It Is Currently 1 Am And I Can’t Sleep But I Also Can’t Stay Awake… Someone Kill Me? Perchance?

SCHOOL IS FINALLY OVER IM FREEEEE ‼️‼️‼️

oh my goodness the sister fic is amazing PLEASE make a part 2

I haven’t started writing it but trust I already know the whole plot 😍🙏

․ ⁺ ⊹ 𐔌 MY OH MY…

WHAT A GIRL ⁀₊➷ ⋄

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she/he/they // mac demarco enthusiast // outsiders fan !

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MASTERLIST !!

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WRITING RULES

Note: So far, I’ve only written OC things — which I’ll continue to do — but I’m also thinking about doing x reader things.

I WILL write:

Kissing, hugging, normal shit

Certain mental health things; if I’m not too familiar, I’ll do the best research I can

Mild SH, such as hints at it or someone having scars, but I won’t describe it in detail

Death, but not smth rlly graphic 😣

Mentions of or implied SA

What I WONT write:

Smut

Graphic SA

Graphic SH

Anything where someone — reader, a character, an oc — r*pes someone else (idk if tumblr allows that word so I apologize for the censoring 😓)

Pedophilia, zoophilia, anything of that nature 🤢

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INFO ABOUT ME !!

my nickname is Francis (I did name an oc after me, I js love the name 😓💔)

I’m 14-going-on-15 🫢

I’m bisexual therefore I have every right to project it onto my oc’s 😝

My fav artists/bands are Mac Demarco, Nirvana, Alex G, Current Joys, Cheap Perfume, The Smiths, Big Thief and Billie Eilish

I collect soda tabs for sillies (I have 250+)

I’ve seen the movie Flipped over forty times….. (and counting)

I’m a silver jewelry girl

I LOVEEEE reading; my fav books are The Hunger Games, The Outsiders obv, Percy Jackson, The Song Of Achilles, Greek myth retellings, the Powerless trilogy, dystopia books, etc!

I collect vinyls

I’m madly in love w Minecraft….

My fav shows are Brooklyn 99, Scott Pilgrim (the series), Demon Slayer, Pokémon, Gravity Falls, Ponyo, My Neighbor Totoro, and plenty more

I also REALLY love Stardew Valley (Harvey 4 life)

Vanilla is MY scent

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a/n: I’m new to this writing stuff, so pls don’t expect insanely good shit 🙏 I’ll take requests, but it’s finals season so I may or may not get to it 😞 also if my blog looks goofy its cuz i use phone (at least for the posting part) and it's a lot diff than computer or laptop....

“I can’t be what you need,

I am stuck in a dream.”

Synopsis…! You and Johnny are best friends. You’ve been there for each other through thick and thin. But what happens when you have an undeniable love for him, and he just doesn’t seem to notice?

a/n…! Made this based off an ask I did but couldn’t get out of my head🙏 can’t tell if I like it tho…. Also begging for literally anyone who sees this to req smth im in desperate need of writing inspo

w/c…! 1800+

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You need to look perfect.

That’s what you tell yourself over and over, the sentence repeating like a broken record.

Buck’s hosting a party tonight. Johnny will be there; the same Johnny you’ve been trying to get the attention of for months now. And yet, each time you cast him an extra glance, make a flirty comment, dress up extra pretty, he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even seem to look.

It breaks your heart.

Which is exactly why tonight you’re going to this party. Tonight is the night, the one where he has to notice you. You’ll march up to him, bat your eyelashes and be forward.

“Hey, Johnnycakes, wanna go out to the drive-in sometime?” You’ll state. He’ll have to say yes.

But to make that work, you’ll have to look extra pretty. Not just normal pretty, special pretty. Sure, it feels silly trying so hard for a boy, but you can’t help it. This needs to go right.

However, you currently find yourself in a bit of a dilemma.

You’ve spent probably the past two hours trying to find an outfit.

“Ugh! I have nothing to wear!” You wail, hands carding through already messy hair.

“Just wear what makes you feel confident! That’s what will really make you ‘special’ pretty!” Your friend Lindsey replies, quoting the statement you’d made earlier.

“How do you know that’ll work? What if he sees me and thinks, “wow, she’s really wearing that?” I’ll ruin my chances!”

“I can almost guarantee Johnny won’t think that. Here, let me try to find something up to your standards.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. So, you sit at your vanity, sulking as she searches your closet.

