reiterate that these books have the exact vibes that i'm looking for within an rp & i will be geeking out heavily over them as i provide plot ideas/inspiration, especially DEVILS NIGHT.

── plot energy » dark romance, college setting, dark academia, gothic vibes, bullying/torment, mind games/mindbreaking & gaslighting, rich kids gone wild, small town royalty, and plots along the lines of DEVILS NIGHT by penelope douglas, or LEGACY OF GODS by rina kent-inspired, alongside any other booktok dark romance favourites, euphoria or skins-esque vibes. tropes of: enemies-to-lovers, childhood friends, bully romance, step siblings, brother's best friend, blackmailed into a relationship, are all currently very appealing to me. i'm open to writing in most darker kinks (albeit the ones utilised depend on the oc that i plan to use & develop) and am open to some taboo themes (i do need to quickly mention that i do NOT enjoy large age gaps that exceed +5 years).

-

[mbirnsings-71]

WAIT OKAY MADI gimme ur fav fic tropes and then i will send recs based off of that hehehe like whats ur angst level preference n stuff nodsnodsnsodnsos

oh OH okay OKAY

I'm not the biggest angst girlie (more so a fluff girlie, especially if it's domestic fluff) but if It does have Angst I would prefer hurt/comfort because I can't handle pure angst or I will cry violently. Oh and I hate Miscommunication but that's because logically we know what the others are doing most likely but the characters don't so it just makes me want to scream.

A.k.a my Angst preference is like no super hard hurt no comfort because I can take Angst like almost dying and getting injured and stuff but I like there to be a side of comfort with it. also as long as there's no major character death, non-con, or underage stuff I'm pretty sure I can handle it.

Fav fic tropes however is a fun one and so I will list some that I have enjoyed:

Marriage proposals/weddings (like those are my favorite things and I can not explain why, Jay can let you know that It is in fact my bread and butter

Fake Dating is also a good one especially if it turns into real dating (I've read a 45k word one-shot about Buck and Eddie fake dating to go to Buck's parents' retirement party cause Buck didn't want to deal with his parents alone while Maddie is also trying to deal with their parents and it was so beautifully written my god I finished it in one 5 hour sitting it was wild)

Friends to lovers is also a favorite of mine because while some people are enemies to lovers fans I just prefer the opposite (and in Buck and Eddie's case I love the speedrunning friends to fiancés for them!!)

if it's a father figure/maternal figure and their perceived adoptive child story I love ones where they explicitly get told that the other sees them like a son/daughter or a mother/father like those are so good for me to read and it's why I love Buck and Bobby's dynamic so much because Buck says in the 9-1-1 and 9-1-1 lone star crossover that Bobby is kind of like his father figure AND IT'S JUST I need these two to actually have a conversation about it okay

also any stories that do like good character introspection about characters' backstories and their connections to people like I love me a good character study LIKE ONE TIME I READ A ONE-SHOT ABOUT BUCK AND HIS RELATIONSHIP TO ALMOST DYING AND IT WAS SO-

Sickfics are also a trope I love because I just love seeing characters get taken care of. The trust needed to have someone else take care of you while you're in a state that makes you achy and hurt and just genuinely miserable feeling just is so nice to me, especially since this trope can be used Platonically and Romantically it's just a good over-all trope.

This also feeds into another trope I like called a character gets a breakdown and gets comforted and held like that is my favorite trope and I think it shows sometimes, sue me I like comfort.