After only ten minutes she’s coming back out with an outfit draped over her arm. She shoves it into your hands, grinning as she shoves you into your bathroom, saying that “it’s perfect!’

You sigh as you close the door. Is it really perfect? You know Lindsey is very big on fashion, but can you truly trust her? The only way to find out is to try the outfit on, and when you do, you decide you’ll never doubt her again.

First you pull on the lace tank top. It’s one with spaghetti straps that hugs your body just right – but you bought it so long ago it somehow still has the tag. Then comes the blouse, pale green and gingham, with a low enough neck to show off the lace of the shirt beneath. And last, on bottom, is a white pleated skirt that reaches your mid-thigh. You’ve worn it more times than you can count, but that’s what you love about it; it’s simple but effective.

You step out of your bathroom, feeling prettier than you have in a while. Lindsey can’t help grinning, clapping her hands together as you give her a bashful smile.

“It is perfect,”

“I know, right! Never doubt me again, girlfriend!” Her voice is giddy, as are her movements, as she sits you down at your vanity.

A handful of hours later, you’re walking up to Buck’s – hair styled, makeup done, outfit flawless. Lindsey and Cherry are at your sides, for emotional support, they’d said. Despite the confidence in your step, nerves eat away at your stomach. Your thoughts are filled with nothing but the worst-case scenarios of tonight.

The moment you step foot into the house, your senses are violated by your surroundings – the smell of smoke and beer, the loud yells and even louder music, the bright lights.

But your eyes don't take long to find him.

Black hair. Tan skin. Big brown eyes. Leaning against a wall with a red solo cup in his calloused hands, a grin spread across his lips.

And a girl standing before him.

Hand touching his arm. Laughing unbearably loud at a dumb joke. Eyes full of lust.

Your heart drops. Your ears ring. Your throat grows dry.

You’re moving before your brain even registers it, feet carrying you over to where Johnny’s standing. He doesn’t notice you. Not until you’ve started speaking.

“Are you kidding me?”

He immediately turns to you, an expression of bewilderment falling upon his features.

“What?” His tone is laced with confusion. He glances over at the blonde chick, watching as she approaches her next victim like Johnny never existed.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Johnny?” You repeat, taking a step closer to him – voice heavy with emotion as you continue your rambling.

“I got dressed up. I bought new mary janes. I spent hours on my hair.”

He’s too confused to respond, his mouth stupidly hanging open. As if he has a right to be shocked.

“I did all this for you, and I don't get so much as a spared glance. Not a ‘hi’ or a wave or even a glance. Nothing.”

Your eyes are brimming with salty tears, but you hold them back. He doesn't get to see you cry. Not now.

“I tried so goddamn hard, Johnny. I always did. But you just don’t see it, do you?” This is what makes him speak up, voice poisoned with uncalled for frustration.

“What do you mean I don’t notice? Of course I do!”

“No, you don't!" You immediately retort. “Not like how you’re supposed to. You don't see me and think, ‘I wish she were mine.’ You see me and all you think is that I’m your good friend.” Your heart sits heavy in your throat, your words choked out as you hold back tears.

Johnny just stands there like an idiot, his brows creased, his expression incredulous.

“But–”

“Don’t.” You don’t want him fighting for you. It’ll only make the aching in your chest worsen. He’s too late, anyway. He’s made his intentions clear.

You turn on your heel and walk away. Never even once do you look back. He doesn’t deserve your heart, not anymore.

You shove your way through the crowd, colliding with sweaty bodies over and over until you reach the door. You’ve practically collapsed the moment you’ve left, sitting down on the curb.

Salty tears stream down your cheeks. You were never a pretty crier, not like the actresses in movies. You sob, sniffle, hiccup; ruined makeup stains your face. Shaky hands come up to swipe at the tears, though not helping much.

It’s official. Your chances with him are smothered out like the flame of a burnt out candle.

Johnny stands there, frozen. Stuck in place like an idiotic looking statue. From across the room, Dallas watches. He saw the whole thing. You strutting in, your pretty outfit, your nervous smile. The argument. The tears. He knew how you tried, it was made clear from the moment you’d started hanging around Johnny. But he boy was a goddamn idiot.

“You’ve royally fucked up, man.” Dally suddenly says.

Johnny’s head snaps over to him, his shock still written all over his face. But he doesn’t say a word.

“She really likes you. No clue why you didn’t notice. Hell, I thought about takin’ her for myself-” Those last words make his heart feel like it’s being carved straight out of his chest.