My guilty pleasures are Chatfics/social media aus because those are fun to just breeze through and you don't have to really worry too much about typos because you can fix them in the story as a character fixing their own typo and I know they're not everyone's cup of tea but they're just so fun for me to read personally.

there's probably more but I'm blanking at the moment so we'll end it here

[overtsexting]

Mercedes/Jeritza? and/or Dimitri/Edelgard?

i have an ipad again so i can write the names by hand ☺️ also wtf are my color choices. idrk what i’m trying to do here

anyway, so much therapy for both of them…..

jeritzcedes:

so good. so sad. i need to keep playing cf and unlock their supports oh my god (me? finishing a fire emblem game? never). much like how leo’s problems would go away if he fucked his sister, i think jeritza just needs to rest his head in his sister’s lap while she strokes his hair. they can kiss after

dimigard:

omg…. them…. i can’t even put the like “yes i love this ship” ones because. whatever’s between them definitely isn’t love anymore! and they probably shouldn’t kiss. that would only create more problems. childhood friends to lovers is my bread and butter, but childhood friends to enemies??? 😭 in an au they could grow up together, be happy… get what they deserve….

it’s also not really a sibcest ship, but if dimitri wants to call her his sister i will respect his wishes 😌 let them be step siblings who fuck in a modern au

[writerkenna]

Trope Game

tagged by @sambambucky ! This looks really fun thanks!

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

• -10 -> very dissuaded

• 0 - don't care either way

• 10 -> very enticed

• hope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or vou'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged.

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional

Age Gap: 3

I sometimes enjoy the taboo nature of this but it has to be like 22 and 35, or something in that range. I’m not looking for like 17 and 40 😬

Codependency: 0

I don’t have any strong feelings on this one, and it really depends on the ship

Enemies to lovers: 7

This one definitely stems from my childhood lol. If two characters were beefing I’d be like ‘but maybe kiss??’ I mean, good obsession and bad obsession is still an obsession either way, and I love people fighting their feelings for each other.

Enemies With Benefits: 6

Same feelings as the last one but I prefer the slow burn and denial.

Fake Dating/Relationship: 6

There’s a lot good here, lots of pining and misunderstandings. It’s not in my top favorite tropes but I do really like it

Found Family: 9

Oooooh I eat this shit up!!! I love groups of friends loving each other like family! Give it to me! I want Friendsgivings and showing up for birthdays and being each others’ emergency contacts. Yes yes yes to everything involved in this trope

Friends To Lovers: 6

I’m pretty in to this one, because I think any good relationship is a friendship first. And I like with enemies to lovers I really enjoy the confusion and feelings denial

Friends With Benefits: 8

I fuck with this big time. I’m such a sucker for both parties acting like it’s just sex and secretly being in love. The mutual pining here is *chefs kiss*

Hurt/Comfort: 10

If you read my writing you KNOW this is my bread and butter. I want the characters I love to suffer pls. I just wanna seem em cry tbh

Love Triangle: 8

I don’t write this one but I do love to read it. This goes hand in hand with hurt/comfort and also I’m a big fan of jealousy.

Mistaken/Hidden Identity: 0

This one’s okay, but tbh I haven’t read a ton of it.

Monster Fu... Relationship: -1

I’m so sorry, no shame, but it’s just not for me.

Obsession, Possessiveness, etc: 9

God yes, c’mon give it to me. I love characters being unhealthily devoted to each other.

Opposites (like grumpyxsunshine, etc): 8

This one I looooove with sooo many ships. Sambucky, ineffable husbands, clintasha, brittana, etc, it just scratches this brain itch I have.

Poly: 0

Meh, samstevebucky and royjamiekeeley are the only ships that I really like for poly stuff.

Pregnancy: 10+++++++

do I even need to explain??? This is my favorite trope, above all others, eternally. Give me the babies, give me the cravings, give me those baby bumps, give me all the new parent feels.

This is my life blood.

Second Chance: 4

Not in my top faves but I do love the history and characters who are burned and slow to trust.

Sex To Feelings: 2

It doesn’t do much for me unless it’s also a slow burn and full of feelings denial.

Slowburn: 6

I love it even tho sometimes I’m like ‘just kiss already!’ This trope makes me legitimately giddy ❤️

Soulmates: -5

Reveal here: I never read soulmates/soulmark stuff 😬

For me, characters knowing they are meant to be together takes out all the suspense and will they won’t they. It is very rare for me to enjoy a soulmates fic.

Tagging: @logicheartsoul @iamgalicia @bisamwilson @barneswilsonrogers