“I fuckin’ get it! Jeez, don’t gotta make me feel like a bigger asshole..” Johnny barks, the pain in his chest getting worse with every moment you’re gone.

The only reason this makes him feel so shitty isn't because he hurt his best friend, but because he’d been in your position before. Trying so goddamn desperately to get her attention – not in a normal way, in a romantic way. He wanted you to see him, but he gave up long ago. And as it turns out, that’s when you started trying.

It’s just one big fucked up mess, really.

“You should go after her.” Dally suddenly says, nudging him. “Tell her how you feel. It’s rainin’, too. You could make it like one of those stupid ass romance movies she likes.”

Johnny perks up at this, realizing he’s been standing here like a goddamn idiot for the past five minutes while you’ve probably been sobbing.

Without thinking, he starts racing to the front door praying that she’s still out there.

The rain pelts down at his skin hard. But there you are, sitting on the curb, your pretty face in your hands.

When you hear footsteps, you know it’s him. Before he speaks, before he even makes himself known. You’d always recognize him, down to the very last beat of his heart.

“I get it, Johnny. You feel bad for making me cry but you don’t like me like that. You don’t have to like me or apologize.”

You look over your shoulder at him, expecting him to be nodding, but all you see is his confused face.

“What—?! I mean- you’re.. how did you even make that conclusion?”

The two of you stare at each other. For several seconds, all you can do is stare at him.

“You never even noticed me, Johnny. You never–“

“Would you quit saying that I didn’t notice?!”

His snappy tone catches you off guard. Catches himself off guard. But nevertheless, he goes on.

“Of course I noticed! I couldn’t not notice! You looked like the goddamn sun in all those skirts and dresses, and you expect me not to notice you?!”

You stare up at him, slowly rising on shaky legs to face him fully. He noticed? Did he really notice and she just couldn’t see?

“Then why didn’t you say anything? I dropped the most obvious hints and you didn’t even reciprocate!” You allege, your own tone just as accusatory as his own.

“Because I thought you were being nice! I didn’t flirt back because I couldn’t fathom the idea of someone as angelic as you liking me!”

You’re right in front of him now. Faces close, arguing like two scared mutts. Voices raised, rain pelting your skin, mixing with the stray tears on your cheeks.

“So you just gave up? You decided I wasn’t worth fighting for and stopped trying—!”

Calloused hands grasp your cheeks as soft lips cover your own.

Your heart stops.

Your breath catches.

But you don’t pull away.

Not for a single second.

Not until you both can’t take it anymore and need to breathe. Even then, you’re hesitant, chasing his lips until the last second.

You finally look up at him, and you’re met with black lashes framing eyes as dark as the night sky. Your heart nearly stops.

“Johnny, I–” You attempt to stammer out, but he interrupts you once again.

“Don’t.” You pause. His eyes lock onto yours, hands refusing to move from your cheeks. Calloused thumbs caress your cheekbones, the touch gentle despite the storm behind his eyes.

“Please just let me call you mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Is he being serious, you ask yourself, is this really happening?

But before you can fully formulate a response in your mind, you’re nodding your head. And then he’s leaning in again. Your lips collide, the rain pelting your skin only fueling the need behind your kisses.

From the window in Buck’s living room, Dallas cheers to himself. Finally, the stupid kid has his entire world all to himself.

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no this shit is so real give my boys some attention 😓🥀💔

guys why is nobody writing for johnny cade or daniel larusso. I haven't read a fic for either in like 3 days I'm actually so deprived rn 💔

okay so for the part 2 of my last fic, should I make Dallas book accurate or movie accurate? I can’t decide 😖

tbh I kinda rlly wanna write smth for hiccup from httyd….😓

☆.「 A Heart Full Of Tears 」.☆

“There’s a place where lovers go…

to cry their troubles away.”

Synopsis…! You never thought you’d fall for someone like him. A Greaser. He never thought he’d ever have a chance with you. A Soc. But your two worlds inevitably collide, changing your lives like a star exploding. Until it all goes down in a flaming mess.

a/n…! Apologies for the fact the girl in the mood board at the end isn’t very racially ambiguous… I couldn’t fit enough photos w/o taking up other needed spaces😞

w/c…! 1900+ words

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July 14th, 1964.

The sun was high in the sky of Tulsa as you walked around, shoes tapping against the pavement of the sidewalk.

You know you shouldn’t be walking around like this alone, but you’re confident your mother is only exaggerating the things she says about the people on this side of town. How they’re “hoods” and “violent.” Sure, you’ve seen what they’re capable of, but you also know there’s a big difference between those who are greasers by choice and greasers by chance.

Meeting Johnny Cade is what solidifies your opinion.

When you stepped into the local diner – one of your favorite spots – he quickly caught your eye. His shaggy black hair, honey skin, big black eyes. It all made your heart stutter.

But you put on a straight face nonetheless.

You take your seat on a barstool, waving over a waitress so you can order a milkshake.

And all the while, Johnny is looking at you.

Your smile, your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your lips; they’ve all been the center of his mind for a long while.

Dally and Pony’s jokes and words fall upon deaf ears, his body and soul occupied by the Soc girl a couple meters away.

“Ay, Johnnycakes, anyone home?” Dally taps his finger against Johnny’s forehead, immediately pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, just, uh, spaced out..” He replies, fighting to keep his gaze from the girl he’s been infatuated with for months.

“You sure about that, man? You’ve been awful quiet.” Ponyboy adds.

Johnny can only sigh, his gaze fixed on a girl he’ll never have. You.

When you eventually leave the diner, your mind is still stuck on Johnny – as it always has.

But you’ve hardly taken ten steps before you hear the jingle of the door opening behind you. You turn, only to see a familiar face. Big black eyes. Honey skin. That goddamn scar.

Johnny.

Your eyes lock. His friend shoves him forward, Dallas Winston, you note. Suddenly he’s standing before you in all his glory. His shy, beautiful glory.

“Hey, uhm, I-I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to go see a movie sometime?”

His question catches you off guard. He wants me to see a movie with him? you think to yourself.

For several seconds, you’re stunned into silence and he thinks you’re going to reject him. Call him a filthy hood and spit on his shoes. But your response shocks him even more.

“I’d love to.”

December 1st, 1964.

Nearly five months.

That’s how long you and Johnny have been going steady, and oh, how amazing it’s been.

He showers you with love and compliments 24/7, hands always holding your hips or waist or hand. It surprises you, considering the way he was raised.

And surprisingly, your parents have been accepting of your relationship. He’s allowed to stay over when his parents are fighting and he’s caught in the crossfire, they always make extra food for him at dinner, and your older brother even lent you some old clothes for him.

It’s perfect.

One night, you and Johnny are cuddling in your bed. His arms are wrapped around your body, his hands tracing patterns on your skin as you lay your head on his chest. Never in your life have you felt so loved, so happy. He’s the light of your life. Your everything.

“I love you, Johnny.” You mutter suddenly.

He looks down at you in surprise, and for a moment, you think you’ve ruined it all.

But then his features soften. Those big eyes of his, going from wide-eyed shock to loving gentleness in moments.

“I love you too, baby.” He murmurs in return.

You look up at him, eyes meeting. A small smile graces your lips, one full of the kindness and love he’s grown used to.

You’re his whole world. His sun, his moon, his stars — the air he breathes, the grass he touches.

The two of you lean in, lips locking. It's soft. Sweet. Not like the way you see other greasers kiss their girls. More like he’s savoring you, as if you’ll disappear the moment he pulls back.

But you don’t.

And that’s why he loves you.

When everyone else would have left, you stayed.

April 7th, 1965.

“He did what?!” You yell over the phone, voice breaking at the words Dallas has just confessed to you.

“Yeah, they’ve, uh, ran away... Don’t know what else to tell ya, man. They may not ever come back, to be honest.” Dallas replies.

You can’t believe what you’ve heard. Johnny – your Johnny – killed a Soc? Sweet, soft, kind Johnny? It’s shocking.

Sure, you’ve seen him get into fights, yell and look more like a rabid wolf than a small puppy, but him taking a life?

It makes you sick to your stomach.

Dallas gives you the rest of the details, to steer clear of cops and all that. But the moment he hangs up, you're breaking down.

Tears you’d been holding back for too long stream down your cheeks, loud hiccups and sobs leaving you. Your knees buckle and you land on your floor with a thud.

Your darling, wonderful Johnny may be sent to prison for manslaughter.

The following day, you go visit the Curtis household, a tin of homemade chocolate cupcakes in your hands. It surely won't make up for the disappearance of Pony and Johnny, but it may provide comfort.

You take a deep breath and rap your hand against the door softly.

It’s Darry who opens the door.

He murmurs your name, voice full of disbelief and clear exhaustion.

“What are you doing here?” He adds, motioning for you to enter.

Everyone is there. Dally. Steve. Soda. Two-Bit. All but two familiar faces. It makes your heart break.

“I just… I-I just wanted to stop by. See how y’all are doin’.” You say, ignoring the way your voice cracks with emotion. Your hands tremble as they grasp the tupperware in your hands.

They all know the pain you’re in, feel it themselves, but only to an extent.

Johnny was someone they knew, of course. They loved him like a brother. But they never did – and never will – know him like you do.

Without speaking another word, Darry pulls you into his arms, allowing you the freedom to sob against him.

It hurts, seeing someone so bright lose their spark.

At the end of the day, after spending hours at the Curtis’ place – reminiscing, talking, bonding – you decide to go home. But you’re hardly out of the door when Dallas pulls you aside.

“Hey, uh, by the way, I’m plannin’ on goin’ to see Johnny and Pony later this week.”

“You know where they are?!”

“Yes, doll, I know where they are. But you can’t know.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette, like he’s bored.

“You should write Johnny a letter. I’ll give it over to ‘im and stuff.”

You look up at him, eyes brimming with tears at his statement.

“Of- Of course, yes. I'll bring it over tomorrow.” You say.

With a single nod as a goodbye, you walk over to your car, sliding into the driver’s seat.

That night, you write your letter.

But your words are never read.

April 15th, 1965.

The fire.

The church.

The letter.

Johnny.

Not much aside from those things have been occupying your mind.

A week has passed since they ran away.

A day has passed since the fire.

An hour has passed since you last saw Johnny.

You currently sit on the couch at the Curtis house, biting your nails like crazy. There’s a rumble tonight, against the Socs. Dally told you, Two-Bit and Pony that they’re gonna beat them. For Johnny, he said. It’d only hurt your heart more.

Hours pass. Then the door swings open. You watch as Darry, Two-Bit, Steve and Soda all file into the room, but there’s two people missing.

“Where’s Dallas and Pony?” You ask.

“Not sure. Maybe went to see Johnny.” Two-Bit replies, already grabbing a beer from the fridge.

After about a half hour, the door opens again. Pony’s beaten face appears in the doorway.

“Hey, where ya been?” Darry murmurs. No response.

“Hey, Pony.. whats wrong?”

You stare at the boy, your throat tight with emotion.

The first words out of his mouth leave your already cracking heart in pieces.

“Johnny’s dead. Told him about beatin’ the socs.”

You don't register another word that comes out of his mouth. The whole world goes blank, your entire mind crashing down on you.

“Johnny’s dead.”

June 15th, 1965.

Your soft hands brush over the rough stone you’re sitting on, a small tremble in your touch.

It’s been exactly two months since Johnny died. Since Dally killed himself and your world was flipped upside down.

You’re currently sitting on his gravestone. He’s lucky he even got one, to be honest. The only words carved on the surface are his name and the day he died.

“Johnathan Cade. Died April 15th, 1965.”

The sight leaves you weak.

He was more than just a name. A date that didn't matter to most but meant everything to you. He was a friend. A brother. A son. To some, he was everything. To you he was everything.

In your hand is an envelope. Inside, the letter you wrote but never got to be heard. Countless words, left to be nothing but ink sitting on a page. Not your whole heart and soul.

You carefully open the envelope, taking the piece of parchment out with a delicacy spared for butterfly’s wings.

With a deep breath, you speak.

“To my darling Johnny,

I do hope this letter finds you well. I’m not going to beg for you to return, nor to run away with me to Texas and change our identities. All I ask is for you to listen. To hear my words and never forget them. I love you more than anything, I hope you know that. Life just isn't the same without you around so often. I see you in the dandelions growing between the cracks of concrete. I see you in the cigarettes I pass by in the D.X. I see you when I walk past the lot. The others all miss you greatly. Pony, too. Darry’s been worried sick about him. Won’t eat or sleep, Soda said. Tell Pony he oughta make up with him if he ever comes back. I wish I got to say goodbye. I know there’s a chance I’ll never see you again, never hear you laugh or speak or feel your hand in mine, so I’ll tell you what I never got to. I was hoping to marry you, Johnny Cade. I can’t imagine my life without you. Without your dumb jokes and cheesy pick up lines. It’s just… dull, without you here. I hope that the next time I see you, I’m wrapped in your arms, with a ring on my finger and a venue already in mind. You’re my everything, Johnny. I want you to always remember, that no matter what you’re my favorite. My whole universe.

Sincerely, your darling girl.”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks by the time you’re done.

You wipe away your tears with trembling hands, before reaching into your pocket and pulling out a switch. You kneel down, placing the blade against the surface of his headstone.

By the time you leave, there’s new words on his grave.

“Johnny Cade. Died April 15th, 1965.

Died on Earth, lived in the Stars.”

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guess who’s finally writing smth today ‼️

(I’m not making any promises tho…..)

𐔌 . ⋮ GUESS .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

“Is it showing off my brand new lower back tattoo?”

Synopsis…! Lynn gets herself a new tattoo, but is scared of how the gang will react — but it’s the way Dally reacts that catches her off guard.

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She’d meant to tell them — honest — she just forgot.

A week prior, Lynn went out and decided to treat herself, inevitably having the bright idea to get a tattoo on her lower back. She’d wanted one for years anyway, and now that she’s eighteen, she can do whatever the hell she wants.

Somehow, though, she managed to forget to tell the gang. Despite the fact they’re some of her best friends, it just didn't feel like something to speak about with them –Angela Shepard, however, is. She was the first and only person she’s told, and because she’s Angela, she loved the design.

“Oh my god, it’s so hot! I might get one too, now! We should match-!” She then blabbered on for an hour about nonsense.

For a while after she got it, she’d simply forgotten to tell them. The design was often covered by pants, anyways. One day, though, her silly little secret gets revealed in a rather odd manner…

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It was blazing hot out, normal for a May morning in Tulsa, and Lynn decided to wear a pair of low rise jeans and a cropped tank top, paired with her leather jacket. It’s nearly 80 degrees out, she’s not going to be caught dead in anything else.

“Hey, ya’ll! She calls out, as she and Johnny enter the Curtis house, her typical grin on her face.

A mantra of “hey”s and “hello”s echo throughout the house, all voices familiar and comforting.

“Darry, is the A.C. still broke?” She asks, sitting down on the couch.

“‘Course it is, Lynn. I ain’t a plumber, I’m a roofer.” His response is what she expected, so with a small huff, she takes off her jacket, tossing it away.

Her lower back is inevitably exposed, and guess who’s the first to see the tattoo? Dallas.

He rubs a hand over his face at the sight, mumbling curses under his breath. For several seconds, he does nothing but sit there, staring. His gaze locked on her back with pupils blown wide.

He’s the only one to notice, apparently, based on the fact nobody else has said a word — because we all know they would.

But the moment she’s bending over to grab a soda off the coffee table? He’s a goner.

“Fuck, man…” He murmurs softly, glancing away and adjusting his jeans ever so subtly. His hands find her hips the moment she’s near, tugging her between his legs without a second thought.

“Doll… what the hell is this?” He asks, smoothing a hand over the tattoo, fingers tracing the ridges.

“Oh, uhm, just a tattoo?” Lynn replies, feigning nonchalance with every bone in her body.

At the sound of her words, unfortunately, everyone in the room turns to her. Steve and Two-Bit quit wrestling, Soda stops being their referee, Pony looks up from his book and Johnny tears his gaze away from looking over his shoulder.

Lynn stares at them, her expression blank, as if such a predicament is normal.

“IS THAT A TATTOO??” A shocked Pony gasps, breaking the silence that had been hanging in the air like a taught string. That makes everyone run over, their voices overlapping as they all ask frantically about the new addition to her body.

“When did you get it?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Why the hell did you want it?”

“Not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot….”

At that comment from Two-Bit, Dally stomps on his foot, the hand around Lynn’s waist tightening as the other man yelps.

The whole situation is… interesting, to say the least. She can’t help basking in the attention, showing the thing off with a wide grin.

“Yeah, it didn't hurt much. Which was kinda surprising, since the skin there’s supposed to be sensitive or somethin’. I wanna get more soon, but they’re damn expensive.”

All the while, Dally is watching from the couch, icy eyes locked onto her back.

Eventually, the commotion dies down, and Lynn takes her spot beside Dally, gaze stuck on the TV before her playing Mickey Mouse. But Dallas – of course – is still thinking of that goddamn tattoo. The way it looked on her skin, the design she’d chosen, the image of her laying on the table.

He can't quit thinking about it, and it’s driving him nuts. Why can’t his mind just let it go?

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From that point on, whenever he gets the chance, he lets his hands brush her lower back. Lynn doesn’t notice – at least, not until Johnny points it out.

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a/n: kinda hate this one ngl, but it’s whatever :P